#I AM PUSHING THIS BOULDER OUT OF THIS VALLEY

[exopelagic]

actually no fuck it I’m going full morning person. return to form

[tsukimefuku]

4 a.m. ☾ nanami kento

summary: nanami is your ex and calls you just before dawn to hear your voice. wc: 1.5k cw: gender neutral reader. very much angst. this takes place the night before the shibuya incident. notes etc.: song is 4 am, by taeko onuki.

lord, give me one more chance ☾ is this the last one, I wonder?

“Nanami?”

Your phone’s ringing would’ve jolted you awake from your dreams — that is, if you had been able to sleep. The life of a sorcerer was plagued by nightmares, it seemed, and you made sure to sleep as little as possible to achieve dreamless nights during most of the week. 

“Yes, this is me.”

Definitely his voice, alright.

It was 4:00 AM, and you feared for a moment when his name lit up on your phone’s screen that you were receiving that dreaded witching hour phone call.

However, this was considerably more unexpected, given that he was the one to break things up with you years ago and never contact you again. 

“Are you okay? Has something happened?” you tried your best to keep your voice from cracking, an awkward pit of... something gnawing at your chest. 

The silence reigned solemnly for a few seconds, only muted breath coming from the other side. 

“Nanami?” 

“I just...”

You knew his voice. He was definitely inebriated. The way his syllables were breathier and dragged over the tone was unmistakable. 

“Nanami... what is it?” your voice came labored with a sigh, part in concern, part in discomfort.

“I just wanted to hear your voice. I’m sorry if I awoke you.” 

“You know very well you haven’t,” you replied, half in jest, trying to ease the mood. It had been a minute since you two last spoke — since he had broken up with you, “but...”

Your words died on their way out. 

“I... I apologize, I shouldn’t have bothered you,” Nanami said on the other end, more for his benefit than yours, seemingly coming to terms with whatever entity had taken hold of him, guiding his fingers towards his phone and dialing you up. 

“It’s fine, it’s okay,” you offered, uncertain, “it’s... nice hearing your voice. It’s been a while.”

You lifted yourself from your sofa, picked up the glass of red you had resting on the coffee table, and made your way towards your apartment’s window, being met by Kyoto’s nightscape.

You heard him sigh, a sound heavier than you would have expected from Nanami, and his uneasiness was palpable, even through the phone. 

“You didn’t think this through, did you?” you playfully inquired, knowing full well that if Nanami did think this through, he would've stopped himself from reaching his phone. 

“I did not,” he offered in earnest, and you couldn’t help but wonder where he was right now. Was he at home? Sitting by his table still in his work attire? Laying on his bed in a t-shirt and sweatpants? 

You wanted to ask, but held your tongue as quickly as the thought came.

That wasn’t how it worked for you two, not anymore. 

“How have you been? Are you alright?” you genuinely asked. You truly, really wanted to know how your unwavering man — “your” solely in dreams from the past — was doing. Was he fine? Did he leave Jujutsu High again? What had he been up to? 

The aching desire to peek into a life you weren’t entitled to anymore was enticing, even if a painful reminder of the door that had been permanently shut. 

“Still pushing the same boulder uphill everyday,” he replied, and you heard some icy, glassy clacks on the other side, followed by a sip sound. 

He was drinking. Probably a glass of whiskey with the same exact three ice cubes he always put in it.

“Is the hill getting taller and the valley deeper, too?” you asked him, a distinct smile to your voice.

He huffed, amused. 

“One could say so.” 

“Nanami-“ 

“Kento,” he cooed in the same husky, deep voice he used to caress your skin every time he whispered to you something in a crowd, leaning against you in a way only a lover would, or when he undid you just to build you up back up over and over every night you spent together.

The voice he would only use to love you.

It hurt. 

“Nanami...” you repeated in the same beat, the concern and warning in your voice mingling around the uneasiness that now clenched at your chest, too. 

“Just... for tonight. Please.”

He rarely asked you for anything, and whenever he did, you caved.

Just like you caved at that very instant. 

“Fine.” 

“Thank you.” 

You exhaled, trying to ease the forceful flattening sensation tying around your lungs. 

“Kento, why are you calling me now? I mean, we have been broken up for so long... after you broke up with me.” 

Some of your last words came out with a tinge of bitterness, and even through the phone, you somehow knew he’d be looking away after you said that.

“I... I really just wanted to hear your voice. And if there is nothing to be said, I’d like to stay on the line with you for a while, even if in silence. I... I want... I want to share this quietude now with you,” he offered, an explanation of sorts, but not enough.

This was the issue — nothing was neat, calculated, mathematical enough for him. Waiting for the precise moment, life had passed you both by. 

“Why? Why did you... break up with me? For real?” you asked, fully aware this might be the last time you spoke to Nanami for a long while, if ever. 

He inhaled on the other side, as if picking apart his words to answer you with the perfect building blocks to fit the hole he knew he’d left behind. 

“This life, our life... is not suited for romantic relationships. I couldn’t bring myself to step out the door and do what I do — what we do — knowing I could leave someone at the wake of my demise any day. In this life, we should die alone.” 

You sighed and sipped on your wine, leaning against the edge of your dinner table.

“Don’t preach to the choir, Kento. I know how this gig goes, but I think you’re lying to both of us right now.” 

“I... I don’t know,” he remarked. His voice sounded lost, strained, decades older than himself, and he pleaded for a light, if you could ever so kindly offer him one.

“I think...” you began, trying to be as unfiltered as possible, “you ran away from me, just as you ran away from Jujutsu High years ago. You were afraid just the same. Somehow, you surpassed the fear of dying any day on the job, but are still to surpass the fear of risking loss again, of lov-“

You bit your tongue before finishing your sentence, but he noticed it. 

“Please, continue. The fear of what?”

He knew. 

“Of loving.”

Nanami kept silent for a while, the only telltale sign the call hadn’t ended being the sound of his drink’s ice cubes clinking against the rim of his glass.

His voice came back, a deep, husky tone cutting through the silence like a silk thread. 

“I want to see you.” 

“Kento, you’re drunk.” 

“Yes. And I want to see you, I have thought about it for a long time, and I believe you have too, just the same.”

He was right. Oftentimes, in the silent hours of the night, after the thud from your shoes falling in the entryway subsided leaving a void of sound behind, you missed his warmth, his arms wrapped around your waist, the feeling of his body pressing against your back. There had been others, but no one could compare to him — to Nanami.

How many others there had been for him? Had they measured up to you?

You shoved the thought away, trying to not dwell on it for too long. 

“I have,” you answered honestly. 

“We could try again. We could...” 

“Kento...” you cooed, realizing this was the same voice you’d use whenever you purred at him when you were enveloped under the covers, sharing your own tiny private sliver of the universe. 

“Please...” his tone came strained, pained in response to how you called his name — the way only his lover ever did. You. 

“It’s 4:00 in the morning, we... let’s talk this over dinner. We have the time. Moving around tomorrow will be terrible because of Halloween, but we could... after tomorrow?”

You felt the faintest hint of butterflies around your chest, something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Not with anyone else but him.

He sighed on the other side, equal parts intrepid and relieved. 

“Okay. I’ll come to Kyoto after tomorrow so that we can have this conversation properly. In person.”

You tried to exhale away your own disquiet, quivering in anticipation for seeing Nanami again after so many years. 

“It’s a date, then.”

He huffed the faintest chuckle. 

“It is.”

You clicked the big red button on your phone’s screen, and the call ended.

—

End notes:

You already know... Had The Big Sad™️ and decided to turn it into everybody else’s problem. This is an adaptation of a HiguNana piece I posted on AO3 (but if you want to read the fic like reader is Hiromi, I won’t try to stop you 👀).

[the-travelling-witch]

Hello. 6 for Zhongli, please for the Second Constellation? I want it to be fluffy, if you're amenable of doing so. Thank you! ^^

Anon 🫧

hi nonnie!! thank you for participating!! ♡

i´m sorry for the long wait, i was having a bit of a writer´s block but i hope myself to be cured now; fluff is a very good keyword for you have rolled a 6 and landed on

AMOR VINCIT OMNIA

…et nos cedamus amori

trope: first kiss [space nr. 10]

pairing: zhongli x gn!reader

genre: fluff!!

warnings: hint of slightly insecure!reader, mention of reader´s hair once

second constellation event masterlist

“Here, take my hand. The path in front of us is rather treacherous and I would not want you to stumble and come to harm.” Gratefully, you took the outstretched arm Zhongli offered you. Pulling you up to where he stood, he cupped your face and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “How are you feeling, my dear? Are you still enjoying yourself or would you rather we rest for a while?”

“I´m fine, Zhongli. I´m just not used to this kind of terrain.” Leaning into his touch, you gave him a genuine smile. “But I know I don´t have to worry with you around. I trust you know what you´re doing.”

“That I am. Yet, I am still very much elated hearing such high praise come from the one I treasure so dearly,” he chuckled fondly. “Very well then, shall we continue? I assure you, our destination is worth the arduous ascent.”

“In that regard, I trust you, too.”

You had been dating Zhongli for a few months now and you couldn´t wish for a more perfect boyfriend. He was kind, well-mannered and knowledgeable; a tried and true gentleman if you had ever met one. His every action exuded confidence without the bitter sting of arrogance, giving you the necessary security to feel comfortable in your new relationship.

Dating was a whole new world to you, so having a partner who was self-assured without being patronising eased your nerves endlessly. Additionally, Zhongli was very patient and never rushed you into anything, wanting to take things at your pace, something you were eternally grateful for.

As light graces and soft touches slowly turned into loving pecks to the back of your palm and then into fleeting kisses to your temple or the crown of your head, you slowly grew bolder in your own advances, allowing yourself to seek your boyfriend out for cuddles or giving him a kiss on the cheek. There was something, however, which turned your stomach upside down with anxiety.

Having never been in a relationship before, the ominous first kiss had yet to happen and it had plagued you for a while now. You had no idea what to do! What if you completely messed it up? The idea of your first kiss being an awkward disaster made your stomach sink as if you had swallowed a lump of coal. And even if Zhongli reassured you countless of times there was no need to rush and he was patiently waiting for you to grow comfortable with the thought, you couldn´t help but wonder if he was getting tired of having to accommodate for your indecisiveness.

Truth was, you wanted to kiss him, you really did! But the image of messing up due to your lack of experience swept every possible attempt to the side.

Mulling the issue over in your head, you barely noticed you´d arrived at the top of the mountain overlooking the valleys of Liyue. You weren´t high enough to be above the sea of clouds quite yet, but the scenes of rivers bending along the foot of hills and sunlight dipping between boulders and rocks was breathtaking in and of its own.

“Wow… It´s so beautiful,” you breathed, not daring to raise your voice of a whisper. 

“That it is. There is nothing quite as stunning as the landscape Liyue is graciously presenting us with.” His voice was filled with pride and fondness as if he was talking about an old friend. Then, his tone notably softened. “Well, there is one exception.”

“More beautiful than this? What would that be?” Turning to face him, you found yourself already staring into intense amber, Zhongli´s gaze locked on you in a way that made your knees weak.

“It´s right here, in front of me.” Reaching out to hold your face between his slender fingers once again, his thumb strayed to trace along your cheek as he gifted you with the warmest of smiles. “Never in my life have I perceived a more wonderful sight, capable of moving both my heart and soul in ways I never could have imagined before. Had I not had the grandest of fortunes in meeting you, I would never have believed it to be possible. Yet, here you are, right before my very eyes.”

“Zhongli…” Looking to the side in hopes of lessening the burn in your cheeks, you tried to gather your bearings. “Seriously, you can´t just say things like that! How am I supposed to come up with an even slightly comparable answer?”

As his arms embraced you, you could feel his laughter vibrate through his chest. “My deepest apologies, dearest (Y/N). I suppose I simply couldn´t help myself. After all, the finest of masterpieces should never go uncommented.”

Burying your head further into his chest, your words came out muffled but Zhongli still picked up on them clear as day. “You´re doing this on purpose…”

“Perhaps,” he admitted, hints of normally suppressed mischief shining through. “Just know, my every word is as genuine as it is true.”

Peeking up at him, your gaze swept from the serene grace of his eyes down to the dip of his lips before quickly averting your eyes again when you caught yourself. 

“Is everything alright, love?” Stepping back, Zhongli studied your expression and posture, then gently placed two fingers under your chin and turned your head back towards him when you didn´t shy away from his touch. The downtrodden glace in your eyes tangibly tugged at his heartstrings. “I couldn´t help but notice you were unusually quiet on our trip up here as well. Darling, you know you can confide in me whatever it is that is weighing on your mind. I never want you to feel like you have to hide your feelings from me.”

“It´s nothing really, just got caught up in a thought is all,” you mumbled. You knew you should probably tell him, he was your very understanding boyfriend after all. But… why were you hesitating? “Zhongli, I-”

The warmth of his fingers left your face as he clasped both your fidgeting hands between his own, giving them an reassuring squeeze backed by an equally comforting smile. Releasing the breath you didn´t know you were holding, you tried to calm your racing heart. As you closed your eyes you focused on the thought that there was nothing to be nervous about.

“I´ve just been thinking about how we´ve been dating for a while but still haven´t had our first kiss and I guess that´s kinda my fault,” your voice drifted off as the mountain winds almost swept away words, carrying them, however, directly to your boyfriend. Before he could start though, you already shushed his objections. “It´s not that I don´t want to, it´s the opposite really but… I also really don´t want to mess up. Guess I´m just scared.”

“I was not aware you were agonising about this, love. I´m sorry for failing to realise a silly notion such as this was troubling you so.” This time it was him who made your rebuttal at the word ‘silly’ die on your tongue with a tender kiss to your temple. “Yes, it is silly, my dear. Maybe not to you but in the grand scheme of life, it very much is. Whether having experienced a lot of life is a blessing or a curse is an eternal question without definite answer, yet in this very moment, I can truthfully tell you, a first kiss is not monumental enough to change your life´s trajectory, much less my opinion of you. After all, that is what you were truly worried about, was it not?”

“I´m not sure if I like this ability of yours to read me like a book,” you huffed. ”But yeah, something like that.”

“I think it quite a useful skill,” Zhongli mused. “Rest assured, my love, I do not think any less of you whether you choose to be intimate with me in this way or not. Although I cannot deny, kissing you would give me great pleasure, I did vow to take this relationship at your pace and I have every intention of keeping my promise. Don´t rush for my sake, I treasure every moment with you regardless.”

In your mind, it should be illegal for someone to so effortlessly stirr each and every butterfly in your stomach just by being their honest self. Zhongli, on the other hand, seemed to see nothing wrong it, considering just how often he made use of it. “As I said, I want to do this and I think I´m ready, I just don´t know where to start.”

“You think or you know?” 

“I know,” you said more firmly this time. “I want this, Zhongli.”

“Hmm, I quite like the sound of that.” His lips might have lifted into a barely-there smirk but his eyes held nothing but adoration as they connected with yours. “Then, as this is clearly something you and I both desire, would you want me to take the lead and guide you for now?” 

“Yes, please,” you mumbled, starkly aware of the hand that moved to cup the back of your head. 

“As you wish, dear.”  Leaning closer, he gave you one last chance to pull away as his breath fanned over cheeks. When you didn´t and instead moved to close the gap on instinct alone, the last thing you saw before closing your eyes was molten gold, shining so warmly, it drove every doubt from even the last fibre of your being.

His lips felt so soft as they slowly pressed against yours and you automatically blanked when thinking about what to do next. Sensing how you tensed up underneath his palms, Zhongli pulled a hair's breadth away to mutter, “Don´t think too much about it, just do what feels right. Follow your heart, not your head.”

Allowing yourself the possibility of making a mistake was not something which came easily but your courage was instantly rewarded as you responded to Zhongli´s movements. Your hands developed a mind of their own as they braced themselves against his broad chest before one ventured to his nape. 

As that bliss continued, there was a moment where your teeth clacked together but instead of hiding in shame, you couldn´t help but giggle as you rested your foreheads together. Your boyfriend´s chuckle filled the air as he held you close.

“So, how do you feel? Was it as petrifying as your mind made it out to be?”

“Not at all. It was wonderful,” you said, curling a strand of his hair around your finger mindlessly. “I don´t know what I was so afraid of, really. I'm with you after all.”

“Trying to fluster me, I take it? In that case, I shall gladly accept your praise,” he smiled. “But yes, there is no reason to feel threatened, yet, it seems a lot of people are. Society has engraved the idea of an ideal first kiss in the minds of young people, leaving no room for error and thereby also no room for the humanity of the moment. A first kiss is not special because it is a perfectly crafted, world-changing moment as theatres and operas make it out to be. Instead, it is special because this delicate expression of intimacy is shared between two lovers to show their affection for the other by choosing to be vulnerable in front of them. If their feelings for each other are true, this demonstration of trust will allow them to grow closer from then on out. That is the beauty of a first kiss.”

“I quite like that take on it,” you grinned. “Well, I look forward to growing alongside you then because my feelings are definitely genuine.”

“And so are mine.” Intertwining your hands, Zhongli placed a promising kiss to your knuckles. “I have known this ever since we first met but I am most fortunate to have the chance of going on this journey with you.”

tag list: @mccnstruck @silentmoths @teyvattales @ainescribe

[thana-topsy]

[Eleven]

For my Hadvar/Ralof fic, I decided I wanted to write a series of vignettes of important events in their life, starting with when they were childhood best friends in Riverwood. Since I headcanon them being about the same age (though Ralof is a few months older, and this is a source of great contention between them when they're young), each chapter will be titled with the age they are when the event occurs.

There's no romance yet since they're both children here and that isn't really on their mind.

-------------------------------------

As far back as Hadvar could remember, Ralof always had a knack for getting him into trouble. 

Enticed by the first snowmelt of the year, Hadvar let Ralof drag him out of his uncle’s house and across the bridge, scampering along the riverbank as they made their way upstream. Their laughter turned to puffs of steam in the crisp air, winter’s chill still clinging to the shadows, frosting the grass and hardening the ground, but anywhere the sun touched the earth was wet and alive with the promise of spring. Hadvar’s shoes were caked in mud by the time they’d made it to one of their favorite summertime spots: a shallow valley that cut into the mountainside, scattered with thick trees and boulders perfect for climbing. 

Hadvar looked up the steep hill in awe, a shiver running down his spine as he caught sight of the stone arches of Bleak Falls Barrow glinting in the midmorning sun. He kept the Barrow in his sights, side-stepping along the valley floor to follow Ralof upstream even further. If he turned his back, the Draugr might come charging down the mountain and run him through with one of their ancient swords. He swallowed, the fear turning his mouth dry.

“Come on!” Ralof goaded, far ahead of him. “Why are you walking weird? You look like a mudcrab.”

“Shut up!” Hadvar snapped, finally managing to tear his eyes from the Barrow. “Where are we going anyways?”

“It’s a surprise.” 

Hadvar let out a nervous huff of laughter, but trotted to catch up. “I hate surprises.” 

“I know. Because you’re a milk-drinker.” 

“I am not!” 

“Are too.”

Hadvar gave Ralof a shove and his friend laughed, turning his forward momentum into a run. Hadvar ran after him, his muddy shoes clinging to the wet ground as if they were trying to hold him back. They stumbled along the riverbank, laughing breathlessly until they reached Ralof’s ‘surprise’. 

It was a cave.

Hadvar shivered as they stepped out of the sun and into the shadow of the overhang. A cold breeze brushed his hair away from his face, like the death rattle of a corpse, smelling of mineral and earth and wet clay. 

“I don’t wanna go in there,” Hadvar said. 

“You’re such a milk-drinker!” Ralof said again. 

“I am not!”

“Are too!” 

Hadvar got right up in Ralof’s face, puffing up his chest and pressing their noses together. “Am not.”

Ralof just smiled wickedly, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue. “Are too.”

From within the cave came a sudden noise, causing both of them to jump. It was a deep, stuttering growl causing every hair on Hadvar’s arm to stand on end. Ralof pushed himself in front and unsheathed the small dagger that seemed to be permanently affixed to his belt. Hadvar’s uncle, Alvor, had made matching daggers for the two of them. Hadvar had left his home by accident…

“Ralof don’t,” Hadvar whispered, his stomach sick with fear. 

The growling got closer. 

Ralof had his arm out as if to keep Hadvar from moving forward. “Stay behind me. I killed a wolf with my pa three weeks ago.”

“Please!” Hadvar tugged on the back of Ralof’s shirt, panicked. “Come on!” 

The growling turned into a loud bellow, and a massive river troll lumbered forward out of the shadows, teeth bared, meaty fists swinging at its side. 

“RUN!” Ralof screamed. 

Hadvar slipped in the mud as he scrambled backwards, nearly falling if it weren’t for Ralof catching him by his shirt and hauling him forward. They sprinted out of the mouth of the cave and back down the river. Hadvar could hear the troll right behind them, grunting as it pursued, heavy footfall pounding into the wet earth. 

Ralof grabbed Hadvar by his arm and jerked him away from the riverbank and the valley towards a massive fallen tree. Hadvar recognized it on sight. It had a hollowed trunk that they’d used as a fort last year. Hadvar pushed all of his will to survive into his legs, sprinting alongside his best friend as if the very wind of Kyne’s breath was at their backs. They dove into the tree and scrambled as far back into the trunk as they could squeeze. Hadvar felt splinters stabbing into his palms as he crawled, panting and wheezing as the passage narrowed. 

The troll roared at the opening of the tree and attempted to shove its way into the opening, wood scraping and cracking against its thick, hairy shoulders. 

Hadvar was trapped between the back of the trunk and Ralof. He gasped for air, breathing so hard his lungs felt fit to burst. Ralof still had his dagger drawn, pointing it at the troll with a shaking hand. 

Unable to squeeze itself into the tree trunk, the troll pulled back, roared again, and reached a long arm into the trunk in an attempt to grab them. With a yell, Ralof lunged forward and drove the dagger into the troll’s hand. The thing shrieked and yanked its hand back, taking the dagger with it. 

Ralof pressed himself harder against Hadvar, and instinctively Hadvard wrapped his arms around his friend’s chest, pulling him as far away from the opening as possible. They were silent, breathing hard as they listened to the troll raging outside. There was a loud thump above them as it climbed onto the tree trunk, followed by an even louder whack. Whack-WHACK. It pounded against the tree, scratching at the bark, trying to tear its way in. 

“We’re dead,” Hadvar whimpered. 

“Shut up,” Ralof said. “No we’re not.”

The troll continued to claw and beat against the tree, but the thick trunk held strong. Hadvar buried his face against Ralof’s shoulder, willing himself not to cry. After what felt like an eternity, the noises of the troll’s rage fell away, and only the sounds of their labored breathing in the hollowed tree remained. Birdsong returned to the woods outside along with the babble of the river, and as Hadvar raised his head he could make out the grinding of the sawmill far off in the distance.

“Do you think it’s gone?” he hazarded to whisper.

Ralof shook his head, his blonde hair tickling Hadvar’s nose. “Trolls are stupid, but they’re also smart.”

Despite everything, Hadvar managed to squeeze out a laugh. “Kind of like you.” 

This earned him an elbow to the stomach. 

“I just saved your life!” 

“Yeah, after you led me to that cave!”

“I didn’t know there’d be a troll in it!”

Ralof scooted away from Hadvar, putting space between them.

“Well, thanks to your surprise, now we’re stuck in this tree,” Hadvar grumbled. 

“We couldn’t out-run it,” Ralof reasoned. “We’d be troll shit right now if it wasn’t for me.”

“Pfft, we wouldn’t be troll shit,” Hadvar said. The foul word felt strange in his mouth—Ralof always made cursing sound cool and easy in a way Hadvar had difficulty mimicking. “We’d be in its stomach. We’d be troll shit tomorrow.”    

Ralof huffed irritably before crossing his arms and curling up against the side of the trunk. 

Silence passed between them as a bird trilled loudly nearby.

“So… now what?” Hadvar asked. 

“We should wait a while. Make sure the troll gets bored and wanders off.”

Hadvar shifted to lean against the opposite wall of the trunk, facing Ralof. He picked at the mud on his pants. “You lost your dagger,” he said after a moment. 

Ralof groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “My pa is gonna kill me for that.”

“Uncle Alvor can make you another one,” Hadvar said. He continued to pick at his pant leg. “Or you can have mine.”

“Don’t give away your weapon, Hadvar,” Ralof scolded. “That’s no way to get to Sovngarde.”  

“Well, you lost yours protecting us. And I didn’t even bring mine. Seems fair,” Hadvar argued, heat rising in his cheeks. “Besides, I’m useless with it, so…”

Ralof kicked Hadvar’s boot. “Shut up. You’re not useless.”

Hadvar just sighed, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on knees. He wanted to argue, but he knew it would only make him look even more pathetic than he already felt. Ralof was braver than him. Smarter, too. He would have just kept running forever until the troll caught him, like a dumb scared rabbit. He wouldn’t have even thought to hide here.

“What kind of sword do you want when you grow up?” Ralof asked out of nowhere. “I think I want a greatsword.” He held his arms out as wide as he could in the cramped tree trunk. “Big as Ysgramor’s.” 

“Ysgramor had an axe.”

“Bigger than his axe, then. With carvings up the blade and a big sapphire in the hilt.” Ralof tucked his hands behind his head with a satisfied smile. 

“I want two short swords so I can cut down twice as many enemies,” Hadvar said. “Plus, they’re lighter and you can move faster. They’ll call me Hadvar… Wind-Steel.”

“That’s a stupid name.”

“Is not!”

They argued about sword fighting and battle names, about how they’d both be soldiers one day, like their parents had been in the Great War. Hadvar swore through unwanted, bitter tears to avenge his parents for dying at the hands of the golden elves, while Ralof assured him that they’d died with honor and that he’d see them both in Sovngarde one day. They talked about Talos, about joining the Companions, argued over the lyrics of Ragnar the Red and which of them would take Matilda as a wife, and, before Hadvar knew it, the sunlight had begun to fade.  

They slunk from the tree trunk, peering cautiously around the shadowy valley. The troll was nowhere in sight. They ran as fast as their feet would carry them back down the river and across the bridge, sprinting into town just as the last of the sun’s rays slipped behind the distant mountains and the lamplighter began to make his rounds. Ralod thumped Hadvar on his back before turning at the Sleeping Giant Inn and heading to his house. Hadvar watched him go, chewing on the insides of his cheeks. He didn’t turn to head home until Ralof had disappeared inside his own house, offering Hadvar one final wave. 

---

Part 2

[dawngen]

Ever since she was a kit introduced to clan life, Brightstorm was utterly enthralled by it. Boulderfrost was a loving adoptive mother, kind and gentle and wise as she found new confidence in teaching her new kits. From the tale of HillClan's tragedy, to DawnClan's existence as a new hope and how StarClan guided their paws to this very grotto, Brightstorm had lapped it up.

And, Boulderfrost was saying, explaining the duties of all of the cats to an eager Brightkit, That is Alderrustle, the medicine cat. He can commune with StarClan.

Awe and wonder struck her.

'Commune'? she asked, for it was still a rather big word for a tiny kit, but she vaguely understood her mother's implication.

He goes to a special place called the Sky Splinter to share tongues with our ancestors every half-moon, patiently Boulderfrost explained, And sometimes, StarClan comes to him in dreams. They tell him things he should make Darkstar aware of, so she can keep protecting our clan.

Brightkit's eyes had sparkled.

Will I be able to get those dreams?

Boulderfrost, chuckling, had gently nudged her bubbly daughter with her nose, pushing her closer to the snoozing ball of ginger fluff that was her sister nestled up against her belly.

Maybe, if you actually go to sleep.

Brightstorm couldn't remember a day other than that one where she had tried so hard to fall asleep. But she never had a single prophetic dream, nor was visited by any StarClan cats.

After a successful dawn patrol, Brightstorm had been the first to duck back into the warriors' den. She was tired, exhausted even. An entire morning spent tracking a fox's scent, only to find it was stale, and had already run off into the valley below, hopefully to never be seen again. What a waste of time! She could have been hunting, or checking in on the elders, or saying hi to Eagleburn...

Brightstorm tucked her nose deeper into the soft fur of her tail curled up against her face. Bayspots, her mate, was out hunting. She somewhat missed her warmth in their shared nest, but, lately, she had been rather distant. Even their kits had begun to notice. Frostspots and Sparrowshadow had remarked upon it while helping Sandfeather to the nursery--oh, grandkits, it was hard not to be giddy about grandkits!--which Brightstorm had gently suggested to be due to the anxious nerves from Sandfeather's pregnancy.

Brightstorm and Bayspots had long agreed to not have another litter after Brightstorm's difficult pregnancy, so Sandfeather's kits would be an exciting way to make up for such a loss. It was understandable to get the jitters.

... But, Brightstorm didn't fully believe her own excuses. Not when Bayspots looked at her with hollow eyes, and laid so distant from her in their nest.

Eyes squeezed shut even tighter, and her ears twitched. Why did it seem like more light than usual was seeping into the warriors' den? Had the curtain of vines thinned in the coming leaf-bare?

Irritated, Brightstorm opened her eyes, prepared to find a new napping spot further back into the den, and stopped. Claws dug deep into the soft moss of her nest, so deep she could feel the well-packed earth beneath, and her gilded-orange eyes blew wide, incredulous.

"... Mother?"

Dew glittered on every piece of grass, every stone shimmering like gems. The sunlight, now that she had her eyes open, pooled in, but with her vision clear, it was softer, gentler. The warmth of it was noticeable upon her fur compared to the chilly leaf-fall wind that had chased her all throughout the forest. Most importantly of all, framed in dappled sunlight, Boulderfrost stood at the den's mouth with a warm, soft expression, a mother's love glinting in her eyes.

"Mother!"

Springing to her paws, Brightstorm surely should have knocked Boulderfrost over in her enthusiasm. Did StarClan give her once elderly and frail mother the gift of a sturdiness that rivaled her boulder namesake?

"Hello, my sweet daughter," Boulderfrost purred, bumping noses with Brightstorm, "I am happy to see you."

"Am I... Did I die?"

Brightstorm never was on to dawdle and the instant the question arose as to why she was seeing her mother, a conclusion was drawn. She jolted back, mortified by the idea of passing in her sleep when she had felt perfectly fine, and relaxed when Boulderfrost shook her head.

"No, Brightstorm, you are still very much alive." Boulderfrost's voice rumbled with laughter. "I am merely... Paying a visit."

Tension melting away in the sun, Brightstorm nodded. She could accept that.

"... Then," Her eyes widened again, "Is this... I'm not a medicine cat. How am I seeing you?"

Boulderfrost motioned with her tail, and the two sat down, indicating a longer conversation to come.

"StarClan cats can make visits," Boulderfrost began, "But only occasionally. I had to ask Riverstar quite a few times before she allowed me this."

Brightstorm was practically overflowing with new questions, namely who is Riverstar?, but she held her tongue. She had a feeling that she should not waste this precious time bombarding her mother with topics and questions that were irrelevant to her original journey to this dream.

"I came to say congratulations."

Brightstorm blinked.

"Con...gratulations?"

Boulderfrost's gaze darkened. There was still the same aura of warm love, but it was tainted by a smidge of disappointment, and a new feeling of worry that Brightstorm felt wash over her own fur. The sun felt less warm, and she felt her heart begin to sink, unable to take receiving such a look from her beloved mother who she had missed so dearly.

"Congratulations... And provide you a warning."

Eyes turning downward, Brightstorm realized Boulderfrost looked to her belly--so she did as well. ... Had she gotten extra plump this greenleaf? Was that supposed to be a sarcastic congratulations?

"You've always been a wonderful warrior, Brightstorm. You follow your heart, and you serve your clan well. But secrets and deception are the end of even the most virtuous cat."

Brightstorm's blood ran cold, and her head jerked up.

"I don't understand--"

"You're pregnant, my love."

Boulderfrost needn't say anything more. The look of knowing in her eyes, and the way Brightstorm's heart momentarily stopped was all that was needed. Horror and excitement twisted like cruel thorns inside of her, delight conflicting with despair as her head bowed, gaze fixed in silent shock upon the ground.

"I'm... I'm..."

She couldn't finish it. She knew what it meant.

Boulderfrost stood, and Brightstorm felt her soft nose touch to her forehead.

"You are not evil nor unworthy of StarClan's love because of this," Boulderfrost murmured. "All cats are flawed, and temptation can lead us all astray. But it is what you do after that will decide it all."

"Mother, I'm... I--"

Brightstorm lifted her head, her heart a stormcloud of emotion, but Boulderfrost was gone. The glittering dew, the warm sunshine, and the well-lit den was replaced by what the warriors' den normally looked like. Hollyclaw was peeking in with Squirrelbite, both looking inquisitively at Brightstorm.

"Hey, you good?" Squirrelbite asked, grunting as Hollyclaw roughly nudged her.

"You... seemed to be having a nightmare," Hollyclaw corrected her with a gentler tone, and Brightstorm felt her pelt warm and had to focus on not bristling.

"Thank you, but I think I'm just still mad about that fox."

The two other she-cats nodded and murmured their understanding, and while Squirrelbite trotted off, Hollyclaw hesitated.

"Don't be afraid to check in with the medicine cats if you don't feel well, okay? Poppy seeds are great for nightmares."

After Brightstorm nodded, Hollyclaw left, leaving her in the big, empty warriors' den.

Silent, Brightstorm slowly eased her cheek down onto the moss, gazing vacantly at the opposing dirt wall, studying the roots peeking out through its packed surface.

Pregnant. And she knew who the father was.

Perhaps she had been right to feel uneasy under Bayspots' cold gaze.

[letsquestjess]

Blood Daughter - Chapter 2: Rockfall

Story Summary: After Kallar Viren flees the Empire, his daughter sets out to find him, only to discover he has been taken by Imperials. With help from Clone Force 99, Zeraphine pushes through her losses in a race against the clock to rescue her father or face the galaxy as the last of her family.

Warnings: Mention of blood and injury. Character death.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

-- -- -- -- --

“I must admit, I am surprised it is not entirely destroyed,” Tech said as he circled the downed craft, testing the scans on his datapad. Sand slithered into the ruptured hull and heavy burns coated the crumpled frame. The skeletal remains of the right wing met the side of the dune with a dull creak. “There are no life signs from within the ship.”

“Doesn’t look like there are any bodies either,” Wrecker replied, clambering through the interior in search of potential survivors. He gingerly lifted the collapsed machinery and damaged panels, and once he’d checked for explosives and fuel leaks, he gave Tech the all clear to join him. 

“Is it possible they survived?” Echo asked. “Whoever was piloting the ship landed it pretty well all things considered.” 

“For all we know, the Empire took them,” Crosshair countered, gaining himself a few sidelong glances and a worried stare from Omega. He held his hands up in surrender and scowled. In his mind, his observation was perfectly reasonable. The Imperials wouldn’t outright execute any prisoners they deemed valuable unless absolutely necessary. Given Zeraphine and Amelina’s involvement in the war, they would be interrogated before their inevitable elimination. 

He wandered to a knot of flat boulders a few metres from the crash site, stepping up and peering through the lens of his sniper. The canyon extended past the horizon line and a flock of carrion swirled and shrieked above the opening. When he zoomed in, he caught sight of damp, crimson stains mingled with scuff marks on the ground. “We have tracks to the north,” he said to Hunter, motioning to the sandstone crags. “There’s also a blood trail.” 

Hunter scoured the area close to the ship and discovered faint indents in the pale sand. “Not animal,” he confirmed, smoothing his fingers over the dips, “and there are two distinct sets.” He drew the attention of the others and signalled to proceed into the valley. 

Bridges and spherical structures clasped the inner canyon, tangled vines spilling through disintegrated windows and decayed walls. Half a dozen carrion birds descended to observe the troopers. They swiftly divided again as a clump of rocks tumbled down the canyonside.

“The natural formations have sustained considerable damage due to the architecture,” Tech informed the team. “Readings indicate there are notable signs of instability within the constructions too. We must proceed with caution.” 

Hunter took the lead and moved Omega nearer to his side, eyeing the overhanging stones. A trickle of distant rumbles lingered in his ears as he pursued the meandering tracks. Towards a scattering of ground-level buildings, a flash of dark hair shifted in his peripheral vision and he halted the squad, signalling for them to position themselves near the squat structure. 

Boots crunching and weapon drawn, he inched closer. Luminous grey eyes glinted in the gloom. A fraction too late, he sensed movement behind them. 

“Lower your weapons,” a low voice commanded. “All of you. I won’t warn you again.”

The group twisted to the hobbling figure coming out of the shadows of a tower ruin, blaster directed at their leader. 

“There are six of us and only one of you,” Crosshair pointed out. “Do you really think that is a wise move?” 

“Two,” Hunter corrected. 

“What?”

“There’s two of them. They both made it.” 

The second survivor emerged from her hiding place, heat blades sizzling at her side like hissing serpents preparing to strike. A vivid sapphire hue illuminated her path, shimmering from the edges of the midnight glass. “Sergeant Hunter?” 

With a relieved grin, Hunter offered her a comforting nod. “Hello, Commander Viren. Heard you were in a bit of trouble.”

A soft breath escaped from Zeraphine and she tucked the blades into the holders on her belt. “Lina, it’s Clone Force 99,” she called to her sister. 

“Clones?” Amelina said. “Shouldn’t they be attacking us?”

“Clearly they’re not.” 

“When the order came, our inhibitor chips didn’t activate,” Echo clarified, paying no mind to the fleeting glances aimed at Crosshair. “We’ve had them removed.”

Amelina scratched her head with the handle of her blaster and stowed it into its holster. “You’ve changed your armour, lads. Red and black the last time I saw you, wasn’t it?” 

“When you’re running from the Empire, it’s not a good idea to be wearing anything identifiable,” Hunter said. 

In a choked laugh, Amelina stumbled. Zeraphine caught her before she slumped, and Echo supported her arm. “Will you stop worrying?” she panted. “I’m fine.”

“Fine doesn’t cough up blood,” Echo retorted. 

Amelina’s eyes darted to her sleeve. A sprinkle of crimson dots speckled the mottled white fabric. No, she panicked, chest heaving with each crackly inhale. No, no, not like this. Please. “Took a knock when we landed,” she muttered, almost to herself. “And another after that stormtrooper shot me when we were leaving the Imperial base. I’m okay.” 

“I’ve been trying to tend to her wounds as much as I can,” Zeraphine explained to the Batch, letting Amelina lean on her shoulder as she murmured that she simply needed rest and she’d get better. “She has an infection, and it’s spreading. I can’t stop it.” 

“We have some medical supplies on the Marauder,” Hunter said reassuringly, detecting a faint vibration in the air. He eyed the broader pathways beyond the junction they stood in. “If you’re good to walk, I think we should go. There’s something heading this way and I don’t fancy sticking around to see what it is.”

Wrecker propped the older Viren sister up against his side and they began the long hike back. “I’ve got ya. That’s it, rest on me.” 

“No need to worry, you softie,” Amelina said, accepting his help. “We’ll be sparring before you know it.” 

“Really?”

“Course. But I must warn you, I’m quick.” Although she spoke with determination, his assistance brought her some relief. The aches that had plagued her for the past few rotations fluctuated as he took the weight from her bones and kept them both progressing. 

Her head swayed in a dazed loll and she barked out a cough. Zeraphine’s fearful expression sunk her heart, and she wished she could comfort her, promise her that everything would be okay. But the blaster wound seared, her skin felt feather light, and with each shuddered breath, she knew she’d be lucky to see the Bad Batch’s ship, let alone receive medical attention. 

She paused as they neared the last narrow stretch of the valley. At the questioning looks, she pointed in the direction they’d come from. “Stormtroopers,” she wheezed. “Lots. Can sense them.” 

“I can sense them too,” Zeraphine sighed. “They must have landed behind us to catch us off guard. We have to carry on, okay? We can’t stop now.”

The land groaned as they moved. Rocks and stones plummeted down the steep ridges in protest of the disruption. The clatter of armour swelled like a stampede until blaster rounds burst through the thump of fervent footfalls. 

“Keep moving,” Hunter shouted, returning fire. His brothers followed his lead and exchanged shot for shot. 

Amelina almost tripped. If it wasn’t for Wrecker keeping her up, she would have crumpled to the ground. Her ears muffled the roar of ammunition, and the shouts of the sergeant and his team gradually faded until she couldn’t make out their panicked words. 

A lump clamped her throat and a laboured breath wracked through her clenched teeth. Her body buckled. Broken. Exhausted. Drained, she twisted out of Wrecker’s grip and shoved him away with a firm push. Giving him no time to react, she lifted her hands and drew down a blockade of boulders between herself and the others. 

“Lina!” Zeraphine shrieked. 

“I’m slowing you down, Zera. You won’t escape them at this rate. Need to… need to get rid of them.” As her sister attempted to scale the rocks, she used the Force and propelled her into Hunter. He swiftly captured her, arms encasing her waist. “Look after her, sergeant. Promise me.”

“Please, no! Lina!” Zeraphine shouted, fighting Hunter’s unrelenting grip.

Behind her, the sprinting footfalls advanced. Amelina’s gaze fixed on Zeraphine as she screamed and kicked out. Hunter held her securely and bowed his head in acknowledgment of what she was about to do. Silently vowing to take care of her sister. “I am so proud of you, little Zera,” she said softly. “Be brave.” 

Numerous bullets plunged into her back and she faltered. She found her footing and raised her hands again. Zeraphine screamed, tears coursing down the red-wing markings on her cheeks. Maker, how she’d detested them in her childhood when she first realised everybody else had blue wings. But Amelina told her that red symbolised strength. Honour. Courage. All that she knew she would be. 

And they were the last thing Amelina saw as she encouraged the Force to break apart the canyon walls, almost destroying them to their foundation and bringing them crashing down.

Zeraphine struggled in Hunter’s grasp. He swept her away before the sand and dust had cleared. She heard a few murmured apologies, but they never registered in her mind. Her blurred vision lingered on the ruins and the agonising silence. 

At the ship, the rest of Clone Force 99 bounded up the steps when they caught sight of Hunter dashing towards them with the younger Viren sister over his shoulder. He carried her up the stairs and gently set her down near the impact seats. 

“Where is Amelina?” Omega asked, peering around the ramp as it rose and shut out the suffocating sunlight. “Is she okay?” 

“We need to go back,” Zeraphine panted. “She’s still there! I can’t… can’t leave her… she’s… she’s not…”

Hunter’s jaw strained. He sought to ignore her frantic, broken voice, her wracked sobs, but they held him tightly. Suppressing every instinct to give in to her whimpered pleas, he turned to the team’s pilot. “Get us out of here, Tech,” he ordered. “Now.” 

* * *

Zeraphine rested her arm on the medical trolley and let Echo examine the inflamed splotches, the cool metal biting into her forearm. He hummed softly to himself as he carefully moved her wrist to assess the extent of her injury. 

“That’s a pretty nasty burn,” he said, cleaning the sand and dirt from her skin and applying a thin layer of bacta gel. “How did it happen?” 

“I was trying to fix the communication unit, and it spat at me,” Zeraphine explained. Hovering close by, Wrecker grabbed a blanket from the overhead locker and tucked it around her. 

“I’m sorry about Lina. I should have kept a better hold on her.”

“It’s not your fault, Wrecker,” she assured him, sensing the guilt radiating within his small, gruff tone. An involuntary hiss escaped her lips at the beads of cold gel on her wounded shoulder, and she withheld a string of curses for the sake of the innocent ears in the room. “Didn’t realise I’d been hit there.” 

“Afraid you’re covered in them,” Echo said, handing Omega the bag of bloodied wipes. She returned a few moments later with the second medical kit, and he selected a few items from inside. “Some of them might need stitches, so I hope you aren’t too squeamish about needles.”

“I’ve had worse,” Zeraphine mumbled, letting him delicately lift her arm with his scomp link to pick out a clump of tiny stones lodged in a deep cut. 

“These are quite bad,” he mused. “It may be better if we get you to a medical facility.”

The hasty “no” she gave in reply caught her rescuers off guard, and she settled the situation with a firm shake of her head. “That wouldn’t be safe for me, and it definitely wouldn’t be safe for you.” 

“What do you mean?” Hunter asked, seating himself next to her. 

Her right leg jittered and her heel beat a light rhythm on the floor. She skimmed the bunks and the equipment as though they might provide a way for her to explain her tumultuous position. While Clone Force 99 had proven in the past they could be trusted, the last thing she wanted was to drag them into her problems. But if a situation arose where the Empire discovered them, she couldn’t, with a clear conscience, leave them clueless. “My father is on the run,” she told them, wording her response with careful thought. 

“Why?” Crosshair prompted. 

“During Order 66, Lina and I were targeted for aiding the Jedi. He put our names on the list of the dead to keep us safe, but someone found out the truth. He got away before they had the chance to arrest him and sent me a message with a location on it. I tried to crack it, but the encryption was made using obsolete data codes that I’m not familiar with.” She reached into the inner pocket of her jacket and plucked out an information stick. “Lina saved it onto this.”

“I can make short work of that,” Tech offered, allowing Zeraphine to deposit the device into his capable hands before wandering back to the cockpit. 

“We’d heard of a decrypter nearby who may have been able to help,” she continued. “Only problem was he’s in an Imperial prison. It was a stupid idea now I think about it, but we were desperate. We didn’t get anywhere near his cell before Lina accidentally tripped the alarm. She got shot on the way out, I almost got killed, the Imperials followed us off world, and now ….” Now my sister is gone, she left unsaid, the words struggling to form. Her heart clung to them, held them close as though to ward off the grief for as long as possible as droplets teetered on her lashes and fell with a blink.

She sniffled and wiped away the tears, teeth clenched against her new reality. Lost. Alone. Sisterless. 

“Once you’re all patched up, we’ll let you get some rest,” Hunter said. “There are bunks at the back, and I’ll make sure everything’s quiet.” 

“Thank you,” Zeraphine replied. She looked at the support surrounding her, downcast eyes and furrowed brows of regret and remorse. “To all of you. You didn’t have to come looking for us, but you did, and I appreciate it.” 

With a light pat on her uninjured shoulder, Echo began to wind the first bandage. “Like we’d just leave you,” he said. “Those of us who survived the war have to stay united.”

[wonderingnorthwards]

29th March 2023 - Can’t all be highlights

Not going to lie, today was frustrating as hell. Freezing cold start in janky Stodys hut, (the many holes in the wall not the greatest insulator btw) through a snow covered Forrest, beautiful but my hands were too cold to take photos, down a suuuper steep and slippery section for 1.5 hours with my AirPods dying along the way. Scrambled down to the river, which when the notes talked about the “high path” and at no point did the map intersect the river I made bold efforts to not cross, even though the orange markers were directing to do so. Too cold to risk it. This ultimately let me to scramble and battle 50m directly up a steep gorge embankment before getting to where the gps said the track was, only to discover the map was absolutely lying and needing to have to ass slide and scramble back down the bank. Next up was actually crossing this river, and if you recall, it has been snowing so wasn’t the most temperate water to cross for a 1 degree outside 10am. Unlike most rivers I cross, this one was not clear, a grey murkiness resulting in an increased reliance on the poles for depth and feet placement. Discovering it was actually pretty deep and not just up to knee length, I wisely put my phone in a higher pocket before briskly walking around boulders, well up to my waist before making the other side with my pants dripping wet. Thankfulness for removing my thermals just minutes before quickly turned to despair as I get a distinct slap on my lower thigh as my AirPods case rebounds within my shorts pocket. We will see how those turn out when I get back to civilisation, but as you can tell, day didn’t start great. For the balance, I criss crossed the river probably 15 times, up and down steep valleys trying not to fall too many times and walking past 12!! Sobos, apparently they had 13 of them in the hut I am currently occupying, the 6 bed Top Timaru hut. Eventually making it here by 4:30, I missed my push time for pushing on to the next private hut 14kms on, further frustrating me, but such is life. Lemon juice to the days grazes but the hut has no available water, but has kindly supplied gumboots so you can safely cross the merky river 50m away to get to the stream which did finally have clean drinkable water. Not all days can be highlights and it’s the difficult moments that you push through that give the great times opportunity to arise.

Stat round up:

Journey: Stodys hut - Top Timaru hut

Kms: 14kms, apple says 20.5 again, 29k steps

Climbing: 222 flights

Current km: 471

[booman86]

Amazon Daryl

Episode 1: Training

Over near the famous Mt. Fuji, a massive earthquake had begun to shake the area. Trees from Fuji forest had started to shake wildly, and several rocks and boulders had started to tumble down from the slops of Fuji. Suddenly the ground had started to crack as if something was beneath the earth, causing the earthquakes themselves! Several more cracks had begun to form more and more as the shaking continued. Jagged shards of land began to jut upward like something was pushing the earth's crust out of its way. Then suddenly, a massive explosion from the ground and a loud ferocious roar echoed throughout the area. Something was then starting to drag itself out from beneath the earth. An enormous paw armed with four long claws then rises and slams the ground, followed by another one after it. The gigantic figure was dragging its massive body out from the ground. Shaking the debris off of its larger black fur-covered body, the gigantic figure was now in full view. A monster resembled an enormous black bear, with saber teeth, white eyes, and spikes along its back. Electricity charged along with its spikes as it roared. The Bear Demon Kuma-Oni was now awake and ready to wreak havoc among the people of Japan.

Okinawa Japan

Meanwhile, up in Okinawa, two Giantess had a sparring match. One was tall, plump but muscular, her blue hair was tied up in a ponytail, and she wore what appeared to be a tattered red kimono. At the same time, the other was a voluptuous brunette wearing what appeared to be a leopard-skin patterned bikini with knee-high boots. Nijia, the demon princess and one of the members of the Giantastics, was busy training Daryl Archer, daughter of Nancy Archer, the (formally) 50-foot woman. Nijia and Daryl charge at one another. The two then collided with each other, each trying to get the upper hand against one another in a struggle to push each other back. Unfortunately, Nijia then puts her weight into Daryl and manages to lift her and perform a German Suplex on the giant brunette. "Gaaaaaaah!" Daryl screamed out as she landed face-first on the ground. However,  in a quick form of retaliation, Daryl does a leg sweep on the Demon Princess, causing her to fall over. "I'm not going to go down that easily!" Said Daryl. "Neither am I!" Said Nijia, who had just jumped back to her feet. Much to Daryl's surprise. Nijia then jumped back onto her feet and ran towards Nancy, who was readying her footing. Daryl then braced for impact as Nijia tackled her to the ground letting the back of her head hit a nearby hillside. Daryl let out a pained groan reaching for the back of her head, only for Nijia to get some payback, grabbing her head and slamming it onto the mat. Daryl shrieked, holding the back of her head and kicking her legs; at this moment, Nijia slammed her elbow onto Daryl's cheek, sending it to the side with a grunt.

Daryl let out a dazed groan as Nijia pulled her up onto her feet. With a strong tug of her arm Lapis Irish Whipped Daryl; she yelped as she was tossed over to the other side of the valley while Nijia leaped into the air with her feet extended out. In an attempt to avoid the dropkick to her chest Daryl then ducks. Nancy then takes this opportunity and charges at Nijia's back, which nearly knocks her to the ground.  "What do you think of that?" said Daryl in a confidant tone. "Impressive," said Nijia. Daryl had her hands on her hips, smiling. "Except for one thing," said Nijia. "Wait, what's that?" asked Daryl. Daryl then quickly got her answer as Nijia's fist, which was charged with electricity, then connects violently with Daryl's gut! "Acck!!!" gagged Daryl as she collapsed to the ground. "You're too cocky; it makes you unfocused and open to attack," said Nijia. "Duly noted," moaned Daryl getting up from the ground. As she rubs her stomach, she notices Nijia's fist still crackling with energy. "Hey, Nijia, how did you do that?" asked Daryl. "My aunt taught me these moves," said Nijia. "Especially this one." Nijia then charges up her whole body with electrical energy. While doing so, she creates an outer body that looked like hers, only three times the size. Daryl could only look in awe at this. "I could teach you, but it's not going to be easy," said Nijia. "When was it ever easy?" asked Daryl. The two then continue their training.

Japan Countryside

Kuma-Oni was causing quite a stir in the Japanese countryside. He had pillaged several farms and settlements, devouring humans and livestock alike. News of the monster's attacks soon reached the Self Defense Force, who immediately began to plan their assault.  However, the military was no match for his power as Kuma-Oni unleashed bolts of lightning upon the multiple tanks and jets and proceeded to gobble up 60% of the soldiers. As the Bear demon continued his rampage, he then scened something not too far from where he was. It was something big and just as powerful as him. Kuma-Oni growled, thinking that this could be either a challenger for his power or live prey. Kuma-Oni was licking his drooling jaws hoping it was the latter. He then makes a beeline to the source of this power.  Helicopters wear flying over following Kuma-Oni filming the movements of the creature. Everyone was now on high alert due to Kuma-Oni's rampage. Meanwhile, a young 18-year-old girl with deep green eyes and brown hair watched the news talking about the city's monster. Yuuko Kinoshita gets a worried look on her face. "Looks like I'll need to help Nijia out with this one," said Yuuko. She then runs off outside the city and into the outskirts of town to where no one can see her. Yuuko is then enveloped in bright white light and was now wearing what appeared to be a leopard skin two-piece with bracelets around her wrists and ankles. "It's time for Giganta to stop that monster!" said Yuuko, who then proceeds to grow in size until she is over 50 meters in height, becoming Giganta. Giganta then goes after Kuma-Oni.

Okimawa Japan

Back in Okinawa, Daryl was having a bit of trouble preforming her charge up ability taught by Nijia. "focus Daryl, I know you can do it!" said Nijia. Daryl nods at Nijia and gets back to concentrating. However, this training session gets cut off when a roar is then heard from a distance. "What was that?" asked Daryl. "Oh no," said Nijia in a worried tone. "Nijia, what's wrong?" asked a concerned Daryl. She then gets her answer when Kuma-Oni rushes in and tackles her to the ground without warning. "Gaaaaaaah!" yelled Daryl as the demon bear tries to take a bite out of her. However, before Kuma-Oni could try to bite down on her throat, Nijia then delivers a powerful dropkick to his side, knocking the beast off of Daryl. "Thanks!" said Daryl getting up. "No problem," said Nijia. "Might I ask who in the hell is that?" asked Daryl. "Kuma-Oni the Demon Bear," said Nijia. "Kuma-wha?" said Daryl. "A bear demon that my aunt fought with a sealed away thousands of years ago," said Nijia. "Looks like he's back!" said Daryl. Kuma-Oni then gets up and runs right at the two giantesses. "Here he comes!" said Nijia pulling out her Katana while Daryl gets in a fighting stance. Kuma-Oni then swipes one of his claws at Nijia. But it's deflected with her sword. Daryl then punches the bear in his face's right side; this seemed to infuriate him even further as Kuma rises on his hidden legs and lunges at Daryl once more. Daryl then charges at the bear monster and tackles him to the ground.

Daryl then proceeds to punch the creature in the face. "Ready to give up you demonic Pooh Bear wannabe?" said Daryl punching the monster in the face. She gets her answer as Kuma-Oni opens his mouth and fires off an electrical blast at Daryl off him. Nijia then rushes in with her sword and slashes at Kuma-Oni's shoulder to distract him from going after Daryl. Kuma-Oni and Nijia then being to grapple with each other while Daryl was recovering. Kuma-Oni then bites down on Nijia shoulder and tosses her aside, and throws her against Daryl, knocking them down. "This guy is tough," said Daryl. "No, kidding!" said Nijia wincing in pain from the bite. Kuma-Oni then fires off several blasts of electrical energy from his spikes at Nijia and Daryl. Kuma-Oni was then getting closer and closer towards the two heroines attempting to kill both of them. But, before he got closer to them, a huge boulder then strikes him in the back of his head, knocking him out for a moment. Daryl and Nijia then see who hit the creature. Giganta Yuuko had shown up to aid in the fight. "Giganta, you're here!" said Daryl excitedly. "What brings you in the neighborhood?" asked Nijia. "I saw smokey's demonic cousin over here attacking, and I thought I could deal with him," said Giganta Yuuko. "Well, thank god you shown up as you did; this guy was kicking both of our asses," said Daryl. "If it's your ass, it's not hard to miss," said Giganta Yuuko jokingly. "Oh haha, very funny," snapped Daryl. Kuma-Oni then gets back up and proceeds to roar at the three giantesses.

"Look who's up again!" said Nijia. "Let's show him what we're made of!" said Giganta. "Right!!" said Daryl getting in a battle pose.  With a snarl, Kuma-Oni ran toward his opponents. Kuma-Oni, had his jaws open, ready to take a bite out of Giganta. She then grabbed Kuma-Oni by his mouth with both hands and chucked the bear kaiju over his head. The Bear demon then landed headfirst into the ground after being tossed but manage to get right-side up. Daryl then rushes in and tackles Kuma-Oni in his side, knocking him back to the ground again while she and Nijia go in and pound him on the right side of his body. Kuma-Oni swipes his claws at Nijia's leg, causing her to stumble back from the pain. Kuma-Oni then head butts Daryl, only for Giganta to grab him by the neck in a headlock. However, as Giganta was trying to choke out Kuma-Oni, the bear demon then charges himself up with electrical energy and electrocutes Giganta causing her to fall on her back, unconscious. Daryl gets back up as sees Giganta's smoldering body with Kuma-Oni standing over her. Daryl was now furious that her friend was supposedly dead has her body enveloped with glowing golden energy. Daryl's body then makes a gold electrical astral body that was twice the size of Kuma-Oni. Nijia watched in awe as she sees Daryl finally use the technique she trained her for. "She's doing it!" said Nijia.

In her new form, Daryl grabbed Kuma-Oni and plunged her fist right through the demon's chest. The Bear demon then howls in pain as its body was now expelling electrical energy from out of its body. "You are no longer welcome here!!" yelled Daryl. Kuma-Oni's body was now starting to dissolve and dissipate as his energy was leaving his body. After Kuma-Oni was defeated, Daryl then reverts to normal and collapses out of exhaustion; simultaneously, Giganta suddenly recovers from Kuma-Oni's previous attack and sees that the bear demon is gone, and Nijia was helping up Daryl. Giganta gets up and meets up with them.

"Giganta, you're ok!!" said Daryl hugging her friend. "It's going to take a lot more than that to kill me!" groans Giganta. "And thanks to Daryl over here, we won't have to worry about Kuma-Oni for a long time," said Nijia. "Ah guys," said Daryl blushing.

Later that night, after the bear demons' defeat, Daryl and Yuuko were over at a secluded location with a massive Hotspring. Daryl was lying on the hot spring side on her stomach, while Yuuko was in the pool feeling the hot water enveloping her body. Yuuko sees Daryl's big butt up in the air. "how come you're not in the pool yet? You won't drown," said Yuuko. "What makes you say that?" asked Daryl. "Well, with an ass like yours, it could be used as a floatation device," said Yuuko jokingly. "Jealous, much?" asked Daryl. "Not all of us can blessed with bountiful curves." Daryl sticks her tongue out Yuuko. Suddenly without warning, Daryl then feels something slap her ass. "Ow, hey, who did that!?" said Daryl. She then looks up to see that it was Nijia who struck her ass. "Sorry I couldn't resist; your ass is such a big target to miss," said Nijia laughing. However, Nijia was then caught off guard when Daryl slams her booty into Nijia's face! This impact causes a massive splash in the water. "What the hell?" said Nijia. "If I were Kaila, you'd enjoy it," said Daryl. The girls then share a laugh and then proceed to go into a splash fight with one another.

[thegeminisage]

HELLO I AM BACK i bought Skyrim and it has once more consumed me 🥲 but i can see my wife again (Lydia 🥰🥰🥰)

NICE I hope you enjoy Control whenever you get to it. i literally got skyrim bc it was $10 so i get wanting to snag a game on sale.

i can't offer any assistance with geforce bc not only do I not understand what it is besides possibly remote gaming(???), technology may as well be magic to me. my sister was asking about what kind of pc i have and all i could tell her was "it's a computer" so i wish you luck on that. case in point: i need to add another harddrive to my pc. i got one. i have no idea how to install it. g**gle is unhelpful. i may resort to calling one of my uncles for help.

i don't have a lot to say, I've been consumed by my old Skyrim hyperfixation and haven't even touched Dishonored 😔

side note: if/whenever you get skyrim (bc i saw it on the wishlist screenshot), there's a mod called The Staff of Shalidor that is a little player house inside a staff. its very nicely designed and its portable so you can dump shit in there when you're carrying too much. many many containers. i love it. ALSO there's one called Chateau du Fromage and it has CHEESE SNOWMEN. LIKE. SNOWMEN BUT MADE OF CHEESE WHEELS. THEY HAVE LITTLE CHEESE TITS. it's great and I've been calling it the Cheese Tit House. but i had the Staff mod ages ago when i had a... different copy of the pc game and i was very excited to see it was still uploaded.

OKAY now I'm done bye bye, have a good day!

HI BESTIE literally me too re technology dw. i dont really understand how my computer works and i have to ask my brother for help a lot and i think he gets annoyed with me :( maybe ill start outsourcing my problems to tumblr...the boulder im pushing up the hill rn involves trying to get a god damn CAPTURE CARD and i would love help picking one out because i DONT. know what im doing but he does not want to help me :(

I WOULD LOVE TO PLAY SKYRIM WITH CHEESE SNOWMEN AND CHEESE TITS. i played the unmodded version on xbox 60000 years ago when it came out (only after my brother told me you could be gay in it) and it's one of the first games where i learned to get comfortable with first-person controls. so ive always wanted to dive back in on pc where i could use all the insane things nexusmods could throw at me. modding stardew valley was the first experience i had with modding pc games (outside of a few cosmetic adjustments on ffxi back in the day) and it made a WORLD of difference in how i was able to enjoy the game. so im really excited about that!!! man congrats on skyrim that is just one hit of dopamine after another huh

[theskywaslookingback]

hands

“Somehow I thought the place would have been smaller,” Martin says, bag slung over his shoulder as he looks up at the cottage. “It’s nicer than I would have given Daisy credit for.”

Jon hums, pulling his bag out of the boot of the car they’d borrowed from Basira and letting the lid fall shut with a heavy thunk. The cottage sits nestled at the base of a large hill, surrounded by lush green grass and the last vestiges of summer flowers. Far off in the distance a couple of cows graze lazily, just small dark shapes in the dying sunlight. Bugs hum in the air around them. It’s small and quiet, just the kind of place Jon thinks Daisy might have liked, actually.

The cottage itself is stone painted a stark white, with dark blue, peeling shutters closed tight to the windows. One of the shutters lies broken on the ground, and the glass it had been protecting is spider-webbed with cracks. Two terra cotta flower pots sit on either side of the front door, both empty. There was no evidence that a welcome mat had ever been laid between them. To the left of the door was a box filled with what had once been firewood but was now damp with mist and rot. Jon shuddered to think about creatures they might find lurking in the bottom of that box.

“Charming,” Jon says, the corner of his mouth turned down in distaste. He finds the key in a false rock on the right side of the cottage, just where Basira had said it would be, and lets them inside.

It’s clear from the moment they step inside that Daisy had not visited this particular safe house in quite some time. The air inside the cottage is thick and unpleasantly cold, smelling of dust and age. Dust motes catch in the dim light of the bulb as Jon turns on the light, and he’s displeased to see cobwebs sitting stubbornly in the corners of the room. The wood floor looks old and worn, scratchy looking area rugs dotted along like haphazard patchwork quilt. Jon loathes to take his shoes off.

“Well,” Martin says from behind him, crowding in close, “at least the electric is working.”

Jon shoots a withering glare over his shoulder and steps inside, letting Martin close the door behind them. He drops his bag next to the uncomfortable mound of fabric that someone generous might have once called a settee and goes to check on the rest of the place.

Jon checks the taps in the kitchen and is relieved to find the water running. There’s an expired  box of Tetley’s in the pantry that will have to make do until they can make their way down to the village to do a proper bit of shopping, and a couple cans of peaches that might be passable as dinner or breakfast if he can convince Martin to eat them.

He can hear Martin moving about in the sitting room, the creak of the windows and shutters as Martin pushes them open to get the place aired out a bit. “Might be a bit chilly with the windows open,” Jon says.

“There’s a radiator,” Martin replies, “I’ll see about getting it on.”

“Right.”

The hall light flickers when he turns it on, but it gives him enough light to see by. The cottage itself has only four rooms - kitchen, sitting room, one bedroom, and one bath - and Jon can’t bring himself to be surprised that the only bed appears to be a full size. He checks the dresser drawers and finds them empty, thankfully, no nesting mice or other visitors.

The bed is a utilitarian thing. One pillow, though he’s frankly surprised it even has that, white sheets with tight tucked corners, and a navy blue duvet. Jon pulls it off the bed to shake off the dust and sneezes, his eyes watering. He opens the single window with a little difficulty, having to stand on his tip-toes to get it all the way open, and unlocks the shutters. Night has settled quickly over the little valley, but the moon is bright and nearly full, pouring silver light into the room.

When Jon makes his way back into the sitting room Martin is crouched in front of the radiator and frowning, the sleeves of his button down shirt rolled up to show the light brown skin of his forearm. He has a birthmark on his left arm, nestled next to the crease where his arm bends, a dark spot like a smudge of dirt that Jon wants to press his mouth to.

Jon clears his throat, the tips of his ears burning a little. “Any luck?”

Martin jerks a little, swinging his head up to look at him. Jon feels his mouth go a little dry at the sight if he’s honest. Martin’s dark hair sweeping over his forehead, those sleeves rolled back on those thick arms. He likes the look of Martin at work, those calm dark eyes fixed on a problem that Jon knows he’ll find a solution for. Martin sweeps his eyes over Jon, head to toe, before looking back at the radiator. “I don’t know what Daisy did to this thing, but I think it’s well and truly dead.”

“Did you try plugging it in?”

Martin gives Jon a glare worthy of one of his own and Jon feels his lips turn up into a grin without his permission. “It’s a gas radiator, Jon.” He sighs, “Hopefully the gas is just turned off and it’ll be an easy fix, but we’ll be stuck without it tonight.”

“That’s...not ideal.”

Martin hums in agreement.

Silence settles between them, a not unwelcome weight that Jon’s been getting used to the last few days. “Tea?” Jon asks after a moment for lack of anything more helpful to do.

“That would be lovely, actually. Did you find some?”

“Daisy had some in the pantry, it’s likely ancient, but--”

“Tea is tea.”

Jon wrinkles his nose but doesn’t outwardly disagree.

“I’ll just get some things put away then,” Martin says, picking his bag back up off the floor. “Do you want me to take yours?”

“Leave it. I’ll get it later.”

“Alright.”

Jon finds Daisy’s kettle under the sink and starts to wash it out when he hears Martin say something from down the hall. He turns off the water. “What?”

Martin appears in the entry, biting his lip. “There’s er, there’s only one bed.”

Jon furrows his eyebrows. “I’m aware. I saw the bedroom, Martin.”

“Yeah it’s just--“ Martin trails off, his cheeks flushing. “How are...how are we going to sleep?”

Jon remembers the two days they’d spent in his flat, sleeping in the same bed, their hands tangled together even when sleeping because the thought of being separated was too much to bear. But that had been right after Jon had walked Martin out of the Lonely, so he supposes those were extenuating circumstances, Martin needing an anchor to find himself again. It should be a relief that Martin feels safe enough to want a little distance again, but mostly it just sets off a dull ache in his chest.

Jon feels a sharp pain in his jaw and realizes he’s been clenching his teeth and makes an effort to relax, though his shoulders feel pinned next to his ears. Jon goes back to washing out the kettle, filling it with cool water to boil. He avoids Martin’s eyes and says, “I think there might be some spare linens in the closet. I can take the couch.”

Martin shifts, the old wood floor creaking under his foot. “Are you sure? It doesn’t look very comfortable.”

Jon shrugs. “I’ve slept on worse, when I do manage to sleep. It’ll be fine Martin.”

“Alright. If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Jon says with a finality he doesn’t feel.

He finds a couple of mugs in the cupboard that he rinses out before filling with water and letting the tea bags steep. He brings the mugs back into the sitting room and sets Martin’s down on the table. He takes a sip of his own and grimaces. It’s vile, but far from the worst tea he’s ever had so he makes himself drink it.

Martin appears a minute later from the bedroom  and takes his tea with a grateful little thanks before taking a sip and making a face.

“Tea is tea.” Jon mumbles.

“I’m not sure this still qualifies.” Martin says but drinks it anyway.

They drink the rest of their tea in silence. Martin volunteers to do the washing up while Jon gets his own things put away.

Martin has left him half the dresser for his clothes and made a space for him on the bathroom counter. It feels almost too intimate, their toothbrushes resting side by side, their clothes in the same drawer. Jon tries desperately not to think about it as he changes his clothes for bed and rifles through the little linen closet for a set of sheets.

He finds a set of dark gray sheets and a threadbare red throw blanket that he drags back out into the sitting room. The settee is as uncomfortable as it is ugly, hardly more than a couple of boulders masquerading as a sofa; Although, Jon has spent many a night sleeping on the floor or bent over his desk at the Archives, so maybe he has no real right to complain.

Martin turns off the kitchen light and waits awkwardly for him to finish, hovering around the edges like he wants to say something but doesn’t have the words. “Are you going to be warm enough?” He finally asks, eyes locked onto the throw blanket. The fabric is almost sheer in spots from wear and dotted with holes along one edge.

The chill is almost impossible to ignore, but Jon just shrugs, a jerky up and down motion of his shoulders. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, if you’re--“ Martin bites his lip, “Okay. Good night, Jon.”

“Good night, Martin.”

Martin disappears into the bedroom, turning the hall light off, and Jon lets out a shaky breath when he shuts the door behind him with an audible click.

*

Moonlight seeps in through the open windows, the chirp of crickets ringing along the countryside, a chill settling across the fields as if to prove winter will be along soon. Even in his long sleeve and trackie bottoms, two pairs of socks pulled up over his feet, Jon shivers. He keeps staring at the ceiling, tracing along crisscrossing cracks with his eyes. He kicks his feet and wraps the blanket further up his shoulder and tries to relax. The walls creak and shudder, old pipes groaning and settling inside the wall. Jon throws an arm over his eyes and tries not to think about it. He’s almost asleep when he hears the floorboards start to creak, the soft padding of footsteps coming from the hall.

“Jon?” Martin’s voice is soft, a little strained and raspy like he’s anxious, “Are you still awake?”

Jon sits up, rubbing a hand down the side of his face. “Yes, I’m still awake.”

“Oh,” Martin says. Jon can’t quite see him, can just make out the shape of him, long legs and broad shoulders. His arms wrapped around himself like he can’t keep warm. “It’s...it’s cold, isn’t it.”

“Yes.”

“Might--” Martin clears his throat, “Might be easier if we slept together, yeah? Until we get the heating back up.”

“Are you--” Jon pauses, picking at a loose thread on the blanket, “Would you be okay with that?”

“Would I?” Martin blurts, “I, uh, would you? Be okay with that?”

“Of course. We shared before.”

“Yeah we…” Martin takes a step further into the room. The edges of him blur just a bit, and what Jon can make out of his face looks exhausted. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It doesn’t, it--” Jon chokes on his own honestly, the lump of it hard and solid in his throat, “It’s okay when it’s you.”

Martin’s mouth drops open into a little ‘o’, a shocked exhale of breath coming from him.

Jon immediately wants to take it back. It’s too much, Jon knows, he’s always been too much at exactly the wrong time. He curls his fists into the blanket pooled at his waist, fighting back the sharp wave of panic that ‘this is it, this time he’s ruined it for good’.

“Okay,” Martin says softly, his lips turning up into a small smile that’s both soft and a little sad, “come on then, maybe we can still get a few hours in before sunrise.”

Jon swallows hard. The panic sits there in his chest, silent and waiting. “Okay,” He chokes out, “alright, let me just--” He gets up and takes the blanket with him, just to have something to do with his hands and follows Martin into the bedroom.

It’s just as cold in here as the rest of the house, but the way Jon’s fingers are trembling has nothing to do with the cold. He picks the side closer to the window, if only so he has something to stare at when he can’t sleep. Martin curls up next to him. The bed is so much smaller than his own back in London. Martin has to draw his legs up just to fit on the mattress, too tall and wide for the little bed. Jon fits just fine, but he’s a little worried about rolling off the mattress during the night. They’re perched precariously, sharing the same pillow, Martin’s warm breath at the back of Jon’s neck.

Eventually Martin sighs. “Here,” He says, shuffling a little behind Jon, “Can I--?” He hovers his hand over Jon’s waist.

It doesn’t-- it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just that the bed is too small for two grown men, despite one being below average height, and it’s cold besides. That doesn’t stop Jon’s heart from beating hard and loud in his chest though, as he slowly nods.

Martin’s hands are large and strong and lovely. Jon’s breath catches when Martin’s arm curls around his waist and he’s pulled back against Martin’s chest. He can feel Martin’s heart beating against his back, thudding almost as loud and hard as his own. Martin’s fingers settle over his stomach, splaying out. Jon thinks his hand could almost cover it completely and it sets off another round of shivering in him that has nothing at all to do with the cold.

“Alright?” Martin whispers.

“Yes.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m-- it’s cold, Martin.”

Martin hums thoughtfully and lets go of Jon for just a moment, long enough to pull the duvet up higher around them before settling his hand back against Jon’s stomach. Jon curls his own hands in front of his face and grabs the blanket so hard his knuckles ache.

“Night, Jon.”

“Good night, Martin.”

Jon is sure there’s no way he could fall asleep like that, pressed so close to Martin that he can feel the warmth of him all along his body, but eventually he does.

[READ THE REST ON AO3]

[bloodycassian]

FIRE AND ICE PART TWO - GRIEF

His lack of faith in you seemed to grow with each passing day that you ignored him. He tried bringing you food, tried making jokes. You had a sneaking suspicion he tried to send Mor in to try to talk to you too. But she just read beside you in bed, munching on the plate of cookies he had ordered to your room. 

"I'm not going to say dont be mad it him, but maybe just... hear him out." Mor said, shutting her book. You glared at her. "I know, I know.... but just maybe-"

"He hasn't bothered to apologize. Why would I hear him out when he doesn't even try to hear me out!?" You let her hear the kindling fire that had been building over the last few days. The words came out with precision and cut even her deep. 

"Cassian can be stupid-" 

"He's an idiot." You spat. 

She sighed, and sat up from the pillow stack that you shared. She could see the predator waiting to be released under your skin. And she didn’t want to be the one to let it free. So she went the gentle route. The one she knew would knock you free of the anger. "He wanted to keep you safe." the words hit your weak spot for the male. 

You shoved it away, disregarding the vulnerability. "By shaming me?" She was surprised. Cassian hadn't shown any sign of falseness when she had spoken to him. He had just seemed concerned. You laughed bitterly. "He forgot to mention the part where he guilted me into leaving. He thinks I'm a doll he needs to protect." You cringed away from the words that you knew he saw as being true. The shame filled you further. Like a sinking ship, it only brought you lower and lower. 

She stared at you, those piercing eyes so different from Rhys' bored into you. Her next words were carefully chosen. "Give him.. time." She concluded. You stared after her as she made her way to the door. 

Two days later you had cooled off after a sparring with Feyre and Rhys. As if he had been told of your more pleasant mood, Cassian appeared on your balcony with a bundle of wildflowers and a basket of bath supplies. Your favorites, of course. You didn't hesitate to take them. You gave him a once over - that stupid apologetic half smile he wore dug into your heart. You rolled your eyes at him and turned, heading for the bathroom. 

+

He made love to you that night. Long and slow. apologetic in every way. Sensual, caring and so good. When you woke the next morning, he was gone. Just a note left on your bedside table. 

"Back before lunch" it promised. You sighed and threw it on the floor. The same frustration as before returning to you. The unsatisfied feeling of needing to fight - to get the rage out. To have him just yell at you already. To let the words you knew he wanted to say finally come out. “I can’t do this anymore.” 

The nightmare of those words lingered throughout your slow morning. By lunch there was still no sign of Cassian.

So much for round two.

+

You picked at your dinner impatiently. The various fruits and meats on the table didn't appeal. Especially for such an early dinner. You were hoping to train but Rhys and Azriel weren’t back from their meeting yet, so you decided on a much too early feast for yourself. You couldnt bring yourself to have a bite though. You watched the snowdrifts billow outside the house of wind instead. They flurried down the mountains, shimmering like diamonds in the afternoon light. You could imagine how it sounded rushing down the steep peaks of the mountain. The soft tinkling sound they made when hitting your hair. Your wings flexed involuntarily. 

Mor strode in with a small box in her hands. "Good morning." She chittered, placing the box on the table in front of you. "Whats this?" You asked, skimming a finger over the lid. "A gift." She began walking away without a look back. 

"From?" the box seemed to hum with anticipation. 

"Open it and find out." She called from the doorway. Your stomach suddenly spiked with nerves. 

"For the one you lost. -Cas" 

The one you lost?! The ignorant note made your blood boil. He was the one that had caused you to lose it. You didnt even want the damned gift if he was going to be such an asshole about it. But you couldn't ignore the beauty of the blade that lay before you. Among dark satin lining lay a gorgeous handmade dagger. Black stained metal with a simple leather hilt. Curved at the tip with deadly sharpness. You picked an apple from the table, and tested the knife. 

It sliced through like butter, leaving no jagged edges over the skin of the fruit. You inspected the mark, noting the spot of red on the inside of the apple. Your heart dropped. "Shit." 

You hadn't even felt the cut, the blade was so sharp. You wrapped your loose shirt around the wound on your finger and set the knife back in the box. The blood dripped on the dark lining. Staining the perfection of it. 

+

You sparred with Azriel that evening, working off your frustration with Cassian. He went easy on you, noting the wrapping on your fingers. He didnt ask about it though. The session was more quiet than usual, even for Az. He stopped abruptly mid swing, letting you catch his torso with the training sword. Cassian landed behind you. He had his hands up in defense before you could even open your mouth.  

"You smell like blood." You accused. "And mud." 

"So do you." He gave Azriel a nod, and the shadowsinger excused himself. suspicion grated at your nerves. You set your jaw and put your sword away, ignoring the new blood spots blooming on the bandage. He squinted at it, you cut him off before he could say anything.

"Cassian..." You leveled a look at him. 

He kept his composure, ripping those hazel eyes from your injury. "Dont worry about it. I got it handled."

"You’re half a day late and - wait….Got what handled?!" You squeaked. You disregarded his tardiness all together. The sheepish look on his face said all you needed to know.

You wanted to hear him admit it. That he went and finished the job without you. You needed to hear him admit it. You realised you were tense, waiting to fight. Your wings were tucked in protectively behind you, and your fists clenched at your sides ached.

"Dont-"

"If you say dont worry about it again I am going to throw you off this house." You ground out through your teeth.

He did not laugh, like you would have expected. He just looked away. On the back of his neck you noticed the thin scratches and the dirt that marred his tunic. Your eyes stung with tears. The betrayal hitting you like a ton of bricks. "I did, alright?" He said, voice low. "I took care of it."

"What the fuck, Cassian?!" You exploded, "The bath, the flowers what - so I would be less suspicious?" You recalled the night before, the slow tenderness of him. The 

"What? No - I got that because I love-"

"Dont say its because you love me. You could have been killed. You lied to me." You could feel the blood pounding in your temples, fueling the rage that lashed out. Tears threatened to spill over. 

"I didnt lie!" His voice echoed against the far wall of the training ring. "And you were almost killed too. I couldn't risk that again."

"It wasn't even close to that bad!" You shouted back, not caring how the birds quieted. Your rage matched his, possibly exceeded it at times. You knew that on previous experiences. You'd done a lot more than make nature quiver at the tones you brought. 

"It was bad enough." He said with finality, his tone somber. He leaned against the weapons rack and tapped his toe against it anxiously. You stared him down, daring him to say more. Waiting to strike out against the next words you knew he wanted to say. What you knew he was thinking.

"You're not strong enough on your own."

You didn't need any more of his excuses. You didnt need to hear the words to know that he wanted to say them. You scoffed. It caught his attention. 

"Where are you going?" He asked. A request, not a demand. You didn't oblige him. You just leapt off the side of the the wide cliffside and let your wings pull you up, high into the air. You kept soaring, pushing and pushing until your lungs hurt with the stinging of the air. 

+

Az's cool shadows did not touch you when he landed. The rustling of the long grass around his pants was little more than a whisper. 

"He sent you didnt he?" You wiped your cold nose on your sleeve and attempted to piece yourself together. Things with Cas had gotten just so difficult lately. You didnt know why. He was constantly just... hovering. It made you claustrophobic. You hadn't been forgiving about it either. He wasn't the only one to blame. 

"He didn't..." Azriel stood beside you. You didnt feel his cold eyes that always seemed to pierce into you. You looked up at him to confirm your thoughts, and he was indeed looking over the grand lake you had parked yourself at. Among a valley of trees and violet flowers, the polished surface of the water seemed like a mirror. 

"Then why are you here?" Your words were laced with the venom Cas had left you with.

He was quiet for only a moment, before calmly speaking again. "To make sure you're alright."

"I dont need anyone looking after me. I'm not a child." You spat bitterly. The sunset overhead darkened, slowly making its way down behind the mountains. 

"I know. I came here for myself." His words held no double meaning. No doubt ringing through them. "I wanted to see you." He said simply. He didnt have the arrogant air of someone coming to the rescue. You appreciated that. It took a weight of your chest.

"Why?" You demanded more than asked. You really didnt care what your tone was like. He was the one offering to stay beside you.

He shrugged, and gestured to the large boulder you leaned against. "May I?" He asked. You shrugged back - weakly -, and he sat. You watched the sun disappear completely together. You through clouded, swollen eyes. 

He said nothing, didn't even look at you besides when you choked out a sob. Then his leg was there, subtle and warm. You didn't feel a sting of pride when you leaned against the welcome comfort. He didn't complain when your tears soaked through his pants, or when your cried rocked his body as well. 

[morganas-pendragons]

Willow | Din Djarin

life is a willow and it bent right to your wind.. 

long story short | no body, no crime | song #3: willow 

this got away from me, i am not sorry 

tags: @snippy-tano​ / @mackstrut​ / @majorshiraharu​ / @sacred-things​ / @wonderlandgabby​ / @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​ / @roseofalderaan​ 

set during chapter 14

Din. 

His name still rolls around inside your head like the waves of a storm building over the ocean. It’s intoxicating. Overwhelming. He had bared himself, soul and all, for you to know the most intimate details of a life that no one else has had the privilege to know. 

But someone can only bend so far before they snap. 

Life is a willow and it bent right to your wind..

It should have been easy. You and Din had brought Grogu from Corvus to Tython so the baby could use the Force Conduit to call out to any of the remaining Jedi left in the galaxy. It was supposed to be a means that would further lead him to his people. 

And lead him further away from you and the man he called his father. 

  “What’s he doing on the magic rock?” Din questions skeptically.  

  “Entering a meditative state, you di’kut.” You reply, eyeing The Mandalorian who stands at your side as you both eye your child. Grogu was young in terms of his species. You knew that. Despite his limited experience with formal training during his time at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, his reach to the other remaining Jedi was remarkable. The field he’d created was impenetrable. You and Din couldn’t get through it. “It’s a conduit. A conduit that’s powerful, Din. We can’t get through it.” 

  “You can’t either?” Din asks. “You’re-You’re a Jedi too, you should be able to get through!” 

The desperation in his voice is palpable. Seeing Grogu in the midst of the act is forcing Din to realize just who his son is - how powerful he is, and how he is so far out of his depth right now - and that, eventually, he will lose him too. Just as he’s lost everyone else, and will inevitably lose you. 

  “Grogu.” 

It’s so hard not to fall in love with the man when he holds that beskar ball the baby loves to play with up between two fingers and gently calls out his name. Grogu has made it abundantly clear that he is a daddy’s boy and thus never fails to make his father laugh with the response he gives to his name. 

You’re too busy focusing on the fact that he made Din laugh to hear anything else. 

Din won’t lose you today. Not tomorrow, but someday. Men like Din Djarin don’t get happy endings, no matter how badly they want them. 

And as you sit there tucked into his side, head tilted upward towards a helmeted face that’s most likely beaming beneath the mask, you realize that this is where you’d like to spend the rest of your life. 

You and him. Him, when you had no one else. Sounds like the ideal happy ending. 

  “Until he’s done communicating to the other Jedi,” You reach down to the belt at your waist and remove one saber, then two, and ignite both blades as you peer over the side of the hill. “We have to protect the child.” 

The two of you take off down the hill. 

The more that you say, the less I know Wherever you stray, I follow

Over the treeline, Slave One lands in the clearing with Boba Fett and Fennec Shand on board. 

I’m begging for you to take my hand 

Wreck my plans 

That’s my man 

Din yanks you behind one of the largest boulders as a series of shots rings out. It’s most definitely the man who had landed the ship over the hill, and he seems interested in Din. “I’ve been tracking you, Mandalorian.” He calls out, unaware of your presence as Din clamps his hand down harder on your mouth. 

  “Are you Jedi?” 

  “Are you kidding me?” You seethe through your Bond -which is always fun because Din is never expecting it - eyes narrowing in annoyance as you tilt your head upward to see if you can glance a peek at the newcomer. “Does everyone look Jedi to you?” 

The minute Din lets go of you, the newcomer removes his hood and you are greeted with a face you’ve seen multiple times before in your dreams from when you were younger: The same face that over a million soldiers for the Grand Army of the Republic had shared. 

  “Boba Fett?” 

That definitely catches the newcomer off guard. You’d only seen him in passing - only each other’s faces, never names -  since the last time you’d been on Tatooine, well before you’d met Din, but you had failed to mention to the Mandalorian that you had been part of the reason that Boba Fett had lost his armor to begin with. 

  “You.” 

***

Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneakin' in

You’d give Boba Fett credit for his ingenuity. You had known upon meeting him that he was a talented bounty hunter, but he was lethal. You’d never in a million years anticipated him being so deadly in the face of storm troopers. 

Then again. He was a clone. 

As if you were a mythical thing Like you were a trophy or a champion ring But there was one prize I'd cheat to win

  “If you were given the option, what would you cheat to win? What would be your prize for falling in love with him?” Cara had asked you idly when the two of you had returned to Nevarro. 

  “The best one. The one I already have.” You had murmured in reply. “His heart.” 

  “Din!” You yelled. The Mandalorian’s head snapped into your direction, wild and alert, as you rolled in front of him and held your sabers in an X formation. “Sword and shield!”

Din removes the second blaster from the holster against his thigh, and together the two of you mirror one of the very movements you had perfected with your clone troopers during The Clone War. You had been young.. but you remembered. 

The more that you say, the less I know Wherever you stray, I follow I'm begging for you to take my hand

When it’s evident that Boba and Fennec have control of the valley in which the Stormtroopers are trying to overrun them on, the two of you sprint back up the hill hand in hand to try and retrieve your child. 

Grogu is still in contact. The sight of him so at ease as he reaches out to the ends of the galaxy in search of another Jedi - one that is not you, because the person acting as his other parent cannot be the one to warn him against attachments - makes your heart ache because that ease is what he should know. What he should’ve been able to live on a world where the Empire wouldn’t try to hunt him down and slaughter him for simply being alive. 

Wreck my plans, that's my man You know that my train could take you home Anywhere else is hollow I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans, that's my man

  “Sarad!” Din yells. “It has to be you! I-I can’t-” The tips of his boots dig into the ground as he pushes himself forward, lifting each foot as he does, because Din is simply desperate enough to fight a cosmic stone. “I can’t-hold onto-him!” 

Life is a willow and it bent right to your wind... 

They count me out time and time again

You trudge forward. It’s so difficult to fight this, but you do. You trudge forward despite the pain, despite the gnawing fear that you won't be strong enough to retrieve your son, and with a bloodcurdling scream you push your hands through the field. 

Your fingers touch his robes before you’re thrown backwards and land right on top of Din. 

Life was a willow, and it bent right to your wind

  “Sarad, please.” Din’s hands cradle your cheeks as your vision swims in and out, and your head is aching and you want to sleep but your child is in danger, the man you love is in danger, you cannot just- 

  “I’m here.” You murmur, pressing your aching forehead against that of his helmet as he slowly hoists you to his feet. “Life hasn’t broken me yet.” 

He’s so kriffing proud underneath the stupid beskar. Din only hopes you can feel it through the Force. 

Head dried with blood, you throw your hair over your shoulder and cast a look down into the valley. One saber ignites, and then two. 

Din watches your back as you both retreat back down the hill. What you both remain ignorant to is that the moment you turn around, Grogu disengages and the field dissipates. 

Your son lays his weary head to rest. 

*** 

Wait for the signal, and I'll meet you after dark Show me the places where the others gave you scars

Your heart aches for him. The minute that things seem like they’re starting to go right, a single shot rings clear from the sky and blows The Razor Crest to kingdom come. Your home. Grogu’s home. Din’s home. 

The Mandalorian doesn't say a word. He just stands there and breathes in the wake of the destruction. 

  “The kid!” 

You, Din and Fennec turn around and take off back up the hill to try and reach Grogu before whoever is coming above him. There are four of them - robotic in nature - and they are coming in fast. 

  “DIN!” 

Lungs heaving, blood pumping, heart pounding, your feet slam against the Earth as you use the Force to launch yourself in the direction of the baby-- only for him to be taken into the arms of the dark trooper as you make a less then graceful landing. 

Your knees give out beneath you as your face nearly collides with the rock beneath your hands. Gravel bites into your palms. You don’t care. 

They took your son.  

The more that you say, the less I know Wherever you stray, I follow I'm begging for you to take my hand

  “Grogu.” You whisper. Allowing your eyes to flutter shut, you wish away the overwhelming feeling of tears that pool in your eyes - you’ve gotten alot more used to heartbreak since the genocide of the Jedi - and focus on the thrumming Force signature of the baby. “Stay safe, ad’ika.” 

You don’t dare tell Din the emotions that radiate from his tiny form. It’s not fear. It’s anger. 

When all is said and done, the three of you find yourself back in the ashes of The Razor Crests remains. Din sifts through until he comes up with an object, tiny and silver in nature, and you swear your heart drops into your stomach when he pockets it. Grogu’s ball. 

  “They took your son, Jedi.” Fennec murmurs, almost as if she can feel the way you are trying so hard to keep yourself composed, and lays a hand on your shoulder. It’s not the comfort you’d take from the man you love but it is more then enough. “You are allowed to grieve.” 

Wreck my plans, that's my man You know that my train could take you home Anywhere else is hollow

As Din talks with Boba and Fennec, you disappear over the hill back in the direction of the rock and ignite your sabers. Jedi are not supposed to deal with their anger this way. You don't care. 

They took your son. 

The first one goes flying down the hill by control of your capable hand, arcing through a cluster of trees at its base until there is nothing left but smoldering limbs. 

You don’t care. 

They took your son. The son of you and Din. His son. 

I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans, that's my man

  “You abandoned me.” You whisper. When no one replies, you say it just a little bit louder and with alot more force- “YOU ABANDONED ME! After everything I did, after all I lost-” Images of your final days in the Jedi Temple flash before your eyes like the images of a holodrama played out frame by frame as you are forced to watch clones murder your teachers, your friends, your family..  

A hand comes up to clasp your own, stained in blood. 

A scream echoes down a empty hall. A gun fires. Clones shout orders at one another. 

A bloodied body collapses at your feet, lightsaber rolling from limp fingers. 

These images flood your mind until they dissipate like smoke and leave you in a shattered reality where you have again lost everything you care for. “You have the audacity to take him away from me?! Why?!” 

The Force hums in your ear. You see the clones who murdered your family, who killed your Master, all the clones you had been forced to kill because it was them or you. 

Just like right now, it was the child or you and din. They chose The Child. They chose the one who could barely defend himself. He was so innocent. So gentle. 

Why did the Empire have to ruin all the gentle things? 

You throw your arm as far as you are able and send the second saber in the same direction as the first one, using bloodied hands to guide the arc made between the two as they dissect the trees in half. “Have I not suffered enough?!”

I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans, that's my man

A small voice echoes in the wake of your anguish, “What about me?” Din asks through the vocoder and catches you so off guard that your sabers come soaring into the sky and disengage with a snap of your fingers before returning to your hands. The valley beneath you is nothing but ruin. How appropriate. “Have I not suffered enough, Sarad?” A pause before his trembling hands at his sides clench themselves into fists. Your eyes follow the defeat in his body language until your eyes are high enough that if the helmet were not on, you’d be looking directly into his own. “Have I not paid enough?” Din crosses the gap between you and lightly taps the beskar’gam. “Have I... have I not lost enough?!”  

It’s not like him to yell. Not at you. Not around you. 

Was the price not high enough? What else can they take from me?

Your lips quiver as you eye the man in front of you. Without uttering another word - and in spite of the tears that fall freely down your face - your gaze never tears away from his own as you remove his glove and link each finger, one by one, until your hands are linked. 

Then you lift them to your lips, unlike your fingers, and kiss each fingertip. 

  “You haven’t lost me.” Din wraps an arm around your waist to gently pull you into his hold, fingers curling around your hips as he peers at you through the visor. You can’t see his eyes, but you imagine there’s tears reflecting in them. 

  “I will. I lose everybody. That’s why I’m lone wolf, that’s why until I met you... I was always alone.” He laughs bitterly. “A Mandalorian and his ghosts. What a pair we make.” 

You wonder if Din’s ghosts are anything like your own, wearing the faces of the people who’d left you. Who'd sacrificed themselves for you. 

Life is a willow and it bent right to your wind... 

You try to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as he exhales shakily and rests his forehead against your own. Fennec and Boba are waiting for the two of you in Slave One, but they’re not in a rush. You have work to do in order to rescue your son from Moff’s Cruiser. 

As much as you hate it, the rescue of your child can wait for a moment if it means you can comfort Din. If Din can get to be human and grieve. He needs this moment so you can reassure him that no matter what The Empire - or the remnants of it - tries to take from him, you refuse to be a victim of it. You refuse to break. 

You won’t give them that satisfaction. 

  “You won’t.” You promise. “I belong to you. I am imprinted on you, Din. Heart,” You take one hand and press it against your chest, spreading his fingers over the pounding of your heart as you take your other hand to curl your fingers around the bottom of his helmet. You won’t lift it though. Not until he gives you permission. “Body, soul.” 

Those words ring in his mind as he takes his helmet off and allows it to clatter against the ground. The seeing stone looms behind him as his focus shifts away from that which has been taken from him, and that which is in front of him. 

You. 

  “We’re going to get him back.” You murmur against the shell of his ear as, for that sole moment, he allows himself a luxury he is so often denied. “We are going to bring our son home.”

Din’s face falls to your shoulder and he hides himself away from the world there. For that sole moment, he allows himself to be... human. 

What a luxury that a galaxy this one cannot afford him. What a luxury. 

Life is a willow and it bent right to your wind... 

[itsmoonpeaches]

The Ocean Meets the Sky

Chapter 3: Void

Please note: Every prompt for this Kataang Week connects into an over-arching story.

Prompt: Missing Scenes/Post-Canon

Story summary: After his battle with Fire Lord Ozai, something lingers within Aang's spirit. Katara is the one that pulls the seams back together. No matter what, Aang and Katara find each other.

Chapter summary: Around him was a peculiar material. It looked like constant twisting roots, like lodes knotting into themselves, making an impossible sculptured feat of wood and grain. The distinct scent of nature and wet soil after rain permeated the air.

“Where am I?” he asked into nothing.

-

Or, Aang sees what he couldn't before.

TW: implied/referenced suicide

Written for @kataang-week

Read on ao3 or ffn.

---

Aang was on the battlefield again. He stood atop a rock pillar in the Wulong Forest. The sky was a clouded cerise, harsh with glaring shadows and a raging streak that made up the tail of Sozin’s Comet. The same apprehension and anger stormed inside him, bubbling to the surface of everything.

And then, there was a pinprick of white light. Just a tiny star, and then it expanded so much that he had to cover his eyes.

His vision cleared. He found himself sitting with his legs crossed, his hands in a meditation pose. Around him was a peculiar material. It looked like constant twisting roots, like lodes knotting into themselves, making an impossible sculptured feat of wood and grain. The distinct scent of nature and wet soil after rain permeated the air.

“Where am I?” he asked into nothing.

There was a rumbling noise, and then an eye-shaped window appeared before him too, separating the bark. It was in the shape of an eye turned to the side. A purplish red barrier that he could see through blocked him from escape. Behind the barrier, he saw strange, oblong patterns and suggestions of shapes. A turquoise sky, unnatural poisonous clouds. Beyond that, a vivid river cutting through the earthen landscape. It had clusters of bobbing, luminescent algae upon the water’s surface that cast an unusual light.

He gasped when his middle started to glow, white-blue designs appearing on his skin and through his clothes. The wooden bead necklace he wore lifted from his neck as if upon an invisible breeze. The fabrics he wore ruffled. A chill raised the hairs on his arms.

“Inside the Tree of Time,” intoned an echoing feminine voice. It felt like it was coming from inside him. Illogical, reverberating.

He blinked, clutching at his sleeves, searching for the source of the light. “Who are you? Who’s talking?” he asked in a panic.

“Raava,” said the voice, continuing unperturbed. “I am part of you, Aang. I am the spirit of light…the spirit of the Avatar.”

Immediately, it was as if all the pieces had fallen into place. There was a calmness about him that settled on his shoulders, his chest. He knew, without a doubt, that this Raava was telling the truth, that the voice was someone he could trust. It was as if he had reconnected with a long-lost friend.

“You are here because you have bended another’s energy…and that energy has corrupted you.”

Aang reeled backward, banging onto the hollow trunk of the tree. “What? But—”

“Let time show you,” Raava interrupted, and he could almost imagine a figure gesturing to the tree that surrounded him, a faceless spirit guiding him on this journey he did not want to take.

Images fizzled into existence around him, floating visions that surfaces upon the bark. They were blurred along the borders and had a quality to them that made them appear almost ethereal. The first he saw was of someone familiar.

It was Gyatso running away from his old room in the Southern Air Temple, the scroll Aang had left behind when he ran away clutched in his hand. His eyebrows were drawn together, features set into one of dread.

“Aang has gone!” he shouted into the empty halls. “We need to send out a search party immediately! Who knows what will happen in this typhoon!”

Another moving image popped near it, this time a courtyard full of elder monks, murmuring to each other, pointing at the deep red sky. He could not tell what time of day it was, for there were stars that peeked out from behind the Patola Mountains, and a glimmer of sunrays limning the edges of the valleys at the same time.

Another image, and it was fire. Screams, children he had known yelling through crumbling rubble. Dote, his friend, struggling to pull out his broken leg from beneath a fallen pillar. Blood cascaded from a cut on his forehead. Behind him, a great fireball scorched a group of lemurs into a crisp, and their corpses were left to fall with a resounding thud onto the blackened tile of what used to be Aang’s home.

“We have to get out of here!” bellowed a young adult monk with hardly a beard patch on his chin. He had a limp. An arrow had pierced his thigh and rivulets of red dribbled down his leg. “Gather the children! Quickly!”

Aang saw the tiles on the roofs come crashing to the ground, the silhouette of a couple clutching onto each other’s hands as they plunged together to their death in the crags below, a bison calf yowling for its mother who lay in a lifeless burning heap.

Aang’s heart hammered in his chest, hard and fast. Sweat pooled behind his neck when he realized what he was seeing.

“Scenes from your past,” said Raava, not unkindly. “Events that you missed, that you could not live through, because you could not save your people.”

Everything seemed to collide in on itself when he recognized Gyatso again in another image, this time in a falling apart structure surrounded by Fire Nation soldiers. The elderly man spun in a circle, an arc, lifting his arms and pushing them outward. The soldiers stiffened, scratched at their throats, and fell to their knees breathless. Some coughed, others struggled, a few of them writhed until they did not anymore.

Then, without warning, Gyatso fell as well with a look of listlessness in his gray eyes. He slumped onto the wall, and he stared at the ceiling, succumbing to his own suffocation tactic.

When Aang saw this, he grasped for his head, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He did not want to see any of it. None of it at all. The regret was already too great.

He wanted…

He wanted…

He did not know what he wanted, nor what he could want.

But then, like hopelessness itself, there came a foggy vision at last. A forgotten memory.

A man, elderly and ragged, collapsed against a boulder in a new image that took over the previous one. His armor was falling apart as he stared into the tempestuous sky above him. A pang resounded in Aang’s spirit, as if the man was calling out to him.

“I'm sorry, Raava,” the man rasped out, sagging ever further downward, “I failed to bring peace. Even with Vaatu locked away, darkness still surrounds humanity.”

Raava hummed from inside Aang in agreement. “You see Aang, your spirit must be unbendable to bend another’s energy,” she explained while Aang’s vision became more distorted with guilt. “The problem is there is no one with an unbendable spirit…not even the Avatar’s. You are human, and therefore there is a darkness, no matter how small, that resides inside you. There can be no light without darkness, and no darkness without light. Even if you were to eliminate one, the other would appear again no matter how long it takes.”

Aang did know, and he understood it. He wished that he did not.

He remembered the slight moment of hesitation, the cry for help he imagined Gyatso would exclaim as his and Ozai’s energies melded for that short, tumultuous moment. He remembered how he wanted more from Ozai than his bending. Just for that second before he righted himself.

He had thought of Katara. She was the one how had taught him how to hope again, and maybe he could think of her again.

When he looked up again, the tree had shown him another moving picture, another moment he had never witnessed himself.

It showed himself sleeping in a room made of planks of wood that swayed gently from side-to-side. He was laying on a pile of white furs, his upper torso wrapped with bandages, and a pair of tattered yellow pants.

Katara hovered over him. She had bags under her eyes. Her braid that rested along her spine was messy. Her hands were encased in glowing water, and she moved them along his arms and legs, pressing them onto his chest.

When she finished, she looked worn. The water snaked back into the pouch. There were shadows that darkened her face. “Please, Aang,” she begged in a low murmur. “Please wake up. I don’t know what to do without you.”

The scene of the two of them shifted, melted, and then he observed her again but in a different light.

Aang saw Katara’s face highlighted and illuminated with a deep orange and blue as the two colors clashed against each other from across a vast ocean. A wall of light pushed up against another stalwart wall. They were two opposites fighting to maintain the balance he could not keep.

She stood alert in the Fire Nation palace’s courtyard where they had reunited, looking out over the horizon.

“Aang,” she whispered, “Don’t give up. I believe in you.” Then, even lower as she clutched her hands to her heart, she added, “I love you.”

Katara screamed for him afterward when the colors brightened and grew all the more intense. Her hands balled into fists, and there was nothing he could do but watch.

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Seven ~ Haldir

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 2738

Warnings: Canon-level violence, injury, blood

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Happy Monday! I’m so thankful for each and every one of you <3

We rise with the first rays of the sun. As much as I hate to admit it, I feel refreshed after a full rest. I slept soundly, trusting my brothers to do their job well. They did spend the whole night awake though, so I make a note to ensure that they sleep tonight, even if they will need to get up for second watch. As helpful as it would be to have two others on the watch rotation, I can’t risk putting the humans to the job—their senses are so inferior. I’ve snuck up on them nearly ten times by now, all without meaning to.

Rumil brings Roch into line behind Faervel. Farther on Roch’s back sits Cosima, her arms wrapped around my brother’s middle. She’s much more comfortable on the horse now, and if the mountains weren’t so rocky and full of steep drop-offs, I would suggest that she lead the horse—the experience is important. Alexander has expressed zero interest in learning how to care for or ride a horse, or learn anything about Arda, really. I will allow him the journey to adjust, but if he decides to return with us to Lothlórien, he will have to acquire skills to become more self-sufficient. Though, I have a feeling Alexander will attempt to leave this realm, or, at the very least, seek out a human settlement. I just don’t know if Cosima will go with him. She seems to have accepted our world and has taken steps towards making it her own, but she is tied to her human friend. The hold he has over her concerns me, though I do understand it. They’re each other’s only tie to the world they left behind. It would be hard to break that bond.

The sun rises above one of the higher peaks, blinding me for the brief second it takes for my eyes to adjust. Looking up, I see the morning sky is decorated with thick stripes of pale pink and brilliant gold. I take a second, and only a second, to enjoy it, then return to scanning my surroundings. This level of vigilance used to exhaust me, but by now, it’s as natural as breathing. Even when I am off duty, taking my leave in Caras Galadon or vacationing in Imladris or elsewhere, I never fully relax my surveillance. It is better to be prepared. Advanced warning can mean everything.

I hear the sound of a canteen rattling and Cosima clears her throat. “Hey, Haldir?”

“Yes?”

“When did you say we would reach that stream?”

I stretch my eyesight as far I can. It’s difficult in the mountains, where boulders and peaks and valleys hinder a proper line of sight, but I make out a slight glimmer on a rock far ahead of us—sun glinting off the surface of water and casting light on the boulder. “By tomorrow morning, I’d wager.” Then, the pieces click together. I narrow my eyes. “Why?”

I can hear the forced nonchalance in her voice. “No reason.”

I sigh. She really should have been more careful with her rationing. “Rumil and I will share water with you.”

Rumil protests at the same time Cosima calls out her thanks. I leave them to their good-natured bickering and return my full focus to guiding my horse and my company.

A slight movement registers in the corner of my eye. “Draw arms!”

I unsheathe my sword and swing it to the right just in time to stop the arrow finishing its flight to my youngest brother. I block another one aimed at my neck. I hear Orophin and Baranor free the swords at their hips, as well as Rumil hurriedly instructing Cosima to take the reins. She protests, likely not yet fully registering the attack, and I cover them as they argue. “Cosima, do as he says,” I call back. I need Rumil and his bow to take out the attackers on the hillside to our right. Orcs, likely.

My suspicions are confirmed when twelve of them descend from the peaks to our left and right, converging on us in the middle. Rumil has evidently persuaded Cosima to take control of Roch and has put his bow to good use, killing the orc that focused its fire on us from above. Sharp clangs and the shouts of battle create a chaotic cacophony that is all too familiar. I urge Faervel forward, cutting through the middle of an orc as I go. One chances a blow to my leg but before it can carry out the act, I sever its head from its neck. By my count, ten more to go.

Arrows rain from above, this time coming from our left. Alexander shouts, and I risk turning around to see if he’s been hit. Thankfully, he hasn’t — an arrow had only come relatively close to him. I have to remind myself how frightening this must be for humans who have never experienced an orc ambush, or even an orc. While unpleasant, an attack like this is part of the job for myself and my wardens — even Baranor, who frequently heals others on the battlefield. With that in mind, I cut down another orc and bring Cosima into view. She grips Roch’s reins with an intensity that turns her knuckles white and whips her head around, trying to keep all the beasts in her line of sight. It pleases me to see that she’s attempting to be observant, even if her already weak senses are untrained and thus dilute her efforts.

While Rumil focuses fire on the orcs attempting to fell us with arrows, an orc in the infantry rushes Roch. Cosima jerks the reins to the right, spurring him into movement. The motion catches Rumil’s attention, and, with deadly accuracy, he hits the orc in the eye. He turns his attention back to the skies, attempting to locate those that still assail us with arrows.

Concussions sound to my left — the beasts have dislodged a pile of rocks, trying to crush us. Faervel is an intelligent steed and dodges the boulders skillfully, allowing me to keep my attention on beheading one of the orcs who jabs towards my middle. As I kill another, the arrows cease falling from above—Rumil’s done his job, then.

Six orcs left.

Those remaining attempt to surround us. Can’t have that. I guide Faervel past the furthest beasts and then turn, swinging my sword, forcing them to fall back. From the rear of our line, Orophin follows my lead, blocking an orc’s blow and returning it with a fatal one. Baranor rears his horse to narrowly avoid being knocked off by an axe. I tighten my jaw. It is risky forcing the orcs into the middle when four of our company must share that space with them. I shake my head, firm in my original decision. It is less risky than allowing the orcs to encircle us.

Alex yelps and directs Baranor to an orc approaching them from behind, having snuck past Orophin. They keep coming. They must be hiding in the rocks. My youngest brother recognizes the urgency building at the back of our line and concentrates his close-range fire on those that attack there. He has also noticed the threat hiding in the rocks and kills the beasts as quickly as he can identify them.

The noises of battle are loud, but any experienced warrior knows it’s the quieter sounds—the ones out of place—that are the most important. A boot scuffs against stone and I raise my sword just in time to meet the massive orc that throws himself from the rock above me. We collide, falling to the ground. The impact knocks the breath from me and the colossal weight on my chest definitely doesn’t help. With my left hand, I retrieve my dagger, slicing towards the beast’s neck. He stops me with his sword, pressing the blade to my own throat. He’s strong, but I’m stronger. I push against him, using the leverage from my movement to flip us over and, before he can register the change, I plunge my blade into his gut.

A fiery sting shoots up my leg and I kick my uninjured foot, knocking the newcomer in the head. He falls to the ground, stunned by the blow, and I draw myself to full height. His rotting flesh squelches when I stab him in the chest. In the second I have before another beast attacks me, I check the weapon that sliced my leg. Not poisoned. Good.

A scream pierces the air.

Cosima.

I whip around, locating her quickly. She gasps, gripping below her left shoulder, staring at the blood between her fingers in shock. I switch my dagger to my dominant hand and throw it forward. Within a second, it is buried to the hilt in her assailant’s chest, and he falls to the ground with a thud.

A blow from behind sends me sprawling, and I catch myself just before my face collides with the dirt. Coughing violently, I twist, jabbing my sword under the orc’s chest plate and in between his ribs — a fatal strike. Mentally, I reprimand myself for getting so distracted, and let my eyes wander around our surroundings, checking for any enemies we have yet to eliminate. Only one remains, and Orophin ends its life with a deliberate slice to the gut. Everyone is alive and accounted for, thank the Valar. I run to them.

Cosima’s face contorts in pain — she’s gone sickly pale. Panic I didn’t feel during the attack sears through my chest. How much blood can humans lose before it is fatal? “How badly are you hurt?”

“It’s just her arm,” Rumil answers for her, looking quite distressed himself. “It’s deep. I do not think the sword was poisoned, though.”

“You don’t think or you know? How sure are you?”  My voice is harsh—harsher than it needs to be, probably, and I try to de-escalate. I’m likely still fired up from battle.

Rumil sets me with an even gaze, nothing but honesty in his eyes. “I know. The sword was not poisoned.”

I nod, feeling my breathing begin to slow. “Good.”

Alexander calls worriedly from the edge of the group. “What happened? Is she okay? Cosima!”

“I’m fine,” she grits back. Her voice is scratchy, strained, so obviously speaking through the pain that it makes my stomach hurt.

But the pain will pass, I remind myself. But for now, I can’t say for sure if the threat has. And I need to be sure.

“Baranor,” I gesture to my friend. “Bind her wound so it is secure for travel. Orophin—search back and make sure we are not being followed. I’ll scout ahead.”

Before turning to leave, my eyes seek Cosima’s of their own accord. Hers are tight, squinted against the pain I’m sure she’s not used to feeling. In them I see so much fear—terror, even—and I feel resolve settle within me. An attacker won’t get an opportunity like that again.

I pull my gaze away. There’s still work to do.

{***}

Thankfully, no orcs hide ahead. Though I am reluctant to leave the group for long, I spend a handful of moments retracing the trail our attackers took. It leads to a shallow, empty cave and an abandoned fire pit. Just to be safe, I stomp the pit under Faervel’s hooves. That will discourage other orcs from sheltering here.

In this rare moment of privacy, I roll up the edge of my right legging, assessing the injury to my leg. It’s shallow, just a slice, really, and the sting is minor enough that I’ve nearly forgotten about it. Satisfied that it’s not serious, I decide to wait to have Baranor look at it until we’re settled for the night. Right now, my top priorities are Cosima’s wound and getting moving again. Now that we’ve encountered a pack of orcs, I am even more eager to reach the safety of Imladris.

I ride back to where I left the others, arriving not long after Orophin. No orcs on his end, either. Good. I dismount, leaving Faervel in Rumil’s care and join Baranor where he crouches on the ground next to Cosima. Behind her, Alexander paces anxiously.

Baranor smoothes a salve over the torn skin. It seems he’s already cut away the excess cloth of her tunic sleeve and cleaned her wound. Part of me is grateful I was gone for it—by the haggard look on Cosima’s face, it can’t have been a pleasant experience. Like Rumil said, the wound is deep. Orcs don’t typically use well-crafted weapons, and this one was no different—a jagged blade had been used to injure Cosima, possibly an old knife or a scrap piece of metal fashioned into a rudimentary sword.

I raise my eyes to hers and find her already looking at me, watching my expression intently. Looking for signs that she should be worried, probably. I say a quick prayer of thanks to the Valar for my natural stoicism that gives nothing away and for our safety. Then, I address my obviously shaken friend. “Baranor is one of the best healers in Lothlórien. The cut looks frightening and hurts, but it will heal.”

She nods, keeping her jaw tightly clenched.

My heart aches. I look to Baranor, at a loss. His bedside manner comes much more naturally, and he gives an easy smile as he wraps a clean bandage around Cosima’s upper arm. “There, that will do the trick until we reach Imladris. I want to redress it tonight though, and again in the morning. I’ve used some of my power to aid the healing process begun by the salve—we’ll see where it’s at tonight. Don’t you worry my dear friend.”

Cosima bobs her head again, murmuring her thanks to our healer. The look on her face—stricken, fearful, pained—both hurts me and draws attention to the steadily growing guilt. I should have been faster. I should have looked out better. I should have—

I jerk my head to the side, trying to free myself from these thoughts. As leader of the group, all faults are mine. But dwelling on that now won’t keep us safe, so, for the time being, I stand, gesturing for the others to do the same. “We should get going. I don’t want to lose more time.”

Rumil nods and hands me Faervel’s reins, reaching down to help Cosima stand. I hear him whisper a heartfelt apology to her, sounding as if he feels just as much guilt as I do.

She waves it off, wincing when she moves her injured arm. “It’s not your fault. I’m okay.”

But her voice sounds fragile, devoid of the liveliness that characterized it this morning. Rumil also notices the change in our friend and is extra gentle when he grips her foot to lift her onto Roch’s back.

Something pricks at the edges of my mind, bothering me. “No.” I hear my voice ring out over the silence. I’m met with five pairs of questioning eyes. I clear my throat, hastening to gather my thoughts. “Rumil, I want you to guard the back with your bow. I’ll take Cosima on Faervel so you can focus on shooting if there’s another attack.”

Seeing the logic in this, Rumil nods, releasing Cosima and mounting Roch alone, leading the horse to the back of our company. As Alexander passes to join Baranor, he takes Cosima’s hand in his, squeezing. She gives him a tired-looking smile then walks to join me at the front of the group.

Automatically, I kneel, locking my hands together as I wait for her foot.

She hesitates. “No orcs in Imladris?”

I hold her gaze, wanting her to see the honesty in my eyes. “No orcs in Imladris.”

She swallows and places her boot in my hands. “Good. Let’s get going, then.”

I help her up, taking the opportunity to assess her face. The fear remains, but it is now eclipsed by a hardness, a determination. She’s putting up a wall. I know. I’ve been there.

But there’s nothing we can do about it now. We’re still in the orc-infested mountains and we need to reach safety. So, I grip Faervel’s mane and pull myself in front of Cosima. I give the order and we continue our journey.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are the best :) Let me know if you would like a tag! And if you’re having trouble being tagged, try subscribing on Ao3. That will notify you automatically when I post there!

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @fangirl-nonsense @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @tolkien-apologist @ordinarymom1 @sam-was-the-true-hero @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

**Strikethrough means Tumblr won’t let me tag you**

[bmblboop]

Struck Like Lightning

    (Contains spoilers for RWBY Volume 4)

Absorb Electricity. He felt something, not an emotion, just a gut-instinct. With everything that had happened; every coincidence that led Nora, that Grimm, and his family to Kuroyuri that night, he knew, somehow, that this phrase on his arm was connected to… something. It must be important.

The following is the introductory chapter to a Semblance-Soulmate AU in which a name or description of someone’s semblance will appear on their soulmate’s skin. The concept of a ‘soulmate’ is discussed in-universe and is treated as less of a one-and-done deal (nothing is 100% predetermined in RWBY). I plan to elaborate more on the Semblance mechanics if I end up finishing more chapters.

I am posting this in commemoration of Renora Week 2021 because this chapter features Ren and Nora! Let me know if you enjoyed it!

The days and weeks after the fall of Kuroyuri allowed Nora and Ren time to readjust and explore new parts of themselves. Ren’s sudden companionship had brought out a new side of Nora; she had someone to talk to, someone to bounce ideas off of. Someone who didn’t judge her or pretend she didn’t exist. Nora often took the lead when following the trails and roads, in hopes of finding them someplace else to stay. That town had never felt like a home to her, but to Ren, it was everything he’d ever known. He was quiet, but observant, and getting better at his newfound abilities, which gave them both a sense of comfort. They didn’t have to fear the dark so long as they had each other.

One restless morning, the two were walking east, caught up in conversation.

“…so that’s why I think I like my hair short. Not that long hair is bad – it just gets tangled up in everything. You’re smart Ren, keeping it tied up like that.”

“-huh?” The sudden praise had caught him off guard.

“You pull hair up to keep it out of your face! I have no patience for that, so that’s why mine is short!”

“Oh, yeah. Do you think we could take a break soon?”

“Sure!” She scanned the treeline for a spot. “Ummm, let’s sit there.”

They made their way to a small boulder under the shade of the trees. Nora climbed up and sprawled on top of it to stare at the sky. Ren sat at the rock’s base and scratched his sleeve. His arm wasn’t itchy, but there was something-

It must have been the light of the fire playing tricks on my eyes he thought. He gripped his wrist tighter.

But something was nagging at him, something deep in his soul. To look again, to make sure it was just nothing. In broad daylight, surely if there was anything there-

Pulling his right sleeve back, Ren balked. On the inside of his arm were two words.

Absorb Electricity

“What-“

“What? What is it?” Nora pondered, sitting up and leaning over.

“Absorb-? What do those words mean?”

“What words?”

Ren turned around. Nora was looking at his arm too, with a quizzical expression on her face.

“Those words!” he pointed to inky writing on his arm.

“I don’t see anything?”

Ren did a double take; looking at Nora, then back to his arm.

“If you’re making a joke, I don’t get it.” Nora deadpanned, head propped up in her hands.

You don’t-? But it-? I’m not-? Ren dropped his arm and pushed the sleeve down. “It’s fine, I must be seeing things.”

Nora shrugged and turned back over, watching the clouds gather above.

--

They found a rocky overhang to camp under for the night. Nora passed out pretty fast; she had gotten a lot more comfortable sleeping through the demon-filled nights with someone by her side. Ren just stared at the embers of the fire and let his thoughts wander.

I know they weren’t there before I met her. Before… that night. So where did it come from?

A distant shriek echoed over the valley, and Ren could feel his heart beating in his ears. Immediately, he was awash with the calming greytones of his semblance. The scream turned to baying. A Beowulf then, probably alone and several miles away.

Exhaling slowly, he returned to color, the gears in his head returning to the question of the mysterious words. He looked at Nora, her deep sleep undisturbed by the distant Grimm calls.

I also never had this power, this courage, before that night. I feel like there is something…

He gripped his arm. Absorb Electricity. He felt something, not an emotion, just a gut-instinct. With everything that had happened; every coincidence that led Nora, that Grimm, and his family to Kuroyuri that night, he knew, somehow, that this phrase on his arm was connected to… something. It must be important.

And what does electricity have to do with anything?

--

Climbing over a mountain in a thunderstorm was never their intended route, even less so when a stray bolt pierced the heavens and struck true.

Nora collapsed, and so could have Ren from the shock. Without thinking, he ran toward her - her body lying still and crackling with electricity. To both of their surprise, Nora was alive. She sat up, singed but supercharged, and no worse for wear other than some temporary hearing loss. (Which she demonstrated when she inadvertently screamed in his face: “Wow Ren, I lived!”)

Together, they settled into a rocky alcove further down the mountain to wait for the storm to pass. Once out of the rain, the pair took the time to laugh away the adrenaline. Safely out of the storm, Nora shouted to the sky, taunting the Gods that had tried to kill her and failed. The thunder only grumbled in response. She traced the thunderbolt-shaped markings the impact left on her with her fingers, and watched them fade away over the next few days.

It felt dream-like, the week following the storm. Perhaps it was just the stress of surviving something so scary, but Ren felt stronger and closer to her than before. One night, curling next to the fire, he began to lay his head on his arm to go to sleep. Out of curiosity, he pushed back his sleeve and stared at his arm.

By the light of the campfire, his skin was blank - the words were gone.

Perhaps, he pondered, that was just a warning. It told him that lightning was going to strike, but she would be okay. Perhaps the words disappeared because they were fulfilled, like a destiny that had come to pass? He was too tired for this, his eyelids were growing heavy. He pushed the thoughts away and drifted to sleep.

-

Years later, when the two survivors worked their way into Beacon Academy, did all the stars align. It was at lunch, with their team and their friends of team RWBY.  Pyrrha had brought up the importance of balanced meals when Yang interjected that Jaune had taken all the chicken nuggets.

“I did NOT!”

“Then why is it the only thing on your plate?”

“BECAUSE, um…”

Ren looked back at the textbook, tuning out the argument and glancing over the chapter’s topic for next class. His preemptive studying was interrupted with an elbow jab to his ribcage.

“What?” he said.

“We should be social, you know.” Nora scolded under her breath before turning to the group and gesturing with a boisterous “HEY!”

A sinking feeling in his gut began to form. If there was one thing Ren could never figure out about Nora, it was her immunity to social anxiety.

“Not that taking down a monstrous Nevermore and giant Deathstalker isn’t bonding enough, but I think we should get to know each other better!” she exclaimed. “Anyone know a good ice-breaker?”

Their leader Jaune perked up, “Ooh, how about everyone’s favorite movie or franchise?”

“Too broad.” Weiss replied.

“How about our weapons? I bet everyone has a cool story about theirs!” Ruby added with a glint in her eyes.

“We could talk about our favorite books.” Blake offered.

“Ha, everyone knows the best ice-breaker is sharing semblances,” Yang smirked, “and your semblance-soulmate.”

Pyrrha choked on her salad. Ruby groaned and leaned back in her seat. Blake visibly stiffened.

Breaking the silence, Jaune scoffed. “C’mon, not everyone knows that.” He then rushed to clarify - “It’s not like it tells you their name. You could walk right past them and never know!”

“Yeah,” Ruby pouted, “and maybe some of us don’t want to deal with that extra layer of existential dread.”

“Aw, but that’s what makes it exciting!” Yang teased.

“That’s what makes it agonizing!” Ruby retorted, “Knowing you have a compatible life-partner somewhere in the world and your only hint will disappear when you meet them?!”

“Hang on a second.” Ren interjected, “I thought we were talking about semblances?”

“We are, but y’know…” Weiss was tapping the inside of her arm. “…the Semblance mark.  It can only be read by the person whose skin it appears on, so sharing that knowledge would be another way of bearing your soul to the world.”

“It’s highly personal.” Pyrrha nodded in agreement.

Yang put her hands up in defense. “We don’t have to share them. I just suggested it because it’s so personal. It’s like the fastest ice-breaker in the world.”

Yang’s awkward laughing aside, Ren was still lost. Luckily, Blake picked up on his uncertainty and continued the conversation fluidly.

“It describes the semblance of a person you are destined to come across. According to popular belief, that person is your equal – your other half so to speak.” Blake’s voice then dropped into a hushed monotone, gripping her wrist. “Of course, some people believe strongly in it, while others prefer to forge their own path.”

“Right,” Jaune jumped in, “there’s no rule about marrying them or anything.”

“So it’s more of a suggestion, then?” Nora asked in confusion.

“I find it all very poetic.” Pyrrha said. “I’ve heard that your soulmate mark will disappear after you meet them. After that, it is up to you to forge that bond in person. Nothing is set in stone; it’s a path you can choose to take.”

“Whoaaa.” Nora mused. “Wait, how come I never got one!?” Nora was on her feet in surprise. “Is it possible I didn’t notice?”

Ren was only half listening to the conversation now as the puzzle pieces aligned and clicked together. Words. Semblances. Partners. Those letters he nearly blocked from memory, blocked with the rest of Kuroyuri... didn’t they mention something about electricity?

Two semblances tied together. Two souls cross paths and find each other’s company.

It is pretty poetic, isn’t it?

--

[i-put-the-leg-in-legolas]

I promise. (Aragorn x reader)

Modern! AU

Summary: Being a ranger for most of his life, Aragorn has learned not to get attached to anyone, so he's terrified when he realizes he's developed feelings for his travel companion. A fight ensues and she storms away. Will the moonlight and the beauty of the stars in the sky make him reveal how he feels about his starlight maiden?

Triggers: Cursing, verbal fighting (very mild).

❈❈❈

The air in the car was thick, filled with words begging to be said. As they drove through the lonely highway, teary-eyed and tired, Aragorn gazed at (Y/n) from the corner of his eye. Despite having been wailing and angrily hurling insults at him mere minutes earlier, he couldn't help but think she was one of the most beautiful sights there could be.

He'd seen endless mountains, sunsets, and oceans, but all these fell flat compared to the (h/c)-haired beauty that peacefully slept on the seat beside him. The soft skin of her cheeks was adorned with tear tracks, and her breathing was raggedy. It was as he glanced at her heaving chest that Aragorn realized that he'd caused this. He'd caused the woman who he thought he loved... no, who he knew he loved all this suffering, and for what?

For the past months, he'd been pushing (Y/n) away. At first, he was scared that she'd leave, but as the months went on, he realized that no matter what he did, (Y/n) wouldn't leave. Boy, was he wrong. The past week he'd been exceptionally distant, ignoring and avoiding her. This drove the (h/c) girl over the edge, and she angrily confronted Aragorn, who once again, just brushed off her questions while pretending to pack their camp.

"Strider! What's going on with you?! For the past week or so, you haven't even directed one word towards me! If you're mad at me, act like a man and tell me!"

"Can you pass me that heap of blankets?"

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes, yes I am, (y/n)... now, will you pass me those blankets, or not?"

"I don't even know why I bother trying to talk to you anymore! It's like talking to a fucking rock!"

"Well... then why don't you stop wasting your time with me and go talk to that boulder over there?"

And then, she stormed away.

As the events from earlier replayed in his mind, Aragorn felt guilt wash over him. The whole time they'd been traveling together, (Y/n) didn't do anything but support him, and keep him company. Her lovely personality made him start falling for her, and as he realized this, he started pushing her away. 

Aragorn was a ranger, and so was she. He knew that catching feelings for the lovely lady that was now steering awake in the seat beside him wouldn't be ideal since they could take different paths at any given moment. He took another glance at the sleeping girl beside him, but instead of being met with the peacefully closed eyes he'd seen before, he was met by a pair of round, (e/c) eyes.

"(Y/n)..." Aragorn breathily whispered, "you're awake..."

(Y/n) briefly glanced at Aragorn and nodded, immediately turning her face away and pulling her knees up to her chest. "I am, yes..."

Aragorn sighed and let his gaze rest in (Y/n)'s face for a few seconds. The yellowish lights from the highway made her look angelical. He didn't care that her eyes were red and puffy, and her nose was runny. For him, her beauty surpassed the beauty of the rolling valleys and night sky. 

They continued driving in silence. The only sounds that could be heard were the ones the old engine made and (Y/n)'s soft sniffling. Aragorn and (Y/n) were both lost in their thoughts until suddenly, the sound of (Y/n)'s grumbling stomach snapped them both out of their thoughts.

"You must be starving," Aragorn remarked. After their fight in the early hours of the morning, (Y/n) had left their camping spot without having a bite of food. Now, the clock read 11:45 PM, and Aragorn assumed that she hadn't had anything to eat yet. She probably didn't have time to even think of food, as she had been too busy trying to get away from Aragorn, who relentlessly followed her.

(Y/n) nodded in response, raising her eyebrows as Aragorn swerved into the open field beside the highway. She stared at her fellow ranger with confusion painted on her face. Aragorn walked out of the car and dug into the trunk, taking out a bag before going over the passenger's side and tapping on the window.

"Come on," Aragorn said, chuckling as he noticed the expression on (Y/n)'s face. Her soft features had been overtaken by an expression that looked like a mix of fear and confusion. "What's that face for?"

"I don't want to get out..." (Y/n) said, "Judging by how terrible you've treated me these past few months, you're just going to make me get out of the car and then drive away..."

"(Y/n), you know I'd never do that," Aragorn said, a soft tone taking over his words. "C'mon, you need to eat something."

(Y/n) sighed and reluctantly stepped out of the car, looking at Aragorn with a small scowl before turning her gaze up to the night sky. "The sky looks beautiful tonight..." the girl observed. As she looked away from the night sky, (Y/n) was met by Aragorn sitting on the roof of the car.

"The sky looks better from here," the blue-eyed man stated, holding his hand out to (Y/n). 

The girl stared at Aragorn, admiring the way that the pale moonlight illuminated his features. Yes, he'd upset her greatly hours ago, but now (Y/n) couldn't help but admire that Aragorn's eyes sparkled and reflected the moonlight, putting all the stars in the sky to shame. 

It took her a few seconds to realize she'd been staring, but once she did, the (h/c) haired girl turned her face, which was now dusted a soft red color, away and took Aragorn's hand and with a little effort, sat beside him on the ceiling. 

"I got you this," Aragorn said, handing (Y/n) a plastic bag. After she took it, he leaned back on his elbows and sighed, staring at the condensation his breath had caused.

(Y/n) took the bag, a soft smile painting on her face as she took out its contents. It wasn't much, just a bag of crisps and a soda, but they weren't regular crisps and soda. They were her favorite ones. "Thank you, Strider..." the girl said, offering Aragorn a soft smile. "I didn't think you'd remember..."

Aragorn simply smiled, staying completely quiet as he racked his brain for things to say. He was never good at apologizing, and his tough exterior didn't help with the situation at all. Ever since he was very young, he'd learned not to get attached to anyone, but now... he was about to lose the only person that he knew he could never let go of.

"Um... (Y/n)?" he quietly said, scooting closer to the girl. As he moved closer, the serene expression on her face immediately turned into a scowl, so he awkwardly shifted back to where he'd been sitting before. "Can we... can we talk?"

(Y/n) scoffed at his question and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, should I waste my time with you, or should I go talk to those pebbles over there instead?" the girl scoffed. As she turned to look at Aragorn, she felt her stomach dropped. The man who was always strong, no matter the situation, the man who she had never seen cry, looked like a kicked puppy. His greyish eyes were as beautiful as ever, but the moonshine shining down on his face revealed the tears that were threatening to spill from them.

"I... I'm sorry, Strider..." (Y/n) whispered, scooting a few centimeters closer to Aragorn. "We can talk, yes..."

Aragorn stayed completely quiet for a few seconds, repeatedly opening and closing his mouth, not daring to say anything in fear of making things worse. After a few more seconds, he finally managed to swallow the lump in his throat and spoke up. "(Y/n)... I'm sorry..."

(Y/n) just looked at him with a disappointed look on her face before shaking her head and looking away. "Seriously, Strider? That is all you have to say?" She scoffed.

Aragorn was taken back by her reaction. Truth be told, there were hundreds of things he'd like to say to her. If he could, he would even break down crying and confess her love for her right there and them, but his pride was bigger than his guts, so he simply placed a cold hand on the girl's shoulder.

They stayed like this for what felt like an eternity. In reality, it was only 15 minutes, and in those minutes, Aragorn managed to convince himself to swallow his pride and spoke up. "(Y/n), you see all the stars? The moon? The constellations?"

(Y/n) briefly looked at Aragorn, who was looking at her, and then directed her (e/c) towards the night sky, admiring it. "Yes... that one over there is called Delphinus. It's gorgeous, isn't it?" the girl observed, causing Aragorn to grin.

"It is... and it reminds me of you," Aragorn said, earning an eye-roll from (Y/n).

"How original..." she mumbled.

"But you know what's the biggest difference between you and that constellation?" Aragorn questioned, earning a mere shrug from the girl beside him. "If that constellation were to disappear one day, if it suddenly left without a trace... I wouldn't care," he said, looking at (Y/n) with a faint smile.

"But if you left my life... God, I have no idea what I would do..." by now, his voice was nothing more than a whisper. "I've been running away my whole life. Running from my past, running from danger... but trust me, I've never been as scared as I was earlier today when you left. The thought of never seeing you again was enough to make me want to cry, (Y/n)..." Aragorn explained, rubbing his teary eyes.

"I'm terrified of losing you... I can't imagine how life would be without the sweet sound of your laughter or-or the way that you sometimes sing yourself to sleep when you think I'm not listening..." by now, tears were already making their way down Aragorn's pale face. "Unlike you, I'm not very eloquent with words, Nîn meleth... But what I'm trying to say is that... that I love you..." By the time he'd finished blabbering his sentence, tears were already making their way down the ranger's face.

(Y/n) had been completely quiet the whole time Aragorn spoke. As he listened to Aragorn utter those three quiet words, her heart fluttered and her cheeks turned red. She didn't know what to do now that Aragorn, the man that hadn't shed a single tear when he got hit by an arrow, was now crying and showing her his soft side. "Oh, Strider..." she whispered, cupping Aragorn's cheeks and wiping his tears away with her thumb.

(Y/n) stared at Aragorn's teary eyes before gently leaning her forehead against his, rubbing their noses together. "Don't cry, please, Nîn maethor..." she whispered, "I love you too... and I have for the past few months, or so..."

Aragorn weakly smiled at her words, gently pulling away while he caressed (Y/n)'s cheek. "You're beautiful... so so beautiful, my autumn star," he cooed, "You've made me feel something I've never felt before... A love so overwhelming that it scares me, so real and deep that it made me realize that if you became mine, I wouldn't be able to live without you.."

"I love you, Strider, I love you..." (Y/n) whispered, tenderly brushing her lips against Aragorn's before wrapping her arms around him. "I'm sure no one would voluntarily choose to be a ranger... but if it means getting to spend the rest of my days will you, I'll be one until I die..."

Aragorn smiled and kissed the top of her head, lying down on the car's ceiling, dragging (Y/n) down with him. "Trust me, you won't be a ranger for the rest of your life," Aragorn said, "one day, you'll be a queen... my queen."

(Y/n) quietly giggled, tracing patterns on Aragorn's chest with her fingertips. "Oh yeah? We'll be king and queen of the rangers?" she chuckled. "For all I care, we could be... I don't know, orcs, as long as you're with me, I'll be happy."

Aragorn smiled and let a comfortable silence wash over them, and before he knew it, the sun was starting to rise, and (Y/n) was half asleep on his chest.  "(Y/n)?" he softly whispered, only earning a tired hum from his lover. "One day I'll give you the life you deserve... you'll be a queen, and we won't have to run away anymore, we won't have to sleep on the floor or in the car anymore..."

"I promise."

❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈

Hi! I hope you enjoyed the story, remember my one-shot requests are open! Have a beautiful day ❣️