#and only ever seeing the carefully landscaped bits of nature allowed in

[brontes]

I don’t mean to be depressing but the older I get the more man-made things seem sad to my eyes. A beautiful house, a beautiful ancient ruin of a castle, is nothing to the weedy and wild nature it sits on. Meticulously landscaped gardens cannot compare with natural prairies. Carefully made-up faces with surgically crafted noses and artificially full lips and good eyeliner lack the character and the charm and the goodness of a plain, wrinkled, freckled, and tired face. I am just grown tired of man’s tired, twisted, corrupted, and failed attempts to mimic God’s creation. I understand that we need structure to survive nature in a fallen world but I more and more desire to see a renewed earth, uncorrupted by sin, in the full glory of God’s creation.

[fanfictionwritingoddity]

𝙎𝙪𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙣

 ( 𝙽𝚎𝚓𝚒 𝙷𝚢𝚞𝚞𝚐𝚊 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 )

Neji Hyuuga was always so traditional. You supposed it was a trait deriving from being a part of one of the great ninja clans. Even when you met him at the tender age of thirteen, his behavior had been nothing short of disciplined. Back then you thought he was an uptight asshole who needed to be knocked down a few notches. You were sure he knew this, but still, the ever stoic until snarky boy had made no comment on it.

After a year of your team and Guy’s team collaborating, you began to learn more about Neji. His character developed in your mind from that of a stuck-up jackass to... someone else. Lonely, filled with a longing to be free, with a pinch of anger. Your mind had swirled and twisted, attempting to make sense of the boy who grew on you so quickly. 

Trapped. Neji was trapped. Sealed into a fate he had no choice in from birth. He was lonely. Friends had never come easy, but he wasn’t even sure if there was a point in making them. Cracks began to form in his perfectly crafted persona, inklings of emotion you thought you would never find leaking through.

He reminded you of the moon. So adored and appreciated by all of the stars around him but still so, so alone. The Hyuuga had a unique glow, one of a kind in its nature, coveted and abused. Like the moon, Neji was jealous of those who could so easily find partnership in their surroundings. 

So, you released those petty pent up feelings. You had been kind to him in the past year, sure, but there was always the underlying aggression that you had done your best to suppress. The next two years spent within the presence of your fellow ninja were different. You began to understand everything about him. The things that made Neji tick, the traits he had inherited, and his formation as a person. 

To him, you were the sun. A girl with an ethereal shine that flowed through every fiber of her being. Shining on each and every person you interacted with, Neji felt undeserving of such a privilege. The boy felt that your kindness and tolerance was better wasted on some other pitiful case, his having been closed since his first breath in this world.

He knew that you had started off hating him. Most people did. Everyone who ever laid eyes on the brown haired male passed judgement before he could even meet their gaze. Carefully creating his character the way that he did was a double-edged sword. On one hand, it allowed him the solitude he forced himself to crave. On the other, it pushed away any chance at finding companionship.

Except for you.

You had given him another chance. As if you had x-ray vision, you had been able to see right through Neji’s terrible excuse for a defense. And instead of laughing, instead of continuing to feel any sort of disdain for him, you gave him a clean slate. Your change in behavior coaxed the Hyuuga to begin to open up. Like a flower just beginning to bloom, petal by petal and word by word, you learned more of the boy who was oh so traditional.

And you fell. Hard.

You couldn’t help yourself. Neji’s words had a way of inching themselves into your heart and settling, comfortably making their home there. His rare words of support and gentle encouragement tattooed themselves in your mind, leaving a trail of butterflies in their wake. Sixteen now, these feelings were becoming much more prominent in your life, affecting your day to day tasks when paired up with Neji. You hoped he didn’t notice, but the realization that he most likely did was daunting in nature.

Of course Neji noticed.

How could he not? Your face heated and heart sped up whenever he was close to you, your knees just slightly beginning to shake and your eyes straining to look anywhere but him. For some odd reason, your adoration towards him made him feel... happy? Unused to these emotions himself, he had done much research on what could have caused them to arise.

Neji Hyuuga was in love with you.

Your existence brought color to a world that he had sworn would always be grayscale in tone. The boy had learned more about himself from you than he could’ve ever hoped to learn anywhere else. He learned that his favorite color was the shade of your hair and his favorite sound was the chime of your giggle. The weather he loved most was when it was slightly breezy but warm, because you always seemed to enjoy those days more than others.

It was a breezy summer night when he had chosen to confess the feelings that had been eating away at him for a year. Now that he thought about it, Neji was sure they had been there before, but only recently had he given them a name.

You had been invited out to the field by Neji, assuming it was for some late night training. A gentle breeze tickled the tree leaves, touching your cheek softly as it danced by. Crickets chirped their greetings and conversations, fireflies beginning to blink in the distance. The moon was full tonight, you observed. Not a cloud was in sight, and the stars had just began to peek their way through the twilight blanketing the sky.

Warmth blossomed in your chest as you remembered the days when the two of you would train all evening, only to pass out in the tall grass under the landscape of the night. You thought for a moment, wondering if you had understood how enamored you were with the Hyuuga at that point in time. Gravel crunched under your feet as you approached the field.

It seemed Neji had arrived first. His white, lavender tinted orbs were trained on the sky above. Taking a second to stare at the man, you swore if you squinted you could see the outline of the boy he used to be, so closed off and silent. Sensing you, Neji tilted his head your direction and traced his gaze to your face.

You waved, a smile on your lips as you made your way over to him. The long grass tickled your legs, wrapping around them as if to try and halt you in your pursuit. Small dots of black flashed in the undergrowth as crickets leapt away from your steps.

“The moon is beautiful tonight.”

Carefully chosen words left your mouth, eyes trained on the glowing orb. Neji didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. You knew by the way he followed your gaze and by the slight upturn of his lips that he agreed. For a moment, everything was tranquil and quiet. The sky reveled in your undivided attention, twinkling and shining with all of its might.

“Y/N, what exactly are we?”

Blinking in surprise, blood began to rush to your cheeks. Bravery was necessary for your answer, and it took a bit to muster it all up. You turned to the man beside you, heart speeding in your chest as you responded.

“What.. do you want us to be?”

Neji seemed taken aback by your question, as if he had expected for you to be the one with the answer. Red crept to the tips of his ears and his cheeks. His throat suddenly felt dry, parched by the heat of confrontation of years of feelings.

“I would like to court you. I.. I mean. I would like.. for you.. to be my girlfriend.”

His answer was awkward, eyes glancing to the side as they swept over everything except your face. You knew he was trying, and your stomach twisted with butterflies. The confession was everything you had hoped for and more. You wished the young girl that had been so off-put by the Hyuuga’s presence could see you now, nearly combusting over his feelings.

“I would like that. A lot.”

With those words, you moved forward, pressing a kiss against Neji’s lips. He kissed back instantly, as if your moves had been premeditated. It felt like fire and ice had clashed, but instead of creating destruction, something new and amazing had been made. The kiss was sloppy, inexperienced and filled with unknown passion and feelings, but it was perfect.

And it was yours.

[inb4belphienaps]

boundaries (continued)

<pt. 1> warnings: mention of nightmare (bugs), suggestive dialogue (?) word count: 1383

later that night, as you lie in bed staring at the ceiling, you try to picture where the butterfly had gone. something tells you that it dissipated, faded into the air after you'd returned your attention to him.

you recall the intensity with which he'd looked at you and you clench your jaw. the color of his magic is that of his eyes. a wonderful mixture that reminds you of sunsets over the water, where the sky melts into the land and the horizon becomes blurred.

beautiful. he's beautiful.

overwhelming at times but not in a way that deters you. had he been a tad more impatient or a pinch more entitled, you reason that you would've thought twice about helping him.

it was odd. how alluring he could be, how alluring he is. or perhaps you were doomed from the start. he's easy to talk to and you find yourself rambling every now and then. he never really interrupts you, if only to ask a question regarding an aspect you'd neglected to mention.

did he only show interest because of his circumstances? were you only preferable in lieu of the silence he had to endure alone?

you remember the feel of his lips. the way his breath had tickled your palm and you shiver. if you were to allow yourself to imagine, how would his lips taste, you wonder.

as you close your eyes in a bid to find out, you slowly drift off to sleep.

while belphie settles in under his covers, he concludes that he'd been far too pessimistic. you were open to letting him in, within reason. he'd scrapped the plan when he'd realized how you received him.

the way you didn't jump to conclusions or assume things on your own (so unlike a certain someone else he knew). the way you'd seemingly wanted to believe him, even before he'd started to explain himself.

he'd forgotten humans could be like that too. naïve and willing and...pure? he shakes his head. he'd never liked that word as an angel and now as a demon, he disliked it all the more. it was the connotations. except, he didn't know what other word to use to describe you. had his days in the devildom led him astray?

you'd been receptive to his kiss, he recollects with some semblance of embarrassment. it'd felt right at the time. yet as he turns the lights off, he wonders what he would've done had you not been as yielding.

and then, as if on cue, his mind reminds him of That Plan. he mulls it over briefly. and his desire to know whether you'll dream of him tonight because of what happened wins.

so he relaxes, shuts his eyes and lets his magic spread. slowly, from the cracks in the walls and through the gate, this attachment he'd formed to you, helps to guide him.

he's able to reach you and a rush of excitement causes him to pre-emptively enter your room. his vision isn't as clear as he'd like it to be, given the limited amount of power he could use with lucifer's enchantments in place.

it's comforting to see you asleep. he definitely would've foregone the effort had he found you awake.

although he's tempted to feel out the bits and pieces of your room, he focuses on your figure and lets his magic seep in.

entering dreams usually requires a minute amount of exertion and depending on the dream itself, he's often able to emerge in the background of the scene taking place. it helps when he's trying not to disturb the person dreaming. and in this case, that's the last thing he wants.

he recites the verse – once, twice, thrice for good measure.

the first thing that greets him is the sound of music. dreams, however confusing and muddled they could be, were only perceivable if they were felt. the tune is soft, and he takes a step forward, opening his eyes to a forest of some kind.

sunlight wafts in through the tree branches, bouncing off of leaves and droplets of what he gathers to be water (despite their honey-like nature). there isn't much movement aside from that. as if the landscape were frozen in time.

walking along a hazy path, he comes to a clearing and finally, he sees you. there you are, ankle-deep in a river of sorts, swaying and twirling in the middle of a kaleidoscope of butterflies. they're dancing. with you, it seems.

a lovely dream, he thinks. entirely innocent when compared to the types of inclinations he'd been hoping to find.

he follows your line of sight and he sees that the sky is painted mauve, dotted with clouds of pink and blue. awfully quaint. he catches a droplet falling from an elm and he watches it burst in a manner quite unlike normal physics would suggest.

it continues. weeks pass of him doing this, invading your dreams, and your suspicions grow ever nearer to the truth.

on one particular night, you're left feeling distraught.

this dream had been personal. it'd manifested in the human world. at home in fact, in the comfort of the house whose layout you knew like the back of your hand. concerns that plagued you played out like segments of a movie haphazardly thrown together.

anxieties and concerns weaved their way in. and so did belphie, apparently. he'd shown up during a rather horrible instance, when you'd curled up on the floor and tugged at the carpet, which had fallen apart in your hands.

only, it wasn't carpet. it was hair. and there hadn't been solid ground underneath it. instead, critters with thousands of legs and pincers that 'click-click-click'-ed emerged, crawling their way onto your hands. before you could scream, he'd pulled you away. and the scene had dissolved to the two of you lying together in bed.

you'd kissed him on those pretty lips. gone as far as to admit something to him too.

and so when you return to the attic to confront him, you're afraid of the consequences.

"how long?"

he looks at you with hooded eyes, not a hint of emotion betraying him. he needed to know where you stood first.

"how long have you been coming into my dreams like that?"

you hold up the charm solomon had lent you, the round gem inside it still glowing.

"i thought- why...why would you do that?"

"i only did it recently. after you told me you dreamt about me."

your mind reels to conjure up the memory of that day. the day you'd come to him slightly tipsy (again, thanks to solomon's certain 'privileges') and you'd made a fool of yourself. shame flares up in your stomach and you avert your gaze.

he'd argue otherwise if he knew that that was how you saw it.

"fuck. i thought you'd forgotten."

he snickers. and you have a half a mind to throw the charm at him. if only you knew how long he'd really been invading your dreams for.

"i wanted to see what they were about."

you tense at that. quickly stuffing the charm back in your pocket, you cross your arms.

"those are my dreams, belphie. what if you'd seen something...terrible?"

"if by terrible, you mean us christening the bed, then i'd have to say i disagree."

the blush on your cheeks has him grinning.

"that- please! i- i'd never-"

you pause at his expression. he sees you consider it, the thought fleeting through your mind in real time.

"okay, maybe, maybe i'm more perverse than i'd care to admit. but. and there is a but. it still doesn't give you the right to do that."

he chooses his next words very carefully and lowers his voice.

"not even when it means that we could meet in your dreams?"

another pause. you were too honest. he could read you so easily like this, how that offer makes you reconsider. you were beginning to become incredibly fond of him already, weren't you?

"i hate you."

he laughs unabashedly and you smile despite yourself.

"i pick the time and place though", you quickly add.

you think he's only nodding in response until he catches your eye and leans in, pressed up against the metal to say, "of course".

[sparrowsfall]

@deputystakes​ confessed: 18. a peek inside their "SECRET” HIDING SPOT & 19. a peek at their FIVE MOST RECENT CONTACTS.

from: “ a peek inside... ” | no longer accepting

SECRET HIDING SPOT — the hidden gem offers reprieve, a place of AMNESTY away from the prying microscope of Crockett’s many resident gossips. it’s a haven, a refuge, a cave tucked into the northernmost island cliff face that allows him opportunity to collect his thoughts and his very self after a day that, so graciously happens to end early, but still feels all too long. well worth the hike, even despite the risky journey one must make to reach it ( to put it lightly ) --- no clear-cut path. no hand rail to catch. just the dwindling near-vertical limestone, and a steep natural shelf that provides the only barrier between him and the ever-foaming, ever-hungry riptide of black Atlantic hundreds of feet below, waiting to swallow the clumsy whole. down, down, down, he makes his slow and careful way. palms pressed flat against stone to steady himself. prayers whispered under his breath that each new rock he steps upon has yet to be weakened by the pummels of wind and water and time. at last, he reaches the trio of jutting boulders that mark the halfway point.

the mouth of the cave is easily overlooked by all, appearing as nothing more than a crack in the sediment. not some wide, gaping maw, but a slender thing, just high and wide enough for a man of his stature to slip inside. the size of the pocket is impressive, compared to what its deceptive entryway may suggest - a literal hole in the wall that could comfortably fit four grown men. five, if they’re willing to get familiar with each other. but he’s only ever shared his knowledge of this precious place with one other. selfish as it may seem, he finds it far too STRIKING to be shared with the rest of the community, to become the next uppards.

eyes adjust to the shadows, and within them find a small but ancient world of its own. hag stones littering the floor. calcium silhouettes of scallops and mussels and mollusks imprinted into the black rock, a prehistoric wallpaper to decorate the space. the cave’s ceiling splintered apart by the sprawling veins of smoky and blue quartz --- certainly gorgeous when the afternoon sunbeams filter into the space, but truly become something to behold in the moonlight. refractions of a clear night dance across the jutting violet and gold and smoky red facets to paint the darkened floor in dapples of iridescence. and with the thunderous roar of the crashing waves below drowning out any echo of a voice that may try to travel, it’s little wonder that he’s taken his beloved on many a picnic here.

every hiding spot worth its salt boasts a collection of personal items. John’s is no different, his modest assortment perched upon the flat top of a short boulder that protrudes at the back of the cave’s throat : five pillar beeswax candles. another box of Diamond-brand matches. a folded gingham blanket. a long sardine tin, now used to keep his small tubes of watercolor and gouache paints, the lid fashioned into a makeshift palette. a small glass jar that holds his thin brushes, his charcoal sticks and sketching pencils, his inking pens, his kneaded eraser. and a black leather-bound notebook, only a bit wider than his hand, each page of watercolor paper used thus far filled to the brim with painted landscapes from his missionary travels. of course, the more recent pages are adorned with studies of the ocean life and sea scapes he can see from his spectacular hidden vantage point. no space left white, no space left wasted. if one combs through the pages carefully, they may find more than a few drawings of a certain local navy wife, staring out at the horizon.

and of course, there’s a half-empty bottle of chianti swiped from the church sacristy. still nestled in its wicker basket and tucked alongside what was once one, and is now two, cheap glasses. 

FIVE MOST RECENT CONTACTS — he may not have a cell phone, but he vividly remembers his last five calls on the rectory phone without the aid of a digital roster. after all, how could he forget? : 

5. CALL TO : FLYNN RESIDENCE. THURSDAY APRIL 1ST, 2021. 6:33 PM. answered by Annie. he tells her to relay a message to Riley that he is feeling far better this evening, the AA meeting is to resume at seven sharp. Annie tells him that Riley should be there shortly, he left for the rec. center only a couple moments ago.

4. CALL FROM : SHERIFF’S OFFICE. FRIDAY APRIL 2ND, 2021. 7:26 PM. Sheriff Hassan is looking for Joe Collie, and has word from Erin Greene that he has been attending the AA meetings on Thursday evenings. has Father Paul seen him? he apologizes - no, unfortunately Joe did not show up last night. he cannot stay long on the phone, Good Friday Mass begins soon. but if he sees or hears anything, he will let the sheriff know promptly, he swears it.

3. CALL TO : SCARBOROUGH RESIDENCE. SATURDAY APRIL 3RD, 2021. 8:17 AM. Dolly and Wade are to come to the rectory immediately, as soon as they’re dressed if possible. he tells them with urgency in his voice. plans are being made for the Vigil this evening, and their help will be required. little other explanation is given.

2. CALL TO : STURGE’S WORK PHONE. SATURDAY APRIL 3RD, 2021. 8:19 AM. a call similar to that made to the Mayor’s house. Sturge’s aid is, as always in these matters, essential.

1. CALL TO : GUNNING RESIDENCE. SATURDAY APRIL 3RD, 2021. 9:45 PM. the phone rings and rings, and he leaves a message on the answering machine: “ Millie... I didn’t get a chance to speak with you before you left mass last night. You uh--- You looked upset. Everything will be explained at the Vigil, I promise. [ PAUSE ]... I pray you and Sarah will join us. It’s the holy thing to do, I swear it. You’ll thank yourselves... I love you. ”

[stayextrafrosty]

I Am Your Future, I Am Your Past: Chapter 12

A Roswell New Mexico Soulmate AU

AN: I’m so sorry for not updating this. I hit a bit of a wall but had some lovely friends help me out. I’m starting to plan the rest of the story and it’s looking like it’ll be between 23-25 chapters. So hey! Halfway point! Anyway... thank you for reading and being patient with me!

Read on AO3 // Masterlist // Chapter 1

-

Alex checked the rearview mirror to make sure Michael was still behind him. He grinned and shook his head at how close he was tailing. Alex wasn’t one for road rage but even he was tempted to hit the brakes, just to freak him out a little bit.

Alex looked down at the map spread on his passenger seat. The reception would be spotty until they got to the cabin and hooked up the Wi-Fi. They should be coming up on the “driveway” soon. It was a hunting cabin left to him by Jim Valenti that he would visit with Kyle when he was young. The trees and boulders scattered around provided more than enough cover to play hide and seek.

He finally saw the small worn sign signaling the beginning of private property. He signaled and slowed down, remembering the trench that was near impossible to see just off the road. His car would be ok but would Michael’s old truck?

They hadn’t passed another car in at least ten minutes. He released a breath of relief that Forrest – or anyone else – hadn’t followed them. Then again, his father never knew about the cabin. Jim always kept it a secret between them.

The dust kicked up and obscured Alex’s view of Michael but he could see the dust from his truck in the side mirror. Five minutes later, the cabin came into view and Alex noted the young chinaberry tree he had selected to get some shade on the property. The leaves still a beautiful green even as the season was coming to an end.

He slowed as he pulled up. Putting the car in park, he stared at the small house. The wood rack on the side of the cabin was filled with wood left over from the landscaping. His eyes ran over the solar panels on the roof and down to the porch. He stared at the front door. He would be living here for who knew how long. Alone. With Michael.

Michael’s truck rumbled up next to him, pulling him from his daydream. Alex folded the map and put it back in the glove box before stepping out of the car. He walked up the steps without looking at Michael, pushing the key in the lock and opening the door.

The place would need to be dusted but most of the furniture was covered with white cloth. He felt Michael’s body heat step up behind him. He still jumped when his fingers brushed his arm. Alex moved in further, trying to seem as natural as possible.

“Start pulling covers off of things and I’ll get the power going,” Alex said, heading to the back storage room. He didn’t hear a reply from Michael but he felt the confusion through the mark. But if Alex could feel the confusion, couldn’t Michael feel his nerves?

His reaction to Forrest this morning had been real. He was beyond pissed but the feelings had already taken root. He was searching for a reason to forgive him. But he had kissed Michael a few days ago and it wasn’t as though he regret it. It felt more right than anything else but he wasn’t entirely convinced that it wasn’t residual feelings from the vision they shared.

He pulled open the fuse box and started flipping switches. His eyes landed on the spot where Michael had kissed his hand. It felt like it was burned into his skin. He shook his head and continued messing with the fuses.

Alex flipped the last switch. Nothing happened for a moment. Suddenly sparks flew as the fuse short circuited. He jerked his hand away but the sparks burned his skin and he hissed in pain. He cursed under his breath as he held his hand to his chest. The pain faded quickly and he looked down, not a single burn was left.

He spun and rushed back to the main room where Michael would be. His eyes scanned the room and he saw Michael sitting on the couch, jaw clenched and gripping his hand, watching the burns appear.

“Michael! I’m so sorry. Come on, we need to run that under some water,” Alex rushed out, grabbing his arm. He followed without protest to the kitchen sink. Alex turned on the water and listened to the pipes groan before water spat out.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Alex, but it’s just a small burn. I’ve gotten worse working on cars,” Michael teased gently. Alex ignored him and grabbed his hand carefully, pulling it under the cold water.

They were both silent as the water ran. Alex’s heart raced at the warmth of Michael’s skin under his fingers. The heat rose to his cheeks as he pulled the cabinets open, looking for a towel. He pulled one out and shut the water off, handing it to Michael. He hurried to the lone bathroom in the bedroom where the first aid kit was.

Alex spun to go back to the kitchen and ran into a firm body. Michael’s hands held on to his waist, keeping him from stumbling back. Alex looked at his face for the first time since they arrived. Michael’s gaze burned as he glanced down. His heart pounded in his chest, just like Alex’s.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he asked.

“I’m not,” Alex insisted, though he could hear the lie in his own voice.

Michael didn’t say anything back. Just released him and walked out of the bathroom. Alex’s shoulders dropped with a sigh. Being around Michael was like all the air was ripped from his lungs. The only solution his brain could ever come up with was to step closer until they were breathing together.

Alex followed him out, glancing at the bed in the middle of the bedroom. He and Kyle had always slept on air mattresses in the living room. He hadn’t considered that he and Michael would have to share the bed. He shook his head. He would have to sleep on the couch.

“Michael, let me bandage your hand,” Alex said as he stepped back out the front door.

“It’s fine, Manes.” His last name was like a slap in the face. Wasn’t he the one who said he didn’t want to do that anymore? He yanked the passenger side door on his truck open, pulling out his bag and box of stuff. Alex stared at the truck as he kicked the door closed and walked past him.

He blinked a few times before turning and following him back inside. What had he done to piss him off? Alex didn’t want to think it was just because of the slight avoiding.

“Michael—”

“Is your car still unlocked? I’ll grab your things,” he said, cutting him off. Without waiting for an answer, he was walking back out the door.

Alex clenched his fists. Why wouldn’t Michael just talk to him? He heard the slamming of car doors and soon Michael was carrying in his bag and headed to the bedroom. Alex followed him again.

“Hey,” he tried again.

“I’ll stay on the couch. And I can run back to town for food.” Michael tried to push past him.

Alex’s nose twitched and he grabbed the door, slamming it shut before Michael could leave. He jumped and raised an eyebrow at him. Alex stared him down, refusing to be the one to look away first.

“What are you so mad about,” Alex demanded. Michael scoffed and shook his head.

“Seriously? I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do such a complete one eighty on their feelings. One minute you’re furiously protective and the next you’re horrified at the idea of even being around me.”

“Where the hell did you get that idea?”

“You avoided me and then tried to lie about it. Message received loud and clear. I feel everything, Alex. I can make an educated guess about what you’re thinking.” Michael grabbed his hat off his head and ran a hand through his hair. “You regret yelling at Forrest. Because fuck you actually still have feelings for the guy. After everything he did. So just forget it.”

Alex was frozen. Only moving to allow Michael to leave the room. He didn’t understand how Michael could have such a clear picture of his emotions when Alex could barely pick up on his. He gripped his shirt over the mark and heard the truck start outside.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus. He tried to reach out mentally. To decipher which emotions were his and which were Michael’s. Everything was tangled together but it was like two different colors. Alex a vibrant blue and Michael a muted green.

He picked through the anger and confusion. Separating the betrayal and the annoyance, the desire and love. The love… swimming in the background of every emotion, refusing to be separated.

-

A week passed in discomfort. Alex and Michael talked but never about anything important. Michael slept on the couch and refused to let Alex take a turn, insisting that he’d be a terrible person to make the one missing a leg sleep on the ‘lumpy piece of crap.’

So Alex moved around the kitchen, emptying the case of eggs to make a couple omelets for them both. Michael groaned from the couch, blanket tossed lazily over the lower half of his body. Alex had gotten used to seeing him shirtless but he still couldn’t control his heart if he let himself stare too long.

“I told you that you could sleep in the bed,” Alex called to him as he sprinkled cheese onto the eggs.

“And I told you that I wasn’t going to let you sleep on the couch,” he responded with a grunt. His bare feet padded up behind Alex before shifting to walk to the fridge. Alex glanced at his back and let his eyes follow the muscles to where his pajama pants started. Then he refocused on the food in the pan.

“We could just share the bed you know. It’s not like it’s small.” The silence that followed the suggestion was almost enough to make him want to take it back. The food sizzled and Alex shifted it with the spatula.

“I figured you would rather not. You can hardly stand to be in the same space as me.”

Alex sighed. He was still convinced that he was avoiding him. And maybe he had been but it was over now. Alex couldn’t avoid him when they had to live together. The easiest way to get through this was if they were at least friendly. Friends could share beds. Girls do it all the time. At least, according to Liz, Rosa, and Maria.

“Michael. Believe it or not, I do enjoy your company,” Alex snapped. He hadn’t meant for it come out as harsh as it did but this argument had been going on since the first day. Even though they had hardly discussed it. Enough was enough.

“Oh yea, that’s convincing.”

“Well maybe if you stopped being a jackass for a second and listened to me. You can read my emotions Michael, not my thoughts. And I think you’ve severely misinterpreted them.” Alex shut off the stove and placed the eggs on a plate before turning toward Michael. HE stood with his arms crossed, a slight frown settled firmly onto his face.

“Well enlighten me. What have I misinterpreted?” he bit out sarcastically. Alex shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed before he started speaking.

“I care about Forrest, yes.” Michael scoffed and began to turn away. Alex grabbed his arm. “We were friends Michael. Probably on our way to something more. What did you want me to do? Sit and wait patiently for you to decide I’m worth it? You rejected me. And I don’t blame you for that. We didn’t exactly leave things in a good place.”

“Friends?” Michael laughed. “You knew him for maybe a week.”

“From what I remember we only knew each other for about that long back in high school.” Michael’s eye twitched as he looked away from Alex. “Michael. I care about you. There is no doubt in my mind about that. But I can’t shake this feeling that maybe it’s just left over from the visions.”

Alex watched Michael’s eyes soften. He released his arm hesitantly, hoping that he wouldn’t bolt for the door. Michael ran a hand through his hair before leaning back against the counter.

“I’m not avoiding you. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to feel around you.” Michael’s gaze seemed to turn intense. Alex couldn’t help but blush.

“Why don’t you try explaining it,” Michael said.

Alex turned away from him, grabbing the food he had made and bringing it to the table. He set it down in front of their respective chairs before sitting down himself. Michael followed suit, sitting across from Alex. He pushed his food around with the fork, debating how to explain this. Couldn’t Michael just read him? Wasn’t that the point of the mark?

“I… I’m nervous. Being around you has always made me nervous. And it’s even worse now.” He started.

“Why?” Alex felt naked. It was a reasonable follow up question but he was terrified at the answer. He couldn’t even lie to make it less awkward.

“Because feeling you… your emotions. They’re so clear all the time and I… I hate knowing that mine are the exact same way for you.”

“So you search for any wall you can put between us. And right now that happens to be Forrest.” Alex looked up at him briefly before refocusing on the food.

“Yes,” he mumbled. “This curse pushes us together. And me wanting you this badly… it can’t be natural.”

It was silent for a while. Neither of them eating a single bite of food. Alex froze as Michael’s chair scraped across the floor. His bare feet padded along the wood until he stood next to him. Alex looked up at him, heart pounding. Michael brushed his fingers over the mark beneath Alex’s shirt. His breath caught in his throat.

“And yet you’re the one thing that does come naturally to me.”

Then Michael stepped away, taking the breath from Alex’s lungs with him. He left the food on his plate as he walked toward the master bedroom. After a few minutes, Alex could hear the water of the shower. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Why do you have to say things like that?” he mumbled to himself.

He picked at his food for a few minutes, just listening to the water running in the background. Eventually he stood and put both plates in the fridge, figuring they would want to eat later. Had that conversation even solved anything? He still didn’t know how to talk to Michael and his own feelings didn’t magically make sense.

Alex walked to the front room and sat on the floor for his daily stretches. He grimaced but pushed himself down anyway, pulling his legs into a butterfly position. He took deep breaths as he counted to ten, only flinching once.

He was on his back, pulling his leg into his chest when the water stopped. The idea of stopping never crossing his mind. His eyes closed to concentrate on his breathing and pain management. Alex had shifted to his other leg when Michael wandered back into the front room. Alex felt his pulse jump.

Alex opened his eyes to look at him. His hungry eyes could have started a fire under his skin. His hands gripped the t-shirt he was holding. Alex cleared his throat and pushed himself into a sitting position. Water dripped from Michael’s curls onto his chest and Alex felt his mouth go dry.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Michael teased. Alex hoped the blush on his face wasn’t visible.

“I was done anyway.” Alex would have stood up by himself. He was more than capable. But Michael wordlessly offered his hand, black t-shirt tossed over his shoulder. He wanted to smile and say ‘no thanks, I can do it’ but he grabbed Michael’s hand instead.

Michael pulled him up faster than he was expecting, making him stumble forward. Michael’s free hand landed on his hip, keeping him steady. Alex couldn’t look away from his eyes. At least not until he found himself tracing the lines down to his mouth and the way they were just slightly parted.

Michael’s hand was warm and Alex guessed his lips were too. He wanted to close the distance but wasn’t sure if it would be welcome. He looked back up at Michael’s eyes, getting lost in the golden brown. Michael’s thumb slipped under the hem of his shirt, rubbing over his skin gently.

Michael was the first to pull away, clearing his throat as he did. He moved back toward the kitchen, pulling the shirt over his head. Alex just stared at the spot where he stood. He should have known better than to think their conversation would have fixed anything. Did Alex even want to kiss him again?

Yes. I want him.

He shook his head and walked into the bedroom for his own shower. He couldn’t trust his own desires. If it wasn’t real, then what? If they broke this curse and Michael felt nothing for him, could he really live with that? Or what if his own feelings vanished and he hurt Michael? He couldn’t handle that either.

It would be best for them to stay separate for now.

-

There was no way Alex didn’t know what he was doing. Michael tapped his fingers on the counter as the microwave spun. Alex talked about his stretches but always did them while Michael was out. Watching the way his muscles moved under his clothes was more than he could take. He almost turned right back around for another cold shower.

He hadn’t expected Alex to actually accept his help when he offered it. So he pulled harder than he meant to and there they were. Face to face and Michael wanted more than anything to close that distance. Alex had wanted it too. But based on the conversation they had, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The beeping of the microwave pulled him back from the daydream. He groaned and pulled the food out. He supposed he couldn’t blame Alex for thinking the way he did. It was even possible that he was right. No one knew how the curse worked.

He ate his food slowly, listening to the water running and opening himself to feel Alex’s heart. He glanced toward the cracked bedroom door, just visible from where he was sitting. His phone buzzed in his pocket with a text from Izzy.

How’s the honeymoon?

Michael’s heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t what this was. Sure Alex had agreed to it but he knew how he hated being trapped. Work could only occupy so much of his time and surfing the web was never really his thing.

It’s hiding Iz. Not exactly fun. He messaged back.

Have you guys at least figured out that whole consummation thing?

He stared at the message. It was obvious what they needed to do. But something like that…

Michael was comfortable with casual sex. Always had been. But with Alex it could never be just casual. He couldn’t ask Alex to do that just for the sake of maybe ending the curse without going through all the trials. Not to mention that Michael’s heart wouldn’t be able to handle having him once and then never again. He had denied himself for seven years. It was only easy now because he was used to it. But his control was withering every day.

No. He sent back.

If he told Isobel, he didn’t trust it wouldn’t get back to Maria. She was smart and had probably figured it out already but he didn’t want to hurt her by hearing it from a person she didn’t even like.

Look, do I need to send DeLuca over there to get your ass in gear? I swear she’s more invested in this than you are.

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose but couldn’t help but help smiling. She really was amazing. He only hoped that someone else would see it eventually. Someone just as strong to be her partner.

I’ll talk to Alex. He mentioned having some theories. No need to have her make a special trip.

His phone was silent after that. He wondered if Alex would be willing to look into the stone again. Maybe there was something they missed. Maybe it didn’t have to be sex. But calling forth the spirits of Samuel and Thomas was exactly what was making Alex hesitant. Going back in would only push them further apart.

The sound of water no longer came from the bedroom. Michael stood to clean his plate before Alex came back out. He hurried out the front door, needing to think about how he would talk to Alex about it. He laughed at himself as he stepped off the front porch. Of course it was sex. That was how these stories always went.

The sunlight made him squint as he moved to the side of the cabin where all the wood was stacked. An axe leaned against the wood next to the pile. Most of the logs probably didn’t need to be cut but he needed an excuse.

He moved to grab the axe just below the window. It was when he looked through the small crack in the chiffon drapes that he knew he was done for. Alex’s bare back moved fluidly. There was no doubt he had muscles but he was still soft. Michael wondered if he would still make the small whine he used to when he squeezed his hips.

Michael tore his eyes away before he got too lost in thought. His jeans were quickly becoming too tight. He cursed under his breath and grabbed the first piece of wood on top of the pile.

-

The next couple days came and went, and Michael still hadn’t brought up the idea of the consummation or what they should tell Isobel. He had caught Alex looking at him curiously a few times but he never said anything either. He was running out of time. Eventually Isobel would come storming through the door demanding to know the details of the vision.

Alex was frowning at his laptop when Michael pulled out the chair to sit across from him. He only glanced up a moment before refocusing on his work. Michael just sighed and pushed the lid of the laptop down slightly.

“We need to talk.” Michael watched as Alex’s shoulders stiffened. He closed the computer gently before leaning forward on his arms.

“About what?” Alex asked. Michael sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“The vision, Alex. Isobel wants to know how to break this curse. What do you want to tell her?” Alex looked away from him, his heart rate jumping.

“Maybe it’s not what we think it is,” Alex offered unconvincingly. He picked at his nails and his nerves were overwhelming any other emotion Michael might be able to read.

“Did you want to go back into the vision?”

The blush on Alex’s face was cute. Michael would never get tired of seeing it. But this wasn’t the time to focus on it. Alex’s embarrassment told him all he needed to know. Going back into the vision wasn’t the answer.

“We have to come up with something, Alex. Isobel already threatened to send Maria to help us figure it out.” The guilt that swept over his face made Michael’s heart ache. Not that he didn’t feel guilty about it but he couldn’t ignore his feelings for Alex.

“Just tell her to keep it a secret,” he finally said. Michael watched the way his hand clenched and wanted nothing more than to be able to reach over and grab it.

“Isobel? Keeping a secret?” Michael tried, joking. The glare he received in response reminded him just how close Alex and Maria were. He let his tone turn serious again. “I can ask her to keep it but I can’t promise anything. I know you don’t want Maria to know because neither do I. But eventually we won’t have a choice.”

Alex stared at the table, the wrinkle between his eyebrows only getting deeper. Michael tuned in as much as he could to the emotions swirling between them. He only wished that the uncomfortable tension that permeated everything could be broken.

“Do you…” Alex started. His fingers began tapping on the table. The embarrassment was front and center again. “Do you want to… consummate?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

There it was. Out in the open. Michael wanted him but if it was under the guise of ‘consummation’…

“No.” Alex jumped at the suddenness of his voice and a quick flash of hurt swept through him. “If we’re going to sleep together, I want it to be real. Us. Not some means to an end.” Alex looked away from him, seeming to bite his tongue. “What are you thinking?” Alex was right when he called him out for making assumptions about Forrest. And maybe this communication thing worked better than guessing.

“Will it ever be ‘us’? Isn’t all of this a means to an end?” Michael’s heart panged with hurt. Hadn’t he made his feelings clear that night they saw the vision?

“We came here for protection, true. But even if it was safer to be apart, I don’t think I could stay away from you.” Alex shoved his seat back and jumped up, groaning as he ran his hands through his hair. He paced around the kitchen, sounding angry but Michael couldn’t miss the way his heart fluttered.

“Stop. You can’t keep talking like that.” Alex yelled. Michael stood slowly and slipped his hands into his pockets as he stepped toward Alex.

“Like what?”

“Like you fucking care about me!” Alex spun to face him again, glaring. “You say these things that I don’t know what to do with! And your damn heart…”

“Why is it so hard to believe that I care? That I’ve cared for the last ten years?” Alex stepped back as Michael moved forward. Eventually Alex’s back hit the counter. His eyes jumped everywhere except to Michael’s face until he was standing right in front of him.

“Don’t…” he mumbled out halfheartedly.

“Only if you stop lying to yourself.”

Michael trapped him between his arms, his shallow breaths brushing over his lips. He kept leaning forward slowly. If Alex really wanted him to stop he would. But instead of pushing him away, Alex’s hands landed on his hips. His fingers trembled and Michael watched his eyelashes flutter closed. Their foreheads pressed together. Michael could feel both of their hearts racing as their lips brushed over each other.

A loud knocking on the front door made them jump apart. They both panted as they watched each other. Michael waited for the person to go away, his fingers twitching as the desire to touch Alex only grew. More knocking, then a voice.

“Alex! Michael! Open up,” Maria called. They were both frozen. Michael replayed the conversation they just had in his head. He couldn’t believe Isobel would actually send her.

Alex moved first. Composing his face and hurrying to open the door. Michael stared at the space on the counter. The squeak of the door opening made him turn around. He could only hope his face wasn’t covered in guilt.

Maria pulled Alex into a hug. He held her tightly for a moment, a gentle smile settling on his face.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to see you. But why are you here?” Alex asked.

“Isobel said you two were dawdling on figuring out your visions so I’m here to help. I am a psychic after all,” she said, winking. She looked toward Michael and he could almost watch her thought process play out on her face. How she was supposed to react to seeing him. But eventually she just grinned and moved further into the cabin, looking around.

“This place is much nicer than I was led to believe. How long have you kept this a secret, Manes? Why didn’t we use this to get drunk and smoke in high school?” Alex just laughed and shook his head.

“Uh, probably because in high school, Jim Valenti still used it regularly and he was the sheriff.”

“Got a point there.” Maria shoved the blankets and pillow to one side of the couch before plopping down. “Michael I sincerely hope you aren’t making Alex sleep out here on the couch.” Michael just rolled his eyes and chuckled.

“Actually Alex sleeps on the floor. No bed in this place.” Her look of disapproval just made him smile more. “Come on DeLuca, who do you take me for?” She just shrugged and crossed her legs.

“Apart from the sleeping arrangements, did you bring a book or something to help us decipher the visions?” Michael watched as Alex tried to hide the fidgeting of his hands. His own heart rate speeding up to match.

“I did bring books but I just figured you could tell me what the visions were and I could point out common metaphors and connections. It would make things go a lot faster then all of us sitting here in silence reading.”

Alex glanced at Michael. They had agreed to tell Isobel. Did they really want to make this leap? He thought on his feet. He wanted Alex to make the decision about when to tell her. They were best friends after all.

“When did you get so close to my cousin anyway? You two always hated each other.” Now, he could have been wrong but he swore he saw her blush. She shrugged it off quickly.

“Hate is a strong word, Guerin. And since all this curse stuff, she’s been weirdly helpful and almost nice.” Alex sat down next to her on the couch while Michael plopped down in the rocking chair across from them.

The silence seemed to stretch on forever. Michael was trying to control how often he looked at Alex, only noticing it because Maria was there. She glanced between the two of them and sighed before pulling a book from the bag she had brought with her.

“We can sit here all day. But I’m not leaving until we figure this out.” Alex scratched his head before taking a breath and speaking.

“It’s just… the visions are… Personal. You shouldn’t be subject to that,” he said, trying to dissuade her.

“Look. I know you two better than anyone. Nothing you tell me could possibly be that bad.”

“It’s not bad, per say…” Alex trailed off.

“The visions aren’t us. They’re the original pair of Samuel and Thomas. And their feelings for each other… they’re intense,” Michael continued for him. Maria raised an eyebrow and leaned forward.

“What’s your point?”

“It’s often a lot of stuff that wouldn’t be talked about…” Alex tried again.

“Oh for fucks sake,” she exclaimed. Both Michael and Alex jumped at the outburst. They shared a surprised look. “Sop walking on eggshells around me. I love you both. Truly. But watching you try to spare my feelings by hiding your own just makes it that much more obvious.”

Alex wrung his hands together, refusing to meat Michael’s eyes. He could only sigh and face Maria again, who just looked annoyed.

“I’m sorry. I should know better than to hide things from you.” She just grinned and leaned back, crossing her arms.

“You already know what it is don’t you? This consummation?” Michael just nodded. Maria sighed and pushed herself up from the couch. “Well then get your ass on the phone with Isobel because quite frankly, I’m done dealing with her pacing and ranting about what a terrible team player you are.” The floorboards squeaked under her boots as she moved toward the kitchen.

Michael looked back over to Alex. His eyes were focused on something a million miles away. His emotions swirled around him, as though he were trying to keep them to himself. Everything was out in the open. They had been called out by the one person they were both lying to.

“You guys keep any food or do I have to make it?” Maria asked as she opened the fridge. Michael stood and moved to the cabinets, shuffling through them. He finally found the one with the snack food and stepped to the side.

“There’s some protein bars and cookies in here but otherwise you have to make the food.”

-

Maria hung around for the day. She didn’t press for more information about the consummation but the looks she was shooting at both of them made Alex’s nerves spike every time. She knew. There was no way that she didn’t.

She didn’t seem mad. Quite the opposite actually. She seemed lighter and more free than he had seen her in a while. The stress of trying to figure out this cure was taking toll on all of them and her most of all. Alex knew that Maria loved both of them. He was sure having the two people she’s closest to in constant danger of dying wasn’t an easy thing to deal with.

Michael had gone grocery shopping. Alex offered to come with and every time Michael said no and left without waiting for him to respond. It was annoying but he was sure the reason would be something about his protection.

Instead he and Maria played cards. She had always been weirdly good at poker.

“There’s no way you aren’t cheating,” Alex joked, tossing his cards to the table.

“Sorry babe. This is all natural talent.” He rolled his eyes at her and pushed the small pile of quarters toward her.

“I guess I should just be happy you didn’t want to play strip poker.” She fluttered her eyelashes to an exaggerated degree.

“As beautiful as you are Alex, you’re not really my type anymore.” Alex just snorted and started shuffling the deck again.

Another few games brought just as much success as the others. That is to say, ‘none.’ Maria let herself do a small happy dance that Alex noticed resembled Liz. They had been hanging out a lot more and he felt terrible for how little he saw them.

“Hey…” Alex started hesitantly. Maria’s expression turned serious almost instantly. She placed the cards to side and leaned forward.

“It’s ok you know.” Alex met her gaze. She just smiled before continuing, “It’s ok that you like him. I probably knew somewhere deep down that we weren’t meant to last. He was always just out of reach. Holding something back.” He rushed to shake his head and he grabbed her hand.

“No. Michael loves you. And he will always love with everything he has.” Her sad smile broke his heart. The guilt ate at his gut. He couldn’t do this to her. He and Michael couldn’t do this to her.

“As true as that may be, it’s hard to give everything when you’ve already given it to someone else.”

“Maria…”

“And that’s ok, ya know? I want him to be happy. And I want you to be happy. And if you are happy together then who am I to tell you ‘no?’”

Alex stood and moved to stand next to her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her from her chair and into a hug. Her arms wrapped around his waist firmly. He smiled against her hair, wondering how he got so lucky to have her as a best friend. She pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek and wiped a stray tear from her eye.

“Someone is going to come along and give you the world.” She chuckled and straightened her back.

“Oh please. No one needs to give it to me when I can just get it myself.” Alex laughed and hugged her again.

The sun dipped below the horizon, splashing vibrant purples and pinks across the sky, eventually fading to blue-black. Alex pulled Maria outside to the fire pit in the back of the house. He was building a log cabin out of logs when he heard the rumble of Michael’s truck. Maria offered to go help him with the groceries and left Alex to light the fire.

A gentle breeze blew across the desert, tangling his hair. He would need to cut it soon. He wasn’t technically out of the service and that demanded he keep it a certain length, even if he liked it a bit longer.

He picked up a fire starter and laughed at himself. If he really wanted to, he could do without it. But he did like the convenience of not needing to survive. He crouched down and picked up the lighter after placing some small kindling in with the starter. It burned fast and jumped to the nearby logs. Alex just watched as the flames licked up the sides of the mini cabin he had built.

Dizziness swept over him, making him fall backwards into the dirt. The fire seemed to burn brighter as the black started to creep in at the edges of his vision…

-

Thomas stared into the fire, the warmth permeating into his bones. His father was going to be angry but he didn’t really care. Since that night Samuel had first kissed him, it was all he could think about. Samuel hadn’t made another attempt either. They spent as much time as they could together but that was it.

Samuel had convinced him to sneak out and there he was. But nothing had happened. The fire snapped and Thomas glanced up to the other man. He worked on skinning a rabbit he had caught for dinner.

“I’m sorry you have to eat peasant food when you’re with me,” Samuel said, making a cut to remove the insides.

“It’s alright. I’m sorry I never think to bring you a real dinner.”

The silence stretched a bit longer. Eventually, Samuel was tying the rabbit to a stick and placing it over the fire. He picked up a scrap of fabric, wiping the blood from his hands. He came to sit next to Thomas, watching the flames dance.

“Samuel… Why are we here?” He asked hesitantly. Samuel shifted next to him, leaning against his shoulder.

“I just wanted to be with you in a place where we don’t have to hide.” Thomas wrapped his arms around his knees, resting his chin on them. He fought against the grin that threatened to overtake his face.

“And yet it feels like we are hiding,” he said, only half joking. A beat passed before Samuel reached around him to pull him close. His lips pressed to his hair gently. Thomas sucked in a breath, the heat on his cheeks no longer from the fire.

“Then don’t hide. Tell me what you want.” Thomas looked up at his best friend. He was in love with this man.

“Kiss me,” he whispered.

Samuel moved slowly. Trailing his hands over his arms and up his neck to rest on his face, cupping his jaw. Samuel leaned forward, just barely brushing his lips against Thomas’. They both sighed at that first touch. With Samuel’s breath tickling his face, Thomas leaned forward.

His heart threatened to beat out of his chest the longer they stayed pressed together. Eventually Samuel pulled back and Thomas let out a small whine. It wasn’t enough.

“Again.”

He felt the smile on Samuel’s lips when they pressed against his again. It was firmer this time as Thomas wrapped his arms around Samuel’s waist. They pulled at each other. Bodies searching for any way to get closer.

Thomas ended up on his back, the beautiful man hovering over him. Samuel made sure to press the whole length of his body against his. He kissed him again, rocking his hips slowly.

They were so lost in each other, Thomas hadn’t realized just how close to the fire they were. He grabbed at what he thought would be dirt and grass but a red hot burn made him yelp and shove Samuel away from him.

He gasped and gripped his hand to his chest, tears threatening to fall. He cursed under his breath as his hand throbbed in pain.

“Follow me. Now.” Samuel demanded, grabbing his arm.

He pulled him along for a couple minutes before the sound of running water could be heard. A small creek glittered in the moonlight. Samuel yanked him to the ground again, shoving his burned hand into the cold water. Thomas hissed but the cool water began to ease the burning of his hand.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” Samuel said quietly. Thomas just shook his head.

“It’s not your fault. I wasn’t paying attention either.” Thomas reached up with his free hand to brush some curls out of his face. “You are the only thing I can ever focus on.” He turned his head into his palm, kissing it.

“I would take this injury for you if I could.”

-

Alex yelped and scrambled away from the fire. He blinked rapidly as the past fell away and was replaced with the desert of New Mexico. His left hand burned. The same one as Thomas. The one that his father crushed on Michael.

He looked down at his palm. It wasn’t bad but it would be difficult to use. Before his eyes, the red started to vanish until it was like it had never been there. Alex ground his teeth together and pushed himself up, running inside the cabin.

Maria was watching Michael in both amazement and horror. Michael’s grimace as he watched the burn appear pissed Alex off more than anything. The problem was that he had no one to be mad at. The Gods? Tessa? Himself?

Alex clenched his fists and hurried wordlessly over to Michael, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the sink, just like he did on the first day. He turned on the cold water, forcing his hand under the stream.

“Did you see the vision?” Alex asked quietly.

“Yea,” was his only response.

“You two just… shared a vision?” Maria stammered out. Alex looked back at her but she was focused on Michael’s burnt palm. Were the visions going to become a regular thing? Now that they were more connected to their past lives, would the spirits become restless as they demanded to see their proclaimed soulmate?

“How long was I zoned out?” Michael asked her. She shook her head and squared her shoulders.

“A couple minutes maybe? What was the vision?” She tried to hide they way her voice wanted to shake. Alex smiled at her and shook his head.

“We’ll tell you another time. I think you might need time to process what you just saw.”

“No! I’m here to help you with this exactly so…” she trailed off as her eyes fell to Michael’s hand again. Michael shut the water off and wrapped his hand in a towel as Alex pulled Maria toward the living room.

“Maria, listen to me. This is a lot. Knowing it happens is one thing. Watching it happen is another.” She nodded slowly. “You’re welcome to stay the night…”

“No. I should go home… I… I need to talk to Isobel about this.” Alex wanted to question but he figured now wasn’t the best time. She pulled her shoes on in silence, only looking back when Michael came to stand next to Alex. His hand was wrapped in bandages, covering old and new wounds alike.

“You don’t have to go,” Michael tried one last time. She just shook her head and smiled sadly at them.

“I do. I’ll be back soon.” Then she vanished.

They listened to her truck kick up dirt as she pulled away. Alex jumped when Michael’s hand touched his arm gently but he didn’t pull away. Everything that had happened just before Maria showed up still stuck in his mind.

He had wanted Michael so bad that he forgot that it might not be real.

“Will these visions show up more now?” he asked softly. Michael sighed.

“I don’t know.” Alex turned to face him, trailing his gaze down his body to his bandaged hand.

He took it gently, turning it so his palm was up. He ran his fingers over it gently, careful not to push too hard. Before he knew what he was doing, Alex lifted his hand to his lips, kissing his palm.

[connorgoldie604]

Artist Research

Tetsuo Aoki (1940 - unknown)

"The theme of my artwork is to express the pleasure, the deepness and the importance of touching each other. The original world of woodblock with Japanese paper (Washi) and Chinese ink (Sumi) is my basis."

Tetsuo Aoki – 青木鐵男 is a Japanese woodblock printmaker, who was born in 1940. He utilises wood to engrave his designs and uses a black and white colour scheme consistently throughout his prints. 

His elongated, disproportional and overstretched characters immediately caught my eye and he is now one of my biggest inspirations. I love the layouts he uses and the overall distorted aesthetic of his work. Aoki’s graphic style is far from ordinary. He utilizes defined shapes and little shadowing which creates a sense of sentimentality. 

Bryan Nash Gill (1961 - 2013)

"Art is (or should be) an authentic experience, which brings you closer to understanding yourself in relation to your surroundings." - Bryan Nash Gill

Bryan creates large-scale relief prints from the cross-sections of trees. It is up to us as viewers to find meaning in Bryans art. Personally, I find his art both beautiful and thought-provoking; it portrays the idea of growth and change yet makes me think about sustainability and the living things that surround us humans. 

Bryan believes that the journey is more important than the destination; "Strict concentration on the making, the process, is more important than the result." His take on the process of art is almost a metaphor for all things organic - he lived in the moment and did not let his thoughts guide him.

Gill creates patterns from fallen or damaged trees which he rescues from the property surrounding his studio. He prepares blocks of recycled wood, coats it in a thin layer of ink then makes prints by carefully pressing the contours of the wood until the intricate designs transfer from tree to paper. It is important to Gill that the entire tree and all it’s intricisies is documented.

Hulya Ozdemir

“I think my paintings are timeless. My portraits do not remain imprisoned in a single statement. Their gazes are changing, just like us. One day in the same picture is sad, another day is possible to see a happy face.” - Hulya Ozdemir 

Hulya Ozdemir  is an illustrator and painter of watercolor portraits who was born in Istanbul, Turkey in 1972. Hulya focuses predominantly on female portraits and showcases women becoming self confident and breaking out of social norms created by a make-dominated society. Hulya does not sketch her work beforehand, she draws directly onto paper, adds patterns and then paints; “I can say, I rarely know what will happen in the next step.” 

Her work displays womens beauty and individuality through the use of texture, bold colours and many patterns. Her use of colour, pattern and texture stould out to me, and I used it as inspiration for a mixed media print.

Glenn Jones

Glenn Jones found internet fame in the 2000s with his unique T-shirt designs. His tees have even be worn by stars on the Big Bang Theory. He is an illustrator who’s work is now being published as prints. Glenns collection of prints are inspired by growing up and living in NZ, he has stated that he want’s to put  “my own spin on our pop culture”. 

His prints are some what comedic, he depicts relatable Kiwi experiences with a humorous touch. One source states “his prints are a statement in a picture about our collective identities and the shared experiences of living in Aotearoa in the early 21st century.” His kiwiana style and clever twists with a touch of nostalgia is inspiring. I find his work both quirky and fun.

Barry Ross Smith 

"I like to create a rapport with the viewer by playing with our reminiscences. Creating icons from our shared Kiwi past, the beach, the bach, the farm but mostly the people. We can identify with these characters as family, friends or someone we know." - Barry Ross Smith

Barry Ross Smith is a visual artist born in Kamo, Northland, New Zealand. When he first started producing art his medium was sign writing, and he has now been painting for over 25 years. As stated by New Zealand Fine Prints Ltd; “His work typically engages with the conception of myth and cultural identity, often exploring these avenues from a New Zealand male’s perspective.”His art is inspired by the relationship between individuals and their immediate environment, specifically our communion with the land & encompassing oceans. His work has been described as “hymns to rural New Zealand … tellingly observed and cleverly rendered” by NZ Hearld Critic TJ Mcnamara.

I admire Barry because his work showcases our beautiful land and animals. Aswell as how work, Barry inspires me as a person. He is involved with Pest free NZ; and helps restore native wildlife from extinction. He values New Zealand land not only in his work but in his day to day life, which I find extremely inspiring as I value sustainability and our saving our environment. I also find his use of surrealism and kiwiana themes interesting as it is something I want to experiment with in the future.

Tony Ogle

"Screen-printing allows me to express my love of the New Zealand landscape and ocean environment with strong colours in a direct and graphic manner".

Tony Ogle was born in 1959 and is one of New Zealand's most successful printmakers. Ogle’s prints are full of colour, vibrant and celebrates New Zealands coastal landscapes. His works are extremely technically complex and handmade, with only one edition ever produced. Ogle’s joyful prints celebrates the Kiwi beach life and showcases his authentic connection with New Zealand coastal landscapes.

He is inspired by locations off the beaten track and untouched stitches of the NZ coastlines that portray "unchanged timelessness". Tony strives to capture what he calls a "sense of place" in his art prints. 

His work is inspiring since I can relate to it as a Kiwi and I admire how he uses texture to convey a sense of calmness, he perfectly captures Aotearoas essence. 

Charles Frederick Goldie

Charles Frederick Goldie was born in Auckland, New Zealand, on 20 October 1870.   He is an ancestor of mine, who painted Māori history paintings and portraits of tattooed chiefs. His paintings have been turned into many prints nowadays, I’ve even seen his paintings on postcards and magnets whilst travelling the South Island. 

Goldie's career began in 1900 when he started painting images  depicting elderly Māori with moko, the 'noble relics of a noble race'. By 1904 Goldie was considered the leading portrait painter of Māori, and was renowned for his technical brilliance.  His portraits have become vitally significant to New Zealand art.

Goldie feared that Māori were about to die out or be assimilated by the pakeha so he set out to record the last survivors. This is reinforced through the poses of his elderly subjects and the titles of many of his paintings eg; Last of the Cannibals, A Noble Relic of a Noble Race. Two of his most celebrated works, Darby and Joan and The Widow, portray Goldie’s awareness of the hardships Maori were experiencing. Many Māori individuals see Goldie's works as taonga which represents irreplaceable ancestral images of koroua and kuia. Māori believe the wairua( spirit) of the subject resides in each picture. 

I am inspired by Goldie not only because I feel a cultural connection to him but because of his love for Māori culture. His paintings are full of intricate details, and his paintings often look like they can breathe which I find incredible. 

Lauren Liess

A crooked smile, wildflowers from the side of the road, a chip in the good china; I love it when things are slightly off and tell a story, because to me, that’s real life. And it’s beautiful.

Lauren Liess is an interior designer who’s style I find inspiring and aesthetic. What caught my eye is her use of prints and nature in her interior design. Her style is simple, relaxed and authentic. She utilizes natural materials, thoughtful art and decor that focuses on people rather than things. 

She has a toes-in-the-stream aesthetic and is obsessed with the outdoors, “I’m obsessed with what’s going on outside,” and utilizes a black, white and wood pallet paired with lots of greenery, “When you bring in bits of nature …artwork, interesting accents and fabrics, [the colors are] a museum showcase for it. It’s a textural, natural base.” 

I relate to her as we are both inspired by the outdoors. I also like how she incorporates living plants and wood into her modern style. 

[ineffable-snowman]

Fic: For Want of Snow

Hi @smeltster, this is your gift for the GO Events gift exchange @good-snowmens. Happy Good Snowmens to you!

Thank you very much to @artemis for beta-reading!

***

For Want of Snow

“You don’t have snow anymore in London,” Aziraphale had said wistfully one day while they were strolling through St. James’s Park, Crowley with a black umbrella and Aziraphale with a tartan one to protect themselves against the steady drizzle.

Personally, Crowley could do without the snow. The usual London weather in December – grey, cold, rainy – was bad enough. Nevertheless, he had filed that information away for later, and when he came across a snow globe in a shop (as you do), he bought one for Aziraphale.

“Oh, how delightful,” Aziraphale said happily as Crowley presented him with the snow globe and removed a stack of books from the coffee table to place the snow globe there. Crowley, in turn, removed the books from the floor and squeezed them onto the shelves.

“Need to keep things tidy,” he offered as a mumbled explanation at Aziraphale’s questioning glance, all the while trying to forget how, just a few months ago, all the books and sheets of paper on the floor had so quickly caught fire. Then he flopped down on his sofa, half listening to Aziraphale prattle on about some theatre production he wanted to see, but mostly glaring at the blessed fireplace to make it very clear that it was never meant to host a fire again.

“Are you quite alright?” Aziraphale’s voice jolted him out of his glaring.

“Yeah, sure. Just cold.” Nothing unusual about snakes disliking the cold, right?

Aziraphale immediately got up to fuss, offered him a woollen tartan blanket (which he naturally refused), and a cup of tea (which he allowed).

“I could light a fire,” Aziraphale suggested.

“No! No, not necessary, I’m already much warmer, this-” Crowley sloshed some tea over his trousers and suppressed a hiss “-works wonders. What were you saying about that musical play?”

The distraction worked – for now. It did nothing to make the images of the bookshop on fire in Crowley’s mind disappear, though. 

Crowley’s gaze kept drifting to the snow globe where the snowflakes floated dreamily down onto the little house between pine trees. The brightly lit windows looked cosy, and an idea started to form in Crowley’s head.

***

Hell used to hold Crowley up as an example for efficient evil deeds organisation. What he was planning now was not exactly evil but it warranted the same kind of attention to detail (maybe even more).  

He started subtly, making the Bentley play White Christmas whenever he drove Aziraphale somewhere. Then he placed adverts at the places Aziraphale frequented: picturesque images of snowy villages and woods, vacation homes, cottages to rent, property for sale.

“You know, it would be nice to have a White Christmas again,” Aziraphale said when they were sitting, once again wet from the London rain, in the Bentley and the song Winter Wonderland began to play.

Crowley hummed his agreement. “Makes it really Christmassy, snow. Very festive.”

“It’s a shame neither of us took weather management courses, back in Heaven.”

“Yeah, would’ve been more helpful than choir practice.”

“Oh, don’t remind me!”

Any other day Crowley gladly would have taken this chance to bitch about Heaven with Aziraphale but now he needed to focus on his mission. The car in front of them stopped without knowing why, right next to a travel agency with a big poster in their shop window that showed a cottage in a winter landscape.

“You know,” Crowley said offhandedly, “there are places where you could have a White Christmas.”

“Yes, in Lappland or Siberia. I’m sure it would be wonderful to go there but you know how I love the English Christmas traditions.”

“There are English places where you could have a White Christmas.”

“Oh? Where would that be?”

“Tadfield. For example.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“Uh.” From very thorough research about which part of the UK had the highest probability of a White Christmas. “Had a chat with the Antichrist’s father. Not Satan, obviously, still not on speaking terms since you know. His human father. Anyway, they’ve had White Christmases for several years now, he said.”

“How lovely. Tadfield is not very far, maybe we could go there on Christmas Day for a walk in the snow.”

Crowley shrugged. “Could rent a cottage for Christmas.”

Aziraphale turned to him, a worried look on his face, and shit, shit, shit, too fast. The song changed midway (I’m dreaming of ice in the sunshine) and the snowy cottage on the poster turned into a tropical island. Crowley wanted to hit himself for being such an idiot. Why couldn’t he leave things be? Things were fine now, why couldn’t he just be satisfied with what he had?

“I meant only so we could have a place to warm up,” he said quickly and honked at the car in front of him to finally get moving, for Heaven’s sake! “You know, after a walk in the snow, you need a warm place where you can have a hot drink and I don’t think they have cafés in Tadfield, so.”

“Oh. Yes.” Aziraphale hesitated. “Good.” He cleared his throat. “We could do that.”

***

It took careful planning. First of all he needed to rent a cottage. Not just any cottage, the perfect cottage in the perfect location. A cottage that was also potentially for sale.

Then he kidnapped the holiday decorator at Harrods (but paid him generously, so it wasn’t really kidnapping) to hang up Christmas lights, holly, garlands, and of course to put up and decorate a huge Christmas tree. Crowley visited the cottage himself to make sure the decorations were appropriate, paying special attention to the angel ornaments because they must not resemble certain archangels. While he was there, he also gave the Christmas tree a very strong talking to not to shed a single needle.

Then he brought everything you needed for a perfect Christmas, which was mostly food and drinks. There was some minor blackmail involved when he bullied the waitress at Aziraphale’s favourite café to give away their hot chocolate recipe. He needed three days of practice and several cartons of milk until he got it right without any miracles. (It was the first and hopefully last time his kitchen ever experienced any real cooking.)

On the morning of the 25th, Crowley was thoroughly exhausted but positive that his demonic plan was flawless. What could go wrong? Still he hovered in front of the bookshop’s door, wondering if he should ring the bell, if Aziraphale had forgotten their plan, if all of this was a phenomenally bad idea, if –

Aziraphale opened the door and smiled at him. “Ah, good morning.” He was wrapped in a thick coat and a fluffy woollen scarf. “Merry Christmas!” He handed Crowley a present.

“Ah.” Crowley’s hands moved of their own accord and took it. So that was a thing now. They gave each other Christmas presents now. “Thanks.” Why had no one informed him? He did not have anything for Aziraphale. (Did a cottage count?)

“Open it. You’re going to need it today.”

Crowley carefully opened the golden wrapping paper. He was not prepared for this, the idea that Aziraphale had chosen something for him and then wrapped it and put a bow on it. It was not even midday and things were already getting out of his control.

Inside the box were a thick red scarf and a pair of earmuffs. Crowley would have complained about the fluffiness of the earmuffs but at least they were black and it was his first ever Christmas present from Aziraphale, meaning he would kill anyone who tried to take the earmuffs away from him.

“Ah-hm, guess they could be useful,” he said and Aziraphale’s face erupted into a happy smile.

“Oh, I hoped you would like the colour. You never wear proper winter clothing. It’s no wonder you’re always cold…”

Crowley drove them out of the city while Aziraphale prattled on about bearskins and muffs. Crowley would occasionally comment with a hum but was mostly wondering what it meant that Aziraphale had decided to give him a Christmas present and worried about him staying warm and had gone to the trouble of choosing colours which Crowley liked.

“Oh dear, is the tape deck not working again?”

“Hm?” Crowley startled. The Bentley was playing Crazy Little Thing Called Love. As it had when they had driven off, thirty minutes ago. Crazy Little Thing Called Love was not a thirty-minute-long song, was it?

“I thought Adam had repaired it,” Aziraphale said.

“No, it should-” Crowley thumped against the disc compartment until it played Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture “-definitely be working.”

“Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

The music that was dramatic enough for this day had not been composed yet but Crowley let Aziraphale choose another CD and resolved to pay more attention to the music from now on.

Fortunately, the drive was not that long and they soon arrived at the outskirts of Tadfield where the cottage was located. The village was in walking distance but far enough away so they had their privacy.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said softly.

Crowley suppressed a flinch. Did the cottage look too similar to the house in the snow globe? Was it too obvious? “You don’t like it?”

“No, I mean, yes, I like it, it is absolutely wonderful. What a lovely place you have found!”

Crowley let out the breath he had been holding. Aziraphale liked it. He thought the place Crowley had found absolutely wonderful. His plan was working.

“Right! Let’s have a look inside?” Crowley got out of the car and winced when he stepped into the snow. He had forgotten to miracle his shoes waterproof. He would fix them later. For now he opened the front door for Aziraphale, proud to show him the festively decorated interior.

“Oh, look at that, how gorgeous! But who decorated the place like this?”

Oh no. Too much? “Er, it was just…a Christmas…special…deal. To get the house like this. Didn’t know it would be so bright and festive.” Crowley made sure to make a properly disgusted face.

“It is marvellous. Makes you want to stay inside all day. But we are here for the snow, of course. But we must sit down here and have a drink later and really appreciate the decorations.”

Good, Aziraphale liked the interior and wanted to stay, just like he was supposed to. Crowley ticked it off his mental list.

Now to the unpleasant part: snow.

At least Crowley had his new scarf and earmuffs. That did not keep his fingers warm or stop his nose from running, though. Also, walking in the snow was a nuisance. It was exhausting, his shoes and trousers got wet and he stumbled or slipped every few meters. But Aziraphale had flushed cheeks and commented happily on this and that, and it was really annoying and ridiculous what Crowley was willing to do to make that bastard smile.

Aziraphale, naturally, walked on the snow, almost gliding over it as if it was nothing, just leaving the faintest of footprints whereas Crowley trudged a few feet behind, wheezing and sometimes blessing at the bloody snow. Crowley knew that, technically, he should be able to do the same, what with angels and demons being of the same stock. But he also knew that he really needed to know that fact for it to work, and his brain refused to cooperate. Stupid brain, stupid snow.

“It has been some time, hasn’t it?” Aziraphale had stopped and was waiting for Crowley to catch up. He offered Crowley his arm, and Crowley was not against linking arms or holding hands, not at all, but this was humiliating and he wanted to be the one to extend a hand… but there was no way he was going to decline such an offer. Grumbling, he linked arms with Aziraphale and let the angel pull him up.

“There you go.” Aziraphale patted his arm and smiled at him and Crowley was glad he was wearing his sunglasses because getting such an open smile from up so close was shocking. (Also because the snow was blinding.) “You’ve done it before, so there’s no reason why it shouldn’t work now. You just have to believe in it.”

Crowley snorted. Believe in it, that was really the core of the problem. Demons weren’t supposed to – the fickle snow under his feet already gave in at the barest hint of that thought but Aziraphale tightened his hold just in time. An angelic miracle surged through Crowley’s body, making him shudder. It should work now, being supported by the angel’s powers. It did, he stayed on top of the snow even though his legs were a bit wobbly.

“Now, that’s better,” said Aziraphale. “See, it’s just like – what is the saying – riding a bicycle.”

“Never really liked those either. Not enough wheels.”

They discussed vehicles of transportation while they walked towards the forest. It was exhausting to make conversation and at the same time keep his senses tuned for any humans along their way who needed to be distracted. Not to mention the permanent miracle to keep his body temperature up and not succumb to the temptation of hibernation. Then there were the snow-covered branches that got into his face. Why had any human ever thought it a good idea to go for a walk through a snowy forest for fun?

When they had finally spent the scheduled amount of time in the forest, Crowley directed their steps towards the village and made sure to pass the bookshop in a side street with the FOR SALE sign in its window. (As the owner had not known she owned a bookshop 24 hours ago, she was all the more happy for that sign, not least of all because it would bring her unexpected money.)

“Oh, nice bookshop.” Crowley slowed down his steps in front of it. “Would be a shame if someone bought it who’d turn it into a mobile phone shop. Or an estate agency.”

Aziraphale looked pained at the mere idea. Good.

Next stop: the bakery, which for miraculous reasons was opened on Christmas Day.

“How about a little snack?” Crowley suggested.

“Oh, yes, it smells heavenly.”

Crowley harrumphed because the fact that Aziraphale’s favourite bakery had, at short notice, decided to open a branch in Tadfield had nothing at all to do with heavenly influences. He urged Aziraphale to try the ciabatta with roasted garlic and fennel because Aziraphale always insisted that he had never eaten better ciabatta.

“This is good,” Aziraphale said when he tried it. “Mm, I think it’s almost as good as Francesco’s.”

Almost as good?! Who in this bakery had screwed up? Did Crowley have to kidnap Francesco, too? Aziraphale kept on praising the bakery but Crowley was already drawing up new plans on how to insure there was the perfect ciabatta in Tadfield.

Back in the cottage, Crowley immediately went to the kitchen to make hot chocolate. This was the tricky part of the plan. The milk could not be trusted. And the cream could be a real bitch.

Right, he could do this. He had succeeded in his kitchen, so he could do it here as well. Saucepan, milk, cocoa powder, sugar, cream, chocolate chips, a pinch of vanilla, a pinch of cinnamon, miracle, pray, hope that it would not boil over. Well, he had nine more cartons of milk, just in case, and enough cocoa powder for at least a year, but he did not want to keep Aziraphale waiting for too long.

After a few minutes, he proudly poured the hot chocolate into a mug. Now for the garnish. Whipped cream, marshmallows, chopped chocolate, candy cane, flake, cinnamon stick – the mug was too small.

“Don’t you dare,” Crowley hissed at it but he refrained from using a miracle because Aziraphale was snobbish about miracled food.

His hands were sticky with a mix of hot chocolate, whipped cream and marshmallows (because naturally he had spilled something) when bringing Aziraphale the mug but Aziraphale’s delighted and grateful expression made up for it. Another successful stage of his plan!

“This is very good. Where did you learn how to make it?”

“Not that difficult, really.” Crowley dropped down on the sofa in exhaustion.

“Won’t you have some, too?”

Oh, right. That was a thing, drinking hot chocolate together after a walk in the snow. “Of course, just getting mine…”

So, back to the kitchen. Saucepan, milk, cocoa powder, miracle, candy cane, done.

Hot chocolate was not Crowley’s favourite drink (especially not with hurried demonic miracle flavour) but it warmed him up. That, and watching Aziraphale with his flushed cheeks and content smile savour his drink.

“So. This place isn’t half bad,” Crowley said.

“It is absolutely lovely. Maybe we could, I don’t know… return here next year for a day or two?”

Returning sounded good, a day or two not good enough. Time to fortify the temptation.

“We could stay for tonight. Go for another walk. Could go at night, snow in the moonlight – looks nice, doesn’t it? Or tomorrow we could go to – to – to the hill. It’ll be a nice view from there, all the snow and…trees!”

“That does sound rather nice. But we couldn’t just stay here, could we?”

“Why not?”

“Well, it must belong to a human.”

“Yeah, it does. But the owner said it’s free for the next few…” centuries, decades, years “…months.”

“I see. In that case...” Aziraphale gave him a questioning glance as if waiting for Crowley to say it.

“Yes?” Crowley leant forward, waiting for Aziraphale to say it.

“I mean, as it is already getting dark…”

“Yes, very dark.”

“I mean, we could stay for one more…day, I suppose. Go for another walk in the snow.”

“Great.” Crowley gulped down the rest of his hot chocolate (and offered Aziraphale the candy cane). Everything was going according to plan, he had reached his goal for today. He would initiate the next stage of the plan tomorrow. For now, he could relax for a bit, and he really needed the break from all the minor or major miracles of the last few days, and the bloody snow. He sagged down further into the cushions of the couch. Warmth started to crawl back into his body, from his hands, which had held the mug with the hot drink, to his core until finally his whole corporation felt pleasantly heavy. Aziraphale seemed perfectly content, nibbling on his candy cane, and so Crowley could be, too. His breathing slowed down and he closed his eyes for a bit. Everything was so warm and nice and safe and… wait, what was that? He did not remember getting under a blanket. But it was a nice blanket. Very soft and very warm. He slowly blinked his eyes open. Everything was brighter. Where were his – ah. His glasses had been placed on the coffee table, next to five empty mugs and a stack of books. Oh no, was he back in the bookshop? But no, the bookshop was more dusty and stuffy. He was still in the cottage. They were still in the cottage. Aziraphale was sitting in the chair opposite Crowley, entirely engrossed in the book in his lap. Sometimes the hint of a smile would tug at the corners of his lips.

This was what Crowley had imagined. Well, not completely, to be honest. For example, he had not envisioned being covered with a woollen tartan blanket but the damage was done, no need to throw it away now. Besides, he was so very comfy in his cocoon of warmth. He stretched sleepily and wrapped the blanket more firmly around himself.

Aziraphale looked up from his book and the hint of a smile turned into a full smile when he caught Crowley’s eye. “Oh, you’re awake.”

That was food for thought, that Crowley got a bigger smile than the books. Crowley was not prepared for this – this – this four-letter word, all of it directed at him so openly.

“How long have I been…?”

“A bit more than two weeks, I think. Ah, maybe three. I haven’t been keeping track of time very thoroughly.”

“Two or three-?” Crowley sat up and got tangled up in the blanket. “But…” All of his careful laid out plans and he had simply overslept!

“It’s fine. I contacted the owner of this cottage. She said she did not have any other bookings and that we could stay for as long as we wanted. In fact, she seemed to be under the impression that we were going to stay for a bit longer anyway.”

And now that woman had messed it up even more! What was Aziraphale thinking? “Ah. Humans. Don’t really have a grasp on time,” Crowley tried to play it down.

Aziraphale placed a bookmark into the book, closed it and put it on the table. “I’ve been thinking.”

Oh no. “We need to talk?” Crowley ventured, dread growing, because those words were just as ominous.

“Yes.” Aziraphale folded his hands in his lap and looked down at them. Then he looked back up at Crowley. “Do you want to stay here?”

Of course he had worked it all out. Clever bastard. Stupid of Crowley to think otherwise, stupid of him to fall asleep and let Aziraphale overthink it for two or three weeks instead of being distracted and tempted by hot chocolate, ciabatta and little bookshops for sale.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale prodded.

How could he get out of this situation with both of them keeping their dignity intact? “Er, mnk. It’s not that bad here? I guess I could see myself staying here. Just, nhm, sleeping for a bit, you know.”

“And…do you want us to stay here…together?” Aziraphale’s voice had gone almost inaudible on the last word.

Crowley gave a big, hopefully very casual shrug that was meant to communicate just how unaffected he was by all of this. “I wouldn’t mind. Only if you want to, of course. Do you? Want to?”

“No, Crowley, I asked you if you wanted to stay here together.” Aziraphale’s voice had grown louder again, almost resolute now.

There was no way out of this. No shrugs, no half-answers, not even falling asleep for another few weeks could get him out of this situation. Right, be brave now.

He looked at Aziraphale and Aziraphale looked calmly back at him. It suddenly did not seem so frightening anymore. It would be fine, whatever he said. Aziraphale would still shelter him from the rain or help him walk on snow; would never cast him away.

Crowley gave a jerky nod.

“Good.” Aziraphale smiled tentatively. “Then we will stay here.” He nodded, as if to confirm it to himself, then grabbed his book with trembling fingers.

“Your hands are shaking,” Crowley said.

“Indeed, they are.” Aziraphale watched his own fingers as they opened the book on the page he had marked. “It’s just a lot.”

“I get that.” Crowley really did. He knew that Aziraphale by now had probably worked out the details of his plan with the numerous miracles to get them here and it should be humiliating but somehow it was okay because Aziraphale was just as nervous and was willing to do this with Crowley. “We don’t have to right now, we could just come here on vacation once a year or-”

“No, I want to.”

Huh. That had been easier than expected. Several stages of the plan were suddenly redundant. “What about your bookshop?”

“I was under the impression that you had already purchased that little bookshop in town?”

“Not yet but…I could.”

“Right.”

Crowley noticed how tensely Aziraphale’s fingers held the book, almost crumpling its pages. He knew how much Aziraphale loved his bookshop, and although it was flattering to think that Aziraphale would give it up for him, he never wanted Aziraphale to give anything up. “Or you could keep your bookshop. London’s not that far. We could go there once a week so you can open it every Tuesday or so. Won’t make much of a difference for the customers.”

Aziraphale considered it for a moment but then he shook his head. “No. I want to live here, I really do. It is perfect. Thank you for bringing me here.”

Crowley was lost for words. They were here, together, and they were going to stay. What else was there for him to say or do? Perfect, yes.

“I hope you’re well rested?” Aziraphale asked. “Because I’m planning on taking you up on that promise of a moonlight walk in the snow.”

“There’s still snow?!” Hadn’t he slept long enough?

“Indeed there is, and it looks marvellous.”

“Guess I owe you.”

After being asleep for so long in the warmth of the cottage, the cold outside was a bit of a shock. Aziraphale offered his arm again to assist Crowley, who, after a few uncoordinated steps, got the hang of walking on snow much quicker this time.

“Still hate snow,” he grumbled but it wasn’t that bad really.  Yes, it was bloody cold but there were some upsides. Like the snow glistening in the moonlight and Aziraphale still holding him close, which wasn’t strictly necessary anymore and therefore even better.

They were on their own, not a sound to be heard but their breathing and the rustling of their coats. In the distance, the village laid asleep, no lights to be seen, just the smoke from the chimneys showed that humans lived there.

They walked towards the forest. The snow covering the ground was untouched but for some tracks that animals had left. The branches of the trees were hanging low with the weight of the snow. Everything felt a little unreal, it couldn’t be further from London’s hectic and loud atmosphere. It made Crowley all the more aware of everything, like how close they were pressed together. Aziraphale with his thick winter coat felt like a big comfy cushion against Crowley’s side.

They kept walking for hours like this, sometimes exchanging a few hushed words but mostly just enjoying the stillness of the world. Just walking and being here, no deeds to be done, no need to tempt or plan or work miracles. They kept walking until the break of dawn. Without discussing it, they directed their steps towards the village where one by one the lights in the houses went on.

“How do-ooaah!” Something hit Crowley right in the face and he staggered, lost his footing and landed on his bottom in the snow. “What was that?”

“I believe a-” Aziraphale ducked to avoid the next missile “-snowball. How rude.”

“Snowball.” The best thing about snow. Crowley was already sculpting his own snowballs and then started the counter attack. He liked sleeping, good food and moonlight walks well enough but he was still a demon, and using that annoying, squishy, cold stuff for snowball fights – brilliant idea. He was chasing the screaming kids around, bombarding them with his snowballs, ignoring Aziraphale’s complaints (“Crowley, you can’t use miracles against children!”).

“He’s the Antichrist, he can defend himself!” And his friends could just as well. Only when Crowley let snowballs the sizes of snowmen rain down on them, did they retreat.

“Was that really necessary?” Aziraphale admonished him while patting down the snow from Crowley’s coat, scarf and hair.

Crowley cackled. “That was fun.” He snapped his fingers for a new pair of sunglasses because the other one had been lost in the fight and was now probably buried somewhere in the snow.

“You look frozen. Let’s head back and warm you up. Maybe with some of that delicious hot chocolate you made. Are there still ingredients left or do we need to buy something?”

“I think we still have some,” Crowley said, thinking of the nine cartons of milk in the Bentley’s boot.

Back in the cottage, Crowley miracled his clothes dry and headed for the kitchen. Aziraphale followed him.

“How did you learn to make such scrumptious hot chocolate? Can you show me? What’s the secret?”

“Uh, possibly the milk.”

“What’s with the milk?”

“You heat it.”

“Yes?”

“It’s bloody difficult! Milk’s always trying to boil over and it makes a mess…”

“Yes, it sometimes does that.” Aziraphale stepped next to Crowley and examined the stove and the saucepan. “I think I can handle the milk.”

Aziraphale turned out to be a natural in heating milk. No boiling over, no stench, no flames, no ruined saucepan, not even spilled milk on the floor.

“You’re good at that,” Crowley said in surprise and added the cocoa powder.

“Oh, well, it’s not the first time I’ve made hot chocolate. Would you pass me the whisk, love?”

Crowley crashed into the countertop and spilled half of the sugar he had meant to add next. He stared at Aziraphale. Aziraphale smiled bashfully, his cheeks flushed red. He knew what he was doing, that bastard. He meant it.

“The whisk.” Crowley cleared his throat because his voice had come out very undemonic. “Right, yes, sure.” He passed it to Aziraphale and then got more sugar and the other ingredients.

Emboldened by Aziraphale’s bravery, he stepped a little closer so their shoulders brushed against each other. Aziraphale stopped breathing but he did not flinch away. He was still smiling when he whisked the milk and the cocoa powder. Crowley took his time adding the sugar and chocolate chips. And afterwards, he just stayed where he was and even dared to, very lightly, place a hand in the small of Aziraphale’s back. Aziraphale wriggled a little closer and suddenly it was very easy to place his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Crowley could not tell how long they stayed like this, Aziraphale whisking the hot chocolate and Crowley staring almost transfixed into the saucepan, inhaling the chocolaty scent and the warmth and Aziraphale’s closeness. What did it matter, they were not in a hurry, and the milk behaved for once.

[unstoppableforcce]

golden

CHAPTER ONE: simplicity

pairing: Poe Dameron x oc! Anya

next part | masterlist | oc art

a/n: this is set before the Force Awakens and is a rewrite and expansion of one of my first fics. it’s a big one, this part is 6.7k which might be the longest thing i’ve ever written lol, but i love my oc and the relationships and the plot of this, i hope yall do too bc i can’t wait to write more!!! 

He had forgotten how beautiful the galaxy could be. 

Before him, through the clear windshield of the dilapidated transport ship, laid an expanse of towering mountains of green, thick like the jungles of Yavin IV he knew so well, and vast like the breath of the galaxy he was only beginning to familiarize himself with. In the valleys that sat between the intimidating heights of the jungle were ponds and lakes, illuminated by the contrast of their soft pink hue and the sunlight from three suns beating down on them overhead. And within each jaw-dropping landscape they flew over, the lanky jungle trees stretched high and interwoven with each other and the depths of the gentle pink lakes, he caught glimpses of the hidden civilization. 

Stone buildings of dark brown granite hidden beneath the twisted green vines and thick, overgrown tree trunks, windows of reflective glass cascading like waterfalls built back into the shape of the mountains. From as high as they were, flying above in the shaky transport ship, he could make out the movement of the people through the trees and on wooden crescent boats out in the milky pink water of the lake, working as the suns bore down on their backs. 

Flying in his X-wing, he had mission objectives and responsibilities. He travelled from point A to point B and never lingered in one place for longer than he needed to, not with the First Order patrols cracking down across the galaxy. He couldn’t remember the last time he had travelled so slow, the last time he got to truly see the colors of the universe around him which normally passed in hyperspeed blurs. 

He had forgotten how beautiful the galaxy could be. 

“Wow…” the awe fell from his lips unconsciously as his eyes stayed wide, scanning the horizon not only out of necessity given their flight path, but because he couldn’t look anywhere else. The D’Qar jungle was said to be beautiful, as beautiful as this, but for the past months he had been tasked with growing their new base there, he saw the inside of buildings and the burn of haunting fluorescent lights more than he did the real greenery and sunlight. 

It was… breathtaking to say the least. 

“I thought I misremembered,” the calm and collected voice of the General sounded off over his shoulder as he slowed his speed to navigate a lofty bit of cloud cover that surrounded the tops of the mountainous valleys he navigated between. “I convinced myself somehow that no place in the galaxy could be as beautiful as I remembered but I was wrong.”

He couldn’t blame her. If he wasn’t seeing it with his own eyes as his hands gripped tight to the controls of the ship, he wasn’t sure he would have believed it either. 

Waterfalls of the lightest pink hue, the sparkling of the natural granite deposits in the rock which shined equally as bright as the city construction as they continued over it, the polished rock made into skyscrapers which rivaled the surrounding mountains in height, the natural overgrowth of green vines and thick canopy tree tops… the more he saw, the more Poe found himself overwhelmed by the beauty. 

“How far until the palace?” He hummed with a brief quirk of his jaw back over his shoulder to Leia as his eyes stayed trained on the intricate habitational design and fields woven between towering structures which shadowed over smaller homes which led to more fields and rivers, rocks and jungle. 

“Not far, it’s impossible to miss.”

It hadn’t made sense at that moment, but he refrained from asking her to expand, trusting that whatever she meant would be clear to him as they kept going. Within the following minute, his trust proved itself. 

The nose of the ship lifted slightly to get them over a particularly tall mountain top, and as the clouds cleared away while he nosed back into the valley below, he found the most gorgeous architectural and natural displays he had ever laid his eyes on. Built, like the hidden structures he had seen earlier, into the most commanding mountain of sparkling brown granite in the landscape before him, the palace was a delicate, yet proud masterpiece with spires as high as the clouds and a bustling marketplace pouring out the front of it, spilling towards the shore of the pink ocean before it. 

Banners of colors brighter than he even knew existed fluttered in the wind coming in off the coast throughout the marketplace, and as he brought the ship in to a stop at the surrounding rim of the mountain above the palace’s top spires where all the other ships sat, he began to notice the vibrant crowd which flowed from the boats in the water all the way through the palace gates. He loved his home with all his heart, but this was the most beautiful place in the galaxy. It had to be. 

He and Leia quickly unloaded from the non-descript ship, and Poe made sure to leave his blaster secure in the cockpit as Leia had instructed him earlier, taking only his jacket and communicator with him. A jacket he quickly realized he would not be needing as the two of them stepped out amongst the ships atop the mountain and felt the overwhelming heat from the suns above them. 

“Don’t be too in awe, we are here for a reason.” He glanced back from where he stood near the edge of the flattened mountain top to see Leia stood as regal as ever with her hands linked behind her back and her stare that of a careful mother. “An important reason,” she minded once more and he had no choice but to nod. 

As he reluctantly pulled away from teh edge and joined her at her side while they drew closer to the nearby lift and the mindlessly chatting guards stood around it, he couldn’t help but voice the one thought he couldn’t get out of his mind,“I can’t imagine a place like this ever allying with the First Order.” 

With a voice lowered closer to that of a whisper while they passed the guards, Leia carefully minded him again, “There is a complicated history to Haiki, as beautiful as it is.”

“All the briefing memo said was that they were great allies during the war, pacifists, but great allies.” He responded in an equally hushed tone until the doors to their lift shut and they began descending deep into the dark, sparkling rock. “You said their leader was a friend.”

“Their King and Queen were friends of mine while I was still living on Alderaan and fighting with the rebellion, unfortunately the queen died shortly after the Empire fell and their king has been sick for almost as long.” She explained as the thick walls of granite passed quickly by them as they continued to descend. 

“Who are we here to meet with then?”

The lift came to a stop at the bottom and the doors opened to a dense crowd of people, all dressed in vibrant colors of thick woven fabric, skin decorated with thick strokes of black ink in intricate designs that varied from body to body. But as much as Poe wished to step forward and immerse himself into the lively crowd of the market, Leia’s firm grip on the elbow of his jacket pulled him in the opposite direction, towards an open doorway outlined by beautiful branches and bright flowers as her words quickly pulled him back to the reality of their mission there. 

“We’re meeting with the Princess,” Leia answered as they continued down the hall illuminated by windows which brought cascades of bright light into the halls as they travelled in a direction which seemed to Poe as if it were going deeper into the rock of the mountain. “I’ve met her before, but she was young, now she runs the whole planet and, from what I can tell, is not as eager about our alliance as her parents were.”

“You think she’s fielding threats from the First Order? You said they were pacifists--”

“It’s not about weapons or defense, it’s about supplies.” Leia sighed as the two of them came to a halt in the middle of the hallway, allowing the few locals who were walking behind them to pass in front and leave them alone with the bright sunlight. “We need their support, the medicine they create, the food they grow… If we don’t get it, I don’t know how much longer we can survive.”

Poe nodded, his overgrown curls bouncing with the nod of his head as he glanced around the empty hall and began pulling his jacket off his already sweat-slicked back. 

He knew they were there for support, but the briefing memo had been vague on purpose. No one else could know they were there, no one could know why they were there. If there was a leak, if the First Order somehow found out that the Resistance was reliant on Hakian support to survive, they’d decimate the entire planet, strip mine them for their resources and slaughter their peaceful population. 

He trusted their people, and he knew Leia did too, but he also understood why he had to be kept in the dark until now. This was just too important. 

“When we get in to see her, you’ll call her only ‘princess’ or ‘dekka’, never by her first name unless she gives you permission. And make sure you keep your distance, be respectful,” Leia warned as they slowly began walking again, turning a corner and entering another well-lit hall still travelling deeper into the mountain it seemed. “They are sticklers for tradition here and we can’t afford to play around.”

“What does ‘dekka’ mean?” 

“Respected one.” She answered quickly, keeping her voice close to him as another person came into view at the end of the hall. 

The man towered just like the mountains they flew through did, taller than any human man Poe had seen in person, nearly wookie height if he was being honest. But there was nothing intimidating about him, he merely flashed a bright smile and opened his arms in a welcoming stance. 

“Princess Leia, it is an honor to see you again.” The man bellowed out, meeting them at the end of the hall where it let out into a gorgeous room of tall ceilings and windows that stretched from the polished granite floor all the way up to the tallest rafters of twisted vine and tree root, letting in an electric amount of natural light. 

Leia quickly unlinked her hands from behind her back and wrapped them around the man, who stood at nearly twice her height, in a solid embrace. “Elias, it’s an honor to see you as well.”

“I had no idea you were coming, whatever can I help you with?” His thick accent continued to cut through the air, louder than Leia could muster by several dozen decibels. His command over the basic language wasn’t too strong, but he certainly made up for his shortcomings with heart and confidence.

However, no amount of strength of heart could overwrite the confusion outlined by his words, leaving an unsettling feeling in Poe’s gut. Judging by the slight deflation in Leia’s commanding stance, it was clear he wasn’t the only one. 

“No idea…” Leia chuckled nervously, trailing off with a brief shake of her braids. “We were meant to meet with Dekka Anya-Va, is she not here?”

Elias’ chuckle was equally as unsettled, something was wrong. 

“She hasn’t been in all day,” he added as another rough chuckle escaped his lips, “I didn’t know she had schedule, she didn’t tell me…”

Seven hours. That’s how far away Haiki was from D’Qar when travelling as fast as possible in the only non-resistance ship available, an old, deteriorating transport ship. He spent seven hours behind the controls on a trembling, shaking ship, and the Princess they were supposed to be meeting with to secure necessary supplies for the resistance was not there? Was this some kind of joke?

If it was, he didn’t find it very funny. 

Leia glanced back over her shoulder, finding the waiting confusion that covered Poe’s face and turned back to Elias wearing a very similar look. “She hasn’t been in at all?”

“She’s been… cutting me off, isolating herself from her advisors… I don’t know…” He stuttered over each and every word, clearly pulling them from a particularly painful place in his chest. 

And on any other day, Poe might have cared about the way the towering man’s intimidating voice trembled in his explanation. The overwhelmingly empathetic heart that beat steadily in his chest was accustomed to feeling for anyone from anywhere across the galaxy, but in this moment, the weight of the resistance was too apparent on his shoulders. 

If Leia said they needed this Princess to save the resistance, then that was that. They needed this Princess, and hearing that she was circumventing her advisors as much as she was avoiding their meeting only increased the nerves in his unsettled stomach. 

“You are welcome to wait for her in the throne room, I will send her your way whenever I find her…” Elias made a desperate attempt to relight the smile that had fallen from Leia’s diplomatic lips, but it only succeeded somewhat, as much as Leia could muster, feeling the same weight that Poe felt sitting heavy on her shoulders. 

“Thank you, Elias.” Leia bowed her head, and Elias quickly did the same. 

But the second Leia turned away from him and began nudging Poe back in the direction they came from, her diplomatic disposition fell away, returning her harsh, commanding stare. 

“She’s avoiding us?” Poe was quick to question as their pace hastened back down the brightly illuminated halls leading back to the busy marketplace. 

Leia shook her head, keeping her voice low as the two of them walked, shoulder to shoulder. “Remember when you asked if I thought she was fielding First Order threats already? I think we just got our answer.”

“What do we do?”

As the two of them entered back out into the dense crowd of the marketplace, Leia gave a brief shrug, still tugging him along with her as she fought against the flow of tattooed people. “Now, we have to find her.”

“Do you know where to look?”

The stare Leia gave him was one he was all too familiar with. It was the same look he got when he asked questions about procedure he already knew the answer to, the same look he got when he asked questions he knew she wouldn’t answer. It was a look that meant one thing. The simplest answer, the easier answer, the obvious one that was punching him directly in the face, was the answer he should be looking for. 

And with Leia, when it came to asking if she knew anything, the answer was without a doubt, a resounding ‘yes’. 

Following the banners, each one a color more vibrant than the last, Leia continued to push him through the marketplace. As they exited the front gate of the palace, the market grew impossibly larger and the crowd more dense, every soul moving with a specific purpose, from stall to stall with shoulders carrying heavy bags and faces bright with electric smiles. 

Poe couldn’t remember the last time he saw so many smiles in such a densely packed region.

The sun was beating down hot on his back, slicking his curls to his forehead in a light coating of sweat, but everyone around him seemed oblivious to it, either too distracted by the spices piled high in the booths, wafting a plethora of new scents around the beautiful square, or the swaths of fabrics covered in intricate stitches and designs. Was this what life was like where the war didn’t touch? 

People could walk around, fully immersed in their own vibrant culture wearing smiles brighter than the multiple suns which hung above them, seemingly without a care in the world when it came to the slaughtering and genocide happening around the galaxy at the hands of the First Order? Did they even know? 

Did the parents who let their kids run around with tightly woven baskets piled high with spiky blue fruit even know about the children across the galaxy who were stolen from their families and conscripted as nameless troopers? Did the elderly who sat off to the side even know that just last week, a village of respected elders on Nantoo were mowed down indiscriminately by First Order officers looking to set up base on their sacred land? Did any of them even know about the war?

If he lived here, maybe he could understand it. Maybe… 

But Stars, was ignorance really bliss when millions were being slaughtered? 

“I knew she’d be here…” Leia sighed, pulling Poe’s attention back to her pursuit as the market began to thin out closer to the pink translucent shore packed with crescent shaped boats of dark wood unloading at the docks. He didn’t know where to let his stare fall however, the water immediately took his attention, but as Leia kept walking, he fought to both find her stare and follow it in the same direction. 

The shore wasn’t packed, but there were just enough bodies to keep him guessing even as he followed Leia’s focus. Where was she looking--

He found her.

Nothing had changed, he still didn’t know exactly where Leia’s stare was directed nor did he have any verbal confirmation that he was looking in the right direction, but he was sure of himself, overwhelmingly sure of himself as his stare landed on the detailed tattoos that covered the back of the lone woman sat on the damp shore, isolated from the crowd. 

The thin interwoven fabric of the maroon dress that cascaded down her form was exquisite in it’s intricately stitched details, but nothing compared to the thick, jet black ink stripes that crested over her back and arms, the extent of the skin he could see from the angle they were approaching with. Everyone he had seen so far on this planet had some form of similar markings, be it extensive designs sprawling up their arms or small delicate images drawn on their hands or necks, but none compared to what he saw on her skin. 

It was like the dark ink was woven around her, like a vine crawling it’s way up a tree. Or maybe more aptly, it was a web, drawn by a diligent insect or maybe even claw marks from a creature, thick where the wounds ran the deepest and thin at the start and ends of each mark. 

Haiku itself was one of the most beautiful planets in the galaxy, but the woman before him was more beautiful than even that. 

It took an elbow in the side from Leia to snap him back to reality. 

“Why don’t you let me do most of the talking, yeah?” She countered, a knowing quirk to her brow as she nudged him again with her elbow. 

He wanted to argue back but Leia had already begun walking ahead of him and the second he moved to catch up, a large guard stepped up to block their path. 

This man was tall, like Elias back in the palace was, but he didn’t wear his intimidating height the same way. He was much broader in the shoulders, much wider in his stance, effectively blocking any line of sight either Poe or Leia had towards the princess. Yet unlike Elias, there was no friendly greeting, no real acknowledgement at all besides his narrowed scowl down towards the two of them. 

For a planet of self-proclaimed pacifists, Poe wasn’t really feeling at peace. 

Not until the soft hum of her voice flowed in from the gentle lull of the shore. “It’s alright, Xia, let them through.”

The wall of a man quickly stepped aside on her orders, revealing the exhausted collapse of her shoulders while she began to pull herself back up to her feet. The languid pull of her muscles was obvious with the delicate cut of the maroon dress across her skin, which contrasted the blood color of the fabric with a dark brown glow, not unlike the sparkle of the magnificent granite mountains under the overhead suns. 

“Dekka Anya-Va…” Leia addressed carefully but was quickly cut off by the return of her coarse hum of a voice. 

“I was hoping by not being at the palace that you would get the impression I didn’t want to meet with you,” her accent was thick, much like Elias’s but her comfort with the language was much more evident as it flowed much smoother from her lips despite the natural raspiness to her tone. It was a mesmerizing sound, complemented by the dulcet tone of the gentle waves, making it something he could easily get lost in if it wasn’t for his ability to still hear the words for what they were. 

Condescending. Nearly mocking if he was being honest. It just didn’t sit well with him, not when directed towards Leia. 

“We got the impression, we just ignored it,” Leia countered, pushing her careful tone to the side in favor of the tone she used when addressing her Commanders, a tone that commanded respect, even if the Princess seemed too aloof to provide it. 

She let out a rugged chuckle at that, jagged at the edges where it seemed to have fought through her throat and out from her perfectly shaped lips. “We…” she hummed, “I wasn’t aware you were bringing friends.”

The pointed tips of her words were sent like daggers with her stare as she turned from Leia to where Poe stood right beside her, hands linked behind his back and still holding his jacket in a tight grip. But as personal an assault it seemed, when he opened his lips to respond, Leia was quick to cut him off. 

“I--”

“This is my pilot, Commander Dameron.”

As unamused as the princess seemed to be, she still did a lot of stone-faced laughter, and that theme held true as her stare held on Poe’s furrowed and focused face. “Does the Commander have a first name?”

With a quick glance to Leia, then back to the Princess, he finally spoke for himself, answering “Poe,” simply. 

He didn’t know what he thought throwing his name into the conversation would add, but he couldn’t determine any reason why not to add it, not until the Princess turned her stare back to Leia and shuddered her shoulders back into a steady stance with her chin raised. “Would you mind telling Poe he can go wait by your ship, I don’t imagine it will be a long conversation.”

There it was again. Aloof, condescending, mocking even. Poe couldn’t stand it. 

“Excuse me--”

“Actually, Dekka Va, I brought him so he could join our talks,” Leia explained, one of her hands shooting up quickly to keep him in place by her side as she felt the heat of his temper rise with her words. 

“He doesn’t seem like he’d be much for conversation.”

He realized his natural disposition may not have been the most diplomatic, he also realized that hot-headed and cocky weren’t necessarily the best qualities for negotiating delicate alliances, but if she was allowed to talk to him with the tone she was taking, he was having a hard time understanding why Leia was keeping him silent. Why even bring him along?

It was infuriating. She was infuriating. She wouldn’t meet them in the palace, she was hiding on the beach, she was biting back with each and every one of her responses. He understood the alliance between her planet and the resistance was important, he really did, but why in the kriff was he even there--

“Dekka Anya-Va, I assure you, Poe is one of my most trusted Commanders and when our discussion eventually turns to shipment methods, he is the only one I trust for routes and numbers--” Leia began, still holding her hand out carefully in front of Poe only to drop it the second the Princess shrugged her shoulders and cut her off the same way she had been cutting Poe off. 

“There will be no shipment discussions.”

“Dekka--”

“I apologize for avoiding the meeting, but it wasn’t accidental, I truly have no interest in meeting with you, General.” She continued, using the brief second they stood silent and frozen in shock to navigate around them and back towards the market. 

Leia was the first to break out of it, Poe trailing behind, but he still remained quiet, holding back his boiling temper as the General continued to argue. 

“It’s a rather important conversation that we need to have.”

The princess continued forward as if she barely noticed them following, and as the density of the market's population began to increase the closer they moved to the palace, she made no move to slow her careful and practiced step through the crowd to accommodate their trailing. Again, condescending and aloof.

Leia broke his train of thought again as she fought with a quickened pace to find her way to her side and continue her argument just within range of Poe’s ears. “A face-to-face meeting will allow us to discuss our deal more intimately, take away any fears you may have and--”

If she cut Leia off one more time, it wouldn’t matter that she was the most respected being on this planet, Poe wasn’t going to be able to keep quiet for much longer. 

“I’m not afraid of anything, General.”

Before either Leia or Poe, with his temper steadily boiling over, could mount another argument, the princess pulled one of her guards aside, retrieving a small pouch of golden coins from him and turning back to the stall that had caught her eye in the first place. It was the stall they had passed earlier, filled with children and the spiky blue fruits which had caught his eye as he thought about the rest of the galaxy. 

And it was exactly where the princess was kneeling down. 

Her rough tone of voice, coated in it’s natural raspiness, flowed out much easier in her native tongue as she let a genuine smile take over her lips. The kids running the booth were bouncing out of their boots as she lowered herself to their level, and their excitement only grew as they began talking to one another in the Hakian language. It would have been heartwarming if Poe weren’t so frustrated. 

He didn’t understand what they were saying and it was clear as he glanced toward Leia and saw her focused brow that she didn’t understand the words being spoken either, but from the shared interactions, he had a pretty decent idea what was transpiring. 

She asked a question, the kids nervously responded, shaking their heads and trying to offer their product for free before she convinced them to accept her coin. Again, a heartwarming display that he didn’t have time for. 

The sun was hot, boiling hot down the back of his neck, and the anger bubbling from within his chest was heating him up from the inside out, making the whole experience ten times worse. He didn’t need to see any heartwarming display, he needed to say something, and he was becoming increasingly overwhelmed with the feeling that when he did, things wouldn’t go well. 

Yet the moment seemed to be drawing closer and closer as the Princess stood back to full height with a bag full of the spiky fruit, passing her coins back to her guard. He was ready to open his mouth, to unload on her with the same hot-headed cockiness that Leia feared he would lead with, but he was again denied the chance as she silenced him by turning her back to the two of them and reentering the crowd, heading back towards the palace. 

It wasn’t until they were down an isolated hallway of the palace that she turned back, opening the bag of fruit and pulling three of the spiked fruit out easily. 

“Dekka--” Leia tried, but the princess silenced her, sticking one of the fruits into her hand before carelessly tossing one in Poe’s direction. 

She was making a point, and they had no choice but to stand there and take it. 

“This is Mewe, one of our planet’s sweetest fruits,” she hummed, holding up one of her own and turning it gently for them to admire even if all Poe could manage was a subtle roll of his eyes. “They cannot grow anywhere else, they require massive amounts of sunlight, and they are one of the most versatile fruits that exist anywhere in the galaxy, edible on their own, full of health, easily fermented, their juice can soothe sore throats and upset stomachs...”

Puncturing the tough, spiky skin with one of her nails, the vibrant teal juices began to drain quickly out of the shell, too quick for even her quick mouth to catch as she brought the fruit to her lips. The following bite she took was effortless following her brief struggle with the dripping juices, and as much as Poe hated whatever point she was trying to make with this display, as Leia followed her lead and took a bite, he had no choice but to do the same. 

And as desperate as he was to stay boiling with anger when he looked at her, even with teal juices dripping down around the corner of her mouth, his mind was flooded with a delicious distraction the second his tongue touched the inner meat of the vibrant fruit. It wasn’t enough for Haiki to be the most beautiful planet in the galaxy, nor was it enough for her to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in person, they also needed to have the most overwhelming natural fruits. 

Each hesitant chew he took sparked flavors across his tongue, wild, exotic, unlike anything he had ever tasted before. It wasn’t just that his diet had consisted of bland ration packs for the past few years, the taste was truly sweeter and more complex than anything he had ever had on his tongue. 

As much as he hated giving her the satisfaction, while he looked up from the greenish inside of the skin to find her careful stare, he could see that he was doing little to hide his overwhelming satisfaction with the flavor given her increasingly smug smirk. 

“Haiki is a special place, I don’t think you realize that.” The Princess continued carefully, shifting her stare back to Leia directly. 

“We do, Dekka, however--”

“I don’t think you do.” She was quick to counter. “You would have me pledge my sponsorship to your futile movement and sacrifice my planet and the millions of souls who live here to the wrath of the First Order with nothing to offer me in return. You must think my planet worthless.”

Leia shook her head, taking a brief second to swallow the rest of the fruit she held in her mouth and regain her composure in order to fight back, “We can offer your planet protection from the First Order--”

“Because that worked so well for Alderaan, Raysho, Cardota and Courtsilius?” Again, the princess, without hesitation, cut her off. And this time, Poe was done holding his tongue, the heat finally sending his anger boiling over. 

“And pledging your allegiance to a sociopathic regime of murderers is preferable?”

It was exactly what Leia had feared. It was the exact reason she had tried so hard to keep him quiet. Not because she feared he would shoot and miss, but because of his tone. 

Each word drenched in a level of disrespect he hadn’t earned with her, stepping over a line he didn’t even realize, but one Leia couldn’t help him back from, even as she reached up to grab hold of him to prevent his anger from carrying him closer to the Princess and making things worse. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my planet.” She held her stance even as Poe stepped up, making no move but the slight uptick of her chin as he got closer. “As a peaceful planet, we have no options to arm ourselves outside of diplomacy and the First Order is being far more convincing.”

“Whatever they’ve said is lies, you can’t seriously consider trusting them.” He spoke like a man with no knowledge of his actions, entirely oblivious to the way her guard tightened their stances the closer he got, too blinded by his anger as she continued to argue back against him. 

“Because the resistance has never lied to us? Because you can be trusted implicitly on your word?”

With another step forward, eliminating any space between the two of them, Poe effectively cut Leia and her futile attempts to get him to back down out of the conversation. “What have they promised you? Safety? Isolation from the war? It’s only a matter of time before they are enslaving your people and stealing your resources--”

“They’ve promised me protection and have been nothing but cordial, unlike you and your failing resistance.” She scoffed, shaking her small bun of greying hair enough to let loose a few strands as she refused to back down. “So you’d do best to mind yourself before you overstep a boundary you can’t walk back from.”

There was a sense of finality to her tone as she ended her sentence, one Leia picked up on immediately, but even as she moved to grab more forcefully at Poe’s arm to pull him back to reality, he continued to fight his way out of it. Hot-headed, stubborn, cocky. She should have known better than to bring him along. She should have known things would go the way they were going. 

“You want me to play nice? People are dying.” 

Everything that happened next happened all too fast. The words came spewing from Poe’s lips and as the Princess turned away, no longer requiring herself to be subject to his cruel intonation, he reached out and grabbed her arm before he could be stopped. 

In the back of his mind, he could still hear the echoing warning Leia had provided him, telling him to keep his distance and speak with nothing but respect, but the flashes of war echoing in his head and the fire burning in his chest were crackling too loud for anything else to matter. A part of him knew it was out of line, that same part of him was begging for him to stop, and yet his hand still found the smooth, tattooed skin of her forearm, holding her in place as she moved to turn away in frustration. 

Leia took a strong hold on the sweat-soaked back of his shirt and yanked him back, but the damage had already been done. “Stand down, Dameron,” she tried out but by the time he released her arm, the guards had already descended upon him, gripping him by each arm and kicking the backs of his legs in to drop him to his knees. 

“I think the damage has been done, General.” Her voice was firm in her resolve and equally firm as her language switched and her tongue released a flurry of orders towards the guards who held the stubborn, fighting Dameron on his knees. 

“What the kriff-- I barely touched her--” He fought as their grips grew tighter, forcing him frozen where they held him. 

Leia tried again, this time not to hold Poe back but to carefully convince the princess, “Dekka Anya-Va, please…”

But her mind was made up and nothing either of them could do would change that. 

“We’ll let him think himself over with a sleep in our cells,” she explained to Leia as her stare then fell back to the squirming form of the curly haired and now defenseless pilot. “You can leave with him in the morning.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“No, but it seems you might be.” The rough, raspiness to her tone which had been so distracting as it filtered out her accent shifted to something nearly playful, as if the whole display before her was amusing. He was being restrained by a towering guard of thick muscle on each side and she had the audacity to chuckle so plainly in his face, only making him fight more even if he knew it was futile. 

Leia stepped forward carefully towards the princess but before she could muster any last defense, the princess gave a wave of her hand and the guards, with shoulders wide in intimidating bulk, heaved the fighting pilot to his feet and began backing him up, dragging him in the opposite direction. 

“Dekka Anya-Va, let me apologize for his actions--”

“Mensha?” Her raspy voice interrupted the General before any real defense could leave her lips, ushering a young maid out from the small crowd which gathered around the display. “Please escort the General to a room where she can wait, give her anything she needs.”

“Dekka Anya-Va--”

“I’m not my mother, General, the sooner you learn that, the better for all of us involved.”

The long walk back into the depths of the granite palace was all too lonely as the Princess dismissed each and every member of her staff which approached her, even waving away the genuine concern on Elias’ brow and leaving him in the halls as she continued to the throne room. Her back was screaming out from the straight form she maintained with each and every step, but she held her stance and walked on, shoulders firm and chin up, just as she was taught. If anyone passed her, they had to see her as what she was, their leader. 

And leaders didn’t waver, no matter how strong the vacuum of emptiness swirling within their chest was, not when there were eyes to see. 

But the second the towering doors of intricate dark oak shut behind her, leaving her alone in the expansive and empty throne room, her shoulders fell in, collapsing her perfect form as her chin fell to her chest. The weight which settled there was too great, and the hollow gorge that tore through her heart was too powerful. 

Did he really think it was that easy?

Her throat burned with the heat rising out of her chest and her legs grew weaker with each step until she collapsed back against the exquisite throne of dark, sparkling granite consumed by overgrown vines, the words from the hot-headed pilot echoing through her mind, latching onto every thought. 

Did he think it was all that simple? Did he think she saw the blood on the hands of the First Order and so easily ignored it? Did he think it was that easy?

A sociopathic, murderous regime… did he really think she didn’t realize what they were? 

The bubbling in her gut continued on as her thoughts swarmed with a buzzing around her mind and her head fell forward into her hands where her elbows rested on her knees. Her fingers made furious circles of her temples but it made no difference, his words were there, haunting her mind and inescapable. 

Did they really think she didn’t know right from wrong? 

With the responsibility for millions of souls resting heavy on her back, the fate of her kind in her hands, it just wasn’t as easy as good versus bad. No matter how badly she wished it was. 

“Dekka Anya-Va,” the faint voice of one of her staffed maids entered her thoughts as the small woman carefully tiptoed into the room. “The prisoner is… angrily shouting for a meeting with you.”

Her back straightened on instinct, sending a shooting pain up her spine with the quick pace of the change. A pain she could barely mask with her regal tone as turned her stare towards the young woman, “we’ll leave him to calm himself down for now.”

“Of course, Dekka.”

As the door shut again, leaving her alone with her thoughts again, a sigh of insurmountable exhaustion fell from her lips and she collapsed back into the uncomfortable shape of stone. 

If only things could be that simple...

tags: (open)

@cammisanders @rogueonestan @blacksquadron-rougetwo @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @trust-dreamcatcher @mistermiraclee @witchyavenger @randomness501​ @buckstaposition​

[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

Gave Me the Blues and then Purple-Pink Skies

Part 1 (here we are) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: 13th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 2,501

Warnings: Descriptions of an Earthquake

Summary: You and the Doctor accidentally land on the wrong planet, and, after an Earthquake, come to learn that you can't necessarily leave with the TARDIS just yet.

A/N: Hi there!! So this is my first reader insert ever, I wrote this based off of the amazing @kisstherainwriting​ equally phenomenal 13th Doctors Companion Piece Arrangement because when I listened to it (and if you haven't yet, I really recommend that you do!), it immediately unleashed such a surge of writing inspiration that I couldn't not write, y'know. This is going to be a four part series that I'll be updating every week, I hope you enjoy it!

The heat beat against your bare skin as you squinted at the red sun, framing your hand around your eyes to shield you from its angry glare. “What’s this planet called again?”

The Doctor, who was squatting, ran her fingers through the hot sand, and stood up beside you. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Though it’s certainly not Erinda.”

You hummed, peeling off your jacket; it was already ridiculously warm inside the thing. “Yeah I’m not seeing any pink snow. Just a lot of…” you stood on the tips of your toes, swiveling your head this way and that to gather your surroundings. “Sand. There’s only sand.”

The Doctor sniffed the air, as if she could tell the location by smell – which, knowing her, she probably could. She crinkled her nose. “Yeah I haven’t got a clue,” she said, and rocked backwards and forwards on the balls of her feet. “Shall we find out then?”

Your heart plummeted as you stared out into the great barren expanse of nothing. If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost see the heat lines waving against the yellow sand.

The arid heat made you feel sticky in your clothes and a sudden trek under that hot sun didn’t sound very promising. “How exactly do we do that?” You asked. “There isn’t necessarily a tourist information center.”

The Doctor gave you a look for a moment, as if you’d grown a second head. “What we always do, we’ll explore. The TARDIS must’ve bought us here for a reason, she always does.”

Ah, yep, there it was. A walk.

You hated that you’d called it.

You turned to face the TARDIS. “Speaking of, wouldn’t it make more sense to have the TARDIS scan the planet or something? Then we’d know what we were getting ourselves into.”

If anything, that made The Doctor even more confused, and she scrunched her face up as if there were a bad smell. “Why would we do that?”

You gestured to your outfit, to your thick winter boots and thermal pants, and took a moment to tighten the arms of your winter jacket around your waist. “I haven’t exactly dressed for the desert. I’m pretty hot right now Doc.”

The Doctor blinked, as if just finally realising that you weren’t exactly comfortable right now. She gave you a sheepish grin and flushed slightly. “Ah, right. I’m sorry, I didn’t-,”

The rest of The Doctors reply was lost in the eerie echo that cracked through the dense atmosphere. It almost sounded like thunder, if thunder were the sort to throw itself out from the ground with all the fury of the demons of hell. The sand vibrated at your feet, little granules jumping into the air as if they were dancing with the noise.

Then the ground began to shake.

At first, neither you nor The Doctor moved. Your brain couldn’t wrap itself around the input from your ears and your feet, it was like a sensory overload. The ground was moving and the noise was loud, you could feel it in your toes, running up your legs, and into the base of your spine. Then, like a switch had been flicked, The Doctor’s hand was in yours, and she was pulling you to the ground.

“It’s an Earthquake,” she said, or, at least, you thought she said. You couldn’t quite hear her, but you could make out how her mouth shaped the words. “Stay low.”

You squeezed The Doctor’s hand with your own, your knuckles white with your grip. Her hand was an anchor, tethering you as every other one of your senses went on high alert. It was the only action you could accomplish, the kind that all-consuming, helpless fear creates. You didn’t experience it often travelling with The Doctor – there was always a plan when you were with her, but this time… Well, the small sane part of your brain that was quietly processing this was grateful to have The Doctor to hold on to.

A loud crack ripped across the land, the sound piercing your ears. You watched in horror as part of the landscape, no more than 1000 feet away from you, fell into the earth. A plume of sand shot into the sky, and you squeezed your eyes shut, shielding your face away with your free arm as the sand came crashing down.

Then, as soon as it had started, it stopped.

The ground stilled and your body tingled, as if it still thought that the sand below you was shaking. You stuck your head up, squinting in the light as your ears rang, a low piercing shrill like your mind believed that awful thunderous roar was continuing. You blinked, once, twice, and ran a hand through your hair, carefully sitting up.

Beside you, you felt The Doctor shuffle as she mimicked your movements. 

Neither of you had let go of the others hand.

The Doctor turned to you, her face pulled in concern as she ran her free hand up your arm and brushed her thumb against your cheek. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt are you?”

You shook your head, running a hand through your hair again to shake out some of the sand. “No, no, I’m fine. What about you?”

“Fit as a fiddle, it was just a bit of a shock,” she paused for a moment. “Oh wait, that was a pun! Is it the wrong moment to be making a pun?”

You laughed softly, feeling some of the tension that had settled in your chest dissipate. “No. If anything, it’s the perfect time.”

The Doctor grinned, staring at you with soft eyes. The bed of her thumb tracked lazy circles over your cheek bone, and you felt grounded, safe, in that peculiar unique way that you only did when you were around The Doctor.

Her hair was rather haphazard, bits of it sticking up and the rest of it a bit frizzy. Sand was plastered against her skin and on her clothes, with a thick yellow glob of it streaked across her cheek. She had this bright, buzzing energy about her, the kind she got after an intense adrenaline rush, that made her eyes sparkle and her skin glow. She was gorgeous.

Her eyes drifted behind you and her face fell. With a gasp she shot upwards, pulling you along with her. “Oh no,” she instantly sprung forward, letting go of your hand to make some vague, frantic gestures as she ran past you. “No, no, no, now why would you do that? It wasn’t like-”

You let The Doctor’s voice wash over you, mostly tuning it out as you followed where The Doctor had gone, and felt yourself freeze.

The TARDIS was gone. 

Like, actually, positively, truly gone. 

The Doctor was still talking. 

“It’s not an emergency, if anything it’s only a small inconvenience! There was no need to go and do that,” She pointed her screwdriver into the empty space where the TARDIS had been. “Come on, it was only a minor earthquake - or, well, planetquake, just a little tremble.”

She pulled her screwdriver to her face and studied it with a measured glare, then made a half offended groan, her head dropping to face the sky. 

“Doctor,” you said, trying to keep your voice at least somewhat level. You knew it wouldn’t do any good if you started freaking out, even though, at least, internally, you were most definitely freaking out. “Where’s The TARDIS gone?”

The Doctor chewed on her lip for a moment. “Ah yeah, so, right. I did some repairs. Fixed a couple of things that were going wrong,” she fixed a scowl into the space the TARDIS had been. “Fixed a couple of them a bit too well.”

“Fixed?”

The Doctor sprung upright, facing you. “The TARDIS has a security measure, the emergency relocation system–“

“Emergency relocation system?” You squeaked. The Doctor ignored your interruption.

“–It’s always been a bit moody. It should allow the TARDIS to relocate from any immediate danger without a pilot; should we ever get into a sticky situation; like if she falls into the wrong hands, or if I couldn’t access her, or-” she audibly snapped her mouth closed and made a vague gesture with the sonic. “Or, erm, whatever else could happen.”

The ‘in case I need to get you out of danger’ remained unsaid. 

You swallowed apprehensively, shoving your nerves down with it. “Which is why we’re what, currently stranded on Not-Erinda?”

“Temporarily stranded!” The Doctor amended, and held up her screwdriver. “I’ve got a lock on the TARDIS’ time signature. Basically, as long as we have my sonic, we’ll be a walking beacon. She should re-materialise wherever we are once she realises that there’s no actual danger.”

You nodded, mostly so you could disperse some of the anxious energy that had been building up in your body, with some sort of movement. “Right, alright, okay. This should be fine then, right? All good?”

The Doctor smiled. “Exactly.”

You tried to ignore how stuffy your clothing felt. 

The Doctor looked up to the sun, cupping her hand over her eyes , and hummed. “We should probably find some sort of shade,” she looked to you. “I am sorry about your clothes, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

You chuckled, because, well, yeah. “Ehh,” you drew out the sound. “Pink snow, yellow sand. I’m not seeing much of a difference here.”

The Doctor’s eyes softened, the way they did whenever a plan went up in the air and you both just had to roll with it. At this stage you had long learned that it was just the nature of travelling with The Doctor, nothing was ever as it seemed, and nothing would ever go as planned.

It was part of the reason you loved it all so much.

With renewed vigour you squared your shoulders. “Well, if we’re going to go exploring,” you stuck your thumb out to the side, hoping you were pointing in the right direction . “Should we go see what that earthquake cracked open?”

As the pair of you began your trek to where the landscape had literally tore itself open, that awful red sun beat cruelly against your body. Within minutes there was a thin sheen of sweat that lined your brow and sat sticky in your shirt. It was almost like the heat had wrapped itself around you, as if you were submerged in a hot bath on a warm summers day.

It was overwhelming, and icky, and oh so very, entirely gross. With every step you took your feet sunk into the sand, and you had to make a conscious effort to pick up your legs higher so you could actually get some momentum. You probably looked like some sort of marching penguin, flapping about trying to remain stable.

The Doctor, on the other hand, was acting entirely fine. She had shrugged off her jacket, holding it by the collar and leaving it flipped over her shoulder like the protagonist of an old-timey adventurer novel, but that was the only sign that she was anything less than completely comfortable - and it was wholly unfair that she could breeze through whilst you were floundering beside her.

You felt gross, and it was practically a relief when you saw a bright glow coming from where the ground had split in two. As the pair of you drew nearer, you looked in wonderment as you came across what almost looked like a den, a tunnel that cracked forward on the surface and gently eased its way underground.

The tunnel itself looked like it was made completely of a bluish crystal, that glittered in the sunlight and speckled out into the sand from where the sand met the entrance of the tunnel. You stopped in awe, your breath catching in your throat as you gazed at the tunnel, there was something about them that was just so utterly reverent, like they were calling to you.

You huffed out a heavy breath, leaning over and supporting your weight with your hands on your knees. Your mouth was dry, and there was a mild throbbing in the front of your head, pounding away slightly with every breath you took.

The Doctor crouched down and stared at the tunnel for a little while longer, before looking back at you. “Well, that’s not something you see every day.”

You were about to respond when you heard it. It was soft at first, you didn’t even realise there was anything to hear, until it grew louder. It was some sort of song, a voice singing from the depths of the tunnel.

It was beautiful.

“Oh,” you breathed. “Doctor, what is that?”

“Them?” She gestured to the tunnel. “I’m not sure. Some sort of crystal, I reckon. But that’s a bit obvious. They’re absolutely brilliant though. Look at their height, the way they’ve gathered and spread; they must be thousands of years old.”

“No, no, not that,” you said. “That music, what is it?”

The Doctor frowned, standing up. “Music, what do you mean?”

You turned to her, sure that you were mirroring her expression. “The music. It’s like this voice, I don’t know – I guess like a siren? It’s like it’s calling out to us.”

The Doctor’s eyes sparkled in interest. “Oh, now that’s something different,” she scanned the tunnel with her screwdriver, looked at the results, and hummed. “My sonic’s not picking anything up,” she looked towards the tunnel, her face suddenly a bit stonier. “Best we investigate the old fashioned way then.”

You took in a shaky breath as The Doctor trekked forwards, and followed her. “Are you sure this is safe?” You asked. “The tunnel’s not just going to cave in on us is it?”

“No idea,” The Doctor said. “But if you’re hearing something coming from here, I’d bet that this tunnel has probably appeared for a reason – not that I’m a betting person, although I did once bet my life on a pretty good game of chess, but that doesn’t make me a betting man or anything, or, well, woman. I keep messing that up.”

You laughed lightly, interrupting her little ramble. “You say that as if we don’t both bet our lives practically every day.”

The Doctor gaped for a moment. “It’s not always so bad! We had a lovely time on Wollgaran Prime 7.”

You couldn’t help but let out another laugh, and you almost felt bad that it seemed to be the only thing you were doing. “Yeah, until those snapping robot’s decided we both had the wrong amount of limbs.”

The Doctor spluttered. “Yes well, that was just poor judgement on their behalf. They should know that it’s not common for humanoid lifeforms to have 4 arms.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way though,” you amended, because really, you loved every moment you got to spend with her. “Being with you is wonderful.”

A/N^2: So I have never ever written a reader insert ever in my life, so I hope it’s alright! I really really need to thank @kisstherainwriting​ for just being so wonderful and so kind when I bombarded her with this, and also @saxonharold​ for encouraging me to post and share my writing!

[razorblade180]

Cold confrontation

Strength is all that matters in a fight. Physical, mental, emotional, and intellectual. All of these were classified as strength. To have them all would make you a true threat. It’s what made Carmine a true threat, yet here she was, on death’s door. She gripped her pounding head and gritted her teeth from the sharp pain going through her pain, her body curled up on the numbingly cold marshlands that robbed her the pleasure of a warm end. Just the bitter cold and two pairs of eyes watching with interest. One set was the foe she so foolishly tried conquering, Shiva. It was a tall order. Carmine thought she had worked it all out. Apparently not. The proof was in the second set of eyes watching die. Her eyes. The cold warped eyes of a rose clone watching the original perish. A rose clone made from Diamond Dust.

xxxx

Warmth invaded her body like a wave. Carmine’s nerves jolted all at once and the girl sat up quickly, gasping as if she almost drowned. Her headache was replaced with haze as she her mind came to grips with the fact she was no longer in danger. She was on a couches. A warm one at that, wool covers and all. A fire place glowed nicely inside of a log cabin where several of her Interdimensional friends and siblings stayed. The ones that didn’t leave or was forced to not intervene anyways. Footsteps made Carmine look behind the couch to see Lucas walking with two mugs. He handed one to her and sat on a warm rug safely away from the fire, but close enough to give him warmth from the blizzard outside. He took a sip of his tea and looked at their girl, who was still a little blue.

Lucas:So....how does it feel to freeze to death?

Carmine:Never again.

Lucas:Yeah? Sounds about right. What happened out there?

Carmine:Your future vision didn’t show you?

Lucas:I wasn’t there. All I saw was me dragging your body through the door and when you’d wake up. Whatever went down in those marshlands is your story to tell.

Carmine:Then I rather keep it unspoken. Just know making a clone out of the dust Shiva creates when she conjures ice is a very stupid move. I guess that’s a given. Using an unknown weapon against a foe who clearly knows how it works was doomed to blow up in my face. *holds head* Ugh....crap...

Lucas:You okay? I found you holding your head.

Carmine:Did you see a clone of me with white hair and eyes with a light blue glint?

Lucas:No, Just you. Shiva saw me but didn’t seem bothered that I showed up or left with you. Didn’t hear anyone else besides her either.

Carmine:The clone must’ve vanished then. I can’t sense it. Good. Looking through their eyes and sharing info in more or less real time has always been seamless, effortless too.

Lucas:But?

Carmine:I...don’t know. That clone, it wasn’t me mentally linking with myself. There was feedback or something. It was more Shiva than me, and then traced that mental link backwards to me. Shiva, she got in my head. H..how the hell did she do that? How does Summer cope with that?!

Lucas:Discovering a new found respect for the girl? Wouldn’t blame you, but I think “cope” would be giving too much credit. Whatever the case, did you find anything else worthwhile? Watching you go off to die or comeback empty handed is very discouraging for Yujin and Tenzen.

Carmine:Not you?

Lucas:Oh you know me. I’m pretty good at knowing what’s a good attempt and what is a bust.

Carmine:So why do ask?

Lucas:Had to get the topic rolling somehow. Knowing the answer doesn’t do much without discussing the actual fruit of your labors.

The front door opened and Jacquelyn came walking in with her daughters. All three of them shook snow off their clothes and immediately went to the fire. Tenzen and Yujin must’ve heard the door open because they came from upstairs a few seconds later. Now the entire Lasting Embers crew was here. People from Shiva’s world were strictly forbidden from interacting with the beast and Carmine had sent her people away for their own safety. Between Lucas being a loner and everyone else, Carmine had no ground to stand on when it came to giving orders. They didn’t want to leave, so they didn’t.

Sienna:So how’s dying?

Carmine:Better then repeating myself.

Lucas:She didn’t enjoy the experience.

Jael:I would hope not.

Yujin:You all we’re out awhile. Learn anything?

Jacquelyn:Nothing I didn’t know before. The longer Shiva stays, the colder it gets. It either ends eventually, or we have to make it end. A test if there ever was one.

Tenzen:Shiva is like the main problem in a universe, right? How are we suppose to deal with a problem that grand? With no help from the residents either. Nick must know tricks.

Jael:He would’ve said so before leaving, or hinted. The fact that he doesn’t must mean he’s stumped. Like you said, grand problem.

Sienna:In his case maybe. Here, murder is a viable option. Killing her long enough to revert her back to Summer is an option.

Yujin:Ummm killing a friend-

Sienna:She’ll live.

Yujin:Yeah, and I’ll feel disgusted. I’m positive Summer wouldn’t appreciate being killed either. I wouldn’t.

Jael:Yeah but you’re soft and emotional about every-ow!

Jacquelyn:*pinching her arm* Be nice. Even if we down that route, whose to say we’d succeed? The Void has the benefit of allowing us to go all out but it might not be enough.

Carmine:It wouldn’t. You don’t think I tried a more lethal approach to Shiva. If I attacked to observe movement, then she did the same. It’s clear this is entertainment for her and allowing her opponent to learn what they’re doing is a flaw she happily lets show. However, murderous intent is met with more murderous intent. Her power is used to overwhelm, until you’re left helpless.

Sienna:Isn’t that you’re forte? Your style is based on overwhelming power and visual overload.

Carmine:Completely different. I am a high quality fighter that can create a quantity that doesn’t sacrifice the performance grade. Shiva’s power is based on raw nature. You ever hear of an army beating an avalanche? Some things just don’t scale.

Lucas:If that’s how we’re looking at this then that would mean to beat her would mean to endure. Running or prevention isn’t an option for this avalanche.

Tenzen:Enduring doesn’t sound like one either! Does anyone have the stamina?

Jacquelyn:Doesn’t matter. Her attacks more often than not will bypass aura because of the cold. Then there’s the actual environment. We’ll be cold while she’s barefoot on freezing water. A battle of attrition is the last thing we want.

Yujin:So the goal is speed and power. Okay, we have those in spades. Not to mention I stand the best chance when it comes to taking a hit if it comes down to it, so endurance isn’t completely out of the wheelhouse.

Lucas:We also have knowledge, current and future, to be accurate. Though acting on the the future events is another thing entirely.

Jael:How the hell is this chick contained!? Who’s putting her back in the metaphorical bod in her world? Nick survives this, regularly?

Sienna:Temperature is a factor. As well as the time she’s free. We unfortunately have her out for a long time and in constant frigid weather. We do however have a magical person to help. None of the technology though. Frankly our resources are limited.

Lucas:Talk about a troublesome situation. I’m not made for situations like this. *lays down* Insane odds, all of them pointing to ruin. It’s ridiculous. Nick sure is the real deal, smiling with a looming threat like that never far. Sibling or not, he must be terrified.

Jael:Really, I don’t think so. So what if he has a sister that’s dangerous, life threatening even? That doesn’t erase the love. It makes you wanna reach out more.

Sienna:Is that so? *smiles*

Jael:Don’t get a big head and assume things. *nudges her* Back to the matter at hand...

Carmine:What the hell is our plan exactly?

Yujin:You’re the one who said she’s a force of nature. I mean what beats that, besides a natural disaster?

She chuckled at her own words. For some reason she found them more than a little crazy, so it can as a shock to Yujin when she realized everyone was looking at her with wide eyes, like she’d solve the problem. Then, it clicked. She did provide an answer. All eyes shifted to their own force of nature, Jacquelyn, who was a little unsettled by the attention.

Jacquelyn:Hey now, don’t go getting any wild ideas.

Yujin:But can’t you literally change landscapes? Instead of of focusing on Shiva as an individual, we should focus attention on what’s around her. You can change that!

Carmine:No problem for a full fledged maiden right?

Jacquelyn:Is everyone forgetting the part where y’all are also participating the fight? You’d get swept up in whatever chaos I bring. Not only that, but doing something grand takes effort and concentration. I doubt I’d be able to back you all up faithfully, or protect myself well if Shiva puts her sights on me.

Lucas:Oh that won’t be a problem.

Jacquelyn:What?

Lucas:It won’t be a problem. *stares at fire* I have ideas. No idea how they’ll end, and I’m trying to see for once.

Carmine:That’s concerning.

Lucas:No, it’s perfect. Knowing would mean the plan is either to simple, or not chaotic enough.

Tenzen:Or you’re having performance anxiety and actually aren’t using your semblance.

Lucas:That’s neither here nor there. Alright, everyone listen carefully.

xxxxx

Snow blew ferociously around Shiva’s humble domain. The girl herself sat comfortably to watch a frog hop by. The little creature casually hopped in the cold water and then hopped onto her leg. Shiva gave it a gentle smile, then put nudged back to ground. The approaching body heat behind her gave her no sense of unease, even as a bullet flew passed her head and into a tree. In fact, Shiva found it a bit humorous. She finally rose up to lock eyes with Carmine, who stood with seven clones made from flame dust.

Shiva:Wow, you are a different breed entirely, aren’t ya? I think it’s roughly been a day at best, yet here you are, ready to scrap. Freezing to death would make a regular person filled with fear and think harder about preservation. Or least that’s what I would assume if you know, a person lived through freezing to death. Can’t till if you’re fortitude is immaculate, or your mind isn’t all there.

Carmine:I’ve been known to be a little on the intense and hardheaded side. You’ll have to do more than kill me to keep me down. That being said, no way in hell am I experiencing that ever again.

Shiva:Well good to know it fazed you. I was beginning to wonder who was the real beast here. Carmine Rose, an entertaining individual for sure. Not to mention clever. So....what’s the trick here? *looking around* is it hidden among the trees, or below my feet I wonder?

Carmine:Not sure what you mean. What you see is what you get. (I’m not only Clever one here apparently....)

Shiva:Tsk tsk, let’s not insult intelligence here. We’ve fought to often to do that. I studied you in the same way you’ve done me. Fire clones, obviously I’d sense them along with you, but you know this. You want me sensing them, focusing on it intently. If I had to make a wager, then I’d bet there’s more clones I can’t since from body heat, ice clones. Perhaps rock as well if they dig far enough. No different from slight of hand.

Carmine:Can’t you be dimwitted like a majority of people who love the sound of their own voice? Even if you are right, knowing slight of hand is happening doesn’t mean you can find what’s hidden right before you. Ice, rock, five, or maybe one, you don’t know scope of the plan, or that it’s already accomplished.

Carmine’s words left an air of mysterious. What was already accomplished? Shiva had no time to ask when the ground began to shake and a thunderous boom rattled the air again and again. Explosions throughout the marshlands were set off in sequence. The fire clones around Carmine darted into the trees at breakneck speed, leaving the original to run full force at Shiva.

Shiva conjured a pike of ice to run Carmine through. The attack was pointless however. Before making contact, Carmine bursted into petals. Yet another clone. The real one was never around to begin with. Somehow, the huntress managed sneak explosives around, most likely fire dust, undetected through the marshlands. The assumption about ice or rock clones was beginning to become fact. Not that it mattered at this point. Puny flames in blizzard didn’t bother her. It would take far more heat to hinder any of her moves. Still, Shiva now understood her opponent’s move.

“Her clones are among the flames, but I can’t sense where.” Shiva thought, realizing the heat from the flames was a smoke screen, masking the body heat movements. “Clever, but useless. Snuff the flames and-” a sudden surge of heat made Shiva turn around and get hit right in the face, knocking her to the ground out of nowhere. Shiva sprang up and looked around. Nothing, then boom! A strike against her spine. Again, she did not see it coming. Just a flash of heat before a strike. She sensed it from the left and put up an ice wall. The heat rushed at her, then made a sharp turn around the wall, hitting her gut. It wa still fast, but the detour not only lessened the blow, but was slow enough for Shiva to see the pink electricity left in its wake.

“Tenzen.” She growled, “Why didn’t I sense him before? It was just Carmine’s clones earlier.” The boy landed another blow to her head and tripped her before darting back into the distant trees. He was also using the flames to hide, choosing to attack from seemingly random locations. “He must’ve waited from afar entered after the explosions.” Shiva froze the water around with a stomp of her foot into the soaked ground. Tenzen would be in for a rude awakening on his next run by. That was the plan anyways.

Shiva felt the heat speed by again but from above this time. Back and forth, left and righ, Tenzen bounced the tree to tree. The speed of his movement brought a wind with him that spread the flames from tree to tree. Shiva sent out a wave of frost from a swat of her hand to put them out , but Tenzen was quick to light another. Shiva had to change tactics. She stomped her foot again which caused the ice to spread all throughout and up the trees near by. The ice then stook out like jagged spears.

Tenzen let out an auditable gasp before diving to the ground to avoid getting impaled. “Gotcha!” Shiva shouted, firing shards of ice from her hand in his direction.” The achievement was short lived when Yujin dropped in from above enveloped in her trade mark white flames, sword ready to strike.

“Sun slice!” An intense white flame flew at Shiva’s ice, making it weaker and hitting her directly. Yujin immediately took Tenzen’s hand then was sped off to hide.

Shiva waved of the bother attack. While hotter than the rest, Yujiin’s flames were only agitating. Still... “Okay, now I’m pissed.” Hot and run wasn’t her idea of fun. Neither was not knowing anything. At this point it was smarter to believe everyone was in the forest. Only one way to know for sure. Shiva started running to towards flames and blew them out with a breath. More were to her right from above and below. Weak or not, the flames had to go.

She raised her right hand out to send another blast of ice until a chain wrapped itself around her wrist and yanked her away. Shiva recognized it as Sienna’s and sent ice up it. “Bad move kitty!” She pulled hard once the chain went rigged, a heat signature still on the other hand. Long ice nails formed around her free hand for a counter attack. However, Sienna was not who she pulled in. It was flame clone of Carmine. “What?”

“Surprise...” the clone blew up in a fiery explosion that sent Shiva sliding into a tree. At the same time, dozens of chains shot from the flames to restrain Shiva against the tree; followed by the force of gravity to make it harder to move.

Yujin appeared once again from the flames. This time with a Carmine that held an identical flaming weapon. “Once more with feeling! Sun slice times two!” They both set flames that washed over the ground and set the trees ablaze before they rushed away from Shiva’s building anger.

Shiva’s body naturally froze the chains until they snapped, setting her free. Weighed down by gravity, Shiva grit her teeth and unleashed an immense pressure of sheer cold that would’ve frost bitten and freeze anything living within several feet. Even the white flames went out like candles. More chains came flying out to meet their end by Shiva. A mighty scream let a beam of ice fly from her mouth, shattering the attack.

“Carmine didn’t just clone herself. She cloned herself with her friend’s weapons!” Gravity around began to go back to normal. The flames on the marsh had spread in greater range, giving more room for everyone to attack. Shiva double backed to where she froze the trees. Quickly she conjured more ice and created pillars that were as cold as glaciers. Flames still only remained on the ouskirts and barely moved in. Shiva smiled and created Nick’s blade from diamond dust. “If this is the game you want to play then come on, try your luck!”

They must’ve been waiting for the invitation, because Lucas and Carmine appeared in a flash of pink lightning before her, charging with their blades ready. Ice particles built up to form shards that Shiva fired head at the duo. Carmine slowed her pace to get behind Lucas. “See this coming?”

Lucas chuckled, “Duh.” His eyes darted at every shared coming his way. Each position, distance, speed, target, nothing was unknown from his eyes. He brought his sword up to shatter two aiming at his forehead, then swung down to intercept four at his chest. He spun his katana left to block another seven and then tossed it his right hand, blocking another eight. He swung his blade forward as he transformed it into a blade whip that he used to hook a pillar. “All clear.” His blade reeled him up at out of Carmine’s way.

Carmine smiled, “Show off.” Her body lunged forward. Stamen was swung down to meet Shiva. An ice wall shoot up between them but was cleaned into by Carmine’s attack. Her blade met Shiva’s and th two looked at each other with a shared sense of anger and excitement.

“Awwww, someone needed help?” Shiva mocked. “I guess I should feel honored.”

“No need. Just feel pain...” Their swords separated briefly before clashing again. Carmine refused lose ground. Her blade countered a strike to the face, then returned the attack with a strike to the torso that was blocked as well. The slightest raise of Shiva’s foot made Carmine back step, striking the ground to send a shockwave that met forming ice spikes. A raise of her hand made Carmine grab Pistil and fired a slug shot before an icicle could spear her.

The recoil slid her back because of the ice. Range was the last thing Shiva needed to have. Another, more charged icicle was fired. Carmine shot the ground to launch swiftly into the air. The air around her became colder until ice itself formed into thin sheets as sharp as knives around her. “Lucas!” Carmine shouted. “I know!” The boy sent his whip her to grab and yanked her out of harms way and back to the ground. “Stay close!” He swung her at Shiva.

Carmine used the whip as a tether to slide herself back within melee range of Shiva. Her weapons merged to form her scythe and then was sent right at Shiva’s legs. Carmine overreached to shoot the scythe, causing it to pull backwards, sweeping both feet. Shiva was crafty though. The witch made a platform of ice that raised her just in time.

“Your mother loves that move.” Shiva looked up at Lucas and jumped at him. “Can’t leave you to your devices either!”

Lucas clicked his tongue and jumped as well. The two clashed blades midair with Lucas using his leverage to knock her back to the ground towards Carmine. They had to keep the pressure up a little longer, and Lucas knew just how to do it. He dropped to the ground and bolted towards Shiva. “Carmine! LADYBUG!”

Carmine immediately launched her forward and the two rapidly slashed against Shiva’s defenses by hitting her from both sides with alternating lunge attacks. Carmine would be lying if she didn’t think using this team was cool. She had to remember to try it with Kovu potentially.

Again and again, ice and Shiva’s blade barely deflected the onslaught of slashes. She made the mistake of jumping back to escape and was met with a pull of gravity that tugged her back into the blades, giving her opponents two clean strikes that made her knees buckled. “Gah! Son of a-” she hit the ground. Ice shot up like spikes that ended the team attack. A deep breath calmed her senses, focusing them on the heat. Her eyes locked on to a spot in front of her. “There...” Shiva channeled a large amount of diamond dust and shot it in that direction, causing an explosion of ice. The attack forced none other than Jael to fly up and out of the way.

“Shit, she found me.” Jael could sense the atmosphere around her become lethal and quickly dove back into the tree line. It didn’t stop ice daggers from forming inches from her and getting closer. She was finall met with no choice but to face them head on with her blade. It was by the grace of luck that a chain got her, yanking her up out of serious danger. And of course, it was her sister’s.

“What would you do without me?” Sienna smirked.

Jael smirked back. “Have less hair to clean out of the shower. Now let’s keep going!” They both went their separate ways and continued with the plan. Jael continued watching from the shadows with her sister and the ice clones while Yujin, Tenzen, and fire clones spread the flames as far as possible. “Just a little longer, then it’s all on you mom.”

Lucas was being put through his paces. Micromanaging every event was beginning to wear on his mind and it was starting to show when Shiva bombarded him with a flurry of attacks until one slash to his stomach sent him flying towards a tree. Fortunately, Jael’s semblance made the impact way softer than it should’ve been.

“Lucas!” Carmine shouted. She trued to run to his aid but was cut off by a wall of ice. “Damn!”

“You should keep your focus on me!” Shiva took Carmine head on with overpowering sword swings that cascaded ice shrapnel and air pressure that sent the huntress’s feet sliding back. Carmine’s eyes remained locked onto Shiva like a predator hunting prey. Her teeth were clenched and stance was solid, blocking with all her strength. Still, Carmine was only human. Lucas watched from the other side, stumbling up. His semblance reared its dual sided nature again, showing a glimpse of the silver eyed warrior falling to Shiva’s sword running her through.

He gripped his frost bitten stomach in pain. “Come on body, don’t fail me yet!” Adrenaline and an unknown passion to continue fighting pushed him forward as he ran towards the ice wall. Without having to ask, Lucas felt Jael make his body lighter right as jumped. He went right over the wall and was sent downward in front of Carmine as her block gave out; just in time to block a lightning quick thrust. Lucas slid his blade under Shiva’s at the handle then swung it up, separating the weapon from wielder.

Carmine didn’t squander the opening and made a b-line for it. She reverted her scythe back to a sword and put all of her strength into swinging it down on the ice blade, shattering it. Carmine then whipped her body around and blitzed Shiva, practically vanishing from sight before reappearing behind her to deliver a crushing hit against her ribs that sent her airborne.

Shiva rolled into her landing, head raised with anger. Blue dust flowed from her pores being like steam. The bone white color of her hair glowed with her eyes and her breath shudder out like a final breath. “Die...”

It was instant. One second there was nothing, then a moment later, the ground beneath them glowed with the pillars. Without hesitating, Lucas kicked Carmine outside of the pillars before ice enclosed it like a dome. Inside, hundreds of ice shards formed from every possible angle around him. How could power like this exist? It was too much, Shiva was too much. His eyes couldn’t find a way out, or a way to survive.

“I...can’t escape this.” Fear began to settle in, but before it could consume him, a miracle happenend. A rose, right at his feet. A clone burst into existence with its sword at the ready and back against his. What was once inescapable death in his eyes was changed the pattern of attacks shifted. The fear inside of him gave way to relief as he smiled. “You are just full of surprises. You knew I’d get you outta harm?”

“Don’t need future vision to know you’re the sacrificing type. Can’t have you saving my butt all the time. Better keep up.”

“That’s my line.”

Without another word, hell began to rain down on them. Lucas’s blade switched to whip mode for only a second to perfectly deflect eight before switching back to a blade. There wasn’t a moment his sword wasn’t carving through the and his feet pivoting in a small radius as Carmine swung her her blade just as fast, to the point the both of them became a blur of colors. The constant shattering of ice against steel echoed like broken glass. Neither Shiva or Jael could understand what they were witnessing. It was almost like a dance.

With every ice deflect they saw, there was at least fifteen they didn’t. Lucas and Carmine, constantly flipping and pivoting around each other to block an attack the other couldn’t. The relentless assault chipped their blades to the point of cracking, but they were not worried. At the same time, their hands reached for baton and sheath respectfully and continued their absolute defense. Silver and gold eyes never lost pace. Carmine’s pure athleticism protected Lucas while he did the same for her with his semblance. Seeing and predicting an attack like this was impossible, so he didn’t. Lucas was only looking at one future event, Carmine. Her moves, position, even what way she looked. All of this in just under a second, until, finally...

“She’s distracted...” He muttered.

“Yeah... just catching my breath. You kick hard.” Carmine took a glimpse at Shiva and smirked. A second later the real Carmine dashed by and swung her blade like a bat right into Shiva. The girl’s entire body was sent rolling across the ground and through several trees. Finally, the rain of ice stopped and the clone caught a fatigued Lucas that was rightfully out of breath. They had survived just long enough for Tenzen to come back with good news.

“We’re done!!!!!”

“Get us out then!” Lucas gasped. He was then swept away away along with the real Carmine to outside of the marsh. Yujin and Sienna awaited them. They were covered and ash and drenched in sweat. The sight of Jael flying straight up and out meant they were all clear.

The girl flew as fast as possible out of range towards her mother, who was also in the sky. They looked down at the blazing inferno that engulfed almost the entire marsh

Jacquelyn’s eyes glowed intensely, “she in the middle?”

“Several feet to the right of those pillars. That good enough?”

“Perfect, let’s see her snuff these flames.” Jacquelyn let a rather menacing smile show as she let the wind rage and swirl around the marsh stoking the fires. “Burn!” The wind transform the fire into vortex as wide as Amnity itself, and as tall as communication tower. “Jael, you’re up sweetie”

She nods, “right!” Jael extends her arms forward. Taking a deep breath, she exhales slowly as she focuses on pulling gravity to a single point above the vortex. Jael soars a bit closer to gain more control to the point where a small, dense orb forms. She then lowers it carefully along with her, drawing the down towards it like water rushing to fill a hole. She keeps lowering the point of gravity until the mass of flames have been compressed down to a closed sphere around Shiva.

Everyone begins to close in on the spot, ignoring the crushing hit and terrible ash of the incinerated forest. It didn’t take long to follow the heat of a contained wildlife fire. Somehow, they had done it. Shiva stood inside, firing ice in vain. Nothing was coming out, then she dropped to her knees with her hands pressed on her chest as she tried to breathe.

“H-How is...what is...?” She gasped, not understanding. The flames were indeed hot, but not enough to do this much this fast. It wasn’t the flames at all hurting her. Shiva couldn’t simply breathe.

Carmine sighed, “As much as I would love to explain this like it was my idea, I’m not the one with an A in science.” She looked at Lucas, but jealous.

He had finally caught his own breath and more than willing to pay himself on the back. “It’s not that amazing. The flames might not be hot enough to hinder Shiva directly, but they’re more than enough to mess with Summer, or anybody. It doesn’t matter how strong anybody is if they can’t breathe. That fire prison you’re in? It’s burned all the oxygen and moisture inside. No air. No ice. No problem.”

Shiva fell completely on the ground. Her vision began blurring the faces of her proud opponents. With the last of her strength, she sighed. “Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. About time I leave anyways. ”

xxxxx

“Summer?” A voice called through darkness, bringing light. The girl’s eyes opened to see many ash covered faces and tired eyes blinking at her. She sat up and looked around, confused. “Ummmm why are you all filthy and smell like smoke.” She caught whiff of herself. “Ugh, why do I smell like nature hobo who lit on fire?”

Carmine could and the others could only smile on relief as they fell to ground from exhaustion. “It’s been a long month....”

[whereflowersbloom]

Shadows and thorns

Part IV.

Ahsan Manzil, the main residence of the royal family had been silent and mostly empty after welcoming the visitor, royals and nobles last night. The silence had been as comforting then as it was now as Damian did not want this conversation to be heard by the wrong ears. Even in his own chamber they had to be cautious so the Prince had given orders to the servants that he and Jon were not to be bothered. Not even Timothy Drake who had helped come up with this plan in the first place, was there. Damian did not wish to catch the eyes of his grandfather’s spies.

Richard Grayson watched his good friend and Prince pace restlessly in his royal chambers for what it seemed like an hour. Damian had to announce the betrothal to his Grandfather and the whole kingdom before the tourney ended. Yet, the man stuck himself in deep thoughts, instead of actions. That was unusual. It was the first seeing his friend grossly unsettled.

Damian felt his pulse elevating slightly, there was a dull pounding in his head. His plans for the day included persuade Jon to join his cause, with the house of El by his side and the Shadows,he was positive his strategy could assure the other a noble houses, the coup endeavor would succeed. Here he was, ready to tell his best friend, the man he trusted with his own life, the ploy to overthrow his grandfather who was no longer in condition to rule. Damian was aware that his words could be considered treasonous if anyone else heard them, and anyone who knew his grandfather, Ra’s wouldn't bat an eye to order his own flesh, his only grandson’s execution.

He also admitted to himself, he felt conflicted for what he was about to ask Jon as it shamed him a bit. It was an unbecoming and unfair task to put to Jonathan when the man only ever strived to be as honorable as possible. But the Al Ghul house had to do what was necessary, the security of his nation was in danger. Damian would not disappoint his people, letting them suffer the King’s ruthless cruelty. It was enough.

“May I enter, your Grace?” The soft and gentle voice of Jonathan El resonated, pounding on the copper covering Damian’s chamber massive wood door. The door opened a crack, revealing the imposing figure of Richard. The servant step aside and let Jon inside the room, handsomely dressed, with a shy half-hidden smile. Damian stopped wandering around the room instantly, standing next to a ormolu mounted, ebony and fruitwood table, several rolls of paper lying there. Damian gave his friend a serious look before speaking.

"I urge you to keep the words from this room secret for the nonce.” The crown Prince continued. "In time, I will reach out to other houses, but for now I would rather my plan be of the utmost secrecy." The somber expression on Damian’s expression made an impression on his friend, for the characteristic smile on Jon’s friend disappeared as he frowned. Jon looked shocked, but composed himself after a few seconds, confusion in his expression was an obvious thing, but who could blame him.

Both Richard and Jonathan. Each man nodded solemnly, aware of the implications of their actions. If the prince asked for their silence, it meant even speaking with the prince about this, was possibly considered an act of high treason, punishable by death or any other punishment the King saw fit.

"The King is paranoid. He thinks the other Nations are plotting against him and he is preparing for the battle before they take action first." The heir of house El’s frowns as he takes a seat, his mind completely muddled. Damian continued after giving him several seconds to process the information. "I believe the King is no longer apt for the Al Ghul throne. You know what they call him, Jon. The demon King. And each day it's worst. I'm deeply concerned for the realm.”

He saw the dark haired man's face turn to stone, an understandable reaction considering who his grandfather was, the Demon King commoners and nobles equally called him, and when a cruel King as Ra’s was, sends a party to your lands, it is a reason to be concerned.

“Damian, you understand what it means. My house..” Jon muttered severely. His sapphire eyes widened at the revelation, frozen in his seat. The words that just left his Prince’s mouth were dangerous if listened by the wrong person. He had a clue were the conversation was going and a chill climbed up his spine. What his friend wished to ask him. Treason, was the word crossing his mind incessantly.

“I need you Jon.” His old friend said a harder note coming into his voice.

"What will you do?" he asked in a serious tone, staring expectantly at the young heir, man in front of him, and Damian had never felt so pressured before in his entire life. He did not want his friend to be severely punished, bring dishonor to his house name. It was a matter of life and death now. Theirs and his people.

“I’m sorry Jon. It must be you. You’re my only trusted friend from a high-born house I can share my idea with.” He continued, giving Jon an apologetic glance, asking silently for his help when he needed it most. “For reasons I can’t say, we must be wary now. We may have enemies in the realm.” He breathed darkly, his green eyes narrowed.

Jon considered carefully and wisely the prince’s petition. Treason was involved. A coup was required for Damian to take the throne. He had chosen his friend as his king, he had sworn him his sword and his support in his attempts at ushering change in the Kingdom. Damian wanted to call a Great Council, members from the most influential noble houses of Nanda Parbat, who would speak on behalf of the others, considering their needs and interests. Jonathan was resolved to stay by his friend and prince side whatever may come.

“When the time comes, you’ll have my support, my friend.” Jon exhaled in agreement, promising his word and sword to his friend, feeling a pressure in his chest and head built to new heights. But he was willing to risk his head for his friend and the future of Nanda Parbat. “Now all you must do is marry and have a heir as soon as possible. Have you chosen a bride already?” He stood and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, smiling warmly at him, with genuine affection.

A vivid image of his lovely Rhachel’s slender waist curved with pregnancy came to his mind. He closed his eyes, remembering, feeling the sudden urge to see her and hear her daring, charming voice, touch her flawless fair and silky skin. “I have. There’s some arrangements to be discussed before I can announce it publicly.” He took a deep breath, changing direction for a moment. "I hope to take the throne with as little bloodshed as possible.” He sighed as he thought of the battle to come, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. Only then he noticed just how tired he was, his fatigue mounting considerably. Exhausted of his grandfather’s madness, his wickedness. The things he did to his father.

“Now you must tell the details about this Lady. Who’s the bride to be of Damian Al Ghul?” Jon asked curiously, a perky and boyish smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he began patting on his boyhood friend’s back. "Rhachel Roth from Azarath.” Damian breathed with a broad smile on his lips. She was a beauty, truly stunning with those moonlight locks and amethyst eyes on fire, but he knew what hid under that beautiful exterior. He let out a musical, wholehearted chuckle the moments Jon’s eyes were wide open by the surprise, and proceeded to delineate with precise details the situation to his cheerful, gentle friend, who was overwhelming him with numerous questions.

The corner of his eyes catching a glimpse of Richard’s face, trying his best to repress a mocking chortle.

Rhachel Roth was a storm and Damian Al Ghul was unexpectedly and helplessly falling for her.

~~~

A hot bath was already waiting for her, when she reached her chambers, a bed full of pillows in silk covers that seemed so tempting after her long day were calling her in. A mound of different bright colored fruits rested upon a bronze recipient in a wooden table next to the balcony. She walked to the balcony and looked out. She could see the night sky adorned with ancient and brilliant stars. The wilderness stretched before her in a never ending landscape of dense forests and rolling hills. It was as if the was discovering a whole new world, her eyes roaming across mysterious lands that would take her weeks to ride through with Melchior. If only she could stay. But she couldn’t. At least she could't complain of her accommodations. It was a glorious and majestic palace.

The single thought of her wedding made her sick, thinking of all the people that would be attending, people she didn’t know expecting her to act like the princess she was supposed to be, a dutiful, committed wife and queen. After that, her old life would be gone. She’d say goodbye to her home and Constantine. Everything she knew would be left behind and a new beginning awaited her in Westland. With Wallace West. Not Prince Damian. She did. She was struck breathless the moment he saw him but she didn’t allow her lips confess the truth. It didn’t matter how much they longed for each other.

She lowered her body underneath the covers of the enormous bed, curling up on a pillow. Her mind filled with thoughts of Damian. Damian sleeping beside her, his hands circling her waist, holding her heart-shaped face, her legs entangled inhis manly ones, her hands tenderly wrapped around him, his vivid eyes looking deeply into her violet ones. Her rational mind stopping her deep romantic nature from demanding what she wanted, from asking for that quenching. She wanted it to come freely, like flowers that are given and not requested. She fell asleep gradually, dreaming of his dark haired prince, with olive skin and emerald eyes, his lips wandering every inch of her pale skin.

~~~

“My Lady Roth. It is time to wake up.” A young was shaking her shoulders gently. “Lady Rhachel, please. I brought a present from the Prince, for you. “ The woman continued shaking her shoulder with more strength now. She finally blinked open her amethyst eyes,wincing at the sunlight streaming through the windows. The woman she did not recognize sighed with relief and smiled at her enthusiastically. “Oh finally! My Lady, I’ve brought a present from the crown Prince. You must wear it for the tourney.” The unknown woman tmurmured as she pulled back the dark duvet.

“You look dreadful, my lady.” The maid told her blatantly. Rhachel blinked at her words. This lady was evidently brutally honest. “Apologies, Princess. I am your maid in waiting, Korinna Anders.” She covered her mouth when she realized she had spoken out of term and bowed to greet her formally.

“My maid in waiting? A present?” She sat up on the bed, studying the woman in first of her. The had bronze complexion, dark red locks and green eyes that remind her of limes. She seemed to be a candid and good-natured woman, someone she could trust she hoped.

“The prince ordered me to come here and serve only you. I apologize for disturbing your sleep, my Lady.” The red-haired woman said calmly, curtsying low as she opened the box she had been carrying. Out of it she pulled the most splendid gown she had ever seen.

“I found myself utterly exhausted after the feast.” She told her new maid in waiting as she almost stumbled getting out of the bed. The maid passed her a robe and a basin of cold water. She splashed it over her face. It was revitalizing, the weather was too hot for her liking today. “It’s exquisite. Will you help me put it on?” She asked softly.

Kori as she called her in her head fetched her breakfast while she cleaned herself up, and by the time she was finished, there was freshly made bread and fruit waiting for her.

Eventually she had to stand to get dressed, and the cloth came away. She shook her head in bewilderment. What were Damian’s intentions sending her a gown? Hidden motives she thought. The maid laced her up into a heavy magnificent gown.

The bodice, embroidered with pearls and diamond-like shiny stones, tightened her already small waist in a way that accentuated her curves, the cleavage seemed to adapt to the form of her breasts, leaving a little uncovered area at the center of them in a way that it almost made her blush, her shoulders were bare and left her back free of any fabric in a V shape. The skirts were a vision in shades of pink and light lavender silks.

Her long white hair had been braided in several braids down her back, adorned with small white roses and lilac flowers. Wisps of loose hair fell around her face, tendrils wild and romantic-looking. Her reflection in the mirror astonished her. She felt beautiful. Desirable. Was that really her?

“You’re a beautiful sight to behold, my Lady. You’ll take the breath away from all the Lords and Knights.” Kori’s words assured, speaking incessantly about her blinding, unique beauty.

She was ready to attend the grand tournament. If Damian wanted to play with fire, both could play it.

Im back with a new chapter 🙈🙈🙈🙈😂😂💜💜💜💜❤️❤️

@deep-in-mind67 @chromium7sky @ravenfan1242 @andthendk

[dansnaturepictures]

12/03/2021-Part 1: The wildlife photos and tales: 5 pictures in this photoset are different to the ones I tweeted tonight and they are first, third, sixth, seventh and ninth in this photoset 

With 41 photos produced today I am trying something slightly different and uploading to Tumblr only and not Twitter for fifteen photos across two blogs, five of them in this one, and to do this with good amounts taken of each I am doing one blog with my wildlife photos and experiences today and another my next post on the landscape side of things. This is to reduce the amount I tweet in the evening and if I produce more than 30 or well beyond 30 pictures in a day anyway I do this with the exclusive uploads for Tumblr in places, but it just meant I wasn’t telling wildlife stories in the post without showing any picture I took of it like I usually do for a lower yield as I’d tweeted that one which can sometimes happen I feel. 

My day of birds started whilst I was working this morning by seeing the Starlings shown in the first two pictures in this photoset taken with my bridge camera in a feeding house we have in the garden a fairly new one. The second picture solely showing the tame Starling that we got sensational views of whilst out in the garden on Sunday as it was so approachable it was interesting it returned. My Mum had told me it was there and I took these photos by contrast inside the house. I also took the third picture in this photoset of a Woodpigeon out the back. 

I then took the fourth-eighth pictures in this photoset at Lakeside of Greylag Goose, Mallard female and male, Coot and Canada Geese on and by the lakes. The Greylags and Mallards in particular were wallowing in an interesting bit of mud at the base of beach lake prominent after the rain of Wednesday in particular and some today and yesterday which was interesting. This allowed me some great chance to really see these lovely waterbirds up close, take them in and appreciate them which I found powerful today. I also was impressed again with my new lens for detail on bird photos it was perhaps brought more for landscapes but since I got it for my birthday I have found it can be good detail wise for subjects such as birds up close. But it said something about the walk I think that with my big lens and macro with me too all but one of my wildlife photos was taken with this normal lens and that was because I was lucky to get so close to the birds today. It was also memorable to see Lesser Black-backed Gull pair on beach lake once more, and on concorde lake a delightful group of Tufted Ducks with one memorably seen splashing in a landscape shot I took and tweeted on Dans_Pictures tonight. As I walked on through the wooded path area I took the ninth picture in this photoset. 

I was delighted as I walked south of the Monks Brook Halt railway station platform to spot a little bird going up a tree and binocular views it was as suspected only my second ever Treecreeper for this site after November. I was so thrilled to see this as because of my history with them here, whilst a common bird to see in woods elsewhere, this is one of those members of the group of rarer birds I have seen at Lakeside during my working from home days which I have loved. I was stood pretty far back to the tree in question by this point and I kept my eye on the bird as I took what felt like an age to grab my big lens from the bag and put it on. I wanted a photo of a bird I have so rarely photographed, and this tool was needed. I half expected it to have flown by the time I had the lens on but it hadn’t and I snapped the tenth and final picture in this photoset of this Treecreeper. What followed was definitely my most prolonged view of a Treecreeper, and possibly the or one of my best ever views of this species. 

I edged carefully closer and stood on the steps that take you down to the lake from here with a slop beside for those who want to walk like that a feature of Lakeside I have known since I was a child. To my amazement it was still there, I couldn’t muster a photo to take forward of some took whilst closer as it was not naturally a bird that looked facing me or anything so none of the closer ones really showed its face or were different enough to this one. But it was phenomenal to as doesn’t happen in the vast majority of my sightings of these birds see the Treecreeper creep up the tree bit by bit scuttling away and not switch sides at all going round the back or fly off for a while. At a stills safe but slightly closer distance I got to take in its impressive and adapted feet, wonderful colours and strong beak among other things. Seeing what a magical and quirky bird it truly it. It was exceptional to be so close and to get to see so long a stunning bird. I liked taking the tenth picture and was pleased with how it came out I shall compare them at some point but I think this could be if not my best ever effort for this bird quality wise I have not photographed a lot down the years in the top 2 I did take a memorable Treecreeper picture at Denny Wood in the New Forest in late 2017 which was feeding on a flat log where good was placed but I can hands down say this is the best picture I’ve ever taken of a Treecreeper creeping up the tree today living up to its name and I was thrilled with that. A special natural moment that really lifted me in my lunch break and gave me something to be so attentive to and just admire, what a day and what a week again for birds in the end for me. 

Wildlife Sightings Summary for all of today: Treecreeper, great views of Chaffinch and Great Tit at Lakeside too, House Sparrow, Starling, Woodpigeon, Collard Dove, Carrion Crow, Magpie from the house after a slight absence recently of them here, Tufted Duck, Mallard, Coot, Moorhen, Canada Goose, Greylag Goose, Lesser Black-backed Gull, Black-headed Gull and another great bee in recent days.  

In my next post are 10 different landscapes and other photos to those I tweeted tonight. I hope you all have a nice weekend. 

[vannahfanfics]

Cat’s Cradle

Category: Friendship Fluff

Fandom: Noragami

Characters: Hiyori Iki, Yukiné

The tip of Yukiné’s tongue poked out of his lips as he concentrated on the pixelated figures dashing across the screen of his handheld console game. Little grunts and chimes floated out of the small speakers in tune with the frantic mashing of his thumbs and forefinger against the buttons and trigger buttons. His face screwed up tight in determination; then, a pout overtook his boyish features when a bright red “You died! ” splashed in grotesque, bloody font across the screen. With a groan, he dropped the console down into his lap and pushed his cheeks into his hands. 

“Dumb game,” he muttered under his breath. Yukiné’s rose-gold eyes wandered around Hiyori’s bedroom to drink in the dainty charm of her decór- a simple queen-sized bed with a pillowy comfortable, some wrestling posters plastered on the walls, her cute little lamp perched on the side table. As his eyes drifted to her desk laden with papers and textbooks, he found her hunched over a book highlighting almost every sentence on the page. For a moment, he considered leaving the girl to her own devices. However, the videogame was no longer fun, and there was almost nothing Yukiné hated more than boredom. 

“Hiyoriiiiii,” he whined loudly. The girl swept a swathe of her hair over her shoulder, pencil grazing a line of lead over her cheek, as she peered out of her peripheral vision at him. He puffed out his cheeks and watered his eyes to appeal to the girl’s motherly instincts. “Hiyori, I’m bored. Play with me.” 

Hiyori’s lips curled into a smile, half-amused and half-chastising. Yet, she pushed herself away from her desk and turned her rolling chair towards him. Yukiné wriggled in happiness and straightened up in the bean bag chair, already eagerly anticipating whatever delight Hiyori had in store for him. She was a unique young lady with many niche interests, and- though he’d never admit it- her quirky little games and suggestions for fun thoroughly amused him. He suppressed his excitement, painting a bored look onto his face and plopping back down into a slouch. He had a reputation to maintain, after all. Hiyori was too busy stretching her arms above her head to notice his slip-up. 

“Ahhhh,” the girl sighed pleasantly before dropping her arms down onto her thighs with soft plops. Yukiné blinked expectantly at her. Her already friendly smile widened to crinkle up her eyes. The small and probably unconscious act made Yukiné’s heart flutter in his chest and brushed rose across his cheeks; Hiyori’s kind, motherly nature always stirred him this way. He hadn’t the foggiest idea why. 

“Okay, Yukiné,” she chirped. “I needed a break from studying anyhow. Now, let’s see, what should we play today?” She tilted her head to the side as she tapped the pad of her index finger against her pursed pink lips. “Oh! I know!” she declared, holding up her index finger as an idea sparked in her head. “Have you ever played the cat’s cradle?” 

“Cat’s cradle?” he echoed. It sounded vaguely familiar, so it was probably some popular goofy kid’s game (which explained why Hiyori would enjoy it). Still, he couldn’t directly recall ever playing, so he shook his head. 

Hiyori’s eyes sparkled with delight, and she trilled while wrenching the chair back around so she could rummage through her desk drawers. 

“Eee! This is gonna be fun. It’s really simple,” she hummed happily while rifling underneath some stray papers in a deep drawer. “Ah-ha! Here we go.” Yukiné cocked a skeptical eyebrow as she procured a long piece of red yarn from within the depths of the desk. His reluctance went unnoticed to Hiyori, who merely whirled back around and wiggled excitedly in the rolling chair. “Okay! Here’s a piece of yarn for you, Yukiné,” she said as she snipped the string in half. 

“For me?” he asked, dumbly watching the woven fiber twist and turn to puddle on the carpet. He pinched the end of the twisted strand between his thumb and forefinger and held it up like he was holding some sort of writhing snake. “This is… yarn.” Hiyori nodded jubilantly. 

“Yep! Now, just watch me.” Yukiné began to wonder if all the cramming for her exams had fried Hiyori’s brains. Still, he observed as she tied off the end of the yarn to form a loop before winding it around her fingers. It was clear she’d practiced the maneuver many times, as her fingers slipped seamlessly through the yarn to draw it in taut straight lines. When she displayed her handiwork for him with a beaming smile, Yukiné did his best to appear impressed. 

“Looks… great.” 

“You see that hole in the middle? Stick your hand through!” 

“What?” Yukiné exclaimed as the game took a turn for the ridiculous. Hiyori continued to smile brightly down at him, making his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He muttered something unflattering about the cat’s cradle game under his breath but stuck his hand through the hole in the threaded yarn, not wishing to upset Hiyori by refusing. All that would happen is that the thread would knot up around his wrist. Hiyori giggled mischievously, making him momentarily question the game’s simplicity, and tugged her hands apart. Much to his shock, the yarn sprung apart in such a way to leave his wrist completely free. It now rested back in the loop, no tangles in sight. 

“Whoa! How’d you do that?” he cried and jerked up his piece of string to critically inspect it. He had no idea how trick string could be made, but surely there must be some trick involved with the yarn, right? Hiyori laughed spiritedly at his confusion. 

“There’s no trick, Yukiné,” she purred, tickled by the ghostly boy’s confusion. He glanced up at her with marveling rose-gold eyes. “Come here; I’ll show you how to make it.” 

Yukiné obediently scooched a bit closer. He watched in wonder as she talked him through the steps of how to place his fingers just so around the string to form the lines in such a way they’d spring apart upon stretching. After her explanation, he attempted to replicate the steps only to find them much more complicated than they appeared. He scowled as the red yarn knotted up, tying his index and middle fingers together. 

“Hiyori! This is hard!” Yukiné complained indignantly. Hiyori had resumed studying, allowing Yukiné to riddle out the intricacies of the cat’s cradle for himself. She paused to rest her hand in her cheek, dotting her face with yellow highlighter ink as she gazed amusedly down at him. 

“Yukiné, most things in life that are rewarding are hard,” she told him poignantly. “If you live life only taking the easy way out, you’ll find at the end that it’s been pretty dull and meaningless.” The blond boy’s face contorted into an accusatory glare. 

“Hiyori, did you do this to teach me a lesson?” 

The high school girl laughed airily and dropped her hand back down to her desk. She wiggled the end of the highlighter in time with the side-to-side motions of her head as she sang mysteriously, “Oh, I dunnooooo~!” Yukiné’s scowl deepened as she all but confirmed his suspicions. He should have known better than to nag her to play because he was pissed off at losing his videogame; of course she’d cook up a scheme like this! “What?” she cooed challengingly and flashed him a wink. “Gonna give up now?”

“No!” he snapped and wrenched his tangled hands away from her as if to protect them from any harm she may bring to his efforts. Huffing, he used his feet to turn his body in a circle across the carpet. He boldly presented his back to her. “I’m gonna do it! Just get back to studying!” he cried with a toss of his head, the little poofballs at the end of his hat jumping with the exaggerated motion. He hunched his shoulders as Hiyori chuckled again. Damn woman. I’ll show her! he thought grumpily. He pried his finger free of the red yarn to try again. 

The afternoon passed without him noticing. The only reason he looked up from the mess of red string around his fingers was that Hiyori’s soft snores finally drifted into his ears. The girl splayed across the desk. Her gaping mouth seeped drool across the already sodden page of the textbook, and her hands dangled by her sides. Part of Yukiné regarded her with slight disdain, but the great majority of him admired her with affection. 

“Silly Hiyori,” he sighed, allowing the yarn to slip from his fingertips as he rose from the floor. “You work too hard.” He crossed the room to pluck the throw blanket from the end of her bed. As he walked back, he unfurled it, and the stitched hem dropped down to his feet. Carefully, he draped the blanket over the girl’s shoulders. “G’night,” he whispered before flipping off the lamp on her bedside table. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Yato was waiting for him at the usual place, sprawled out on his back on the park bench to stare up at the starry night sky like he was trying to riddle the world’s secrets from it. The god turned as Yukiné approached, giving him a curious look. 

“You stayed pretty late at Hiyori’s today,” he commented. “Don’t tell me you’ve taken on a new appreciation for her tutoring.” He had neglected to tell Yato that Hiyori had given him the day off to study for her examinations and allowed Yukiné to stay because she enjoyed the pleasure of someone else’s company. 

“Pfft. Whatever,” Yukiné evaded. Much used to his punk attitude by now, Yato only shrugged and returned his contemplative gaze to the landscape of black pinpricked with white stretched above them. Yukiné paused a few feet away, chewing on his lip and fingering the loop of red yarn stuffed into his coat pocket. “Actually… Hiyori did teach me something today. Not school-related, but something else. Can I… can I show you?” 

This time, when Yato looked over, he slipped his legs off the bench to roll himself up into a sitting position. With glinting sky-blue eyes like chips of aquamarine, the god regarded him eagerly. Yukiné took it as an invitation and plodded over. He pulled the red string out as he did. 

Yato’s gaze dropped down to the yarn. If he recognized what Yukiné was about to do, he said nothing; he only silently watched as his Regalia threaded his fingers through the string to form a pattern of lines. When Yukiné thrust out his hands to silently indicate to Yato to put his hand through, the god did so with no comment. Yukiné couldn’t help but smile triumphantly as he pulled the string apart, and it threaded back into the loop as intended. 

“The cat’s cradle,” Yato smiled as Yukiné retracted the yarn and slipped it back into his pocket. 

“Yeah!” The young boy shoved his hands in his pockets, twisting the string around the tip of his index finger as he held it in his hoodie. “It took me a long time to learn… That’s why I ended up staying so late.” 

“You? Work at something tirelessly instead of giving up? I’m shocked. I must finally be having a good influence on you,” Yato declared haughtily. Yukiné scowled and kicked him in the shin, causing the skinny god to whimper. “Ah, Yukiné, you’re so mean… Why do you wound your master so…?” 

“Because you’re an arrogant idiot!” the blond seethed, stomping to the other end of their outdoor abode to plop down. He twisted the string around in his pocket. The anger bubbled away, especially when he thought about how he could show the completed cat’s cradle to Hiyori tomorrow. “Hiyori said… Hiyori said that most things in life are hard but still worth doing. It’s just a cat’s cradle, but…” A small smile graced his pale face. “I worked hard, and now I get to surprise Hiyori with it tomorrow, so… I guess she was right.” 

Yato was quiet for several seconds- so long that Yukiné wondered if he even heard him in the first place. Just as annoyance began to boil up in his blood, Yato spoke- softly, just a breath on the wind and more as a self-reassurance than as a response to Yukiné. 

“Yeah. Yeah, they are.” 

The wind swept across the landscape with a small howl. It plucked at Yukiné’s clothes with eager fingers and nipped at the blond curls of his hair poking out from beneath the rim of his woven wool hat. It was chilly; such was the price to pay for living outside. Someday we won’t have to, he thought, smiling slightly. Most things in life are hard… But they pay off in the end, don’t they? They have to, otherwise… What are we doing all this for? 

As Yukiné laid on his side, he procured the string again and began mindlessly weaving the cat’s cradle. The fibers reflected the moonlight streaming down from above to shine like woven red coral. He fell asleep with a tiny smile, hands tangled in the red string. 

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,498

Tag List: @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali, @shrimpmsg, @ggukkieland​

AN: I have nothing. Nothing except for...I’m sorry... T_T

Chapter 58: Killer

“I’m not Buddha but I’m a butcher. I’ll cut away your skin like a...”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Namjoon slowly slid the black cotton mask from his mouth and nose, waiting in the shadows of an alcove outside of the building. The small group of men he had with him, former Golden Jackals, huddled in the darkness. They were able to overtake the side entrance hours ago, before the crack of dawn. He made sure that no one of merit within the Jade Fangs would approach the designated area. Even if they did, Namjoon would have made it a point to subdue them completely. He would leave their bodies for the crows out in the muddy fields if he had his way.

But no, this was the moment where they would turn the tides. This was the beginning of the end.

We finish this today…

Lifting a cigarette to his lips, the orange glow of the flame licked at the end of the stick as a light crackling sound emitted itself from the contact. A few hushed conversations were going on beside him, to which he vaguely tuned in. They were out to prove themselves to the fallen brothers and sisters still imprisoned in the world they were forced to live in when adventuring into the light. But it was a life they deserved; a life they fought so hard for. Whether they lived or died after today, it would all be relevant to their future.

Pulling out his watch, Namjoon immediately flipped open the latch that covered the face. He was old-fashioned, so to speak, and a bit of a sentimentalist. Jimin teased him once about still carrying a pocket watch in this day and age, but how could he let it go?

It was a graduation gift Jungkook bought for him just before he moved to attend University in Seoul.

Time seemingly crawled; all of them were prepared to launch their first assault against the Jade Fangs. Namjoon already planned to be the first to cause the strike. He would need to ensure that the blast counted for something, otherwise it was all just going to get mucked up in the end. He would not have any screw-ups. Not while he was in charge of the first wave. Their offense was cut in half with Jungkook and Jimin pulled from the equation.

Pulling his ball cap down further on his head, he slipped the watch back into his pocket. Namjoon took one final drag of his cigarette, the smoke cloud billowing in his face and partially clouding his vision. However, in the shadows it seemed as if he were a dragon on the verge of breathing out a tremendous vortex of flame. One of the men approached him, nodding quickly. Namjoon grinned, his eyes narrowing slightly.

The gas line had successfully been cut.

“It’s time,” he said, his voice deep and commanding.

In sync, all of them slipped their masks over their faces. The cigarette fell to his feet and sparked with the faint light of its embers before finally dying out altogether. They could hear the approaching footsteps growing in time and Namjoon pulled out his hunting knives. As soon as they were in the right position, he disappeared and then reappeared at the front of the room which was in full view of the four different ways that many of the others could enter what was now to be viewed as their battlefield.

Now he had to wait for the show to truly begin.

Yoongi and his team were situated near the back of the factory, hiding in the thick brushes and reeds that were in desperate need of attention and care. Changkyun felt it wasn’t time to tidy up the landscape and that allowed for the perfect amount of camouflage. Namjoon already texted him earlier, telling him that he was in position with his team. Taehyung and his group were hidden within the factory, away from prying eyes. Once all the pieces were lined up, it would be his job to tip the first domino.

He couldn’t fucking wait.

Yoongi felt a dark smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. To think they’d spent the better part of three days planning this out. It almost seemed far fetched and he would never have gone along with something like this. Not until Namjoon convinced him just how solid this counterattack would be. Because they were using Changkyun’s ego against him. He may have broken them by taking their brothers from them and left them feeling demoralized from how thoroughly they’d been ruined. But what Changkyun failed to see was the very thing Hoseok kept hidden away from the Jade Fangs all these years. The thing that he made sure they all kept hidden from them.

Their very own malicious nature.

He felt a buzzing in his pocket and he pulled out his phone, eyeballing the screen. It was time for him to make his move. Slipping out from his hiding spot, he made a point to make as much noise as possible. He wanted to be found. He wanted his path impeded.

His men would remain hidden.

The shuffling of feet reached Yoongi and he was soon surrounded in a semi-circle by Jade Fang lackeys. Pushing his way through the small throng was Kihyun, a curious expression painted over his features. Yoongi pulled out a cigarette and lit the end, slipping the lighter into his pocket. He watched Kihyun place himself in front of him, his back to the window of the factory.

“You should really quit while you’re ahead, Yoongi-ah,” said Kihyun, a baseball bat draped over his shoulder, “those things’ll kill you.”

“My smoking habits should be the least of your concerns,” he replied, cigarette poking out from between his lips.

Kihyun laughed, shaking his dark chestnut bangs out of his eyes. “I thought the meeting agreement was for Hoseok to come. Why are you here?”

Yoongi scoffed. “Did you really think, after everything you guys have done, that we’d trust Hoseok to come here alone with just one of us?”

“And let me guess…” He watched Kihyun as he took a step forward. “…you’re watching the back in case we try to do something underhanded?”

“Nope.”

He tried not to relish in the frown that Kihyun gave him. The heavy thudding of his heartbeat only elevated the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Every square inch of him felt as cold as ice. But he could feel the fire pouring from his eyes.

Yoongi looked at Kihyun, his eyes shifting ever so slightly to the left. He saw the window slowly opening – silent. He would thank Taehyung later for oiling all the windows and doors on every side of the warehouse except for the front.

He pulled the cigarette from his lips, blowing smoke at Kihyun. Flashing his gummy smile, his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head back slightly.

“I’m in the back so I can blow it up.”

And with a quick flick of his wrist, Yoongi threw the cigarette through the open window.

The explosion that soon followed knocked them all back.

Taehyung’s back hurt.

He’d been perched in the rafters for hours – having arrived at the factory long before anyone else appeared. There was an almost methodical madness to how carefully he oiled all the door hinges and window panes that didn’t come from the front of the warehouse. He was wired from both adrenaline and caffeine, knowing full well that today would be the day that everything would end. He knew his brothers were on edge, both from the planning and from the unpredictable nature that he exuded constantly.

But he had to be. Taehyung knew that if they knew what truly ticked around in his mind, they would do everything in their power to keep him from coming along. They would have left him behind.

And he’d be damned if that happened.

There was a single skylight in the factory situated dead in the center of the roof. Taehyung’s team already made short work of the lackeys that tried to come to the roof earlier that morning. No upper tiered members of the Jade Fangs were on rooftop duty. Taehyung already made a mental note of where everyone else was.

Hyungwon and Jooheon were patrolling the left side of the building; the side where Namjoon and his team were. One of Taehyung’s team was already deep inside of the factory, following the blueprint that Namjoon gave him, taking him straight to where the main gas line was. Once he finished cutting the line, he was to head to the boiler room.

Kihyun and Minhyuk supervised the back side of the factory, in case they were flanked. Yoongi was there with his group. He was the “gunshot” that would start the race. He was the only one who would be able to catch them off guard. Besides, he knew that Yoongi was also a bit of a pyromaniac and wouldn’t have been satisfied if he wasn’t the one to set off the explosion.

Which left Shownu, Wonho and Changkyun on the inside. Hoseok and Seokjin were sent in not as bait, but as a distraction. Then it would be time to bring the entire building down on top of their heads. Blood would be spilt. Lives would be lost.

Taehyung would eviscerate them all.

The building shook violently, causing Taehyung to grip onto the metal rafters. He leaned forward; one knee pressed into the beam beneath him. Shouts of confusion were heard from below him and he flashed a manic grin where no one could have the pleasure to see. Screams of pain resounded as glass shattered from below, his eyes searching for Seokjin. He was already making his way around a set of crates, having swiftly dispatched several Jade Fang members during all the chaos.

More glass broke and metal doors were slammed wide open. Dozens of Golden Jackal members flooded the factory, tangling themselves in a fight. The glass covering from the skylight also shattered, raining down into the factory. Several ropes dropped from the ceiling and Taehyung stood to his full height as his team descended from the open hatch. Some dropped to the ground while others swung from their ropes, landing on top of unsuspecting lackeys. Blood spewed as knives plunged into bodies from both sides.

Taehyung ran, jumping out as far as he could and stretching his arms out. He grasped onto a rope, swinging around until his leather gloved hands allowed him to slide down. He shoved his body around, changing his trajectory in mid-air so he was heading straight for the manager’s office.

His legs extended out as he watched Shownu scrambling to his feet. Taehyung crashed his heels directly into Shownu’s chest, knocking him back. As he straddled the older man’s hips, he quickly unsheathed the large hunting knife from his back – aiming it straight for Shownu’s chest.

He grunted when Shownu used his arms to block the blow – their forearms crashing into one another. Taehyung’s arms shook violently as he tried to force them down, watching the blade getting closer and closer to Shownu’s throat. He could feel the capillaries in his eyes exploding, his vision blurring momentarily, before a scream erupted from his lungs.

Releasing one hand from the hilt of the knife, Taehyung punched furiously at Shownu’s rib cage. The older man attempted a counterattack, using his knee to slam into Taehyung’s back. The force of the blow caused him to fall forward and he felt Shownu’s fingers closing in around his throat. Taehyung continued to punch him even as he felt the air being choked from him.

He punched him one more time, using his fingers to dig into Shownu’s side. He buried them, like he was digging through mud for shells. He twisted his fingers and pulled, tearing through the fabric of the other man’s shirt.

Turning his head and leaning forward, Taehyung snapped his teeth into Shownu’s knuckles. He bit through the skin, blood spraying into his mouth. The older man screamed but he could barely hear it over the noise of battle being waged all around them. He pulled his hand from Shownu’s side, gripped his other hand, and put all his weight down.

The blade slowly buried itself into Shownu’s chest.

Hoseok’s knee crashed into the ground as Changkyun struggled to maintain his own footing. The two men glared at each other just as the noises from outside became more and more prevalent. Hoseok smirked as he saw Changkyun race to the window, peering out to the factory floor below. He managed to get back onto his feet just as the Jade Fang’s leader turned to glance over his shoulder at him. Hoseok took pleasure in seeing the snarl forming on the man’s face.

“You,” he snapped, turning around to face him again.

Hoseok dusted off the backs of his pants, his arms going up into a defensive stance as his hands curled into fists. “Yes. Me.”

Changkyun quickly raced to the other side of the room, his hand sliding under the table. Hoseok narrowed his eyes when he next turned around, a knife held in his hand. He scoffed. Maybe he would have been surprised if Taehyung hadn’t already told him what was hidden there.

“So, you expected me to come unarmed, but then have a knife hidden away?” Hoseok shook his head. “I’m so fuckin’ disappointed in you right now.”

“Shut-up!”

Changkyun ran at him, his arm striking out to slash at Hoseok’s neck. But he was faster because he was thinking clearly. He wasn’t about to let anyone stop him from accomplishing what he wanted to do on this day.

He dodged, side-stepping Changkyun at the last second. Reaching up to his lips, Hoseok pulled out the small razor he had hidden in his mouth. Ducking the next blow, he slung his arm upward and slashed over where Changkyun’s right eye was. A stream of blood sprayed and Changkyun moved to cover one hand over his eye as a trail of crimson leaked from beneath his palm.

Dropping the razor, he closed the distance between them as Changkyun attempted another assault. But with his depth-perception thrown off, he swung blindly. Hoseok slammed his elbow into his chest, aiming a backfist to his throat, and used his other hand to quickly disarm him. Before the knife could fall to the floor, Hoseok was already snatching it out of the air.

Spinning around on his back heel, he roughly slammed his back into Changkyun’s chest – forcing his body to bang against the door. Hoseok pulled his arms forward, then swung them back. A sickening squelch noise followed as he plunged the knife directly into Changkyun’s gut. He felt the younger man struggling against him, but he put all his weight backward – his shoulder blades pressing into his chest so that Changkyun wouldn’t be able to wriggle himself free.

“H-Hyung,” he heard Changkyun choke out, his hand reaching out to grasp onto Hoseok’s shoulder, “don’t do this. We…we can help each other…”

Taking a step back, Hoseok buried the knife further into Changkyun’s stomach – watching the blood forming a small puddle by his feet.

“…you can fucking die is what you can do.”

Seokjin swore under his breath, eyeballing the small cut on his leg. He hadn’t meant to get caught off guard, but there was so much happening around him. Things got less hairy when Namjoon’s team managed to make it inside. Even in the middle of all the craziness, Seokjin was glad they weren’t having to deal with guns. This would have ended bloodier than it needed to.

His eyes darted in every direction and he barked orders when he needed to as Taehyung’s team swept down from the ceiling. Namjoon was in the thick of it with his people and some of Yoongi’s squad managed to make it inside. There was a hint of worry when he hadn’t been able to locate Yoongi, but he knew he had to trust his brothers to be able to take care of themselves.

If he couldn’t at least do that, then what good was their bond?

The door to the manager’s office flew open, the loud bang rattling throughout all the noise of the fighting. Seokjin’s eyes followed the sound and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Hoseok stumbling out of the door. He nearly tripped on something, seeing Taehyung catching Hoseok at the last second before he could fall. The two of them exchanged words before Taehyung jumped from the catwalk, his arms grabbing for the ropes so he could swing down to the main floor to join the fight. From what Seokjin could tell, Hoseok hadn’t sustained any injuries.

There was movement in Hoseok’s blind spot. Seokjin wasn’t sure if it was one of their people or a Jade Fang member. Not until the very last second.

“HOSEOK-AH!”

Their eyes locked momentarily, but there wasn’t any time. Running from his hiding spot, Seokjin scooped up a discarded knife. He slid to the center of the bottom floor and flung his arm out and upward. Hoseok jumped out of the way just as the knife buried itself in Changkyun’s throat. They watched the Jade Fang’s leader fall backward, presuming that he would not be getting up a second time.

A grateful smile passed over Hoseok’s lips, but soon snapped to surprise as he looked back at Seokjin.

“HYUNG!”

Suddenly, Seokjin felt his body flung to the side. His head hit the ground and the rest of him followed suit. The pain erupted seconds afterwards, his hand reaching up to grasp at the area where his nerves were screaming at him. Fingers caressed something cold and slender. When he pulled, his pain receptors went off like alarms and he screamed, looking around at who was responsible for the assault. As he craned his neck around to see, he spied the rod-like object poking out from his side. Something dribbled from his mouth and he didn’t have to guess to know that it was his own blood.

When he searched around in desperation, his eyes locked with Minhyuk who was holding a crossbow – watching him already reloading the next bolt.

Bodies moved around him in a blur – all of them screaming and fighting for their own lives. They were distracted. None of them realized what was happening.

No one except Hoseok.

Seokjin grinned, crawling to his knees. He could hear Hoseok’s feet thudding along the metal stairs, but he knew he wouldn’t make it in time. He was ready to face this head on. However, what he hadn’t expected was Minhyuk to shift his aim.

To Hoseok.

Eyes wide, Seokjin quickly scrambled to his feet and lunged forward in Hoseok’s direction. He knew his brother wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around him. He was too focused on getting to Seokjin. But by doing so, he was putting himself in danger.

Seokjin knew he had to block his path.

It was like he could sense it. He jumped up and out to the left. Pain blossomed over his back and all feeling from his legs down seemed to disappear. He collapsed into the ground, dirt filling his nostrils, and he cried out in agony as he dug his fingers into the concrete. Soon, he could feel the texture of his own blood mixed with the dirt under his fingernails.

“HYUNG!”

Seokjin couldn’t see, but he knew it was Taehyung’s voice. He blindly reached out, grabbing for what he assumed was Taehyung’s ankle. “H-Hoseok-ah,” he choked out between coughing up blood, “…get him out of here.”

“B-But Hyung—”

“DO IT!”

He felt the ankle leaving his grasp and Seokjin prayed that Taehyung would listen to him. Hoseok had to get out of there. They all had to go. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he was going to make it. Not now; not when he was coughing up blood. Something was internally damaged. He was most likely hemorrhaging already.

Curling onto his side, he grasped at the bolt protruding from him and gripped onto it as hard as he could. As he pulled, visions of Anastasia flashed through his mind, giving him pause. For a moment, he forgot about the pain; he forgot about the world around him.

All he could see was the woman he loved standing in the far corner of the factory as she held their beautiful son. He stretched his arm out, reaching for them as if he could touch them. Tears leaked from his eyes as he smiled – the world blurring and getting just a little bit darker.

…I’m sorry, Ana, he thought, the weight of his arm starting to get heavier, …I’m not going to be able to keep this promise…I love you… He felt his elbow hit the concrete, followed by his head.

I’m going to see my brothers now. Forgive me…

Everything grew quiet around him.

[d3-iseefire]

Nevermore Chapter Two

Five Years Later - 

Bilba pasted a smile on her face, and lifted the pastry box over the counter. “Here you go, Ma’am. Enjoy.”

The woman, a middle-aged blonde who apparently loved bright colors and oversized sunglasses, smiled brightly. “Thanks. My daughter is going to love it.”

She spun and wound her way through the round white tables and lattice work chairs of the small bakery. 

The second she vanished through the door into the fading light outside, Bilba’s smile vanished. Quietly, she walked around the register and went to the door. She flipped the “open” sign over to “closed” and, with a quick turn of her wrist, locked the door. 

She moved slowly through the room, wiping the tables down and putting the chairs up. The display case had already been emptied so she closed out the register and flipped the lights off. Gloom settled over the room and Bilba suppressed a shiver.

Clutching the money bag far too tightly, she pushed through the double doors into the back of the bakery. Here, her co-workers were chatting animatedly as they finished cleaning the room and prepping for the very early morning they would have getting baked goods ready for the day. 

Bilba headed to the small office where her boss, Bombur Urson, was scribbling away in a ledger. She placed the money bag on the desk, coins and paper money rustling and clinking inside, and turned to go. 

“Bilba?” Bombur’s quiet voice stopped her mid-step. “A few of us are going to Arkenstone for a bit. Would you like to join us?”

Bilba put the smile back on, or hoped she did anyway. It had been so long since she’d have a real one that she sometimes forgot what muscles to use. It was impossible for her to tell anymore if what she was doing was smiling, or grimacing.

“Sorry. I have plans.” The lie slid out easily, She’d said it enough times over the last five years, to co-workers, bosses, neighbors in whatever community she’d been living in. They tended to blur together after a while, a murky mass of faces and voices asking her to take part, join in. Belong. 

As if she deserved any of that. 

As if she could have it even if she wanted it. 

Bombur didn’t seem surprised. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe.” Definitely not. Bilba kept the smile on a few more seconds, and then left the office. Back in the kitchen area, none of her colleagues so much as spared her a glance. Over the two weeks that she’d been there they’d already learned that her response to any personal questions would be vague, and her answer to invitations a polite no. Bombur was the only one to continue to ask, longer than most did, but he’d give up eventually. 

They always did. 

She retrieved her coat and purse from her small locker and pushed through the back door into the brisk fall air. The back of the bakery butted up to a wide open plan and, in the distance, she could see tall, snow capped mountains reaching toward the sky. 

Sometimes, she had to fight a desire to just start walking toward them even though, rationally, she knew they were a lot farther away than they looked. 

She headed around the corner of the building, to the small parking lot in front. The area was newer construction, with wide streets and white bricked buildings with beautiful landscaping that blended into the environment. 

Most of the buildings were only a story or two, a sharp contrast to the densely packed skyscrapers that seemed to just spring out of the ground only a few blocks away. The city state of Erebor liked nature as much as anyone, but they had a firm belief in the idea that everything had its place. The city proper for business with high buildings and narrow streets, and the outskirts and other territories for a slower, more comfortable paced life. 

Bright lights flashed in her vision and Bilba looked across the street to the exception to that rule. Arkenstone, a multi-story entertainment complex that housed everything from a food court, to shopping, a movie theater and, she was told, a very exclusive high end nightclub on the top floor. 

One would think the place wouldn’t do as well, located on the edge of the city as it was and well away from the nightlife center, but the exact opposite was true. Arkenstone played to the exhausted employee, straight off a full shift and wanting to relax a little before going home. Arkenstone allowed them to literally stop by on the way, and to be mere minutes away when the full weight of their day finally hit and all they wanted was a soft bed and their most comfortable pajamas. 

Or so claimed the city’s official website anyway. Personally, Bilba imagined the rumor that Arkenstone was personally owned and operated by Erebor’s ruling family was the greatest allure. She doubted the royals had ever set foot in the place, but the fantasy of bumping into one of them was probably a pretty strong selling point. 

The lights flashed again and she frowned at the giant, diamond shaped...disco diamond? Whatever it was called, the thing was massive, the top reaching over the roof of the building and the pointed bottom ending just above the front doors. It reminded her a little of some of the sparkly balls that various places would drop on New Year’s to ring in the next year. The only difference was this one didn’t move, and it was there all year round. 

She’d heard that the color patterns that flashed every hour from the...whatever...were truly spectacular at night, but she had no plans of ever seeing them. 

A shiver ran over her, as if by simply thinking about the dark she might inadvertently summon it. She looked up, a habit now as ingrained as breathing, to see the sun well past its zenith but not yet officially setting. 

It was going down earlier and earlier as the days clicked toward winter. 

She hated it. 

It would soon be dark as soon as she got up, and dark by the time she finished work. The night was not her friend, hadn’t been for five years now. She tried, as best she could, to get shifts that would allow her to be out only during the day but sometimes, and especially in the later months, it was simply not possible. 

She fumbled her key into the lock of her car, opened the door, and slid in. The worn seats had almost no padding and she could feel the sharp edges of springs poking through tears in the fabric covering.  

The seats hadn’t been ripped when she’d gotten the car. 

She got the key in the ignition, sent up a silent prayer, and turned it. The engine sputtered for a few seconds and  then, mercifully, turned over into an almost smooth rumble. 

Bilba wrapped her hands around the wheel and clenched her fingers until the cracked leather creaked under her fingers. She shut her eyes and let out a long breath. “Okay,” she whispered to herself. “Okay.”

She opened her eyes. Her heart began to thud in her chest, an action now so familiar to her that it felt strange when she couldn’t feel it. An uncomfortable sensation ran through her gut, and a cold sweat broke out on her brow. 

In a movement so slow it was nearly glacial, she pushed up until her eyes peeked over the bottom edge of her rearview mirror. 

The relief she felt at seeing the backseat empty almost brought tears to her eyes. It was quickly erased by the near constant low grade anxiety forever buzzing just under her skin but, for an instant, the relief was nice. It made her feel almost normal. 

Or at least helped her get back a tiny remembrance of what normal had once felt like. 

She backed out of her parking spot, and caught sight of her co-workers and boss on their way to Arkenstone. Bombur gave her a friendly wave and Bilba sent a hesitant one back. It didn’t occur to her until after she’d put her hand down that she’d completely forgotten to fake a smile. 

She pulled into the exit and flipped her signal on, preparing to head toward the city. She’d rented a house this time around, on the very edge of the city where her view out one window was a skyscraper and peaceful suburbia out the other. 

She usually went for apartments, but after what had happened the last time…

She shuddered, and suddenly the house was the last place she wanted to be. The thought of being trapped inside those four walls, in silence, waiting...

Before she could talk herself out of it, she flipped her blinker to signal the opposite direction, looked both ways and then pulled out onto the street. She didn’t know where she was going, just that she was going.

As she got further away from the city, the smatterings of business and strip malls gave way to homes, but not like the simple, tract like homes that lay just outside the city. No, these were the wealthy folk who lived in towering mansions with sloping, manicured lawns, and curving driveways. 

Many of them worked in the city’s palace, built into an actual mountain that served as the border between Erebor and its closest neighbor. Bilba had caught glimpses of it as she’d traveled through the city a time or two, but had never bothered to get close enough to see its entirety. There were tours apparently that people could take through the gardens and some of the ground floors but she doubted she’d have a chance to go on any of them. 

She wouldn’t be here long enough. 

The fancy homes began to peter out as she drove further, and then suddenly she was past them and the land opened up to a...a park?

On both sides of the road were rolling carpets of carefully mowed grass, and plotted out bushes. A wide, rock lined walking path meandered through, bordered on one side by the open spaces and the other by densely packed trees. 

An empty parking lot came into view and Bilba pulled into it, parked, and shut off the engine. Silence set in and, for several minutes, she didn’t move. Finally, she clicked off her seatbelt, opened the door and stepped out. 

The air was cool but still, and the light scent of pine hung in the air. Bilba crossed her arms, hunched her shoulders and headed up into the grassy area. 

Now what? 

She’d had no plan other than not going to the rental house, and now that she’d...arrived, she had no idea what to do. She had no book or anything else with her, and it was too late to consider using the walking trail for anything more than a very short walk. 

She idly wandered over to the trail, and was surprised at how beautiful it was. It was wide enough for several people to walk side by side, lined in white rock and filled with what looked like crushed granite. She stepped on it, and felt the satisfying crunch of the rock under her shoes. 

A peace like she hadn’t felt in years settled over her. The ground on the far side of the trail, leading into the forest, sloped up and she went to sit on the retaining wall holding the earth back from collapsing onto the trail. 

The wall was made of white stone and stood about what was probably waist high to an average sized person. Bilba had to brace her hands on the ledge and push up to sit on it, leaving her feet dangling well above the dirt path. 

She planted her hands on either side of her, closed her eyes and let out a breath. 

The sputter of a car engine broke the silence. 

Bilba’s eyes snapped open, and her heart leapt into her throat. 

A truck was driving slowly down the road that ran through the park. In the front cab, Bilba spotted a middle-aged man with dark hair and sunglasses. 

Please keep driving, she thought. Please keep driving. 

The truck turned into the same entrance she’d used and pulled up next to her car. As the man clambered out, Bilba instinctively scrambled up until she was standing on the low wall. 

It was fine, she told herself. He was just there to enjoy the day, like she was. It just so...happened that he’d shown up minutes after her...in a very isolated spot....where he’d chosen to park next to her in an otherwise empty lot…

Yavanna, how could she be so stupid?

“Hey!” the man called out to her, raising a hand in a half wave. “What’s your name?”

“Sarah,” Bilba lied. She desperately wanted to get back in her car and leave, but he’d moved so he was standing in front of it. She’d have to walk past him, and she wasn’t about to do that.

“Nice to meet you, Sarah.” The man sauntered forward. Something about his eyes, about the way he moved, reminded her of a snake slithering across the grass, or of a panther stalking its prey.

She’d gotten very good at recognizing both over the last five years. 

She backed up, off the wall and onto the ground where it sloped up behind her, toward the trees and forest behind her. She hoped it was a forest anyway. If it were nothing but a small copse of trees…

“Hey, now,” the man said, coming to a stop on the grassy area before the path. “Where are you going?”

“I’m looking for my dog,” Bilba blurted. “He ran away.” Maybe, maybe if he thought she had a pet, or something, he’d leave her alone. Cold raced through her, and she could feel her heart thumping against her ribs. Adrenaline surged in her bloodstream, and pushed her to either fight, or take flight. 

The man grinned, a predatory look that reminded her of a shark circling. So many animals contained within the skin of one man, and all of them predators. “I’ll help you look. What’s his name?”

He took another step forward. Bilba’s breath caught in her throat and she turned to scramble up the hill, desperate to put more distance between her and him. The ground sloped up so sharply that it was all she could do to keep her feet. She was forced almost to her hands and knees, clawing at dirt and grass as she pulled herself up the hill. 

“Ah, come on now,” the man said behind her, sounding bored. “Don’t be like that. I just want to be friends.”

Bilba grabbed onto a tree root rising from the earth, and used it to drag herself up. The motion got her to a more level section of ground at the top of the slope. 

Behind her, the man laughed. “Hope you find your dog. I’ll wait here until you get back.”

Bilba didn’t answer. Instead she plunged into the trees, and put on speed in case he changed his mind and decided to come after her. 

With every step she took she mentally kicked herself. What had she been thinking? Why had she come out here? She knew better. Didn’t she have enough to deal with without--

She never got the chance to finish the thought. It was darker inside the trees, with the canopy overhead blocking out much of the sunlight and leaving everything shrouded in shadow. 

Much darker, and she was distracted. So much so that she never even noticed when the ground suddenly sloped down again, or at least she didn’t notice until she’d already stepped one foot too far. 

Suddenly, there was nothing but open air beneath her. She barely had a chance to gasp before she was falling. 

She hit the ground hard, and then she was rolling downhill. Rocks, branches, and debris sliced and stabbed through her clothing, sending hot pricks of pain racing through her. Bilba threw her hands over her head, trying to protect herself. She frantically hoped there wasn’t a drop off at the bottom, or a tree branch just waiting for her to break a few ribs against it. 

She hit something, hard, and, just like that, her forward motion stopped dead. 

For several long moments, she stayed exactly as she was, on her stomach, face pressed into the dirt, trying to catch her breath. Her body trembled in the aftermath of the shock it had taken, and her breathing came in harsh, ragged gasps. She hurt all over, especially her right ankle which burned as if she’d managed to scrape all the skin off, but she didn’t think she’d been seriously injured. 

She put her hand out, hoping to push herself up onto her knees. Her hair had come loose from its ponytail and fell around her face like a fan, obscuring her vision. Her right hand flailed out, reaching for whatever had stopped her fall in the hopes it could serve as a support to help her regain her footing. 

Her hand encountered fur. 

Bilba stopped moving. 

She stopped breathing. 

She was pretty sure her heart stopped beating in her chest. 

Under her hand, the fur rose and fell with the steadiness of breathing which meant that, whatever she’d landed against, was definitely not some dead animal carcass left by….she didn’t want to know what. 

Please be a deer, she thought. A really nice deer who was perhaps raised by humans, and had saved her in the spirit of human/animal friendship. 

Please. 

Please.

Please, be a deer. 

Slowly she turned her head, not a lot, just enough to look out of the corner of her eye. Get a glimpse through the curtain of her own hair. 

Just enough to see --

It wasn’t a deer.

It was a wolf.

The biggest she’d ever seen. 

And it was staring right back at her.

Continue Reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27298015/chapters/66695635

[hazel-writes]

Summary: A much-needed moment of calm... Are you ready for the storm?

Word Count: 3,400

Warnings: mentions of violence, injury description

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

I spoke about wings

You just flew

I wondered, I guessed, and I tried

You just knew

I sighed, but you swooned

I saw the crescent

But you saw the whole of the moon

• The Whole of the Moon - The Waterboys •

You sat on top of a small hill that overlooked a valley of swaying grass. There weren’t many trees, just a sea of undulating ferns. You looked to the ground on your left and right, noticing that you had chosen a spot at the center of a patch of green daisies. Of course. You laughed humorlessly, looking up to the sky and shaking your head, as silent tears began to fall.

Daisy.

That was what your father called you, ever since you were little. He would often paint landscapes and was inspired by the entrancing wildlife that was native to Lothal. One of his favorite flowers was the green daisy you were currently surrounded by. You remembered the first time your father showed you them.

“These flowers are special,” he told you one day, pointing out a patch of small green plants while out on a walk.

You squinted at the seemingly-mundane bulbs emerging from the grass.

“They don’t look very special,” you replied skeptically.

He smiled, like he knew something you didn’t. He leaned down to whisper in your ear: “That’s because you aren’t looking hard enough.”

Taking the challenge, you focused on the closest green bulb, following its curved stem down to the fertile dirt it lied in. You traced every line, rip, and crevice in its leaves. Some of the grass around it was crushed into the soil — covered in mud — most likely trampled by wandering loth-cats. But the daisy’s bulb remained a strong, healthy green.

This little plant has survived so much, you thought.

And suddenly, as if it heard you, the daisy bloomed right before your eyes, revealing a magnificent green flower. It was an enchanting emerald hue, like your father’s eyes.

“How-” you began to ask.

Your father chuckled. “The green daisy responds to body heat and breath. When someone gets close enough to truly appreciate its beauty, it blooms. Very few ever stop to notice how special this flower is, but when they do, they are greatly rewarded.”

He paused for a moment, staring directly into your eyes while tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“My little daisy...”

It had been three days since you’d been shot. The team you arrived with on Lothal had to extend their stay on the planet due to a mechanical malfunction on one of the ships. You had almost made it out of the city before the ship’s engines failed and you were forced to turn back.

Your father’s blaster beam had grazed a good part of your arm, with most of the damage being at your shoulder. It had come close to hitting vital organs, but thankfully missed. Finn didn’t get so lucky; he was still in critical condition. You waited by his side for as long as you could until Akilah forced you out of the room so you could get some rest. You knew that wouldn’t be possible until Finn was out of the woods, so you decided to take a walk to clear your head. That’s how you ended up crying on a grassy hill, surrounded by the familiar green daisies.

Attempting to distract yourself from your own feelings, you pulled out your sketchbook. It had been a while since you drew for yourself, but when you were younger it always seemed to ease your anxiety. You shuffled through the bag you brought, finally managing to find a pen. You swapped it into the fingers of your bandaged right arm before attempting to sketch. As soon as you did, pain shot through your tendons. I really didn’t think that through, did I?

Now you weren’t even able to do the one thing that made you happy. You threw your pen backwards over your shoulder, frustrated.

A voice cleared from behind you, making you jump.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You turned to see the Commander, fully robed, behind you. His dark attire stood out against the setting sun behind him, creating a glowing aura around his form. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t realize you were there.”

“So you weren’t throwing projectiles at me on purpose?” he questioned, gesturing to the pen that laid at his feet.

“Kriff, no, sorry.” You shook your head in panic before realising he was messing with you. You chuckled, surprised at his unusual attempt at a joke. “I was just doodling… Or trying to at least.”

He nodded, moving to stand beside you. After a moment of silence, you heard the click of something decompressing as his helmet thudded into the grass. He took in a deep breath of air, his shoulders moving upwards tensely before relaxing again. He tilted his face into the wind, closing his eyes briefly as if taking in the serenity of the moment, before his gaze shifted down towards your bandage. “Your arm…”

You twisted the limb around, testing its range of motion. “It’s fine, I’ll just have to learn to use my left.”

His eyebrows furrowed in response, as if doubting your answer, before speaking again. “Your father-” he started.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you interrupted, a bit harsher than you intended. You sighed, brushing a wisp of hair off of your face. “I’m sorry, it’s just… I just want to forget. For a little while at least.”

He turned to look at you, a slight crease on his forehead. “I understand.” He turned back to the sky. “I’ve had encounters with my kin that I wish to forget as well.”

A surge of sadness ran through your body; conflicting waves of guilt, fear, and helplessness crashing into the corners of your mind. You shook your head, trying to relieve the pressure you knew was emitting from the stoic man standing next to you.

You wanted desperately to ask about his family: who they were, where they were now, why they caused such pain. But just like the Commander had respected your need for privacy, you would respect his.

You were surprised when you saw his black cloak move to sit next to you on the grassy hill. It was strange seeing the Commander in an environment so different from the Finalizer. But something about the way his hands slid so naturally into the grass, or the way his feet stretched out in front of him, or how his hair flowed gently in the breeze, made you think that maybe this wasn’t so unfamiliar to him after all.

The two of you sat like that for a while, taking in the day around you. The sky was a brilliant blue with the beginnings of a deep purple at the horizon, something you didn’t see too often on Lothal. Usually the color of the sky melted into that of the fields, mirroring the landscape’s golden curves. But today was different. Birds chirped and flew overhead, a gentle breeze blew, and the air smelled of flowers and fresh soil.

Succumbing to the beauty of your surroundings, you laid back in the soft grass. You watched as a single bird dipped in the air high above you, circling the clouds in a soaring dance.

“I wish I could do that.”

The Commander turned to look at you, confused.

“I wish I could fly.”

He chuckled in response, a toothy smile gracing your presence briefly before quickly concealing itself with a squint towards the sky. You were pleased to see the ghost of a smirk remain and you couldn’t help it as the corners of your own mouth twisted upwards. You brought yourself onto your elbows, looking at him expectantly.

Seeing your questioning look, he shook his head. “No, it’s nothing… It’s just — I remember saying something similar as a boy.”

You smiled, laying back in the grass and returning your eyes to the sky. You stayed like this for a moment, carefully forming a question.

“Where would you go? If you could fly, I mean,” you clarified.

He shrugged and responded simply. “I have all the ships I could ask for. I could fly anywhere.”

You tried to imagine him leaving the Finalizer, taking off in a ship, flying to some distant planet with no people, no politics, no wars: just peace. Hux would never allow it, and you guessed that whoever the Commander answered to wouldn’t either.

“But you wouldn’t,” you replied out loud, a twinge of sadness in your voice.

“No,” he said, his voice lowering. “I wouldn’t.”

You hummed to yourself, thinking deeply. “I guess that’s the difference between birds and ships. Birds are born free. Their wings aren’t man made; it’s simply in their nature to fly. But when you put humans in the sky, they tear it apart. We fill it with blaster fire and explosions. We destroy the lands that we never should’ve left in the first place.” You sighed. “Even the birds won’t be free for much longer…”

The Commander turned towards you again. You expected him to tell you that you were wrong — that the wars were necessary, inevitable even — but he didn’t. Instead he blinked once before pointing up at the bird you referenced earlier.

“It’s a convor,” he said quietly.

“W-what?” Now it was your turn to be confused.

“I’m surprised to see one here — they’re not native to this planet.”

“Oh,” you replied, the light returning to your eyes. This was a new side of the Commander, one that you had only seen glimpses of in the past; one that was patient, vulnerable, and had an unusual, yet endearing, knowledge of birds.

“They are known for their strong connections to the Force,” he continued. “Can you feel it?”

You looked back up at the bird. Its golden brown feathers soared elegantly in the wind. Its dramatic tail rippled like an unfurling ribbon, slicing through the air. A familiar tingle made itself known at the back of your neck, spreading down your spine all the way to your toes.

“Yeah, I can,” you said, breathless. You didn’t know that so many species could have connections to the Force. “It’s amazing.”

“Yes,” he responded, eyes trained directly on you. “It is.”

You didn’t notice his head jerk away when you turned your body towards his.

Taking advantage of the lull in the conversation, you decided to ask him something that had been on your mind since the shootout with your father.

“Ky-” you started, before correcting yourself. “Commander. What happens when we get back to the Finalizer?”

He tilted his head slightly. “What do you mean?”

You were suddenly nervous and began to twirl a piece of grass between your fingers. You thought about what Finn had told you when you first arrived on Lothal: how you always seemed to be at the center of trouble. A pang of guilt ran through your body. “I mean… What do I say about my arm, or Finn? Won’t they be suspicious?”

The muscles of the Commander’s face tightened. “Won’t who be suspicious?”

“I dunno…” you trailed off, but could tell that he was waiting for a more specific answer. “Hux?”

He scoffed, clenching his fingers into a gloved fist. “You don’t have to worry about Hux. He is under my command, and I’ll make sure he remembers that.”

“But what about the person you’re under command? Will he be able to… sense that something happened here?” The questions spilled out before you could stop them.

He paused, longer than you would’ve liked, before looking at you as if he was about to tell you something of the utmost importance. “He won’t hurt you.”

The Commander’s strange tone did little to ease your anxiety; it was evasive, yet stern enough that you believed him.

You shifted to a sitting position, legs crossed under you. You fiddled with your fingers in your lap. “That’s- that’s not what I’m worried about.”

He tipped his head slightly. “So what are you worried about?”

“Well…” you paused, almost reconsidering what you were about to say. “You.”

It was true. As strange as it sounded coming out of your mouth, you were worried what others would think if they knew the Commander abandoned his duties to help some artist with her family drama. What would they do if they knew he had shown mercy to a man who tried to kill him? What if they found out that he had been training you in secret, or that he let you see his face: the one that now searched yours curiously.

It looked like the Commander wanted to say something, but instead his mouth moved to form a thin line. He stood up suddenly, forcing you to angle your head in order to meet his eyes.

“We should get back to the ships,” he said monotonously.

You cleared your throat, finally finding your voice. “Yeah, right. Y-you go first. Probably shouldn’t be seen together.”

He nodded, staring at you a moment longer before turning to pick up his helmet. Just as you thought he was about to leave, you watched out of the corner of your eye as he bent over, picking something up off of the ground. He reached out and you realised he had your pen in his hand, the one you had tossed at him earlier.

You reached forward to grab the pen with your bandaged hand, but before you were able to, he gently grasped your arm instead.

“What are you-” you started, before you felt it: a warmth spreading up your arm, wrapping its tendrils around your injured muscle and bone, filling each wounded crevice of your previously painful limb until it was restored to its normal state.

“What did you do?” you barely whispered, staring at your upper arm in shock. His hand slid off your skin, leaving a cold tingling in its wake.

He rose back to his commanding stature nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened. However as he responded, you didn’t miss the slight falter in his voice. “I- I’ll see you back on board.”

And with that, he put on his helmet and began the trek back down the hill.

——————————————

After waiting fifteen minutes, it was your turn to head back down the hill. You walked back through the city one last time, retracing the steps you took earlier when putting up the posters with Koda and Rilea. You tried to take everything in as you made your way to the ship — who knows when you’d be back on Lothal again. But with each forward step, you began to realize that the busy streets, rolling fields, and the childhood house you used to call home now felt so distant, so foreign. You didn’t belong here anymore.

The hushed chattering of a small group of villagers, almost invisible in the shadow of a nearby building, interrupted you from your thoughts. It wasn’t until you moved closer that you realized they were huddled around one of the posters you had put up earlier. One of them held a light up to it, inspecting something on the bottom right-hand corner of the paper.

A couple of other passerbys curiously lingered, trying to figure out what the group was so intrigued by.

You suddenly felt a presence at your side and you turned to see an older man who was attempting to peak over the shoulders of the group in front of him. “What’s going on?” he asked you.

“I…” You paused for a moment, thinking. “I have no idea,” you replied as confidently as you could.

But that was a lie.

You knew exactly why the small group of Lothalians were crowded around the poster.

The poster that you designed. The poster that Soren let you put finishing touches on before it was sent off for approval. The poster that you were intent on distributing yesterday, even after everyone else had gone back to the ship. The poster that wasn’t just a poster: It was a message.

And it was one that you wrote.

———————————————

Six months previously…

“Mom, I can’t.”

You stood at the kitchen window, looking out at the houses beyond — the ones you had grown up seeing every day, the ones you didn’t want to leave behind.

An apprehensive hand rested on your shoulder. “Sweetheart, you’re the only one I can trust.”

You spun around, indignant tears at the corners of your eyes. “So what, you’re sending me off so I can end up just like Benji, dead in a ditch somewhere?”

She sighed, shaking her head dismissively. “Honey, you know that was a freak accident. There was a-”

“Malfunction with the engines, I know.” A single tear fell. You wiped it away briskly while turning back to the window.

She waited a moment, letting your bout of anger simmer, before speaking again — softer this time. “I know you could do it. You could save us all.”

Sighing, you decided to indulge her pleas. If there was one thing you and you mother shared, it was stubbornness. “What would I have to do?”

“Only exactly what you’re good at: art.” You rolled your eyes after hearing the excitement in her voice.

“Yeah, right,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s the catch?”

She paused for a moment, as if trying to figure out how to explain what she was going to tell you next. “You would need to hide things in your work.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What kind of things?”

“Messages.”

This caught your attention; now you were genuinely intrigued.

“Messages?” you questioned. “To who?”

“To me and the rest of the Resistance.”

You ran a frustrated hand through your hair. Your mom had always wanted you to work alongside her with the Resistance, but until now, you had managed to evade the subject whenever it came up. What you really wanted was to do what your dad did: travel the galaxy, paint what you saw, and die a lonely, but happy hermit in a small cottage by the sea. But as you got older, with the rising of the First Order, you began to realize that there may not be a galaxy left by the time you were old enough to settle down somewhere. Maybe this was something that you needed to do.

“How?”

Your mom nodded, a proud smile emerging on her face. “I’ve talked to Leia Organa. She had one of her men get your name on the Order’s recruits list. The position is within the Office of Imperial Promotion, Galactic Truth, and Fact Correction. They’re looking for someone to aid in the creation and distribution of First Order propaganda posters. You would simply have to listen — walk the hallways, gain others’ trust, find information about the Order — and then put what you learn into the posters. Once they’re distributed, Resistance members will scope ‘em out and report back to us.”

The whole plan sounded ridiculous. “Mom, you can’t honestly think they’d fall for that. Hidden messages? It’s something a kid would think of.”

She shook her head knowingly. “That’s what makes it so genius. Everyone expects a spy to try and wiggle their way into the top ranks of the Order. But no one will suspect an artist. Plus, you would be using this.” She handed you a pen. “Anything you write with this will only be visible under a certain light frequency. The Order won’t see a thing.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “So that’s what I am now, a spy?”

“No,” she responded sternly. “You’re an artist; you always have been. An artist who can save the Resistance with her work.” She paused, looking at you with a glint in her eye that you knew meant she was serious. “Kriff, you could save the whole galaxy with just a few strokes of a pen.”

You felt yourself conceding, even though you knew you had lost the argument the moment it had started. “You really think this could make any kind of difference?”

She took both of your hands in hers. “I know it could.”

Wordlessly, you shot her a final look that warned: whatever happens, it’s on you. She seemed to understand the meaning behind your stare and gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

“Then I’ll do it.”

———————————

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