#because you had to fight against currents and also sometimes the tides

[valtsv]

Where did you swim in the open ocean? And how scary was it?

i grew up by the sea

[alannybunnue]

Ok, Imagine: The Targaryens as yanderes Part 4

We are covering the entire first season of the house of the dragon, next parts will include details from the books, i am not waiting 2 years for the next season to write this. 😘

Again, thank you all for liking my imagines, it really helps with my mental health.

[THERE MIGHT BE TRIGGERS WARNINGS, SO BEWARE]

Tags: @rosaryos - @haven-is-happy

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Rhaenyra/DoD!Reader:

Suffocating

Surrounded by a broken family

That's how you felt, with the many travels you had to do in last 6 years of your life.

While these people tried to consume you with their infectious affection, they wanted for you to replace your dear mother in their hearts.

Unfortunately, they were the cause of why you lost her, so why should you carry this weight? They shouldn't expect you to remain a pretty doll.

You begin your personal rebellion by not doing everything they wanted, like, flying on Starfyre, you started going from a place to another with her when you were 5, much to your aunt Rhaenyra's and your aunt Alicent's displeasure.

Both tried to take your mother's place in your heart, both tried to make you feel like their families were your's too. But you refused, the only person who you sympathize the most between the two sides was your grandsire Viserys.

Of course, the last place you visited (sometimes in secret, because again, no one can confirm were you are going with Starfyre) was Driftmark, to visit Princess Rhaenys and her granddaughter and your dear friend Baela. They understood you better than many, due to fact that Rhaenys did knew what felt like to lose your family in benefits of others.

But you never told her about this.

About what you heard, when you visited King's Landing for the first time after the incident in Driftmark, what Alicent said to your uncle Larys right after you left their sight:

"I can't look at her and not see her mother...and to think of her death...i told you, i didn't wanted them dead!", the fool didn't expect you to be hearing them, but now you knew, they killed your mother for their own benefit.

One side betrayed your mother and left her in a deplorable state, the other took her life.

The children were no better, they still wanted to trap you with them, especially Aegon and Jacaerys, again, they still wanted you to replace your mother. But you never gave them that pleasure.

Rhaenyra tried to talk to you, tried to be "reasonable" but your face was enough answer for her, you would never forgive any of them for what they did.

When you were in Dragonstone, you spend your time with Lucerys, Rhaena, Joffrey, even with little Aegon and Viserys for they were the less insufferable to be around.

In King's Landing, again you took care of your grandsire, but also spent your days with Helaena and her children and sometimes with Aemond.

Sometimes, you would just fly away, no carrying much about where you would end up, since you always found your way back home, Starfyre, who was used to fly in the same directions, seemed happy for this change of pace.

You thought of all the events of the last 6 years, especially Aegon and Helaena's wedding that felt more like a funeral to you, the end of any possibility for those two to have a good life. You pitied Helaena more than her brother, honestly.

Finally snapped out of your thoughts when Vaemond, Lord Corlys' brother, declared that he was going to King's Landing to fight for his claim of the title of Lord of the Tides against Luke due to Corlys' current state could result in his death.

You understood why Vaemond was doing this, the 3 boys were only Velaryon by name, not blood, thanks to the affair between your father and Rhaenyra. However, you couldn't help but feel sorry for Luke, even if he didn't wanted nor "deserved" the throne, it was the only title he would gain...

You travelled with Rhaenys and Baela to King's Landing, by their pleadings because you wished to remain in Driftmark. You would feel suffocated again in the presence of both families, so Rhaenys suggested for you to stay by her side.

Alicent and Otto welcomed you three once you arrived, the queen even tried to hug you, but you dismissed her attempt clinging unto Rhaenys.

The same happened with Rhaenyra, you kept your distance from her. While she tried to convince Rhaenys of supporting Luke's claim. You were quiet for a time.

"You know that this is what she would want-", in that moment, you didn't control your mouth. - "Don't you dare"

Both women looked at you immediately. - "Don't you use my mother's name in your defense, you may be the princess and heir, but use the name of a dead woman is a low step even for you"

Rhaenyra lowered her head, you were to believe that it was for shame, but it didn't matter anymore, you left the garden before anyone could stop you. You spent the rest of the day in the company of Helaena.

The next day was the trial, you didn't attend it, you decided to stay with Viserys, he was in a deplorable condition, it sadden you. For a couple of minutes, until he sat up and said he needed to go.

The servants dressed the King and you followed him, worried for his health but understanding what he was doing, you stayed at his side when the guards announced his arrival at Throne room.

Everyone looked at him and at you, you were right behind your grandsire since he refused help. You stopped when Rhaenys holded and told you to stay at her side as Daemon helped his brother.

You expected Viserys to defend his grandson, of course, but you never expected the aftermath with Vaemond...

That didn't faze you as much as others thought it would.

You were attended the feast by the King's request. Sitting between Jace and Aegon, before your grandsire arrived, you didn't much attention to your surroundings.

Once the feast started, and everyone said their toasts to each, like good liars, or so you thought, since Rhaenyra made a toast not just for the Queen, but to you as well for "Keeping your mother's legacy", yes same one she helped on destroying it.

But other than that, everything seemed to be going on peacefully, even when Aegon opened his mouth to say something inappropriate, but he kepthis tongue for your sake...until your Uncle Aemond decided to open his mouth.

"Final tribute, to the health of my nephews...Jace, Luke and Joffrey, each of them handsome, wise...strong" - And hell fell on the dinner table. The boys attacked each other and Daemon to stop them from killing each other. And you? You started clapping.

Everyone looked at you confused, but you kept your straight face and looked at Aemond.

"Again? What do you wish to lose this time, dear Uncle? Another eye?" - Everyone looked shocked, then Otto answered - "Princess, it's not proper of you to threat your uncle in this moment-"

You scoffed - "A threat? Alright, then dear uncle, next time i shall ask for your tongue as my grandsire so warned you that it would be taken if this matter was questioned again" - You got up from your seat and walked to the door, but before you left the room, you finished - "That was a threat Lord Hand, see the difference?"

You leave the room with disdain, knowing that your words could be a problem for you later, but no matter now, you decided to go to sleep and return to Driftmark with Rhaenys the next morning.

----------------------xxxxxxxx---------------------

That wouldn't happen, as you wake up with sounds of someone locking your doors, you immediately knew something was wrong. You looked through the window to see many ladies and lords walking in the same direction.

Later, Alicent appeared in your room, with a small smile on her face for a bit, as if it would calm you down or something. She then proceeded to explain that Viserys, your King and grandsire was dead, and that in his last wishes, he wanted Aegon to inherit the Iron Throne.

...You didn't believe in a word she said - "As his niece, you must stand at his side for the better, even at your age" - Alicent claimed as she holded your hand.

"And if i don't? What will happen to me?" - You didn't mean to say that, you weren't thinking straight and that was your worst mistake - "Will you send my uncle to burn me like you did to my mother?"

You don't remember her words, she was shocked, yes, but angry too, she said that you had no idea of what you were saying, you accused her of something vile...

You were locked away, as punishment.

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Aegon was crowned King at the presence of the people of Westeros, you heard the whispers, but no one came to save you.

A weird feeling in your gut started to bother you tremendously, you had to get out on your own accord. You started looking for anything in the room to get out.

Until you did, a map, that indicated a secret passage in the room that could lead to an exit on the Red Keep. You never liked Maegor as many other, but today you were thankful for these secret passages.

You found some old clothes you could use as disguise, you were used to sneak out, but never like this. At least you knew your way to the Dragon pit.

As you walked towards the exit, you prayed that no one would notice your dismiss and look for you, and you kept praying as you made your way in the town...

You felt relieved when you finally got to Starfyre, but your gut feeling grew when you noticed that something was missing...

Vaghar, Aemond's dragon wasn't anywhere to be found

You quickly freed Starfyre and mounted on her, both finally free from the Greens, you had no idea where Aemond could have gone, but you had to look for him, your gut was still bothering you.

You flew south, looking for any clue of where to go, until you spotted Arrax and Luke, and went after them. Then you arrive at one place that you tried to avoid: Storm's End, the home of the blood family of your late mother.

Luke entered without noticing Starfyre, soon after, you landed and now finally found the missing piece, Vaghar. Which means that Aemond was also there, and that meant trouble.

You were quickly escorted inside as you heard the argument, then the guards announced your arrival - "Princess ... Targaryen, daughter of ... Targaryen!" - the sound of your name made everyone twist their heads towards you.

"What are you doing here?" - Luke whispered - "Making sure you return in one piece...Greetings Uncle Borros" - You answered the prince and said to Lord Boros Baratheon.

"You shall address me as Lord Baratheon, Princess" - Lord Boros claim - "If it pleases you my lord, i shall also apologize for my rudeness, my actions were made out of the assumption that, since you are my mother's brother by blood, it wouldn't be a bother to call my uncle." - You taunted him - "May you tell us why you came here, Princess?" - Boros asked - "Simply to confirm your statement as a second witness for the Princess Rhaenyra and escort prince Lucerys back home"

"You took her side? You truly believe that she is capable of ruling?" - Aemond asks, sounding disappointed, you noticed the dagger in his hand...and eyepatch was gone- "Personally? No, however, unlike many, i do respect the late King's true wish, that his named heir became Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, now i believe we are done here, isn't it cousin?"

Luke nods and as you both start walking away from the room, Boros calls you out - "This is not a child's play, Princess" - Somehow, he sounded worried, you stopped for a second, before answering - "I wouldn't know my lord, i haven't played with my dolls in the last 6 years."

You flew away in the storm with Luke, you tried to follow him, but as you focused on your path, you noticed that Arrax was gone, and you heard someone shoutting in Valyrian, it was Aemond.

You looked for Luke everywhere, until you heard him not too far shouting for Arrax to stop, then Aemond shoutted too, you went higher, above the clouds where the storm wouldn't bother you, until you saw Luke...

What happened next was...shocking? heartbreaking? You didn't knew, both you and Aemond were shocked at what Vaghar did, but you knew, it was his fault.

So you started clapping, maybe it was loud enough for him to hear...

Not that you cared.

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A/N: So...that was it, i hope you guys enjoyed until here...i don't know when i will post the next part :D

[sokkascroptop]

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 26

part 1 | part 25

a/n: no matter how long you have been here, just know i'm extremely grateful for anyone who's read this fic. now here's the latest chapter.

Sometimes it felt like the days dragged on. Each and every hour was laid out just like the day before–the week before. It made time seem endless, even though Y/N knew it definitely was not. Sozin’s Comet was getting closer and closer each day. Y/N didn’t know if it was the anticipation for that long fated day or if it was some buried fire bender gene in her body, warning her of something to come. She could feel it deep within her bones. She woke up earlier and earlier each day, no matter how late her night ended up. And each day the sun greeted her with warm yellow light that made the air a little easier to breathe.

As they moved further south and into Fire Nation territory, Zuko made mention of Ember Island as a place to hide out. The island–or chain of islands, really–were close enough to Caldera City that it would be a good place for them to lay low and wait, as well as uninhabited by enough people that they could lay low.

Y/N thought it was a little risky to be living in the Fire Lord’s Ember Island house, but Zuko was probably right, this was going to be the last place anyone would look for them. Maybe Y/N was just unsettled about being back, so close to Caldera City, or maybe it was being back on Ember Island for the first time since she was 9.

Somewhere between the temple and the beach house, Y/N tired of training. It just added to the monotony, and so she just…stopped. Instead, she spent her days on the beach, sometimes alone–often with the others though–playing in the tide pools and skim-boarding on the sand. And sometimes, if she felt like she didn’t have enough time on her own to recharge, she’d leave in the night, either through her window or the front door to take a walk on the beach in the moonlight. Only to come back and wake up a few hours later, ready for sunrise.

Today was no different, though the sun was already peeking over the horizon and into her room when her eyes peeled open.

The wooden floors creaked under Y/N’s feet as she crept out of her room silently.

Each board was smooth under her bare toes, not well-worn by many little feet running across them year after year but made that way before they were even built into the house, for no doubt a hefty fee. The beach house was… cold, to say the least. It just felt like each pore of the house seeped something uninviting, reminding them that they shouldn’t be there. It wasn’t just Y/N who felt it, they all spent as little time as possible in the house.

She padded into the kitchen and struck their flint to start a fire under the stove–mostly unneeded since Zuko had joined their group–but wholly necessary when he wasn’t around to be their fire-starter. Y/N didn’t mind doing it this way, it felt nice being able to do something with her own hands for once instead of relying on the others to make clean water or heat up the food. She boiled just enough water for one cup of tea before heading out to the courtyard where she knew at least two of her friends would be awake.

Y/N didn’t like feeling optimistic. It was a terrifying feeling. There was so much riding on their success; she didn’t want to spend so much energy on hoping only to have it all dashed away if things didn’t go their way. It would be too heartbreaking. But watching Aang, she could. They weren’t even sparring and she could see the power behind every blast of fire. And she had hope for their future. She had to; she wasn’t going to lose her friends.

“You’re doing that one wrong,” Y/N said from the shadows on the porch. She held her warm cup to her chest, the breeze blowing in from the ocean was keeping the courtyard chilly until the sun could rise high enough to heat the island.

Aang didn’t seem too surprised to hear her voice. “Doing what wrong?” He asked, confused.

Zuko frowned up at Y/N from his seat on the steps but nodded to Aang. “She’s right, you have to dip further down so when you come up the fire creates more of an arc.”

Aang pushed through a few more poses before Zuko stood up and joined him. Y/N stole his seat and pulled her legs up to cross them. She watched as they moved in tandem, working though the most basic of firebending forms all the way up to a few advanced ones. Memories flooded Y/N’s head so fast it made her dizzy. She remembered sitting just like she was now, watching her two brothers work through their forms when she was younger. On chilly mornings, much like today, she would wrap herself in a blanket nest and sip on tea that was much too sweet as they worked well into mid morning. In a sudden rush of affection she realized she was doing much of the same thing, just years and years later.

Aang had learned fast. That was good. She set down her empty cup as the two boys headed back to her, both sweaty from their training. “Good job, Aang! You’re doing great!”

Aang beamed with pride. “Thanks, Y/N!

“Don’t be so encouraging, he’s still got a lot to learn,” Zuko grumbled, taking a seat on the ground next to her.

Y/N pouted. “He needs encouragement. That’s how he learns.” Y/N learned that from watching the differences between Katara teaching styles and Toph’s teaching styles.

“Speaking of firebending,” Aang kicked his feet against the edge of the steps and looked around like he was avoiding something. “How did you know about the firebending forms?”

Zuko leaned back on his hands. “I’d like to know that too.”

Y/N smiled softly. “I watched my brothers for years, religiously learning all the forms and practicing them on my own. I wanted to be just like them. I guess I still remember them.”

Aang frowned. “It’s not like you couldn’t bend on purpose.”

Y/N was surprised to see Aang look so sad. “I know.” She shrugged and looked away feeling her cheeks redden with both boys staring at her. “I just wanted to be normal so people would stop paying attention to me for the wrong reasons.” She mumbled.

“It made you a better sword fighter,” Zuko said suddenly.

“What?” Y/N asked.

“The discipline and movements. You do the same when you’re fighting.”

“I’ve never noticed, but you’re right, Zuko!” Aang exclaimed.

The thought made Y/N smile. “That was nice of you.”

Zuko rolled his eyes but let the smallest hint of a smile grace his lips.

She looked back to Aang, who still looked a bit hesitant. “Don’t worry about me. How about we go swimming? Before the others wake up!”

Aang perked up immediately. “That sounds great! Let’s go, Zuko!”

Y/N and Aang stood, both looking down at Zuko, who just stared at the ground between his feet. She could already hear him saying no, telling them that he needed to train more or meditate and didn’t have time to run off and play games.

Y/N opened her mouth to tell Aang that the two of them could still go but Zuko spoke up before her. “Yeah, okay.”

Sometimes even on those long, dragging days, it was the little things that made everything better; like playing in the surf with two of your friends.

---

That evening though, Y/N was back where she had started the day, and had decided that everyone in her group of friends, save for maybe Zuko, talked way too much. She craved those moments alone where she just had her thoughts to occupy her. Especially when she had a lot on her mind.

Y/N didn’t want to admit she felt stuck inside with Aang and Katara while everyone else was outside enjoying the evening, but she also felt guilty in turning down their request to help make dinner to just wander around on the beach until sunset. She didn’t help out much with making meals, and she felt obligated to help when she could.

So she was there, sitting on the dinner table, lotus style with a knife and a cutting board and a basket of carrots in need of chopping at her side.

“What else can I do, Katara?” Aang dumped some of the vegetables he was cutting into the stew Katara was currently stirring over the stove.

“Hmm, can you go out and get some more water to make the rice?” Aang grinned and nodded, before running out of the house towards the side of the house where there was a small barrel of collected water.

Y/N smiled to herself at the interaction and continued cutting carrots for Katara, trying not to let her mind wander, but it was hard with the monotonous work and the bad spot she was sitting in.

Just in front of her was the window where she had watched Zuko and Aang train while she made tea that morning, now it showed Zuko and Sokka doing their own training.

Y/N was struggling with more than just feeling like she didn’t belong on the Island. She didn’t know what she was going to say to Sokka, or if she was even going to say anything about her feelings at all. Without the constant traveling and the safety of a hideout, she was able to just stop and let those feelings and thoughts she had been holding back with a dam of fear wash over her.

It was all really confusing for Y/N. And hard to admit.

She didn’t want to face the awkward conversation of asking whether he could always be there for her. She didn’t want to beg him to never leave because she was so insecure. She was so afraid of losing everything and everyone that she was going to do just that because she was afraid of opening up.

What would happen if she never told Sokka she loved him back? Did she even love him back? What did love feel like?

Love with Azula felt like fire, sometimes it burned painfully, but in the good times it filled her with a warmth like never before. Zuko’s friendship felt the same, but it was less like sitting too close to the fire and more like sitting just in the right place where it didn’t dry out your eyes but didn’t make goosebumps grow on your arms. Sokka always felt like a cool breeze, one where you lift your face up to the sky and smile because it always feels like relief. But that’s not what Y/N is used to. How does she know if it’s love if it doesn’t hurt a little bit? How does she know that it's real if she doesn’t have to give all of herself until she is worn to nothing to make it work?

It wasn’t that she was afraid to care for him, she had made it clear that she did. It was just easier on her heart to keep him at a distance for now until she figured they were inevitably part ways. That’s how Y/N saw this all ending. Separated across oceans, back to where they came from, whatever the outcome of the war. Y/N wanted to dream of the possibilities and opportunities where they could be together in the long run, but those were just that, dreams for another lifetime. People from the Water Tribe didn’t marry people from the Fire Nation.

Everything that she learned over the last few months was that nothing was ever set in stone, so why should she and Sokka be.

Y/N stared out the window, pondering when it would all fall apart and sliced downwards on a carrot, but met nothing but the cutting board. She looked down where the knife was closer to her finger than to the carrots. She let out a little inward gasp.

“What?” Katara turned around and asked.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Nothing.” She motioned to the cutting board. “Do you want these smaller?”

Katara eyed Y/N and then looked to the cutting board. “They’re fine. But pay more attention, I don’t know how to reattach fingers yet.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Y/N’s eyes didn’t leave the wooden cutting board and her fingers until the others came bustling into the kitchen, all talking at once.

Y/N for the most part ignored everyone, until Sokka reached over and snatched one of the slices of carrots.

Y/N nudged his arm. “Can you wait?! I thought you didn’t like vegetables!”

“Aang got me to like carrots!” Sokka retorted, before quickly reaching around Y/N to grab another and popping it into his mouth.

“Why would you be sitting on the table that we have to eat off of?” Suki wrinkled her nose.

“Uh! Katara said I could!” Y/N stuck her tongue out.

Katara whipped around, hands on her hips. “I never said you could, I just didn’t say you couldn’t.” Katara turned back to stirring the stew before muttering under her breath, “Not like telling you no would have made a difference anyways.”

“Hey!” Y/N picked up a carrot and launched it at the back of Katara’s head.

Aang walked back inside carrying a bucket of water, to a kitchen full of chaos. Vegetables were being thrown across the room at one another, as laughter rang out. Sokka, Zuko and Y/N were sprawled on one side of the kitchen behind and under the table; with Suki, Katara and Toph only edging from behind the safety of the kitchen doorway to throw something.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N could hear the exasperation of a 112 year old monk in Aang’s usually cheerful voice.“Uh, guys, what are we supposed to eat for dinner now?”

---

Y/N was dozing against the headboard of her bed that night, when she heard the knock at her door. At first she thought she imagined it, that is until she heard a voice on the other side of the doorway. “Y/N, are you awake?”

Y/N slid out of bed and cracked open the door. She smiled and leaned against the doorjamb, a familiar feeling in her chest.

“Are you afraid that there are ghosts here too?”

Sokka grinned and nodded. “In this house? Absolutely. But I’m not here for that.”

“Oh?” Y/N raised an eyebrow.

“Come outside with me.”

Y/N chuckled. “Why?”

“Please, just come on. No questions.”

Y/N sighed and reached for an old silk robe she found in one of the closets, but her smile never left her face.

To be fair to Sokka, there wasn’t much to surprise Y/N with on an island she grew up on. But that night, the sky momentarily took her breath away.

Sometimes the simplest things were the most beautiful.

“I thought we could come out here; look at the stars a bit. I used to like doing that at home. Though it’s different. The constellations aren’t the same where I’m from.”

“I guess I’ll just have to teach you some.”

Together they laid side by side on the roof, and Y/N pointed out her favorites. The dragon, the jack-rabbit...

After Y/N had told Sokka the story of the Red Queen, some ancient fable of a powerful Fire Lady that was always one of Y/N’s favorites, they both grew quiet, Y/N asked the question that had been brewing on her mind. She worried that whatever she said would mess up the peaceful night they had been having. It felt like she was intruding on a secret that she wasn’t supposed to know.

“Hey, Sokka,” Y/N asked.

“Hmmm,” She looked over and Sokka looked about half asleep already. Maybe this would be good timing.

“Who’s Yue?”

Sokka’s eyes shot open and he sat up quickly. “What?”

Y/N could feel her face flush. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to know.

“Yue.” The word sounded flat and foreign on her tongue. Maybe that wasn’t how you actually pronounced it? Some of the Water Tribe names and words were hard for Y/N’s mouth to form. If she could, she flushed deeper. “I heard you talking about them when I was hurt. I was in and out of it, so I don’t remember much, but I remember the name.”

Sokka suddenly looked very sad. Which was… odd because Y/N just thought that Yue was a Water Tribe spirit much like the Fire Nation had Agni.

“She’s the moon spirit,” Sokka whispered, his eyes cast down on his wringing hands.

Y/N eyes were wide. Why was he acting like this? “Oh. I figured she was a spirit or something. It sounded like you were praying to her, or something.”

“Yeah,” Sokka choked out. “Something like that.”

That’s when Y/N noticed there were drips of water on Sokka’s hands. Tears.

“Sokka?” Y/N said softly. She reached forward and–yup those were tears, dripping on their hands.

“She was a girl I met at the Northern Water Tribe when we first started traveling.”

“I thought she was…”

“She is.” For the first time, Sokka looked up. The pain in his eyes was unimaginable. “But she was still a girl when I met her.”

Sokka launched into a story that sounded more fantasy than real, but the look on his face, the sadness in his features, Y/N knew he was telling the truth.

“She was blessed by the moon spirit when she was born, it was the only reason she was alive. But when we were in the Northern Water Tribe—Zhao, a Fire Nation commander killed the moon spirit and all the water benders lost their bending, forever.” Sokka shivered. “It was scary, the moon was gone in the sky and we were helpless to fight the Fire Nation. It would have changed the tide of the war.

But she was selfless. She knew that she was the only hope for her tribe—for the world—and she sacrificed herself to save all of us. So now she’s the moon spirit…I guess. I don’t know, she’ll always be Yue to me.” Sokka’s voice trailed off with a sniffle. Y/N didn’t know how to respond.

Sokka sent a longing glance upward. The moon was just past full, waning in the far distance but still bright and round in the sky. “I think–I think she heard me that night. And she knew how much you meant to me, even then. And she saved you because…” Now it was Sokka’s turn to flush. “I don’t think I could live without you.”

Those words made Y/N’s chest burn. Her arms and legs tingled in relief as if all the tension in her body began to melt away. Y/N reached out, wiping a stray tear off of Sokka’s cheek. “Me either,” she replied instantly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“’m not. Sad, really. I miss her, but it’s easier to always know where she is. She didn’t have a lot of choice in her life, but this was something she had control over. If she hadn’t become the moon spirit, the war would have ended right there. So her sacrifice meant that, you know, Zuko is our friend now and Aang has a chance at beating the Firelord and you have a place in all our lives. She made all of this possible.”

“Sounds like we have a lot more to be thankful to her for than just saving little old me then, huh?”

“You would have liked her.”

Y/N nodded and peered at the moon above them. “I do like her.”

No one else needed to know that after the two of them went inside and off to bed, that Y/N hung halfway out her window to get one last look at the moon. Y/N swore as her eyes closed and sleep overtook her that the moon shone a little brighter. Maybe that’s how the moon said thank you. Y/N’d never tell anyone that she whispered a small thank you too, to the girl who lived among the stars.

a/n: don't be shy, come talk to me in my askbox and tell me if you liked it

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[seventeenfluff]

Vernon as your Boyfriend

a/n hello hello merry christmas my dear friends omg i really love Christmas holidays ❤❤❤ i hope that today and tomorrow will be a good day for you :) And also this account is close in reaching 170 followers and it is the best gift i receive this year!!!! I have alot of plan for this blog and i really hope you'll continue supporting me. Thank you :) Happy holidays everyone, and if you don't celebrate Christmas, i hope that you will be spending this day merrily ^^

Previous Member: BOO SEUNGKWAN

Dating THE Hansol Vernon Chwe is literally having the man of your dreams (not that other Seventeen members wouldn't be able to compare) but if Mingyu got the crown for husband material, Vernon has the crown for being the most boyfriend material in seventeen

he is literally the best match for someone who has an issue with their self esteem because Vernon is the king when it comes to self love. He is someone who could influence you in hugging your own uniqueness

Vernon is someone whom your parents would approved of (i mean look at the face though) because the way he acts and treats you is so respectful they knew you found a good man at heart

Vernon would never be angry at you. Like in my opinion, I feel like Vernon is someone who rarely gets angry at all. He's like that guy who lets everything pass by very easily.

But dont expect Vernon to stay in a toxic relationship though, I am very certain that Vernon is that kind of person who is not afraid to speak his mind so if he thinks that something would bring negativity in his life, he would cut it off without a doubt.

Vernon is very sweet and attentive but he is not an affectionate person

Also not the type of person who would initiate physical affection but someone who would never say no for it

Talking to Vernon about his world view is really entertaining because everytime you guys do it, it will end up with you gaining new insights about everything

Vernon is also the type of guy who doesn't care about what the public would say about his relationship

so if for example (one of the) members doesn't like you, the fans/company does not approve of your relationship, Vernon wouldn't be carried by the tide and would continue swimming the current.

But if his family is the one who is against your relationship, that's really a different matter.

Vernon is a hardworking person but unlike Woozi who's life literally revolves around his career, I think Vernon is someone who knows how to balance his work-life cycle.

Kinda passive aggressive to be honest so if you're the same and/or has a problem with this kind of attitude, relationship might become bumpy.

Love language includes time and affirmation

But just like Mingyu, Vernon does not scream I love you to your face everyday, but more like you did well you're amazing, I miss you, you look beautiful today, etc. etc.

Really chill. I know this is so cliche but posts that claims Vernon as a chill person are all correct. He is that kind of boyfriend who really lives riding the waves, so whatever your heart desire, he would support and be part of it.

If you know how Vernon treats his mom and his sister, expect that he would treat you the same, sometimes even more.

Vernon is also that kind of guy you could talk to very easily even on the first day. He knows how to make someone very comfortable without actually trying too hard.

Really performs his boyfriend duties very well lmao he would never miss texting you good morning, have you eaten already, good night everyday :)

Also supplies you meme contents lol

Vernon is someone who appreciates beauty inside. He really doesn't care of whatever you look as long as you are nice and kind.

I feel like Vernon's ideal type is someone who really vibes with him. You know, has the same taste in music, same taste in movies, same wavelength of sense of humor, same fashion sense, etc.

If you two had a fight, Vernon isn't that kind of guy who would want to fix the problem immediately.

He is the type of guy who would want to sleep it off first, or to get some fresh air, to make sure the two of you has already calmed down

No he won't address a problem with his emotions still keeping him under control

Unlike Dokyeom who always apologizes first whoever is at fault, Vernon is someone who wouldn't apologize immediately specially if he knows that he is right and you are wrong.

He would never scream at you. Fighting with Vernon includes hush voices, cold shoulders, sarcasm and passive aggressiveness.

but as I've said before, this is very rare. Really really really really rare occassions.

Doesn't really gets jealous very easily, Vernon is someone who completely puts his trust to his s/o and it is up to you how would you use and take care of it.

Next Member: Lee Chan (Dino)

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 9th of June 2021

This is speculation only

Cards drawn 9th of June, 2021

Question: What is Meghan planning to do about the negative reaction to her baby name?

Interpretation: Meghan is desperately looking for a way out of the situation.

Card One: The Eight of Swords. This is a card of being very stressed, and this is what Meghan is feeling right now. The card shows Orestes trapped in a circle of swords, with the Furies on one side and Apollo on the other, and he does not know what to do to escape. Meghan is in the same position as Orestes. She is trapped by her own vindictive action, with public opinion (the Furies) on one side, voicing their disapproval of her actions, and the BRF (Apollo) on the other, saying that the palace will not let her get away with her lies about them giving permission for the use of the name.

Meghan can not escape the fury of public opinion. Everything she has tried (Lili is a tribute to Doria via my nickname Flower, I had permission to use the name) has failed, becoming one more sword to pin her in place under the merciless gaze of the public backlash. Even worse, the palace has spoken out against her, informing people that despite her claims she did not have permission to use the name 'Lilibet'. She is trapped in a situation of her own making, with every action she tries to make herself look better backfiring on her. She is very stressed and acting out of desperation, trying to escape the consequences of her actions.

Card Two: The King of Cups. This is the card of a water sign person, particularly a Scorpio, and here it is coming across as Prince Charles. The card is behind the figure of Apollo on the Eight of Swords card, so I think the rebuttal by the palace might have been the work of Prince Charles. Whether it was or not, Meghan will be blaming Prince Charles for this public outing of her as a liar, and she may take aim at him in her subsequent actions as a result of this belief.

Card Three: The Two of Pentacles. This card shows Daedalus starting out on his role as a craftsman. He has a few projects on his bench and is holding two more. He has to decide what to do next, where to invest his time and effort for the most reward. The Two of Pentacles is a card of balance, of deciding where to invest your time, energy and resources. You have to look at your goals and priorities and decide if all areas of your life are in balance, or if you need to spend more or less time on one area.

Meghan has not done this. She is out of balance. She has let her cruelty dominate her actions, and as a result the dominant topic with respect to the birth is her vindictive choice of name. She has shot down all her 'we are still close to the BRF' PR and put holes in her innocent victim PR, as she has shown that she is not a victim but rather an antagonist. She has put her time and energy into 'clapping back' at the BRF, and now she is facing the result of her investment.

The card is also showing that Meghan's perspective is out of balance. She is seeing this in a way that is out of proportion to the action and the results. Instead of taking a step back, taking a deep breath, and viewing this from a practical perspective (what can I do to calm the situation down), she has invested herself in the perspective that she is right and with the right PR the public will applaud her decision (as per her 'Lili=Flower=tribute to Doria' PR, to try and put her decision on the right side of public opinion).

The Two of Pentacles can also be a card of being over-committed, in some or all of the areas of time, energy, and money. I am wondering if Meghan has over-committed herself in some way and now can not meet her debts and/or do what she has promised.

Card Four: The Seven of Wands. This card shows fighting between the followers of Jason and the followers of his uncle, the usurper king who wants Jason dead. This represents conflict between Meghan and her supporters (the usurper king) and the supporters of HM the Queen and the BRF (Jason, the rightful king).

Instead of bringing things back into balance, as per the Two of Pentacles card, Meghan is going to create even more conflict. She is not going to let this go, she is going to double down and create as much noise and anger as she can in her attempts to prove that she is right. Wands can be the suit of PR, and this battle will be fought through PR via media articles, twitter bots, celebrity statements etc as well as more subtle means, such as how an article is written, what is stated and what is implied, and so on.

Clarifier One: The Ace of Cups. The conflict is going to be over her pregnancy/birth/baby

Clarifier Two: The Three of Pentacles. This is a card of working with others to achieve a goal. Meghan is going to get people to help her in stirring up conflict. I don't know if the people will say yes, but she is going to try and get other powerful people on her side.

Clarifier Three: The Hierophant. This card represents institutions, and here it stands for the BRF. Meghan is going to attack the BRF over this issue, either covertly or overtly.

Card Five: The Seven of Pentacles. This card shows Daedalus, who is working for King Minos, being approached by Queen Pasiphae and offered money to enable an act that will be a betrayal of her husband. Daedalus has to decide whether he will continue to work on his current project, or betray his employer and take on the new project.

This is a card of taking the long view and deciding what would best suit your final goal. Should you continue investing time and energy into your current path/project, or would a new one serve you better? In this deck it can also be about dodgy acts - do you continue on with your current work, or do you take on a project that enables betrayal and unfaithfulness?

Coming after the Seven of Wands, this tells me that Meghan is invested in creating conflict and she is not above using underhanded mean to do so. She is going to put her resources into stirring up conflict and she will not see much return from it. The return on her investment will be poor. People will not believe the PR.

Underlying Energy One: The Ace of Pentacles. This can be a new baby, or it can be a financial opportunity, or it can mean you will receive some money. Here it stand for both the new baby and for money. The name Meghan has given her new baby is the reason why the public has turned against her, but that reaction also has implications for her plans to merch her baby. I think some offers may have dropped away after the baby name was announced. This card is sitting directly under the King of Cups, so Meghan may have asked for more money from Prince Charles because of the new baby (if so, I think she was refused).

Underlying Energy Two: The Three of Swords. This card shows Queen Clytemnestra and her lover killing her husband, King Agamemnon. It is a card of heartbreak, of a painful situation coming to a painful conclusion. Taken with the card after it, it is referring to a death of some sort, and taken with the card before it, it is referring to the death of the baby. Meghan knows that this news will release a tide of sympathy in her favour. She is waiting to use it at the best possible moment for her aims. Underneath all her actions is the thought 'they will be sorry when I release this news!'.

Underlying Energy Three: Death. This continues the energy of the second card, the Three of Swords. Death can be a metaphorical death, the natural end of a cycle, or a physical death. Here it refers to the physical death of a baby (the Ace of Pentacles). Either the baby has died, or it is sick and is going to die. The heartbreak of the Three of swords card is going to result in a death.

Conclusion: Meghan is currently very stressed. Nothing she is doing is turning the tide of negative PR. She blames Prince Charles for the palace rebuttal, and is completely out of balance - she is not seeing things in proportion at all. Instead of doing something to regain balance, she has decided to go all out to create conflict with the BRF and she is not above using underhanded means to do so.

Underlying all this is her child. She knows that her child is either dead or may die soon, and she is keeping this knowledge to use as a final blow to the BRF, one that will show her as the victim and them as the villain for fighting with a new mother with a sick baby. She is also keeping it as a final blow that will erase negative public opinion and give her lots of sympathy.

Edit: For those wondering if it is HMTQ that passes instead of Lili - HMTQ may die in the middle of this conflict, as I have seen her passing sometime in June or July, but with the Ace of Pentacles followed by the other two cards, the death and heartbreak are connected to the Ace of Pentacles, and that is coming through as the baby. We are probably looking at two deaths in the next two months - one of HMTQ, and one of the baby (although I hope the baby is just sick and recovers, and I don't want HMTQ to die either).

[stitch1830]

CHARACTER DESCRIPTION: KANTO

So this is a character description for the character Kanto that @precious-metal-girl and I created for AUs where he is in a loving and committed relationship with Toph Beifong. Part of this is to help me keep track of all of his features and personality traits, and if others are looking to write about Kanto but aren't sure about how to describe him, feel free to pick and choose characteristics that meet your AU needs! This will (hopefully) be a living document where characteristics are added and changed over time. If you are curious about our AUs or want to know about a particular trait/personality, feel free to ask us questions!

......

Born: ~88/89 AG (summer)

Residence: Republic City

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Green

Element: Earthbending/Metalbending

Occupation: Deputy for the Republic City Police Department, Metalbender Division

Nicknames: Hotshot, Dep (short for Deputy), Slick, Botany Boy, Pretty Boy, Metalbrain, Metalhead, Rockhead, K, My Rock

Relationship: Toph Beifong

Background:

Kanto grew up near one of the Fire Nation colonies close to what is Republic City today (part of the reason why his name has FN influence). His father took many different jobs and tried to avoid fighting in the war as long as possible so he could stay with his family, while his mother was a seamstress for the town. Often, he would help his mother sew clothes, and because of that he was pretty crafty and good with his hands. He lost his parents at age 7; old enough to remember them and his childhood, but all the memories are pretty blurry.

What he does remember is that his family was pretty poor, but they always had something to laugh about.

He loved learning new skills with his dad, and had his mom read the same two books they had every single night. And one thing he always remembers is eating together as a family.

His parents died either in an accident for rebelling against a FN rule (maybe the FN wanted to take Kanto away for being an earthbender), or from protecting Kanto in general.

Kanto was always pretty feisty as a boy, pushing people’s buttons and egging people on. It only got worse when his parents died because he pushed buttons out of anger now.

He also had a lot of friends, but after, he didn’t talk to anyone for a while because he ran away. Most of his fighting skills were learned while on the run, he never got any formal training until he went to the metalbending academy (maybe 17 or 18? Toph managed a different part of the academy so she didn’t know him. That or he went to a different academy branch entirely).

One thing he remembers is that he was happiest with his family, so he cherishes the idea of a happy family unit, and he constantly searched for something that made him feel close to that happiness.

Personality:

The first impression people get of Kanto is that he is a no-good, arrogant, bad boy. He acts as if he’s the coolest person in town and always has something sassy to say in response. More than half of the words that come out of Kanto’s mouth are flirtatious and sarcastic, a combination that initially drives Toph Beifong crazy.

But in reality, Kanto is an extremely loyal man who’s rather selfless, putting himself in harm’s way so no one else has to. His initial personality is a front to protect himself so that he doesn’t befriend anyone too much, because he knows what it’s like to love people and lose them. He hated how he felt when he was orphaned and never wanted to feel that way again.

When his facade finally cracks with Toph and she sees the real him, he’s actually… a dork.

He’s got a very goofy personality, he gets excited about little things, and his passions do not necessarily align with his looks and his first impression. When he loves people, he does so with his full heart, but again, he’s hesitant to do so with many… His family are essentially the only ones that see him this way.

Looks:

Kanto is most certainly a hunk. He’s got a similar skin complexion to Toph, thick and wavy (borderline curly) black hair (Toph loves playing with it), broad chest and shoulders (a fit and toned body overall), a mischievous, slightly crooked grin (left corner turns up higher than the right) that makes all the women of RC swoon, a crooked nose from being punched in the face one too many times, and classic earthbender green eyes. He’s also pretty tall, that’s where Lin gets her height from, well over a head taller than Toph And despite being an earthbender, his hands and fingers are actually rather long and nimble. Some popular fanart interpretations of Kanto can be found here and here and here and here and here.

Interests:

Kanto likes flowers, he often brings new ones home (especially when he’s with Toph) so he can teach her about its qualities and so they have a nice and natural floral scent in their home. He’s obsessed with pro bending like Toph, and often will attend matches with her. Astronomy and biology are also interests of his. Toph and Kanto also have a cool rock collection, both are trying to best each other to find the coolest one. Kanto reads science fiction novels to Toph in their downtime and he’ll play the guitar or pipa.

Fears:

Kanto is afraid of bugs, he doesn’t care for large fires that can get out of control, and big animals make him nervous at first contact. When Lin’s in the picture, he freaks out when there are too many sharp corners in one place. He’s always afraid she’s gonna fall and hit her head. Kanto also doesn’t like those rip tides or currents in oceans/large bodies of water.

Some of his deeper level fears include losing his family. He cannot stand the idea of losing Lin or Toph, especially if the reason they are missing or gone is because of him. He’s lost his family before, and he’ll be damned if he loses them again.

Flaws:

A lot of his flaws stem from his stubbornness and confidence. He’s arrogant, overconfident, prideful, and impatient. He knows he’s good at his job and he’s not afraid to talk about his skills and talents, and unless he’s working specifically with Toph, he assumes he’s the best for the job.

He’s flirty, sarcastic, reckless, and a bit of a slob (just his home, he keeps a clean appearance). Kanto’s constantly ragging on coworkers, has comments for days, and it’s rare for him to speak in a serious tone while on the job. Just doesn’t happen.

He’s protective, reckless, a troublemaker, skeptical, and vengeful. When he actually finds love and has a family, he is extremely protective, to the point where if criminals threaten his family, he’s not afraid to take the law into his own hands to eradicate the problem. One of these would be his fatal flaw, maybe vengeful? His vengeful tendency could be from a need to retaliate to protect his family from a threat, and that ultimately may take him down.

His flaws mainly seem to come from his overconfident front that he gives to the world. He doesn’t let too many in, or, he lets people in, but they don’t see the real him. Kanto doesn’t trust people right away, but it’s easy to get along with everyone if you just have this confident and charismatic face on. But his ‘face’ seeped into his actual personality, so there are times when he shouldn’t blurt out the first stupid comment in his head, but he does.

Gaang First Impressions:

Aang: He’s always extremely happy and excited to meet new partners, so he was thrilled to meet Kanto. They definitely don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, but Aang is great at being friends with everyone despite the differences, so there’s no animosity.

Katara: She’s skeptical at first, because Kanto acts like a douche and has a bad boy persona. Katara just doesn’t want to see Toph get hurt, so she interrogates the man a bit (a lot), but even though the things he says concern her, he’s a gentleman to Toph, very attentive to her needs. So, maybe he’s not so bad… Later on, she knows the bad boy look was all a facade and that Kanto is a sweetheart, and she grows to really like Kanto.

Zuko: He gives Kanto a very cold shoulder at first. He’s very protective of Toph because he thinks of her as a little sister. So, he crosses his arms, glares a bit, and Kanto glares back because that’s what he does at first. But then, they start going on double dates, and Zuko and Kanto turn out to have a lot more in common than they realize. They’re buddies now!

Sokka: Sokka’s attitude really depends on ship preference with him, but in most HC’s, he’s Toph’s best friend, so he would also be distant with Kanto. He wouldn’t like how cocky he is, or that he’s super tall and talented at many things… he’s not a fan. However, Toph is always super happy around Kanto, he makes her laugh, and no one is allowed to insult Toph without an ass whooping from both Kanto and Toph, so, he warms up to the guy. He’s been seen buying Kanto a beer after a long day of work as a truce, and he often goes to Kanto if he needs police paper signed and expedited (Kanto does the same with Sokka, it evens out).

Suki: Suki is pretty chill about it all. She’s pretty perceptive about personalities and whatnot, and she can detect a bit of a bad boy mask. So, she treats the introduction casually and is super cordial with Kanto. They never become best friends or anything, but she was one of his first “allies” in the Gaang, and for that he is forever grateful.

Other Facts:

His mannerisms are that he walks with a slow swagger. Often the slowest of the group, he takes his time whenever he walks places. But don’t let that fool you—he can sprint really fast. He leans back in almost all of his chairs, sometimes he leans too far back. Kanto was a notorious manspreader when he would sit down, but since being with Toph, she put a stop to that instantly. When he’s restless, he bounces his leg a lot, and usually only stops if Toph reminds him (usually a hand to his leg to calm him down). Kanto also runs his hand through his hair a ton to either push it off his face, or just on instinct. He fidgets with his hands, too, Toph does as well. Usually, the two will hold hands or play with each other’s fingers to ‘remedy’ their nervous tick. In extremely stressful situations (like an AU where Lin is kidnapped), Kanto usually throws up and doesn’t sleep at all.

Kanto’s voice is a mix of a rural and city accent, once Republic City becomes prominent. He uses slang in his speech often and mainly uses city words (he picked up a lot of city lingo when interacting with criminals and undercover work back in the day). There are a few words and phrases from his childhood that he uses that scream ‘rural kid’ and that is mainly when the distinction in his accent and speech is picked up. His voice is smooth and deep when he casually talks. When he yells, it becomes a bit gravelly and husky sounding. Oddly enough, when he whispers, the same thing happens.

Kanto smells like the earth or something with a forestry scent (cedar comes to mind). He wears cologne, and the scents he usually goes for are ones that smell like earth, wood, or resin. Kanto likes wearing cologne, but he can’t put too much on, otherwise it bothers Toph’s nose, and he typically checks to see which ones Toph likes, and he’ll purchase that cologne again because he knows she likes the smell. He naturally smells a bit like metal and dirt and a bit of smoke (he was a casual smoker before he had Lin). All these scents are not prominent, but by the end of the day, these are the scents that can usually be detected.

Some of his pet peeves include fake apologies, when people kick or shake the chair he is sitting in, any slightly insulting remark toward Toph, close talkers, people that interrupt frequently, and those that correct his grammar.

Kanto canonically only has one daughter, Lin. In this AU, he’s a loving and committed father who emphasizes putting his family first and protecting them. He doted and hovered over Toph while she was pregnant, cried tears of joy when Lin was born, and is very attentive and caring toward Lin. He’s the one that soothes her when she cries out at night, he’ll get up in the morning with her so Toph can sleep in, and when he comes home from work, he smothers her in kisses and gives her raspberries on the belly (affectionate). Even as a baby, Lin was a Daddy’s girl and Kanto spoiled her as much as possible.

In the relatively canon compliant AU, Kanto dies when Lin is about 6 months old. He left for work, had a run-in with a bloodbender (or an accident on the job), and never returned home. On the day of his death, Kanto planned on proposing to Toph, but never got the chance.

Lin knew about her father growing up, but he wasn’t talked about often because it is a touchy subject for Toph (and for most that knew him well). On her 13th birthday, Lin receives the engagement ring on a necklace, along with a handwritten letter from Kanto.

There are many AUs and headcanons related to where he lives, but those are very fluid and change all the time!

[daughterofzagreus]

The Astrological Signs of "Avatar: The Last Airbender" characters

Part 1 - Team Avatar

♎ Aang - Libra

Libra is an air sign and Aang is an airbender. More than that, though, Libra (represented by the scales) is the sign of harmony and balance. As the Avatar, restoring and maintaining balance is Aang's primary duty. Aside from all that symbolism though, Aang's personality is a lot like a Libra.

Libra is the opposite compliment to Aries, a war sign. Libra don't really like discord (at least, they don't like to be IN the discord and chaos). They're lovers, not fighters, so they tend to be peacekeepers. This is Aang to a T. Aang is not only one of the youngest characters in the show (and therefore, the most likely to be uncomfortable with violence), but he is also a monk, raised by other peaceful monks.

He values peace and all life. Even his fighting styles are evasive and are more about using an opponent's strength against them, rather than attacking. It's something that is brought up in the Book 2 episode "Bitter Work", when Aang has trouble learning earthbending from Toph. Libras (depending on the rest of their chart, of course) often tend to respond to conflict in a similar manner, by being avoidant.

You see the pacifist in Aang anytime he needs to mediate a conflict. Examples include "The Great Divide" in Book 1, where Aang has to mediate between the two tribes (as well as Sokka and Katara). He does so by telling them that "Harsh words won't solve anything. Action will". Of course, when that doesn't work, he just lies and makes up the alternative story of WeiJin and JinWei. I don't think Aang is a big fan of lies, but it was for the sake of peace, a means to an end. Very Libra.

Another thing that makes Aang a Libra is the fact that 1) Libra is ruled by Venus and 2) Libra rules the 7th house, which is essentially relationships. Aang's relationships (platonic and romantic) mean EVERYTHING to him, and there's a reason why putting one of his loved ones in danger is initially the only way to activate the Avatar state. He's a very friendly, charming and loving kid (like most Libras) and he's the first one from team Avatar who believes they can make it through the secret tunnel, because of how strongly he believes in his love for Katara. The final point is Aang's reluctance (or sometimes downright refusal) to cause harm to others unless absolutely necessary. While others use violence, Aang is more likely to want to befriend his enemies, and that's actually a good thing. It's Libra's superpower.

♋ Katara - Cancer

Cancer is a water sign that is ruled by the moon, and Katara is a (very powerful) waterbender who draws her powers from the moon. In astrology, water signs are known for being on the emotional side. And with Cancer's ruling planet being the moon (the planet of emotions and also the celestial body that pushes and pulls the tides), Cancers are known to be so emotional, that they're often just archetyped by it. Katara is similarly emotional (see the Book 3 episode "Ember Island Players"). However, Katara being so in touch with her emotions also makes her extremely emotionally intelligent. Like Cancers and most other water signs, her heightened sensitivity allows her to almost psychically sense how others are feeling, and to know how exactly to respond to and comfort them. There's a reason why Katara has such great chemistry (when it comes to her one-on-one conversations) with so many people (Aang, Haru, Jet, Zuko, Toph). Her emotional intelligence also makes her very mature for her age and allow her to see things clearer than others, or to foresee things that others don't.

Cancers are often either family oriented, or they love and value their home (this can either be their childhood home, current home, or the city, country or culture that they came from). This applies with Katara. As a waterbender, being from the water tribes is a big part of who she is, and she has a deep love for her culture. We see how being the only waterbender in the South Pole and having no one to show her the ways of waterbending saddens her, and how happy she is to hear that Hama is willing to teach her (the only other waterbender from the Southern water tribes that Katara has ever met).

With regards to Katara being mature for her age, she's also very motherly. The Book 3 episode "The Runaway" (as well as most of her interactions with Toph) demonstrates this. The moon (which rules Cancer) is The Mother in astrology, and so most Cancers have a significant relationship with motherhood. Katara was very close to her late mother and her death still affects her.

Following the death of her mother, Katara has basically had to become everyone else's mother and hold things together. You see this as well (in a more positive light) in the Book 2 episode "The Desert". In this episode, Appa is missing, Aang is too upset to think or act clearly, Toph can't see properly because of the sand and Sokka is high off cactus juice. Katara is the one that is keeping everything together in this episode.

On the downside, Katara's mothering can turn to nagging sometimes, but I don't blame her. She's a child that's had to grow up way too fast. She has a lot of pressure on her. With water, that pressure can build up, until it bursts like a dam wall (which it's likely to do). It's the combination of this, as well as Katara's strong and fearless sense of right and wrong that lead to those cataclysmic outbursts that both Katara and water signs are sometimes known for.

♋♐Sokka - Cancer sun, but with a lot of Sagittarius aspects in the birth chart

Okay, let's start with the Sagittarius side of things. There are a lot of elements of the Sag personality in Sokka. For one thing, luck. Not only does he manage to survive (and thrive) in the entire series WITHOUT any bending powers, but that boomerang ALWAYS comes back! That's some Jupiter-luck energy if I've ever seen it.

Sokka was originally going to be a more serious character, but the voice actor decided to improvise and add some of his own humor to the role, which created the Sokka that we know and love now. I mention this because the voice actor (Jack De Sena) is a Sagittarius. Sokka has the kind of personality that provides humor in difficult times and can lighten up the sometimes very heavy atmosphere in the group. He doesn't just make people laugh, he likes to laugh as well (at his own jokes and even at his enemy's jokes). In the book 3 episode "The Ember Island Players", heeven goes to the effort of getting Suki to sneak him backstage, so he could give the actor playing himself some tips and extra jokes (and low and behold, the crowd actually laughs at them). In his words, he's "just a guy who loves comedy". In fact, I think he's one of the only ones there who just decides to kick his feet up and enjoy the show (by basically turning the situation into a date night for him and Suki). Sagittarians love to laugh and make people laugh. They're optimists who like to have a good time, and are likely to be the make-lemonade-out-of-lemons type.

He's also one of the smartest and most competent characters on the show. He has excellent problem solving skills, and isn't afraid to look at things through a different angle and try new things to expand his worldview and knowledge. This is relevant, as Sag rules the 9th house which includes, amoung other things, higher learning, truth and knowledge. He can be a bit tactless and insensitive...a little slick at the mouth, but it's largely ignored by others, as he is likeable and funny enough for others to let it go. That's quite a Sag trait.

The Cancerian part of Sokka's personality is less pronounced, but it's there. He's VERY protective of his loved ones, even before the situation with Princess Yue. He is family oriented in that he admires his dad and the traditions and customs of the water tribes. He loves and is just as proud of his culture and home life as Katara is, but just in a different way. He also always looks out for the other members of team Avatar. He can tell when a member of the team needs support and immediately jumps to action (for example, the way he immediately grabs Toph's hand to guide her in "The Serpent's Pass", in "The Desert" and on the air ships during the final battle in the series finale). He's also very loving and protective of his sister, despite how often they fight. Also, quiet as it's kept, Cancers are one of the funniest signs in the zodiac.

♉♈Toph - Taurus sun, but with a lot of Aries aspects in the birth chart

Let's start with the Taurus aspects. Taurus is not just an earth sign, it's FIXED earth. It embodies the firm stance and hardheadness of not just Toph, but earthbenders in general. Tauruses are very stubborn and like to do things their own way at their own pace. Combine that with the independence and confrontational nature of an Aries, and you've got Toph.

Aries value their independence, sometimes to the point of being selfish, which is what we get with Toph in the Book 2 episode "The Chase". In this episode, it's Toph's first time riding with the group, but it's also her first taste of freedom. Like an Aries, she hates the idea of seeming weak or helpless, and has to learn that freedom doesn't mean that she has to do everything alone.

As Toph shows us, there is, however, power and strength in valuing independence, so long as you're not insecure about independence or projecting. Toph is a wealthy, sheltered child who is blind, which, in most cases, would make her vulnerable. But it's not the case. Toph ran away once before when she was little, and that's where she learned earthbending from the giant blind moles. She learned earthbending not just as a martial art, but as an extension of herself and her senses, and as a way to see. She would have never been able to master doing that (nor would shehave gone on to do even greater things like train the avatar and discover metal bending), if she didn't have the will, bravery and self assurance to run away in the first place. That little pilgrimage (her life changing adventure, if you will...but still not with Zuko, I'm afraid😔) showed the value of independence. Of going out on your own journey of self-discovery. Much like how Zuko needed to be be alone for a while during Book 2 for his own journey of self-discovery.

Oh, speaking of "Zuko Alone"...

♈Zuko - Aries

Zuko's arc in the show shows us the transition from a dark-sided, low vibrational Aries, to a high-vibrational Aries at it's best: passionate, brave, protective, strong, innovative, a good leader, driven, energetic and independent. Zuko embodies many Aries (and general fire sign) traits, both good and bad. He can be impulsive, and doesn't always think things all the way through. Aries is cardinal fire, so it's about getting up and going, just DOING something. Zuko is known for never giving up. These are things that that Iroh, Sokka and Ursa have mentioned. Zuko is an impatient person and is very fiery, hot headed and reactionary even for a firebender.

His reactionary nature makes him prone to a bit of melodrama (and I imagine that's why it's so fun for Azula or even Iroh to get a rise out of him). This is definitely the case with Aries. They're not the only sign with a temper, but they are the most likey to cause a scene and storm off in a huff about it. Or challenge you to a fight. Zuko can't refuse a fight for the life of him. At least not until he evolves and figures out his ✨true destiny✨.

One the other hand, he also keeps that same fiery energy when it comes to defending those who can't defend themselves and fighting for what he believes is right. In these cases, he refuses to back down. Even if his chances of winning are low, he'll still keep pushing forward. That's the will, energy and drive of cardinal fire. Zuko just needs to chanel all that power into something useful and constructive, like creating change for the greater good, and not distraction. Like with fire in general, Aries (and Zuko) is useful and powerful, but requires direction, guidance and purpose, so as to not risk letting the fire run wild to cause destruction and devastation.

[thebibliomancer]

Tides of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 25

Tides of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because some fire just proclaimed Tavra the true All-Maudra, the Vapra have joined the loosely affiliated resistance, and skekSa has our heroes back against a cliff. Two chapters left, tensions high!

Last times on book: Amri and co are on a quest to unify the Gelfling clans against the Skeksis. They’ve succeeded with the Sifa, the Dousan, and now the Vapra. But they’re cornered by skekSa the Mariner who is feeling a bit sore about the Sifa ditching her and wants to take Naia to use as political capital with the other Skeksis.

Chapter 25

Amri and the others fight to escape the clutches of skekSa, they don’t get out unscathed

skekSa stared, wide-eye, rage saturating her dark eyes and making her look more Skeksis than ever. Amri tried not to let it frighten him. Not now that they’d had their victory lighting the Vapra flame. All that was left was to escape the Mariner’s clutches. Survive, like Tavra had said.

Win condition: get the heck away.

Similar to the first book conclusion, having to escape the Hunter. Different from the second book where they planned to trap the Satirist to keep knowledge of the resistance secret longer.

Beating skekSa in a fight, not even a viable outcome.

For one, her sword is longer than Amri is tall. That’s a bit of a discouraging thing.

skekSa tries being ‘reasonable’ one last time, offering Naia a chance to surrender for the safety of the others but Naia refuses.

[skekSa] charged at Tae, swinging her sword. Even if its edge were not sharp, the sheer power and weight of it would crush a Gelfling if it struck. Tae leaped, wings taking her up so her toes touched the gleaming metal of the blade. She ran along the sword, leaping again and slashing with her dagger.

That’s some more choreography that I’d love to see in puppets.

It’d look silly if not execute well but maybe good silly.

There’s only so many ways you can portray a small individual fighting a much larger one and its not like Yoda’s method of jumping around everywhere like a grasshopper doesn’t look silly if you’re not in the moment.

Naia runs to help Tae hold off the Mariner and Amri runs to take care of Kylan.

Kylan being Kylan, his first concern is to stop skekSa from destroying any more trees after the trees helped send the message but Tavra chides him they have to save themselves first.

Problem being they’re backed up against the cliff, they don’t see Onica’s lantern down in the ocean, and all the fliers are trying to knife fight a behemoth.

skekSa doesn’t give them space to think about it either, she dashes in and tries to split Amri in half. He tries to block with Tavra’s sword but the Skeksis wrenches it from his hand with the hook on her sword.

Not ideal.

Naia and Tae attack her again and do some damage but she just jumps away from Tae and throws Naia off of her. Fighting Skeksis is hard.

Tae tells Tavra to protect the others and keep lighting the fires no matter what happens and then dives against skekSa from the air.

Tae’s dagger bit. skekSa’s sword flipped into the air, and Amri caught his heart in his teeth when he saw that the Skeksis’ severed hand still clutched the hilt as it flew.

skekSa screamed. She grasped the stump where her hand had been.

“How dare you!” she cried, over and over. “HOW DARE YOU!”

Well, uh, plus side is that now she can get a hook hand to add to her piratey aesthetic?

Minus side is the Swimmer just lost a hand too.

Other minus side, Skeksis have four arms. Two usually vestigial but like the Hunter, the Mariner engages in vigorous exercise in the brisk outdoors and hasn’t had arm atrophy.

Amri tries to warn Tae when he sees the movement but is too late.

One of skekSa’s smaller arms slipped out from the Skeksis’ coat. Something flashed, and a BOOM rang through the mountain air. A cloud of smoke exploded from skekSa’s hip, blasting Tae off her feet. She crashed into one of the Waystar trees, leaving a red mark on its glowing white bark where she struck. Then she fell into the snow and did not rise.

The smoke cleared. skekSa coughed and reached into the depths of her coat again, drawing out a leathery, egg-shaped device and holding it in her tiny palm. Her breath rasped in anger and pain, her blood still falling on the white snow. She stumbled to one knee.

“I can’t believe this,” she panted. “Can’t believe it one bit.”

Holy crap! Guns exist? Skeksis have guns??

This is even weirder than the Emperor doing force lightning.

Guns!

And here I was joking about her improving her piratey aesthetic when she had a gun up her sleeve!

A weird, egg-shaped gun.

The tech level of this world sure is unusual.

-rereading- Oh! Its a grenade!

Yeah, that’s more in keeping with what we have/will see. But geez, she hit Tae with a grenade. Poor Tae.

Also, sure she got blown up for it, but props to Tae for taking off an entire hand in one go.

Down below in the bay, Onica’s lantern has finally arrived and Naia says that their best chance is to fly down. Except now they’re down one flier and have two non fliers to convey.

skekSa throws another egg-shaped grenade, which Amri blocks by throwing a branch in its path. The explosion still knocks him on his ass because that’s what explosions DO.

And by the time he recovers, skekSa reaches them.

She had found her sword, held it in the hand that was intact, carelessly bleeding from the other as if it meant nothing.

“I don’t want to do this,” she said slowly, her blade tasting the snow at her feet. Her voice turned hard at the end, wicked as her sword. “I told you we had a deal -- you ungrateful fool.”

Huh.

I can almost believe she means it.

The Mariner takes a swing but she’s blocked by someone with a Vapra sword and then has her sword knocked off the cliff.

skekSa is having a really bad day.

[Amri’s] eyes were still hazy, trying desperately to focus. But even so, he could see how stood between them and skekSa: a Sifa with hair gold as the sun, holding Tavra’s sword. Shining on her neck was a crystal spider, silver and blue as the moon.

The ringing dulled enough that Amri could hear Tavra’s words, stern and commanding in Tae’s voice.

“Get out of here, to the cliff,” she said. “Run! Fly!”

!!

Tavra spidered Tae!

I guess Tae is alive from being exploded? If her body is still capable of being spidered and fighting?

skekSa tries to lunge past TavraTae to get Naia but without weapons and against someone with a sword who knows how to use it, she’s stymied.

The Mariner even grabs a tree branch and tries to use that to swat TavraTae, without success.

Naia follows TavraTae’s advice and grabs Kylan and jumps off the cliff.

And after breaking from the fight with superior mobility, TavraTae grabs Amri and jumps too.

Amri having a lot of trouble reconciling in his mind Tavra and Tae because its Tavra but looks like Tae and plus he might have a concussion.

Naia still is the Drenchen whose wings have only just come in and haven’t been strenuously tested much so she’s having trouble doing more than slowing down her and Kylan’s fall. Its a nice touch that that’s remembered two books later.

But TavraTae glides close so Amri can take Naia’s hand and they can all glide down together.

As soon as they land on the boat, Tae crumples, probably Tavra abandoning controlling her as soon as its not a life or death situation. Because of ethics. And because moving her around when she’s been exploded can’t be good for her explosion wound.

Naia immediately starts trying to heal her, only pausing so they can all move inside the cabin where its warm.

In the end, the glowing eased and Naia put her hand on Tae’s forehead.

“I’ve healed her body,” she said, brow creased with pain. “But she was deeply injured by that explosion. Even though I’ve mended her cuts and broken bones, her mind still sleeps. I cannot even sense her dreams. I don’t know when she will wake... if ever.”

It was hard to imagine. The Sifa merely looked as if she were sleeping.

“I didn’t mean to...,” Tavra began. She rested on Tae’s cheek, glistening like a tiny moon in a cloud of sun-gold hair. Amri sighed and shook his head. The moon had eclipsed the sun during a storm in Ha’rar, after all.

What a weird prophecy.

In the end, it turns out it wasn’t a prophecy of a sweet, sweet romance. But a premonition that Tae would eventually be body-jacked by a spider that was really a cool Vapra.

Goes to show, prophecies aren’t straightforward. Unless they’re incredibly straightforward. Like the one from the movie.

But sometimes they’re poetic because fate doesn’t like you screwing with it.

Amri tells Tavra that this isn’t her fault because she did all the right things and saved the group which is what Tae would have wanted and which she’ll definitely confirm when she wakes up.

Buuuuuut, the plot hasn’t stopped happening just because there’s like four pages left in the book.

You’d think it would and we’d be winding down and figuring out what to do next. But no.

A familiar metallic whistle shrills through the air. A whistle that Amri knows exactly what it foretells.

Amri ran out onto the deck, followed by the others. The ship trembled as the sea shook. He grabbed hold of the rigging on the ship as waves rolled out from the ocean and crashed across the back of an enormous black shell. A deafening moan trembled through the water and echoed against the steep cliff. Terror shot through Amri’s body as a behemoth mouth rose from the depths, water gushing from its enormous hooked-beaked maw.

It gaped, spreading its jaws. The ocean churned, sucked into the black abyss of the creature’s throat. Onica’s ship was caught in a vortex of inescapable currents, and Amri watched the slowly brightening sky disappear as the monster ship closed its jaws, swallowing them into a sea of darkness.

COME ON!

This is where the denouement is supposed to go! And you go and release the kraken on them?

You’re persistent, skekSa! You’re very persistent!

[natsubeatsrock]

Lower Your Expectations for Nalu

I'm going to start this post off more generously than I normally would. I don't have any real reason to. I just kind of want to reach some of the Nalu fans with this section. (Nalu fans probably shouldn’t want to read the rest.)

Generally speaking, it's better to lower your expectations for a ship becoming canon. That way, you are pleasantly surprised to see how it will happen. Sometimes a relationship should have more subtle canonization than a bombastic showing. If Mashima plans to make Nalu canon, we should be patient to see how it happens. It’s not impossible for Nalu to have some impressive showy way it becomes canon. However, it’s worth letting Mashima do his thing and let the chips fall as they may.

Alright, the kids are gone. Let's do this for real.

I've been running this blog for just over six years. You'd think that, at this point, it would be hard for me to be surprised by this fandom. I've seen all kinds of things happen, and that should be the case. I joined during a rather tenuous time where fandoms were more willing to go at it.

As it stands, the Nalu fandom is the gift that keeps on giving. Whenever I feel as though I can't think of anything else to say about this ship, something happens, and I'm brought back to writing about it. You'd think it would be me talking about how the ship functions in canon. However, fans seem willing to bend over backward to sing Nalu's praises.

I'd respect it if it weren't Nalu we're talking about. This might be one of the most overrated ships in anime. I'll never understand how most people who watch this series even passively wanted these two to become a couple. All the couples Mashima's written over the years, and this is the one he'll be judged for? (Also, maybe Gruvia, but we talked about that already.)

Still, I do have to give this some fandom credit. Mashima has taken nearly every possible opportunity to feasibly advance this ship since the Grand Magic Games ended (arguably even before that) and passed on doing much with it. On some occasions, it feels as though Mashima is directly mocking the idea that Nalu could possibly become canon. And yet, fans believe that Nalu will become canon at any moment because he draws a Twitter pic of them once every three months or so. (Yes, I did edit this sentence since Nalu Day. What of it?) 

Recently, I got an ask comparing the Nalu fandom to the MAGA crowd. I'm not personally vindictive enough against Trump or his supporters to affirm that comparison. Though, I can't act as if I haven't been thinking of an analogy to describe Nalu fans. I think a better comparison might be fans of the Dallas Cowboys. 

Cowboys fans seem to believe that their team can win the Super Bowl any season. That's not an inherently problematic perspective to take. You should hope that your team will do well. However, this often manifests itself in confidence that ignores the faults within individual Cowboys teams and the strength of their opponents. Not to mention, this ignores the objective fact that the Cowboys haven't done well in the playoffs for 25 years.

I don't think it's wrong for fans to believe that their ship will become canon. I don't know too many fans who wish their ship doesn't become canon. However, I always worry about the fans who believe their ship happening is an inevitability. Especially when things seem to be pointing away from the possibility of it happening. This is usually a recipe for toxic fandoms.

But, let me humor the idea for a moment.

What if Mashima really plans to make Nalu happen in the end?

As I'm writing this post,  we're currently in the middle of the fight between the third Dragon God. We're getting close to the real conclusion of that battle. But after that, there are two big arcs until the series truly ends. Three if they decide to have one last battle against the quest-giving dragon.

If Mashima's going to make Nalu canon, how would that work now?

There's the "realization" route. This is the one I probably see the most. Natsu and Lucy could come to the clear realization that they have come to love each other throughout the series. Of course, you'd have to imagine that whatever would bring this on is more powerful than thinking the other has died. 

Twice, throughout the series. 

Each.

On top of several other crazy things to happen to them over 600 chapters of material spanning a decade and a half. Yet, I'm supposed to believe that some random new moment will change the tide for Nalu.

The other way to do it is to have a confession. Either Natsu or Lucy decides to share with the other the fact that they are in love. Their feelings are reciprocated, and you can figure out the rest.

Depending on who you ask, we've almost gotten this a few times. Lucy's had a few opportunities to talk about her relationship with Natsu and has been fairly nice about it. A few times it's hinted that there might be more to their friendship but nothing concrete. I've even seen it hinted that Natsu was going to confess in chapter 545.

But, that's just it. We've only gotten hints at the possibility that there's more. If Natsu and Lucy actually like each other romantically, why not make it clearer earlier?

"It's because he's being subtle about their shared romantic feelings."

Yeah, I have reason to doubt that.

Jellal and Erza have feelings for each other implied throughout Fairy Tail. Sure there's explicit stuff like their meeting before the Grand Magic Games started. But there's been plenty of subtle stuff surrounding their relationship. People make hints at their potential romantic relationship all the time in canon, even as recent as the last arc.

I feel like I say this a lot when talking about Jerza. But really think about the arcs they're together in. There's Tower of Heaven, Nirvana, the Grand Magic Games, Tartarus, Alvarez Empire, and Aldoron. Their relationship is brought up or hinted at in Fantasia, Tenrou Island, Avatar, and Mercuphobia. While that looks like a large amount of material, Jerza doesn't take up much space in any of these arcs. Outside of the Grand Magic Games, Nirvana, and Alvarez, these are small moments between the two of them at best. Sometimes it's even less than that. And yet, the ship makes sense to the vast majority of the fandom.

But that might be an unfair comparison. Jellal and Erza have a history dating before the series started. 

Let's use a ship that involves characters that met after Natsu and Lucy. Gray and Juvia. (Wait, these guys again?)

The big thing with this ship has been how Gray feels about Juvia. We've known how Juvia feels about Gray literally since they met. However, we've seen Gray slowly change his views on Juvia. We didn't just jump from enemies to lovers. There was a subtle shift as the series went on.

Do you really think that Mashima couldn't do better with Natsu and Lucy? His main duo? The series is only possible because the two meet each other. But I'm supposed to believe that Mashima didn't want to make a Nalu romance seem more explicit?

If you were to ask me, the most likely route for Nalu now is a much less sexy option. If Nalu were to happen, it won't happen in a grand showing of affection. It will just... happen. We'll likely skip to some random point in time after they beat all the dragons and see them as a couple. Maybe we'll se an Earthland Nasha.

This isn't something anime/manga fans aren't used to. I know everyone likely thinks of a different series that has done this over the years. People will rag on series like Naruto and Bleach for doing this. For what it's worth, I do like both of those series and their endgame ships. 

That said, I have two problems with this option. 

First, Nalu doesn't have the kind of setup that those other ships have. You're not getting characters openly confessing before a fight. You're not getting two characters flustered over the prospect of feelings suggested to each other. Heck, you're not getting a "Silver Ray" situation.

"What about those times when Lucy was asked if she likes Natsu?"

Again, Lucy's not openly agonizing over that as part of their relationship. If this was something we were supposed to seriously consider as an option for her, we'd know.

Even then, this would only show that it's one-sided. Natsu hasn't had any similar moments where he considers liking Lucy. Anyone bringing up the waterfall scene is speculating at best. Do you really expect me to believe that Mashima will change that this far into the series?

But this doesn't even get into the second problem. Is this how you'd want Nalu to become canon? 

I've said this before, but Nalu has been expected to become canon for close to a decade. That almost feels like an exaggeration. But one of the big chapters I usually point to for Mashima potentially making Nalu more overt is Lucy Fire. That chapter turned ten years old this past March.

Nalu fans have been inventing all kinds of scenarios and situations about how Mashima will make their favorite ship happen. Wouldn't it be disappointing for fans to see that this ship would happen without any of the pomp and circumstance you'd expect a ship like this to get?

I know plenty of people who were disappointed when their favorite ship just became canon without a lot of lead-up. I didn't love getting to the end of Bleach without knowing more about how Ichigo and Orihime got together. Yes, I know the novels exist, but I (literally) paid to read the manga. I'd like to have seen it happen in the manga. (This could be about Naruto, but I only own The Last.)

This is why I believe Nalu fans should lower their expectations. Do you know the fantasy fans have for Nalu happening? Natsu and Lucy finally being hit with the overwhelming realization they love each other? A tearful confession of their feelings for each other capped with a kiss? All of their friends cheering them on, knowing they should have been a couple a long time ago? Maybe even a glimpse at their wedding and their future kid?

Congratulations, that was Rave Master's main couple. Don't expect the same thing for Nalu. If Nalu will happen, it will look much more disappointing than what fans believe it will look like.

At this point, I'm even not sure that Nalu will happen. Mashima has made every version of Nalu look more romantic except the original. I can't apologize for my skepticism on its prospects. Even actual Nalu fans are worried about if it will happen. I will enjoy seeing more of this salt in the future.

Now, there's one question you might be asking of me. How will I react to Nalu happening?

I don't have some back-pocket post prepared in case Nalu does happen. Heck, I thought of making one but ended up writing this post instead. 

However, I have been wrong about future events of Fairy Tail in the past. If I'm wrong and Mashima does make Nalu canon, then I'll talk about it. I highly doubt it will make me like the series less. It certainly won't affect anything I'm doing with the rewrite, given my rules for changes. Consider that I've been able to talk about Gruvia negatively at this point in the series. I'll absolutely continue to talk smack about Nalu if it ends up canon. 

That said, I have reason to believe that I'm right about the direction Nalu will take. And if I'm right, don't expect my tone on Nalu to stay the same. At the very least, I can promise a third Nalu edition of "My Incredibly Unpopular Thoughts" if Nalu doesn’t happen. I haven't done one in years and I can't think of a better way to celebrate the ship dying once and for all.

[canchewread]

Editor’s note: this post is part of the Recommended Reading series here on Can’t You Read; an ongoing and evolving feature that combines an easy to swipe info-graphic, a short journal, and a link to an important related discussion I’d like to share with readers.

A Culture of Predation Can’t Stop Fascist Pig Violence

In the wake of the frankly surprising (but extremely welcome) guilty verdicts in the trial of former Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin for the murder of George Floyd, I’ve tried very hard to reign in my cynicism. After all, the conviction of a cop for murder “in the line of duty,” let alone a white cop who murdered an African American man with an impoverished background, is about as common as a goddamn unicorn fart, and on that account alone the verdict is worth commemorating, if not necessarily celebrating. 

While it would be unspeakably obtuse to suggest that the verdict represented some sort of positive justice, it’s also undeniable that many feel this moment may indeed be a starting point; a chance to at least begin to imagine what a positive justice for African Americans might look like. In particular numerous observers have pointed to the very public crumbling of the proverbial “blue wall” of silence, the fact that Chauvin’s fellow police officers passionately testified against him with the whole world watching, as a positive omen for the future of police reform.

Unfortunately I (and many other observers) have doubts about this position. I don’t mean to be a downer, but the truth is that nobody, not even immunized murderpigs and their commanders, can justify the horrifying video of Chauvin mindlessly executing George Floyd over the course of nine and a half minutes. Faced with the choice of openly embracing their own “little Eichmanns” in front of an outraged public, the Blue Meanies decided that ultimately it wasn’t worth protecting a fuck up like Derek Chauvin. The cost, both to his fellow thug cops, and the profession of policing as a whole, would simply have been too damn high to justify the reward. 

The sad and horrifying truth here is that if Derek Chauvin had simply shot George Floyd, instead of casually kneeling on his neck for almost ten minutes, he’d probably be a free man today; just like so many cracker murderpigs before him. Furthermore, even this smallest of concessions probably wouldn’t have happened without months of nationwide protests conducted under a state of constant assault by violent, openly rioting police officers. That last reality is certainly not lost on fascists and neoliberal authoritarians; why else do you think reactionary lawmakers are rushing to pass legislation that criminalizes mass protest against racialized police violence? 

Still, you can’t blame folks for hoping; hope can be a good thing if it gives you the strength and courage to continue a seemingly impossible fight for actual justice. Perhaps some long day from now we will look back on this moment and say “and the conviction of Derek Chauvin was the point when the wave ultimately broke, and the tide of cracker police violence finally rolled back” - even if it’s clear that these convictions, by themselves, do not have the power to enact the change we so desperately need. 

Where I can and will find fault however, is with those deluded and disingenuous souls who have used this moment to once again champion the doomed cause of police reform; blithely ignorant or willfully oblivious to the fact that police reforms already failed to prevent the murder of George Floyd, and so many others like him. The bald truth is that the current establishment movement towards police reform is about maintaining the power and funding of the very same violent uniformed thugs who’re murdering poor people on behalf of the capitalist state in the first place; that’s why nobody is talking about removing qualified immunity for police officers, and that’s why even some cops themselves are coming around to the idea of reform at this late a date. In many ways, the real importance of the movement to “Defund the Police” is that the mere threat of taking away the sweet filthy ducats that pay murderpig salaries has already shifted the carceral establishment’s position towards bargaining; albeit, in bad faith.

The road to neofeudalist hell is paved with dark intentions however, and what establishment reformers, even and perhaps especially those who’re prepared to acknowledge the fundamentally racialized aspects of police violence, aren’t prepared to discuss in the open is the nature and purpose of policing itself in a capitalist society. There is no public examination of why it is that we keep hiring folks who turn out to be violent white supremacists to be police; and there certainly will be no discussion about the ways class relationships intersect with race through the designed function of racialized policing.

Despite the pro-police propaganda you’ve been fed all your life to suggest otherwise, the vast majority of what police actually do in America is to protect the wealth, property, and feelings of affluent white people and the corporations they own. Far from solving major crimes and preventing violence, modern policing in the Pig Empire revolves around nuisance violations, so-called broken windows policing, and other methods of harassing poor people for minor infractions of the law; remember, the police encounter that lead to the murder of George Floyd started over the purchase of cigarettes and a dodgy twenty dollar bill. The reason murderpigs can get away with violently assaulting protestors and journalists who threaten the established order is because that is precisely what they’re being paid to do, and indeed what their predecessors before them have always been paid to do.

On the surface, this class and capitalism analysis may appear to create a tension with the narrative that white supremacy and racism are also driving the crisis of police violence, but that’s really just about the same old establishment spin. As I’ve discussed in numerous prior essays, you simply cannot separate capitalism from white supremacy, or even racism, because bigoted ideas are propagated and spread for the specific purpose of marking out certain marginalized groups for exploitation and highly-lucrative (for some) repression.

Do you want to know what systemic racism in policing really looks like? It looks like hiring murderpigs to repress the poor, knowing full well that due to centuries of slavery and exploitation, the nonwhite and particularly African American population will be vastly overrepresented in the targeted communities. It looks like a supposedly colorblind war on drugs, the ongoing use of demonstratively racist stop and frisk practices, and expanded powers for your community’s “gang squad” in pretty much any neighborhood that just happens to be predominantly Black. It looks like literally profiting from these practices in ways that are sometimes extremely brazen and obvious, but sometimes hidden from everyday sight; even if they’re hardly much of a secret. The fact that the police are ultimately enforcers for the capitalist ruling class, also makes them enforcers of the white supremacist order that capitalism is so dependent upon in our society; there is no contradiction involved here.

Look; you don’t get rid of fascist murderpigs and white supremacists in law enforcement by throwing more money at nazi cops. Joe Biden can summon up all the pretty words he likes, but you can’t address the racialized nature of police violence without fundamentally altering either the racialized nature of inequality in American life, or the very purpose of policing in our society; and he’s sure as shit not talking about doing any of that at all. Thus, no matter how surprised and hopeful I am after the Chauvin guilty verdicts, that sense of positivity is ultimately tempered by the realization that “nothing will fundamentally change” - and that includes cracker thug pigs executing unarmed Black men on camera.

Although they might finally be better than openly fascist Republicans, the Democrats still don’t have answers to the problem of racialized police violence because ultimately, they don’t have answers to the crisis of capitalism itself. It’s not a question of reform or changing the law; murder is already illegal, even if you’re a white cop. Inequality, and the security force violence necessary to maintain it, is a festering sore inside the American body politic, and there are indeed consequences for essentially ignoring a crisis now so obvious and enraging to the public at large. 

What kind of consequences? Well, let’s ask researcher and professor Temitope Oriola who provides one terrifying answer in the public journal, The Conversation:

“The United States is at Risk of an Armed Anti-Police Insurgency“ by  Temitope Oriola

Or, you know, we could just abolish the murderpigs first; your call really - but don’t expect Palooka Joe to be much help, either way.

- nina illingworth

Independent writer, critic and analyst with a left focus. Please help me fight corporate censorship by sharing my articles with your friends online!

You can find my work at ninaillingworth.com, Can’t You Read, Media Madness and my Patreon Blog

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Inquiries and requests to speak to the manager @ASNinaWrites

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“It’s ok Willie; swing heil, swing heil…”

[moral-turpitudes]

Unfinished Business: Part 1

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Slight mentions of past Abuse, Drugs.

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

+ random character/group I made up (Romboldi & The Black Hats)

Word Count: 3,084 omfg I really did the most but I just kinda ran with it.

Summary: Y/N’s current occupation requires her to encounter Thomas Shelby, a man she thought was in her past for good, but as fate would have it, she has to face him once again, because no one can forget a Shelby. 

Requested by: @msbzowy​

Summary of request: “...Thomas lost any contact with the reader and one time while on a business deal he meets her because they’re both involved in the business. They would be fighting a lot but eventually something happens between them and the old feelings come back? You can make it sweet or steamy. No specific deal in mind, just like the general idea! Thank you in advance!” 

A/N: This was requested as a oneshot but I had so many great ideas for it based off this awesome request, so I figured I’d turn it into a 2 or 3 part fic possibly. Let me know if that’s something you’d want to read. :)

Part 1 | Part 2

Y/n walked down the wooden staircase after receiving a phone call, one hand gliding down the rail, and the other holding her suitcase. Her nerves consuming her as she ran down the hall and out the door of her house in New York. The spring air filling her lungs as she quickly walked to the edge of the street, attempting to hail a cab. As she waved her hand out, she smiled as she saw one stop and handed him some cash for his efforts. She wasn’t much for pointless conversation, especially now. She was on her way to one of the biggest meetings of her career, a career she had found herself in only 2 years prior. It was a job most people wouldn’t want, but it paid well, and since she fled Small Heath, she needed the income and the protection. 

Small Heath was a series of bittersweet memories. Seeing her friends at the tailor shops, walking down the dark cobblestone streets, and becoming particularly close to a man named Thomas Shelby. After the war, he got heavily involved in the business, dealing with rival gangs, going after commissioners, committing arson, murder, dealing with bets at the tracks, and breaking hearts most of all. In the matter of heartbreaks, y/n was his first true victim. 

As the cab rolled down the city streets, she glanced out the window, remembering all that she left behind. 

Tensions in the blinders were running high at the time of her departure from the company, back when they had a business meeting with a rival group, the Black Hats from New York. The blinders wanted to transport weapons and ammo for a cheaper price because of recent financial troubles, but they weren’t having it and the Black Hats declined, but not without blowing up one of Tommy’s supply areas. This smuggling shit was risky business to say the least, as these were being smuggled along with drugs.....snow to be exact. The little blue bottles were like gold, taking away the pain of the day while giving you the energy to go on to the next, sucking you in like a rip-tide at sea until you were consumed by the need for more. She had been all too familiarized with it because Tommy struck a deal with a huge supply of it before she left. He didn’t use it often, but Arthur was a different story.

It came as a shock to her, as she had been dating Tommy for a year before everything came crashing down. She was confronted by him at a family meeting saying that she needed to leave, that she had no place there despite her skills. She was a great shot and was helpful on many occasions, but to have her there would pose a risk they weren’t willing to take after they bombed him. So, in true Tommy fashion, he gave her some money, bought her a boarding pass, and sent her on her way to New York to start a new life, his cold eyes staring as he watched her board the ship, emotionless.

This only fueled her need to get back at him, to show him what he had lost, while also proving to herself that she didn’t need him as much as he needed her. She could make a name for herself, even if that meant working for the enemy. 

Pulling up to the brick building, she realized she was now in the belly of the beast, the Black Hats home-turf. She was never seen with the Shelby’s when they visited him in Small Heath, as she was always doing secretary work at Tommy’s place, or perched high on rooftops, aiming at the men below who had came to charlies yard for their meetings. She was always out of sight regarding those men, but now here she was, working for them. She came to them seeking any position, lying about where she came from, supplying them with her forged papers, and even hiding her accent. For as big as this gang was, they weren’t the brightest, as they accepted her in with little apprehension. 

She earned a good living for herself though, quickly becoming their main contract killer. She would travel the country and take out the people on their hit list, and in return they’d provide her with housing and a guard that would check in every so often. 

As she walked in through the heavy double doors, she nodded to one of the guards who let her through into the leader, Mr. Romboldi’s office. He smiled as she came in, fiddling with his golden ring around his finger. 

“Ah there she is...little miss Quick Shot. Nice of you to join us.” He said using her nickname she’d earned among her peers. She could hit a target from various angles and distances without much help and came to like the name she made for herself. Y/n soon nodded and stood at attention like the others, ready for the days orders.

“We have some unfinished business in Small Heath, as I’m sure you’re all aware. It’s been a while since we’ve been overseas, and we’re going to send someone tomorrow to discuss our deal once more as they’ve had recent success in a certain business venture that I’m sure we’d appreciate here.” He said with a serious look in his eyes.

“What venture?” One of the men asked.

“Gin. Buying stocks in it, selling bottles, transporting cross-country, we Americans love our gin and Mr. Shelby has a new supply. He tried to low-ball us last time with the ammo, the guns, and the snow, but I’m going to send him an offer he can’t refuse this time.” He said smirking.

“What offer is that?” Y/n asked, putting on her fake accent.

“You.” He said looking at her. Y/n’s heart sank, as she looked at him and nodded. She never wanted to see him again after he booted her out like she meant nothing to him, even if it was to save-face for him and the company and for her safety. 

“You’re going to get him to supply us the gin and get him to pay us full price for our efforts with this am I clear?” He asked.

“Yes sir.” y/n said. 

“If you fail, we’ll be meeting again under very different circumstances.” He said, an evil smile playing at his lips.

She’s known him long enough to know that he meant he’d kill her or Tommy, and as much as she hated the man who broke her heart, she still loved him at the same time, and she couldn’t let him or his family die over a silly business deal.

As soon as she was dismissed, she grabbed her suitcase and headed off to the boating docks, buying a ticket and boarding the ship. She knew her boss didn’t care when she left, as long as she got there sometime that week. And besides, she was too anxious to wait around for tomorrow, knowing this was time sensitive. 

After the grueling ride aboard the ship, she went into London after going through the necessary checks. She used her alias and made her best impression, and then went on to Small Heath as assigned. When she got out of the car, she smirked as her red heels hit the black soil covered streets. Walking by a shop, she saw a women’s tailor and decided to stop in, buying a well made pant suit. It fit well and was a nice gray color with pinstripe detailing. Looking around further, she decided on a gold pocket watch, and nice hat to match, and then went on her way after buying it all. 

Walking down the street, she saw the Garrison, causing all the memories she had with Tommy and the rest of the blinders to start coming back. They were like brothers to her and despite her bitterness, she still loved them, as they were not particularly happy in seeing her go, as that was solely Tommy’s decision. 

Y/n shook the thoughts from her head, and waited outside the shop, leaning her back against the coal-black wall. While lighting a cigarette and taking a drag from it, she looked off into the distance seeing a man in a peaked cap riding a dark horse, much different than the white one she saw two years ago. As he pulled up near Shelby Company Ltd. He stopped in his tracks as y/n took another drag of her cigarette, looking at her pocket watch.  

“Nice horse Tommy. You’re right on time.” She said relishing in the fact that she could use her normal accent. Her sunglasses and new brimmed hat helped in disguising her face.

“Thank you miss....Who are you?” He asked his eyes burning a hole through her shaded lenses. She smirked and took them and the hat off, revealing her face.

“Y/n...” He said, his eyes growing wide. He immediately took her inside and to his office, shutting the door behind him. 

“What on earth are ya fucking doing here?” He asked.

“That’s not a nice greeting for someone you haven’t seen in two years Tom. But given what happened I didn’t expect anything nice from you anyways. I’m here on business.” She said, walking past him to put her cigarette out. He watched as she walked towards him, her arms folded over her well-fitting suit, standing in front of him.

“What business is that?” He asked. 

“Oh you know, just a little...mafia business back in New York. Nothing too big... except that you’ve pissed off my boss. And now I’m sent here to try to make a deal.” She said making herself at home in one of his leather armchairs. He raised an eyebrow and sat on the edge of his desk near her. 

“What deal? Who are you working for y/n?” He asked.

“The Black Hats. Mr Romboldi to be exact...ring a bell yet? The son of a bitch who took me in after you booted me out without a goodbye? Yeah, him. He still remembers your little low-ball offer for the guns, the ammo, and-” She chuckled as she remembered the drugs. “-the fucking snow.” She said giving him daggers.

He looked down, y/n could see the gears turning in his head.

“I told you to leave and not go anywhere near them y/n. Why the hell are ya working for em aye?” He asked angrily. 

“You and I both know I couldn’t just sit around twiddling my thumbs and making pies for someone I never loved all day. I wasn’t going to be some house wife to some old bastard while I could’ve been out shooting and working a meaningful job. I wasn’t going to let myself rot.” She said, her own voice raising. 

“You didn’t have to choose this life though. You could’ve left this behind like I wanted you to.” He said lighting a cigarette. 

Y/n chuckled. “I remember what you told me one time, when I first started getting involved in Peaky business. You said and I quote, ‘you can change what you do, but you can’t change what you want.’ And you know what Tommy? I wanted this life, I wanted you, I wanted to make a name for myself, I wanted the thrill of this job because I often feel nothing. But I’ve only gotten half of that.” She said getting up, pacing around the room as he watched.

“What did you not get y/n?” He asked too focused on the mafia issue at hand to realize she mentioned him.

“You, you fucking idiot! But you threw me out, no goodbyes, no letters, nothing.” She said, her eyes filling up with tears.

“Y/n...that was two years ago. I was trying to protect you.” He said noticing the tears running down her face. 

“I had a job. I had a life here. I’m not expecting you to ever want me back but god damn it I’d like an apology. Hell, you didn’t protect me from shit.” She said, thinking about some of the things she had to do to get through to some people for her boss. She shuddered at the thought.

He looked hurt, seeing her like that, and despite it being two years since that day, he still loved her all the same, he was just terrible at showing it. He never thought he’d see her again, and in that moment he decided he wasn’t going to let her go again. 

She wiped her eyes as she felt him walk up behind her, she tensed up, not knowing what would happen next. He put his hand on her shoulder lightly, and she turned around to face him, her eyes still bright and hopeful after all that had happened. He loved her, and after she left, he mentally beat himself up over it every day. He turned to snow for a while, along with his opium, but what he truly needed was y/n. Fearing she may be too angry to every take him back, he hesitated as he brushed the tears from her cheek and kissed her. 

Instead of slapping him or walking out, she deepened the kiss, which surprised Tommy, as he pulled her as close has he could, not wanting to let her go. When they parted, lightly gasping for air, he smiled slightly and so did she. 

“I-I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry y/n.” He said stepping back from her.

She looked at him as she processed what happened, she never expected to fall right back into his arms after all she went through, but here she was, being sucked in by his ocean blue eyes once again. 

She straightened her blazer out and pushed a stray hair out of her face. 

“Why did you kiss me Thomas?” Y/n asked taking another cigarette out of her pocket and lighting it. 

Thomas thought for a moment, trying to pick his words less recklessly this time around.

“When I forced you out, I stayed up every night beating myself up. I’ll never get those nights back, but those nights made me realize something y/n.” He said.

“If you’re going to break my heart again just say it already.” She said tapping her heel impatiently. 

“I love you...y/n.” He said looking at her, studying her as she moved anxiously. He loved the way she looked, the way she carried herself, the way she wasn’t afraid to call him out. But he was terrified for the first time in his life that the woman he loved wouldn't return those very words back to him.

She looked down, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “I came here not only because of an order Tom...but because deep down despite my hate for what you did, I knew why you did it. And even though two fucking years have passed, I still haven’t been able to get you out of my head. So, I guess what the fuck I’m trying to say is that I love you too, you bastard.” She said looking up at him a light smile playing at her lips.

He smiled and walked over to her and took her hand in his, kissing it lightly. 

“I promise to never do something so foolish again y/n. I swear on me fucking life...so am I forgiven?” He asked.

She took his words into consideration and nodded, bringing his lips to hers. Breaking away, she walked around the room slowly, remembering all of their fun times in here after-hours. 

“So, about Mr. Romboldi, y/n how serious is this?” He asked.

“Well, he said that you’ll have to pay them full price for their services. He wants your gin. He sent me to persuade you to pay him for distribution and sales in the states......and It’s not easy Tommy, smuggling things.... especially alcohol back to the states........I hate him and his men believe me, but they risk their lives getting that kind of stuff so I think you should consider paying a full price.” She said.

“And if I don’t?” He asked. 

Y/n sighed. “I was also sent here because he knew you couldn’t refuse an offer if it came from a pretty woman. Now, he may have been right on that part, but he doesn’t know that I’ve been working under an alias for him, and he doesn’t know I know you. They think my name is Y/N Anderson, from Virginia. And so if you don’t take this offer, they’re going to find out, and then Mr. Romboldi and his men are gonna waltz in here and kill you, me, and everyone you care about because they’ve already been wronged once, and they don’t like being wronged a second time.” She said sternly, taking another drag from her cigarette.

He sighed and ran his hands over his head, his face growing angry.

“What is it Tommy?” Y/n asked, noticing his behavior. 

“After all this time, I thought maybe I’d be done for a moment y/n. With this whole empire of a business. But I think that moment will never come...before I stupidly forced you away, I had everything. I had this going great, and at night I could sleep. But now, when I do sleep, I dream. And in my dream, someone wants my crown.” He said with a sad look to his eyes. Y/n came over to him and hugged him gently, feeling him relax at her touch.

“Well, I’m here now. And the only way you’re going to get a break and get to keep your crown is if you help me fucking take care of this Thomas.” She said. 

He sighed and took a moment to think.

“Alright...in that case...you’re going to call him from a payphone tomorrow. You’re going to say I accept his offer now that we have the fucking funds to do so, and you’re going to tell him we can meet in a weeks time. We’ll meet in charlies yard again.” He said.

“So we have a deal then?” She asked grinning, still embracing him.

“We have a deal.” He said. 

“So now that I’m here...where shall I stay?” She asked.

“Well, first I’m going to re-introduce you to the family which I’m sure they’ll love. Then, I’ll be taking you to my place.” He said.

“And why is that?” She asked a mischievous smile playing at her lips.

“Because we have some unfinished business.” He said, before pecking her lips and ushering y/n out the door and into the family meeting room.

[saphie3243]

Sympathy for the Devil, Chapter 45 - Service

Summary: It’s the first real battle of the war with Hybern, and Nesta finds ways to be of service to the war effort. (Nesta POV of the first full battle in ACOWAR)

Notes: this the first chapter of my fic that really doesn’t need the other 44 chapters to make sense. And it’s mostly fluffy nonsense, so I wanted to post the text here. The Elain conversation might be a bit confusing, but it’s really short at the start.

Word Count: 6000+

Read on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26334061/chapters/69611046

Their tents went up before even Rhys and Feyre’s. Morrigan’s orders. Nesta picked up her sister once more while camp-mothers erected Elain’s tent for her and summoned in the furniture. As soon as it was done, she brought Elain inside and tucked her into a warm cot. Nesta’s tent went up next to it, followed by Az’s on Elain’s other side, Mor‘s out front, and Cassian’s flanking Nesta’s tent. Perfectly insulated from the camp at large. Good. No one else needed to see this.

Nesta sat in a chair next to her bedside, legs crossed, watching. One of the camp mothers stopped at the entrance. “Milady, your tent is up.”

“Thank you,” Nesta responded. The woman was the closest thing to middle-aged Nesta had ever seen a fae. Magda was a crone, and the rest were young no matter how old. She, too, was youthful in her face, but hard work had given her lines. Either labor or Illyrian heritage gave her mass, and a long day made her tired. She bowed her head and turned around. The scars on her wings gleaming as she left.

Nesta watched the entrance for a moment longer and turned back to her sister. They had not been alone since Graysen’s rejection. “Are you here or in the memories?” she asked.

“He’s going to ask Tabitha,” she said shamefully, turtling her head deep into the covers.

“I could have told you that,” Nesta crossed her arms.

“I saw it when he asked for the ring. Him on knees in front of her,” she blinked away some tears. “I don’t see her with him though.”

“You don’t?”

“I see… I see them sometimes- our friends. Tabitha is always with a boy, but never a man.”

Nesta whispered, “George.” Elain craned her head up in question. “Her son,” Nesta explained.

“She had a son?” Elain asked, slightly more animated, causing some covers to fall from her shoulders.

“Did you not know?”

“I thought it was just a rumor,” Elain whispered, then with more solemnity as she sunk back down, “I thought a lot of things were just rumors.” More tears came. So many more. Nesta pulled up the fallen covers to tuck her in, then stroked her cheek gently. Elain turned away, pulling the covers up higher.

“Elain?”

“This is the last time,” she said. “But can I just… be alone?”

Nesta nodded even though Elain couldn’t see it. “I’ll be next door, ok?”

Cassian was standing in front of her tent, arms crossed in front of him, leaning on one leg, waiting on his tent, apparently. It was cold. She opened her tent and held the flap open, “Want to wait inside?” She offered.

He looked back at his half-erected tent, the snow around them, nodded and followed her in.

“How is she doing?”

Nesta stretched her neck, looking at the wall of her tent as though she could see through to where Elain lay. “Three sisters, three broken engagements, and Elain had to be the one that didn’t end it on her terms,” she sighed and rubbed between her eyes. “Tea?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

Her tent was identical to Elain’s, if slightly different colors. Not as big as the High Lord tent, but it was cozy. A table against one of the sides had a small oil lamp-stove, teas, and a kettle. Next to it was buckets of water for whatever purposes. Her trunk and a chair were on the other side. The cot in the middle was as nice as Elain’s. She lit the stove and started heating the water while Cassian sat tentatively on her trunk.

“I’m surprised you aren’t still with her.”

“She wants to be alone. I don’t blame her.” She set out the cups and filled little tea balls. The beauty of magic stoves, the kettle whistled almost immediately. She handed him a cup and took a seat on her cot.

“Worried about tomorrow?” she asked him at the same time he asked her, “Three engagements?”

There was another silent pause. She repeated her question, “Worried about tomorrow?”

He shook his head. “No. Azriel verified Jurian’s intel. They aren’t expecting us, and we will be very ready for them. It’s just… the buzz.” She cocked her head in question. “Before battle, the atmosphere changes. Apprehension, excitement, it all blends. Makes it hard to rest.”

Nesta nodded. “How did you deal with it?”

“Drinking and fucking, usually,” he said with a shit-eating grin. She raised an eye-brow at him.

“Not in this tent, you’re not.”

“Of course not. I can’t go two nights without sleep before battle, anyway,” he kept his smile. “We’re not all you.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” she countered, taking a sip of her tea. Between Elain, the Wall, and battle tomorrow, she’d highly doubted she’d be getting to sleep tonight.

“Have you eaten today?” he asked, she- along with most of them- didn’t touch their lunch.

“Not since… breakfast,” in the Dawn Court, because this day was just so very long.

Cassian was immediately at the entrance, sticking his head out and asking for food. “Two plates, please Marta. Thank you.” He turned back around and smiled again. “I heard you slapped that little shit.”

“Of course that makes you smile,” she rolled her eyes. The same woman who set up her tent brought by dinner more quickly than Nesta would have thought. Things must happen faster when the general asks for them. Marta brought them bowls of stew and a loaf of crusty bread.

“Thank you,” Cassian said, taking the food from her. Nesta parroted from deeper inside. Cassian set the food on the table and indicated she join him with a jerk of his head. She came over and took the seat as Cassian pulled up the trunk to sit with her.

She broke the bread, placing the bigger piece next to his bowl. “I wasn’t going to do anything. If he just turned her down, I was going to let it go.”

“Really?” He didn’t seem to believe that for a second.

Nesta rolled her eyes again. “I’d rather he turn her down than stay for obligation. I can’t fault someone for their feelings,” she sighed, “but he just kept going.”

“I can fault him. Not wanting to marry because she’s fae-”

“I know you don’t understand it,” Nesta interrupted. “But you aren’t human.” They were silent again. Nesta ripped off a piece of bread and dipped it in her soup - time to change the topic. “Did you know Jurian?”

Cassian considered. “I was in the front lines then- a foot soldier. I fought with him, certainly, but I was one of hundreds. The others knew him better, I mostly knew him by reputation… and after Clythia, I didn’t want to know him better.” The disgust came back, the one they all had when speaking of the actions that practically won the war. “I take it from your scowl, you disagree?”

“You’re not-”

“Human?” His voice rose, not much, but enough. “That’s not an excuse. And if you haven’t noticed, sweetheart, you aren’t either.”

Nesta slammed her spoon on the table. “I am well aware what was done to me,” she snarled. “And I am also aware that is nothing compared to what Hybern did to his slaves, and what he will do if he has them again.”

“So the ends justify the means?”

“Your history books refer to humans as chattel. You get offended at being called ‘lesser fae’. Was his action underhanded, manipulative, and horrible? Absolutely. But it worked. And it turned the tide of the war.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t expect you to believe in victory at any costs,” he shook his head and picked at his stew.

“When the other outcome is desolation? Damn straight.” Nesta took another bite of her dinner.

“So why not train with me?” Cassian flicked his gaze up to hers. He leaned in, getting close- too close. Nesta froze. “If you believe in victory at all costs, why not learn to fight, join the battle yourself.”

He was so close, looking at her with such intensity. This was too much. She couldn’t just look away. She couldn’t dismiss the question. Why did she keep letting him do this? And this time was entirely on her. They spend one night drinking to escape raucous sex noises and suddenly they’re what, “friends?” The fuck was she doing inviting him in? She was practically asking for this.

“I won’t turn the tide,” she finally said.

He stayed close. “You are stronger than you think, Nesta Archeron.” He backed away, back to dinner. “And with me as your teacher, it wouldn’t matter anyway.”

They finished dinner and Nesta took their empty bowls and set them outside the tent. By the time she turned around, Cassian had moved to her cot and was lounging across it.

“Your own tent is set up, you know.”

“But I like your tent,” he beamed. “And I was thinking I’d call in my favor.”

“What favor?”

“I’ve been flying all day,” he turned over onto his stomach, wings falling down on either side of the cot. “And it’s made me very sore. I sure could use a massage.”

Nesta felt red fill her cheeks, but somehow kept her cool. “I didn’t realize you demand payment for your services.”

He turned his head to her, resting it on his folded arms. “I’m not demanding. You don’t have to do anything. But I do think it would be a pleasant thank you for saving you last night.” His wings flared and settled. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my shirt on, wouldn’t want to work you up,” he winked. This… was a bad idea. This was a dumb idea. She should just tell him to leave, or walk over and steal his tent for the night. Or leave and tell on him to Azriel. Really anything. Anything other than what she was currently doing.

Which was slowly, but surely, without taking her eyes off of his, walking towards him. She got to the edge of the cot and extended a hand, slowly tracing a line down the outside of his wing. He shivered. She pressed the rest of her hand against the surface. It was an odd texture, the same as skin, and she could tell it was supposed to be smooth like it. But there were so many little scars that bumped on the pads of her fingers. Some from Hybern, some must have been from before.

“As lovely as that is, it’s my back that-” his breath caught in a simply delicious way as her finger traced up to the bones. Oh, she thought, locking that information away for later. Later? What? Nesta shook the thought from her head and changed her target. She moved her hands to his back, starting with the shoulder closest to her.

She didn’t realize he wasn’t wearing his leathers when he came in, just a thick wool undershirt. She could feel the mass of muscle underneath the clothes. The very hard, very thick, mass of muscles. She explored a bit more with her touch, digging in the way he did for her that night, and this time the soft groan was from relaxation, not… whatever the wing did to him.

From wear she stood, with his sheer mass, there was not much else she could reach. And well, she had already come this far. “Don’t expect this again,” she said as she climbed on top of him, sitting down on his (very round, very firm) ass and bracing her legs on either side of him. She felt him about to say something and cut him off, “Can it or I stop.” He said nothing.

Nesta went back to working his shoulders, this time both at once. It was a bit of a challenge, as she had to lean forward, but not accidentally put weight on his wings. And he was so tall she had to stretch to reach. She moved down to the blades of the shoulders, digging deep into a bump just inside the bone. It ground under her ministrations and Cassian let out an absolutely sinful moan. “Shh,” she scolded.

“It was a good spot!” he defended.

“Shh!”

“Can I at least ask a question?” The silence was a little awkward. She allowed it. “You said three engagements. I hadn’t realized you and Clare-”

“Not Clare,” Nesta dug her knuckle into his knot, causing another groan - he bit this one off. She eased up a bit, going lighter on that spot for a bit.

“Then who-”

“A nobody. We were engaged for convenience, I broke it off when he no longer was.” She didn’t know how he always saw her, especially now when he wasn’t even looking. But he, so quietly, so gently, asked:

“Was he the one who-”

“I said one question,” she interrupted, going much too hard on a bone, causing him to cry out. But he didn’t say anything else about it.

He just bit his lip and let Nesta go back to work. When she finally got down grinding out the knots on his upper back, she found a new issue, the wings. They grew out on either side of his spine, going down most of the length of his back. From how he laid out, they were blocking most of the sides of his back, so she just took to gently rubbing little curly-cues up and down what little space was exposed on either side of his spine.

She got to the bottom and could have stopped, but this was oddly meditative. So she kept going. From the bottom of the spine, she fanned out and curved up, starting a path underneath the wings. Her knuckles brushed on the underside of his wings and he shuddered again. She kept going. Another shudder and then he was on his side, his hip digging between her legs.

His head was propped up on his hand. “If you keep going there, this night might have a very different ending than what you have in mind.”

“Then we are done,” Nesta said, pushing off him before he shifted again and she let out a noise from the friction.

As she got her leg clear of him, he sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap on the bed just long enough to give thanks. “Thank you. I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he whispered in her ear just before kissing her cheek. He let go immediately after, allowing her, in her outrage, to twist around and try to whack him in the head. He grabbed the hand that went for his jaw and held in place, his other arm going around her waist, holding her so she was sideways, with her legs up on the bed.

“Let me go,” she said, hoping it sounded firm despite the heat on her face.

“I taught you - just today, I might add- how to escape a hold. Can you really not get out of this?”  

“Cassian!” she hissed.

“Ok, fine,” he nodded, and then looked back up with a gleam in his eye, “Only if you promise not to hit me.”

She glared at him. One second passed. Then another. And another.

“Guess I’m sleeping here then!” He threw his body sideways down on the cot, bringing Nesta back with him.

“You are not sleeping here!” She wiggled in his arms, turning so she could push off of him, but it just left their bodies facing each other.

“Why not? It’s cold and I’m so hot.” Said with the confidence of a man who knows exactly how attractive he is.

“You’re a brute.”

“A very relaxed one now, thank you,” he smiled right into her face.

“A giant brute.”

“Nesta,” he said her name with a whisper. Her nostrils flared. “You haven’t told me to leave yet.”

No, she hadn’t.  

“I can’t sleep like this!” she argued.

“That’s not telling me to leave.”

“Would you even stay?” she accused. There was no way he would actually stay the night here. He just wanted to annoy her with the possibility. There was no way-

“If you let me,” he answered in that raspy voice of his. He wasn’t looking anywhere but her eyes, holding her close, deadly serious. Nesta gulped.

“Are you that worried about tomorrow?”

“Not at all,” he smiled.

“Do you feel bad about what happened today?” She meant the Wall, maybe her sister...

“Not why I’m here,” he answered.

“Then why would you stay?” she asked.

His eyes flared, the dark flare she’s seen in her bedroom, the quiver of his smile. But it was his forehead that he pushed to hers as he answered. “Because you let me.”

Nesta took in a breath, and with him holding her like this, all she breathed in was him. Leather and the wind and the grass and him. Today sucked. It royally sucked. The Wall fell, her sister was next door crying, and she was laying in this bat’s arms, comfortable and warm.

“I’m still wearing my shoes,” she mumbled. He let go of her. Nesta pushed off him and got up. She pulled off her belt and placed it - and the dagger attached to it - on ground next to the head of the bed, earning a grunt of approval from behind her. She kicked off her leather boots and put them at the foot of the bed. She threw a glance over her shoulder at him, he had sat up now, and was watching her very carefully. With a steadying breath, Nesta bunched up her wool dress and pulled it over her head. She heard a sharp intake from behind her, but didn’t turn around as she neatly folded the dress and placed it in the clothes trunk. She pulled the pin from her hair and placed it on the table.

When everything was in its place, she turned around to him again. It wasn’t like she was naked, she still had on her chemise, her bloomers, he regularly saw more of her sister and Morrigan. Cassian was sitting on the cot, watching her very carefully. His boots now neatly dwarfing hers at the foot of the bed, a set of knives by on the ground by where his head would be, and his leather breaches discarded haphazardly on the ground. He kept his shirt on, and his linen under breached were modest enough to cover everything, but her eyes still caught on the budle between his thighs.

She approached the bed and he backed up a bit, to make sure she had space. She stopped just as her legs hit the edge. “Just sleeping,” she said definitively.

“Of course,” he nodded.

“Because it’s cold.”

“Sure,” he said, sarcasm re-entering his tone. But he agreed. So Nesta climbed in with him. They lay down facing one another, one of Cassian’s arms acting as a pillow. With this position, she found her face very comfortable nuzzled into his chest. He pulled the furs up to cover them both, creating the perfect cocoon of warmth. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, to breathe in and sleep. His free arm wrapped around her and she fell asleep like that, feeling perfectly safe for the first time in… for the first time.

She decided that the bond had nothing whatsoever to do with it. It had to be because he gave her a knife.

___

Staying in camp while everyone went to battle was the torture Hybern failed to do when she was in a dungeon.

She woke in Cassian’s arms. More accurately, Cassian woke her gently to get her off of his arm so he could get up and get dressed.

“Nesta, Nesta, it’s time to get up.” She yawned into his chest and started to rise, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. By the time he had gotten out of bed and was pulling up his pants, she had fully woken up and realized what the hell she had done last night.

She slept with Cassian.

She soberly slept with Cassian.

In his arms. All night. Snuggled.

“Cassian.”

“Yes?” he asked, sitting next to her and pulling on his boots.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

He paused in the tying of his laces before agreeing. “Sure.”

“I don’t want 50 questions with Feyre.” Or judgement from Mor. Or looks from Rhysand. He looked back at her and nodded. He reached behind and grabbed his bandolier. Strapping his knives to himself, he nodded to her and headed for the door.

“Cassian,” she said again.

“I won’t let anyone see me,” he answered.

She shook her head. “Win.”

He met her gaze for a long moment. With an evil grin he responded, “As you wish.” And then he left for war.

And so began a long day of waiting. Elain wasn’t crying anymore, but she was sleeping. Whether it was because she had been up all night mourning or because she was wandering her memories, Nesta didn’t know. But watching her sleep peacefully got boring pretty damn quick. Doing nothing got pretty damn boring pretty quick.

Nesta walked around the camp. It was empty, but not devoid of people. The camp-mothers flitted about, some prepping dinner, others cleaning linens, some were pre-packing, in case the order to move was given. If there were jobs for non-combatants to do, then maybe she could help here. Nesta approached the one that seemed to be giving orders to the others.

“Hello…?”

“Nonnie,” she answered the unspoken question and bowed her head. “Lady Nesta.”

“Nice to meet you, Nonnie,” Nesta bowed her head back. “Is there anything that I can do?”

The thin, stern looking Illyrian woman seemed surprised by the question, but nodded. She sent Nesta to a group of women preparing medical supplies. They were filling vials with vats of potions, tearing bandages, assembling suture kits, anything that would make it easier for healers to do their duty when the battle ended. The women all nodded to Nesta as she came over, and if they thought it was odd that the High Lady’s sister was volunteering to work, they didn’t voice it.

Cassian was right last night. If she wasn’t going to be able to help fight the war, then she was at least going to help support the ones that were. One of the women put a roll of linen in front of Nesta. She asked if she needed a knife. With a little smile, she shook her head and unsheathed the dagger Cassian gave her. The woman squinted at it, but nodded and told Nesta to make the bandaged three knuckles wide.

She didn’t speak as she worked the way the Illyrians around her did. But she listened. They chattered about soldiers, about the war, about what camps they came from. Some of them were married to soldiers, others to lords, it seemed Nonnie was even Devlon’s mother. Nesta smiled. That’s why they didn’t bat an eye, Nesta thought, it was just what these women did at war - whatever they could.

Where Devlon and his men seemed to be afraid of her, the women didn’t care. At most she had one old crone - the lady mixing the potions- ask her, “Are you really a witch?”

“Yes,” Nestaa answered solemnly.

“Been an age since I last saw a witch,” the crone nodded to Nesta’s work, “make sure those bandages are straight.”

And that was that. She still felt abuzz thinking about the battlefield, the progress, and wanted nothing more than to be there, watching, helping, but at least she was doing something. And there was dignity in what she was doing, however simple it seemed. She had been told that Illyrian women were mistreated, repressed. She could see the scars from where the older women had their wings clipped, but… they didn’t seem miserable. They smiled, they took pride in their work, their status. It wasn’t fighting, but it was essential, and they understood that. Nesta wasn’t an idiot, she knew that the lack of choice in the matter was what Cassian and Azriel had problems with, but she couldn’t help thinking that they didn’t understand this part, either. Not everyone is a fighter. It doesn’t mean their work isn’t noble.

Nonnie came back. “Battle’s over. Camp is moving to the battlefield. Medics first.” And that was it. Supply runners strapped up with packs of medical supplies, held onto healers and winnowed them out. Morrigan and Feyre came back to take on this roll as well. The rest of the camp began to break down.

The kitchen staff went next, so they could finish dinner prep, and finally the tents, armor, and spare weapons. Nesta went last with Elain. She had wanted to go with the medical staff, to continue her little job, but Morrigan pointed out that the battlefield hadn’t been cleared yet, and that Elain might not want to see the carnage. Nesta relented. At least Mor made it clear that the battle was a landslide victory with minimal casualties. That she didn’t bring up Cassian was enough to know he was probably ok. She still kept pacing though, waiting, twiddling her thumbs, useless.

Landing in the new camp was jarring against the peaceful work of just hours ago. It was warm, for one - they were in the Summer court now. But the energy was different. The soldiers around her buzzed, excited and gossiping about their general. How he tore through Hybern’s lines, how he made a miraculous throw of a spear, how he was Enalius reborn. “He has seven siphons, after all,” one said. She knew the siphon thing was a mark of power, but she’d have to ask him or Az about Enalius later. The excitement was a stark contrast to the ash and blood that still soaked the battlefield. Rhysand had cleared the corpses, but the stench of death and Hybern remained.

She tried not to linger on that stench for too long. She needed to get back to work. With a quick check on Elain - now sleeping just as she was only now in a new location - she asked where the medical ladies were.

Feyre, done winnowing people back and forth as Nesta and Elain were the final packages, joined her. The ladies all bowed quickly to their High Lady and handed them each a bolt of linen. With actual patients here, the staff was scattered about, no longer keeping around a single work area. As soon as they finished a basket of bandages, they were sent off to deliver them to a medic who needed them. Deliveries usually blended with some menial chores to help with treatment. Taking the used bandages, fetching water, washing the wound so the healer could finish up their current patient and immediately switch to suturing this one.  It was tiring, and mud caked on her dress as they stomped around, but it was a good kind of tired, and exhilarating one. That was new to her.  

Nesta felt Cassian’s approach before she heard him. She snapped her head up to him. He was filthy, covered in the blood of his enemies and the mud of the field. The dark plate mail still strapped to his body, but his helmet, at least, was off - tucked in the crook of his arm- his dominant arm.

It took her all of four seconds to piece together why Cassian, warrior extraordinar, the man who slept with his blades in reach and seemed pleased that she did, too, would carry his helmet in such a way that prevented easy access to the weapons strapped to his hip. She was walking over to him before she knew what she was doing.  “You’re hurt.”

“It’s fine.”

She glared up at him for a moment, she’d told him that once when she was bleeding, and she was lying. Without answering, she went for his arm. He lifted it to her. With a flash of his siphons, the armor receded enough to expose a swollen and broken wrist.

“You know better than to walk around with an injury,” Rhysand scolded behind them.

“I was busy.” If Cassian was taking that tone with Rhysand, then he was more tired and probably in more pain than he was letting on. “And it’ll be fixed by morning.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow at him, scowled and pressed a finger lightly into it, causing him to hiss. Better by morning didn’t mean it didn’t need attention now.  “How do I fix it?” She asked, since she certainly wasn’t going to let him walk around with a broken wrist.

“Icing it usually helps, but wrapping it will just lock it in place long enough for the sprain to repair itself—”

Nesta was already reaching for the pitcher of water and bandages. She had assisted enough already today to know how to wash it correctly, at least When she started wrapping it, she asked him for his help. “Tell me if it’s not right,” she requested. He nodded. She started the bandage two inches below the injury, holding it in place with her fingers - like she saw the medics do. She wrapped it around, down, and then started up.

“Too loose,” Cassian commented. She nodded and pulled tighter, he winced, “too tight.” She found a balance, he still winced, but it was from his injury being pushed back into position, not because she was hurting him. She got to the end and did the final tie off, tucking the bandages back into themselves. It was probably a sloppy job, but it was something.

He nodded at her work and let go of his arm, ready to be done with it. But his other hand shot out and grasped her finger. She looked up at him, gratitude finding and affection in his beautiful hazel eyes. “Thank you,” his voice was rough, deep. He said it the same way he had told her his reasons for staying with her the night before.

She wanted to cry as she looked over him. He had gone to war and he won, like she asked. He was a hero of the first battle, and he was standing in front of her with nothing more than a broken wrist. It was going to be ok. This man, this male, he could keep his promise. He could protect her people. He was Enalius reborn, apparently.

She was going to ask him to explain that one tonight when Morrigan’s voice came from behind them. She had forgotten they weren’t alone. Cassian had, too, from the way he jerked back his hand. But she could still feel it, the soft calluses of his fingers, the strengthening connection between them.

Nesta rushed back to the tent, making an excuse out of getting more water, trying very hard to remember why she had asked him not to tell anyone. It took longer than she would like to admit. Especially when she could hear him chatting away like it was nothing.

___

Despite it being a landslide victory, there were enough injuries to keep Feyre and Nesta up for hours after dark. They didn’t even stop to eat. They just kept working. Tearing up bandages, delivering them to sick beds, clearing the old ones, ferrying out tools, washing wounds, whatever they could do to help.

More than once, they were asked to help hold down the patients. Keep them from spasming out of surgery. It was hard, for those cases, to remember the difference between medicine and torture. But Nesta grit her teeth and held firm, sometimes whispering to the male some platitudes, sometimes letting them focus on their fear of being held by a witch rather than the pain of sutures.

It wasn’t until Nonnie sent them away that they finally went back to their tents to rest. Nesta stopped by Elain’s first, popping only her head in to check on her. The rest of Nesta was macabre enough that she was afraid it would scare Elain if she saw. Luckily, she was still asleep. There were dirty dishes on her table, so she had eaten at some point, then. That’s good then.

Nesta’s stomach grumbled and she ignored it, trudging the 6 feet to her tent flap. The first thing she registered when she stepped in was the smell of stew - the food she’d been informed would be the default meal for this war. The second was the goblet of water thrust in her face that she took and drank without thinking.  The third was the general standing over her with the pitcher and dinner.

“Cassian!” She whispered loudly - not wanting to wake anyone else in camp, also her throat hurt? How did that happen? She finished the water in the cup. He traded her the cup for food and guided her to a chair. “What are you doing here?”

“You have a habit of getting lost in your tasks. Eat.” He pointed to the food and refilled her water.

“You could have left it on the table,” she said between bites. Manners be damned.

“But then how would I repay you for my wrist?” he held up his arm and sat on the bed. She rolled her eyes and started inhaling the bread.  

She paused for a drink of water. “Aren’t you tired?” She could see it in his eyes. He was exhausted when she set the wrist, he had to be entirely on fumes now.

“Probably as much as you,” he smiled at her. “Nonnie mentioned you working with the females all day.”

Nesta drank down the last of the broth and wiped her mouth. “I cut bandages all day,” she said dismissively.

“From the state of you, you did a mighty bit more than that.”

She looked down at her filthy gown. She looked as bad as he did just hours ago. To say she needed a bath was an understatement. But it was already late, the ladies would be tired, too. She could change tonight and ask for hot water tomorrow.

“Thank you for dinner, but I think we both need sleep now more than anything.”

“You are not getting into this bed without a bath first.”

“Excuse me?”

Cassian pointed to the side of the tent. 2 buckets of water sat steaming with towels and soap arranged nicely next to them. “Figured that could cover your face, hands, and feet. Marta will get you a proper bath tomorrow.”

Nesta didn’t even hear him. She just sighed and stripped her outer dress as she walked over to the blessed hot water.

“Oh, might need to change that one, too.” Nesta turned to look at him and saw where he was pointing. One of the men she held down had knocked her into the dirt, and apparently the blood on the ground had soaked through to her chemise as well, getting both the front and the back. That’s why I felt wet. She had thought it was just sweat. There was that mixed in there, too.  

“Turn around,” she said to Cassian. Wondering why that was her order, and not “leave.” But he did as he was asked immediately and she was already starting to untie her chemise’s laces. She peeled the sweaty, bloody garment off, finding it had soaked through to her skin. She dipped a washcloth in the water and wiped her front down first. She dipped the washcloth in the second bucket, rinsing it, and when back to the first. With a wet splosh, she slapped the cloth to her back, trying to get the grime she felt there.

“Nes, that’s not going to work.”

“Don’t call me Nes,” she turned to see him walking to her. Nesta spun back around and covered her chest, red as a cherry. “I said turn around.”

“You’ve got a gallon of blood down your back, let me help,” he was behind her now. “I’m not looking at your- chest.” From the stumble, she could infer the “much” missing from the end of that sentence. His arm rested on her shoulder, his palm up and hand open. She huffed and placed the washcloth in it.

He didn’t say anything as he methodically wiped down her back. He didn’t take his time, he didn’t linger, though Nesta’s breath still hitched and she knew she’d imagine this night very differently in the future whether she wanted to or not. She could feel her pulse quicken every time the cloth met skin, every time a knuckle brushed on her spine. She hoped he didn’t notice. He didn’t seem to. He just got her clean and handed the cloth back. She listened as he walked back over the bed. “I’m facing the wall now,” he called.

Nesta took a stuttering breath and washed her arms and legs as quickly as possible. She wiped down her face last and pulled the towel around her. She finally turned around, and he was sitting on the far end of the bed, facing the cloth wall. She couldn’t be sure, but his ears were definitely red.

“I’m getting dressed now.” She stepped over to her trunk and pulled out another chemise and pulled it over her head. Once she had that coverage, she removed a pair of clean bloomers and changed them under the privacy of her skirt. “Ok you can turn around.”

He turned slowly to her. The red she saw on ears was everywhere on his face. It would be cute if he didn’t look so… hungry. He looked her up and down, eyes catching on the chest he’d now had the pleasure of seeing. But whatever pure male instinct made him zero in on her breasts, he choked down so he could look her in the eye. And she nearly melted at the heat in that look.

“Why…” he said slowly, “didn’t you ask me to leave?”

“Why did you stay?” she countered.

“I wanted to.”

She took a breath. “Well, I wanted you to... too.”

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4: Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 55)

Description: In the aftermath of her daughter’s birth, Alodia fights for her life. 

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @feartheendlesssummer @mysteli @whatmcsaid @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @tigerbryn11​

Chapter 55: Inevitability

Alodia

I felt the static creeping in at the edges of my vision even as I heard the voices around me telling me to push. Michelle. Jake. A thousand ageless, sexless voices belonging to the generations of ghosts manifesting around me. Push. Find a breath somewhere in the suffocating fog, gather together the seeds of strength scattered across a barren landscape and plant them in my core, let my tears be rain to nourish the soil, and push against the determined life tearing me apart in her effort to be free. Then I feel her slip free, and her piercing shriek is like music. She is alive. Unto the world, I delivered the fruit of my womb, and she is free of my body. And when the fog envelops me, I don’t fight it anymore. I’ve earned my rest.

I can feel myself sinking. I can also feel myself buoyed out of freefall by countless arms that ease me gently to the ground.

...Alodia...my daughter…

Vaanu? Father? Is that you?

“Hey. heyheyheyheyhey…” Jake’s fierce whisper close to my face, the repeated syllable sending puffs of warm air over my skin. “Stay with me, Princess.”

Aren’t I here? Aren’t I here with him? Where am I? Where am I going? Sudden awareness of a chill at the back of my neck brings the world sharply into focus. Jake at my head, hunched over me. Estela cradling my feet on her lap. And Michelle beside me, a towel in her hands rubbing down the small, warm body on my chest.

“You’re doing so well, Alodia,” she tells me. “The hardest part is over, but you’re not quite done yet. Placenta should deliver in a few minutes. ...Are you okay if I leave you for a minute to check on Diego?”

“...Diego…? Is he…?”

“He’s injured his shoulder. I’ll take care of him until help arrives. Iris, monitor Alodia and the baby. Keep checking their vitals and sound the alarm if there’s any change.” I am aware of her placing my arms around the body on my chest. “...You hang onto your baby, Alodia.”

...My baby...my daughter…

...My daughter…

Oh, no...please, no...please, leave me alone… Drawing breath feels like trying to suck up ice-cream through a straw. I open my mouth, forcing out a word in a weak exhale.

“...Jake…”

“I’m here. I’m right here. I’m right here with you.”

His face is dim and fuzzy above me. But behind him, my father’s ghostly form is bright.

“Alodia. My sweet child…”

No! Jake, don’t leave me! Don’t let me go!

You’re not going anywhere, Princess! I won’t let you!

I’m sinking...

Caleb

I didn’t bother explaining to Ysa what was going on in that house. When we met up with her cousins and brothers, I only assured them that Dragonness and her people were taking care of it, and told them we were getting out of here. They didn’t protest. I don’t know if it’s because they agreed with me, or because they just saw there was no arguing with me, or because they were finally satisfied, or they were just cold and worn out and wanted to be back in the warm van. Unfortunately, when we reach the van, there’s one more obstacle to get past.

“Hi, Dragonness!” RJ calls cheerfully to the masked superhuman leaning casually against the van door. Her hands are folded low in front of her, one ankle crossed over the other. In anyone else, the pose would be non-threatening. But Dragonness isn’t anyone else. I’m pretty confident she doesn’t want to hurt me, but she can definitely keep me from leaving with minimal effort.

“...Thought you were back at the squat,” I say carefully. “...Those people need help.”

“The situation is under control.”

“Is everyone okay who we want to be okay?”

“...I don’t know yet. What I do know is that if you hadn’t have shown up when you did, the situation could have been a lot worse.”

“Didn’t seem like you were that far behind me.”

“In a situation like that, every second counts. ...You know who those people are to me.”

“Yeah. Kind of. I’m pretty sure I picked up the basics.” I pause for a second, trying to get a measure of her intentions. “...Listen, Dragonness...the kids are tired and cold. I’d like to find someplace to put ‘em up for the night, maybe get ‘em something to eat.”

“Let me level with you, Caleb. The authorities are going to be all over this whole thing, and I don’t see a way to keep your name out of it. Me and mine might lie, but I’m willing to bet your...former associates aren’t going to be so accommodating.”

“...So say you lost track of me.”

“I intend to. ...But I don’t want it to be true.”

“Pretty much a given now. Considering you could hold me here with your little finger, it’s really up to you to either let me go or turn me in.”

“...Or I take a third option.”

“What kind of third option?”

She takes a step away from the van. “...You trusted me before, Caleb. I am hoping you will trust me again. I don’t know what will happen in the morning. But I do know somewhere you and the kids can be safe for the night.”

Alodia

Consciousness comes in waves. Between the moments of lucidity there is darkness and silence, but it isn’t sleep. It’s like being shut up in a windowless room. I feel afraid in a distant sort of way. But I am also tired down to the marrow of my bones. Anxiety spikes in consciousness and bleeds out with the tide, leaving exhaustion in its wake. There’s a voice, calm and confident, and commanding my attention.

“My name is Ryan. I’m an EMT, and I’m here to help. Can you tell me your name?”

I hear myself answer, “Alodia…”

“Do you know where you are?”

“...There was a house...it was empty...we hid…”

The warmth on my chest had sunk beneath the threshold of my perception, but its sudden absence is jarring. I hear a tiny whimper and icy fear grips me.

River…

“It’s okay, Princess. She’s here. They’re just keeping her warm.” A painfully bright flash makes my eyes water. I try to close my eyes, but they’re being held open. I push at the hand on my forehead.

“You’re doing really well, Alodia. Can you tell me how you got hurt?”

I fell...I slipped in the dark and I fell down a hill…

I’ve slipped under water. The rushing sound fills my ears and drowns out the voices. I’m in the darkness again. Bone tired and riding a gentle current. Then, flashes of sound and color. Flickering red light. Pressure on my hand.

“...born 42 minutes ago, full term…”

Pain, just a nagging sensation in the background a moment ago, rapidly floods my senses, and I choke on a cry.

“I gotcha, Princess. Just stay with me. I’m right here.”

“Placenta delivered twenty-three minutes ago, apparently complete...laceration on the lower back showing signs of infection…”

I try to roll away from the pain, into the dark and silent waters. But I’m not alone there anymore.

“Alodia,” my father says softly.

No. I can’t go with him. I have to stay with Jake.

“...Fever is 104°...Let’s get a saline drip going. TKO.”

“It’s okay, Alodia.” My father is no longer the ghost I knew on the island. His face is human, the way it was when I saw him in a vision months ago, before I even knew I was pregnant. The fear that grips me at the sight of his face is colder and more visceral than anything I think I have felt before.

No...please. Please don’t take me. Don’t take me back…

“I will not take you back. I don’t have that power. But nor do I have the power to save you. Not on my own. But I may be able to help, if you allow me.” His hands seem to enfold mine. “Trust me, daughter. Please. You must trust me.”

Trust him. As if I have a choice in the matter. I’m terrified and exhausted. Too exhausted to fight. I want to go home. I want to be gathered up and sheltered in a loving embrace. I remember the warmth of Ramona Soto’s arms around me when I was a child, tainted by the distance that formed between us when she turned her back on her son. Sometimes Aunt Molly was tender, too. But she isn’t who my heart aches for now. There’s a word forming in my mind as I look up at the strange face of the long-dead man hovering over me in the darkness. It’s a word that was never mine. But I want to surrender to it. I want to wrap myself up in the word and all the tender love that comes with it.

...Dad...Daddy...I’m scared...

Michelle

Our traveling party has been significantly reduced from when we arrived at the abandoned house, but we still have two rented vehicles that need to be taken back to Northbridge. Sean and I take one, while Estela and Rebecca take the other. We should probably be going home to get some sleep. I think that’s where Estela is going once she drops Rebecca off at the hospital. Back to Quinn, back to her brother and the other Catalysts, back to get everyone up to speed and wait for any more news. No doubt they’ll all be at the hospital at some point in the morning. But I can’t go home just yet. Even if I technically can’t help in any way, I have to be at the hospital with my friends. I don’t even need to ask if Sean feels the same. When I ask him if we should go straight to the hospital, I know the answer even before he nods grimly.

We’re silent as he drives, though he does periodically reach over without taking his eyes off the road to put his hand over mine on the armrest between us. I don’t mind. I’m stewing in the knowledge that Jake--and the rest of us--could easily lose Alodia in the next few days. I find it hard to object to my husband reminding me that he’s alive beside me.

I don’t really notice that he’s slowed down until he pulls over and stops on the shoulder of the road.

“Sean? What’s wrong?” I glance at the dashboard, trying to discern if there’s a mechanical problem. Sean hesitates for a moment before spreading his fingers and pressing his palms into the steering wheel.

“Look...feel free to tell me to piss off and keep driving, but...I would really like to kiss you right now.”

Worried and exhausted as I am, I can’t hold back a smile. “I wouldn’t mind a kiss right about now.”

We lean in and he takes my face in his hands as our mouths meet. I am a little surprised at how gentle he is being. I remember the way he kissed me for days after the showdown between Dragonness and Prescott, the fierce need in the way he pressed his mouth to mine. This is different. This is...more like the way he kissed me on our wedding day, just a few weeks ago. Tender. Loving. A kiss that makes me feel like we’re the only two people in the world.

“You’re kissing me like you love me,” I murmur.

“I do. I adore you. I don’t think I’ve ever been more in love with you than I am right now.”

“What makes you say that?”

He touches his forehead to mine. “...What I saw you do back there in that house…”

“Aww. Did seeing me delivering a baby make you sentimental?”

“Yeah. But it wasn’t just that. Alodia was sick. Diego was hurt. Alodia was having a baby. You were the only doctor there. But you were calm. You got help where you needed it. You made calm out of chaos.”

“...That’s my job, Sean. I’m a doctor. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t scared.”

“I know all that. Doesn’t make it less impressive. ...You’re a great doctor, Michelle. And hell, I’ll just say it: you’re my hero.”

I can’t help myself. I grin as I kiss him again. “You know, the only reason I’m not laughing at your corniness is because I know you mean it. Which just makes you more adorable.”

He keeps my face in his hands as he nuzzles my forehead with his. “...Do...do you think they’ll be okay?”

I swallow a bitter taste at the back of my throat. “...Diego should be fine, I think. The baby seems healthy. ...Alodia...it’s a little more uncertain.” I take his hands in mine, pulling back to meet his eyes in the light from the dashboard. “It will depend on how much the infection has spread, if it’s damaged any internal organs...whether there are any post-partum complications…”

He nods, squeezing my hands. “...I...guess we should get to the hospital. Be there for them.”

“Yeah…”

He releases my hands and turns his attention back to the car. He puts the gear shift back into drive and pulls away from the curb. We’re silent as he navigates the dark road ahead, and I don’t distract him by reaching over to stroke his arm or shoulder. But it doesn’t feel like we’re distant at all. Being beside him now, I feel as close to him as if I were in his arms without enough space between us for a hair to pass through.

Alodia

I don’t know how much time passes in the fog of light and noise and pain that I find myself dragged through. I am aware of things in bits and pieces. I don’t remember arriving at the hospital, but I find myself there, under harsh fluorescent lights, my nose assaulted by the sharp antiseptic odor. At some point, I realize River isn’t there, and I hear myself call out to her.

“It’s okay, Alodia,” Jake murmurs, his breath warm on my ear. “They’re just checking her over. They’ll bring her back to us soon.”

I’m cold. The air feels too close to my skin. I think I might be naked. I want to move to cover myself, but I am not sure where the surface is that’s supporting me, or whether I’m even upright or lying down. I do feel Jake’s arms around me, and I cling to him for dear life, even as I feel him gently manipulating my limbs.

“That’s it, Princess. Good girl. I gotcha. I’m right here.”

I open my eyes and find myself on a gurney, the filthy gray sweatshirt I had been wearing replaced by a thin hospital gown. Jake is still beside me, but now he’s wearing a mismatched set of scrubs. Pain flares in my spine, white-hot and intense enough to make my stomach turn. I hear myself make a noise like a wounded animal. I feel the pressure of Jake’s grip on my hand, and his cool fingers raking gently through my hair, soothing an intense itch that I hadn’t realized was there.

“Look at me, Alodia. Look at me.” His voice is gentle, but it brooks no argument. I force myself to meet his eyes. “That’s my girl. You’re doing great. Listen...this next part isn’t gonna be pleasant. You got a really nasty wound they gotta take care of, and you also had some tearing during delivery that they say is gonna need a couple stitches. They’re gonna numb you up so you won’t feel the worst of it, but that part ain’t gonna be a cakewalk, either.”

His words don’t help the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I feel my eyes burning. I’m scared. I’m so scared, and I’m so tired of being scared. It all must show on my face, because Jake’s mouth twists into a grimace as he brings my hand up to hold against the rough, days-old beard that darkens his cheek.

“I know, sweetheart. I know. But you can do this. I know you can. You’re the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever known.”

I can’t see my father just now, but I know he’s here. He’s hovering over me and Jake, equal parts a comforting, paternal presence and a frightening spectre I’m terrified has come to take me to whatever afterlife is waiting for me. I grip Jake’s hand.

“Don’t let me go.” My throat is so dry that it seems to chafe with the effort of speaking. The effort of drawing breath is rewarded with needling pain at scattered points on my torso. But Jake tightens his grip and bends to kiss my temple.

“I gotcha, Princess. I ain’t leaving.” The air around me shifts abruptly, and Jake’s grip on my hand tightens with anxiety. Something terrible is about to happen.

Sleep now, my daughter. It will be better if you sleep.

“Look at me, Alodia,” Jake says again. Again, I am compelled to obey, and I look into the depths of his clear blue eyes. “That’s it. Just keep your eyes on me. Don’t look anywhere else. Just look at me.”

But as the pain washes through me in a heady wave, I can’t help but break my gaze. I hear myself moan and Jake seems to press closer to me, even as the rest of the world is falling away again.

“I’m here. I’m here. I’m right here. Just stay with me…”

Grayson

My family has a luxury mountain cabin a little ways upstate. Dad hasn’t been there since Mom died, but once I was old enough to drive, I took over the upkeep and used it for my own private getaway. In college, I always had friends over to the cabin for spring break, and for summer parties. Tahira and Poppy were both frequent guests back then. I haven’t been back since before the gala that changed everything, but I keep it well maintained enough that when Tahira contacts me to ask if Caleb and his runaway children can stay there for a night, I don’t have any qualms about saying yes. Since everything is remotely connected, I am able to unlock the door and turn on the lights and the heat from my apartment. The local town doesn’t have a late-night grocery store, but I do put in an order for delivery from a nearby Chinese restaurant with instructions to leave it in the kitchen.

I don’t hear anything for a couple of hours, and in the meantime, I can’t sleep. I’m sitting up at my kitchen table with a mug of decaf when I hear the tapping at my balcony door. Tahira, in full Dragonness garb, waits for me on the balcony, squeezed into the shadow in the corner to avoid the beam of the outdoor lights. In a big city and a big apartment complex like this, one never knows who might be up late and watching, curious about who Dragonness is visiting at this hour. I flip off the outdoor light before I unlock the door and let her in.

I barely have the door open wide enough for her to slip through before she pounces on me, kissing furiously with her fingers raking through my hair. I push back, wrapping an arm around her waist as I stumble around to blindly push the door closed. I’ll worry about the latch in a minute. Right now, I am aware that my girlfriend is hovering an inch or so off the carpet as she presses her hips against me, one hand tugging at the belt of my bathrobe. My hands are at her back, groping for the mechanized clasp of her supersuit, but I resist tapping it just yet.

“Tahira… your wound. ...Is it safe to…?”

She hesitates, pulling back just a little. “I...think so…” But her feet sink into the carpet again as she presses her forehead to mine and reluctantly adds, “But maybe I should wait until a doctor clears me. I mean, it’s gotten a lot better...but I don’t know. I’ve never been stabbed before.”

I pull back enough to remove the mask from her eyes and brush the dark wisps of hair off her forehead. I lean in and kiss the spot between her eyebrows, then each eyelid in turn, the tip of her nose, and her mouth.

“...I missed you,” I murmur.

“I missed you, too. In case you couldn’t tell.”

I lace my fingers together at the small of her back. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Water?”

“How about a shower and a change of clothes?”

“I’m set up for that, too. Actually did a load of some of your stuff just yesterday.”

She snorts lightly. “I’ve got enough clothes here for a load? Might as well be living here.”

“...Might as well be,” I murmur. “...But that’s a discussion probably best saved for later. Did Caleb and the kids get settled in okay?”

“Yeah. Hopefully they’re still there in the morning. I don’t know what we’ll do if they aren’t. Don’t know what we’ll do if they are, either.”

“We’ll come up with something. I promise. You’re the Hero of Northbridge, and I’m the son of the city’s most powerful billionaire captain of industry. Between us, there have to be some strings we can pull to keep the kids together and Caleb out of prison.”

“You’re basically the head of Prescott Industries now,” she points out. “And you’ve got a lot more goodwill than your father. ...I’m honestly less worried about how we’re going to keep the kids together than I am about the whole Caleb situation. I don’t just want him out of prison, I want him on the right side of the law. And that’s going to take a lot of compromise.”

“We’ll figure it out. For now, you need to rest.”

She sighs, wrapping her arms around me and letting her head fall onto my shoulder. “...Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. ...For what?”

“For not asking why I care what happens to Caleb.”

I kiss her hair, letting my cheek rest against her head. “I don’t have to ask why, Tahira. Even if I don’t know. I trust your instincts. If you think he’s worth caring about, I believe it.”

“...I hope my instincts aren’t wrong about him. Because I have a feeling I can’t shake that we’re going to need him on our side in the future.”

Diego

My arrival at the hospital is a whirlwind of doctors and nurses asking questions, taking pulse, temperature, and blood pressure, and sticking me here and there to collect blood samples, place an IV for fluids, and pump painkillers into the space between my shoulder joint and my arm bone before they attempt to put the two back together.

Having my dislocated shoulder put back in its socket is not the most pleasant experience, but it’s also not as bad as I would have anticipated, especially once the painkillers set in. I feel a little heady, but there’s no violent wrenching motion to force it back into place like they show in the movies. It’s a lot more slow and gentle. Having Varyyn there to hold my good hand goes a long way, too. I really haven’t thanked Dax enough for his Christmas present.

I don’t exactly feel the bone slip back into place the moment it happens, but I do feel the pain start to ebb away almost immediately, and exhale with relief. The doctor smiles down at me.

“Think that did it. How do you feel?”

“Waaay the heck better,” I reply languidly.

“That’s what we like to hear. I’m just going to get a sling on you, and send a nurse to take you to your bed. We’re gonna keep you overnight, just for observation, but I’m optimistic you’ll be discharged tomorrow.” He pauses a moment, glancing at Varyyn. “I know you two live out-of-state. Do you have friends in the area who could put you up for a night or two after discharge? I don’t want you to have to rush your travel plans to get home.”

“We have a number of friends in the area,” Varyyn confirms. “And we certainly won’t be going home before Alodia and her baby are discharged as well.”

“Alodia is our friend who came in with us,” I explain when it’s clear the name doesn’t ring a bell with the doctor. “Or probably a little before us. Alodia Chandler. She had a newborn baby. A little girl. ...She was hurt. A cut on her back that got infected.”

The doctor’s eyes flicker with a brief spark of recognition, and he nods. “Ahh. Of course. I remember her coming in.”

“Do you know where she is?” I ask anxiously. “Do you know if she’s okay?”

“I haven’t heard anything since she came in. But she and the baby would have been taken up to the mother and baby unit.”

“Would I be able to see her?”  

“Right now, you would be better off getting some rest.”

“That’ll be easier if I know what’s going on with my friend,” I point out. The doctor nods, reaching out to pat my good shoulder.

“Tell you what. As soon as I’m done here, I’ll see what I can find out. It’s quite likely she’s not ready for visitors herself yet, but would it help if I could get you an update?”

“Yeah, it would. Thanks.”

The doctor’s assurance is enough to keep me satisfied for a little while. I don’t badger the orderly who comes to take me to my room. It’s early morning by now, and the sunlight is streaming through the window. The orderly draws the curtains as I settle into bed. Varyyn sits down in a chair beside me and takes my good hand. When the orderly leaves, I roll my head to look at him.

“You’ll be more comfortable in the bed, you know.”

“...Is that permitted?”

I shrug. “Don’t know. At the moment, I don’t really care. If it’s not, we’ll stop when they tell us we have to stop. And I really want you to hold me right now.”

“I’m not very much inclined to argue. I want to hold you.”

He slips off his shoes and lies down beside me, holding me gently. I let my head rest on his shoulder. I feel safe in his arms. For a while, I can almost pretend that he and I are back in our bed in California. But I think the truth of where we really are and what’s really happening is pretty inescapable, because the dreams that take over once I’ve drifted off are anything but safe and peaceful. I wake up with every muscle in my body cramping around my thumping heart and the fading image of angry wasps droning around me. My own sharp gasp is already a vague memory as Varyyn’s soft lips brush my forehead and cheek.

“Shhh. You’re safe, my darling. I’m here.”

The sun is still up, but the light isn’t streaming through the window anymore. “How...how long was I…?”

“Only a few hours, my love.”

“Hours…? But...Allie. What did…?”

“The staff could not say much. But Sean and Michelle spoke to Jake. River is well and healthy. She is in a room with her parents.”

I want to smile at the thought. But the fact that Varyyn started with River’s condition is enough to tell me that her mother isn’t as well and healthy as she is. “Varyyn…”

Varyyn knows what I want him to tell me. He sighs, kissing my forehead. “Alodia’s wound has been treated. The tearing she sustained during delivery has been stitched. The infection is being treated with antibiotics. But...it is simply too early to tell if she will be alright.”

I gulp against the choking sensation in the back of my throat, biting my lip in an effort not to let out the anguished howl I can feel clawing its way up from my chest. I can’t stop the tears from dripping down my cheeks, but I am not going to wail like a banshee in the middle of a hospital.

“I should have gone for help,” I whisper when I can speak again. “I shouldn’t have waited. I should have gone when I knew she was sick…”

“That would have meant leaving her alone with enemies in pursuit when she could not defend herself. You did the best you could in an impossible situation.”

“She might die, Varyyn. River might never know her mother. Jake might lose his wife again…”

Varyyn kisses my cheek. “Diego, everyone knows how much you love her. No one doubts that you did everything in your power to protect her as best you could.”

I roll away from him as best as my injured shoulder will allow. I feel him withdraw just a little, feel his hesitation, and guilt pricks at me. He’s right. In my heart I know he’s right. But that knowledge isn’t enough to cut through the fear that encases me.

“...It won’t matter if she dies,” I say after a protracted silence. “...If she dies, it won’t matter how much I love her or if I did everything I could. She’ll still be dead.”

“Perhaps not. Not right away.” He hesitantly strokes my hair, and when I don’t pull away, he continues. “...But don’t bury her before she is gone. Hold onto hope as long as we have it.”

Alodia

I know that I am a ghost. But I don’t care. I’m home on La Huerta. The place where I was born. And for a moment, that is all I need. But then I see my friends. Jake, Sean, Craig, and Estela. All four are battered and bruised. Estela’s expression is stoically grim, but I know her well enough to see fear in her dark eyes. Sean and Craig are doing a worse job of hiding their anxiety, though they still seem to be holding it together. I guess they think they have to for Jake. Jake’s face is breaking my heart. He’s not crying just now, but his eyes are swollen and rimmed in red, and his face is splotched red with tears. He looks down as he walks, hunched and shaking like a terrified little boy.

Across from them are Diego, Varyyn, Michelle, and Raj. Diego breathes shallowly as he regards the other foursome.

“Where is Allie?” he asks, his voice low and trembling.

Sean answers the question, even though Diego is looking at Jake. Jake raises his eyes to meet Diego’s hard gaze, and there is guilt there. I don’t hear Sean explaining. But I know what he’s saying. They don’t know where I am. I fell from the chopper and they haven’t found me yet. Diego’s fear and grief burn into anger and he flies at Jake.

“You were supposed to take care of her! You let her die!”

Jake doesn’t fight back. He barely flinches to protect himself. Varyyn grabs his lover to hold him back.

“Diego! Diego, stop! She isn’t dead!”

I am, though. I want to tell Varyyn that I am. ...But I’m not. I’m standing at the Threshold, staring numbly down at the eleven graves. I look down at my hands. Wrinkled and papery, speckled with liver spots. But both of them flesh. I’m not the Endless. The Endless is in front of me.

“This is where we’re always going to end up,” she says mournfully. “This is the fate I cannot protect you from. It may be tomorrow, or it may be ninety years from now. But you will always live to see the last one die.”

“...They were protecting me.” I raise my eyes to meet her face. “...That’s what I’ve been seeing in my dreams. I watched them die to protect me.”

“You will always live to see the last one die.” She reaches out to cup my cheek in her good hand. “...Unless you die first…”

I can still feel her bony fingers against my cheek, but I am no longer at the Threshold. I recognize this place. I have danced on this stage for years. This is the stage at the performing arts center where my dance school’s showcases, workshops, and recitals have been held since I was a four-year-old ballerina, feeling like a princess in my shimmering purple tutu with a plastic tiara bobby-pinned to my head. It is familiar, but somehow wrong. Distorted. I shouldn’t be here, waiting in the wings like this. I haven’t been a student in years. I don’t know my choreography. I am in sweatpants, without dance shoes or stage makeup, and my hair is a tangled mess. And I am pregnant. I am sure of it. What other explanation could there be for the potbelly pushing against the waistband of my sweatpants, and the movement behind my navel? But even that feels wrong. Vague memories tell me that I am nearly ready to give birth, but my belly feels too small. The child’s movements are sharp and erratic.

But ready or not, I am pushed onto the stage. Harsh white lights turn the audience into a faceless dark sea that swims beyond the polished lip of the apron. Music floats up from beneath my feet. The Doll Dance. This is the Doll Dance. I have to push.

I don’t have time to question. My Catalysts are rushing in to surround me, all cradling shapeless bundles as they move through something that vaguely resembles the Doll Dance. I lie down on my back and open my legs.

“The doll is almost here!” Michelle sings from between my knees. Diego giggles, flitting between Jake and me, tapping us in turn.

“Daddy Ballerina, Mommy Ballerina!” He laughs wildly, and taps his own head. “Skinny Ballerina!”

Jake laughs with him, and taps my nose. “Princess Ballerina!” Then he and Diego laugh together, the sound morphing into a shrieking cackle as I feel a sudden emptiness in my belly.

“Baby Ballerina!” Michelle crows.

“Where is she?!” I hear myself cry. “Where is River?”

I can’t find her. I am on my feet, rushing around the stage, searching for the baby that was just torn bloodlessly out of me. The Catalysts plié right and left, shading their eyes as they search the darkness of the house.

“Where is River?” They sing in one voice. “Where is River?”

I can’t find her. I can’t find my baby.

“Oh me, oh my! Oh me, oh my!” The Catalysts jump from first position to second, scrubbing at their eyes.

I leap off the stage, into the house. I know where my baby is. The doors at the back of the house are open, and I can see the swaddled bundle in a cone of light at the end of the aisle. I scoop her up, and I feel my heart sink. The cloying face of a plastic baby doll peers up at me with unblinking eyes of blue glass, chubby plastic cheeks tinged red, lips permanently parted in a toothless, saccharine smile...

I’m going to be sick. No sooner have I realized this than there is a bowl under my jaw, and an unfamiliar pair of arms wrapped around my chest from behind, holding me upright. I want to fight their grip, but painful spasms wrenching through my midsection distract me from any potential escape attempts. A sour-tasting wave of liquid fire bubbles up my throat and sloshes out from between my lips.

“You’re okay, Princess. Just let it all up.”

“J-Jake…?” I croak weakly, barely able to raise my eyes to his face before another acid wave splashes into the bowl.

“Shhhhh. I’m right here. Everything’s okay.”

Everything is clearly not okay. But I don’t have the strength to worry about more than emptying my stomach right now. When that’s done, I sink limply back onto the pillow, shivering as Jake dabs at my forehead with a sponge.

“Here…” I open my eyes as I feel something poking at my lips and find a straw. “Have a little water.”

I obediently close my lips around the straw and take a few cautious sips as I take stock of myself. I hurt. That much I realize right away. My back and between my legs are the worst of it, but most of me aches like I had every muscle in my body clenched at the same time. I know where I am, even before I realize that the unfamiliar arms that held me up belong to a nurse. A few gaps aside, I know what happened before I arrived at the hospital. But there is an image in my mind of a plastic doll swaddled in my arms.

“R-River...Jake, where…?”

“She’s here, Princess.” I hear his voice catch, and I manage to look up at him to see a shaky smile on his lips. “...She’s perfect…”

“C-can I see her?”

“Of course. Doctor says you might even be able to feed her later if you were up to it.”

Jake looks somewhere to his side, and I crane my neck to follow his gaze. I can just about make out the bassinet at the end of the room, and the nurse bending over to carefully collect the yellow-swaddled contents. For a moment, my stomach lurches again. I’m not entirely convinced that the nurse is not about to hand me a plastic doll. But then the bundle squirms and whimpers. The nurse passes the bundle to Jake, who gently places our daughter beside me on the bed, keeping his hands on her for support.

The chubby face that peeks out from a cocoon of yellow blanket and a pink crocheted hat is no plastic doll’s face. She’s been cleaned since she was born, but her little face is still rosy over a warm complexion. Above a pudgy little chin, tiny pink lips are drawn into a pout that shows off their perfect cupid’s bow. Her round little nose wrinkles as if she smells something foul and her eyes are puffy around the edges. But then her eyes open, blue as sapphires, and her gaze cuts through the feverish haze the clouds my head. I carefully place a shaking hand on her chest, stroking her lightly through the blanket.

“Hello, River Skye McKenzie,” I murmur. I feel the corners of my mouth lifting into a feeble smile. “Aren’t you the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…”

“She’s an angel,” Jake agrees. “Here, take a look at this.” He gently pulls off her little crocheted cap, revealing a fine layer of downy chestnut hair. I bite my lip, feeling tears pooling in my eyes.

“...How did we live so long without her?”

“The same way we lived without each other: incompletely.”

I raise my eyes to his face. Something cold has begun to thread through my veins. “...Jake...is she real?”

Jake’s expression falters just for a moment. “Of course she’s real, Princess.”

“I...I think I was dreaming. ...I found my baby, but she was just a doll…”

Jake’s face softens as he brings up a hand to stroke my hair. “It was just a dream.”

“...I’m afraid of my dreams. I’m afraid to go to sleep again. I’m afraid that when I wake up, she will be gone…”

“I won’t let her disappear.”

“...What if you’re gone, too?”

He presses his lips to my forehead, holding them there for a long moment. Long enough for me to realize how much his breath is shaking. When he pulls back to smile at me, his eyes sparkle.

“Then I’ll fight until I’m at your side again. Isn’t that what we do, Princess? They pull us apart, and we fight like hell until we’re back together?”

Even heady with fever as I still am, I hear the catch of desperation in his voice, the pleading note under his fierce words. He is as scared as I am. He is scared that he is watching me fade. He is scared that he’s watching me die.

...I will live to see the last one die. Unless I die first.

Aleister

How to describe the moment when I see my wife descending Castor’s boarding stairs. I hear myself speak her name, but it comes out as a gasp as I start toward her. The moment her foot hits the tarmac, she breaks into a run, arms outstretched. We meet in a small collision, arms closing around one another in vise-like grips. I feel my throat tighten as I rest my cheek on the top of her head, savoring the familiar texture of her narrow braids on my skin, and the sweet scent of her honeysuckle lotion. It has not been two days since last I saw her, but it feels like a lifetime. From the strength of her grip, I can tell she feels the same.

“...You didn’t bring Reggie…?” she asks after a moment.

“He’s at home with Estela and Quinn. I am fairly certain that looking after him is all that is keeping Estela from getting herself arrested for disorderly conduct by marching down to the police station to threaten those cunts who attacked Alodia and Diego at the abandoned house.”

I feel Grace pause for a moment. “...That’s strong language for you, honey.”

“...Can we agree that I am justified under the circumstances?”

“Absolutely. ...How are they?”

“Diego has a dislocated shoulder, but he should heal. Thus far, it also seems that the baby is well and healthy. Alodia is being treated, but it is simply too soon to know how she will respond.”

“...I think she will be fine,” Grace says decidedly. “She knows how much she’s needed. She won’t let a little infection beat her.”

“I sincerely hope you are right.” I keep an arm over her shoulders as I begin to steer us toward the car. “...I don’t suppose you learned anything of interest from your mother? Anything about where Father was planning to take them, or what he intended to do with them? Even if...when...Alodia recovers, this is far from over.”

“...I did learn a few things,” she confirms, though she waits until we are in the car to continue. “She has reason to believe Rourke has a base in the Greek Islands. Specifically Ithaca.”

I can’t help rolling my eyes. “Of course it would be Ithaca,” I mutter.

“But that’s not all. Aleister, I think Yvonne is alive.”

Jake

The minutes and hours melt into each other while my wife is sick. The world tunnels and fills with static at the edges. All I can focus on is her. My princess. My princess and the little angel in the bassinet at the foot of her bed. I almost never don’t have one of them in my arms. Except when Rebecca or Michelle or my mother force me to get some sleep on the couch. I don’t generally fight them on it. One of the advantages to Alodia being in a maternity suite is that the couch is in the same room, a feature that surely exists for anxious partners waiting out a long labor.

I don’t know exactly when my mother and father arrived with Alodia’s aunt and uncle, Diego’s parents, and Raj. I know it was sometime after Alodia gave River her first feeding. It was mostly successful. Lots of pillows and my hands helped to keep River safe and supported, even with her mother feeling as weak as she is. I helped the nurse bathe her in a process that seemed like a compromise between a sponge bath in bed and a full shower, with Alodia seated on the shower seat while I helped wipe her down and rub dry shampoo into her hair. By the time that was done, the fever seemed to have sapped her strength again because I almost had to carry her back to bed. By the time her bandage had been changed, she’d slipped back into a fitful sleep. She hadn’t awakened yet when the anxious faces of our families appeared in the doorway.

I don’t really like all our folks being here. I don’t like the way Alodia’s aunt and uncle are hovering over her bed like loving parents, kissing her hands and stroking her hair. I like it even less when Diego’s parents do it--especially because I know from Raj that they’ve been decidedly cool to their own son since meeting his husband. I don’t even like the way my own parents are hovering right now, trying to help me with River. I don’t want help with River. Not yet. I don’t really want anyone but me and Alodia touching her right now. Somehow, letting someone else change her diaper or rock her to sleep makes me feel like I’m letting Alodia’s nightmares come true. Like somehow letting someone else touch her will turn her into the doll Alodia dreamed she was.

...I know it’s irrational. Especially because I don’t feel the same fear when one of the Catalysts offers their help. Knowing that it’s irrational doesn’t stop me from feeling the fear. A part of me feels guilty for it. But the fear holds on.

At some point after drifting into a doze on the couch, I hear familiar voices over my head. I’m not sure if I’m mostly awake or if I’m deep asleep and dreaming when I hear them, but I know the voices, and their words are clear.  

“If the worst happens,” Diego says softly, “...will he have it in him to look after her?”

“Of course he will,” Rebecca replies. “He’ll need her more than ever.”

“...I watched my best friend grow up knowing she wasn’t wanted by the people who were raising her. People who took her in because they didn’t want to lose the last piece of her mother that they had. ...I don’t want to watch the same thing happen to her daughter.”

“Diego. Trust me. If the worst happens, River will be what keeps him alive.”

By the time I come fully awake, Diego and Rebecca are gone, replaced by Molly and Rob. Both Alodia and River are asleep. Molly sits at Alodia’s bedside stroking her arm, while Rob stares stoically out the window with his arms folded. Both of them melt into the scenery as I approach my wife and take hold of her hand. No matter how many people are around us, when I hold her hand, it’s just me and her. I sink into the chair, gripping her hand in both of mine and kissing her fingers.

“Stay with me, Princess,” I whisper. My chest is tight. I feel like it’s been tight for ages. I feel like I’ll never breathe free again, but I know I will if only she gets better. “You’re doing great, Alodia. Just hold on. Just keep fighting. Please...I...I can’t lose you again…”

“No one is going to lose Alodia,” Rob mutters. The reminder of his presence sends irritation threading through me, but I let it go.

“She’s a fighter,” Molly agrees. “She always has been.”

“She’s going to bury us all,” Rob adds with conviction. Now I properly grimace. It’s all I can do not to deck him. Instead, I press my lips hard to my wife’s fingertips, screwing my eyes shut as I exhale to a count of ten.

“Do me a favor,” I growl without looking at him. “Never say that in front of me, or her, or any of our friends.”

“...I...what? ...Why?”

“...If you’d been on the island, you’d understand. You just gotta trust me on this one.” I give Alodia’s hand another kiss and stand up, moving to gaze down at my daughter, sleeping peacefully in her bassinet. I reach down to stroke the back of her tiny hand, soft and delicate as a rose petal.

I’ll never leave you, Angel. It’s a silent promise, but I mean it with all my heart. No matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you.

Slowly, though, the cloud of fear and uncertainty hanging over my family begins to dissipate as modern medicine starts to do its job. Alodia’s fever starts to dwindle. And three days after the birth of our child, it breaks.

[fabulaee]

COFFEE COFFEE COFFEE

// A 🐺 fic based on my Stay journey’s aesthetics which was a coffee shop au bc they remind me of those times when I used to go to the café to draw and would see fellow regulars but unlike y/n and Chan, I never interact with them. We all just share a table 😂😂😂

*

*

*

Monday. Wednesday. Friday

That was the set schedule for your coffee run. MWF from 9 am to 10, then coming back with your study supplies from 1 to 4 in the afternoon. It was routine; the small college café a safe haven from the slight messy floor of your dorm and the formal vibe of the library. Here you were focused and at peace of mind. The aroma of the coffee beans and soft sounds of the coffeeshop’s playlist serving as background noise.

There wasn’t much students at this time of the day compared to the much later prime of the evenings. The café then filled with college youths grabbing a drink after a long day’s worth of lectures and test reminders or staying to cram a night’s worth of information. There was something about cafés that seemed inviting and less suffocating yet at the same time a place where you can find the nursing students with their big thick books opened with streaks of neon yellow running across them.

“Vanilla Bean Cold Brew for y/n!”

Standing up, you went to grab your drink leaving behind the pastel rainbow set of highlighters and gel pens on top of your notes. You quickly thanked the barista as he handed you a straw before plopping back down on your seat continuing where you last went off. Something about the history of impressionistic art. You sighed as you lifted your eyes across the room, it was currently 2:30 pm on a Wednesday afternoon. A good time to take a break before your mind starts to commit brain fart.

*

Chris Bang. Affectionally called Bang Chan by his friends. Music major with golden hands, a good candidate for the honor roll, member of the varsity swim team, and resident social butterfly. An all rounder any college is proud to have.

You heard about him once or twice from your common friend, Yang Hongseok. They met at the gym apparently and became quick friends through the Japanese exchange student, Adachi Yuto, and their shared love for fitness.

You see him sit at the same spot everyday since the middle of sophomore year. His laptop with the cute decal of Deadpool open and his AirPods snugly tucked in his ears. He's always has his blonde head bopping to a song he's playing on either his phone or his laptop. Always seemed so engrossed in this little world he made for himself across the room, ignorant to the bustling crowd of students that come and go.

He looks up catching you off guard. His lips curled slightly upwards, chuckling to himself as he watches your cheeks turn pink in embarrassment. Great, he must think I'm a weirdo!

With a quick exchange of nods you both went back to doing your own thing. Just a regular day at the coffee shop.

*

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

It's the Friday following Monday's slightly embarrassing incident. You looked up to find the same Chris Bang, laptop in hand, smiling at you like a friendly yet lost puppy. Warm brown orbs looking back at yours.

“My laptop's about to die and this is the only table with an outlet.” He explains himself, a tiny awkward giggle making up as the period.

“O-oh, of course!” You stuttered, hastily making room for him despite the large space as you swiped for the stray pastel highlighters and napkins closer. “No one's sitting here so go ahead.”

He whispered a small thanks before setting down his laptop to grab his bag from his usual spot while you went back to your notes. It was silent for awhile, only the sounds of pen against paper and the soft tick tack of the keys. At some point you hit a mind block, eyes glazing in boredom as you stared at the blank space of your notebook. You felt your table mate leave his stationary position too. he stretched in his seat before turning his attention to you.

Sensing his sudden gaze on you, you flashed him a small smile. You were never one to start a conversation, often keeping to yourself and minding your own business. A bit of a complete opposite towards the friendly Australian who somehow knows at least three students from each program.

He smiles back at you showing off his cute dimples and an outstretched hand. “Hey, I'm Chan. I never caught your name.”

Again with the cute giggle. It seems to be like a signature to him but it's cute still the same. You grasped his hand giving it a soft shake. “Y/n,” you answered curtly.

*

The following days you find yourself hanging around Chan more. Afternoon study sessions were no longer a date between you and the textbook or the small watercolor set you laid out on the table. Chan was there to fill the space making the long table that was a party of one to a party of two and maybe some on certain busy hours but mostly it was the both of you in your own tiny world.

You got to know him, his likes and dislikes. His major and passion for music, sometimes slipping in a few complaints about certain homework here and there; What else he likes to do. Apparently mr. Chris Bang was gifted in so many areas you often wondered what good he must've done in his previous life to be this gifted. Not only was he a jack of all trades, he's also the master of all.

You even had a small debate between Deadpool and Spider-Man. God, he's such a nerd it's adorable!

In return he knew these things about you. How you're taking up art as your major hoping to make it out as an illustrator one day—

“it would be so cool if you drew a variant cover for Deadpool!”

“Ha! We'll see about that, Chris Reynolds.”

He knows how you like to collect stickers and are quite passionate about making sure your notes are beautiful. He knows how you loved your drinks iced despite it being the middle of winter.

“Isn’t the weather too cold for that?” He’d ask with a quirk of his brow, amused brown eyes glancing at the iced hazelnut latte you have in your hands.

“Nope!” you replied, taking a sip as you did so. “It’s always the perfect weather for an iced coffee, Bang.”

He only chuckled at that.

*

It hit you like a freight train. You didn’t mean to fall for him. It wasn’t supposed to happen. You and Chan? No way, it was just supposed to be just friends. The kind where you hang out and have fun, no feelings attached. He was just supposed to be that regular from the café, right?

That was the plan, right?

But you can’t deny the small flutters from your heart much like those newly emerged butterflies. How you can feel that giddy feeling of excitement when you spot his mop of chocolate curly locks outside the café’s window. How you mirror his smile when you get together to talk about anything and everything under the sun. Bang Chan in all his cute dimpled glory, soft curls and hearty giggles was just too much to adore.

Yet it wasn’t that what pulled you in to the Music major. You felt love blossom when you both stayed up late, when the café was quiet after a busy day. The only people around being a couple medical students, some late night goers, and the employees. You felt the tiny flower buds start to bloom when he stayed with you then; keeping you company under the dimly warm fluorescent lights, laptop tucked away and a hand playing with yours.

You felt it bloom when you cuddled on the booth’s sofa one rainy November day. He scoots over next to you when he saw you shiver from the corner of his eyes. He’s naturally warm —you’d often tease him how he made the room hot. Why? well it’s because he’s from Australia! which earned the loud chorus of laughter from his friends and Chan’s ears turning into the color of the fire hydrant.

“Babygirl, you’re shivering.” He mutters as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you gently towards him. You accepted the subtle invitation, sides sticking together as you both went through forgotten notes and half finished coffees.

You felt it when you caught yourself staring at him a little longer than intended. Eyes drifting from Jisung’s expressive face to glance at the older one. You watched him look at the former with such adoration in his eyes; how he looked like a proud dad. You watched him nod along and laugh to Jisung’s animated story about how he and Hyunjin would fight back in the day, a fact that still seemed to shock you seeing how they are the best of friends.

Your eyes would linger on him while he worked on his music; focused and determined, hiding the exhaustion and sleepless nights prominent on the dark circles under his eyes. He was handsome even if he looked like shit. Hell, he was handsome even when he sported the infamous broccoli colored hair. You’d find yourself in a trance, like it was a dream. The world didn’t matter as much anymore when it was only you and Chan in the small dimly table, surrounded by the aroma of coffee beans at the small quaint cafe at the corner of the street.

*

You loved him. You loved him in the most beautiful of ways; you loved him in the most perfect highs and in all those crevices full of flaws.

You loved him in those bright moments, when the lights were shining on him during a 3RACHA gig. How they made him more beautiful, how they made him stand out from the 2 younger members. You loved watching him do what he loves; how he immersed himself in a world that was different from yours. How his version of colors and dried paint were beats and melodies, rhythm and tempos.

You loved him in the lowest moments; when the tide was high enough to cover you. You loved how you fit perfectly in his arms, how he became a shoulder to lean on when you felt the world was against you and you to him. When he would open up to you about his worst fears and his grandiose ambitions; when he spilled his heart out at the underlaying insecurity that’s been biting him due to his perfectionist attitude. You became his confidante; the one he can trust his heart to.

You loved him in the times he was vulnerable. You loved him when he would bask in glory and shining lights. You loved him like those cheesy lines in love songs. You loved him like how the tides would look at the moon in awe and yearning; gravitating with every push and pull.

You loved him in ways words can never describe. How the seeds he planted in your heart bloomed to the most beautiful bouquet of flowers.

You love him simply because he’s Chan.

You promised yourself you’d be just friends. It was safer that way but then again, what is love when she’s not one without twists and turns?

What is love when she comes to you, sneaky and sly like a weed disguised as a flower, whispering into your ear that it’s him.

It’s him, it’s him, it’s him.

It was always him, it just took you some time to figure that out.

*

When you first met Chan, he was simply a friend of a friend. Someone you knew because your brothers are his friends. He was the guy you’d hear about in passing, the popular cool guy with a heart bigger than a massive sized teddy bear and a smile that could cure the most depressing of days. Someone who, in probability, would just be an acquaintance to you.

He was that guy you regularly saw at the coffee shop you visited every week. He was just some guy from the music department who would flash you a friendly smile because you were a familiar face.

Funny how fate made him more than what you originally expected him to be.

[ironmandeficiency]

home

pairing: achilles (oc) / reader

word count: 2256

summary: sometimes a deviation from a simple routine can yield highly pleasant results.

req: May I request a short drabble (or whatever you feel like writing) for Achilles with 3 or 6 from the first prompt list? Thank you JJ, I love you - @roseofalderaan (3- smiling into a kiss, 6- chasing someone’s lips after they pull away)

a/n: i went with both bc both is good (and also bc this boy deserves all the love ever). read all abt him here!

“will that be all, commander?” you questioned. your workday was drawing to a close and you wanted nothing more to get your nightly escort home and wind down from yet another stressful day at the office. the nightly ritual had begun not long after you got this job and befriended the coruscant guard, some of them sticking a little closer to you during the day when possible.

but only one ever walked you home, claiming that the streets he worked to protect every day were no place for someone so… unsullied, he would say, guiding you home with a steady hand on your back and a smile hidden by his bucket. his soft laugh would bring yours bubbling to the surface like a simmering pot of homemade soup, nourishing your soul and leaving you full of joy and… something else.

thoughts of one of said guardsmen had you zoning out while fox was talking, very likely giving you another task to complete before the people you’d need to go to left for the night. you had spotted him over fox’s shoulder from where you stood several feet from him, having a gentle conversation with hearth and a few others. it made you so happy to see him bonding with his brothers this way, getting the attention and care he deserves from those closest to him.

fox notices the distracted, glazed look in your eyes and knows that you’re not hearing a single word he’s saying. looking over his shoulder, he’s quick to realize why: achilles. “that’ll be all,” fox assures you with a hand on your elbow before turning to take care of the task himself. he can give his younger brother this much happiness, what little bit he’s able to get. “get home safe.”

ever since he joined the guard, fox worried for achilles. he was too headstrong, had seen too much in so few years that he wasn’t going to let this assignment beat him into the submission that allowed many others to cope day to day. it would have made his life a little easier, fox believed, but it would have also made him believe he was unworthy of the joy found when with you.

when you’re dismissed, you make a beeline to where your trooper stood bucket in hand, a gentle smile gracing his lips. maker, he looked so young when he smiled. you’d do anything to keep that smile on his face. lacing your fingers with the hand not holding his bucket, you smile at him and his eyes are immediately caught by yours.

achilles was the first to speak, hand squeezing yours as he felt himself ascend to the stars when you smiled at him. “are you ready to go, cyar’ika?” hearth notices the way some of the weight rises from his vod’s shoulders when you’re nearby, the smile he wore a bit more genuine.

“i’m more than ready, ‘chilles. it’s been a long day and i’m ready to be home.” he nods and bids his knowing brothers a farewell for the next while. until you got to your front door, every iota of his attention would be devoted to you and only you; the way your bright smile alone could power galactic city, the sparkle in your eyes when he said something that brought out your laughter. he’d walk every kilometer of this planet if it meant he could keep seeing such unbridled joy radiate from you.

but these moments — these little pockets of time where he was someone more than who he really was, yet nobody significant all the same — would tide him over until the next one arrived with the same inevitability as waking in the mornings.

conversation was a swift river, flowing freely within its confines. there were things you both believed should never be said; they served as the riverbed, the bounds within which conversation flowed. everything else, the things you were allowed to say, were the water. they were powerful and clear in intention yet stayed within their bounds. the two of you floated along it with ease, letting the currents sway you however they willed. there was never anything to fight against, never with him.

he recounts the day’s most notable and happy events (a shiny’s codpiece detached while trying to rescue a tooka from the top of a vendor’s stall, and hearth was glitter-bombed when trying to give fox dinner) with his usual spark of animation, leaving out the darker events that always serve as reminders of his harsh reality. you don’t need to be tarnished by his sadness, the daily struggle he and his brothers face simply because of the circumstances of their existence. that wasn’t your fight to take up arms in, not your sadness to feel.

no, he couldn’t dim your light with his permeating darkness.

it’s why he still hasn’t kissed you the way his lips ached to, why his hands haven’t held your hips as he tasted your honeyed smile for the first time.

you told him of the menial tasks that had been made more than you bargained for when you stumbled onto two maintenance workers snogging in an elevator, the small muffin that was gifted by the commander of the 420th on his way to the office of his senator friend, and the way it paired well with your lunch. achilles hung onto every word and the way he could hear your smile in every syllable, saving it for lonely nights when he needed something to distract him from himself.

the thing about time is that when you don’t pay attention to it, it’s quick to make haste with its passing.

sooner than either of you would have enjoyed, the door to your apartment was in front of you, a beacon of home tinged with an afterglow of loneliness that seemed to never leave. yes, all of your belongings were here and your bed was housed within those walls, but none of those things made it a home. something was missing, but exactly what that something was had yet to be discovered.

his hand fell back to his side, the sight of your door a reset button to his decorum. your hand was colder without his in it, you noticed for the first time. you didn’t like knowing this and desperately yearned to get that warmth back immediately despite the fact you were walked to and from work by the man in front of you every day and it’d only be a few hours until you’d feel it again.

you couldn’t wait hours to hold his hand again, to be surrounded by his radiance in all its glory. in a bold move you never thought yourself capable of, you extended an invitation you’d mulled over for weeks.

“i’ll, uh, see you in the morning—”

“would you like to come in?”

achilles was stunned. why you would want to invite him into your home? this place was your sanctuary, your respite from the workday and from all expectations the world thrust upon you. he didn’t believe himself worthy of such an honor, but only a fool would look a gift blurrg in the mouth.

so he followed you inside slowly, eyes flicking around the entire space to drink up everything he could. this was an opportunity to know you better, to see you at your most comfortable. “welcome to my humble abode, make yourself at home.”

there was a soft-looking blanket draped across the back of your couch that he imagined you curling up under on cool nights spent watching holofilms. photos of you and your friends covered the walls, smiles bright and abundant. there was a bowl of fruit on the kitchen counter that he was eyeing and you were quick to notice how his attention was drawn to it. “you can have some, if you’d like. i have plenty to share.”

how were you so generous with what you had, being so willing to share everything you owned in this vast galaxy with a clone? better yet, how were you real?

a pink lady apple was snagged from its former resting place and relieved of a bite-sized chunk. achilles hummed in enjoyment of the sweet-tart flavor that invaded his mouth as he joined where you sat on the couch, hand patting the space beside you. he obliged and was able to wedge himself between you and the arm of the couch but only when he leaned a little closer to you than he would have ever dared to outside of this safe haven.

you two sat in almost-silence for a while (achilles was still enjoying his apple, after all), a small bit of his weight pressing cozily into your side with one arm resting on the back of the couch. to be honest, you weren’t sure what to do now that he was here. so much time had been devoted to how you’d get him inside that there was not even a vague idea as to what you were supposed to do now.

the armor he wore did nothing to ruin the coziness of the moment, still being able to enjoy his company and the comfort his presence brought you. it was a big reason you felt so safe when walking home (besides the fact he had a blaster and was very proficient in wielding it). his apple core was soon the only thing left and it was gingerly set upon the endtable beside the arm of the couch he was close to, but after that there was stoicity.

neither of you knew where to go from here.

you turned to face him to ask if he wanted to watch a holofilm the same time he turned to ask you whether he could have another apple and wow you’d never been that close to his face before.

achilles drank in the proximity like a parched man on tatooine, branding the image of your slightly blushing face into his retinas for later enjoyment. then you laughed softly and he was a goner, an honest to maker goner. he was going to say something, he swears he was, but it slipped his mind for the moment. you were too busy biting your bottom lip and letting your chin fall, depriving him of those eyes he saw every time he closed his.

he couldn’t have that.

his fingertips took your chin, lightly lifting it back to the angle it formerly was posed at, where he could see your eyes and the smile behind them. in turn, your eyes were flitting between his eyes and lips that you were positive weren’t that plump before… were they?

then he pulled your chin ever closer and closed the vast centimeters that had kept you apart.

you weren’t sure how your lips had been able to resist the magnetic pull of his for so long now that they were together. truthfully, you had no clue how you were going to pull apart now that you knew what they felt like against yours. it was sweet velvet bliss, the taste of him. the pink lady mingled with something else that you knew had to be all him and oh stars was it intoxicating.

pulling away? since when was that an option? if it hadn’t been one before, it became one when you needed to breathe again. his lips chased yours, desperate to keep the blessed point of contact that he’d never wanted with anyone before you. the intimacy had your mind spinning.

he liked it, he actually liked it. he genuinely enjoyed that kiss and was wanting to continue kissing you, and who were you to keep him waiting? the magnetism won yet again and as he pulled you into his arms, you could feel him smiling into the kiss and you smiled back just as lovesick as he did.

muscles were slowly beginning to notify you of a dull ache caused by an angle you were unused to. you ignored it until feigning ignorance was no longer an option. it was time to move.

leaving the living room was an olympic effort. what if the boat in your river grew holes the moment one of you rose from the couch? how would you save the boat and not get washed away by the current? the answer was simple: get a bigger boat.

armor was shed and sleepclothes changed into before you guided him to your bed where you opened the blankets up for him, beckoning him ever closer and into your waiting arms. any hesitance was nowhere to be found as he crawled into the bed and wrapped himself around you. once he was under, time was taken to find a comfortable way to sleep. comfort was found with surprising ease, like he had been climbing into this bed for eons instead of seconds.

the change in environment did nothing but allow you closer to each other, nothing being damaged like you had both feared. in your bed, under your blankets and on your pillows, he still tasted of the same pink ladies and honey and clove he did on your couch. he still held your face in one trained hand that had known little more than violence before you came into his life.

as you carded your fingers through his hair, his other hand being held tenderly to your lips with all the affection you could muster, the final piece came together. achilles was what your apartment was missing, the building turning into a home at long last.

[brokenjardaantech]

absorbance of the deep (chapter 2: an actual meeting)

written for a mermay prompts challenge. my prompt is ‘monochromatic.’

previous chapter can be found here. 

also on ao3

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Despite having run away from Simon in the face of danger, Josh somehow became his friend. It wasn’t that Daniel trusted him - Simon is quite certain that he trusts no one with his twin brother to this day - but given the school’s tendency to separate twins, it was impossible for Daniel to keep an eye on his twin brother who had a tendency to disappear for the whole night and then reappearing at weird places such as the pier behind the lighthouse which couldn’t be accessed without passing through the house itself and therefore should’ve been sighted by their mother, or the park which was located at the other side of the village and was impossible for a child to walk alone to without being spotted by one of the many nosy and concerned residents. That was where Josh came in: someone to look after a child who had less awareness of his surroundings than the chemical soup powered by underwater volcanoes. The ethics of handing a child whose brain wasn’t quite normal to another child instead of having an actual adult to take care of him was debatable, but at that time Simon only cared about two things: being in the ocean and learning about the ocean, and since Josh was a convenient source for the latter both due to his abundance of ocean-related books and the fact that he could explain things Simon hadn’t understand initially until he did, that meant Josh was Simon’s best friend and anyone who dared to question it would be subjected to a light hand smack. ‘Because sometimes people just need a bit of a physical reminder,’ Daniel explained as he taught where Simon should hit. ‘Don’t be afraid to use it. They probably can’t distinguish between the two of us anyway.’

But Simon knew that adults were both smarter and more stupid than they thought and he wasn’t going to test which one applied to the category of ‘distinguishing between the Phillips twins,’ so he never did much apart from the abovementioned light smack: just enough to warn others to stop questioning him and his best friend, and not heavy enough that it would be mistaken as aggression. Besides, he was supposed to be the quiet and docile among his classmates, and small, silent Simon who read as much as Josh the resident genius, slapping people? Impossible.

He couldn’t help but felt that the sea approved of him defending himself and Josh, so that was a bonus. And yes, ever since his offering was accepted and he was swept away by the waves for the first time and visited the cave and had his brains burnt up, there had been a bond between his mind and the very waters that surrounded their village, nurtured generations of villagers, took care of Simon so much better than his parents ever did; by the time he was in secondary school, most of his parents' energy were devoted to making sure that Daniel didn’t get into trouble for Simon’s behalf or pretending that Simon’s differences with normal people didn’t exist, and truth to be told he preferred the solitude it offered over anything else. Him doing his homework sitting on the beach with a thick sketchbook some students from the previous grade left in the classroom bookshelf as his table was a common sight.

It didn’t last long, however, because the arrival of a certain girl with hair matching her fiery personality in their village. 

North came from ‘outside,’ which to Simon’s village could mean anything from the neighbouring town to the other side of the world of all he knew, and he was certain that he would’ve known where she came from if he had paid attention to the gossip, but once more he was too busy letting Josh do his homework and flipping over rocks for that one crab that the ocean told him to find for it and then promptly being distracted by the way the sand collapse under its own weight. He couldn’t resist touching it and it crumbled, and he now felt bad because he buried a crab alive. He turned towards the first person he saw and let out a distressed whimper.

‘It’ll dig itself out,’ the voice surprised him because it wasn’t Josh’s, and when he looked up, he saw North standing close to him directly on top of another tunnel entrance. His first instinct was, of course, to scream and flail his arms because that seemed to be the only thing he did people understood, but then again it was North. North, who kicked his bully in his balls when they ganged up on him and tried to snatch his newest book away; North, who together with Josh were the only ones patient enough to explain things to him outside school hour; North, who actually listened to Josh when he told her that Simon didn’t like loud sounds and would like her to speak quieter, unlike the others who almost always got louder because apparently Simon losing control and hurting himself was something funny. Sometimes North would drag him out of it and shove him into a locker so that he could cool down, but sometimes, with her blood boiling almost as hot as her hair, she would become one of them except on Simon’s side, grabbing whatever object she could put her hands on and wreaking havoc in her immediate vicinity, and Simon felt lucky that he had Josh to pull him out of those episodes; he probably wouldn’t be alive if his friend hadn’t dragged him away from the fight because his body’s response to danger was to freeze instead of running away like normal people do. He was afraid of North in a way, he thought as he eyed the bar stock poking out from her backpack, but at the same time he knew that Josh’s pacifism and the ‘abandon everything and run’ plan couldn’t save them from every single situation they would encounter, so they had to rely on North as long as she was willing to be on their side as one of the odd ones out.

That was, of course, only applicable to when the entire world seemed to be against them. Those were the moments Simon hated. There were also moments Simon cherished, moments of tranquillity, of acceptance, of just the three of them hanging out like there were no one else in the world apart from themselves and the sea which Simon felt too connected to to exclude from anything.

As the ‘new one,’ North was the one the teachers didn’t know very well and therefore was easily ignored just like Simon whom they had learnt not to force to speak, and if she were to disappear for a day or two every now and then… virtually no one apart from Simon and Josh noticed. The first time she did it they were worried sick and Simon had to throw himself into the sea and let the current carry him to his cave just to catch a few hours of sleep and wake up being carried back to his family’s house’s pier. The two of them were groggy and tired when Daniel dragged him to school, but seeing North in her usual seat was an oddly comforting sight as Josh handed him a new book he borrowed from the library so that he had something to distract himself with during the classes which he had never been interested in anyway, and the day went by the usual blur of loud noises and hiding in corners and Josh being the unofficial teacher’s assistant and North being unusually pleasant and happy. He suggested going to the beach because he needed to unwind and he missed the feeling of sand gliding on his skin so that was where they went, finding their usual spot and doing their usual thing like Josh doing his homework and North copying him and Simon letting the two of them work while he wandered around the empty beach barefooted so that he could sink his toes into the sand and feel the water caress his feet. As the tide breathed, the connection between his mind and… the other side strengthened and weakened, and the familiarity of the tug and pull calmed him down from the chaos of school and one of his best friends disappearing and then reappearing with no notice whatsoever. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that he was standing in the cave the ocean created for him a few years back, that he was in a space where he could be truly safe from the assault of the outside world. 

He missed the deep blue he saw and could only see in the deepest part of the sea. 

‘Simon?’

He lost track of how long he stood in the cool water, but when North’s voice rang out pleasant and without its usual fire in his ear, his toes were already numb from the cold. He opened his eyes and saw that she was standing at the edge of the tide where she wouldn’t get wet, and in her hand was something Simon had never seen before. She beckoned him over by holding it up.

‘I got this for you,’ Simon took it while he was still standing in the water so that he didn’t lose the only link he had with the sea. ‘It’s technically a pair of noise-cancelling headphones but… I don’t think you have a phone, do you?’

He hung the headphones on his arm to free up his hand and retrieve the stack of cards from his pocket. It was Josh’s idea, having a set of notecards with the most common words and phrases with him in case he found himself unable to speak (which was most of his life, if he had to be honest) so that he could communicate with other people, and so far the system worked pretty well because it wasn’t like he talked to a lot of people anyway. [i - don’t], he said. The headphones nearly slid off his arm a few times as he fumbled with the chain of cards. [what - is - it]

‘I know the others like to scream and shout even though you don’t like it, so I thought… if you can’t change them, might as well do something to protect yourself. Try it out. I wanna see if it works.’

He put the cards away and slid the headphones over his ear. Suddenly the ringing in his ear intensified, he couldn’t hear the tide crashing into the beach, there was only himself and nothing else, and he yanked off the headphones faster than he had ever moved before and collapsed on his knees. He couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from the ocean he loved so much. It would be like losing a lung. Or his brain itself.

‘Alright, maybe we shouldn’t have tried it here,’ he heard North loud and clear. ‘We’ll try it at school when it’s really noisy. It’ll work better that way.’

But Simon wasn’t listening anymore. All he could focus on was the weight of the headphones in his hand, the cold seawater soaking his trousers and lapping higher and higher much quicker than it should, and then Josh was saying something, North was shouting, and Simon did not understand; the sea was merely welcoming him into its cold embrace, so why were they terrified of it even though they knew the sea was special to him? Why did they seem to be so against it?

They’ll understand. They have to understand.

It was the same voice again, the voice that spoke to him years ago when he offered the octopus to the ocean as… he didn’t even know. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, one that his young mind came up with after witnessing so many people took from the sea without paying it back, and he had a feeling that he was being rewarded for his loyalty and devotion. He closed his eyes again, letting the headphones slip away from his hands and the waves carry him to his sanctuary, as connected as he could be with the other half of his very being without physically turning into a puddle of water washed away and diluted by a body of water so large and turbulent that he would cease to be himself. 

The thought wasn’t as terrifying as it should be.

He let the soft sand warm him and the sound of running water wash away his insecurities and pain away before opening his eyes to the familiar pattern of his cave. Or their cave, he realised as he turned and saw another boy of his age lying so close to him on his side. Skin the colour of bronze, cheekbone and nose dotted with freckles of a darker shade, eyes the green just like the sea on occasions, dark hair interwoven with blue strands braided close to his scalp on the top of his head while the rest were trimmed into a fade cut, Simon didn’t even need to be in his safe space to realise that he was beautiful. It was supposed to be their first meeting, but when the other boy clasped Simon’s hand in his own, the touch did not feel foreign at all, and he watched as the boy raised his hand (so, so pale and skeletal despite being outdoors whenever he could and eating all the food he was allowed to) to his lips and kissed its back. Warmth blooms within his skin from the contact, and he wasn’t sure if it was because his entire body was heating up from his emotions or something else. Perhaps both.

‘We meet at last,’ the boy that felt like the sea breathed into Simon’s knuckles. ‘My name is Markus. Sorry for the abrupt ride. Our connection was lost for the first time since you gave me that octopus and I… panicked. I apologise. I hope it’s fine.’

Simon wanted to tell his companion - Markus, apparently - that it was more than fine, but with one of his hands captive and the other still unable to move from where it was buried in the sand because it was just so comfortable and he wasn’t ready to leave yet, he couldn’t access his stack of cards, and so he nodded and let the corner of his mouth twitch. Josh said that it was as close to a smile everyone could get out of Simon. Right now he was comfortable, he was in his safe space, and it wasn’t like the sea himself was going to tell him how to smile and emote, right?

‘You are my other half, Simon,’ Markus said, and it didn’t even occur to Simon until much later that he shouldn’t know his name. ‘I just want to make sure that you’re safe.’

Simon nodded again because he understood. The sea never lied to him before.

‘Spend the rest of the day with me? I’ll show you the way back before dinnertime.’

You don’t have to, Simon wanted to say. I would rather be with you, he also wanted to say. Forever.

As if sensing his thoughts, Markus shook his head, getting sand into his braids. ‘Not yet, my polaris,’ it sounded strange coming from the voice of a twelve-year-old - at least approximately - the contrast between his breaking voice jarring with how old he sounded, but somehow it made sense on Markus who, to Simon, was the embodiment of the boundless ocean. His free hand brushed Simon’s neck as he brought Simon’s to his own. ‘Feel this?’ He let go of Simon so that Simon could explore Markus’ neck on his own, and indeed he felt ridges that did not belong to a human’s neck under the pads of his fingers. ‘They’re my gills. I can easily give you your own so that you can come here but… I saw how the others are treating you already, and I didn’t.’

I don’t care, Simon wanted to say, but as the silence between them grew and his head became clearer from being safe and warm, he realised that whatever he was experiencing then wasn’t normal. He couldn’t always rely on North and Josh and Daniel for protection because the past two days were exactly demonstrations of that, that they wouldn’t be at his side forever, that sometimes, even though they meant well, they still didn’t understand him as good as the sea did and could hurt him unintentionally. Having strange scars on his neck would only worsen whatever he was going through.

Okay. I’ll wait for you.

‘I’m sorry, Simon.’

Don’t be.

Markus scooted closer. The sand cooled down to a pleasant temperature. Still holding Simon’s hand, Markus supported himself on his arm and kissed his temple, and a small part of Simon wished that he had kissed him on his lips instead. So Markus did. Just a small one that was no more than a short press of skin, but even as Markus pulled back, he didn’t go far, their foreheads touching as they drifted between the land of the living and slumber as one, their fingers intertwined on soft sand. It was peaceful in a way Simon didn’t think he had been before.

He only let himself feel a slight tinge of disappointment when he woke up on the pier later that day because he knew that the sea would be back for him.