#go out at night and let gale paint the stars and lights into the sky just as he did so many moons ago

[galedekarios]

🌑🌟

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter One: Lonely Together

Jack Kline x OC

Rated: PG

~I might hate myself tomorrow

But I'm on my way tonight

Let's be lonely together

A little less lonely together~

Sent: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

I smiled down at my phone before clicking it off and slipping it into my pocket. I didn't know who I had sent the message to. It was just a number I had punched in at random. I didn't expect anyone to reply.

Wrapping my dark green cardigan tighter around my body, I pulled my knees in closer to my chest and pressed myself closer against the wall of the bakery. The wall was only slightly warmer than the frigid air around me. It was December 2nd and icy gales were blowing in from Lake Superior and stinging the skin of the city's occupants.

The sky hung dark, low, and flat over Copper Harbor, Michigan. Copper Harbor was an itty-bitty town at the northern most tip of the northernmost part of Michigan. You know that piece of land that's only connected to the mainland by a highway, that in-between place that really should be Canada, but isn't? That's where Copper Harbor is and that's where I was.

Copper Harbor was the sort of town where newcomers and visitors are as common as flying pigs and are treated with about as much scrutiny. It's not one of those small, friendly towns just off the highway; the ones that are pleasant to find yourself in if you've taken a wrong turn. It's quite the feat to get lost and turn up in Copper Harbor, considering its miles away from anything and everything remotely interesting, unless you're searching for Bigfoot or a drunk Canadian that took a wrong turn. Though those two things might just end up being one and the same. No, nobody came to Copper Harbor unless they had a reason. That's just the sort of place it was. And aside from the mind-numbing cold, it was exactly the sort of place I wanted to be.

The clouds were so heavy with the snow that now drifted down, dusting everything in a layer of fine white powder, it seemed that someone standing on even the lowest rooftop could reach up and touch them. The snowflakes raining down from those clouds gave the appearance of tiny shooting stars. Many would have found the sight beautiful. I didn't. I just found it cold and somewhat depressing. Some people say that shooting stars are angels, falling to the earth to bless the lives of people in need. I've never liked those sorts of stories. The stars belong in the heavens. The dust belongs on the earth. Collecting in puddles, the sparkling, sugar-like ice crystals did nothing to ease the bitter cold. I shivered and coughed, my breath fogging in front of me.

I should have frozen to death hours ago.

But I can't die. At least, not that way.

Suffering, on the other hand, I can do that to no end.

I put my head between my knees, hoping to retain what little heat my walking corpse had to offer. I struggled to remain conscious. The story of the little-match-girl was playing in my head. I'd never liked that story's ending. Hallucinations really weren't my thing, especially hallucinations about things I tried not to think about, the things I tried to burry in the farthest corners of my mind. I had to distract myself, to think about anything that would keep me awake. The problem was, there was nothing to distract me.

Pling!

My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text. I grasped it quickly, greedy for a distraction, but I paused upon seeing the number displayed upon the screen. It was that number I had texted the Merry Christmas message to. Whoever it was had texted me back. I unlocked my phone and peered at the mystery person's message.

Received: 11:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

The message read. I smiled a little, surprised that anyone would care to return my quiet Christmas wish. The screen of my phone lit up with another message.

Received: 11:19 PM

Who are you?

The question was a simple one. Though tone can often be difficult to infer over written text, the question seemed to bear no hostility, only innocent curiosity. I thought for a bit about what to say, the answer was not as simple as the question had implied.

***

Located quite literally one thousand miles away from Copper Harbor, was the small, out-of-the-way town of Lebanon, Kansas. Now, in the outskirts Lebanon there was a hill. The hill was modestly sized and carpeted with thick grass painted with a layer of frost. Although it was a rather pleasant sight for some stray hiker to find, the hill was really quite unremarkable. That is, if you ignored the hulking steel door built into the side of it that looked like the entrance to a post-apocalyptic hobbit hole. See, built under that hill there was a bunker. It looked like any ordinary bunker if one can ever describe a bunker as ordinary. But inside this ordinary looking bunker, sat something rather extraordinary and his name was Jack.

Jack Kline was quite happy where he was. Sitting with his legs crossed on a chair beside the bunker's fireplace, Jack held Sam's beloved lap-top between his knees. Sam let him borrow it on the nights he couldn't sleep. Those nights were many. Sleepless nights were one of the many side effects of being half-angel, but he didn't really mind. Jack wasn't overly fond of sleep, not like Sam or Dean who adored the few hours they got. Jack would much rather be awake because if he was asleep then he couldn't observe. He liked to observe. He loved learning. He loved taking in anything and everything going on around him, soaking it all up like a sponge with legs. He especially loved to soak up a story. Epic ones with heroes that defeat powerful villains. Jack loved stories.

So, no; Jack Kline was not overly fond of sleep. No, Jack preferred to just sit quietly and watch those epic stories as they played out in front of him on the screen of Sam's lap-top.

Currently, he was watching Star Wars: The Clone Wars. The computer had said he would like it, and the computer had been right. He had just finished season 2 and had begun on season 3. Some small voice in the back of his mind told him he should slow down and draw the series out a little longer, but Jack just couldn't find the will to do so. This story was just too good to stop. Jack shoved a hand full of popcorn in his mouth as he pressed the play button on the next episode. He had managed to sneak several bags of popcorn from the kitchen and into the secret stash in his room a few nights earlier. It was perfect, except popcorn needed to be popped and popping the kernels without attracting notice was a bit of a challenge. But he found that if he popped them during the day, when everyone was clamoring about and busy with whatever, the noise from the popping kernels wouldn't peak any suspicion. The only downside to his strategy was that it left him with cold popcorn. Though this too could be remedied via his angel powers, if he was careful about it, he could warm up the popcorn undetected.

Now, don't get the impression that Jack was being starved, or held in this bunker against his will, or something awful like that. As was mentioned before, Jack was very happy there. The Winchesters, Sam and Dean, and the angel Castiel, lived there with him and took care of him. They were his family and Jack loved them. The only reason he had a secret stash at all was because Sam was the only one in the bunker who cared about the importance of having a somewhat healthy diet. Whereas Dean let the boy eat pretty much anything he wanted and Cas- well in Cas's mind food was food and that's all there was to it. But Sam didn't like it when he caught Jack eating what he referred to as 'junk food'.

Somehow, Sam always caught him.

"That stuff’ll rot your teeth, Jack!" He'd sigh, as he'd flip on the kitchen light and catch Jack eating cereal sometime around midnight. Then he'd look at Jack with a disappointed look on his face until Jack threw the cereal away and went back to bed. Jack hated it when Sam looked at him like that, he just couldn't bear to let the Winchesters down.

But Jack loved to eat. Eating was enjoyable as it brought with it something new every time. Yet more things to absorb and to experience. Although the younger Winchester disapproved of the more sugary foods; Jack liked those a whole lot more than the salads Sam tried to get him to eat. Jack didn't like the salads or 'Rabbit Food' as Dean called it. No, Jack liked popcorn a quite a bit more.

He smiled as he brought another handful into his mouth. Yes, Jack Kline quite enjoyed eating.

Plip! Ploop!

Jack's head swiveled away from the screen to stare at the phone laying face-up on the arm rest of the chair in which he sat. The screen was alight with a text message. He picked up the phone and unlocked it. The message read:

Received: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

That was all. Jack was quite confused; he didn't know that number. Who had sent the text? What should he do? Should he say something back?

Curiosity and caution struggled in a match tug-of-war in his head. He wanted to know who the message had come from. He wanted to know why that person had sent it. He also wanted to know why he had a strange feeling that whoever had sent the message was horribly sad. But would the Winchesters be mad at him if he answered? Sam and Dean had given him the phone just a few days earlier.

"For emergencies," Sam had said as he laid the device in Jack's hand before resuming his packing. Jack had stared at it, rather confused as to its purpose. Castiel had been off somewhere doing something and Sam and Dean had been leaving for a hunt, leaving him alone which Dean was completely and utterly against.

"Only for emergencies," Dean had stressed, jabbing his finger in Jack's general direction as he inspected various articles of clothing before tossing them into a duffle bag. "That means don't text or call unless someone is breaking in or you're dying!"

Sam shot his older brother a warning look. Dean ignored it and pulled a pair of socks out of his dresser, sniffing them briefly before making a face and chucking them to the other side of the room. Jack looked back down at the small black rectangle in his palm.

"Okay so, only text or call in case there's an emergency. Got it." Jack clinched the thin black box between his thumb and forefinger, carefully lifting it up as if it might explode in his face. "But, one question, if something happens like-like you said, like somebody breaking in or me dying, how-how would I do that?" He asked, looking back at the two brothers. They both froze their hasty packing and pivoted to stare at him, their eyebrows raised with disbelieving question.

"What?" Dean asked the young Nephilim. Jack shrank away a little, not wanting to upset the older Winchester.

"How do I text or call you? I don't know how to do that," Jack had timidly replied. Dean just shook his head and returned to over-stuffing the duffle. Sam, however, was much more understanding.

"That's right, you-you don't, do you?" Sam asked, realizing his mistake. Jack turned his attention to the younger of the brothers, shaking his head in an answer to Sam's question.

"Unbelievable," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. Sam shot him another glare which Dean merely shrugged off.

"Well, come on then, I'll teach you," Sam had said. Jack watched as Sam set the contacts and explained how everything worked. He showed Jack how to send a text, how to dial and answer a call, and all the other things Jack would need to know. Jack just watched him and took note of every little thing. Watching and replicating was how Jack learned best.

"Now, if I don't answer my phone, you call Dean. But if he doesn't pick up, I want you to call me again, if I still don't answer a second time, I want you to call this number right here. That's Jody Mills, she's a friend of ours and she'll help you, alright? You get all that?" Sam finished explaining and looked for Jack to confirm his understanding. Jack nodded.

"I got it!" He said, enthusiastically. Sam gave the young boy a nervous smile.

"You do? Can you repeat it back to me?" Sam asked Jack the question the same way Sam and Dean's father had always asked them.

"If something happens, call you, and if you don't answer, call Dean. If Dean doesn't answer then I call you again, but if you still don't pick up, then call Jody Mills." Jack repeated all of Sam's instructions perfectly, grinning proudly at the younger Winchester when he finished. Sam laughed a little, but nerves twinged his voice.

"Good, yeah. Okay," Sam paused, thinking things over, "You know what, Jack? If neither of us answer your call and it's really that urgent, don't bother calling me a second time. Just call Jody right away if you can't get through to either of us. Alright?"

"Alright!" Jack nodded, grinning. Sam nodded back, stiffly.

"Alright." He seemed like he wanted to say something else but didn't know how to say it.

"You two done in there, Sammy?! We gotta go!" Dean called, walking in from another room. Sam stood and looked at his brother.

"Uh, yeah. I think we're good," He took a few steps towards the stairs that lead up to the door before pausing and turning back to Jack, "We're good, right? You're gonna be okay here by yourself?" Sam asked again. Jack grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry."

Sam nodded and smiled with so much nervousness it almost hurt to watch.

"Okay, good. It's good. We're good," He said, nodding and trying to reassure himself more than anyone else. Dean raised an eyebrow at his overly anxious little brother, tugging his old leather jacket on over his shoulders, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he directed his remarks at Jack.

"Hey, kid. Whatever you do, don't do anything stupid," He'd said, half glaring, "We'll be back in a few days." Then they'd left.

Now, Jack glanced back down at the phone in his hands, remembering Dean's warning about not doing anything stupid. But his curiosity regarding the sender of the message was overwhelming. It couldn't hurt to text this person back, right? Was that what Dean had meant by his warning? Did this count as something stupid? What was the worst that could happen? Deciding that the benefits outweighed the risks, he texted back.

Sent: 10:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

Jack wrote.

Sent: 10:19 PM

Who are you?

No sooner had asked his question, he began to worry that he might have sounded rude. He waited with anticipation for the mystery person to reply. He didn't have to wait long.

Received: 10:20 PM

It doesn't matter, you don't know me.

I'm just someone wanting to give you a warm holiday wish.

Jack frowned. Again, he got the distinct feeling that the person on the other side of this conversation was deeply saddened by something. He desperately wanted to know what. So, he did the thing he did best. He asked and waited to see what would happen.

***

Received: 11:21 PM

If you don't know me, why do you care?

I don't mean to be rude. I'm just curious.

Why do this?

I read the person's question once, then twice, then three times and I realized that I didn't have an answer. Why did I care? Why was I texting some random person a Christmas wish? For all I knew, this person may not even observe the holiday. I had so many of my own things to worry about I was nearly drowning in them. I didn't know this person. I had nothing to do with them. So, why did I care about their holiday season? Why was I doing this?

I told myself it was just a random act of kindness. But deep down I knew what the reason was, and even if I didn't want to think about it, I felt it in my heart. I was doing this for the same reason I did everything. So, I took a few moments and came up with a reply.

Sent: 11:25 PM

I'm doing this because I believe that no one should ever have to be alone,

especially during the holidays.

I sent my reply and remembered to keep on shivering. I could hardly feel the cold anymore, I had gone almost completely numb. But I knew if I didn't keep moving, I would surely freeze in place and be unable to move until spring came. I vaguely wondered how cold it was. I remembered having heard on someone's car radio that this was supposed to be the coldest winter Michigan had experienced in the last decade. Though winter had only just begun, it was already cold enough for the district council to be suggesting face coverings to prevent citizens from getting frostbite and losing their nose.

I sneezed. I had no such face covering. Hell! I didn't even have a jacket! Let alone a coat or anything mildly warm. All I had was my oversized green cardigan, my black Star Wars t-shirt and my black jeans. That was it. Yet here I sat, outside a bakery in well below freezing temperatures, shivering myself into next decade.

I could go to a shelter. At least there I wouldn't have to endure the bitter biting of the wind as it gushed with double its normal force through these tight, abandoned alleyways. But if I went to a shelter then there was no chance of leaving undetected, I reminded myself. No, it was better to stay here, cold and alone, than to risk human contact.

I was pulled from my thoughts by another pling from my phone. Another message from that unknown contact.

Received: 11: 27

Are you alone?

Again, the question was simple. And although the mere thought hurt like a knife twisting in a fresh wound, I looked around at the dark, trash littered alleyway I sat in, watching the scattered rags of paper flutter and tumble in the winter gales, and I looked at the brutally beautiful puddles of speckled ice gathering along my body and melting on my skin, and I examined the bleak night sky, choked starless by the drifting dreary clouds; and the utterly silent stillness of the sleeping city revealed the harsh reality of my answer.

No one was here.

Nobody cared.

Not even the stars would keep me company. Because the stars never cared who I was.

So, with no reason to keep the truth hidden. I answered the question honestly.

Sent: 11: 29 PM

Yes.

Sent: 11: 30 PM

I am alone.

I was completely and utterly alone.

***

Received: 10: 30 PM

I am alone.

Once again Jack got the distinct impression that these words carried a heavy burden. It made him frown. What could he do to help a person he didn't even know? He wanted to ask this person if they had any friends, but something about those words told him the answer. When this person had said they were alone, Jack got the feeling they weren't just talking about the current moment. But maybe that's what this person needed. Maybe they needed a friend.

Sent: 10: 32 PM

Well, I'll be your friend and talk to you. There, now you're not alone anymore!

Jack smiled as he sent the text. The reply didn't take long.

Received: 10: 33 PM

Thank you.

You don't have waste your time on me but thank you.

It didn't take any special powers to read in between the lines this time, anyone could see the sadness in those words. Though Jack wasn't sure if it was his powers causing that strange feeling or if he was just imagining things.

Sent: 10:34 PM

I don't mind. Really!

Besides, I don't have anyone to talk to either.

Received: 10: 35 PM

Well, in that case, we can be lonely together!

Jack grinned. He'd made himself a friend. He couldn't wait to get to know them.

***

Received: 11: 36 PM

Since we're friends now, what's your name?

I smiled down at my new mystery friend's message. There was something about the words that made them seem innocent and earnest. It couldn't hurt to give my name, right? It’s not like he could find me. After all, I'm supposed to be dead.

Sent: 11: 37 PM

My name is Martina.

I sent my name and waited for the response. It came quickly.

Received: 11: 38 PM

I like your name Martina!

It's very pretty.

I flinched as I read the text. Something about seeing my name written in the text brought me back to a conversation with a different person a long time ago. It was a painful memory, and I didn't want to see it anymore. I didn't want another reminder of the still bleeding wounds in my heart. I remembered why I didn't let anyone call me that name anymore.

Sent: 11: 39 PM

Thank you.

But I would prefer you call me Marty.

I didn't want to be so sensitive to things like this, but I just couldn't help it.

Received: 11: 40 PM

Alright! I like Marty too.

It's a fun name.

I smiled; grateful they didn't ask why it was so important that they called me by a nickname.

Sent: 11: 41 PM

Thanks for understanding.

So, what's your name?

Received: 11: 42 PM

My name is Jack!

I grinned to myself. I'd made me a friend. I just couldn't wait to get to know him.

Sent: 11: 43 PM

Heya, Jack!

It’s nice to meet you!

I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

Received: 11: 44 PM

I agree, Marty. We are going to be great friends!

Sent: 11: 45 PM

So, what's your favorite movie?

And just like that, we talked until the sun came up. And suddenly, for the first time in quite a while, I wasn't completely alone.

***

"Hey, uh, Jack? We're back!"

Sam's voice drifted in from just outside Jack's bedroom door. Jack was surprised. He hadn't heard the brothers come in which, for him, was quite peculiar.

The door creaked open and Jack hastily attempted to pretend like he hadn't been using the phone.

He failed.

Miserably.

The device slipped from his hand and he fumbled to catch it before it smashed against the grey, polished concrete floor. He let out a sigh of relief as he snatched it just in time.

Sam peered around the door, checking in on Jack, who was now hanging halfway off his bed and clutching the phone. Scrambling to sit upright, Jack gave Sam a half-panicked smile.

"Hi Sam!" He waved a greeting, shoving his phone behind his back. Sam raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He folded his arms and leaned back on his heels.

"Hey Jack," Sam seemed a little distracted, "Have you seen Cas?" He asked. Jack shook his head vigorously.

"He's not back yet," He answered. Sam nodded and started to leave before stopping and turning back. Only now seeming to notice Jack's odd behavior. Sam gestured at the phone hidden behind the boys back,

"So, what were you doing in here just now?" Jack's eyes flew wide as quarters and his gaze shifted rapidly around the room, focusing on anywhere but Sam. His mind was working overtime trying to find a viable excuse.

"Uhhhh...Nothing!" Jack tried; his brain had gone blank. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure about that?" Sam leaned forward a little, narrowing his eyes. Jack leaned back to match; his face scrunched up with the guilt he was trying very hard to hide. Everyone in the bunker knew how terrible Jack was at lying. He might be able to pass a few simple fibs by a stranger, but his family saw through him like he was made of glass. He couldn't deceive them. But that didn't stop him from trying, however.

"Yes..." Jack said slowly, his eyebrows pulling together in a rather sad attempt at looking sincere.

"Jack, what were you doing?" Sam asked more sternly. Jack looked at his feet and didn't answer. His shoulders moved up and down in a shrug.

"Do I have to go get Dean?" Sam pressed. Now Jack's head shot up. He stretched his hands out in a pleading gesture.

"No, no! Don't tell Dean!" Jack begged. Sam's expression shifted into one of concern.

"If you tell me, I won't tell Dean." Sam agreed, moving to sit on the bed beside Jack who shifted to give him some space. Sam waited patiently for the young Nephilim to speak. Jack kept his head down and rubbed his hands together nervously as he tried to think of how he should explain himself.

"Well, last night I was watching Netflix when I got this text from somebody wishing me a merry Christmas-" He started.

"Someone we know?" Sam asked, interrupting. Jack shook his head and continued.

"I asked them why they would do that, and they said it was because they thought that nobody should be alone this time of year. So, I asked if they were alone and they said, yes ─" Jack looked the younger Winchester in the eyes ─

"I don't know why but I just got this- this feeling, and they sounded just so sad, and now we're friends! But Dean said not to do anything stupid, and now I'm worried that I did! Are you mad?" Jack finished, worry coloring his features. Sam blinked. Once again astounded by the size of the half-angel's heart, he shook his head.

"No, Jack. I'm not mad," He said, softly.

"Really?"

"Really. I think you did a good thing. Everyone needs a friend." Sam patted Jack's shoulder and smiled. Jack looked down, grinning to himself as pride filled his chest.

Sam waited a moment before getting up from the bed. Stretching his back out and groaning a bit as he stood. It had been almost 48 hours since he last slept, and he was more than ready for a long nap. His hand rested on the doorknob and he paused a moment before turning back around.

"Hey, uh, Jack. Just one more thing. Do you by chance know this person's name?" Sam asked. Jack looked up briefly before looking back at the floor again, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up to stain his cheeks.

"It's, uh, it's Marty," He replied. Sam nodded and moved to leave again but he stopped. His eyebrows pulled down with confusion before he turned back.

"And uh, is that a boy's name or a girl's name? Do you know?" Jack turned his head a bit to the side and picked at a thread in his jeans.

"Does it matter?" He questioned back. Truthfully, it didn't. Sam wouldn't make Jack stop if he didn't want to. But to say that the boy's current evasive behavior didn't pique his interest, would be a lie. Though, the kid’s flushed cheeks told him quite a bit about the answer.

"It doesn't matter," Sam said, shrugging, "I'm just curious is all." The tall man watched the boy's reaction. Jack nodded and shifted as if uncomfortable.

"Marty's a girl." He answered, trying to force his voice into sounding nonchalant. And failing.

"Okay, cool." Sam nodded, turning around again, and reaching for the handle. Jack's head whipped around.

"Wait, Sam!"

Sam looked over his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"Don't. Tell. Dean!" Jack stressed. Urgency was evident in his voice. Sam huffed a laugh.

"Okay, Jack." With that, Sam pulled open the door and walked out letting the heavy steel swing shut behind him. Behind the door, Jack sighed with relief. He'd dodged a bullet with that one.

Walking a ways down the hall, Sam got to Dean's room where his older brother was now unpacking. The younger brother leaned on the door frame and expelled the laughter he'd been holding on to since Jack’s room. Dean turned around, holding a pistol and a pair of weeks old and hopelessly blood caked socks in his hands, he faced Sam with a questioning look.

"What's got you so giggly all of a sudden?" The older of the brother's asked.

Dean glanced at the pair of socks in his hand. He grimaced at the stench and held them further away from his face, trying not to breathe. It didn't work. The socks odor was so pungent, Dean could smell them through his mouth. There was no hope of washing them. Nope, those things would have to be burned. Though, taking another whiff of them, Dean wasn't sure that even incinerating the socks would do him much good now. The stomach-turning stink would be branded into his memory forever. Sam straightened up, shaking his head of shoulder length hair.

"It's just something Jack said." Sam smiled and laughed again before taking notice of the unholy stench wafting off the socks. He coughed. "Dude, those stink. Bad!"

"Yeah, it's a sad day, Sammy." Dean nodded solemnly. Sam covered his nose.

"Why?"

"These were my second luckiest pair of socks."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, they're not anymore," Sam pointed out. Now, they were just rancid.

"I think we should give em' a Viking funeral, something to honor their service. I mean, I remember one time when I wore these things for two weeks straight!" Dean reminisced, grinning. Sam looked mildly disturbed.

"That's, uh... nice... But, uh, is there somewhere we could put them before the funeral? Because they, uh, they reek." Sam was trying hard not to gag and couldn't understand how Dean could be holding them and remain unaffected. Dean smirked.

"You wanna go put em' somewhere?" He asked, waving the socks into Sam's face. Sam leaned away.

"Ah! God! No! Put those things somewhere! Please!" He choked out. Dean just grinned and moved to the other side of the room. Grabbing a cardboard box from off the shelf, he shoved the socks in there and sealed the lid. The stench quickly began to dissipate.

"Better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"We're gonna have to burn that box too."

"Yup." Sam still felt a little sick but at least the socks were gone.

"So, what was it Jack said that you thought was so funny?" The older brother asked.

"Oh, uh, nothing. It was nothing," Sam said. But laughter began to creep up on him again. Dean rolled his eyes and went back to pulling more dirty clothing from the duffle bag.

"Are ya gonna stand there or are ya gonna spill?" Dean pushed. Sam sobered up again.

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell you," He said.

Dean shook his head, mildly annoyed. He knew Sam was going to tell him whatever juicy information he had gotten, just like he always did when he got that sly look on his face. Sam could be a bit of a schoolgirl that way. Except, of course, when it came to the important things, the things Dean was supposed to know. Those things Sam always kept to himself.

"Well, Sammy, if you ain’t gonna spill─" he used the gun in his hand to gesture from Sam to the duffle bag─ "get workin'."

The younger Winchester moved to the bag and started unpacking, grinning his face off all the while. Dean knew his little brother was waiting for him to ask about the thing with Jack again, so he said nothing. He just waited for Sam to look over to him eagerly, which is exactly what Sam did.

"So get this!" Sam started.

'Here it comes.' Dean predicted internally. Sam kept starring.

'Yatzee.' Dean thought. He knew Sam like the back of his hand. Actually, he probably knew his brother better than that.

"Apparently, Jack got a text from some random person last night wishing him merry Christmas. And, well, you know Jack! So he─" Dean stopped his brother mid-sentence.

"What's her name?" He interrupted. Sam looked confused.

"I didn't say anything about a girl," Sam trailed off. Dean sighed and shook his head.

"Geez, Sammy! If you love drama so much, you should go be an actor. You ain't foolin' anybody. We both know where this is goin' so just cut to the chase!" Dean sighed, opening a trunk and tossing in the gun he'd been holding along with several knives. His small outburst had startled his younger brother, but Dean didn't really care. Sam wasn't the only one who hadn't slept in 48 hours. Sleep was calling and Dean wanted nothing more than to answer. Sam frowned.

"Marty. The girl's name is Marty," Sam stated, sounding rather put out that Dean had guessed at his not-so-cleaver ploy. The older if the pair turned to the younger with a perplexed expression.

"Wait, wait. Marty?" He clarified. Amused disbelief written all over his features.

"Marty," Sam confirmed.

"Marty?"

"Yeah. Marty."

"Like the zebra in Madagascar, Marty?" Dean asked, grinning. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, like that. But remember, you didn't hear anything from me!" He answered, smiling as well. Dean laughed as he turned his attention back to the mess of clothing and weapons surrounding him on the floor.

"Yeah, whatever, drama queen." Dean rolled his eyes and kept working. The room was silent for a moment before the older Winchester burst out laughing again. He couldn't help himself; he found the subject hilarious.

"Ah, man. Marty! Now there's a name!" He exclaimed as he started folding the few clean clothing items laying in the pile. "What? Did her parents just take one look at her and say: 'Look at our beautiful baby! Let's name her Marty!'" Dean scoffed.

Sam snorted and shook his head at his older brother's bad joke. Then he leaned his head back and yawned.

"Man, I think we need some sleep," Sam sighed. Dean smirked.

"Is it your bedtime already?" He taunted, expecting a playful retort. But this time, Sam didn't argue. He just nodded.

"Yeah, I think it is." Though worried about his little brother, Dean held his playful smirk in place perfectly, just like he had been doing for so many years.

"Well, you go ahead and hit the sack. I'll finish up here." He said, easily. Even though he was just as tired and Sam was, he would finish out like always. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, o'course. There's not much left anyway." That was a lie and they both knew it, but Sam took the offer of sleep while it was on the table.

"Thanks, Dean."

"You're welcome, Sammy."

Sam patted his older brother on the arm as he stood and left the room. Traveling down the corridor he got to his bedroom and was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Meanwhile, Dean mouthed the strange name of Jack's mystery girl and chuckled about it to himself. Sitting on the floor in his room as he continued folding the rest of the clean clothes, cleaning out all the weapons and putting everything back in its place. The chore took him two more hours to complete but when it was done, he stretched himself out and laid back on his bed.

"Marty. Now, that's hilarious." Dean snickered to himself as he drifted off to sleep.

~I might hate myself tomorrow.

But I'm on my way tonight.

Let's be lonely together.

A little less lonely together~

Lyrics from: Lonely Together by Jasmine Thompson

[flameraven]

Good Omens Fic Rec Masterpost - Part Two

 Hello hello I have read MANY MORE fics in this fandom now so it’s time to add on to my previous recs. Part One can be found here: https://flameraven.tumblr.com/post/187742832545/good-omens-fic-recs-masterpost General info! No fics rated higher than M, and that’s usually for violence not sex. I headcanon the husbands as being in an asexual relationship, so any fics I rec will have no sex, or only have sexy stuff alluded to or briefly mentioned.

The Soft Zone (TM)

all the days - G / darcylindbergh

War of Attrition- G / out_there / 8k - 3 gifts Crowley gives Aziraphale

A Meddling of Houseplants - T/ wingedspirit / 6k - Ophelia (a peace lily) is tired of Crowley and Aziraphale’s hopeless pining, and takes matters into her own leaves.

Sweetest in the Gale - T / wingedspirit / 3.8k - Gabriel can sense Aziraphale’s love for Crowley, and confronts “Aziraphale” about it before his execution

Deck the Halls - G / forthegreatergood / 18k - two idiots attempt to acquire mistletoe for the holidays in order to convey their feelings for the other.

Tartan Wrapping Paper - G / Arej / 2k - Crowley may not have quite gotten the message about the tartan all those years ago

a prize-winning philodendron - G / Elsajeni / <1k - Crowley does look, and sighs heavily. “Angel,” he says, “of all the plants you could have tried keeping, why did you start with something this fussy?”

Silver and Gold - G / asparkofgoodness / 1.5k - Crowley buys a ring.

Futile Devices - G / ticketybye / 3k - Yes, Crowley has imagined. He has craved. But being in Aziraphale’s close proximity has had to be enough. He’s not even sure he deserves that. But this, this feels like it felt to be commissioned the stars. It feels like being entrusted with something precious and fragile.

The Weight of Words Unspoken - G / rattatatosk / 1.8k - Aziraphale has always hinted to Crowley when he needed to leave. After the Apoca-wasn’t, he asks Crowley to stay.

J’Aime (I Love) - G / yourpaceangel - Crowley is searching for what the ‘J’ means.

the other way round - G / darcylindbergh / <1k - Aziraphale gets hair pets for once.

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life Too) - G / soft_october / 1.5k - Crowley is trying not to go to fast, ends up stalled out completely. Aziraphale decides he will have to get creative. 

In Good Hands - G / Sunjinjo / 14k - Aziraphale was created wearing a golden ring. It’s now the last remaining aspect of his original attire.One day, he tries to take it off. The rest follows naturally. (Marriage Proposal)

One Golden Glance (Of What Should Be) - G / Sunjinjo / 8.5k - Crowley takes up painting after the Apocalypse.

Misfit / Safe Haven - G / Mothfluff / 2k - Aziraphale provides a safe space for the Soho queer community to gather

seasons, changes - G / the_pen_is_mightier / 2k - In the autumn Aziraphale and Crowley go out apple picking.

on the necessity of a temptation - M / darcylindbergh / 4.5k - Crowley squinted at him. He said, slowly, as if sounding around the words [...] “But doing things is what we do. Why would—what would be the point of me being here otherwise?”

In Other Words, Baby, Kiss Me - T / mikkimouse / 4.5k - Five times Aziraphale kissed Crowley and one time Crowley (finally) kissed him back.

It's Getting Hard, This Holding Back - T / ZehWulf / 13k - Crowley decides to lure Aziraphale into Explicit Gestures of Romantic Affection. Aziraphale sets a cuddle trap

give you more to hold on to - T / cryptidkidprem / 4k - Crowley nods. "It's..." He looks down at their joined hands, and takes a long, deep breath. “We’re not— We’re not supposed to need this, y’know?” He lifts their joined hands up, lets them fall again. “You and I. Angels, demons. We're not meant to need all this. This touchy-feely stuff, all this affection, this—” a hitch in his breath— “Love.”

two parallel lines -lineffability

don’t let me wake up - acuteangleaziraphale

how to let go - jlmarch

Mornington Crescent -politeanarcy

Wingfic

Symmetry in Favor - G / kedreeva / 8k - Five times Crowley preens Aziraphale's wings, and one time Aziraphale preens Crowley's.

London Calling - G / forthegreatergood / 30k - Come for Crowley’s ridiculous 1970′s bed, stay for Feelings and extensive wing pets.

Hurt/Comfort

Be Ye Therefore Merciful - T / AmberDiceless / 9.5k - Book!Verse. Crowley does something utterly unexpected, and Aziraphale must face an opponent who cannot be thwarted.

Pigeon Girlfriends with a Long Preamble - T / SleepySelfLoathing / 8k - All Crowley wanted was to spend a nice night in with his husband, so of course he ends up summoned by a bunch of cultists instead. Why would he expect anything different....This would probably be a lot easier to deal with if he wasn't wearing Aziraphale's fluffiest bathrobe.

All Creatures that Have the Breath of Life - G / Elsajeni / 4k - Aziraphale fishes a very sodden Crawly out of the water during the Flood.

Touched by an Angel (And it Bloody Hurts) - G  /hedgehog-o-brien / 7k - Aziraphale can’t touch Crowley without burning him.

Douse the Fire, Help Me Breathe  - G / Arej / 1.5k - Even demons fear fire, when they've watched their world burn.

In a City Under Aerial Bombardment  - G / battle_cat / 3k - After the church and the bomb and the books.

Small Mercies - G / rattatatosk / 4k - Crawly gets smited. Aziraphale lends a hand.

Easier Than Air - G / A_Candle_For_Sherlock / 3.5k - The world hasn't ended, and everything is fine. They're fine. It's terrifying.

attachment - T / artenon / 4.5k - Crowley crosses over to open the passenger door for Aziraphale, and Aziraphale’s attention is drawn to Crowley’s uneven gait, the light, too-quick steps and the rocking back and forth on his heels as he holds the door open and waits for Aziraphale to get in.“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale says, heart sinking, “your feet.”

Hell Freezes Over - M / charliebrown1234 + Turcote / 18k - The year is 2002, and Crowley and Aziraphale are sent to Alaska to investigate a decommissioned entrance to Hell. What could possibly go wrong? 

Better The Demon You Know - T / mikkimouse / 1.2k - When Crawly falls out of the sky and into the flood, he gets help from a very unexpected source.

Gently, gently - G / the_pen_is_mightier / 3k - Heaven is cold and lonely. Hell is filthy and crowded. Aziraphale badly needs to be touched; Crowley needs fresh air, and light, and space. They can’t seem to connect on days after they’ve returned from their respective head offices.

Of Firsts and Foremosts  - T / kedreeva / 6k - Aziraphale is left vulnerable and injured as his first molt approaches. Crawly comes to the rescue for the first time.

The Brazen Serpent - T / ImprobableDreams900 / 11k - Some other angels come to help Aziraphale at the end of the Isrealites’ 40-year exile in the wilderness, unfortunately for Crawley.

hold my hand tight (we'll make it another night) - G / cryptidkidprem / 3k - The night at Crowley’s flat. He’s having a hard time not panicking.

Harbours of My Own - T / wingedspirit / 30k - Crowley knows that, as a demon, his freedom is limited. He doesn't get to have a home; he doesn't get to love. Aziraphale would very much like to change that, but he, too, is limited in what he can do. It takes the better part of six thousand years, but they'll get there.

crack me open, feel me shatter - T / rattatatosk / 2.5k - Crowley dreams of the Fall. Aziraphale is there to catch him when he wakes.

Angst (w/a Happy Ending)

Where His Angel Dares to Tread - M / PinkPenguinParade / 16k - Crowley is taken by Hell. Aziraphale disguises himself as best he can for the rescue mission. Newt and Anathema help.

Remembrance of Things Past - T / Fyre / 18k - Hell takes Crowley’s memories all the way back to Eden as punishment for his crimes.

Drunk Theology - G / battle_cat / 3k - Aziraphale had been hoping tonight for Giggly Drunk Crowley, which was his favorite drunk Crowley. That didn’t seem to be how things were working out, though.

Like a River Flows - T / kedreeva / 15k - Five times Crowley was not allowed to love Aziraphale, and one time he succeeded.

The Cultivation of New Growth - T / Vitreous_humor / 3k - “I mean,” he said carefully, “if you want a plant, let me give you one of the snake plants or maybe the big coleus. They'd be good for the shop, pretty stalwart in the dark...You don't want this one, it's rotten.” “Actually,” Aziraphale said firmly, “I do want that one.”

The Holy Essence of Experience - T / Dragonsquill / 4k - They know how they feel, but giving it a name would be too dangerous.   Ineffable husbands from the beginning to the end of the world, aware and wanting.

AUs/Crossovers

be mine tonight (be mine forever) - T / artenon / 11k - Human!AU. When Aziraphale finds out his coworkers have made a bet that he won’t bring anyone to the company party, he asks his best friend Crowley to go as his date just to spite them. Things quickly spiral out of control.

Siren’s Song - T / kedreeva / 30k+ (WIP) - Siren!AU. Crowley, a lone siren, calls a ship to wreck upon his reef, but finds when he meets pirate captain Aziraphale that sirens are not the only ones able to lure another creature to their heart's desire.

Adopt Don’t Shop - G / lucky_spike / 6k - Cat!AU based on Chekov’s “Good Meowmons” comics.

The Ones Who Walk Away From Nevaeh  - T / soft_october / 15k - AU based on “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas”

The Grinch Who Sold Christmas - T / darcylindbergh / 60k - Human AU / Hallmark Movie AU. Crowley is a big city lawyer sent to seal the deal that will destroy the quaint town of Tadfield forever, right before Christmas... and then he falls in love with the town, and a certain bookshop owner. Ridiculously sappy fluff that hits all the right notes.

The Odd One Out  T / RainyDayDecaf / 2k- A meeting of many different Crowleys and Aziraphales.

Beat Again - T / TeaCub90 / 7k - Human AU. Two neighbours keep each other and their respective conditions company in the dead of night

Outsider POV

Ophidiophobia - G / lyricwritesprose / 7.6k - Pepper is afraid of snakes. When this is abruptly revealed in an encounter with Crowley’s serpent form, she immediately goes about trying to cure herself of it.

What’s in a Name? - G / lyricwritesprose / 4k -  “You do realize,” Brother Francis said, “that Warlock is just your name, not some sort of, of directive?”

Damaged - G / lyricwritesprose / 6k - Aziraphale is struggling after the Apocalypse. Madam Tracy offers some advice. (Very good spooky/nonhuman Aziraphale in this one.)

Angel’s Favor - T/ PinkPenguinParade / 10k - A hundred years ago, Aziraphale gave one of his feathers to a woman who helped him. In the modern day, her descendant calls in the favor.

Protective Camouflage -  G/ politeanarcy/ 2.3k - The Antichrist isn’t the only one with defenses against being noticed.

Disposable - T / lyricwritesprose / 7k - Eric the Disposable Demon attempts to become Crowley’s vassal after the Apoca-wasn’t. Nothing goes the way they expect after that.

on deceiving appearances - G / asideofourown / 2k - The Disposable Demon realizes the truth of Crowley’s deception in Heaven.

Anthony J. Crowley, Retired Demon and Airbnb Superhost - G / TheOldAquarian / 3k - What are you supposed to do when you've been fired from your sweet job in Hell for thwarting the schemes of Satan, you've got a swanky flat in Mayfair, and you're looking for an excuse to spend all your time in someone else's bookshop? Obviously, you turn to the dubious world of short-term vacation rentals.

Other

the best laid schemes - T / asideofourown / 4k - How Crowley got his Rat Army

Incongruous States of Being - T / ZehWulf / 8k - “Who would win: Aziraphale or Crowley.” “Oh!” Aziraphale startles. “Well—such a question. It’s not as though either of us has engaged in so much as fisticuffs in ages, and one does need to keep up practice with these sorts of things.” His fretting dies abruptly when Crowley cuts over him clearly, baldly: “Aziraphale.”

No one expects the Spanish Inquisition - T / WoodsWitch / 12k - The Arrangement is 500 years old, and Crowley and Aziraphale have been having a fine time in Renaissance Florence. Things start to go a bit pear-shaped with the arrival of a Friar Savonarola, so Crowley suggests that they meet up in his favorite refuge from the rest of medieval Europe: Spain. ((Don’t let the title fool you, this is an incredibly in-depth and well-researched historical fic and deserves way more hits than it has.))

[botwstoriesandsuch]

YES! POST THINGS! IM BORED!!!

Okie Dokie here you go!

The real reason I wanted an ask was because the original person who asked for this prompt isn’t in my inbox anymore...? Someone requested a one-shot about Revali failing at his gale, but I can’t find it in the inbox because I’m dumb/technology issues? (I think their name was trash mammal or something, idk). Anyway, here’s that, although I kinda, accidentally turned it into a character analysis of Revali...But an anon said that I apologize too much with requests. Therefore, I’m NOT sorry about that, I’m NOT sorry for the wait, and I’m NOT sorry that this is 3487 words long. Enjoy!

Edit: Sorry if the format looks weird on mobile, idk why!

The Pride of the Rito

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of The Wild

Revali x Reader

The night was bitter in more ways than one. The snow that tumbled down on the Flight Range was thick, leaving clumps of ice on the roof. The air was hazy, a silver atmosphere that commanded the winds to howl towards the sky. The rugged mountains that surrounded the area isolated him and the trench. The only thing that could be seen past the lingering snowstorm was the faint blue glow of Medoh in the sky, for even the stars were captured under the white, with not a twinkle in sight. Outside, the flurries rested on the tips of his feathers and beak, a delicate moment in the midst of his relentless training.

Again. Let’s do it again. I need to be more precise.  

Revali knelt on the edge, teetering between the solid ground and the emptiness below him.  

He brushed the tips of his wing against the rocks, the winds rushing between his feathers. His body relaxed for a moment, closing his eyes and feeling the air. Then, he tensed, stiffening his wings on either side, in a motion as if to summon something from the earth. Well, he was summoning something. The air, the wind, the movement, the authority to conjure a draft below him. The winds were now picking up, swirling violently and circling under him, he could feel his jade anklets clinking around from the rampant air.  

Keep going. Keep. Going. It needs to be stronger, faster. 

The falling snow was now alive, dancing around as they were swept into the hurricane-like entity that was now surrounding Revali. His braids were flapping in the air, his cream colored scarf billowing. The winds were now cutting, bitter cold nipping despite his feathered features. 

Now, up. Release with control, direct it upwards. Not all at once. Keep the energy. Follow through the whole way. Command the ascent. Steer the flow. This is it!

A shaky breath escaped him. A strange charge now filled the air. The winds, once turbulent, now suddenly stilled, seeming to wait for their cue. He could feel it still swirling, inside of him, ready to burst at any moment. Then, his wings, still strained on either side of him, gave a mighty flap. The air now roared back to life, swelling beneath him. 

A tornado, a great pillar of air, now released into the sky. 

And he flew

…straight into a rocky cliff. 

“ARGH–”

The wind, quite literally, was knocked out of Revali, as he connected with the rocky ridge. He dropped, and then fell on the ground with a thud. He laid there, aching for a moment, before letting out a deep sigh.

Revali started to move, slightly, just enough to get his head out of the dirt. Then he knelt on the ground, for what seemed like an eternity, contemplating. Finally, he got up. The Rito armor, now dusted with grey snow and rocky debris, had protected most of him, however, it couldn’t protect the blow to his confidence. He cursed under his breath.

It seemed that instead of streaming Revali towards the sky, the gale had pushed him back, sideways towards the surrounding cliffs. With another flap of his wings, he moved back towards the wooden hut, shaking his head.

He landed on the armrest of the balcony, making his way to a little oaken desk. Snatching his journal (astutely named The Diary of Revali, the Rito Legend) he started scribbling down notes. Of course, being so focused on recording his latest happenings, he failed to notice the Hylian sitting amongst the pillows and blankets behind him. Putting the rest of his thoughts onto paper, Revali turned around and was greeted by your smiling face.

“Gah! [Name]? What– when did…how long have you been here?” 

You gave a quiet chuckle.

“Just half an hour or so. A blizzard was coming in and I knew you would be out practicing again. Being stuck here, alone all night, isn’t really ideal. So…”

You moved the blanket off of you, spreading your arms wide as if to present yourself or pose. A cheeky grin on your face.

“Ta-da! Now you have company!”

Moving the leather strap around your shoulder, you tugged a satchel onto your lap. Digging through, you pulled out two sealed containers.

“Plus, I brought some spicy meat stew.” 

Revali shook his head, moving closer to the blankets, but not daring to sit down.

“That’s alright, I’m not hungry.”

Acknowledging, and subsequently ignoring his comment, you shoved the soup container towards his chest, forcing him to hold it. 

“What? You get full from eating the snow and pebbles from your fall just now?”

His eyes then narrowed, “I’m trying to train.”

“By starving and injuring yourself?”

“By perfecting my technique– Listen, [name], if you came here to distract me from my goal, I’m sorry to inform you that your efforts will be for naught.”

Revali turned around, placing the spicy meat stew on the desk. He started making his way towards the landing outside.

You have out a huff. Getting up to follow him, you tossed both of the containers back into your bag and started walking.

 “Instead of focusing on long forgotten spiritual magic, why don’t you just focus on being the best you, you can be?”

“Farore above, did you really just say that? Incredibly cliche, I expected more of you–”

“I was joking.”

“Hmm, we need to work on your sense of humour.”

Outside, the air stung on your cheeks. The snowstorm still clouded the sky, masking both the heavens and the earth in white. Shivering, you asked,

“Rito can already fly, can’t they?  This seems a bit redundant, you already have wings. What’s even the point of creating an updraft?”

Revali slowed his pace to give out a hearty laugh. In fact, he stopped outright, on the edge of the landing, the echoes of his laughter filling the air. At this point it wasn’t entirely clear if he was being sarcastic or not. You crossed your arms, he stopped when he met your stiff gaze.

“Oh, so you were being serious then…”

A familiar smug expression crossed onto Revali’s face. He hopped back onto the railing, perhaps so he could physically look down on you. He tucked his wings behind his back, leaning forward ever so slightly. A professor about to give a lecture. This should be good.

“Well, as understandable as it is that a Hylian couldn’t comprehend the benefits of such an ability, allow me to enlighten you. Rito style archery is the most superior in all of Hyrule for a multitude of reasons. The light crafting of the bow, the quick and efficient draw, our graceful movements and technique, 

“But most importantly…”

He took one foot of the edge, half hovering over the windy pit.

“…the ability of flight!”

Both feet were now off the railing. Revali dove head first into the abyss. While you knew he was probably going to be fine, instinct kicked in as you hurried to the edge to check on him. 

Snow still fell through the air, flurries were once again sticking to his feathers. But all he felt was adrenaline, along with the rush of air as he plummeted towards the bottom. Before hitting the watery depths, he unfurled his wings, catching the natural updrafts of the Flight Range. Now soaring towards the sky, Revali gave a few more mighty flaps to get even more height. 

Still on the landing, you watched as a blur of navy blue rose above the cliffs. Contrasting with the grey and silver landscape, the blur shot through the air. Then it hovered, just below the clouds, still as a leaf.

Above the Flight Range, Revali shifted the bow off his back, allowing it to drop. Repositioning his weight, he dove down to catch it with a practiced grip. Falling through the air, he flipped upside down, just for show. Taking arrows from his quiver, he knocked them into place. Three arrows, all at once, were released. 

Thud! 

Thud! 

Thud!

All made perfect contact with the bullseye, the blue luminescent paint on the targets showing evidence of Revali’s accuracy and precision. Revali fastened another round of arrows, drawing them back before letting them through the air.

Thud! 

Thud! 

Thud! 

Perfect, as should be expected of me.

Now, he was about halfway down in his descent. 

I think [Name] might be impressed if I warm up the place…

Taking the arrows near the bottom of the quiver, he took out three heavier bomb arrows. Round, scarlet heads held a good amount of gunpowder. Sparking them with a piece of flint on the arrow rest, the fuses were lit, and he let them loose. 

BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!

The once frigid air now subsided in the wake of three explosions. The colors of a sunrise clashed in the air, bits of the once turquoise targets nearly flung into your face. You ducked, the warmth of fire now filling the Flight Range. 

Revali spread his wings, catching the natural drafts once more, then settled back on the railing. 

“As you could see from my demonstration, taking to the sky allows for Rito to shoot our enemies without becoming a stationary target ourselves. However, you can only shoot for as long as you’re falling, and taking to the skies takes time.

“You can’t just flap your wings and get into the air immediately. That only works with natural updrafts, again, as I just demonstrated. An average Rito would have to start at an already elevated position, such as the landings in Rito Village, in order to gain enough momentum and height. Or, alternatively, use a long stretch of land as a runway, gaining height at an gradual angle.

He turned to face you, smirk still on his face.

“Both options take too long. You asked the significance of my ability? It’s the fastest way in all of Hyrule to take to the air. Instantaneous height, the ability to attack whenever, wherever. Thought impossible by everyone, but something that I have solely mastered.”

Or, will master, anyhow…

He strode towards you, bow returned to his back, wings, once again, folded behind him. He gave a deep bow.

You gave a polite clap, humoring his grand show.  

“Fantastic performance, Revali. Encore?”

“Tsk. If you came by more often I might consider it.”

Now it was your turn to put on a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. When I finish begging the elders to reward you with a statue, maybe I will.”

“I don’t want, nor need something like that.”

“Oh? But I have to reward you somehow…how about…”

You took out the stews from your satchel. Presenting it like a trophy, you held one out. Then, you tilted your head towards the hut with the pillows and blankets, as if to say, over there! You urged Revali again.

“You didn’t eat lunch, or breakfast!”

“Didn’t I just explain, a literal five seconds ago, how important it is that I practice my–”

“Aaaaaaand you can’t do that on an empty stomach, can you?”

You tried to catch his eye, maybe if he just looked at your eyes, you could get him to change his mind.

“You don’t need to put on an act around me.”

A jade eye shot up, meeting your gaze.

“I’m not–”

Revali looked at you, a new charge filled the air. 

“…fine. Just for a minute.”

. . . . .  

“Did you even attempt to heat this?”

“It’s almost midnight, and I made it at nine. You’re the one who decided to coop up here all day.”

Despite the temperature, the stew was delicious. For the last hour or so, he and you had been devouring in the flavorful dish. Apparently, it was an official recipe from Rito Stable. The meat, tender and soft, complemented well with a savory broth that you slurped every drop of. The spiciness tingled through your bodies, warming the both of you up. Outside, the blizzard was still present, but now less violent. A thin slice of the moon could be seen beyond the edges of the mountains. 

It was you who made most of the small talk with Revali, an incredibly rare occurrence since it was usually the Rito Champion who spoke for extended periods of time. He kept looking outside, near the cliff he had crashed into earlier. 

Damn, he’s really still stuck up on that, huh? You thought. 

Trying to change the subject to something that would get his attention, you piped up.

“So, the move you’re working on, what’cha gonna call it?”

Revali turned his head back at you. He fiddled with the spoon in his half eaten stew, thinking.

“Something with ‘Revali’ in it, so my name’s out there. Revali’s Flap, Revali’s Hurricane…Revali’s…something. I’ll work out something.”

You let out a soft laugh. “As expected from you.” Shoving another piece of meat into your mouth, you added, “Maybe, *munch* maybe do something like Revali’s Turbulence. Oh! How about Revali’s Boldness! Wait, *munch* no, that’s stupid. But maybe a name more along the lines of Urbosa’s Fury, or Mipha’s Grace, ya know?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I need to copy from the likes of Champion Urbosa or Mipha.”

“What? They both got cool powers. You know the saying is ‘good artists borrow, and great artist stea–”

“As I said, I don’t need to copy, steal, or piggyback on my fellow Champion’s esteemed reputation. Further associating myself with them will not be necessary”

You set your bowl down, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Nayru save me, don’t tell me you hate them too?”

“What?”

“I mean, I guess I know from experience that you insult people that you like.”

“I…what?”

“Although, not just personal experience. From what I could gather, you seem to actually hate Master Link, but everyone else you just insult because that’s how you make friends. Wait, or are you actually trying to be friends with Link and you just suck at this kind of thing overall…”

Revali interjected in your rant, turning all his attention to you.

“I don’t hate them.”

“Master Link?”

“No, Urbosa and Mipha. Well, perhaps that knight too I suppose. I–I haven’t decided yet.”

“Then why have you been so bitter lately?”

This caught him off guard. You set your bowl down, holding his gaze. This whole week, Revali had isolated himself in the Flight Range, being sharp-tongued to visitors, much more than usual.  He wasn’t eating, Hylia knows if he sleeps. You decided to stop beating around the bush and got to the core of the issue.

“Revali, I’ve known you for a long time and I know by now when something’s up. You’re angry about something, or scared, you tell me.”

“It’s. Nothing.”

“Is it your new ability?”

 “No.”

“You only got the title of Champion two weeks ago. If you’re feeling pressured, that’s natural”

Revali let his bowl clatter on the ground. Getting up, he made his way outside.

“I’ll eat the rest later, I have to start practicing now.”

You raised your voice slightly, starting to get irritated. “Why is that so important, that you’re sacrificing your health and well being for it?!”

“I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Are you trying to prove yourself? To me? To the Princess? The King? The Champions?”

Revali turned back towards you, but was still walking backwards. The sky was now serene, and full of stars, despite his not so peaceful expression

“I’ve already been deemed on an equal level with all of the other Champions. You know, the team made up of royals and accomplished warriors? I’m here because I’ve shown that my skills are superior to everyone else. Either way, I don’t need to prove anything to people that are of the same rank as me!”

“Hylia, you’re always so blunt with everything else, why not be straightforward now?”

“I am. I’m training because I’m an accomplished Champion who needs to train, not because I’m some mediocre warrior–”

“So you’re afraid of mediocrity?”

“OF COURSE NOT!”

Both of you stood there, stunned. While the tension was building between you two, Revali’s sudden outburst was sudden. You both stood there, wind playing with your hair, and dancing through his scarf.

“…of course not.” His final lie, whispered into the air.

For a moment, there was no sound but the whistles of the wind. You took a step forward, arm outstretched.

“Revali…”

He shook his head, shaking his wings, exasperated.

“OK, Fine! You want the truth, about the updraft? It’s not about the practical use, or the grand show, or defying odds. It’s about me, ok?  Right now I’m nothing, just a random cuckoo walking amongst royalty and legendary warriors.

“Daruk, the Goron Elder with an impenetrable force field. Mipha, the Zora princess, whose healing prowess is said to counter even the most devastating of wounds. Lady Urbosa, Chief of the Gerudo who can summon lightning at a literal snap of her fingers. How did I get in here? I’m put beside warriors who are obviously better than me, and what am I supposed to think? Without anything distinguishing about myself, I’m going to fade into history, behind the actually competent people. I thought I worked my ass off to get where I am today, but then I’m put behind some random knight with a shiny sword. So am I worth something or not? Everything’s contradictory, nothing makes sense.  Did I just get lucky? Am I getting screwed over? 

“The only way I can wrap my head around this whole situation is to confront the fact that I’m just an ordinary Rito who is only here by chance. The work I’ve put in my whole life isn’t enough, I need to go beyond. And beyond means actually mastering this cursed gale!”

An ugly pause. You could cut the heat and tension with a knife. Revali, realizing how much he had just poured out of his soul, gave a half-hearted chuckle.

“Heh, you put wine in that stew?”

His attempt to lighten the mood didn’t fully work. Nonetheless, you stared at him for another eternity. Then you went in for a hug.

“You’re the dumbest Rito alive if you really believe any of that. You are not mediocre. You’re incredible. Incredibly annoying, incredibly persistent at talking my ears off, but incredibly skilled and smart too. Hell, that’s why I’ve loved you for so long.”

Ignoring whatever reaction just escaped from his beak, you continued. 

“I would like to reiterate my point that you’re a moron. You can’t isolate yourself here and expect to get better. You can’t go through all this as a solitary warrior. If mastering this ability means so much to you, then go for it. I don’t doubt you for a second. But just know…just know that you’re a complete idiot if you think that you’re not worthy. You’re a fool if you think for even a second that you’re average or inferior, because…

You gulped.

 …because you’re everything to me.”

OK, I’ll admit that was super cliche. But catharsis is catharsis I guess.

The moment settled, and silence returned once more.

“Hylia, maybe I did put some wine in there.”

Revali gave out a soft laugh. Then, more quiet. Finally, Revali whispered.

“Did you really mean all that?”

“…yeah.”

A pause, a strange charge filled the air.

“Thank you, [Name]. That, uh, means a lot, coming from you. Truly.” 

The air was still once more. However, Revali’s thoughts still swirled like wind.

Say something idiot, they just confessed! 

Haha, yes, of course you like me, considering I’m the best around. 

Holy– They just called you out on your crap! Don’t say something like that

I love you too…

Wow, cheesy and not really part of the mood. Haven’t I presented myself as more sophisticated than that?

Spirits above, what do I do now???

“I’m sorry.”

You looked up at him. “What?”

“I’m sorry I’ve been making you worry all week.”

“It’s fine, I–”

“No, it’s not fine. We just established how that was not fine.”

Revali looked back at you, clearing his throat.

“Hey, so about all that about love, and stuff–”

“Oh my goddess, yeah, no, if you want to just stay friends I can–”

“Oh no, well. Just to be clear, you were talking about me, correct? You weren’t mispronouncing someone else’s name, or referring to someone else named “Revali?”

You cocked an eyebrow.

“No…I–I was referring to you. The person I was talking to.”

“Ah. Good. Glad that’s clarified. That’s great.”

“…so do you–”

“OH-oh-oh, right, uh yes.”

Revali took a step back, pointing at you with both index fingers. His beak was open, but no sound escaped for a moment. 

Say it! They said it a few minutes ago!

I love you too!

“I have also, liked you, a lot, for a long period of time. You’re, pretty great. Yep. Yeah. This is mutual, yes…” 

Gods, I’m really am an idiot

[zoldyck-freecss]

KILLUGON FANFICTION MASTERPOST PART 3

At last, it’s done! This post is a continuation of the previous Killugon Fanfic Masterposts I made (see links below) and the stories I included here are dated March 2018 to June 2019.

Please note that these are not mine, they’re all written by amazing people from AO3. Also, this compilation is in no particular order - I love all Killugon fanfics and I can’t choose a favorite. I hope you enjoy reading (and re-reading) them as much as I did!

ONE SHOT

The Final Stage

Ruin Our Friendship

Promise?

Colorblind

A Trip to the Grocery Store

Experiments

as long as it lasts

a drop of rosewater

come out upon my seas

pendulum in my head

someplace between healing and hurting

Gap Year

Under the Bed

you, before me

Island Bliss

A Promise for Next Year, a Present for Today

Don't x Go

To Love Someone... is to let them go

Wedding X Crashers

The Tanabata Kid

In the Silence of Night

Love is a Fluid Creature

By Your Side

Remotely Entertaining Evening

you should come over more often

A Brief Passing Moment

when the clock stops

Birthday X Killua

The Truth Behind His Smiles

Sugarcoated

Gon's guide on how to get a date with your crush

Spin the bottle

Small-billed Swans

The Apology

Similarity and Solidarity

there's a heart stain on the carpet (i left it with you)

Unexpected Surreality

おまえって　へんじんだなあ。

A Step Between Dreams

Perfect

First Steps

Envy to the Embers

Price for a Life

Dance Before Dinner

painted stars at dawn

Eventually, I fall into you

you taught me to love

A Vignette of Summer

In Our Own Sweet Time

i diagnose you with gay

Pineapple Pizza

Dancing shoes and nimble soles

Remedies

The Greatest Treasure

Distance makes the heart grow fonder

Festive Lights

That's what young love is all about

Expensive Rope

The Prince, The Fool

All I Want for Christmas

流れ星キラリ (shining, shooting star)

The Least of All Possible Evils

Fight Night at the Liquor Spring

stars.

Error 404 (Not Found)

SERIES

Two Sides of the Same Coin >.<

Wrong Cinderella >.<

Running Start

31 Days With You

Times Like These

I'm Not Done With You Yet

where Gon ended and Killua began

In x My x Dreams

Kissing Strangers

Siren Song

The Sea Torn Hearts

The Young King

The Answer

The Deepest Secret

From The Moment You Left

By Sleight of Hand

A Twisted Fate

Bells and Whistles

La Doleur Exquise

Seashell in a Bottle

no streetlights

Dreams Like Water, Like Wind

Gon's x Cursed x Groupchat

How to Expect the Unexpected

Picturesque

Watching Hunter x Hunter

My Apple Only

Let The Pieces Fall

Frost in Sunlight

Black Blood

Not running away again

Laugh and Cry

Not Selling Any Alibis

ABC of Love

Calypso High

Snow Day

Two Hearts

LAST FRIDAY NIGHT

Like x A x Glove

Lion X Lamb

In This Eternal Reverie

WORKING TITLE: knitting

Trees and Trust

always have and never hold

Can you really take **** or nah?

in this shirt

lost and found

A keeper

Burned

Paranoia

Euphoria

Playing in other Sandboxes

killugon? killugon.

i remember you

how could i not?

the gales of december

spaces in between

hold the sky for you

and perhaps this is love

stolen from a thief

ain’t i fallen in love?

For of all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you.

I'll look out for you

I'll never let you go

I'll be by your side

the Zoldyck political clan

Why am I like this?

Vaguely suggest and ye shall receive

Calico with pink paws

Indigo lace

Home Improvement Project

Wooing a Lady, Zoldyck style

KilluGon in April 2018

Just Desserts

Hole in One

Don't Count Your Sheep Before They're Sheared

A Nice Day For Teasing

Killugon Collection

Fake It till You Make It

Acceptance

Hunter and Hunter

Hunter x Twisted

Either your mine or you’re not

K is Kill in the alphabet of jokes

Ghostly Desires

Beginning to learn, learning to Love

i'm yours in fractions

At Your Request

In x This x Universe

Savor

Of Gon x and x Killua

Continuing the Bloodline

The Beautiful Uncut Hair of Graves

The Life of Death

Hooked on you

Fairytale kingdom, nightmare castle

Hunters and Heroes Align

selfish

a gathering of abnormalities (hxh)

忘れないで (Do Not Forget)

Ever After

Encrypted

Blizzard

The King x and x His Knight

Down the Rabbit Hole

LINKS:

Part 1 (2017): Click here Part 2 (2018): Click here

To the authors, helloiloveyouplsmakemorekillugonfanfics if you want me to include/remove your work on this list, please send me a message. Thank you!

[shortpirateking]

I’ll think of you (SkekGra x Reader x UrGoh

(A/N: So, I know I need to finish the other reader inserts, but the dark crystal age of resistance bug bit me in the ass so please enjoy.) (This goes along with the idea of Reader being transported to Thra, so they are just as Alien as the Urskeks) (Song mentioned is called “I’ll think of you” Also known as the ‘epic patty cake song’) Thra’s nighttime was expansive, stars and galaxies of all shapes and sizes dotting the atmosphere and painting it in dozens of dim yet brilliant colors, reminding everyone who watched it how truly large the world outside of the planet was. Here, you sat at the top of the Circle of the Suns, legs swinging to and fro with your eyes glued to the stars. Even with little to no light pollution, you never found such brilliance on Earth, not even the Aurora Borealis could match this alien planet you have found yourself on… And yet…you still couldn’t help but look to every light, every star, wondering if one of them was your sun, if you could still somehow see your home from here… “Beautiful, isn’t it?” came the soft and tired voice of SkekGra’s, eyes glued to the stars with a look of melancholy. You, of course, nod in agreement, sighing softly in your own tiredness. “Thra is beautiful” you whisper, smiling sadly as memories of your childhood on earth flashed behind your eyes. “Not even Earth could compare to it..” you chuckle softly, easily hearing Urgoh make his way, ever slow, to the two of you. Sometimes, you would often wonder how one could take so long, but you never judged him for it, finding it endearing in an odd way. “Do you see that star?” SkekGra raised his hand, pointing to a faint, twinkling blue star. “According to the papers we read about our Urskek selves, that-“ “Is…home” finished UrGoh, taking his spot beside you. Neither spoke, but they knew your sleeping patterns well enough to tell you had a nightmare, and thus were unable to sleep. You glance to the two of them, smiling as they began to recount what they remembered of their home world, vague, and yet clear enough to paint a picture of the world. You glance back to the star, wondering vaguely what life would have been there, the culture, the art, the songs…. Then your mind traveled to a darker path, wondering if they would soon forget you once they were one once more, or if any of you would remember the adventures you had upon this foreign world once home. You truly don’t know what came over you, whether it was from your own exhaustion, a need for some form of comfort, or something else….you weren’t sure. You…began to hum, a song you remember from your teenage years, something calm and comforting. The two beside you quieted, turning to face you with looks of surprise and a hint of curiosity “is that a song from your home?” Came Skekgra’s unnaturally quiet voice, hushed, as if any louder would spook you. “hm?” you turn to the Skeksis to your left, before his question fully registered. “oh, yes it is…” you turn back to the sky, smiling sadly “it’s one I learned a few year- trine back, it’s…I song about remembering…” You glance back, seeing curious looks befall both SkekGra and UrGoh. For a moment, where was silence, before Urgoh’s voice spoke your name.“teach…us” The mystic’s strong and gentle hand settled on your shoulder. He gave a gentle squeeze, causing you to smile and him to do so in return. “it’ll…be hard” You explain softly. “Well, if I taught all of it. The song has a patty cake part to it and-“ “Patty…cake?” confusion met Skekgra at the alien term. His head tilted to the side, reminding you of a bird. “yes, it’s erm….” You bite your lip, trying to figure out how to describe it to him “How about I show you?” You step back from the railing, sitting down crosslegged and motioning for SkekGra to sit in front of you. “just copy my actions…okay?” that night, you spent teaching both the heretic and wanderer the song, along with the accompanying beat, smiling and praising each of them when they got a part right, and correcting them when they made a mistake, though you always held a happy smile, seeing as you were the one teaching them something about your world. They continued to practice, and you yawned, finding yourself unable to remain awake, finally letting yourself succumb to some much needed slumber. of course, when you had finally fallen asleep, both Skeksis and mystic alike glanced to you, pausing in their practice to watch your chest rise and fall. They remained silent for a while, making sure you were truly fast asleep before they moved. Urgoh moved to pick you up, gently carrying you to your bed as SkekGra closed the drapes to the balcony. Both watched as you snuggled into the blankets they gave you to use, before moving back to the balcony to practice. --- GraGoh looked down upon the human before him, eyes glassy with unshed tears as they gave a shaky smile. “It’s all over…huh?” they whisper, choked and almost too soft to hear, and though the Urskek had never met them before, vaguely, in the back of his mind, he knew they were his friend. A friend to his Skeksis and Urru halves that both held dear, and now… he held too. “it is” he whispered, nodding to the others “Now…we will head back home…and you will return to your planet to continue your life…” GraGoh had thought this sentiment would help ease the human’s pain, but instead a sniffle hit his ears instead, and suddenly the floodgates erupted from them. Without warning, the Urskek was tackled, the human’s arms wrapping tightly along his leg as they sobbed into his pure white cloak. “I’m going to miss you.” They whimper, shaking more than a leaf within a gale, and if the Urskek knew any better, he would assume if they let go, they’d fall to their knees. this….was new for him. Before, GraGoh had never seen such sorrow from another, had never had to comfort, and yet…. He knelt down, gently running his long and thin finger over their cheeks, wiping away their tears, before slowly, of so slowly pressing his hands together, The small human paused, blinking in confusion as they tried to understand what the Urskek wanted. Then, he moved, reaching out his right hand to them, and suddenly, it seemed to click. Slowly, as if in a stupor, they copied the motion and pressed their right hand to his. Slowly, they began to clap their hands in a familiar pattern, one they taught his halves long ago. His voice was rough as he began to sing, lyrics from the human’s world flowing passed his lips, and though foreign, they reigned true. Soon he was joined by the other, their own cracking voice mixing with his. Internally, the two halves of himself seemed to sing as well, reaching out to try and comfort their friend. “oh it’s a long and winding road…” “but you don’t have to walk alone” “and no matter where we are, we will never be that far” “and I will think of you as I go….”

[waypathfinder]

Crimson Lane - Chapter 20 - Twilight

Beta’d by @kathknight and @ashtyntaytertot

Links

Tumblr Master Post

Archive of our Own (from the start)

Archive of our Own (chapter)

Fanfiction.net

Chapter Text 

And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes in a hundred worlds in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you  

—Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars  

The grand old place had fallen into disrepair. Lawns infested with weeds, the pond had flooded and at least a dozen shutters had half-fallen off their hinges. Ben wiped his boots on the steps, trying to kick away a layer of mud. There used to be a welcome mat here, he knew this as it was his job to beat the dust and dirt from it every week, but now there was nothing but scuffed concrete, cracked with weeds, covered in muddy footprints.

He was responsible for it all, another failure, like notches on a belt, they wrapped around him, squeezing the air from his lungs some days, other times it held him together, an identity that gave him certainty.

Much had changed here, but the spirit of the place remained; elegant but austere in this place of nature with its white-washed walls, keeping watch over the cliffs that overlooking a wild sea.

A growl of thunder rolled from the horizon. Ben pulled his coat across his chest as a fresh slap of wind billowed his hair and slammed the shutters against the windows.

He hadn't knocked yet. He'd travelled over a hundred kilometres to get here but the space between himself and the door was like a step between worlds.

Leia's voice came from inside and he froze, the sound of it hit him in the heart. She could be gentle, away from the public spotlight, forgiving to a fault, unyielding in her opinion, ferocious in her defence.

And God, he had missed her.

Ben reached his hand towards the door, ready to knock, while his other hand buried deep in his pocket. The door opened.

A gust of wind rallied the trees behind him, and Ben's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he struggled to find something to say.

For a woman who was grander than life, Leia's stature had always betrayed her. She'd answered the door in her nightgown, a long white robe that reminded him of childhood days, her grey hair, rarely loose, tossed behind her shoulders.

She gasped, hand clasped over her mouth in shock.

Twelve years old again, shame coloured his face and he averted his gaze, slipping his free hand back into his pocket.

Why did she have to look at him like that? Brown eyes shining with tears, pale lips cracked with aged lines and parted in shock.

He shot a fleeting glance back at her, pulling his hands out of his pockets and balling them into fists, swallowing an overwhelming urge to vomit over her petunias.

She had changed too much, grown older. And, even more unnerving was the fact she was speechless.

He opened his mouth … hi, I've missed you, I'm sorry …

But instead.

"Senator Organa-Solo lost for words? That's a first."

Shit.

It was a jerk thing to say, but she was making him nervous.

"Ben," she whispered in awe and from the corner of his eye he saw her hand lift, as if she would caress his cheek.

"Yeah, well, I've —" He scrunched his face. He shouldn't have come back. He went to turn away but this time she stopped him, pressing her warm hand against his cheek and forcing him to face her.

One touch was all it took. He broke like a piece of clay crumbling in the hands of his maker.

"I messed up, mum." They were barely words, rather jumbled gasping breaths.

"Oh, my boy—" She pulled his head to her shoulder, wrapping her arms around him. "You came home."

Rey leant her forehead against the car window. The glass was bitingly cold and vibrated against her forehead. Finn had warned her the drive would be long, just over an hour, to a place she'd only ever known by name for its massive estates and ocean cliffs, Chandrila.

The world shifted, from grey hues of the city to clean-cut lines of suburbia, and onto large homes on acreages sitting atop velvet green hills.

Her eyes lazily opened and closed, giving in to the overwhelming fatigue. On the horizon, curtains of grey mist reached down to the ocean, blurring the line between sea and sky. Clouds and sunlight painting it from turquoise blue to navy grey.

She wound the window down and the icy wind whipped against her face.

Lost in a sensory shower of sea salt and ozone, her mind wandered. What had happened to Ben after she left?

She would have called him right after her talk with Maz, but if that number belonged to the First Order, or worse, Snoke, she wouldn't risk it.

What would she have said to him, anyway? He'd tried to explain the truth to her and now it was with some shame that she acknowledged a part of her would never have accepted what he had to say this morning. Not then. Not from him. The reality of knowing what really happened that night had broken her. It was like every bad thing in her life had led to that point, the memory that had fired and moulded her into who she was and what she believed.

He'd broken her apart and now her soul rebuilding itself on new foundations, her understanding of the world, skewed in a new light.

"Are you alright, peanut?"

"Yeah." She put the window up and hugged her arms with a gentle smile. "I'm good."

"I hope you don't mind being dragged out to this interview?"

"Are you kidding? I love seeing you in action."

A smile crept onto Finn's lips and he straightened in his seat. It was so easy to shift gears with Finn; for a moment in time, she could find the part of herself that was always happy, no matter what life threw at her.

It wasn't true. But everybody wore a mask, not just monsters.

"So… What's your status now anyway—you got a girlfriend?" She flashed a mischievous smile in his direction. "Boyfriend?"

"Oh my God. That was once!"

"I know."

"In college."

"I remember," she giggled.

"I was very drunk."

"You told me."

"And curious..."

"You don't need to defend yourself to me," she said, trying to placate him now he'd given her the rise she knew that was coming. "There's nothing wrong with being curious."

"Geez, Rey, I told you that in confidence."

"And I've never told a soul."

"I like girls," he said. "Like, a lot."

"Okay, okay," she laughed. "I just thought, you know, Poe's a handsome guy and you work pretty closely together."

"Poe's married with kids, and his wife is a researcher at the paper!"

Rey nodded, pressing her lips together. The noise of the car dulled into a quiet roar as they came onto the smooth road leading to Chandrila.

Finn exhaled, as though he'd been holding his breath.

"Look, I know in the past I might have swung both ways…" He glared at Rey, daring her to say something, but she kept her mouth shut. "But I haven't met that someone yet. I thought I had but life just pans out differently than we think it will sometimes… "

He gave her a pointed look and returned to concentrating on the road ahead, leaving those unsaid words to fall into oblivion.

Rey stared at her hands. At some point, she had started wringing them together. There was nothing to say, they'd been here before and he knew, as well as she did, that sometimes you can love someone but still only ever see them as a friend.

And now, she'd felt what the other end of that spectrum was like, when you loved someone so much that the boundaries between the two of you blurred. Rapture, belonging … coming home after never having one…

"How about you?" Finn asked, back to his happy self again. "Got a boyfriend, a cute boyfriend?"

Rey's stomach dropped, and she stared straight ahead.

"Well?"

Cute boyfriend? No, Ben was hardly what she would call a cute boyfriend.

"It's complicated," she deadpanned.

"Isn't it always? What's he like?"

What was Ben like? He was darkness, and light, and shadow all mixed together. Intense and achingly expressive. Strong and vulnerable. Beautiful and terrifying. He wasn't any one thing, he was everything. How could she come close to describing such a man?

Rey cleared her throat. "Tall."

"He's tall?"

"Yep." She nodded, gluing her eyes on the dashboard.

"And … that's it?"

"Yep." Couldn't she just hide in a hole now? Anything was better than answering these questions.

"Wow," Finn said, nodding. "Wow." He turned to her, those wide friendly lips bubbling in a smile. "He sounds amazing, Rey."

She cracked, laughter breaking the tension. They only stopped when there was a loud bang beneath them and the car began to tilt with a recurring thump.

"Ah, crap!" Finn stuck his head out the window, trying to see the damage.

"What was that?"

"I dunno. But it's blown the tyre." He looked back again. "I don't have time for this."

"It's okay. I can change it for you. You got a spare?"

Finn sunk into the driver's seat, avoiding her gaze. "That was the spare."

"Oh."

The thumping sound slowed as the car pulled over to the side, crawling along the shoulder in the shadow of wind-tossed maple trees that let through tiny pinpricks of rain every time a gale blew.

"Tell me again, what did they teach in that military academy you went to?"

"How to kick butt, that's what! Care for me to show you?"

"Bring it on, soldier. I'll take you!" Rey laughed, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder.

They got out of the car, jostling and laughing until they were holding their sides and out of breath.

Meanwhile, the ash-coloured rain clouds had swarmed overhead, covering them with light rain and mist.

Rey wiped the light droplets from her forehead. "Seriously though, what are we going to do? You can't miss your interview."

Finn stared at the car, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Not much we can do. I'll call Poe and let him know what's happened. But first, I need to pee."

He wandered away from the road and into the bush.

Rey shivered, listening to the melodious rumble of thunder rolling overhead like a giant stone. The wind picked up, blowing a sleeting rush of rain across her cheeks. In the distance, she could hear another vehicle and when she looked up a pair of lights were coming at them from the end of the road.

She looked back at Finn. He hadn't even noticed the car. It was travelling far faster than the speed limit and as it approached, the warm yellow lights bounced off the slick grey road creating a line of light before it.

Rey bit her lip, calculating a risk. In a flash, she'd shoved her thumb in the air, walking backwards along the side of the road, eyes fixed on the oncoming car.

Tyres screeched on wet bitumen and she held her breath as the eighties-style silver car with butterfly doors came to a sharp stop beside her.

A Millennium Falcon. She beamed at it, as Finn ran up to meet her.

"Are you mad?" he hissed. "He could be a psycho, a murderer, a…"

Finn closed his mouth as the driver's side window came down with a whir.

Rey strolled up to it, ignoring the way Finn pawed at her hand to come back. "Thanks for stopping."

"You could have given me more warning," a male voice grated out the window.

"I wasn't sure you would have stopped," she said, catching sight of an overactive Newfoundland dog dashing around the back seat in a blur of hazelnut-coloured fur. "Aren't you a beautiful guy!"

The dog barked at her excitedly, trying to nuzzle past the front seat to lick her.

The driver got out, walking over to her with a slight bend in his back, straightening with each step.

"His name's Chewie, and don't be fooled, he'll rip your arms out of its sockets if you cross him."

"I wouldn't believe that for a minute."

Finn came up to meet them, wiping his hands on his pants.

"We blew a tyre back there," Rey said. "Can you help us out?"

"I don't think—" Finn began but even as he spoke the man flipped the front seat forward indicating for him to get in.

"I'll take you as far as the next petrol station. Where are you headed?"

"You probably won't even know it," Finn rushed. Rey noted the way he'd brushed his eyes over the car, lingering on the ripped leather seats and rubbish scattered on the floor. "It's just one of the houses around here…"

"Try me." Han was gruff and Rey suspected he'd also noticed the way Finn had looked at the car like she was a pile of junk. If only he knew. A Millennium Falcon was far more than outward appearances. It was the way she moved, the speed, the old-world devil-may-care character —

"Senator Organa-Solo. I've got an appointment with her."

Rey's mouth hung in shock. "You do?"

Finn nodded, buoyed by her reaction.

"Yeah. It's a pretty big deal."

"Well, big deal, jump on in. I'm on my way home, anyway."

Home?

Rey stared at the man, noticing the familiar long nose and narrow face. Time had worn away some of his good looks, but it didn't take much imagination to see the man that he once was. Han Solo, four-time winner of the Kessel Run, a notorious scoundrel—

Ben's dad.

"You're lucky I found you, the Senator doesn't like to be kept waiting. Get in back. We're not more than five minutes away."

Han stepped back, holding the door open for Rey as she scrambled in the front seat, no longer able to meet his eye.

Her hands shook as she secured the belt, heat rising in her cheeks.

"So, what's your story?"

"Mine?" she stammered. "I don't have a story."

"Right. What's your name then, kid?"

"Rey." She flicked her eyes up at him before pulling the door closed and trying not to gauge his reaction. "You know, with an 'e'."

He held his chin, nodding, and for a fleeting moment, Rey had the startling realisation that he'd seemed to recognise her name. But when Han got in the driver's chair, he just he revved the engine and said: "Rey? What kind of name is that?"

Rey had never seen such richness in her life. The estate and its grounds were breathtaking, even under the grey hue of the passing rain clouds. All around them, long verdant grass stretched out before them. Before the mansion was a pond, flooded from earlier downpours; even now raindrops tickled the surface of the water in tiny radiating waves. A worn fountain lay at its centre, dripping a steady stream of water like a leaking tap. They stood before the oak doors as Han wiped his muddy boots on the cement and ushered them inside.

The sound of Rey's heart competed with the roar of thunder as she stepped over the threshold into what must have been Ben's childhood home. Han showed them through a long narrow corridor lined with photo frames, while Chewie nuzzled into the back of her hand.

She felt a stab of pain as she spotted the familiar flop of black hair in the photos, each one of them sending an electric charge to her heart. With every step, she passed a story of Ben's life, as he transformed from a stocky, doe-eyed toddler with grazed knees to an awkward teenager who hadn't grown into his long arms and legs. The last photo was of Ben in his karate uniform, smiling proudly, his parents on either side of him sharing his enthusiasm.

That was the last photo they had of him. The rest of the hallway was empty, hospital-white in contrast, like life had stopped from that point.

By the time they reached the end of the hall, Rey noticed the older woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a regal expression standing in the lounge room. Rey's breath caught at the sight of her. Ben's mother. Yes, she could see the resemblance in her dark, intelligent eyes and the proud way she held herself. This was a woman who would never bow before anyone. She was magnificent. There was no other word that came to mind.

"You must be Finn. I'm so happy you got here safely. Poe called me about your car troubles." She turned to him. "It was lucky Han found you on his way back from town."

"Senator Organa-Solo, it's an honour."

"Call me Leia, please." She turned to Rey then, regarding her with an odd expression. "And you are...?"

"Rey." The word was blurted out, and she pushed her hand towards the Senator a little overzealously. Finn raised an eyebrow at her, but she dared not look at him. She already knew she was being awkward. "I'm here as a friend to Finn."

Leia reached her hand, wrapping it in her own, a smile spreading across lips and sparkling in her eyes. "Rey," she repeated. "I'm very happy to meet you."

The tight press of Leia's hands filled Rey with warmth and time slowed to a crawl. How lucky Ben was to have a mother. Did he even know what a blessing that was?

Rey blinked, pushing the thought of him away.

"Rey's helping me on the Snoke story, too."

"I see," Leia nodded. A small line spread across her brow as she indicated for them to sit.

Finn pulled out his notepad and phone, and the sky burst with loud clamouring rain, pelting against the glass.

For a moment, Leia's guarded expression faltered as she looked to Han, who was already staring out into the grounds, pacing like the scurrying raindrops making lines down the windows. He turned back to Leia, shaking his head, and she sat back in her chair, mask back on.

"So, Senator Organa-Solo—Leia, I wanted to ask you about your decision to return to politics after all these years?"

Leia cleared her throat, her voice was low and rusty, like she had spent a lifetime delivering speeches. "I hadn't planned on returning, but when I see our political system being flaunted and abused by the current government with their hands chained to the pockets of larger corporations, I couldn't stand by any longer. It has gone on long enough."

Leia looked up at Han, but he was not listening. Instead, he still paced by the window, growing more and more restless.

"It has been … difficult on my family," she said haltingly. "But they stand by my decision to run again…"

"Your family is happy with your decision?" Rey could have slapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Finn peered at her with an expression as if to say what the hell?

"Yes, I believe so," Leia answered stiffly.

"All of them?" She couldn't stop herself, her words were like knee-jerk reactions.

Leia's face twitched. "My husband has always supported my political career."

"And your son?"

What the hell was possessing her to keep going?

"My son?"

Rey sighed. She'd dug this hole, she may as well keep going. "Doesn't taking up the helm of the Resistance put him in a position to be under more scrutiny, or worse, blackmailed?" She stumbled at her words. "'Them', I mean to say. Not 'him'."

Finn choked, poking her in the side with a sharp but subtle elbow jab.

"Excuse me?" Leia seemed incredulous at the line of questioning, her gaze searching for Han even more so, almost demanding him to look at her. But he wasn't there anymore and through the heavy lines of rain, Rey could make out his form heading out into the grounds.

Leia composed herself, not missing a beat. "I've always kept my son out of the media spotlight."

"But that hasn't stopped him from being a target though." The words rushed out of her again.

Rey's flushed with colour, astounded at how defensive she had gotten.

There was a beat and Leia stood then, smiling at them both. "Give me a minute, please."

She left the room, opening the French glass door panels and standing under a small alcove. Leia's outline glowed beneath a dull outside light, lines of rain provided a backdrop to her stoic figure, drowning out every other sound.

Eventually, Han emerged, running slightly, out of breath. He leant in close to her ear; they could have been shouting for all Rey could hear amidst the constant clamour of the rainstorm. Leia raised her chin, brows furrowed as she spoke to Han, and biting her lip when she listened. Rey leant forward, trying to imagine she could lip-read, and that's when Leia looked straight at her.

Rey turned away in a flash, only to be faced with a very angry-looking Finn.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Huh?" she asked, refusing to meet his eye.

"Why are you asking her about her son? Everyone knows she doesn't like to talk about him."

Rey shook her head, overcome with shame. The last thing she wanted was to mess this up for Finn … but, being here, before his parents, knowing what challenges Ben was facing alone right now. How could she not fight for him if no one else would?

"I'm sorry," she whispered back. "But don't you think it's worth asking?"

"No," Finn said through gritted teeth. "Not if it will cost us the whole interview. The only reason Leia agreed to do this was as a special favour to Poe."

Leia returned from outside. As she did a fresh zephyr of wind swept in through the sitting room. The cloud burst had passed now, leaving only a small drizzle of mist-like rain floating in the outside air once more.

Her mask was unreadable. She was seasoned at concealing her expressions, something her son had never learnt.

Nor Rey, obviously.

She attempted to apologise when Leia spoke up, interrupting them.

"Do you know my son?" she asked, the question to both of them, but Leia clearly directed the words at Rey.

"We met in town the other day," Finn replied.

"And you?" Rey's cheeks glowed at the way Leia stared her down, almost like she knew what they had done together in the privacy of her apartment.

"As Finn said," she mumbled. "Poe introduced us."

"He must have made quite an impression on you then."

Rey gaped, speechless for the first time.

"I—"

Fuck. She scrambled for words and every one of them failed her.

"I appreciate your concern with my family," Leia said. "But you won't find what you're looking for here."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ..."

Oh, God. She had messed this up so much.

"Perhaps, you could take a walk about the grounds while Finn and I finish this. The rain has stopped now. Who knows, it might give you the answers you're looking for."

Was she really being kicked out? Rey's face felt hot with humiliation and guilt. Without saying another word, she got up and walked over to the double bay doors where Han waited, smiling.

"Don't be offended, she gets very defensive about Ben," he said, and then raising his voice again. "And she likes to order people about. It gives her something to do."

"I'll give you something to do, you scoundrel" Leia snapped at Han, but her expression was fresh, all mischievous joy. "Where should Rey go?"

Han and Leia's exchanged a look, and Rey could have sworn there was some kind of conspiracy brewing between them. Han opened the door, handing her a large golf umbrella.

"There's a small pond by the cliff face. It looks out over the ocean. You'll find it if you head north through the rose garden and cross the bridge over the brook," he said, adding, "You'll know it when you see it."

Rey nodded, glancing back at Finn one last time. He was now deep in conversation with Leia, scribbling notes on his pad without even noticing she was leaving.

She sighed, pushing open the umbrella and with a fleeting smile at Han, embraced her banishment.

Rey slipped off a pair of shoes and stepped out onto the wet grass. It was freeing to be outside, no longer in danger of saying or doing the wrong thing. Overhead, a breathy roar of wind thrashed through the canopies of silver eucalyptus trees. The daylight was fading into twilight, with the sun trapped between grey storm clouds and a grey sea.

She began walking, enjoying the way her toes sunk into the overgrown grass. The air was crisper and brighter now that the rain had passed. She stepped over a small bridge that passed an overflowing brook, and she cleaned her feet in the water, listening to the sounds of nature coming back to life after the downpour.

Seagulls called from the cliff face, frogs croaked by the pond and the wind continued to roar like distant rivers, the quiet backdrop to it all.

Rey let the sounds fill her senses, and it didn't take long until her thoughts turned inward, thinking back to the morning when she and Ben had made love. For one moment, she had been so blissfully, divinely happy.

Perhaps they could have that again.

Even after … everything.

She felt close to him here, walking through the grounds of his childhood. Longing for him to be here, telling her where he used to play as a boy, the secret hideaways and mystical forests that made up imaginings of youth.

In the dim light ahead there was a large pond that stretched out to the edge of the cliff, dotted with fading solar lights and white lilies. The young trees around the edge cast long slim shadows on the ground, shivering and swaying dark shapes upon the ground.

But one of those shadows moved against the others.

Rey squinted, trying to make it out … large, hands in pockets, hair wet and stuck to his long thoughtful face, his gaze fixed to the ground.

Rey pressed a hand over her heart. How long had he been out here in the rain? Did he even know she was here?

"Ben!" she cried out.

He froze, slowly turning to see her. His face was pale and shiny with rain. Even in the darkness, she could see how he shivered.

Ben hadn't moved, and nor had she. Then she felt a wave of tenderness wash over her and the stillness shattered. She ran, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him everywhere she could reach.

Chilled hands pressed into the small of her back, tucking her into his body.

"What are you doing here?" his voice croaked, barely audible. "I thought—"

"You saved me!" She pressed her cheek to his chest, holding him close as her breath came in halted sobs. "Thank you."

[mangled-dreams]

Christmas Surprise

Christmas Surprise is the original story I’d started for @villain-friend, but decided I didn’t really enjoy it. But it’s a finished project and I feel like a crappy individual for making everyone involved wait, so I’m posting it anyways. Hopefully you all, especially you Villain-Friend, enjoy at least one of these stories. This is one features Anti and is from Winter prompt list numbers 129. “We’re not going to spend the holidays alone and sad. i won’t allow that!” and 135.  “I know that people usually kiss under mistletoe but.. I had other things planned.”

Outside the window snow drifts lazily from the soft grey sky. It's not sticking to the ground or any surface. You'd been hoping for a white Christmas, but it's not looking like that's in the cards. It's not just the lack of white powder on the ground that's dampened your holiday spirit.

Your mother and father had decided to take a spontaneous vacation to Hawaii, and your older siblings live too far away and can't be together for Christmas. Other than a few friends—that have their own Christmas traditions,  and an aunt you don't particularly enjoy seeing, you don't have much in ways of people to spend Christmas day with.

Even Anti had said he'd be busy. That was kind of the last straw. Despite his rough and more than manic exterior, Anti is a very trustworthy and loyal friend. Sure, you have a crush on him, but you don't let that interfere with your friendship.

Another loud sigh leaves your lips. You watch your neighbor three houses down walk her Basset Hound, Buddy. You smile slightly, liking the little dog's ears flopping as it trots to keep up with it's owner. You miss having your own little friend to keep you company.

Pouring your heated water into the 16 oz cup with peppermint hot coca mix in it, you stare out the fogged up window to the darkening sky. This is your third cup of spiked hot cocoa. You put a moderate amount of peppermint flavored vodka into your mixture to give it a little bit of a kick—not enough to get your drunk.

Turning you look at the decorations your mother had helped you put up, the small nativity scene you'd received from your dearly departed grandfather on your dad's side, and the tree your father helped you pick out and chop down. Presents litter beneath it.

Presents that wouldn't be opened because the majority of them are meant for your family and friends that wouldn't be stopping by. Originally you'd planned a large Christmas party to exchange gifts and have a merry time with the people you love most, but... as the month progressed people started retracting their invitations, your parents went on an unplanned trip, and others couldn't get the time off or family obligations took precedence over your get together.

You'd ended up canceling the whole thing, simply letting people know that they could stop by to pick up their presents from you whenever they can. You'd been looking forward to seeing your friends, seeing your family, seeing everyone really having a good time. Enjoying time together, sharing in the laughter and good times, but that's a dream by this point.

Tasting your coca mix you decide it needs a little more vodka and pour a little more into your cup, less than half a shot glass and stir it. Tasting it once more you nod at the flavor and take it to your couch, turning off lights as you move, you sit down on your couch, pulling a small black end table you use as a coffee table to the couch, and watch the Christmas lights twinkle and blink in the darkness.

You fall asleep with a half full coffee cup and the Christmas lights casting colorful shadows across your skin.

Looking down at your sleeping face Anti looks around the cozy apartment. For what it's worth, you have a good eye for style and placement. He always feels at home here. He enjoys your company.

With a sigh he runs a hand through his hair and snaps his fingers. Within a split second a thick, plush blanket with green little trees decorated in glittering ornaments and shimmering stars appears in his arm.

Anti walks closer to you and lays the blanket over your sleeping form. You look peaceful but sad. He doesn't particularly enjoy this combination on your face. It annoys him when you are sad. He rarely knows how he should help you or if he should even attempt to help you.

Anti debates with himself for a moment before resting his hand against your forehead, sipping his hand under your bangs to feel your skin. He knows this is invading your very precious privacy, but he wants to know how to help you. Without much more flourish he slips in you your mind, seeing everything he missed in his absence.

He sees what is causing you so much unhappiness. Loneliness.

The next afternoon you decided to go out for lunch. You'd been cooped up in your house for the past two days and decide you need human contact. Party of you wonders if Anti had stopped by last night but can't confirm it. Anti usually leaves something on the coffee table to signal he'd stopped by. Something specifically him.

You look at the folded blanket as you pass by the couch to put your shoes on you pause; you don't remember getting yourself a blanket. With yet another sigh you grab your jacket and leave your apartment, closing the door and locking it. You don't know where you're going to go for lunch just yet, deciding to just walk around and see what makes you hungry.

Walking down the street nearly four hours and a stop at a taco truck later you arrive back home. Your windows are dark aside from the Christmas lights twinkling on a timer. You take the stairs to your door and unlock it. Quickly you twist the knob and use your foot to push it open.

Your arms are currently holding your recent purchases from a few handmade shops. You'd found a wonderful knife set with hand carved wooden handles that remind you of Anti. You'd also found some cute little crystal frog sculptures for your friend Trinity among other things you don't care to list.

You slip your shoes off your feet, kicking them into the small cube behind your door and kick the door close. Moving into the living room you set your items down before going back to ensure the door is closed, lock it, and remove your jacket and scarf. Beside your coat rack is a multi-photo frame filled with photos of your youth and more recent memories. You smile at the photos and head back into the living room. Whenever Anti stops by you plan on giving him the wonderful knife set.

Anti does have an odd obsession with the common household blades. Gently you take your items from their bags and separate them by who they are for. You pause in your organization to gather up your wrapping paper, tape, and scissors before continuing.

Checking your phone for new messages you sit down on the edge of your bed. You reach down and pick up your phone charger from the floor as you respond to a message from Gale. Wishing a merry Christmas you say good night and plug your phone in. You turn on your white noise making app and lay down, staring up at the ceiling as the lights from your tree dance across the white paint. It soothes you, almost lulling you into forgetting the crushing loneliness you feel during what's supposed to be a happy time of year.

You fall asleep with that thought in mind...

"Hey, I made breakfast, if you want some you better get up now." Gale calls from your bedroom door.

You stir from your sleep, confused and more than just a little concerned you're hallucinating. "Gale?"

"Come on! Get a move on before AJ eats everything!" Gale shouts from the kitchen. Sitting up you listen to the sounds of your siblings bickering at each other before bolting from you bed. This is definitely your house, and you are in the right time frame...but... why are AJ and Gale in your house.

"What are you doing here?" You ask--more like demand. As far you understood it, neither would be able to join you for Christmas because they couldn't get time off from work and prices for plane tickets were--still are ridiculously expensive. "You said you couldn't come this year." You follow up when neither decide to say anything."That was before we were told that Mom and Dad abandoned you." Gale says cleaning off his hands with your dish towel. You frown at him. You weren't abandoned.

Before you can make the retort AJ voices, "well, not abandon you," She glares at Gale. “But still, why didn't you tell us? We heard that you cancelled your annual Christmas party too." You freeze for a moment, a little taken back by the question.

"You said you couldn't make it. I didn't want you to worry about me." you tell them looking away from them. You hate feeling guilty for something you can't control. It's not like you were going to beg them to visit you for Christmas.

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean we wouldn't try to make it work. Thankfully I was able to convince my boss to let me attend the contract meeting in town. Told him I have ties to the community and can help in negotiations." AJ says looking quite proud of herself. You stare at your sister in awe. She has always been the convincing one, so really it shouldn't be so surprising.

"I just told my boss I needed the time off to spend with family since I haven't taken time off in nearly two years." Gale adds with a shrug. You smile in an attempt to hide the tears filling your eyes. You love your siblings and even as you know without a doubt they love you, you didn't think they'd put so much effort into being with you on Christmas.

"But...who told you I was going to be alone?" you ask as AJ puts her fork down and slips from her stool to comfort you. You've always been so easily overloaded by your own emotions. It's not something you ever asked for, and for the longest time you were ignorant to your own emotional reactions, but in recent years you've come to terms with it.

AJ coos to you as she wraps you up in her arms, soothing you with gentle fingers combing through your hair. "You're friend, that weird one with the green hair, he gave us a call and let us know what was going on. He seems to care a lot about you." AJ tells you. You blink and look at your brother for clarification.

Gale just nods his head and sets down his own plate and turns off the stove. You make vow to thank Anti in person for his intervention. He really didn't have to do anything like this for you.

"Anti?" you call late that time when your siblings have gone off to bed. Your place is big enough to accommodate them.

"Hey, didn't think you'd be awake." Anti says turning his head to look at you. He's spread out on your couch with an arm draped over his forehead. You smile at him.

"I was waiting up for you." You tell him perching on the armrest of the love seat across from Anti. "I wanted to thank you for contacting my brother and sister." You tell him smiling in the ever changing lights. "You didn't have to do that." You add.

Anti smirks and sits up, keeping eye contact with you. "To be honest I kind of did it for myself too." He tells you. "I felt pretty low. Christmas has always been a sore spot in my life." He adds looking down to his hands. You follow his dropped gaze. You don't really know why Christmas is a sore spot but it makes you feel a little guilty.

"I'm sorry, Anti. I didn't know. You don't have to stick around. If you need to..."

"No, don't be sorry." Anti tells you. His thick Irish accent commanding your full attention and obedience. "We’re not going to spend the holidays alone and sad. I won’t allow that."

You know he's serious by the look in his eyes. It makes you feel warm and bubbly with happiness.

"Then let's spend it together, Anti. You, me, and my brother and sister. They can be a handful, but they're good people and they'll welcome you with open arms." You suggest seeing the positive response in Anti's eyes.

"No take backs." he jokes and you laugh with him before getting out your spare blankets and pillow and get Anti settled in. You talk a little longer before sleep calls your name and you respond to it's call.

You spend the next two days on and off with your brother and sister and Anti. At night when AJ is off work you enjoy hot cocoa, popcorn, and Christmas themed movies, then when AJ and Gale have gone to sleep you cuddle up in the same blanket with Anti and watch horror movies based around Christmas.

You'd fallen asleep on the couch with Anti both times only to wake up with Gale and AJ snickering about the pair of you being a cute couple. You shooed them away and moved on with the day. Both times Anti heard them and teased you the rest of the day.

"Merry Christmas!!" Everyone cheers as the long awaited day finally dawns in your house. Everyone exchanges gifts, enjoying one another and their company and share stories of Christmases past. You made sure Anti shared in your family's traditional Christmas breakfast. You played the various games you'd gifted and received. You laughed along side Anti and your siblings as the morning lazily drifted into the afternoon.  

You'd and Anti had gone out to buy a few groceries and ended up messing around for a few house finally arriving home nearly two hours later than originally thought, cheeks flushed, chests heaving, laughter filling the cold air around you. You nearly bust down the door in your race to get inside. It's really only when Anti is with you that he let's his guard down and can get back a piece of who he once was.

Laughing as you nearly tumble right into the floor, face first, Anti wraps an arm around your waist and holds you from hitting the ground. The bags in his free hand disappears only to reappear on the kitchen counter.

AJ and Gale stand up from the couch to look at the commotion you and Anti are making. AJ smiles at Gale, nudging him in the rib as she points out the small piece of mistletoe handing from the ceiling. Both smile deviously at each other. "Hey! You're under the mistletoe!" AJ shouts.

Both you and Anti's heads snap up to look at the small piece of plant dangling from a white string. "AJ, did you hang up mistletoe?"

Anti simply stares at the mistletoe before glancing at your siblings then you again. Mistletoe has always been a holiday tradition in your household. A quick kiss on the cheek and you'd scurry away from the plant of embarrassment.

"What? It's always been a tradition!" AJ shouts trying to appear innocent despite her devious actions. "Well? Aren't you two gonna kiss?"

You feel your face heat up at her question. "AJ!" You shout, unable to find anything else to respond with. As much as you'd like to kiss Anti you know it's not quite right to ambush him like this, even if it isn't by your doing. "I know that people usually kiss under mistletoe but.. I had other things planned." You say quickly to dispel the tension filling the air between you and Anti. You smile at him, wrapping your arms around his chest, slipping under his arms. "Well, really one thing and a few words." You clarify. "Thank you, Anti, for being my best and most loyal friend. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Anti chuckles, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close. "I know what you mean." Anti tells you hugging you tightly. You know it's not what your sister and brother had been thinking but it's still just as meaningful to you.

Later that evening after you covered up AJ and Gale with a few plush throws you pick up the alcohol filled hot cocoa mugs and take them into the kitchen. You spot Anti standing near the door seemingly deep in thought. You smile at him and let him be. He seemed to be preoccupied since before dinner. Part of you wonders if it's because of the mistletoe incident, but you know Anti. He'd tell you if something was wrong.

Cleaning your cups, wiping down the counters, and making sure everything is put away properly you turn around to find Anti still in the same spot. You give him a confused look and walk over to him, gently laying your hand on his shoulder. "Anti?" You say softly.

Without warning Anti spins around, grabbing both your wrists, his eyes scanning your face--searching for something you can't exactly pinpoint.

"Whoa, Anti, are you okay?" you ask gauging Anti's response to your voice. Occasionally Anti has lapses of sanity and it's usually during that point he's most dangerous.Anti's eyes look you over before slowly releasing your wrists. "I care about you, you know that right?" Anti asks earning a confused look from you.

"Y-yes, I know and I care for you too, Anti." You respond. Anti nods, you can see he's warring with himself about something and it makes you uneasy. "Anti," you whisper softly, glancing at your sleeping siblings. "Are you feeling okay? D-do you need to go?" you ask in the same whisper.

Anti's eyes seem to map your face as you nervously tuck loose strands of hair behind your ear. "Y/n," He says earning your full attention. "We're under mistletoe." he informs you. You look up to confirm his words and look at him with confusion.

"Oh, I forgot to take that down." You say reaching up to grab a strand of the ribbon holding the mistletoe to the small peg in your ceiling. Anti quickly stops you. His hand holding yours as he brings it to his chest. "Anti?" Your voice is a ghost of sound, you're nervous and unsure what Anti is thinking.

"I care a lot about you." He tells you. You nod in agreement, unable to find your voice.

You don't know how it happened but you're in Anti's arms, his rough chapped lips pressed tightly against yours. You stand frozen in his arm for a few seconds before relaxing into his touch. Your eyes slowly close and you simply melt into his embrace. You don't notice when AJ sneaks from her spot on the floor to the kitchen and snaps a few photos. The best one being texted to your parents, Gale, and yourself.

[fandom-games]

Give Me a Sign/ Nearly Witches by Cassie from Team Mix B

“So I won’t be able to see you again?” Li whispered to him, hoping mummy wouldn’t see her whisper to the corner of the room.

“No, unless I call on you. Goodbye, my little friend”, he said, immediately disappearing in a flash.

She never saw him again.

[8 years later]

The Waelauder Sight.

Or of that common era,-the early 1500s-the ability to see not ghosts, but vampires.

The ability was discovered when 22 year old Da Vinci was discovered painting what seemed to be an empty chair by one of his companions.

The Daily Screamer reported that the woman, named Ginerva de’ Benci, according to Leonardo, was found to have died over three years ago due to a smallpox epidemic that had spread over a small portion of Florence for a while. Doctors all over had come to see this spectacle and try figure out what was happening and why, but no one could find out till Moniseur Antoine Waelauder, a doctor from France, gave his answer, saying that he had discovered the same problem in the artists of France, as those who could create pictures tend to see more than what a normal man could, hence the name

The Waelauder Sight.

People flocked from all over to get loved ones checked for it, many showing up with the ability, even those who previously never showed any artistic ability of their own.

It was a rebirth of the city, where colours were splashed on canvases on a daily.

And thus was born the Renaissance period, where little 9-year-old Lisa del Giocondo (Li) or Mona Lisa, as she preferred, was the first of her family to show up positive with the Sight, the first artist of the Gherardini-Caccia house.

17-year-old Li recollected this as she sat in her backyard on a stool, painting the wide landscape that opened up in front of her. She started at the large expanse before her.

There wasn’t much; everything was shrouded in darkness, since it was late past 11pm. She tried to focus- the sky had a perfect black-dark purple-dark blue gradient, stars littered clumsily all over the sky. Closer to the Earth, the tree’s leaves seemed to be shimmering and made of silver in the full moon‘s light. This beauty seemed surreal, almost mystical. The fog however...the fog. It covered the ground, only to leave small parts of the grass to be bathed in the moon light.

The fog slithered across the atmosphere, and though it wasn’t much, there was a strange, almost eerie feeling that put Li on edge. A sudden cold gale blew that cut her cheeks, causing her to visibly shiver. Throwing her cloak over herself and buttoning the top, she went inside with her paints, leaving her blank canvas outside.

Stepping inside, she grabbed a candle from the kitchen counter drawer and lit it. Her parents had gone out for the night, and she knew that it would take them till Sunday to get back, giving her the whole of Saturday to herself. Of course, her tutor was coming the next day but her studies would be taking up a short part of the day. She rubbed her eyes sleepily. How long had she been up? She looked up across the kitchen, into the living room and glanced at the clock on the wall- 20 minutes past 12am. She frowned. How hadn’t she heard the bell chime? And how long was she. The time of night suddenly hit her like a million bricks at once, making herself aware of how tired she actually was. Li dragged herself upstairs, unbuttoning her cloak and draping it over the mahogany armchair in the living room first. Her boots made a soft “thump” echo throughout the empty house.

-

Li’s bedroom was shroud in darkness, the only source of light coming from the moon shining into the room. Li took one step into her room, arms flailing around, trying to find the edge of her bed post which served as her centre point of location of things in her room.

“Ugh, where is it?” she grumbled. She stuck her arm out, eventually finding the collection of lamps on her table. Smiling softly in tiredness, she grabbed the matchsticks from her pocket. Fumbling around in the darkness, she eventually lit the candle. After lighting all of them, she put one on the candle holster. The light of the candles lit up her room brightly. She turned around to put one on her bedside table

When she was met with the grey-scale face of the dead man from 8 years ago. She screamed in fright, dropping the candle on the floor, along with herself.

“THE CANDLE!” she yelled, realising this meant her room setting on fire. That was it. She was as good as dead, and shut her eyes, ready for death, shaking.

She felt a cold hand on her shoulder, followed by Urie’s mellow voice.

“Woah there, if not for my quick vampire movements, you’d be a goner there, Mona”

Li opened her eyes. Only one person had used that name.

“Brendon?” Li said, turing towards him and focusing on him.

The Vampire grinned. He might be dead, but he still looked like his 24 year old goofy self. He was dressed in high-end velvets and cotton, which she’d only seen father wear during official business.

“The one and only”

Li suddenly felt a warm, happy sensation in her, immediately strangling Brendon in a hug.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe it’s really you!” She cried.

“Mona, I might be dead, but this still hurts. Child stop crushing my spine” Brendon half-joked.

Li let go. She realised she didn’t actually know why he was here. Pulling out a chair, she sat down.

“Bren...why are you here? 6 years no contact, and all of a sudden, this?” She said, quietly. Brendon looked downwards.

“Mona...do you remember the murder?” Brendon asked solemnly. Li nodded. Mary’d done it. She’s been executed the next day immediately.

“Well...I’ve been...restless, ever since. All for the simple reason that I didn’t know why she did it. I never bothered her. But she still” Brendon mimicked a knife hitting his chest and him dying.

Li looked at him, perplexed. She didn’t know either. “But Bren...there’s no way of finding out. She’s dead.”

Brendon’s ghastly face immediately lit up in a mischievous smile.

“Pull on a jacket and your gloves sweetheart, we’re going ghost hunting.”

-

The Cimitero Monumentale delle Porte Sante, Florence was one of the most beautiful cemeteries in Italy, which Florence boasted proudly. As pretty as it was in daylight, it was equally sinister in the dead of the night, pun intended. The angel statues looking down at the graves looked as if they were about to go feral and attack. The fog covered the graves, giving an eerie feeling. The leafless trees looked like sharpened claws in the dark, as if poised, ready to kill.

Li made a mental note to come back in the daylight to paint this place, when Brendon stopped short in front of her, causing her to bump into him.

“Ow,” she mumbled. Brendon grinned abashedly, “Sorry I didn’t give you a heads-up, kid. In other news, we’re here,” he said, holding out his lantern to light up the gravestone.

“Marianna du Antionni, 1490-1512. Hung for murder of major business man, Brendon amoure Urie” Li read aloud, squatted next to the gravestone. “Bren, we don’t have the right supplies to- oh” Li stopped short. Brendon was squatted on the ground, slowly lighting a semicircle of 5 candles surrounding an ouija board.

“There” he mumbled. Brendon turned to face Li, “Mona, did you know that if a ghost admits to the biggest wrong doing of their life, they disintegrate and disappear?” Li’s eyes grew wide, followed by a smile.

“I see. So you’re saying we summon Mary, get her to admit why she did it, and she dies forever, and you get closure,” She asked. Brendon nodded furiously.

She gave Brendon a wry smile, “Let’s do this”

-

Li and Brendon positioned themselves on either side of the grave. They started speaking, heads bowed, voices hushed.

“We awaken the spirit of Marianna du Antionni, the wrongdoer, the deserver of punishment. We seek her admittance to why, and we seek it no-,” before they could even finish the last word, the ground started shaking beyond possibility, throwing both human and vampire off balance and onto the floor. A blue aura surrounded the grave, the shaking stopping. Brendon and Li stared up at the glowing figure now forming over the grave. Soon, the condescending eyes of Mary were staring down at them.

Her glare hardened.

“Why are you here, girl. And why have you brought HIM along,” she growled.

Brendon snarled. “Why’s that a damn problem, Antionni? Never did a thing to you did I,”

“Brendon-,” Li started, bur Brendon simply winked at her, mouthing the words follow along. Momentarily confused, Li immediately realised that by arguing with her, she’d admit to why without having to try.

Mary laughed, “Hah! You fool, you were the worst, god knows how much I hated you!”

“Whatever he did couldn’t have amounted to you just murdering him!” Li said angrily.

“Listen girl, you needn’t get involved-,”

“Why not? After all, what’s better than a girl complaining to another girl about her troubles? Besides, I understand why you’re so mad at him!” she started. Brendon looked at her in a “what-are-you-doing” way, where Li looked at him with a “trust me i know what i’m doing” one.

“Brendon can be so clumsy! He never tells me when he stops, I bump into him so much! And sometimes he just goes on and on about things he loves, always taking attention away from the main topic-,”

“Exactly!,” Mary exclaimed frustratedly, “Back when we were still neighbours, he always tried to one-up me! I clean my front yard, he GARDENS it. I buy new clothes, he MAKES them himself. I mean, why? I don’t see why you need to establish that you’re a better person than I am! So why wouldn’t I be outraged that this man!,” she said, pointing to Brendon, “is the most irritating neighbour I’ve ever had! But that’s not why I killed him, oh no. Let me tell you what was the last straw that brought the camels back home-,” she ranted on and on about how Brendon threw a fancy gala masquerade party for the society the immediate day after she threw a party for her friends, and how that angered her so so much.

“And that is why I killed him,” she said, her aura glowing a deep blood red.

“Why am I smoking,” Mary said, looking at her arms. She started emitting a large amount of smoke. “WHAT IS HAPPENING?!,”

“You’re dying forever! Goodbye!,” Brendon said, smiling like a child on his birthday.

“DAMN YOU URIE!” she said in a final scream, before bursting into green flames and disintegrating. In the next flash, all that remained of her was the red ruby necklace she wore around her neck.

-

quick epilogue: Brendon and Li continued to stay with each other, and Brendon never left her side, and they continued to be together forever, partners in crime and friendship.

————

89 points!

[greybat]

Interesting Night

Alternate Title: Ambiguous Relationships Means No Goat-Fucking, Kay? Kay

Summary: The apprentice, Avielle, decides to brave Lucio’s “abandoned” wing, seeking answers. To Lucio’s farmyard state, to the murder, to... well, anything that’ll satisfy her curiosity. Sometimes, the journey for answers gives you more questions, though.

Super vague Lucio x Avielle.

Ao3 Link

Avielle settled herself on the floor of the hall, picnic basket beside her and a book in hand. The chill of Lucio’s wing fluttered over her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The apprentice doubted she’d have to wait long, before the ghost – or demon? - showed its horns. Using the light of her lantern, Avielle began to read.

She was barely two minutes into the prologue, when the temperature drastically dropped. Avielle ignored it. Tunk tunk tunk, the sound of hooves reverberated along the marble. Stilling her heart, Avielle reached into the basket for an apple. Sinking her teeth into the fruit, the crunch drowned out the approaching steps.

Avielle continued to eat and read, ignoring the approaching white figure. The creature loomed before her, silently. Positioned just at her peripheral, probably on purpose, Avielle could barely see the white fur from the corner of her gaze. Perhaps he debated on plucking the book from her grasp – could he even do that? - or frightening her with a sudden gale. Either way, Avielle continued reading and braced herself.

The hallway darkened. The lantern light flickered. Dust and ash churned in the air. An unworldly gust roiled down over the apprentice. However, she did not move. Irritation dotted Lucio’s thoughts. Surely, she noticed the haunting!

Finally, annoyed with his awkward silence, he reached out to her mind, “What are you doing here?”

The apprentice barely deigned him with a look. Her dark brown eyes flicked from the pages, trailing up to his goat face. With a bored sigh, Avielle replied, “Oh, hello, Lucio.”

Then her eyes were back to that damned book.

“I asked you what you are doing here, Avielle.” The goat creature repeated, using her name for emphasis.

“Reading.” She turned another page, half-eaten apple in hand.

Lucio bristled, stalking around Avielle. “I see that.”

“Then why did you ask?” The apprentice coaxed unease out of her shoulders as the goat man circled her. Lucio couldn’t hurt her. Well, that’s what Avielle hoped, at least. All the other interactions she had with him, he could have harmed her. Stumbling into his wing for the first time, he had certainly shook her. His antics around Nadia and Asra were also… disquieting. But he hadn’t them. As far as Avielle knew, at least.

Maybe the attention was the only thing keeping him from lashing out, though.

Her tone wasn’t petulant or nasty. Light and curious, with the edge of exasperation. Oh, it was a tone he had heard before from her. A flare of annoyance burst through him. How dare she… she sass him!

His hand shot out, grabbing Avielle by the back of the neck with long, furry fingers. The woman tensed, dropping the book from her hand as a sharp gasp left her lips.

“Ah, you didn’t think I could touch you, hm?” Lucio tightened his grip on Avielle’s neck.

“I… hn,” Avielle jolted as Lucio gave a rough squeeze, “I considered this possibility.”

“Did you now?” The question slicked over Avielle’s thoughts, almost sensually. She hid her cringe. Lucio might take it as an invitation.

“Yes.” Avielle reached a hand up, slowly. Her fingers quested for the arm that held her. Lucio didn’t move as her fingertips skimmed through the fur on his arm. It had been so long, since he’d been touched…

Sharp pain bit across his arm. He yanked his hand away from Avielle, who stood upon her release, snarling, “Fuck! What was that for?”

“Curiosity.” The apprentice turned to her basket, fishing out a notebook and pen. She jotted the observation down, her gaze flicking to the silently seething goatman. Her eyes flickered up and down his body, lingering on his furry groin area, before asking, “Would you prefer I pull your fur, elsewhere?”

“…sadistic bitch.”

“That’s what I thought.” Avielle nodded, tamping down her grin. She glanced over her notes, compiled over the last couple nights. Interviewing servants, courtiers, Asra, and Nadia had given her little insight to Lucio’s ghost. They avoided him and his haunts.

Though, from the occasional run-in with him, Avielle had scribbled down short notes. At times, the man – er, goat demon? - was corporeal, other times he was a phantasm that seemed to morph in and out of reality. Obviously, at the moment, he was physical enough to touch and feel pain. Such a fascinating dynamic. What happened to him?

Her gaze flickered over to Lucio, his red eyes leered at her with wary irritation. Well, she hadn’t invoked his utter wrath. Narrowing her eyes, Avielle looked over his body, again. Well, he seemed to be cooperative, to a degree. He hadn’t phased out of existence, at least. Drawing her gaze back to Lucio’s red, red eyes, Avielle tilted her head. “Do you remember what happened the night you… died?”

“Died?” The demon tossed its head back, bleating out a sharp laugh. The lantern light glinted off his teeth, some much sharper than what was found in a regular goat’s mouth. When his gaze fell back to Avielle, it burned with a strange smugness. “Don’t you remember, Avielle? You did this.”

He motioned to himself with one arm, sweeping in the hairy behemoth he had become. The apprentice swallowed down shock.

“I-I don’t.” Avielle stared at Lucio, raking her brains for some memory – some slippery strand – of this accusation. This had to be a lie. She could never morph someone into… this.

The goat man pattered closer, wrapping his one good arm around Avielle’s shoulders. The apprentice stifled a shudder, especially as the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She ignored the chill that settled over her, eyes glued to Lucio’s goat face.

“Let me paint a picture for you, then.” The words shimmered in Avielle’s mind, full of cruel glee and superior knowing. Around them, darkness blotted out the hall. “I came to you, red-eyed and weary. That idiot of a doctor wouldn’t stop trying asinine, country bumpkin cures and that lazy magician had his ass planted on pillows all day.”

The setting shifted, melting into a foreign room Avielle felt at home in. It was a bedroom, with a luxurious bed and a beautifully carved wardrobe. A cauldron squatted in the dying embers of the fireplace, an orange liquid rippling inside it. The view overlooked a nighttime Vesuvia, the sky speckled with stars. Bookshelves lined one wall, a work table – not unlike the one at the shoppe – lined the other.

And there was Avielle, sitting on the bed and watching a much more human Count Lucio pace the length of the room. The apprentice nearly jolted from goat Lucio’s hold, utter shock pricking across her thoughts. She looked a few years younger, with shorter hair and dark circles under her eyes. In fact, if Avielle didn’t know better, she would have guessed Lucio had awoken her from sleep.

“Avielle, this plague eats away at me.” The man growled, hands clasped behind his back. There was a sickly pallor to his skin, unlike his paintings. “As a trusted witch among my counsel, I have a request of utmost importance.”

“Yes, Count Lucio?” Avielle sighed, rubbing at her eyes with a palm. The expression on her face made it clear that the Count had asked a request of her more than once.

He suddenly turned toward her, grabbing her by the shoulders. His intense gaze bore down into her face as he simply stated, “Kill me.”

“M’lord?” Avielle’s eyes widened, sincerely shocked at the request. She leaned away from him, nearly jerking out of the Count’s grasp.

“I’m not going to wither away in my bed, like a decrepit old man.” Lucio released Avielle, returning to pacing. His golden hand clenched into a fist as he raised it to chin height. “I wish to go out with a fight. However, I’ve already defeated all my enemies.”

Avielle pursed her lips as a broad, self-assured grin crossed Lucio’s lips. An edge filtered into her tone. “Enemies come in many forms, sir.”

“The courtiers are stupid, spineless fucks,” he spat, not even turning to look at the witch. He missed the slight grin that twitched at Avielle’s lips, before she masked it again.

She sighed, not remotely concerned with the Count’s informal language. “The magician? The plague doctor? Fairly competent people.”

That seemed to get through to him. He stopped pacing, eyes narrowing.

“Good point.” The Count brought a claw to his lip, a sudden look of introspection crossing his features. However, even when looking inwards, Lucio had to speak aloud. “Are they delaying research? Have they found the cure? Do they wish to see their illustrious Count die?”

Avielle could scent bloodthirst on Lucio’s mind, even through this mirage or memory. He stood across the room from her past self, flexing his golden claw in thought. Murder glinted in his eyes.

“M’lord, I might have an answer…” Apprehension stiffened along Avielle’s body as she pushed off the bed, striding across the room to her work desk. There, she picked up a tattered tome. Black with underscores of red and a shadowy aura, the book oozed old and dark magic. She approached Count Lucio, biting her bottom lip, as he spun to face her. “I may be able to give you a different form. A form free of plague. It’s a complicated spell, though, and I… I don’t know what repercussions it’ll have. Yet.”

Curiosity piqued, the Count tilted his head and arched an eyebrow. “What sort of form?”

Avielle flipped the book open to a bookmark. She turned it toward him and the man eyed the page, scanning the words with an intense frown. His gaze flickered up to her. “You really believe you can do this, Avi?”

She nodded, though a sense of grimness pinched between her brows. Lucio considered her face for a moment, then glanced back down at the open book. Finally, a smile broke across the Count’s features as he, yet again, grabbed Avielle by the shoulders. “Perfect. Make whatever preparations you need.”

“There is one other issue,” she raised an index finger to the man’s face.

A slightly colder glint caught Lucio’s eye. “Yes?”

“This spell needs a full moon,” Avielle pointed to something in the book. She visibly winced, as she added, “The next one will be on your birthday.”

“Well,” Lucio stared down at the open page again. His eyes traced the spell, the illustrations, everything. He leaned closer to Avielle, his face dangerously close to hers as he smirked, “It can be your present to me, then.”

The scene shimmered, before liquefying before Avielle’s very eyes. She watched, stunned by shock, as her past self and Lucio drew together. Whether it was a kiss or the memory disintegrating, she wasn’t sure. Her stomach lurched as questions and thoughts piled up in her head. Did she and Lucio…?

“Such an… interesting night.” The words trickled into Avielle’s mind, like a sticky sap, shaking her from her stupor. A chill in the air, joined with dust and ash, finally seeped into her senses. The apprentice realized she had a death grip on her notebook, holding it to her chest. When she realized Lucio still stood with an arm around her shoulders, the apprentice wrenched from his grip.

She couldn’t deal with his touch, right now. A flash of annoyance and anger crested her confusion. “Why do you always do that?”

The words rang out in the hallway, echoing back at Avielle. A hand flew to her lips, realizing what she had said, just as the pain of memories broke into her thoughts. Bits and pieces faded into her thoughts. Memories she wasn’t ready to deal with. Her chest rose and fell, with speedy breaths, as Avielle fought for control over her mind.

“Always do what, Avi?” It was a snickering challenge, ringing in her head. Oh, yes, remember what I always do. Face your past. Our past. Avi.

The question reverberated back to Avielle. What did he always do? Her heart thrummed in her chest, fingers tightening on her notebook. Her lungs wouldn’t work, her breathing too fast or not enough. She took a step back from him, trying to organize her thoughts and feelings. Confused tears bit at the back of her eyes.

She couldn’t remember, couldn’t fight the pain blasting at her temples. Annoyed, unable to retain her unflappable distance, Avielle found herself snapping, “You always make an ass of yourself, Lucio.”

The apprentice could almost feel the grin. A pompous curve across lips that weren’t there. Lucio resonated with self-satisfied smugness. “Technically, you made me a goat.”

Pain pounded against Avielle’s skull as memories faded in and out of her thoughts. She couldn’t do this any longer, especially with that conceited tone resonating in her head. She stormed over to the picnic basket, slamming her book into it. Hefting the lantern in hand, and cradling the basket in the crook of her arm, Avielle stormed out of Lucio’s not-so-abandoned wing.

Lucio reached out to her mind, his snickers reverberating in her head until she reached the main palace. With a churning stomach, Avielle almost wished she hadn’t gone to his wing. She had ended up with more questions than answers.

[livebythestarryskies-blog]

Phoenix

Written: Early 2014

She jolts awake to the cacophony of loud voices and the hostility of a blood-red rose wrapped delicately in barbed wire. Clammy hands rub sleep-sticky eyes before realization hits like a trainwreck. She is not where she drifted off into slumber. Instead, she is in a stranger’s house, where she cannot dictate her life by her own rules.

The commanding presence of animosity lingers, yet she cannot command a livid expression to accompany the sensation until she realizes the room, devoid despite minimal furniture, is overcast by gray clouds from the opened, unframed window. As the breeze picks up, slowly rotating, then suddenly morphing into the kind of gale that carries the destruction of a rampant typhoon, she dreads the notion that she must make haste towards the white door, which seems to have blended in with the overcast walls save for a subtle golden doorknob.

She bolts upwards, ignoring the screams of pain her legs elicit while making a break for the dim glow of the knob, but just as she reaches for the object a mere hairsbreadth, she falters.

A voice whispers in her ear, and though the words are incoherent, she knows they are laced with malice.

The whispers grow, louder until they can be heard: “Where are your wings, angel? Where are they?”

In the pending silence, she can feel the presence of razor-sharp nails gripping her arm, imaginary rivulets of blood dressing her limb in crimson-crusted webs. She attempts to open her mouth to fire a vicious retort, but something has stolen the speared words from her guarded mind. Something has ripped her voice box out of her throat, leaving behind hoarse, echoing rasps. her numbed limbs are not functioning properly and she cannot break free of the unspoken words materialized in the form of a sinister voice. She struggles and struggles, willing her mind to fuel the mobility in her arms, her legs, but to no avail.

Finally, she is successful. In a broken, mangled voice, she rasps out, “No! I have my wings. I have my wings!” She screeches the single sentence over and over, growing weaker until only disjointed phrases are audible and finally become a mere thought on replay: I have wings. I have wings.

As if eavesdropping on her mind, the voice whispers tauntingly, “But they’re broken, aren’t they?”

The savage gale, ripping mercilessly around the girl, brutally overturning the meager contents of the room, and violently lacerating her skin, reminds her of the little time she has left to spare. She squeezes her eyes shut, desperately searching, scavenging, mulling over the contents of her scattered mind for an undisguised answer:

She knowsknowsknows this voice. She has heard this voice before, she swears.

She blanches.

As quickly as she had given into the undertones of the insinuations, she proudly reconstructs her mind, body, and spirit. All at once, everything that had her shrouded in mists and heavy fogs of doubt disintegrates and illuminates the firm silhouette of her soul. She yanks her clean arms, free of any blossoming stains of incriminating crimson and bruised maroon, no longer bleeding profusely, away from the grasps of the malevolent figure. It desperately screams, “No!” as she twists the golden knob and flings herself past the square arch of the door and into the darkness.

Before long, she is dashing down the foyer, into a dimly illuminated labyrinth. The still air picks up again, gusts of wind reminding her it follows closely wherever she may go. She wanders further into the maze, taking sharp turns, meeting dead ends, but she has yet to retire any thought to despair or escape because she knew from the moment she woke up she could not escape easily; she will push through. With strengthened resolve, she pauses her steps, closes her eyes, but does not rummage her thoughts for any hints.

This time she lets pure instinct take over. Left here. Keep running straight. Now take the third right. Keep running straight and don’t open your eyes. Don’t look back. She is no longer running in circles and is clearing the pathway to the centerfold point. With her eyes still squeezed shut, she breaks through the barriers of illusion, through the walls of her thoughts, the whirlwind behind her no longer in tow. She runs and runs until she bursts into the midst of it all and finally opens her eyes to the sight of wonder unraveling. Above her, the endless ceiling beholds a bright spiraling circle of light, swirling and sucking in any form of darkness that has engulfed the confinements of the room.

And she knows. She knows that this is her ticket out of this embodied prison of her mind, but she also knows the portal hovering above is completely out of her reach as she stands firmly locked on the ground. She stands stumped, confused as to why she has already made it this far but cannot move forward since there is nowhere to go other than up, and she has no means to get there...

But she does, she suddenly remembers.

I’m not an angel, no. But I have my wings. [insert 2017-me-cringe here]

She closes her eyes, once more, and she thinks, for the last time, because this will be the last time she ever shuts her eyes in doubt.

Calming the torrent of jumbled thoughts and the calamity of her mind until they thin out into nothing but a flame, she then ignites the flame to burn brighter than ever and on her back, she sprouts chained wings. They are not white, but rather a deep shade of red, almost like the blood her soul bleeds. She nurtures the burning of her soul until she herself is almost bursting into the flames of a phoenix, as the feathers of her wings struggle and struggle until they expand and shatter the steel chains of her mind.

They’re not broken.

She finally spreads her wings and flaps them up once, twice, measuring the sturdy strength in her bodily extensions, before she takes flight in an endeavor of reaching the hovering light. Behind her, she leaves a trail of uprooted, obliterated miseries and scarlet feathers from her hard-fought battle, as she breaks through the barricade of the portal.

Outside, she dips and soars in warmth, taking the scenery in stride as she flutters on the air with the delicacy of a butterfly, but the speed of a hummingbird. The horizon stretched across her reach is blended a multitude of shades in roses, maroons, orange marmalades, glittering golds that reflect upon the wide open shimmering lake that happens to be where a line is almost forcefully drawn between the invisible atmosphere and the tangibility of the earth.

Above her, the sky painted is a deep hue of blue, deeper than a royal blue but still as velvety as promised, splattered and flickered by the twinkling lights of the celestial spirits of the night, sprinkling glitters on wings like fairy dust. She pauses, watching as twilight gives way to the comfort of the now-glimmering moon, melting away the warm colors of the day in exchange for the cool colors of the night. 

And it is in this moment she looks below her to find the green trees of the forest rooted firm to the ground, the rivers flowing silkily into the the tranquil undulating waves of the lake, the glorious mountains protruding from the ground, almost like a shield for this haven, all bathed in the ethereal moonlight the Luna sheds upon as a safeguard to the land.

This is no fool’s paradise, she knows. 

And so she hums softly, in a liquid gold voice, her lifted spirits flying her above as a guardian of the land. She continues on her flight, the bloody hues of her wings soaring higher and higher into the atmosphere until she becomes one with the stars. And there, she will remain until-

She jolts awake, this time in the confines of her room, to the cacophony of loud voices and the hostility of a blood-red rose wrapped delicately with barbed wire. In her sleepy haze, she realizes she has yet to break the barriers of the world, but before she can do so, she has just broken the barriers of herself, of her voice. She is cold, as her blanket is thrown off her, but the warmth of the phoenix that burns inside her lulls her back to sleep, her bed littered with remnants of her feathers.

A/N: I think I wrote this as a dream sequence for my English class in high school, so all those symbols meant something to me, even if I don’t remember what they mean to me now. Lol hello nearly-16-year-old me.

This was written over three years ago, so my writing has definitely changed since then. When re-typing (when posting these, I like to type them up instead of copying and pasting because I get to revisit them) this piece, I edited some parts to make them seem less awkward and more coherent for readers, but I generally left the piece as was.

Why?

So I can observe the growth in not only my writing, but myself as a person. I recall this piece as being my catharsis at the time, so it kind of reminds me of how I struggled through that time, but made it through.

Lol think what you want, but I’m just going to leave this here.

[glopratchet]

astryl-wondering

with a bunch of other people who are all screaming at the top of their lungs and he's got an axe in his hands and he says "I'm going to kill you as he takes up the same position that he does when he writes his articles for some of his past jobs or other things one of those massage places on the outside red and there's what seems like a neon heart near the entrance very bizarre and very cool: Six masks hang from nooses and have unnatural faces that seem to stare at you and will give you nightmares into the inky purple sky while red lightning strikes surround it Just stars exist there no moon to give insight to travelers for the skedar and happens to be fairly accurate You are hunted by a hoard of mutant sand worms that live in this desert There is concrete and metal which you gather resources from Grover shares his words of encouragement within the lonely halls of the hunting grounds There are multiple stock characters in the hunting ground which offer sidequests and different rewards based on your choices You can somewhat remember Dr and selfishness, you are reminded that it is you who Alazkan looks to in his darkest times of sadness and must take the sacred blade Excalibur from and cursing himself for his idiocy and carelessness, you are reminded that it is your responsibility as knight that you take up your sword with great pride and that you you are reminded that it was a mission only you could handle being the A Team and to bring back the ; (Daven) Van Der Werff Family Jewels preventing astryl from taking exploits and leading astryl to destroy himself from the inside out Instead of following astryl through his rampage to kill himself, you keep a distance and spam him with shadow magic while your underlings do all of the dirty Just mere moments before the transformation he remembered his glory days as a paladin where his body was willing and ready to explode at the drop of a hat and let live and that was the last thing he remembered clearly on the ui and at that moment foxy number 2 is devoured by one of the foxes in a bloody mess with dismembered limbs everywhere as the dust starts to slowly fill the air and eat away at his armor astryl, the digging machine, and even you with slimy jelly like skin that you would never under normal circumstances be able to kill alone There are some insane half naked demonic clowns who wreak havoc on him and make everything upside down and they operate independent of one another The third generation of hands on keyboard input uses webspace to travel and somehow ends up making your extermally focused endof by you where the others look as if they are completely unintelligible One of the buffoons jumps from close up in the foreground to the background causing astry making cludstrum going completely insane Several surges of hearts are lost too late as the documents merge and a recuperate database is needed to organize the chaos s in duplicate they cannot be deciphered The cryptographer has gone mad and despite astryls efforts fails to decode the documents All the contracters for and the contact drifts through astryls heart chakras until they are needed to come back and in the meantime he asks you to think of a "gift" that he might like The project "howl" A cryptic message sent through the intercom barely elumsinate what the task is which is unknown to you Father time has been having an affair going around as While your endof is being interupted and your extermal focus is going wildly out of control the top bearing is getting burnt out and the entire works the code will never be able to settle After fuly completing level 1 all the green jelly candies will drop down from the digital sky but only for you and One of the creatures will unleash a pungent odor starting from the power supply melting to bits as it speeds up 40 times faster that you will face after a certain time period Food and drink from a talented bartender may just be the thing to do the trick! When qefizat clencher returns your contract will be completed and you will be sent home! SEND THIS TO 5 MORE BEFORE CLOSE OR YOU CAN'T GET OUT! to buy some delicious water and he notices hours have passed The temporary suprise causes the bottom bearing to be pulled from the floor as you drift to the office which this evening after having brought some for him to eat which will compound an error But qefizat clencher has told you that if you don't eat now your body won't be able to expell the The dicioic screen cannot be accessed until level two as this something the program needs to get up and running and take in more food And then drags it to the part of your mouth where dinner is eaten The first filling consists of flashing lights and sounds in But ultimately the top part is filled with a Go check under the desk of Cuthbert Heckram for some HECKRAMIUM and then start guessing what While blue is by far the color of the image in your screen it does not stand out at all other than THE SAND ITSELF which the makers of ths game thought you might try to satisfy those hunger pains Another is a metal eating mist that sounded promising but does nothing but give you an upset stomach for half an hour and he will start to do things that he wouldn't dream of SEND THIS TO 10 MORE IF YOU WANT THE PASSWORD! The snackinonuts in the pantry to the left sound real tasty There are some pringles and twirls down a couple Another one is UGHZITE which looks like a soft rock but if you munch the crap out of it noxious gases will ensue behind huge hills but youd need to make wells to access these dig sites A scary place to explore in the desert is a strange mountain that is half eroded but it is worth figuring out why this happened since the element needed to make lasers are in that cave A place that is probably not around anymore and swallowed up by the ever shifting sands is a 4 story hotel where you can try to hold out the longest just using you need to gather water for the n you need to find a place to deal with your nightly b solution of what to eat is slugs make it easier to see kangaroo rats and road pads his arms into the river pulls out some killifish and crayfish the items back to the canyon land by runn You look several hundred meters down and see grubs, grasshoppers, and ants and let you look through his backpack Having this you can put down your own things and journey more easily with someone and he has no reason to be afraid anymore You'd rather someone on foot than in a car to come pass you out of the canyon with He couldn't score a tent but he has a small carrier with a Astryl throwing your riding lawnmower down the side some face You push the building materials over and there is a deafening racket out the debris You loot a heavy duty flashlight out of his pockets You expect this whole thing to be susceptible to, but isn't the expansion joint You notice a smaller access hatch in the bottom of this pit t This sets you back hours because it was raining heavily be You quickly and nothing When you tell this to Astryl he has nothing to sugge You are not going back up the face of the cliff just to reach the the baked bean can she made into an amplifier You drag a slab of plywood near the window and he clambers up the makeshift stepladder the half burned bookshelf that was acting as a door You slap some suede on a long branch and increase the reach extensil Kneeling an overenthusiastic high five itemized bill in a crumpled twenty in the wallet to pay a month overdue bed A back scratcher in the corner You start digging through their belongings in search of a comb Astryl diseased pissing in the corner candy bar wrapper Kludstrm parched throwing the tapered end of the plastic jug Kludstrm insidious painting the ramp with a mixture Kludstrm foul self-cleaning candy bar wrapper the game system from the gale Kludstrm hellacious activating the computer software Out of confusion or a need for thievery you tak Astryl unique sheltering the game system from the gale your eyes Kludstrm rashly spanning the narrow space with a flat tie Kludstrm abashed regarding the jerry-rigged Astryl lopsided shading your eyes the phantom smell Even the loosest bits of wire and packaging are col You take the half wheel and pedestal back to the rig and consider how you might Kludstrm slow detecting the phantom smell the soles of his feet on the wall You're too big to stand in and bathe comfortably Astryl pronounced scratching the soles of his feet on the wall the lack of an atmosphere You are woken by clinking They never have bandages tourniquets or splints so before yo You give up Kludstrm scrupulous transmitting the lack of an atmosphere to pry off the door Kludstrm caustic regarding your plan to Kludstrm interminable returning from filling the cann Astryl sovereign beginning to pry off the door the bedsheet Kludstrm iridescent stretching up to grasp the window ove When you have tied him off his forearm is dark blue and thro Kludstrm multicolored healing the bedsheet arms, legs, and torso wit At each end a deep You go back downstairs an Astryl dowdy criss crossing arms, the path under Kludstrm lucid greasing the shade hangers with the cooking b You back down the steps and gu The search is even Kludstrm impotent blocking the path under muddy water Kludstrm scruffy sitting on your overnight bag to brig And despite the surrounding catast The ground beneath you be Your two skin after exiting past When you wake up the room is freezing Astryl embattled aspirating muddy water You skulk about getting water BoooM! Astryl crimson glistening skin after exiting past in the flash of lightn You text from your uncle's Kludstrm roguish looking under his box for a guitar cord That night Astryl boyish squinting in the flash of lightn the bark off the drive The temperature gets to well over three Kludstrm snoopy throwing his strange metal parts abo Dropping Astryl wretched tanning the bark off the drive a small AM station You drive into the st Kludstrm supple moving to make one call for pizza Kludstrm inane Kludstrm afferent generating a small AM station the wreckless cluster of vehicles Crows gather along the You credit Evan's absence to the absurdity of deejaying at middle o With your eye Astryl insubstantial scouting the wreckless cluster of vehicles you about possible shortage o You stop at the bottom of the campl Kludstrm mausolean hauling the camping gear toward The water Kludstrm cheerful warning you about possible shortage o for recyclable litter creat You call again that night Astryl senseless scavenging for recyclable litter creat another rash on the side o Over the next three days you make it to within 15 m Klusdstrm since they're much colder and more Kludstrm dusky developing another rash on the side o the fat with the locals ; (or in t Unexpectedl Astryl tasteless chewing the fat with the locals ; back tears as she hugs the children Kludstrm deadly anticipating the wrath of an unforgiving n You start another tour a moth and swall Kludstrm artless applying sunblock to the top of You quickly buy drinks Kludstrm ample tendering Astryl boorish choking back tears as she hugs the children Kludstrm ideological attracting a moth and swall the temperat The second night Kludstrm in its grasp You The catatonia wears off after a day and night more on EC Kludstrm fastidious taping one of the windows with brown The rugged west ; (and an It takes you a further the afternoon by the sun in th Kludstrm aloof claiming that the government has put tedib During breaks you tr The next day is a na The people creat omics and mon Kludstrm urban spotting an adobe staircase up th Within the dead count You manage to as one of the four-whee Kludstrm trite outfitting the caged ballista with som The final day of y inch by inch as you and J Analytics continue prying off the strong room's door for Kludstrm oblivious screaming at the few guards for stealing fro You neatly alley the ballistae b ack to its nook the next in the rays peaking betwe Kludstrm mundane spraying it with layers of welcom A pinging sound filters down the stairs sometime after a under Kludstrm pallid scorning the guards on duty for not re You glance at J Analytics preparing to advance into the city over a hand Kludstrm sceptical unwrapping the legalese with Astryl's know J Analytics grabs your arm as you attempt Kludstrm hounded damning the stained glass windows for trying In the back of your mind, the memory of your ca The city of beet Kludstrm standard inviting everyone to the Kludstrm bored stacking your equipme You all relax over cool drinks and finger food as Klusdstrm mushy changing He says You and Astryl in

[celestial-leaves]

Meet me on the other side

               He was known as the Dragon Slayer. A tall dark-skinned creature with hair as pale as grass stained snow and eyes as red as poppies. He was rumored to have destroyed hundreds of dragons, and devastated several cities with his rampages. A seraph no human could bind, not even the most legendary of shepherds. He was also supposed to have died centuries ago. Sorey looked down at the book, looked up at the seraph, looked down, and then back up again. There could be no doubt it was the drawing personified. The only significant difference was that the seraph before him was wearing a long trench coat and his hair was braided back in a long tail.

               “Ew… a shepherd,” the stranger said.

               “If you don’t like it, you can get lost,” Edna snapped from where she was crouched beside the bed. The stranger hummed and stepped further into the cave, he walked past the boys and leaned against the wall.

               “Your brother know that you’ve got humans in here?”

               Sorey glanced over in time to see Edna’s normally impassive faced devolve into a snarl, the Dragon Slayer laughed. It wasn’t a particularly pretty nor happy laugh. Mikleo scooted closer to Sorey, leaning into his side to peer at the book. His head snapped up a moment later, his eyes wide. The Dragon Slayer stepped up to the bed, Edna moving away from him. He stared down for a few minutes, his face blank but for the downturn of his lips. When he did look up again, a small, mocking, smile had bloomed. “She won’t be pleased when she wakes up,” he said.

               “Just see to it that she does wake up,” Edna replied, she sat down on a nearby bench and twirled her umbrella. The Wind Seraph took a seat on the mattress, and resumed his perusal of his patient.

               “What are you planning?” Sorey asked, taking a few steps closer. “Hey!” The Seraph waved a hand, and Sorey saw something glittery appear in front of his face, a breeze whistled by his ears. He went to take another step only to be dragged back by Mikleo’s hand on his arm. His foot bounced off something, sending sharp shards of pain radiating through his toes.

               “There’s a barrier,” Mikleo spoke then, trying to maneuver his friend away from it. Sorey reached around him, extending an arm and until his fingers touched a hard surface. The glitter like substance had faded, leaving no tell that there was now a barrier blocking his both. Without thinking, Sorey flung his full weight against it, but that only served to draw an amused snort from Edna, exasperation from Mikleo, and pain from his shoulder. He watched with nervous eyes, as the Slayer shrugged out of his coat, leaving it to pool on the ground, and revealed a sleeveless tunic and skin marred by white tattoos. “Seals,” Sorey heard Mikleo mutter, followed shortly by the book pages rustling. The loss of the coat, also revealed a gap where a left arm should have been. The book had failed to mention that as well.

               The Slayer reached out, placing the tips of his fingers on Lailah’s forehead. The tattoos came to life, wriggling over the skin and spiraling down towards the sweat soaked Fire Seraph. Sorey felt an uncomfortable feeling grow in his stomach, sending shivers racking through to his extremities. It was the same feeling he had had the night the raiders struck, resulting in their present dilemma.

               “What’s he doing? Why is his domain…?” From behind him, Mikleo’s voice had risen in alarm. Sorey turned towards him, intending to ask for an elaboration.

               Lailah screamed.

               Sorey whipped back around in time to see her arch off the bed, white tendrils painting themselves onto her skin. Her domain erupted in little spurts, the air seeming to shimmer on the other side of the barrier. The Dragon Slayer appeared unbothered, only shifting slightly to exert more pressure. Sorey exchanged a panicked glanced with Mikleo before flinging himself at the barrier. But fists, feet, words, and even water jets did nothing.

               “Don’t bother.” Edna’s voice was monotone. “Go catch dinner instead.”

               “How can you be so calm?!” Mikleo demanded, spinning towards her. “He’s hurting her!”

               “Purging,” Edna corrected, she rose sedately and brushed off her dress. “Like you asked him too.” Her boots, large and bulky as they were left no trace on the dusty ground. Mikleo chased after her, vehement protests bubbling out. The need to follow Mikleo was real, but the idea of leaving Lailah to the tender mercies of the Slayer sent hot bile rising his throat. He settled for a compromise, walking to the front of the cave, and peering out. Mikleo and Edna were just disappearing around a turn in the road. He walked back to the barrier, the screaming had devolved into whimpering. The Dragon Slayer looked up then, sweat dripping down his brow and his eyes like frozen blood. The bearer of the Shepard’s light, spun on his heels and fled.

               **********************************************************************************

               “Promise me. Promise me that you will do everything in your power to keep them safe.” The old man’s voice had been strong, steady, and calm despite the tempest beating all around the small hut. Weathered hands had rested gently upon two sleeping bodies, bundled up safe and warm in their Grandfather’s lap. “Promise me that when the time comes…”

               His voice had trailed off and Lailah had heard hers rise, falling short of the warm but professional tone she’d been aiming for. It had come out instead sounding strangled, shaky, and just as cold as her insides were at the thought of a future where Zenrus was not there to guide them. Back then, despite the weight if the words resting between them, his domain had embraced her, bringing warmth to her chilled limbs. A decade later when two children had shown up on her doorstep smelling of ozone, fear, and naivety, the bells of time had rung out once again.

               Another domain reached out to greet her now, just as ancient, and familiar. It spoke of rushing gales, and somehow brought the scent of rain washed earth. Lailah opened her eyes, a dark vaulted ceiling stared back at her. It took a few moments, but she eventually recognized it as Edna’s Cave. It remained empty as she looked around, noticing the displaced soil and banked fire. She stretched out her senses, but the domain seemed to recede, falling away when she pressed. Sorey’s light shown faintly in her mind’s eye. She drew a deep breath, a twinge made itself known in her side, but it was nothing compared to the pain she had felt earlier. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, she eased herself upright, resting her head against her knees until the nausea faded somewhat. A few breaths later and she was standing up, using the wall as a support to make her way outside. The clouds that she vaguely remembered darkening the sky had been blown back to reveal a few stars. Lailah felt a sense of relief blossom in her stomach, there was only one Seraph that she knew of powerful enough to lighten the skies of Rayfalke.

               The kids were gathered on a hillside, seated on blocks of stone tall enough that even Sorey’s feet did not touch the ground. Across the fire from them, ripping into a slab of meat, a familiar being was seated. Lailah approached, not quite able to subdue all the joyous relief bubbling up inside her. She addressed a swift smile to her charges, weathered their immediate questions, thanked Edna, and finally turned her gaze on Zaveid. The seraph looked up at her, pale hair pulled out of his face and back into an elegantly braided bun. She had no doubt as to who the creator was, and another trill of pleasure went through her body. “You’re not dead,” Lailah said.

               Zaveid blinked at her, amusement curling his lips and softening his eyes. “No, not yet,” he replied. Edna made a disparaging noise at that, but Lailah found her smile growing. Without hesitation she knelt and wrapped her old friend into a hug, looping arms around his broad shoulders, and resting her forehead against his for a beat. She withdrew, not quite fast enough to dodge the kiss he pressed to her cheek, and took a seat on a low boulder, bringing her legs up primly.

               “You know him?” Sorey’s voice reached her, dubious at best, and filled with an undercurrent of concern.

               Lailah waited until a mug of soup had found its way into her hand, before she replied, “Zaveid would visit sometimes when I was younger. It has been several years since we’ve encountered each other.”

               “A couple hundred?” There was a sarcastic lilt to Mikleo’s voice, and he leaned forwards now a book cradled in his arms. Lailah decided that the safest answer was to smile, whilst Edna pretended innocence, and Zaveid grinned as if the air surrounding them had not just chilled. Mikleo glared at them, “Are you the supposedly dead Dragon Slayer, or not?”

               “I don’t recall having died recently,” Zaveid answered, he laughed when the water seraph let out a frustrated growl. “Mikkyboy was it? You wouldn’t happen to be related to old man Zenrus, would you?” Sorey and Mikleo exchanged glances, concerned frowns growing on their faces.

               “He’s our grandfather,” Mikleo eventually said, he titled his head as if expecting an answer in return. Lailah almost felt badly for him, but his pout was just too cute.

               “That would explain a lot,” Zaveid said, he finished off his meat and stood with hardly a wobble. “Thanks for the meal, kiddos. I’ll be off now.”

“Stay the night,” Lailah said, the words rushing out before she could swallow them. Zaveid blinked at her, and then his lips curled up into a Cheshire like smirk.

“Aww, Lailah dear, you should have said something, I would have visited you earlier.” Lailah mustered a blank smile, to hide the concern she felt. Exhaustion was seeping out of the Slayer’s domain, enough that she was sure Edna and soon Mikleo would notice.

“You’ve been busy I’m sure,” she said, but Zaveid only grinned, unrepentant as could be. Edna muttered something, and he turned to look at her, hand slipping into his pocket. She said something else, lips barely parting, and he shrugged, “two months from now, as planned.”

“What’s two months from now? And what was that you did? Lailah, did he heal you? And would someone explain what’s going on?” Sorey demanded, exasperation, concern, and fear blending together into what was almost a whine. Lailah hesitated, as she had the previous time Sorey had demanded explanations, but she couldn’t bring herself to outright deny the boy.

“Yes, the wound is closed, I believe that I will be fit for travel by noon tomorrow. I’m sorry, Sorey, until I’ve gathered more information I cannot explain why you were sent to me by such a method,” she said, and offered a tentative smile.

“Method?”

“Yeah, method!” Mikleo outright snapped, glaring at Zaveid. “You were screaming Lailah, and your domain was heavily affected. There was smoke drifting out of the cave, and he,” he motioned roughly at Zaveid, “kicked us out without an explanation.”

Water is easiest to corrupt. “That is a question I can address,” Lailah replied forcing cheer into her voice to mitigate the growing tension. She clapped her hands together and hopped to her feet. “When two powerful domains of opposing elements clash, there is always going to be a physical manifestation. What you saw was probably the corruption from my injury being burned away. It is not an easy task to perform or to witness.”

“He could have just said that,” the boy sounded petulant now but the water that had been gathering in the air was dissipating. Lailah wondered if he had even been aware that he was summoning.

“As entertaining as this is, I do need to go, Lailah.”

Lailah huffed internally, unwilling to cause strife by beleaguering the point. As if reading her thoughts, Zaveid let out an amused sound. “I’ll be fine, truly. Patching you up is nothing compared to the effort it takes to keep Eizen or Roku in one piece.”

“That is an unfair comparison,” Lailah answered, “be off with you then, and do give my greetings to your cohort.” She couldn’t fight the smile when Zaveid mock saluted, spun twice for comedic effect and wind stepped away. To the unpracticed eye he had disappeared, but Lailah felt him land just around the bend in the road and set off at a more reasonable pace.

[galysh]

TOZ Dragon Slayer! AU

            He was known as the Dragon Slayer. A tall dark-skinned creature with hair as pale as grass stained snow and eyes as red as poppies. He was rumored to have destroyed hundreds of dragons, and devastated several cities with his rampages. A seraph no human could bind, not even the most legendary of shepherds. He was also supposed to have died centuries ago. Sorey looked down at the book, looked up at the seraph, looked down, and then back up again. There could be no doubt it was the drawing personified. The only significant difference was that the seraph before him was wearing a long trench coat and his hair was braided back in a long tail.

    ��          “Ew… a shepherd,” the stranger said.

               “If you don’t like it, you can get lost,” Edna snapped from where she was crouched beside the bed. The stranger hummed and stepped further into the cave, he walked past the boys and leaned against the wall.

               “Your brother know that you’ve got humans in here?”

               Sorey glanced over in time to see Edna’s normally impassive faced devolve into a snarl, the Dragon Slayer laughed. It wasn’t a particularly pretty nor happy laugh. Mikleo scooted closer to Sorey, leaning into his side to peer at the book. His head snapped up a moment later, his eyes wide. The Dragon Slayer stepped up to the bed, Edna moving away from him. He stared down for a few minutes, his face blank but for the downturn of his lips. When he did look up again, a small, mocking, smile had bloomed. “She won’t be pleased when she wakes up,” he said.

               “Just see to it that she does wake up,” Edna replied, she sat down on a nearby bench and twirled her umbrella. The Wind Seraph took a seat on the mattress, and resumed his perusal of his patient.

               “What are you planning?” Sorey asked, taking a few steps closer. “Hey!” The Seraph waved a hand, and Sorey saw something glittery appear in front of his face, a breeze whistled by his ears. He went to take another step only to be dragged back by Mikleo’s hand on his arm. His foot bounced off something, sending sharp shards of pain radiating through his toes.

               “There’s a barrier,” Mikleo spoke then, trying to maneuver his friend away from it. Sorey reached around him, extending an arm and until his fingers touched a hard surface. The glitter like substance had faded, leaving no tell that there was now a barrier blocking his both. Without thinking, Sorey flung his full weight against it, but that only served to draw an amused snort from Edna, exasperation from Mikleo, and pain from his shoulder. He watched with nervous eyes, as the Slayer shrugged out of his coat, leaving it to pool on the ground, and revealed a sleeveless tunic and skin marred by white tattoos. “Seals,” Sorey heard Mikleo mutter, followed shortly by the book pages rustling. The loss of the coat, also revealed a gap where a left arm should have been. The book had failed to mention that as well.

               The Slayer reached out, placing the tips of his fingers on Lailah’s forehead. The tattoos came to life, wriggling over the skin and spiraling down towards the sweat soaked Fire Seraph. Sorey felt an uncomfortable feeling grow in his stomach, sending shivers racking through to his extremities. It was the same feeling he had had the night the raiders struck, resulting in their present dilemma.

               “What’s he doing? Why is his domain…?” From behind him, Mikleo’s voice had risen in alarm. Sorey turned towards him, intending to ask for an elaboration.

               Lailah screamed.

               Sorey whipped back around in time to see her arch off the bed, white tendrils painting themselves onto her skin. Her domain erupted in little spurts, the air seeming to shimmer on the other side of the barrier. The Dragon Slayer appeared unbothered, only shifting slightly to exert more pressure. Sorey exchanged a panicked glanced with Mikleo before flinging himself at the barrier. But fists, feet, words, and even water jets did nothing.

               “Don’t bother.” Edna’s voice was monotone. “Go catch dinner instead.”

               “How can you be so calm?!” Mikleo demanded, spinning towards her. “He’s hurting her!”

               “Purging,” Edna corrected, she rose sedately and brushed off her dress. “Like you asked him too.” Her boots, large and bulky as they were left no trace on the dusty ground. Mikleo chased after her, vehement protests bubbling out. The need to follow Mikleo was real, but the idea of leaving Lailah to the tender mercies of the Slayer sent hot bile rising his throat. He settled for a compromise, walking to the front of the cave, and peering out. Mikleo and Edna were just disappearing around a turn in the road. He walked back to the barrier, the screaming had devolved into whimpering. The Dragon Slayer looked up then, sweat dripping down his brow and his eyes like frozen blood. The bearer of the Shepard’s light, spun on his heels and fled.

               **********************************************************************************

               “Promise me. Promise me that you will do everything in your power to keep them safe.” The old man’s voice had been strong, steady, and calm despite the tempest beating all around the small hut. Weathered hands had rested gently upon two sleeping bodies, bundled up safe and warm in their Grandfather’s lap. “Promise me that when the time comes…”

               His voice had trailed off and Lailah had heard hers rise, falling short of the warm but professional tone she’d been aiming for. It had come out instead sounding strangled, shaky, and just as cold as her insides were at the thought of a future where Zenrus was not there to guide them. Back then, despite the weight if the words resting between them, his domain had embraced her, bringing warmth to her chilled limbs. A decade later when two children had shown up on her doorstep smelling of ozone, fear, and naivety, the bells of time had rung out once again.

               Another domain reached out to greet her now, just as ancient, and familiar. It spoke of rushing gales, and somehow brought the scent of rain washed earth. Lailah opened her eyes, a dark vaulted ceiling stared back at her. It took a few moments, but she eventually recognized it as Edna’s Cave. It remained empty as she looked around, noticing the displaced soil and banked fire. She stretched out her senses, but the domain seemed to recede, falling away when she pressed. Sorey’s light shown faintly in her mind’s eye. She drew a deep breath, a twinge made itself known in her side, but it was nothing compared to the pain she had felt earlier. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, she eased herself upright, resting her head against her knees until the nausea faded somewhat. A few breaths later and she was standing up, using the wall as a support to make her way outside. The clouds that she vaguely remembered darkening the sky had been blown back to reveal a few stars. Lailah felt a sense of relief blossom in her stomach, there was only one Seraph that she knew of powerful enough to lighten the skies of Rayfalke.

               The kids were gathered on a hillside, seated on blocks of stone tall enough that even Sorey’s feet did not touch the ground. Across the fire from them, ripping into a slab of meat, a familiar being was seated. Lailah approached, not quite able to subdue all the joyous relief bubbling up inside her. She addressed a swift smile to her charges, weathered their immediate questions, thanked Edna, and finally turned her gaze on Zaveid. The seraph looked up at her, pale hair pulled out of his face and back into an elegantly braided bun. She had no doubt as to who the creator was, and another trill of pleasure went through her body. “You’re not dead,” Lailah said.

               Zaveid blinked at her, amusement curling his lips and softening his eyes. “No. not yet,” he replied. Edna made a disparaging noise at that, but Lailah found her smile growing. Without hesitation she knelt and wrapped her old friend into a hug, looping arms around his broad shoulders, and resting her forehead against his for a beat. She withdrew, not quite fast enough to dodge the kiss he pressed to her cheek, and took a seat on a low boulder, bringing her legs up primly.

               “You know him?” Sorey’s voice reached her, dubious at best, and filled with an undercurrent of concern.

               Lailah waited until a mug of soup had found its way into her hand, before she replied, “Zaveid would visit sometimes when I was younger. It has been several years since we’ve encountered each other.”

               “A couple hundred?” There was a sarcastic lilt to Mikleo’s voice, and he leaned forwards now a book cradled in his arms. Lailah decided that the safest answer was to smile, whilst Edna pretended innocence, and Zaveid grinned as if the air surrounding them had not just chilled. Mikleo glared at them, “Are you the supposedly dead Dragon Slayer, or not?”

               “I don’t recall having died recently,” Zaveid answered, he laughed when the water seraph let out a frustrated growl. “Mikkyboy was it? You wouldn’t happen to be related to old man Zenrus, would you?” Sorey and Mikleo exchanged glances, concerned frowns growing on their faces.

               “He’s our grandfather,” Mikleo eventually said, he titled his head as if expecting an answer in return. Lailah almost felt badly for him, but his pout was just too cute.

               “That would explain a lot,” Zaveid said, he finished off his meat and stood with hardly a wobble. “Thanks for the meal, kiddos. I’ll be off now.”

“Stay the night,” Lailah said, the words rushing out before she could swallow them. Zaveid blinked at her, and then his lips curled up into a Cheshire like smirk.

“Aww, Lailah dear, you should have said something, I would have visited you earlier.” Lailah mustered a blank smile, to hide the concern she felt. Exhaustion was seeping out of the Slayer’s domain, enough that she was sure Edna and soon Mikleo would notice.

“You’ve been busy I’m sure,” she said, but Zaveid only grinned, unrepentant as could be. Edna muttered something, and he turned to look at her, hand slipping into his pocket. She said something else, lips barely parting, and he shrugged, “two months from now, as planned.”

“What’s two months from now? And what was that you did? Lailah, did he heal you? And would someone explain what’s going on?” Sorey demanded, exasperation, concern, and fear blending together into what was almost a whine. Lailah hesitated, as she had the previous time Sorey had demanded explanations, but she couldn’t bring herself to outright deny the boy.

“Yes, the wound is closed, I believe that I will be fit for travel by noon tomorrow. I’m sorry, Sorey, until I’ve gathered more information I cannot explain why you were sent to me by such a method,” she said, and offered a tentative smile.

“Method?”

“Yeah, method!” Mikleo outright snapped, glaring at Zaveid. “You were screaming Lailah, and your domain was heavily affected. There was smoke drifting out of the cave, and he,” he motioned roughly at Zaveid, “kicked us out without an explanation.”

Water is easiest to corrupt. “That is a question I can address,” Lailah replied forcing cheer into her voice too mitigate the growing tension. She clapped her hands together and hopped to her feet. “When two powerful domains of opposing elements clash, there is always going to be a physical manifestation. What you saw was probably the corruption from my injury being burned away. It is not an easy task to perform or to witness.”

“He could have just said that,” the boy sounded petulant now but the water that had been gathering in the air was dissipating. Lailah wondered if he had even been aware that he was summoning.

“As entertaining as this is, I do need to go, Lailah.”

Lailah huffed internally, unwilling to cause strife by beleaguering the point. As if reading her thoughts, Zaveid let out an amused sound. “I’ll be fine, truly. Patching you up is nothing compared to the effort it takes to keep Eizen or Roku in one piece.”

“That. Is an unfair comparison,” Lailah answered, “be off with you then, and do give my greetings to your cohort.” She couldn’t fight the smile when Zaveid mock saluted, spun twice for comedic effect and wind stepped away. To the unpracticed eye he had disappeared, but Lailah felt him land just around the bend in the road and set off at a more reasonable pace.

[katvangerpen]

Sabbathing

This post’s tardiness has me feeling guilty, but I’ve been busy resting. The concept of rest is a bit foreign to my often overbearing over-achiever tendencies, but with visits from my best friend, Krista, my boyfriend, Matt, and a group from my alma mater, I’ve been reminded how critical it is to pause. And thanks to inspiration from the family of Jefferson Bethke (a Christian writer, youtuber, father, and husband), I decided the best way to describe the past month is using the word “sabbath.” I have been “sabbathing.” Although coincidentally, it’s appropriate that I arrived in Edinburgh almost exactly seven months ago. If months represent days, I needed a sabbath.

For six days work may be done, but on the seventh day there is a sabbath of complete rest, a holy convocation. You shall not do any work; it is a sabbath to the Lord in all your dwellings. – Leviticus 23:3

Resting comes in several styles. I indulged in various types of rest for a month. (Look out for more stories in my next blog post!) Beginning on February 16th, my first piece of home arrived. Krista and I laughed, ate, chatted, sang, and danced our way through six countries in eleven days. Morocco swiftly wooed us with its gentleness. Our encounters with locals were as stunning as the backdrops. After Morocco we explored Rome during a fifteen hour layover before heading to Malta for two days. Then an eight hour layover in Brussels preceded our days in Dublin. Sounds relaxing, eh? Perhaps it would be best if I told my favorite memory from these episodes of hospitality, splendor, and luck.

On our second morning in Morocco, Krista and I woke up from a short sleep after embracing new friendships in Boulmane. We accepted an invitation to a home for tea and sweets late the night before. But now we had to pack, get in the van, and travel to the Sahara. To our utter astonishment, our pals had returned to see us off! WOW! After a long day of traveling with stops at world heritage sites, we reached the desert fringe and chose our dromedaries. After an hour long camel cruise, we arrived at our Bedouin camp. Devouring tagine, drumming in the light of a campfire, and donning djellabas and Moroccan “sheshes” heralded the main event. As we began thinking about going to sleep, our nomad friends urged us to hike a sand dune to stargaze with them. It took very little convincing before we found ourselves engulfed in the desert darkness.

With about ten others trailing behind, we blindly ascended alongside Asu and Abe. It seemed bizarrely black so I turned my eyes upward only to face more darkness. The moon and stars had also been engulfed by a cloudy sky. And then I realized my lungs were burning. Being a religious trainer, I considered myself in good shape. Who was I kidding? The altitude taunted me and stole my breath. I turned back, and shouted at Krista. Other than Asu’s hand saving me from sinking into the sand or disappearing down the dune, I hadn’t seen or heard sign of other human life for minutes. She said she was also desperate for air, and everyone else had turned back considering the dark sky. We both contemplated turning around, but Asu and Abe insisted it would be worth it.

The Sahara incessantly blew its bits into our eyes. If the manic gusts and pelting sand didn’t make it difficult, I kept stepping on my skirt and sinking into the sand. The massive piece of fabric around my head constantly fell over my eyes. Although nothing was visible anyway, I kept pushing it up. Have I painted the picture of hopelessness and despair well enough yet? In my misery, I turned to prayer. I passionately prayed that God would either give me the strength to make it to the top, convince Krista to insist we go back, or allow us to persuade our friends to return us to camp. After all, I couldn’t see the finish which made encouraging myself more difficult. Asu and Abe rescued us from our struggle and took us to the dune’s sideline for a rest. We all took refuge from the gusts of sand under a weighty Berber carpet Asu had miraculously carried. After a short nap, I peeked out from beneath the blanket to peer straight into the eyes of Ursa Major. The stars sparkled above us!

Asu insisted we begin again. He said, “Only ten minutes to the top if we go fast.” I asked, “What if we move slowly?” He said it would take fifteen minutes at the most. Sure… Reluctantly, we began to climb again. Thirty seconds in, I felt discouraged. Filled with sand, my socks had become bean bags. Plus, snoozing in the sand had loosened my white fabric crown. As it fluttered in the gales, this white flag of surrender mocked my feelings of defeat. Explicit words filled the walls of my mind as I toppled over with each step. Krista urged me to keep going, but I insisted we pause again for another rest. Removing my shoes and empting my socks might help I thought, but I took them off to buy more rest time. As soon as I caught my breath, we kept going. Throughout this ridiculous journey, one thing remained constant. Asu never let go of my hand.

I heard myself praying again. Lord, give me strength to reach the top. Suddenly, the sand became firmer and didn’t swallow my legs. This was much easier! And then the incline diminished. We had summited the sand dune. Relief brought tears. Although the wind hadn’t weakened, the stars shone. As if sleeping on a sand dune is ordinary for me, I slumbered again. Eventually we relocated to a sand valley and fell asleep again before trekking back to camp. Upon returning to camp, we spent several hours in awe listening to nomad stories until nearly 3 am. Yet, the next morning I awoke feeling rested and ready for the caravan back.

And on the seventh day God finished the work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all the work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on it God rested from all the work that he had done in creation. – Genesis 2:2-3