#i know I’ll plateau eventually and I know that’s when I’ll have to figure out how to boost my metabolism (rn I’m planning on a protien diet

[damned-if-they-do]

It feels so unreal to lose a pound a day by fasting tho…. Like Omfg….. how does this even work like it feels so efficient

[mavrintarou]

[4:38 PM] Oikawa Toru [5]

I know, you all have been patient with me on this series. Really want to finish WYE with an explosion lol so please continue to bear with me on that one.

Warning: none, just two humans trying to be better...

Fourth part Sixth part

.

Y/n waited patiently outside their units by the elevator for Toru and Mateo.

At last, their door cracked open and Toru stepped out with Mateo strapped to his chest in a baby carrier facing outward. “Oh!” Toru’s eyes widen, “how long have you been waiting for? You should have come over.”

Y/n smiled, shaking her head. “I wasn’t waiting long, I figured you guys would come out eventually.” She stepped forward and held her hands, “give me the diaper bag, I’ll carry that.”

Toru was reluctant to but gave in. “Thank you.” He turned so Mateo could see her, “say hi, Teo.”

“Hi, Mateo!” Y/n cooed, rubbing his cheek. He smiled bashfully and Y/n spotted a tiny white tooth appearing. “Is that a tooth?”

“Yep, he’s teething and drooling everywhere,” Toru answered, indicating the bib around his neck, was already damp with drool.

She had gone a few days without seeing them but they had made plans to go out to the new restaurant that opened down the street.

Y/n slipped the backpack pack and pressed the button for the elevator, “shall we head down?” Mateo answered excitedly kicking and flapping his arms.

.

Toru reserved a private room that was closed off from the public area. Although he played professional volleyball for another country, Toru held a large enough fan base in his home country. He was often recognized out in public and bombarded with questions and requests for autographs.

Mateo sat in the high chair patiently waiting to be fed by his dad.

Toru’s phone buzzed for the second time after he silenced the first call. He sighed, “do you mind if I take this call?”

Y/n nodded, setting her chopsticks down so she could take Mateo’s feeding spoon and his baby food. “Not at all, go for it.”

Toru gave her an apologetic expression and exited the room before answering the call.

Mateo immediately blabbered, eyeing his food in her hand. “Okay, okay,” Y/n giggled quickly feeding him. “Yummy, right?” He smiled, showing his gummy smile. “Goodness, you’re so cute, Mateo!”

Y/n couldn’t deny that he held a special spot in her heart. She has always been softhearted for babies in general but something about Mateo, he had her wrapped around his chubby tiny fingers.

She wiped his mouth and continued to feed him when Toru reentered the room, she could immediately sense the irritation in him even if he quickly tried to mask it with a smile. “Is everything okay?”

He hesitated but sighed, he took a seat again and wiped Mateo’s mouth. “It was the head coach for Japan’s volleyball team. He’s trying to recruit me to play for them now that I’m back in Japan.”

“You… don’t want to play anymore?” Y/n grabbed Mateo’s cup, giving him some water.

He remained silent for a few seconds before uttering a quiet, “no.” He inhaled sharply, looking at her before continuing, “with the piano, do you ever have moments where you question your passion? Like you’ve plateaued and don’t know where you’re going with it anymore? That’s where I’m at. I don’t know if I just don’t care for it anymore or I’ve done all that I can and I’m ready to start something new now.” Toru lets out a chuckle, “I never thought there would be a day I would say that,” he looked over at Mateo, reaching over to brush his hair, “until this little guy came along. I want to spend as much time as possible with him because I know how hectic it’ll be if I continue to play professionally.”

Y/n nodded, understanding him. “I feel the same way too.”

Toru’s eyes locked with hers, “about your career?” She nodded to his question.

“For a few months now, I’ve been stuck in limbo contemplating what I want to do with my career now. I was blessed to play alongside some of the greatest and most amazing musicians and traveled for my career,” her voice paused as if she was reminiscing on old memories. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

Toru nodded, “that’s exactly what I feel too, got to play for an international team and traveled, played professionally… what more do I want or can I do now?”

“Do you feel like… you just need a break? A breather?”

“Yes,” Toru answered with a smile, understanding exactly what she meant. “To be clear, I’m not saying I’m done with volleyball, I think I just need a break like you said. A long break.”

Y/n looked over at Mateo who was blowing bubbles, she smiled lovingly at him before looking at Toru. “Well, if you’re looking for a sign to take one, I’ll be the sign. I give you permission to take a long break, Oikawa Toru.”

Toru’s eyes water as he looks down, chuckling. “Why are you always making me cry, Y/n?”

Y/n’s eyes widen, “don’t cry! I’m not making fun of you, I promise!”

He shook his head, looking up and wiping his tears away. “No, I know you’re not making fun of me, it’s just… you’ve been saying everything that I just need to hear and it’s so relieving. So, thank you. Thank you for giving me permission to take a break.”

. .

Toru came out of the men’s bathroom shortly after he entered and looked at Y/n with a face she couldn’t quite decipher.

“That was… a fast diaper change,” Y/n’s tone was filled with half sarcasm and amusement.

Toru made a face, “I’m really sorry to ask this but the men’s bathroom doesn’t have a changing table…”

“Ah,” Y/n reached for the diaper bag and took Mateo, “come on, Teo – let’s go change your poopy diaper.”

“Thank… you…” he watched the two of them march and disappear into the women’s bathroom happily.

His heart raced with a mixture of emotions. Gratitude welled up within him, an unspoken appreciation for Y/n’s boundless kindness and loving heart. Each passing day seemed to deepen his feelings for her, as he found himself falling for her even more.

Toru knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t resist letting the scenarios in his mind play out temporarily. Observing how wonderfully Y/n interacts with Mateo, he couldn’t help but envision the possibility of them forming a small, loving family.

He doesn’t have the heart to admit how he has been longing to complete his little family and he knows Y/n means no harm by it but he couldn’t help but just wonder… how does she feel?

Will she be willing?

Can she see a future with him and Mateo?

He knows he’s getting ahead of himself and he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t have such expectations. He should just be thankful that Y/n wants to associate herself with them.

“What?...” Toru mumbled when he felt the ground beneath his feet began to tremble. His balance wavered as he swiftly realized that an earthquake was occurring at the very moment.  

Screams and shouts echoed around him as he scanned his surroundings. Cars had come to a halt, and buildings were shaking violently. The tremors beneath his feet intensified, causing windows to shatter and fall from various directions.

“Y/n!” Toru shouted, deftly avoiding falling debris and frantic people in his rush to reach the women’s bathroom. “Y/n!” he cried out, as a group of women inadvertently surged past him in their haste to exit the restroom. Amid the chaos, he was jostled and pushed back from the women’s bathroom, but he stood firm and pressed onward, still shouting, “Y/n!”

“Toru!” He heard Y/n’s scream, “Toru, we’re still inside!”

With no time to spare, he rushed into the bathroom, pushing aside any concern. He advanced further until he turned the corner, where he discovered Y/n hurriedly trying to get Mateo off the small changing table. He swiftly collected Mateo’s belongings and stuffed them into the backpack. “We have to leave quickly,” he urged.

“I think it’s safest to remain here, the walls are cemented and there’s no windows.” She pressed Mateo close to her chest, a protective hand over his head. She looked down at the changing table, “this table is large enough to cover us, we should get under it.”

Toru nodded and followed Y/n who scrambled underneath the table, securing Mateo tightly in her arms.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. It’s okay,” she whispered soothingly as he started to cry. She pulled him tighter in her embrace, murmuring soothing words to calm him.

Toru’s arms enveloped them protectively, drawing them close as the ground shook even more violently than before. Dust and other debris began falling from the ceiling. The lights in the bathroom flickered and then, with a final quiver, lost their connection.

It was the longest few minutes of their lives holding their breath and praying for the earthquake to pass.

The ground had finally grown still, no longer quaking.

“Is it over?” Y/n whispered, her breath unsteady. She looked down at Mateo who calmed down and suckled his pacifier, staring back at her with wide eyes.

A light illuminated the closed-in bathroom as Toru turned on his flashlight on his phone. He looked at Y/n and Mateo before letting out a sigh of relief. “I think so.” He held his phone up, “I don’t have any signal.”

“Cellular towers must be down too,” Y/n shifted Mateo in her arms and gazed at the baby, “are you okay?” Having no clue what he had just gone through, he spat out his pacifier before smiling brightly at Y/n’s words, his dimples appearing on his chubby cheeks. Her heart melted and leaned to kiss his cheek. Her eyes widened for a split second, realizing what she had just done in front of Toru, and blushed, thankful they were still surrounded by the darkness. “We should… probably wait until they give us the green light to leave, we might be best staying here for now.”

Toru sighed and rolled his neck. “Yeah, I agree.” He reached over and let Mateo wrap his chubby fingers around his, “you are a trooper, not even realizing you just experienced your first earthquake.”

“It’s a story we’ll need to tell him later,” Y/n remarked.

Hearing her say ‘we’ll need to tell him later’ caused Toru’s heart to swell to the point of almost bursting. Those were simple words, but they filled him with hope that maybe she would continue to be part of their lives. He smiled as he watched his son burst into laughter while Y/n made funny noises and tickled him.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before uttering the words he’d been dying to say. “I love your interactions with my son.”

Y/n turned her head, eyes wide before she smiled at him, “it’s hard to not adore him, Toru. I enjoy spending time with you two but I hope you don’t think I’m trying to evade your privacy or boundaries. I do – don’t want you to think I’m trying… to be his mother…”

“Can I be completely honest with you?” Toru murmured, gently tucking her bangs behind her ear. When Y/n nodded her head, he smiled warmly. “You are the most incredible female figure Mateo has ever had, and you’ve never crossed any boundaries or invaded our privacy. In fact, I’m sure Mateo agrees with me that we both would love for you to spend more time with us.” He swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. “I just want you to know… and I hope what I’m about to say won’t scare you away because I don’t know what Mateo and I would do if you no longer want anything to do with us anymore but I can’t keep it to myself any longer, but God, Y/n, you have no idea how much I wish you were his mother.”

Mateo squealed loudly as if he understood and agreed with his father.

Y/n adverted her gaze momentarily, clearing her throat. “I once heard a quote: ‘Every child deserves a parent, but not every parent deserves a child,’” she began. Then, she turned her gaze back to Toru. “I won’t deny that what you just said caught me off guard, but it certainly didn’t frighten me.” Her eyes met his, silently conveying that she shared his sentiments. “To be completely honest also, I’ve been longing for a child for a few years now,” she admitted. She shifted her focus to Mateo and playfully wiggled his arms. “That’s partly why I lost my passion for the piano. I didn’t exactly know how I was going to make it happen, but…” she chuckled, feeling a rush of embarrassment. “Let’s just say I’ve been on the baby-fever bandwagon for quite some time, and meeting Mateo… it truly was a blessing.”

Toru shifted, sitting with his back against the wall and staring off into the darkness. “It goes both ways, Y/n. You are a blessing to Mateo and me.” He reaches towards Mateo, who instantly grabs a hold of one of his fingers. “I – I was wondering… are you… seeing someone?”

It took Y/n a few seconds before she answered, “no, I’m not. That man you saw the other day was Woojin. He’s also a musician, and that’s how we became acquainted. But that was the last time I’ll be seeing him, we decided to go our ways.”

A small smile appeared on Toru’s lips, his heart was going through all sorts of emotions but at this moment, it was warm hearing Y/n confirm she was not seeing anyone.

“What about you, Toru?” Y/n inquired, “are you seeing someone?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I am not seeing anyone.” His breath trembled and his heart raced as his mind screamed at him, here’s your chance. “Although… I do want to get to know someone.” He glanced at Y/n to see her reaction before continuing, “if I should be so bold as to ask, are you open to seeing someone, Y/n?”

Y/n’s breath quickened, and her heart raced as her mind grappled with how to respond to him. She couldn’t deny that over the past few weeks since she’d met Toru and Mateo, she imagined and daydreamed about what life with them could be like. She also couldn’t deny that after she heard about Lucia, she had secretly wished she could have been the one to carry and give birth to Mateo, the sweet boy in her arms. The idea of considering a man who already had a child with a previous partner had never crossed her mind before, but in this situation, with Toru and Mateo, she realized she wouldn’t mind at all.

She cast him a shy glance, her cheeks tinged with a rosy hue. “If I’m allowed to be as bold as you,” she replied with a hesitant smile, “and if it’s you, then yes, I’d be open to seeing you.” She is immediately hit with the idea that she might have misunderstood his question and she quickly adds rashly, “oh my goodness, I just totally assumed you were referring to… you and I… I’m so emba – “

Her sentence was abruptly interrupted as Toru gently pressed his lips against hers, hushing her words. He gave her lips two tender pecks before pulling back, his gaze fixed on her rosy lips before meeting her eyes. “I’m referring to you and me,” he whispered.

“Toru,” Y/n whispered.

“Yes?”

“Kiss me again.”

His lips curved into a boyish grin before he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers softly. His hand comes to cup her face, taking it slow…

Toru’s breath hitched with Y/n’s mouth shifted and her tongue teased at his lower lip before he smirked and met her eagerness. He did not peg Y/n as one to take the lead in a kiss but he wasn’t going to complain if she preferred it. Cool chills ran down his spine as Y/n let out a soft moan against his mouth and all he could think about was how he wanted to hear more of it.

The moment was interrupted by their phones dinging with a notification informing them of the status of the aftermath. Seconds later, the lights in the bathroom flickered on.

Y/n was the first to pull away and Toru chuckled at the annoyed and slightly disappointed expression that briefly crossed her face. She then quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks flushed with a blush.

Mateo cooed, reminding the two adults that he was still present. He suckled his fingers, drooling everywhere.

Toru playfully poked his son’s cheek, “sorry son, didn’t mean to make you the third wheel.”

.

Upon their return home, they found the apartment building’s management making announcements. They explained that the external structure of the building had not suffered any damage, but this assessment did not extend to the interior structure. Each unit would undergo inspection to ensure it met safety requirements.

As soon as the three stepped out of the elevator, Mateo was sound asleep in Toru’s arm.

“That was quite a day,” Y/n remarked, shifting her weight onto her heels. “Get some rest, and I’ll catch up with you…”

“On a date. I’m going to take you on a date, is that all right?” Toru finished her sentence for her.

Y/n nodded her head, a bright smile on her face. “I’d love that.”

“You go in first.” He jutted his chin towards her door, “have a good night.”

Y/n walked backward, maintaining eye contact with him until she gently bumped into the door. “Good night,” she whispered before disappearing into her unit.

She dreaded the idea of finding her place in disarray after the earthquake but to her surprise, when she reached the living room, only a few items lay scattered on the ground. Her piano was not a concern; she had it secure in place specifically for situations like earthquakes, and there was nothing near it that could have caused damage.

She tossed her purse on the couch and turned her heels to head for the kitchen when she froze and turned her heels 180 degrees.

Her hand covered her mouth as she muttered, “oh my gosh…”

A big portion of the thin wall that separated her unit from Toru had completely collapsed, and as Y/n stood there in shock, she met Toru’s mirrored expression of surprise.

. . .

E/n: Will be back to edit.

@queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy @rukia-uchia-98 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @anejuuuuoy @tooruchiiscribs @mommyourcall420 @haikyuubiggestsimp @lilguycoded @random-734 @ghostlyneckoaftoad @abcde12345 @shotenvinsoot @princess-sunshyn @anonymoussimper @junglewoos

[powdermelonkeg]

BotW: Where is Everything?

Breath of the Wild includes the most expansive map in Zelda history, with references to locations in other games, as well as trying to pack in as many areas of interest as possible.

But this is Hyrule, right? Other games were supposed to take place here too.

So where’s each game take place?

Keep in mind, there are going to be a few liberties taken here.

The Legend of Zelda

We have our first map here. Above it is Death Mountain, in the center are two lakes with isles in them, to the right is the sea, and up in the top right is the beginning of a curly shape.

So, I would place it about here.Death mountain is a little bit too off center, but the Zeldevs basically stretch the map however they please when they make new games, so I’ll let it slide.

Zelda II: Adventure of Link

We have a maze island in the middle of the ocean, and two landmasses surrounded by water, with Death Mountain in the bottom left.

The water has DEFINITELY receded a bit, but the maze and Death Mountain line up, while Bloodleaf Lake gives us some insight into maybe a flooded Hyrule.

A Link to the Past/A Link Between Worlds

Death Mountain, this time, is in the upper right, with a waterfall leading down from it. Meanwhile, we’ve got the Lost Woods to the upper Left, an island surrounded by water in the middle, and a lake in the bottom right with high mountains surrounding it.

This one was a LOT harder to figure out, and things have shifted quite a bit. But we’ve got Death Mountain and the Lost Woods at the top, the island with the river connecting it to a lake, and the desert of mystery. I put a village there because we DO have the park ruins with the statue, and there’s a statue in the center of Kakariko

Minish Cap

I struggled with Minish Cap for awhile, because of the existence of Mt Crenel and Minish Woods.

Because those have equivalents in BotW

But if we say that Minshi Woods is the same as Minish Woods, we get something like this:

This is...weird at best, and it cuts out the swamp in the bottom left.

On the other hand, if we keep Crenel as the constant and ignore Minshi Woods:

We get something that works a little bit better.

Four Swords

Four Swords was harder than it looks.

The forest and the mountains, easy enough. But that water area? There isn’t really anything like it.

I eventually decided on this:

Thundra Plateau was my best bet for a “water realm,” since it rains all the time, and it has plenty of steep rock formations to match.

Maps are confusing.

Four Swords: Adventures

MUCH easier was Four Swords’ sequel.

Because, ignoring the ocean, it’s a pretty easy fit for the lower half of Hyrule.

Ocarina of Time

Ocarina’s also a relatively easy fit. I think BotW was made with it in mind.

Wind Waker/Phantom Hourglass

Wind Waker, on the other hand? Much harder.

It’s just a bunch of mountains, right? Hyrule’s full of those!

Well, yes, but BotW ALSO includes a location for Phantom Hourglass to take place.

So you’d have to get Wind Waker WITHOUT touching Phantom Hourglass.

This is the best you can do with that, because you’re not only confined to high points, but the only thing actually recognizable is Death Mountain, now Dragon Roost.

And you already know where Phantom Hourglass is.

Twilight Princess

Ah, Twilight Princess, the game neglected by the Zeldevs in charge of BotW, who only tossed in a reference to Arbiter’s Grounds and called it good.

The weird thing abut this map is the placement of Zora’s Domain; not only is that weird for BotW, but it’s basically in no other game ever; MAYBE they were referencing the waterfall in Zelda 1 when they made it.

Anyways.

We can’t place Zora’s Domain on this mam properly, but we DO get a nice addition of Snowpeak, AND a good high bridge over Lake Hylia with a steep cliff separating Gerudo.

Spirit Tracks

Spirit Tracks’ locations are weird. We’re TOLD they aren’t the Hyrule Wind Waker left behind, but...

Again we’ve got a volcano in one corner and snowy peaks in another. My guess is that this is Hyrule’s northmost point starting to recede?

If we had just ONE other volcano, this would be much easier.

I’d like to reiterate that this is very much an approximation, and I’m not entirely satisfied with it. But the land spot at the southern center of the Spirit Tracks map DOES look a lot like Mt Crenel.

Skyward Sword

Finally, Skyward Sword.

Absolutely the most forgiving map of all of them, because these locations could be ANY distance apart from each other, with nothing in the center that HAS to be there.

We also get bonus points because in Faron Woods, there’s the Spring of Courage

Which looks suspiciously like Skyview Spring

As well as the Spring of Power

Which looks like the Earth Spring.

Anyways, maps hurt my brain.

[pemfrost]

For the bingo what about spideydevil hogwarts AU . Good luck on your bingo!!

Thank you if you do it.

Thanks for the prompt :D

So, this is like 3 times longer than I wanted to make these bingo fics lmao. Oops 🤷‍♀️. It still could use some polishing, but I'm terrified that Peter will find another plot thread if I poke at it anymore.

Bingo fic 1/?

As much as he devoted himself to studying, Peter could not bring himself to care about Divination. The whole class reminded him of cringe inducing hacks he'd seen on t.v. growing up. Except, no one was jumping out with hidden footage to debunk it. Everything appeared hollow: randomness assigned meaning. And, while Peter didn't often procrastinate, he found it harder and harder to work on his Divination homework the more weeks that passed. 

There was one silver lining, though. Another student, one he'd held a torch for from afar, was in the class with him. That too, turned out to be hollow and meaningless until today. Despite having a class together, Peter still had no real reason to approach Matt. However, he stumbled into the opportunity in his usual Parker way: completely on accident. 

His procrastination on his Divination assignments reached a plateau, and, despite his ability to work quickly under pressure, Peter was late to class. When he'd finally made it -ten minutes late and scribbling the last lines on his essay- he'd thought the repercussion would be a lecture. Or detention. The usual stuff Hogwarts professors liked to through his way.

Instead, the professor welcomed him to class in her airy way and quietly assigned him a partner for the project she was currently guiding the class through. "Ah, Mr. Murdock, please join Peter for the remainder of class." 

By stoke of luck, Matthew Murdock had been an unlucky third wheel in another group, and made no fuss about changing seats. His usual partner was in the infirmary; the exact cause was the subject of many rumors. Peter was rather fond of the theory that Foggy was involved in a fight with the group of slytherins who often tired to bully Matt, but anyone involved was keeping their lips zipped tight. 

It wasn't a glamorous impression, but Peter was thankful for the opportunity. 

"Do you know what you're doing?" Matt crossed his ankle over his knee and leaned back in the cozy chair across from Peter. He nodded to the steaming cup of tea in front of him, raising an eyebrow. 

Peter nodded, then mentally kicked himself and verbally answered, "Yeah. I read over the basics last night." 

It was a basic tea leaf reading, and the set up was quite straightforward. The professor was kind enough to provide hot water and a selection of tea leaves at each table. Though, she did note they would have a better reading with their own supplies. 

"Good. I started my tea already, so you can read mine while yours-"

"Mr. Murdock." The professor tapped the cup in front of him with her wand. "You must start over. The leaves are easier for your partner to interpret when they are brewed just for them." With a flick of her wand, his cup was replaced with an empty one and she glided off towards another set of students. 

Matt sighed and reached for the tea selection, deftly selected Earl Grey and pinched a healthy amount of leaves into his cup. Peter followed suit, choosing one at random without reading the labels.

"Don't you care for tea?" Matt's gaze was slightly to the left of where Peter sat, his face not giving away his thoughts. 

"I do, I'm just not picky." His pulse quickened. This was the most they'd spoken in years. He watched Matt's hands as he poured the hot water into their cups, tracing the calluses earned from long hours in the greenhouse. 

"Now we wait." Matt sat the pot back to the side of the table and leaned back in his chair. 

The tea would need to steep for at least three minutes. There were many things to do during that time to ensure a good reading, or so the professor said. Holding the cup and thinking about what you wanted the leaves to tell you seemed like a good option, but Peter really didn't believe in fortune telling enough to meditate over his tea. Another method was to talk to the person who was going to do your reading. And the third, and one Matt seemed keen on, was to silently wait and let what happens happen. 

In Peter's opinion, silence was something to be broken

"Uh," Peter shifted nervously as watched the steam rise from his cup, "how is Foggy? That was a hell of a match last night, shame he missed it."

"He's fine." Matt's voice was flat. "He should be discharged in time for dinner."

"That's… good to hear." Peter eyed him nervously. Matt was a year ahead of him and in a different house, meaning they had very few direct interactions. Yet, Peter knew a good amount about him. Or, rather, he knew what the Daily Prophet said and what he'd observed with his own eyes didn't always match and had drawn his own conclusions. 

Coming from a muggle family meant Peter had very little frame of reference for most things, and he could only try to compare having an Auror as a father to having one who was a cop. Matt was a third year when his father was targeted by a group of dark wizards and Matt was caught in the crossfire. 

Peter, always in search of knowledge, desperately wanted to know which curse caused Matt to lose his vision, and which spells gave him a sense of the world around him. As far as he could tell there was no braille equivalent in the Wizarding World. He didn't ask, of course. He had more sense than that, even in the pursuit of knowledge. He wanted to know Matt first, because he seemed like a cool -and handsome- guy.

Even if he was callous enough to just ask, it wasn't like he had many opportunities to do so. This was actually their first class together in Peter's six years at Hogwarts- and would be the only one since Matt would be graduating in a few months. 

Despite having no real social interactions, Peter was well aware of Matt, and would have been even if his story wasn't in the papers for months. The very first time Peter stepped foot into Hogwarts, he was so enthralled with the majesty and magic of the castle -- until he spotted Matt. It was silly, and, even though Peter couldn't name the sensation back then, that moment stuck with him. 

Peter had read everything he could prior to entering Hogwarts, dreading being behind his peers who grew up in the Wizarding World. His heart was set on Ravenclaw, drawn in by the lure of knowledge and like-minded students. That was until he locked eyes with Matt from across the hall and, for a brief moment, yearned to be adorned in red and gold. Reason won, and he was proud to be sorted into Ravenclaw. But, part of him always wondered. 

"Thank you." Matt's voice jolted him from his reminiscing. 

Peter wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve thanks, so he deflected with a joke. "Hey, I'd be thankful too if someone rescued me from the 'Dream Couple'. More like 'Most Annoying Couple'." He tapped his index finger on the table towards students Matt was originally teamed with, rolling his eyes at how closely they sat together.

A small chuckle escaped Matt and Peter's chest puffed with pride. Matt was such a serious person, he hardly ever smiled or laughed, and then it was almost exclusively with Foggy. 

"For that, too, I suppose. I meant to thank you for being the only person in this class… probably the school… who hasn't ask me… about… it."

Oh. Peter looked away, embarrassed by how many questions he truly wanted to ask while simultaneously reeling from the fact Matt apparently paid enough attention to notice. "It's not my business. Besides, there's way more things I'd like to pick your brain about."

Matt raised an eyebrow, "Like?"

Peter opened his mouth to list off a litany of botany questions, but was cut off before he managed a single syllable. The professor stared down at them, "It's been long enough, time to drink your tea, be sure to do your rotations. Read the leaves immediately, take notes on your findings before looking up their meanings. Then, give your reading to your partner. Ideally, you will know each common symbol by heart by the end of the term, but for now use your books."

They dropped the conversation, following her instructions and downing their tea. Peter was pleased with his random choice, noting hints of citrus. 

"Here," he pushed his empty cup towards Matt. As he took Matt's cup, he wondered how Matt would read his leaves, but didn't ask. 

Peter peered into Matt’s cup, trying to find patterns in the chaos of leaves. Eventually, his eyes focused on the task and he could make out what he thought were symbols. He wrote down his list and set the cup and notebook on the table. 

Across from him, Matt was focused on Peter's cup. He ran his wand over it, then his hand, then with a flick of his wand his quill automatically made a note. 

"You'll have to teach me that sometime," Peter said before he could stop himself. 

Matt paused, lips pursed.

Peter continued, "If I could direct my quill to write, it would save a lot of time when I'm trying new potion ingredient substitutes. The constant starting and stopping to note every step and change I make is such a juggle."

"That's pretty dangerous," Matt said with an amused lilt to his voice. "Though, I suppose teaching you that would make it slightly more safe."

"Yea, it would be negligent for you not to," Peter's heart raced as he teased the handsome student across from him. 

"We should probably do the readings." Matt shifted, "But we'll figure out a time that we're both free, yeah?"

Peter nodded, "Yeah."

"I'll start, if that's okay."

"Uh, yeah. Did you need to look up your symbols? 'Cuz I have no idea what some of these mean."

Matt heaved a large reference book into his lap, "I'm doing it on the fly. Let's see…" He waved his wand over the pages and ran his index finger over the text. 

Peter didn't put much stock into fortune telling, but he was curious what Matt would read in the leaves. 

"So, your leaves are interesting. There is a small ring or letter 'O' at the top, so either a love interest is close or you have something important with someone with an 'O' name." He continued on without waiting for Peter's reaction or input, "There is a spider that spans both the present and future, which could mean you have a choice to make soon which will have a huge impact on your life. But, there is a smaller thing that could be a spider, too? So maybe you have a lot of choices to make?"

Peter shrugged. The close love interest piqued his interest, though he was more curious what Matt would say about it. Maybe he would be given a beacon of hope, a sign that Matt noticed him too. 

"Ah, and this at the bottom! It's a very clear anchor, meaning a stable future." Matt tilted his head towards Peter, "You do not seem impressed with your reading."

"Nothing personal, I just don't think these things are more than carnival tricks and fun games."

"Fair enough," Matt chuckled and set his notes to the side, folded his arms on the table and leaned in. "Now mine."

Right, Peter had to figure out Matt's. He pulled out his own book and looked over the page of symbols. "Well, let's start with what I know without reading paragraphs of contradictory symbology. So, there is a ring -or 'O'- at the bottom and it's pretty big. Future relationship? Or someone with an 'O' name? And there is a smaller one of the same in the present."

He paused to look at his notes. "Uh… I think this is a ladder? Which means travel in your future. And a Knife in the future meaning a fight. Umm, I wrote down a snake, but it could be a worm? Which… is a bad omen or a secret enemy."

Peter glanced up at Matt, and was about to apologize for accidentally reading a bad future for him when the Professor approached their table. 

"Ah, let's take a look, then, shall we?" She gently plucked Peter's tea cup up from in front of Matt and swept her eyes over the leaves. "Oh, my. You have a small romantic notion towards someone that has lasted a while but hasn't grown into anything more. You have several challenges which will appear in the near future and your decision to take them on or ignore them will drastically shape your life. Those choices are why a lot of your future is fuzzy, but if you remain true to yourself there is great prosperity and even greater love waiting for you."

She looked over Matt's notes and pointed out the symbols he missed. Peter sighed, he was ready for the class to end. At least he had his study not-date with Matt to look forward to. 

"Let's have a look at the other one," She said as she lifted Matt's cup from where Peter set it. "You have a recent romantic notion, it is small and very new, but you will have a journey before it can grow. There are a lot of small victories in your future, but they can be overshadowed by betrayal. I see a powerful romance in the future, but it could be lost if you're not careful."

Matt seemed to hang on every word, but quickly folded his arms when the Professor finished her own reading. Was he taking it seriously? Peter made a note to ask later. There were some interesting parallels between their readings, giving Peter a sliver of hope of his feelings being returned despite the absurdity of fortune telling. 

"Overall, not bad for your first times. Keep studying, there will be a practical component to the final." With that, she drifted towards another group, leaving Peter and Matt to clean up. 

"You're a muggleborn, aren't you?" Matt wasn't looking at him, but Peter could feel the weight of his attention pinning him to his chair. "Foggy is too," Matt added quickly, "and has the same opinions on this," he waved his hand generally. 

"Ah, yea. It's a bit… "

"I get it. Don't worry, no judgment here. Still, the reading was a bit uncanny."

Peter huffed. "It's easy to assign meaning to a vague set of events."

"Is that so?" Matt tilted his head. 

"We're teens, so it's not uncommon to have a crush. And everyone has a journey at some point, or choices to make. That's life. And it's not unusual to get married later in your life."

"True." He calmly began to clean the table. A swish of his wand and his cup was clean. "So, you do not deny liking someone."

Well, that was unexpected. Peter sputtered, searching for a string of words to put together as his pulse raced. "I- well- that's- I-"

Matt had the audacity to laugh at him, and the sound alone was almost enough to make Peter's embarrassment worth it. Almost. "Why so embarrassed, I thought it wasn't uncommon?"

Peter busied himself with clearing his side of the table. "So, you're not denying it yourself?" He leaned into the hope the conversation sparked, imagining his feelings being returned. Tea leaves be damned, Peter made his own fate, and if he was given the chance there was no amount of future-telling that could ruin what he felt for Matt.

Their conversation dropped when the professor requested everyone's attention for a short lecture before the end of class. It was important information they would need for their test, but Peter's attention drifted to Matt. By the upward tilt of Matt’s lips, he was well aware of Peter's distraction. 

There was a flurry of activity after class, and Peter didn't have any chance to speak with him further. However, Matt was true to his word and sought Peter out over the weekend. The weather was fair, creating the perfect opportunity to study together outside and away from the prying eyes of their classmates. They found a shaded area and set up their makeshift study session under the shade of a tree.

"I think I got it." Peter waved his wand over a fresh piece of parchment, whispering the spell Matt taught him. The tree bark dug into his back, and Matt’s cologne was distracting, but he could feel the tingle of the spell working. His quill sprung to work, jotting down a few lines of potion ingredients before sputtering out and falling to the page. As it rolled to the side, he sighed and leaned his head against the tree. 

"It takes practice to keep it writing longer, but you've done more than I expected for your first lesson. You really are every bit the genius they say."

"People talk about me?" Peter was top of his class, but he didn't think his grades warranted discussion with the 7th years. 

Matt shrugged and knocked his shoulder into Peter's. "I may have asked around."

Peter's heart somersaulted. "Oh? What, uh, else did 'they' say?"

"That you're a smart ass."

Peter nodded and leaned towards Matt, "Go on."

"Peter…" Matt's breath ghosted over his cheek sending a thrill up his spine. 

"Matt…" Peter continued forward, gently pressing his lips against Matt's. For a brief moment, Matt pressed back; then suddenly there was a large distance between them. 

Peter's lips felt cold. 

"Sorry. I-"

"Don't be, I-I kissed you." Peter fumbled to put his quill and notebook into his bag. "I thought-"

"Peter." Matt's voice was soft, unsure. "It wouldn't be fair to you."

Peter stared down at his notes, trying to make sense of what Matt was saying. 

"I graduate in a few months." He held up a hand when Peter started to protest, "and I've just been accepted into a school in Germany. I leave right after graduation to get a head start with their summer law program."

"But-"

"We would have an expiration date, Peter." Matt's eyes were closed. There was a rigidness to his posture which made Peter suspect there was more he wasn't saying. 

"Ok. Then just friends."

Matt inhaled sharply, like he hadn't expected Peter's reaction. "Friends. Yea, I'd like that."

With that, they settled into a rhythm for the rest of the school year. Studying together when time allowed, ignoring the tension between them whenever they accidentally touched. Whenever the tightness in his chest returned, Peter reminded himself of their tea readings and imagined a future where they shared a happy ending.

----

Woo, thanks for reading!

There is a part two I'm working on where they reunite as professors several years later. I actually started that first then switched gears when Peter made a reference to their past. Hopefully I'll finish it soon so it's not so much of a cliffhanger lol. 

[salemorbit]

In The Beginning...

[Link x genderneutral!Reader]

warnings: none! maybe fear of heights

~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the beginning, there was a voice.

Link's eyes fluttered open as the sound echoed in his head. He wiggled his fingers as the voice got louder.

"....Link....Link...."

Slowly, he sat up. Warm water dripped away from his body as several joints cracked with the movement. He inhaled deeply, looking around the room.

The voice in his head seemed to be just that: in his head. Like his conscience, but...different. It instructed that he get up, look at the tablet on the far left of the room, pick it up, start his journey.

As Link went through the motions, he eventually made it out of the cavern that he had been in and into the sunlight. He squinted his eyes in the sun, letting them adjust slowly as he took in the land before him.

Not much was certain in this moment. Link had just woken up from a century-long nap, and now he was tasked with venturing into a world unbeknownst to his malleable brain. His memories were wiped. Was this a dream?

Link made his way down the slope, talked to the old man, learned of what he should do next. His new destination was a strange structure buried in some rock. See what happens when it interacts with his slate. Easy enough.

He had to take down some Bokoblins on the way, masterfully slicing them down with an old double axe. After the fight, Link shifted the axe in his fingers, studying the weight. Uneven. Too heavy at the head. Double the strength needed to deal effective damage. Not comfortable.

As he slid the axe onto his back, Link climbed up a small hill to continue his quest. Upon reaching the top he halted. Eyes narrowing due to distance, Link peered across the clearing to make sure he was seeing things right.

Someone was crouching around the tilted rocks, hand brushing through pebbles. The old man hadn't mentioned anyone else besides him on the Plateau.

An enemy? Link sized them up.

No, he thought, too inattentive. If they were, anyway, Link could take them. He wasn't sure where this innate confidence came from, but he seemed certain he could take them.

Gingerly stepping forward, Link approached the mysterious person. He was soon within hearing distance of their incessant muttering:

"...ground is settled too evenly for this to be a recent obstruction," you grumbled, kneeling in front of an opening to the structure. "Was it purposefully built under these rocks? How does the pedestal work? I wonder if-"

Link cleared his throat, causing you to spin around and fall onto your butt in surprise. You scrambled back quickly, shielding yourself underneath the strange structure.

"I don't have any rupees on me!" You cried. "I'm not armed! I swear!"

Link just gazed at you, eyes slightly widening. You seemed afraid. Link didn't think he was that frightening. Maybe a little bedhead from the 100-year sleep?

Link consciously smoothed the crease he formed between his eyebrows. Giving himself what he could best figure was a neutral look, Link knelt down in front of you, holding his hands up softly to show he wasn't going to draw his axe on you. You shifted after a second of silence, peering between your raised arms to see Link urging allyship.

"You're not a thief?" You gulped. Link shook his head. "How'd you get up here?"

That wasn't a question he thought you'd ask him. Not even the old man seemed to wonder that. Link looked away for a second, legitimately thinking. How did he get up here?

"Can you talk? Are you deaf?" You asked, then quickly knocked on your head softly. "No, idiot, of course he's not deaf. He answered a question."

Link smiled softly, standing up and offering you a hand. You took it hesitantly, letting him strangely easily hoist you up. As you dusted yourself off, you looked him up and down cautiously. He sure didn't look the muscly type. This guy was just as tall as you, if not a little shorter. How could he handle such a big axe with such a lean frame? Dozens of questions dotted your mind, but he didn't seem like the talking type. Instead, he lifted something from his hip and gestured toward the structure behind you.

Your mouth dropped in a quiet gasp, gawking at the tablet he held in his hands. You knew those markings. You'd seen that before in the old books...

"How'd you get a Sheikah Slate?" You asked, ungraciously tearing it from his hands. You flipped it all around in your palms, furrowing your eyebrows as you ran your fingers over the carvings and tapped the sides harshly. Link just blinked at you, still registering the snatch, when you looked back up at him. Immediately you realized your rudeness, apologizing profusely and shoving the slate back into his hands.

"Excuse that, I've been traveling alone for some time," you said sheepishly, folding your hands behind your back upon returning the slate. "I guess I forgot my manners. The question still stands, though."

Link glanced up at you then raised his finger to point up toward the mountain you wanted to check out later. You tilted your head slightly. Did he live up there?

"The cave," he said, bringing his hand back down to his side. The first two words he spoke to you brought a smile to your face. His voice was a bit crackly, probably from not talking to many people himself, but serene.

"The cave. I was going to check up there later, maybe you could show me around?"

Link gestured again toward the structure behind you, ignoring the question. You nodded, eagerly stepping aside so he could move toward the pedestal. You followed slightly behind, wondering what he could possibly do to the structure that you hadn't tried for the last week you'd been on the Great Plateau.

Link took a few looks between the slate and the top of the pedestal before slowly setting the slate flat on the top of the pedestal. An orange glow flashed from the pedestal, making you gasp again and rush over to see the situation closer.

"....Watch out for falling rocks," you read slowly. You and Link shared a look before the platform you were standing on shook like an earthquake was splitting the Plateau. You stumbled and grabbed on to the pedestal, Link widening his stance so as not to topple over himself.

The entire structure ascended where you stood, carrying you and Link skyward. The top of the structure broke through the rocks it had previously been buried under, not stopping its pierce into the sky until you were well above the ground. At some point you had shut your eyes out of fear; heights were never your thing.

When the shaking finally stopped, Link tapped on your shoulder gently. You cracked open one eyelid, still gripping onto the pedestal with white knuckles. You gulped thickly, looking up at Link with your legs shaking.

"Is it done? Did we die?"

Link shook his head, pointing out toward the edge. You really didn't want to let go of the pedestal, but your curiosity got the better of you. With knobbly knees, you slowly walked near the edge of the platform that had risen from the ground.

The entirety of Hyrule Kingdom was laid out before you, almost making you forget how goddamn high up you were. The view was breathtaking, even higher than the edge of the Great Plateau, but the wind howled in your ears and reminded you where you were.

"Goddess above, I hate heights!" You yelped, falling to your knees in an attempt to be closer to the ground. How the platform rose, you didn't know. How you were going to get down, you painstakingly also didn't know.

You were stuck.

"It's a tower," came Link's voice, strong over the wind. "What goes up must come down."

His words did little to reassure you as you nervously nodded. Noticing your intense distress, Link knelt down next to you and lifted one of your arms.

"I don't know who you think you are, mystery man," you warned, though it came out weakly due to your fear, "but I will not let you take me to any secondary location."

Link chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I can help you down."

"Goddess, no."

"I can-"

"I've decided to live the rest of my life up here, thank you very much. There will be no helping down of any kind. I either die up here or die getting down, and I've had enough dreams of falling to know that's not the way I want to go out."

A few more moments of coaxing later, and somehow you had agreed to place your life in the hands of a spindly stranger on top of the highest thing you had ever let yourself be on top of. Screwing your eyes shut, you clung onto Link as he guided you down the sides of the tower, trying so desperately not to let the whistling wind psych you out.

Soon enough, you felt the ground at your feet. Collapsing almost immediately, you melodramatically lay your face on the ground and muttered thankful prayers to the Goddess. Link watched, an amused look on his face, as you finally stood up and turned to thank him.

"I owe you one," you said stiffly, avoiding his laughing gaze. "How about you stick around and I cook you some dinner? I know a pretty good steamed meat recipe."

At the mention of food, Link's stomach grumbled loudly. This eased the tensions a tad, you smiling gladly at his turn to be embarrassed. A red tint appeared on his ears as he placed a hand on his stomach.

"I'll take that as a yes."

~~~~~~~~~

wooooooohoooooo first fic comin at you full force!! nothing too intense or fluffy or anything. just trying to get a read for how it feels to write in this format.

requests are welcome! :))

[chews-erotically]

Waxing Gibbous 

Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader

Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY 

      * Warnings: Angst, illness 

      * Summary: You must find your way off of the Green as the toxic effects of your environment finally take hold.

      * Word Count: ~1400 or so

*Part ONE* *Part TWO* *Part THREE* *Part FOUR* *Part FIVE*

PART SIX

     Time moved on the Green like a boulder rolling down a hill, careening quickly with a wicked force of gravity until it reached one of many plateaus or stop-gaps, and it then it. Crawled. 

    Your perception of time often depended on what was happening on any given day, and increasingly you grew weary and felt the drag of days like a weight of sand around your shoulders. You grew restless.

    Each day melted into another, hot and mundane. You began to yearn for your escape, to turn over the ramifications of having to stay over in your mind like a gruesome obsession. You tried to keep it down, swallow your despair. It wouldn’t help anything to complain, to wring your hands and wail over the unfairness of your circumstances. You were stranded here and that was that. You tried to keep your head down, eyes forward, and slog through each day as it stretched into a dull eternity. 

    Ezra was nothing if not perceptive. He would softly comment on the mournful gaze that would cross your face and cloud your eyes. How it was agony for him, how he would do anything to take this away. You did not want to burden him, you hated that he worried about you. You would flash him as winning a smile as you could muster, but it did not reach your eyes. Your only comfort was in his arms, in the way that he’d come to you in the tent and wordlessly wrap his arms around you. Hold you so close to him, as if he were trying to absorb you, to siphon off your sadness. Sometimes he held you because he was sad too. At night, you clung to one another as if afraid you’d drift away.

    It was during one particularly hot and oppressive morning that you awoke once again alone. It happened from time to time, more often now than in the past. Ezra would awaken before the dawn, suiting up and trekking out into the Green, looking for other life, any sign of anything that could help get you gone from here. He would invariably return and remove his helmet with a heavy sigh.

    “Next time, perhaps.”

    “We’re getting low on food, Ez.”

    “I know.”

    “We can’t eat aurelac, Ez.”

    “I know.”

    “We need to come up with a contingency plan for when it happens.”

    “We will do whatever we must.”

    Something you didn’t discuss as often was the dry, hacking coughs you were developing. Your air cycler was working less efficiently, a product of unavoidable overuse. The cyclers were meant to be finite, replaced every few months. You’d taken to cleaning the filters as well as you could, but you’d had to wear your helmets while you cleaned, and those filters were beginning to fail as well.

    So when you awoke on that particular morning you were coughing so forcefully you retched. You leaned over the side of the cot and spit. It was grey. You knew now you would die here, and it would be torturous and slow. The spores would build in the sacs of your lungs until you could do nothing more than gasp weakly for each gulp of air.

    When Ezra returned, he whipped off his helmet much more forcefully than usual. He rushed to you and fell to his knees. You knew immediately something was different- his eyes were wide and wild, his hands trembled on the thin, rumpled blankets.

    “I saw a streak. In the sky. A vessel burning up on entry. Someone landed just west of here...it happened right before my eyes. We may have a spectre of hope in this hell, Dove.”

    You stared at him, eyes wide and unbelieving.

    “You…..you’re sure??”

    “I swear to you, may Kevva strike me down where I kneel. It has to be a cruiser or drop-pod by the size of the flames.”

    You reached out to grab his hand, squeezing. His eyes searched your face.

    “I’ll get dressed.”

    This was a gift, and you viewed it as such. But you knew that you both needed to be so, so careful. You did not know who these interlopers were, you did not know their intentions or the condition of their craft. Landing could be rough in the heavily forested Green, if the vessel was a smaller one, as Ezra seemed to think, it may work to your advantage. You needed to be sure.

    You quickly suited up, helmet on, filter rattling weakly. You took what you could, but you did not plan to return. The aurelac you’d harvested over the course of months was packed away to bursting in your rucksacks, and there was room for little else. You’d each grabbed some water and a few nutri-bars. You paused to sweep one last look around the tent where you’d cried, where you’d held low conversation and read and fucked. Events of the past few hours had happened so fast that your head was spinning, strangely blank. You were leaving. You were going to a means of escape or to your death. You felt calm about either option in the stillness of the morning.

    You thanked the tent silently, and you hoped it burned.

        Ezra led the way, and you started your journey. He’d estimated that you should reach your target by early afternoon.

    Your filters were connected for the time being to maximize filtration. This did not stop your unease as you watched the condensation of your breath forming against the plexi of your viewing portal. Every few minutes either Ezra or yourself would cough. It was a dry, barking sound over the static of the comlink. For the most part you remained silent and tried to stick to hand signals when a change in terrain or pace needed to be relayed between you. You had to conserve oxygen, and speaking was an undue exertion unless strictly necessary.

    You’d come upon the burned clearing a bit before Ezra’s projection, judging by the position of the anchoring planet in the sky. The vessel was indeed a cruiser, which was fortuitous in that it moved quicker and offered more stability than a pod.

    You both crouched well away from the cruiser, out of sight. Ezra held his thrower at his side, you had his blaster at your waist. You waited.

    A particularly nasty coughing fit doubled you over at one point. You coughed so long and hard that your vision began to swim, black dots sparking over the horizon of your sight.

    Ezra held onto you ensuring you would not fall over into the moss under your feet. His arm circled your shoulders. When the fit had eventually and blessedly passed his hand was rubbing firm circles into your back. His helmet knocked against yours. When you raised your eyes to his,  fear and heartbreak were plain on his face. You understood that things had progressed to the point where he could no longer hide this from you. Your chest ached and burned.

    A commotion ahead in the clearing broke the spell of your mutual despair. You both froze before turning forward towards the craft.

    The hatch was opening, there was movement from within. Eventually a platform extended to the ground below, and two figures shambled forward with a third held between them.

    They appeared to be mercenaries, holding fast to a restrained prisoner. The prisoner kicked and pulled weakly between them- they had most likely been sedated. Not enough to feel numb to the agony of suffocation, but enough to be handled without too much trouble.

    You were looking at an execution crew.

    The mercs were grunting and growling back and forth in a language you did not recognize.            

    Ezra remained frozen beside you, eyes trained ahead razor-sharp. Predatory. 

    Your hand on your blaster, you cleared your head of thought as the first waves of adrenaline started pumping through you. Slowly, so slowly, Ezra reached for you. He clasped your hand. Squeezed three times. His eyes moved to catch yours. An imperceptible nod.

    You nodded back. 

    They had to die.

    After one more impossible beat of pregnant inaction you both stood and stepped forward.

[masterjedilenawrites]

The Helmeted Hunter: Chapter 8

Boba Fett x Reader

Chapter Warnings: A “sudden sound” at the end

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >

Chapter 8: You’ll See

You'd thought by Boba's tone the planet he was taking you to would be a lot more... well, just more than this. If anything, it was more dirty and more barren and more boring than any you'd seen so far, and that included the several other desert planets now on your have-seen list.

"Where are we?" you called back up the ramp to where Boba was making final preparations before disembarking.

"Jakku."

He walked up alongside you, pausing with a hand hovering over the opposite wrist, where he usually shot out a fiber-cord to tie you up.

"I'm not going anywhere," you assured him with a smirk. "Promise."

He still seemed hesitant, but you started walking anyway. You weren't sure where to go, or why you were even on this planet, but you needed to stretch your legs and do something. You felt restless. There were so many questions without answers and potentially a whole galaxy to go through to find them. You wanted to get started right away. You wanted to come across something to help start making sense of things.

Boba fell into step beside you. There looked to be an outpost just ahead, though it wasn't the bustling station common in other places. Scraggly looking humans and other creatures that seemed rough-around-the-edges milled about here and there. They all eyed you and your companion as you made your way through them. Eventually Boba took the lead and guided you around a watering hole and back into an expanse of rolling dunes and sand.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"Well what are we even doing here?"

"You'll see."

You huffed in frustration but continued to follow the helmeted man before you. You were finding it annoying how he flip-flopped between being silent and chatty. It was almost like he just remembered he was supposed to be an intimidating bounty hunter and decided to ignore the fact he could be relaxed and friendly with you.

If traipsing through the forest terrain of Takodana had been miserable, the sand dunes you now found yourself navigating was surely hell. Once the piddly outpost had disappeared in the distance behind you, and you realized it would probably be awhile before you reached whatever destination ahead, your focus became surviving the unpredictable nature of the dunes. Stray breezes would come at random, disturbing the sand around you, causing your eyes to water and your throat to feel a perpetual tickle.

At one point you ended up tumbling down a hill and got stuck, much to your embarrassment. Boba had to slide down and help you up with a shake of his helmeted head. Sand grated uncomfortably in your clothes for the rest of the journey.

Eventually, and thankfully, said journey ended. The dunes leveled out into more of a dirt plateau, with a little tent rising up in the middle of it. Boba led you straight for it, and the man that was standing watch just outside it.

The man's skin reminded you of a mummy, shriveled and wrinkled but with a hardened look about it. He wore goggles over his eyes and protective armor on his shoulders. His fingers were decorated with various gold rings. He was stoic as the two of you approached.

"I figured you'd be the one to come for me," he said.

Boba stopped just before him, hands on his hips. You lingered behind, unsure what to make of this meeting yet.

"I don't know what you mean," Boba replied. "I'm here to see an old friend."

There was a moment of silence and then the other man burst out laughing. He clapped a hand on Boba's shoulder and pulled him in for a hug.

"Oh Fett, you haven't changed a bit!" he cackled. "Trying to pull one over on me. I'll be damned."

Boba awkwardly wiggled out of the embrace, as stiff as you'd ever seen him. You imagined he didn't experience a lot of friendly physical contact in his line of work.

"Come, come, inside before the winds pick up."

The man motioned for both of you to follow him into the tent. It really, truly was little. Once the three of you were inside, there wasn't room for much else. A cot lay rolled out in one corner, a small fire pit lay dormant in another, and the rest of the available space was littered with tarnished cups, jewels, and other items that seemed like they had once been valuable but were now just junk. You stepped among them gingerly, not sure where to position yourself in the cramped chaos.

"Do you live here?" you found yourself compelled to ask.

"Don't mind her," Boba commented as he took a seat on the cot. "She's a bit high maintenance."

Your eyebrows shot up, incredulous. What had you done that was considered "high maintenance?" You were about to ask when the other man scolded him for you.

"No, no. She is a woman of good taste."

You nodded. "Yes, thank you."

He smiled at you and extended a hand. "Hondo Ohnaka. And don't worry, my dear, this is only a temporary arrangement."

You took his offered hand and introduced yourself in return. He gave you a knowing look once he heard your name.

"So the rumors of the Empire's bounty are true." He turned to face Boba. "I would've thought if you were the one to find her, you'd have no need to come after an old pirate like me."

"As I said, I'm only here to see a friend."

Hondo seemed to be considering something, though you weren't sure what. All you knew was that a guy like Boba Fett didn't have friends, not in the true sense of the word, so whatever connection he had with this man was complicated.

"What do you mean by pirate?" you asked, hoping to gain some insight into who this man was and why you were visiting him.

"I used to lead many smugglers and thieves around the galaxy, back before the war," he explained with a wistful look in his eyes. "I'm all that's left now. I do what I can to keep the old ways alive. But it's never really the same."

His voice held a certain kind of sadness you'd heard before, by your grandparents and other elderly folk, people who'd come to realize the best part of their lives was already behind them. It broke your heart to hear such loss of hope.

"The past has a way of coming back around," Boba spoke up. "A man of your experience and expertise will always be in demand. I could use some of that myself."

Hondo stroked his chin again in contemplation. He then turned back around to face you.

"Well for starters, you can treat your bounty here with a little more respect. Poor girl doesn't even have a scarf to protect her pretty face on this mess of a planet."

He started rummaging around his piles of junk, eventually pulling up a helmet that looked a lot like the ones the Imperial soldiers had been wearing.

"For you, my dear. Go on and try it outside, make sure all the filters still work properly."

You weren't sure you knew how to do such a check, but you got the feeling Hondo was subtly asking you to give him and Boba some privacy. So you took the helmet and made your way back outside the tent, but not before stopping just outside the door to catch some of their conversation.

She's certainly the prettiest bounty you've collected, if not the most valuable. I hope you've at least acknowledged that.

What difference does that make?

What's wrong with appreciating beauty when you find it? Makes the job easier, no? Unless you find it distracting?

What's distracting is you talking about anything other than what I'm here for.

All I'm saying is you can't be all-business all the time. A bounty hunter like you, you've got to take what little joy you can get.

Which is what I'm here for. The joy of finishing a job and getting my reward.

You forced yourself to turn away. This man would certainly have information for Boba about your situation. And if he'd come up with an excuse to get you to leave for the moment, he must be shy about sharing it with anyone other than his purported friend. So you respected their privacy and settled your focus on the stormtrooper helmet now in your possession.

You played around with it for a while, first enjoying the basic safety from the elements it provided simply by putting it on, and then exploring the more specialized features. You were able to change the filtration power of the air supply, pull up environmental readings and terrain maps in your eyesight, and tap into nearby comms frequencies. You would've been content with continuing your experiments for a while longer, if it weren't for the sudden sound of a blaster firing from within Hondo's tent.

You sprinted the short distance over and threw the door open. For a split second, right before you registered what had happened inside, you considered the fact it probably wasn't a good idea to rush into a potentially dangerous situation with no weapon like this. But it was your fear that something had happened to Boba, the one somewhat-trustworthy person you could more-or-less rely on, that spurned you forward without thinking.

But you should've known it would never be Boba who would end up stunned and unconscious on the ground.

[worldlychats]

Exam 1: DELE Spanish Languages Certification - Level C1

To kick off my year of language exam studying, I figured it would be best to suss out the requirements of each of the exams I’m planning to take so I can better focus my study efforts 💪💪💪

🌟 ¿why am i doing this?

This is one exam I’ve actually been wanting to do for a long time, simply because an actual certificate that says I have an advanced level of Spanish would open many doors for me, so it’ll be my main focus for the most part of the year.

I’ve been studying Spanish since i was in high school and it’s a language that I’ve just always had a passion for learning. I carried on studying Spanish at university and ended up majoring in it and even writing my thesis about a particular linguistic feature of the language 👩‍🎓👩‍🎓👩‍🎓

all this study, plus the fact that i have been living in Spain for a while has let me develop my language skills to the point where I can communicate just about anything to just about anyone without too much trouble, despite still making a fair few grammatical errors in spontaneous speech and missing some key vocabulary 

however i feel like my skills have kinda plateaued at a B2 level, as I haven’t really felt a push to want to focus on improving my grammar, vocab and pronunciation 

u n t i l   n o w

lmao

🌟 ¿when am i gonna do it? 

If all goes to plan (i.e. pandemic permitting), I’ll take this test on the 22nd of May 2021. This is (as i worked out) 166 days before my birthday deadline which gives me plenty of time to study for the other 3 exams and it also gives me a chance to resit it before my birthday if I fail lmao

but most importantly I want to take it on this date because I want to do it while I’m still in Spain so I’m in the best possible head space/environment for it ✌️

🌟 ¿what will be on the exam? 

The exam itself is made up of 4 separate sections, each section has 2-5 tasks, and each task has 1-10 parts 🤯🤯🤯 altogether, the exam will take 4 hours to complete omg

in short, the four sections are reading, listening, writing, and speaking.

in long, the four sections are given as:

Comprensión de lectura y uso de la lengua (reading comprehension and use of language) - basically in this section I have to read given texts and write responses/answer questions about them

Comprensión auditiva y uso de la lengua (aural comprehensionn and use of language) - I answer questions to recordings of conversations 

Destrezas integradas: comprensión auditiva y expresión e interacción escritas (integrated skills: aural comprension and written expression and interaction) - I’ll be writing long form responses to reading materials

Destrezas integradas: comprensión de lectura y expresión e interacción orales (integrated skills: reading comprehension and oral expression and interaction) - first I’ll be speaking in response to a written text, then i converse with the examiner about a given theme and finally I have to hod an informal debate about a topic and eventually come to an agreement with my speaking partner

🌟 ¿what will i need to do?

in order to pass this exam i recognise i’ve got some key areas to work on for each section:

improving my vocabulary, familiarizing myself with different styles of writing and improving my reading speed and accuracy

familiarizing my self with different accents and dialectal words and phrases (any variety of Spanish could appear in the exam recordings!!)

improving my spelling and learning connecting phrases and conventions to use in formal writing 

learning more idiomatic phrases and informal expressions, improving pronunciation and accuracy of my speech (look sometimes i’m still gonna accidentally say el mano or la mapa i mean more the grammar side lmao)

annnnnnd bc that destroyed my confidence these are some things I recognise that i’m pretty good at and can keep improving:

understanding the key messages of texts!

following most conversations even if they’re on a topic i don’t know much about!

knowing where most accent marks go!

speaking without hesitation!

🌟 ¿how will i study?

look idek at this point lmao stay tuned

these last few weeks have been a bit chaotic and so i’ll give myself some time to settle into my new schedule before working out any set study plan, but for now I’ll start by looking at past/practise exams to see how i go and where my weakest points are and make note of what themes/topics are likely to appear in the exams to begin studying the relevant vocabulary. I’m also going to do a big review of all things like grammatical structures and verb conjugations, and finally, to ease myself into doing more readings, i’ll find some easier texts (such as YA novels, introductory texts to certain topics) and practise writing reviews about them 📚📚📚

at some point I’ll also try to get some one on one lessons with a tutor to further refine my skills but that will definitely have to come later

this post is super long omg so if you’ve made it this far reading thanks for sticking around 🤗🤗🤗 but honestly after writing all this out i’m pretty excited to get started studying for this exam! 

please do let me know if you’ve got any tips for studying for this type of exam - i’d love to hear your experiences!!

~ ~ ~ 384 days to go  ~ ~ ~

[antihero-writings]

Premonitions 

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Character Focus: Glen (Oswald) Baskervlle, Jack Vessalius, Vincent Nightray, Gilbert Nightray, Kevin Regnard, Oz Vessalius 

Summary: Jack, Glen, Vincent, and Gilbert thought they were going on a relaxing vacation in the mountains, but a creature from The Abyss has a bit of an adventure in store...or is it a warning? 

(Written for the Phmonth19 Tragedy Trio prompts "Wolf," "Ruins," and "Winter.")

(For those who’d like some Glen, Jack, Vince, and Gil cuteness. There's at least a little of that here, which was super fun to write. )

Notes: If you can believe it, this is actually a fic for Phmonth19! It was for the Tragedy Trio prompts "Wolf," "Ruins," and "Winter." 

I liked a lot of the prompts during Phmonth19, and wanted to find a way to use multiple simultaneously. I liked the idea, but ended up struggling with where I wanted to go with it, and having too much to do during Phmonth19, so it didn't get written then. But I liked it enough to continue it and return to it eventually.

I hope you enjoy it even so!! Please know that when you comment you are both making my entire week, and motivating me to keep writing more fics like this one!!

Premonitions

A young boy weaved in and out of the crumbling artifices, hopping down from a half-broken wall to a mossy ledge on a lower level of the ruins. It was probably a room in the past. It wasn’t now.

They’d warned him not to go in here. But if forbidding something was incentive for most kids, it was practically a command to him.

They told him it was dangerous, unsafe, that anything could fall and crush him, or crumble beneath him, not to mention that there was a sort of energy here: it infected people, made them into madmen and monsters, and if said monstrosities didn’t attack and kill you…you might just become one yourself.

As if he needed a better invitation.

Most regretfully, he hadn’t found any horrifying monstrosities yet. Just a bunch of cracked stones and sewer rats looking for corpses to clean off. Occasionally something shimmered in the dirt, but more often than not it was just a rusted piece of metal, or cracked bit of glass.

He kicked up a board to see a dagger laying there. He frowned, considering it, before picking it up, examining the details on the hilt. Might make a nice souvenir if he could manage to clean the rust off.

He couldn’t help but wonder what happened here. People said this place was dropped into the Abyss, that it had become a hole to swallow all that dared to enter. But what exactly did that mean? He’d heard of the Abyss, and the Chains that lived within, but never of anything other than sinners being dropped into it. What kind of atrocities had everyone there committed to warrant the whole city being dropped into the Abyss?

He kicked another rock, before glancing up, his red eyes widening.

A wolf sat in front of him.

He hadn’t even heard its footsteps. It just sat there on the wall above him, swishing its tail. He took a few steps back.

It was gold and ethereal, its tail long and wispy, like a gust of wind frozen into flesh. Said tail flicked back and forth. White eyes left trails in the air—like slits in a mask, only letting the golden light inside it break through the eyes—yet they held no mal intent—(he’d learned to be able to see that, to feel it, almost). It seemed intelligent.

Was this one of the monstrosities they warned him about?

His hand tightened around the dagger.

The wolf stood, but after it took a few steps forward it looked over its shoulder as if to ask “Are you coming?”

The boy took a step forward himself, to run after its disappearing tail, compelled by some inclination; he knew he ought to follow it, that it wanted to show him something.

“Kevin! Kevin!” A familiar voice called from far away. “I’ll not have you sullying the Regnard name with another one of your insolent games! If you get eaten by some Chain you’ll only have yourself to blame!”

When Kevin looked back the wolf was gone.

*****

Jack breathed deeply through his nose, as he entered the cabin, then breathed out just as noisily.

“Smell that mountain air! I just love the snow, don’t you? I always feel like something’ amazing is going to happen!”

Glen rolled his eyes, dropping their bags—(which Jack had made him carry inside, citing the fact that he was carrying Vincent).

“Say, Jack…” the boy sitting on his shoulders spoke, “do you think we’ll see the northern lights up here?”

“I don’t know! …What do you think, Glen?”

“Probably not.”

“Aww!” Vincent pouted, bumping his fist on Jack’s head.

“Ow!” Jack reacted in an over exaggerated way.

“Eh! I’m sorry!”

When Jack had found out about the cabin the Baskervilles owned in the mountains he knew it would be the perfect place to spend a few days relaxing and playing in the snow—and what better way to remember how to have fun than to bring Gilbert and Vincent along?

When Jack brought up this idea, Glen had blatantly refused. Ever the responsible leader, Glen didn’t take vacations from his duties. But lately he had started having conversations with the rose bushes, and everyone agreed he could stand a few days off.

Glen was just starting to unpack their stuff when—

“You guys want to go sledding?” This was Jack’s voice, of course.

It was a resounding “yes,” from the kids, complete with jumping up and down and shouting.

“We just arrived,” Glen grunted. “Wasn’t the point of this trip to relax?”

“And what better way to relax then hurling yourself down a snowy mountain on a thin piece of wood?”

Glen blinked. “Reading.”

Jack grabbed his arm, pulling him out into the snow. “Don’t be such a fuddy duddy. Come on!”

Glen glared at his friend as he promptly dragged him off into the snow.

Soon they were flying up to the tallest hill they could find on Raven, then, after they successfully reached the top, they proceeded to push each other down it on sleds, with much giggling and whooping (from everyone except Glen). When they reached the bottom, they would fly back up on Glen’s chains—(who seemed to enjoy the show).

At one point, a little while into the festivities, Vincent was waiting for his turn when something in the corner of his eye flickered. He turned to see in the woods, behind a tree, a creature.

Vincent froze when he met the wolf’s gaze, a shiver running up his spine, more than just the cold, his face twisting in fear.

“What’s wrong, Vince?” Jack put a hand on his shoulder, glancing from the terrified boy to the empty air he was fixating on.

The wolf ran in a figure eight around two of the trees, brushing up against them, its form leaving tracks in the air. Then it paused again to stare at the boy with white, smoky eyes.

It didn’t look completely there.

Vincent pointed shakily towards it.

Jack put a hand on his shoulder. “…Where?”

He pointed more emphatically.

“I’m sorry Vince, I…I don’t see anything.”

“What’s going on?” Glen asked, hopping off Raven and landing beside them with Gilbert in a flurry of black wings.

Vincent just kept pointing, his finger a vibrating signal.

Glen’s eyes widened.

“What is it?” Jack demanded.

“It’s a wolf. Or at least…” he paused, noticing the strange color, and misty nature of the creature.

“I don’t see it,” Gilbert said softly.

“That’s okay,” Jack crouched down by him, “Neither can I.” He stood back up to his full height, reasoning with Glen, “If you two can see it, and we can’t…”

Glen nodded at him, before taking a few steps forward, and finishing the thought:

“I think, more likely than not, its something from the Abyss.” He squinted at it, watching it playfully thread the trees. “I think it wants us to follow it.”

Vincent tensed at the idea.

Glen looked over his shoulder, his eyes flicking to the boy. “I can always go after it by myself if you’d like to return to the cabin.”

“Oh it’ll be fine! Don’t worry!” Jack took the hands of both boys. “With Master Glen with us, nothing’s going to hurt us!”

Glen rolled his eyes, but Jack’s words seemed to comfort them.

Un-summoning Raven, Glen walked in front, the other three following a short distance behind.

When the spectral wolf saw they were going to heed its call, it moved further into the forest, always dancing around the trees as it waited for them to catch up.

They followed it quite some ways—(especially since they were tired from all the sledding)—until the trees stopped abruptly in a cliff edge. Jack had to put his arms out in front of the boys to keep them from walking any further.

As they raised their eyes, they saw across the gorge a plateau.

“I-Is it still there?” Gilbert asked softly, looking all around them.

Vincent and Oswald looked around but the wolf wasn’t anywhere close to them.

“There!” Vince pointed after a moment. The wolf was across the gorge, weaving in and out of a stone ruin on the plateau.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Gilbert asked nervously. “Maybe we’ve followed it far enough…”

Glen had already summoned Jabberwocky, and was currently climbing on its back.

“You coming?” He asked the group flatly, holding out his hand.

The three glanced at each other, before Jack helped the kids onto its back, and hopped on himself. Jack hugged the boys tightly, as Gilbert held just as tightly to Glen’s coat.

The wind was cold and biting as they flew through the air, but the ride was very brief, and they landed moments later in a puff of dust in the center of the ruins.

“What is this place?” Jack asked the air, and no one answered.

They ventured cautiously into the ruins, at first sticking together, but soon curiosity overtook them, and they each wandered in separate directions, captivated by different rooms. The place wasn’t too vast though, and thus didn’t allow them to stray too far from each other.

Glen found the throne room, or where it most likely once was; a huge empty room in the center of the ruins, empty, save for the collapsing chair, backed by the skeleton of a large window, holding broken pieces of colored glass. He slowly marched up to it, running his fingers along the ghost of the chair, looking out the window at the now frozen water far below, wondering what sort of king ruled here.

When he turned around, the wolf was sitting in the center of the room, swishing its tail at him. Glen was sure it wanted him to understand something, but he couldn’t quite discern what.

He noticed at the side of the room there was a large structure. At first he mistook it for a collapsed bit of wall, but upon closer inspection, he realized it was a piano. He set his fingers on a few of the notes, but they only gave a croak.

It’d been too long.

He lifted his head and raised his voice to ask the wolf about the place, and learn if it could respond, but it had moved on.

Gilbert found the old kitchen, the food there long since turned to compost for rats and roots. Then he found the servants’ quarters not too far from there, full of rotting bedframes and hungry mice, wondering what sort of servants were here, and if their king was as noble as Glen-sama.

He didn’t see the wolf pass beneath the doorframe behind him.

Vincent found a room that likely belonged to a child. It was faded, but there was paint on the walls: designs of flowers and vines. He almost stepped on a clay sculpting of a bird that may have served as a toy, once.

On a broken dresser he found a box which, once opened, turned out to play music, the notes discordant after years of rust and neglect.

He thought he saw something else, and lifted up the half-bug-eaten board. He immediately dropped it, wishing he hadn’t, the something that was there making him cover his mouth in shock and horror.

He felt a nudge at his back, and almost screamed, whirling around to see the wolf behind him. Fear glued his lips, welled his eyes with tears.

The wolf cocked its head to the side, as if confused by his fear. It licked his hand, and Vincent drew back, though it felt like a brush of wind.

“W-W-What do you want?!” He stammered.

But he could not understand the wolf’s words.

Jack descended a staircase a bit further out of the way and found—more in tact than much of the buildings—a dungeon.

It was a large stone room, lined with cells, sectioned off by rusting bars. He pressed one open with a creak and found an empty room, and a skeleton. He continued on until he found one without a skeleton, whose bars were bent, as if the person within had managed to escape through them. He entered through to find there was a journal in this one. He picked it up, brushed and blew off the dust and frost, the pages just as creaky and unwilling to budge as the doors.

He sat on the floor where he found it and began to read. Many of the pages were too damaged by time to read, the ink fading, the pages crinkling and crumbling, but he could make out at least bits of the story. It seemed the writer was in love with a girl, but, due to her being the ruler of this kingdom’s queen, they could never be together. As the pages continued, the writer seemed to grow more and more obsessed with her; his phrases containing less and less sense and sanity. Jack couldn’t tell exactly how he ended up in the dungeon, nor how he apparently broke out—if the bends weren’t made by weather or time—but in his not-quite-sane state, he must have done something very stupid. Maybe a lot of things.

When the final pages became too illegible, he looked up and saw in the waning sunlight, the tally marks on the wall. As he began to dust and defrost them, he realized the whole wall was covered in them. He ran his hand over the grooves, thinking of how long this person must have been left alone inside himself, and what that might do to a person.

He couldn’t see the wolf pacing around his feet, reading over his shoulder, couldn’t feel the wolf trying to nudge him, nor hear the wolf try to ask him voicelessly: “Do you understand? Do you understand?”

“There you are.” A deep voice broke the silence, almost making him jump.

Glen was standing in the doorway, Vincent and Gilbert at either side of him—(Vincent clinging to his coattails rather tightly).

“Did you find anything interesting?”

Jack set the journal on the floor beside him, standing and stretching, yawning the words: “Not really, no.”

Upon noticing the pink light cast on the floor through the small window, Jack asked, “Do you think we should head back?”

Glen gave a curt nod, turning around to leave, and Jack ran to catch up.

*****

A young boy with golden hair and green eyes stood in the midst of a ruin; a caved in part of the city—or what once was the city.

After putting his hand to his chin in thought, and a good dose of looking around, he pulled a watch out of his pocket. When he flipped it open it began to play the soft tinkling notes of a somewhat sad song.

“I still don’t know what exactly happened here,” Oz muttered softly to himself, “but…I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He didn’t see the wolf poking its head out from around a wall behind him, didn’t see its ears perk up, nor, now that someone had finally heard and headed its warning, hear its satisfied howl;

“Thank you, Dear Rabbit.”

[this-idiots-left-eye]

Premonitions 

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Character Focus: Glen (Oswald) Baskerville, Jack Vessalius, Vincent Nightray, Gilbert Nightray, Kevin Regnard, Oz Vessalius 

Summary: Jack, Glen, Vincent, and Gilbert thought they were going on a relaxing vacation in the mountains, but a creature from The Abyss has a bit of an adventure in store...or is it a warning? 

(Written for the Phmonth19 Tragedy Trio prompts "Wolf," "Ruins," and "Winter.")

(For those who’d like some Glen, Jack, Vince, and Gil cuteness. I definitely enjoyed writing some! It's something I've wanted to write about for a while)

Notes: This is actually a fic for Phmonth19! It was for the Tragedy Trio prompts "Wolf," "Ruins," and "Winter." 

I liked a lot of the prompts during Phmonth19, and wanted to find a way to use multiple simultaneously. I liked the idea, but ended up struggling with where I wanted to go with it, and having too much to do during Phmonth19, so it didn't get written then. But I liked it enough to continue it and return to it eventually.

I hope you enjoy it even so!! Please know that when you comment you are both making my entire week, and motivating me to keep writing more fics like this one!!

Premonitions

A young boy weaved in and out of the crumbling artifices, hopping down from a half-broken wall to a mossy ledge on a lower level of the ruins. It was probably a room in the past. It wasn’t now.

They’d warned him not to go in here. But if forbidding something was incentive for most kids, it was practically a command to him.

They told him it was dangerous, unsafe, that anything could fall and crush him, or crumble beneath him, not to mention that there was a sort of energy here: it infected people, made them into madmen and monsters, and if said monstrosities didn’t attack and kill you…you might just become one yourself.

As if he needed a better invitation.

Most regretfully, he hadn’t found any horrifying monstrosities yet. Just a bunch of cracked stones and sewer rats looking for corpses to clean off. Occasionally something shimmered in the dirt, but more often than not it was just a rusted piece of metal, or cracked bit of glass.

He kicked up a board to see a dagger laying there. He frowned, considering it, before picking it up, examining the details on the hilt. Might make a nice souvenir if he could manage to clean the rust off.

He couldn’t help but wonder what happened here. People said this place was dropped into the Abyss, that it had become a hole to swallow all that dared to enter. But what exactly did that mean? He’d heard of the Abyss, and the Chains that lived within, but never of anything other than sinners being dropped into it. What kind of atrocities had everyone there committed to warrant the whole city being dropped into the Abyss?

He kicked another rock, before glancing up, his red eyes widening.

A wolf sat in front of him.

He hadn’t even heard its footsteps. It just sat there on the wall above him, swishing its tail. He took a few steps back.

It was gold and ethereal, its tail long and wispy, like a gust of wind frozen into flesh. Said tail flicked back and forth. White eyes left trails in the air—like slits in a mask, only letting the golden light inside it break through the eyes—yet they held no mal intent—(he’d learned to be able to see that, to feel it, almost). It seemed intelligent.

Was this one of the monstrosities they warned him about?

His hand tightened around the dagger.

The wolf stood, but after it took a few steps forward it looked over its shoulder as if to ask “Are you coming?”

The boy took a step forward himself, to run after its disappearing tail, compelled by some inclination; he knew he ought to follow it, that it wanted to show him something.

“Kevin! Kevin!” A familiar voice called from far away. “I’ll not have you sullying the Regnard name with another one of your insolent games! If you get eaten by some Chain you’ll only have yourself to blame!”

When Kevin looked back the wolf was gone.

*****

Jack breathed deeply through his nose, as he entered the cabin, then breathed out just as noisily.

“Smell that mountain air! I just love the snow, don’t you? I always feel like something’ amazing is going to happen!”

Glen rolled his eyes, dropping their bags—(which Jack had made him carry inside, citing the fact that he was carrying Vincent).

“Say, Jack…” the boy sitting on his shoulders spoke, “do you think we’ll see the northern lights up here?”

“I don’t know! …What do you think, Glen?”

“Probably not.”

“Aww!” Vincent pouted, bumping his fist on Jack’s head.

“Ow!” Jack reacted in an over exaggerated way.

“Eh! I’m sorry!”

When Jack had found out about the cabin the Baskervilles owned in the mountains he knew it would be the perfect place to spend a few days relaxing and playing in the snow—and what better way to remember how to have fun than to bring Gilbert and Vincent along?

When Jack brought up this idea, Glen had blatantly refused. Ever the responsible leader, Glen didn’t take vacations from his duties. But lately he had started having conversations with the rose bushes, and everyone agreed he could stand a few days off.

Glen was just starting to unpack their stuff when—

“You guys want to go sledding?” This was Jack’s voice, of course.

It was a resounding “yes,” from the kids, complete with jumping up and down and shouting.

“We just arrived,” Glen grunted. “Wasn’t the point of this trip to relax?”

“And what better way to relax then hurling yourself down a snowy mountain on a thin piece of wood?”

Glen blinked. “Reading.”

Jack grabbed his arm, pulling him out into the snow. “Don’t be such a fuddy duddy. Come on!”

Glen glared at his friend as he promptly dragged him off into the snow.

Soon they were flying up to the tallest hill they could find on Raven, then, after they successfully reached the top, they proceeded to push each other down it on sleds, with much giggling and whooping (from everyone except Glen). When they reached the bottom, they would fly back up on Glen’s chains—(who seemed to enjoy the show).

At one point, a little while into the festivities, Vincent was waiting for his turn when something in the corner of his eye flickered. He turned to see in the woods, behind a tree, a creature.

Vincent froze when he met the wolf’s gaze, a shiver running up his spine, more than just the cold, his face twisting in fear.

“What’s wrong, Vince?” Jack put a hand on his shoulder, glancing from the terrified boy to the empty air he was fixating on.

The wolf ran in a figure eight around two of the trees, brushing up against them, its form leaving tracks in the air. Then it paused again to stare at the boy with white, smoky eyes.

It didn’t look completely there.

Vincent pointed shakily towards it.

Jack put a hand on his shoulder. “…Where?”

He pointed more emphatically.

“I’m sorry Vince, I…I don’t see anything.”

“What’s going on?” Glen asked, hopping off Raven and landing beside them with Gilbert in a flurry of black wings.

Vincent just kept pointing, his finger a vibrating signal.

Glen’s eyes widened.

“What is it?” Jack demanded.

“It’s a wolf. Or at least…” he paused, noticing the strange color, and misty nature of the creature.

“I don’t see it,” Gilbert said softly.

“That’s okay,” Jack crouched down by him, “Neither can I.” He stood back up to his full height, reasoning with Glen, “If you two can see it, and we can’t…”

Glen nodded at him, before taking a few steps forward, and finishing the thought:

“I think, more likely than not, its something from the Abyss.” He squinted at it, watching it playfully thread the trees. “I think it wants us to follow it.”

Vincent tensed at the idea.

Glen looked over his shoulder, his eyes flicking to the boy. “I can always go after it by myself if you’d like to return to the cabin.”

“Oh it’ll be fine! Don’t worry!” Jack took the hands of both boys. “With Master Glen with us, nothing’s going to hurt us!”

Glen rolled his eyes, but Jack’s words seemed to comfort them.

Un-summoning Raven, Glen walked in front, the other three following a short distance behind.

When the spectral wolf saw they were going to heed its call, it moved further into the forest, always dancing around the trees as it waited for them to catch up.

They followed it quite some ways—(especially since they were tired from all the sledding)—until the trees stopped abruptly in a cliff edge. Jack had to put his arms out in front of the boys to keep them from walking any further.

As they raised their eyes, they saw across the gorge a plateau.

“I-Is it still there?” Gilbert asked softly, looking all around them.

Vincent and Oswald looked around but the wolf wasn’t anywhere close to them.

“There!” Vince pointed after a moment. The wolf was across the gorge, weaving in and out of a stone ruin on the plateau.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Gilbert asked nervously. “Maybe we’ve followed it far enough…”

Glen had already summoned Jabberwocky, and was currently climbing on its back.

“You coming?” He asked the group flatly, holding out his hand.

The three glanced at each other, before Jack helped the kids onto its back, and hopped on himself. Jack hugged the boys tightly, as Gilbert held just as tightly to Glen’s coat.

The wind was cold and biting as they flew through the air, but the ride was very brief, and they landed moments later in a puff of dust in the center of the ruins.

“What is this place?” Jack asked the air, and no one answered.

They ventured cautiously into the ruins, at first sticking together, but soon curiosity overtook them, and they each wandered in separate directions, captivated by different rooms. The place wasn’t too vast though, and thus didn’t allow them to stray too far from each other.

Glen found the throne room, or where it most likely once was; a huge empty room in the center of the ruins, empty, save for the collapsing chair, backed by the skeleton of a large window, holding broken pieces of colored glass. He slowly marched up to it, running his fingers along the ghost of the chair, looking out the window at the now frozen water far below, wondering what sort of king ruled here.

When he turned around, the wolf was sitting in the center of the room, swishing its tail at him. Glen was sure it wanted him to understand something, but he couldn’t quite discern what.

He noticed at the side of the room there was a large structure. At first he mistook it for a collapsed bit of wall, but upon closer inspection, he realized it was a piano. He set his fingers on a few of the notes, but they only gave a croak.

It’d been too long.

He lifted his head and raised his voice to ask the wolf about the place, and learn if it could respond, but it had moved on.

Gilbert found the old kitchen, the food there long since turned to compost for rats and roots. Then he found the servants’ quarters not too far from there, full of rotting bedframes and hungry mice, wondering what sort of servants were here, and if their king was as noble as Glen-sama.

He didn’t see the wolf pass beneath the doorframe behind him.

Vincent found a room that likely belonged to a child. It was faded, but there was paint on the walls: designs of flowers and vines. He almost stepped on a clay sculpting of a bird that may have served as a toy, once.

On a broken dresser he found a box which, once opened, turned out to play music, the notes discordant after years of rust and neglect.

He thought he saw something else, and lifted up the half-bug-eaten board. He immediately dropped it, wishing he hadn’t, the something that was there making him cover his mouth in shock and horror.

He felt a nudge at his back, and almost screamed, whirling around to see the wolf behind him. Fear glued his lips, welled his eyes with tears.

The wolf cocked its head to the side, as if confused by his fear. It licked his hand, and Vincent drew back, though it felt like a brush of wind.

“W-W-What do you want?!” He stammered.

But he could not understand the wolf’s words.

Jack descended a staircase a bit further out of the way and found—more in tact than much of the buildings—a dungeon.

It was a large stone room, lined with cells, sectioned off by rusting bars. He pressed one open with a creak and found an empty room, and a skeleton. He continued on until he found one without a skeleton, whose bars were bent, as if the person within had managed to escape through them. He entered through to find there was a journal in this one. He picked it up, brushed and blew off the dust and frost, the pages just as creaky and unwilling to budge as the doors.

He sat on the floor where he found it and began to read. Many of the pages were too damaged by time to read, the ink fading, the pages crinkling and crumbling, but he could make out at least bits of the story. It seemed the writer was in love with a girl, but, due to her being the ruler of this kingdom’s queen, they could never be together. As the pages continued, the writer seemed to grow more and more obsessed with her; his phrases containing less and less sense and sanity. Jack couldn’t tell exactly how he ended up in the dungeon, nor how he apparently broke out—if the bends weren’t made by weather or time—but in his not-quite-sane state, he must have done something very stupid. Maybe a lot of things.

When the final pages became too illegible, he looked up and saw in the waning sunlight, the tally marks on the wall. As he began to dust and defrost them, he realized the whole wall was covered in them. He ran his hand over the grooves, thinking of how long this person must have been left alone inside himself, and what that might do to a person.

He couldn’t see the wolf pacing around his feet, reading over his shoulder, couldn’t feel the wolf trying to nudge him, nor hear the wolf try to ask him voicelessly: “Do you understand? Do you understand?”

“There you are.” A deep voice broke the silence, almost making him jump.

Glen was standing in the doorway, Vincent and Gilbert at either side of him—(Vincent clinging to his coattails rather tightly).

“Did you find anything interesting?”

Jack set the journal on the floor beside him, standing and stretching, yawning the words: “Not really, no.”

Upon noticing the pink light cast on the floor through the small window, Jack asked, “Do you think we should head back?”

Glen gave a curt nod, turning around to leave, and Jack ran to catch up.

*****

A young boy with golden hair and green eyes stood in the midst of a ruin; a caved in part of the city—or what once was the city.

After putting his hand to his chin in thought, and a good dose of looking around, he pulled a watch out of his pocket. When he flipped it open it began to play the soft tinkling notes of a somewhat sad song.

“I still don’t know what exactly happened here,” Oz muttered softly to himself, “but…I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He didn’t see the wolf poking its head out from around a wall behind him, didn’t see its ears perk up, nor, now that someone had finally heard and headed its warning, hear its satisfied howl;

“Thank you, Dear Rabbit.”

[fatefulfaerie]

Newfound

When Zelda opened her eyes, she felt just like she had when she closed them.

Listless, like a child on the eve of their birthday, no weight in their eyelids, no tire in their muscles.

She was just there, in those blankets. She’d lost track of the hour, the day, the week, the season, even the year by now.

She’d lost track of her kingdom.

At least it seemed to be morning, she figured as she sat up to a breaching sunrise, squinting her eyes. 

Was the sunlight always this bright?

Link was out cold beside her, still sitting in the chair, yet with his head cocked to one side. She gave a small smile. That was sure to ache when he woke up.

“He’s really out isn’t he?” A familiar voice said near her.

The stable owner approached with a neighborly smile, Zelda returning it before looking back to Link.

“I’m not surprised,” the stable owner said. “A rather quick customer that one, frequent, but quick. Always doing something, going somewhere…actually, this is the longest I’ve ever seen him sleep.”

Zelda’s head went downcast.

How hard did he push himself over the last few months? She had a vague idea in the glimpses she saw, but it seemed he really did nothing but train himself to no end in order to save her.

“Excuse me miss, but,” the stable owner started, Zelda turning to face him. “I think I’ve forgotten your name.”

“I actually don’t think I gave it last night.”

“Zelda,” she said with a held out hand in greeting.

“Tasseren,” he said as he shook it. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Zelda said in reply.

“Link usually travels alone,” Tasseren continued. Zelda would’ve remarked at how talkative he was but honestly, she enjoyed the company.

Better than Calamity Ganon.

These were her people. This stable owner didn’t seem to know she was a Princess. He treated her like any other person.

And she loved it.

“Are you his…belle?” he asked with a bit of caution.

“His belle?” Zelda said with a tip of her head. She wasn’t familiar with that term.

“His betrothed,” he clarified.

“Oh!” Zelda exclaimed, flustered as ever. “No, we’re…”

She gave a small chuckle. Oh how she wished.

“We’re not umm, I mean…”

She paused as if she were out to say something to the affirmative, but changed her mind.

“No, were not engaged.”

“Lots of words for a yes or no question,” Tasseren said with a smile. “Well, I’ll leave you two be.”

He left with a wave that Zelda returned.

Zelda looked back to Link in his absence, scanning over his messy hair, his closed eyelids, his slumped over posture until her eyes landed on the Sheikah Slate.

She bit her lip in her newfound determination, crawling as silently as she could on the bed until she swiveled her legs around to hang off the edge.

She was now right beside him, bracing one hand on an edge of the bed and reaching the other towards the latch.

Link suddenly resituated himself, Zelda instinctively pulling her hand back quickly.

Luckily, his new position made it much easier to grab the slate, Zelda reaching forward and unlatching it from his belt without so much as a twitch from her knight.

She tunneled back into bed as soon as she grabbed it, as if claiming it as her own as she barreled into the covers and held it before her eyes.

The familiar chime echoed in her greedy ears, the Sheikah symbol quite a sight for sore eyes.

The slate opened immediately to log entries, Zelda looking through them with curiosity, wondering how she didn’t remember detailing adventure logs a hundred years ago.

Yet on closer inspection, clicking on a file labeled ‘Destroy Ganon’, she realized they weren’t hers.

They were Link’s.

‘The ghost of King Rhoam told me that the kingdom is on the brink of annihilation,’ she read silently to herself. ‘Princess Zelda is currently fighting to contain Calamity Ganon inside Hyrule Castle, but her power cannot keep him at bay forever. Eventually Ganon will regain his full strength and destroy the world. My ultimate task is to aid Princess Zelda in defeating Ganon before that can happen, but I must admit I have my doubts. If I failed the kingdom before, what makes me any different now?’

Her eyes couldn’t help but trail down to the next paragraph, apparent that it was written at a different time.

'I’ve decided to face Calamity Ganon,’ she continued to read. ‘I must admit, my fear of failing her again has stopped me in the past, has created for me a life of constant training. But, it’s not a life I want to live. One final battle, and this burden will be lifted from my shoulders. I can only hope that the Princess, too, will feel a burden lifted from hers.’

There were no more words below, and something inside her told her she shouldn’t continue, shouldn’t click on another file. These were his private words after all.

But oh, was she curious. She knew the Link of a hundred years prior, but never like this. And, without Link awake, she was eager to see what else he had to say.

So she read on, clicking on ‘Follow the Sheikah Slate’, with a reckless spirit in her bitten lip.

‘When I inserted my Sheikah Slate in the pedestal marked on the map, a giant tower erupted upward from the ground, carrying me high into the air. From Hyrule Castle, off in the distance, I heard the woman’s voice speaking to me again. Upon this repeated incidence, I can only describe the voice as beautiful…’

Zelda raised her eyebrows.

‘…bringing a certain calm to my ears. I hope I hear it again.’

Zelda smiled warmly, barely even thinking as she clicked on the next, entitled ‘The Isolated Plateau’.

‘The old man I was talking to informed me that he was King Rhoam. The voice I heard coming from Hyrule Ca—’

“What are you doing?” Link asked, Zelda nearly jumping out of her skin.

She looked up to find Link’s expression rather amused, with a small smile and an approaching inquiry in his eyes.

“Reading,” Zelda said hesitantly as she handed him the slate, bracing herself for the anger she deserved as she sat up.

Link’s eyes scanned the logs on the slate, his smile neutralizing as Zelda held her breath.

But Link only handed it back to her.

“I’ll prep the horses,” Link said as Zelda slowly took the slate back.

“We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready,” Link said as he turned, Zelda watching him walk out of the stable.

In all honesty, Zelda didn’t know how he’d changed, whether he was closer or more distant. She didn’t know how he saw himself, how he saw her, or what he would be willing to show.

The idea of starting from scratch with this all but verbose knight seemed a grueling process, frustratingly contradictory to how close they had gotten a hundred years prior.

Yet, at the same time, Zelda felt it a process worth undergoing.

[botwstoriesandsuch]

An anon asked my about the Tabantha ruins and while I was researching that I instead got caught up with the Zonai ruins and THAT spiraled down into a botw 2 trailer analysis so here’s that. (Don’t worry anon I’ll get to you eventually)

Ok let’s start off with what the Zonai ruins actually are. You know those stone pillars you see scattered around that sometimes have stone chests at the top? Or those structures in the center of the Thundra Plateau? Or those dragon, owl, and boar statues in the Faron region? Or the Thyphlo Ruins? And all three of the mazes? Yeah, those were all constructed by an ancient civilization that we simply call the Zonai. They are separate from the ancient Sheikah, as they existed for much longer than 10,000 years. And of course, as of the current game their people are now extinct, or have merged with other Hylian/Sheikah races, it’s unknown. 

Anyhow, as you can see, their designs are very similar to that of the structures found in the botw 2 trailer. From the stone carved walls, to the sunken pillars, to the bridge that seems to have carved owls. The Zonai associated owls with wisdom (dragons with courage, and boars with power, triforce, blah blah) But anyhow, this suggests that the place that Zelda and Link are in might be associated with the triforce.

Now let’s get to the Ganondorf stuff.

Ok so firstly, notice how the structure that he’s standing on is actual man made steps, with even the decorated stalagmites pointed directly at him like weapons. In addition, the malice that pours out of him (he’s creating it, not absorbing it) not only pours out across the floor, but also upwards towards that large central stalactite forms. The carvings surrround are actually more Sheikah than Zonai, with the circular designs similar to that of Shrines and Divine Beasts. But, the central one on top is very Zonai, as you can see from this later shot, which I uped the brightness for. 

Anyhow, safe to say this room/place was made with the specific purpose of housing ganondorf, the designs and architecture is too intentional. And given the Zonai existed 10,000 years ago, when the Calamity was first mentioned, might not be a stretch to say they were involved. However, it’s also the clear the Sheikah were also involved. Notice the gradient on the spiraling runes goes from green, to a turquoise that is the exact same color used when the Sheikah monks evaporate.

Fairly certain the hand seen in the trailer is of a Sheikah monk, given the long bony fingers and nails. The carvings on their gold bracelet is also very techy? Like of a circuit almost? But that might be a stretch, because the gold bracelt could ALSO be Gerudo.

I pretty sure that we see at least two seperate locations in the trailer. While they are clearly underground, the structure both include this temple looking place, and the bottom of Hyrule Castle (probably). It’s a trailer, so it’s most likely a mash-up of different cut scenes. You can see when they appear in different shots based on the surroundings. The rat, for example is on more brick like steps, the walls with uniform, rectangular stones like that of the the Hylian structures at the castle or the great plateau. Areas with the temple looking area are more Zonai, with stone carved impressions and more intricate and jagged designs. This means that the location of Ganondorf might nor necessarily be within the Castle, but in a separate location entirely.

This is kinda self explanatory. The eyes are exactly the same as the stuff that reanimates monster gunk  that you see across Hyrule, so reincarnation and yadayada. 

The wall art is of the same style as the tapestry depicting the Calamity and the battle 10,000 years ago that Impa shows you. 

Ganondorf is wielding a spear and riding a horse. I tried to up the brightness to you could see, but there are figure behind him that look like Gerudo warriors. So maybe Ganondorf was trying conquer Hyrule again back when he was hydrated and stuff :P 

Finally, this shot. Sure, it seems normal, its just the view of Hyrule as seen from the Great Plateau, but I think it’s interesting that we see absolutely no Sheikah technology. No shrines, towers, Divine Beasts, and even the pillars surrounding the Castle are gone. Perhaps they’ve all sunken back into the ground since their purpose of defeating the Calamity is supposedly fulfilled? In addition the Sheikah Slate was seen no where in the trailer, so maybe it’s useless now? We’ll have to see

In conclusion, Zonai ruins from 10,000 years ago, at least two separate locations underground, Sheikah probably had something to do with it, and something bad is probably gonna happen to Link, considering the music is just a slowed down version of the original game over music as seen here.

Oh, and while we’re talking about audio, I see stuff floating around that the voices reversed say stuff like “Poor Link has found the body” or “Poor Link is gone” and thats cool and sort of adds up! However, have we considered that the trailer for both the US and Japan appears to be the same? There’s no different Japanese version that I can find online. So why would the Japanese developers go out of their way to make the reversed audio in English? Might just be us trying to assign meaning to a simple chorus singing notes... but hey, we’ll have to see. 

End of rant :P

[satonthelotuspier]

Xichengclipse Day 4 has arrived, and as promised this is the second part of day 1′s offering.

Lotuses Are Tenacious Plants - Part 2

Having captured the young Jiang heir, Lan Xichen returns with him to the Cloud Recesses, where he has many questions for the young man, but first he will have to earn his trust and convince him he’s in no danger.

Lan Xichen had always known it was possible to project even the strongest emotion without words. His own brother was never the most talkative person; when he did speak it was measured and well thought out, but he could say so much with just a look.

This felt very much like that, as Lan Xichen went about his business as sect leader, except, he hoped, Lan Wangji rarely wanted to kill him, whereas he was entirely sure the figure on the bed, currently bound hand and foot, was likely thinking up many interesting ways to end his life.

He felt those rage-filled, burning eyes follow his every move. If they were to have a “staring at someone hard enough to set them on fire” competition, this feral young man would win hands down.

He judged he had left the other long enough, and rose to his feet.

“Jiang Cheng, you have only to promise me you’ll behave and I’ll untie and stop using the silencing spell on you.” He sank to his haunches next to the bed, so he was more on an eye level with the young necromancer.

“I genuinely don’t mean you any harm, I just want to talk to you, I want you to listen to me.” He could talk now, there was nothing Jiang Cheng could do about it if he did, but he doubted Jiang Cheng would listen to a word he said, he would be too focussed on his rage, his inherent will to survive, to escape, to fight or flight, to listen. That was why he had to have the other’s agreement first.

Time moved by as they stared at each other, it was obvious the other assessed Lan Xichen’s offer, turning over his words, and Lan Xichen pondered the question of how stunted the young man’s understanding of what was happening was; he had been all but disconnected from the world at ten years old, that was half of his lifetime.

Whatever he lacked in greater understanding, however, he more than made up for in animal cunning, as Lan Xichen had discovered first hand.

He waited a little longer, and had almost given up, about to rise to his full height again, when the other gave a single, firm jerk of his head in the positive.

Lan Xichen was relieved; he really didn’t like keeping the other bound and silenced, it was a cliché, but he only did it to protect him. He was wily and sly but he was still a normal human, without cultivation, versus a sect compound full of disciples trained in martial combat.

He reached out to begin unfastening the cords around the other’s ankles first, before moving onto his wrists, releasing the silencing spell at the same time. As he worked it only brought into stark relief how undernourished the other had been growing up. He had already noted how small and slight the other was, barely reaching his shoulder in height and with fine, bird-like bones. Again, he marvelled at the endurance the three youngsters from Yunmeng had shown to survive, alone, in that most unforgiving and dangerous area. Jiang Yanli would have barely been fourteen when they had fled Lotus Pier, the oldest of the three, and they had survived, adjusted, and, if not thrived, at least fared well enough to reach adulthood.

That they had relied on non-traditional cultivational methods was understandable. He would like to know how they had discovered necromancy, or demonic cultivation, if that was what it was, and how it worked.

Jiang Cheng had been able to control spirits with whistles and gestures, Jiang Yanli with claps of her hand. Were the whole family proficient?

He had so many questions, but they would have to wait until Jiang Cheng trusted him more.

Lan Xichen moved away from Jiang Cheng, and retreated to a reasonable distance, hoping to ensure the younger man didn’t feel too threatened.

He sat up on Lan Xichen’s bed, rubbing irritably at his just-freed wrists.

Lan Xichen turned his attention, as a disciple paused at the threshold of the Hanshi, a tray in his hands, “You promised,” Lan Xichen reminded Jiang Cheng of his recent pledge to behave, and rose to take the tray from the disciple’s hands.

He would rather remove all temptation to cause trouble from the other’s vicinity until they were more sure of each other, however.

Lan Xichen moved to the table, and placed the tray down. He gestured to the other to come over, as it contained a nourishing broth prepared for him. He had asked the cooks to discuss with the Lan sect physicians how to avoid hurting the boy’s digestive system, as he suspected they had been surviving on virtually nothing. On his search of the plateau where the cave had been he had found a very small vegetable garden, and not much else.

He sat down himself, and poured tea. He knew Jiang Cheng would probably approach the food slowly, if it all. He wouldn’t trust Lan Xichen. He didn’t know him, except as the man who had invaded his territory, assaulted him, and stolen him away from his family.

“If you hurt them, there won’t be a single place in this world where you can hide from me.” At the sudden sound of Jiang Cheng’s voice, Lan Xichen glanced up, and met those burning eyes.

“They both ran away, I didn’t lay a finger on either of them.” He assured. He should have known that would be the other’s first concern and set his mind at rest immediately. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention it sooner,” he apologised.

The other looked at him, confusion shaping that sharp, still-scratched face.

“I have left them a communication talisman, telling them that I intended to bring you to the Cloud Recesses, however, so hopefully they should make their way here soon.” Although the journey would take them a while, considering they weren’t able to fly on swords, like Lan Xichen had.

There was a growl from the figure on the bed and he suddenly leapt forward, “You won’t use me as bait to trap them,” Jiang Cheng snarled as he attacked.

Lan Xichen met him half way, catching his wrists, trying to hold on tightly enough to keep control of him but not enough to hurt.

“I want to help. Listen to me, you promised, Jiang Cheng. I mean neither you nor your siblings any harm.”

At the reminder that he had agreed to not attack, Jiang Cheng stopped struggling.

“How do I know I can believe you?”

It was a fair question. Lan Xichen’s sect had been built on a foundation of righteousness, of honesty, of reliability, but Jiang Cheng probably hadn’t learned much of other sects by the age the fall of Lotus Pier had occurred.

“You probably weren’t taught about us, Jiang Cheng, but members of the Gusu Lan sect are rigidly truthful.” Jiang Cheng looked at him then, a touch of confusion on his face. The other had a truly open and telling face, but then the siblings would never have had to learn to disguise their emotions.

“You keep speaking my name, like you know me.”

“I know of you, and I put the pieces together when I saw you use Zidian, your mother’s heirloom spiritual weapon, at the Burial Mounds. The whole cultivational world knows of the razing of Lotus Pier. They searched the dead, but found no trace of you, or your sister, or your father’s ward, so some hoped against hope that you were alive and had escaped. No one ever dreamed you were in Yiling, though.”

Jiang Cheng’s sharp gaze burned up into his from between his captured wrists.

He began struggling again then, but it wasn’t the same as before, and Jiang Cheng’s lashes swept down, but not quickly enough to hide the sheen of tears in his eyes. He tugged on his wrists, and Lan Xichen let him go. The other moved across to sit at the table, his back to Lan Xichen, but it wasn’t rudeness, merely a young man who didn’t know how to disguise his emotions desperately trying to hide his grief from a potential enemy.

Lan Xichen did him him the honour of giving him the space he needed.

Eventually, the other turned to the table, and reached for the covered bowl that contained the broth intended for him.

He sniffed at it cautiously, “The Lans are rigidly against poisoning prisoners, too?” there was still that cockiness in his tone, but Lan Xichen could tell he pulled it on like a comforting blanket, something familiar and safe.

“At least three of the three thousand rules.” Lan Xichen agreed with a grin in his voice.

Jiang Cheng shot him a quick glance, but resolutely looked back at the broth.

“Prove it, Lan,” Jiang Cheng dipped the spoon in the broth, and held it out for the other to taste.

Amusement pulled at Lan Xichen’s lips, “My name is Lan Xichen. I should probably have introduced myself sooner, I beg your pardon.”

“Keep begging,” the other said, but without real venom this time. He nodded at the spoon. “If it was poisoned, I could eat that and extract the poison with my golden core, I am a cultivator, Jiang Cheng. But if it makes you feel safer…” he took the spoon from the other and sipped at the broth. “I would have no need to poison you, of course,” he said as he handed the spoon back, “I could have very easily stabbed you at any point since we met.”

“You aren’t a killer.” Jiang Cheng said with confidence, returning the spoon to the bowl and lifting a mouthful to taste. “You opened yourself up so many times at the Burial Mound because you pulled your blows, or turned aside your sword.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

“You still hit hard when you do strike, though,” the tone was accusing, and Jiang Cheng’s hand went up to rest on his tunic over the centre of his chest, where Lan Xichen had struck him a blow in Yiling.

“I tried to temper it. I’m sorry if I hurt you, but in fairness you were attacking me at the time.”

Jiang Cheng shrugged, and took another mouthful of the soup. After three he put the lid back on, and threw a look around the room. He was looking for places he could hoard.

Considering how much more well looked after Jiang Yanli had been than the boys, he suspected the two gave the lions share of the food to her.

“When your jie and shixiong arrive there will be plenty of food for them, please finish what you can, there will be more.”

Jiang Cheng again watched him carefully, as if trying to divine the truth in his words.

He smiled reassuringly, and the other blinked, as if put on the back foot by the reaction. But he did remove the lid and pick up the spoon to eat a little more.

“You wanted me to listen,” Jiang Cheng prompted him as he sipped at his tea.

Lan Xichen nodded.

“Ten years ago, two events sparked an uprising against the Wens. Lotus Pier was razed and Cloud Recesses was burned to the ground, both on the orders of Sect Leader Wen Ruohan. The Jiangs were completely wiped out, although there was some doubt that their children were present when it happened. Although the Lans didn’t fare as badly, the Lan sect leader was badly wounded too, and died weeks later without ever recovering.” Lan Xichen spoke dispassionately, but was surprised at the sudden welling up of grief at the memories. Neither he, nor his brother Wangji, had ever been particularly close to their father, but they had been evacuated from the Cloud Recesses when the Wen’s approach had been discovered. His Shufu had thrust scrolls into his arms, a small black tortoise talisman into his hand, and sent thirteen year old Lan Xichen and eleven year old Lan Wangji out of the barriers and told them to run and hide.

He had come to find them several weeks later; the small Xuanwu talisman had been to enable him to locate them, but by that time it had been too late, their father had already passed, leaving Lan Xichen the de-facto sect leader of a sect without a home.

“The Sunshot Campaign, as the war was eventually named, began in earnest shortly after, and the Wens were overthrown. Justice was meted out.”

“They’re dead?”

Lan Xichen nodded, and, despite the fact he wasn’t a killer, as Jiang Cheng had already pointed out, he felt no guilt over it.

“We’re safe? They aren’t looking for us anymore?” Jiang Cheng sounded so childlike again Lan Xichen had to fight the urge to reach over and pat his head soothingly.

He would likely lose his hand if he did.

“They aren’t looking for you anymore, Jiang Cheng, the last of the Wens died many years ago. You, and your siblings, are safe from them.”

The spoon clattered into the bowl, and he surged to his feet. He looked around like a wild thing, then ran for the door.

Lan Xichen let him go. He didn’t actually think Jiang Cheng would try to run, it was merely that he was overcome, overloaded with information in a world that was new and confusing, that had left him behind as a child. It was no wonder he was overwhelmed.

***

A good while later Lan Xichen left the Hanshi, and went in search of the other.

He found him, eventually, in the top branches of a magnolia tree away in a corner of the private family area. It would be quiet and less populated here, away from the main areas of Cloud Recesses, which was no doubt why Jiang Cheng had found his way there.

He stood at the trunk, looking up, and saw there were tear tracks on the other’s face, and he played with a small, black figurine. It was the Xuanwu statue his Shufu kept on his desk in the classroom.

“I stole it from that room there,” Jiang Cheng saw he looked at the tortoise as he tossed it from hand to hand. He tucked it into the collar of his tunic, then wiped surreptitiously at his face.

“It’s cold on the mountain at this time of year, Jiang Cheng. I brought you a cloak.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed from his exalted height. “I lived in the Burial Mounds, do you think I’m scared of your mountain, Lan Xichen?”

“No, I think probably the only thing that scares you is losing your siblings.”

“You don’t know me, just because you know my name, and my people, man of Gusu,” Jiang Cheng was back to his sharp self, and, oddly, it soothed Lan Xichen’s worry.

“You are correct, I don’t know you, Jiang Cheng. But I do know you’re terrible.”

“Completely horrid,” he agreed unrepentantly, and dropped from the tree, agilely swinging from branch to branch, until he reached the ground.

He snatched the cloak out of Lan Xichen’s hands, and shook it out, holding it up to examine the pattern.

“Pretty,” he crooned, before folding it up carefully, and tucking it under his arm, “A-Jie should have it, it’s so pretty.”

“A-Jie can have a hundred like it when they get here, A-Cheng, this one is for you, to keep you warm.” There was a trace of exasperation in his voice, but Jiang Cheng merely strode off ahead of him, back in the direction of the Hanshi.

It was going to be so difficult to get the other to take care of himself, especially if, every time Lan Xichen gave him something, he tried to hoard it for Jiang Yanli.

He sighed, and followed the other at a distance.

He was entirely sure he saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye, tracking them step for step, on the walk back.

[tamorasky]

Mistress Anna Chapter 25

Rating: M

Summary: It wasn’t uncommon for the women to be eventually cast aside, Anna was just naive enough to believe it would never happen to her.

Relationships: Anna/Kristoff

Words: 4,566

Canadian Frontier Au.

AO3 

Masterlist

Notes: Sorry for the bit of a wait, I felt like I needed a break from writing for like 3/4 days so I wasn't able to update as soon as I wanted, but I'm back and this chapter ended up being split into two parts so the wait for the next chapter won't be long as it's nearly complete.

It always is scorching in the south, even with the wind blowing through the plateau, the air is hot and humid; this is something Anna always forgets. As she stands in the grass, she pushes her bangs back from her sweaty forehead, regretting her choice of wearing a wool skirt that morning. Glancing behind her, the young woman notices Elsa unloading some of their belongings from the back of their cart and throwing them onto the earth, among them are the tipi poles.

With a sigh, Anna tears herself away from her spot towards her sister, grabbing a pole from the back of their Red River cart. Grunting as she slides the pole from the cart onto the ground next to the ones Elsa has unloaded. Elsa grabs the thirteenth and final pole from the cart as Anna grabs the buffalo skin covering.

“We’ll raise the tipi once Cliff and Bulda arrive,” Elsa states as she rolls aside the longest and strongest pole. Anna nods, placing her hands on her hips, overlooking the convoy making its way along the road. They had been lucky to get an early start in the morning, being among the first members of the caravan to arrive in the foothills.

Glancing over her shoulder, Anna spots Eliza squatting near the river, looking closely into the water. Furrowing her brows, Anna isn’t sure what her daughter is staring at. But a smile crosses the young woman’s features as she notices a family of ducks on the creek. Anna giggles as Eliza quacks at the ducks as if she is trying to communicate with the animals.

Reluctantly she turns away from the scene to face the cart one more to grab the water bucket from the back. As she removes the wooden pale, Anna watches Elsa venture into the woods across the road, observing as her sister makes her way through the oxen, horses and carts to gather firewood.

Anna turns from the cart, meandering towards the river to settle beside her daughter. The little girl looks up at her mother, Eliza’s grin is contagious as she points out the ducks.

“Mama, look!” The auburn-haired girl shrieks.

Anna nods, dipping the bucket into the running water. “I see them!” Her focus goes back to the bucket, observing as it fills, trying to avoid the incessant tugging on her sleeve and the chorus of ‘mamas’ perpetrated by the small figure beside her.

With raised brows Anna finally looks down at her daughter, pulling the bucket from the river. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“Where Papa?” Eliza asks, her brows knit together as she looks around curiously. Anna’s heart drops to her stomach at the question. It wasn’t that she is avoiding Kristoff nor discouraging Eliza from spending time with him, but Anna found that Kristoff has been increasingly distancing himself from them.

“He’ll be here shortly.” She sadly smiles down at the toddler, brushing her hand over Eliza’s curls. Anna dreads the day Kristoff finally leaves for the Unorganized Territories, unsure how she will tell her 2-year-old about his departure and why he had to leave.

With a sigh, Anna glances over her shoulder to see Elsa returning to the site with firewood tucked under her arms. The young woman looks back to Eliza, concerned with how close the toddler sat to the river.

“Do you want to help me with collecting wood for Auntie Elsa?” Anna asks, resting a hand on Eliza’s back. The little girl hums, looking back to the ducks from her mother as she debates what she would like to do. Anna chuckles at her daughter’s indecision, hoping the trait will not be one Eliza keeps as she grows older.  

The woman stands from the ground, grabbing the bucket as she straightens up. She walks towards her sister, placing the pale on the dirt next to Elsa, who squats lowly in the grass to organize her kindling.

“I have water to boil once you have the fire ready.” The auburn-haired woman states, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Alright, I think either Marguerite or Angelique has the pots with them,” Elsa replies, not looking up from her kindling pile, which closely resembles the structure of a tipi.

“Angelique has them, Marguerite and Sven have the blankets,” Anna confirms, placing her hands on her hips as she observes her sister settle the kindling on the ground. “Eliza and I will get you more firewood.”

“Are you certain?” Elsa asks, finally glancing up at her sister.

Anna nods in response. “It will be good for us to move around for a little while, especially after the journey down here.”

Elsa raises her brow at her sister’s excuse, knowing Anna is avoiding Kristoff’s arrival, which could be at any moment now. While the brunette understood why Anna had ended things between her and Kristoff, Elsa could not understand their decision to distance themselves from one another.

“Alright, bring me some bigger pieces, and I will cut them down to size later,” Elsa instructs as her focus goes back to the task before her. Anna turns from her sister, striding towards her daughter with purpose.

As the young woman comes to stand beside Eliza, the toddler looks up at her mother curiously as Anna holds a hand out to her. When the little girl doesn’t take the gesture, the auburn-haired woman crouches to the ground pulling her daughter to her. With some struggle, she stands with Eliza in her arms.

Eliza is clearly disappointed that she is pulled away from the river but can’t help but be curious about what the task that she and her mother would be carrying out.

With Eliza perched on her hip, Anna makes her way through the grass, weaving through the convoy, stopping to allow the carts to go past. Weaving through the various people, Anna doesn’t look up, for fear of spotting him again. She feels relief as she breaks through the wall of people, coming to stand on the bluff’s edge.

Stepping through the forest floor, Anna’s grip tightens on Eliza as the toddler begins to wiggle in her arms, eager to run through the trees. She remains determined not to let go of her daughter until they are further from the road, not wanting risk the chance of Eliza running into the middle of the path.

“Alright sa jaang.” Anna leans over, allowing the auburn-haired girl to run free through the trees. She trails after the toddler, a small smile crossing her features as Eliza takes in everything around her at high speed. “Stay close, Eliza!”

The toddler stops in her tracks, turning back towards her mother with a grin, clearly enjoying being in the bush. Anna scans the forest floor, trying to find logs on the ground while paying attention to where her daughter is.

She kneels on the damp dirt under an Oak tree, starting to collect larger pieces of wood in a pile from around the tree’s trunk, glancing up to see Eliza squatting low to grab a few sticks and then bouncing up to run back towards her mother.

“Thank you” Anna says as Eliza places two small sticks on Anna’s pile.

“Welcome.” Eliza responds, wandering away from her mother to collect more firewood. Anna chuckles, watching her daughter weave through the plants and talking to herself. She stands from the ground, picking up the two rather large and awkwardly shaped pieces of wood.

“Eliza, come on. Let’s bring these back to Auntie Elsa.” Anna calls through the wood, the auburn-haired girl toddles back towards her mother. “Grab your firewood.”

“Okay.” Eliza nods, crouching to grab the small sticks she has left with her mother, mimicking the way Anna carries her pieces, nestled under each of her arms. As they walk through the forest, she ensures Eliza is following close behind her, especially as they find their way through the convoy to the other side.

As they approach their site, Anna stops at the sight of the entire Bisset-Labelle-Byrne family already unpacking their belongings from their carts. Her breath catches as she spots Kristoff standing with his father, Sven and Gabriel, clearly plotting where to set up their tipis.

It had been nearly a week since Anna had called their short-lived romance off, despite her conviction that it had been the right thing to do, the young woman still struggled with her feelings and his declaration to her that night.

I love you.

She regrets not saying it back to him, unable to declare her feelings to the only man who had ever said those words to her. In all of their time together, Hans never said, ‘I love you’ not in his words or actions. In the week they were involved, Kristoff showed Anna how much he cared for her more than Hans ever had in nearly two years.

“Papa!” Eliza shrieks, dropping the bundle of her sticks on the ground to race over to the blonde man. Anna observes as Kristoff squats low to the earth, a grin crossing his features as he allows for the toddler to run into his arms.

Kristoff stands with Eliza still in his arms, continuing his conversation with his father and brother-in-law. Anna pauses as their gazes meet, he gives her a polite nod, a gesture which she does not return. Instead, she looks away, walking towards where Elsa sits, still making the fire.

“Will this be enough?” Anna asks, discarding her pile beside her sister.

“It should be for the time being, I’ll send Sven or Kristoff if we need more.” Elsa states. Anna nods, wiping splinters off of her cotton blouse as she notices the last of the convoy arriving in the Cypress Hills. A lone rider brings up the back, a woman, more conspicuous than others in convoy.

Anna squints to get a better look at the rider, as the woman begins to move towards their site. Upon first sight, it is not anyone who Anna can recognize; her chestnut hair braided into one single plait, wearing a dark blue skirt and white beaded blouse.

A smile crosses Anna’s features as the figure approaches closer, shaking her head at herself that she didn’t notice the Cree woman who had become Elsa’s most intimate friend over these years.

“Tansi, Honeymaren.” Anna greets in Woodland Cree as the brunette stops her horse near the two Arneson sisters.

“Taaishi Anna.” Honeymaren responds in Michif, dismounting from her horse to approach the Metis woman in front of her.

Elsa stands from her spot, striding towards her sister and lover with a smile. “I didn’t realize you were coming this year.”

“Of course, I am. I’ve come nearly every year.” Honeymaren shrugs, holding her horse in place by his reigns.

Anna looks between the two women curiously. “You weren’t here last year, I would’ve remembered.”

The auburn-haired woman notices the way Honeymaren quickly looks to her feet and how Elsa looks to the sky, clearly avoiding eye contact with her sister.

“We should get the tipi up before it turns dark, now that there are enough people here.” Elsa suggests, clearing her throat as she turns from the other two women. Anna raises an eyebrow at Honeymaren questioningly in regard to her older sister’s behaviour. But, Honeymaren only simply shrugs in response.

The two women follow after Elsa, standing where the tipi poles lay on the ground to begin assembling their shelter for the night. …….. Anna wakes to the sound of footsteps on the grass outside of their tipi. Opening her eyes, she can see the sun shining through the buffalo hide of the shelter. She sits up from the pelt under her, feeling every bone in her body ache from sleeping on the ground with nothing but furs to cushion her.

Eliza sleeps soundly beside her, cuddling close to her doll against the buffalo fur and tucked under a point blanket. Across from them, Elsa and Honeymaren sleep near one another, both having slept with no blankets at all. These events occur in an oddity, Anna is the first awake among her family. Carefully she stands from her space, stepping over Eliza to dress for the day.

She slips her drawers on under her nightgown before she discards the thin garment onto the pelts. Anna places on a brown linen dress for the day, knowing that blood wouldn’t appear in the fabric as noticeably.

Anna moves towards the front of the tent as she fastens the last buttons of her dress, untying the rope to open the tipi. She leans over as she steps out of the tipi, closing the flap as she steps away from the tent.

There is no one in sight, leading the young woman to believe that nearly everyone in the Bisset family is still asleep, but the smoke from the other side of one of the three tipis belonging to the family informs her otherwise.

She stalks through the tall grass, her tangled hair sweeping up with the slight breeze as she ambles towards the only awake person in her party. As she meanders towards the fire, Anna arrests at the sight of the figure.

Kristoff sits alone by the morning fire, cooking something in a pot over the flames. For a moment, Anna is firm to turn around and go back to her tipi. But as she takes a step back, Kristoff looks up from the fire, his gaze meeting hers in a moment.

She feels small under his gaze, her mouth slightly agape as if she is about to speak, but nothing comes to her. The young man instead offers her a polite smile as Anna begins to fiddle the fabric of her skirt.

“I didn’t realize it was you.” Anna states, her gaze not breaking from his. “I’ll go back to the tipi until Elsa or Honeymaren wakes up, I just thought whoever is out here might want some company.”

“Anna, it's fine. Are you hungry?” Kristoff asks. She is about to decline his offer but ultimately is unable to ignore the grumbling of her stomach at the smell of food. Kristoff chuckles, shaking his head. “Come join me. It’s just porridge.”

She steps forward, taking a seat across from Kristoff, not wanting to get too close to the young man. The young couple remains silent as Kristoff stirs the pot. Anna finally opens her mouth, but once more is unable to form a sentence.

“Would you like some coffee?” Kristoff asks, noticing the young woman’s inability to make conversation with him. Anna nods, watching as the young man grabs a pot from his side, pouring the piping hot liquid into a tin mug. She accepts the beverage from the blonde man with a smile.

Anna cannot recall a time of ever drinking coffee in her 20 years of living. Her mama only ever had tea around the house, and it was all Anna was allowed to drink at Arendelle under Hans and Hilde’s supervision.

She blows into the mug, attempting to cool the liquid before placing the tin to her lips. The flavour isn’t at all what she is expecting, thinking it would be more similar to drinking an over-steeped English breakfast or Earl Grey, not that. It tastes like the way dirt smells on a hot day, roasting in the sun with a metallic after taste.

As she swallows the coffee, Anna’s nose involuntarily scrunches up in disgust and runs her tongue against the roof of her mouth, trying desperately to be rid of the taste.

Watching the young woman in front of him, Kristoff can’t help but chuckle at her reaction to the coffee. Anna looks up at the man, frowning at his response.

“How can you drink that?” She asks, putting the mug on the ground next to her foot. “It tastes like dirt.”

“You get used to it after a while.” Kristoff responds, taking another sip of his coffee as if show up Anna. She rolls her eyes dramatically at the young man, not quite believing him.

“Maybe you just have a dependency.” Anna suggests, raising her eyebrows as she sits back.

“Maybe.” Kristoff shrugs, leaning forward to stir the porridge. Anna can’t help but notice the way his bangs fall over his eyes as he bends, resisting to urge to reach forward to brush the hair out of his face, knowing she no longer had the right to do so.

“Kristoff.” She calls, causing the young man to look up at her. Anna isn’t sure what she is going to say, unable to find the words as she gets lost in Kristoff’s honey-brown eyes. Her lashes flutter as she bites her lower lip. She opens her mouth to apologize for everything that has happened, for her leading him on and abruptly breaking things off between them.

But as the words are about to pass through her lips, Anna notices the figure of Sven emerging from his and Marguerite’s tipi. The Newfoundlander strides towards his friend, clapping Kristoff on his back as Sven sits down next to the blonde man.

“Good morning!” The brunette man greets, immediately grabbing the pot of coffee and himself a mug.

“Good morning.” Anna and Kristoff respond together, glancing at one another once more before looking away to Sven pouring his coffee. She smiles politely at the men across from her, standing with some difficulty with the ache still in her bones.

“Well, if Sven is up, then Eliza is for sure.” Anna comments as she brushes dead grass from her skirt. “I’ll see you two shortly.”

She turns from the men without another word, glancing over her shoulder briefly as she meanders back to her tipi. Only to find Kristoff still staring after her, unable to mask the same feeling of longing Anna feels towards him. ………… Anna rides in the back of the red river cart with Angelique and the children as Bulda steers the wagon with Marguerite at her side. She closes her eyes, enjoying the slight breeze brushing against her two braids and the coolness against her warm cheeks.

They had been tracking the herd for nearly two hours now, so it comes as a relief to Anna as the wagon rolls to a stop. Especially with having to hold down an unhappy toddler for the last 30 minutes.

“I know we’ll be there soon.” Anna tries to reassure her daughter, but instead, the little girl shrieks loudly, frustrated by the travel and the heat she is being forced to sit through.

Angelique chuckles, watching the toddler and her friend. “I do not miss the constant tantrums.”

“She’s normally so good. But whenever she decides to act out, it’s always on the most unfortunate days.” Anna huffs as she tries to get Eliza to sit up.

“It always is.” Angelique giggles, “Here, give her to me.”

Anna hands Eliza to the other mother without hesitation, the little girl still limp in Angelique’s arms. As her daughter leaves her hands, Anna notices Marguerite looking back at them, her dark brows furrowed together.

“You have this to look forward to.” Anna jokes, causing the brunette woman to groan in response, placing a hand on her swollen belly. The women all laugh in response to Marguerite while Bulda pats her youngest daughter’s hand. Louise looks at the women around her, giggling in response, despite not knowing the situation.

They travel further through the coteau tracking the buffalo herds until they come to a stop in the plains. Bulda lets go of the reigns, stepping off of the cart with much difficulty. Anna and Angelique are the first to slip off the back, helping the children, other than Guillaume and Louise out of the cart.

Angelique picks Eliza out of the back, placing the red-faced girl on the ground as Anna grabs Helene, allowing for the 4-year-old to run after her siblings. Still hiccupping from her cries, Eliza trails after the older children, her thumb in her mouth.

“Where are the boys?” Angelique ponders, looking around the convoy for any sign of her father, husband who has their eldest son, brother, or in-law. Anna shrugs, coming around the cart to help Marguerite off. The brunette’s back faces Anna, who places a steadying hand on her back.

“I don’t need help.” Marguerite groans.

“You’ve been attempting to get down for the last three minutes.” Anna points out, raising a brow. “You need help.”

Anna glances over her shoulder as her hair whips against her neck, noticing the man situated on a horse behind her.

“Daisy.” Sven groans, dismounting from his horse, leaving the creature unattached as he races towards his wife. “I told you to wait for me.”

“I can do this.” She insists as Anna steps away from her friend, allowing the Newfoundlander to take her place. Sven wraps his arms around her ribs, pulling Marguerite away from the cart. The brunette woman is clearly displeased with her situation, her lips pursed in a pout, and her brows knitted together.

Sven places her down with a grin, pressing a kiss to her temple. Marguerite turns around, her hand still resting on her abdomen before removing it, attempting to shove her husband away from her. The impact isn’t enough to even make the large Newfoundlander stumble; instead, he laughs. Walking away from his wife without another word to retrieve his horse.

The auburn-haired woman comes to stand beside Bulda at the back of the cart, helping the older woman unpack their knives and tools for deconstructing the buffalo. Bulda hands Anna a steel knife, placing the tool into her apron pocket, ready to do her job. ……….. The women stalk forward across the plateau with their tools in hand, the children following close behind their mothers, aunties, and grandmothers in the field. Anna walks beside Marguerite, watching the expectant mother closely to ensure she is not overexerting herself.

They approach a rather large buffalo carcass, shot through the head, lying on the ground. Bulda, Angelique, Marguerite and Anna all kneel on the grass around the buffalo, beginning to slowly cut away at the beast.

Marguerite is given the small tasks, collecting the teeth from its mouth and retrieving the horns. While Bulda, Angelique and Anna focus on stripping the fur from its body in nearly one piece.

Anna is the one to cut open the buffalo this year; she doesn’t recoil at the sight of the inside of the beast as she did last year. Marguerite moves towards Anna, settling beside the auburn-haired woman between the buffalo’s legs.

With a pot between the two women, Anna and Marguerite both reach into the body, removing the organs and intestines carefully. Anna can’t find herself to care that her dress is becoming stained with blood as she removes the large intestine, placing it on her lap as she pulls it out.

“Anna, would you carry the hide back to the cart, once you are done with that?” Bulda asks, cutting away at the hoofs.

“I can do that.” Anna says, placing the intestine into the pot as she stands from the ground. Her bloodied hands grab the rope lying near them. Kneeling on the grass, Anna ties the hide into one single bundle. Rising from the ground, Anna grabs the end of the rope, hoisting the hide off of the earth.

The hide is as heavy as she remembers it being last year, no one asks if she can handle it, everyone trusting Anna’s ability to take care of it. The hide continues to bump against her legs as she walks through the tall grass, her arms and shoulders aching as she approaches closer to the carts.

“Anna!” A voice calls out. The young woman stops, looking in the direction of the sound to see Honeymaren running towards her.

“Maren, I thought you were with the men.” Anna comments, knowing the brunette hunted with the men this morning. Generally, by this time, the men often sat in the shade, having lunch and mid-day coffee. Anyone who participated in the hunt never helped with processing the buffalo bodies.

“I was, but I saw you, and I thought I would come to help you.” The Cree woman shrugs, grabbing the other side of the hide. Anna sighs as some of the pressure is relieved from her arm, nodding in thanks.  

Last year, Anna had been determined to do this all on her own, needing to prove to herself and everyone that she was capable enough to carry out these tasks. Now, she understood that it doesn’t show weakness to accept help from members in the community, it only strengthens ties.

Anna wipes the sweat from her forehead with her arm, confident that she’s smeared some blood across her head. The two women haul the hide towards the cart, loading it onto the back with some difficulty. Once they have it on, they push it to the side, making room for more pieces of the buffalo.

Stepping away from the cart with a sigh, Anna wipes the blood off of her arms with her dress, watching as the men sit around in the shade. She spots Sven, Cliff and Gabriel sitting amongst the other men. Anna furrows her brows, unable to find Kristoff sitting with them.  

Instead, her gaze is brought to the middle of the plateau, spotting the tall blonde man standing with his hands in his pockets talking with the Laurent girls and a couple other young women she doesn’t recognize. The women overexaggerate their laughter aimed at anything Kristoff says, a raven-haired woman taking the initiative to place a hand on his forearm, lingering a little longer than to Anna’s liking.

Honeymaren glances at the young woman, noticing the scowl crossing her features. The Cree woman comes to stand next to Anna, spotting the scene before them.

“He is a good man.” Honeymaren comments, nudging Anna’s shoulder with her own.

“He is.” Anna nods, looking down at her hands, now fiddling with her skirt. Honeymaren smirks as she notices the flush across Anna’s cheeks.

“You two seem to care about one another quite a bit.” She comments, pressing the issue further.

“Well…yeah, I mean he’s my closest friend in Ahtohallan. We’ve been close since we were children.” Anna stutters, catching the other woman’s gaze, staring at Anna with a raised brow. Anna sighs, knowing Honeymaren isn’t taking it. “I care for him.”

“I thought so, it’s obvious the way you two stare at one another.”

“He has to leave soon, anyhow. There is no future for us. Not anymore.” Anna states, trying to convince herself more so than Honeymaren.

The brunette woman shrugs. “Maybe there doesn’t have to be a future in it. Why not be with the person you want to be with, even if it for a short time.”

Honeymaren pats Anna on the shoulders before walking away from the young woman. Anna watches as the Cree woman stalks across the coteau, standing with Elsa. Anna observes how Elsa and Honeymaren stare at one another, the way they discreetly brush one another’s hands as they smile at one other.

Anna recognized that look all too well, it was the way she once stared at Hans and the way she stares at Kristoff now and how he gazes at her. Perhaps if her sister had found happiness with someone she loved, so could Anna.

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part fourteen) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±6450 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part fourteen: Y/N and Dean go on a midnight ride in order to stay with the migrating herd. But when she tries to unravel if Dean is ready for a relationship, she might not like the answer she receives. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘Road To Perdition’ - Thomas Newman (night ride scene), ‘Saturn’ - Sleeping At Last (star gazing scene). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With  Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: It’s about damn time, ain’t it? Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish​ and @winchest09 for helping me. You girls are awesome betas and friends. 

Ride With Me Masterlist

     “Yankee?”      His voice is barely a whisper, a little rough around the edges. It’s just enough to bring her back from the deep sleep she’s in, but not enough to take her out of a blissful slumber. The second time her nickname falls from his lips, it wakes her. Groggy she lifts her head from her folded up sweater that functions as a cushion, squinting her eyes in the direction of where Dean’s voice came from. She can barely make out his silhouette. It’s still dark outside, the moon being the only source of light. He has zipped open the tent, peeking inside carefully, not wanting to intrude. It’s clear her sleepiness amuses him, because even in the darkness she can spot his grin.      “What time is it?” She rubs her eyes.      “2.30,” he informs, keeping it down in order not to disturb Macy, who Y/N is sharing the tent with.      “Why did you wake me?” she groans, falling back on the thin mattress.      Dean chuckles, deep down feeling guilty for disturbing her sleep. After yesterday, he knows that she needs every minute she can get.      “You heard Benny; last one in the water gets the nightshift,” he reminds her.      She grunts again, shimmying deeper into her sleeping bag, nowhere near ready to face the morning, or should she say night. Cool air slips passed the head wrangler into the tent, adding to her reluctance to get up.      “I let you sleep for as long as I could, but the herd is movin’. We have to tail them,” he responds, sympathetically.      “We?”

     Y/N pulls the sleeping bag down to her nose, looking over the hem of her warm, comfy cover. Only her eyes are visible, even in the dark they stand out. Dean smiles at the comical sight.      “Yeah, we. No one rides out alone, remember? Certainly not at night,” he reminds her. “C’mon. We can’t let the horses wander off. We might lose them again if we wait.”      “Give me a second, I’ll be right out,” she promises, the prospect of a ride alone with the cowboy awakening her instantly.      “Alright, I’ll tack up Joplin,” Dean offers. “Put on somethin’ warm, it’s cold outside.”

     Dean disappears again, zipping the tent down to the ground. In record time Y/N shrugs out of her warm cocoon and wiggles her way into her jeans while laying on the mattress, since she can’t stand straight in the small tent. She puts on several layers of clothing; a long sleeved shirt and her sweater over it. Without waking Macy, she exits the tent, her boots and coat in hand. 

     The night is brisk and feels like it’s edging towards freezing temperatures, but not just yet. As the cowgirl pulls her boots on her feet, she notices her breath coming out in humid clouds, the air she exhales warm. She makes quick work of rolling up her sleeping bag, getting the hang of tightly and sufficiently packing it in the cylinder carrier that comes with it. After putting on her hat, she joins Dean in the makeshift paddock, where he tightens Joplin’s cinch. He’s wearing his leather stockman coat, the same one he wore on that rainy and dreadful Monday morning when the cattle broke out.       “I’ll be right back with the mattress,” she notifies, before turning back to the tent.      “Leave it, the others can take it with’em in the morning.” He lowers the stirrup back down, taking the sleeping bag from Y/N when it is handed over. “We have to travel light. It wouldn’t be the first time that I had to ride all night in order to not lose track of the herd.”       Y/N listens to him, shaking off the chill that runs up and down her spine, quick to put on the rain coat that Jo borrowed her. After taking Joplin’s reins, Dean moves over to Ted, leading the gelding out of the pen. He makes sure the rope is secured and that the other horses can’t get out, then circles Ted to mount him from his left side. As soon as he has a higher perspective from the horse’s back, he peers to the west. By the time he glances back at Y/N, she has settled in the saddle as well, holding her over-excited mare on the spot.       “Ready?” he checks.      She nods, glancing up La Barge Canyon as well. “Let’s go.”

     The riders of the night cross the creek where it’s shallow enough, trotting up the trail between the hills. The climb is steep for the first couple of hundred yards, but then it levels out. Caged between rock formations, Y/N glances up at the dark blue sky. Faint beams of moonlight break as they fall through the canyon, but she doesn’t have time to linger. Joplin is fresh, reloaded after yesterday’s trail and ready for another round. Eagerly, the dark horse gains on Ted and his rider, and Y/N has to correct her in order to keep a safe distance.      “You okay back there?” Dean glances over his shoulder, the sound of frustrated hooves from behind triggering him to grin.      “Yep, she’s just a little--” Y/N sits out a buck. “- worked up.”      “Take the lead, that might calm her down,” the wrangler suggests, moving his hand that holds the reins to the right, giving her room to pass.

     Y/N takes that offer gladly and the second Joplin is at the head of the company of two, she stops cantering and continues to jog up the trail. Her rider pats the feisty horse on the shoulder, rewarding and calming at the same time. The gesture causes a smile to pull at the corner of Dean’s mouth, as he watches the skilled cowgirl finding her way through the rough terrain. It’s such a joy to watch her, to see her work with a horse. She never loses balance when Joplin leaps to the side or prances with excitement, always ready to absorb any sudden or unexpected movements. Her riding is elegant, with small, barely visible aids. She has a seat with so much contact, but without being smothering, without tensing her muscles or using force. A fast learner too, because she owns these mountains, despite the times she’s ridden out here can be counted on the fingers of one hand. Dean can’t stop watching; damn, she can ride. 

     Fifteen minutes later, they reach Black Top Mesa, a large plateau between Battleship Mountain in the east and the Superstition Mountain in the southwest. When the surface evens out, Dean clicks his tongue, rallying Ted on to transition to a canter. Joplin picks up the sound of the head wrangler too, turning her ears back at Dean before gaining speed, not bothering to wait for Y/N’s signal. Afterall, she has known Dean to be her leader much longer than the intern.       Y/N isn’t intimidated by the bubbly horse, however. Instead she shakes her head smiling, controlling the pace with her seat and reins to remind Joplin she still has a rider on her back and that she would like to have a say. There is a proverb well known amongst equestrians; tell a gelding, ask a stallion, discuss with a mare.

     The two horses canter across the terrain, long shadows behind them, the grassland draped in silver for as far as they can see. Dust clouds in their wake, the rustling of dry vegetation beneath them. A steady one-two-three beat of hooves, every stride the same soothing rhythm. Goosebumps run down Y/N’s arms, but it’s not because of the low temperature here at higher altitudes. It’s because she’s living in the moment. It’s because she’s aware of everything around her, her senses picking up and her mind memorizing the scents, sensations, sounds and sights. She had it a couple of times before, the last time being in the ring with Meadow, during their winning round at the championships. She was alive then and she’s alive now. The wind in her hair, a horse underneath her saddle. Dean is right, this is exactly where she’s supposed to be. Not behind a desk, studying, going over business plans and theses, plotting out a successful future. The thing is, you can’t plan feeling this free. You can’t find fulfillment in a book. You can’t buy happiness. 

     Y/N glances over her shoulder, finding Dean right by her side. The hard lines by the corner of his eyes are soft now, just as the evident frown that worry draws, whenever he ponders about the ranch and the people working there. The handsome man seems peaceful, contentment in his eyes. When he catches her glance, he smiles warmly and she knows that he’s experiencing this moment exactly the same. Maybe it’s because they both have reached this point in life simultaneously, that the entwinement is possible. 

     The land flows, like waves on the ocean. A break in the mountainous landscape, a calm before the storm. Saguaro cacti stand tall, their silhouettes like towering stick figures, guarding the Black Mesa trail. The two riders lower the pace, because several hundred yards away, the herd grazes in serenity. Some of the young horses lay down, while others stand on one hind leg, resting the other on their toe, head low and relaxed. One stallion stands on the side of the group, keeping an eye out. 

     Dean stops Ted, taking in the sight. He can’t make out who’s who from this distance, certainly not in the dark, but he knows every single one of the horses. Some of them he witnessed being born, others came in at four, maybe five months old. He’s curious how they turned out now that they have grown, if their character, their ways and expressions remained unchanged. Not one horse is the same, neither is their way of developing. One thing he does know; they always surprise him when they come back from the fields. The little ones sometimes end up having the biggest heart, while the large ones turn out to be scared of everything and need the gentlest touch and encouragement. Training the greenhorns, the horses who have little experience in life, is more than a challenge. It’s a journey. 

     He glances aside at a hill, which overlooks the lower end of the plateau.       “We should settle down for a bit now that we can. They aren’t going anywhere for at least a couple of hours,” the cowboy suggests, hinting at the look out he spotted.      Y/N nods and moves her reins right of Joplin’s neck, steering the mare away from the path. Dean follows and eventually they stop by a stray Yucca tree, both silently deciding that this is a good spot to take a break. The head wrangler lowers himself from his horse, the long flaps of his coat swaying around him when he has both feet on solid ground again. The spurs on his boots jingle in the silence of the windless night. He takes his flask from the saddlebag, handing it to the young woman in his company, who takes the bottle without contradicting him. After drinking a quarter of it, she passes it back, leaving more than enough for Dean. 

     He ties the horses to a fallen tree trunk on top of the hill and brings back the sleeping bag that he tied behind Joplin’s saddle earlier. On a horse, moving and working, it’s easy to stay warm. But the early autumn nights up here can be treacherously cold. It doesn’t seem to bother the girl from the North too much, though, who is watching the mystical portrait in front of her, enjoying the tranquil world. Nevertheless he unfolds the sleeping bag and, after approaching her from behind, wraps it around her body. Allowing his hands to linger on her waist, he presses a soft kiss on the junction between her shoulder and her neck, smiling against her skin when she melts into him. 

     Dean rests his chin on her shoulder then, his western hat tilting to the side when the brim buds against hers. She laughs and takes off her black Stetson, turning in his arms, wearing the warm padded blanket like a cape. Amused, Y/N reaches for his hat, but before she can straighten it, the cowboy slips his fingers over the crown of the custom made Resistol. The playfulness in his eyes dies down slightly, making space for a message even more meaningful and sincere. The two wranglers stand opposite of each other in the middle of the wilderness, under a billion galaxies, when Dean takes off his hat. As a token of his ever growing fondness of the woman before him, he goes to place the Resistol on her head, gently, without breaking away from her gaze. She allows it, her eyes never leaving his. It’s a little too big for her, but it doesn’t matter. Y/N knows that he’s not trying to be funny. No, this gesture says more than a writer could describe in words or than an artist could paint in an image. This is him, claiming her as his. 

     Rendered speechless, the cowgirl stares back at him, eyes full of wonder telling Dean that she understands. He has never been a man of many words, especially when it comes to expressing emotion, but that’s okay, because he can let his actions speak for him. He wants her to know how he feels about her, he wants to show how much he cares. The cowboy leans in, dipping his head below the brim, closes his eyes and kisses her. Her body stills and he can feel her lashes brush his dry cheek. It’s a sweet moment, just long enough for him to feel her warm breath on his lips. Dean doesn’t intend to deepen the kiss. It’s a confirmation, adding strength to his message. Dean’s mouth pulls into a smile before he leaves her. He knows there will be obstacles to face, he knows tomorrow they’ll ride home. The cowboy doesn’t want to think about that, though. The only thing on his mind is that right here, right now, she’s with him. 

     His fingers slip down the sleeves of her coat, his thumbs caressing her knuckles once his hands hold hers. They’re cold; no wonder, because the temperatures are low at this time of night.      “Wish I could build a fire for us, but I’m afraid it would scare away the horses,” he admits.      Her smile spreads into a grin, mischievously.      “I can think of other ways for you to keep me warm,” she flirts.      Dean cocks his eyebrow at her, taken aback by her boldness; looks like someone is gaining confidence. He chuckles then, flustered. He can’t wait to explore that side of her that rises to the surface every now and then, but not tonight. He might have gotten lost in the moment when they were alone by the creek yesterday, yet he wasn’t lying when he told Benny he wants to take things easy with her. What is growing between them, is not something he wants to rush and ruin. 

     He leads her to the base of the Yucca tree, where he settles down by its roots. She follows suit, adjusts the fold out sleeping bag over their bodies while he leans back against the bark of the desert tree. He puts a sheltering arm around her, pulling her in. Clutching the hem of the warm blanket between her fingers, she moves her hand up towards his chin, making sure he’s covered and warm himself. A deep sigh flows from her lungs and she snuggles into his side. On the first evening of the trail, she got nervous just thinking about sitting next to the head wrangler, afraid to invade his personal space. That same personal space has become her safe haven in a little over twenty-four hours. She rests her head against his firm chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.             For a long while they don’t say anything, simply enjoying each other’s company. The peaceful silence of nature is soothing, even though there is so much life during the desert’s darkest hours. Dean rubs his thumb over her shoulder absently, a thousand yard stare focused on the herd. He then tilts his head back, glancing at the sky.       “Wanna see somethin’ awesome?”      Y/N lifts her chin, curious about his proposal. He shifts to meet her gaze, a playful smile on his lips.      “Close your eyes.”      “Why?” she wonders.      “Trust me,” the wrangler insists, shutting his as an example.

     Y/N shrugs and does as told. For a long moment she banishes any light from entering her pupils. They dilate behind her eyelids, almost to the size of her irises. She lays her head in the comfortable crook between Dean’s chest and his shoulder.      “For how long?”      He smirks at her impatience. “A little while.”      “How do I know when to open my eyes?”      “I’ll tell you.”      “When?”      Dean laughs now, the delightful rumble reaching her hearing.      “You need to learn to let go, remember?”      Y/N sighs, giving in to what she cannot control. She relaxes against him, only moved slightly when the cowboy’s chest expands and deflates with every breath he takes. It could be seconds, maybe even minutes, but right before she doses off, Dean softly squeezes her arm.      “You can open them now.”

     She does, and what she beholds, takes her breath away. Her eyes got used to the darkness, allowing her to pick up even the tiniest glint of light. Above her, past the crooked branches and pointy leaves of the Joshua tree, countless stars decorate the night’s sky. Clear, sparking orbs, some bright, some faint, but more than she has ever witnessed before. A bundle of galaxies form a ribbon of silver that curves across the dark blue canvas, constellations radiating their figures down on the small and humble beings that they are. The longer she watches, the more solar systems she discovers. Some still exist, others are long gone, but their brilliance is still on their way to earth, which allows her to behold their beauty as long as the light travels.       “It’s beautiful,” she whispers.      Dean agrees, admiring the spectacle as well. He’ll never get tired of it, staring at outer space for hours on end. It’s something he has done ever since… He swallows thickly. Ever since Mom passed away.

     She always looked up at the sky and told him that angels were watching over him. It was his uncle, though, who taught him about the stars. About cowboys of the Wild West, who used them to navigate across uncharted land. Dean must have been five years old at the time, maybe six. It wasn’t long after the house fire that took his mom’s life. He spent some time at the ranch with Dad and Sam. Bobby and Ellen took the broken family in without hesitation, until Dean’s father slipped down hill further to a point of no return, the loss of his wife consuming him completely. 

     Before John dragged him and Sammy away from the only place besides their childhood home where they ever felt safe, Bobby shared something that he never forgot. He told him, ‘When the angels took your mom to heaven, she got a star. Not just some star, but the brightest one of all.’ His uncle would sit in his rocking chair on the porch, while Dean laid on his back in the grass, staring up at the infinite darkness. He pointed out a solar system that night, and told his nephew that’s where his mom lived on. And that whenever he would miss her, all he had to do was look up, and she would be right there. 

     The make believe offered him comfort for many years, and now that he thinks of it, it still does. He passed the fairytale onto his little brother when he was old enough and star gazing became a thing that they did together. It was the constant in their lives, because it didn’t matter if they lived in a motel, a trailer park, a shelter, or a barn, that significant star was always shining bright when it got dark. Sammy must have been seven when he found a book about Astrology. With the literature in his lap he would look up at night, way past bedtime, and try to identify Mom’s star. Eventually he learned its name: Vega. Sapphire blue, visible in the north east in April, high overhead in August on their mother’s birthday, and in the northwestern quadrant of the sky on December evenings. Despite the moon being almost full, she should be visible tonight. 

     Dean lets his eyes roam over the countless galaxies. He finds Cygnus embedded in the Milky Way, Hercules east of the silver wave across the darkness. Right between those two landmarks, hides a small constellation known as Lyra. One of its stars shines brighter than all the others,  a white blue dot of light blinking at him. He smiles, sadly. There you are, Mom. 

     “Penny for your thoughts?”      Dean is pulled away from the bittersweet memories by Y/N’s kind voice. She steals a glance, reading into his quietness, his mimic that shows a trace of hurt, his slightly faster heart rate, but noticeable nonetheless. He meets her gaze, but then averts his green eyes back to the sky.       She nudges him carefully. “You okay?”      “Yeah… I’m alright.”      In stillness they lay together, Dean contemplating if he has said too little, Y/N if she has said too much. All of a sudden the silence isn’t reassuring anymore. Words are left unsaid, emotions pushed down and insecurities force themselves to the foreground. The longer the pause drags on, the heavier it gets. 

     Y/N runs her thumb along the hem of the sleeping bag, her clenched fist still resting on his chest. The voices in her head grow louder, because she knows he is holding something back. He’s not the kind of guy to express his feelings, the kind who is comfortable with talking about the past. She learned that quickly after the fight he had with Ash on that dreadful Monday, a couple of weeks back. Only when she stormed off angrily after Dean blew up on her, he allowed her to see only a glimpse of what haunts his mind. They had many conversations after that day, most of them light and funny, others more layered. But when they touched subjects like background, family or childhood, it was always about her. Whenever the question turned on him, the cowboy would dance around it, either with a joke, or a dodge so smooth, Y/N barely noticed. Add all those moments together, though, and it becomes a pile too big to sweep under the carpet. 

     What is it, that makes her so difficult to talk to? Is it that he doesn’t trust her? Is it because he’s afraid she will judge him? Or maybe because he doesn’t want her to become anything more than just a girl he can hook up with, making any form of deep conversation completely unnecessary. Y/N closes her eyes as her mind begins to spiral, the magic gone, the sky full of stars forgotten.      “Yankee?”      The thoughts that belittle her stop for a second. As the doubt grew, she subconsciously hugged him a little tighter in the process, desperate for comfort. That must have gotten his attention.      “I can hear the gears in your head turning.”      She looks up at him now, carefully. Trying to read the suddenly timid woman in his arms, Dean continues to rub his thumb up and down her arm, hoping to offer her some consolation for whatever she’s afraid of. Something is bothering her, and he’s aware that it most frankly has something to do with him.      “What is it?” he wonders, when she lifts her head from his chest and sits up.

     Nerves tangle her stomach in knots while she keeps her eyes fixed on the hat he gave her and now lays by her side. The hat he offered as a symbol of his heart, or did she imagine the underlying message? She doesn’t want to ask him, afraid of the truth, yet she cannot deal with the uncertainty either. Knowing is better than not knowing, at least that’s what she tries to tell herself as she turns to face the man that has her so confused.      “Tomorrow, when we ride back to the ranch, what’s going to happen?”       Dean tilts his head slightly, his brows drawing together as he takes her in. “What’d ya mean?”       “I mean, what are we gonna do about this...” She gestures between him and herself, her movements frantic. “Whatever this is.” 

     The cowboy breaks eye contact and perches his lips slightly, his teeth pulling at the inside of his cheek. Uh-oh. This is the conversation he hoped to avoid. She wants to label it, needing that insurance, that security. The thing is, he’s not sure he can give her that. She doesn’t have the slightest clue who he really is and apparently he can’t bring himself to tell her either. Christ, he can’t even talk to her about his Mom, let alone all the rest. How can you commit to someone if you are unable to tell the truth?      “Y/N, listen…”      It already hurts. He has barely said anything, but already the way he spoke her name tugs at her heartstrings. For a second she waits for him to continue, but when he becomes quiet once again as he tries to come up with the right thing to say, she can’t stay patient any longer.      “Y - you have to admit that we won’t go home the same,” she stammers. “Not after what happened between us.” 

     The warm sleeping bag has shifted, one half pooling in her lap, the other half still covering his body. As he watches her pick at a loose seam, a small smile forms at the corner of his mouth. Home. She called the ranch home. Not Freeport, the town on the other side of the country where she was born and raised, but Gold Canyon, right around the corner. Somehow, her giving the ranch that simple four letter title without a second thought, boosts his confidence. He reaches for her hand, stopping her from tearing the tread any further.       “You’re right. It won’t be the same,” he says, calming, then scoffs, unable to believe what he’s about to admit. “I don’t want it to be.”      A perplexed stare flicks up from their hands to meet his eyes. When she sees the softness in them, the warmth, her worries somewhat ease and she dares to speak again.      “What do you mean?”

     Dean shakes his head lightly, his teeth catching his bottom lip. He directs his attention to her hand again, tracing her soft skin, trying to find ease in the rhythmic motion, as much as he tries to assure the woman who he’s in love with. But he can’t say that out loud, can he? He doesn’t know how, not really. He grew up too fast, faced with responsibilities that weren’t for a child to carry. There wasn’t room for him to express how he felt, and when that river overflowed every now and then, he was ordered to man up.       Bobby and Ellen did their best to teach him, by giving him a safe home, stability, time to heal, and love to fill the gaping hole in his heart. He solemnly believes that without them, he might have never made it out. But everyone knows how the saying goes; old habits die hard. When you’ve lost so much, letting people in becomes terrifying. He wants to be brave, though. Letting her go is not an option. 

     “I’m not sure,” he starts off. “I just know that, right now, this - this thing between us... it feels good.”      His eyes are a different shade of green under the moon. When the sun is relentlessly shining down on him, they are fiery emerald gems, while by firelight the colors of his irises remind her of the forest, of moss growing on fallen trees. But when it’s night and everything in the shadows is draped in a hue of light blue, she sees the ocean in them, sea green waves rolling ashore. Y/N can’t look away, and thankfully, he doesn’t either. This thing between us… it feels good, he said.       “So, are we…?”       She leaves the blank open, not brave enough to call this a relationship just yet. Dean sits up a bit and shifts until he’s comfortable, the sleeping bag falling from his upper body. He doesn’t want to let go of her hand and keeps the physical connection intact, especially since he can't answer her with a straight up ‘yes’. God, he wishes he could.       “I want it to be,” he admits. “But I don’t wanna jump the gun here either.” 

     Dean can tell that he’s lost her the second he added ‘but’ to his sentence, the disappointment surfacing instantly. She breaks away, her pretty smile fading together with her optimism.       “Y/N, hey…” The cowboy squeezes her hand and when that doesn’t help, he reaches for her chin, curling his index finger underneath and lifting it gently. “That has nothing to do with you, hear me? Thing is… I’ve never really gone steady before. I - I didn’t want--”      “- the attachment?” She cuts him off, disheartened. 

     Dean’s eyes bounce over her features before his touch leaves her face. Needing that connection to ground him, he lets his fingers trace hers again. She feels cold, much like the tone in her voice just now. Thankfully she doesn’t pull away. Contemplating on what he could say that won’t make it worse, he takes another breath.

     “It wasn’t just that,” he confesses, “I... I guess I never met someone who I wanted to, y’know, ride into the sunset with.”      Y/N chuckles at the corny metaphor and Dean smiles softly, glad that the comment got half a laugh at least. He’s not sweet talking her, though.       “You mean a lot to me. You know that, right?” 

     Their eyes meet again, his full of wonder, hers astonished. The genuine words hover between the two wranglers, adding to the silence of the night as they hold each other’s gaze. Y/N wasn’t expecting that reveal, not with where the conversation was going. Did she know he cares about her? She hoped he did, yet she was careful to assume. Of course he looked after her while they were at work, he’s her supervisor afterall. But that’s not what he’s aiming for here, is it? He also sought her out whenever he could after the long hours, clearly enjoying her company. Then they went on this trail and they finally gave in to the longing. That kiss… his hands on her body; it changed everything. The way he claims to care for her now, is on a different level. Him giving his hat is one thing, him flat out admitting it, is another.      And so his words are met with a smile, first small, but steadily spreading wider, until it reaches her eyes. He returns it, his mind put to ease. Slowly but surely, getting the message across becomes a little less intimidating.

     “That’s the exact reason why I don’t want to dive in head first. It’s not that I can’t make up my damn mind. I--” He sighs, collecting himself before he allows the vulnerability to seep through the cracks. “I just don’t wanna screw this up.”      Y/N watches him, her heart hurting for the handsome cowboy. She wonders why he would think so low of himself. Why he would think that he would ruin the very thing that’s blossoming because of his ways with her. Now she reaches out, her fingers gently enclosing around his forearm.      “Dean… You won’t,” she tries to comfort him.      But he scoffs cynically, averting his gaze to the mountains in the southwest.      “Yeah, well… Wouldn’t be the first time,” he returns, his gravelly voice a little darker than she remembers it.

     The silence that follows carries on longer than either of them want it to last. Y/N watches him, pulling the warm sleeping bag closer around her, the ground underneath her radiating coolness into her muscles. It saddens her to see the guy, who she knows to be all for laughs and fun, so despondent. His shoulders are slouched and his eyes are fixed, but aren’t registering anything. It’s a blank stare, but the woman opposite of him has a hunch what he’s thinking about. She gives him space to find his words, but when he doesn’t, she decides to help him take a step in the right direction.      “Is this about your family? The one before the ranch?” she asks, cautiously.      Dean doesn’t answer, but looks down, his jaw flexing. The cowgirl opposite of him knows enough.      “Look, I don’t know what happened back then, and if you don’t want to talk about that, it’s okay. But Dean, I’m not going to up and leave.”      “Yes, you are,” he returns, his pained eyes stunning her when he looks up. 

     She’s quiet now and then the pieces fall into place; he’s scared. He’s terrified that he will lose yet another person who is dear to him. He’s not wrong, she is planning to go back in five months. This internship is temporary, that’s a given. Or is it?      “I might move back, yes,” she confirms, unintentionally underlining the word ‘might’. “That doesn’t mean I’m just gonna drop you like a hot brick. You mean a lot to me, too.” She exchanges a glance, the endearment in her expression soothing him. “Besides, I can’t predict what’s coming. Who knows where we are in five months time.”      Dean chuckles. “Says the one person who has her entire future plotted out.”      “Until a certain cowboy messed with the coordinates.” Y/N raises her eyebrows at him, playfully. “Besides, you keep telling me that I need to let it be. It’s not bad advice, you know?” 

     The head wrangler thinks about that for a minute, glancing at the herd further down below. She has a solid point; he’s been reminding her to loosen up and give in to what she can’t control ever since she arrived here. Then why is he going against the very philosophy he preaches?      “What if we do exactly that? What if we just… take it slow and see where this goes?” he suggests.      “Test the ice, you mean?” Y/N verifies, receiving a puzzled look from the wrangler. “That’s what my granddad used to say, instead of ‘test the waters’. Ice is more applicable where I’m from anyway.”

     Dean watches her, a small, bittersweet smile forming on her lips as she remembers her grandfather’s words. Looks like they both lost someone who had, and continues to have, a big impact on their lives. He rubs the pads of his fingers over her knuckles sweetly, pulling her back to the present.      “Would that be alright with you?” he asks, carefully.      She ponders, deep down not entirely sure if she wants to settle for that. He needs time, she understands that, but if there is anything that she finds difficult to accept, it’s uncertainty. Without his full commitment, faith is all she can hold on to. Faith that this is what’s best for them. Faith that one day, he will believe in himself, too. Y/N breathes out, letting the anxiety leave her chest.      “I can work with that,” she agrees, content.

     Relieved, Dean matches her expression. Fully aware of the huge step she is taking, he counts his blessings. He won’t lose her, not today. Thankful, he reaches for her.      “C’mere,” he says softly.      Willingly she leans into him, his bandaged hand cupping her cheek. The kiss that follows is sweet and gentle, assuring her that he will make it worth the wait.       Dean leans back between the roots of the Joshua tree again, pulling the sleeping bag over her shoulders  to fully cover them again. Her delicate hands slip under his leather stockman coat, warming them using his body heat. He sweeps the hair from her face first, then folds his strong arms around her. When their lips part, he stares straight into her soul, the stars above him twinkling in his bright eyes. For a while she lingers in that moment, but then tucks her head under his chin, her cheek against his collarbone. She closes her eyes when he kisses her hair, treasuring the feel of this very second. It’s not long before her respiration eases to a slow and calm pace, fatigue gaining ground.

     “Why don’t you get some more sleep?” Dean proposes, noticing how tired she is. “Benny and the rest won’t catch up until morning.”      “Wouldn’t be fair,” she mumbles. “You slept less than I did, and I have the night’s watch.”      “I’m okay,” he assures. “I’d rather have you sharp and rested tomorrow. We’re gonna be in the saddle for at least twelve hours.”      “Sure?”      He nods, his scruff tickling her forehead when he does. “Yeah. I’ll keep an eye out.”      Y/N yawns, unable to fight the sleepiness if she wanted to. Slightly cold, yet comfortable, she snuggles closer. It doesn’t take long before she drifts off in the comfort of his embrace. 

     The cowboy rests his head back against the bark, careful not to fall asleep himself. He watches the midnight blue, infinity peppered with countless lights. One specific star captures his attention and he smiles. He’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to accept the mistakes he made in the past and leave them behind. His start in life wasn’t exactly smooth and he hasn't accomplished much either. But damn, he sure as hell lucked out with Y/N. It amazes him how understanding she is, how she’s willing to accept him, despite his many flaws. She has only seen the tip of the iceberg, but still, she’s here in his arms. He has to make this work. Ignore the obvious, ignore that she’ll go back to Maine next spring. Because deep down, he wants her to stay. 

     For a moment he wonders, if Mom is smiling down on him. If she’s proud. Because after the literal hell he wandered through, of all of life’s achievements, he found himself an amazing woman, who is kind, who is patient, who wants to be with him. If this isn’t fulfillment, he doesn’t know what is.

You girls still alive? 

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part fifteen here

[chubbyooo]

Blurred Lines: Cursed Past Chapter 85 - Love Over Great Distances

Hey all Gacen is back its been so long since this orange oaf has done stuff which kinda makes sense since he's been with Risha Gacen begins the search for Sumalee but makes sure to keep Risha close

Gacen felt calm, he hadn’t left Risha’s side since arriving on Gabredor Prime, the planet was so weird it was so remote but also so beautiful, he had to admit he hadn’t been looking at the planet's beauty much though. He looked down at her lying in his arms and smiled, she really had waited for him, their love was real, he stroked her hair as she looked up at him still looking as smarmy as ever but clearly happy he was here. It was impressive she’d managed to get this set up in five years but not surprising, she could do anything when she set her mind to it and he’d help her whatever it took, he wasn’t a coward anymore.

Gacen frowned thinking to himself “so how do you think Sumalee is going to react when she sees me, throw me down the stairs or just groan” Risha laughed shaking her head at him

She smiled “she doesn’t hate you that much just the right amount, that sweet spot I found too” Gacen faked a gasp acting all offended “oh come on don’t make me feel bad dumbass” she sat up putting her forehead against his

Gacen smiled “I know I’m just kidding I’ll do my best to convince her despite the fact I’d rather just stay here with you, I only just got back and now I have to go again” he pouts at Risha who to no surprise doesn’t jump to comfort him

She tapped the comm link she gave him “you may go but I’m not letting us seperate that easy you better talk to me the whole time i spent ages getting these encrypted so it’s safe for us to talk” Gacen smiled at her 

He teased “awwww you did that for me you must really love me” Risha smirked rolling her eyes

She leaned forward “don’t flatter yourself or I’ll be forced to divorce you” Gacen chuckled right back to their old routine

He faked surprise “you wouldn’t dare” Risha chuckled to herself clearly happy to have her ‘dumbass’ back

Risha winked “oh just watch me” she pulled him in close for what he assumed would’ve been a snide comment but as she did her face softened and she just hugged him tight

Gacen hugged her back “aw Rish I guess we can’t quite go back to what we were, a few things have changed after all” she nodded squeezing him tight “it’s ok it’s ok though I promise I won't turn this off ok” She let him go wiping her eyes and smiling

She punched him playfully “you better not we can’t have anything bad happening to the future Queen's husband” Gacen smiled at her laughing to himself what an odd nickname

He tested his comm “testing one two, ‘Rish...loves... me’ you getting that ‘best...I am…the...best” Risha put her hand on her forehead

She chuckled “I’m already regretting giving you that but yes it does work” she tests her own “and you should be able to hear this ‘No...he...isn’t’” Gacen gasped comically as she spoke

He smiled “well it seems to work Rish” he looked out the window “has M4-SK prepared the ship” Risha nodded following him to the door “and he understands his ‘role’ right he seems eccentric even for a droid” Risha shrugged holding onto his hand

She sighed “I dunno probably he may be weird but he gets really in character so is much more reliable if he gets caught just don’t give him too much backstory or he’ll try to work it in” Gacen made a mental note to avoid that

Gacen took her hands and smiled “thanks Rish I promise I’ll be back in a flash with Sumalee” he pulled her into a long kiss after which neither really wanted to let go holding each other for a few minutes

Risha eventually broke away “well you best be back soon I have other things I need you for” Gacen gave her a quizzical flirty look “I don’t mean that! I mean other missions, come on Gacen that stuff goes without saying” Gacen chuckled squeezing her hands before turning to walk to the ship

Once in the cockpit he turned on the comm link leaning against the wall “hey girl I hear your home alone want some company” a long elongated sigh came back through with what sounded like a stifled laugh as well

Risha tutted “you are the worst I swear” Gacen strolled to the cockpit and sat down in the pilot's chair

He responded “yeah but I’m your worst it’s too late to back out now you admitted how cute you find me” M4-SK looked at him quizzically but didn’t press the issue 

Risha groaned “are you gonna be like this the whole trip” Gacen knew what the answer was but just whistled innocently…

Later they were coming up on Wayland and M4-SK had been asking questions “if I may I’d like to know a little more about my character” Gacen had done his best to avoid answering questions so far but he couldn’t hold out forever

Gacen groaned “you’re a protocol droid for me a travelling mystic” he gestured to the robes he was wearing that vaguely resembled the Jedi robes he’d seen during his time in the republic

Risha came through the comms “ooo wow what a mysterious hermit of course he has magic powers why not show me a few” Gacen rolled his eyes she’d been making fun of his outfit non stop

M4-SK rubbed their chin “yes I’m aware but do you really think people will buy you as a mystic what if I played the mystic” Gacen frowned at him what was so unconvincing about that

He put his hands on his hips “um first of all rude and second of all droids can’t do magic it’s literally impossible” M4-SK tutted clearly disagreeing

He continued “maybe in your small minded universe but in the acting world anyone can be anything” Gacen had a look of disbelief on his face and leaned back whispering into the commlink

He asked “does he have any idea this isn’t a play?” why of all the droids was he stuck with this one

Risha responded equally unsure “Honestly I don’t know I’ve told him over and over but he just seems to ignore me so eventually I just gave up” Gacen sighed of course

He sat back up “hmmm maybe a good idea as an experiment but for now we need to nail this so I’ll play the mystic” M4-SK shook his head going back to co-piloting

He tutted “fine but it’s your funeral when the reviews come in” Gacen just decided to ignore him as the planet of Wayland came into view, it was a mainly mountainous planet with many trees dotted around and as they brought the ship down they found there was a decent number of inhabitants they landed close by and soon encountered the Crystal skinned humanoids.

After a quick translation from M4-SK and a crude drawing of a togrutas montrals they were directed towards a mountain with a flat plateau in the side of it, overall it seemed promising now it was just about convincing Sumalee to come with him

As he walked up the mountain he continued to talk to Risha “so why do you think Sumalee came here I thought she was a respected member of the jedi” Gacen put his hand up against the wind as it blew his cloak back he felt very out of his element

Risha responded quickly “I’m not quite sure apparently it’s one of those ‘strong in the force planets” Gacen got that vibe he wasn’t sure why “and you know she was never really the most ‘by the code’ Jedi” that was true 

Gacen smiled “I mean she knew us that’s pretty not by the book” she had given them far too many favours and pardons over the years

Risha agreed “exactly it may just be that she wanted to strike out on her own” Gacen guessed that was possible

He shook his head “well let’s just hope that she’s more agreeable to smugglers named Gacen than before” Gacen hoped so anyway he didn’t ever appreciate being on the wrong end of a lightsaber

He made his way up the mountain and by the end his feet were as sore as can be he was not a climber, he leaned on the stick he’d found to use as a walking stick. “Yes I made it oh my god I’m so tired” he took a moment to rest 

Risha teased him “oh you poor thing whatever will you do” Gacen rolled his eyes looking up at the rest of the Plateau

He saw at the end there was a figure floating in the air seemingly meditating, he recognised the montrals and hoped this had all been worth it.

She turned and lowered herself to the ground “you have come here seeking answers mystic? Well go ahead ask away” she lifted her hood revealing the red skin of Master Sumalee

Gacen gritted his teeth ready “well not exactly” he took his own hood off with a cheesy grin “I actually came here seeking you, what’s up girl how’ve you been” Sumalee’s expression dropped

She sighed “oh fuck” she strode towards him “what do you want Gacen and if you’re going to ask me where Risha is I don’t know” she folded her arms and turned away

Gacen held the back of his neck “weeeeeelll I actually may have the answer to that question” Sumalee turned around her face softening “and I’ll tell you if you listen to my proposition” Sumalee seemed to consider it for a few seconds

She took a long pause “you get five minutes otherwise I throw you off my mountain” Gacen nodded that seemed fair, he’d have to talk fast...