#not a fan of those marker backgrounds on second glance

[alternativeprojectdraws]

Construct collages

[thatsamericano]

Roses, Balloons, Chocolates, Wine, and a Custom Mix CD

Pairings/Characters: America/Romano. Background Gerita, appearances from Belgium and England.

Ratings: Teen, but only for cursing. Extremely fluffy with no warnings to speak of.

Summary: For Romano, Valentine’s Day is just another reminder that he’s alone and unloved. He doesn’t care that he has to spend time at a world meeting. But when a “secret admirer” surprises him with extravagant gifts they left at the chair he’d been using for the past few days, Romano realizes that he wasn’t as unloved as he had thought.

Word Count: 1987

Notes: Written for Day 7 of @hetaliancupid-hetaliaevent.

Veneziano was pouting as he walked towards the conference room hand in hand with his boyfriend. His older brother trailing behind them and scowling. “England is so un-romantic,” Feli complained. “I can’t believe he’d schedule a meeting on Valentine’s Day of all days!”

Germany frowned thoughtfully. “Normally I would argue that these meetings are important for international cooperation on world issues affecting us all. But I was hoping to spend more time with you today, schatz.”

Romano rolled his eyes. “Well, some of us are perpetually single and don’t give a shit.” Savino didn’t hate the concept of Valentine’s Day, a special occasion to spend time with a significant other and celebrate the love you feel towards each other. But since he didn’t actually have a significant other and was forced to spend way too much time around Feli and his macho potato, Savino wasn’t a huge fan of the holiday. For him it was just another reminder that he was alone and unloved.

“Aww, cheer up, fratello! I’m sure you’ll find someone soon.”

Savino scoffed. “Unlikely.” Little did Feliciano know, but Romano actually had found someone he wanted to be with. But America hadn’t been able to pick up on the many and increasingly obvious hints he had dropped over the years, so Savino was beginning to lose hope. Alfred wasn’t stupid, and Romano didn’t think he was that oblivious. Maybe he was ignoring Savino’s feelings because he felt uncomfortable rejecting him outright. That sounded exactly like something that idiota would do.

Germany pushed open the doors to the conference room where several nations were already milling around, speaking to each other in small groups. (They had left a bit later than usual, since Romano was dragging his feet and took a while to get ready.) The meeting room looked just like it had for the past few days, except for Romano’s chair, which was festooned with too many red, white, and pink heart-shaped balloons for him to consider counting. A crystal vase filled with red roses had been placed on the table where he would usually take notes, along with a giant heart-shaped box of what Romano could only assume was chocolates.

“What the fuck?” Savino muttered to himself.

Feliciano turned to him with a smug grin. “See, I told you, Savi! I knew you’d find someone.”

“It’s probably just a dumb prank.” Romano wouldn’t put it past someone to mess with him that way, wanting to see him get excited just so they could laugh at him later. But he could feel his face heating up as he pushed past Feli and his boyfriend and rushed over to the seat he’d been using for the past several days.

Romano’s eyes widened when he got close enough to see the box and see that it wasn’t just chocolates, but Godivas. If this was a prank, it was a particularly expensive and stupid one. He checked the small card stuck among the roses, but that didn’t provide a clue. It only said that it was “To Savino, from your secret admirer.” The person who’d written the note had drawn a heart with a cartoon arrow pointed through it underneath their message. Savino sensed that the handwriting was familiar, but he couldn’t recognize it instantly.

Romano frowned. “Ugh. I wonder why they didn’t tell me who they are.”

Romano sensed someone walking closer to him, and when he glanced over, it turned out to be Belgium. She had a small, inscrutable smile on her face as she delicately touched one of the roses with her fingertip. “I think they were nervous. It can be hard to tell someone you like them, especially if you don’t know how they feel about you.”

Wait, wasn’t Godiva a Belgian brand? Was Belgium his secret admirer? Savino’s eyes widened in alarm. He tried to respond, but he was struggling for words.

“Emma, I’m flattered. I’m really, really flattered, and I know I used to have a crush on you when I was a little kid, but—”

Emma laughed. “Relax, silly. It wasn’t me. But your secret admirer called me a few days ago to make sure Godiva was a brand you’d like. They were so anxious, and they really wanted to make you happy. It was adorable.”

“So you know who they are? Aren’t you going to tell me?”

Belgium smirked at him. “That would kind of ruin the whole secret admirer thing, now wouldn’t it?”

Romano glared at his old friend, but it had no effect on Belgium. She giggled as she walked away to go speak to her brothers, and Romano glanced around the conference room to see who his secret admirer might be. It clearly wasn’t Austria, who was kissing Hungary on the cheek. Savino’s heart lodged in his throat when he saw America from across the room. Alfred was smiling warmly as he handed over a black and white cat plushie to Japan. He knew the gesture probably wasn’t romantic, since Alfred liked to give his friends Valentine’s Day presents too. He had given Savino several stuffed animals over the years, and they usually sat on his headboard unless Romano was feeling particularly lonely, in which case he might hold one as he slept. But just the thought of America choosing Kiku over him hurt far more than it should have.

America looked up suddenly, and he gave Romano one of those huge, obnoxious grins that could make the sun look dim and dreary by comparison. Savino blushed and fought the impulse to smile back at him, but his lips were twitching at the corners. He forced himself to glance away, hoping against hope that Alfred had only met his eyes coincidentally and hadn’t noticed that Savino had been staring at him like a goddamn moron.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see America exchanging a quick word with Japan, who nodded in understanding. America zoomed around the table towards him so quickly that he didn’t even notice he’d bumped into Norway, who was glaring at America viciously after the unintentional slight. Hopefully Norway wouldn’t curse America with some weird troll later.

Alfred was flushed by the time he skittered to a stop in front of Romano. He was carefully holding a wine bottle with a red ribbon tied around the neck. “Hi, Vinny.”

Savino chuckled. “Hey, Fredo. Why the fuck did you run over towards me?”

“I wanted to give you your Valentine’s Day present before the meeting started.” America passed the bottle over to Romano. “I… uh, know you’re really into wine, but I don’t know much about it, so I asked the Secret Service guys I’m friends with, and apparently one of them is married to this gal whose family owns a vineyard in Napa Valley. It’s not Italian, but he said this was a really good year, so hopefully you’ll think it’s good enough.”

“That’s… that’s actually really thoughtful of you, bastard. Thank you.” Romano carefully set the wine bottle down next to the vase of red roses and turned back to face America.

America ran his hand over his hair, which was incredibly distracting because of how golden it looked, even under the greenish overhead lighting that wasn’t flattering to anyone in general. “I, um, also made you something.” He pulled a clear CD case out of his jacket pocket. Instead of handing it over right away, like he had with the wine bottle, Alfred took a deep, shuddering breath. He seemed nervous, but Savino tried not to get his hopes up. “It’s just some songs that reminded me of you. If you don’t like it, you can throw it away, I guess.”

Alfred finally held out the CD towards him, and Savino took it. He read the inscription Alfred had written in marker. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Savino! Love, Alfred.” It was a fairly normal inscription, but then a couple seconds later, Savino realized that Alfred’s handwriting perfectly matched the note from his secret admirer. He’d even drawn a heart with an arrow pointing through it.

Romano teared up. He was ecstatic, and he was in disbelief that his Alfredo, the friend he’d been pining over for ages, was actually his secret admirer. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

Alfred blinked at him, clearly confused by his gratitude. “It’s just a CD, dude. Most of the songs aren’t even in Italian. And it didn’t cost me any money to make.”

“I didn’t mean the CD! I meant everything. You got me wine and roses, and a giant box of Godivas! You tied so many balloons to my chair that I’m surprised it hasn’t floated up to the ceiling by now!”

“That would take a lot more balloons. These chairs are really heavy. Do you think I should have gotten more balloons?”

Savino shook his head. “Only you could do all this and worry that it still wasn’t enough. I love you so much, Alfredo.”

“You… you love me? Like as a friend? Because if so, you’re gonna feel really awkward if you listen to that CD.” Alfred glanced away, chuckling nervously. “I put a lot of cheesy romantic ballads on there.”

Savino yanked Alfred down by his shirt collar and planted a firm kiss on his lips. America barely had a chance to respond before Romano pulled away and looked straight into his eyes.

“I like cheesy romantic ballads, and I like you. And not just as a friend, idiota.”

Alfred gave him a goofy, lovestruck smile. “Awesome.”

Romano smirked and played with Alfred’s tie to tease him a little. “I didn’t get anything nearly as extravagant for you for Valentine’s Day, but maybe later we can go back to my hotel room and listen to that CD you gave me. I’ll make dinner for us. It can be our first date.”

Alfred tilted his head down playfully. “I love your food, Vinny. And I love you.”

“I know you do.”

They kissed again, and this time it was more passionate and emotional, but it didn’t get inappropriate for their very public setting. Before it could get inappropriate, someone cleared their throat loudly, which interrupted them.

England had an awkward, mildly irritated frown on his face. “If you two don’t mind, everyone else is ready to start the meeting now.”

Alfred giggled. “Sorry, Artie.” He didn’t sound sorry at all, and Romano couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t thought about the work they were supposed to do today ever since he had discovered the surprise his “secret admirer” had left for him.

Romano sat down in his chair, and America took the chair next to him, where Veneziano had been sitting for the past few days. When he looked across the table, Feliciano was in the seat Alfred had been using during the extended multi-day conference, taking up the place between Japan and Canada. He beamed and waved to them from across the table. Alfred waved back enthusiastically.

Savino turned to look at his Valentine. “You switched seats with my brother?”

“I kind of told him what I was planning yesterday and asked if I could sit next to you if things went well. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not. I’m glad I get to sit next to you.” Now Veneziano’s certainty and smugness earlier made sense. He had been so sure Savino would “find someone” because he knew Alfred had been planning to reveal his feelings today.

Alfred shifted closer so that they could hold hands under the table. England had started his opening presentation, but America wasn’t even feigning interest or pretending to take notes. “I’m glad I get to sit next to you too,” he whispered.

Savino ducked his head to hide the grin he couldn’t contain anymore and squeezed Alfred’s hand. His heart was beating too fast and he was too happy to pay attention to anything England might have been saying.

[blankdblank]

Ridikulus Pt 36

“Among word of an incoming engagement to both Elven King and Lord on the heels of a soon to be named premier of Jaqi Black’s latest cinematic appearance comes with another new tidbit to clarify a long since pondered puzzle. Not a few months past the win of the Kenmare Kestrals, the team which won the Quidditch League Cup with Miss Black at the helm of Thief, an unmistakable pregnancy was announced by Rita Skeeter. Such conditions are protected and some fans have questioned if the Kestrals should have relinquished the trophy as their Thief has possibly broken that rule against harm of any possible child conceived at any duration of a pregnancy.

From none other than Newt Scamander we have our answer, Boa Red Panda Cubs. Known upon further research to have used Morphers as surrogates in the past while Miss Black and then fiancé David Tennant had been guarding their surrogate for their little girl on a protected island question of survival through the oncoming battles brought on a wish to leave some good behind should the worst come to pass. An old offer from Newt, known to be good friends and mentor to Miss Black since discovery of her Basilisk on Hogwarts grounds, was taken up and together have forged a new brighter future for a once marked to near endangered status with populations soon to be thriving with hoard of daughters in the fifteen cubs born, fourteen of which are female.”

Process of impregnating was next along with statistics that even before the war they were marked for extinction if they had not been regimes to your islands anyways through the destruction of their home territories in the war. With a stunning two month gestation period to calm any nay sayers on you being so heavily pregnant for such a short time out of nowhere. Some more it carried on filling in details on the rare breed and then branches into how this was a much needed good bit of news on the heels of a chunk on the yearly pox push that was marked as successful branching into news on the fostered youth in the Elven and Dwarf territories.

Letters plopped onto the end of the table and Regulus said, “Jaqi, from Newt.” Waving the letter he lifted them opened at your approving nod reading, “Apparently Newt has been hearing whispers on an inquiry into the validity of your win on terms of pregnancy. He submitted memories of conception and birth to go with his official statement on the event along with documented notes on the Panda populations. Apologizes for not warning you sooner.”

You shook your head, “Had to come out soon enough with the new season.” Continuing to finish feeding Em so you could eat before your first class.

The second page however was turned to and Lindir said, “Oh,”

You looked at him as Regulus asked, “Oh?”

Lindir said, “It’s a death notice. It reads, speculation and rumor has spread around the absence of a driving force of our allied forces these near on two decades past. Harry Potter, upon the discovery of Auror Nymphadora Tonks, wife of freshly elected Minister of Magic Remus Lupin, has been revealed to have sacrificed himself to push Auror Tonks and another to safety in the call to flee. While hope was held out in the search of the final missing duo and searches of the new lands were approved by the leaders of said lands coming up moot with the exception of the discovery of another kingdom named Rohan.

Aged just out of his teens brave young Harry is survived by numerous aunts, uncles and cousins along with his newborn son now in the custody of his godfather Sirius Black.

For now this is just a notice of death with another issue to follow enlisting all of those lost to the flight and battles prior destroying our old world. While talks of a memorial are still in discussion within the Ministry walls to be forged and no doubt unveiled in the summer breaks of our magical schools to ensure all will be available to attend.

Again the Ministry is continuing its plea to not use the flue system until all grids have been inspected. Out of a yet to be explained fluke formerly assumed deceased Leta Lestrange was discovered by her distant relation along with that of her oddly still toddler aged baby brother Corvus Lestrange. Their arrival came on the heels of the feather and spider barrage from the flue system making it all the more puzzling as no other long since deceased figures have been discovered as of yet.”

Sirius said in shifting the bottle in Fin’s mouth, “We had to say something. People kept asking on Harry and no doubt would when Leta was spotted.”

Em swallowed her last spoonful and Regulus smiled taking her on his knee as you said, “Not a bad explanation.”

Neville said, “Well Hermi and I are off to check on Lockhart today, see what he remembers.”

You asked, “Luna not going?”

Luna answered, “Oh they have me helping Draco with possible ideas for the memorials. I was thinking of involving Thestral charms somehow, or Nifflers if the former is too morbid for some.”

Neville, “Besides, we figure since we know him a bit more than others he might be more open to sharing with us.”

Ginny said in your glance her way accepting the crescent roll bin she passed your way, “I get to go with Regulus to gather notes from Star Speakers from the Elven Kingdoms to pass onto our Astrology classes. I get the impression it will take a while.”

Again Lindir turned the page taking in each odd article until he said, “Three headed puppies for sale... Is that accurate?”

He asked looking to Regulus who leaned in, “They’re not meant to sell those in papers. Strictly protected creatures requiring licenses.” Reading over the ad he said, “Cerberus do have three heads, however these are memorabilia on the mascots for a pro Quidditch team. Selling homemade goods to honor their favorite teams prepping for the future season and no doubt stashing up funds for tickets.”

Lindir looked your way asking, “Does your team have a mascot?”

Ginny answered as oh were eating, “Kenmare Kestrals have golden harps on a green background. Other than that they are known for using Leprechauns on occasion.”

Lindir looked to the paper in search of an ad for that and Regulus chuckled, “True Kestral fans buy from the source. Their own shops in Ireland. Badge of pride for them getting goods with the official seals and details around signatures from their favorites.”

Lindir nodded, “Yes, Lord Glorfindel informed us of the tradition of autographs. Quite interesting gifts from those you admire.” Again he looked to his paper and you held back your giggles at his tries to blend in on his second morning he had slept over the night prior. Figuring out himself how he fit into the incoming future of dwelling with his One. Before long however you were off to school claiming a kiss from Em on her cheek as well as one for Fin then hurried off through your door to make it to your desk in time for your students to enter. All seeing your hands smoothing around the waistband of your jeans ensuring your blouse was tucked in properly still. Questions still lingering in their eyes with a few papers spotted in between making you say, “Alright. Before the lesson, anyone have any questions about today’s paper?” All the hands shot up and with a smirk you went a desk at a time answering each to calm any confusion or concern from those stunned by some of what was in the papers.

 *

Tucked in a private suite in the bustling floor for energy maladies Lockhart laid back in his assigned bed still under watch of the doctors there ensuring nothing else had befallen the popular Wizard. Upon seeing the familiar young Ministry Members he inched up in his seat grinning at the pair collecting a silver framed compact and another small trinket now rested on his lap. “Miss Granger and young Longbottom, I was curious which of my old students would be sent my way to question me.”

Pulling a duo of stools from the wall over the teens sat and Neville asked, “Feeling better? Remus said you were rather queasy last time he saw you.”

Lockhart nodded and said, “Yes, and I am pleased to have been so prompt in checking on me. While it appears mainly my captors were only able to drain my energy I was able to ascertain much more. And while some may not believe me to be of much use sans powers my plan worked out brilliantly.”

Hermione’s brows arched up, “Your plan? You planned to be captured?”

Lockhart nodded with a spreading smile, “You see, we arrived here and there were whispers of a Wizard hiding horcrux and deeming to endanger us all. How better to draw out such a fool than with a chance to take a hostage. I make quite the damsel, and I knew you all would find me soon enough. The Elf Lords did share which lands were known and which might be more likely for said baddy to be hiding in. Starting off, I have this for you,” passing over the silver framed compact to Neville closest to him. “Mirror glass charm contains my travels and especially the castle they kept me in, which is where I found this,” into Hermione’s palm a golden ring with runes of Khuzdul around a large rectangular sapphire narrowing her eyes recognizing Durin’s marker inside the band. “There were two more I couldn’t reach. But that one I managed to get close to. I know they said that Wizard had an affinity for using rings for his misdeeds so I assumed that might be the most useful.”

Neville asked, “Where did they take you, any idea?”

“Just past Gondor within a ring of mountains, not Mordor, I know Mordor has a volcano, there was one in the distance, perhaps one of the Elves might know where I was. Upon our flight back however there was a destroyed little village we flew over similar to where the Dwarves were met heard those houses were in hills. Caught sight of Mordor and a set of islands in the distance all coated with white glowing trees.”

Journals were brought over from his night table as well copied to ensure he had full record of all this adventure the pair flipped through listening to his sharing exact details around symbols they knew to be where he would embellish later. And when they went to leave he grinned saying, “Some might find it a bit mad however this will make a perfect plot for my next best seller.”

His next round of tests had the duo leaving trading nods and handshakes with the former Professor on their way to head to your house first to go through the memories and journals more thoroughly. Leaving the possible basilisk venom dip of the ring to you later so any memories from it might be tapped by you for more help in the search for the remaining Dwarf Rings from Sauron. A report was drafted up to share with the Ministry to be edited later for full disclosure once you had consulted the memories and Elves for information on the unknown lands and any more cursed items securing all threats to peace had been quashed.

To their evenings off the duo relaxed while Fred and George at the shop caught their first glimpses of a few Dwarves eyeing the shop known to be yours. The brothers stealing glances at one another from across the sales floor making note to share with you more clients for the gender swap potion clearly successful by Thorin’s demonstration.

Ginny’s evening however seemed to drag on while Regulus gleefully delved into learning about the stars and constellations of this world. For his hope to possibly use a name for a child of his own with Lindir the rule limiting that sank his mood a tinge at least until the next tale was shared. Copies of each record was made by Regulus who would compile them later to fit better way for sharing with the schools for one of a set of encyclopedia’s of sorts on this new world and lands to be sold and used in schools to inform the masses to study.

 *

Post feeding at lunch you did get a glimpse of Regulus’ notes brightening your mood on having to keep delving into the painful subjects covered in the paper. Though after school a wish to have some time to yourself brought you to the open pastures beyond the stables in the middle of the trees you walked eyeing the branches above. Soft hoof beats behind you and a warm breath to follow shifting your raven ended silver ponytail across your back turned you around to find Turo there, “Hello Queenie, care to run?”

Grinning up at him in a stroke of his cheek he lowered his head to receive more, “Only if you’re up for it. Just needed some time to myself before heading home finding others.”

“Sometimes silence and solitude can be cleansing to a wounded heart. Our youngest require supervised runs, come and run with us, allow the forest to speak to your pain.”

“Thank you,” you said stroking his neck in a turn for the stables to dress the Great Elk hoping this run may help to lighten your spirits.

Scattered between the hoof beats stray tears flew off your cheeks in tiny gems nestling into the grass sprouting wild flowers for the opening steps of the run until the smaller elk came into view and surrounded you. The response to your letter to the Pear clan about the papers was thankfully supportive with actual glee that Em was never in risk for being harmed. Each of them so proud to hear of your special task of aiding an endangered species supporting the affection you have for magical creatures they treasured highly since first meeting you. They had put up with so much, the whole David mystery and dissolution of whatever that was just as suddenly as it had popped up, Em out of nowhere before the nonexistent wedding, and now hearing you carried cubs for a giant cuddly creature. You just hoped Em, if she learned the truth, she wouldn’t hate you for what some could be seen as a bold faced lie.

The boys were well aware that they were adopted, had memories of their families you knew they were holding back on to spare your feelings. So much like their wish to be older than they are, even to the point of barring playtime in fear of harming their clothes. There was so much you had to unlock for them and somehow in balancing the weight of all your godchildren with help of the new Ministry this generation would be a safer and happier one. Stolen strokes of your hand down Tuo’s shoulder in slowed breaks allowing another young one to pass him up had him glancing back to you in subtle checks on if your mood was lightening. A break for water however for the young ones had his head turn again to spot your downward gaze at the grass and he asked, “Are you in pain, Queenie?”

Your eyes met his and shaking your head you replied, “Do you get orphans in your herds?”

“On occasion. We have heard of the young ones you have gotten charge of. Is one of them unwell?”

“No, I just, another woman carried my daughter. I don’t want her to hate me when she finds out. Everyone knows about it now.”

Underneath you on his hooves his body weight settled and facing you as fully as possible he replied, “No greater gift to claim a young one who requires a clan. The sons you have accepted in your heart are beyond content to have been welcomed they will always bear a fondness and love for their adopted mother. Your daughter will be proud to have such a mother to guide her.”

That had a tear drop down your cheek causing him to inhale deeply, “A lot of people are dead because of me, and there was no shortage of people who wanted me dead. So many cruel people that never hesitated when I was a child to sentence me to be beaten and imprisoned. Only thing I can think of when I remember the names of people I’m responsible for their deaths is if I killed enough. If my little girl is ever going to have to be afraid to tell people her name like my dad was.” Another tear fell and you wiped your cheek on your shoulder saying after a sniffle, “It hurts so much, how easy it could have been for me to have killed them all, anyone who tried to hurt or insult me. I could have put even Melkor to shame I bet, all the chances they gave me to turn dark. Em shouldn’t have to be afraid, least of all of me, what I had to do to get us here where she could be safe.”

His mate had come up beside you turning your head with a comforting nuzzle of her head into your belly, “All our fathers face painful seasons we may not weather to build our herds stronger. Your pain will not be lost to your daughter.”

Tuo spoke again, “There is honor in kindness little Queenie. In mercy. A strength some will never face. Hard lessons must be given to our young and we must stay the path we cannot shield them from all suffering and trials.”

“Thank you,” you said stroking her face and his neck again. “I don’t mean to sour the mood of your run.”

Another of the Elk stated, “You have soured nothing. Runs are great times for clan discussions.”

One of the other females added, “We have seen the birth and growth of many a young one, the troubles are welcomed among our herd. Your daughter is your first child, always the most worrying along with your final child.”

The bounding steps of her youngest from his full belly of water had you giggle at the circle around her he made joined by his cousins around the legs of their own parents starting the second round of the run. It was nothing new you had heard but somehow with the hoofed creatures you felt more support in hearing it from them. Back to the stables you got swinging your leg over the front of the saddle to drop down and begin undressing Tuo who pressed his head into your belly glad for the gentle hug to his head and peck to his forehead as a goodbye freeing him back to his family. “Pleasant run, Darling?”

Turned around your eyes fell on Glorfindel in his moment to wet his lips looking you over in this stolen time alone, “The baby elk are adorable.”

However you hoped to sound closing the distance he asked with hands smoothing from your shoulders downwards, “Something is troubling you.”

“Just over thinking the reaction Em might have to hearing I didn’t carry her when she’s older. The Pears are relieved, like others have been that she wasn’t in danger at all.” Inching his head closer to silently urge more from you he sighed to your stating, “I’m fine.”

The distance between you was closed and what was meant to be a brief kiss found him again pressed into that moment of that evening he had to leave you from such a warm chance at entangled matrimony to finally be all yours. Firmly his hands pressed into the small of your back melting more into the kiss that lured your hands from his middle upwards. Clearly he had hoped for a place more secluded, yet in the stroke of your fingertips along his jaw in a path towards his ear the stall he felt you step back to would have to be accepted for now. Two blind steps and he readied to lift a hand to open the gate to at least be inside for some semblance of privacy only the back of his hand met silk. In the blind fumble a decision of your own called your enchanted doorway that brought you straight inside the King’s apartment, unknowingly into the back of the King.

From the papers in hand his eyes rose turning at the body that pressed into his back. Pink lipped in a break for air Glorfindel straightened up a bit as you turned your head to catch the turning King’s gaze that warmed in seeing it was you. “Hello, Dew Drop,” you managed to squeak out with a hint of a blush that made the corner of his mouth tick upwards.

“Hello, My Darling Starlight,” his eyes scanned over your face.

Glorfindel said, “Apparently our Love is fine.”

“Hmm,” Thranduil hummed and shifted a hand to stroke though your hair behind your ear, fingers finding their own strands of curls to tangle in at the warm demanding kiss, through which Glorfindel’s hands stroked along your back and side. The moment his lips left yours however to press to your cheek below your ear Glorfindel moved with a hand raised to your neck, thumb extended to angle your head in a slow tilt granting the King a straight path to trail his lips meeting your shoulder when you turned your head again. Hungrily now claiming your neck Glorfindel moved in what would be the tipping point to a blind tugging path to get the three of you on the lounge in the bedroom now locked to prevent the children coming in.

Against the back of the lounge you rested still on a knee stretching to give Thranduil more neck to claim. His hand you found only partially certain of its owner to ease up under the end of your disheveled shirt for the snapping of the tether or restraint. Your shirt went first and down your chest to your back he moved guiding you to melt more into Glorfindel’s kiss so he might selfishly steal the first taste of your skin and claim as many strokes and caresses as possible until Glorfindel gained the courage to be more bold. Their shirts were next and again in a tangle of lips that same hand was smoothed along your thigh in a silent path to the waistband you had magically undone.

Permission was given and while your hands worked the pair into a frenzy around you his to make you come undone first while his moan parted lips savored the bare skin revealed between those obstinate loose curls failing to bar him from that tempting silky skin on his newly made wife. Easily they crumbled first and in an experienced albeit rusty endurance Thranduil made easy the task of turning you to lay you against Glorfindel’s chest to wiggle your lower layers off and see to your release next.

Slow and tender his lips found yours upon your recovery and with a chuckle blending into your soft giggle to Glorfindel’s question of, “How do I touch you?” Thranduil simply kissed you while you did the instructing, until he had the chance to lay you against his chest to hold you through the finale of your lesson, hands loose and wandering to the helpful nibble on your ear.

Just breathing in the silence you sat between the pair, like kittens nuzzling their heads affectionately to yours with stolen kisses in between, both allowing you the first word in joint adoration of this blissful union. “I take it this means we’re married now.”

Those were the magic words and with a thumb used to turn your chin in a blissful hum Thranduil replied, “We are married,” claiming the lingering kiss to seal those words into being contractual. All it took, the offer of matrimony after the physical union and with agreement and kiss the marriage is born.

Of course you didn’t get the depth of that offer for them and how long they had waited to have this one particular moment they had dreamed of come true. Glorfindel was next not missing his chance to reply, “We are married,” beginning a kiss for which reason why you couldn’t help but struggle against the moment ending smile fighting to spread across your face.

The next silent moment however came with your hand smoothing over the droplet of milk now leaking out down your belly. “I should probably take a bath and pump.”

“Of course, a bath sounds wonderful.” Glorfindel said in his pop up with smile down at your bringing out yours at the Elf with haphazardly loose pants still open and threatening to fall that matched his lopsided curls your hands had eased one side slightly out from the ribbon wrapped down the length of his ponytail. Into his offered hand yours settled and you found your feet with crownless King smoothing his fingers through his out of place hair ignoring the open pants shifting down his hips in each step.

Thranduil, “Give us a chance to give you a massage as well if you wish.”

The pair while you dipped a foot into the hot spring in the open bath tugged off their boots and pushed the last of their coverings down to step into the water to help you down into the seemingly bottomless pool of a tub. “How deep does this go?”

Thranduil, “Not far, the bottom is lined with abyss crystals however that deepen the appearance of it. There is a bench inside here.”

They both helped you to sit down and while he worked the ribbon wrap from his hair Glorfindel said, “You most certainly were not fine when I found you. Would you care to discuss it? We are your husbands and here to aid in your burdens.”

Softly you sighed watching Thranduil’s long arm bring the floating soap bowl over in case you wanted to use some of his. “I was doubting if I killed enough of the despicable people from my world so Em would never have to be afraid they would do to her what they did to me.” They shifted closer to your sides in the lift of your feet onto the bench in front of you. “I’m never going to be perfect, I have moments or days even where I get so helplessly lost in the pain of all those wrongs. Seventeen years I didn’t have a life that was mine, I didn’t matter except as a shield, and,” you inhaled looking between them with tears bubbling into your eyes mirrored by theirs at the darkening or your roots.

“75 adults on the Wizengamot sentenced me to Azkaban when I was eleven years old, ‘by any means necessary’ they were told to get me to surrender Tulip. That’s what the records said along with notes of the names of seven ‘suspect’ Wizards who could have argued against the decision they kept from knowledge on the vote. They had me for a month before I was found. People have no idea how many chances I had to go dark, how easy they made it, and people would have still supported me. I could have put Melkor to shame. I spent so long with people that made my skin crawl, with a mark from the man who tortured my mother to death and tried to kill me and Harry. I can’t say how many times I wanted to snap and just blow up entire buildings with thousands for my death count.”

A tear dropped down your cheek furrowing their brows in focus to not cry themselves sensing the pain you were expressing. “I lost it once, I thought my aunt Bellatrix had killed my dad, I had her head in my hand and, I slammed it into the ground. And I kept punching her until she stabbed me in the side to get me off her. I lost it,” you whispered out to another two tears falling and you shook your head lifting a hand to wipe your cheeks. “Remus managed to snap me out of it, and I managed to get back, to the plan. I haven’t been able to breathe for seventeen years, and it hurts to breathe a bit right now. But, I’m trying, to see who I can be now.” Your eyes shifted to Thranduil saying, “I wouldn’t trust me to be in power right now. I’ll try to help you both if you need it, but-,”

They moved closer and smoothed their hands over your arms and Glorfindel said, “Take your time. There is no rush. No one is going to force you into anything you don’t want to take charge of. We have charge here.”

Thranduil drew your gaze adding, “No one is harming our little ones. There is an army to guarantee that now, all of the Elf Lords would send armies should anyone dare to be foolish and harm a child in these lands. A promise the Dwarf councils will surely back as well.”

“I’m sorry,”

You said and he again shook his head saying, “You owe us no apology.”

“There always was a goal, a job to do, no mission.”

Glorfindel said, “You will find peace, that was very much my same pain upon my return. The restlessness. I know you will handle the pain better than I had.”

Thranduil chuckled saying, “Made it his mission to collect every uncut quartz stone in our river beds. Took him months and upset countless beavers and bears in the process. Five hundred years of watching him drenching wet being chased by some creature roaring after him. You make mistakes, you learn and heal.”

You nodded and said to the ripple of your hair to silvery blue again calming them a bit at your pain retracting its claws, “Well whoever cleans that couch will be furious, I’ll charm it when we get out.”

Glorfindel began to smooth his hand down to your leg he claimed, “Pay no mind to the couch,” massaging it while Thranduil claimed the other.

Couch charmed and wrapped in a towel you dried your hair with your wand using a jet of warm air you shifted to help the others with theirs afterwards giving both a time to smile in your fingers again traveling through their long locks. Again in fresh pants the pair found you now in shorts and a tank top, lip tucked between your teeth in thought widening their curious smiles on the path to your sides for another cheek cupped kiss for the both of them from their loving wife once you had finished pumping your milk. Both speaking to you sweetly all the while and helping in the transition between bottles when the two were filled and capped the third when you had tapped out halfway.

Behind his back however Thranduil kept the hand holding the box with gift meant for just this occasion to Glorfindel’s hand being offered that snapped you from your thoughts. “Might we discuss something with you a moment?”

You nodded and joined them back on the couch, wetting your lips in the cross of your legs to look at the pair on the foot stools in front of you. Glorfindel anxiously bumped Thranduil’s arm with his and you looked between them and then to the expanded then retracted smile on his face that preceded his throat being cleared. “Our Love, now, with this new deepening of our union comes certain tokens to bestow and so after much deliberation and sleepless nights put to use between us we wished to present this to you. Like a small metal book the box now resting in your palm waiting to be opened in the retraction of the King’s hands from leaving it there. His fingers hovering a moment then reaching out to open the lid that caused your heart to skip.

Inside on 4 overlapping bands, 2 black, 2 silver with white glowing stones lining these. In the center a yellow heart also surrounded by more of the white glowing stones with two black antlers extending above it. “Oh wow,” you whispered to yourself.

Glorfindel said, “The black metal is Galvorn, a black form of mithril, among some of my properties returned to me upon my awakening from Gondolin and the lemon quartz stone is also from my gatherings that we chose together.”

Thranduil, “The rest of the ring is silver mithril with the remaining white stones that are from my collection of Lasgalen stones from Doriath carved out of the heart of a fallen star gifted to my line from Valar Queen Varda.”

Carefully you lifted the ring from its box that felt impossibly light for how heavy it should be. “Is this the, do you have separate engagement and wedding bands or is it all in one? We haven’t discussed this before.”

Thranduil, “Upon meeting your father we have chosen to adapt to your customs of using engagement rings, now, we are bound by marriage for our kin though a ceremony of sorts could be planned according to your customs. Also we are aware these rings sit on separate fingers to ours that sit upon our index finger and this has been fitted to your chosen ring finger.”

“You measured my finger?” You asked with a hint of a grin.

“Estel was bribed to help us with that.” Glorfindel answered, smiling as you watched as he eased the ring onto your finger that fit perfectly, “When you are ready to discuss a ceremony we could possibly discuss designs of what a wedding band might be.”

A moment you bit your lip and said, “I need some dirt.” Parting his lips at your pull back to ease over the back of the lounge you swung your legs over to head for the window revealed in the magical ease of the curtains back in its opening to let you pass through it. The pair of them stretched to see what you were doing, watching your stroll across the patch of grass looking between each of the bushes in the marked off garden plots, beside a patch of orange flowers they saw you charm two handfuls of dirt out of the ground, careful to leave the few small worms back in the garden. A bit confused a pair of guards tilted to watch your path back through the window that closed and covered itself again leaving you just in the sight of the duo.

Glorfindel, “You need dirt, for, what exactly?” He asked watching you ease back over the back of the lounge you sat cross legged on top of again.

“Not exactly fair if you both don’t have something shiny of your own.” Their brows inched up only to see your skin begin to shimmer in the multicolored hue of your eyes that grew lighter in spectrums of color to the deeper the breath you took in. Out of your lips around the dirt clump above your left palm a white flame escaped your lips while you mentally recited the Draconic spell splitting and contorting the clump in half. More and more they compressed making the shapes of rings, in the center an oval mystic quartz stone sat between two wide flat black metal edges of the ring that dipped for a platform for the stone, down the band the ring grew thinner and held white opal shapes between strips of the black metal.

A second breath drew their focus back to you on the lift of the second clump that you blew out over the clump that split into three, this time for two more black metal sat around five round green opals, the one in the middle the largest that around the top and bottom had five emeralds closing it off. The third had the same metal and shape, merely with blue opals and sapphires around the top and bottom of the center opal.

At the dim of your glow they watched your hands to shift and offer the both of them the larger of the two styles of rings then locked their eyes with yours as you said, “These should morph to fit whatever finger you slip it on and won’t break, for your engagement rings if you like them.” Timidly the pair accepted the rings, lost for words on the skill of the gift you had made for them, looking next to the pair of green rings that they stared at taking in every detail of these as you slid them over the ends of their index fingers to the last knuckle. “We’re married,” that had their eyes shoot up to yours again missing the ripple of the stones’ colors turn to yellow, “Ceremonies for my culture can wait, we can have a family dinner or something. You’re a King and a Lord, you deserve to have your status marked. If anything I can always just put in the paper I eloped.”

Thranduil, “These,” he said clearing his throat to steal a second glance down at his hand that had him exclaiming, “It’s yellow now!”

“They change colors, I can make them stop-,”

“No,” they both said and after a shared glance eased their engagement rings on above their wedding bands. Tenderly with free hands Thranduil took the wedding band from your hand he eased onto your left index finger locking his eyes on yours. “I have never seen rings of this skill before.”

“I rarely make rings, yours must have taken months-,”

Glorfindel eased his hands around your free hand, “Thank you falls utterly short. Elleths rarely forge in our culture, merely hire a master craftsman. We will be the envy of all with your unmatchable gifts.”

Thranduil said, “Yes, truly. These five opals alone would have taken weeks to shape and I do not doubt several months to find the proper shade. I am flattered as well that they change hues. Five, we did not cover significant numbers for importance in our cultures, seven is sacred to our kin, five is sacred to yours?”

“No,” you said looking between them to say, “I thought, we have, five kids, between us.”

If they thought it was impossible to breathe upon seeing the ring that was nothing to now at realizing this was not just a wedding back but a sort of birth celebration as well that Legolas especially would be honored to have been included in. Glorfindel said, “Birth celebration as well, then truly this is beyond precious to us and will be to our children when we share it with them.”

“Well, um, my mother had one from my dad for theirs. Used to spark up around the stone when I got hurt. Um, Leg’s is in the middle, since he’s, well, fully grown, bad luck to put his anywhere else, and they’ll grow as the kids do and get their little crowns of emeralds.” Quickly you looked down and then up again in time for Thranduil’s lean in to steal a loving kiss trailed by a moment of foreheads tapped together. “I’m guessing you’re behind the antlers on mine?”

Lowly he chuckled and replied inching back to allow Glorfindel to claim his own warm kiss and pause with joined foreheads to Thranduil’s reply of, “It was a joint decision, as was the choice of yellow, your favorite color.”

“Thank you,” you said in their inch back and tangling of their hands in yours on your lap again. “Never really thought about engagement rings before, I mean, Barty gave me the rose gold pink teardrop ring, and it was beautiful, I was really grateful for it, I just…I guess you just don’t think of what you might want until you meet the person who you’d be needing it for.” You inhaled at their spreading smiles and said, “I’m rambling.” The narrowing of your eyes a moment had their brows twitch up tick only to hear you say, “There’s someone in my study.”

Glorfindel, “Is, that forbidden?”

“No,” you said uncrossing your legs in their rise to stand and help you up, “There’s just, someone there.”

Thranduil released your hand hurrying to the closet, “Grant us a moment and we shall inspect this together for any danger.”

“It’s not a danger,” Glorfindel turned in the doorway of the closet accepting the shirt tossed his way he found the bottom to that parted for his arms to slide through to the sleeves, “How is this so weird to say, you don’t ever just, know, something. Like you randomly pull the toast off a bit early or it will burn or you go to check on your chicken coop even though it’s not laying day to find that there’s now a huge gnawing blackberry bush taking over the back of the enclosure that has to be moved or it’ll ruin the fence? Places to go aren’t really unreasonable to explain but sometimes I just feel I have to say something and usually it goes terribly wrong but I just have to say it because I guess no one else will.”

Glorfindel, “Such as?”

You sighed, “Such as I had to tell a girl Margerie in the year of the Triwizard Tournament, she came from Beauxbatons, the school Fleur studied at.” The pair nodded in securing their shirts and robes after having tugged on their boots to their knees, “Never met her a day in my life, never spoke a word to her, walk right up to her and have to say ‘How did you like the Trout in Their Pajamas?’ She slapped me across the face and storms off! Two days later, I have this other girl Ophelia coming up to me hugging me. Saying that there’s this whole convoluted plot that had been buried with Margerie’s family that goes all the way back to a Unicorn thief who had stolen this useless children’s book from Margerie’s ancestor and then used it to break into the conservatory where Ophelia’s family had been keeping their Unicorn herd. Nearly got the ancestor locked up from his name written inside the book cover.”

Their brows narrowed in confusion as you mimed and explosion on either side of your head, “I didn’t get it either, but apparently I pissed off Margerie and she went steaming mad and ranting back to their tower and Ophelia overheard it. Apparently they both had been compiling their own internal investigations over the years and they sent what they came up with back home and they caught the guy 87 years later.” Your hands popped up at your sides and fell again, “I don’t get it, just had to say it.”

Glorfindel, “That, must be tiring, does it happen often? Was it a voice you heard?”

“Not a voice, no, I’ve been down that road, no, that time it was the cover of the book popped up in my head. Which reminds me I have to settle a flight time for the Pegasus foals, could we fly over your forest, they don’t like flying over towns they aren’t fond of seeing people.”

Thranduil, “Our forest, and yes, absolutely, these, Pegasus, are they another Quidditch team?”

“No, they’re winged horses,” parting their lips, “They also mostly have fangs, and tend to not like people, well, most people. But they have a new bunch of foals and they have a traditional first flight that has to be a long one and usually we would take them to Sherwood forest for that but the Muggles aren’t situated enough right now for us to get the Prime Minister involved for the approval of memory charms. Still a work in progress on the tolerance of us for them at the moment.”

Glorfindel, “You have flying horses and yet you do not ride them,”

“They attack people. Viciously. Their nests are normally high in cliffs out of reach from people. We just have the tolerating herd at Hogwarts in the Forbidden Forest now quadrupled from those we saved in the move here otherwise Hagrid would have handled it, the new ones think he’s going to eat them.”

Thranduil, “Why do I imagine that day Thengel will drop by unannounced?”

“Well it has to be tomorrow you can have him for tea I guess. I can show the boys, even bribe a Unicorn to drop by possibly. Buckbeak could use a nice long flight I can take him instead of the bike this time still have to get myself a new broom. He’s been anxious waiting for his baby sibling to hatch.” The confused pair followed you out of the bedroom and through to your door linked to your house where you heard voices inside of your study.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Draco said only to be answered by Neville’s sigh.

Neville, “I know that, but he told us, he did it on purpose.”

Draco, “And they let him teach us?!”

Papers were shifted and once in the doorway you caught Neville’s eye and he smiled in relief, “Here’s Jaqi, Lockhart says he went there on purpose to play Damsel. Gave us his journal and this mirror glass charm of his travels and that place they locked him inside of. And, found this.” In his palm was the glass jar holding the ring Lockhart had found that lured the Lords in around you to see it.

Thranduil, “That is Durin the Deathless’ crest. King Thror bore that ring.”

Neville, “Said there were more rings but he only could manage that one.”

“Hmm,” you said setting the ring down the accept the journal you lifted to sniff, “This is a copy, it smells like guava.”

Draco, “Kept the original for his next book.”

“Ah, naturally.”

Neville, “Says he was kept in the mountain but wasn’t Mordor. No volcano but it was in sight of an island with glowing white trees,” that had the Lords’ heads tilt to look at him directly, “And there was a city like the Shire that was destroyed on the way back.”

Glorfindel, “That is not possible, the only island with that description was taken by the seas ages past.”

Looking back at him you asked, “Which Lord would have ruled that one?”

Glorfindel, “Lord Elros. That would be Numenor, if they are correct.”

“Hmm,” you accepted the Mirror Glass Charm saying, “I’ll tend to the screaming ring later, for now, I’ll see if the Lords can help us find out where he went.”

Draco said, “We’ll keep the twins posted if you need a sub tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” you said turning back for your room leaving the pair to share their mutual notice of the ring on that particular finger, and into your closet where you confused your husbands in the tug of your shorts off to hop into a pair of jeans and long socks you added tall boots to your knees.

Thranduil asked, “How you were dressed was acceptable.”

“Not for a Mirror Glass Charm. Last time I went in one of those took me three days to get out and it was nonstop gales and moors.” Over the top of your tank top you pulled your silver low cut sweater that hung over your thighs that once the neck was tied over top you added a black rib covering vest and the holster for your wand from the pile of clothes you had sent back earlier during your bath to the vest pocket.

Glorfindel, “Three days?”

“Surely this time we can just skip to the end and miss any weather but I had to go day by day last time to figure out where they hid one of our Aurors a few years back in a Muggle Born raid.”

Pt 37

[alphawave-writes]

It’s lonely at the top--Sigma x Dr. Harold Winston

Synopsis: Sigma explores his past as he remembers the love that blossoms between him and Dr Harold Winston, the one man in the universe that understands him, and shares in his loneliness.

Read it here, or on AO3. Read my other Sigma fanfic series, ‘the Universe sings’, here

-

Siebren didn’t recall the first time he met Harold Winston, but he certainly remembered the second time. They apparently met once back on earth, when Siebren was petitioning for funding by the other scientific companies. Harold was in the background during the video call when Siebren was campaigning to join Lucheng Interstellar’s then-brand new mission, but he never spoke. In a sense, their real first meeting was later, up on the surface of the moon. He remembered when the spaceship propelled him out of the atmosphere and into the inky depths of space, him and a few Lucheng Interstellar astronauts buckled up in the typical astronaut gear. The others were only there to monitor the progress of the space station. None of them had the twinkle of wonder in their eyes. None of them looked upon the stars in utter amazement like Siebren did. They didn’t think of this trip as a step forward to understanding the world. It wasn’t too surprising that he did not make friends with them.

As he first stepped foot on Horizon Lunar Colony, went through the standard decompression procedure that he’d been taught and retaught thousands of times, he was ashamed to admit that his thoughts were not on his research or the stars beyond but on the academic worth of his new peers. It was a condition of his contract that he collaborated with the other researchers on a paper. He had never met the staff of Horizon before today. Time will tell whether his months here will be fruitful or pointless.

At the entrance to the main section of the colony stood a single man. He’s roughly Siebren’s age, with salt and pepper hair and a kind smile. If the horrendous five o’clock shadow and white lab coat didn’t prove to Siebren that he was a researcher, the way the other astronauts shoved past the man proved it.

He wiped his coat down, frowning as the other astronauts went off on their own accord. It took him a second to realise that Siebren had stayed behind, staring at the walls and ceiling. He pushed up his glasses with his left hand, extending his right in greeting. “S-sorry, I didn’t notice you there. I’m Dr. Harold Winston. You must be Dr. Siebren de Kuiper, right? It’s an honour to have you here.”

Siebren took the offered hand and shook firmly. He’s mildly surprised by the strength in the man’s grip, but didn’t remark upon it. “Not the friendliest bunch, are they.”

“No, not really.” Harold glanced left and right before leaning forward conspiratorially. “Keep this between you and me, but they’re pissed at me for what I did last time.”

“What did you do?”

“The last time they came over, I had just finished administering the gene therapy treatment to Specimen 8. They were only here to check the base’s integrity, same like today, only one gentlemen in that group was not an animal fan, and the other specimens could smell it. I turned my head, and in that moment Specimen 8 had escaped from its cage and ran up the guy’s pants and…well…let’s just say it wasn’t a very pleasant place to bite.” Harold smirked. “Or at least, I told them Specimen 8 escaped from its cage.”

Siebren laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. He’d laugh longer, but Harold suddenly put his hand on his mouth, muffling him. The Lucheng astronauts return, scowling at Harold before continuing onward. He wasn’t sure if it was out of the suddenness of the action, or whether it’s the latent stages of space adaptation syndrome, but all he could focus on was the skin on his lips, impossibly warm and soft.

Long after the astronauts have left, the hand is still over his mouth. If he squinted, Harold’s eyes looked cloudy and unfocused, a flame rekindled after months of winter.

Harold blinked rapidly, and the flame was gone. He took a step back, then another, wiping his hand hastily on his coat. “S-sorry,” he smiled nervously. “It gets a bit lonely up here.”

There was more to Harold’s words, but Siebren didn’t call Harold out on it. He forced himself to smile politely. “I’ll forgive you if you give me the grand tour. I’ve only heard wonderful things about this facility and the research your team have been doing.”

In all of Siebren’s life, he had never seen someone smile so brightly.

Harold led him around the base, making sure to stop by all the important areas. They walked past the laboratories, the simian’s centre, the hydroponics centre, and the garage where they stored their moon rovers, to name just a few. As they moved on, Harold spoke less about the Colony and his team’s research, and more about his fondness for the subjects.. Any other time Siebren might have been annoying, but Harold’s face lit up, and he spoke like he was singing his praises to the gods, and Siebren found that he was enraptured entirely. As they passed by a particularly sunny window, Siebren swore that Harold glowed.

It’s in the final stretches to the sleeping quarters that Siebren was finally able to put a word in. He tried his best to remain stoic and impassive—he had to prove himself as a reputable scientist after all—but one glance at the stars outside and soon he was waxing poetic about the mysteries of the universe. There was passion in his voice, so desperate to be unleashed from its cage that it spilled eagerly down his lips.

He only caught himself when they came to a stop in front of what Siebren assumed to be his new sleeping quarters. A piece of notepaper was stuck in front of the door, his name lovingly written in blue marker.

“You really do love space, don’t you?” Harold remarked.

Siebren cleared his throat loudly. It wasn’t enough to stop the heat rising from his cheeks. He could imagine the face his mother would make if she was here, seeing him blush like a schoolgirl.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” He walked two steps backward to his own sleeping quarters, directly opposite Siebren’s. “If you are half as enthusiastic for your research, I think we can do great things together.”

“You’re…you’re sure about that?”

“I’m serious. All the other scientists here, they’re passionate about their work, but they don’t see the beauty in the world beyond. You and I might be the only ones that understand that.” He gestured to his door. “You ever want or need anything, I’m right here.”

Another time, Siebren might have told Harold the same. At that moment however, he was overwhelmed by a strange heat growing within his chest. He retreated into his quarters, unpacked the few things he had been allowed to take onboard, and lied down on his bed, staring into the ceiling until the heat dissipated into the air.

He spared no thought for the people he left behind on earth. They didn’t hold a candle to the enigmatic Dr. Harold Winston.

The other scientists at Horizon were certainly smart and polite, but Siebren was closest to Harold by far. In the laboratory, they worked together with ease, ideas and discussions rattling off at rapid speed. They never stopped talking to each other, and when they did, that was only because they were apart. Many of the scientists joked that they were boyfriends, but Harold never took offense, and if Siebren was being totally honest, neither did he. He had never connected with another person as well as he did with Dr. Harold Winston. It didn’t matter what people thought. All that mattered was that he found someone like him, who appreciated his eccentricities and passions.

Evidently, Harold thought the same way. The distance between the two of them grew shorter with every rotation of the Earth's axis.

It was but a natural progress that they began to visit each other in their private quarters. Harold was an avid reader, obsessed with all forms and genres of literature. In his room he has crafted a makeshift bookshelf where he kept the physical copies, hidden away from sight. Physical books could be a dangerous weapon in the simians’ hands, and thus it was considered contraband. In response to learning this secret, Siebren revealed his own secret collection: a digital stockpile of every single song and album he had ever heard in his life, stored in a tiny USB, and a pair of ear buds, smuggled in a microscopic slit in his suitcase.

Bonds are forged over secrets, and thus they grew closer still. In the nighttime, when all the other scientists are asleep, Harold would creep over to Siebren’s door and knock in a precise pattern: two knocks in rapid succession, a pause, one knock, another pause, two quick knocks. Siebren would open the door and silently hand one of the earbuds over. Harold would always put it in his left ear, Siebren placing his in his right ear. They’d curl up together in a tiny beanbag chair, the only place that the desk lamp would reach, and Harold would open up the book he had chosen for that night.

Some nights Harold would read out loud, his voice a quiet harmony. Other nights he’d remain silent, reading in peace. A few rare occasions in those silent moments, Siebren took the book from Harold’s hands and read in his place. He wasn’t used to reading out loud, stumbling over his words every now and then, his voice harsh and abrasive like sandpaper, but Harold listened to him anyway with rapturous attention.

It wasn’t uncommon for them to fall asleep in those moments, nestled into each other, like the world didn’t matter. Like the universe was made for the two of them alone.

The holiday season came. All of the other scientists had exited the space station. It was standard practice to let the majority of the scientists go home for the holidays. The base was well equipped with enough autonomous robots to maintain the base while everyone was away but Siebren and Harold chose to stay behind. They sat in the break room, alone, listless. Two empty mugs sat in front of them on the table. A recent batch of eggs sent from the sister base some kilometres away meant that they had the means to make something that tasted like eggnog. It was a pity they didn’t allow alcohol up here. Siebren could make a pretty decent advocaat with the ingredients on hand.

It made sense for Siebren to stay behind. His contract specifically stated he remained on Horizon until the end of his six months contract, which will terminate on Valentine’s day. As for Harold’s reason of staying behind, it remained a mystery. Even though microgravity was all but terminated at the moon base, standard practice was that astronauts and scientists stayed for a year maximum. From what Siebren gathered, Harold had been here for two years.

He’d say something, but an unknown tension grew between them. It was palpable and malleable, so thick that Siebren could taste it in the air. Harold was avoiding his gaze, adjusting his glasses nervously, but if Siebren were to turn his head away, he could feel Harold’s eyes roaming over his body.

With everyone gone, something between them had changed.

“You have family?” Harold asked.

Siebren blinked rapidly. “I’m sorry?”

“I just…I never asked. You know,” he gestured at the Christmas decorations. “Thought today of all days would be a good time.”

Siebren glanced down at his hands folded over his lap. His Christmas playlist chimed over the speakers, but it didn’t give him any comfort. “In terms of immediate family, I only have my mother. I’ve got cousins and nephews and nieces, but they’re scattered across the globe.” He poured himself another cup of eggnog. “I haven’t seen any of them in seven years. Almost exactly seven years, now that I think about it. Our last big family gathering was last Christmas back in Den Haag, crowding together for some gourmetten.”

“No one else in your life?”

“No,” he replied. “I’ve been too busy with my career. The universe’s mysteries have still yet to be seen to mankind, and I will not rest until I find it. I never had the time or interest in romance.” He glanced at Harold. “You?”

A sad look passed over Harold’s eyes and faded away like a comet. “A sister. She lives in Lijiang with her family. We weren’t close though. If I went down to Earth today, she won’t be there to see me.”

Siebren frowned. “No partner yourself?”

“I never found the one. Tried for the better half of my twenties, and when I found failure after failure, I…well, I just kinda gave up. By the time I decided to get back on the saddle, no one wanted a greying, middle aged man like myself.”

“I find that hard to believe. You look rather handsome for your age, and I can only imagine you were equally as attractive when you were younger.” Siebren quickly waved a hand over his face. “Not that I’m the best judge of beauty myself.”

Siebren didn’t know if he imagined the reddish tint on Harold’s cheeks. “Guess I haven’t found anyone that appreciates me yet.” He shook his head, a bittersweet smile forced upon his lips. “At least I’ve got a new family here with the primates. Who needs a partner when you’ve got thirty children?”

The look flashed over Harold’s eyes again, and this time Siebren understood what it meant. “Are you lonely, Harold?”

“L-Lonely?”

“Yes, lonely,” Siebren frowned. “You’ve never mentioned anyone back on Earth until now, and I don’t see you talk to the others on your team all that often.”

Harold shrunk in his seat. Siebren sighed, rising from his seat to approach him. He was significantly taller than Harold, but staring down at him like this, he looked weak and wanting. He didn’t know what force compelled him to run his hand down Harold’s scalp, but he didn’t fight it. A microcosm of emotions breathed out from Harold’s lips; desire and hurt and hesitation fighting for dominance. They looked into each other’s eyes, saw the universe reflected back, and it’s divinely beautiful, escaping all other description.

“Harold,” Siebren started then paused. His heartbeat hammered in his ears, a frantic rhythm that threatened to drown out all sound. He let out a quiet breath. “I’m lonely too.”

Harold pulled Siebren’s hand down so it was now cupping his face. He leant into it, his eyes fluttering. “You too?”

Siebren nodded. “Men of science like us, we seek the mysteries of the world before us because we are in love with it. We hear the melodies the universe sings for us, and we transcribe it, because we want it to be a love song. It’s confusing, time-consuming, and very very lonely, but we wouldn’t love it if it weren’t all these things.”

“Love?” Harold’s eyes widen.

Siebren smiled. “That’s why we’re here, aren’t we?”

Harold didn’t respond in words. He removed his glasses with one hand, flicked his eyes up to Siebren’s lips, and before he could react, Harold kissed him with the force of a black hole. He was sucked in, pulled in by the gravitational attraction of Harold’s lips, density and mass colliding together with wondrous force.

 And then, just as suddenly it appeared, the force disappeared. Their combined breaths melted into stardust. They stared at each other, aware in that moment of the Earth reflected in their eyes, big yet small, significant and insignificant.

Harold retreated, pushing himself away from the table and, indirectly, from Siebren. He quickly put his glasses back on, adjusting them with shaky hands. “S-sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“L-likewise for myself.” Siebren cleared his throat.

Logic would dictate that the moment they shared was an outlier, threatening to corrupt the fabric of their bond. Relationships were messy and required far too much effort, Siebren thought, but then he saw the prism of the Milky Way in Harold’s eyes and wondered if perhaps he required further experiments with the other tools at his disposal. A kiss on the lips is one thing, but what about the caress of a hand, or the whisper to an ear?

Siebren shook his head violently, but it was too late. It was Harold Winston’s life to be exceptionally observant in shifts of behavior. Siebren was transparent, his inner thoughts printed in black and white across his face.

“Dr. de Kuiper…Siebren…you feel the same way, don’t you?”

“Any other time, I would deny this, but in the interest of transparency…yes. I think so.”

Harold nodded vacantly. “A relationship wouldn’t work. You’ll be leaving soon, and I’ll remain up here. The subjects need a familiar face. If I do go down to earth, it won't be for long.” He smiled weakly. “Pretty sure long-distance relationships never had the impassable distance of space to deal with.”

“Harold,” Siebren said forcefully, causing Harold to stiffen in surprise. His face softened. “Tell me the truth. Do you want to pursue a relationship with me?”

Harold paused for a moment before nodding. “Yeah.” He didn’t dare look up at Siebren.

Siebren let out a quiet breath. With as much discipline he could muster, he grabbed his chair and pulled it close to Harold, sitting down. He took Harold’s hands into his own, thumbs tracing planetary orbits. He’d never knew or cared about romance, and now suddenly confronted with this possibility, he wished that he did care, if only so he wouldn’t be at a complete loss like he was now. Research required references and accounts, a base in existing literature to form new ideas and discoveries, but Siebren had none to reliably depend on. What reference was there for this, the bond they shared, the gravity that pulled them together?

“I don’t know how long it will last, but I will give it a try,” Siebren rubbed the back of his head. “Even if I have absolutely no idea how I should behave in a relationship.”

Harold laughed quietly, his nerves dissipating. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned since working here, society’s rules don’t matter here. Up here, the politics and squabbles of earth don't matter anymore.” He leaned forward, the flash of flames in his eyes, a mark of his desire. “I know exactly when the new crew will arrive. We’ve got about 36 hours, give and take.”

“Oh?” Sigma’s eyes widen. “Oh! Uh…OK. Here or…?” He glanced around their surroundings.

“Probably somewhere comfier than here. I mean, unless I totally misinterpreted that and you don’t want to…well…” Harold chuckled nervously. “I just realized how forward that sounded. We can take things slow. I'll honestly be happy with whatever you're happy with.”

Siebren couldn’t help but smile. Wordlessly they stood up, the two of them staring at their conjoined hands. Atoms split apart, forming heat and light where their palms touched. Their thoughts fused together, brain waves synchronizing as an image floated above. It was the two of them, lying side by side on Siebren’s bed, mapping out the stars with their fingertips. Galaxies blossomed with their kisses, the whole expanse of space to explore within the boundaries of a King-sized bed. They look up at each other and knew in that moment that they had found the one. They walked over to the sleeping quarters, hand in hand, safe in the knowledge that, at least for a little while, there was one more person in their small, solitary world that understood them.

The man known as Sigma flies alone up to Horizon Lunar Colony. It’s been at least a decade, but upon arrival, he notices that nothing has changed in this place. The walls are still that familiar off-white. The moon outside the base is still inviting. The telescope still reaches out for Earth like an outstretched hand, asking for a dance. It’s beautiful, but there’s a staleness to the air, the smell of decay and abandonment. No longer can he hear the hoots and grunts of the chimpanzees, the squeaks of the hamster, or the grunts of the gorillas. The buzzing sounds of the speakers are gone, replaced with a single tone.

Fragmented memories resurface, of the research he performed, of the opportunities he acquired, but most of all on the romance that died in the outer reaches of space. Harold had joked they were star-crossed lovers in a more literal of the word. That was not too long before the fatal incident. Siebren remembered the horror he felt, guilt and regret dunking his face in cold water. He had planned to meet Harold when he touched down on Earth, two weeks after. He had planned to ask Harold if he was willing to take the next step in their relationship. His mother had gifted Siebren his father’s old engagement ring, her silent blessing.

No one could have predicted the animal uprising. Not even sweet, kind Harold, the one person who genuinely cared for the gorillas as living beings and not as test subjects.

Sigma frowns, letting the memories wash away. He cannot let himself get lost to sentimentality. He’s here for one purpose only. He’s here on a mission.

The gravity programs have malfunctioned, bringing back the microgravity of the moon, but Sigma’s powers prove to be beneficial. He walks, not floats, past the entrance hallway, past the break rooms, and enters the laboratory area.

He finds them there, floating near the corner of the laboratory. Papers float in perfect position around them, some scientific in nature, others more intimate passages meant for private eyes. There’s writing on every single piece of paper, starting messy and illegible on the left, before becoming more clear and distinct. Purple veins crept up their skin, tufts of hair sticking out in uncomfortable angles.

Sigma clears his throat loudly, and they turn to him, eyes wide and animalistic. He sees that even their face is distorted and pale, an oxygen mask hiding their nose and lips, the tube winding round their neck and leading down to a makeshift backpack that’s constantly extracting the air and pumping it, purifying it.

“How did you get here?” The voice croaked, barely audible from behind the mask.

Sigma frowns. “I was sent to rescue you. I’ve come to take you back down to Earth.”

They float up to him, propelling forward by the microgravity before pulling to a stop on the table. Sigma waves his hands and they gently fall down, standing on normal gravity. They look up to him, a flash of recognition passing over their eyes like a comet. “Siebren?”

“It’s Sigma now. The man you knew as Siebren de Kuiper is long gone now.”

“He’s not there?” They point at his forehead.

 “Bits and pieces, struggling to remain together.” Sigma frowns, as Siebren’s memories return. “I made the same mistake you did. I didn’t double check my math, and I paid the price.”

“And Subject 28?”

“Lived his dreams in Overwatch.”

“Lived?”

“Overwatch is no more. He’s still alive though. Goes by Winston nowadays.”

The figure laughed for a second before coughing violently into their mask. Their eyes smiled. “Of all the names in the world, that’s what he chooses. I should’ve known.”

They start choking suddenly, a horrendous gasp that sounds like the air had turned to poison. Sigma watches as they take a syringe and plunge it into their neck, depressing it right into the carotid artery. The puncture wound heals almost in an instant. Their skin reverts into something that vaguely resembles human flesh.

Sigma takes their hand and slowly leads them out of the laboratory. They’re both wearing gloves, but Sigma still feels the faint heat of their flesh escaping, and the memories flood back. He’s reminded of lonely days in the break room and lonely nights in sleeping quarters, curled up next to someone with a kind face and a kinder heart.

He should consider himself lucky, all things considering. Subject 31, as he’s currently known, has spent years living in complete isolation, the only human contact coming from the Lucheng Intersteller astronauts desperate to find a way to bring him home. The force of gravity is the main issue, the pressure of the spacecraft entering the earth’s atmosphere to high for their fragile body. That is why Talon ordered Sigma to come here and guide him back.

It’s almost cruel how much of their life events intertwine, like the universe is playing games to pull them apart and bring them back together again.

“Where are you taking me?” They ask.

Sigma turns to them, trying his hardest not to smile. It’s difficult, though. Even after all this time, even though his mind is fragile and memories are splintered, a familiar warmth creeps down his chest. “Home, Harold. I’m taking you home.”

There’s a cough, and then a weak laugh. “It’s been so long. I cannot recall how long I’ve been waiting for today.” He turns to Sigma, a smile hidden beneath his mask. “If you’re no longer Siebren, I’m allowed to give myself a new name.”

Siebren laughed quietly. “Then what’s your name now?”

“I’m rather a fan of Tristan, actually.”

“From Tristan and Iseult?”

They shrugged, grinning with their eyes. “I always liked a good story. Even the ones that end in tragedy.”

Sigma can feel years and years of lost and yearning resurface in their eyes, twinkling with the brightness of the North star. It’s the same person underneath that mask, the same brilliant man with a heart as big as the universe. It’s poetic that they find each other again, after years of loneliness. They did once before, and they have done it again today. They cannot escape the black hole that pulls them together, distorting time and space and matter. They always find a way back to each other.

Sigma squeezes his hand tightly. The man now known as Tristan squeezes back. “Let’s go home, Siebren.”

Sigma nods. “We’ve both got a lot of catching up to do, Harold.”

“I can’t wait.”

The entire trip to the spacecraft, they walked hand in hand, afraid that if they let go, they’ll be all alone again, trapped in their gilded cages.

[bluerosesburnblue]

Liz Liveblogs Bravely Second: Chapter 4

Seems like I was right. Time for a short one with Chapter 4: He Who Would Change the World. Two liveblogs in one day? Pretty good, considering the extreme gap between past ones

Why on earth did we take Lotus and Sakura with us to dock on the Skyhold? Lotus has a son! Sakura is really just our kindly bath mom! They shouldn’t be coming with us to the gate between dimensions!

They’re not coming into Skyhold with us, but the Rubadub’s still attached! If the Skyhold goes down, you two do, too! I don’t want to risk the lives of our boat mom and airship dad!

Skyhold has an actual name, Diamante. And it’s gorgeous. Like a palace of blue diamonds

Kaiser, Anne, and Janne are already aware we’re here. Subtle, this party ain’t

“I really want to see my dead - No... I really want to see my living parents.” Janne, hey, maybe instead of changing the past you could... get therapy? How far back are you guys gonna go to change things? One change effects many things. Is the Kaiser’s change gonna eradicate Janne’s family, thus invalidating Janne’s whole quest? Does anyone know how causality works in this empire?

Kaiser, at the very least, seems willing to save Janne’s parents should Janne be unable to

My guide says there’s a summon this chapter and it ain’t on the Skyhold, so we’re just gonna jump off the side and spit in the face of Gho Gettar’s dreams by snagging Amaterasu. Worst. Timeline. WORST! TIMELINE!

I have no idea how anyone is intended to find this spot in the far northeast of Eternia, and then also figure out that the cutscene only triggers if you slam your face into a very specific cliff

This poor Anchorite really got the short end of the stick. The other guys get to hang out in buildings, but they stuck this guy on a remote island in a freezing blizzard. The order he belongs to must really hate him

Oh I just realized I have Tiz as an Exorcist. This battle against a healer is gonna go GREAT now that I can just... undo those

Oh yeah, Exorcist was the real MVP job of that fight

My party is gonna waltz onto the deck of the Skyhold covered in blood and wielding the goddess of light and no one can stop us

We’ve found Agnès’s cell, but she doesn’t seem to be in it

BUT MAGNOLIA’S POSSESSED. Of all people, why did it have to be the one who can summon?

She’s acting like a bratty five-year-old. Is there a child ghost here? I’ve watched a lot of ghost hunting shows, can I appease you with a toy or something?

“I’ll make you pay for what you did to my daddy!” Well, the only dad Edea’s murdered this game is Geist, so I guess you’re Rev, then

If we killed him, then he should also be a ghost and therefore able to see his ghost child, though, right? Like, just pass on kiddo. Your dad’s waiting

Yeah, Revenant Grace. Fittingly, both father and son are named after types of Ghosts/Undead. Which begs the question of what Geist’s parents were thinking when they named him, and why he felt the need to give his son a name with heavy “return from the dead” connotations

I don’t think the Princess Bride reference was really necessary. “My name is Revenant Grace. You killed my daddy. Prepare to die!” just... doesn’t have the same kick to it

Okay, Rev’s possessed armor is really cool. And apparently, he died and Geist pulled a Fullmetal Alchemist and bound his soul to the armor. So there’s that

Edea’s trying to tell Rev that Geist was going to kill a kid just like him... but Rev’s, like, five, he’s not listening. He’s literally yelling “LA LA LA NO HE DIDN’T”

Geist went away on a trip, and some monster lurked on the boat that came back, where Rev was waiting. It killed him

I’m so glad I read about the trick to this fight, because it’s almost poetic. You set someone to Geist’s Exorcist asterisk. Let Rev posses one of his teammates, which sets his own HP to zero. Then it’s just a matter of attacking that teammate to kick Rev out of possessing them and back into his own body, then Undo HP to the last turn, where Rev’s body had 0 HP, thus killing him instantly using his father’s abilities

Also, we Exorcised a ghost. That’s neat, too

Rev’s monologue says that Geist was happier after he was revived and then he mimicked Geist’s psychotic laughter. I think the poor kid misread the situation. Geist broke when he lost his son, and if his last words were any indication, he regretted bringing Rev back

Edea just passed on those words. Rev’s grateful. He’s not a bad kid, just scared and stuck in a bad situation

Time to pass on and see your daddy, kiddo. He’s waiting

Yew’s entry in the journal states that the last name, Grace, is given to Orthodoxy saints and others who did extraordinary service to them. So Geist was either a holy man, or the descendant of one

And since it seems everyone in the Kaiser’s inner circle wants to “undo” something, I believe that Geist must have joined up to undo either binding Rev’s soul, or Rev’s death entirely

Agnès wasn’t there, so on to the next location

I’m almost baffled by how few named characters have died in this game so far, considering last game killed A LOT of people, to make the “redo” aspect feel fulfilling, and then pull the wind out of your sails when you realize that you didn’t redo anything. They stayed dead. (And then this game undid all those deaths because they were beloved characters who got a lot of development postmortem)

For FUCK’S sake, Janne, get lost! And especially don’t attack me mid-dungeon!

Janne “I Refuse to Die Until Yew Geneolgia, Specifically, Kills Me” Angard, is back for YET ANOTHER round

Oh god he’s Kylo Ren. “I was on this big revenge kick, so I befriended you to kill you! But then I liked you and that made me mad so now I’m going to kill you because I’m a child who can’t figure out my emotions!”

I’m... not that big a fan of Janne. He just comes off as a bratty teenager that they keep trying to make sympathetic, but he never stops being an ass about literally everything

“You were a true friend.” Yew, he really, REALLY was not

Rev works for me, because even though he acts like a brat, he’s acting as a reaction to his father’s death. Once you calm him down, the kid’s perfectly civil, and even thanks the party for passing along his dad’s last words. And that’s some stunning maturity for a kid

Janne, on the other hand, is older and should know better. But instead he lashes out, constantly brags that he’s the best, and even in the last fight he’s being petty. He thinks he can get away with betraying his friends, but as long as he tell them “Hey, good shot” as he’s dying, then he’s absolved. Janne has done a lot of REALLY AWFUL things. He has no intention of atoning because he can’t see past himself and what he wants out of this: his parents back. Rev’s a brat because he doesn’t know better. Janne’s a brat because he’s conceited and wants to delude himself into being superior

I’m gonna rip the Kaiser’s sword right out of his dumb metal hand

Yew is legitimately anticipating death. And blames himself for not stopping the Kaiser when he came to kidnap Agnès. That’s Yew’s undo moment. And I know for a fact we’re gonna make. That. Happen.

Edea’s pep talk about trying again and succeeding now that you’re stronger and wiser is something I think a lot of people need to hear. If you mess up, you shape up and do better

Wait, “Bravely Second” is an in-game term for something other than the hourglass? It’s moon for “the courage to try again.”

So the title of the game is, more accurately “The Courage to Try Again: A World With No Future”

Ooop. Just kinda slid into the Holy Pillar there. Okay

Kaiser’s robo-arm must be pretty tough if he can carry Agnès with it like that

I can’t believe I get to watch Leonardo the Ninja Turtle kick the ass of Leonardo the Ninja Turtle

Dude, stop saying the word “deny.” It’s gotten to be at least once a scene, we know. You deny, you deny, you deny, maybe accept that I’m gonna kick your ass?

Where the hell do you get the idea that only those who know sin can change the world, so you became a literal evil emperor to become a big enough asshole to fix time. Where... the hell do you get that idea? Was it Anne?

Wow. We just LET him do that. Nobody made a move while he went back in time with Agnès

...did Anne just imply that we sent the moon to another dimension?

Oh, no. She just sent the moon to another dimension. And Magnolia’s trying to call her people, but the moon just ain’t there

And here’s the scene I know about. The big reveal that, yes, Anne is Airy’s sister, she knows about you, the player, and now she’s gonna repeat her scene from the start of Default just to make sure you know that you. Messed. Up. You helped her stop Airy, and now she was able to do this. Aren’t you proud, player? You’ve done everything she asked

This boss music is amazing. A combo of Spanish guitar and Wailing guitar? Hell yes

And the butterfly battle background is gorgeous, even if it’s greyscale thanks to the moon’s disappearance

Well, shit. Anne’s hard. Attack one of her fake copies and she’ll basically insta-kill you. Group attacks are not recommended. They’re what keeps killing me

Not bad once you start playing more defensively. Resurrection Mist was a pretty decent idea for that fight with the way Anne can one-shot part members, but Magnolia’s Promethian Fire Arrow was the real damage MVP

Time to escape to the flying bath boat

I just glanced at the bestiary and Anne doesn’t have an entry. Also, it looks like all entries are locked, because the completion markers are faded. I think we’ve hit the end layer

Oh that’s nuts. It looks like time is frozen. All of the flames around the Skyhold stopped moving

“I know the feeling of losing your home” Actually, that raises a good point, Tiz. Are we ever gonna stop by Caldisla or is that just not relevant, since there’s no crystals there

A world without time. A world that both has no end and is the end. The final layer of all reality. The end layer

The Moon “created night from day.” As in, the Moon controlled time, much as the Crystals controlled the elements. Without it, there’s nothing left flowing or moving

This isn’t the first game with a Frozen Future apocalypse that I’ve played. Let’s see how this one stacks up against Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers. A leaf gecko hasn’t come to kick our asses, so it can’t be that bad yet

Ohhhhh shit I just got chills. Tiz said that we never got to fight the Kaiser once, and Yew realized something. He turned to the camera and said “If you’re out there, watching over us... hear my plea.” Yeah, buddy, I can hear you. “Not once?” I remember one time we got him on the battle screen. Just once

(I used up all my SP in the Anne fight, I hope that won’t be a problem)

Tutorial says that Altair has disappeared, so we can’t add entries to the bestiary. Is... the party not capable of writing without Ghost Dad? Did he steal our literacy or something?

It recommended talking to people, but also New Game+. Let’s see this timeless world, then make sure it never happens again 

Not much different in Ancheim. Some worried citizens, a child who’s excited that they can play forever because it’s always day, a mom who wonders if she has to cook dinner now, and a man who’s acting like there’s always been no movement to the clock or sails

Al-Khampis seems to be a mix of panic and contemplating the scientific repercussions of this new world-state. One interesting tidbit is that one scientist detected an anomaly traveling through time, but not to the past. If it WAS the Kaiser, then he went 200 years into the future, instead. Rifa gave us similar dialogue to end layer guy in Sagitta, and then a message appeared saying I unlocked New Game+, so maybe it doesn’t unlock unless you talk to people

Florem is... Florem. Girls wondering if this means there’s not gonna be another festival, but at least the flowers don’t wilt. I can’t help but notice “Alternis” isn’t here anymore. The real interesting thing is Sylvie and the Matriarch

Sylvie: “...Miss Edea. ...So many tears, so many cries you will come to know from now on. So much evil... So much blood... But even so... Even so, that great ship will take to the sky once more...! To the world, bound in the sky, where Lady Agnès is held...!” I suspect we’re going to have to hunt down the Kaiser using the Buster Ship

Matriarch: “Sylvie would like me to tell you this... ...Edea Lee. ...A time is coming for you to come to a decision, no matter how difficult it may seem. You must tell your friends, then you must lie to the people, deceive the world, make yourself out as a tyrant in word and deed... Let yourself be attacked and blamed. Go after the friends you have lost. Take that glimmering ship to the sky once more! And that world, bound in the sky... Well, I’m afraid that this old lady has no idea about that.” Is this what the Kaiser was told? The sin he mentioned? To change the world, operate the shining Skyhold, he had to become the tyrant. And now it seems Edea will have to make the same decision

Though given her decision making track record in the sidequests... boy, she may already be a tyrant. We’re gonna fix that this time. Speaking of, there’s some people from the sidequests who reference a few of them hanging around, though I can’t say any of them won with a frozen future

Every person in Sagitta is just stuck repeating “Bravely Second... The courage to try again...” over and over, except for the guy who first introduces you to the end layer, who notes that this must be it, and the elder, who unlocks New Game+ just like Rifa did when I spoke to her

Gathelatio’s full of people screaming about the end times and divine retribution, and kids who hear all of this going “Are we gonna die?” And ominous cats

That... one Crystalguard guy whose name I can’t remember screams at us for not stopping the Kaiser, then apologizes and unlock New Game+. Hey, jackass. Do you want to go into the pillar of light and get one-shot by a fairy? No? Back off. I’m gonna fix it once I hit up the last few towns

Eternia has... a goat. Has that goat always been there? Well he didn’t break the moon. Just eats paper. Mm-hmm. And more worried citizens, a doomsayer, and one brilliant mind who wants to solve the moon problem using the white magic cables

I guess those taxes don’t matter now, do they, Grandship? Otherwise, not much here. An old lady who doesn’t care because she’ll die soon anyway, a guy who’s getting drunk for the apocalypse, and a kid who’s wondering where Alternis went

Yunohana’s pretty basic. Ominas is there trying to get Bahamut to fight off a Ba’al, but the little guy doesn’t look so good. The Lord of Bath tells us we have enough to uncover our feelings and unlocks New Game+ yet again

Maybe picking Ominas for the bad future was a good idea. Femto Flare could deal with the Ba’al outbreak that everyone’s talking about but I have yet to see

Visited the girl and her grandpa from the Eisen quest. Holly’s there trying to protect them, but she’s not enough and can’t find Barras (oops?) and the grandpa wishes he’d just sold the house so his granddaughter could’ve had a little luxury before the world ended

Goodman and his crew are holding down Eisen Bridge, but his soldiers back in Hartschild aren’t so confident. The people just want him home

I also checked on Sakura and Lotus. Sakura just warns us not to stay in the bath for too long now that there’s no time to keep track of, and Lotus is concerned at the appearance of Ba’al. Everyone keeps mentioning Ba’als, and I’m scared to turn encounters back on just in case they may be roaming

I also don’t think I ever mentioned it, but since the start of the game there’s been one person in each town who sings a different verse of the Tale of Sétana. They have to be important, but I suspect it’s relevant to the Yōkai quest, since it’s the only non-cameo-fight quest I’m aware of

*Edit after the Fact* I’m an idiot who can’t read. It’s Sétanta, as in the original name of the Irish mythological figure, Cú Chulainn. As in, the guy from the Prologue. The songs are his backstory. Setana is an area in Hokkaido, Japan. I knew that, I just can’t read, I guess. Wouldn’t be the first time I did something like this (like misreading the Harry Potter spell “Rictusempra” as “Rictumsempra” until I heard it said aloud while watching someone’s playthrough of the Order of the Phoenix game)

YEAH I TURNED ENCOUNTERS BACK ON AND THERE’S JUST BA’AL WANDERING AROUND AS RANDOM ENEMIES. Heyyyy, Urchin! Been... been a while?

Okay, the “next plot event” marker was on the “To Title” entry on the menu so I’m just gonna... gonna return to the menu. No point fighting Urchin if Altair won’t write a bestiary entry on it

Welcome to Bravely Second: Send Player. No more of this “End Layer” nonsense. I’m here, and I’m gonna help these kids take back their future

Back to the beginning. The fight where nothing seemed to work, but this time, I can help. Let’s get the team back together and RIP. THAT. SWORD. OUT. OF. HIS. DUMB. METAL. HAND!

Well, future Yew just kinda possessed his own body, and a good thing, too, because I don’t think past Yew even knew why he used the Bravely Second in the first place

“You, who would deny the past and present have no right to shape the future.” HE SURE DOESN’T, KIDDO. RIP HIM APART

“The future will be forged by those who accept the world they live in, and still fight for change!” I love Yew, and I’m so glad that I’m his extradimensional patron, in a meta sense

The chapter has ended. No cryptic monologues, no “Great Distance”. Just us, the Kaiser, and our Coup de Gravy!

[chamberofnectar]

Contract complete

SUMMARY

After running an exhaustive contract, Lucifer and Xev just want to take a break from waiting on filtered contracts with low pay. Xev, meanwhile, mulls over his feelings for the Chroma.

Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Chroma | Excalibur Prime | Mawframe | Contract work

[ Link ] or continue reading below beneath the read more! - AO3 account is connected to nsfw theme content as a fair warning -

Word count: 1951

Usually, their rendezvous would end at the terminal.

Xev overlooks the relay’s cramped mercenary floorspace with a sigh, leaning up against a guardrail as he watches the troves of syndicate operatives bickering amongst themselves. Warframes weave through the crowd alongside the factionless marines looking for the next prospective contract work; easy to weed out from the ones in suited faction gear. A pantheon of operatives congested in a small space, the prime muses, the bustle deafening and almost muting the small scuffle that breaks out below him.

With a half-cant perspective, he can see the shimmering of spilt blood on a Red veil loyalist’s lips, a punch pulled from a Hexis follower spattered. It doesn’t enthrall him, looking back to the crowding of multi-toned suits and worn warframes. He disregards the mumbling he hears behind him, the gawking of his primed complexion and battle scars – he rarely steps on the relays for such reasons. He’s only here to wait on a certain chroma to deliver their payload.

Gilded chin in hand, the Excalibur prime eyes the towering chroma as he wades through the noisy plaza, impatiently elbowing his way through the crowd with a device carefully coddled against his puffed stature. His bright ivory and turquoise pelt stands out among the crowd of diluted tones, towering above the crowd, easy to distinguish amongst the visual noise in the cramped space. But his puffing feathers express his aggressive chill that surrounds him, casting the unwary aside half startled and intimidated, a presence that is difficult to ignore as well as daunting. By the standards of the syndicate operatives, the ones always intrigued by the warframes occupying their space, they stay far away.

The renegade mercenaries just stay out of his without a second glance.

Lucifer shoves his way past a bickering cluster of operatives on his way to a cephalon kiosk, pausing briefly as one of them shouts, an aggressive growl rumbling in his chest to disperse them. Left alone, he heaves the heavy data device into the small alcove in the wall and onto the reluctant shelf surface laid barren to time. It lands with a hollowing thunk that deviates the attention of those around him; a wandering operative’s head quickly turns until he identifies the source, hurriedly shunting themselves away from the agitated chroma.

In front of him, a cephalon flickers awake and illuminates the corner in a dampened aquatic hue.

“Here’s the device; take from the area designated. All data retrieved, unscratched,” the chroma growls; the payout they were offered was less than ideal for the difficulty. Nullifers and the looming presence of an active fissure was not something he’d consider as worth less than forty grand.

“Excellent,” the cephalon mumbles with disinterest, igniting a display of the data device’s contents in a hologram behind the recess’ surface. Text scrolls at an accelerated pace, data markers placed and erased in a blinding speed with the nuance only a connected cephalon can muster as they pry through the insurmountable information. All the chroma can see is a blurring illumination; releasing an exhale as he waits for the digital consciousness to just bring up their payment. Money to put forth towards the maintenance of his squadmate’s vessel; Lucifer doesn’t need much.

“Everything seems to be in order,” the cephalon dryly states, diminishing the display with contempt, just another analysis to run through. “As for the matter of payment, the contractor has put down twenty thousand credits.”

“Hold on,” Lucifer growls, leaning against the surface and staring down at the cephalon’s meager display, “the payout was supposed to be thirty-five grand. Where’s the rest?” He snaps, voice rumbling in his large chest. They could’ve just captured a couple people for interrogations for twenty, it would’ve taken much longer surely, but for the high security they went through for a measly twenty thousand?

The cephalon is quiet for a minute before surging back to life, “unfortunately, it seems that the client had miscalculated their assets… prior to your arrival they seem to have retracted their contract and the price drop may have been done to pay the array’s service fees and the refile fee instead of paying the array service fee separately.”

“That’s a load of bullshit, bitbrain, and you know it. It’s their fucking fault, not ours to just ‘deal’ with when they contracted us for forty thousand.” A claw taps at the surface concealing the cephalon’s hologram device, irritated.

“I am aware of that, but they withdrew before the payout was dispensed. I am unable to correct the error in this state, as you’ve already got the device and fulfills the contract… however.”

“What is it,” the chroma growls.

“Due to their negligence… when refilling the contract, they seem to have forgotten to include the delivery information they shown in their formal contract. In the active one, you would only be paid twenty-thousand credits for retrieval, without a designation of delivery.” The cephalon smarms, bringing up a display of the two contracts – one reading ‘NULL’ – more for Lucifer’s reference than the cephalon’s. “I can’t fulfill a contract that is invalid… and nor would the one that sent it would retrieve the device. Would you like to hold it for ransom at a higher amount? There are file paths that hint that it is well worth more than the initial offer. Would you prefer this venture to the lump sum payout.”

The chroma’s aura dulls, muscles once drawn relax, head tilted down towards the cephalon’s presence, “I assume that, due to their negligence, we are well within our right as the contractors, since the contract is fulfilled.”

“Correct; you’ve collected the device, you fulfilled the contract. It is yours to deal with, as you please.”

Lucifer pauses for a moment and stands to his full height, turning to look back to where Xev is watching from above. “Ransom it?” is all the chroma asks through their coms – the Excalibur nods. Turned back, Lucifer also nods. “Ransom it, I am assured you can get us – say – around 50 thousand?”

“From the filer? Doubt it – my coding obligates I am not able to refer to them outside their contract. There is encrypted files on here that may be worth well more than that… perhaps a few thousands if I can relocate the frequency of the vessel it originated.”

Xev chimes in through the chroma’s com links, “50 thousand is good, unless the cephalon wants to negotiate for a while. Let’s just drop it and get outta here.” Lucifer nods – he never was much of a fan of the crowded market.

“Just offer it back for 50 thousand, I’m certain they’ll pay up soon enough,” he rumbles. He does his best to drown out the ramble of the mercenaries around him, the shouts, the loud banter, the ominous background hum of the relay’s aged engine and systems. It’s too much noise, too much going on.

In front of him the cephalon chirps again to life. “They have problems with their communication system - “ they took out the grid during the raid for the device “ - and are more than willing to pay the ransom for the device back within the next few hours. We’ll have one of our stewards deliver the device in another location. Once it’s delivered,” they start, the device’s temporal existence diminishing down into a digital archive, in a vessel that can be shuttled through the cephalon weave to its delivery point. “you will receive the payment. The head cephalon will contact you when they have another contract that meets your partner’s criteria.” In an instance their display fizzles, leaving the chroma alone at the alcove.

There’s a heavy sigh from the chroma, a relief short-lived as his feathers puff up as the noises around him sink back into his mind, igniting his defensive chill. Voices run in a blur surrounding him, saturating his thoughts as he guides himself back to the stairways leading to the higher levels – where the smell of blood doesn’t sink as deep, nor distorts his senseless sight with the draw of violence. Up on a floor above, as he glances, he can see Xev waiting for him. It’s only been the third time in their partnership has the prime stepped aboard and out of his comfort zone.

Not that this was the chroma’s comfort zone either; to drawn agitated, his claws flexing as rumbles.

Lucifer’s steps ring as he walks up the wide sloping stairway, disregarding those around him with the best of his ability. He only gives an occasional growl, just enough to have them steer clear and to prevent the ever-present bloodlust from clouding his thoughts. The noise, too close to that of a crowding vessel filled with grineer soldiers, ripe to be shredded. To stain his pelt crimson red and warmed.

He’s quiet when he approaches the prime, who remains just as silent as he. Externally they keep the silence, the pair walking back to the docks. “It’d be enough to pay off the expenses completely, right? 70 thousand credits; get those repairs finalized and we can finally go freelance?”

“It should be enough,” the Excalibur sighs, relaying his thoughts back to the chroma beside him. “The right board engine took a hit on the way out, will need to have a mechanic check on it later to be sure its operational.” He remains close to the towering ice chroma, sinking into his partner’s aura as they navigate back to his ship. They’ve both worked out of it for months now, taking jobs together but never really involving themselves farther than running contract work together.

The prime sighs, drifting out of the chroma’s line of sight, where the larger warframe’s tail drifts and sways against his thigh. With Lucifer taking the lead, it gives Xev space to stare and ponder, his thoughts fragment when the chroma calls back. “Want to wait in the ship for a call back on the payment?”

Xev adverts his sight as Lucifer looks back, his undamaged portion tilted towards the chroma’s field of view. “Yeah, I can get someone out later to check the outboard engines for if its just superficial damage.” He follows the chroma through the crowds, the air open and crisp as they walk through the central lobby and towards the checkpoint – security quickly checks them through and to the docks where his ship waits. The prime shunts off his commlink with the chroma briefly; questioning how he could ask the chroma to stay with him outside of their missions.

A warmth glows in his chest as he imagines the prospect of not being alone anymore; since they started running missions together the chroma has always just been hanging around in his ship, lounging whichever way he found comfortable. And it’s been like that they started partnering up – Lucifer didn’t have his own transport vessel at the time. He’s not physically alone, he’s well aware as he steps back into the chroma’s aura, yanked out of his thoughts as turquoise claws pull him close against his side.

Outside his thoughts Xev watches what coaxed the chroma’s actions, a large group of operatives walking in the opposite direction – the hallway small. Any glances they had were swayed by the chroma’s defensive growl, instinctive in his reactions to keep his partner close and safe. Xev basks in it, tucked beneath the chroma’s arm as they approach his ship. The chroma’s cold dilutes his burning heat, easing his nerves as he opens their commlink again. He’s comfortable just like this… against the chroma’s feathers before he eases himself away, a flush grown over his gilded face. He’ll have to ask Lucifer later.

He just doesn’t know how.

[ficdirectory]

Somewhere Inside (Disuphere series #4) Chapter 33

(To listen, click here) - 14:44

Francesca can’t eat her lunch of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich fast enough.  Because they’re finally having Feelings Time.  It feels like it’s been forever, since Levi took himself away.  Since they really talked to each other for real, all of them, together.

It’s different because they’re having it after lunch not dinner, but Levi works during dinner today.  (It’s not fair that she doesn’t get to go to the grocery store again with Dominique, but they all say that’s way too late for her to be out.  And Levi wants her to not get exhausted again.)

Mariana gets up from her super long nap.  She looks like Anna does from Frozen, with her hair all messy, except without the drool.  Francesca doesn’t laugh.

“Oh, I promised Pearl we’d make sure she knew to come back over.” Jesus says.

“I’ll go!” Francesca volunteers.  Now that she’s gone to that cabin once with Dominique, she knows it’s not tricky hard.

“Thanks, Francesca.  We’ll keep an eye on you,” Jesus nods.

“I’ll be back super fast!  Promise!” Francesca’s out the door, and going across the grass before he can say anything else.  

All the curtains are pulled closed, so it looks like nobody’s home, but Francesca knocks anyway.

“Pearl?  It’s Francesca from next door!” she calls.  “You still want to come over for Feelings Time?” she asks, the same way she does for Dominique.  In case Pearl likes to know who it is a little ahead, for accommodations.

It takes 34 seconds for the door to open.  Pearl looks like she’s been crying.

“Hold on.  I have to remember to grab some of Levi’s stuff…” she remembers.

“Are you kicking him out?” Francesca asks, concerned.  “Because he yelled at you and threw your cookies on the floor?”

“No.  It’s not like that…  I just...forgot some of the stuff he likes to have with him.”

“Why do you have to get it?” Francesca asks.

“I don’t have to.  I’m helping him out.  Big sister thing,” Pearl says.

“I can carry some,” Francesca offers.  Pearl gives her Levi’s headphones to carry.  Pearl carries the laptop and charger for it.  She has a black backpack over her shoulder.

“You’re having feelings before Feelings Time,” Francesca observes.  

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Pearl nods.

“Don’t worry.  It’ll be Feelings Time soon.  We’ll all help.” Francesca says.  “Avoiders thing.”

“Wait...I’m an Avoider?” Pearl asks, shocked.

“Well, you are really good at avoiding mean people.” Francesca observes.  “Just maybe…” she trails off.  It’s not Honesty Hour or Truth Time or any of those yet.  Pearl might not be ready.  Besides, she’s already crying.

“Maybe, what?” Pearl asks.  She stops walking.

“Work on being a safe person some more?” Francesca asks it like a question so it might not hurt as much.

“What do you mean?”  Pearl asks.

Francesca thinks about how to say it without mentioning anything about Levi.  Because he was triggered and even though it happened in front of people, he probably doesn’t want anybody talking about it behind his back.

Sitting down at the picnic table so she can think and talk without worrying about standing still and keeping her balance, Francesca bites her lip.  “Sometimes, I say something and my moms don’t listen to me.”

“Okay…” Pearl ventures.

“Like, this one time I failed a math test at school.  Mama made me show her.  She and Mom got really mad and I tried to explain I can’t do math.  They still took my phone away.  Said I couldn’t study with Jesus anymore and I was grounded from going to his apartment.”

Pearl’s listening.  Looking concerned.

“But Mariana sent a text to Jesus and Dominique and they came.  But like...Jesus talked to Moms about my math thing.  How it’s hard.  And once he did?  They were like, ‘Oh, Francesca, we talked to Jesus.  You’re not grounded anymore.”

“I’m sorry that happened...but I’m not sure I follow.” Pearl admits.

“It hurts when somebody you love...like...needs another person’s word...in order to even believe what you say.  Like, when my moms couldn’t just believe that I was telling them the truth about math.”

“You’re drawing a parallel,” Pearl says slowly.  

Francesca sighs.  “I just said I’m really bad at math…”

“No, I mean…  You’re using your own example to tell me about how I’m dismissing Levi.  Right?”

“I’m just saying, I know how that feels.  And it hurts.  So maybe you should...I don’t know...practice not needing Jesus to tell you Levi’s stuff is true?  Because it’s probably hurting Levi.”

Francesca watches as Pearl takes a deep breath.  And then says, “Noted.”

“Sorry.  Did I give you too much realness?” Francesca wonders, cringing.

“No, I’m a fan of the realness.  I appreciate your perspective.  That you’re willing to try to help me improve.”

“Yup.  We should probably go in.  I don’t wanna miss Feelings Time again.” Francesca says.  She gets up, Levi’s headphones still around her neck.  

Pearl holds the door.  

Francesca walks in.  Hands Levi his headphones.  Offers him a hug.

“What’s this for?” he asks, hugging her back.

“Because…” she says, all her words stuck behind the lump in her throat.  She wants to say because I know how it feels - part of what you feel.  He smells like the Zest bar soap Grandpa always kept in bulk in the bathroom.  Levi’s hair’s wet, too.  Like he just took another shower besides the one this morning.

“Well, thank you,” Levi says, squeezing her tight, and letting go.  “I’ll always take a just because hug...except if not…”

He looks embarrassed, but Francesca gets it.  Sometimes she feels like hugging and sometimes not.  “Right, because boundaries.”

“Yeah…” he says.

They sit down.  Jesus says he’s been thinking about something for a while.  

“What?” Francesca wonders.

“Well, we’ve had a lot going on lately, and I know it’s not gonna get any easier.  And I know when that happens, it can be hard to talk to each other.  So I was thinking, maybe we draw instead?  Or write if that’s more your thing.”  He pauses because Mariana needs lots of pauses.  “So, we’ll take some time to write or do art...and then...I don’t know.  Maybe pick one person to share your thing with.  Talk to them about it.”

“What if the other person picked somebody else to share back with, and doesn’t want to share back with you?” Francesca wonders.  “It’s their right because of consent?”

“Very good,” Jesus smiles.  “Everybody has the right to pick who they share with.  So two people may pick each other.  Or not.  Or if you wanna share with all of us, you can do that, too.  I have art stuff I can bring to the table.”

Francesca sits between Pearl and Levi.  “I’m making a birthday card for my mom.”

“I thought Jesus said…” Pearl starts and then she stops.  She seems like she’s thinking.  “Why are you doing that?”

“Because it’s her birthday, and I wanna tell her stuff.  About my feelings.” Francesca shares.

Jesus brings out the colored pencils.  That’s all they have for art stuff.  Not as good as markers but they’ll work.

Francesca bites her lip:

Draws a heart.  Writes:

Happy birthday, Mom!

Inside, she keeps going:

Thank you for letting me go on this trip.  I love getting to spend time with my friends.  But some things make me sad, to.  Like, how all of them are good at or working on being safe people.  I do not think you and Mama are safe people. I feel bad when I’m around you bc you make me feel like you wish I was different.  Can you please work on being safe to?  I love you.  Love, Francesca

--

Mariana’s still trying to get a start on what she’s doing, when Francesca comes and stands next to her.  Whispers in her ear:

“I made this for Mom, but...maybe I should make a different one?” Francesca worries.

Mariana stands up and walks to the living room where it’s a little quieter.  She takes her time reading.  Her eyebrows raise.

“Wow,” she says.  “That’s really honest.  I’d be scared to be that honest.”

“Because Mom would get mad if I gave her that…” Francesca says, knowingly.

“I mean, it’s definitely a possibility.  What do you think about...cutting this in half?  The Happy Birthday half?  You can just sign the back.  And the letter?  Maybe give to her separately...not as part of her birthday.  But in front of people.”

“For safety,” they chorus.  

“So, I’m gonna go do more Feelings Art.” Francesca says.  “Thanks for helping me.”

“Of course…”

When Francesca walks away, Mariana takes some time to think.  She has an idea in no time, but getting it down on paper will be almost impossible. She’s not an artist.  But what she sees is an image.

She walks back to the kitchen.  Sits down between Jesus and Dominique.

Even though she tries not to, Mariana catches a glimpse of Jesus’s sketch.  It steals her breath.  Her brother is so talented, and Mariana’s idea feels small next to Jesus’s deep and real picture.  But she tells herself that her own ideas are valid.

She pulls a sheet of paper close and writes Jesus a note:

Can you draw me something when you’re done?

Jesus glances at her note, and nods.

“Give me a minute,” he says.

--

Jesus can’t tear himself away from his sketch yet.  He’s got to stay with it until it’s all out.  

Even though he brought out the colored pencils, he’s only using four of them and a regular pencil.

He slides closer to Mariana so she can see.  So she can be with him in this.  

Jesus just has a couple more details.  Has to add the color.  When he’s done, they can both see what he’s drawn:

Pieces of the basement at the top of the page, faded in the background.  (The Pole.  Chains.)  Below that?  Isaac’s eyes.  Jesus feels terrible that he’s not able to get the gray color right.  So he had just stuck with pencil.  Just tried to remember every detail.  Made sure tear tracks were visible on his face through the dirt there.

Dominating most of the picture is Jesus’s best attempt at recreating the can of Sprite.  The chocolate pudding.

Only the food has color.

After he and Mari look at what he’s drawn for a while, Jesus is ready to bring Mariana’s idea to life.  Following her lead, her words, her feelings, he draws a really human-looking Elsa.  A snowstorm is alive around her.  Icicles might as well be stakes sticking upward out of the ground.

“Like this?”  Jesus asks.

“Yeah.  Like that,” Mariana nods, looking relieved.  “Glad our twinbrain is working…”

“Me, too,” he nods.  “Hey, uh, is this because of everybody hurting...and hurting each other?” Jesus asks, remembering their earlier conversation.

“Yeah.  Pretty much.”  Mariana reaches over to his sketchbook.  Flips a page back.  “Is this because of trauma pudding sadness?” she asks gently, gesturing to the page with Isaac’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Jesus echoes, clearing his throat.  “Pretty much.”

--

Dominique sits, thinking, for a long time, before she puts pen to paper.  When she does, words pour out.  She writes each one carefully, guarding her sheet of paper from curious eyes.

But no one’s watching.

Good.

--

Pearl struggles with what to say to Levi.  She knows she has to tell him something.  Feels it in her gut.  But what words would even begin to heal the damage that she has done?  

There are no words to fix or cure what her mother has done, and Pearl is not looking for those.  Levi deserves more than that.

Finally, Pearl breathes.  Stokes Cleo, asleep in her lap, and gets to work:

Dear Levi,

So, I’ve been told by a certain wise 11-year-old that I need to work on being a safe person.  I have never considered whether I was or wasn’t.  I always considered myself trustworthy, but never thought about whether I was safe.  I want you to know your word does matter to me.  And I am seriously going to work on not needing to hear it backed up by Jesus or Francesca (who did not discuss you, but used examples from her own life to share about how exactly she knew I was hurting your feelings) or anyone else before I believe you.  I know how damaging it is to not be believed and the last thing I want to do is hurt you.  I am so sorry I have.  I’ll understand if it takes a while for you to choose to open up to me, but if you do want to, I’m here.

I love you.

Pearl

Pearl folds the letter.  Asks Francesca to pass it to Levi.  She does, curious, but not peeking.  

Levi takes it.  Reads.  Nods at her.  Tucks the note in his pocket and goes back to his own thing.

Pearl sighs.  Hopefully, this is at least a step in the right direction.

--

Levi’s staring at a blank page, when a paper gets nudged to him by Dominique.  

She’s not looking at him.  It’s as if she didn’t do anything at all.  Even though Francesca’s busy coloring with most of the colored pencils, Levi makes sure he reads what Dominique gives him under the table, so there’s no chance of anybody else reading over his shoulder:

I cannot Consume Enough Light Air Breath To counteract The death Still fresh My soul Reduced To incense Burned bits Barely lit Enormous Insufficience Here and now But I Never Left

Levi turns over the paper.  Writes a response.  (There’s this Black poet, Gwendolyn Brooks.  He’s read exactly one of her poems.  But the style of it speaks to Levi on the deepest level.)  He hopes Dominique won’t feel disrespected, but heard.  Seen.  Believed.

I am fire.  I’m

A liar.  I’m

Rude boy.  I’m

Lost joy.  I’m

With you.  I’m

Death, too.

[izazov]

FIC: Soulmate Equation

Summary: Having a soulmate can be a blessing and it can be a curse. For some, it can be both.

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

A/N: I’ve never been much of a fan of Soulmate AUs. And then I got into stony fandom. This fic is fill for the soul mate square of my Stony Bingo card. It is greatly inspired by this amazing fic. 

Soulmates exist.

Not every person has one, and those who do are gifted with a black mark on their right wrist.

However, black mark doesn’t necessarily guarantee one is to meet their soulmate. It just means there is a possibility. No one knows the specifics, but it takes a certain event – sometimes it’s something mundane, sometimes dramatic, sometimes even violent – to trigger the mark turning red, thus signifying presence of one’s soulmate.

Thus far, there is no scientific explanation behind the existence of soulmates, and most religions have incorporated it into their teachings.

As for the human race in general? Some think it is romantic. Some think of it as inconvenience. Some see it as a joke, and some even as curbing of their free will.

There is one thing most people agree upon: having a black mark upon your wrist can be a blessing, or a curse.

But there is also this: for some unfortunate souls it can be both.

***

Steve is six when the mark appears on his wrist. It is charcoal black, the shape and size of a button. It doesn’t look like much. It’s important, though. Steve knows this.

His mother covers her mouth when Steve shows her his wrist, tears welling in her eyes.

Steve’s heart lurches in his chest, his eyes widening in fear. He didn’t know it was a bad thing. “I did nothing,” he sputters, reflexively trying to scrub the mark off his skin. “It just happened. I didn’t-”

“Hush, Steve,” she says, gently prying his fingers off his reddening skin. Clasping his face between the palms of her hands, she smiles. “Steve, look… look at me. You did nothing wrong.”

“I didn’t?” Steve asks, the nervous fluttering in his chest calming fractionally.

“No, my boy, you’ve been blessed.”

“Blessed?” Steve repeats. He doesn’t know what that word means, not truly, but he knows it is a good word.

His mother’s laughs; a clear and bright sound. Her eyes are still gleaming with tears, though. Steve doesn’t understand it. “It means there is someone out there who will love you with all their heart one day.”

“Like you love me?”

“Yes and no,” she says, laughs when Steve’s face creases in a deep frown. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“And why will they love me?”

“Because they will be yours.”

“Mine?” Steve repeats. He understands what that word means. It means something precious and rare. Something he needs to care for and protect.

“Yes, my boy, only yours.”

It’s only later that a thought occurs to Steve.

“Ma?”

“Yes, Steve?”

“If they will be mine,” Steve says, points at his marked wrist. “Will I be theirs?”

His mother smiles, glances at her own wrist. Steve blinks, confused, when he sees that the familiar round shape on his mother’s wrist is not black like his own, but red.

“Yes, Steve, you’ll be theirs.”

Steve smiles, brushes his fingers against his mark. He decides he likes the sound of that.

***

“There are hundreds of pretty girls out there, just waiting for us to meet them, and you’d rather stare at that thing? I’ll never understand you, Stevie.”

Steve sighs, reluctantly pulls his shirt over his mark. When he glances at Bucky he sees him leaning against the wooden railing, his hands crossed over his chest.

“I don’t want hundreds of pretty girls,” Steve says, shrugs. His fingers twitch with the need to feel the familiar round shape. “I just want whoever is on the other side of this mark.”

Bucky snorts. “Even if she’s ugly?”

“Buck,” Steve admonishes. “Whoever it is, is my soulmate. My own. Why should I care for how they look?”

“You’re such a sap, Steve,” Bucky sighs, comes to sit next to Steve on the stairs, bumps their shoulders together. “It’s awful.”

Steve smiles innocently a second before he elbows Bucky in the ribs.

“You little punk,” Bucky exclaims but allows Steve to dodge his hand and move out of his reach.

“You never wonder who it is?” Steve asks, glancing at Bucky’s right wrist.

Bucky frowns, looks down at his hand. “No,” he says without missing a beat. “When I’m older, maybe. Not now.”

Steve looks down at his covered wrist, presses his lips tightly together. “I just wish-” Steve breaks off, pushes himself to his feet. “I thought I’ll meet them by now, Buck. What if it never happens? What if-” Steve swallows the rest of that sentence. He doesn’t care whether his soulmate is ugly or pretty. He doesn’t even care whether it is a man or a woman. But he’s not a fool. He sees the way other people look at him; he sees pity, and dismissal. Notices how their gazes never return. What if Steve Rogers; skinny, sickly, with not much to his name but a burning need to matter, is simply not good enough?

“Steve?” Bucky asks, concern evident in his voice.

“What if they don’t like me, Bucky?” The words leave Steve’s mouth in a shaky exhale, leaving the flesh of his throat tender and raw.

Bucky is on his feet and squeezing Steve’s shoulders before Steve has a chance to blink. “Now listen to me, Steve. Whoever your soulmate is, they are going to stand before you and see just what I see.”

Steve’s eyes widen, his heart clenching painfully. For a moment – terrifying and exhilarating at the same time – Steve wonders how it would feel if his mark turned red now.

“And what is that?” Steve asks, his voice strangled.

Bucky stays silent a moment, his eyes staring intently at Steve. The entire world fades into the background, drowned out by the pounding drum of Steve’s heartbeat. Then, the moment shatters. Bucky smiles; wide and carefree, and ruffles Steve’s hair. Something inside Steve’s chest flickers and fades.

“Trouble,” Bucky says, grinning.

“Jerk,” Steve says and pushes at Bucky’s chest.

Bucky just laughs.

***

Peggy is brave and fierce and clever and kind and beautiful, and Steve falls for her the moment he sees her.

Steve has never thought the sight of an unblemished wrist could feel like having your heart ripped out of your chest.

“Do you ever regret not having a mark?” Steve asks one night.

They are alone in the HQ, sitting next to maps and markers, and Steve is tired and aching all over and Bucky is dead, and nothing will ever be right anymore.

Peggy merely looks at him for one moment, her face unreadable. Steve opens his mouth, ready to apologize, but then her face softens with a wistful smile.

“When I was younger, I drew a black circle on my wrist with charcoal. It ruined my dress. My mother was furious,” she says softly. Steve finds it easy to imagine a little dark-haired girl with smudged cheeks and ruined dress, holding her chin up proudly. “It was rather disheartening to be the only one without a mark when all other girls spoke about meeting their soulmates and having a fairy-tale wedding.”

“And now?”

“I’ve spent too much bloody time having to prove myself over and over again, going against the world that only had one thing to say to me: no,” Peggy says in a gentle but firm voice. “If it has taught me anything it is to believe in myself and my choices. Not… not some mystical force no one understands.”

Steve looks away, his jaw going tight.

“Oh, Steve, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Peggy says, placing a gentle hand on Steve’s elbow.

Steve smiles, shakes his head. “There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s just… I’ve always found it comforting. To know there is someone out there you are meant to be with.” Steve breaks off, shrugs. The smile on his face feels brittle. “I suppose it’s a foolish notion nowadays. With the war on… doesn’t really matter anyway.”  

“No,” Peggy says, voice hardly above a whisper. There is sadness in her eyes now. “Not foolish at all.”

Just a few days later, flying a plane to his own death, Steve is for the first time fiercely and unquestionably relieved there was no mark on Peggy’s wrist.

***

The future is filled with bright lights and technical wonders, and Steve hates, hates, hates it.

Everything is too loud, too fast, too foreign.

This is not Steve’s world, his world is gone, along with everything that he knew. Everyone he cared for.

But there is still the mark on Steve’s wrist. Steve looks at it, traces its shape with trembling fingers.

What if.

Those two words are tearing his insides apart and clawing at his sanity.

What if his soulmate is dead? What if they are not?

What are the rules for waking up seventy years in the future? Are there any?

Many fear death, but Steve now knows there are far worse things than death.

Things like feeling like you are drowning every minute of every day. Only without the mercy of sinking into oblivion.

***

His new teammates have marks. Not everyone – Thor doesn’t even qualify – but they do.  

And why shouldn’t they? It’s not like the world has stopped turning when Steve went into ice.

But still. There is something almost jarring in the sight of a red mark on Natasha’s wrist. Even more so in the black one on the wrist of one Tony Stark.

Steve cannot say what is it about Tony Stark that rubs him the wrong way. Is it that feeling he gets all the time – seeing something that is both familiar and terribly foreign – or they simply have that effect on each other. Whatever it is, Stark gets under his skin faster than anyone he’s ever met, bypasses all Steve’s control and reason, and goes straight for the core. Unfortunately, only anger resides there these days.

“Oh, come on. This bullshit again? Seriously?”

Steve blinks, frowns at the report he’s been trying to read, finds that he has only a general idea of what he’d read, shuts his eyes. Steve has learned to filter through noises during the war, but in this too, Stark proves himself an exception. Admitting defeat, Steve puts away his data pad – they have finally stopped giving him printed copies – and looks toward the common room.

Stark and Barton are sitting on the couch, watching something on a truly gigantic TV screen. They look like children. Bickering, unruly children.

“What?” Barton says in a deceptively innocent voice. Even though they have not been together for long, Steve’s learned to expect the worst when Barton used that tone of voice when addressing Stark. He half rises from his chair, not interested in watching another rendition of the duo’s particular brand of crazy. “You don’t believe in soulmates, Stark?”

The word ‘soulmate’ stops Steve mid motion, his entire body freezing on the spot.

Stark snorts, disdain plain on his face even from where Steve is standing.

“In that crap? I know you’re an ass, Barton, but come on. What normal person would-” Stark breaks off, follows Barton’s gaze which leads him straight to Steve. “Oh.”

Steve blinks, straightens fully; notices that his hands are clenched into fists, forces them to release. “How can you say that? You have the mark, too.” The words are out of Steve’s mouth before he has a chance to stop himself.

Stark blinks, rises from the couch, his head tilted to the side. There’s a condescending expression on his face that makes Steve’s jaw clench tight. “Because I have a brain?” Stark says, breezily. “Seriously, Cap, I know you’re from the grand ol’ times, but even back then no one could explain the nature of the mark. And these days,” Stark pauses, waves a dismissive hand, “it’s nothing but a marketing ploy. Very good for Valentine’s day cards and an occasional rom-com.”

“Just because the society has warped an idea it doesn’t mean the idea is wrong,” Steve insists hotly, holds Stark’s gaze as if in a dare.

Stark’s eyes narrow minutely. He glances away for a second, a wry smile curving on his lips. “You want to know how many mark triggering events have been classified as violent in nature, Rogers? JARVIS?”  

“18%, Sir,” the AI offers promptly. “The most recent case that of-”

“That’s fine, JARVIS, we don’t need gory details,” Stark says, his eyes not moving an inch from Steve’s. There’s a spark there, something hot and relentless, burning just under the surface. Steve cannot even begin to guess what it is. “It’s a sham, Cap. Some big, cosmic joke. It means nothing.”

“And who are the rest of us to argue against the wise Tony Stark?” Steve sneers, his voice all sharp edges and ice. “Because you, clearly, know the best.”

“For fuck’s sake. Fine. It’s destiny, this thing,” Tony spits out, sticks out his right wrist. “I’m going to meet my soulmate and we’ll live happily ever after. But tell me this, Rogers? Who decides who gets the mark? What makes you special enough over Barton here? Does he not having a mark mean he’s destined to an empty life?”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say, Stark.”

“Then what are you saying?”

Steve takes a deep breath, grips at the last threads of his control. “Having a mark means that there is someone out there who fits you perfectly. Someone who is unequivocally yours. You may never get to meet them, but even the very presence of the mark should mean hope and comfort. Not offense,” Steve forces out, his mouth curving distastefully around the last word.

For a second, Stark stands unnaturally still. As if very breath has been stolen from him. Then, after a beat, he blinks, his face drawing into a grimace. “Jesus, it’s like listening to a Harlequin novel. You actually believe that crap?”

Steve takes another deep breath, releases it through his nose. His entire body is drawn tight and quivering with bright-hot anger. He’s not thinking anymore. He cannot think past the fury and hurt inside him. His chest has been one barely healed wound since the moment he woke in the future, and Stark is now merrily clawing it open. “It’s fortunate your mark is still black, Stark. I pity the poor soul who gets to have you as their soulmate.”

Steve doesn’t stop to wait for Stark’s response, nor does he take time to examine the shell-shocked nature of his expression. He merely turns on his heel and strides out of the room.

***

Steve used to fear his appearance and sickly nature would be a burden, a detriment. These days, he can jump out of airplanes without a parachute and run miles without exerting himself.

But there are hollow places inside him now. As if some parts of him haven’t thawed yet.

He is adjusting, slowly, but something inside him fears he will never quite catch up.

He still thinks about his soulmate; not so often, with wariness seeping into his thoughts despite his best efforts.

But he still thinks, still aches. Still wants.

Thinks how it would feel to run his fingers across their skin and whisper ‘mine’. Thinks how warm their breath would be on Steve’s face, how soft their lips.

How right the thought ‘yours’ would echo within Steve’s mind.  

***

Bucky is alive.

He is looking at Steve with vacant eyes of a stranger, but it is him.

Steve’s entire world shifts off its axis, changes in such a fundamental way it feels almost like an insult when a single glance at his wrist tells him what he’d already known.

It is not Bucky.

***

Empty space instead of a home.  

Was Ultron… was a machine right? Is war… is death all that it is to him? All that he’s good for? All that he wants?

“It’s a bit late, I know, but I was out of line.”

Steve whips his head in the direction of that voice. Tony is sitting on the floor on the other side of the room, moonlight casting a silvery glow across his face. It’s an attractive face, Steve realizes with a sort of detached, almost dream-like certainty.

Steve blinks, pulls his thoughts into safer waters. “You should have told the team what you’re planning to do.”

Tony blinks, his forehead creasing. “You mean Ultron? Well, okay, I fucked that up too… but I meant that,” Tony says, inclining his head toward Steve’s right hand.

Confused, Steve looks down, sees that he’s been unconsciously rubbing at his mark. He used to do that often; a small gesture of comfort and assurance. Frowning, Steve pulls his hand away, ignores the tug in the pit of his belly.

“What do- that was years ago, Tony,” Steve says, perplexed. “And if I remember correctly, I gave as good as I got.”

Steve expects a joke, a deflection, but Tony merely smiles; a small, wistful smile, his gaze darting towards his own wrist. “Pepper, she… she doesn’t have a mark,” he says, his voice softer than Steve has ever heard from Tony Stark. Sadder too. Steve swallows, his heart giving a small lurch. “I always thought she would be the one.” Tony lets out a low, mirthless laugh, shrugs. His eyes, when they meet Steve’s, are glazed over. “You were right, Cap. I’m too much of a mess for anyone to be shackled to me. Mystical forces or no.”

“No, Tony. No,” Steve exclaims hotly. He shuffles down onto the floor, sits across from Tony, his eyes not for a second leaving Tony’s. “I was the one out of line. You’re… a handful, yes, and you need to learn to trust other people, but you’re a good man, Tony. Despite everything.” Steve breaks off, glances down at his mark, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “And I’m starting to think you were the one who got all this soulmate business right.”

“Nope, that won’t work,” Tony says. There is something jarring about his voice. It sounds too light, too casual. Steve’s head snaps up, his gaze zeroing in on Tony’s face. There’s smile there, yes, but it goes nowhere near his gaze. “There’s space for only one cynic in this charming room in Casa Barton, and, let’s face it, we both know it’s not you, Rogers.”

Steve smiles, takes the offered bait. “You’re a genius, Stark. Tell me what are the chances my soulmate isn’t already dead?”

“Giving how good you’re at beating the odds, I’d say pretty damn high.”

Steve snorts. “Pretty damn high? That’s what passes for genius these days?”

“Don’t sass me, Rogers, or I might tell the future Capmate how you tend to jump out of airplanes without a parachute.”

“Stark, you think you’re the right person to lecture me about safety protocols?” Steve says, deadpan. “Seriously? You invited a terrorist to your home on National TV.”

Tony merely shrugs. “Not one of my finer moments, I admit.”

Steve cannot help himself, he laughs, incredulous and exasperated and fond. And, for a moment, it’s almost easy for him to pretend they are alone in this room, and not crowded by the ghosts of good intentions gone wrong.

And a secret a dead man revealed.

***

Bucky is back.

This time, it is really him. Twisted and bent into a new shape, but the core of him remains the same.

There is also a red mark on his right wrist.

“I don’t know,” Bucky says, and there is something helpless in the way he shrugs, his mouth twisting into a poor semblance of a smile. “I can’t remember.” Nodding toward Steve’s wrist, he asks, “You?”

“Still black,” Steve says, finds that the truth of it doesn’t sting as it used to. These days, it’s only an echo of what was once a fierce longing. “Guess some things are just not meant to be.”

Bucky looks away, stays silent.

Steve sighs, his mouth drawing into a thin line. Now is not the time, anyway, they still have a ride to Siberia to catch.

***

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers. Did you know?”

There’s nothing hidden in Tony’s gaze. His rage, his pain, his grief; all of it is there for Steve see, as if his heart had been torn open before Steve’s eyes.

Perhaps it has been.

And as he opens his mouth to utter that one damning word, Steve knows – with a leaden weight of certainty crushing his chest – it is about to get worse.

“Yes.”

The word barely slips past Steve’s lips when it happens. He sees Tony drawing away from him, the shock freezing his features… and then everything slips away.

Steve has read about how it felt to have the mark triggered. Warm, some said. Bright, said the others. Light, offered the rest.

It’s all of it, at once, and so, so much more. It’s like being bathed in sunlight. Like breathing it in.

Something twists and turns deep inside Steve’s very core, fragments of him splintering and coalescing into a new shape, while every cell inside his body strains toward Tony – you, it’s you – ache and longing and hope twining around Steve’s chest and squeezing and squeezing and squeezing.

For a fraction of a moment, there’s an echo of the same light that blazes through Steve in Tony’s eyes.

For a fraction of a moment, Steve thinks finally. Thinks mine. Thinks Tony.

And then the blow comes.

Steve doesn’t dodge it.

***

Steve leaves that bunker in Siberia supporting Bucky’s weight, without his shield but with a hollow space in the middle of his chest.

And a tingling, warm sensation on his right wrist.

He doesn’t need to look at his wrist to know that the mark there is no longer black.

[starwargift]

It’s never too late to witness the power of dark side and now there are 10 new dark side watches so you can keep in touch with your inner sith.  Show others the power whenever you check the time.  Harness the dark side with any one of these wrist watches suitable for fans of all ages and lifestyles. Here we are going to show you the coolest Darth Vader Watch in the galaxy.

May the watches be with you.

 BulbBotz Kids’ Star Wars Quartz Watch

The BulbBotz Darth Vader watch features a cute little Darth Vader in a grimace so mean you can practically feel him manipulating the force.  The LCD digital clock is displayed on his body and can be tucked into his mask for a more portable look.  A light up function means easy to read display in every setting.

Star Wars Darth Vader Watch Bracelet

This sleek analog display features a two tone portrait of Darth with a silver background on the watch face.  The band is a thin black metal bracelet and the minutes are marked in white for readability with style.  This watch is a perfect way to bring a little bit of the dark side to your everyday routine.

 Star Wars Digital Display Quartz Watch

Nothing says ‘powerful in the force’ quite like the unmistakable mask of the great Darth Vader and this watch knows exactly how to show that.  Featuring a 3D Darth Vader mask, at first glance the time piece is nowhere in sight.  Flip open the mask to reveal a digital display underneath. Tie Fighters and Death Stars decorate the strap.

 Star Wars Darth Vader Watch Strap 

This stylish unisex piece features a large Darth Vader logo etched in using iconic dark side saying.  The band is rubber and contributes to a sleek design, well suited for sports and the active lifestyle.  Water resistant up to 50 meters means that you can bring Darth with you anywhere.

Star Wars Darth Vader Collectors Watch

What sets this watch apart is the precision of it’s design.  The watch face is a slim design and no hour markers or bulky case housing distracts from the iconic image.  Darth is etched in black on black so that his helmet is tastefully set into an otherwise simple design.  The band is textured black leather, stylish enough for any Sith lord.

Nixon Star Wars 38-20 Darth Vader Watch

This watch is entirely stainless steel black, save for the lightsaber red second hand.  A closer look reveals custom molded hands with an imperial symbol hour hand.  The dial housing is a triple gasket hardened mineral crystal case reminiscent of the imperial symbol and water resistant to 200 meters. The final tribute to the dark side  is a special mask design at 6 o’clock.

Darth Vader Stainless Steel Watch

This rare San Diego Comic Con exclusive is limited to 500 pieces world-wide and ships with authenticity certificate and packaging.  Darth is seen on the face in full glory, lightsaber in hand, silhouetted against a black matte Star Wars logo design backdrop.  This watch is made using black stainless steel and can withstand up to 5ATM of water pressure.

 Darth Vader Limited Edition Star Wars Watch 

Try out this cool satin red watch face on a rubber band.  This limited edition watch is the only Darth Vader watch featuring three separate dials.  The predominate Darth dial tracks the standard hour.  A smaller Tie Fighter dial tracks the 24 hour time and an Imperial symbol dial rounds off the design by tracking the day.  The 5ATM proof case is able to withstand lightsaber attacks.

 Star Wars Darth Vader Black Strap Watch 

Show everyone who the greatest Sith is with this black rubber band and red face watch.  Featuring the imposing helmet of Vader in black on the face this watch is practical and elegant enough to win the approval of even the Emperor and certainly those who walk among you.

 Star Wars Kylo Ren Watch

A new Sith for a new generation, this watch features the sleek mask of Kylo Ren on a black time piece.  Hands illuminate in the dark as well as any lightsaber.  The rubber strap and plastic case make for a durable watch, resistant to water at up to 50 meters.  This watch comes with a warranty and is officially licensed as a Disney Star Wars watch.

The post Darth Vader Watch – Show The Power Whenever You Check The Time appeared first on Star Wars Gift.

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