#oh how I’ve missed you crow it’s been way too long since I’ve drawn you

[bloodanddiscoballs]

Here’s my tf2 merc The Tomahawk

His actual name is kȟaŋǧí ohítikA (Kangee Ohitekah) or Crow for his English speaking crew. He’s Lakota and from Wyoming, USA. He grew up on a horse farm and was raised by his grandma after his parents passed at eight in a house fire. Part of the Offense Crew, Tomahawk isn’t as fast as Scout (who is?) but still quick on his feet and makes up for any speed with arm strength. His primary weapon is dual tomahawks attached with a chain that he can throw and then recall or drag someone closer to gut them. His secondary weapon is a single-action revolver (specifically the colt peacemaker .45 cause I love that gun) and his melee is his hunting knife.

Growing up on Reservation land, he slipped into the role of a protector over his younger cousins and Grandmother. Tomahawk is easygoing but fiercely protective, finding the noise of his fellow mercs somewhat reminiscent of home. He doesn’t have a formal education and had never left the Rez prior to his recruitment. However, he doesn’t feel embarrassment over asking questions or learning new things. In fact, it’s pretty difficult to embarrass him at all, the only thing being the complete center of attention. Tomahawk has a deep fear of fire after getting caught in his family’s barn the night of the house fire and escaping with his hands and leg burned. He also discovered a fear of heights on the plane ride to New Mexico. The friendship that Tomahawk has developed with Pyro has helped to manage his fear of fire while his friendship with Soldier has only worsened his fear of heights.

Working for MANN. has allowed Crow to finally feel like he has a place in the world. There was always a bit of guilt for his enjoyment of hurting those who were a threat to his loved ones, especially since it clearly disappointed his Grandmother so much. Working as a mercenary felt like a breath of fresh air after a lifetime of being stifled. Still, he misses home and sends back most of the money he makes so that his grandmother and cousins can have an easier life. He writes home every week but focuses mostly on the relationships he’s built with the other mercs rather than his work. Sometimes he sends photos as well and is always grateful that he and his family communicate in their native language because some of the teasing from his cousins is best kept private. These letters are also the only chance he gets to not have to use English and finds that sentiment a bonding experience with the others who also speak different languages. Crow likes it when the others ask how to say certain things/what the things he’s says mean, finding that Spy seems the most intrigued, though Crow thinks it’s more that he doesn’t like having a language in his vast collection of knowledge.

In his down time, Crow enjoys going hunting, often with Sniper after the two happen upon one another on one of their individual trips. He’s a big fan of music and has since developed quite the record collection now that he has access to money. He enjoys dancing and he’s actually a pretty good singer but keeps that side of himself a secret. Reading is how Crow learned to expand his vocabulary in his youth and he still reads a lot any time he can. When in need of company, Crow is the type of person to let his companion/companions take the lead with what they would like to do.

Crow is trans and gay. His parents were not the most attentive when they were around and just thought he was a melancholy child. His grandmother, however, cherished him and supported anything that made him happy. While his family is supportive and loving of him, he understands that he’s lucky. Medic preformed the surgeries that Crow wanted after he joined and Crow developed a quick respect for the doctor due to his confidentiality and work ethic.

I’ll post more about his relationships with each of the mercs as I draw more I just wanted to get the basics out first!

[acourtofsnakes]

Tome - Rogue, Chapter 10| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader

Summary: You find yourself talking to a mysterious stranger, whom you can’t help but feel a pull towards. Will the Mandalorian get there in time? And what will happen when he shows up?

Warnings: Gonna put this as an 18+ but it’s not SUPER graphic,  Swearing (this is a given by now), a little angst, sexual tension – a lot - &mentions of sex that are kinda detailed, WE GETTING HOT IN HERE TODAY

AN: I was trying to hold off on the sexual tension but I couldn’t wait any longer and I needed to add some of Din’s darker side – I blame all the fanfics and Tik Tok, and i’m not ashamed 

Word count: 6.5k+

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist:

@snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jackgrzs @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004 @seninjakitey @what-iwish-you-knew

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl | 5: Kyr’am | 6: Cabur | 7: Ret'urcye Mhi | 8: Haran| 9: E’tad | 10: Tome |

Mando’a translation: Tome – Together

You studied the man as he drew off his hood. 

He had inky black hair, so dark the loose waves caught a blue tone in the light of the cantina, like the wings of a crow or a raven. 

His skin was softly tanned, yet still a little pale, the pallor set off by the darkness of his hair. 

But it was his eyes that drew your attention first. 

They were the colour of melted amber, shockingly bright, like they almost glowed from within. They sparkled with flecks of gold, watching you with a keen interest, seeing what you would make of him and his offer. They glimmered like they already knew the answer before you did yourself. 

He was heartbreakingly beautiful, and he knew it. Almost flawless. 

So, where was his mark, his tell of a dark past, twisted with horrors and darkness that always seemed to follow beautiful people?

There. 

As the light shifted, you saw that he bore two long, wicked scars on his face. 

One began just above his eyebrow, parting through it and narrowly missing the edge of his eye, before coming to a thin point on his high cheekbone. 

The other was smaller, drawn across the plush curve of his lips. It twisted it only slightly, just slightly tugging up one corner, but they did nothing to mar his sheer beauty. 

It was.. almost otherworldly. Disarming. 

That, combined with his watchfulness gave you a distinct feeling that you were dancing the line between prey or… company?

Or maybe it was the way the light seemed to shy away from the planes of his face, whereas the shadows clung to him like a second skin, like they were an extension of him. 

You remained perched on your seat, torn between immediately leaving and putting distance between yourself and this too-beautiful man… or joining him. 

He tilted his head, leaning back in his seat and he motioned gracefully to the stool in from of him, “Join me, love. I won’t bite.” His lips curled up into a wider grin and you swore you could almost see fangs, “Not unless you want me to.” 

You rolled your eyes, but something about the comment made you realise he probably wasn’t going to kill you if he was flirting with you. “Well, since you paid for my drinks.” You shrugged lightly, slid off of your seat and then joined him at his table. “I’m not so easily won over though, just to inform you.” 

The man’s smile turned lazy, feline and he chuckled. The sound of his laugh was like velvet, sliding over your bones and whispering in your ear, “Oh, I don’t doubt that for a second, love. I can tell you need more than a few looks and drinks.” He ran those ridiculous eyes over you, taking in every inch and it felt like was seeing straight into your soul. He made a thoughtful hum in the back of his throat, lifting his eyes to yours again, “No. You strike me as the kind of girl who needs to be truly impressed with more than empty promises.”

Your skin warmed with his gaze, your eyes narrowing a little, but you mirrored his feline smirk, leaning forward and dropping your voice, “And you think you’re the one to impress me, do you?”

He looked over your face, leaning forward and the scent of rain-kissed cedar and thunderstorms washed over you, swirling around your head and filling your lungs, “Maybe. Though something tells me that I might have a contender.”

Unbidden, the thoughts of that night on the Crest came back in a rush, Lori’s bare hands tracing over your skin, your throat and pulling through your hair with utter adoration. 

You tensed, an ache of longing ripping through you and it blew your cocky response out of the water. 

The man blinked a little, his eyes softening as he read your response that was obviously clearer than you’d like it to be, “Apologies. I didn’t mean to step over the line, so forgive me if I have.” He leant back again, raising his drink to you. 

You shook your head softly, giving him a smile that was perhaps only a little forced, “Don’t worry about it, really.” You clinked your glass to his and then sipped your drink, maybe taking a deeper drink than the situation required. “So, what really made you pay for my drinks?”

The man looked a little bashful, gazing at the back of his gloves, “I’ve only been on the planet for the day. I saw you practising with the Marshal earlier and I was impressed. And… wanted to meet the woman who fought like she was dancing.” With his eyelashes lowered, you could see that the scar just tugged at the edge of his eyelid, and you briefly wondered how he managed to walk away with his eye still in his head. 

However, his words had you frowning slightly because… they were the exact same words the Mandalorian had spoken to Greef, in awe of you.  “Mmm-hm…” You raised an eyebrow at him, starting to believe you may have made a mistake in sitting here. “What’s the real reason?”

He lifted his eyes back to you, and had the good grace to look a little awkward, “I…” He sighed, “I fear I’m giving you the worst first impression of myself.” He spread his hands on the table almost in a gesture to show he meant no harm, “There have been rumours that… The Mandalorian who stole the Child had taken off with another bounty. And that…” 

Your gaze was level and hard on him, wanting an answer and wanting it now, “And?”

He bit his lip, that curl of hair still resting over his forehead and making him longer especially with the guilt in his expression, “That there was something between him and his old bounty. Him and… you.” He inclined his head toward you slightly. 

Warning bells began to tinkle in your head. “And where did you hear that?”

He shrugged lightly, lifting a hand, “Oh, one hears many things. Especially about you, my love. You’re famous in planets that don’t even know about the Mandalorian. Everyone knows someone who’s seen your puck.” He was reaching toward the sword on his back, his hand closed around the hilt.

Within a blink, your hand was on your own knife again, “I am going to give you thirty seconds to tell me the truth, or I swear, I will run my knife through that pretty eye of yours so quickly you won’t even have time to breathe.”

He blinked, something flickering in his expression, but he held his hands up further, “Easy.” He pulled his sword free of his holster, setting it on the table between you both. “I’m not here to take you in. I was shown your puck, but I refused. I had heard you were here, and I wanted to warn you.”

Your hand didn’t budge from the knife, “Warn me? Of what? I know that everyone is after me. I don’t need some stranger telling me that.”

The man tilted his head, adjusting the hood of his cloak over his shoulders now that his sword was out of the way, “Don’t you want to know who employed them all? All of the people who have been after you?” 

Is he playing with you?

You were entirely focused on him, ready to fling the knife and bolt should you need to. You knew how to get out of here, how to get up to the rooftops and dart across them. 

Don’t. Don’t ask him, just in case. Get out now.

He knew… He knew who sent everyone after your head.

No. 

This man knew who was responsible for the lives of friends and strangers.  

You shouldn’t ask. This was a mistake. You needed to leave. 

You looked away from his golden stare, drawn to look at the sword lying there on the table. 

Your brows furrowed imperceptibly as you beheld the strange symbols carved onto the sheath. 

Something about them seemed… familiar. Strangely so. They itched at the back of your mind like a forgotten language. 

He lowered his golden eyes to the sword between you, sucking in the light of the room.

“The symbols on this sword… they call to you, don’t they?” He ran a gloved finger along the sheath, tracing delicately over the inscribed symbols. 

You bit your lip, hesitating as you watched him. 

He looked up at your expression, your hesitation and then he slowly unsheathed the sword, revealing the blade to you. 

The blade was made of a deep, dark obsidian coloured material. It was like no metal you’d ever seen. It seemed sheer almost, like a gemstone but it was a rich ebony colour, as endless as space. It pulled in the light around it, sucked it dry and seemed to use it to glow darkly from within. 

Along the centre of the blade, the same symbols were inscribed, but this time in a rich golden gilt. 

With each symbol that was exposed, something rose within you. 

He was right. 

They truly did call to you. You didn’t know how, or why, but you felt like you knew what they meant, that you should understand them. 

The caged power of the Force within you felt it too. 

That’s what they were calling to, what they were connecting with.

The raven-haired man smiled that disarming smile again, his lips twitching up in delight, knowing he was correct. He remained silent for a few seconds, “They call to your power.”

Wait. 

He… knew? 

How the fuck did he know about you?

No one knew. Not even the Mandalorian knew. 

You reached for your blade instinctively again, watching the man in front of you. 

Fear must have registered in your eyes, mixed with a defensive warning, because he held up his hands. 

“Easy, I’m not going to hurt you. I already told you that. I’m not here for you, or the bounty.” He shrugged a little, “Okay, I am here for you, but not like that. You see, my sister was the same. She had the same… gifts, as you.” He mercifully kept his voice low, soft enough that only you could just hear it. 

You didn’t speak, couln’t say anything, only watched him. Waiting. Even if curiosity did spark within you. 

He smiled softly like he saw it, the scars on his lips doing nothing to mar the overwhelming, stunning impact of that simple gesture, “That’s right… she was so incredibly talented, and I adored her to pieces. She was beautiful and had such a light within her. Much like you. And I want to help you… like I tried to do for her.” He tilted his head a little, his molten eyes shimmering with sadness as he spoke about her. IT was etched in every line of his body, the pain of losing a loved one that you held so dear. 

You swallowed, slowly letting go of your knife, “What happened to her? How do you know about me? Who is sending the hunters after me? Who are you?” The questions tumbled form your lips like rain, unable to stop them as you were faced with a man who could.. maybe help you?

He chuckled softly, filling the air with that musical sound again, “Let me answer the easiest one first. My name is Rena and-“

The doors to the cantina opened, letting in a warm, volcanic breeze. 

You felt, rather than heard his presence behind you. You could recognise the almost silent footfalls, the barest scrape of armour as it got closer and closer to you. 

With every step, it felt like you might jump out of your skin. 

He was here. 

He’d come back. 

Had he come back for you?

“Get away from her.” His snarl made the chatter in the cantina drop a few notches, the atmosphere subtly changing as everyone tried not to listen in. 

You could feel his height rising up behind you, and turned around in your seat to greet him, despite the snarl in his voice. Your elation at seeing him, the very way your bones hummed in delight made you miss what he just said. 

“Lori.. you’re here.” You couldn’t deny the way you greedily took in his tall, beskar-clad form. His armour looked… dustier, dirtier than it usually did. Like he hadn’t had time to clean it. There were a few patches smudged over the chest plates, and the fabric beneath looked a little torn. The more rugged look was good on him, giving him that edge that you knew lingered beneath the surface. 

Grogu rested at his side, in his little pouch bag. He cooed delightedly when he saw you, earning himself a grin and a wave. 

And in the Mandalorian’s other hand…

Duru. 

Held in his hand like he normally held the Child. 

You tilted your head, reaching out to take her, “Lori, why are you carrying my cat like a baby?” You laughed, holding her furry body close  

He ignored you, his helmet focused on the figure opposite you. “I said, get away from her.” The rough baritone of his voice held a fierceness you’d never heard before, the promise of a thinly veiled threat should your companion continue to ignore him. 

You blinked in surprise, at the fierceness in his tone. 

You’d expected a ‘Hello’ at least, but here he was, acting like you were invisible and giving a death stare (you presumed) to the man opposite. 

Rena chuckled softly, that laugh like flowing water over smooth stones, “Calm down, friend. I’m not going to hurt her.” He smiled at the Mandalorian, all easy charm and glowing eyes. 

Mando growled, striding forward and he flung his arm out across your body… like he was protecting you? 

“I am not your friend. And you are nothing to her. So back off.”

You frowned, something prickling at the back of your neck, a feeling you couldn’t place. You appreciated the Mandalorian defending you but… from what?

Did he think you couldn’t be trusted to sit and talk to someone? That you were dumb enough to make a foolish mistake with so many after you?

“Mando. Enough. You don’t even know Rena. Neither do I. Calm down.” Your voice was soft, but firm. To tell him you appreciated the defence, but you didn’t need him to save you. 

Besides, you wanted to know more about him, more about how he knew what lingered within you and how he planned to help. 

He barely looked over his shoulder at you, keeping his head turned to Rena, “You’re right in that you don’t know him. But I do. So forgive me, but I’m the one calling the shots in this situation. Take the kid and go back to the Razor Crest. We’re leaving.”

Your shoulders straightened and your eyes flashed as you raised an eyebrow at him, “You’re the one calling the shots?” Your voice was flecked with icy coolness, and disbelief, “I can make my own decisions, Mandalorian. Despite what you may think.” You let acid creep into your tone, let him know you were referring to him decided to dump you here. 

Rena’s amber eyes flicked between the two of you, dancing in amusement as he tilted his head, “I’d listen to her, Mandalorian. I think she knows what she’s doing. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who likes to be told what to do.” The light bounced off his dark hair, making the inky curls catch a deep blue. His posture was at ease, leaning back in his chair, his sword within easy reach, should he need it. 

The cantina was silent now, everyone flat out watching or listening to the potential fight that was going to ensue… and whether it would be between Mando and Rena, or Mando and yourself. 

Mando still had his arm across your body and Duru’s too, actually. “And you don’t strike me as the kind of monster that plays with their food for so long. I know you like to have your sick little games, but this isn’t exactly your style is it.” His words were venomous, a tone you’d never ever heard before. 

Anger flashed through you, chasing away the initial delight you had at seeing the Mandalorian. You understood his wariness of strangers, but he was being out of order. You weren’t stupid. You’d been doing this for long enough that your instincts were pretty sharp when it came who to trust and who to run away from. 

You stood up, glaring at the back of his head, “Enough, Lori. This is ridiculous.” 

Mando ignored the cold anger of your voice, finally looking at you over his shoulder. “Just wait outside. Please.” 

His plea stopped you short. He had only ever used that word in such a tone once before.

In the kitchen area, with his hands on your skin and in your hair. 

Please.

And… was there a layer of fear beneath it?

You sighed, looking from him to Rena, reluctant to leave them in case the fight did indeed break out. This man… he said he could help. And he couldn’t very well do that dead, could he? 

You didn’t doubt for a single second that Mando wouldn’t go down without a fight, but you sensed there was something coiled within Rena, a slumbering beast that was waiting to be provoked. It prowled behind his eyes and his smile. 

As if reading this in your eyes, Rena smiled at you, shaking his head a little, “I’m not looking for a fight, love. Your Mandalorian will come back to you in one piece. And I’ll leave here in one piece as well.” His eyes shifted to Mando, something in them shifting, “Won’t I?”

Mando was still, his instincts on trigger mode and just waiting to explode, “I don’t like making promises I can’t keep.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you took Grogu from Mando. “Fine. You have five minutes.”

You rested the bag across your body, ignoring the eyes watching you as you stalked out of the cantina. “Men.”

~~

The cantina door opened, and the Mandalorian walked out. 

A quick inspection revealed no damage, so you turned your gaze back to your knife. 

You were perched on a wall, Grogu on your lap and Duru around your shoulders as you waited for the Mandalorian. 

Having spotted you, he walked over, hesitating a few steps away like he was approaching a raging fire. 

Good. Let him hesitate. Let him know how fucking furious I am with him.

You said nothing, continuing to clean the blade of your knife on the edge of your cloak. 

Silence stretched between you, broken only by the soft thump of Duru’s tail, and Grogu’s tiny huff as he looked between you both. 

Mando observed you for a moment, before placing his hands on his hips and sighing, “Come on then.”

You turned over your knife, methodically buffing up the blade, “What the fuck was that? Do you treat all strangers the way you did in there?”

The Mandalorian was still, watching you carefully, “He’s not a stranger. He’s dangerous. Deadly.”

You still hadn’t looked at him, “I am dangerous. And deadly. I’ve killed people and ‘played with my food’. Does that mean I am a monster too?”

He shifted his weight to his other leg, “I didn’t call you a monster. You know I wouldn’t do that. I’m sorry if it stirred anything up, I didn’t think” Your old argument must have flashed through his mind because it did yours. But that wasn’t the issue. 

Grogu looked at you as you shook your head, “Nope. You didn’t think, did you? You waltzed in there. And made a scene.” 

A noise filtered through the vocoder and over to you, “A scene? I would hardly call it making a scene. That guy is a stone-cold killer. He was sitting there, toying with you and no one would have batted an eyelid to help you. There are people after your head, him especially!” 

Fire simmered through your veins. “Oh, for the love of all the stars, grow up! He isn’t deadly. He knew who I was, and he didn’t once raise a hand to hurt me. He said as much himself.”

The Mandalorian laughed, that damn laugh that made your teeth set on edge, “He told you, did he? Oh, forgive me then. Of course, he was telling the truth.” He shook his head, pacing and then coming back to you. 

You frowned, watching him pace, “What is your problem with him? So I was talking to some guy in a bar, that immediately makes him a monster?” 

The Mandalorian made a frustrated noise, raising his hands, “My problem, sweetheart, is that I thought you were smarter than that! Some creep tells you he knows who you are but he ‘isn’t going to hurt you’ and I thought you’d be running the other way and he’d be laying there with a knife in his chest! Not laughing with you over that fucking sword of his.” 

This man was being ridiculous. 

“So, this about my supposed stupidity now too, is it? Because I did something that you didn’t expect me to do?” You shoved your blade back into it’s sheath, nearly slicing your leg as you did. 

Mando made another frustrated noise, “Fucking hell, you’re not listening to me, again!! This is not about you! This is about him!! He cannot be trusted. He is a monster and a murderer. And I don’t care if he was singing you nursery rhymes or telling you about the baby Porgs he adopts, he was lying! He is going to kill you and I am not letting that happen!”  

Jaw clenched, you glared at him still, “Have you seen him do such things? Where’s your proof he was going to kill me. Do you know him?”

“Not exactly. But I-“

“No. You don’t know him at all. You didn’t trust me to be able to handle the situation, even though there wasn’t a situation until you walked in.” 

Mando crossed his arms across his stupidly broad chest, “Like I said. You clearly didn’t know what you were dealing with. Again.”

You slowly looked up at him, eyes blazing and Grogu made a noise, his little body going still. “Oh?”

The Mandalorian kept his gaze firmly on you, oozing that cockiness that grated on you as much as your own grated on him, “Nope.” He tilted his head, “Someone has to keep you safe.”

It was the insinuation on the word, ‘someone’, that had you picking up Grogu and placing him on the wall. He immediately tucked his chin into his tunic, his hands coming up to cover his ears. 

A beat later, your fury exploded. 

“Someone needs to keep me safe?! And I suppose that title oh so graciously falls on you, does it? Because you know everything about everyone who comes into contact with me?” You stalked toward him, poking a finger into his chest, “I was doing just fine before you. I don’t need you to keep saving me. If I remember correctly, it was me who saved you the last time. So don’t come out here on your high and mighty hero argument, you pretentious, shiny, asshole!” You pointed at him, “You can’t just walk in and start accusing people of being murderers when you clearly don’t know them!”

The Mandalorian sighed, “Don’t start this again. You know I didn’t mean it like that. So, don’t start calling me names either. I was trying to protect you, like I keep saying.”

You growled at him, “So you’re allowed to waltz in there and start spewing accusations, but I’m not allowed to call you out for being an asshole?”

Mando walked over to the wall where Grogu and Duru were perched, “I wasn’t spewing accusations, princess. I was telling the truth. When are you going to believe me?” He scooped up the kids, placing Grogu back in his pouch over his shoulder and holding Duru in his arm again. 

For some reason, that fuelled your anger even more, that he took your cat and strolled off. You scrambled off of the wall, “Are you going to explain to me how you know then?” You followed him as he began to walk down the street, winding through the paths. 

He didn’t even look at you just kept walking, “I just know that he went in there to kill you. He was playing with you first.”

You darted around a fruit cart, the setting sun bouncing off his shiny head and getting in your eyes, “And I asked you for your proof. Which I’m still waiting for.” 

Mando stopped, so suddenly you bumped into his back with a soft oof. “Look. I just know, okay. Can’t you leave it at that for once?” You just knew there was a pleading expression underneath the helmet, but you weren’t letting it go. 

You crossed your arms, arching a brow at him, “I’m gonna give you a minute to remember who I am and answer that question for yourself.” 

He groaned, dropping his head back and looking at the darkening sky for a moment. “Fine.” He lowered his head to look at you again, “In Mandalorian culture, there are legends of a creature so foul, he was spat back out of the deepest pits of darkness. A man so cruel that darkness itself shies away from him. They say he has no soul. I didn’t believe in it when I was a Foundling. I thought it was just a story they told us to make sure we stayed in line but… I know that it’s true now. He is true. We call him Haran. It means cosmic annihilation, because that’s what he brings. He kills people for pure pleasure, but he drags it out in the worst way possible first. And he’s after you.”

You said nothing. Simply staring at him. 

He stared back at you, waiting. 

The seconds ticked by, Grogu and Duru looking between you both. 

Finally, you spoke. Your voice was very quiet, very calm, “You mean to tell me. That you walked into that cantina, after over a month of not seeing me, without even saying hello, I might add. And you walked over to this man, accused him of being a murderer and threatened him… because you think he’s a children’s story?!” 

The noise of exasperation that came from the man before you mirrored your own emotions, “For the love of- You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re talking bullshit.” You snapped the words, arms still crossed, and you were just getting madder by the second. But something was suddenly becoming clear in your mind, some dark whisper to play with him. 

Mando almost audibly rolled his eyes, shaking his head before turning around and continuing to walk. “Whatever, princess. You asked, I told you.”

There was no hesitation as you followed him again, “You’re lying.” 

“Am I?” His voice was flat now, bored almost. He weaved through some more corners and streets, the paths getting quieter and some empty buildings rising up around you.  

“Yep. And I think I know why. I know why you suddenly went alpha male protective on me. I know why you made such a scene. And I know why you’re acting like this now.” You were poking at him; sure you knew the truth now. And if you were wrong, hell, maybe you could make him as frustrated as he had made you. 

“Do enlighten me, princess. How do you know such things?” There was an edge to his voice, like he knew where you were going with this. 

“Because to me, it sounds like you walked in there, saw me sitting with someone else and…”

He stopped, putting the kids down on a wall again as he turned to look at you, “And what? Say it.” The visor of his helmet was locked onto you and you had that feeling again that you had locked eyes. 

You stared back at him, crossing your arms, voice dripping with fury and contempt, but now with an edge, “You were jealous.” 

The evening was quiet, this part of town abandoned by the look of the crumbling buildings around you. 

The Mandalorian laughed, but there was no humour in his voice, “Jealous? You think I was jealous of him?”

You bristled at the cocky laugh, eyes flashing again and that hidden part of you shimmered and trembled, “It sure as hell looked like it. You didn’t even say hello to me before you were descending upon us like an alpha male claiming your territory.” You stalked closer to him, two predators dancing around each other again, “I am not your territory, or your property. I am no-ones.”

Mando didn’t move, letting you come closer, “I know that. I never once laid claim to you. But when I walked and saw you sitting there with that.. that..”

You snarled softly, “Don’t say it again.”

He looked at you for a moment, “That creature… I lost it. You shouldn’t be on the same planet as him, let alone across the table.” He dropped his arms to his sides, displaying that restless energy that was so rare for him. 

You couldn’t help but laugh this time, “Because he’s some kind of spooky shadow man from your childhood stories? Please.”

Mando shook his head fiercely, pointing at you, “It’s the truth. Haran is real. And he was sitting opposite you, playing with you and pretending to be some bashful pretty boy.”

You prowled toward him, mimicking the shaking of his head. “No. Not good enough. Stop lying to me, Lori.” 

“I am not lying to you!! Get it through your head, he was going to kill you!!”

You were right in front of him now, peering up at him, “Admit it.”

His voice was tight, but he didn’t back away, “Drop it, princess. I already told you.”

You shook your head, “I don’t believe you. If you wont tell me the truth I’ll help you.” You took a tiny step closer, so close your chest brushed against his as he panted a little. “I think you went to my room, expecting me to be there. You saw that I was gone and Duru was alone. You immediately thought the worst, and came rushing down to the cantina, hoping you’d find me there. And you did. Only it wasn’t what you expected.”

Mando was silent, his hands curling into fists and uncurling again. 

You continued, relentless, “Instead of being on my own, you saw me sitting with another man. A damn good looking one at that.” You cooed the word at hi, dropping your tone to a seductive, needy one.

You wouldn’t have heard the soft growl if you hadn’t been this close, and it only spurred you on. “You saw us laughing, talking. And you didn’t like it.” You tilted your head a little, “You saw us and thought… how well do they know each other?” You lifted your hand, placing your fingertips on his chest, “Maybe we knew each other as friends. Or… maybe we knew each other more than that. Maybe we’d spent nights together...” You began to tap your fingers down the Mandalorian’s chest plate, as you lowered your voice to a seductive purr, “What if we couldn’t wait, couldn’t wait to get to the bed and he threw me against the wall, tearing the buttons off my trousers in his haste.” 

Mando was breathing harder now, his hands curled up tight. You knew you were pushing his buttons, edging him to possible fury but something in you ached to do this, to feel something like that night before. You wanted a reaction out of him, something more than just protectiveness and care. You wanted him to lose his cool, break free of his restraint and just… do something. 

“Maybe I tore off his clothes too, both of us kissing so fiercely we couldn’t breathe, our tongues dancing around each other as we grabbed at each other, pulling away the layers of clothes until…” 

You rose up on tiptoe, your hands resting against his belly for support, and you knew the helmet would pick up your whispers, “Until he sunk into me, pushing me against the wall and fucking me, so hard and so loud that everyone in that building heard, that everyone knew what was happening. They knew his name, they knew my name, and they knew that we did not stop going. That we had sex on every available surface in that room. That I threw him on the bed and rode him until he was clawing at my hips. Do you want to see? Do you want to see the bruises that you think are on my hips?” 

You turned your head, so your lips brushed the edge of his helmet and fire burned through you as he turned his head into your words and his hands twitched, “Do you wish it was you, Lori? Do you wish it was you that was making me scream? That you were the one leaving marks on my body? That you were the one buried so deep within me I could feel you in my belly?” You pushed your body into him, effectively pinning him to the wall with your own body, “Did you think about me whilst I was gone? Alone, in the middle of the night with only your hand to keep you company?”

Your fingers trailed to his clenched fist, curling your hand around it to bring it to your waist. 

Only for him to let out a choked growl that set your bones ablaze. He spun quicker than you’d ever seen him move, switching the position and holding your hand against the wall, his other next your head, effectively creating a cage with his body, “Shut up.” 

You grinned, hearing the rasping tone of his voice, “I knew it, I knew you were jealous. You did think I fucked him, didn’t y-“

Suddenly, his hand had left yours and was over your mouth, “For a girl who acts like a princess, you have a fucking vulgar mouth.” He tilted his head down to yours, his voice rumbly and sparking all sorts of images in your mind. “Maybe I was a little jealous. I’ll admit it.”

Your eyes flared with triumph, even if the hand on your mouth was coiling heat in your belly, making heat flood through your body – and between your legs. 

The Mandalorian leant in closer, surrounding you with his scent again, smokey leather, metal and that distinct woodsy smell. “You asked me if I think about you… but what about you, cyar'ika? Do you think about me when you’re alone?”

By the stars, the way his voice dropped and rolled along your spine like a caress. It opened up the corner of your mind that you tried to ignore, the corner that spilled out every night, into your dreams. 

“Do you think about that night on the Crest? What might have happened if we weren’t interrupted? Would my hands have gone lower? Touched where you wish it was me? Sunk into you and stroked you until your legs shook?” He chuckled lowly, a sound that would have brought you to your knees if he wasn’t caging you to the wall. He was so close you could no longer see your reflection in his visor. His head titled a little and you felt his body push into yours gently, all hard, cold armour, but beneath that… beneath his hips, he pressed into you. 

You could feel the hard length of him, feel that he was turned on by this just as much as you, maybe he wanted this as much as you did. 

Wanted the images searing through your mind, of his hands tearing around your clothes, dropping to your thighs and lifting them around his waist, gripping them so hard he left bruises as he pushed into you..  

Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck. 

Electricity crashed through your veins and your darkened eyes rolled back a little, thighs clenching. You couldn’t help it, your lips parted and a soft moan slipped from them, muffled against the leather of his hand and without thinking, you bit down on his fingers, tasting the leather. 

His hand tensed over your mouth, his body jerking into yours a little as his breath left him in a soft huff. “Fuck, you d-“

“Uh, guys?”

Cara’s voice filtered through the haze of lust that clouded your brain, and immediately, the Mandalorian jumped backward, the two of you parting like you’d been shocked. 

Heat flooded your cheeks and neck, not from embarrassment so much as a response to his words. 

The man made you furious, made you see red but… you couldn’t deny the fire between you. The way you were dancing around each other since you met. You were seemingly in a constant stay of being polite, flirting with each other or being at each other’s throats – either through anger or pure lust. 

“What is it, Cara?” Mando turned to her, his voice coming out a little harsher than intended due to the roughness of his voice, betraying the reactions of his body. 

Her eyes flicked between the two of you, and you just knew she saw it all from the way she was holding back a smirk as she looked at you. “That guy from the cantina asked me to give you this.” She held something out to you. 

You cleared your throat, pushing away from the wall and walking past Mando carefully, like the faintest touch between you both would ignite something. “Thanks, Cara” You took the object she held out and it was a thin metal card with a code embossed onto it. You frowned, flipping it over but all that lay on the other side was a symbol. A two headed snake coiled around a sword that looked a lot like the one that had been sheathed on his back. 

The Mandalorian answered instead, thankfully staying where he was, “It’s a comms code. If you input it, it’ll connect you to him.” His voice was tight, “If he thinks-“

You held up a hand, not looking at him, “Don’t even finish that sentence.” You pocketed the card, letting out a breath, “I’m going to go and sort my things out. I… I’ll meet you all in a bit.” You allowed yourself a glance back at the Mandalorian, skin heating when you found his visor already trained on you. 

You swallowed thickly, your blood simmering again but you made yourself turn around, avoiding Cara’s smirk, “C’mon, Duru.” 

You headed back to your little apartment, relieved when you heard no trailing footsteps behind you. You needed the time alone for a minute, to process what the hell just happened between you both. 

And maybe to cool down. 

He would be the death of you. 

Previous| Next

[va9art]

I think I’ve been quiet for way too long and I should come back and fangirl about it.

Before I go down the many lines of praises I have to just to let you know all about, all things considered, I think of myself as a huge Dramione fan but one that relatively to the majority of us in the fandom, doesn’t consume just as much.

I read fanfictions, but no that much - I read more books. (those sold on bookshop, you know the old paper concept).

I enjoy HP characters - but I somehow don’t branch out. (I tend to stick way too often with DHr and generally consider branching out when it’s a Draco/Hermione/Theo 🤷‍♀️)

I go crazy mad for certain fanfics too - but somehow I limit myself to rec those ff when asked, and generally leave only kudos.

So, if I’ve learned anything from @winewandsandwafflingpodcast I certainly need to step up my games.

First and foremost:

1. If you happen to read this post, go and click on the tag above, then find the podcast, put your headphone on and press play. Enjoy, darling.

I am now going through the very pleasurable job of catching up with the last few months worth of episodes - that somehow I missed to keep up lately, so typical of me, and I cannot express my gratitude to @frumpologist and her host @ladykenz347 enough for this podcast and their discussions. I am having such a great time listening to you fangirl-ing hard and simultaneously discuss on very deep level the analysis of fics and most importantly the fandom itself! You’re constantly touching important aspects of the world we live in - though only virtually, and I think your critical points of view, together with the voices of guests that you bring from the fandom, are a much needed review that we need to hear, explore and share together. So, really, thank you.

And it’s because of them and their Episode 8, that I finally branch out-branch out. With none other than:

‘The Secretary’ by @pacific-rimbaud

Summary:

Threatened with the loss of her trust fund allowance, wild child Pansy Parkinson takes her mother up on an offer she can't refuse: a job at the Ministry of Magic as personal secretary to tightly wound bureaucrat Percy Weasley.

The job is demanding, and so is her boss, in ways that Pansy never could have imagined.

When their mutual desires begin to spin out of control, how will Pansy convince her boss that sometimes, the only rules you need to follow are your own?

A loving tribute to the pure and criminally underappreciated magic that is the ParkWeasel ship, and the 2002 film Secretary.

Here I come:

This fic had me - all of me: attention, heart, fangirl wailing, all of it, from the very beginning. It shouldn’t really come as a surprise, since I absolutely adore PacificRimbaud’s writing style and stories. I am not quite too sure I can put Party Lines behind this fic, there is no need surely since one is a Dramione (surprise surprise) and the other one is a ParkWeasel, and why shall I even throw in there Major Arcana a Lucius Malfoy/Andromeda Black Tonks? This creator here has an extraordinary ability to make you instantly fall head to toe for rare pairs that you usually forgo, because - really, I know my linkings - and no, you don’t. The second you step into one of her story, the minute you begin to say ‘oh well, but that sounds nice,’ you’re so damn past the point where you can go back to your comfortable pairs, so much so that you might just want to change your introduction on Tumblr and just add the tag ‘whatever PacificRimbaud’s rare-pair present you with - I ship it’. I surely should, because now I’ve just locked eyes with a Draco/Scabior tag and I am trying to stay calm, because truly I should know my bloody likings, shouldn’t I?

I am one that adore, above all, Dom/Sub fictions without any worries to say this out loud, but I understand how this might not be the proverbial beloved cup of tea of one’s likings, so I should explain why this kinky fanfic won’t have you cringe in any possible way. Because she makes it sounds and feels so natural. Your read it and it makes sense. Particularly this fic, has the capacity of introducing a kink at the right moment, cleverly pacing it out throughout its 6 chapters. I liked personally how this was a fiction based on the discoveries of these sexual kinks, more than the narration of such things acted out exclusively. It has psychological description of it that just adds depth to the relationship - one I never even explored once in my life. And that now I’m digging for.

If asked, what’s the one thing that got me widening my eyes and going loudly ‘yessss, girl’, is Percy ending his working day on white paper, miniature crow, flying notes, neat and precise description of what Pansy should wear the next day. Down to her knickers. If you know, you know, if you don’t, read this fanfic right away.

Lastly, this writer here not only has created this (as many others) beautiful piece of fanfic, which I absolutely worship, but has also created an artwork for it! And I find it extremely lovely! I love her style (one that reminds me, and I mean this the outmost respect for both artists, the Fernando Botero’s style) and I feel so much for her that’s she’s written her fic and drawn for it, too. Damn, girl, you rule. (Also, I had the big, massive, apocalyptic magnitude size honour of having inspired her once to write a one off for a piece of art I made and which I am shamelessly going to tag along, because why not, the artwork might be average, but the story’s chef’s kiss! ‘Off the Ground’) Darling, I should have come and praised you high and loud a long time ago - it’s just not my modus operandi of participating in the fandom. But here it is, although you also write some rare-pairs that don’t meet the same degree of visibility and notoriety, as long as it makes you happy participating in it, I’m here for it and extremely grateful for your sharing it with us.

[taizi]

I am reading some of your older Natsume Yuujinchou fan fics and I absolutely LOVE them! Can u please write some more about him idk what topic I'm sorry T.T but any good ones u can think of ?

well i was in the MIDST of answering a nishinatsu prompt but my drafts seems to have consumed that ask entirely, so i guess i’ll just write that prompt here instead !

x

“I mean,” Nishimura blurts, “just look at him!”

He gestures with both hands, as if words are failing him. Across the room, Natsume is laughing, shaking off snow and unwinding a borrowed scarf. Tanuma is thanking him profusely for the hot tea he ran to the vending machine outside for; given that Tanuma just returned to school after being out sick for a few days, it makes sense that Natsume and mother-hen Tsuji wanted him to stay put. The whole thing is very mundane and in no way out of the ordinary and Nishimura, for whatever reason, is pissed about it. 

Bemused, Kitamoto settles into what has been his default state since he was three years old and humors his best friend. 

“I’m looking,” he says gamely. “It’s Natsume. He’s wearing a hat.”

“Do not over-simplify this,” Nishimura warns with utmost severity. 

His tone causes Suzuki to glance over from her desk in alarm, but Kitamoto makes Meaningful Eye Contact with her and she glances from him, to Nishimura, and then across the room at Natsume, and out loud says “oh.” Then she gives Kitamoto a pitying expression and returns to her book. Kitamoto wishes it were that easy for him to escape. 

“Okay, sorry,” Kitamoto concedes. “Is there something special about the hat that I’m missing?”

“It’s adorable,” Nishimura hisses with real, actual venom. “It has a pom-pom on the end. What the hell? Who gave him the right?”

It is pretty cute, Kitamoto has to admit. He thinks Taki is the one who got it for him, but he can’t remember, and now he’s certainly not going to mention it. He wouldn’t throw his friend under this bus, not even to spare himself. 

“Right,” he says. He flips a page in his magazine. “Some nerve.”

“I mean it’s bad enough that he’s the most handsome guy in our grade,” his best friend goes on, outwardly seething, “no, scratch that, our school! I mean, already way, way out of my league, and then he has to go and--” 

Kitamoto looks up. The conversation has taken a new, unlikely turn, and with Nishimura, you have to catch these things quick, or he’ll get the idea that he’s allowed to think them. 

“Hey, hold on a second. What’s this about ‘out of your league’?”

“Sorry, I thought you said you were looking,” Nishimura says with enough bitterness to make Kitamoto frown. “It’s Natsume. I don’t have a chance in hell.”

This crush has been a thing for going on a year and a half now. It’s the most open secret in school, because Nishimura is about as subtle as a bullet train and wears his heart on his sleeve-- he always has. But up until this point, Kitamoto had thought all the dithering and nerves was a little bit just because it was kind of fun to like somebody, and nerve-wracking to confess. It’s not as though any of them are gonna vanish any time soon, not with another year until they graduate, and plans to go to university together after that. 

Kitamoto figured that when Nishimura got tired of drawing hearts in his notebook and then screeching when someone asked to borrow his notes, he’d tell Natsume that he’s been in puppy-love with him since about two days after Natsume moved to Hitoyoshi in the first place, and they’d all have a good laugh about how long it took them to get their shit together, and that would be that. 

He never expected to hear something like this out of Nishimura’s mouth. 

It’s the worst thing he’s ever heard out of Nishimura’s mouth.

Kitamoto gets up, so abruptly that his chair screeches back across the linoleum. Nishimura’s head snaps around and he reflexively grabs Kitamoto’s arm. They’ve been inseparable since before they could walk and that means that, generally, they can sort of read each other’s minds. 

Kitamoto wonders if he’ll ever stop being furious with himself that he missed something as big as this. 

“Hey, woah, what are you doing?” Nishimura says. “Why are you mad?”

“I’m mad because my best friend is an actual, honest-to-god idiot,” Kitamoto snaps. “And I’m going to prove you wrong.”

He manages one step in Natsume’s direction, and Nishimura yanks him back into his chair with a super-strength born of absolute terror.

“Don’t you dare! If you love me you’ll stay right here!”

“Of course I love you,” Kitamoto says, whirling on him. “You know I love you.”

For a brief second, he finds himself terrified: what if this is something else he’s missed? What if-- 

But Nishimura rolls his eyes, and his grip on Kitamoto’s arm slides down to his hand, and he tangles their fingers together as easily as if they’re in kindergarten again. This is one thing, it seems, neither of them have ever had to doubt. 

“I know, Acchan. I’m just having a bad day.” Nishimura bites his lip. He looks down, and away. “But... you know what I mean, right? You know that Natsume is-- he’s on another level. You get that, right?”

“He is not better than you,” Kitamoto says, perhaps too loudly. A few classmates glance in their direction. From Nishimura’s nervous twitch, one of them is probably Natusme, but he’s all the way across the room. There’s no way he could have overheard. “He thinks the world of you. You spend every waking minute together. This is the first time I’ve managed to steal you away in like two weeks.”

Nishimura slants a bit of a smile at him. It’s nothing like the megawatt grins he’s usually throwing around, but it’s something. Kitamoto squeezes his hand, refusing to back down. 

“Even if he doesn’t like you back,” Kitamoto says, “he already loves you. And I love you, and so does Taki and Tanuma and Tsuji and Ogata and even Shibata, even though he’d never admit it. I’ll make him if it would make you feel better, though. I still have blackmail.”

And there it is-- a laugh. Nishimura leans back in his chair with it, a loud ha-HA that he muffles in his sleeve, and Kitamoto grins at him. 

“For now, let’s go find Taki,” he says, standing up again. He draws Nishimura up with him by their joined hands. “There’s still a few minutes left before the bell.”

“Sure,” Nishimura says, following along agreeably. “Why do we need Taki?”

“You’ll feel better after you can gossip with her about your hopeless crush,” Kitamoto tells him dryly. “And I’m gonna tell her all that nonsense you said about not being good enough, and she’ll yell at you about how much we love you till you cry, probably.”

Nishimura gasps, the perfect picture of betrayal. He’s back to his overly-animated self and the whole room feels lighter for it. Kitamoto tugs him along, smiling, and waves at their friends as they pass by. 

“I told you that in confidence!” Nishimura shouts. 

“Next time get it in writing.” 

He’s prepared for it when Nishimura throws his full weight against his back in revenge, and manages to haul him up piggy-back style with enough grace that they don’t immediately fall over.

Nishimura wraps one arm around his neck, squeezing too tight for comfort, just to be a brat, but at that point they’re both having fun as they make their ungainly way toward the door. Whatever hurt Nishimura has been holding onto has been left behind for now, and if Kitamoto has his way, it won’t be coming back.  

And behind them, Natsume buries his face in his hands. Tsuji and Tanuma trade a swift, knowing glance over his head, and then reach over to pat him on the shoulder and the arm respectively. 

“I mean,” Natsume mutters, eyes drawn to where Nishimura is crowing with laughter, noisy and charming and the brightest thing in the room, “just look at him.”

[mascwhump]

Chapter 10 - Trained Professionals

TW: guns, bullet wounds, blood

Tag list: @whatwasmyprevioususername @milk-carton-whump @whumpasaurus101 @whatwhumpcomments @mnmlover2002 @ashintheairlikesnow

-

Charlie was woken up the next morning by a tray being tossed next to his mat. He looked up to see a solider, looking extremely annoyed.

"Eat quickly," he ordered.

Charlie glared at him as he slowly rose to a sit. He slid the tray closer and ate the meager portion of toast and grapes. As soon as he picked up the last grape, the solider ripped the tray from his hands and left the room.

"God," Charlie mumbled to himself.

He forced his aching body to stand. He walked to the bathroom and splashed water on his face and into his mouth before deciding to take a bath. He ran the water and slipped into its warmth, the heat soothing his body. He leaned his head back against the wall, and accidentally drifted off.

Water entering his nose caused him to jerk awake. He began splashing violently, only stopping when he realized he was alone. He held his face in his hands as he tried to calm down.

Once he had control of his breathing, he got out of the tub. It was then he noticed a towel and a fresh set of clothes were on the shelf above the toilet. He didn't remember anyone coming in, and he wondered how they got there. Nonetheless, he was grateful. He dried off and swiped on cheap deodorant before he got dressed.

He sat on his mat with the blanket draped over his legs. His head was doing better than last night, but a dull throbbing still remained. The bruises on his skin had darkened into a deep purple. He avoided looking in the mirror, especially at his face. He remembered last night and his stomach tightened. Before, he hoped Mallory would remember it, but now, he wasn't so sure.

A few hours passed and lunch was brought to him. This time, when the solider entered with his tray, he stopped just after entering the room. Charlie looked at him quizzically, but upon closer inspection, he realized that he looked familiar.

"Charlie," he breathed.

He sprinted toward him, dropping the tray just before picking Charlie up and pulling him into a tight hug. Charlie whimpered, his bruises getting pressed on, but he returned the hug.

"Deke," Charlie said, "I'm so happy to see you, but-"

"I'm getting you out of here," Deke said, pulling his mask down to his chin.

"They know what you look like," Charlie said.

"How?"

"They have you on camera taking some file."

"Oh... shit."

Deke rubbed his hand over his mouth as he thought.

"You need to leave. Please, before they find out you're here," Charlie said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You kidding me? I'm not leaving without you guys," Deke said.

"Do you have a plan?" Charlie asked.

"I've been working on a plan since day one. Look, I have access to the gun locker. It's not far from where the others are. I'm going to grab some guns, then bust into the room. The hallway leads us straight out to the helipad."

"That... could work," Charlie said.

"I know it's risky, but I've been weighing the options and it looks like our only chance."

"When do you plan to do this?"

"Now."

Charlie's eyes went wide.

"Now?"

"Yes, it's meal time and most of them are in the chow hall. There's no traffic in the hallway. We can do this, Charlie."

Charlie looked around the room for a moment before nodding.

"Okay. Let's do it."

They walked toward the door. Deke handed Charlie a pistol and stuck his head outside. He made the hand signal for "clear", and they began making their way toward the gun locker. He was right, the hall was empty. They made it to the locker and slipped inside unnoticed. Deke grabbed two M16s and a few extra magazines. Charlie grabbed his own M16 and shoved two magazines into his sweat pockets. Once they were set, Deke peaked out the door again. They made it to the room without incident.

"Ready?" Deke asked.

Charlie nodded.

He kicked in the door and quickly stabbed the guarding solider in the throat before he could make a sound.

“Deke?" Adrian said.

"Come on," Deke said as he took the keys from the soldier's vest pocket, "we don't have much time."

He quickly unlocked everyone's handcuffs. He handed a gun to Crow and Adrian, and Charlie handed the pistol to Ethan. They filed out of the room, guns at the ready, and followed Deke down the hall.

"There's the door," Deke said, motioning straight ahead.

A shot was fired. Adrian fell. He stumbled back to his feet, limping.

"Keep going," he said.

Another shot was fired and screamed past Charlie's head.

"Stop!" Someone yelled from behind.

Crow turned around and walked backwards as he fired off a couple rounds. Charlie did the same, managing to hit someone. He saw the trail of blood that Adrian was leaving behind, but kept his focus. They made it out the door. A helicopter was waiting less than 50 yards away.

Deke switched to a sprint, making it to the helicopter before the rest of the team so he could start up the engine. It roared to life and the blades began to spin. Bullets flew past and hit the helicopter with a "tink".

Charlie lagged behind, his energy sparse to begin with. He stopped behind some barrels for cover as he fired back.

"Charlie, let's go!" Crow yelled.

The rest of the team was on the helicopter. Charlie inched back, still firing. He turned back toward the team and waved them off.

"Go!" He yelled.

"No, get your ass on here, now!" Crow yelled back.

"There's too many of them. You'll get shot down!"

A bullet just barely missed Charlie's arm, forcing him to sink down to a crouch. Bullets rained upon the side of the helicopter. Deke lifted it into the air slightly.

"Last chance! Get the FUCK over here, that is an order!"

Charlie looked back and waved them off again. Deke pulled up, about ten feet off the ground. Crow jumped out and landed with a roll. He sprinted over to Charlie and took cover behind some stacked crates. He waved off the helicopter.

"Charlie, I'm going to fucking kill you," he said, barely heard over the gunfire.

Charlie ignored him and continued to fire back. More soldiers pooled from inside, firing at the helicopter as it left. Charlie shot his last bullet and dropped the gun. Crow continued to fire, picking off a few more of the men before running out of ammo. The helicopter was at a safe enough distance to escape.

The gunfire stopped. Charlie put his hands into the air and slowly rose up. Crow walked out from behind the crates with his arms in the air. A few soldiers approached, guns ready. They kicked Charlie down to his knees and roughly put his arms together with zip ties. They forced him to his feet again, shoving him and Crow back into the building. They passed numerous bodies, blood pooling out of them onto the floor.

They then entered an elevator.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Crow spat.

"You know damn well that we would've been shot down if I hadn't drawn their fire," Charlie shot back.

"Shut up," a soldier hissed, hitting Charlie in the back with his rifle.

The elevator doors opened and they were marched down a hallway. They entered a room labeled "CONFERENCE" and inside was a long table. Mallory was sitting on the end of it, facing away from the door.

Charlie and Crow were thrown to their knees at the other end of the room. The air was thick with tension as Mallory slowly stood from the table and turned around. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed.

"Really?"

Charlie and Crow looked at each other.

"You really thought that would work?"

"It did," Charlie said, "three of us got out."

Mallory rubbed his temples.

"If that's what you consider a success, then I'll let you have that one," he said, "because they don't matter. You two, on the other hand, are much more of my concern. I'll tell you what- I'm not even mad. In fact, I'm more upset with the complete lack of competence within my own ranks."

The soldiers in the room shifted uncomfortably.

"There's going to be some changes around here," Mallory said, "but for now, return them to where they belong. My head hurts far to much to deal with them right now."

Crow and Charlie were walked out of the room. They went back down the elevator, and were separated at a fork in the hallway. Charlie was lead back to his room. The zip ties were cut off and he was left alone again.

He collapsed onto his mat, breathing heavily. The adrenaline began to wear off and the aching in his muscles returned. He couldn’t stay still; he was determined to find a position that didn’t hurt to lie in. Eventually, frustration got the best of him and he settled on his back. Tears of defeat formed in his eyes and he did his best to fight them back.

Adrian, Ethan, and Deke are safe. That’s what matters.

Adrian was hit in the lower part of his leg. Ethan would easily manage to take care of it. He would be fine. Hopefully, they would make it home, or at least somewhere safe soon. He wished Crow would have stayed on the helicopter, so that he would be safe, too.

Exhaustion took over and he fell asleep again. He wasn’t brought dinner, which meant he was able to sleep for a longer period. He wasn’t really hungry, anyway. He spent the rest of the night curled up on his mat.

Morning came, and he woke up just before breakfast. He dragged himself into the bathroom and drank water from the faucet. Soon after, breakfast arrived. He held his arms out to grab the tray from the solider, but the solider hesitated.

“Don’t know if I want to give this to you,” he said.

Charlie stared at him.

“You killed my friend, you know.”

“That’s the risk you take when you sign up for this shit,” Charlie snapped.

The solider threw the tray at him, then splashed the glass of water in his face. He picked up the tray and acted like he was going to hit Charlie with it, before deciding against it and leaving the room.

Charlie sighed and wiped his face with the blanket. He picked the blueberries off the floor and ate them, then the toast which had landed in his lap. After he ate, he grabbed a towel from the bathroom to soak up the water on his mat. He tossed the towel across the room after he finished and sat on the mat.

A few minutes went by and the door opened again. In walked two soldiers. They approached Charlie and ordered him to stand up before handcuffing him. It was an all too familiar feeling.

They took him down the hall and up the same elevator as yesterday. This time, instead of stopping on the second floor, they went to the top. The hallway was much shorter, and they were soon at a door. One of them knocked, and Mallory opened it. Inside appeared to be a small apartment. It barely looked lived in with how tidy it was. The soldiers took Charlie inside, then left, leaving him alone with Mallory.

“This your space?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah. Sit,” Mallory said, pulling out a chair from the table.

Charlie took a seat as he looked around. The smell of bergamot filled the air; a candle was lit on the counter in the kitchenette. Mallory sat in a chair across from Charlie. He leaned back and folded his arms.

“I’m sick of being here,” he said.

“You’re sick of being here?” Charlie scoffed.

“Yes. I’m going back home for a few days,” Mallory said.

“Oh no, I’m so sad,” Charlie replied sarcastically.

“Well, don’t be, because you’re coming with.”

[serene-victory-77]

The Rodent Whisperer Of Ketterdam

This is my piece for the Grishaverse Mini Bang of 2021, thank you to @grishaversebigbang for hosting this event! @offrostandflames 

My wonderful Materialki/Artists amazing and lovely pieces:

Frisslimbim’s Art and Instagram and Offrostandflames’ Art and Instagram

Summary: Kaz Brekker is known throughout the Barrel for his various schemes and skills. But there's one particular talent no one in his life is privy to, and it's going to help him get 30 million kruge. Crack Fic, Short And Sweet!

Fic:

Kaz walked away from the meeting with Jan Van Eck, his mind racing.

He’d accepted the deal, accepted 30 million kruge for breaking into the Ice Court and stealing a scientist with a drug that could change the world.

But Kaz wasn’t an idiot. It was too risky for humans, and only his best people could maybe do it. He didn’t like his chances.

There was no way he was gonna risk human error.

He hesitated. There was another option, but did he really want to instead use them?

Kaz thought about it for a long while as he made his way to the Slat. They were brave, they were many, and their relationship ran deep.

If he was being honest, they probably were his best, despite Jesper and Inej’s skill.

And humans…. Humans wouldn’t ever be able to succeed, he figured.

He knew what he had to do. He knew who he could trust.

Kaz closed the door behind him as Inej left the room. He looked around.

“Calling a meeting,” he said, tapping his cane thrice on the floor.

There was a rustle within the walls, the pitter patter of dozens upon dozens of feet. They came out of the walls, climbed through a cracked open window, found their place among the rafters and on top of his desk.

They were Kaz’s army, grown since he was nine and now an unknown force in his arsenal.

The Great Order Of Mice and The Virtuous Rat Society.

They named themselves.

He waited a little bit longer for them to all get settled.

“Thank you for your fast arrival,” he said, grabbing some cheese and crackers, as well as some bowls of water, setting them on a platter on the floor. “I have a big job for you all,”

The rodents chittered between themselves before looking up at him curiously.

He hesitated. “It involves leaving Ketterdam for a colder climate. It’s very dangerous. You might need the entire colony,”

The rodents stopped nibbling to stare at him. One of the bigger rats squeaked in confusion.

“Yes, I know, that’s a lot of you, and you guys aren’t used to being outside Ketterdam. But the reward is 30 million kruge ,”

The entire assembly went silent before wild squeaking ensued.

Kaz held up a hand. “Quiet, please, don’t alarm the Dregs,”

They calmed down again but all stood on their hind legs, nibbling their food while staring at him with wide eyes.

“I will tell you what it entails, and we can decide your reward if you agree. We’ll need to do some extra training to handle the colder weather, but that will wait a bit,”

They nodded, and Kaz settled down to explain what he could.

The briefing lasted two hours, and then the next night he had to go and break Helvar out of prison for more details to give to the army. They seemed to be in general good spirits about the entire thing, despite Kaz’s warning of danger and ice.

When he came back with all of the information he had gathered, including several small copied versions of the maps and diagrams Wylan had drawn, the real training began.

“No, the keys are going to be more complex than anything you see in the Barrel,” Kaz shook his head and laid out several old complicated door knobs and keyholes. “Show me how you’d open this,”

The rat squeaked determinedly and set to work.

“Even if you’re stealing from them, you can’t go around being sloppy,” Kaz frowned, straightening the bowties of a group of mice. The mice wore black ribbons, the rats gray, and The Council Of Rodents red. “I do not dress sloppy, and you shall not either. You are representing all Ketterdam rodents with this mission,”

They nodded seriously and let him adjust their ribbons.

“Make sure to take baths!” Kaz called after them once they were done. “You do not spread viral infections to other countries, alright!?”

Affirmative squeaks.

“It’s going to be cold, but your feet are grabby so we can’t cover them. You’re already used to Ketterdam cold, but this is different entirely,” Kaz warned them. “I tried finding some ice for you to practice on, and I’ve got...” he put several boxes atop his desk, “You guys some coats. There should be enough for all of you and are in different sizes, everyone in single file,”

The Council Of Rodents was following Kaz around town as they decided what treats he would be buying them with his share of the money.

He watched with hidden pride as the mice distracted the bakery shopkeeper and a group came from the left flank to pry open display cases and steal bread.

“They’ve come so far,” he whispered to one of the older rats that was standing on a ledge near Kaz’s head. It nodded in agreement.

A customer tried to bat away one of the rats with her purse, and a group of them jumped on her face in revenge.

“So far,” he nodded, pleased.

At the end of the week, in the hours before the sun had even risen over the sea’s horizon, Kaz stood at Fifth Harbor.

“Is everyone here?” he asked, looking over the crowd of rodents.

Two tardy mice ran from behind a shop and squeaked in apology.

“Alright, then. That ship over there is manned by someone who works for me. He has been instructed to leave you all alone and not bring a cat on board the ship. I’ve set aside barrels of cider, water, seeds, fruits, cheese, and crackers for you in the hold of the ship, so do not steal from the humans,”

One of the rats snickered and Kaz sighed. “Yes, I know I usually tell you to steal from the humans, but work with me here,”

They nodded.

“Does everyone have their maps?”

The rodents rummaged through their tiny leather pouches and waved their small maps at him.

“Weapons?”

Needles flew up into the air.

“No one is missing their coat?”

No negative squeak.

Kaz nodded. “Well, then, everyone. The ship departs in forty minutes. The journey will take a few weeks, and you’ll have to wait a while once you arrive. Do you remember what day you have to go to the Ice Court?”

Chitters confirmed they did.

Kaz took a deep breath. “Then, off to the boat with you. I trust I’ll be seeing you in two month’s time. No mourners,”

They squeaked back their best rendition of “No funerals,”, taking their individual time to pat his shoe in affirmance, and scrambled towards the boat.

Kaz stood and watched the boat until it departed.

As an extra safety measure, he ended up sending some guard crows to travel with the ship. Just being careful.

The great part about not sending humans to do your job is that people have a lot harder time figuring out which boat you’re going on, so Kaz had fun getting rid of the Black Tips that had failed to do any damage, as his army was already far out at sea.

Kaz had been training the rodents for a long time. He’d long since taken in stride that for some reason, not only could they understand him, but they could actually communicate back, and they were his secret weapon in everyday life. If things were too risky or complicated for Inej, he sent them to find out people’s secrets and bring back the information he used to control people like Geels.

He didn’t typically do big jobs with them though, they were too valuable to put in danger like that, but they were the only ones he could trust to really get the job done.

Still, despite his confidence in their abilities, he worried.

The next few weeks there were only about a couple dozen rodents from both the Order and Society, the ones that were either too young or too elderly to handle the trip, but they could still do work around Ketterdam, and news of what Jan Van Eck planned to do infuriated Kaz.

He wasn’t gonna not give his army their rewards, so while he waited for them to come back, he went about ruining lives.

Kaz found himself spending a lot of time with Wylan, Nina, Matthias, Jesper, and Inej the following weeks, one part because they were working on tearing down Wylan’s father, and one part because he had nothing else to do. The mouse and rats that were still there had taken to also watching Kaz’s companions.

He found a red fabric scrap and handed it to one of the mice, and later on, they came up to him, showing off the now rather dress-like piece.

“Who are you supposed to be, Nina?” he asked.

Affirmative squeak.

Kaz rolled his eyes and the mouse flicked their tail at him in contempt.

“Actually, you kind of have it down,” he noted, and the mouse sniffed haughtily before clambering away.

“Where’d you get that?” Kaz asked a rat playing with some gambling chips. “Better not be from the Crow Club,”

The rat showed him the Dime Lion insignia on the chips.

“Oh, you can always steal from them. But why the gambling chips?”

The rat twirled and did a little motion with its hands.

“Jesper? Really?”

He found a large, rather grumpy rat watching the Nina Mouse one day. He didn’t even have to wonder who that one was taking inspiration from, and instead handed Matthias Rat a piece of ice.

A small mouse had taken to stealing matches and trying to light small fires.

“You are not a demo expert,” Kaz told the mouse. “I don’t care how many hours you’ve spent watching the Merchling,”

The mouse squeaked sadly and Kaz frowned.

“Fine, you can mess with the matches, but have Jesper Rat watch over you,”

Wylan Mouse seemed to sigh but went with Jesper Rat anyway.

One of the smallest mice had taken to riding on Kaz’s shoulder whenever Kaz was walking the streets at night. At first, he’d wondered why, knowing he didn’t need to be watched over, but then he found that that mouse had been collecting needles, sharp metal bits, and even a small human-sized knife, and Inej Mouse was established.

A little longer than two months later, he stood on Fifth Harbor once more, the Five of Rodents waiting alongside him. A crow had arrived two days ago, with a note from the rodents that they were on their way, but complications had occurred.

He worried about numbers lost, or maybe that some of them had been imprisoned, but that wasn’t the result.

They came from the ship's hold like an ocean, carrying a small boy through pure willpower.

Kaz raised his eyebrows. “Welcome home, everyone. That doesn’t look like an old scientist to me,”

A group of them came forward, clambering over each other to explain what had happened.

“One at a time,” Kaz scolded, looking them over. It seemed that their numbers were almost intact. Clearly, some had been lost, but all in all, the casualties were minimal. He was relieved.

They explained what had happened, and Kaz sighed. Well, the old man was dead, but at least they had the son.

“Kuwei, was it?” he told the Shu boy. “Don’t speak to anyone about them,”

The boy just nodded nervously, looking more confused than anyone Kaz had ever seen.

A mouse piped up and Kaz turned incredulously. “You did what to Pekka Rollins?”

There was a gleeful chitter and Kaz smirked. “This is why I trust you guys,”

One of them asked about the reward.

“Yeah, I know,” Kaz told them. “Things got a little bit messy with Jan Van Eck, but now he’s in jail, and you guys have your own house fully stocked with food,”

A triumphant orchestra of squeaks filled the early Ketterdam morning, and Kaz grinned as the army ran onto the streets of the Barrel, pitter-pattering away.

--

[holdurown]

🐺RULES OF WOLVES REVIEW🐺

hey so i uh. finished the book last night and here are my thoughts

disclaimer(s): this will be long and also probably incoherent. if you have different opinions that’s great, and i will be glad to hear them, just please do not be mad at me. some more important things to know might be: a) i read this in a very short period of time so my brain is a bit overloaded and that might affect my perception of the plot. b) i don’t care abt the darkling, i basically never have

also spoilers obviously

alright, let’s start with stuff i didn’t like so we can get that over with:

THINGS I DIDN’T LIKE

i really hate the trope of big bad gets defeated and it’s really narratively and emotionally satisfying and then they just...get brought back. it cheapens the end of ruin and rising for me. that was the one time i felt anything for the darkling, when he just wants to be remembered right before his death. but then he gets brought back. and i’m like 😒 ok. so i didn’t really enjoy his chapters, i don’t enjoy him as a character, and i thought his chapters stalled the plot.

the plot pacing...maybe it’s just because i did a speed run through it, but there was maybe too much going on? like the characters were doing totally different things away from each other, so some parts felt rushed. it felt like some important scenes were cut for time. one example is when david dies. we leave off with genya saying she can’t find him, and then we go to zoya’s pov at his funeral. but zoya was somewhere totally else right before? anyway, some parts felt like they were just there to wrap up loose ends, and i was kind of skimming

i could’ve done with a little more on zoya’s feelings for nikolai. like her internal monologue. we got a little bit of it, but between her realization that it’s ok to love people and let them in and the scene with their kiss, i could’ve used a bit where she was like, “oh, i need to tell him now.” a scene where she’s kind of realized that she deserves him?

this is minor, but i really thought we would get a scene between jesper and leoni where they talked about his mom’s sacrifice, idk i thought it would’ve been a nice full circle moment

WHY DIDN’T WE GET THE NINEJ REUNION IN NINA’S POV?! IM GOING TO ******* *** yeah i really wanted that

at the end, i felt like we were missing some kind of emotional climax. i don’t know exactly why i feel this way. i think it’s because the battle with zoyadragon happens and then we go straight into nikolai making a bid for queen zoya. maybe the emotional climax was supposed to be the darkling? idrk

aaaaand that’s all i can think of for that

THINGS I LIKED (OR LOVED)

the emotional beats felt very similar to fire (by kristen cashore) in some places and that’s my favorite book. the idea of pushing people away because you’re scared of the grief of their death? go read fire!

that zoya ended up on the throne. i liked it a lot, it just feels right

hannina, because i’ve been gunning for them since king of scars came out and i couldn’t find fan art or fics or anything, they are so underrated. i could talk abt them forever. the idea of nina being able to heal from the pain of matthias’ death and move on with someone else? i loved it. i think sometimes fandoms have a hard time coming to grips with the idea that people can love more than one person in their lifetime

hanne trans rep! i think this storyline was developed well, even though i kind of wanted them to be able to run wild and free in the countryside. ruling a kingdom seems stifling, but that’s just me

nina bi rep, and you know what? we get such shitty bi rep in ya fantasy, i’m still recovering from whatever the fuck sjm did. thank god for nina. the best bi rep in any ya fantasy i’ve read so far💖💜💙

that brief interlude in ketterdam. was it necessary? maybe not, but it was one of my favorite parts. i just breathe a sigh of relief when i’m around the crows again

genya and zoya and alina and nina’s friendship. i already said it in a post, but well-written female friendships are surprisingly hard to find in ya. friendship is inherently romantic! zoya holding up genya after david. zoya’s feelings for nina in contrast with how nina thinks zoya feels about her is just (👩‍🍳💋)

SO WHAT NEXT?

i don’t think we’ve gotten any news abt a sequel, so this is probably the end of the grishaverse for now. what i want most of all is a collection of short stories from different povs all around the grishaverse. just one chapter little slices of their lives. here’s some possibilities i was dreaming up

inej taking down a slaver’s ship, being a pirate, in her element

hanne and nina on vacation from ruling, maybe riding horses, just some fluff

jesper and leoni meet, it would be emotionally charged, they would talk abt his mom and she might start teaching him more fabrikator things

nikolai and linnea opjer? just linnea opjer? i’m so curious about this character

kaz waiting for inej to sail into the harbor. he’s by the docks, he has some kind of present for her. them bickering? sitting on a roof together? idk i just want to live in kaz’s pov when he’s thinking about inej

what are the khergud soldiers up to?

nikolai’s off doing diplomacy things, being charming, in his element, but then he comes back for zoya’s surprise birthday party. this would just be so good

reunion of the crows?

i’ll probably think up more. they could essentially be like one-shot fics, but i want leigh to write themmmmm

to finish, here are some parts i highlighted

hmmm i wonder what this reminds me of... “I would have come for you. And if I couldn't walk, I'd crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we'd fight our way out together-knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that's what we do. We never stop fighting.” oh yeah that’s it

this whole rant was such a mess i’m truly sorry if you made it this far

[new-endings]

chicken

--

crowley’s very cautious and wary about their newfound freedom, what with upstairs and downstairs leaving them to their own devices for the first time. he’s torn between savoring and basking in aziraphale's time and attention without the constant need to look over their shoulders or assuage the angel's fears about being seen together--

 but also has that tentative anxiety that bubbles up inside him. he knows how he feels. he's felt it since the wall of the garden and had known its name since rome.

 he loves aziraphale.

 desperately.

 but every time he's come close to pry those feelings out into the open, aziraphale (quite panickily and abruptly) denies, denies, denies.

 and crowley understands. he always does and he will always go at aziraphale's pace. he never wants to be the one to spook the angel away from him for good. sure, aziraphale always comes back into his life one way or another, but after all this time--

 he's not sure if he's ready to have his heart thrown back at his face again. not when there's literally nothing stopping them from being more other than aziraphale himself.

and then it appears. one day, out of the cold, grey sky, right in his apartment. 

a chicken. 

("it's a rooster, crowley, just look at its lovely comb!" "you’re telling me it’s a cock, angel. but it looks more like a prick if you ask me.") 

and it refused to leave crowley alone.

 crowley knows it's some kind of satanic punishment from downstairs. no matter what he does, no matter how many crashes he makes at the M25 to simply lose it, the bloody thing won't go away.

 and the worst part?

 it's completely smitten with aziraphale.

 aziraphale, naturally, is delighted with its presence in return.

 crowley warned him against getting too close to it; downstairs might be trying to spy on them through its beady little chicken eyes.

 aziraphale chides him and says that the chicken doesn't even feel evil. not a whiff of fire and brimstone on it. meanwhile, the chicken-- rooster-- is more than content to make a nuisance of itself in aziraphale's bookstore while crowley visits.

 naturally, it makes itself right at home on crowley's favorite sofa.

 "i could roast it in some fire and brimstone," crowley mutters, ignoring the high-pitched squawk that follows. "that'll teach it."

 the chicken also does this unnerving and completely annoying trick where if crowley's silently admiring the angel-- something he's done for millennia with or without the glasses-- it would do these soft little peeps and trills that completely ruined his angel-watching when said angel would look up from his book and coo at the nasty little bird.

 the thing almost looked smug.

 "you're not jealous are you dear?" aziraphale asked him once after the third-- no fourth-- time.

 yes. "of what? being the colonel's next victim? ‘fraid not, angel."

 the bloody thing started crowing obnoxiously at that, fluttering restlessly.

 "oh dear, i think you've offended it."

 "good. the feeling's mutual."

 ---

crowley adjusts. or at least, he does somewhat.

 it becomes routine: wake up to the incessant clucking, make a spot of trouble out of habit, and saunter his way over to the angel's bookshop, the fluttering thing in tow. there, it would spend the day nestled either in his favorite spot on the couch--

 --or the Worse alternative: nesting itself right there in the angel's soft, plush lap

 crowley feels a twinge of envy before deciding it was too embarrassing to be jealous of a chicken of all things. still, he feels the need to at least warn aziraphale: "careful there, angel. wouldn't want bird shit all over those ancient trousers, would you?"

 to which aziraphale would only roll his eyes and pat the chicken adoringly on the head. "you wouldn't do that, would you little dear?"

 the thing would chirp sweetly and crowley’s mood sours even further; fine. the damn thing can have the sofa.

 and when it gets late and the emptied bottle of wine was making all sorts of strange and funny suggestions in his head and making aziraphale's cheeks redden so prettily, crowley decides it's best to go before--

 --before...he's not sure. 

before he does something he regrets, he supposes, now that the alcohol has been (unpleasantly) miracled out of his system. so with that, he bids aziraphale farewell for the night.

 the chicken is squawking again and crowley's not sure why but all he knows is that it's much more tolerable now that he's sober.

it’s a great distraction, all things considering. distracts him from important questions that he should be focusing on.

like whether or not aziraphale has been making subtle advances at him: like asking crowley to stay longer if he'd like, sitting closer to him, touching him more regularly.

but crowley's being-- skittish. he doesn't know if he's imagining these things or if aziraphale even knows what he's doing. maybe for aziraphale, these are friendly things that he's only now indulging in. crowley knows how cold and sterile heaven is now; they're not known for their soft and friendly comforts.

 and crowley should feel honored that he wants these things from him. feels trustworthy and comfortable enough to ask these things from him

 and crowley is--

 but he wants more. wants it with such a frightening intensity. 

in a way, he's almost grateful for the clucking nightmare. its drawn aziraphale's attentions away from...whatever it is he's trying to do. 

crowley knows he can’t put it off forever-- nor does he want to. he’s just...not sure he’s ready to yet.

and he certainly wasn’t ready that night, after they share a rather lovely day that ended rather disastrously.

 he can’t say for certain whether it was the wine, the stories, or the memories they shared; it could have been the laughs, the smiles, the closeness too. but two things were certain of that night: crowley got ahead of himself and he nearly kissed aziraphale square in his lovely mouth. 

nearly.

 and the thought-- the very possibility that aziraphale would push him away after doing so-- scared him so much that he wrenched himself away almost violently

 (and in doing so, completely missed the heart broken and frustrated look on aziraphale's face)

he leaves in a daze, the sound of angry clucking following, haunting him all the way home. 

crowley spends the next month holed up in his apartment, definitely not avoiding aziraphale or anything ("shut UP you BLOODY BIRD") but catching up on some much-needed sleep after the whole apocalypse fiasco.

 he's left a voice mail on his answering machine for aziraphale to hear-- to know that this isn't forever-- but until he could...figure things out.

 figure himself out.

 and maybe when he gets this bloody chicken off his back--

 but the answering machine stays silent.

a month later, he comes back into aziraphale's shop, an apology on his tongue that he hopes is just the right amount of nonchalant that they can brush this entire fiasco under the rug.

the bloody chicken is there, as usual, and does his same song and dance of darting off to exactly where the angel has buried himself away in his books.

aziraphale is surprised to see him but looks-- nervous. unsure. he gives crowley a relieved smile and crowley hopes that their many millennia of friendship can survive what almost happened weeks ago.

crowley apologizes, but before he could finish anything past "sorry for--" aziraphale shakes his head, a patient understanding in his eyes that made crowley's chest ache terribly.

 ---

things are relatively back to normal.

 relatively.

 and crowley doesn't mean "a month ago" normal--

 he means 100 years-ago "back to normal."

 aziraphale keeps his distance; there's no more touching and their meetings are cut short. there are no more offers for luxurious bottles of wine back at his shop and there are no more requests to stay longer.

 another thing that unfortunately doesn't change is the way the chicken squawks in protest every time crowley nods and takes his leave.

 "bloody thing," he spits as it settles into the passenger seat in the bentley. "if you like him so much, why don't you stay with him?"

 he can't see the bird from his rearview mirror, but what he can see is his own question staring back at him.

crowley tells himself it will be fine. that aziraphale will be fine too. they'll get through this like they always have and it's not like his best friend is pushing him away anymore.

 there's just some. distance in between. that's all.

 there's always been some distance. crowley always went too fast for him and--

 --and maybe the angel had gone too fast for him in return.

 there's a tiny hope that buds in his chest at that, but it's torn from its roots when he comes by the next morning to a quiet bookshop and a note on aziraphale's desk addressed to him.

 crowley reads it. reads it over and over again but the words don't quite sink in and the meaning doesn't quite fully reach him until he has a chicken panicking about the bookshop like its head had just been lobbed off.

 Crowley,

 Dreadfully sorry to leave without saying goodbye. I promise I won't be long, dear fellow, but I need some time to myself. I'm also sorry for the way I've acted and I hope you'll forgive me for crossing a line. I thought-- well. It doesn't matter what I thought, really. All I know is that I've wronged you and I'm deeply sorry. The next time you see me, it is my promise that I will act appropriately.

 It is also my hope that things will be right as rain between us once again.

 Yours, always,

Aziraphale

 ((he's in france right now; paris, to be exact. crowley knows this with every fiber of his being and he can't bring himself to miracle his way over there or take the first flight, train, coach and he hates himself almost as much as he hates the way that BLASTED BIRD is crying in the empty shop.))

 --

crowley doesn't know how long he's been in the empty bookshop; just him and the blasted chicken

 (it's a lie; he's been there 43 days in counting and still no sign of the angel.)

 truth be told, he's not sure when the angel would be there and if he were to suddenly appear, what crowley could possibly say to him.

 "it's not you, it's me?" yeah, real classy crowley.

 "i would have totally snogged the living daylights outta you if i knew it was what you wanted" crass, but getting closer.

 "i've loved you for so long and believed that you'd never let yourself feel the same way that the thought of you actually reciprocating terrifies me like nothing else?" too honest.

he looks over to the bird, making itself a nest out of the sparse articles of clothing that still held aziraphale's scent, clucking sadly as it'd been for the past 2 and a half months now.

 it just misses aziraphale; just misses being close to him.

 stupid thing, crowley thinks as he leans back on aziraphale's reading chair, the note still clutched in his hand. "you love him too, don't you?"

 he was only greeted with silence as the bird cozied itself up to a forgotten 19th century coat.

 it takes maybe a week more before crowley literally slaps himself out of his stupor and gets to work.

 he was always rubbish with words, maybe almost as much so with physical affection--

 but if there's one thing he knows, it's how get a point across with actions.

 his angel's library is vast, but he knows every book from novella to tome in its walls, and he knows for certain which are his angel's favorites. he also knows that there are wards and miracles keeping all manner of riffraff and thieves from making off with his angel's precious books, but he knows the shop, the angel, trusts him with its dearest contents.

 he uses this trust to make off with a few priceless books and a few angelwing mugs.  

 from there, he goes to his flat and gathers only his finest plants, the ones who've disappointed him least and packs a few fashionable contents, gets into his car--

 and drives.

 no, not to paris, where he knows the angel needs space, where the angel is nursing a broken heart with crêpes, fine wine, and ghosts of old friends within statues and paintings.

 or hitting up every gay bar in the city but crowley refuses to think about that

  he drives throughout england, seeking a comfortable distance of just-far-enough-away from the hustle and bustle of the city and the countryside.

 there's a lovely cottage in south downs, not too far from the water, with a lovely plot of land around it, big enough for a garden.

 it's almost perfect. almost.

 and just with his plants, he'll whip it into shape until it is.

 his name is on the deed and the downpayment has been deposited to its owners’ accounts and crowley gets to work

 --

crowley got them a cottage. them.

 and it's decorated with things of them. there's a sleek, modern kitchen and a veranda that houses his best plants, and a spacious office where his throne sits, and a master bedroom with black, silken sheets.

 and alongside it, clashing hideously, lovingly, is a massive library (larger than a cottage of this size should house) filled to the brim with his angel's favorites and a few others crowley knows have been missing from his collection for centuries; there's a cluttered living room with a garish tartan quilt; there's a sitting room that houses a finely tuned piano and a harp that will sure to get the angel grimacing (and within a glass cabinet, a magician's set of cards, hat, and wand).

 but things of them don't exist separately; neither space is completely devoid of the other. angel mugs are stashed within the cabinets of the kitchen, crowley's favorite couch is situated in the living room, the joint portrait he'd commissioned leo of him and aziraphale hang in his office, crowley's personal favorites (the "funny ones") litter the vast library collection, and alongside the harp and piano is a decades-old bass and copies of the velvet underground--

 and a large tartan blanket sits atop the black, silken sheets of the master bedroom.

 even the damned chicken has a space of his own. a little doghouse and a doggy door through the kitchen and it makes itself comfortable there in the cottage as crowley slowly perfects it, so long as it does its job of picking off pests that dared to snack on the blooming garden.

 it’s a lot and perhaps too much, but crowley knows he's garbage at words and even more garbage at being honest about his feelings.

 more importantly than his own fear and pride, he wants aziraphale to know that he doesn't want distance between them. that sharing his space, his home with him is something that he wants. that, if aziraphale so desired, sharing his life with him is also on the table.

 he hopes that's what the cottage conveys. he hopes that’s what his angel will see.

 with his preparations done, he sets back off to london.

it's been a year since he's seen aziraphale now. the bookstore light is on and he can sense that ever-familiar ethereal presence. when he turns off the bentley's engine, crowley is torn between tripping over his own two feet to scramble through the doors and hyperventilating in his car.

 the excited squawking further punished him into making a choice. he opened the doors of his car and he walks inside the shop.

 he really isn’t sure what he’s expecting. a new haircut? old waistcoat and jacket foregone for some avant-garde monstrosity from parisian couture? a tattoo of a one-night's lover attached to it?

 instead, aziraphale sits there, inspecting his books with a miffed and puzzled expression.

 so focused was he with his missing favorites that he barely greets crowley with a “hello” and instead pins him with a question of "did you borrow my signed copy of les proféties?"

 crowley thinks of brushing off the comment, but the blasted chicken started up its warning-clucks. instead, he shrugs. "guilty."

 for the first time in a year, aziraphale turns to face him and crowley's knees almost buckles at how much he missed that annoyed expression in those stormy blue eyes. "and would you like to tell me why?"

 instead, crowley crosses the distance between them and wordlessly asks for his hand. "found a better place for it."

 there's a tired, guarded look on aziraphale's face but he relents with resignation and takes crowley's hand in his own.

 --

the drive over is fraught with tension. crowley wants to ask how paris was—but he knew he wouldn’t like the answer; he also knows that aziraphale would draw all the wrong conclusions if aziraphale knew where he’d been all along and did absolutely nothing to bring him home.

 so instead he lets queen blast away on the stereo and look balefully at the chicken lovingly nuzzling at aziraphale’s stomach as it made itself comfortable on his lap.

 aziraphale breaks the silence by asking how crowely was and what he’d been doing since the last he’d seen him.

 crowley didn’t know how to answer so he merely said, “you’ll find out.” those words were the closest to praying he’d come in over 6,000 years.

 when aziraphale sees the house, sees the living room, the library, the office, and garden, he understands. crowley knows this as he offers him the keys, an angelwing keychain attached to it and says, “only if you want.”

crowley suddenly finds himself with an armful of angel and he loves it. he strokes the soft, downy curls of aziraphale’s hair and murmurs apologies he didn’t know he could voice.

aziraphale’s sorry too.

 they share a kiss that should have happened a year and a month ago, a century ago, a millennium or 6 ago—

 and for the first time in over a year, there were no squawks to be heard.

--

the chicken's miraculously gone the next morning. aziraphale's heartbroken but not nearly as much as crowley-- that thing had been his companion for that lonely year after all.

 crowley still wonders if it was some kind of trick from downstairs since it'd been following him for so long. 

he gets his answer in the form of a dove. 

it appears on a low branch of an apple tree crowley is growing in their garden. it looks pointedly at him and then turns its gaze to aziraphale in the kitchen who is baking a sweet-smelling something with a happy look on his face.

 it chirps at crowley as if to say, Finally

 and flies off to other skies.

[mi-amor-me-ha-dejado]

For You.

Mi Amor Me Ha Dejado, Y Me Hace Llorar

It was the dead of night. You were exhausted, but you had waited until even Vah Medoh was just a tad slower in its circles above Rito Village. You strapped a bag to your chest and flapped your wings quietly, just enough to stir the stale air around you.

You missed when you were able to fly above Rito Village— when the air surrounding Lake Tottori was full of life, full of wind. But with Vah Medoh’s reawakening, the air had fallen quiet— no, not quiet. It had grown dangerous. Everyone who flew just a smidgen above Rito Spire was shot down, their feathers charred and blackened by Vah Medoh’s cannons… you shuddered to think what Harth’s wings looked like after trying to fight the Beast.

You flapped your wings again, though rather absently, as you pondered what you would do once you were out of Rito Village. I could become a wandering traveler, like that one guy… Kaz, I think his name was? He makes a nice living off of music. Or perhaps I could set up shop in Gerudo Town, if that even exists… I hardly hear of it, but I know that there must be something in the desert. But deep down, you knew that neither of those options were good enough for you. You knew what you wanted to do.

You recalled your younger years, when you were drawn to water like the ducks that rode its surface. You remembered how your father would laugh every time you dove beak-first into Lake Tottori’s chilly waters— you were always “his little penguin.”

I’m not so little now.

With one great heave of your wings, you were just able to lift your talons off the ground.

“Albatross?”

Damn it.

You paused, dropping dully to the landing again, and turned. As soon as you saw who was confronting you, you gave an awkward smile, trying to smooth over the situation. “Yes?”

The other Rito girl stepped closer to you, her sleek lavender feathers illuminated by the pale moonlight. “Where are you going? And so late, too?”

“I, um…” You spread your wings open to her, dropping your shoulders. “Look, I know this looks bad, but—”

“Oh, Hylia!” Saki’s wings flew to her face, a sudden look of understanding and shock washing over her. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving Rito Village!”

“Er… unfortunately, you’ve got it.” You chuckled, the nervous sound falling flat on the night air. You grew serious again, finally saying the words you had longed to say for weeks— or had it been months? You couldn’t remember. “I’m tired of life here, Saki. Can’t you see how it’s gotten boring? Vah Medoh has us held hostage here. We can’t even fly without worrying about ending up like Harth.”

“But someone will stop Vah Medoh soon!” Saki insisted. “Soon, a Champion will come and turn Vah Medoh to our side again. I just know it!”

“Well, that Champion hasn’t come in time to keep me. I’ve made up my mind.”

“But— won’t you miss Rito Village? Rito Village will miss you. You’ve always been a big help to us, Albatross. Won’t you miss Drake?” “Do not bring Drake into this,” you said coolly, as your younger brother’s face flashed briefly into your mind. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this, and not even he can tether me here. If Vah Medoh cannot, then neither can he.”

Saki sighed, her shoulders rising and falling gently. “It seems you’ve made up your mind…”

“I’ve debated this ever since Vah Medoh reawakened.” You turned your gaze to Lake Tottori again. “I have to go now. This never happened. You don’t know where I’ve gone.”

Saki hesitated, her expression uncertain. “Albatross…”

“Don’t make me say it again.” Saki, I know I can trust you. Please, just trust me, too.

Saki scrunched her eyes shut, then took one final look at you. “This never happened,” she recited. Each word sounded as though it were another chunk taken out of her beak. “I don’t know where you are or where you’re going.”

“Good. Goodbye, Saki.”

With that, you turned back to the still-rising sun. Once, twice, you flapped your wings, as hard as your shoulders would allow— whorls of wind stung your eyes and ruffled the crest of feathers on your head, but you were undeterred. You could feel yourself growing lighter with each stroke of your wings. Three times, now, four— finally! Your talons left the wooden planks you stood on, finally allowing you to be fully airborne.

You tilted your wings to dive towards Lake Tottori, soaring upwards at the very last moment. As you swung your head over your shoulder to take one last look at Rito Village, you saw Vah Medoh, its wings illuminated by golden light. It let out a great screech as the sun rose over Hyrule Field, as though it knew you were leaving.

Undeterred, you set your sights forward, past Tanagar Canyon, beyond Hyrule Ridge. You knew where you were going.

Goodbye, Saki.

Goodbye, Rito Village.

This is my world now.

— — ❀ — —

The first half of the day had been easy enough travel. There were the occasional close calls— you still cringed to think what could have happened if that Guardian’s blast came any closer to you— but other than that, the skies were carefree and forgiving. When you got tired, you would stop at the strange towers that had spawned throughout Hyrule, high enough to keep you safe from harm. The strange thing was that some were illuminated with blue light, and some with orange. You couldn’t figure out the pattern of why which one was what color.

But, as time went, it quickly turned from noon to mid-afternoon to early evening. Before you knew it, the crescent moon that had illuminated your departure now shone her light on your journey.  You gritted your jaw, knowing the danger that lurked in the woods below you. At such a low altitude, it wasn’t hard to hear the guttural sounds of Lizalfos camps celebrating their kills. If you succumbed to your weariness now, you surely wouldn’t again.

It seemed that each flap of your wings brought you closer to the ground, despite your best efforts to stay in flight. No—no, no, no! Vah Medoh has kept me prisoner to the ground for too long. I’m not leaving the sky so easily. A strange feeling welled up in your chest as you saw wildlife on the ground growing closer— something that made you want to crush Hyrule into a ball and cast it over your shoulder.

Is this what they call anger?

You sighed, though out of relief or frustration, you couldn’t tell. You thought you saw firelight ahead, but you didn’t think you’d be able to fly for another flap of your wings. “How disappointing,” you muttered to yourself as your talons touched the dirt path you had been following. I hope that that’s not a monster camp up ahead.

Sure enough, the firelight was too consistent and bright to be a measly Bokoblin camp. A strange patchwork sculpture of a horse’s head peered across the field it inhabited; the stables teemed with life, from both stablehands and the horses themselves. You peered around and saw all sorts of livestock, from herding dogs to things you thought were sheep. They looked like the mountain goats you often saw in the Hebra Mountains, but fluffier, and a lot whiter.

“Great snakes, gal, where you been!?” Came a shocked cry. “Ya look like you ain’t rested in days!”

You swung your head around, trying to find the source of the voice.

“Over here, gal!”

As he spoke again, you caught sight of the man at the counter of the stables. He wore strange garb, and he looked nothing like anyone you had ever seen. He had smooth, dark flesh, not feathery and bright like the Rito you had always known.

“Don’t talk, eh? Where ya from, where ya goin’? Never seen a Rito like you before, except that one who comes through with the music every now and again. What’s yer name, gal?”

“I talk,” you replied simply. “Where is this and who are you?”

“Well, well!” The man crowed, a joyful laugh entering the air. “She speaks!” His joy was cut short by your quelling glare, at which he coughed awkwardly, trying to cover the sound of his laughter. “Well, to answer your questions, welcome to Wetland Stable, the greatest stable in all of Lanayru! I’m Lawdon, the owner of this here place. We host horses of all kinds here. You got one to register? Doesn’t seem you do, but I’ll ask anyway.”

“We Rito have no need for horses.” You were beginning to dislike this man— Lawdon, he had said his name was. He was too energetic and peppy for your liking.

“Well, you’re in luck! We also double as an inn!” Lawdon swept a hand behind him, gesturing to the inside of the stable. “You can pay 20 rupees to sleep here. Or,” he added, lowering his voice, “the soft beds are twice as expensive, but they’re twice as good.”

“What’s a rupee?”

Lawdon froze at your question, a strangled sound coming from his throat. “Wh— what? Everyone knows what rupees are…”

“I’m joking,” you said flatly, struggling to maintain a neutral expression at the look on his face.

“Er, um— right! Yes, I thought so… So, will you be staying here for the night?”

“I suppose I am. Where are your soft beds?” You dug into the bag you’d brought with you, searching for a small satchel that contained all the rupees you had. Clink-clink— two red rupees glinted in the firelight around you, each one worth a night’s stay at this stable.

“They’re right this way! If you’ll just follow me—”

“Not yet. I have questions.”

“5 rupees a pop,” Lawdon said, sticking his open palm out to you.

“That’s a ridiculous rate for questions. They’re worth two each, at most.”

“I was joking,” Lawdon mumbled, quiet for the first time since you’d met him.

“So was I.” You paused. “Lanayru, huh? Zora's Domain is east of here, is it not?”

“Yes, it is! But you don’t want to go there. I hear they have a horrible problem with their own Divine Beast.”

“They have a Divine Beast bothering them, too?” If I could figure out their Divine Beast, then perhaps I could figure out Vah Medoh… no, don’t think that. I’ve left Vah Medoh and Rito Village behind. “What kind of ‘problem’ are they having?”

“They say their Divine Beast has flooded their entire domain,” Lawdon replied, as though this were common knowledge. “You're a Rito, ain’t ya? Ya got your own Beast to deal with? I hear tell of a giant bird that’ll kill ya if ya get close.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that,” you said, trying to bury the image of Harth that you saw every time you thought of Vah Medoh. “I’ll take one of your soft beds.” As you abruptly changed the topic, you handed off the red rupees to Lawdon.

“All righty, one soft bed, coming right up! Right this way.” Lawdon stepped away from the counter, beckoning for you to enter the stables.

Shortly after, you were left alone again, and you had an impossibly soft bed to lay on. For the first time in ages, you felt safe. There’s people around to alert me if Vah Medoh comes to hunt me down— people who seem competent and not in denial about the state of things, like Saki. And I’m on my way to Zora's Domain. I’ve made it almost all the way there in just one day.

This journey is off to a good start.

— — ❀ — —

You woke the next morning with a start from a strange dream. Though, the more you tried to recall it, the further it faded from you…

You groaned and set your talons on the wooden floor, rolling your shoulders as you sat up. Skies above, I am so sore… I can’t think about that today, though. I’m almost to Zora's Domain.

“Hope you slept good!” Came a familiar voice. Lawdon poked his head around the counter, looking you over as you woke. “How you feelin’ today?”

“Not bad.” You stood and grabbed your bag, fastening it across your chest once again. “Goodbye.”

“What? Yer leaving, just like that?” Lawdon’s expression was that of amused confusion, as though he couldn’t believe that you were about to leave. “Not even breakfast to start ya on yer travels?”

“I’m not hungry.” As though on cue, your stomach growled loudly, completely contradicting your words.

“Ah, there’s the tell of a liar, gal!” Lawdon laughed, as though this were the funniest thing in the world.

You gazed at him again, trying to keep from snapping at him. “Food will weigh me down on my flight to Zora's Domain.”

“Oh, right! I keep forgetting Rito can fly. Well, if you want something to eat, I think there’s someone who can sell you food. His name’s Beet or Beetle or something like that.”

“I’ll take my chances on an empty stomach,” you replied curtly. You walked around the side of the stable and hoisted yourself onto the thatch roof, climbing the patchwork horse head that topped the building.

You flapped your wings again, though now, it came with a twinge of pain. Soreness from yesterday’s flight, you remembered, but that isn’t a concern. I’ll rest more thoroughly once I get to Zora's Domain. Once, twice, you flapped your wings again, stirring a breeze that traveled down the side of the stable. With one final heave of your wings, you lifted off of the horse’s head and leapt into the sky, quickly catching a strong breeze blowing east. Perfect, you thought, a small smirk crossing your face. Now I don’t even have to work to get there.

Zora’s Domain, here I come.

[ren-c-leyn]

QnA tag game

I was tagged by @hyba​ to play this. Thank you very much.

rules: post your answers, and tag some pals.

1. When did you first learn you enjoyed writing?

Honestly, I used to hate writing. It wasn’t fun, it was boring school essays and annoying prompts on exams. That being said, I had always enjoyed storytelling, and had been telling stories since before I could remember.

How I reconciled that gap between the written and the spoken was I went through a really shitty period of time in my life and I took up poetry to help vent. And it was so freeing and fun that I kept with it.

I had been doing that for a while when I decided to try writing some fantasy story that popped into my head, though I can’t quite recall why I bothered to try. It wasn’t a very good story, but I filled up like an entire notebook with it and started writing it on another, and I discovered ‘hey, writing can be fun... if it isn’t about something boring.’

And over the years, fantasy has over taken poetry. I still write poems from time to time, but not like I used to.

2. Tell us about the first project you ever wrote.

It was one that tried cramming way too much into one story, but there’s elements of it that I still use a lot of. I can’t remember the exact plot I had in mind for it, because it was all over the place, but I remember there being some sci-fi, a lot of fantasy weirdness, and a chosen one who was both angry and horrified that her world ended when she had the power to save it, because no one knew what she was or that their world was in danger. It never got finished, but I had fun with it while I was working on it.

3. How does your favorite media shape who you are as a writer?

In ways I don’t even realize it did, I’m sure. Particularly since I binge read without really analyzing the writing techniques of people. My writer brain turns off and reader brain takes over. Which many people say is bad, but it works for me. That being said, I can draw some obvious parallels between things I’ve read and my own works.

I know that Tolkien was a big influence for my ‘this string pulls on this person’s string, which does that, which leads to a poor hobbit having to lose his finger to throw a cursed ring into a volcano and save the world’ kinda plots. I also enjoyed his world building, but, and this is just my opinion, it slowed the Lord of the Rings triology down a lot and made it a little clunky to read. So it taught me both what I kinda wanted to see in my world building, but also how I didn’t want it to come out in the story. Plus, The Hobbit is the book for me. It is one of the first ones I got when I finally learned ‘oh, reading can be fun’ (because child me hated reading like she also hated writing boring essays), and it’s the one that got me stuck on fantasy.

Douglas Adams, there are many who will probably consider it a crime I have not read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and yet still list his name in this, but my favorite book of all time is probably The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul, and it was the way the characters existed and the hidden easter eggs that I’m still finding like 7 read throughs later and the pacing and red herrings. I learned from and loved a lot about that book alone.

There was also J.A. Jance, the author of many of the murder mysteries my grandmother loaned me, and it was from her and other mystery authors that I finally, finally figured out how to set up suspense and tension. They were also really good studies in character motivations and how a character’s mindset can change the way they perceive the world and the things they notice and miss.

Video games is another thing I know has influenced me. I like story and lore rich games. Dungeons and Dragons is another thing I play a lot of and has followed me through my writings. The stories that get told can be every bit as awesome as a book, and the mechanics are also part of what helped me learn to structure my magic systems. Because if the wizards didn’t have rules, who would play a fighter who does? The same idea got translated into my writing very early on, ‘if I don’t give my wizards rules, why would warriors exist?’

And I can keep rambling, but I think I’ll leave it at this for now ^^

4. What’s something you’ve wanted to write, but aren’t sure you could? (A tv show, a genre, a style, a time period, a video game, etc)

I had an idea for a fantasy world inspired by various Asian myths, and even had a basic map drawn out in my head and some ideas for a magic system, but I’ve been too terrified to actually do anything with it, and it’s been so long since then that I don’t remember anything about it. Plus, I had no plot to use for it at the time.

I also wanted to write a mystery, but when I tried I found that while I has suspects and everything, I couldn’t think of the crime or how the heck anyone would just kinda figure it out from a bunch of random things normal people could just play off or not notice XD

5. What is the thing that keeps you from writing the most?

Procrastination is sometimes a problem, and I do occasionally need to kick myself in the shin. But there’s also life and plot snags and just days when a story isn’t working for me.

6. How do you deal with an inner editor?

That depends. Sometimes the inner editor saves me a lot of headaches later, and sometimes a tiny mistake can break the flow of writing. I normally don’t have an issue with fixing things on the spot, but on nights I need to focus on writing I just keep myself from reading back.

7. How long have you been writing?

I mean, they make kids write really young for school, so begrudgingly that long. Creatively and for fun? I’m not sure. I can’t quite recall how old I was when I started with the poetry. But considering the notebook I have the earliest pieces in is falling apart, I think it’s been a long time. lol

8. What is your general writing process? Do you write chronologically? Do you do a lot of planning?

I normally get this idea that shows up out of the blue as a daydream or a random thought. Then, there’s at least a month. If it’s still there, it gets considered. If it’s grown and expanded into something resembling either a world or a plot by then, it’s probably getting written.

After the idea finally bugs me enough, I’ll start world building and building a bare-bones plot, complete with bare-boned characters. I never flesh anything out completely, since I do most of that while I write and having strict outlines suffocates my story.

If the world building, characters, and whatever I have of a plot are interesting, I’ll start chronologically and keep moving from there.

9. Assign a scent to your writing style.

A scent for my style? Um... that’s kind of a weird question and I have no idea how I would even begin to think of an answer for that. Like, how do you translate comma usage and word choice into a smell? I mean, I use roses a lot in my stories, so maybe that would work?

10. One book you hope everyone reads?

I have to agree with hyba that I hope everyone just finds their version of the book. The one that gets them through a hard time, the one they really need, and that that book won’t be the same for everyone.

11. What is it about your least favorite genre that makes it your least favorite–and how might you change that to better appeal to you?

Oh that’s simple, it’s because horror does it’s job. That’s it. It’s nothing particularly about the style or anything besides that the genre is what it is.

12. Design a “collector’s edition” for your first novel. Include items that might be of interest to your audience.

Never thought about it, but I guess I could throw in the world map I drew for The Plight of a Sparrow into it.

13. If one thing was real from your project, what would you want it to be?

Nothing in particular? I can’t think of anything that would make sense to transfer from my projects to the real world, because I don’t want magic to be real, because my magic systems tend to be brutal, but also, we have stuff like or better than a lot of what doesn’t run off magic. Maybe some of the creatures would be cool, but I don’t know how that would affect ecosystems.... probably not for the better.

14. What’s something you always include in your work? Do you have any other Easter eggs?

As far as easter eggs, I can’t think of anything off the top of my head. If I do, it probably wasn’t intentional.

15. What is your favorite passage from your own work?

I still am not really comfortable with sharing things out of my WIPs on here. As far as things I’ve written for the blog itself go, there are quite a few pieces and passages that turned out really good. I think one of my favorites is from a really old piece I did back before I was doing fusion stories. It’s from this one specifically, if anyone would like to read the full tale, it is a grim one, though.

The very edge of the forest was about as welcoming as a gallows. Crows watched us hungrily, like we were dead men about to sway. None of them made so much as a peep as their dead eyes followed our trek through the knotted mess of brambles, ivy, knotted shrubs, and gnarled trees. We hacked at the plants, and they hacked right back at us. We traded blows like it was a war. hatchet and sword blows countered with sharp thorns and parried with thick branches.

I’m going to leave this an open tag, jump in if you’d like to. =D

[hereticpriest]

Sparks Part 1

John Wick Post Chapter 2 AU

John was made excommunicado but without the bounty on his head. He moves away and lives a normal life for once.

Warnings: None for this chapter. Future chapters may become NSFW. Canon-typical violence and swearing may occur in later chapters. Will be tagged.

@lvngdvns

It took a while for John to feel comfortable after his expulsion from the world he’d lived in most of his life. Unlike when he got out the first time, he felt quite certain that someone would come after him just for the prestige of having killed John Wick. He wasn’t protected in the same way he was the first time. He didn’t have a contract out for his head, but he was no longer welcome at the Continental, and he had plenty of enemies around the world.

His new home was outside of the city, up in a less inhabited region of upstate New York. The town closest to his new home was quaint, with only a bookstore, a pet store/groomer home business, a grocery store, a bank, a family restaurant, a hardware store and a gas station. The neighbouring town had a Target and a couple of chain fast food places, but anything beyond that would require a longer drive into the city. He had everything he needed close by, he had his dog, and he finally had the time to grieve.

Peace didn’t necessarily come easy to John. It took him months to stop looking over his shoulder and pulling his gun over random noises at night. He stopped wearing his tactical vest suit every day after a couple of months, though he didn’t get rid of it. It took him a while to become comfortable going out, but after a couple of months, he became a regular at the local bookstore. It was a small business owned by a young local woman, and it contained the only decent coffee in town. The Nestled Nook was in the old bank, so it had a very old school aesthetic and a reading area in the back which was once a vault. It was also one of the few places in town that had free wifi, and the download speed was faster there than it was at his house.

Which is how he met Natalia.

Natalia owned and operated The Nestled Nook with only minor assistance from her sole employee, Courtney Holland. Where Courtney was loud and boisterous in her efforts to sell product, Natalia was calm and disarming. Where Courtney was the epitome of youthful optimism, Natalia was what one would think of when hearing the phrase ‘an old woman in a young woman’s body’. They were opposites in almost every way, including in appearance.

Courtney had a sunkissed tan, pin-straight brown hair, and brown eyes that were so light they looked like the colour of honey. She was younger than Natalia by only four years, but her youth shone in a way that made the age gap so much more pronounced. She was not so average in height, but extraordinarily average in weight, and carried both off quite well. Tall as a beanpole with a slight pear shape and thighs that she claimed could snap a man’s neck, Courtney was one hell of a woman.

John couldn’t claim to be very fond of interacting with Courtney at length, as she had a tendency to push boundaries and ask probing questions. That being said, she had also married the owner of the local pet store and had helped him quite a bit when he was choosing things for Dog. He liked her well enough but kept her at arms-length in order to avoid her prying.

Natalia, on the other hand, was as white as a porcelain doll if not for the freckles dotted across her skin. Her hair fell in red curls around her face when she let it down, but she generally kept it in a loose bun held with hair needles and a whole lot of luck. Her eyes were such a light shade of blue that they were nearly grey, framed by long, pale lashes and crow’s feet at the corners that she was far too young to have. Natalia was average in height at about 5’6, but her shape was closer to a typical hourglass figure. She was toned where Courtney was soft, but she always made the excuse that it was from carrying books all the time.

John didn’t believe her when she waved off Courtney’s questions with that excuse, but he wasn’t supposed to be listening from his place in the stacks. He was waiting for Courtney to head back into the coffee bar area so that he could speak to Natalia and get her latest recommendations. She always knew what to suggest, and she always seemed to know when he needed a distraction. Despite his best efforts, he found her to be a rather tempting distraction. Natalia was just over half his age, a gentle soul, and most certainly not his wife. That being said, he had spent quite a bit of time adjusting to his new life and thinking about Helen’s note to him. She had made her wishes quite clear before that as well. She didn’t want him to dwell and close himself off completely. She told him he needed something to love. It had been just over a year since Helen passed away, and he finally felt some measure of peace.

Courtney batted at Natalia playfully, then glanced in his direction and smiled. She leaned in to Natalia’s ear, whispering something he couldn’t make out right before tweaking Natalia’s ear. Natalia’s cheeks turned pink, the blush showing easily on her light skin, and she tried to punch Courtney on the arm but missed. Courtney danced out of her reach and laughed full and loud.

“Even just one good one would last you for a while, Nat. You’re not as old as you act; you can’t use being too busy as an excuse forever.” Courtney practically sang, moving past him through the aisles towards the coffee bar. As she passed him, the brunette winked playfully and threw out a quick “Evening, Mr. Wick.”

Natalia had turned away from him, fanning herself and muttering something about nosy employees sticking their noses into her business. She wore her typical uniform: a black skirt that flared out around her stocking covered thighs and a white button-up topped with a cozy cardigan. If she wasn’t wearing a button up, she usually wore a sweater or a book-themed t-shirt.

“Natalia.” John greeted her quietly, a bit of a smirk tugging at his lips when she jumped in response.

“Oh! John, sorry, you startled me.” Natalia turned to face him, offering him a warm smile that caused the corners of her eyes to crinkle and emphasized her dimples.

“Sorry, my fault. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I’ve finished the last couple of books. I was wondering if you had any more suggestions?” John murmured, rubbing his short beard. He certainly didn’t look as intimidating as he usually did, considering his suit had been replaced by plain blue jeans and a white crew neck. That being said, his posture had only softened a bit and he was still just as quiet as he used to be.

Natalia laughed quietly, offering him her arm as a joke. Her laughter grew louder when he actually took her arm, large hand closing around her bicep to feel out her muscle tone.

“Of course, Mr. Wick. What are you looking for today?”

“Fiction. I’m interested in something different today…” John trailed off, starting to over-think his choice.

“And what would that be, John?” Natalia asked, leading him in the direction of the fiction novels.

“… Romance, I think.” John said before he could worry too much and talk himself out of it.

“Oh, I see. What sort of romance were you thinking? Are you looking for something mixed-genre where the romance is only part of the story, or flat-out romance? Serious, or light-hearted?”

Well, apparently that had flown right over her silly ginger head. John thought briefly of what Helen would tell him in this moment, oddly enough. She wanted him to be happy. She would be upset with him if he wasted away by himself. She was his best friend, and she knew him better than he knew himself some days.

“Would you like to get dinner with me tonight?” John asked after using his grip on Natalia’s bicep to guide her to stop walking. Wide blue eyes caught his gaze, and he offered her a small, reassuring smile. The young woman was silent for a moment, and he started to worry for a second before the corners of her lips turned up.

“Oh, of course John. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging there, I apologize. I just… wasn’t expecting that.” Natalia’s smile was brighter than usual, and there was a humour to her voice that usually wasn’t there. He took that as a good sign, considering the redhead was usually quite reserved. He nodded briefly, stepping just a tiny bit closer so she would have to look up at him.

“Do you want to eat at the Old Chelsea, go out of town, or would you like me to cook?” He asked, releasing his hold on her bicep, though he couldn’t help a small smile when Natalia caught and squeezed his hand.

“If we eat at the Old Chelsea, we will not get a single moment of peace. If you want to cook, I’d be happy to help?” Natalia offered, then giggled softly, “And what you’re thinking is completely correct – I am most certainly using you for your adorable dog.”

John snorted, and Natalia’s smile widened in response. She led him through the stacks to the romance section, pulling out a book before he could catch the title. Three stacks over, she grabbed another book, and lastly, she led him over to a ‘New Releases’ stack to pick up the sequel to one of the books he had read recently. She stacked up the three and put them in his hands, then scribbled her cellphone number onto a piece of paper which topped off the stack of books. John smirked at the sight of the number and the heart drawn next to it.

“Here are my suggestions. Take a look, and then come see me if you need more help. Text me what time you want me to come over. And your address.” Natalia leaned up to kiss his cheek, then headed up to the front of the store, leaving a smiling John Wick with the slightest hint of a pink kiss on his cheek from Natalia’s lip balm.

Twenty minutes later, he purchased all three suggested books from a smirking Courtney. She didn’t say anything, but it was clear she knew, approved, and thought she was very smart for predicting this.

“Bye Mr. Wick. Have a good night.” Courtney sang cheekily after him.

“I intend on it.” He retorted, waving at her over his shoulder, then letting out a short laugh when he heard a thump followed by Courtney yelping.

913 Bois-Franc Ave. Any time after 4, dinner will be at 5:30. Dog is excited to see you again. – JW

Be there with bells on. I’m excited to see him too. What should I wear? – NJ

You just said you would be wearing bells. – JW

Dress comfortably. It’s just me. – JW

I need to wear something under the bells, John. – NJ

Don’t even. I realized it as I hit send. I will be there just after 4. PS Courtney says you have lipstick on your cheek. – NJ

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 29 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: Okay y’all...listen. I meant to get this part up yesterday, but the Met Gala ate my fucking soul. Billie and Cody finally together at an event since MONTHS AGO at Ryan Murphy’s Walk of Fame ceremony is a thing I have been waiting for...since then, which was back in November. NEEDLESS TO SAY I WAS KIND OF DISTRACTED. Cody looked like some kind of cerulean space prince, and Kenzie looked like a goddamn glitter princess barbie, and then they started screaming along to Cher together and I DIED and now I’m speaking to you from heaven. IT’S BEEN A HUNDRED YEARS SINCE WE GOT ANY COLLIE CONTENT. I was on cloud nine, and I still am. It’s the intense, magnetic chemistry between them that birthed Millory in the first place, and Millory, of course, birthed Duckenzie. The two of them so happy together after months of not seeing each other was just so incredibly wonderful, I feel so grateful to Leslie in particular. I still feel like I’m high off of all of it, but especially the two of them, who are just absolute royalty to me. AND NOW ON TO THE CHAPTER: This is a big one. I’ve been waiting for a long time to introduce Rosemary to all of you--who is (did you guess?) my Angela Basset/Marie Laveau AU. I’ve known for awhile that she was going to play an important role in this story, and it was as wonderful for me to meet her as it was for Duckenzie here. She’ll show up one more time before the end; and I might do a little one-shot eventually where they go to visit her in New Orleans. She makes a really mean gumbo. Her top is like this, her skirt like this, her headscarf, her boots, some of her necklaces: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. A reminder that Kenzie’s dress in this part looks like this. The Fates, at least, my version of them (certainly based on the Moirai but also on the many incarnations of Hecate, as she bestows magical powers on Kenzie and Duncan, and on the witches in the AHS universe, and all witches in all universes, at least in my mythology), were always going to be the Triple Goddess, the Goddess many witchcraft practitioners (myself included) pay homage to: once again, the Divine Feminine energy that guides true goodness in the universe. Her mythology is partially my own invention (giving her a Heaven, making her the force of Light that fights against cosmic Darkness/the Devil, rather than a patriarchal god), partially in accordance to many witch beliefs. I loved that “god” appears to Michael in APOCALYPSE as a little girl; if anyone remembers that I put Ariana Grande’s GOD IS A WOMAN way back in Part 4 (cuz y’all, even then I had plans), you get a cookie. Duckenzie’s High Destiny has long been in the works in the grace notes of my story; it’s the cosmic energy of their union bringing a balance into their world. I’d need some weed to deal with the information they’re given, hence they smoke some weed. To finally have a chance to explain the way in which Duncan and Kenzie are Michael and Mallory was a big moment for me and for this fic; and to explain that she will always be his saving grace, too. I didn’t want to focus on sadness or despair regarding Duncan’s fate as Michael; rather the joy of the redemption of Duncan’s universe. I had to put WITCH-QUEEN OF NEW ORLEANS in this part as an homage to Rosemary being Marie Laveau in another life (also, it’s a fucking jam). Had to include a nod to Purity Ring’s BEGIN AGAIN in Duncan’s thoughts when he’s eating Kenzie out in this part, the most Millory song of all time to me. A reminder that this is the Demeter/Persephone illustration. This is the one of Selene looking down on Endymion. The excerpt Kenzie reads is indeed directly from the book. This chapter marks the closure of an important arc of my fic; from here on out, I’m moving forward into the last 1/3 of the story. As ever, your reblogs, comments, asks and edits (moodboards, playlists, aesthetics, everything) mean the world to me. If you’re reading, please take a minute to reblog the masterpost, thank you. 

The light was high when he finally woke; the day was half over, Duncan could tell immediately, before he even opened his eyes. We slept all morning. Oh god, that’s so fucking wonderful. I don’t remember the last time I slept all morning. Something had woken him, he knew with a vague knowledge. A loud sound.

His dream drifted off. I was in the woods, dirty, starving, tired, and a little girl was offering me an apple, but I wouldn’t take it for some reason...I was waiting for someone else...and he forgot it, moving up from sleep into the summer daylight. The room was balmy-warm, the golden sunlight past the window, coming from somewhere overhead, the wind drifting on the curtains again, the sound of a crow cawing outside somewhere over the lake. It was at least midday, but Duncan could smell the remnants of the hickory fire wafting through the window. It really was a good fire. And I made it. I pulled it out of my own heart, that fire.

There was a long, low buzzing--the doorbell, Duncan knew. Or rather, the bell for the front gate, the keypad and security feed downstairs beside the walnut-wood front door. Who the fuck could that possibly be. We didn’t tell anyone but Madeline where we were going. Maybe it is Madeline?

He stirred, his arm instinctively coming around Kenzie’s breast, his nose turning down into her hair; it smelled like the grass, the sun, her sweet sweat, and the residue of her rosy-jasmine shampoo. The bed was so wonderfully soft, the feel of her so exquisite--Duncan sent out jabs of resentment towards the sound that had woken him. How fucking dare you.

Kenzie stirred a little against him--he leaned up, brushing the hair from her cheek to kiss it. The buzz rang out again, low and insistent and bracing. Her eyes fluttered and she let out a little moan, turning her face up towards him.

“Dunny, what is that,” she murmured. “Turn it off.”

“It’s the buzzer for the gate, baby,” he replied, his own voice coming out in a groan. “Someone’s at the gate.”

Her eyes came open immediately at that. “What? Who?”

“I have no idea. Did we even tell anyone where the cabin is?”

“I didn’t. Did you?”

“No...I don’t think so…”

The buzzer rang again; Kenzie moaned, turning into him, burying her face in his bare chest. How fucking dare you, he thought again, bringing his face down, kissing beside the dip of her eye. How dare you make me get out of bed, away from her. Who could have possibly found us? He hesitated for a long moment, contemplating staying and letting whoever it was ring the buzzer until they got tired and went away--but no, he thought, with a twinge of precognition. It’s someone important. It’s someone we have to see. Oh god, I hope it isn’t Annette.

Duncan got up, pained to move away from her, sliding over the softness of the bed. He trod naked to his suitcase, feeling Kenzie’s eyes on him, her eyes falling down to the half-hardness of his sleepy cock, a pout around her mouth. We came out here to get away from everyone, and still, someone found us. Somehow. Fuck. He pulled on briefs and another pair of jersey shorts, these in dark black, and one of the plain black tee shirts, ruffling a hand through his hair, and yawned.

The buzzer. Again.

“Fuuuuck,” he breathed. “Who the fuck is that?”

“If it’s Annette, I’m going to freak out,” Kenzie said, and Duncan watched her affectionately as she kicked her legs under the soft covers in frustration. He glanced at an elaborate golden-framed clock, beside one of the laurels. It was 12:17 PM. Fuck, it’s past noon. We slept for a long time. Fuck it. We earned it. We had a perfect day yesterday, full of wonders, and a perfect, long sleep. And now what--now what.

“I’ll be right back, baby.” Duncan hesitated, then winked at her. Fuck it. I’ll move through space again. Why not. He closed his eyes and grinned as he heard Kenzie’s delighted hum towards him, felt her knowledge at what he was about to do. That’s it, Dunny, show me your magic. Then her laugh cut off--he ached at the loss of it--and before he opened his eyes again, he already knew he was downstairs, facing the inside of the front door.

There was a small iPad beside the door here, the intercom below it and remote buttons for opening and closing the gate. Duncan tapped the tablet with a finger, and the security camera feed came up, facing the outward side of the road. There was a red Toyota Camry parked there, and the woman in the front seat was pressing insistently at the buzzer--he heard it ring again through the house, heard the far-away sound of another exasperated groan from Kenzie upstairs. He couldn’t see the woman’s face very well from this angle, but he could see the chocolatey color of her skin as she extended an arm through the car window. Her nails were long and red.

Duncan switched the cameras; now the one on the feed was from straight above the outside buzzer the woman was pressing so incessantly. Now he could see into the driver’s seat clearly. He didn’t recognize the woman at all, but she was stunningly beautiful; she had sharp, slanting cheekbones, pursed in impatience, full lips in deep mauve, a dark silk titian-colored scarf wrapped around her head. Her eyes flashed out at him through the camera; they were dramatically intense and bright, brimming with secret knowledge. Her skin was warm cocoa-brown, and flawless. Duncan shivered.

Who are you?

He pressed the talk button on the program’s interface, puzzled, frowning.

“Can I help you?”

The woman started; Duncan saw her jerk back in her seat, surprised. Her expression shifted from frustration to one that seemed to be relief--it was difficult to tell on the feed, but she seemed tired, as though she’d been waiting for a long time, or had missed sleep, her expression drawn. As he watched her on the iPad screen, she pressed a hand between her eyes, then lifted her palms together skyward, as if in a silent prayer of thanks.Then she leaned over and spoke into the intercom.

“Praise be to Her, is this Duncan Shepherd?”

Duncan balked. Fuck. Shit. They found us. Someone found us.

“May I ask who you are and what your business here is?”

“I know that’s you, I can feel that it’s you, honey--and I can feel Mackenzie Stone here, too. I need you to let me in. I drove almost 17 hours with some very poor sleep in between to get here from New Orleans, pulled by the Will of the Goddess with a forceful hand, because She wants me to speak to you two and tell you what She told me, that the time is upon us. Now, if you would be so kind, I am starving and would appreciate some breakfast, and I need to park this car before I crash it into a tree, blue eyes.”

“How did you find us? We didn’t tell anyone where we were going. We’ve been here for a day--”

“Sugar, honey, listen, I told you. The Goddess. Sent. Me. She came to me and She told me where you were and She told me everything. It’s gonna take awhile to tell you everything, so you best let me in and make me some eggs and some black coffee and roll me a big joint of that strong blue weed I know you got.”

What the fuck.

“Who are you?”

The woman let out a long sigh, rolling her eyes, dipping her chin up, then turned back to the intercom, enunciating with a pointed impatience.

“I am Her Hand, and She sent me, and Her will is to reveal your High Destiny. My name is Rosemary Antigone Delacroix, and you, Duncan Malcolm Shepherd, best let me the fuck in.”

Her words came like a heavy weight against Duncan’s mind, a pressing hand squeezing on his heart. This woman was powerful; he could feel her power from here, surrounding him, pressing against him, running along the edges of his skin, brushing the sleep from his mind, stoking him wide awake. This woman is a seer, a priestess. She can see things that are happening, have happened, will happen. She’s the one who was coming--the thing on the horizon that we felt on its way. And now she’s here. It’s her destiny to come to us, it’s our destiny to receive and hear her. Okay, Fates. I get it. I’m picking it up, loud and clear. Shit.

Duncan double-tapped the button beside the intercom; OPEN GATE.

He watched the beautiful woman through the screen; she smiled, her teeth shining out from her face--he could see her eyes flash, marvelously clear despite the smallness of the iPad screen.

“Blessed be,” she said, pushing a pair of large dark sunglasses over her eyes. Then she laughed, and the laugh sent a shiver up Duncan’s spine; it was lit with a bright joy that seemed to descend from the top of his head down into every part of his body, a tingling, vibrating energy charged with prophecy. It’s here. She’s here. The thing that was coming has arrived.

He turned away from the intercom and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time; his heart was hammering and he felt far too nervous, suddenly, to try to use his still-mysterious power once more.

“Kenz,” he called as he reached the landing, sprinting down the hall. Something was lifting him up now; kindling his excitement, pitching his nerves to a high place. “Baby--” He ran through the bedroom doorway, skidding to a stop, falling onto the bed on his knees. Kenzie was sitting up now, clutching the blanket against her naked torso, her chestnut-light hair tangled around her shoulders, staring at him with an apprehension in her sleepy eyes; then she saw his face, lit with that strange excitement building in his gut, and smiled at him, nervously.

“Dunny, what? Who was it? What is it?”

“Kenzie, it’s--I don’t know who she is, but it’s her. The one that was coming. The one we felt. You know? She’s the one. She’s beautiful, Kenzie. She’s a medium--or something, I can feel it. You know how we were talking about going to see a psychic? Well--I think she came to us. She felt us. Kenzie, she said she just drove here for 17 hours from New Orleans. She said her name is...Rosemary. Something. She said--fuck, Kenzie, she said The Goddess sent me, She told me where you were--”

His words were tumbling out at break-neck speed--he slid over the softness of the bed to grasp Kenzie’s (beautiful, tiny, beloved) hands, and he could see the uncertainty in her gaze bleeding out into the excitement he felt.

“Duncan--really?”

“Really, my love. Oh, fuck. Really.”

Kenzie let the blanket fall away from her, and Duncan couldn’t stop himself--he clutched at her, under the sweet roundness of her little breasts, pulled her against him, immediately devouring her mouth in a kiss that flooded his body with tingling energy. Her divinity washed over him--the tide of her. Mackenzie Stone. We’re here, at the doorway, our Fate is on the other side. I’m not afraid. You’re here with me.

“I found you,” he murmured into her lips. “I found you, I found you, we’re here, we’re here together, I’m ready--”

“Oh, baby--” and Kenzie was kissing him breathlessly, her smell the sweetest thing in all the world, roses crushing into him. Duncan leaned away to look at her; Kenzie’s eyes were gold-flecked and infinitely bright, and her beauty was iridescent in the noon sunlight winking through the curtains. Mackenzie Shepherd, angel of my life, the part of me that was cut away, the fixed, irrevocable light of my soul.

“She said she has a lot to tell us. She’s coming now, she’s probably almost at the door. I’m going to make us all some breakfast. She knew things, Kenz, I don’t fucking know--I feel like she knows everything about us. You’ll see. Even through the screen I could feel her power. It was coppery-purple, like a sheen all over her...come downstairs when you’re ready, okay, baby? Take your time. I can feel it, can you feel it?”

“Yes, baby, yes. I can feel it so much I can hardly breathe.” Tears were in her eyes; he kissed her again, and Kenzie clung to him, her softness overwhelming to him, and for a moment he wished he could throw her down into the bed, kiss every inch of her nakedness, every tiny secret place of her heart. Then they broke apart; Duncan knew as he could feel she did that the time was upon them, and his adorations would have to come later. 

The time when we find out who we really are.

Kenzie slid away from him towards the edge of the bed and he grasped her waist, helping her down--she stood there, naked and shivering in some phantom breeze, her golden hair falling down her back in a shimmering wave, then she kneeled to her suitcase, tucking the strands that fell into her eyes behind her ears, looking away from him, determined. Duncan gathered up the bag of weed, the lighter, his grinder and his gold pipe from one of the laurel mantels where they’d left it yesterday, then went to the door, looking back at her again for a moment, trailing a hand through the side of his hair.

“Kenzie, baby--”

“Dunny, I know. I know. Just go downstairs, okay? I’ll be there soon. I know. I feel it too.”

He nodded inside her gold-flecked gaze, then turned away, sniffing back the tears he felt coming, trying to stave them. I feel the hand of destiny, and oh Fate, it’s heavy. It’s fearsome to behold it, to contemplate its weight, this Thing, this knowledge we’re about to be given.

Duncan heard a sharp, determined knock on the door downstairs then, and his breath caught. He ran down the hall, throwing himself down the stairs; he reached the door, flipping the double turning locks in fumbling fingers, yanked at the long handle--as he pulled the door wide a burst of golden sunlight drifted over his eyes, caught in the dappled trees. He lifted a hand to shield his face, and saw the woman standing there, silhouetted in a golden shroud that was like a holy halo around her. A halo, like Kenzie’s, Duncan thought. And then he heard her laugh again--and her laugh was even more beautiful now that he was standing before her. A laugh the angels would sigh to hear.

She reached out for him--Duncan felt frozen inside her dark-bright eyes, intensely focused on him beneath arched, graceful brows, the sharpness of her cheeks glowing dark sienna in the sun. She was immediately imposing; regal, her posture graceful, her poise intimidating and unmistakable. Her mouth smiled that radiantly white smile he’d glimpsed through the iPad screen; his breath caught to see it in the flesh, struck by her majesty, the expression on her staggeringly beautiful features, knowing, wise, and expectant. Her burgundy-colored blouse had long, drifting sleeves that fluttered in the slight wind, and her long black skirt fell to her ankles with an intricate pattern of flowers and vines. On her feet were heeled knee-high boots in dark brown leather. Around her neck were what seemed to be a dozen necklaces, gold and silver chains mixed in with leather cords and multi-colored ropes of beads; a raven skull, the claws of unknown animals, the symbol of the waxing, full, and waning moons (like the one Kenzie has), the voluptuous shape of a woman, a huge pointed obsidian, and countless tiny quartz points.

“I see what she’s done to you, Evening Star,” she said, and Duncan felt his breath gasp, suddenly caught in his throat. That’s what Kenzie called me. Sword of the Evening Star. “Snatched you from the jaws of darkness in this world. And I am moved to see it. As I knew I would be. The time of your High Destiny has come.”

Her hand came around his; her touch was very warm and strong. As she stepped closer Duncan could smell myrrh and resin and musky vanilla. The urge of tears rose in him again--the woman clasped her other hand around his, so she was gripping it in both. Her face was about level to his chin in her heeled boots, and she looked up at him with an approving grace; she seems taller than me, though, he thought. The energy around her is so focused; so carefully, intricately controlled.

“What did you say your name was?” He asked, and heard the trembling in his voice.

“Rosemary Antigone Delacroix. High Priestess of Her Will. The Goddess, from whom all life in this universe flows; from whom the life in every universe flows. Mother of all, three-faced, infinite. Your mother, and mine, and the mother of the High Princess, the Hidden Sphere Herself, whom you are blessed to love. Infinitely blessed, sweet Prince, with whom you will heal this suffering world.”

Goosebumps broke out all over his skin, the tiny hairs on his arms and the back of his neck prickling instantly, wildly. I knew it. I felt it. That she’s divine. That she’s holy.

“Please, come in.”

Rosemary’s smile lingered as she stepped past him, scattering its light over him; she moved into the house, beyond the staircase, her steps determined, her movements refined, hands clasped together in front of her, through the front room and towards the kitchen. She seemed to know where it was without needing to ask him, and Duncan followed, mesmerized by her. As they reached the kitchen Rosemary sat at the wooden island, reaching out for his hand again--this time, he knew, for the one that held the weed. He passed it all off to her and she sighed; the sound of her voice was deeply lovely, but he could hear the tinge of tiredness.

“Make me some eggs, would you, sugar? I like ‘em a little runny, lots of butter. And some of that turkey bacon I know you have in the fridge there.” Duncan stared for a moment, blinking as she rolled a big bud in her fingers, then began to sprinkle it inside his grinder. She paused, looking up at him expectantly. “And a big-ass coffee. I’ll pack this bowl. All three of us are going to need some fortification for these revelations.  Don’t you worry, your seer is here. I know you’ve been waiting, I feel it in this house, you filled it with your hopes and dreams and your confusion as soon as you got here. I feel it on your skin. You two have power unlike any I’ve ever seen, but you haven’t learned how to control it yet, that’s for certain. It’s zooming around in this space like it’s been snorting cocaine.”

Duncan turned as if waking out of a dream to the fridge, pulling out the eggs, bacon, and a stick of butter, retrieving a frying pan from a line of them against the wall, listening to the smooth clarity of her voice. Her energy seemed to be settling into the kitchen--dusky purple, warm, steady. He could almost see it, the way he could see Kenzie’s gold sometimes. She was taking the edge off him--bringing him down to her calmness, her certainty.

“So...Rosemary. Who--what--how--” He went to the Keurig that sat on the counter, starting a cup, then brought a hand absently to his chin, looking back at her again. She was deftly packing the bowl to the brim, the smile still playing at the corners of her mouth. “How did you...what did She...”

The Goddess, triple-faced, infinite.

“Shhh, blue-eyed Prince. You need to take it slow. All of this--” she gestured around the kitchen, but Duncan knew she meant all of it--the cabin, the lake, the forest with the clearing of black oaks, the field open to the stars--”this place is potent, full of your power, like a power outlet for your magicks. It’s why they’ve been so strong since you got here. This is an in-between place, and anyone who has even a little bit of the power you two have can feel it. But for the High Princess and her sweet consort, it’s like being given an electric shock--one that goes on and on. It’s the reason your lusts have been so potent, too.”

Duncan blushed at that. Lately, mine always are.

She smiled at him, knowing, then lit the bowl and breathed deeply from it, blowing out in a satisfied stream, leaning back against the wooden island.

“Hoo, that’s some good rich people shit,” she hummed. “Ooph, that’s good. Just what I needed, Praise be to Her. Thank you, Mother.”

Duncan got to work on the eggs, carefully cracking two into the pan and slipping two sides of the bacon next to them, deftly pressing the edges of the egg whites with a steel spatula. The smell made his stomach immediately begin to rumble; she’s right, we definitely need to eat before we get into all of this. All...of what?

“You two.” He could hear Rosemary laughing a little now from where his back was turned. “You two have burst upon the world like a garden. The media was not prepared. The public was not prepared. The world is not prepared, but they will get prepared--real quick. The current of time has turned towards fortune. And that, my dear Prince, is a beautiful thing. Beautiful beyond words. That I have lived to see this time is a great blessing.”

“Rosemary, what do you mean? How did you find us here?”

“Wait for her. For the Princess. The little golden goddess. Then I’ll begin.”

Duncan pulled down a plate and slipped the eggs onto it, a little runny, glassy with butter as she had asked. He flipped the bacon to let it fry for a bit longer, and brought the plate over to Rosemary, who appraised him with power drifting in her gaze. She took it, her warm hand brushing against his again; he felt the current pass through them, felt her strength, the depths of her knowledge touch his mind.

“You’ve been manifesting powers here, have you? And before you got here, too.”

“Fuck, yes. Non-stop, practically. I’ve been--transporting myself with my mind. Teleporting? I don’t know what to call it.”

“Transmutation. Salire per spatium. The ability to move, magically, instantly, from one space to another, without physically occupying the space between.” Rosemary took another long puff from Duncan’s gold pipe, then sliced into an egg with her fork, dipping it between her very white teeth. “Mm, baby. Perfect. You can fry an egg for certain.”

“Yeah. Yes. And Pyrokinesis. That’s what it’s called, right? The ability to conjure fire.”

“Create, control, manipulate. All of it. You can do all of those, I guarantee it. Try it.” She nodded to the stovetop, which Duncan had turned on manually. The bacon was sizzling, done--Duncan took a deep breath, then drifted his fingers close to the element, concentrated. Go back now. Go back. The fire went low, blue-white, and then died--the stovetop began to cool instantly.

“Mm--mm-mm,” Rosemary hummed. “Lovely. I can do a little myself, but nothing so smooth as that. That’s lovely. And I can only imagine what she’s been doing.”

“It’s so beautiful, Rosemary. She is so beautiful. I can’t even tell you…”

“You’re biased, baby blue, but I’m sure you’re right. Any other things you’ve found out you can do?”

“She can sense my emotions over long distances...I found out something I hadn’t known the other day that really upset me, and she felt my emotions even though we were on opposite sides of the city. And...we can read each other’s thoughts. You’re the first person who knows that, and I don’t even know who you are. But...yeah. It’s like colors--she looks and feels like gold...she says mine is blue. I can kind of see mine, sometimes, if the emotion is really strong. Now that she’s here. I couldn’t...I couldn’t do any of this before. Before we met.”

Duncan brought the bacon over to Rosemary’s plate and slid it down from the pan. She immediately dipped a graceful hand to it, blowing on it, crunching it in her teeth. He brought her coffee over, starting one for Kenzie now. “I can hear little bits of other people’s thoughts now sometimes, when they’re really strong. I think Kenzie can do it almost all the time. And she can heal people--their bodies, their hearts, their anger. It looks like gold when she does that, too. She can sort of...press it into people, like she’s wrapping them in a blanket.”

He started more eggs in the pan, silent for a little while as Rosemary sipped her coffee. Then he went on.

“Two nights ago there was a Gala--”

“The Shepherd Freedom Foundation Gala, everyone knows that, honey,” Rosemary cut him off. “You two are on the front page of a lot of shit since yesterday.”

Duncan winced, plating the other eggs and getting to work on more bacon. “Really? We turned our phones off before we left. We really wanted to just get away for a few days. It’s been...really intense since Kenzie and I found each other. The scrutiny’s been intense.”

“I understand, Duncan. When my task is done--that is, to tell you your destiny--I’ll be gone, for I have many duties, and you will have a little more time to be alone together. But the Goddess told me what to do, so I’m doing it. When She speaks, everyone best listen. Let me give you a warning. When the two of you go back--back to DC, I mean--the world will have changed. As if time opened a new window. You are on the path now, one heading towards a bright future, not just for you and Mackenzie, but for this universe. There are many--universes, I mean. Not all of them are kind, or light, or good, some of them have no light, and some have a depth of both. This universe has much darkness, but like clouds parting from the sun, your union here will bring transcendent light. As there is a balance of greater darkness in other universes, this one will swing to the light. A major obstacle will have passed when you return, but there will be a new onslaught of attention focused on you and Mackenzie. You will need to be her sword at every turn; you will bow to her light and others will follow your example. So gather your strength.”

Duncan’s head was pounding. What does any of that even mean? Other universes?

“Are you talking about...quantum theory? Like, parallel universes?”

At that moment Duncan heard a soft sound in the doorway--he looked up to see Kenzie coming into the kitchen on bare feet. She was tucking her chestnut-golden hair behind her ear, her face nervously turned down, eyes huge, fingers at her mouth; she wore a floor-length white linen dress, covered in a print of pale pinkish roses, with a dipping neck and short, puffed sleeves. The Tiffany moon glinted at her throat; as she moved her arm the Cartier bracelet flashed there in gold and diamond. Rosemary had turned to her, and Kenzie’s eyes were wide on the other woman. God she’s so beautiful so beautiful so powerful I can feel her lovely power like a field of a thousand violets, like the water flowing out from the sea...Duncan could hear Kenzie’s thoughts falling out of her in a long stream.

Rosemary’s face was cast into an immediate affection--a curious wonder. Her mouth dipped open, away from the black coffee cup which had been poised at her mouth a moment before, and she sighed; the sigh of relief that comes after a long, anticipatory wait.

“Child. Sweet child of heaven.”

“Hi,” Kenzie whispered. She stopped in front of Rosemary, and the woman reached out her beautiful dark fingers. Kenzie slipped her small hands against Rosemary’s; Duncan felt speechless, his heart feeling crushed by the moment, his eyes immediately blurred by tears.

“I am Rosemary Delacroix, and I am a mouthpiece for Her, the three-headed, the absolute, the Goddess. She has many names. Time. The universe. God. Goddess. Fate. Destiny. But she is the one who brought all life to be, kindled it, nurtured it, tended to it. She is the one who remakes life, rebuilds it, cycles it through every age, in every place, in every aspect. She made me; she made you and your sweet blue-eyed Prince from the stars burning like these diamonds, many eons ago.” Rosemary’s finger drifted to the bracelet; her dark eyes glanced up at the one on Duncan’s wrist, knowingly, and he shivered. “She made the thread that tethered you together, Mackenzie Stone and Duncan Shepherd, long ago, before she made Time, because you, sweet High Princess, asked her to. You loved him; you asked to be together always. And she granted your wish. Because you were--you are--beloved in the sight of heaven. You are a High Princess of Her Body, and of the Garden. You are the Hidden Sphere.”

Long, aching tears fell from Kenzie’s cheeks--she glanced over to Duncan, biting her trembling lip, her thoughts crushed gold. I do love him. I do love you, Duncan, more than anything. I do love you. I love you. This woman knows--knows I’m divine, the way you said you knew. The way I can feel it, now, and I can’t find the words.

“It’s fine to cry, honey. It’s fine. You cry as much as you want, mmhm? Come sit with me, angel baby. You come sit with me and let me bask in your sweet light. I can feel it now, like taking a bath in a pool of gold. Goddess, praise be. That’s just fucking lovely. Praise be to Her. She made the masterpiece, sweet sugar, in you--that gold, like a waterfall. What a soul.”

“Duncan’s the one who looks like a masterpiece to me,” Kenzie was laughing a little through her tears, settling down on the bench next to Rosemary, who had dipped a long arm under Kenzie’s elbow to steady her. Duncan brought Kenzie’s breakfast over to her, trying to hide the tears on his cheek with a swift hand--she looked up at him, biting her lip, nodding. “Thanks baby,” she whispered. I love you so much, he heard her thought. I’m not afraid.

“What do you mean, asked to be together always?” Duncan said, his voice trembling. “Are you saying there’s a goddess...that controls the universe, and Kenzie is...what, her daughter?”

Rosemary looked at him for a long moment, her eyes staggering with depth. For a time Duncan felt lost, mesmerized inside them; like the whirling gold galaxies he’d seen in Kenzie’s eyes in the dream, or the blue nebulas she said she saw in his, he felt he could see violet supernovas, cascades of cosmic dust in Rosemary’s gaze for a moment. Something infinite and eternal. Something constant, and huge beyond imagining.

“Make yourself some breakfast first, Duncan. You’re going to need something in your stomach before we really begin. I want both of you to know right now--there is much to tell. It will take some time. My heart is full of all of it. I need your strength, my dear one, to help me tell you everything.” Rosemary pulled Kenzie’s hand into her lap again, gripping it with strong fingers. Kenzie was nodding--a silent, secret thought seemed to pass between them, one Duncan could not see or hear in his mind. He felt immediately frustrated to be cut off from them; then he heard Kenzie speak to him alone in gold waves: be patient, baby, beloved, be patient, okay? Take a breath, the kind you showed me after my nightmare, when you held me so sweetly.

Their eyes met; Rosemary’s gaze shifted between them. Okay baby, Duncan thought, breathing in through his nose, holding it, breathing out. He turned back to his eggs, his stomach in knots.

“To be near both of you gives me strength already.” Rosemary’s face clouded with emotion; she seemed close to tears, and raised the coffee cup to her face again to gather her composure. “The Goddess has made all things in perfect balance, the light and dark, the day and night, and both of you--the perfect balance of these things, the great duality of her creations. To be here with you is to behold her Wonders. Eat, child.” Rosemary gestured to Kenzie’s plate, and Kenzie nodded, picking up a piece of the bacon, biting into it. Duncan brought his own breakfast over to the island, and sat carefully, across from her, reaching out his hand. Kenzie took it, her eyes wildly bright.

My heart feels like it’s going to burst, Dunny, she thought.

Mine too, my sweet Kenzie. Oh, god. Goddess. Whoever is listening. The Fates who have been guiding us…

“Rosemary,” Duncan said, looking into the woman’s dark eyes. “Since we met, I keep going back to this one image, of the Fates, you know, like in mythology--Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos. I keep seeing them in my mind’s eye, seeing them weaving this thread for us, the one that brought us together. Does that mean something?”

Rosemary finished the food on her plate, sighed a little, contentedly, and brought his gold pipe up to her lips again, breathing deeply. She dipped a hand under her chin, her eyes taking on a serene expression.

“It’s Her. She is the Fates. The Goddess--She has three faces. Many know Her by them, and worship Her in these aspects, She has many names. She is three-headed in that way; She is never totally the same from one moment to the next. When She came to me this time, She was very young and beautiful--Her skin like the tanned sand under a long sun--Her eyes bright in unbroken joy, her body smooth. But She does not always appear this way. Her aspect is ever-changing, the color of Her skin, Her hair, Her eyes, Her face; when I see Her, I feel it is Her, for She never appears the same. Sometimes She is very old, and sometimes She is a mother, her belly swollen, and sometimes She is not a woman at all, not entirely--She is some other great thing, made of stars and strange matter. I’ve seen Her this way, in dreams.”

She passed the pipe to Kenzie, and Kenzie took it in her small hands, head dipping to breathe in from it. Kenzie was still crying--Duncan’s fingers slid over her palm, sending the strongest wave of comfort he could into her. I love you, baby, I love you, everything is okay, everything’s going to be okay, better than okay…

“The Fates are her aspects--all three are Her. You thought of them because you thought of Her--because you knew, you know it was She who brought the two of you together. Your destiny--the High Destiny, as it has been called--was written when the stars were new. Mackenzie Stone, you are the High Princess of her Heaven. You were an Angel, once, Exalted; there is no earthly word for what you were, but an Angel is the closest word to it. You were the most divine of all. You were loved above all by Her in her heaven; and you still are. I know you feel that, child. I know you know you were loved so. And that you are loved--so much. Her eyes have looked down on you from her heaven and thought Beloved, for millions of years.”

“Yes,” and Kenzie was crying earnestly, her lips trembling as she spoke, shoulders shaking, eyes awash in tears. “Yes, Rosemary, I know. I can feel it.” Duncan gripped her hand tightly, aching to hold her; her fingers clutched him, like he was her only tether in a vast ocean.

“Before conceivable time, you fell in love.” Rosemary nodded to Duncan. “You fell in love with him. Listen to me, Duncan: you too were an Exalted being, an Angel, like Mackenzie. They called you the Sword of the Evening Star, as She has told me. You were a Knight--like a Knight, a Prince in the service of Their holy protection--of Her Holy Court; the fairest of all of her Knights, who are very fair indeed, fair beyond earthly eyes. There is a great Darkness in the universe--in the pantheon of universes. It aches to snuff out the light of Her Heaven, the love that dwells there. Some call it the Devil; Satan; Lucifer. He--It--has many names. But It is mostly the Darkness; the energy that must juxtapose her Light. It wishes, eternally, to destroy Her. But her Knights hold it at bay; her fighters, her warriors, her faithful. In that age, you fought for Her Light, and prevailed many times. She loves you very much. She chose you from many to lead the protection of her Sphere; the Heaven she made, long ago. It is Hidden from that Darkness, made safe through the power of her Grace. Get me some water, Duncan, honey.”

Duncan stood, feeling dizzy, going to the fridge. A Knight for a Goddess. A Warrior Prince. He couldn’t even feel incredulous--he was beyond disbelief. Whatever Rosemary is saying is true, he knew. She knows everything--and she has to tell us. My inability to understand doesn’t make any of this impossible. It just makes my ability to conceive it inadequate.

“Each time you are reincarnated--yes, Mackenzie, reincarnated--” Rosemary said, as Kenzie let out a tiny gasp. “The Darkness, in His cunning, tries to get at you. Sometimes, He has succeeded. As there is Feminine energy in the universes, there is also Masculine energy; there is an endless battle of wills, balance of energies. Their duality is not fixed, rather it shifts and changes from universe to universe, age to age. Yes, Duncan, quantum theory, as it’s called--there are many parallel universes next to this one. Infinite universes, in fact, beyond our ability to conceive. A version of you--both of you--exists in each universe. And as there are many universes, there are many lives you have lived before this one, in this universe, as well. There is another life you have glimpsed here, a life you lived in the past--”

“The Mirror,” Kenzie said, softly. Her eyes were staring into Rosemary’s face, but Duncan could see that her thoughts were fixated on the vast golden Mirror he knew was resting silently in the penthouse bedroom, many miles away, a relic to a past that had been unknown to them until this moment. Frederick knew, he thought. He may not have totally understood, but he knew it was special, that it was magical, and that it was always ours.

“Yes, chickadee, sweet honey,” Rosemary sipped her coffee again, cradling it in her graceful red-nailed hands. “That Mirror belonged to you in another life--you were royalty then, a Viscountess, a powerful witch--that is, a seer for Her--at that time too, with many of the skills you are manifesting now. And in that time you found each other as well, but there was an accident; you both were murdered in the Revolution at that time, in the streets of Paris. And so time turned to another place, another page--and your spirits moved on. But the Mirror has magick. It’s no ordinary Mirror. There are strands of the Golden Sphere in it; strands of the divine instrument given to you by the Goddess, Mackenzie, when you were in her Heaven, in her embrace. A gift that symbolized her love, and her Heaven, which will always be your home. When you were cast to earth when the Law of Time was written, the Sphere fell with you, but it was mostly destroyed when the Darkness tried to rend it. What remained--the fragments left over--were made into the Mirror by one of her seers of old; a disciple of her Light, as I am. And so it will always find you in this world, too, for it cannot be destroyed until this world ends.”

Duncan was standing beside the fridge, still holding it open, the water glass poised in his hand, frozen in her words. Kenzie gaped at Rosemary with her mouth dipped open, her golden hair falling around her cheeks. Rosemary glanced between them, then beckoned to Duncan, and said.

“But that is the Law for the two of you. To exist, always, and find each other, always, into eternity, until the Law of Time is over, when you will return to the Sphere of her Grace. No one knows when that will be, or if it will ever be. That I do not know. I only see small bits and pieces of the future, and their shape is always strange to me.”

Duncan’s hand was shaking as he brought the glass he’d filled to Rosemary--but her hand was steady, and she smiled up at him, reassuringly. I think for now I just need to listen, and try to understand, he thought. I can’t even imagine anything to say. Just please hold my hand, baby.

Kenzie reached out again as he sat, twining her fingers through his tightly. She brought another slice of bacon to her lips, eating despite her tears. Duncan moved his fork to his plate, resolved to the same. They ate quietly as Rosemary went on. What else can we do.

“You met, as was meant to happen, in the Garden of All Delights, where the known universes were all born. It’s a very beautiful place--beautiful beyond all conceivable beauty to our pitiful human eyes. It’s made of colors--oh, colors you can’t imagine.”

Those colors I saw in my dreams.

“Like this universe, Duncan, when you laid eyes on Mackenzie there, the first time, you knew she was your love for all time. There you stayed together for eons by our measure of time. The Goddess saw, and She smiled to see your perfect happiness--the selflessness of your love for Her Princess, Her Joy, Her Golden Child, and Her selfless love for you, the perfect embodiment of Her Grace. Your Names, in that perfect state--there aren’t words for them. She didn’t tell them to me, and if She had I could not speak of them. But you know them, in your secret, hidden hearts. They are beyond all human language. I know She’s shown you the forms you had then in a dream--and so you know those forms are beyond human comprehension, nearly beyond description. Please know that those are your true forms. There is more time before you adopt them again, but someday you will return to them again. In some other age.”

Yes, Duncan thought; he knew. Kenzie with her white-gold hair with a thousand flowers, each one a universe. Her eyes like golden galaxies. Her clothing made of impossible geometry. Her wings inconceivable and more delicate than those of any beast on earth. He could feel Kenzie thinking similarly of what she had seen of him in her side of the dream; his long golden hair and eyes like blue nebulas floating in ether, his shining aegis, impossibly slender and delicate, the strange wonder of his own wings.

“When the laws of the universe, of Time, were written, it was dictated that you--you, Mackenzie, and you, Duncan, would always find each other. In every conceivable universe, and every conceivable age. The Goddess, infinite in Her wisdom and mercy, could not spare you from the Great Law--the law of pain, death, and rebirth--but She could ensure that as the cycle of all things goes on, you would find each other in perpetuity. That you would never long be parted from one another. And Her law has been proven true, as it ever was, in Her Grace. I promise you, in every time, in every age, in every universe, you’ve found each other; for the places in which you haven’t yet, you will. And each time either of you dies--for you have both died countless deaths, as I have, as every living soul has--the cycle begins anew. You cannot long be separated. The Old Law of your love--the Great Love, true as dawn--is known and honored for all time.”

“You mean--Rosemary, do you really mean--we’ll always find each other, no matter what?” Duncan clutched at Kenzie’s fingers as he spoke, looking between them.

“No matter what, I promise you. You were the first Soulmates; in your love was written the Law.”

Duncan took the golden pipe from Kenzie’s hands, which were shaking like leaves in caught in a strong wind--he could see his own shaking too, but felt strangely removed from them, lost in the incomprehensibility of Rosemary’s words. He lit the bowl, breathing deeply, holding the smoke inside his lungs for a long moment--it settled into them, and he breathed out, counting. 1, 2, 3, 4...he handed the bowl, still lit, to Kenzie, who breathed from it again. Her tears seemed to dissipate, soften, her shaking fading into calm stillness.

“Rosemary, can we go outside? There’s a gazebo out there--it’s lovely. We can look at the lake. I think Kenzie needs some fresh air.” Kenzie glanced at Duncan with eyes filled with overwhelming affection as he said this. Rosemary nodded, her aspect calming, soothing, and seemingly unbothered by the weight of her words. This is truly a woman of exquisite power. “You bring that bowl, honey.” She reached for Kenzie’s hand and helped her up.

They all made their way out onto the deck and down the stone path, to where the gazebo lay in the pleasing solitude of the early afternoon. Duncan could see a flock of ducks swimming on the surface of the middle of the lake, beyond where the canoe creaked with a pleasant rhythm; there were more clouds in the sky today than yesterday, but it was still bright and warm, the breeze present again. Rosemary helped Kenzie onto one end of the long couch; Kenzie’s face was pale and her hands still seemed to be trembling. Rosemary moved to the other end, and Duncan knew innately she was leaving them space. Space to be together; to hold each other. He felt a wave of gratitude wash out from him towards the beautiful seer, this woman who had appeared as if out of thin air, by magic, in a car that had driven for an entire day, from thousands of miles away, to tell them impossible truths. He felt Rosemary’s drifting indigo-violet energy come against his, and knew she acknowledged his secret power, and his gratitude, as he acknowledged hers.

He slid next to Kenzie, his arms coming around her tightly, his nose falling against her hair to breathe her in. Roses, vetiver, geranium. Her own underlying musk, the heady scent of her and her alone. Kenzie’s head fell against his chest, her arms gripping him at the waist. Kenzie, we’ll always find each other, no matter what. I could die, I could shout into the sky, I could cry and never stop crying. My heart is full of you. My happiness in this knowledge is absolute. Kenzie seemed beyond words, but the drift of her gold against him was so staggeringly lovely, so intense, he fought to breathe. My Persephone. Flower of the universe.

“Now. There’s a lot more She told me to tell you. Listen carefully, my sweet moon children,” and Duncan heard Kenzie’s thought, like a memory, two moon children in love--

“As I told you a little bit ago--there is a great Darkness in the universe, in the pantheon of universes. As She is older than Time, so is the Darkness. He--It--has a far-reaching hand. You know that Darkness in this world; but this world, unlike others, does not have the depth of power that allows it full sway. The magic in this universe is not as vast as it is in others; here it exists in the hidden aspects. Your coming together has brought some of that magic to life here, but it is finite, and it has limits. There are other universes where your power is stronger, but the Darkness is stronger in those universes, too.”

“We’ve been having these dreams...” Kenzie said in a small voice. The air seemed to be soothing her; the breeze ruffled her hair as Duncan’s hands drifted against its softness.

Rosemary was nodding. “The Darkness had you in its grip here, Duncan, and it was attempting to tighten that grip. Your family in this world, its notoriety, its intentions--they have long been conspiring with the Darkness, long been courting its gifts. Your adopted mother, your uncle; they have done terrible things in the name of their own desires, and they wished to drag you into the shadows with them. They almost succeeded; you were almost fooled. But the Old Law prevailed, as it always does, one way or another. That Law is Love; that Law is Mackenzie; that Law is your High Destiny. The Goddess knew that your love would defeat that Darkness every time. And it always will. The Law she wrote is strong and it will hold. But the means by which it holds is never clear until you meet.”

Rosemary had brought her water glass out with them, and sipped at it for a moment, pausing. Her face turned to the lake; as she gazed at it, she smiled, but her smile had some sadness threaded into it. It was a smile that knew the bittersweet taste of life--knew the balance was impregnable.

“There are universes where your ending is not a happy one, I’m afraid. Despite finding each other, you don’t always get to be together this way. You suffer acutely in some; you die. But the death is written too--the death comes at your own hands, or you die together. It’s the Law; if you cannot be together, you must begin again, which means you first must be taken out of that time, the obstacle therefore removed. Duncan, I must tell you; there are universes where the Darkness claims you. And in some of them, in some of those lives, you cannot be saved but through death.”

Duncan felt a heavy hand settle on his heart--felt the breath drift out of his body as he gasped for air. Kenzie held him closer, and he heard the tiny sound of her sob against him. Oh baby, sweet Kenzie, please don’t cry so. Don’t cry for me that way. I love you. Here, we’re together. Please don’t cry. It breaks my heart into a thousand pieces.

“Is that what the dreams mean?” he asked, cradling Kenzie’s shivering body against his. He felt the terrible heat of her tears soaking through his shirt, her face turned into him, hidden, overcome.

“Yes. They are another life. Another universe. One where your ending is not a happy one. One where Kenzie’s love saves you; as it did here, as it ever does; but not to such happy ends, I’m afraid. It’s just one example of the window of infinite lives you have lived, lives you are living as we speak, in other places, in other universes. That life, that universe, is particularly potent. The magick there is much stronger than the magick here. It encircles that world like a dense fog; it surrounds it and seeps into everything. There you have powers beyond imagining, both of you. The power to raise the dead. The power to turn time backwards. The power to change the shape of things; things that should otherwise be immutable. Or destroy them entirely, completely--utterly.”

“Blue butterflies out of rose petals,” Kenzie whispered. “You making snow, Duncan.”

“Yes,” he whispered against her hair. You, Kenzie, blood on your mouth, turning back time.

“The power to travel to Hell, even, Descensum; to the pit of Darkness. Because there, Duncan, you are a being of Darkness. In that world, you are Michael, the Son of Darkness--in that world, the Darkness claimed you when you were born into it, and the Goddess cannot reach you. There, you are a powerful conjurer, a warlock, and Kenzie--Mallory, as you are called there--you are a powerful witch, in fact, the most powerful of all witches in that world, more powerful than the witches of any other world. A Supreme. Kenzie does not save you in life in that world, however; but through your death. So it is written.”

Duncan felt unable to speak; I think I knew that. I think I knew, when I had that dream on the beach, the dream where I was dying, and grandma told me to go to Hell. And Kenzie was there, her hair dark on her shoulders, she was that other version of herself, the Mallory self, and she held me, and I died.

“My nightmare,” Kenzie burst into a sob again, the wail in her voice making Duncan bury his face, his eyes closing, against her hair, making his heart clench until he felt as though he would suffocate in the agony of her sadness. “My nightmare. That man with your face, Duncan--that man was you in that place, that man was you, consumed, that was real, oh, no, oh no, no--”

Duncan couldn’t think, couldn’t speak; could only hold her, his heart pressed down with the depth of her sadness, determined to hold her as long as she needed him to. Even for that other me, the depth of her grace is staggering. The immensity of her love. I feel lost inside it; it’s the greatest thing I’ve ever felt. Whatever darkness is in me, no matter where I am, who I am, it’s nothing next to her light. I know that. Absolutely. I’d die a thousand times for you, Mackenzie Stone, High Princess of Heaven. A million times. I’ll die for eternity to be with you for just a moment. That, I promise you. I swear it. I will worship and love you endlessly, as I promised to, when we were Exalted--as we will be again one day. I know I will always recognize your soul.

“Sweet golden child of Her Grace,” Rosemary said, staring at Kenzie with violet, soothing warmth. “Do not despair--there is no need for it. You save him in every world. Your love is what saves him. Reach out with your heart into every hidden place. You know it’s true. There is no place your love cannot reach him. And death is not the end. In her Will, it is never really the end. And here--” Rosemary gestured out onto the lake, to the sky beyond. “Here, in this world, in this life, you’ve been infinitely blessed. In this world, you get to be together; truly together. And not only that. Not only have you found each other, basked in each other, found a haven hidden from the eyes of the world in which to feed each other in power and affection. In this world you have been given even more, for the Goddess does not take away in one world what she doesn’t bestow again in another. Here, you have worldly riches, too, is that not so?”

Yes.

“Fuck,” Duncan whispered. “That was our destiny all along, too, wasn’t it?”

Rosemary gazed at him, and her expression was omniscient in the stretch of this moment; it kindled his spirit up, thrilling his nerves, achingly beautiful against his soul. Yes. That was the plan all along. That not only would you heal each other infinitely, here; you would, together, heal this world, and that, too, would be your happiness.

Kenzie had begun to quiet against him; she turned her tear-stained face up to him, and her eyes glittered unbearably in the afternoon light: gold, russet forest, green like growing leaves.

“The High Destiny,” she whispered. Duncan brought his hand up, wiping under her eyes, pressing the dampness into his shirt, cradling her face.

“Yes, sweet golden honey.” Rosemary was grinning; her face was effervescent in its beauty. She reached for the golden pipe again from where Duncan had set it on the low table beside the lantern, raising it languidly to her chin. “Praise be to Her, in whose eyes all is made clear and wondrous, three-faced, sweet as blessed wine. Your High Destiny is to bring a long peace into this world. And when others in this world behold you together, that is what they see. Your divinity, your goodness, and their redemption.” Duncan continued to look down at Kenzie--she stared at him with a dawning happiness spreading over her face that made him clutch her cheek, dip his mouth to kiss her, uncaring that Rosemary watched--Kenzie, my Kenzie, oh my Kenzie--

Rosemary breathed in another long drag of the gold pipe. Then she continued to speak, her legs crossed with ease, her hand drifting against her many necklaces, thumb trailing at the obsidian, the raven skull.

“I know what’s coming, what’s at the door; by the time you return to the Capital City, Bill Shepherd will have been dead for a day. Yesterday, he signed his Will, at Annette Shepherd’s behest. Duncan: you are now the sole heir of Shepherd Unlimited and all its holdings. Bill Shepherd, as is his way, has over $15 billion dollars in overseas assets that he hasn’t been filing with his taxes. Those assets will be yours in a few hours’ time. With Shepherd Unlimited LLC and the tools at its disposal, it is your High Destiny, Duncan and Mackenzie, to heal this world.”

“Fuck,” Duncan whispered.

“Holy shit,” he felt Kenzie grip his shirt with her little tear-stained hands. “Duncan, oh my goddess. We knew. We felt it all along. We felt our destiny.”

“And Praise be to Her,” Rosemary said, and then she laughed; she laughed long and low, and her voice was like honey, and it seemed to fall into Duncan’s mind like a crashing, heady wine. Her laugh rang out onto the lake, stirring the ducks to flight; as they flapped up from the water, the sun dappled in their water-flecked wings, turning to patterns of gold.

-------

It was late now, the light growing low as it had the night before, gradually then all at once, and Duncan had conjured another fire in the copper pit. This one, if anything, was even brighter and more beautiful than the one before; it was almost transparent, burning wildly high and hot, kindled in the euphoria of his mood. Now that he knew the powers they had were real, not only real, but destined, he felt confident in the ability to strengthen them; felt confident in their reality. I’ve been blessed, and so I’ll use my blessings. I can see the shape of these powers now, their outline like a lingering vision after a bright burst of light. I was destined to have them, and so I’ll use them as wisely as I can.

They had all smoked so much of the weed through the rest of the afternoon he had begun to feel untethered from his body, lost in the softness of Kenzie’s touch, the sweet smell of the space under her ear and along her neck. Rosemary didn’t seem to mind, skillfully ignoring them as they kissed again and again, drifted their hands along each other lazily through the rest of the afternoon. Duncan felt split between his gratitude towards Rosemary and the intensity of his desire for Kenzie--he had been fighting off the urge to slide his hand up her bare leg under the dress for hours, and as he sat in one of the wicker chairs by the fire, watching Kenzie and Rosemary dance a few paces away on the lawn amid the fireflies, the strains of Redbone’s Witch-queen of New Orleans pumping through the outdoor speakers, he sent out drifts of his deep need towards her. She was spinning in the long rosy dress, her chin tilted up and the diamond moon flashing on her neck, his black cardigan falling off one of her shoulders--her hair was tossed by wind and sweat glinted at her temples, and all he could think of was how radiantly lovely she was; High Princess of Heaven, Goddess of the Golden Bower, Angel of the Hidden Sphere, my High Destiny, forevermore, everlong, no worship is ever enough. And now you’re going to marry me. And I know what kind of ring I’m going to give you. A moonstone. My moon, everlasting.

She’ll put a spell on you, she’ll put a spell on you

He tried to contemplate the wonder of everything that had happened in the past two days; of the past few weeks. It’s truly only been a few weeks? It felt like years, and also like no time at all, like hours. He tried to contemplate the immensity of time they’d loved each other, and the smallness of the time they’d been able to love each other in this present--felt too lost in it, had to move his thoughts away. He tried to conjure up the image of the Fates in his mind, knowing now that it was Her, aspects of Her, the spectrum of Her face. Too stoned, sorry. Just wanna fuck my baby. So fucking much. Forgive me, Goddess. He grinned to himself, into his hand. I know you do. I can feel that you forgive me.

Tho' she'll never return all the Cajuns knew, a witch-queen never dies

Kenzie and Rosemary were gripping each other’s arms now, whirling in a circle, both laughing uproariously. Kenzie tumbled to the ground, throwing her head back and laughing up into the sky, bleeding out into blue darkness. Rosemary clutched her belly and laughed up at the sky too.

“Oh Goddess, to be alive,” she crowed. Duncan looked up to her from his seat, grinning. Rosemary had told them the story that afternoon of how she had found the Goddess when she was young--had gone into a cave in the swamps of New Orleans as a young girl, finding a bower of strange golden flowers growing there, had had a vision of Her, as an old woman, wizened with the ages and also inconceivable, told her of her power to conjure and to incite light in others, kindle their dreams and hopes, their destinies. Another Thin Place, he thought, like that balcony, or our circle of oaks. They had made more of the chicken and other vegetables in the cooker, a charcuterie spread out on the deck table, and had been nibbling at it for a hours between the weed and glasses of wine--now the day was hazy and drifting away, and Duncan felt lost in the happiness of it; absolutely found in it. Rosemary tumbled herself into one of the wicker chairs across from him, her feet dipping up over one of the arms. She gazed into the fire, a serene expression in her eyes.

“Evening Star, you sure can make one hell of a fire,” she murmured, her eyes drifting closed. “It smells so sweet and feels so nice on my poor aching bones, thank you very much. The Goddess knows I put the work in since yesterday to find y’all, now she’s giving me a break, and Blessed Be.”

“Thank you, Rosemary. Thank you for everything. Thank you for coming all this way--for telling us everything. Who we are. What we’re meant to do.” Kenzie had heaved herself up from the ground and was skipping over to him, throwing herself into his lap and lifting her mouth up to kiss him as he spoke. He cradled her little body against him; her eyes glittered, her thoughts achingly sweet. To be held by you, baby, is the sweetest and most beautiful of anything. My Evening Star. My Hades who I plucked from darkness. You owe me so many kisses.

Oh I do, do I-- He dipped his mouth down onto hers again; he could feel Rosemary’s eyes on them, slitted, an adoration and pride in her aspect that he could feel as though it were visible. He knew she thought they were infinitely beautiful--the thought was a feeling of warm violet that emanated out from her; and I agree, if only because being loved and loving her so much has made me beautiful from within, he thought. I can feel the beauty in everything because of her.

“Rosemary,” and Kenzie turned her face away, looking over at the other woman’s beautiful cocoa skin, shimmering like soft copper in the firelight.

“Yes, golden honey,” Rosemary murmured, turning her face up a little, her eyes closed from tiredness, peaceful in the quiet of the crackling fire.

“What do the thin places mean?”

“Thin places?” Rosemary’s eyes opened a little, meeting her eyes.

“In the woods there’s a clearing. It’s surrounded by these huge black oak trees, and they’re all growing together, in a weird, tight circle. Inside it are so many wildflowers,” Kenzie laid her head on Duncan’s chest, under his chin, “and they’re growing in a spiral, like, I dunno, like they mean something, time or the universe, something like that. We were there yesterday, and…”

Kenzie blushed, trailing off.

“You fucked there.”

“Yeah. And it was strange--I mean, it felt like--Dunny, how would you describe it--”

“Like we were untethered from the earth for a little while,” Duncan said, his hand drifting against Kenzie’s thigh, under her breast, holding her against him, gazing into the fire. “Like we were in some kind of between place. Between this world and another one.”

“Ah, yes. I suppose the Thin Places, as you say, have many names. I call them The Veil, because they aren’t really places as much as doorways, gateways, the between of one place and another. The Goddess has tethered every universe together with threads--energy that passes from one place to another, acting as a bridge--and sometimes the threads wear thin; I suppose Thin Place is a well-suited name. As you are so close to your divinity still, these places are more obvious to you than to other people.”

“The night we met, we were on this balcony, with all these roses, and I think it was one of those places,” Kenzie was murmuring, eyes glittering on him, close to tears again. “It was thin--I could see him, Rosemary. I could see into his soul. I knew how beautiful he was inside. It was like a lamp shining out of a lighthouse. He said hi and he was looking at me like he knew me, like he hadn’t seen me in a long time and had missed me. And my heart just--stopped. I felt like he had set me on fire, wonderful fire, like this.” She looked at the fire Duncan had made--made with my mind, my senses, my will, for you. His heart twinged, reached out for her.

“The heart knows what nothing else can tell you,” Rosemary murmured, her voice growing soft again in her sleepiness. “It was only a matter of time before you found each other again.”

“Sometimes I think I see a golden thread between us,” Duncan said softly.

“The Goddess has tethered you this way. Since you are so close to her--because she loves you both so dearly--you can see the innerworkings of her magicks sometimes. They are not conceivable to human eyes. You’re feeling them. For all her works speak to the inner self, the hidden senses.”

“Rosemary,” Kenzie started again, and then Duncan heard the tears in her voice, cutting her words off. Her face turned into the crook of his arm--he felt her cheek shuddering there.

“Shh, Kenz, it’s okay, Kenzie,” he whispered into her. She nodded.

“Rosemary, thank you.”

But Rosemary didn’t reply--she was sleeping softly now, her chest rising and falling slowly, her hand dipped under her jaw. She was magnificently beautiful in the glossy sheen of the firelight, her dark skin illuminated, her sunset-colored scarf glowing, her obsidian and quartz stones shimmering, feet bare now, and grass-stained; she looks like a painting, Duncan thought, oh that Waterhouse had painted her, Rosemary Antigone Delacroix, who has given us so much joy in so little time. Thank you, Rosemary. Thank you. Now, we’ll let you sleep. I only hope I can give you something in return--and soon. You and everyone who has surrounded us, helped us, comforted us, shielded us.

“Princess Kenzie, let’s go upstairs,” he murmured into her ear. Kenzie’s eyes turned up to him, her mouth dipping open. Her hair fell down behind his arm, a sheet of gold. He felt wildly awake; acutely aware of the softness and the scent of her. He pressed his mouth against her ear. “I want you so much. Take a bath with me, angel. Please?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, a laugh playing at her mouth. “Okay, but I wanna read stories to each other after we fuck. You have to promise we can read stories after.”

“We can read stories for as long as you want, Mrs. Shepherd.”

“What should we do, baby--about everything? We already know what’s going to happen. Rosemary told us. When we go back--”

“Shhh,” and he pressed his mouth, shivering, aching, against hers, intent to worship her, pulling her chin up insistently to reach her, his hands falling against the sweet softness of the dress over her breast. “Tonight, let’s just think about how divine we are, and how lucky we are, and how beautiful the night is, and how beautiful everything is, the stars, the lake, and you--” and she was nodding into him, climbing up to straddle him, the firelight licking its shadows against her hair, over her skin. “And you, baby,” she whispered. “My Evening Star. Goddess, I love that--”

“I’m gonna find you the most beautiful garden house on earth, Princess Kenzie,” he was whispering into her throat, his tongue licking out to the sweet saltiness of her sun-kissed sweat there, and he knew he meant it, knew he wouldn’t stop until he found it, “and together we’re gonna plant the most beautiful garden and so many flowers you can use them for a bed, and I’ll get you as many horses as you want, and I’ll read to you every night, kiss you a thousand times every day in our bed of a hundred of the softest blankets on earth, Kenzie, my golden goddess--”

“I want so many flowers for our wedding, baby,” she was murmuring against his mouth, the supple feeling of her skin driving unbearable waves of heat into his cock now. “I want a hundred dark red roses to hang over our bed between all the wildflowers, flowers in our hair, please, baby, please?”

“Fuck, baby, a thousand flowers, as many as your heart desires, I love you, anything you want, my flower of the universe, my Princess of the Garden of All Delights--fuck, baby, I wanna see it, I wanna see that garden in heaven, where we used to love each other, for eons, Rosemary said, eons--”

Kenzie was laughing against the tickle of his mouth as he groaned into her, standing and gripping her to him under her thighs, his hands finally (fuck, finally, no offense Rosemary) on her bare skin there under the long dress. Kenzie wrapped her arms around his neck and he carried her up to the deck, eagerly turning his chin up to her where her face hovered above him, needy for her kisses.

“I never wanna leave,” Kenzie whispered into him, and he shuddered, pulling her closer, so close the pattering of her heartbeat was flush against his chest, her hair falling against his cheeks. “I wanna run away into the woods with you, into our secret circle of oaks, baby, let’s just stay here and fuck in the field and in the trees and throw away our clothes and worship the Goddess under the starlight until the world ends--”

“But She has shit for us to do, angel, we gotta save the world--” and he was laughing against her as he stumbled with her near the stairs. Kenzie slipped out of his arms (how does she do that) and ran up the stairs away from him before he could grab her wrist--”we gotta save the world, Miss Stone--”

The weed was sweet inside him still, and he thought, The Fates are the Goddess and the Goddess is the Fates, and even if I have darkness in me, so does everything, so does everyone--I know I’ve chosen the light now, and that’s all that matters, I know it was my choice all along--I’ve found my sweet Kenzie, and nothing can fucking hurt me, nothing, nothing can fuck with us, baby--I can’t wait to kiss you with a thousand roses around us and the evening light and the sweet sound of music, slip your moonstone on your little finger and kiss your sweet hands with the tattoo of all my love--

He ran through the bedroom, seeing the little slip of her shoulder, the wave of her hair, the flick of the hem of her long linen dress disappearing through the bathroom door. Kenzie slammed it behind her and he heard the lock click into place. He fell against it, groaning, jiggling the handle to no avail.

“Baby, fuck, ughhh, lemme in, please.”

He could hear her giggling, hear the copper tub’s faucet turn on, its sweet low drift and the sound of her little movements, her tiny laughter kindling a needle of heat into his groin. My angel of heaven. Have mercy.

“I just realized something, Kenzie.”

She fell silent behind the door, as if pausing--for a little while he only heard the faucet running. The bedroom was bathed in low, golden light, and his eyes fell on Cupid’s flower crown in the painting, the tenderness with which he kissed Psyche’s cheek.

“I’ve loved you for thousands of years.”

There was another long pause. He pressed his head against the door, closed his eyes. I have, haven’t I. I really have, When I saw you on the balcony that night, I felt the immensity of time. I knew that it had always been you.

The door opened suddenly and he stumbled through it; Kenzie was throwing her arms around him, making him stumble further, against her this time (oh thank Goddess), and then she was pressing him harshly into the bathroom wall, her hands insistent, demanding. He was leaning down to her, trying to wrap his arms around her, but she pressed them down, her hand drifting to his jaw, clenching there.

“You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you.”

“Yes.”

“You’d die for me.”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Would you assassinate someone for me?” She laughed at this, her words hovering between facetiousness and seriousness, and her smile melted at his heart, made him desperate for her.

“If I had to, yes.” Duncan’s answer was serious, and they both knew it; he stared at her, his eyes unwavering, and saw her lips fall from the smile, saw that she could see the ache of him, insatiable, unending, for her.

“Look at the bruises you left on me.”

Kenzie lifted the linen dress up over her head, edging out of his reach as he tried to grip her. He realized she was naked underneath it and heard the tiny reverberation of his moan, following after her. She turned, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and Duncan groaned to see the dark bruises he’d left on her asscheeks, the product of his own hands. He kneeled, aching regret pressing on him, and cupped her at the top of her thighs, drifting his mouth down to the bruises, whispering against her.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry, I love you so much--”

“I love them,” she whispered. “I love the marks you leave on me. I asked for them and I love them and I want more. I don’t care how long we’ve been together in the past, it still only feels like it’s been a few weeks now and I want more. The marks from your hands and your lips, your attention, your love--I want more, more, more--” Kenzie was leaning back into his hands now, against the wet, open dip of his mouth, her hair brushing along his head. She turned and his face hovered right over her cunt--Duncan dragged her against him, opening his lips further, cupping them into the lips of her sex, turning her hips under his hands and pressing her into the wall. Kenzie’s arms drifted above her, up the wall’s incline, hands reaching heavenward, her back arching, leaning into him; Duncan pulled her thigh up so her knee rested against his shoulder, and held his tongue to her shivering clit, eliciting a long, drifting moan from her mouth turned upward.

The scent of her was rich with summery sweat and the salty gathering of her arousal, and it made Duncan feel as though he were drifting out into some ether, unchained from the earth, as if they were back in the black oak circle, between worlds.

“Baby,” she was humming, “how are we gonna know what to do? To change the world? What are we supposed to do with the company? Like--how--unnnh--” her words bled out as he drifted his tongue back and forth between her clit and the opening of her cunt, urgent and concentrated. No more worrying tonight, Kenzie, just be here with me, let me worship you…

“Mmhmm, baby, uhhuh,” she whined, and he knew she’d heard him, felt the bluish drift of his comforting thought. I’ve missed tasting your sweetness here, angel, I wanna build an altar to your sweet cunt alone, its secret places, curves, hidden clefts, the rich singularity of its scent. I’m gonna eat you out every fucking day for the rest of our lives. He pulled his tongue back, pressing his lips around her clit, sucking carefully, strongly, looking up with languid patience to the shadow over her face as her head fell down, her hands drifting from where they had stretched along the wall to his cheeks, his forehead, the curves of his eyelids, through the sides of his hair, and Duncan had to close them now, for fear he would die inside her eyes--that his heart would simply stop with the glorious weight of her (you Kenzie you my universe and I turn around you, I am your moon spinning around your earth, and when we end we begin again, when we die, we are reborn to each other--).

“Fuck, Duncan,” and Kenzie was biting into her lip, eyes falling closed, her body smooth and hot and terribly soft under his long hands, the wetness at his mouth an insistent undoing, the telltale trembling beginning in her thighs, “I think I’m gonna come already, sorry, baby, I can’t, god, that feels so fucking good, you’re too beautiful, annhh--” and he was shaking his head, rebounding his tongue against her, hands clutching at the bruises along her ass, fingers digging against them so she gasped in the half-patina of pleasure and pain--come for me, come as soon as you want to, as much as you want, as constant, for I will worship you always and my devotion will not end, Mackenzie Stone, High Princess of Heaven, yours is the one true beauty, the gold that you hold in the center of your soul--then, with a pilling satisfaction that urged heat into his groin, he heard the high, lilting sound of her voice crying up in her ecstasy (“Dunny, fu-u-uck-k, my Pri-ince, Evening Star, my fucking baby, unnnnh--”), the sound of the water filling the copper tub crashing against her and drowning out her drawn whimpers, and he thought of Sirens, singing on rocks in the sea, mesmerizing to sailors, causing them to plunge to the depths with desire. My Kenzie, sing to me. Sing your pleasure out for my ears alone.

She quieted, her breath heaving, her legs shaking against him, her cunt twinging--he pressed another long, adoring lick between the lips, shivering with wetness from his mouth and her deep orgasm, then he stood, her hands drifting from his hair to his shoulders to his stomach, his height enveloping her, as it ever was. He brought his arms down around her and Kenzie began to work at his shirt, pushing his pants and briefs to the floor, his mouth, damp with her sex, tasting at hers with lazy need. He lowered his arms, reluctantly, letting his shirt drop to the floor, then swung them down around her shoulders and the back of her thighs, lifting her into his arms. Duncan carried her to the copper tub, the steaming water within almost having reached the rim--he lowered her into it and Kenzie sighed deeply, her eyes fluttering closed in an expression of deep, contented loveliness.

Duncan lifted away from her, turning off the faucet, balancing on the edge of it for a moment, naked; Kenzie’s hair had immediately begun to drift around her, and he thought again of Sirens in the sea, calling out to Odysseus.

“You look like a mermaid, Kenz,” he said, smiling down at her. She grinned, dipping her face under the water, blowing bubbles up to the surface, eyeing him coyly.

“Come, come to me, come to the sea and be drowned, wah-haha,” she laughed.

“By you, gladly.” Duncan stepped over the rim and settled down into the serenely hot water. The tub was quite large--larger than the claw-footed one in the penthouse, large enough that he could stretch his legs out entirely and crook them around her, drawing her into him, his cock, hardening, straining, brushing against the inside of her leg and stomach. She shivered and he moved his mouth down to her cheek, her jaw, pressing tiny kisses there.

“Remember when you put all those roses in the bathtub, baby,” Kenzie was whispering, lifting herself up to him, her nose nuzzling against his. The water felt almost unbearably warm now with her against him this way, and Duncan wanted to cry out against her hair, on her bare, flushed, damp skin. I fucking love you, my love is ever-hungry, ever-urgent, as if it wants to tear me into pieces so I can feed myself to you.

“How could I ever forget that,” he whispered. “You were so fucking beautiful that night. That dress, the half-moon around your neck. I think that’s the first time I knew--really knew--that you were divine.”

“I’m gonna ride you again like that now,” she murmured against his chin, her eyes glowing, and her little slender hand was grasping his cock, now terribly hard in her fingers, easing up and down its thickness with her hips under his fingers, her little tongue dipping out along his lower lip--Kenzie eased herself down onto him, a shuddering, high gasp falling out of her mouth into his, and he cried against her, the pitiful need in his voice ringing in his ears. She moved, slowly at first, then more pressingly, her hands coming up to dampen his hair with water that fell through it in a glistening trail.

“It feels like we woke up from another dream today,” she was whimpering into him, and Duncan was kissing her neck, his mouth tingling with her, lost in the tightness, the clenching, devouring space of her cunt around him, the water’s steam rising around them in droves. “Now we know, baby.”

“That you saved me--” he whined into the dip of her throat now, his voice shuddering as his orgasm inched closer, through his thighs and his groin. “You saved me, angel, you saved my soul from darkness here--that you save me, over and over--you are my miracle, fuck, Kenzie--”

“I am, aren’t I--” she laughed against him, then her laugh bled into a moan as she ground down onto him in the glorious heat of the water, her little hands drifting along his neck, through his curls, her head falling back, and his mouth was around her nipple, sucking with deep hunger, his heart already breaking for the moment he’d have to stop--then he felt himself, eyes blurring with heat and tears, his voice crying wordlessly to heaven (thank you Fates, who are Her), coming harshly up into the golden space of her, the depth of her, the absence of void--she was fullness, truth, reality, the essence of life, she was the beginning and end of all, the solace of his existence. My angel, my miracle, my savior, my Kenzie, for all time.

And for awhile after, they held each other in the blessed quiet and the wonderful heat of the water and the soothing feeling of one another, and he kissed the tiny tears from her eyes, and everything in all of that stretch of moments, small, brief, and somehow also infinite, was sublime.

-------

Kenzie was laying with her face towards the ceiling in the center of the golden bed, the delicate, hanging golden lamp there bowing down on her, kissing at the waves of her chestnut hair. She wore the little silken pink pyjamas and the silk black kimono, gifts from me, I want to shower you with gifts for the rest of our lives, my delight, my sweet love, and one of the downy pillows was propped under her head as she held D’aulaire’s Book of Greek Myths up to her face with her little hands. The other books were in a pile beside her on the silky spread; the ghost story books, Jane Eyre, The Golden Compass and the stargazing book from Duncan’s penthouse library. Duncan was propped up with a pillow on the headboard, facing her, wearing just a pair of black briefs, one of her tiny feet in his large hand; he rubbed it carefully, tenderly, fingers drifting back and forth along its graceful curve, over the rise of her little bones, eyes on her face as she read. The curtain was floating against the wall, and Duncan could smell the fire from the pit downstairs rising up. He wondered if he should go wake Rosemary so she could sleep in one of the guest rooms, but was loathe to move away from the bed, out of Kenzie’s warm sphere. In a little while, he thought. The night is warm and beautiful, besides, as beautiful as last night. It’s like we’re in our own little world here.

“I just love this picture so much,” Kenzie whispered, turning the book to him. The picture was the one of Persephone and Demeter rushing into each other’s arms in a golden field of flowers. “It really makes me think of me and Momby. She’s going to be so happy when we tell her. I keep imagining her face when you call her Momby,” and Kenzie’s grin clenched at his heart.

She turned the book back to herself, resting its edge on her belly, flipping through the pages. Duncan could hear the peepers out on the lake, the drift of the water obscured by them, the low crackle of the fire pit below. Kenzie stopped on a certain page, gazing at it intently, her little mouth pouting, eyes concentrated.

“What’s that page, baby,” Duncan murmured, switching to her other foot, kneading at her toes.

“Selene and Endymion,” she murmured.

“Read it to me?” he asked. I love your voice in the soft night. Singing, speaking, breathing sighs, the gasp of you when you come, the little crying sounds in your sleep.

Kenzie smiled, eyes whirling dark green at him, cleared her throat a little, and read in a clear, measured voice. Journalism major, he thought, brimming with happiness so full it was like a golden cup running over through his body.

“Selene, the moon, came out at night to light up the sky while her brother, Helios, was resting. Slowly she drove her milk-white horses across the sky, and her pale moonbeams fell gently on the sleeping earth where all was peace and quiet.”

Duncan tried to imagine what it must have been like to meet Kenzie for the first time--not on the balcony, he thought, but in that other place, the real first time, after I saw her on her throne, like that dream we had, the throne where she held the sceptre--the Hidden Sphere, the one Rosemary talked about. We met in the Garden, Rosemary said, the Garden of All Delights. Kenzie’s hair, white and shimmering, was full of galaxy-flowers. Her eyes were a golden universe. And her wings were like the vastness of heaven in an unbroken sunset.

“One night Selene’s soft light fell on Endymion, a young shepherd, who was sleeping beside his flock. She stopped to look at him. He was smiling in his sleep and was so young and handsome that she completely lost her heart to him,” and here Kenzie glanced up at Duncan, her face cast in a soft corona of light, her eyes held in the aureate bow of her lashes, and he felt her thought--that’s how I felt when I saw your smile, baby. “She drove through the night, but she could not get him out of her mind.”

Duncan was sliding down over the coverlet to her, his hands drifting up her thighs. Oh you did, did you. She smiled at him nervously, then her eyes fell back to the page and she read again.

“When her duties were over, she went to Zeus and asked him to grant Endymion eternal sleep so he would stay forever young and handsome...Zeus granted Selene’s wish and Endymion slept on and on, smiling in his sleep. He dreamed that he held the moon in his arms. But it was not a dream after all…”

Duncan was pulling her up to him, into his mouth, easily lifting her small weight against him, and the book fell from her fingers to the soft spread and her hair fell back, her eyes fluttering closed against him, the silken feeling of her all too much, and Duncan thought of her as the moon shining against him; as the goddess she once was, of what had felt like a dream, had seemed to be one in the nimbus of sleep, but hadn’t been, her, so wondrously, soul-shakingly real now, in his arms--

No, no. Not a dream after all.

[jadekitty777]

I debated so hard on what words to pick for my request but! I think I've finally settled on "Trust" and "Dance"! Tbh I know you only sent me one word, though, so if you would rather just pick one or the other and go with that, that's totally fine! Whatever tickles your fancy, honestly. I'll be happy to read any Taiqrow you write askldfm

Me: Drabble? That’s like five thousand words, right?

I’m pretty sure getting me to write something concisely is moreimpossible than finding Atlantis. But I’m so super pleased with how this oneturned out. Also, I re-wrote the summary no less than six times.

Title: Won’t Say, Don’t Say (I’m Falling in Love)

Summary: A bitter loner and a hopeless romantic walk into a bar onenight… and you all know how this joke ends, don’t you? [Modern AU]

Rating: T

Pairings: Taiqrow and Raven/Summer

AO3 Link: Right Here!

~

The bumping sounds of bass spilled out the door of the danceclub as it was opened and then closed with the admittance of another patron,moving the rest of those waiting in line another blissful inch. Tai steppedforward, grateful they were almost to the front. He rocked on his heels toalleviate some of the ache in his knees, looking down when he felt Summer latchonto his arm. She had probably spent an hour in front of the mirror, each bitof her make-up so immaculately placed, with glitter accents around her eyesthat would sparkle under the colored lights once they hit the floor. She wasdefinitely dressed to impress tonight.

“Ooh, I can’t wait for you to meet them!”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was probably thefifth time he’s heard that since he’d agreed to join her.  “Don’t get tooexcited Sums. I came along to have fun, not find a date.”

“Yeah, you say that, buuuut-” She trailed off, letting therest of the sentence hang.

“Hey, I’ve been getting better!” He argued, tucking his facein his collar.

“To get better, you need to actually date someoneTai. Not avoid dating entirely. That’s called ‘ignoring the problem.’.”

“I’m not ignoring it. I’m just… taking a break!”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

Tai sighed. He knew there really wasn’t any use in arguing.He was pretty sure there was some unwritten universal law that if you knew aperson for more than fifteen years, it was impossible to lie to them. Or maybehe just couldn’t lie to the one girl that he introduced himself to by placing acrown of dandelions on her head while declaring her as his ‘forever flowerprincess’. She responded to such an honest declaration of love in the way anyeight-year-old should: By calling him a stupid dum-dum and throwing sand in hisface.

They’d been best friends ever since.

Of course, having such an honorary place in his life alsomeant that she got to watch from a front row seat whenever he got his heartbroken. Almost like a true movie-goer, the first few times she saw the storyplay out, her heart-strings tugged at his every struggle and pain. By the tenth time,she was yelling at the screen for him to stop making the same stupid decisionsbefore the first scene was even over. Eventually, those criticisms and hisaching chest got through to him, and he decided to just stop performingaltogether.

He had a suspicion that because the screen had stayed blackfor more than a year now, his biggest fan had grown bored with the lack ofentertainment. Why else would she try to turn herself into a director?

“I’m just saying, if you meet someone you like, you shouldgive it a chance.” She jabbed her elbow into his side. “I know you miss beingsomeone’s prince.”

He nudged her back, but her smile was too infectious not tocatch. “Oh, shut up.”

“You know you love me.” She said. A buzzing drew herattention and she pulled out her phone from her handbag. Tai’s assumptions thatit was her girlfriend was proven right when Summer announced, “Raven saidthey’re at the corner of the bar when we get inside.”

Just in time too, because they were next in line. Afterbeing carded and screened, they were allowed inside. It was like walking fromnight into day, the air turning from brisk and breezy to heavy and hot withinseconds of entering the club, the ground under his feet seeming to shake withevery beat of the rhythm blasting from the speakers. Tai had to blink awayspots as he adjusted to the flashing lights.

Summer stood on her tiptoes, scoping out the room. “Oh, Isee them!” She tugged him along as she weaved around the crowd and straighttowards a pair sitting at the quieter end of the bar. His eyes were drawn tothe female of the two, impressed by the wild, black hair cascading down herback. “Rae!”

And it was she who turned to that call, giving him his firstgood look at the mysterious girlfriend he’d been hearing about for weeks. Shewas as stunning as Summer had gushed over, her facial features a perfectcontrast of sharp in the nose and chin, yet delicate in the pale moonlit whiteof her skin and eyes red like gemstones. He may have even thought herdangerous, if not for the way her lips eased into a welcoming smile.

Summer unlatched herself from him, skirting the last fewfeet forward and right into her arms. And then she leaned up and – okay yeah,he didn’t need to watch his admittedly gorgeous friend kissing an equallygorgeous woman. It probably wasn’t good for his health.

Taiyang avoided it by focusing on the second half of the pair,whom was now leaning back against the counter. As he met dusky red eyes, heswore he heard his mind screech to a halt.

For if there was ever a person that perfectly defined bothstrikingly handsome and breathtakingly beautiful, that was Qrow Branwen. It washard to pinpoint exactly what made him so, other than to say all of him. From slicked back, coal-darkhair to the hint of stubble that accented an angled jawline or the too-tightdress shirt with the top two buttons undone, revealing just enough to tease, tothe long legs that couldn’t teasetheir flexibility, every bit of him seemed to just be another something to appreciate.He was like a puzzle; the pieces alone didn’t seem like much, but when puttogether the correct way it became a work of art.

Qrow shot him an easygoing smile, tilting his half-fullglass as a greeting wave. “Hey, you must be Tai.”

Dear gods, and a voice that sounded like it was constantlywrecked by sex. That was just notfair.

He swallowed hard against his suddenly dry throat. “Yeah.And you’re Qrow. Hey.” He tacked on lamely. What a night to lose his charisma.

Thankfully, he wasn’t left to flounder long as Raven spokeup, “And I’m Raven. Charmed, really.” Her arms made a loose circle aroundSummer’s waist, tugging her close. “So, now that we’re all acquainted: Drinksor dance floor?”

Knowing there was no way in hell he was getting on the floorwithout being at least semi-drunk, Tai quickly offered, “I vote drinks” just asSummer said, “I want to dance!”

Qrow gestured to his own glass as a sign of his own opinion.

Raven shrugged, slipping off her bar stool. “Guess we’resplitting up then.” She pulled off the leather jacket, tossing it over herbrother’s head. “Be a good coat rack and hold that for me.”

He yanked it off, saying irritably, “Three songs and thenwe’re switching.”

“We’ll see.”

As they bickered, Summer turned to him, the glitter aroundher face only accenting her puppy-dog gaze as she held her girly handbag towardshim. “Please?”

Tai rolled his eyes, hooking his fingers around the strap.“Go have fun.”

“You’re the best!” She beamed, before following after Raven,walking so close they practically melded at the hip.

In the wake of their departure, the appointed coat racktipped his head towards the now empty bar stool, in which the appointed pursehook gratefully took.

Qrow swung himself around, flagging down the bartender as heasked him, “So, what’s your taste?”

It took Tai a moment to realize he meant for alcohol. “Oh,uh, Four Roses, if they have it.”

A whistle. “A bourbon man, huh? Didn’t take ya for thetype.”

“Didn’t used to be. I tried it on a dare. Just ended upliking it.”

“Wonder who that was.” The way he said that implied Qrowknew exactly who had been the instigator. He lent towards him. “Hey, can I dareyou to try another?”

Tai met his gaze, not sure what to make of the almostmischievous grin gracing those pretty features. “Uh, like?”

“What’ll ya have boys?”

Qrow winked at him, before turning to the bartender. “I’lltake another double of scotch, on the rocks. My friend here’ll have some OldCrow, nice and neat.”

Tai could immediately catch the bourbon’s scent the momentit was placed in front of him. It smelled almost sweet, more like a fancymartini, than the bitter, burning whiskey he was imagining. Entirely aware ofthe eyes watching his every movement, he lifted his glass and took the first,brave sip.

And, it was…

Huh.

He lowered the glass, mildly confused. Why did it taste likelightly buttered toast?

Beside him, Qrow had dissolved into laughter, restrained butlively. “It’s weird, right?”

“Not really what I was expecting.” He took another sip,adjusting to the flavor. He’d had better, but for a bottom shelf drink, it wasn’tbad. It had that tame, moderate sort of kick he’d grown to enjoy. “It’s fineenough to drink.”

That mischievous smile was back. “Oh good. Because you’ll bedrinking a lot of crow tonight.”

Tai choked on air. “E-Excuseme?!”

Qrow pounded at the counter, howling with laughter. “Youshould see your face! Man, that was one of my best lines!”

He sighed, setting his glass down with a decisive thud. Evenat only twenty-five, he was too old for this game. “Alright, are you flirtingwith me or messing with me?”

He held his forefinger and thumb a millimeter apart, “Lil’bit of both,” before reaching out for his drink.

Tai watched him drown it, asking, “Why?”

A second thud as another glass hit the counter, ice cubescackling together. “Did you know every time I walked into the room, you justconveniently became the hot topic of conversation?” Qrow finally looked to him,raising an eyebrow. “Summer’s not exactly subtle.”

“Oh Gods.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing theground would just open up underneath him and portal him straight to Hell. “I’msorry. She means well. She’s just got it in her head that I’m lonely.”

“Bet it came with a bunch of ‘You’re not getting anyyounger’ and ‘Love is worth the risk’ speeches, right?”

He groaned. “Yep. Guess the pain’s mutual, huh?”

“Eh.” He shrugged. “Honestly, it was more a change of pace.No one has ever felt they needed to play Cupid for me. I mean, of course not.When you look this good, the romance comes to you.” He gestured grandly tohimself, and had Tai not been practically drooling at his feet not ten minutesago, he might have called him out on his ego. Qrow spared him another wink. “Tobe frank, you don’t look like you need it either.”

Oh. Tai felt hisface flame up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks.”

His smile went from coy to relaxed. “To also be frank, I’mnot looking for a commitment and from your response, I don’t think you reallyare either. I am however hoping to have a good time tonightand if I can do that with a sexy guy, all the more reason. So, what say we getdrunk off our asses, make fools of ourselves on the dance floor and call it anight?”

It was amazing just how much that simple suggestion easedthe tension out of him. He grinned back at him. “I say let’s do it.”

“Alright, then. Cheers!”

The clink of their glasses sealed the promise, and as Taichugged his drink, he figured the night might just be looking up after all.

~

It was probably their fourth round on the dance floor and itwas practically sweltering. He could feel sweat clinging to him, head spinningwith a wonderful dizziness. Qrow was a better sight; his hair had fallen into amess at some point, bangs plastered attractively along his forehead, and he’dundone a few more buttons of his shirt, revealing a bit more of those nicelydefined pecs. Watching him move to the beat, Tai couldn’t figure out if thefloor was so hot because of how many people were around him, or if it wassimply because Qrow was on it.

Wait, that was a good one!

He caught his fingers into his dance partner’s belt loops,yanking him in close. He had to lean into his ear, just so he could hear him. “Hey,got something to tell ya!”  

“Yeah?” Qrow slurred back, slinging his arms up around hisneck. The sudden closeness had broken their rhythm, just leaving them to swaytogether.

Tai searched his brain, trying to remember. What was itexactly? Oh, Right!  “You’re pretty.” Henestled himself into his shoulder, hiding his goofy grin against the other’sneck. Fingers ran through his hair, petting him in soothing motions that made hiseyes flutter shut.

So nice.

Qrow was nice.

He liked him.

He wanted to dance with him forever.

“Hey. Listen.” Qrow’s lips touched against his ear, creatinghappy tingles that rushed down his spine. “This song’s for us.”

Tai did his best to focus as commanded, a few of the lyrics driftingaround them becoming startlingly clear.

“What are the chancesthat we’d end up dancing?

Like two in a million,like once in a life.”

The music lifted away, the words becoming inaudible. He liftedhis head, trying to follow their retreat, but his head was heavier then heremembered, and he had to rest it again – this time with his forehead layingagainst Qrow’s own. The magic of them staring into one another’s eyes broughtthe song back.

“Is it love? Is itfate?

Where it leads, whocan say?

Maybe you and I weremeant to be.”

Qrow laced his fingers around the back of Tai’s neck,tilting just enough that their lips brushed together. A second later, he triedagain, kissing him with more earnest.

Whoa, too fast! Toofast! His brain jittered in alarm.

The sweep of a tongue along his lips halted the warningsaltogether.

…Ah, screw it.

Tai tangled his own hands into Qrow’s hair, opening hismouth to him. Their tongues took the place of their feet, dancing together tothe music of their souls. Every breath between them harmonized, every nerve ontheir bodies sang, every beat of their hearts rose up, up, up to the crescendowithout ever needing to fall.

He really wanted to dance with him forever.

It wasn’t meant to be. Qrow broke back first with a gasp,stumbling into him despite the fact they were not moving. “Got to sit. You’regiving me a fever.”

“’Kay.” Tai obliged, tugging him along by his waist as theybumbled about the crowd. It could have been seconds or minutes before they sawthe line of the bar again.

His partner continued to cling to him, head lolling againsthis arm. “Like you. You’re built like a tree.”

The words tumbled out without thought, “Perfect for you toperch on.”

Qrow laughed loudly. He reached out to pat his shoulder,missed, and hit his collarbone instead. “Sunshine, you are so getting mynumber.”

Number of what? Taipondered as the night faded to a blur.

He woke up at home, headache pounding behind his eyes andmuscles aching from the night.

On his phone was a single text from an unknown sender, apossibility in the words:

Call me soon, Sunshine.

~

As Qrow added creamer to the two cups of coffee, the soundof songbirds made him look back towards the kitchen table. His phone had lit upwith a new notification, but that wasn’t his ringtone. He glanced at theobvious culprit. “Did you really?” He asked.

“Whatever do you mean, dear brother?” Raven said, lookingjust a little too smug not to be guilty.

He shook his head, trying to hide his own amusement. Hedidn’t understand how she kept figuring out his password. At least it was tamerthen the death metal she had chosen last time. He stored the creamer back intothe fridge, and as he set her cup down in front of her, said, “You know, if youever decide to use your powers for evil, you’ll be a force to be reckonedwith.”

“I’m shocked and appalled that you don’t already consider meas such.”

“Pff, whatever.” He plopped down beside her, taking a drinkof his own coffee as he reached for his phone, absently wondering if it wouldbe a joke or just a peppy hello today. Qrow didn’t usually like the clingyones, but somehow, it was hard to be annoyed with Tai about it. It was likegetting mad at a puppy.

So used to their routine that had built over the past twomonths, he was caught off guard by his disappointment when he realized it wasKimi instead.

Hey babe ;) Lookingfor a good time tonight?

He hesitated.

For a moment.

And then typed back a reply. Your place or mine?

He dropped the device back to the table, trying to drown theunexpected twisting in his stomach with half a mugful of coffee. Nothing couldsoothe the burn of Raven’s eyes on him though. “What?” He asked tersely.

“Oh, nothing.” She replied, taking a sip from her ownflower-patterned cup. He thought that would be it. “Summer told me somethinginteresting about your new boytoy.”

He really should have known better by now not to hope forthings. “Yeah? What about him?”

“He’s apparently a hopeless romantic.” She gestured betweenthem, the sudden singing birds from his phone accentuating the motion as shemimed a rainbow. “Disney-Level hopeless.”

“So? Tai knows I’m not in it for the long game.”

“Does he now?” Before he could react, Raven’s hand struckout like a viper, snatching up his phone. “Then I guess you won’t mind if I tellhim you’ll be busy hooking-up with someone else tonight.”

“What-” Qrow lurched after it, trying to wrestle it from hergrasp, spewing obscenities all the while, “Fucking – god damn – Raven cut itthe hell out!”

He got a grip on her arm, but as he made a grab for hisphone, she caught his wrist, twisting it back. As he ceded in pain, Raven spokesharply over his whimpers, “If you’re this scared about it, then why do it atall?”

He spit back in her face, “Don’t act like some fucking saintRae. You used to be worse than me.” Another hiss escaped between his teeth whenher nails dug into his skin, but it would take more than that for him to backdown. “I’m not dumb. You don’t care about me. You’re only acting like thisbecause you know if I break his heart, it could mess things up with you andSummer.”

“Well.” Her grip finally relented. “You’re half-right atleast.”

He took the opportunity to yank his phone from her. Wantingnothing more than to get as far away from her as possible, he wrenched himselffrom his seat, intent on sealing himself away in his room for a few hours.

He didn’t even get to the living room before there was ascrap of another chair being shoved back. “Qrow?” She called after him. Thetemptation to ignore her was strong, and he would have, had she not added, “Youwere half-wrong too. I do care about you.”

Qrow stopped, frowning down at the water stains that warpedthe wood floor of their cheap apartment, before finally looking back at her. Itwas odd, seeing Raven look so kind, so soft. When had she changed so much? Ormaybe he was the one who hadn’t changed enough.

“I get it you know.” She stepped towards him. “What ourparents did, it hurt me too.”

He crossed his arms, avoiding her gaze. “At least you didn’tget thrown out twice.”

Raven would sometimes still joke about how, with the waythey grew up, they could have been the poster children for television’s nextbig family drama series. Their parents argued about everything, sometimes gettingso heated they’d scream at the top of their lungs. Once, cops even showed up attheir house, having been called out by a concerned neighbor. He remembered thatnight with more clarity then he liked. What had spurred that argument had beenone about Raven.

It hadn’t been anything major – she had bit another kid atschool and got sent to the principal, who then informed their parents of theincident. Pretty typical stuff, and other than some detention, she wasn’treally in trouble. But at eight, he couldn’t understand that. He thought thepolice were there to take his sister away. They had both been so terrifiedabout losing the one person that made their home bearable, they had jumped outthe window and climbed up the oak tree in the backyard. The deputy only foundthem because they thought cawing like the birds they were named after wouldthrow him off from their hiding spot.

That night was only a precursor to what would come when, atten, their parents finally divorced and split them as if they were just anotherasset, a bunch of knickknacks to be bargained for. Not their own children. Children who begged and cried tobe allowed to stay together. Children who knew being separated would hurt in away they couldn’t bear.

They might as well never have said a word for all thenothing it changed.

Four years they spent apart, until their father decided hewas done with that title and signed away his custody rights, kicking his ownson to the curb like unwanted trash. It should have been a relief, walking backthrough the front door of his childhood home. But it was already too late. Thedamage was done. To him and Raven, they had been taught the meaning of love wasa nightmare and they wanted no part in it.

For Qrow, that meant he spent his time throwing himself intomeaningless flings and short-term relationships that eventually dead-ended.When things started to get too serious, he bolted or self-sabotaged his wayout. Because if his parents had only ever taught him how to fail, how could heever do any better?

The brush of Raven’s hand on his arm brushed away thememories. He fully turned to face her, seeing his reflection in her, but it wascracking in spots. No longer a perfect mirror. No longer the same.

“Look, I’m glad that this commitment thing is working outfor you. Proud of you, even, that you’re getting past it.” Qrow sighed. “But Ican’t. I told myself I was never going to let anyone make me feel rejected likethat again. So, I won’t.”

She shook her head. “You’re hiding behind excuses, Qrow, andyou know it.”

Chirping made them both looked down. A new message hadpopped up above Kimi’s invitation.

G’morning babe! Do you have the night off? Maybe we couldcatch a movie?

Qrow could almost laugh at how simple it would be. How hecould just lie and jump into bed with someone else. To start calling off plans,avoid messages and calls, until Tai got tired of it and walked away from arelationship that would never go anywhere. How easy it was to break someoneelse’s heart and never risk his own.

As if she could see the dilemma running through his head,Raven reached out, blocking out the screen with her hand. “Listen, I’m notgoing to stand here and tell you that if you give it a chance, it’ll all justwork out in the end. When things fall apart, it hurts. But I will tell you for all the bad that could happen, thegood that does is what makes it worth it.” She looked away, lips quirking up ina gentle smile. “You haven’t let yourself fall in love, so you don’t know, butwhen it’s real, you’ll want to fight for it with everything you have.”

Wait. She couldn’t actually mean-?

The realization hit him like a train. When had things gottenthat serious? “You’re… falling in love with Summer, aren’t you?”

That soft look was back. The immovable stone wall he used tosee his sister as was crumbling, the dust of the destruction blowing away inthe happy laugh that escaped her. “I, yeah. I am. I’m not sure where things aregoing to go for us from here, but I am sure I want to see it through with her.And I know how hard it was for me to get this far. Giving her that much ofmyself, it’s scary. I can’t ask you to do the same.” She gave his arm a solidpat. “But if I can’t ask that, then I am going to be selfish and ask you tobreak it off with Tai honestly. For me.”

He shut his eyes, heaving a sigh against the weight that hadsettled on his chest. “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

As she walked back into the kitchen, Qrow called after herthis time, “Hey, Rae?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s really that good?”

She peered at him over her shoulder, a knowing gleam in hereye. “Let me put it this way: Love and Nirvana work the same way. To find it,first you need to take a leap of faith.”

Those words stuck with him, repeating in his mind as he saton his bed, thumb hovering between the two messages.

“A leap, huh?” He whispered to himself.

He swiped across the screen and typed a reply:

Sorry, can’t tonight. Maybe another time?

Now if only he could be brave enough to jump.

~

Qrow walked down the sidewalk, hands stuffed in his pocketsto hide from the evening wind’s late-night chill. As he approached the frontdoor, the streetlamps combating the overhead lights from the building split hisshadow in two, one forever reaching the direction he could have gone as theother stretched before him.

He followed its guide, pulling open the door and walkinginto the warmth of the cinema. Above the noise of popping popcorn and the vibranttunes of arcade games, he heard a faint call of his name.

“Qrow!” Tai waved as he strode towards him, grinningbrightly.

He was smiling before he even realized he was, meeting Taihalfway. “Hey Sunshine.” He said, wrapping him up in an embrace and kissing himchastely. “Got the tickets?”

“Yep. We’ve still got some time to get snacks too.”

Never one to pass up an opportunity to gorge himself onsodium and cholesterol, they got some popcorn and soda before heading in to thetheater. They bantered over where the best place to sit was – all argumentssuspiciously stopping when Qrow mentioned if they sat in the back, they couldjust make-out if the movie ended up being terrible. They got settled in, mostlyignoring the pre-commercials in favor of each other, Tai telling him about theracer he was getting to build at the machine shop while Qrow made him laugh ashe recounted his run-in at the gun range with a rather stiff-lipped upperclassman whose prosthetic arm just fell off while shooting.

“And so, he turns to me, right? And says ‘Little help’? AndI was so taken aback by what had happened, I didn’t know what to do! So, Isaid: ‘Buddy, there are a lot of hands I can give you. That ain’t one of them.’And then I just walked away like a total jackass!”

Tai held his stomach, saying between his hearty guffaws,“Nooo, you didn’t! That’s terrible!”

“I know.” Qrow ran a hand over his face, embarrassmentmaking his cheeks redden. “It was the worst.”

“Nah, what’s the worst is that you missed the opportunity tomake the best joke of all,” He was grinning hard enough to clear a manure field.“‘Well, that’s one way to disarmyourself.’”

“No! That’sawful!” He cried, throwing popcorn in the blond’s face as they dissolved intolaughter. Qrow was still struggling to get ahold of himself when he felt thesolidity of a strong arm coming around his shoulders, Tai dropping anaffectionate kiss against his temple. That arm stayed there long after thelights had dimmed and the real previews got going. He snuggled back into thecomforting hold, trading off mini-reviews with Tai as each trailer ran throughuntil the last one finally came to an end and the room became completely dark.

As the movie logo started to scroll across the screen, Tailent over, murmuring, “Hey. I’m really glad you’re here.”

Qrow froze, warning sirens going off in his head. Get out! Get out now!

The brush of warm fingers along his cheek silenced themcompletely.

His heart took the chance to skip closer to the edge. Stay, stay, stay, it beat.

Qrow caught Tai’s hand with his own, pressing his lips to hisknuckles. He then turned to him, staring into eyes so deep blue he could easilyfall forever in them, and whispered back in earnest, “Glad you’re here too.”

Tai closed the distance between them. As they kissed, Qrowfound he still wasn’t quite ready to leap the rest of the way.

But he was closer then he’d ever been before.

And maybe, whether it be tomorrow or next year, he wouldn’t justleap.

He’d soar.

[iamcrimelord]

Bloodborne: Ardenti Sanguine Chapter 2

It was two days till the night of the hunt and Daigo decided to go down the streets and survey the city. The first thing he noticed was that they simply LOVED statues. Most of them of shrouded figures that seemed to be weeping and wailing. He shook his head as he laughed. The city was certainly full of life. Brewers with barrels upon barrels of blood wine, medicinal wine, and so forth lined the streets. People were drinking it and at one point, he could have sworn that a mother was feeding her child with milk mixed with blood in the bottle. On another street corner a group of mates were drinking blood booze out of tankards, talking, cheering, and carrying on as though there was not a care in the world. Across the street on the opposite, a group of richly dressed men were seated around a table at a fancy tavern smoking cigarettes and sipping what he could only assume was blood wine from more elegant looking glasses. Everywhere in this city he could see the old and the young, the rich and the poor, the men and the women all drinking blood like it was water. There was one nagging question though in the back of his mind he could not shake however since he had read about blood ministration the night before. Where was all this blood coming from? His thoughts were disrupted however when he came close to a tavern called, “The Black Rose.” The wooden sign that held the name was clearly old though well maintained, and the windows were also tinted by time. His tongue felt a little dry so he decided to go in and see what was available. 

When Daigo entered the tavern he could see a very diverse group of drinkers indeed. There were your yoeman workers and farmers, volunteer hunters, and official hunters of the workshop. There were even a pair of choir members on the upper balcony that was on the inside of the tavern. All in all it looked like a good place to kick up ones heels and relax. He saw the bar and walked over to it, took a seat and looked at the drinks available. There was Blood Whisky, Blood Bourbon, Blood Wine, Blood Mead, Blood Absinthe?! That last one was truly surprising, what sort of sights and sounds did one see with blood laced absinthe? The Bar Maid came up to him and winked. “So Brother, what shall it be?” 

She was a very pretty woman. Buxom, long auburn hair, freckles, and mocha skin. Daigo grinned and leaned back a bit. “How about the blood wine? I’m feeling like treating myself tonight.” She nodded and left with her smile still on. 

Daigo leaned back and inspected his fingernails when suddenly two people sat side by side of him. “So...you a brother of the church mm?” one of them said. Daigo looked and saw a broad shouldered man with no hair or eyebrows but a thick goat beard on his chin. He was dressed in scruffy leather and had a folding saw on his hip and a blunderbust on his back.

“Come to rub elbows with us common folk eh?” Said the other man. He was tall, pretty much wearing a poncho made of some rough tarp that covered most of his body, save for his ragged pants and mud stained shoes. 

Daigo rapped his finger nails on the counter top and grinned. “Mm.....in a manner of speaking. I’m new in town.” 

The goat bearded hunter chuckled, his laugh showing he was missing more than a few teeth. “Well, well, welllllll......fresh meat from the church? how exciting....” 

Daigo kept up his friendly smile. “Indeed.” His right arm was hidden beneath the shoulder cape of his outfit...but he flexed it into a fist. He knew what was about to happen. 

The Tall hunter shifted his arm and rested his own hand on his weapon. “Yeah...we love it when you knobs from Cathedral Ward come down here and strut around like a peacock. Gracing us with a vision of your holier than thou arses.” 

Daigo saw his drink appear...the bar maid looking far more nervous than before. She quickly put space between herself and the situation that was developing. Daigo took the glass and downed it in one go....it was quite smooth and the blood gave it a surprisingly nice aftertaste. “Well if you want to see my ass, I suggest asking your sister first for permission, she might get jealous otherwise.” 

The Tall hunter shrieked in anger and pulled out his weapon, a surprisingly elegant butterfly sword. He kept the blade folded in but tried to use the shaft as a blunt club. Daigo quickly leaned back and fell out of his chair as the tall hunter smacked the goat faced hunter right in the jaw, sending a few more of his teeth flying out of his mouth. Daigo fell on his back but then rolled back to get into a better stance. The other patrons got up quickly, and a circle formed around the three men as the other patrons began to cheer on the fight. The Bar Maid looking furious left to get help. The Goat faced hunter rubbed his jaw and then cracked his neck. “WATCH WHERE YOU’RE SWINGING!” he shouted. 

The Tall Hunter looked at Daigo and spat. “I was swinging for the nancy here!!!” he and the goat faced hunter got off their stools and took fighting stances. Daigo simply chuckled and with his right arm he brushed back the shoulder capes and had them folded behind him. His Wooden Right arm revealed for the masses. The two hunters looked at it in shock and a small degree of fear. “The Hell is that?” the goat faced hunter asked. 

Daigo cracked his knuckles. “This...was a gift from a very old friend. But as far as you two are concerned, this is the instrument of your incoming ass beating.” The two hunters looked at each other, the goat faced man drew his saw and the two rushed Daigo. He flexed the hand on his right arm and the thorns that made up his fingernails on that arm extended into claws, which he then swiped across the face of the goat faced hunter on the right. With his left hand he then grabbed the tall hunters wrist that had been swinging for his head and twisted it hard, causing the tall hunter to drop his weapon. He then let go and with expert speed did a sweeping leg kick that knocked both men on their backs. Daigo quickly grabbed the butterfuly sword and in an elegant display of form and skill whipped the blade around himself quickly before pointing the now exposed blade right into the goat faced hunters face while Daigo had drawn his pistol and pointed it at the tall hunters face. The two men held up their hands in surrender and Daigo was just about to pull the trigger when he heard a whistle being blown. 

Daigo turned his head to the sudden noise and saw a team of constables in the door way. Led by a man with long blonde hair and holding a simply MASSIVE buzz saw blade on his back, and what appeared to be a mace in his hands. “Now whats all this then?!” he shouted. The Bar Maid approached his side. 

“These two men harrased my customer and intended to do him harm!! ....But it seems he was able to dispatch them himself...” She said with a good bit of surprise. 

Daigo nodded. “I just wanted a drink Constable. Nothing more.” 

The man nodded and then looked at the crowed of people who were watching. “Right then! Now listen very closely to me...We are all hunters of the city of Yharnum. From the farmer to Vicar Laurence Himself! All of us, are in this together. Now I’ve heard repeated reports of this in the past of church brothers being accosted by ruffians in this part of the city. And I tell you now, IT WILL...NOT...DO! If I hear any more reports  of drunken brawls, street muggings, or so forth, I will lock down this entire section of the city and establish STRICT rules and a curfew for the area. AM I UNDERSTOOD?” the other patrons nodded quickly. Many averting their eyes. The choir members however watched from above...with heavy invested interest in their fellow church member. The constable nodded and then looked to Daigo. “Brother, is there anyway we can make this up to you?” 

Daigo looked at the constable for a moment, then down at the tall hunter. “This is a nice sword. I’m keeping it.” He then turned and walked past the constables and out into the street. He left the tavern thinking it should be a day or two before he returned. But in the meanwhile, he had a nice new weapon to add to his armory. He twirled the sword around in expert fashion as he walked down the street, but was stopped by a call from behind. “Excuse us brother, might we have a word?”

Daigo turned to see who was calling him and saw two choir members approaching him. Walking Canes in hand. He performed one final flourish and then stuck the weapon into the back of his belt. “How can I help you...fellow brothers?” he asked with a friendly smile. 

The Choir Members smiled, but that was all he could see of their faces, those smiling mouths. Both looked exactly the same to each other. The one on the left spoke. “I must say it was very impressive seeing you handle those two brutes. They are hunters of no small reputation. Tell me...where did you train?” 

“Oh I simply learned on my travels. There is no greater mentor than experience.” Daigo said. 

“I see.” The Choir member said. “Well I say, if we had a few more brothers like you in the church we’d not need to rely on such....crude instruments.” He said with a smile. 

“Well that’s the thing about crude instruments.” Daigo replied. “They’re low maintenance and don’t require constant cleaning...unlike other more...delicate tools.” He said with biting friendliness. 

The choir members eyes may have been hidden, but the contempt in his voice could be heard. “Yes well.....we each have a roll to play dont we?” 

The other choir member spoke up. “Forgive my friend here, he tends to be much more direct in his opinions than other choir members.” 

“Well I’ll take that over pretenses any day.” Daigo said. 

“Of course” the second choir member said. “Why lie when honesty is far too much fun?” 

“Quite.” Daigo said. 

“Well...I hope todays events have not soured your view of either the city or its citizens.” The second choir member said. 

Daigo focused a bit more on the second choir member, and noticed that their lips were rose bud shaped and had a bit of gloss on them. “Well milady, it takes more than a tavern fight to spoil my view of things.” 

The Lady Choir member chuckled. “well good. I would hate to see someone with so much potential leave us so suddenly.” 

Daigo grinned and stroked his beard. “Well.....perhaps a guided tour of the city would help me find a new found appreciation for its ........wonders.” he said with a playful grin. 

The Lady Choir member laughed softly and held out a hand. “Well..anything to aid a brother of the church.” Daigo smoothly took her arm and the two walked side by side down the street. The firm scowl of the other choir member they left behind unnoticed by the pair. 

Later that night the two were having dinner in Cathedral Ward enjoying a balcony seat with a view of the whole city, the gently rising moon, and the beautiful lake that rested next to the city. They had walked the length and breadth of the city taking in the sights and sounds of all that Yharnum had to offer. And now they were ending the day with each others surprisingly delightful company. “So Tell me Sister,” Daigo said. “What are nights of the hunt like?” 

She sipped some blood wine and sighed gently. “I dont know. Choir Members are not allowed to participate.” 

“Why is that?” He asked. 

“Because choir members are researchers looking into how to elevate the mortal coil of man. A brute is easy enough to replace, there is not a lot of training involved. But a researcher who dies takes all of their knowledge and discoveries with them.” Her voice seemed to betray the bitter sweet sentiments she had about that. 

“Sounds like your a bit disappointed by that.” He said. 

“Well, only as much as a child might be disappointed that they cannot actually slay a dragon. My strengths are in academia not martial prowess as you or the hunters have.” 

Daigo sipped some wine and thought about that. :But you know....the thing about a body of flesh is...things that are weak can be made stronger....and minds that are ignorant can be filled with knowledge.” 

An amused smile kissed her lips gently now. “Are you proposing we exchange lessons?” 

Daigo nodded. “Indeed....I lack knowledge of the city, and you wish to fight in the hunt do you not?” 

The mask may have hid her face but he could see she was clearly thinking about it. “All right...then let us make an accord. I will instruct you and you will train me.” 

Daigo smiled and nodded to that, toasting her with his wine. The two clinked glasses together. “Though we simply cannot call each other brother and sister.” 

“Agreed” she said. “I am Morganna Du Loch.” She said, taking off her head piece to reveal a strikingly beautiful woman with blond hair, saphire blue eyes, and ivory skin. 

“And I am Daigo Gwyn Belfir.” He said. 

“Pleased to meet you Daigo.” She said. 

“The Pleasure, Morganna...is mine.” He said with a grin once more. 

Meanwhile in church headquarters, Laurence was pouring over his texts and manuscripts from Byergenwerth. Sketches of eyes, tentacles, and other mis matched limbs of various sorts were detailed in his books. Behind him as he researched, was a mural showing the moon, and in front of it...a tall whispy figure of bone and tentacles could be seen, descending on a field of white flowers. “There must be a way to contact him.” He said. 

------------------------------------------------------------

Hey guys, just wanted to thank you so much for reading todays chapter. I just want to give a quick shout out to my friend @i-am-wyrmdrake who has been an absolute champion for me this year. Things were pretty rough at the start of 2019 but now that I’m back on my feet I just want them to know that I really appreciate all that they have done for me. Keep rocking on amigo mio! 

[ishades]

writing preview for that gt redux. this is just the rough draft

Chichi gently dabbed at Goku’s sticky cheek with her handkerchief, her own face beet red.

“Chichi you don't have to do that.” Goku protested, small hand batting at her arm with as much force as a butterfly’s wings.

Several other patrons were staring at the display.

“I don't wanna hear it. Now hush.”

She could hear their whispers, dropping down on her head like anvils.

“That poor grandma… her grandson’s so messy.”

“Aww, she mustn't get out often. She's dressed so nicely. Is that really her best?”

Chichi felt even more self-conscious under their heavy scrutiny.

Goku finally pulled away from her grooming the moment her focus lapsed.

He strolled over to the table that had just been talking about them, hands behind his head.

“Hey, you guys wanna repeat what you just said about my bride?”

His posture remained casual buy his dark brown eyes were hard.

“Goku sa-”

“Bride? Dear I think you don’t understand what you’re saying. That woman is your grandma, right?”

“I’ve long since learned what bride means.” Goku paused. “You’ll apologize won’t you?”

Neither man nor woman made a move to respond.

The pressure in the room shifts, heavier as he brings his hand down in a chop. The table the couple are dining at splinters into a million pieces.

And then the pressure lightens, just ever so slightly.

“I think you’d ought to maybe reconsider yer options here.”

Chichi’s gone pale behind her tiny husband.

“S-s-sorry!”

“We’re so sorry, miss!” they scramble to get up and make a mad dash for the door.

“And by the way! I’m forty seven!” he calls out to the frightened couple before the door to the restaurant swings shut.

“G-Goku sa…” Chichi trails off.

Goku turns around to her, flashing her a grin. His teeth are just as sharp as they’d always been. More fang than tooth. She feels like a little girl all over again.

He steps up to her and takes her hands into his smaller ones.

He peers up at her, curiously.

“I’m not a little kid, Chichi. I’m yer man, despite how I may look.”

“Oh, Goku sa… I-”

He floats up to be eye level with her, smile softening.

“And as yer man, nobody gets to bad mouth you.”

The tears she’d kept dammed up inside of her fell freely now.

“But… but Goku sa, I’ve grown old. How can you say that?” Her shoulders shook with her sobs as she tried to pull extract herself from him. 

Goku held firm, though not ungentle.

He raises a hand to unclip Chichi’s hair. Thick, wavy black hair tumbles to her shoulders. Tacky in some places from the holding and texture spray she’d used. She’d curled her hair carefully overnight the day before.

Goku absentmindedly pockets the ornate hair piece. 

Fat tears roll down her cheeks, smearing her mascara. Her pink lipstick smudged on one side, a little of it decorating her soft cheek.

Her thick eyelashes clump together, thin eyebrows drawn together in distress.

He places a hand on her cheek and thumbs away the lipstick there, and then moves away to brush her tears and mascara away.

There’s lines to her forehead that weren’t there when they first met let alone first married. Crows eyes at the edges of her dark, dark brown eyes. 

There’s faint lines, just noticeable enough if you squint. From too many years spent frowning.

Goku’s heart hurts.

Just how much of his wife had he missed over the years? So many years spent apart at random intervals made each minute change stand out like a red flag. 

Age had started to take Chichi into its arms while he kept finding ways to evade it.

She by no means looked old but next to him… she looked so much older. He hadn’t progressed physically past his mid twenties in years. He could’ve passed as her son before Pilaf had made his wish.

“Goku sa?” her voice comes out tremulous and small.

Goku cups her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Yer beautiful, Chichi.”

[peachyjie]

Drowned || Zhu Xing Jie

A/N : The anon who requested this, entirely made my day better. Istg, i’ve been waiting for anyone to request about our beloved Huba. Enjoy my love 💕

Requested : Yes, ily btw (Ask box is still open, flow it in)

P.s : this is like a reverse scenario from Half Past Three and I am melting while writing this, but I’ll let all of you enjoy all the fluff while it last

Pairing : Zhu Xing Jie - Reader

Cameo : Thirdwheel Xiaogui

Genre : fluff *enjoy it while it last*

Summary : Everyone finds it amusing whenever they see you with Xingjie. Because it’s not easy to train a wild cold Huba to be so.... soft

————•————

You were prepared, so prepared. Because you are not risking a bigger percentage of any brain damages right now.

When you walked in the house, it was silent. Too silent. But you suspected right.

Because when you setted aside your shoes, there it was.

“Y/N!!!!!!”, quicker than anything. He launches himself on you. You stared at the figure, a smile on your face.

Caught and in a warm embrace, you felt a step closer to home. You laughed, whilst the younger giddly jump in your embrace.

“Hi, Linkai”, you greeted him. He was all wide smile, jumping on his heels. “We miss you, what took you so longggggg”, he whined.

“Did that kid gave you any brain damage again?”, a voice interrupted your sibling moment with Linkai. You looked up and saw your one and only, beloved boyfriend, Zhu XingJie.

An unamused expression pasted on his face as he stared at Xiaogui who has his hands all around you.

“I came prepared, knowing this rascal wants me to lose my memory so I can date him instead”, you clucked your tounge.

Xingjie came closer to you, nodding. Forcefully pulling Xiaogui from your embrace. With the kid away from you, Xingjie easily slung a hand on your shoulder.

He uses another hand to guide your face near him, he rest a kiss on your lips. With a smile that made you melt, you swore you have never seen such being so perfect like Xingjie.

“Welcome back, beautiful”

He takes the bag of groceries you brought to make food for the others, and grabbed your other hand, proceeding to the kitchen.

There he setted the bag down on the counter, helping you organizing them.

This was a routine of yours. You’ve been dating with Xingjie since senior year of Highschool before proceeding to college. Which quite tested both of your bond on each other.

It wasn’t too convinient being in an relationship when you are seperated. Especially since Xingjie here is busy promoting after Idol Producer and then you’re buzzed up with college. But both of you made it work.

You both made schedules. Every two or three weeks you would go to his place and hang around with his friends, cuddling up with him. Basically catching up.

And this was one of the special day

You took an apron, putting it on. Xingjie being the passionate lover he is, took the chance of tying the apron for you. Basically back hugging you in advance.

You smiled at him gratefully, giving him a peck on the cheek.

Xingjie was about to lower down himself to another peck on the lips, but the Grammarie kids knows when to show up.

“Y/N”, you spun around with the sudden call. Laughing seeing Xiaogui being held by Yanchen for causing trouble.

“Hi”, you greeted all of them. Yanchen nodded to you and smiled. Xingjie was cool with his members being all close to you, because basically you know them first before you knew Xingjie.

And Xingjie is cool with anything as long as you are happy.

Okay, maybe he’s not too cool with Xiaogui

“Are you guys doing something inappropriate before we came in?”, Xingjie’s eyes immediately ran to murder Xiaogui.

“You better shut up, Xiaogui. Or Jie-ge will-“

Yanchen didn’t even need to finish his sentence, because we all know that small kid. He loves making a fuss.

“You know, Y/N. Huba-ge here is so drowned on love, he makes songs about you since you started dating. And speaking the truth, mostly it’s him pouring out his emoti-“

Oh that was it

Xingjie launches himself on Xiaogui, ready to murder him. You on the other hand was blushing.

Sure you know Xingjie makes songs and it’s his passion, sure you also listen to his masterpiece. And you’ve heard him sing, rap and his performances in Idol Producer. But you never knew the song was from you, about you.

Oh boy

“Some help?”, Yanchen looks at you for help. You snapped back to reality. Looking at the wild situation.

“Can you not be such a crow?”, Xingjie was on the ground with Xiaogui. Headlocking the younger.

“Say sorry!”, Xingjie hissed. Xiaogui whined instead. “Are you sorry?!”

“Yes”, Xiaogui mumbled. “I can’t hear you”, Xingjie barks.

You swore this isn’t the first time you see Xingjie like this. I mean, he did this to discipline the young ones, he once said.

You saw how he adopted Justin back in Idol Producer, or how he almost murdered Qian ZhengHao because he pinched Xingjie’s cheeks.

You and Yanchen just stood at the side watching, you stared at Yanchen. “How about we let them have their moment?”, you suggested.

Yanchen was about to object, before Xiaogui started producing a whale mating call scream. So Yanchen, caring about how much his life worth, nodded at your suggestion.

“Great, help me with dinner then”, he nodded again. Getting one last glance at Xiaogui’s last wrath, he went to wash the vegetables.

Content fills in your heart. You finished the bloodbath peaceful dinner with the boys, where they decided to excuse themselves after they finished.

You hummed a soft tune as you turns on the sink water, ready to wash the dishes. You bubbled up the sponge and took a plate to clean.

Until a hand snaked around your waist, and you felt a small weight on your shoulder.

You smiled, already knowing the culprit.

“Hello again, Xingjie”, he hummed in response.

You were quiet sad knowing the day ends too early, as you still wish to be with them longer. Around Xingjie longer

“Busy life in college?”, he asked out of the blue. You nodded. “Kind of”

He lets go of the embrace, slowly cutting the warmth. Slowly you felt the cold air cooling. You stared at Xingjie, walking beside you to the dishrack with a drying cloth.

“Do I need to use a paperbag to cover my face or do you want to bore holes on my handsome face?”, you snapped back out of trance and stared at a smirking Huba. I had to

You quickly turned and continue doing the dishes. He is chuckling, taking a clean plate from you before proceeding to dry it.

“I never knew your songs was about me”, you said softly. You saw Xingjie grew rigid before he sighs.

“I didn’t want you to know”, he said catching you off guard. You looked at him unsure what to feel about his response.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, Y/N”, he said noticing your gaze. He continued to talk whilst drying the plate.

You decided to continue also, still bothered by his answer. Xingjie probably sense your aura of discomfort, he puts down the plate and cloth.

“Y/N”, he called softly. You looked at him, he was already facing you, a hand on the counter.

“Look, you known me since 2nd year of Highschool and we have been dating for almost 2 years now. Being with you is everything I could ask for, ever.”

“What are you getting in with-“

“Listen”, he sighed. Gulping a little, he continued.

“You know I have a cold image, and it makes me that type of a cool guy everyone’s intimidated with. Ask Yanjun, he was terrified when he first saw me!”

“But here, I can’t show you how much you meant to me. You know how awkward I am. Hence I am still asking myself why are you even dating me”

You laughed a little making him smile in process

“I didn’t want you to know that my songs are about you because you made me flustered okay. It makes me seems soft and cute”

“But also”, he took your hand. Slowly holding it in a soft manner as he talks.

“Also. The way your eyes lit up when you hear it for the first time, it’s precious. Because you sincerely like my songs not because knowing it’s about you.”

“You like my songs because you relate to it. You know what I was trying to point out in every lines, every lyrics. You know how much my hardship is to finish one damn song”

“But most of all”, he smiled softly at you. So fond knowing he could be so drown into you, he doesn’t even care if Xiaogui came in with a Huba costume just to piss him all.

“Most of all, you like my songs because it has the essence of me. Because that’s song is not just about you, it’s about us”

You smiled in the process. Sure Xingjie isn’t the most lovey dovey boyfriend ever. And sure Xingjie gets really awkward if he shows affection not just to you, but to everyone.

But seeing him cracking open a bigger hole sent you more wave of relief. You smiled wider at Xingjie’s flustered self.

“Thank you. Thank your for being my everything, Xingjie”

You both had to admit it, being so drawn in love wasn’t so bad. Because both of you know, whatever that will happen in the future may determine how strong your relationship will be.

Maybe this can reassure you. His small confession to you, a secret between two. Both of you knew.

Xingjie closed the gap between you and him, hands on your waist. Smiling, he leans down slowly.

How much you mean to him, and how terrified he will be if he lose you.

You closed your eyes as he closed his, closing the gap. The proximity of your’s and his face was so small, a nudge can help both of you fasten the pase.

“Oh can you both just please hurry up!”, eye wide open, both of you spun around staring in horror. Sitting right in front of you was Xiaogui, eating his banana with an irritated expression on.

“I swear, this is worse than waiting for Zhangjing succeeding on his diet! Like what is wrong with-“, you swore you’ve never seen Xingjie so pissed before.

He launches himself on Xiaogui, swearing to himself to murder the kid. You laughed.

Zhu XingJie, Huba. The man with many talents from singing, rapping, dancing, until doing magic. The man who caught China’s attention after they slept at him for god knows how long. The man who owns your heart.

And you know, both of you are drowned in each other’s love to even think of breaking up

HAHAHAHA the irony sorry but i hope you guys like it ehehehehehehhehe