#so they laugh and suck him dry to restore their powers and then carry him to wherever his coffin is stashed so he can rise again at dawn

[riessene]

the amount of thoughts i have for ruby/styx is gargantuan levels of cringe

[thelittlepoetprincess]

ᴘᴏɪꜱᴏɴᴏᴜꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇ [Dabi x Reader]

Author's Note: I personally am not a fan of Lizard king here but go off. This took a long ass time to write not to mention proofread and edit. No idea if I'm making another part to this. Also, a lot of this is therapy wagon material. If you want to be tagged in these just say so.

Warnings: Fluff for a bit, Implied depression, mild spoilers, light mental manipulation, degrading, power play, oral sex(F receiving), hate sex, death mentions, arson, and physical abuse.

Summary: You chose your job over Dabi, and then severely regret it once he survives.

The numbness of grief was overwhelming, even more so when the one you were grieving was your lover. You settled onto the sofa, watching the news drone on about the recent death of Villian Dabi, confirmed now to be Touya Todoroki. You'd turn off the TV and lie on your back, not needing the extraneous details of his death. After all, you killed him.

The memory of it haunted you like ghosts dancing in your memories: the heated warmth of his palms that threatened to burn you but never did, the way he always wore worn down leather or rough worn down jackets, everything about him attracted you and only made his death hit you harder.

You were a lesser-known hero with a restoration quirk, able to numb large areas and heal minor wounds while still using it in large quantities. You'd met Dabi while out on a mission to recover a kidnapped hero, and you couldn't keep your hands off his wounds. Not like he'd let you after he felt your gentle touch ease his pain for once.

Six months, it only took six months for the bad boy to entangle himself into your life. He snuck into your old apartment all the time, made you comfortable, and he'd break down in front of you. He was a surprisingly affectionate lover, despite his many flaws. You'd feel something in your throw blanket, shaking it loose to find the leather jacket he always wore.

The navy blue leather faded slightly and burnt in specific areas where he couldn't control his flames.

You felt the fresh hot tears welling up behind your eyes as you clutched the jacket to your chest. It was much larger than you since Dabi was slightly taller, so your face nuzzled into where his neck would be. It still smelled of cigarettes and burnt flesh, the scent you grew to love so much.

You took a deep inhale, the tears starting to flow as you replayed your shared memories, unable to help the grief overwhelming you. Suddenly, you had no energy nor will to do anything except sleep, even moving was deemed too much to handle. The scent of your boyfriend lulled you to sleep, though it'd be one of the last times it'd do so.

Dabi wrapped his hands around your waist before hoisting you high in the air while the wind blew at your hair in the flowy white lace dress you wore. The undetailed field of wildflowers went on far beyond your sight as he twirled you around before falling on his back with you. You'd both be laughing in the hazy daze of love before sharing a loving kiss as the gentle grass blades tickled your skin.

You felt a leathery hand touch the skin of your cheek, the thick smell of cigarette smoke tickling your nose and making you sneeze before you gently smacked away the hand. You hear a deep, raspy chuckle before the person mysteriously pulls the coat on you like a blanket.

"Little hero, do you love me?" You'd mumble a yes subconsciously, something saddeningly familiar about whoever it was looming over your sleeping form. "Ha, cute. . ." You heard something about leaving and the door shut with a click, leaving you to sleep once again.

Your peaceful sleep is dreadfully short as your friends came in, yanking you from the grasp of sleep with their tumultuous noise.

You quickly hid the jacket, sleepily rubbing at your eyes as they opened your curtains and turned on the TV. It droned on about the agency you worked at and fire. However, you didn't have the energy nor will to care since you planned on quitting anyway.

They droned on about how you'd slept for two days straight and needed to get out, and you agreed. Maybe it would take your mind off of Dabi and the arsenic incident, also the five missed calls from your agency from two days ago. You'd shower and change, pulling your hair back out of your face for the first time for days.

The curls were dry against your fingers so you oiled your hands and massaged them into the brown mass you called hair, plucking it out to its full shape. You pulled on the black and blue dress, noticing how the dress hugged your hips a bit then flowed out to your mid-thigh. Perhaps you've gained a bit of weight these past 2 months.

Tired bags were under your eyes from sleeping for so long. After some light makeup, you left with them to the carnival. 

Lights illuminated the dark navy blue sky as you got dragged about, the fun temporarily blinding you from the sadness overwhelming you. They led you into the Maze of Mirrors, their bodies contorting and bending around you confusedly while you searched for them until they disappeared. Their goofy laughter faded into an eerie silence with only your echoing footsteps left to fill the silence. You froze as you smelled a familiar scent: burnt flesh and cigarette smoke.

His chuckles were all around you as you saw the flashes of black and navy blue in the mirrors before he was suddenly standing in front of you.

He was pissed, you knew that snarky glare anywhere. It made you nervous as he closed the distance between the two of you without speaking a word until he backed you against the cold glass. He gently pressed himself against you, giving you no real way to escape him with his arms on both sides of your head. "Dabi-" "Shh, I don't wanna hear it. At least not here, too many people. They're already looking for me since I disappeared. We aren't safe, come on." He didn't ask as he hoisted you over his shoulders to carry you out the back exit.

He seemed gentle while he carried you, he wasn't rough at all. The heat you felt radiating from his palms as he held said otherwise as you worriedly fretted about him burning a hole in your clothes. Though you felt some relief knowing he wasn't dead: he was your love after all. You knew what was coming to you for feeding him arsenic wasn't going to be a gentle, loving reunion of star-crossed lovers. Dabi wasn't that kind of guy.

He made it back to your new apartment after knocking out the security guard at the gate and threw you onto the bed. He'd seemed to get angrier as he got closer to your apartment. Your hair messily fell around your face to make a curly halo around it. He was on top of you before you could attempt to sit up, his warm breath huffing down the side of your neck.

"Now what the fuck were you thinking, huh? An arsenic cupcake? You really wanna get rid of me that badly you snake." He seethed, and you felt the familiar feeling of your wrists being burnt by his flames. You cry out in pain, squirming under his grip with tears in your eyes.

"Oh you're crying, now you're crying. How do you think I felt getting sick and finding out my girlfriend poisoned me?" He'd growl out, as you stopped squirming and sucked it up. He was right, you deserved this. You tried to kill him, and all he'd done was be beside you and attempt to be somewhat of a lover to you. You looked up to him, his blue eyes lacking any gentleness or affection. It was hate, resentment, and importantly: lust.

That's when it hit you that you were a stress reliever for him. Everything that he kept pent up he always let it out on you, and for about a month now he hasn't had it. You'd reach out, gently tracing your fingers along his scars using your quirk to calm him and watch his eyes soften as he quite literally melted under your touch. He'd land on top of you, caging you underneath him with his arms, he exhaled a strained snarl before snatching your hands from his skin.

You couldn't help wincing once you felt the familiar burning sensation of Dabi's quirk in action yet again as the blue flames licked against your skin, at least it wasn't a third-degree this time.

"It was you, wasn't it? My agency, they called then it went up in flames." He didn't answer but you knew the answer by the way he buried into the side of your neck. He always did that when you accused him and he was guilty. You'd chuckle to yourself but yelp when you felt his teeth against the soft skin of your neck, suckling your skin.

You'd squirm as a familiar heat settled itself in the pit of your stomach. He huffed as he finally moved away from the purple bruise he left on your skin. His lips trailed down until he reached your exposed collarbone, chuckling before tracing his hands against your caramel skin sending chills down your spine. He'd kiss, lovingly at that, along the caramel curve of your breasts.

He'd yank you to the edge of the bed, moving between your legs with a focused look in his glimmering eyes. "Dabi, are you mad at me?" He'd chuckle before you'd feel a burn against your thighs while sinking his teeth into the soft plushness of your inner thigh. "Oh darling, I'm fucking furious." The sweet name rolled off his tongue, making you quiver when paired with his teasing licks over your soaked panties.

He paid no attention to your face, his main focus being on the slickness accumulating from your dripping hole. His hands traced up over the stretch marks gently decorating your skin so beautifully before burning off the panties, his tongue grazing the soaked slit before sliding his tongue up to your neglected clit. His mouth was warm and wet against your sensitive bud, making it grow under his expert tongue his suckling sent waves of pleasure coursing through your entire body, and core. The entire room felt hot, and it wasn't helping wherever his hands traced left heated burn trails. You'd run your fingers into hair, yanking it to where his tongue pressed against your hole. "Dabi, please I want it. . ."

"Shut it, I'm still pissed at you." He'd yank your arms away again, pressing his tongue into your hole. Your flavor flooded his tongue, making him lick and devour you hungrily. Your eyes rolled back, your hips subconsciously bucking against his tongue as it buried into your wet hole. Ecstasy, that's all you could describe the feeling at this moment. The waves of heat that swallowed you and threatened to keep you at this moment while your climax built up in that tight ball. You panted like a bitch in heat, your legs trembling as your fingers intertwined in his black hair. "Dabi, I'm. . . .I'm-!"

"Shut up, loud-ass slut. Come if you wanna come so bad!" 

He'd say before continuing to devour you, his tongue digging into your spot just enough to send you tottering over the edge in waves of heat. You'd throw your head back, sending your curls flying wildly behind you as you rode out your orgasm and Dabi's face. Your legs closed around his head like a vice, keeping his tongue in your hole while he drank you greedily. He moaned into your nether lips, finally able to pull away with an exasperated breath.

His lips and chin were a mess of your nectar and saliva, but a smirk was on his face now. He'd notice his jacket hidden poorly, but laugh as he moved to take it and pull it on. He'd once again hoist you over his shoulder, humming as he slid his fingers along the walls setting them ablaze. "Dabi-?! What are you doing?! My apartment!" "I let you have too much freedom last time, but don't worry. I'll make it so that I'm the only one you can lean on. Then you'll never leave again." 

He'd laugh as he carried you away, ignoring your cries and pleas while the building went up in flames along with everything you'd known up until now. His sick, twisted laughter filled your ears before you felt a hard force against your head, the inky blackness flooding your senses and knocking you out.

[wootensmith]

A Decision

She’d long ago drifted into sleep beside the fire, her eyes fluttering slowly closed, her words trailing into silence halfway through telling him more of her plan. She leaned against him solid and warm. Her slow breath was a thread of relief woven in to the green terror that shattered the side of her face, her neck, glowed through the thin muslin sleeve of her shirt. He sat for a long while, well into the deep chill of the night trying not to think of what she’d proposed. Of what Cole had said of this world. He wanted to follow her down, slip into the Fade with her and drive the lyrium echoes from her dreams. But the decision, and Abelas, would not wait much longer. He deepened her sleep with a gentle spell and rekindled the dying fire before slipping away.

Abelas was still reading in his quarters, though it was reaching midnight and he would begin training again in a few short hours. The Inquisitor’s journals were scattered around him. Solas watched as he put down the one in his hand to flip a few pages in another. He was so absorbed, he hadn’t even noticed Solas’s presence. “Is it viable, this plan? Or is it simply— desperation?” Solas asked quietly.

Abelas startled and looked up. “I fear it may be both,” he said. “It is madness, that’s certain. To willingly wake them and beg their cooperation. But—” he picked up one of the slim books and handed it to Solas. “I believe it will be even more effective than she said. I am no student of magic, but even I can see the result from this. And they haven’t yet calculated the power of the anchor after the Veil falls. It will be exponentially more powerful— and unstable than it was before you removed her arm.” He fell silent as Solas stared at the arcane formulas on the page. A tangle of her quick, cramped hand and Dorian’s precise, even script. She’d told him, then. It was a relief. He sat in the chair beside Abelas, flipping to the next page. He was right. They couldn’t know the effect that dissolving the Veil would have, but Solas and Abelas both did. If Dorian’s equations were correct and the Inquisitor’s conclusions— the explosion would be enormous. Miles of the Deep Roads would collapse from the concussion— perhaps the entirety of the Titan’s corpse. It would likely destroy even surface cities. Arlathan certainly. But what it could save— Abelas’s hand at his elbow disrupted the thought.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “The Inquisitor must fall before the Veil does. You cannot leave her here without something to control the anchor’s spread.” “What?” cried Solas, the book dropping to the table. His hands erupted in silver flame. But Abelas didn’t flinch. “You cannot truly mean to attempt this plan. The anchor will destroy her whether she is in the Deep Roads or standing beside our army. We cannot risk it.” His expression softened still further. “It is kinder, Solas. You saw how she suffered just months ago— this will be so much worse. Burned alive from the inside out. It is needless suffering. She does not deserve such a fate.” The flames retreated, sinking beneath the skin of his palms. “Why shouldn’t we attempt this? You’ve seen the research for yourself— it is sound.” Abelas shook his head. “She may be willing to try, but Mythal is gone. You know better than any, there is no other Evanuris who will sacrifice themselves to save us.” Solas closed the journal before him. Smoothed the binding with a finger. Took a breath. “There is one,” he said. “Who? Elgar’nan? He’ll immolate her before she even gets close enough to ask. Dirthamen? He’ll suck the power from her and toss her aside as an empty husk. Perhaps you have been sleeping too long. You’ve forgotten how cruel they are. How selfish. Who among them do you truly think she can persuade?” “Me.”

Abelas rocked back in his chair. It took him a long moment to gather his thoughts. “But you are meant to undo it all— make certain none of this ever happens. I am as saddened as the Inquisitor that we cannot mend this existence, but to abandon your duty for it— this world is doomed, Solas. Whether it ends in Blight or a war with the Evanuris or our people simply fall to the Shemlen world that cannot accept magic— it will end. But you have a chance to stop it, to change the outcome—” “So do you, if you will accept it,” he interrupted. “The spell is ready. It has only to be activated. It does not have to be me who returns.” “I am no Evanuris— I cannot stop them.” Solas smiled slightly. “Neither could I. It isn’t force that will change what happened. You told me yourself, Anaris is the heart of it all. Where things began to go awry. You saw the events with your own eyes. I have only heard about them from you. If you could sway Elgar’nan to accept him—” Abelas barked a laugh. “Andruil then. Convince her to leave Elvhenan. To go with Anaris into the dwarven kingdoms. There was no one near her, then, to tell her how powerful her need for him would become. Mythal was already distanced from Elgar’nan and Falon’din thought only of himself. She had no friend, no equal who understood what losing a mate would do.” “Love conquers all?” asked Abelas. “If that were true, we would not be here now. But hate and sorrow and rage— they might, if they remain uncountered.” “I will likely die for approaching her.” “We will all likely die.”

Abelas shook his head. “I’m marked as her mother’s—” “I can remove them, if it is something you wish.” Abelas ran his fingers over his forehead. “She was my entire purpose,” he said sadly. “She still would be, if you wished. You never needed the bindings to keep you loyal, Sentinel.” “And if I fail?” Solas shrugged. “Then we will meet again in a few thousand years.” “You would really alter everything for her?” He thought for a moment. “If there were no other reason to alter— I don’t know. But this is the right course. What happened in this world, its fate— I’ve had a hand in it. I thought going back would amend my mistakes, make it as though they had never occurred. I see now, it is not true. The error exists. It is indelible, even if I am the only one who would remember. I have been running since I demanded my freedom, Abelas. Trying to evade the Evanuris, the Blight, our fall. If I ran again, if I prevented my mistake in that other world— it would never be mine. I would only carry the shades of this world with me. But you— you have earned your justice. And your reunions. Mythal restored, the friends we have both lost, your mate, all returned to you. As they always should have been.” “But without Andruil, you never would have ascended. You’d never have led a rebellion, our people would remain enslaved. There will be no Fen’harel.” Solas laughed. “I always would have rebelled. I know myself well enough to admit that. There will be a Fen’harel. He will just have a different face. And I hope that younger self is not too foolhardy to follow you, for he would be missing the best commander.”

Abelas relaxed into a soft smile, his gaze far away. “It has been eight hundred years since I last kissed my love,” he said. “The thought of touching that face again—” “Something worth altering everything for,” said Solas. The smile faltered and Abelas returned to the present. “But our people here— they have a war ahead, unlike any they have seen. Who will lead them?” “You have trained them well. Your generals are as prepared as you. And it seems we have unexpected allies. Do not fear the Evanuris. I have not exhausted my abilities yet. I will tip the balance as much as I can. And they, too, are infected now. They will be drawn by the Calling, just as the darkspawn and the Wardens.” He could see the doubt plainly on Abelas’s face. The struggle between honor and desire. “If you fell beside them, it would not change the outcome,” he said gently. “I’m asking you to help me. I’m asking you to have hope.”

Abelas touched his forehead again. “I was meant to safeguard them. The temple, the teachings, her people. It’s a betrayal to throw it all aside.” “Throw what aside? The temple is breached, the Well of Sorrows is gone, though you defended it to the last. Mythal’s teachings, the work of your priests, you carry them as faithfully as the Well ever did. What a gift to them, their own words centuries before they will speak them. How much more will they discover, how much more good will they do, having it to guide them? And Mythal herself— she is gone, Abelas. Neither you nor I will ever see her in this world again. But you have a chance to prevent her slaying. You have a chance to guard her as you once did. She asked me, too, to protect her people. I don’t know how far my own power will aid them. But one— her most faithful, one I can save. And return to her. The markings you fear to remove? They are far easier to replace. And will be far more meaningful should you choose to bear them as a free man. Where is the betrayal?” He pushed the hood of his robe back, exposing the entirety of his face. “Take them then, before my courage fails me.”

A low, gentle landscape of ruddy coals was all that remained of the fire when Solas returned. He bent to the pile of furs, intending to check on the Inquisitor, but she was not there. He placed her pack down beside the hearth and pulled a handful of veilfire into his palm. The entry had been vacant, it left only the crown of the eidolon. The wind through Elgar’nan’s gaping eyesockets was frigid and the only light came from the Inquisitor’s skin and the veilfire in his hand. He let it gutter out. She had bathed, the thin shirt still slightly clinging to her back and the gleam of the anchor shone brightly through it. A tree of light branching through her veins, over her shoulder blade, climbing the ladder of her spine. How had it missed her heart?

“I thought it would be— larger somehow,” she said suddenly, though she’d not turned to see him. Her voice was flat. Dry. As if she’d worn out all the grief in it. “More powerful. Ugly. This thing that will tear you from me.” He walked toward her, reluctantly shifted his gaze to the amulet she was staring at. “It has not been activated. Most of the spell is dormant. Though— it will not be so different from the one that took you and Dorian forward. Just a difference of degree.” Loranil had left a cloak behind, draped across the stone chair beside them. Solas picked it up and pulled it over them both. “And it will not take me from you.” She turned from the amulet to look at him. “What?” “You need a willing Evanuris. You have one. Though— I admit I have never had a desire to inhabit a dragon before. I must be certain that we are far from Iron Bull, I think the temptation would prove too great for him.” He smiled, but her face was still a mask of shock. “Emma lath,” she said slowly, “Do not jest about this. I have never dreaded anything more than the day you are gone. Not even facing Corypheus.”

His hand found hers, still warm and damp. “I would not jest. I told you that I would stay, if a way could be found. And you have found it.” “But— your world, this, all we have done—” She grew distressed, trying to raise her missing hand to the amulet. He pulled the cloak tighter as it began to slide from her shoulder. “I do not mean to abandon the chance to change this. The pieces are in place. You asked me once to send another. I did not think it a possibility then. I believed this was the price. That it was only mine to pay. But you— and Cole— This is my place. This world is in danger because of the choice I made so long ago. If I left, even in an attempt to change it, I’d be no better than the people I locked away. When I met you— you know what I foolishly believed then. All we have done, all we have suffered, in the beginning, I thought it was to get us here, to create this.” He touched the amulet. It was smooth and icy under his fingers. A dead thing. “All to undo my mistake. I don’t know when I stopped wanting to undo it. I suspect it was that night in the rotunda. When you told me your story of Mythal and Elgar’nan. Or perhaps the night you came back from Redcliffe. Or the morning I met you. I have lost much in the years since this place thrived. And yet— I do not wish to go back. My family, my friends, my people are gone. And if I changed the story— they would not be the people that I remember, as you have often told me. All that I love is here. But it made no difference what I wished. The course was set and so very narrow. I asked Mythal to send another in my stead. Still, I didn’t recognize when she had. Abelas is right, there is no other Evanuris who would aid you. But the amulet need not be used by me— you and Dorian proved that much, long ago. He will return to the world he lost, the one he has spent millennia mourning. And I will remain to face the Blight at your side.”

The muscle in her jaw pulsed, the green light of the mark flickering as her skin shifted. “And Abelas? What does he say about this? Have you asked?” “I have. This is a significant shift in all of our plans. I did not wish to cause you more sorrow if he refused.” She nodded and blinked away a sudden tear. “I can’t guarantee that this will work,” she admitted. “Dorian and I went over the calculations several—” “That doesn’t alter my decision. And you seem to have a talent for the impossible, my love.” Her hand tightened around his. “Even you will not survive this, Solas.” “Compared to the alternative— I am not frightened by that.” He heard her breath break first, warm and stuttering as she swallowed a sob. “I am,” she said. “These bodies may erode,” He traced a thread of emerald across her face, down her neck. “But the spirit within us— even the Blight cannot destroy it. Everything returns, if we are patient. Mythal. Wisdom. You and I. Do you remember what you offered to me, after Adamant? After we’d walked the Fade together?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, “all my promises are shattered. I have nothing to offer you.” He shook his head. “But you’ve kept them all. I will ask you to keep only one more. The one you made then. That you would bring me back to the Fade. Walk its farthest reaches with me.” “But— it’s just a story— Falon’din, Dirthamen, the lamplighter. You don’t believe in—” “There is truth in every story, Vhenan. Our work is nearly done. When the Veil falls, the Fade will be as easy to enter as a warm pool. But the living see the shallows only. We came from the depths, just as Mythal and the sun in your tale. I wish to see what we were, what we always have been. Though— not alone. Let me return with you. Tel’vara u’em.” Her hand deserted him only to reach up to pull him closer. It was warm over the back of his neck, interrupted only by the chilled band of the casting ring she still wore. “Who am I to refuse you?” she asked. She was weeping freely and he began to doubt himself. “The only person who truly has the power to,” he answered. “I thought— I hoped this would bring you as much comfort as it brings me. You asked me to stay, once. If your feelings have change—” “Eas durlahn, Vhenan. Ar ju’ama ma.” Relief made him shaky, disoriented. “Yes,” he said, “Keep me, that is all I ask.” Her arm wrapped tightly around his back and the glow of her dimmed as she pulled him closer and the anchor was buried against his shirt. She held him in the waning hour of the night and Elgar’nan’s eyesockets were dark again.

[cosleia]

Renewal

I wrote another robefic ^^;;; This one is utter fluff.

1889 words. Also on AO3 here.

Somehow, he never realizes how tense he is until Kylo is there and he finally starts to relax. As Kylo sweeps through the door and it swishes closed behind him, Armitage feels a tightness between his shoulderblades begin to loosen, and he drops shoulders he hadn’t realized were raised in effort to help it along.

“How was your flight?” he asks, and when Kylo turns back to look at him he throws his arms around his neck and melts into his body.

“Long,” Kylo says. “Boring.” His arms come up around Armitage’s waist and back, thick fingers pressing in gently. “Something’s happened.”

“Yes,” Armitage confirms, turning his head so he can rest his temple against Kylo’s shoulder. “There should have been no evidence---indeed, there is no evidence---yet somehow Captain Cardinal has learned the truth behind Brendol’s death.”

Kylo embraces Armitage more tightly. “I can take care of it.”

“No need.” Armitage sighs and closes his eyes, reveling in the feel of Kylo’s body against his, the familiar heartbeat thrumming steady and strong, soothing. “He’s bound to confront Phasma, and when he does, she’ll clean up her mess.”

Armitage is sure Kylo would prefer to handle things himself, but that’s not what Armitage wants. That’s not what’s important right now. “Kylo,” he says quietly, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Kylo lets out a long breath as if forcing himself to shelve the issue of Captain Cardinal. He stoops a bit to scoop Armitage up in his arms. “Me too,” he says, and then he carries Armitage to the bedroom.

“Do you want to wear this to bed?” Kylo asks as he comes to a stop alongside the bed, plucking at the black silk robe Armitage is wearing with the fingertips at his shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter,” Armitage says.

“Is it new?”

Armitage ducks his head. “Yes. Do you like it?”

Kylo lets out what might be a laugh; it’s hard to tell through the blasted helmet. Armitage should have given him a chance to take it off. He lets go of Kylo’s neck to rectify the situation, and Kylo lets him tug the helmet gently away and drop it to the floor.

“I like it very much,” Kylo says, gazing at Armitage with those intent, rich brown eyes, and Armitage has to look away, biting his lip.

“I’ll leave it on, then,” he says, muffled against Kylo’s shoulder.

Kylo chuckles and tips his head down to nip along Armitage’s neck; Armitage squeals and clutches at his back. Then Kylo is bending to lay him down on the bed. “Get in here,” Armitage says as he settles, pulling the covers up to his shoulders, and Kylo quickly strips down to his undershirt and drawers and slides in next to him.

Armitage plasters himself to Kylo’s side, pillowing his head on Kylo’s arm, wrapping his own arm firmly around Kylo’s waist, and weaving a leg between his. “Mine,” he says, and then he stretches forward to kiss Kylo’s jaw.

“Yours,” Kylo agrees, pulling Armitage as close as is physically possible. He lets out a long, contented sigh that tells Armitage he is starting to relax, too.

“How have things been?” Armitage asks, closing his eyes and letting his fingers drift along Kylo’s side.

“Busy,” Kylo says. “I may have a new lead.”

“A new lead,” Armitage repeats.

“I’m sorry,” Kylo says preemptively.

Armitage sighs and squeezes him tight. “No, don’t apologize; it’s for the good of the Order that you find Skywalker. Any sacrifice is worth that end.”

Kylo kisses Armitage’s hair. “I know,” he says. “But---”

“Don’t say anything else,” Armitage interrupts quickly. “Not another word.”

They’re silent for several minutes, holding one another. Kylo’s steady breathing begins to lull Armitage into a warm, comfortable doze; he murmurs affectionate nonsense into Kylo’s neck, punctuating it with kisses, in effort not to fall asleep entirely. Kylo’s fingers move lazily up and down Armitage’s hip, sliding along the silk of the robe.

“I assume you’ll need to leave after the assembly,” Armitage says at last.

Kylo sighs. “I can’t come to the assembly at all.”

“Kylo.” Suddenly alert, Armitage raises off the bed onto his elbow and gives Kylo a keen look. “You’re not supposed to be here, are you?”

“It’s all right,” Kylo says, eyes shifty. “It’s on the way.”

“Kylo.”

“Armitage,” Kylo answers, his voice low and desperate, and then he’s rolling forward onto his side to pull Armitage tight against his chest. “I need this,” he says quietly. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

At that, Armitage gives in. “I need it too,” he says, curling his fingers into Kylo’s shirt. “I wish you could stay.”

Kylo lets out a frustrated cry, arm muscles clenching and squeezing Armitage hard. Armitage raises his head; his own arms are trapped against Kylo’s body, so he can’t physically direct Kylo’s lips to his own, but a quick look into Kylo’s eyes is all it takes. Kylo sighs and groans into the kiss, relaxing his death grip.

Armitage is now free enough to slip a hand down between their bodies and find Kylo’s cock, which at the moment curls soft against his belly. “Let me make you feel good,” Armitage murmurs, pinching lightly at the head, and Kylo groans again.

Armitage rolls Kylo back onto his back, climbing up to straddle him. He tugs Kylo’s drawers down below his balls and then settles onto Kylo’s thighs, licking his palm and taking Kylo in hand.

Kylo’s hands come up to fist in his own hair. “Fuck, Armitage,” he says, and in moments he’s fully hard. “I need you.”

“And I need you,” Armitage says, feeling a bit heady. Kylo’s shirt is rucked up to reveal a sliver of tight, muscular stomach, and Armitage leans forward to shove it higher with his free hand as he steadily works Kylo’s cock with the other. “You’re so beautiful, Kylo,” he says, “and so powerful and strong, and so---” He breaks off, his eyes burning.

“I love you,” Kylo gasps out, gazing up at him as though Armitage has just given him everything: Skywalker, his revenge, perhaps a deeper connection to the Dark Side. If only Armitage could do any of those things.

“I love you,” Armitage says thickly, wishing it were enough, knowing but still not quite believing that for Kylo, it is.

Blinking back ridiculous, pointless tears, Armitage shuffles down Kylo’s legs and leans in to taste him. Kylo’s hips twitch with the effort of not bucking up into Armitage’s mouth, and Armitage decides he won’t tease, not now. He draws a long breath and takes Kylo deep, all the way into his throat.

It doesn’t take long, with Armitage drawing off and swallowing him back down, tongue fluttering against Kylo’s length, lips tight around him. Kylo suddenly shouts, flinging an arm over his eyes as his hips spasm off the bed, and Armitage sucks him dry, leaving him shuddering.

Armitage crawls back up Kylo’s body, leaning over him for a kiss. Kylo blinks up at him, slow, sated, his lips curved up into that small, blissful smile that only Armitage gets to see. Big hands slide up Armitage’s legs and under the robe to settle on his hips. “You look so good like this,” Kylo says, and he sounds relaxed, restored, and Armitage’s heart flutters. “Get up here.”

“Are you sure---” Armitage tries to ask, thinking of the time, of duty, but Kylo grabs him by the waist and pulls him forward.

“Yes,” Kylo says firmly. “Now turn around. And leave the robe on.”

Armitage clambers the rest of the way up the bed, then turns to settle a knee on either side of Kylo’s chest, legs hooked under his arms. Untying the sash at his waist, he flips the back of the robe up so that it billows out and then settles over Kylo’s head, out of the way. Kylo’s hands roam up Armitage’s bare stomach and chest until they find his nipples; he squeezes them gently just as his tongue flicks its way across Armitage’s rim.

Armitage jolts, letting out a yelp, and Kylo hums in amusement against him. His breath is hot and moist, and Armitage clenches against nothing, trembling. “Shit,” he says. Kylo’s wonderful nose is rubbing along him now, chased by his clever tongue, and Armitage squirms at the stimulation, perfect yet not enough at the same time.

“Mmmf,” Kylo says, almost certainly an order like “Hold still,” but it’s completely unintelligible with his face pressed into Armitage’s arse. One hand moves from Armitage’s chest to settle on his hip, gripping tight, and the other pinches his nipple.

Armitage twitches and shakes above Kylo as his entrance is teased, Kylo’s tongue lapping over it again and again, probing gently and then flicking away. He doesn’t want it to end. He wants Kylo to eat him out forever. “Stay,” he pants stupidly, reaching back beneath the robe to comb his fingers into Kylo’s hair. “Stay.”

Kylo laughs---and then he’s pushing his tongue inside, and Armitage can’t help a loud, long moan. He rocks back against Kylo’s face, holding him by the hair, and Kylo stabs his tongue deep inside and swirls it, and he’s so good at this and Armitage can’t stand it. He’s shaking, legs in danger of giving out, cock engorged, balls tightening, and then Kylo is touching him everywhere, he’s using the Force, he’s tweaking Armitage’s nipples and ghosting hot breath along his neck and stroking his inner thighs and pulling his arse cheeks apart and massaging his balls and teasing his cock, swirling around the head and fluttering down the length, and the real touches are still there too, searing hand upon his hip, other hand digging fingers into his chest, lips and tongue assaulting his hole, and then the gentle touch on his cock becomes a squeeze and everything goes white and he comes with a sharp cry.

Everything is a haze as Armitage collapses next to Kylo, breath coming hard, electric aftershocks twitching his fingers and toes and cock. The robe is now unpleasantly hot but he can’t will himself to try and fight his way out of it, can’t will himself to move at all.

He must fall asleep, because the next thing he knows, he is naked beneath the covers, eyes blinking open as Kylo stirs beside him. The mattress dips as Kylo sits up and throws his legs over the side of the bed.

“It’s time,” Kylo says regretfully.

“It’s past time,” Armitage corrects him, but it’s hardly a reproach. “Fuck, Kylo, I love you.” He reaches for him, irrationally afraid he’ll never touch him again. Kylo twists at the waist and leans back to embrace him, burying his face in Armitage’s neck. “I missed you,” Armitage whispers. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Kylo snuffles into Armitage’s shoulder. “I always miss you.”

Armitage forces himself to withdraw, folding his arms across his chest. “Go,” he says.

“I love you,” Kylo says, looking conflicted.

“Go,” Armitage repeats. “Complete your mission. And---and come back to me.”

Kylo kisses him hard. “I will,” he says. “I will. I always will.”

Then, too soon, he’s gone.

Armitage gathers the robe back around himself and closes his eyes, curling into a ball at the center of a suddenly overlarge bed.

[spirit0fchaos]

The Things We Do

Follow up to this entry

           “Nebb you leave that nice young man alone!”  A harried looking woman rushed across the main avenue of Hateno, carrying a bundle of cloth in her arms.

           “Aw but Mom…” The young boy turned away and pouted, his whine drawn out a good three syllables more than it needed to be. “I’m not bothering him, he’s showing me cool stuff!”

           “Your son isn’t causing any trouble, ma’am.”  Link smiled graciously and arose from his kneeling stance, stowing away the three-pronged boomerang he had taken off of a denizen of the swamp.  “I was only showing him some of the things his grandfather had told him about.”

           She sighed and adjusted the parcel in her arms, tilting her head in gratefulness.  “Well I do thank you for entertaining him, his grandfather certainly did capture his imagination… but it’s time to go home Nebb; say thank you.”

           “Thank you Mister Link!  You’ll bring more cool stuff tomorrow, right?”  The boy jumped slightly, his eyes shining with excitement.

           “Nebb!”

           Link suppressed a chuckle “I’ll see what I can find. Would you like any help with that package ma’am?”

           “No, thank you, I can manage.  Have a good evening.”  With another grateful smile, she turned and started escorting her son home.

           Link nodded and bent to pick up his own bag, briefly glancing inside to double check he had picked up everything he need to.  Nodding in satisfaction, he slung the pack over his shoulder and started the trek to his own home.  A few villagers recognized him and waved greetings, which he returned graciously.  He had been a regular resident of the village for roughly seven months now and had started to grow accustomed to having others around.  Months spent in isolation  both before and after the Calamity had dulled his already weak tolerance for social interaction, but Zelda had been helping him relearn the skills.

           Zelda… a smile touched his lips as he thought about how their relationship had developed over the months.  Aside from a few select individuals around Hyrule, the pair were the only remaining members of what Hyrule was.  The initial realization had been quite lonely for both of them, but gradually they learned to lean on each other more than ever.  Link had offered his home to her, and Zelda had taken it upon herself to rid Link of the many habits he had picked up in his travels that she deemed unsafe.  He missed shield surfing…

           The renewed reliance on each other had had other… unforeseen effects, however.  Which was exactly why a bouquet of pristine Silent Princesses was placed with extreme care on top of the other items in Link’s bag.  The flowers could not be found anywhere for miles around Hateno, which meant Link had to shell out quite a few rupees to the farmers for the special preparation of the soil and extra work required to maintain the flora.  It was a surprise months in the making, and tonight he was taking the first profit of his plot to his housemate turned lover. He would have been lying if he said the redness in his cheeks was entirely due to the evening chill.

           He strode across the bridge and the sign which proclaimed the house’s owners and gently knocked on the freshly painted door, remembering with a blush the possible consequences of entering unannounced. “Zelda?”  he softly called out after a few moments of silence.

           “Come in.”  An equally soft voice answered.  His brow creased slightly at the muted tone, but shrugged it off and pushed inwards, smiling as he saw his companion seated at the table, idly braiding her blonde hair as she looked over the parchments strewn in front of her. She glanced up at his entrance and smiled slightly “Good evening Link.”

           “Good evening, princess.”  He returned her smile and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Still hard at work I see.”

           She sighed and turned back to the books.  “I’m afraid it never ends…”

           Link just smiled and set the bag on the table, stealthily removing the bouquet as her attention was elsewhere.  “Hyrule is fortunate to have someone as diligent as you in charge of its restoration.”  He gently laid a hand on her shoulder.  “And I’ve brought something to reward your hard work.”

           The young woman turned, her eyebrows lifting in surprise as she saw the arranged flowers in his hand “Oh my goodness Link, where did you find these?”  She took them gently and began looking them over in detail, seemingly determined to examine every petal.  “The conditions in this region could never support a flower this delicate…”

           He chuckled at her incessant mindset of study and pulled up a chair next to her.  “Normally they wouldn’t, but the farmers here in Hateno are quite motivated… well, as long as you give them enough rupees.”

           Zelda looked up from the flowers to him, a frown crossing her features.  “Rupees… Link how much did you spend on these?  There are so much better uses than frivolous things like flowers!”

           The young man was slightly taken aback but his soft smile did not change. “I wanted to give you something special, Zel… didn’t you say the other day that you wished these flowers grew in this region?”

           “Yes, but not when the rest of the country is still lacking!”  Her voice was beginning to rise in pitch and volume, a sign Link knew well.  It was the same tone she used before the Calamity… before her power had finally manifested.  

           “Zelda… it’s ok.  It wasn’t that much.”  Link started cautiously, unsure of how best to console her.  That wasn’t entirely true… it had cost quite a bit to transport soil samples from the Great Fairy Fountain near Kakariko and the careful extraction of seeds from the existing blooms, but now didn’t seem the best time to bring that up.

           Unfortunately, Zelda was the last person he could ever hope to fool.  “Link an endeavor like migrating a plant species as fragile as these is not at all simple, there’s temperature, soil acidity, weather, it isn’t just taking seeds from point A to point B!”  She stood and walked away in frustration, leaving the bouquet on the table.  Her arms crossed with one hand against her forehead, giving Link a chance to glance over the records she had been looking over. Instantly his stomach fell… a letter from Sidon on the decline of the fish harvest since the Calamity… one from Riju detailing the Gerudo peoples’ hesitance to reunite fully with the outside world… each page in front of her had explained in depressing detail almost every obstacle to returning Hyrule to its former glory.

           Link stood and gently held her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her but she simply shook him off.  “This country is relying on me to bring it together Link… how am I to do that?”  She still would not meet his gaze as she retuned to the many letters she had been studying.  “Thank you for the flowers… but I’m afraid they can’t help.”  Her voice had a note of finality in it, asking his leave.

           After a few moments the hero simply nodded and ascended the stairs, sitting on the bed and briefly glancing down at the back of her head, bent over the table again.  His heart panged for her… once again she had taken the world on her shoulders and starting to break under the weight.  There was no doubt in his mind that his Zelda was more than capable of eventually bringing about Hyrule’s glory anew, but the stress of the enormity of her task was standing in her way.  If he could help her he gladly would, but compared to her he was woefully inept at the nuances of politics and government.

           Link closed his eyes for a long moment, mentally centering himself before standing and walking to their shared dresser.  He opened the drawer that contained his clothes and began pulling out something more suited for being at home when a piece of bright purple fabric caught his eye.  His mouth went dry as he remembered the last time he saw that hue; it was when he was angrily stuffing it as deep as he could in the dresser amidst Zelda’s giggles that didn’t stop for the rest of the evening.  

           His face burned with shame every time he thought of the lengths he went to complete his duty… he had hoped that the Gerudo clothing would forever remain buried as a footnote in the details of his quest, but his carelessness had led his companion to discover it and promptly spread the rumor to Impa and Purah.  He wasn’t convinced that Sidon and Zelda’s shared snickering either was due to an exchange of Hylian and Zora jokes.

           Link was ready to hurriedly cover the bright cloth with a more suitable article of clothing until his mind drifted back to the distressed woman downstairs.  Zelda hadn’t stopped laughing for at an hour after finding the clothes in his dresser, and she had burst into quiet giggles quite often without apparent explanation for at least a week after.  It was without a doubt one of the most painful weeks he had had to endure in her company, and that was including the week he had spent caring for her after she had eaten a frog for “research purposes”.  However… if anything would lift her mood from the dark place it had gone…

           Quietly as he could, Link extracted the crumpled silk from underneath his clothes and began pulling it on with some difficulty. The hero was still in excellent shape from his adventure, but that did not change the fact that the clothes were built for a figure much smaller than his.  If he sucked his breath in though, he could make it work.  A few minutes later he grimaced as he tied the veil around his face and looked in the mirror.

           Goddess he looked ridiculous… if this didn’t work he swore he was going to go out and burn this blasted outfit in the dead of night.

           After a quick turn to ensure he had secured the outfit properly, he gritted his teeth and slowly descended the stairs, repeating in his head “Do it for her, do it for her…”

           As his foot touched the bottom step, he laid a hand on the rafter and struck a pose he had often seen Gerudo women take when talking to men.  “Zelda…” He cooed softly, fighting back laughter at his own ridiculousness.

           “What is it Link…” The princess said in exasperation as she turned; almost instantly the tired expression turned to shock before just as quickly shifting to uncontrollable mirth.  Her sudden laughter made Link jump a bit before he joined in and found that, surprisingly, it was genuine.  “Oh goddess Link you look absolutely ridiculous!”

           “Well it is… comfortable…”  Link said slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as he felt her eyes commit every detail of his form to memory.  That wasn’t a total lie… the fabric was soft and very breathable, despite its tight fit.

           “So this is what you looked like every time you went to Gerudo town?” Zelda was almost in tears, walking around him, taking in every detail.  “Oh if Urbosa could have seen this…”

           “I didn’t think it would actually work.”  Link smiled under his veil, reaching out to steady her from falling over in laughter.  “But I didn’t have a better idea, so I walked up to the guards in it and… they didn’t even look at me twice.  I suppose they didn’t think any man would swallow his pride enough to dress like this.”

           Zelda giggled behind her hand as she leaned into his arms.  “Hyrule was very fortunate to have someone as dedicated as you to its rescue.”

           He smiled, gently pulling her closer into his embrace. “My quest certainly motivated me enough… but in truth, I had another, better reason to go to any lengths to rescue her...”

           The young woman blushed and averted her eyes, momentarily stammering.  “I suppose I was the lucky one then…”

           “Indeed.”  Link smiled and tenderly brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.  “And I am just as lucky to have you… as is Hyrule.”  He led her back to the table and sat down, holding her hands in his own as he looked deeply into her eyes.  “Zelda, you have already done more for Hyrule than it could ever repay you for, and the fact that you continue to work for it makes me prouder of you than you could ever imagine… it is a daunting task.  But it is one that you are more than capable of.” He smiled and brought one hand up to cup her cheek.  “And don’t think you have to do it alone… Impa, Sidon, Riju, and more… we are all here to support you, your highness.”  He added the honorific with a slight laugh.

           Zelda listened to the young man in front of her who had fought so bravely with her heart in her throat.  She laughed with him, a soft choking sound and held her hand on his.  “And you?” she asked, tears brimming in her eyes.

           He undid the veil and leaned forward, pressing his lips against her forehead before replying.  “I am always here for you… my Zelda.”

           She made a strange cooing sound in her throat before taking his face in her hands and pulling him against her lips, which he gladly leaned into.  Before they knew it, she had somehow found her way into his lap and held close to him as he gently stroked her back, holding her like fine china.  After a few minutes of intimate silence Zelda whispered “Link?”

           “Yes, Zelda?”

           “Promise me you’ll wear this again on my birthday?”

           After a long pause he sighed and squeezed her. “Only for you…”

[charlesoberonn]

Desert Ship (Part 1 of 2)

For generations, my family line has been bless with the ability to control sand. “It’s our gift.” my father told me over and over again whenever he was around.

My ability first appeared when I was thirteen years old, when I managed to lift a single grain of sand in the air. I quickly tossed it around between me and my half-siblings. For the next few days I just ran between the communal tents, throwing sand around and making shapes in the sand with my siblings and friends much to the enjoyment of my mother and the annoyance of everybody else in the tribe.

That saturday, when my dad arrived to pick me up for his week of custody, I showed him my abilities. I was already able to move a mound of sand the size of a small vase. He was impressed, but he had a devious smile on his face. He asked me if I wanted to come on a trip with him in order to test my powers for real. I obviously accepted.

He took me to the middle of a dried up lake, quite a bit away from home. I held onto his shoulders as he swiftly carved our way through the sandy ground. His torso was poking out of a mound of sand, which was travelling across the ground at high speed. The wind was in my hair, but the sand blew out the sides of the mound and didn’t reach my eyes. I never noticed that in all the other times my dad took me out for a ride on his back. But now that I could control the sands as well, I learned to appreciate such details.

Finally, after nearly four hours of riding, with no more than a single stop for water and food, we reached our destination. At first it looked like a black dot in the bottom of the large empty basin. As we got closer and closer, I saw the dot take shape until I realized it was a vessel. But it wasn’t the kind of I expected to find there.

It was a ship. Only a small boat, about the length of five camels, and nearly three times as tall, not including its impressive poll, which lacked any sort of mast.

My dad nudged me to get off his back. I slid down the sand mound onto the ground which was surprisingly cool. The entire region was fairly chill compared to the desert I was used to, but it was still dry and sandy. I looked up at the ship. It was light brown and made of clay, nothing like the ships I’ve seen in picture books. It seemed to have burn marks, or something similar, around the top. Its bottom was buried under the sad I was currently standing on.

My father jumped out of his sand mound, landing on both his feet and shaking the last few grains off of his robe. He put a hand on my shoulder and looked up at the ship with me. “Do you recognize it, child?” he asked me.

I nodded. “It’s a boat.”

“Yes, indeed it is. But this boat hasn’t much longer on this earth.” he said.

I looked at him with childlike worry in my big eyes. “Why? What’s gonna happen to it?”

“You see, my child. In about one week, the rain season will come.” he pointed to the clouds in the far east, so distant and faint I could barely see them. “The rain will overflow the dried creaks and fill up the dams and rivers beyond this lake. This desert ground is not gonna be able to handle so much water.”

“It’s gonna be flooded.” I said.

“Exactly. And when it does, the water will rush in and crash into this boat, destroying it.”

“That fucking sucks.” I said and blushed, knowing I could only swear when my mom wasn’t around. My dad laughed.

“It sure does. But it doesn’t have to. You can save this boat.” he pointed at where we came from. “Use the sand, and carry this boat out of the lake before the rainy season washes it to oblivion.”

I opened my eyes wide, fixated on the boat. The small vessel now seemed massive. “But, but, it’s huge!” I pointed at the trail of sand through which we arrived. “And that’s 100 km away!”

“It’s only 73. Don’t worry, you’ll do fine.” he said, and he already took off. “I’m gonna set up a tent over here where we’ll sleep. Get started on the ship!”

“You’re a real asshole, dad!” I shouted at him.

“I know!” he shouted back.

The first day was the hardest. I tried several approaches but none of them yielded any results. At first I circled the ship looking for the best way to tackle it, but it seemed immovably huge and heavy no matter where I looked.

I tried going at it directly with force, just pushing as much sand as I could at it. But my paltry sand blasts did nothing to move it. I anything, it only added to the pile of sand that encircled the boat.

I tried lifting part of the boat from underneath, but it didn’t budge. On the other hand, I nearly collapsed as my hands and my mind strained in moving the sand stuck beneath the clay.

Clay! I finally realized. The ship was made of clay, that was a type of earth. I didn’t need to push the ship. I could move it directly. But I couldn’t make it respond. Not even a single budge. The ship wasn’t even resisting my sand power, it was simply unresponsive.

As the sun went down and the desert started getting much colder, I was already exhausted. I tried one last thing. I cleared as much sand away from around the ship as I could, trying to see what was underneath it. All I could see is more sand. It didn’t make any sense. I didn’t even see the bottom of the boat.

After an hour of digging, I was completely spent. I dragged myself into the nice and well lit tent my dad set up. Inside, the floor was already insulated and carpeted and a nice meal was cooking over the fire pit he set up. My dad might not be the most considerate of fathers, but he is an excellent vagabond.

As we were eating around the fire, I told my dad about everything I did. And how I went about doing so, and to his credit, he didn’t crack too many jokes about my failure, mostly just a tease here or there. I wasn’t too keen on them at the time, though. My arms were too tired to flip him the bird.

“Do you want me to help train you tomorrow?” he asked as we finished the meal and he started using the sand to scrub our plates clean.

“That was an option?” I asked with a groan, overreacting a bit. “Isn’t this supposed to be a test?”

“Of your abilities, yes. Not my patience. I want to see you succeed. Come on, tomorrow I’ll teach you some stuff.”

“Can’t we just skip the boat part then and just have you teach me?”

“Nope.”

The next day was a lot more pleasant. Dad told me the broth he gave me last night was a special superfood meant to restore my strength and my sand powers. He was right, after a comfortable sleep in the warm tent, I was as good as new. Or at least as good as somebody who had to wake up before dawn could be.

“Okay, the first thing I’m gonna teach you is the physics of sand.” he told me.

I groaned in response. “Physics?! I can do that back home. Teach me how to make a mound and travel real fast like you do.”

“Now, my child. I know this is boring, but I’ll try to simplify it for you.” he reached down and put his hand into the sand. “Sand is like a pillow, it’s full of tiny air pockets hiding between the grains. The deeper you go into the sand, the more it gets squished by the sand above it, and the denser it is. The closer the sand is to the surface, the less dense it is.”

He moved his hand, and a thin circle of sand cleared on the ground between us, no more than a centimeter deep. “Try to think of the desert not as a sandbox, but as layers. Each layer has to carry the weight of the layers above it. When you clear the top layer, the layers below it become more accessible.”

“Now.” he pointed at me. “Try to remove only the top layer of sand from over there. Try making a circle of 20cm in diameter.”

I walked over to the spot and moved the sand. It wasn’t at all a single layer, nor was it a circle. It was more like a tiny groove in the ground which quickly filled in as the sand around it rushed into it.

“Keep doing that until you succeed.” dad said as he stood up behind me.

I kept trying, and each time I simply created slightly flatter pits and holes in the sand. In a few minutes, the area around us looked like a gang of moles dug through it looking for treasure.

“Layers, child. Layers.” my dad said, a familiar sense of discomfort in his voice, very much mirroring my own. Though he seemed to have a lot more patience than me.

“What layers? I don’t see them. I just feel sand.” I sat down on the ground, pouting. “My legs are tired.”

“My child.” he grabbed me by the armpit and gently but firmly lift me back up onto my feet. He put a hand on my shoulder. “Do you feel the weight of your head on your shoulders?”

“Yeah?”

“And do you feel the weight of your shoulders and your head on your upper back?”

“I guess so?”

“And the weight of your torso on your pelvis?”

“I think I do.”

“And the weight of your entire body on your feet?”

“Yes. I do. My feet are killing me.”

“Those are layers. Now...” he pointed at a spot on the ground I haven’t yet ruined. “Take off the top of the head.”

I concentrated on the top of my head, the very top that isn’t supporting any weight. And with a swift movement, I pictured cutting it clean off. I looked down, and saw the flat divot I caused in the sand.

“Again!” he encouraged me, and I did it again, this time bigger.

I continued taking off layers in the sand. Each time I was getting closer to a perfect circle. After that, we moved on to second layers, and third ones. Dad even taught me more advanced techniques where I would swap two different layers to make removing both at once easier. Later he showed me the hand movement required to make waves in the sand with one or two layers, which we would drag away into an ever growing pile behind us as we made wave after wave.

Once again nightfall came. We returned to the tent. As we were eating another rejuvenating broth, my father stopped eating to compliment me. “You’re a very fast learner. It took me days until I was able to make waves.” he told me. “Then again, I was just splashing sand around and building elaborate castles until I was 14.” he joked.

I was excited. “I’m gonna move that ship tomorrow!” I promised him. And he smiled at me.

“I’m sure you will, my child.”

On the third day I felt a mix of excitement and fear. I was ready for the day. I was ready to move that boat, and I was even going to ask my father to teach me more techniques. My path was set, I was going to make it happen. What was once a tedious week became the best week ever, I was sure of it.

But in the early morning sky, much closer than before, I could clearly see storm clouds in the distant. It seemed my father’s forecast was going to come true. I didn’t have much time.

I stepped out onto the ship again, and I noticed something weird. All of the divots of sand and circles and waves my father and I made yesterday were gone. It made sense for the small holes and initial tiny waves to be swept away in the wind, but the enormous pile we both created was gone too. Erased from the sand. I put my hand onto where I remembered it was. The sand was clearly shifted there, different layers were mixed together and stacked on top of each other weirdly. But the pile itself was flat.

I grew concerned, but it wasn’t going to deter me. Today was about my plan, and my progress. I was going to make the ship move. I even had a plan on how to do it. A schedule.

The first hour I would clear the first layer of sand from all around the boat. The second hour I would start making waves around the back, until it was completely clear. Then, I would go ask my dad how to create moving mounds like he does. And tomorrow, I’m gonna start pushing the ship with my new ability.

I was a fast learner, after all.

But my plan wasn’t going as well as I hoped. Removing the layers wasn’t as straight forward as before. The perimeter of sand around the ship was easy enough, but the sand underneath and immediately next to the vessel was more difficult. The sand didn’t behave like I thought it should. It felt less like layers and more like columns. I tried removing the layers of the underground columns one by one like with the ground around it, but they didn’t budge. I decided to forgo phase one and move straight onto clearing the sand behind the ship.

I started making waves, and at first it was great. The sand moved easily underneath the clay body of the ship and I was making progress fast. The ship was even tilting a bit. I audibly cheered for myself when the ship first moved. It was a first step to success. The rest was just hard work.

But hard work became harder work, and later impossible work. Clearing the sand was an uphill battle. I created an ever larger pile of sand behind me, large enough to be called a small dune, but still it seemed like the sand never ran out. It just glided under the ship straight to me, and then more sand replaced it, rocking the ship left and right. It was an uphill battle, and I was losing.

As the sun came down and stars started appearing, I wasn’t nearly as close to completing any of the phases I set out to myself. And I didn’t even ask dad about phase three.

I sat back to lean against the dune I made, but was startled when instead I fell backwards onto the ground. The dune behind me was smaller than before. Much smaller. Barely a molehill in size. I looked around, wondering where it has gone. Then I saw it, a slight shift of sand flowing like a river away from my dune and back onto the underside of the boat. Even the perimeter of sand I cleared earlier was filling up again.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention!” my dad startled me again as shouted from just outside the tent. “The sand in this desert likes to put itself back together!”

My eyes opened wide with horror. I looked at the ship, which barely moved an inch since day one, and then at the approaching rainclouds.

“You’re such an asshole, dad!”