#yknow like when you hold a diamond under the sun and look at it

[ambientstars]

Could we please get 12 from the prompt list? ❤️

“I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

Thank you for the request! It may not be what you had in mind, but I still hope you like it :)

Gif credit: @thelvadams

Note: everybody say it with me! Fluff fluff fluff angst fluff! I apologise for the sloppiness of this, but sometimes my brain just doesn’t cooperate yknow?

-  -  -

The streets were busy, filled with countless creatures and species, all bustling about in their daily commutes, market shopping and socialising.

The Doctor had taken you to a planet you couldn’t quite pronounce, promising colour and vibrancy from not only the people who lived there, but also the planet itself. The grass sparkled, clear like diamonds and shining brilliantly under the turquoise sun. The air tasted sweet, faint traces of sugary sherbet on your tongue every time you took a breath.

Beside you The Doctor rambled on about the planet’s history and the life forms that inhabited it, but her words went in one ear and right out the other, your focus too captured by the way the pavement beneath your feet hummed a tune with each step you took forward.

The strangers around you smiled, greeting each other politely as they crossed paths. The atmosphere felt welcoming and warm, inviting you deeper into the intriguing world you had been brought to.

To your left were stalls of different kinds, selling everything from odd looking food you imagined were types of fruit to livestock consisting of animals that talked and hovered and danced. On your right stood a tall and proud building containing restaurants of all kinds of cuisines, all of them unfamiliar to you, it’s walls covered with glorious art, colours you’d never seen before enveloped each brick right to the edges.

Out of all the places The Doctor had taken you before, this was by far the best. Here you felt calm and delighted, and with so much to see and explore, you never wanted to leave despite the fact that eventually your real home would be calling you back.

“And that’s why they call it the-“ The Doctor stopped dead in her tracks, her arm reaching out in front of you as a signal for you to also stop walking. “Do you hear that?”

“No…” you listened out for something, anything that seemed out of the ordinary. But it was so busy around you, voices and laughter filling your ears, it was hard to make out just what The Doctor was talking about.

“Listen.” She twirled on the spot, focussing her ears in different directions until she narrowed down the location of the sound she was hearing.

“Doctor, I don’t hear-“

She took off running before you could finish your sentence. You forced your feet to chase after her even in your moment of confusion. “Doctor, wait!”

She continued running quicker than you’d ever seen her run before, darting from left to right, in between stalls and pushing past pedestrians in her way, mumbling a sorry to them as she stayed in motion.

Your legs began to cramp up, your chest heaving for a proper breath. You kept up as best as you could, almost losing her in crowds a few times, but ultimately spotting her in a different spot not even seconds after and following in the seemingly uncoordinated and unplanned path.

She came to a standstill once again and you almost crashed into her in surprise, your breathing laboured, but hers barely above average. She looked around in the new place you had found yourselves in, a different part of the endless market and still just as busy, watching The Doctor’s face contort into something of discomfort as she kept an ear out for the sound you couldn’t hear.

“Doctor, where are we-“

“There!” And she was off again.

You huffed in irritation, your burning lungs silently pleading to The Doctor to slow down and give them a chance. You followed, pushing through the pain of exhaustion, and found her crouched down in an alleyway behind what looked like a generator for the building it was attached to.

“It’s okay, I’m here now.”

She stood, a bundle of blankets in her arms. She slowly walked over to you, never once taking her eyes away from whatever she was holding, her expression soft and a small smile on her face.

“I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

The blankets moved and out popped an arm. The arm of a baby, it’s skin a shade of pink, it’s tiny and chubby hand reaching out to touch The Doctor’s face. You watched in awe as the timelord bounced in her spot, rocking the cooing baby back and forth, keeping it calm and content.

“So that’s what you heard? A baby?”

She nodded, finally looking up at you. “He was crying.”

You frowned, still confused. “But how did you hear him from so far away?”

She shrugged, returning her gaze back to the baby. “Parental instincts, I suppose.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to ask even more questions, but she began to walk off before you could.

She spoke to the baby as she made her way back through the crowd, asking him questions about what his family looked like and what his name was, all the while keeping an eye out for distressed parents looking for their son.

The baby gurgled back and she nodded in understanding, replying to him as she understood exactly what he was saying. You, of course, had absolutely no idea at all.

You twisted and turned through the market streets, searching for a clue as to who this baby belonged to. According to The Doctor he had been taken from his crate by someone who mistook him for goods at a stall and left behind when the thief had peeled back the blanket and realised their mistake. You assumed ‘crate’ was an alien word for cot, although you never could be sure with other planets and their odd ways of living.

“Here, hold Rax for a moment while I use my sonic to scan the place.”

“Rax?” You held out your arms to receive the baby, bringing him close to your chest.

“That’s his name.”

“How do you know that?” You looked at the baby now known as Rax, admiring his emerald green eyes, watching as they sparkled under the light of the sun. He gave a toothless smile and made grabbing motions with his hands, something that made you return the smile.

The Doctor span in a slow circle, her sonic buzzing with life and searching for the child’s parents. “I speak baby.”

You gave her an incredulous look, not that she saw it, and sighed. “Of course you do.”

She gave her sonic a once over and huffed when it came up with no answers. She took the baby back from you and set off in the direction of the TARDIS, leaving you to follow in tow.

-     -

You sat against the blue box, your eyes closed and your face pointed towards the sky, the warmth of the sun on your skin. Beside you sat The Doctor and her new best friend, the baby.

You’d been sat there for hours waiting for the crowds of the market to thin out as the day went on, deciding it would be easier to spot the parents with less people around, and the entire time the timelord had chatted away to the baby and laughing when he replied back.

You tried not to feel annoyed by the lack of attention The Doctor was giving you in favour of talking to a baby, but it was proving hard. After all, it wasn’t the baby’s fault you couldn’t understand it and join in on the conversation and The Doctor was completely oblivious to how she had shut you out, but after spending so much time travelling with her, just the two of you, you’d come to enjoy and crave her constant attention.

You hadn’t noticed before now that your entire life and all your feelings revolved around her, your entire being consumed by her. You wanted, needed, her approval on everything, your whole self subconsciously begging her to stay near, your mind twisted into thoughts of her and only her.

It was a wake up call for sure, but you mentally hit the snooze button. You’d come back to that another day, someday in the distant future.

The baby began to cry and was passed over to you once again, The Doctor announcing that he was hungry and going into the TARDIS to make him food. You sent a quiet prayer that her food would be edible and wouldn’t harm the defenceless soul in your arms. The Doctor was a lot of things, but a good cook wasn’t one of them.

She returned with a baby’s bottle filled with an orange liquid. On Earth babies drank milk, but here you weren’t sure if this was the normal thing to give to babies or if The Doctor had gotten it completely wrong.

“Where did you get a baby’s bottle from?” You quizzed, watching her cradle the boy and feed him carefully. “And what did you mean by parental instincts?”

“I was a father once.”

Your face must’ve been quite the picture if anyone was looking, your brain almost fizzing out in an attempt to process the information you’d been given.

“No, seriously.”

She turned to you and looked you dead in the eye, her face displaying no signs of joking around. “Seriously.”

“Don’t you mean you were a mother?”

She shook her head, her eyes returning to the baby to make sure he was drinking properly. “No, I mean father.”

“But you’re…” you gestured at her broadly. “You’re a woman.”

The Doctor used the corner of the boy’s blanket to wipe at his mouth, clearing away what had slipped from his tiny lips. “And before I was a man.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath and decided to change the subject slightly, realising you were getting nowhere. “What do you mean was a father?”

“Look, there!”

The Doctor sprung up from her spot, her eyes focused on a creature made of what looked like pink pliable stone. She cried loudly and searched frantically for something, or someone.

The Doctor ran in her direction, clutching the baby tightly so that he didn’t slip from her hold. You stayed behind and watched from the TARDIS, your eyes fixed on the timelord as she handed back the baby and was immediately pulled into a hug that looked somewhat uncomfortable.

After she said her goodbyes and wished Rax and his mother well, The Doctor came back to you. She smiled at you as she went inside the blue box, heading straight for the console to fly you away.

You followed quietly, observing as she flicked switches and turned dials on each of the control panels. The machine came to life, groaning as she took off, taking you somewhere new.

“Doctor,” her eyes fell on you, ready and waiting for your question. “Why aren’t you a… father anymore?”

Her hands stilled for a moment. Her face remained soft, but her gaze was vacant as if she was remembering something. She shook her head and smiled with tight lips the way she does when she doesn’t want to talk about something, and continued her sequence of lever pulling and button pressing.

“Why are you still asking questions? And anyway, you need to tell me where you want to go next!”

You bit your lip to refrain yourself from pushing the topic further. She was clearly uncomfortable and not likely to talk, so you thought for a moment and gave your answer.

-    -

The fire in the library roared with life, it’s heat reaching you and The Doctor on the couch you shared. Your head rested on her shoulder as she read aloud to you a book she had chosen from her endless shelves of reading material, her hand placed on your leg as a form of comfort.

You sipped on your hot chocolate, the marshmallows bobbing against your nose, your eyes following each sentence as The Doctor spoke them quietly. The evening was peaceful and calm, uneventful for the most part compared to the pace of the day, but it was welcomed gratefully by the both of you.

Her thumb stroked the skin of your knee absentmindedly, her mind seemingly drifting away as her words began to fall into silence. You lifted your head to look at her face, the reflection of flames in her eyes as she stared into it.

She nodded slowly when you asked if she was alright, never looking away from the fire. She seemed distracted and somehow nervous, something you hadn’t seen in her before.

“You know, you looked good with a baby in your arms.” You nudged her playfully, smiling brightly to lighten the mood.

She finally tore her attention away from the fireplace and looked at you, a small smile of her own being offered back to you. “As do you.”

She kissed your forehead and returned to the book, picking up from where she had stopped. You placed your head back onto it’s spot on her shoulder and closed your eyes to focus on the words, relaxing at the sound of her voice.

[billhaderlovebot]

beep beep (4) - richie tozier

some sexy stuff, swearing, angst, the usual. i don't know how many more parts there are going to be but if 5 is the last one then prepare for a Big Boy™

@ceruleanrainblues @the-star-above-you @a-second-hand-sorrow @shockwavee

----

the divorce was messy. timothy took pretty much everything on the grounds that you had run off with another man (which you thought was pretty fair) and he also had slandered your name in front of your whole family in court, which was actually quite petty of him. richie almost murdered him, that day, and had to keep his hand in yours so that he wouldn't get up and break timothy's nose again right in front of his big-shot lawyer.

your family, it was safe to say, did not approve of richie, because timothy was always such a nice boy, and you've made a terrible mistake, dear. the only one who ever did like richie was your grandmother, and she was long gone, bless her cotton socks.

so, yeah, you'd run off with richie.

yeah, you'd escaped from an unhappy marriage in which you never felt loved to be with someone who looked at you like you hung the fucking moon.

okay, granted, you did sleep with richie that night, which wasn't entirely moral, considering you were married to another man, but, yknow, timothy hadn't gone anywhere near you in months and months, and richie was just so good at the sex thing.

also, you loved him. so much.

leaving you with barely enough money to pay your hospital bills sucked. you weren't even sure how timothy was able to do that legally.

but it was alright. you took your stuff and moved into richie's penthouse apartment in malibu almost as soon as you'd been discharged from the hospital. he had made enough money over the first half of his trash-mouth tour to support the both of you for the time being, and he cancelled the reno dates, and all the dates for the foreseeable, because all he wanted to do was be around you and the rest of the losers.

your books and mugs and weird stuff that you'd hoarded over the years slowly spread themselves around richie's apartment, and it made him so happy because it was so utterly domestic.

whenever he saw your shoes in the hallway or your toothbrush in the weird ceramic holder with a bee on it that bev had bought him, he grinned like a stupid, lovestruck idiot, because he was a stupid, lovestruck idiot.

eddie came over a lot, regularly crashing in the spare bedroom because he, too was going through a divorce, and myra kaspbrak was quite a bit more intimidating than timothy. so, that became eddie's room while he was looking for his own apartment.

and you were so fucking happy.

the piece of string that had been serving as your engagement ring after richie proposing on a whim was a constant reminder of how loved you were, and you tied a matching one around his finger, because you didn't feel it was fair that he got to do the whole cute proposal thing.

it had been six months since derry. since the sewers, since defeating IT for the final time. since reuniting with your soulmate. you were sure that life couldn't get better.

eventually, you'd gotten an actual ring.

richie had given it to you on a whim, as usual, opening the little ring box in your direction while you were both surrounded by chinese food, the fourth consecutive episode of snapped playing in the background.

you had choked on your wok-fried garlic and soy broccoli, and he'd thumped your back so you wouldn't almost die, again, which hurt your recovering shoulder, and then he had panicked, and you were crying and laughing and choking all at the same time.

point is, he had given you a ring.

it was a thin, gold band with three little diamonds set into the middle, and you had immediately fallen in love with it.

you hadn't, however, wanted to take off the piece of string, so you wore it on the same finger as the proper engagement ring. richie was relieved because he also hadn't wanted to take the string off.

that night, after some really really great celebration sex, (albeit a little careful, as you sometimes got sharp pains up and down your ribs if you exerted yourself too much) richie bared his soul to you.

he told you everything.

and he cried, and he trembled because he was so scared of ending things with you before they had even begun.

it was the first time he had ever said it out loud.

"i'm bisexual."

and he had let out a breath, then. a breath that he had been holding in for almost three decades.

"oh, richie." and you held him to you without a second thought.

you had always known, somehow.

you'd known, for the same reason one knows the sun has risen. because you had eyes.

you'd seen how richie had always gravitated towards eddie, always grabbing onto him in moments of distress, the soft looks richie would give him when he didn't have time to put up his walls. you knew, and you loved him all the same. of course you did.

you didn't tell him, however, that you had known.

because this moment was so important. the moment where he finally had control over his life and his identity and he was spilling his heart out to you. you would not take that away from him.

this was his time. his moment. his life.

he told you about eddie, and the arcade, and the kissing bridge, and how he'd always, always pushed it down but now it was only the two of you, and if he was to marry you, he wanted everything out in the open.

and god damn you if you let him keep hating himself.

"richie, thankyou for telling me. im so happy that you... that you felt you could talk about it. and to me."

"so... you're not..."

"angry? no. honey, this is who you are. what kind of partner would i be if i didn't love you for who you are? you're perfect, richie."

he cried again, and you let him, because he fucking needed it.

----

richie's nightmares were bad.

really, really fucking bad.

he didn't have them as much as beverly said she had, because, while he had been caught in the deadlights, It was dead and couldn't push into his mind any further. he often couldn't remember what they were about, only that he woke up so scared he would cry. the deadlight-induced terrors came and went, but they always caught both of you off guard.

when it first happened, you were more than a little bit confused, because richie was not a restless sleeper.

you woke to quiet whimpers coming from the man sleeping beside you as he writhed under the bedlinen.

in your sleep-addled haze, it took you a minute to understand what was happening, wiping the sleep from your eyes and adjusting to the darkness.

what, moments ago, was little more than disturbed whimpers, was now loud, heart-fucking-wrenching sobs, the only sound in the otherwise silent apartment.

his body shook next to yours and you were beginning to panic, reaching for him.

"richie? baby, wake up." you shook him lightly, noting the sweat practically dripping from him, and his face, scrunched in fear. he whined lowly, jerking in the bed, but he did not wake. you hadn't been faced with such a situation before, especially not with him, so this was touch and go.

this had never happened before and you were absolutely shitting bricks.

you shook him again, and he jolted awake, crying out as he sat up with a start.

"richie?"

his eyes snapped open, searching wildly around the room for something that wasn't there.

the only light came from the moon and city lights outside your house. sobs of pain overtook him, great, heaving breaths, and then the man you were in love with was crying his fucking eyes out in front of you; fisting his hands in his sweat-soaked hair as his whole body shuddered.

they were tremors he had no control over, the aftershocks of the nightmare taking control of him.

it broke your heart. your face softened as you reached for him again.

god, he held on to you so tight that you almost started crying yourself.

"eddie..." he choked. "ben didn't warn him in time. and i-i-i couldn't... fuck-"

"eddie is at home." you murmured, pressing your lips to his sweat-slick forehead "a ten minute drive. he just moved in. we can go up to see him tomorrow, if you want."

"It's... It's in my head." richie sobbed. the front of your shirt was soaked through with tears. "It's still in my head."

"It's dead, richie."

"so why can i still feel it?"

and you didn't know what to tell him.

---

your first fight, needless to say, sucked.

you didn't even remember what you were fighting about, only that you screamed at each other a lot, and there were tears, and it ended with richie, head in his hands, asking you to leave him alone for a minute in a voice so uncharacteristically calm that it scared you. and so you left for the bedroom, shutting the door, your head swimming and chest burning from the sobs you'd been caging in there.

you knew, realistically, that this was just one fight, and you'd be back to normal within the hour, but this was the first fight you'd had since you were kids, and god only knows how hot headed you'd gotten in the 27 years since then. both of you.

and you hated yourself for letting it get this far and making him not want to be around you.

it was times like this, when richie's nightmares were at their worst and you woke up every night like fucking clockwork to make sure he was real and still there and still breathing, and eddie came round constantly because he couldn't stand being alone in a new place, it was times like this that you needed to be close. so while it was just a dumb fight, you allowed yourself to cry.

richie clicked open the door about half an hour later, shuffling into the room. his eyes were red and he was probably shaking a little bit, you thought.

"im sorry." his voice came out small, and you sat up from the bed immediately.

"no, im sorry, rich. i was overreacting and it was fucking stupid and we need to just-"

and richie all but staggered forwards, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you, hard. you gasped, and he used the opportunity to gain access to the inside of your mouth. cheeky bastard.

you both had been crying for a while, so the kiss was rather wet, but you overlooked it on account of the fact that his hand was not-so-discreetly sliding up your shirt and fumbling at your bra clasp. as suave as he liked to think he was, his bra skills needed work. he eventually did it, and seemed more than a little bit proud of himself, muttering a triumphant: "fuck yeah."

you tugged richie's bottom lip between your teeth and he fucking groaned. and that noise coming from his mouth was so fucking hot that your knees almost buckled.

you made a mental note to do the sex thing really really well tonight, because the sex thing was definitely happening and it had been a bad night for the both of you and you fucking needed him, right the fuck now.

it wasn't long before you ended up underneath him, and he was pressing open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, and you were breathing hard and you honestly thought that if he didn't get the fuck on with it you'd probably die right there.

"rich- ahh- richie?"

"yes, baby?"

god, how the fuck was he so smug all the time?

"i think you should- fuck, oh my god- probably get on with things right the the fuck now, or i'll have to... i'll-" you curled your fingers into his hair, your nails scratching across his scalp.

"or?" he hummed, continuing his ministrations everywhere except where you wanted them.

"i'll have to, mmmh, hurt you, actually." you whispered, breathless. you were unable to form a solid argument, what with richie fucking tozier being so sexy and all, teasing the shit out of you.

"you will?" richie put a hand on each of your legs and spread them further apart, his lips relentless, sucking and biting your sensitive flesh. this man was going to fucking kill you, god.

"yeah, yeah, i'll- ahh- bite your fucking face off, or something-"

and then he was between your thighs, right fucking there, so he never did find out what that something actually was, because whatever came out of your mouth after that wasn't decipherable.

---

"we shouldn't fight." richie murmured, as if he was afraid of being too loud in case he broke the moment.

you traced gentle patterns on his chest with your fingertips.

"i know." you said, equally as cautious.

"but i don't even remember what we were fighting about, and we just had several rounds of the apology." he laughed quietly, kissing your bare shoulder.

smirking at the hickeys on your collarbone, he pressed a kiss there, too, admiring his handiwork.

"i love you, fuck face." you yawned, your eyes fluttering shut.

"yeah, and i love you, dickweed."

richie stared fondly at the piece of string around his ring finger. you would be alright. after all, your wedding was coming up.

he had no nightmares that night.

[unicyclehippo]

Please tell me you're writing the accidental marriage fic as a 'proper' fic. Like I rambled in tags I need to know everything! What are the seven steps exactly? How did they fulfill them? How is Kara going to tell Lena? How will Lena react? What do they do????? Please, I need it!!

yknow what i live for validation & encouragement so im gonna post a bit of it for yall tonight ok

they say that rao created the suns and stars and planets to keep him company, that he loved his creations for their beauty and order so much that he made krypton, and its people, to delight in it with him. they said—they said—he was so pleased with his children that he gave to them everything he had: wisdom, and passion, and strength, and intelligence, and within all of these gifts, his love.

she knows rao made order. a delicate, incredible dance. that rao set the rules of it all and made the music and the room to dance in, and the costumes, and the decorations, and the love and rhythm of their heartbeats—all of that, everything that exists, and somehow he couldn’t account for his tiny children running amok. couldn’t account for them making up their own rules, or for their countless missteps. 

there was a stretch of time—a considerable stretch indeed—when kara hated him. because if rao had brought order to the universe, he missed a step. didn’t look far enough ahead to consider the end of his jewel, his love, his krypton.

kara read a lot when she came to earth, about religions and gods, both the divine and the fallible, but mostly she read about people. she was only thirteen when krypton—when it happened—but she remembers the quick thrum of her mothers pulse, fearful, and the way her father smiled at her with so much love in his eyes it burned, like he knew it was the last thing he would ever get to do and he wanted it to leave some kind of mark. well, it was, and it did. and she thinks a lot about choice and self and people and how it might have been easier for her if she hadn’t seen them right there. right next to her. how it still felt cruel to have seen them, and to have been made to leave them.

and the what ifs, that loud, endless wave of what ifs: what if one of them had gone with baby kal, what if they had made those stupid, stupid pods with room for two, what if her mother had never sent astra to the phantom zone, if non had never killed a guard, if kara had never called astra home, if someone had spoken up sooner, louder, more insistently, if her mother had just agreed to try, if generations ago the house of el had never even been formed—and everything stacks up on everything that came before and kara gets lost in it.

but there’s no point. there’s no point, because krypton is dead and left far behind, and that’s where it will stay.

all that remains of krypton is a fortress of toy relics, a man with her blood but the heart of a human, and shards of her dead planet. and her, still her. and there is no point in hating a god who died with the rest of her world.

//

years later, standing on the roof of national city’s tallest building—which isn’t catco, as much as cat might like to think it is—she hates him again.

the rain is so cold even she is shivering. head tilted up to the sky, she doesn’t both wiping away the torrent drenching her face, her hair. her cape drags heavy on her shoulders, a sopping weight, and she whips it to the side when it tangles around her ankle. the move flicks water off it like a spray of diamonds, shattering against the concrete where the rest of the water, the rest of the world, trembles at her step. she paces the roof of the building, eyes fixed on some distant point, the heart of the storm.

there comes a sound that only she can hear, and she pauses at the corner of the building. poised there, lightning cracks and illuminates her against the backdrop of a broiling, immense storm. it cloaks the whole city in shadow, clings to everything with its misted tendrils, and she is no exception. she would be engulfed in it, but for the power gathered behind her eyes—white-hot and furious. 

and when the thunder drums again, like a call to war, kara’s edges are sharp enough to be a war all by herself. 

lightning cracks the sky wide open. thunder follows it instantly in a boom. the wind that comes tearing flings back kara’s hair, her cape, shudders against the windows stories far below her feet.

kara clenches her jaw, braces herself against it. her eyes flash hotter.

she saw diana catch lightning in her hands once, knows better than most that many things in the world are more than they are given credit for. this storm is more than crashing particles—this is her challenge, her fight, and by everything that exists in this world, rao will hear her!

“DUAHZ VOIEHD KRYPTAHNIUM,” she yells up to the clouds.

the thunder rolls. grumbles, shatters into itself.

“TA-RRIV RRAOP-RAO RAOGRYHS PAHDH IRSTUN OSH KHAP!”

she gets no answer save the lightning that zips down toward her and kara’s eyes flash. she grits her teeth around a scream and launches herself right at it, catches it on the bands diana gifted her and doesn’t stop, punches right up through the clouds to the heart of the storm. she winds the lightning around her, grips it tight.

“rao,” she yells, voice dragged raw.

the wind is stronger here and it whips her hair across her face, stinging, and everything tastes like hot metal and salt water. she holds tight to the lightning just to feel it burn. feels the answering sting in a line down her chest, sternum to navel. “rao, ta-irstun rraop-rao pahdh voiehd? khap eiahm,” she whispers. the words are tugged from her, ripped from her lips. she wills it out, up, to the right ears. the right heart. “khap eiahm, ewuhsh gehd.”

a formal introduction; or, skulir: verb, the active form: to look, to examine. 

//

kara is six years old when she finds out that she will have a husband. she considers it for two days, silently, before bringing it up to anyone.

a tall figure in blue—that’s all kara can see under her thin blanket—stands in the doorway of her bedroom. “your mother says you’re not well. do you want to come out from under that blanket?”

“no.”

“no?”  the bed creaks as she sits on kara’s bed. “then perhaps i shall sit here with you. is that alright?” kara murmurs her assent, scoots over a little to make space in the bed. “i brought your stars, little one. are you sure you don’t want to see them? we were only partway through the primaries.” astra waits a moment for kara’s response. when it doesn’t come immediately, she offers, “you may hold the star jar, if you wish.”

kara kicks her feet under the blanket as she considers that.

finally, she pulls down the covers. “just the stars?” she asks, fixing her aunt with a suspicious look.

astra leans over, presses a kiss to her forehead. “just the stars,” she promises, and kara rolls around in her bed, bundles the blankets around herself, and thumps down into astra’s lap. her aunt pulls her close, strokes her hair back from her forehead.

“there is my darling star,” she murmurs. she activates the holo-reader—kara’s ‘star jar’—and scatters the stars across the ceiling. once it’s active, she allows kara to hold it in her little hands. 

kara stays there, tucked up into astra, listening to her explaining the primary stars and astra cards her fingers down her long hair until kara’s nervous gut unclenches and she asks what has been bothering her.

“does everyone get married?”

astra’s voice falters, and then stops. she looks down at her niece, bemused by the topic change. “married?”

“fardhogh-cheh says that everyone gets married. that parents pick someone and then you have to spend your whole life with them.”

“did he put it like that?” astra crooks a finger under kara’s chin, tilts it up to look at her. “hmm, little one?” she tickles under kara’s chin and astra’s eyes, so clear and fond, are brighter than rao’s midday light. kara cuddles into her, ducks her head again. “have you been concerned about this?”

“...no.”

astra tickles at kara’s shoulder, makes her squirm. “for how long?”

“…two days.”

“i see. you do like to keep things to yourself, don’t you, little one?” kara shrugs. “well, it is nothing to be concerned about. marriage is a union between families.”

“who will it be?”

“he will be of good standing—”

“will he be nice?” kara asks, and with it comes the flood of questions that have blinded her for the last few days. “do i know them? how long do i have? what happens? do i have to get married? do i get to choose him? why do i have to get married? what does it do? is it scary?”

“these are a lot of questions.”

“i have a lot of questions,” kara agrees quietly.  

“a curious mind can be dangerous, little one,”

“questions are good!” she argues, struggles to sit up and away, and astra nods. she helps kara, tries not to laugh at the bundle of a girl who wriggles away, irate at the suggestion that questions might not be a good thing.

“always. but you should share them with your family or else you may get lost in them.” astra strokes  down her cheek. “and i would not like that.”

“oh.” kara waits a moment. “so?”

astra glances away, tries not to smile. “your betrothed,” she tells her niece, “will be chosen by your family, we who love you. we will not let you be bonded to someone unworthy, not when you are more precious to us than all else.”

“but what’s the point?”

“marriage is a union. do you know of shokh?”

“truth,” kara nods impatiently. “the first virtue.”

“the primary virtue, yes, on which we base all dealings. shokh is the virtue all unions are based on. a family would never agree to a union without first knowing who their beloved shall be bonded to, just as one would never agree to an alliance or business without knowing who extends their hand. it is a virtue that persists throughout a union—shokh is constant. unwavering. it is about learning and knowledge and discovery. sharing.” she hugs kara to her, strokes her hair again, out of her thoughtful eyes. “does that make sense, little one?”

“yes. but,” kara smiles, a little shy, when astra laughs. “i have more questions.”

“of course you do. share them with me,” she encourages, sets the star field aside for another night.

alura joins them later, knocking gently on kara’s bedroom door. she peeks in, relaxes against the door when she sees them curled there.

“you are feeling better then, kara?”  kara nods—sheepish, small in her aunt’s arms, but she nods. “i’m so glad. you’ve had us worried. we had to call in reinforcements.”

“reinforcements?” kara sits up quickly, looks back over her shoulder at her aunt. “you’re reinforcements?”

astra laughs, throws her head back. “your parents were worried.” she lets kara go when she wriggles away from her, goes to stand defiant in the centre of the room, her little frown stern and her little arms crossed. “do not be displeased with me, little one.”

kara considers the request for a time, before she flicks her hair back over her shoulders and walks out of the room. she makes her way out of their home and down the long corridor before loud steps follow her and she breaks into a run before zor-el plucks her clean off the ground and carries her home.

“i’m mad at you.”

“it was your mother’s idea,” he tells her, in that low rumble of a voice she loves so much. she leans back into his chest—but keeps her arms folded to show her displeasure.