#[ isobel character study ] — do you believe in love at first sight .

[feraldames]

[ isobel visage ] — its actually quite a story I could share with you . [ isobel attire ] — i would have spared the theaterics . [ isobel interactions ] — the moon is rather good at illuminating the darkness . [ isobel answers ] — and this is where i still need answers . [ isobel aesthetics ] — the moon maidens silver light is a shield in dark times . [ isobel headcanons ] — my self and my lady are doing what we can to hold the line . [ isobel character study ] — do you believe in love at first sight . [ isobel attractions ] — our fates are intwined . [ isobel desires ] — a hundred years have not changed you at all my love . [ isobel skillsets ] — i should strike you down where you stand . [ isobel playlist ] — i be a fool to reject your help . [ isobel games ] — i am having something very strong indeed . [ isobel body study ] — she is bound to set it to rights at any cost .

[adiwriting]

Sunday Mornings 4/?

Notes: While this is the 4th ficlet in this verse, it’s technically the first thing I wrote for this verse. I was working to fill a prompt “watching them sleep” and it got away from me like most things. So I’m excited to finally get to post this part. It’s my personal favorite so far, so I hope you all enjoy! <3

Now on AO3

Week 4: 

The feeling of the sun warming his face slowly pulls Alex out of a blissful dream. Not quite ready to move his body yet, he turns his head to the nightstand and opens his eyes. It’s 5:55am. He’s tired, sure, but years in the military have taught him that attempting to go back to sleep now is futile. His body is wired to be up between 0500 and 0600 everyday, no matter how little sleep he got the night before. 

He yawns and turns his head to look at the source of his exhaustion. He can’t help but smile at the sight of his boyfriend. Michael spent the night last night, as he has most nights since they got back together a month ago. In fact, the only reason Michael isn’t in his bed every night can really only boil down to a stupid comment Maria had made about them moving in together. Michael still feels enough guilt over their breakup to have insisted that they are most certainly not living together. Alex would be mad at him for the entire thing, but he can’t bring himself to be. One, he too still feels how awkward things are with Maria and he loves her enough to want to be sensitive, even if she hadn’t always been sensitive towards him. And two… Michael can say he’s not living here all he wants, but the evidence speaks for itself. 

Michael’s black cowboy hat is hung on the hook on the door, where Alex used to hang his favorite Air Force hoodie. The same hoodie that now permanently rests on the back of the couch because Michael always wears it like a blanket when they watch movies together. There is an ever growing pile of change accumulating on the dresser from where Michael regularly empties his pockets when he comes in to change out of his jeans. Next to Alex’s bottles of lotions and various meds is a bottle of warming gel that Michael uses whenever his hand acts up. Hanging up in the closet are several of Michael’s clothes that Alex put there when he’d pulled his laundry out the other day and realized that half of the clothes were Michael’s rather than his own. Over by the full length mirror is a pile of the only 3 pairs of shoes that Michael owns. 

No. Michael doesn't live here. His things have just been slowly taking over Alex’s space… And Alex loves it. 

He bought this house last year and fell in love with its character, but it hadn’t really started to feel like home to him until the day there were two toothbrushes by the sink instead of one. 

Alex stretches carefully and tries not to groan at the way his shoulders pop. His body is particularly achy today, which he equates to a combination of lack of sleep and the enthusiasm that they’d gone at it last night. He’s going to have to talk Michael into a massage later.

Once his body is decently stretched out — or at least as stretched out as it can be without waking Michael — Alex rolls over onto his side to watch his boyfriend properly. 

Michael is always beautiful. It’s a fact. But the truth is, there’s something particularly entrancing about the way the morning sun hits Michael’s tanned skin. Alex allows himself to stare in a way he can’t get away with when Michael is awake. Not without Michael teasing him for it. 

He starts with his hair. Frizzy and all over the place. A combination of Alex’s hands constantly threading through and pulling whenever they have sex and the fact that Michael moves when he sleeps. A lot. The sun makes his hair glow like a halo, which is all too fitting. He reaches out and gently pulls a curl away from Michael’s face so that he can focus his attention there next. 

Alex watches the quick, constant movement of Michael’s eyes underneath his lids. He’s always thinking. Calculating. Planning. Inventing. When they were kids, Michael told him that his head was constant chaos that only music could quiet. Knowing what he knows about Michael’s past, he can see why Michael had chosen that word. But chaos doesn’t describe Michael’s brain. Not anymore. He’s just brilliant. He’s wicked smart and never stops thinking. Michael processes information at an inhuman rate, which Alex would equate to his alien DNA if he didn’t know that neither Max or Isobel share in his genius level intellect. 

It’s not rare for Michael to wake up in the middle of the night having somehow solved some complicated problem in his sleep. It’s why Alex had started to keep a journal on Michael’s side of the bed, so that he won’t have to get up at 3am and tear the house apart looking for paper so he could write down whatever complex equation he’s just solved. 

Alex runs his fingers across Michael’s forehead gently. He loves that brain. He firmly believes that Michael could solve the world’s biggest problems if he tried. And though Alex won’t risk the fight by bringing it up, he seriously hopes that Michael gets his degree one day so that the world can benefit from his genius. Roswell is too small for a brain like Michael’s. 

Alex traces the line of his nose and bites back a giggle when Michael scrunches it up in response. He’s so adorable at times that Alex truly marvels that anyone can honestly believe his tough guy act. Michael is so soft and tender with Alex. Even when they weren’t together and every other word out of Michael’s mouth was a sarcastic dig meant to goad Alex into a fight, Alex had always been able to see the vulnerability in Michael’s eyes. It was part of what sent Alex running so often. He always had a genuine fear of breaking and in turn, getting broken. 

His palm moves to cradle Michael’s cheek and Michael’s head leans into the touch, turning his head to kiss his palm. Even in sleep, Michael is constantly seeking him out. It’s moments like this that make Alex question how he ever felt insecure about Michael’s feelings. Maybe if he had just trusted in their love earlier… 

“Stop. Sleep,” Michael grumbles, seemingly cutting off his anxiety spiral before it could even start. 

“I’m not tired,” he teases, but Michael is silent, having already fallen back asleep. 

Alex’s hand drifts down to Michael’s neck and he cringes when he notices a bruise to the right of his collarbone that wasn’t there yesterday. Alex has always been incredibly careful about hickeys. He’d had to be. And by the time he’d felt safe enough to risk it, he was at an age where it was no longer socially acceptable. Thankfully, this one should be mostly hidden once Michael puts on a shirt, so hopefully he won’t be too annoyed with Alex. 

His hand travels down Michael’s chest. He stares at the dark hair, one of the most noticeable changes from when they were seventeen. Alex hasn’t been with a lot of men, but virtually all of the ones he’s been with manscape. Which is fine. It’s understandable. It’s not like anybody wants to worry about hair in their mouth when they are kissing their way down someone’s chest. But damn, there’s something about the dark hair on Michael’s tanned chest that always gets him going. 

It’s unfair really, because it means that Alex is pretty much always turned on whenever Michael is shirtless. Which is all of the time. The man has some kind of personal problem with wearing shirts. 

He drags his index finger through the darker patch of hair on his stomach and he feels Michael’s muscles tense under his touch. Before Alex’s hand can dip under the sheet currently protecting Michael’s modesty, the man grumbles something incoherent and rolls over onto his stomach, snuggling into Alex’s side. 

Alex sinks back into the pillow, his one arm pinned under Michael’s head. He moves his free hand up to play with Michael’s hair. Michael hums in content, but doesn’t say anything more or do anything to signal that he’s truly awake. Alex closes his eyes and tries to relax. While he isn’t likely to fall back asleep, that doesn’t mean he isn’t content to lay here for hours while his boyfriend does. This is the kind of stuff Sunday mornings are made for. 

Isn’t this what Maroon 5 was getting at? Cause, yeah. Alex never wants to leave. 

He buries his nose in Michael’s hair and breathes in deep, taking in the smell of rain and dollar store shampoo that is uniquely Michael. It smells like love and safety. Like home. 

God, twelve years of loving this man and Alex didn’t think it was possible for that love to continue to crow. Each day he’s proven wrong. See, he’s starting to learn that these small moments together… the quiet unassuming moments… They are a thousand times more powerful than the big, dramatic moments that rom coms are made of. Because right here? At this moment? All he can think about is the ending of the stupid Grinch movie when his heart grows three times in size. 

That’s how Michael makes him feel. Like his heart is constantly growing, aching with joy but always wonderfully welcome. Waking up next to Michael in the morning is one of those painfully sweet moments that pull at his heart. And maybe it won’t always feel like this. He hopes it does. He doesn’t want to get used to this, because he doesn’t ever want to stop realizing how lucky they are that they managed to come together after twelve years of will they won't they. Alex hopes he appreciates the magic of waking up next to Michael because he never wants to grow complacent in this relationship. 

“You’re being creepy again, and it’s too early,” Michael grumbles, not even bothering to open his eyes. Instead he throws his leg over Alex’s hip in an attempt to snuggle even closer. 

Alex rolls his eyes at the argument they have most mornings. “Why is it creepy?” 

“Because you’re studying me like you’re plotting the best ways to murder me in my sleep.” 

Alex laughs at that, shaking Michael who reaches out to pinch him in his side and demands he stop so that he can rest. 

“No murder today,” he promises, kissing the top of his head. 

Michael’s hand moves up to rest at his heart and Alex reaches out to grab at his wrist to keep his hand in place. “I love you.”

Michael does open his eyes for that. Alex meets his gaze and the only way he can describe the way Michael is staring at him is fond. 

“I love you, too,” Michael says, lifting his head just long enough to kiss Alex. “Go back to bed.”

“We’re already in bed,” Alex teases, earning him another groan. 

“Go back to sleep. And get better dad jokes before we have a kid, please.” 

Michael bringing up a kid is enough to stop any teasing that Alex would have likely continued with. Though his stupid boyfriend clearly doesn’t realize the gravity of what he’s just said, because he’s already fallen back asleep. Alex can tell he’s not just faking it either because he’s lightly snoring in that way that Alex really shouldn’t find adorable but does. 

Dad. Him. 

It’s an interesting thought. One he honestly hadn’t considered. The thought of bringing another Manes into this world is frankly terrifying. Alex would be satisfied if the family name died out with him and his brothers. But thinking of having a child with Michael? A little Guerin baby? 

Yeah, that thought gives him plenty to think about for the next two hours while Michael sleeps. 

Tagged: @callieramics​​

As always if anyone wants to be tagged, let me know!

[ngfics]

Huff and Puff

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Huff and Puff, The Fool’s Journey

(SIOC as Leanora 'Lea' Pyrites in Harry Potter world)

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Series Tile: Huff and Puff, The Fool’s Journey

Story Titles: Fool's White Flower, Fool's Sea, Fool's Web, Fool's Calling Card (HP1), Fool's Bag of Trick (HP2), Fool's Clarity (HP3), Fool's White Dog (HP4), Fool's Last Dance (HP 5), Fool's Cliff (HP6 ), Fool's Gold(war and epilogue) + SnakeSkin (Before the Fool)

Fandom: Harry Potter

Genre: Friendship / Family

Characters: Leanora 'Lea' Pyrites (SIOC), Ferdinand Pyrites (OC), Smantha Pyrites (OC), Vincent Pyrites (OC), Simon Pyrites (OC), Isobel Pyrites (OC), Hector Pyrites (OC), Cedric Diggory, Éimhín Hynes(OC), Nymphadora Tonks, Gabriel Truman, Adrien Pucey, Cassius Warrington, Graham Montague, Terrance Higgs, Velda Lute(OC), Gemma Farley, Marcus Flint, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Lee Jordan, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, Kenneth Towler, Oliver Wood, Percy Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Roger Davies, Patricia Stimpson, Penelope Clearwater, Robert Hilliard, a LOT of OCs, Harry Potter Game characters, Hogwarts Teachers, assorted family members, OCs of all kinds   

Relationships:  Ferdinand x Samantha, Leanora x Adrien  

Tags: asexual relationship, asexual characters, blood politics of the wizarding world, love and family, Magical Rituals,Wizarding Culture, Pureblood cluture, Muggle x Wizard pairing, loving relationship, relationships are hard work and compromise, Hufflepuffs are good at that thankfully, Black!Hermione Granger, Biracial!Harry Potter, Hufflepuff pride, Inter-House friendships, making study groups to change the world, how to make a support group for the titular character - the Hufflepuff way, some genuinely Nice!Slytherins, Disabled!students, 

Summary: She knows it's not impossible. It's not a far off dream. Her parents made it work, they worked hard fir it, true, but they did it. She won't let anyone else feed her excuses, no one will take her for a fool.

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Slightly ordered notes and Ideas

Inspired by this - "What's a soulmate?" "Someone who makes you a better person, they don't actually make you a better person, you do that yourself, because they inspire you."

Ferdinand Pyrites and Samantha 'Sam' Noble have a very sweet and loving love story despite him being a Pureblood Slytherin and her being a muggle

Having grown up watching their relationship it is something Lea aspires to heavily and terminates a few relationships over, because she has seen better and knows that blood and circumstance can be overcome

She understands from the start that work is needed - or maybe it's pointed out to her that 'both sides need to learn how to deal with the situation, compromise and sacrifice' 

Lea and Adrian are actual soulmates, and both are pretty asexual

EverybodylovesCedric2K16! Leandra quickly catches on that Cedric is the GoldernRetriever!Boy and makes sure everybody else knows that too

Cedric is well liked by nearly everybody and that is one of the reasons Voldie doesn't manage to recruit from Hufflepuffs at all when the war gets started

Lea is BFF with Cedric and forms a very nice group in her Hufflepuff year with Cedric, Trudy, Raashid, Sisi, Hecate, Satinder, Marilyn, .. Really the whole year functions well as a tight group and they all pull in more people from different houses and years.

But the group is generally Cedric - Lea - Hynes trio as the main ringleaders, then they pull others in their plans with gusto.

Focus of feel-good relationships, networking, Inter-House friendships - students helping each other and nurturing curiosity through friendly debate and self-directed research projects.

Lea heads a Debate Club that talks about all of these various things that exist and a Self-Study and Research Club that teaches others important things like wizarding culture for muggleborns and muggle culture for wizardborn, about disabilities, sexualities, all the little things that these people from other worlds may take for granted as being the same. Discussing news, laws and current events through there clubs makes people think and look things up on their own.

Ensures Harry has a support network from the start by making that her project for Harry's first year and this pays off whenever people don't believe him over something, he gets used to giving people opportunities to view his memories.

Lea learns how to extract memories as soon as she can really, manages in her second year, her argument is that this way her mother can view memories of Hogwarts even if she can't really go there - her talent fro this runs from her Obliviator father.

Support network of older students did exist before and Hufflepuffs were better than most, but Lea seriously buffs it up, spreading inter-house unity and genuine interest in things as soon as she possibly can

Citing all sorts of reasons to get there, like excuses for why she's reading about deafness and blindness aides

 In preparation for Harry's  troubles with the media, one of the things discussed early one is how the media works? How does the Prophet work? Who picks the articles? How do they research?  Etc.

So when Harry slander starts there are a lot less people believing it, simply because they heard from a friend of a friend that this or that journalist is a glory hound, that this or that journalist is actually being bribed to write good shit about Fudge, etc…

Of course there is no cure for actual stupid, but if somebody is going to start recognizing shit when it's under their nose, Lea knows you gotta start young.

 Due to her interference there are less deaths in the final battle, because a buddy system of sorts is prevalent

Fred's legs get crushed by debree, but he doesn't die, Percy loses an arm, Colin Creevy is loses sight in one eye and is knocked out in a coma for five months, but survives, Nymphadora  Lupin ends up having to wear a prosthetic like Moody, but doesn't really mind, says she'll carry on the legacy.

Remus Lupin gets more scars than people think possible, but does manage to save his wife's life and stay alive himself, Lavender Brown survives, but ends up a werewolf, actually becomes close to the Lupins and Potters, Hermione has curse burns up and down her arms, but this doesn't stop her from becoming a Minister for Magic by 2019

Ron loses three fingers, Nevile has a scar down his face, Shacklebot loses an eye, Luna is missing a part of her left ear, she and George bond

Lea is depressed, looking at younger kids and thinking if any of them died because these canon deaths didn't happen, keeps saying she 'should have done more', her friends help her through this

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Some snippets, thoughts and scenes incoming, but this one has a lot more stream-of-though outlines than anything else so we’ll see how much actually gets posted.

No beta! You’ve been warned!

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now for some art from way back 2016. of Ferdinand and Samantha, the wizard x muggle pair.

and also some designs for the Pyrites family

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[wroughtbetwixtfanfic]

A Place To Call Home, Ch 5.

Fandom: Rosewell, New Mexico.

Summary: A canon divergent take on Roswell, New Mexico, and the relationships  between Isobel, Noah, and Rosa; later parts will shift the focus to  Michael and Alex, as well as Michael and Noah. What is it like to share a  body with another alien? Can broken trust be mended? Do the ends really  justify the means?  

Rating: M.

Tags: Canon divergence, minor  character death, not really character death, body sharing, polyamory,  hurt/comfort, addiction problems, sickfic, revenge, fix it, friends to  enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies to lovers, Noah is complicated, cw:  dubious age stuff for a little bit considering Nasedo/Noah is  who-the-hell-knows how old.

Word Count: 2902

The drive to the turquoise mines was long, and silent.

It was late by the time they got there. Without a doubt, people would be looking for them both before long. Neither of them seemed to care, and why would they? Rosa's family didn't seem to understand. Isobel's brothers seemed callous to Isobel's distress. It was just them, the desert, and the stars glimmering to life above them. What more, who more, did they need?

"You're not gonna like, murder me and bury my body here are you?" Rosa asked as they hiked towards the tunnels. "That'd kinda suck."

Nasedo frowned. "I'd never hurt you, Rosa." He paused at the entrance of the mine, the one where his pod-- and true body-- were hidden. Taking Rosa's hand, he gently turned her to face him. "I need you to believe that. Okay? I love you, and I want to keep you safe. Alright?"

Rosa tilted her head. "I love you, too. Izzie, are you okay?"

"We'll see."

He led her into the cave, those four words giving him some sort of hope. I love you, too. There were a few twists and turns, but then the darkness gave way to the soft, silver and gold glow of the pod. Rosa stopped in her tracks when she saw it, her grip on his hand tightening to an almost painful degree.

"Izzie... What... What is that?"

"Nasedo."

"What?"

He closed his eyes a moment, steeling himself. "My name is Nasedo. In 1947, a spaceship crashed in Roswell. I was one of the only survivors, along with Isobel and her brothers. That is a stasis pod. Theirs eventually opened. Mine was damaged, and the only way I can access the outside world is through the mental connection between me and Isobel. We share her body. That's why sometimes she seems different. Because it's me, not her."

No answer. Nasedo risked a glance at Rosa; she was staring at the pod, lips parted and her breathing faster than normal. But she didn't move. She didn't scream, or run, or lash out. She... looked. When she finally moved, it was to step towards the pod. He let go of her hand as she did, watching as she oh so lightly rested her hand on the pod. The light wavered, and for a split second, it was possible to see his body inside.

Rosa let out a gasp and yanked her hand away, spinning around to look at him. "You're an alien. An actual alien."

"Isobel and I both, yes."

"You... You're aliens sharing a body."

"We are."

"For how long?"

"Five years."

"So, this whole time that we've been..." Rosa stopped, pressing her hands to her forehead. For a moment, Nasedo felt a surge of fear. But then she exhaled a long, slow breath and sat down on the cave floor. "Explain again. Start at the beginning."

Well, that was something he could do. Nasedo sat across from Rosa. He started with his people fleeing from war and violence, the stowaway, the crash. How the military came in and killed, as far as he knew, everyone. How he hid the three children away, and managed to hide himself, but withered and decayed with time. Finally hearing Isobel, and trying to save her. Realizing he could enter her body and mind, control the body when Isobel retreated into herself. How they learned, in time, to work together and share a life. How they had both fallen in love with Rosa.

"And here we are," Nasedo said quietly. "I'm sorry that we didn't tell you. We were worried that if we said anything, you'd think we were crazy. Or worse, that you'd believe us and turn us in."

Toying with a loose thread at the corner of her jacket, Rosa stared down at the dirt. She didn't speak at first. When she did, her voice was shaking. "I don't... I need some time to process." Her eyes wandered to the pod. "I won't tell anyone. I'll keep your secret."

It was tempting to ask about their relationship, but Nasedo knew better than to try. She needed time. "Thank you," he replied. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Can we get out of here?"

Nodding, Nasedo led Rosa back out of the cave. At least she let him take her hand; she didn't seem afraid, so much as deep in thought.

Isobel was nowhere in sight. It seemed that he would have to handle the rest of the night on his own, and deal with Isobel's likely anger in the morning; they hadn't discussed this, hadn't planned for it, and he knew that would play poorly with Isobel's anxiety. Not that he blamed her. It was a risky move. At least for the time being, things were okay. Maybe not ideal-- understandable, considering most humans would probably need time to adjust-- but they didn't seem to be in danger.

They were back in the car and heading into town when Rosa glanced at him. "Hey. Do you wanna go to Sander's Auto? He lets me paint up his old scrap cars sometimes. I just... Need something average right now."

He couldn't refuse. The junkyard was familiar, and art was Rosa's release; if it made her feel better, who was he to say no? Nasedo murmured an affirmative, and they pulled into the yard soon after. It was late. No one was there. It didn't matter much, since the man who owned the property was notoriously lax with security, and Michael worked for him in exchange for parking his truck there. Isobel being there wouldn't be suspect at all.

Light from the full moon cast a milky glow over everything it touched. Nasedo looked around as they got out of the car, seeing little hints of Rosa all over as they wandered inside. Flowers doodled on signs, a heart carved into a wooden post, poetry and quotes painted onto rusted out cars. It was a bit like the desert itself. Barren, filled with erosion and decay, but scattered with small moments of beauty.

Rosa found a big van, yellow with dented side doors. She opened the van and set her knapsack inside, pulling out spraypaint. Nasedo sat in the van, watching. Watching and listening. Rosa began to talk about art, her favorite artists and her favorite mediums, what paint she liked best and how some places spoke to her in a away she didn't really understand. The longer she spoke, the stronger she sounded. Less afraid, more passionate. Intoxicating.

"What?"

Nasedo blinked, realizing that he'd been caught staring. "I'm sorry. I love hearing you talk about this stuff. Have you considered going to art school or something?"

"Actually..." Rosa ducked her head and smiled. "I have thought about going to Paris and studying art there. It's a silly dream I've always had."

"It sounds like a beautiful dream."

"Yeah? And what are your dreams?"

"Oh, I don't know." Nasedo brought his knees up to his chest. He peered up at the stars. "My old home, I was a sort of... defender, but I've lost my taste for war. Maybe I'd be a lawyer instead."

"And Isobel?"

"She wants to be an event planner. She watched 27 Dresses as a kid and saw herself in it."

Rosa came back to her knapsack, choosing different paints. Black and red. "Well, who knows. Maybe we'll all make our dreams come true."

Nasedo smiled up at her, then looked to what she pulled from the knapsack next. "You brought a UFO stencil with you in your runaway supplies?"

"Maybe it's silly, but it means a lot to me."

"It's not silly at all. What's the story behind it?"

"When I was little, my friend's mother talked about aliens all the time. We thought she was sick. Maybe she wasn't." Rosa eyed the van, finally finding a place to work. Nasedo followed; he held the stencil in place while she painted. "Mimi would always say that we're not alone. That's why I made this stencil, I guess. And why I wanted to take it with me. As a reminder."

"You're not alone, Rosa."

Rosa sighed. She dropped her arms, eyeing her work before turning to Nasedo. There was conflict in those deep brown eyes, but she just sniffled and shrugged. "Wanna try?"

"She'll kill me if I ruin her dress."

"Blame me."

"Rosa..."

They looked at one another, and for a moment, Rosa stepped closer. But then she stepped past him and headed to the other side of the van. Nasedo followed and chose the red paint, drawing the same symbol he'd drawn on the gazebo post. Circle, circle, circle. Lines connecting.

Rosa leaned against his shoulder, taking the can of spraypaint when he was done. "What does it mean? Really?"

"It's a map of our home. I've never told anyone before."

"Not even Isobel?" Rosa asked. Nasedo shook his head; it was better to not tell her, to give her a chance at a normal life. Sitting in the van, Rosa patted the space next to her. "Tell me about it."

Nasedo curled up next to Rosa, telling her everything he remembered of home. Antar was one of the main star systems of their government, along with Shau and Sarga. Their home planet was in the middle, a picturesque world at one time, ruled by wise and fair leaders. The planet had lush, sprawling gardens, filled with bright flowers and birds and insects. But then a young king took over. Well meaning, but irresponsible. Selfish. He was so blinded by his own way of doing things, he didn't pay attention to the unrest. Finally, he and his siblings were murdered by a rebel leader. Their cells were cloned, and their family fled with the cells maturing in stasis pods.

Somewhere along the way, they had sprawled backwards, holding hands and watching the sky. Every so often, a meteor would breeze through in a shower of green and white. When he spoke of the deaths, Rosa squeezed his hand.

"Died and resurrected, like the holy men of old," Nasedo whispered to himself, squeezing back. "And they have no idea. None. It's why they have no memories. They were a desperate attempt to save our royal line."

"That's awful. Do you remember them, from before?"

"Rath was explosive. Temperamental, stubborn, but protective and good hearted. Vilandra, she was elegant and beautiful. She was powerful. Intense. And Zan, our King... Well, as I said. He was ineffective. There was another, Ava. His wife. But she..." He thought back to the night of the crash and shivered. "She formed a pact with the rebel who murdered the rest. What happened to her, I have no clue."

Rosa nestled closer. They kept talking into the night about his world's music, fashion. Good memories. Happier times. Somehow, Nasedo ended up drifting off; the next time he stirred, Rosa was nudging him with her shoulder. Sunlight streamed through the open doors of the van. It was morning; they had stayed out all night, and Isobel was slowly stirring. God, their neck...

Rosa stroked their hair, pushing it our of their face. "I'm gonna go get us some breakfast, okay?"

"Mmhm..."

Shimmying out of the van, Nasedo could hear the car start and the motor fade away. He sighed, closing his eyes and trying to stretch their back. It had only been five minutes when he heard another car approaching. A familiar rumbling engine. Suddenly, he found himself shoved out of front and to the side as Isobel surged into control. He could feel her panic as she shot up, scrambling for some sort of explanation as Michael and Max approached. They weren't supposed to be there, they shouldn't have been there, why--

"Isobel?" Max yelled. "Oh, what the hell?!"

Michael stopped, pointing at Isobel's hands. "Wait. Is that...?"

Isobel looked down. Their hands were stained a bright red. "No. I think it's paint."

Max narrowed his eyes. "Were you with Rosa?"

"Are you on something right now?" Michael asked at the same time.

"No!" Isobel denied. Her voice was strained; Nasedo tried to get around her, wanting to help, but she pushed him away. "I don't know how I got here."

"Stop lying! That's Rosa's art. We know she sells drugs." Max was clenching his hands. He was loud, too loud. Too demanding. "Just tell us the truth."

Isobel grit her teeth. Panic was being replaced by fury. "You know, my life is none of your business, Max. You've made that very clear."

"We just spent all night--"

"You're leaving me! You're going halfway across the planet. What about me? What am I supposed to do?"

"Live your life!" Max threw his arms into the air. "Grow up! We're not abandoning you."

Grow up. Isobel blinked in shock, trying to process what she'd heard. They had heard Max and Michael say she was just after attention. They had heard Max scoff and dismiss Isobel's problems and worries before. But... Grow up? For years, she had been trying to survive her trauma, keep their secret, deal with their parents, try and try and try to find a place in the world with few people to rely on but her brothers. Grow up? She'd grown up that night, at fourteen.

She got up and fled before Nasedo could wrestle control back. How dare he, how could he, what did I do to deserve that, I've only ever tried to be a good sister, what am I supposed to do. Her thoughts were swirling too fast for him to get in a word. She wasn't listening, storming down the dirt road without aim, until a car came their way. Rosa.

"Hey, what..." Rosa poked her head out the window. When she saw their state, she reached to the passenger side and opened the lock. "I was coming back to get you. Hop in."

Isobel slid into the car and slammed the door. The smell of coffee and hashbrowns filled the air; they were starving, but Isobel crossed her arms and folded in on herself, refusing to talk. Rosa didn't press. She turned around and headed back into town. As Isobel started to relax, her rage at Max simmered down to an annoyance at Nasedo; he had shared only enough of his memories to explain, leaving out exactly what had been discussed in the junkyard.

Rosa parked in a quiet lot lined with trees. She unwrapped her breakfast sandwich, nibbling on it and glancing at Isobel in her peripheral vision. Isobel picked up the one Rosa had brought her and stared down at it, trying to calm her mind.

"So," Isobel finally said, "he told you."

"He did."

Isobel tried to reply, but all that came out was a choked sob. "He didn't even ask. No one asks me about anything anymore. I'm sick of everyone deciding my life for me."

"Woah, Izzie. What's going on?" Rosa reached out, resting a hand on Isobel's shoulder. Isobel slumped over, pressing her face against Rosa's shoulder and crying. "It's gonna be okay. I'm here, alright? We'll figure this out together. Promise."

It was difficult to eat, and Isobel didn't allow Nasedo to do it for her. He was, officially, in the dog house. Still, she managed to get it down. Once they were both done, Rosa fired up the car and drove to the Evans' home. No one else was home. It was safe. Rosa walked them to the door; she offered a hug, and Isobel took it. So smelled like dust and sagebrush, and Isobel allowed herself to relax a little.

"Nasedo said I wasn't alone," Rosa whispered. "You're not gonna be alone, either, Isobel."

"You say that now."

"I mean it. I'm not leaving you. Either of you."

Isobel pulled back, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. She tried to smile. It felt flat, but Rosa stroked her cheek and things seemed a tiny bit less dire, anyways. "Thank you, Rosa. For everything."

"I know what it's like to be judged. It's totally not punk, you know?"

Rosa gave Isobel a kiss on the cheek. They said their goodbyes and Rosa headed to the diner, while Isobel headed inside to clean up. Nasedo hung around in the back of her mind, waiting until she felt like addressing him. It took hours, but once she slumped into her bed after a long shower, she sighed and turned her attention to him.

"I wish you would have warned me."

"I'm sorry. You weren't responding and she was going to leave."

"I know, I know..." Isobel closed her eyes and leaned back against their pillows. "She seemed to take it pretty well."

Nasedo fell quiet again, then remembered a tiny bit of conversation that puzzled him. "Isobel, why does the name Valenti sound familiar?"

Isobel opened her eyes. "Valenti?"

"Rosa said some man named Valenti was going to help her get clean."

"All this time and you don't remember? Valenti. Kyle Valenti. It has to be his father, but that's..." Isobel swallowed. "Why would she be involved with him?

"Isobel?"

She bit her lip. "Kyle's father is-- was in the military. He's friends with Alex's dad, that homophobic military bigot. Their ancestors were at the Roswell crash."

Nasedo felt his heart sink. "Do you think she knows?"

"I don't know, but we need to find out. Fast."