#And we’re all one-in-a-million chance beings made of the dust of stars that existed and died billions of years ago

[ducksoup17]

you could say I have strong feelings about outer space

[levihantrash]

Hi! Got a prompt for you if you're interested (feel free to write a drabble, a one-shot, or a multi-chap): Levihan, "One more chance." Open to interpretation. Thanks, and good luck! :)

okay so i decided to combine this prompt together with my headcanon for that levihan ring merch for a canon setting one-shot!

One More Chance

"What do you think of rings?" Hange asks Levi out of the blue, in the little room that could suffice as an office for his unofficial position as second in command.

"Why?" Levi knows that Hauge doesn't ask questions out of the blue without motives.

They could be random, absurd, silly, but there was always a reason behind their questions.

Hange plants one elbow on the table, bent forward in anticipation for Levi's answer. His eyes catch the glint of Hange's bolo tie as it swung back and forth.

Jewellery? Vanity aside, Hange knows better than Levi how expensive it is to obtain warm clothing and food, much less a bunch of shiny rocks. They spent days mulling over the Survey Corps’ budget, where to allocate resources, how to seek funding, and to keep expenses humane but tight.

“Why?” He repeats, unsure as to whether to sneak in a crass joke as Hange’s eyes were shining—in a different tone compared to the bright-eyedness that showed whenever they made a new discovery. It was, what was it? Nostalgia? Levi is certain that Hange had never, of ten years being by their side, even hinted at a desire for a ring, for whatever reason they might yearn for the object.

Hange knows Levi is perturbed—suspicious, even. They know that such an ambiguously-worded question, simple as it was, will not warrant a straightforward answer from Levi. He is far too observant to not think of Hange’s line of questioning as uncharacteristic from the usual. The usual Hange will elaborate; they will give details. Perhaps this is a ring made from a special sort of metal to go undetected from metal sensors to sneak past the enemy and pass on valuable information etched in code on the inside, for example. Whatever reason that prompted Hange to take a sudden interest in rings wasn’t for battle, or for moral good, which frankly, is more embarrassing for them.

“Do you keep those patches with you?” Hange changes the topic. Levi blinks, then turns to the drawer and pulls the handle. The open drawer speaks for itself; filled with rows and rows of haphazardly torn patches of the Survey Corp’s uniform, the emblem of the wings of freedom.

“You keep it here, huh…” Hange muses, touching one patch tenderly, feeling the crusted blood stain at the tip of their finger.

“Do you remember who each patch belongs to?”

Levi shakes his head, not defending the lack of differentiation between the patches. To him, each patch is louder than a name attached to it. A fellow soldier whose heart he carried on within him.

“If I die, Levi, will you bring back my patch?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” Levi is quick to retort, sounding mildly irritated that Hange brought up the possibility of death.

“We all die someday.”

“We should think about how to stay alive,” Levi says firmly. “And what does any of this have to do with rings?”

Hange laughs, patting Levi on the shoulder affectionately. “You won’t let that go, huh?”

“It seems important,” Levi says, disgruntled. “You’re not usually so hesitant.”

“It’s not.” Hange waves their hands defensively, straightening up to avoid Levi’s gaze.

“What’s that in your pocket? Your hand keeps touching it.” Levi is sharp as ever, Hange thinks, itching to back out and tend to more important commander duties.

“Maybe next time! I have to go!” Hange brisk-walks out of the office, leaving Levi in the dust. He has the immediate urge to follow them, to grab their arm and ask what’s wrong, to force some kind of coherent understanding to this muddled conversation. Yet, he continues sitting on the chair, wondering if their mutual awkwardness had swept past them in the form of a lost opportunity. The patches flutter a little in the wind, as though asking him, what are you so afraid of?

He closes the drawer and sinks back onto the creaky, wooden chair, waiting for Hange to come back.

The next time he sees them again is when he’s so battered that his back trembles at the prospect of sitting on another hard surface. The series of negotiations, arguments, plans, fly past him in a whirlwind of decisions led by Hange. He occasionally spots the bulge in their side pocket, but his head is spinning with a million of other more dire worries to figure out what the hell is this unresolved mystery from months ago.

One night, as Hange tends to the bandages around his head, traces the stiches on his face, and mumbles quiet nothings about how they’re glad he’s alive, he finally lifts a shaky hand to point at the bulging pocket.

“Are you going to tell me what’s in that?”

“Nothing that will help us stop this mess,” Hange says, sweeping some of the fringe off his forehead to wipe the sweat underneath.

“But it’s important to you,” he states. Hange nods slowly.

“And you want to show it to me.” He tries, unaccustomed to the presumptuousness of his claim. But there is little time. If there was ever time before, now they were running on thin, cracked lines of time, teetering over the edge.

Hange sighs, and stuffs a reluctant hand into their pocket to bring out a small box.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t use the Scouts’ funds.”

“The Survey Corps doesn’t exist anymore,” Levi reminds them, to distract his mind from speculating endlessly about what’s in the box. He wants to sit up. Physically straining himself feels unwise, so he settles with tilting his head to get a clearer view of both Hange and the box.

Hange carefully holds his shoulders to sit him up, leaning him against them.

“I got rings for us.”

“Huh?”

The box is opened, and inside were two shining rings in silver and gold. Purple embellishment on the gold and green on silver. Not to mention it was heart-shaped rings. Levi feels his cheeks getting warmer by the second by its blatant implications, and is thankful that the bandages literally covered half his face.

“I know, I told them not to make it heart-shaped but you know when Reeves knew it was for you he said I had to make it obvious, whatever that meant,” Hange says quickly, snapping the box shut so as to save themselves from having to confront what was glaring at them.

“It’s not practical for fighting,” Levi murmurs, reaching out to take the box from Hange.

“Dedicate your hearts… wasn’t that what Erwin said?” Hange, always the one to inject light humour in tense situations, decides it will be alright to quote Erwin’s war cry in what is essentially a confession.

“Right.” Levi opens the box, looking expectantly at Hange.

“What?”

“Rings are for wearing, right?”

“You said they weren’t practical!”

“We’re not fighting now.”

Running their hands through their hair, Hange looks rather sheepish. “It’s a bit selfish but I just want to be remembered. As more than a patch.”

Levi frowns, bandages crinkling. “You think I’ll forget you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I won’t forget you. Ring or no ring.”

Upon hearing the seriousness of Levi’s voice, the light-heartedness returns to Hange, as they cheekily present the ring to them.

“Well then, will you dedicate your heart to me, shitty Captain?”

“Whatever, Four-eyes.” He says it as flippantly as he can, yet handles the ring like sudden movement will break it.

“Hah! I wonder what the kids will say about the rings…” Hange stretches out and lays beside Levi, admiring the ring on their hand amidst the backdrop of night stars. He takes their hand and weaves his fingers through it, placing their interlocked hands on his chest.

After the plane takes off, Levi’s eyes are trained on the floor. The plane rattles, swerves, and gains momentum. Everyone around him is emotional—rightly so, because their leader had said a fleeting goodbye before leaping to their death. He holds one hand in the other, feeling the cold metal on his finger. Rings don’t leave the smell of Hange’s skin when they lie their head on his shoulder after a long day. Rings don’t capture the sound of Hange’s laugh when they make friendly banter with their juniors, or when Levi makes the occasional, dry joke that only they pick up on. Rings don’t emulate the dialogue of their late-night discussions in his office, the tea that he makes and that they drink from the same cup—to save the time needed for washing, according to Hange. He doesn’t protest.

Still, the ring is all he has left. The one chance Hange had, they entrusted in him this ring. They could translate Levi’s words into more palpable versions for other people, but they could not for the life of them come up with words to express their more vulnerable feelings. For Hange, the ring was another chance to cement what remained unspoken: I hope you remember me. I’m here with you.

The last chance Levi had, he placed a fist on their heart.

“Dedicate your heart.” The ring flashes in the sunlight, making Hange blink back tears.

Now, he clutches one hand in the other.

“See you, Hange.” The ring stares back, patiently. He closes his eyes, bringing the thin, metal sentiment to his lips.

“Keep watching us.”

thank you for the prompt @djmarinizelablog !! ^_^

[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (part 10)

A/N: Part of this chapter is inspired by the song 2 Years by Thomston. Thank you to the lovely anon that told me this song reminded them of this fic! I highly recommend listening to it! 

word count: 3.9k 

tw: mentions of childbirth, slight season 9 spoilers, otherwise fluffy 

masterlist: “A few months later we were in Boston, on that strangulation case. It’s a pretty hard case to forget, I mean, you delivered a baby. A real human baby, that you brought earthside with your own two hands. You delivered him, and she named him after you. Baby Spencer. 

Morgan and I dragged the unsub out into the street, hearing that poor woman scream and cry as you brought her baby into the world, but you did great, and he was beautiful. Just like his namesake. When I walked back inside I saw you give her the baby, and my heart just about melted into a puddle on the floor. You and kids, it just does something to me. It feels like my heart comes out of my body and into your hands like putty. It's an odd feeling, like you’re physically poking around in my chest. In a weird way I’ll miss it. 

Then I saw JJ give you a side hug, and put her arm on your chest. She even leaned into your neck, with a soft, sweet little nuzzle. You probably didn’t notice it, but I did. I always noticed. A million little ways to say ‘I love you’ without actually saying ‘I love you’. Right?

Yet again, I said nothing. I had no logical reason to be worried. She was married. You told me daily how much you loved me, how special I was, how beautiful, how amazing, how lucky you were. It’s a shame you didn’t feel like that at the end. But I made it okay. I told myself I was just overthinking it all, like usual. I buried it all down. Again, and again, and again. 

That night we went to that bar Rossi loves and everyone was happy, talking about how you delivered a baby. 

Alex asked you, “How on earth did you know what to do?” 

You explained how you memorized all the delivery manuals when JJ was pregnant, just in case. I often wonder if you’d do half the things you do for her, if it were for someone else. Or are some things just for JJ?

I just smiled and laughed, still pushing the feelings away. It was a night to celebrate and I was determined to not be a party pooper. Instead, I went the other way. I was the life of that party. We all got on stage and sang ‘Piano man’ karaoke, and if anyone was making love to a tonic and gin that night, it was me. Many, many, tonic and gins. I stumbled into an Uber with you and ended up at home. You helped me into bed. You wiped off my makeup and undressed me, putting one of your large shirts on me, leaving a bottle of water, two advils, and a note that said “i love you, love” for me to see when I woke up. Stuff like that makes me wonder if you’d only ever do some things for me. It sounds selfish, but I hope wiping my makeup off and putting my moisturizer on for me is something reserved for us. I know there are many things I have reserved just for you, Spence. No one will ever be that kind to me again, and that’s a fact.”

Are some things just for JJ? Really? He was irritated for a passing moment, why were you mad about him caring about his best friend? Before he had even met you?

But then that anger was soon replaced with confusion. Why’d you never mention it? In all the fights you had, you never once mentioned JJ. You never once threw the feelings that were so clear to everyone in his face. Why? Why not? 

Every word made him feel like he didn’t really know you, but also made him wonder if you even knew him? Because if you did you would’ve known he did nothing for JJ, but everything for you. 

“I immediately fell asleep.

 I woke up at some point, maybe around four am, and you weren’t in the bed next to me. I remember patting the sheets, looking for you as I usually did at night. To sleep, I needed to feel you pressed up against me. I didn’t. I panicked. I looked at the note, and for half a second I thought you left. It did look a little like a goodbye note, Spence. I yelled your name a few times, and when I didn’t get a response I really started to worry. I got out of bed and stumbled around; my head was still fuzzy. I walked around the house calling your name. You still didn’t answer. I finally found you on the balcony. 

It was warm for April, and you were sitting on a chair in your pajamas, staring at the stars. 

“Talking to the moon again?” I said, and you turned to look at me. 

The moon was a waxing crescent (thank you for that) so I couldn’t see you well. If it had been full, maybe I would’ve seen your sad eyes. 

“Hey, what’re you doing up?” You whispered.

I sat in the other chair, “I woke up and you weren’t there, so I came to find you. You scared me half to death, Reid.”

 I was looking at you but you wouldn’t look at me. I needed you to look at me.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Only if you come with me.” 

I was trying to be funny, but the pit in my stomach was insane. I really felt like I was staring the end in the face. That was the first time I ever saw you like that, completely shut out from me. You were always forthcoming with me, no matter what was going on. Your voice was rough, like you were getting a cold. You cleared your throat. 

“I think I want to stay out here a while longer.”

“Okay, then I’ll stay with you.”

“Y/N...” You were warning me, I should’ve listened. 

I stood up to walk back inside and I patted your shoulder. I disappeared to get a tub of ice cream and two spoons. We both knew your stomach would hurt afterwards, but we didn’t care. The comfort that binging on ice cream when you’re sad brings is well worth a tummy ache. And even in my half drunk brain fog, I could tell you needed it.”

Spencer chuckled, remembering how you always kept two tubs in the freezer “just in case.” Whenever one of you was having one of those days, the other would grab a tub, and you’d sit in silence and eat. That was back when each other’s company was enough. He still kept one tub in his freezer, hoping in some weird way that you’d be back and the two of you could sit and eat in silence, and somehow that would make it all okay. 

“We sat in silence staring at the sky and taking turns grabbing spoonfuls of cookie dough ice cream. It was comfortable, domestic, calm. 

“So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

You shook your head, “Nothing’s bothering me.”

“You only talk to the moon when you’re upset, Spence.”

You sighed, knowing I was right. The ice cream was for bad days, but the moon was for when you needed to think. And think alone. You said staring up at the moon helped you feel grounded; it reminded you how important we are. It always reminded me of how small I am, how I am literally a speck of dust on a planet that’s a slightly bigger speck of dust that’s hurling through time and space. It reminds me of how small we all are in the grand scheme of the universe. Then you’d tell me: “Everything that makes up us is from those stars. We’re literally made of stardust.” Then I’d feel important too, because you made me important. I mattered because I was in this place at this time with you. You’d tell me about the big bang and the million miracles that led to us being here, alive in this moment. You’d say it reminded you how lucky you were that you got to exist in this world with me. I don’t know if I believe in God, Spence, but if there is one I thank him for letting me exist at the same time as you, even if it was only for a finite time.”

He had to remind himself to breathe. How could words suffocate? How could ink take his breath away? Spencer wished it was nighttime, so he could talk to the moon again, so he could feel important again, so he could feel lucky. 

“You didn’t answer.

“Was it the case?”

You just nodded slightly, as if to say ‘sort of’. 

“This is literally as good as it can go. We got the guy and you brought someone’s baby into the world. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a happier ending.”

“No.”

That’s all you said, and I let the silence fester. We both just kept eating the ice cream. After about fifteen minutes you said, “The world looks different from here.”

“From the balcony? Yeah I guess, the city looks small, tiny ant people.”

You chuckled, “No, like from where I am right now in my life. I just see the world different than I did yesterday.”

“And I’m sure we’ll look at it differently again tomorrow.” I was trying to help, but it was 4:30 in the morning and I was still slightly buzzed. No amount of ice cream or an existential crisis was going to get rid of that. 

“I held a human being in my hands as it took its first breaths today, Y/N. I was the first thing he ever saw. I literally held his life in my hands.” 

“I know. Maybe you should take up obstetrics.” Another failed attempt at a joke.

 “It just made me think.”

“About what?”

“I just, I always thought I wanted kids,” you said it doubtfully and with a shrug. You looked at me in my eyes finally, and wow did it hurt. 

“But now I’m not so sure.”

I’m pretty sure my jaw almost dropped. How did delivering a baby make you no longer want a village of kids on Christmas morning? I thought it’d have the opposite effect. I thought it’d ignite your baby fever, like it ignited mine. My heart sank, “Why?” 

“I-I don’t know.”

I tried, again, to lighten the mood, “Is it because of the actual birth part? Because I promise I can handle it. No epidurals for me.”

You half smiled, “No, no it’s not that.”“Well then what is it?” I had this dreadful feeling that you were going to tell me that it was me. That I was the reason. That you wanted kids, but you didn’t want them with me.

 “How am I supposed to pass on these genes?”

“Your super smart, tall, handsome, magnificent genius genes? C’mon Spence,” I scoffed. 

“I meant schizophrenia.”

The air went cold between us. 

“You don’t have it though.”

“Having a grandparent with the disease increases your chances of developing it by 5%.”

“Yeah, and I have bad eyesight and terrible allergies and had braces as a kid, which our kids will inherit.” 

“You don’t understand what I mean.”

I rolled my eyes, “No, Love, I don’t. But I do know that you can’t be scared of what ifs.”

You ran your hands through your hair, and just groaned. You sighed, but I kept rambling. I blame my loose lips on Rossi. He kept buying, and I kept drinking.

“And there’s so many what ifs. What if they do get schizophrenia? But what if they don’t and you didn’t have kids because you were scared?”

“It’s not just that it’s—”

“It’s what Spencer?”

“I-I didn’t have a dad! I don’t know how to be one.”

We sat in silence. I didn’t know what to say. 

“I just don’t think it’s for me anymore.”

I felt tears sting my eyes. If we weren’t on the same page, this conversation was going to end horribly. “

But if you don’t want them then—“ I stopped and shakily wiped my face. 

“Then what?” You sounded scared.

I stopped myself from saying something that I’d regret. I wanted to say ‘then I can’t do this.’ Thank god I didn’t. 

“I just, I always thought my kids would be your kids too. I don’t think I want to be a parent if you aren’t there with me.”

Your eyes were shining from the tears and the sliver of moon when they met mine, “Really?”“

Yeah, I’ve told you this a million times, love. You will be the best father because you know what it’s like to not have one. You become better than the people before you.”

You dropped the spoon into the almost empty tub, “I know, I know. I just got in my head about it all.”

“Stop thinking about years ahead, Spence. All you have to think about is right now. I know it feels like we’re running out of time, but don’t rush life.”

You smiled watery and I went to sit on your lap. You rubbed your hand against the small of my back and we watched the sun start to rise. We were done talking to the moon. I dragged you inside, the new day’s sun was coming in through the windows. 

“Do you really think you’re running out of time?” You asked me, holding me close.

 I nodded, “Yeah. I always feel like I am. I thought I’d have two kids and a golden retriever by thirty-one, but I have none of that and I’m getting close to thirty-two. Twenty-four hours just feels shorter and shorter everyday.”

“That’s because each day is a smaller and smaller fraction of our memories. Time feels quicker and quicker every day.”

There you were. There was my love. My you. 

I squeezed you, “I know. It’s just scary. I feel like I’m behind.”

“I feel like that a lot too. You know I thought I’d cure schizophrenia by twenty-five?”

I smiled, “Even you can’t do everything, love.”

“Do you want to catch up?”

“How so?”

“We could get a golden retriever.”

I laughed, “Sure, and next you’ll be saying ‘let’s have a baby.’”

You shrugged and swooped me in front of you, “Why not? Me, you, a baby, sounds pretty good.” 

You said it as a joke, but it didn’t feel like one. “

You mean that?” I looked up at you and could see that longing in your eyes. You could see it in mine too. Always so pensive, Spencer Reid. 

“I didn’t mean like right now, but we can soon. We have to get married first.”

I rolled my eyes, “Who says we need to get married first? JJ and Will didn’t get married until Henry was four. They’re perfect.”

“Henry wasn’t planned.”

“And?”

“And, I’d like to marry you before knocking you up,” you said it like a joke again, peppering me in kisses. 

“We don’t need a stupid piece of paper from the government, Love.”

“So you don’t want to marry me?” There was amusement in your voice. 

“Oh, I want to marry you. I want to marry you so hard, Spencer Reid.”

We laughed, “I want to marry you so hard too.”

You kissed my forehead, and then my lips before moving away from me. 

“So, we both know we want to marry each other and we just agreed to have a baby, like soon?” I clarified. 

“Yes. We did. So, what’s stopping us from doing it right now?” You started milling around in the book case, looking for something. “

Don’t you dare get down on one knee right now, Spencer Reid. I told you already, I am not getting engaged without my nails done.”

You smiled, “I wasn’t! I wasn’t! I was just going to put on some music.” You held up a CD, and I smiled. You came back and pulled me close, and we started to sway back and forth. I always wanted to dance in the kitchen with the love of my life. That morning I did.

After the song ended, we went up to bed finally. I remember laying down and kissing you, going to the place we usually went. Afterwards, you held me against your chest again, “Did you mean it?”

I nodded, “Every word.”

You sighed happily, “So did I.”

I looked up at you, grinning, “So does that mean puppy Reid and baby Reid are coming soon?”

You rolled your eyes, “Puppy Reid, I can handle. But baby Reid is after Mrs. Reid. Call me old fashioned, but that’s how I want to do this.”

I toyed with your hair, “I can handle that.”

While I was packing, I found the CD you were rummaging for. I put it on and danced around the kitchen again. It wasn’t the same. ‘Your Song’ by Elton John is a love song, and love songs just hurt when you’re alone. I swayed in the sunlight, imagining you were swaying with me, talking about having a baby and getting married. I miss that feeling. I miss talking to the moon. I miss ice cream. I miss dancing in the kitchen to Elton John. I miss baggy tee shirts. I miss little notes. I miss the way “How wonderful life is when you’re in the world” felt when I was in your arms. I miss late night kissing. I miss the way you feel with me. I miss us. I miss you, but I miss that you. 

You’re probably wondering what your souvenir from that night is. I thought about giving you the CD, I thought about giving you some ice cream and a spoon, I even thought about giving you the moon, but I decided on the note. “I love you, love.” 

The note was badly wrinkled and his pencil chicken scratch was faded with time. He smiled, remembering the hundreds of notes he probably left you. They always ended in “I love you” with a little doodled heart. He remembered dancing in the sunlight and looking at engagement rings and rescue dogs. He missed you, and not just the version of you from that memory. He missed the version of you from the end. He hated that you didn’t miss that him too.  

“I thought going through all of this would bring me some closure, and now that we’re halfway through I realize that was a mistake. Instead of stitching me up, this opened wounds I thought I had long since healed. This brought it all back. I hope this doesn’t do that for you. I hope it’s the period on the end of this run on sentence. I hope this is closure for you. We both need that.”

He took the letter and the note and walked to his bed, flopping on it and staring at the ceiling fan. It was soothing, in a weird way. He fell into a trance. 

His phone ringing tried to snap him out of it. He didn’t reach for it and waited until the vibrations died. They came again, and he forced himself to look at it. 

JJ. 

Great, first Derek, now JJ. He knew they were just being good friends, but it was getting tiring. He wanted to just be alone, and he especially didn’t want to hear from JJ. His relationship with her was a point of contention with you and he didn’t even know. Between what he had just read and the photo from her wedding, all the old feelings he had for her were brought back to the surface and made him feel gross. He now realized the way your face would turn sour whenever he would pick JJ up in a spin and your off remarks when he’d mention going out with her. In hindsight, you were being jealous but somewhat reasonable. Before he met you, he wondered if he was just waiting for an alternate universe where he could be with JJ. One where there was no Will and no bad Redskins date, where he could look at her without it hurting. Now he knew he’d only be waiting for an alternate universe where he could be with you. 

The phone buzzed again and he finally decided to grab it and answer. 

“Hello?”His voice was groggy and hoarse from not being used. 

“Spence? Hey, it’s me, I just wanted to see if you were okay?”

He didn’t answer, eyes still trained on the fan. 

She cleared her throat, “I just talked to Derek and...”

“What’d he say?”

“He told me about the letters, little dramatic huh?”

He could hear her roll her eyes. JJ was the sweetest person alive, but when it came to Spencer the claws could come out. 

“Yeah, I’m up to number ten,” he kept his voice steady and almost bored, not wanting to reveal anything to her. 

“Out of how many?”

“Fifteen.”

Spencer stood up and walked to the window by the chess table.

 “How are you doing?”

“Did you know every seven to ten years our cells regenerate completely?” Spencer spoke into the phone, staring out the window. It was mid afternoon by now and the snow had stopped. The cars on the road had ruined the innocent white snow, leaving dark gray slush in their wake.

“Every cell?” JJ said back, the phone making her voice crackly and hard to hear. 

“Yeah, skin cells live two to three weeks,” He swallowed thickly, “So the skin she has right now is skin I’ve never touched. Those cells don’t know who I am. My lips are already on the second cycle. They’ve never kissed her. Eventually I’ll have a body that doesn’t recognize hers and she’ll have a body that recognizes someone who isn’t me.”

JJ didn’t speak, just sighed, “You know that isn’t true.”

“It is, Jennifer,” He ran his hands through his hair, “I’m going to be stuck here and she’s going to move on and it’s killing me.” His voice cracked at the end.

 “Then don’t think of it as being stuck, think of it as a turning point. You get to choose a direction now. You’re at a crossroads, Spence, you can choose to move on.” 

She sounded earnest and he knew she was right, but he couldn’t help the feeling. It’s like he was in quicksand and no one could pull him out. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled. 

JJ sighed, “Do you want to talk about the letters?”

“No,” he said harsher than he intended, “I just want to finish this and then figure out what I’m supposed to do.”

“Well, if you need any help, you know where to find me.”

He nodded as if she could see him and whispered, “Bye.”

He hung up before she could respond. He threw the phone on the window sill and walked to the bathroom, splashing cold water over his face. He stared at his own reflection in the mirror. It looked foreign. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, his skin looked pale, and his hair looked like he had just rolled out of bed, which he kind of had. He felt like his whole body was bruised. He toyed with his hair to get it to a tolerable place and sat back down on his bed, grabbing the tenth letter.

part 11!

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[solarsmith49]

First Entry

So I figured I should have a preface/background post before I jump into sharing my writing lol, be warned this is kinda sappy but necessary haha.  I’m going to focus on writing for Creatus Annus; I got back into watching Mark’s channel during the initial March lockdowns after being away for a couple years, and from there into Ethan’s channel and Unus Annus.  I relate so much to Ethan in the brutally honest video talking about how he’s felt aimless and drifting the last few years, because that’s exactly how I felt for a long time- I started 2020 unemployed, no money, no direction, with seemingly no passion or drive to really get out and /live/ instead of just existing.  In April I had a breakdown, and I realized I had to get myself and my life together while I still could because it really did seem like the world was burning down (thanks covid!) and if I didn’t do it now then there wouldn’t be another chance.  I was able to mentally get myself together, and I did find another job in May (which has been a godsend).  And at about the same time as I got hired, I found Mark’s vlog talking about his surgeries and the post-op pain medicine screwup that almost killed him.   I closed my laptop and cried after that, because it was exactly what I needed to hear, when I needed to hear it, by the right person I needed to hear it from.  Because I realized it described me perfectly, not acting on my potential and (even worse) not feeling the /need/ to do so.  So I took a long look at myself, and this essay below is the first thing I wrote after watching the video, exploring my complete love of space and /why/ it drives me in the way it does.  I think it fits the whole message of Unus Annus, and what we’re trying to do here with Creatus Annus, trying to give our own answers to why our lives and our art matters.  Space colors all of my poems (as you’ll see later haha), as well as the creative tension I have from my religious and spiritual background (I was raised Catholic, and still am to a degree, but my personal beliefs range all over the place and the relationship and dialogue I have with God/the Divine and what it means to Create Things is a major theme with space).  So, here’s my first entry for the project; I’m going to write my general ideas for specifically what I want to do in the ideas thread later, but enjoy the essay - I think you guys will like it.

Even until just a few days ago, I didn’t think I had any life passions, or at least, any passions that mattered.  I have hobbies, sure - gaming, crafting, reading, general learning - but I never thought much of them because I didn’t see how I could use them or even if I should bother trying to make anything of them.  Certainly I didn’t think I had any interest that moved me enough to devote a life’s pursuit ot it - but that was another self life, perhaps the greatest, one born from a mix of complacency, lack of faith in myself, and a fear of really facing what truly honestly drives me and the action that that would demand.  The change that that would demand.  Because I do have a passion, and I love it in a general sense, learning about it and following it casually.  But it's also something I turn to in dark hours, something that resparks me when I’m tired, that keeps me going and holds my faith and sustains me when everything else fails - family, friends, my job prospects, failing health, chaos in the larger world, evil in the larger world, even when my belief in the Church burns down and God as seen through the “Catholic” lens seems distant and irrelevant.  Something that I adore with every fiber of my being and in the core of my very soul.  That something is space: the stars and galaxies and their natural functions and processes, but also in particular the space program and what it says about human nature and our relation to the wider universe and ultimately to God himself.

I believe the human endeavour to get to space and the various space programs throughout the world showcase the pinnacle of what our species can do, the best of humanity in terms of technology and cooperation and curiosity, and one of the most fundamental drives we have as humans - the drive to be remembered.  Every single human being, from the greatest to the worst of us, is the end product of 13.6 billion years of cosmic cycles, stars being formed, exploding, sending out dust that forms new stars.  Every single atom and primal element in our bodies, our carbon, iron, calcium, magnesium, everything was forged in the nuclear fusion reactor in the core of a star, untold eons ago and untold millions of lightyears away.  Probably more than once as the dust clouds combine, are forged, and then scattered by the shockwaves of supernovas across time and space.  Over and over and over again, until 4.6 billion years ago when our Sun grew from dust and the planets grew from the leftovers.  And the Earth - the Earth! - undergoing the same process in microcosm, plates shifting and rock melting and gas expanding and water sifting until the Earth was made solid, and then!  In the process, as a by-product, a side effect!  The right combination of star forged elements and electricity and chemical reactions was struck and gave the collections of dust atoms Life and Breath!  Living, self sustaining action on its own accord, independent of outside forces, movement greater than the stars because it happens on its own!  And THEN - a more focused microcosm of the star forge, as 4.5 billion years of evolution refine Life, uncounted species live and die and refine their genes and physical makeup and brain processes and living interactions with the inert world around them; the decay of their bodies feeding plants which feed animals which lets them reproduce and keep the cycle going, echoing the ancient and unaware supernovas, until at last! 100,000 years ago the human species was fully evolved, and, miraculously, became self aware.

Think about that for a minute.  As wonderful as Life is, we could have been just another species of animal, but for the greatest innovation and combination of stardust the universe has ever seen.  We were cavemen, we knew next to nothing about the stars or the wide earth or about our potential, but for the first time Life had gained the capacity to know.  For the first time in 13.6 billion years, dust atoms had gained the capability to learn their origins and how they were made and ultimately to define why they were made.  So, what is almost the very first thing we do with this capacity of thought as an infant species, newly self aware?  We make art.  We make, preserved by some quirk of fate in a French cave, handprints on a rock wall.  We - living stardust - take inert ochre and pigment and stamp an outline on the wall, and those outlines survive intact for 50,000 years.  In this scribbling of an infant species we can already recognize the drive still present in ourselves - the need to say “we were here once, and our existence mattered”.  Humanity for the first time, living relics of ancient stars, giving voice for the first time to those stars, saying in art and words what stars declared in the mute atoms and elements and light they left behind: “we existed once, and that existence mattered.”

Humanity is the universe made self aware.  And just as galaxies are made of millions of individual stars, so too do we as individuals make up Humanity as a collective.  Every single one of us is the universe learning about and defining itself.  And the impulse behind our earliest achievements of cave art is present in everything throughout our history, our collective achievements, our art, our architecture, literature, science, theology, our empires, our struggles, our failures, our compassion for each other.  It's present in all of us as individuals, for which of us doesn’t want our life, our memory to be remembered when we are gone?  We as a species are capable of such great things, great destruction and great good.  And throughout our entire history as a species, we’ve never stopped looking up at the moon and the stars, admiring them, fascinated by them, studying them, unaware at times of our origin among them but always drawn to their light, their unspoken promise.  Until finally in the 20th century, the culmination of thousands of years of research and science and engineering, the best efforts of the best we humans have to offer - we unlock the sky we’ve dreamed of for so long and we build machines to take us to the Moon.  We build the Saturn V, the Apollo capsules, we push ourselves from the cradle and beyond our ancient limits and we - fragile, living mortals - walk upon the Moon itself.  We leave our handprints, after all this time, in the purest form of star dust we will likely ever physically encounter, the living imprinting its shape into the inert, like a brother finally coming home.

But we don’t stop there.  We build satellites and the Hubble Telescope, the International Space Station and satellites and rovers and probes to pave the way for us, our reunion with the stars.  We take more stardust and primal elements and fashion them in our image, to go to other worlds and scout the cosmos for us.  We name them after the best of ourselves: Pioneer, Perseverance, Curiosity, Sojourner, Spirit, that they may represent us well to the cosmos and whatever it may contain.  We build Voyager 1 and Voyager 2, currently the furthest of our creations from the Earth in the cold vastness of interstellar space, and in Voyager 2 we place the Golden Record.  A disk of pure gold upon which we recorded the sounds and voice of Earth - water running, leaves falling in the wind, ocean waves, volcanoes bursting, birds singing, and us - human voices, human laughter, human crying, greetings in every language, our music, a baby crying, a heart beating.  We took inert stardust and imprinted ourselves, living dust, upon it, and sent it out into interstellar space to be our witness and our message.  That we, the universe living and self ware, see the stars we came from and that we understand; we say through the pinnacle of our innovation and with the same depth of expression as those first handprints, “We, the living dust, give this record back to you and for ourselves, that we existed once, and that it mattered.”  We sent it as a testimony, as an offering, as a prayer, and as a vow: that we aren’t done yet, that as long as Humanity lives we will never be done, and if we do eventually end that there will have been a time, if only briefly, that the stars knew and understood themselves, and that despite or even because of its brevity, it will have mattered.

[shipaholic]

Omens Universe, Chapter 8

OOF. this is a big one. See you on the other side.

Warning for... WW2 being a thing (we’re still in 1941).

Also, mention of Michael Jackson (no longer in 1941).

Link to next part at the end.

(From the beginning)

(last part)

(chrono)

---

Chapter 8

Zadkiel soared. Wind stung his face as he rose. The London street dropped away below him, postcard-sized and shrinking by the second.

This was the right thing to do. It was their one chance to be free. Heaven and Hell would never let them go, or be together. Zadkiel’s only hope for existence could not be found on Earth.

Space it was, then.

It had been thousands of years (or infinity, from another perspective) since he’d last touched the stars. In the cloudless night, they looked close enough to grab handfuls of. He stretched his arms out to them. In his imagination, they brushed against his fingertips like marbles. Cold air streamed through his feathers and blew in his ears.

There was something else he could hear. Something that shouldn’t be out here. A low, violent whir, vibrating in his breastbone and growing louder. It settled in him and churned his insides. What was that -?

A plane burst from nowhere.

It was right on top of him. He saw the scared whites of the pilot’s eyes. The man hollered something and threw his body sideways in the cockpit. The plane lurched to the right, too late. It ran him over like a sixteen-wheeler. He hung in the sky, an oversized bird torched in a jet’s engine. Then he dropped like a stone.

Halfway down, he split apart. Crowley and Aziraphale, half-conscious, stared at each other in shock.

“Shit!”

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale. He managed to pull him up short, feet from the ground. They careened and lurched like two weather balloons tangled together.

They made the rest of the drop together. The horrible noise of the plane was quieter from the ground, but it still drilled on relentlessly.

Aziraphale pulled his wings in and looked around wildly for Crowley. The demon raced towards the bookshop, streaming curses behind him.

“Shitshitshitshitshitcome on, Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale threw himself after him. Halfway down the street, Crowley skidded to a halt, squinted into the sky, and changed direction, legging it to the nearest alley.

Aziraphale crashed along behind and flung himself into the small, dark space beside him. They panted together, listening. The roar in the sky bore into their eardrums. It felt like it had invaded Aziraphale’s body like a colony, buzzing and crawling.

It faded away. The silence twanged like a knife blade braced on top of a counter.

“That was a Messerschmidt,” Aziraphale whispered.

“I know. Guess they came back for more.”

“Is there more than one?”

“How should I know? We might have knocked it off course.”

“Good.”

Crowley slumped against the wall. Aziraphale looked at him and through him.

He felt sick. Discorporation was his last concern. Thinking about what they had almost just done brought a chill to the pit of his stomach.

Crowley’s teeth chattered. He hadn’t miracled up another pair of shades, and his snake eyes were on display. The gold had crept outwards and polluted the whites, something that happened when his concentration wasn’t what it ought to be.

Aziraphale was aware he was breathing fast. Nothing worked to calm him down. His fingers squeezed tighter and tighter against his palms, until -

“Tell me right now what the hell you were playing at,” he cried.

His voice echoed against the bricks. Crowley jumped.

“Excuse me?”

“That. Up there. We were going to leave Earth, Crowley.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to remind me, I was there,” Crowley snapped.

“Indeed you were! And I don’t mind telling you -”

Aziraphale was not sure what he wanted to say. He broke off. His breaths trembled out into the air between them.

“Are you accusing me of something?” Crowley’s voice filled Aziraphale’s veins with ice. “Should I remind you how this works? When we’re fused, it’s both of us calling the shots. What are you saying, that this was all my idea?”

“It must have been in one of our heads before tonight! Was this another of your - contingency plans? Like the holy water?”

Crowley took in a slow breath, as if forcing himself to be calm.

“OK. I’ve had the odd fantasy where I give Hell the bird and saunter off into the sunset. I can admit that. But that’s as far as it goes. I’d never do anything this stupid.”

Aziraphale threw up his hands. “Then I don’t understand! I wouldn’t abandon Heaven - I would never even dream of it. It’s treason.”

“Been a while since I was called a traitor.” Crowley’s voice turned nasty.

Aziraphale jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t start! This has to have been you. Nothing else makes sense.”

“Yeah, must have been my evil influence. You really are full of it, Aziraphale.”

It seemed impossible that the night could have taken such a turn. Less than half an hour ago, they had been realising they were in love. Tears pricked Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Both of us would turn our backs on Heaven and Hell in a heartbeat if we thought there was any chance of getting away with it,” Crowley said, low and relentless. “What do you think you’ve been doing for the past fourteen centuries? Besides half my work?”

“I’ve been spending time with you!” Aziraphale’s voice broke. Tears slid down his face. “Having lunch and inspiring playwrights and - and being your friend. That’s all. Not plotting a grand escape. We’d be fugitives, Crowley. I would never risk either of our lives for that, not in a million years.”

“And you honestly think I would?”

Crowley looked impossibly sad, all of a sudden. Aziraphale shook his head.

“I don’t know any more.”

Crowley slumped. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. It had never looked so untidy, Aziraphale noted, distantly.

“Angel, I wasn’t planning any kind of escape either. It wasn’t either of us. Not… separately. That’s fusion. Bigger and madder than the sum of our parts. If we’d come up with some harebrained plan to... I dunno, say bollocks to this and run off together, you know what would have happened? We’d have psyched ourselves out and worried the entire plan down to nothing. But Zadkiel? He’ll just take action. No doubts, no second-guessing our feelings, because he knows exactly how we feel and what we want and there’s no point pretending otherwise.”

Aziraphale had to look away.

“You should go,” he said.

That was it, then. The cruel joke of their relationship laid out. Acting on their feelings would bring destruction and ruin. Zadkiel would do this again. He wanted to be free, and that - that would never, ever be possible.

Crowley peeled away from the side of the alley. He walked, slowly, back towards the street without a word.

Aziraphale waited until he’d left. He sunk against the wall and stayed there for a long time.

~*~

Aziraphale reached the corner where the bookshop stood. The Bentley was gone. So were Crowley’s sunglasses from the table just inside the door.

Aziraphale sealed himself inside. He locked every door and window, magically adding a few extra bolts for good measure. He kept the blackout curtains drawn, leaving the shop grey and gloomy.

The gramophone stole his attention. Music still seemed to linger around it. He banished it to the back room.

He lowered himself into a reading chair. It was dark, but he made no motion to turn on any lights. He stared into space and ticked off the hours until he felt the sun creep up.

By morning, he made his decision.

He crossed the floor of the shop and collected a dozen candles from a drawer in the bureau. He bent down and lifted the heavy rug that covered elaborate runes drawn in chalk. He arranged the candles in a circle around it and lit them with a wave of his hand. He settled down, assumed a prayer position, and waited.

The runes glowed, gently and without direction, for a few minutes. A thin mist appeared in the circle. It coalesced and formed a face.

Floating in midair was the face of an angel.

They had red hair, a long nose, and a sharp jaw. It was an image of Crowley with deliberate mistakes. Of course, fate would choose to be cruel. They were probably from the same original batch. There were a few angels and demons walking around with the same face. Mass-production for you.

This angel’s gem was an earring that hung daintily against their cheek. There was no recognition in their eyes as they looked at Aziraphale.

“Front desk. How may I assist you?”

Aziraphale cleared his throat. “I was wondering if I might speak to the Archangel Gabriel. Is he around?”

“Hold, please.”

The image faded out. Hold music played. It was an instrumental version of Climb Every Mountain.

Aziraphale waited just a shade short of an interminably long time. Finally, Gabriel’s handsome head appeared, magnified to three times its normal size. As usual, he smiled at Aziraphale without looking pleased to see him.

“Aziraphale. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Aziraphale’s hands shook. He assumed it was from nerves, even though he felt completely hollow.

“Hello, there. I was, um. I was ringing about your kind offer of a promotion, about one hundred and forty-one years ago. Don’t suppose you remember…” The floor was hard. He shifted. “Is that still on offer? I’d like to reconsider.” He gave an empty smile. “I feel my usefulness on Earth is at an end. Time to move on.”

Gabriel’s face went blank.

Then he broke into his widest ever smile.

“Absolutely. Glad to have you back with us, Aziraphale.”

He leaned away. For a moment, only his chin and left ear, hugely magnified, appeared in the circle.

“Could someone let Michael know that - yeah? Thanks.” The rest of his head reappeared. “Just setting up a workstation. This is good! You’re fine with hotdesking, right?”

He clearly didn’t want an answer. Aziraphale’s gaze drifted around the shop. Might as well get it tidy before he left. Dear old thing. He couldn’t believe he only had an hour or so left with it. Maybe he should sit and read and let the dust settle around him. He could always -

“And we’re done. Come on up!”

He started.

“So soon? Right now, in fact?”

Gabriel looked expectant.

Grief swelled in Aziraphale’s breast. He looked around wildly.

“S - sorry, could you leave the portal open for just five minutes? I need to write a quick note. Cancelling the milk, and so on.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Sure. Just five minutes, though! Eco-friendly initiative, they’ve got us all on it…”

He vanished. The portal continued to glow, ominously.

Aziraphale rose and crossed to his desk. He grabbed paper, ink, and a pen.

He stared at the blank page for almost the full five minutes.

At last, carefully, he wrote a note for Crowley. It wasn’t long. He hoped it got across everything he felt, or at least as much of it as could fit on a page.

He addressed it ‘Anthony J.’ and placed it on the desk.

He turned around. The portal hummed menacingly in the middle of the shop. It cast an unnatural white light over his books. He picked his way towards it. As he went, he let his hands brush over objects he had owned for centuries, committing their touch to memory.

He performed a quick ritual on the lip of the circle. It would prevent his gem from being left behind when he travelled between dimensions.

He stepped into the circle and ascended.

All the candles snuffed out behind him.

~*~

2008

On a night that was neither dark nor stormy, two demons lurked in a graveyard. A basket, silent for now, sat at their feet. One of them passed a cigarette to the other.

“Bugger this for a lark. He was s’posed to be here hours ago.”

The short unpleasant one accepted the cigarette from the tall unpleasant one.

“Do you trust him?”

“Nope.”

They agreed it’d be a funny old world if demons went around trusting each other.

“What’s he calling himself up here these days?”

“Crowley.” Hastur spat on the ground. It sizzled. “If you ask me, he’s been up here too long. Gone native. Wearing sunglasses, even when he don’t need them. And a glove.”

Ligur paused mid-drag. “Don’t remember anything about a glove.”

“Saw it at the last performance review. Long wotsit up to the elbow.”

Ligur contemplated this.

“Just on one arm?”

“Yep. Bet he thinks he’s Michael Jackson.”

“Who’s that?”

Hastur wasn’t entirely sure. He was spared having to make something up when twin headlamps swung into view through the fog.

“Here he comes now, the flash bastard.”

~*~

Crowley yanked the steering wheel. The Bentley cruised between headstones at ninety miles per hour. Bohemian Rhapsody blasted from the stereo. He jerked his left hand irritably and silenced it.

He favoured his left for most things, these days.

It had been a hard few decades. His arm ached, and he was tired down to his bones. He tried to ignore it, but there was a niggling voice in his head every morning that asked him how much longer, how many more years did he have to do any of this. [1]

The Bentley went from an impossible speed to a graceful stop in a manoeuvre that baffled the laws of physics. Crowley hopped from the car and snaked towards the two demons standing like sullen boulders in his headlights.

Whatever they had to say, at least it was unlikely to worsen his mood.

---

[1] And it wasn’t one of his coworkers possessing his alarm clock. He’d checked.

(Link to next part)

[benandreyship]

Ben and Rey Ship- Chapter 1 - Exegol

The story picks up right after Rey has been given Ben’s life-force, and they share a kiss on Exegol.

Rey and Ben share a long awaited kiss. As their lips touch, their skin seems to burn, and the flames blaze throughout their bodies. Their connection through the force strengthens and sings, and a vision takes hold of them. They’re on an island. Ben and Rey are sleeping, wrapped in each other’s arms. Ben’s hands caress her growing belly. On the side of their bed lay a small raven haired girl sleeping on a trundle bed. Suddenly, the vision darkens and dissipates. They break away from the kiss, and smile at one another. Ben has finally cast away Kylo Ren and the darkness. Rey knew she would perish when she faced Palpatine, and was astonished to still be alive. She grinned at Ben, so incredibly happy that he had finally chosen the light. Suddenly, their force-bond connection falters, and goes black. Ben falls to the ground, his life-force has been completely drained. Rey stares at his lifeless body, uncomprehendingly. “Ben?!” She places her head on his chest, and hears only silence. “BEN! Ben what happened? Ben! Wake up!” She shakes him. “Ben…” Tears fill her eyes and spill over onto her dust smudged cheeks. “Ben, no….It can’t happen this way…We’re meant to be together…Ben…” She places her head back on his chest, and hugs him to her. Her tears fall onto his cold chest. She couldn’t bear to lose the man that meant the world to her. Was one kiss all that they would ever get a chance to share? Rey abruptly lifts her head and stares at Ben. Understanding fills her. She had died after she had defeated Palpatine, and Ben had brought her back. Both of them were so weak already, Ben had given her the last of himself. “And I can do the same…” She thought. She wiped back the tears from her face, and placed both hands on his stomach. She closed her eyes, and reached out with her feelings. She felt the force running through her, and what little life existed on this planet. She knew there was not much left for her to give in order to live herself, but she hoped it would be enough. She channeled the force into Ben. She felt her life-force draining into him, and felt weaker and weaker. Her heart skipped a beat. Then another. She knew if she gave anymore, that she would die. She removed her hands, as dizziness overcame her. She grasped Ben’s hand as her body swayed. She thought she still felt warmth in them. Her vision darkened, she didn’t feel herself fall, but she was suddenly staring at the falling final order ships burning in the sky. She kept hold of Ben’s hand, and her vision went black.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finn, Poe, and Chewie arrived back at base. Everyone was celebrating. As they left the ship they were met with cheers, and hugs. Finn began searching among the crowd, looking for her. He saw Commander Connix, and gave her a smile and a hug. “Hey, have you seen Rey? If she back yet?” Connix shook her head.

“No, I haven’t seen her arrive. I hope she’s all right.” They both stared worryingly up at the sky, hoping to see her ship arrive any moment.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ben slowly opens his eyes. He stares up at the millions of stars above him, slightly obscured by the smoke from the burning final order ships. All was still and quiet around him. He felt so weak, he could barely move. He wondered how long he had been lying here, his muscles felt stiff and painful. Suddenly, he remembered, “Rey.” He whispered. He turned his head, and saw her lying next to him. Her hand was still in his, but there was no strength in the grip. “Rey?” When she didn’t respond, panic seized him. “No! Rey! I saved you! Please don’t be dead…Please don’t be dead…” He painfully rolled onto his side, grunting with the effort. Her eyes were closed, and a layer of dust lay upon both of them. They must have been lying here for days. He closed his eyes, and reached out with his feelings. He felt her. She was alive! But for how long? He felt her heart falter, and knew she didn’t have long. “What happened?” He thought. He knew he would die once he transferred all he had left to her, so how was he still here? Why was she so close to death? It didn’t matter now, he had to get her help before it was too late. He achingly got to his knees, and stood up. He swayed, and felt dizziness overcome him. He steadied himself with the force, and waited for it to pass. He glanced around at the ruins of the Sith throne room. Bodies of the Sith followers lay in the rubble. A sense of great pride in Rey touched his heart. She was so brave, and strong. She overcame one of the most powerful and evil beings in the galaxy. She paid for it with her life, but he knew she would do it again. And he would save her again. He glanced down at her, and warmth and happiness filled him. This feeling felt so foreign. He had not felt anything like this in so long, all he wanted to do was grasp this feeling and never let it go. This woman meant more to him than anything else he had ever known. He was too weak to carry her, and he needed something to get her out of here. He looked around the great broken cavern, and inspiration hit him. He stumbled over to where the fallen Sith followers lay. He took cloaks from two of them, and attached them together. He made his way back to her, and knelt down. He placed the cloaks on the ground, and slowly rolled her onto them. He grasped the arms of a cloak, and started pulling her towards the elevator. He prayed that the elevator was still functional. He fell several times, and saw black spots in front of his eyes. Sweat dripped down his face with the effort. He closed his eyes, and felt the force flowing through them both. There was so little left in her that the panic grew stronger. “Come on Rey…Hang on.” He made his way back to his feet, and channeled the force to help him drag her across the rocky, uneven floor. He finally made it to the elevator, and luckily it was mostly still intact. A few chunks had broken off of the edges, so Ben carefully placed her in the middle. The elevator didn’t respond. The power that Palpetine had channeled here must have been the power source. He closed his eyes and screamed in frustration. He wanted to destroy something. He honed in his anger, and took slow deep breaths. No, he thought. This anger does not belong to me, it belongs to Kylo Ren. He breathed deeply once more and let the anger go. He reached out to the force and channeled some power into the elevator. If this didn’t work, he didn’t know how he was going to get her out of here. He heard a hum coming from underneath them. It was working. The elevator feebly lifted a couple of feet off the ground. It could not go any further without more power. Ben surged more of the force into it. It slowly began ascending, and wobbled to and fro, threatening to fall at any moment. Ben got to his knees and placed his hands on the floor of the elevator. He shook with the effort, and was drenched in sweat. Finally, they reached the top floor. He knew that as soon as he stopped channeling the force energy into it, it would fall and crumble. His breathing was heavy, and the dizziness was overwhelming. He got back to his feet, and slowly dragged Rey off of the elevator platform. With a sigh of relief, he cut the elevator off from the force. He heard the giant piece of stone crash to the floor below. Suddenly, the spots before his eyes returned, and blackness took him.

  Several hours later, Ben awoke from a nightmare. His heart was racing, his skin was damp, and his breaths were coming fast and hard. His surroundings were disorienting, until he remembered where he was. He glanced to his left, and saw Rey, still there on the Sith cloaks where he had left her. He reached out with the force, and felt her, she was still alive. He let out a breath of relief. He slowly and painfully rose to his feet, grasped the cloaks and continued to pull her back to the ship. He made it to the two ships that they had taken to come here. He gave his ship a look of pure disdain, and pulled Rey towards Luke’s X-Wing. There was only room enough for one, he would have to hold her. Ben climbed into the cockpit, and used the force to lift Rey into his arms. He stared at her beautiful face for a moment, and lightly placed his fingers on her cheek. He smiled, and a few tears of happiness escaped him. He then positioned her in a sitting position between his legs, and started up the engine. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and he placed a hand on her midsection to steady her. He then took flight, and they left the horrid planet of Exegol.

[drabbledragon]

Home

Another fic inspired by the LinkedUniverse AU. This piece was written for Sky Week over on Discord and I was surprised to see the length it reached (5.7K words!). It was honestly so much fun to write.

Summary: Throughout months of travel, Sky finally has the chance to go back home.

Warnings: Some violence and a minor mention of animal abuse. 

Wrapped in his sailcloth, Sky dreamt about memories from the past. He dreamt about running around Skyloft with his Zelda, marvelling at the Skyloftian Knights as they soared by on their birds; he dreamt about jumping from the island to the clouds below, his Crimson Loftwing catching him before he could so much as blink; he dreamt about flying with Zelda after the Wing Ceremony, a fond smile on her lips as she looked at him with so much adoration and fondness that it made his heart melt; then he dreamt about falling - about being knocked off his Loftwing and Zelda mercilessly being ripped away from him, tears filling her eyes as she reached out for him but couldn’t quite grasp his hand. He saw the pure fear in her eyes as she was brought further and further away from him and soon enough, she was gone from his sight. He yelled out, calling Zelda’s name over and over again as if that alone would bring her back but his pleas were left unheard. He was falling alone now, plummeting towards a world filled with monsters and demons, the screams from the Surface threatening to cancel out his cries.

Sky jolted awake with a yelp. With adrenaline still pumping, he frantically pushed himself off the ground, whipping his head around as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Tall trees towered over him and panic started to seize him as he realized that he wasn’t in his bed in Skyloft anymore but somewhere unknown - somewhere that wasn’t safe; however, once he caught sight of Legend softly snoring beside him, his pounding heart started to settle.

Oh, that’s right; we’re in Warriors’s Hyrule, he reminded himself, willing his uneven breaths to come out slower and more controlled. They had settled for the night after hours of wandering through the dense forest that covered a majority of Warriors’s land; they were hoping to find at least some kind of clue connected to their sudden meeting but to no avail. Judging by the height of the moon over their makeshift camp, it was around three in the morning, meaning he could still get a good three hours of sleep before Time would force them to keep moving again.

But then memories of his recent nightmare started to resurface and his heart clenched painfully as he remembered the terrified scream that escaped Zelda’s lips. There was no way he could fall back asleep with that sound haunting him.

He stood up instead and made his way over to an overhang not to far off from camp - maybe gazing at the night sky would bring him some peace of mind. Securing the Master Sword across his back, Sky gently shuffled through the camp, careful not to wake the others.

With his knees tucked comfortably underneath his chin, he gazed absentmindedly at the full moon above. Combined with the slight breeze that ruffled his hair every so often, the moon’s shine replaced his unease with a sense of longing. The sight reminded him of his younger days  in the Knight’s Academy when he would stay up late to watch the stars twinkle over his dorm. There would be unfinished papers and books strung haphazardly along his desk, long since abandoned once Sky caught glimpse of a shooting star crossing the sky; after that, he would spend hours admiring the beautiful night, thanking Hylia for bestowing such a beautiful scene for all of Skyloft to see. A soft sigh escaped his lips at the fond memory. He missed his home dearly.

“I knew I saw someone walk off from camp.”

Sky perked up at the voice, turning around just in time to see Twilight emerging from the bushes. He watched amusedly as the newcomer dusted off the stray leaves sticking to his clothes and hair before a sudden thought dawned on him: "Oh! I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Nope, just saw you sneak out while on watch duty. You’re quiet but hard to miss." He replied casually before settling down next to the flustered man. He observed the night sky silently for a few seconds before turning his attention to the other. “So didn’t feel like sleeping tonight?”

His embarrassed expression dropped into a sorrowful frown. “Not quite; just woke up from a bad dream, that’s all.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that.” Twilight grimaced as he felt a pang of sympathy. It wasn’t unusual for each of them to have bad dreams every once in a while, whether it be from recent events or from memories long ago. They’ve all been on various quests - have all seen their fair share of pain and agony and there was no doubt that it affected each one of them deeply. It was upsetting, but there was nothing they could do about it. The air filled with a mournful silence.

“Do you miss your home, Twilight?”

Sky watched as the other’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, a quizzical look on his face as if he couldn’t believe the question was even asked in the first place.  

“‘Course I do; it’s where my friends and family are. I would give anything to see them again.”

He felt his throat tighten in response. Of course Twilight missed his home - everyone did. He’ll never forget the way Time’s face lit up when he saw Malon for the first time in ages, or the way Wind chatted endlessly about his time spent with his grandma and sister on the island, or even the way Warriors spoke about a few members of his team as if they were family to him. They all missed someone dearly back home - they all wanted to go home. He could feel an overwhelming sadness start to take over him.

“I miss them.” Sky started softly as turned his gaze to his boots. “ I miss Zelda, Pipit, Gaepora, - everyone. I miss flying around on my Loftwing, I miss going to Knight School, I miss the Wing Ceremony, I miss -” His voice caught in his throat and he could feel tears start to form in the corner of his eyes. He buried his head into his knees as his whimpers were reduced to a soft muffle. “ - I miss Skyloft.”

Twilight was at a loss for words. He knew the pain Sky was feeling and he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same way. However, before he could say anything, a piercing screech echoed through the air.

Sky’s head suddenly lifted with so much force that he surely would have headbutted someone into unconsciousness. His breath ceased as he stared wide - eyed into the distance with such intensity and concentration that it appeared that nothing other than himself and that sound existed. He knew that sound - he’s heard that sound all throughout his life - but the simple thought of one being here, in a place where they would never dare to venture to - it was nearly impossible.

Although nearly didn’t mean completely.

Without a second thought, Sky stumbled to his feet and sprinted towards the ledge of the overhang. He tugged off his sailcloth hastily, as if the sound would disappear from his memory if he took too much time to actually think the situation over.

“Hey, what are you -?”

But Twilight’s startled exclamation was lost to the wind as Sky began his descent down. From what he could tell, the call came just a little ways north of where he just was so it shouldn’t take too long for him to locate the source. He chanced a glimpse at the mass of trees below and tightened his grip on his sailcloth. The size of the forest beneath him was unnervingly large and would undoubtedly make his search a little harder if he turned out to be wrong - but he couldn’t let that thought deter him now. He would make sure he found the source of that sound no matter what, even if it took searching all of this Hyrule.

As soon as his feet lightly touched the ground, he was back into a sprint. He had half the mind to whistle to see if he could cause that cry to sound again but he couldn’t risk it in unknown territory; for all he really knew, he could have mistaken the sound for an enemy’s howl or the screech of some animal but the sound brought up so many memories from his time in Skyloft that he couldn’t think otherwise. At the sight of a blue mass flickering just outside a mass of trees, Sky felt his pace quicken at an impossible rate.

As soon as he pushed past the underbrush, he immediately came to a halting stop. Before him stood a large bird with bright blue feathers and beady yellow eyes - a Loftwing, his mind helpfully supplied. He stared in awe at the creature, his breath stolen by the feeling of wonder the bird possessed, and a million sights, sounds, and feelings bubbled up to the forefront of his mind. He could distinctly hear the cheery screech of his Crimson Loftwing as it flew to him at his whistle, the feel of its soft feathers in his grasp, the wind combing through his hair as they soared through the sky without a care in the world - it was home. However, before he could take another step, he caught sight of the mess of ropes around the bird. Tangled around its feathers and beak were strands of thick material that pinned the large creature to the ground, immobilizing it save for the few scratches its claws managed to make in the dirt. By the way it was set up, it definitely had to be a hunting trap of some sort. Sky could feel his awe start to flare outrage.

Just out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Twilight come to stuttering stop next to him, taking a moment to catch his breath. Before he could berate Sky for taking off without explanation, he caught sight of the strange bird a few meters away from them.

“What is that thing?” He wondered allowed. It was definitely something he’s never seen before and judging by its sharp beak and talons, it was definitely not something to be messed with; but before Twilight could express his concerns, Sky was already striding towards the large creature without hesitation. He watched with unease as the bird made a distressed squawking sound as it noticed the Skyloftian slowly approaching and struggled frantically against the binds holding it down.

“Shhh, it’s alright,” Sky soothed as he carefully moved his hands up in a placating gesture. He inched forward with a calm air around him, unhindered by the bird’s hectic movements; no matter how much the creature screeched in warning, he would keep moving forward. As soon as he was close enough, Sky gently grabbed onto the course rope holding the bird down and removed his carving knife from its pouch, starting to slice through the thick binds.

A sense of recognition seemed to flash in the Loftwing’s eyes and its frantic movements ceased as it eased its way back down to the ground. It watched the newcomer with weary eyes but didn’t utter another sound otherwise.

Twilight marveled at the scene. The distressed creature, easily twice the size of himself, yielded to a complete stranger with a knife. Even if the bird deduced that Sky was here to help, it didn’t explain how all hostility seemed to leave its eyes in such a quick amount of time. Maybe they’ve met before? He mused, although the notion was highly absurd.

Another bind snapped free and the Loftwing’s right wing slowly rose. It curiously watched as it flapped its limb a couple of times, almost as if it was testing to see if it still worked. Sky had caught a glimpse of a few feathers out of place and gently moved to smooth them down with an easy touch; once he was satisfied with the result, he moved to untangle the rope from the bird’s neck. He worked like that for the next few minutes, the Loftwing never once protesting.

His work was suddenly interrupted at the sound of multiple screeches piercing the air and both Twilight and the Loftwing seemed to tense in fear. The Loftwing’s once serene expression turned into a frenzied panic as it blindly flapped its wing around in an attempt to defend itself, knocking Sky off his feet. Twilight gritted his teeth in annoyance as he pulled out the Ordonian sword from his back, already moving into a defensive stance.

“Those are Aeralfos,” Twilight stated as the aforementioned enemies flew into view. “ they’re fast and hard to hit so stay on your guard.” And then a muttered: “ Wasn’t fun to fight them the first time around.”

Sky gave a curt nod, unsheathing his Master Sword and positioning it in front of him. He situated himself close to the Loftwing, determined not to let a single enemy lay a claw on the bird.

Before they knew it, the enemies were diving towards the clearing they stood in, a fierce snarl on their faces. The Aeralfos flew with such precision and accuracy that it was hard to even land a hit on them, nevermind actually attack them. Sky managed to scratch a few as they sped past him but other than that, his attempts were fruitless. One second, they would take a stab at the hero, managing to nick his clothes or land a slice on his arms, and in the next, they would take off to the sky and ready themselves for another attack. It was dizzying to him; he’s never seen an enemy move so quickly in such short a time. He glanced at Twilight to see how he was managing.  

He was defending himself almost perfectly, moving about skillfully as if he’s been battling Aeralfos all his life. He swiftly dodged a stab to the head before rapidly spinning and slicing an enemy diagonally across the chest; it fell with a deafening screech and disappeared into black ashes. Not even a second later, another enemy attacked from behind and Twilight responded with a quick crouch, turn of the heel, and a stab of his sword through the monster’s neck before it also met the same fate. Every movement was calculated - perfectly executed - and it showed.

Just as Sky drove another enemy away, he heard the Loftwing give out a distressed screech. Fearing the worst, he quickly whipped around to see an Aeralfo’s clawed hand rip through a few of its feathers. A sudden sense of rage overtook him and he rushed at the foe with ferocity; before the other could react, Sky raised his sword skyward before bringing it down through the enemy, another howl of pain joining the chorus of the battle. He smiled triumphantly as he watched the monster before him disappear to a pile of dust. Unfortunately, another Aeralfo saw Sky’s distracted state as chance to attack and charged towards the hero with its claws poised to kill. Sky felt a surge of panic race through his mind as he knew he wouldn’t be able to defend himself in time but just as he was ready to take the hit, a large gray wolf leapt up and seized the enemy by the neck, killing it in an instant.

“Thank you, Wolfie.” Sky sighed in relief. The wolf responded with a huff before turning to attack again.

Sky grimaced at the red gash across the Loftwing’s body; thankfully, it didn’t look too deep. Just before he could turn to join the fight again, he saw some of the rope holding down the Loftwing snap and fall loosely around the bird. It rose to its full height and spread its wings before moving in a panic, clearly still frightened by the enemies.

In an attempt to calm the Loftwing down, Sky held his hands in a placating gesture and tried to soothe the bird once again. He heard the snarl of an Aeralfo behind him followed by a wolf’s bark and he caught sight of yet another enemy dissipate into ash. Despite the relief Sky felt, the Loftwing only became more frightened and flapped its wings about faster, most likely aggravating the injuries it already had. Sky frowned. Seeing no other option, he leapt onto the Loftwing’s back and took hold of the Skyloftian reins circling its body, trying desperately to regain control; however, the bird responded by lifting itself and its rider into the air albeit unsteadily. Sky was taken aback by the sudden movement and held onto the blue feathers for dear life as the bird flew about erratically. Again, he tried to calm the creature but his soft words were drowned out by the frantic screeching. Suddenly, the bird dove down into the fight below and plucked the gray wolf off the ground, earning a surprised yelp. It took the Skyloftian and wolf into the air and flapped its wings irregularly as it soared. Behind them, they could see the Aeralfos start to take flight as well.

Loftwings aren’t meant to fly during the night, Sky recalled as he felt his stomach drop at the sudden altitude change. Ever since they ascended into the air, the Loftwing changed elevation every two seconds or so and despite all his flying experience, the constant motion was starting to make him sick. From what Sky could observe, one wing flapped faster than the other, causing the bird to make uneven turns and unnecessary dives; it also didn’t help that they were being chased down by enemies capable of flight. He didn’t quite know what to do. Jumping off with his sailcloth would definitely save himself but he wasn’t too sure what Wolfie’s or even the Loftwing’s fate would entail; other than that, there were no other options than to attempt to fly to safety. Sky was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts as he heard the sound of angry snarls accompanied by monstrous faces right behind him. In a split - second decision, he took hold of the bird’s reins and leaned to the side, just narrowly avoiding a sword to the head. That must have put too much weight on one of the bird’s sides because the next thing he knew, they were flying sideways towards the forest floor below. He then pulled the reins up to lift the bird once again, hearing the creature squawk in surprise before changing direction. He smirked as that sudden movement caused some of the Aeralfos to crash into the underbrush below. However, his relief was short - lived as he saw the remaining enemies get even angrier and speed up by an unimaginable amount. He eyed the remaining monsters warily. For a brief moment, he thought about taking out the Master Sword and defending the three of them that way but that would surely leave the bird without a pilot and most likely lead to all three of their deaths. But before he could come up with another plan, he saw the moonlight enshrouding them suddenly disappear and the enemies slow their pace. Albeit a little confused, he grinned triumphantly, glad to see that they were no longer being chased. When he turned his attention back to the front, he didn’t even have two seconds to notice the wall of rock in front of him before he made impact and lost consciousness.

________________________________________________________________

Once again, Sky dreamt about memories of the past. He dreamt about falling endlessly through a black abyss only for a purple light to break through the overwhelming darkness, a distant voice informing him that he had a dire mission that needed to be completed; he dreamt about waking up to Gaepora’s worried expression hovering over him and the look of anguish that painted his face as he was informed that his daughter was missing, most likely trapped somewhere on the Surface; he dreamt about following the mystical voice that echoed in his head, leading him to the Goddess’s Sword as well as Fi. He regarded the spirit with apprehension as she introduced herself; however, when Fi informed him that Zelda was still alive, he felt hope swell in his chest. He was informed that he was Hylia’s chosen hero - that he was the only one that could stop the demon Demise from his terrible reign. As he raised the sword skyward, he felt an overwhelming sense of power and courage course through him and together with Fi, they journeyed towards the Surface, ready for any tribulation they would face.

Sky slowly blinked his eyes open to the fuzzy world around him. He could tell it was somewhat dark here and small brown smudges littered the area along with an oddly - colored blue smudge a bit closer to him. The more he stared at the blots, the more they came into focus and soon the brown blurs turned into rocks and the blue mass shaped itself into a scabbard with the Master Sword tucked into it. Funny, he doesn’t remember falling asleep here. He racked his brain for answers but he found that the harder he thought, the harder a headache pounded in his head. He mindlessly reached out to the Master Sword, grabbing the hilt with a weak grip and begging for Fi to come out and explain the situation he had gotten himself into. He let his eyes fall close as he let a breathless “Fi…” escape his lips.

Instead of a mystical voice answering, he heard a set of footsteps walk briskly towards him and a set of scratches scurry away from him. When no other sound was made, Sky managed to open his eyes just in time to see Twilight’s apprehensive expression morph into a relieved smirk.

“Glad to see you’re okay.”

‘Okay’ was a bit of an overstatement. Although Twilight’s voice was at a normal talking level, Sky couldn’t help but wince as a jolting pain shot through his skull, no doubt a result of the splitting headache he had. With a soft tsk, Twilight searched through one of the pouches on his belt and brought out a glass half - full with a red potion.

“Here,” He began quieter, offering the bottle to the Skyloftian. “ it’s not much but it should help a little.”

With a shaky hand, Sky took the bottle and let its contents dribble down his throat. Within a few seconds, the pain in his head lessened to a manageable amount and he was able to muster enough strength to push himself off the ground and lean heavily against what felt like rocks behind him. He glanced to Twilight again, about to thank him, until a nasty - looking cut caught his attention.

“Your face…” He rasped.

Twilight’s smile dropped into a pout. “ Well you’re not looking too good with that huge bruise on your head either.”

He had a bruise on his head? That cleared up a few questions. “ Where are we?”

“A cave in the cliffside,” Twilight began as he made to stand up. He regarded the area with caution, almost as if he was expecting something to come out and attack them. “ the bird you helped took us into the air and flew away but the Aeralfos had the bright idea to chase us down anyways. A big chunk of them ended up crashing into trees and rocks so we got most of them off our tail; only downside is we ended up crashing into this cave, too. I just got a couple of scratches, the bird looks fine, but you ended up smashing your head on that rock wall over there.” He took a second to point his head towards a nearby set of boulders before returning to observe the injury that stood out so prominently against the Skyloftian’s tan skin. “ You’ve been out for two hours; we should really get back to camp to have the Old Man take a look at you.”

Sky nodded, his head tipping just a little too forward for his liking. As he started to stand up, he felt a heavy hand push him back down.

“Easy, we’re still surrounded. We did ditch a lot of those Aeralfos back there but there’s a good number of them flying around, probably searching for us. I don’t have a bow on me so we really can’t do anything right now - we just have to wait until they leave.” With that said, he walked back to the opening of the cave, eyeing the sky cautiously; at least the rising sun made it a little bit easier to see now. As he crouched down, Sky could hear him mutter “the Old Man is going to kill me”.

Sky mulled over the recount, connecting Twilight’s summary with his own muddled memories. The fight, the Loftwing - speaking of Loftwing, he heard the same sound of scratches echo through the cave again and he shifted his gaze sideways to see the bright blue Loftwing inching towards him. It moved about curiously, moving its head every which way almost as if it was trying to investigate the situation itself. When it got close enough to Sky, it picked at his clothes and hair and made curious sounds every so often. He chuckled as it nuzzled his neck before returning to look at him inquisitively and Sky would be lying if he said it didn’t remind him of his own Crimson Loftwing back home.

“It looks like that bird really likes you.” Twilight stated with a soft smile.  

“Yeah,” A fond smile crossed his lips as he felt the bird nudge his side again. “ Hylia gave us these Loftwings as a sign of protection. As little children, we meet our Loftwing under the Statue of the Goddess; once we find the right one, we feel complete, like we found our other half.” He smoothed over the blue feathers; a few of them were displaced but the bird’s coat looked relatively alright. Once he caught sight of its talons, a few of his memories started to clash with Twilight’s earlier summary. “ Twilight, where’s Wolfie?”

Twilight immediately jumped at the question, turning to meet Sky’s questioning gaze. “ Huh? What do you mean?”

“Before we took flight, I remember the Loftwing grabbing onto Wolfie.” He paused for a moment, the headache threatening to come back as he thought harder but he continued regardless. “ Now that I think about it, I don’t remember the Loftwing taking you -”

“I’m the one the bird grabbed; I was fighting a few Aeralfos before it swooped in and took me.” He answered back hastily. He saw the confliction cross the other’s face so he quickly covered up with a more firm: “ You hit your head pretty hard so it looks like some of your memories got messed up; just take a nap and I’ll wake you up when we’re ready to move.”

Although not completely satisfied with the response, Sky heeded his advice anyways, leaning against the bulky rock wall as he felt the need to sleep overtake him. He glimpsed tiredly to the Loftwing’s curious gaze one more time before catching sight of its tied tail. It was still heavily bunched up in rope and if Sky’s assumption was correct, that may have caused the lack of stability on their flight. Although he was deeply tired, he still reached for his carving knife again and shifted to have a good hold on the Loftwing’s tail. The bird tensed at the sudden contact but did nothing more as it watched Sky cut through what remained of the trap.

When the last bind snapped off, the bird unfurled and furled its tail a couple of times, similar to what it first did with its wings. Satisfied with his handiwork, Sky let out a long sigh and curled back onto the ground, using his sailcloth as a blanket; he was determined to get some amount of sleep, even if it was just for a few minutes. However, before he could do so, he yelped in surprise as he felt the Loftwing violently yank on his clothes, instantly making him alert. He sat up in a panic but that clearly wasn’t enough for the Loftwing because it pulled at his clothes again, hauling the disorientated Skyloftian to his feet. The bird sounded as he gripped onto its neck to steady himself and the call reverberated throughout the entire cave, causing Twilight to look back in concern. The bird suddenly crouched down and Sky fell onto its back with a thud before it gently shook to ease the rider onto its back. Despite Sky’s bewildered look, the bird rose up and started to flap its wings, causing small clouds of dust to rise up. Sky tightened his grip as the flapping became more frequent and soon enough, he felt the bird moving its long legs towards the opening of the cave.

Twilight immediately rose to his feet as he saw the creature near him. He spread his arms out in an attempt to block its path and scowled as he yelled out: “Hey -!”

But he was quickly cut off as the Loftwing abruptly grabbed him by the scruff of his tunic and placed him on its back, just behind the disconcerted Sky.

With only a few flaps of its wings as a warning, the Loftwing pushed off the cave’s ledge and took to the air at an incredible speed. Sky gripped onto the reins as soon as they changed altitude and he felt Twilight behind him hold onto the back of his tunic in a death grip. As he looked down below, he was astounded to see how much height they had gained in such little time. From what he could see, there were a few Aeralfos glaring angrily at them with a few starting to chase the bird; fortunately, their speed was no longer a match for the Loftwing’s steady ascension. Before he knew it, they passed through a layer of clouds and he felt the water vapor gently spray over his face. As soon as he felt the drop in his stomach settle, he looked past the Loftwing’s head to see the sight ahead of him.

Before him stood an endless sea of blue sky with the sun casting a soft glow across the land as it rose to start the day. Countless bundles of clouds lie underneath them and just as many floated lazily above. The cool air caressed his face and tousled his hair and he felt that same feeling of home he had felt before when they first escaped the forest clearing. With years of practice coming to the forefront of his mind, he eased his grip on the reins and leaned to the side, feeling the bird underneath him recognize his movement and gently shift its wings so they flew at an angle. The weightlessness, the feeling of rushing air, the calmness that came with weaving between the air currents - all those feelings rushed back to him as if he was meeting with a long - lost friend. He flew in silence for a few minutes, just admiring the tranquility it brought him.

A sudden shrill whistle caused his breath to hitch. That sound - he could place that sound at a moment’s notice: it was the sound of a Skyloftian calling their Loftwing. They were close to Skyloft, he realized and although he knew that there was something deeply wrong with that statement - that Skyloft shouldn’t be this low in the sky, that Skyloft shouldn’t be possible to get to without a Bird Statue - he couldn’t help the sudden homesickness that rushed through him. Throughout his journey with the other Links, he never went a single day without thinking about returning home - even when he was sent off on his own quest by Goddess Hylia herself, he still thought about his home every day. Groose’s constant teasing, Owlan droning on about the various plant life in SkyLoft, Zelda’s airy laugh as she teased him about being late to the Knight Academy again - he missed everyone so dearly, and now - finally - he had the chance to go back home.

As he signalled for the Loftwing to fly higher, he felt the grip around his tunic tighten. He glanced back to see Twilight looking down with a frightened expression and Sky felt his heart drop. He can’t go home, not until him and the other Links figure out why they were brought together. He believed in his Goddess and he knew that she wouldn’t merge timelines and dimensions together if it wasn’t for a reason, and there had to be a good reason.

He turned his head back hastily to the front. But he was so close to home! He could practically feel Skyloft’s soft ground! Maybe he could go to Gaepora and explain the situation - see if he could give him some guidance - or maybe find Zelda and see if the Goddess sent her any messages of what’s going on, or maybe reawaken Fi - she would certainly be a valuable asset to their team. His grip tightened on the reins again. Maybe he’s not meant to be back in Skyloft yet. There has to be a reason as to why throughout the past months, they had visited everyone else’s land except for his. Maybe his arrival… might not be what Hylia wants. He’s meant to stay with the other heroes - he’s meant to follow their travel regardless of what he thinks or feels. He has wants and needs and desires but his mission always comes first.

Another whistle sounded through the air, this time louder and longer. They were getting close to Skyloft now. He hesitated, mulling his decision one last time before bowing his head in sad realization. He can’t abandon his mission.

“Let Hylia guide you safely back to Skyloft.” He sadly whispered as he let his fingers graze over the plumage one last time. He heard the Loftwing give a soft coo, almost as if it was disappointed to see its rider leave, but he didn’t have a choice. He tugged at the sailcloth wrapped around his back and gripped it in his two hands. He swiveled around again and asked with a louder voice: “ Are you ready to leave, Twilight?”

The other’s eyes widened fearfully and he was starting to wonder if Sky actually did lose his mind when he hit his head. Just as he was about to protest, he felt the soft feathers from underneath him disappear and his stomach dropped at the sudden feeling of weightlessness. He didn’t even realize he closed his eyes until he opened them again to see that he was now gently drifting through the air. He looked up to see Sky gazing at the Loftwing with a sentimental look as it disappeared into the clouds - almost like the same look Twilight gave at the sight of dusk: a longing, fond expression. Once the bird was gone, they slowly began their descent down, drifting their way back to camp.

[lenfaz]

Sea Squad, ch. 13 (13/14)

Summary: Killian Jones has always managed tough spots in his con life… but never like this one. His brother is out of jail and convinced the only way to win his name back is to heist the casino of a major Vegas mogul, leaving Killian to do the planning. He now has to deal with a half-brother desperate to gain a name of his own, an ex-fling that carries her own torch against the casino mogul, his brother losing his mind over his ex-wife,  his former mentor’s depression and the one woman he can’t get out of his mind giving him chase. Ocean’s Eleven AU

Rating: M

Content warnings: semi-explicit sexual content, law-breaking (they are thieves, liars and con men), mild violence (someone will get punched), mention of former relationships (for the main pair) and cheating (but not for the main pair)

Banner (link to banner post) and art by the amazing @clockadile Go check her art tag for the fic here!

This fic would never exist without the wonderful @sambethe who convinced me to do over hot chocolate on one cold Chicago afternoon and virtually held my hand and betaed this fic for months. thank you SO much for everything you do.

A/N: A long time ago there was talk about Hook & his sea friends and a few collective posts shaped the idea of a Sea Squad. This fic is the attempt to bring that creativity to life. Tagging @queen-mabs-revenge   @thesschesthair   and @jvosketches as they were part of that initial thinking back in the day. If a few things sound familiar, it’s because they are based on the movie.

Link to  FFnet & AO3

on tumblr: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8  9 10 11 12

Chapter 13

I did something stupid back in the day, lad… and while trying to fix it, I might have uncovered something that I’m not sure if you wanted to know.

Now, we don’t have time and I know everyone thinks I’ll make it. But just in case… if you want to know who you are, Henry… talk to Smee, lad. Tell him to show you what we found out.

Anton’s punch to his gut pulled Killian from his thoughts. Taking a deep breath, he grunted and slammed his fist against the floor, holding onto the pain. His face had remained almost unscathed, nothing but a small bruise along his left cheekbone and another on his jaw. As much as he wanted to preserve it completely, he knew Gold wouldn’t buy it if his face was unscathed.

The door opened while he lay on the floor, and Killian closed his eyes for a brief second, playing the part of a beaten-up rival. His hand moved to hold onto his ribs, grunting in pain.

“Get him up,” Gold ordered, and his two goons moved to follow orders, pulling Killian up without any consideration to his possible wounds. Once again, Killian mustered all his energy to play his part. Lifting his head, he met Gold’s eyes. His suit jacket was askew, his shirt untucked, and a couple of buttons were missing. His pants had dust marks all over them. Tilting his head to the side, Killian smiled at Gold, wincing at the very last minute to show pain.

“Gold, I didn’t think you’d grace me with your presence. Not when you had such a wonderful host tending to my every need.” He spat on the floor - a mix of saliva and blood. Anton had been gentle, but the man was a still a half-giant with a steel punch. “Tell me, how is the other fight going? It is as fixed as this one?”

“Did you have a hand in this?” Gold scrutinized his face, his eyes drilling a hole on Killian’s forehead.

“A hand in what?” Killian moved his eyes around room, working to appear as if he were assessing the space. “Your wife? You know I did.”

The punch came from his left, one of Gold’s goons hitting his cheekbone and making Killian see stars. He moved his jaw left and right. He deserved that one, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d say it again if the opportunity arise.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, dearie.” Gold leaned on his cane, his mouth twisting in a grimace. “Did you have a hand in this?”

“Gold, I have no bloody clue what you’re talking about.” Killian spat the words, ensuring he was delivering them with the appropriately frustrated tone. “I’ve been locked up in here, a room with no view I might add, my body getting closely acquainted with the fists of your roughneck.”

Silence stretched between them, feeling the room with a thick air of anticipation as Killian waited and waited some more, his face devoid of any emotion except confusion, pain, and tiredness. He was pulling out all the stops on this one. It would make Nemo proud if he could see him. But alas, no cameras in this room.

Finally, Gold tilted his head, his face contorting into a condescending smile. “Fine. You’re free to go, Mr. Jones.” He moved to address his man. “Show him out. We have work to do.”

Killian made a show of buttoning his shirt back up and tugging at the lapels of his jacket before he made to follow the men out of the room. One more step down, only a few more to go.

He needed to give the delivery of his lifetime and he needed to do it at the appropriate time in the appropriate place.

After all, it was all about the setting.

/-/

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Emma asked the question for what felt like the eleventh time, although it truthfully was only the third or fourth. A duffel bag laid open on the bed and a suitcase already stood by the entrance. Her packing was almost done. She hadn’t brought much - part of always being on the road or on the run meant you got used to living with only carrying the essentials - and she was finishing arranging her toiletries in her bag.

She’d been in Belle’s suite when she’d received the call from Gold. It hadn’t taken her by surprise. The moment the power went out, Emma knew her chances with Gold were gone. And if she were honest with herself, Emma knew the moment she didn’t inform Gold that she’d spotted Killian Jones lurking around his casino, she’d made her choice. And now she had to live with it. Belle had gone with her to Emma’s room and was currently pacing back and forth.

“I don’t want you to get into trouble.” She pulled the sides of her cardigan sweater tight over her frame, averting her eyes.

“I don’t care about being in trouble, Belle.”

“I’m sorry, Emma” Belle was on the verge of tears. “Robert, he sometimes-”

Emma closed the distance between them and laid a comforting hand on Belle’s arm. “Hey, hey. You’re not responsible for what Gold does. Or Liam, or any of them for that matter.” She smiled, an idea coming to her. “Belle why don't’ you come with me? What are you going to do here anyway?” She didn’t want to leave Belle alone - or at the mercy of Gold if he figured out who was behind the robbery. It wasn’t just that she’d promised Killian, it was that Belle didn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire.

Belle shook her head, pursing her lips. “I can’t… not yet. I just I need time to think.”

Emma kept her voice gentle. “Think about what?”

“Whether or not I can trust him again.”

Emma didn’t ask which him Belle meant, because by the frazzled look in her eyes, she wasn’t sure even Belle herself knew. She only knew she couldn’t leave her here in this state.

“How about a cup of tea before I go?” Before Belle had time to protest, Emma shrugged her shoulder. “Look if Gold wants to time my exit and remove me forcefully, so be it. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

Belle pondered her words for a moment before she gave Emma a small smile. “Let me get the Keurig settled.” She stepped out of the bedroom and moved into the living room. Emma quickly shut her duffel bag and grabbed it. She was about to leave the room when her phone rang. The screen read Unknown Number. Her heart beating frantically on her chest, Emma took the call.

“Hello?”

The voice that spoke sounded tiny, like it was far, far away. “Turn to channel 88. Make sure Belle is watching.”

Reaching for the remote, and fearing the worst, Emma turned on the TV. The image on the screen and the little piece of sound she was able to catch had Emma quickly raising her voice as she called for Belle.

“Belle, come here! You might want to ditch the tea and bring some alcohol instead.”

/-/

We’re all set.

Those words were exactly what Killian had been waiting for as he slowly walked down the hallway, dragging his feet a little in an effort to show he’d been beaten to a pulp by Anton.

He lifted his head and spoke into the emptiness ahead of him. “What happened tonight? Did you get robbed or something?”

Gold’s reply from the other side of the hall came almost immediately. “Stop.”

Stopping in his tracks, Killian bent his head as he turned around, hiding his smirk. When he finally looked up, Gold was in his face.

“I am going to give you one more time to come forward, dearie. Where is my money?”

“Are you willing to make a deal for it, Gold?” Killian waited for two seconds, letting the words sink in and peak Gold’s interest. “What if I tell you that you can get your money back if you give up Belle?”

Gold raised his eyebrows and twisted his lips in a grimace. “Belle, huh?”

Killian shrugged. “What can I say? My brother still loves her. They were happy together.” Meeting his eyes directly, Killian dropped the affable mask. “You and I both know the only reason you went after her was because you knew it’d bring my brother pain. And therefore, it would bring me pain.”

Gold didn’t even flinch, his smile turning into something evil and maniac. “Oh yes, I intended to make you suffer. I still do.”

“Careful there. You need me if you want to get your money back. So why don’t we try that again?”

Gold hesitated and Killian knew he was weighing in on his options. Was his hatred for Killian and his family so deep that he’d risk never seeing his hundreds of millions again? Killian wasn’t going to give the man too much time to make a decision. “Do we have a deal, Gold?”

“Fine.” Gold huffed and Killian allowed himself a tiny smile. It would be out of character if he didn’t at least show some satisfaction about one-upping his nemesis.

“I know some people. I made a few new contacts while teaching celebrities to play poker in L.A. Give me a few days, I’ll find out who has your money.”

Gold wasn’t impressed, not in the least. He clenched his jaw and Killian had to bite his tongue to keep the smile off from his face. “I will hunt you down, dearie. This is not over. I can still make you suffer.”

Killian adjusted the lapels of his suit. “That threat got old a few years ago, and you’ve burnt more than your fair share of bridges since then. Especially with the people you’d hired to hunt me down last time. Such a tricky thing, not paying your debts.” Killian paused and shot him a small grin. “And let’s face it, anyone else you can think of hiring to hurt me and my brother like us more than they like you. So unless you’re willing to get your own hands dirty, which we know you aren’t, you’re left with no other choice."

Gold’s eye twitched and for a moment there, Killian thought he was going to punch him. But in the end, he simply gave Killian a dark look before turning to one of his security guards. “Call the police. Alert them of Liam Jones possibly breaking his parole, as I’m sure he’s nearby, and turn Mr. Jones here into their custody. He was acting suspiciously on casino grounds.”

Well, that was nothing that a little charm and some bail money couldn’t fix. And Killian had both in spades now. He let the guard walk him to the casino lobby. As he was being escorted, the ding of the elevator made him turn his head just in time to see Emma and Belle quickly making their way out of the hotel, carrying a suitcase and travel bag between them. They were close to the entrance when Ursula approached them.

As he waited for the police to show up, Killian couldn’t hide his smile. Belle and Emma clearly had gotten the message.

All was well.

Almost.

[mimiplaysgames]

Strength to Protect the Things That Matter (Ch. 18)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua (eventually) Rating: T Other characters: Aerith, Tifa, Leon (Squall), Ienzo, Cid, Garnet, Noctis Word Count: 4,750

Summary: Terra has prayed for years. He wanted relief from having no one to talk to in the dark, except with the monster of a man who stole his life. One day, when two boys get a lead, he gets his chance - less than a week - to set things right before he loses everything again.

AO3         FF.net

A/N: So this is supposed to be the ending of the previous chapter, but it was so long that I cut it. But I just really, really didn’t like the way the previous one ended and pushed to release this one as soon as possible. I finally got him to Traverse Town! I felt that he needed to go on a mission, and I’m not actually a big fan of rehashing Disney plotlines. I will use Disney worlds in the future. But the crossover nature of Final Fantasy as it’s treated in these games give me the legroom to try something a bit more original, and it was a great opportunity to actually world-build. For any Final Fantasy fans out there, these next few chapters will especially be for you~

Dream

He’s supposed to fly straight to Radiant Garden, but he tells himself that he has a bit of time to spare. 

On his glider, Terra speeds through the black space that surrounds him, whipping past the millions of stars that may or may not be threatened by darkness. To him, it’s impossible to tell. Usually, he’d rely on his heart as a guide to find a place to land. At this moment, however, he has his mind set on one location.

He wills himself to picture it. The image of the castle in his mind is perfect like it was before, with its pristine windows intact. The towers are still standing, supported by the chains that keep them up. The grass is green, the sky is bright, the wind is breezy... and it’s home. Twelve years abandoned and neglected, what will it be like now? 

It shouldn’t be far from where he is.

Which is why he stops for a moment, floating in the empty space as he breathes heavily inside his helmet. He has either been wandering for miles, or flying around in circles.

Yes, he hasn’t been back to help repair the damage it suffered when Xehanort destroyed it. He assumes no one has. But it still stood when he left it.

Terra grips his handlebars tightly, and it would have hurt if he didn’t have his hands covered by his thick gloves. Under no intention did he ever think that would have been the last time he saw the castle. Usually homes continue to exist. There are supposed to be there for anytime a loved one needs shelter. They are supposed to last forever.

I can’t lose it now. I don’t need it. I just need them. We can make a new home somewhere else.

This is harder to make himself believe, and Terra sat alone, telling himself over and over again that he doesn’t need his home anymore. Each time he thinks it, he gets a little more nauseous and more willing to beat the handlebars of his glider. This is exactly what Xehanort told him that day. 

It isn’t home. They are.

He shakes his head furiously, and steers his glider off to the opposite direction before cranking it to full-speed.

So much has happened since he last stepped into Tifa’s restaurant that it already feels like being in a past life. Since it’s still in the middle of the day, it is closed. But the front door is open, which means that she’s around here somewhere. 

The wooden tables, benches, and chairs are all perfectly set up, ready to be used when the evening comes around. The bar area in the corner is clean, all the bottles and glasses neatly arranged. Behind the bar is the usual doorway he would take where he would find the stairs that lead to his former room.

He puts Rainfell down on a table close to the bar and calls out Tifa’s name.

“We’re closed!” It’s a reply he expects, but the voice isn’t hers. 

Aerith briskly walks into the bar area and jumps when she sees him. She runs  to hug him, happy to have him back. Tifa follows close by, and her hug is much more motherly, like she is welcoming dear family.

He chuckles as she lets him go. “I haven’t even been gone for two full days.”

Aerith leans over, her arms wrapped behind her back. “That just means you’re popular with the ladies.” She sits on a stool by the bar and pats the one next to her, which he takes.

Tifa gets behind the bar and starts filling a glass of water for him. There is a clipboard on the surface right in front of her; it looks as though the two of them are doing inventory. 

“Please tell me you’re closer to finding them,” she says.

He hasn’t realized just how thirsty he is. “Actually, yeah.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.” Tifa exhales slowly and brings out groups of martini glasses to the bar so that Aerith can start counting. “The bed upstairs has fresh sheets in case you need them.”

“I’m supposed deliver something to Traverse Town by tonight. Keyblade wielder duties and all.”

“Then you need to stay there. But either way, until you find a new one, you’ll always have a home here.” Funny. It’s almost like fate is giving him another break. She smiles at him, and places her hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry but I still don’t have all the ingredients necessary to remake that potion. You’ve been rationing it, right?”

There is less than a quarter of that brown stuff left in its jar. “I have enough, don’t worry.” Making sure she doesn’t sense his mood, he brings out the sack that holds the two paopu fruit. “Can you freeze these for me?”

“Interesting shape,” she says as she peers into the bag.

“They’re only for Aqua and Ventus.”

She holds her hand up. “Say no more, I’ll freeze them right now.”

Aerith props her elbows on the bar and rests her chin into both of her hands, a dreamy smile on her face. “I hope your story has a happy, romantic ending.”

Terra scoffs into his water. “What are you even talking about?”

She smacks her lips and shoos him. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I think I should really stop talking too much.”

Aerith purposefully wrinkles her nose. “Actually you don’t talk very much at all. It’s the little things you say that give it all away, mister.” She nods quickly as if to make her point.

Tifa reappears laughing to herself before lifting her hands to imitate the clicking of a camera with her fingers. “When you find her, I’ll need to be ready to capture all the little magic moments.” She laughs harder, with Aerith reaching for her from across the bar and getting in on the joke.

He picks up Rainfell from the table and proceeds to go through the doorway. “It’s funny how you think you’ll get away with doing that. I’ll fight you over it.”

“I resent that, Terra,” she calls out from behind him as he heads up the stairs. “You’ll regret ever fighting me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he calls back, chuckling a little. 

The upper hallway is tight, and the small door to the left leads to his old room. It’s free of dust and the window is open, allowing a nice breeze inside. He makes his way to the floorboard that squeaks the loudest. Aqua’s armor is still safely stored under it. 

Sitting on his knees, he rests Rainfell on his lap, tracing the blade up to its teeth. It figures that it has not allowed him to wield it since he called for Xehanort’s Keyblade: Aqua would have given him a lecture about it if she was there, and since their weapon is an extension of their very own hearts, souls, desires, it would have agreed with her. 

The Keyblade is straighter than he remembers from all the times he sparred with her, bearing a darker blue hue. Wondering if it now carries a different name, he gently places it into the crease of the floor knowing that it’s safe there. 

As he walks down the streets, he notices the tiny changes that make all the difference: Aerith has been busy filling them with flowers, and some of the fountains that have been broken before are now running.

It’s only several blocks until he sees the group of white tents that store weapons, desks, and supplies for the people of the Restoration Committee. Leon is there, going through what else - reports (it always seems to be the case for him). But at least he looks far better rested now than ever.

Cloud, Lightning, and Zack are nowhere to be seen.

“You’ve been gone for so long, I nearly didn’t recognize you,” Leon says as shakes Terra’s hand.

“I’m glad to see my absence isn’t missed.”

“You must be a lucky charm, then.” Leon rests his hands on his waist. “We haven’t had an attack since you left. The others are actually expanding out in the fields. Light wanted to take back some territory to keep the Heartless away from here.”

Terra takes a long breath. Any good news for these people is welcome. “I hope they’re okay out there, fighting Heartless on their own.”

“They can definitely take care of themselves, don’t worry.” Leon reaches into his back pocket. “Before I forget, Aerith made this for you. She wanted to make sure you were ordained by me.”

A purple card naming Terra an honorary member of the Hollow Bastion Restoration Committee. “There’s an actual formality to being named one?”

Leon cocks his head and shrugs. “You’ve been ordained into the Committee. Congratulations, there you go.”

And that was it.

Terra puts the card into his own pocket. “That’s good enough.”

Leon gestures his head to the side. “The package you need to take is almost done. Follow me.”

On top of some long tables is a large wooden box and a smaller one. One of the scientists from Ansem’s castle, the quieter one with gray hair that is mostly done in front of his face, is filling the smaller one with potions.

It’s a wonder how he can get anything done with that much hair covering his face. Terra remembers from his time being imprisoned that this young man’s name is Ienzo, although they have never exchanged any sentences.

When Ienzo sees them, his expression freezes, almost as if he is trying to stop any semblance of surprise. He audibly clears his throat and adjusts his lab coat as he prepares to welcome them.

“Leon.” He nods his head at the commander of Radiant Garden’s military. Then he pauses as he stares at the Keyblade wielder. 

“It’s Terra.” He holds his hand out, and Ienzo reluctantly takes it.

“Y-yes, I remember.” When he stops shaking his hand, he pulls on his collar. “I feel I must apologize profusely for the, um-”

“It’s fine, it wasn’t that big of a deal.” The only thing that makes this more awkward than it should be is the fact that Leon is still standing right there, like a watchdog.

Leon crosses his arms. “I’ll give you guys some room, but I won’t leave you alone with him.” He is clearly talking to Terra, but his gaze is focused on Ienzo, almost like a warning.

Ienzo clears his throat and forces a laugh as Leon walks away. “I’m sorry, it’s just that you look so much like him. Frighteningly so.”

Him... Terra forces a smile. “Actually, it’s the other way around.”

“Y-yes, of course. I didn’t mean to suggest...” Ienzo pulls a chair out for Terra to sit. “This isn’t the first time I have heard about a heart being stored in someone else. I’m actually working with Sora about this very same issue.”

Terra tenses a little. Does that mean he knows about Ven? That can’t be since Sora doesn’t know... Please don’t say anything. Don’t say Ven’s name. I can’t protect him if he hears.

Ienzo takes a shaky breath. “I just didn’t... I only found out about such things recently. I had no idea Xehanort was... someone else. None of us did.”

“It’s okay. There probably wasn’t a way for you to know.” Terra crosses his arms.

“I feel that I must apologize to you again.” Ienzo sits on his own chair.

“Why?”

“I just need to get this off my conscience. I grew up with Xehanort. He has been there for most of my life.” Ienzo nods as his eyes drift off. “I don’t know if you can relate, and perhaps this will be difficult for you to hear, but I aspired to be like him as I studied with him. He was just as much my teacher as Ansem the Wise.”

Terra stops breathing for a bit, and Ienzo notices. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No. I actually kind of wondered what he was like... as me.” It’s a strange thing to confess. The thought usually makes him clench his teeth, but curiosity is a strong force.

Ienzo exhales forcefully and struggles to grin. “He was respectful, yet emotionally distant. He commonly said that being emotional would only get in the way of work, and it was best to focus on the task at hand. He was incredibly intelligent. Myself and Even never really compared. He was a prodigy.” He nods to himself as he looks down to the ground. “We all thought we would make a tremendous break through in science, studying with him.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“We were trying to see if we can effectively take control over the mind.” Ienzo braves himself to meet Terra’s eyes as he says this. “I know - it’s an awful subject to study. It’s what led to the breakout of Heartless. But when you are so involved in such a project, and you are so close to getting final results - I think we were all consumed in trying to get answers. I know I was.” He rubs his hands together. “I deserved to be turned into a Nobody I suppose, for what I did. Xehanort had vision and charisma, yes, but I failed to see him for the monster he really was. For that, I ask for your forgiveness.”

“Of course.” Terra nods, forming a small smile and releasing the grip he’s been holding on his biceps.

Another nervous laugh. “You’re truly kind.” Ienzo gets up and fetches a notebook close by. “May I ask you a few questions, then? I-If you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead.” Terra crosses his legs. The movement is not comfortable or known to him. He has no idea why he wanted to do that, and uncrosses them.

“Do you have any memory of being Xehanort?”

“No. it was all...” Terra swallows a hard lump. “The only thing I saw was darkness. There was nothing else.”

Ienzo takes some notes down. “Interesting... I imagine you should be Xemnas’ age by now, but it looks like you’re quite young still. That is probably why.”

“What is probably why?”

“It sounds like your heart was cast in the abyss that exists inside all of us. It acts as a sanctuary to keep us so that our hearts don’t break. You haven’t aged because your heart has been sleeping for most of that time. It hasn’t experienced anything, any life. You can’t develop with no experience.”

Terra laughs, but it isn’t because what Ienzo said was funny. “A sanctuary? It was anything but.” He nearly goes on to talk about the agony and how often he has nearly given up, but doesn’t.

“I didn’t mean to suggest that it should be pleasant.” Ienzo tugs at his collar. “But there is no other way to explain it. That darkness is what houses our hearts. It’s like a mother’s womb. Yes, light is what gives us hope and illuminates every single thing we can see and interact with. Without it, there is no reason to live. But darkness... It can distort and disgust our perceptions, and it can make the most evil doings clandestine. But when we need to hide or protect ourselves, it’s the only thing that can actually give us shelter. No one survives under so much scrutiny under the light, if that makes sense. Only light judges.”

Nothing is really easy to understand anymore. This must be what it’s like to be an adult. He can’t help but think of Eraqus in this sense.

Ienzo laughs nervously again. “I’m sorry, I must sound like Xehanort. I suppose I still agree with him in those concepts. May I ask where he is now? Is he in that same abyss you were inhabited?”

Terra places his hand on his chest. “I don’t think so. He can hear what we’re saying, and see what I see.”

The scientist takes too long of a moment to speak again. “Is he wrestling for control then?”

Terra’s voice is low. “Yeah.”

“I can’t help you with that. Using a Keyblade against the heart is dangerous indeed, and it shouldn’t be tried.” He writes more notes. “I do have another question. Do you remember being Xemnas?”

“No.“

“Really? Being in the castle didn’t spark some familiarity to you?” He stops writing. “Xemnas spent quite some time there. He had a room to himself that he loved to pass the time in. Some of us were aware that he used to speak to himself, but I don’t know what exactly was stored in that room.”

A mindless clone of him, which tried to destroy all of the worlds at once, treasured her armor. Someone who has his face but has no history with her and therefore no business wanting to talk with her.  It’s good that he doesn’t exist anymore, or else I’d punch him in the face.

“I suppose it’s not so strange that you can’t remember anything,” Ienzo continues. “Xemnas shared many, many similarities with Xehanort, so it really wasn’t your mind that directed him. You cannot command powers of nothingness, then?”

Terra’s eyes widen. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

In Ienzo’s hand, a dark leather tome form out of thin air. “I still remember how to do it. We all do. Keyblade wielders strictly perform with the dichotomy of light and dark. But nothingness is separate from that. It’s an energy that draws from a mental state that can be achieved through meditation. It comes simply by existing and not through any feeling, which is what light and dark need. It is ironic - Xemnas always told us that we didn’t exist. Initially, Nobodies cannot feel which is how we came about these powers.” Ienzo silently commands pages to fly around him, some doubling and others melting into one. “We can then amplify them with thoughts - and perhaps with emotions - once we learn to control them. You must understand, nothing is just nothing. It is up to us to define what that looks like. Xemnas for example was a gifted mage.”

“Those two words strewn together do not describe me at all.”

The pages and the tome disappear in smoke. “Well, I mention them to be useful. Powers of nothingness should have no effect to your heart or mind, which I’m sure are under some strain.”

That’s an understatement.

Leon approaches them. “Sorry to break up your get-together, but Terra, you have a package to deliver.”

“Y-Yes, I’m almost done with that.” Ienzo moves to put more potions in the box along with a booklet of notes. He doesn’t meet Leon’s gaze at all. Among the mostly green potions in the smaller box, he puts in two bright purple ones.

Ienzo gestures to Terra, pointing to the purple potions. “These two are incredibly rare. Xehanort invented them. They are designed to numb the heart, actually, and these are the very last that we have. Do be careful with them, since the recipients have requested these specifically.”

Terra’s mouth drops open. “Why would anyone ask for these?”

“Because they make it harder for Heartless to detect you,” Leon says. “Because they make turning into one hurt less. And because it has been approved to send them over.”

Terra nods once, remembering that Cloud has stated that the people leading Traverse Town are ones to be trusted.

After closing the smaller one, Ienzo starts to lock the larger one. “Inside this one are a number of books and electric bombs. They will not go off without being prepared first, but do be careful and don’t shake them.”

Ienzo then gathers his notes into his arms and firmly shakes Terra’s hand before leaving. “Until next time, Terra.”

With him gone, Leon pulls out a sizeable bag filled with 2,000 munny - the payment for the delivery.

“He seems a bit nervous around you,” Terra says as he accepts the bag.

“Ansem’s apprentices and the military are not exactly on good terms.” Leon leans on one leg. “They’re still loyal to the old man, and there are some people who are apprehensive about the possibility of him coming back to Radiant Garden. They don’t want him to lead again, since they blame him for the catastrophe. Truth be told, there are some people who don’t like the idea of the military leading either, even though we are the ones restoring the city.”

“Where is he now?”

“No one knows.” Leon stacks the boxes, and taps them. “Anyway, don’t worry about us. You’re needed somewhere else.” He pulls out another card, with handwritten notes. “These are the people that the delivery is for.”

It is difficult to read these complicated names, made harder due to Leon’s illegible handwriting.

“If you can’t find them, look for a guy named Cid. He’s one of our own, actually. We sent him to help them out. They are all stationed at the hotel there.”

It is a lie if Terra isn’t grateful that Cid is a name he can remember. “Will do.”

Leon reaches out for a handshake. “Don’t be a stranger.”

If there is anything that gives more spectacular sights than the Land of Departure, it’s Traverse Town.

The sun is starting to set, casting multitudes of shadows across the cobblestones that make the streets. The architecture is highly stylized and picturesque, almost like it comes straight off a book he read when he was younger. The town is a stop for all sorts of travelers - incredibly tall people, anthropomorphic people, extremely short people, and Moogles. It’s probably why no one really pays any attention to him, floating on his glider with these two wooden packages strapped behind him.

It’s not the easiest to get anyone’s attention, either. Everyone seems to be in a rush, and will either deny his request for information or outright ignore him. Eventually he gets directions to the hotel. It’s up in the second district, which is more modern but no less impressive, with an endless stream of tourist shops, a fountain, and a tall clocktower. The hotel stands tall and wide, and a worker there gives him a trolley.

The inside of the hotel should be fancy by normal standards, but it’s a mess. The lounge area is filled with desks covered in papers. Terra passes by an open room which should have been reception but they use it to store the weapons. He is told that past that hallway is the restaurant, which feeds those who work and live here.

He is directed to a back room, where a man sits in front of several computer monitors, right by another door off to the side that is closed.

The man is older, and fumbles with a toothpick in his mouth. “You the new Keyblade wielder? Terra, am I right?” His voice is gruff, his attitude absolutely matching the lack of patience heard from his mouth.

“Yes, sir. I’m looking for Cid.” He keeps his hands on the trolley.

“You’re looking at him.” He glances at the packages but doesn’t ask any questions. “I guess I should say ‘Welcome to Traverse Town.’ It’s a place where most people can flick their fingers and create magic tricks. I’m sure you heard we’re in a rough spot. There’s not that many fighters here, it’s mostly just women.”

It’s an awful thing to say and Terra is about to snark back but quickly shuts it. “I’ve met a lot of strong women.”

Cid doesn’t have the time to reply. As if on cue, young woman opens the door behind them, and by all accounts she’s stunning. Dressed in an orange jumpsuit, with white, flowing bell sleeves and a large crystal around her neck, she’s the epitome of femininity. Her hair is long and ebony and drags as she walks. She’s short, shorter than Ventus, but she walks gracefully and has an air about her that screams regality, as though her height means nothing.

“A newcomer?” Her smile is warm, her accent posh.

“My name is Terra.”

She gasps with glee, and runs up to the packages and starts to open them. Her smile widens and she silently laughs, like she has been given life-saving medicine.

“Um, those packages are actually for...” Terra pulls out the card with the names.

“Give that here.” She motions with her fingers and reads off the card. “Ah, I’m on here. My name is Garnet.” She folds one arm under her bust and bends over with the other arm extended, as if she is bowing for a grand ball. “You can say I am the second-in-command. All the inhabitants here think of me so.”

She looks back down on the card and addresses Cid. “Speaking of commanders, where is Noctis?”

“His royal heinie is sleeping in the next room. Where else would he be?”

Cid returns to work on his computer, complaining about all things Noctis. How Noctis doesn’t listen to his advice. How Noctis is too quick to lunge himself at Heartless when he should be busy looking after his people. How Noctis is too young for this kind of job, among a longer list of other things. Garnet turns to Terra with an expression that mimics laughter while pointing her thumb at Cid, as if to say can you believe this guy?

The door that is closed slams open. There stands a young man with spiky black hair, some of it lazily covering his face. He dresses completely in all black, some of it adorned in leather, very cool and very casual, as though he wants to make a statement based on what he wears. He is undeniably annoyed, his eyes half-lidded.

“Cid,” he says, “you’re loud.”

Garnet spins to face him, her hair swaying around. “Noctis, this is Terra, the new Keyblade wielder.”

Noctis smacks his lips several times before shaking Terra’s hand, a welcoming but timid smile on his face. Not unlike Terra at all.

“Welcome.” His voice is raspy, but it’s hard to tell if that’s normal for him or if it’s because he’s still waking up. “You’ve made our lives easier, and we’re all grateful for you Keyblade wielders.”

“Glad to be of service.” Terra scratches the back of his head. “I’ve been hearing so much about the trouble here, but I actually don’t really know that much of what’s going on.”

“Let me take you up to the roof and brief you.” Noctis walks out the way Terra came in, Garnet following behind him.

He actually takes them outside, where he starts to go up the fire escape. “Every two nights, one particularly nasty Heartless attacks us. It comes an hour before midnight each time, and it only stays for ten minutes. Then it disappears and we rinse and repeat the night after next.”

This is surprising.

Monsters and beasts made of a deep, putrid darkness exist, which are usually ancient and they are known in legends. One in particular is the legend of Chernabog. These fiends tend to be ritualistic, much like the way this Heartless is being described, which means that this has the potential to be something that will continue to target and haunt people. It will continue to grow.

“Obviously, we haven’t been able to get rid of it,” Noctis says as they reach the top. He places his hands on his waist and scoffs with disgust. He wears his emotions so obviously that it gives Terra the impression that Noctis will always be easy to read. “The fact that it only stays around for ten minutes means that we never get it weak enough to destroy it. Sora, Riku, and Lea have fought it together and it didn’t make much of a difference, either.”

Garnet leans on the railing, a loving smile on her face as she looks down on the people in the streets far below. Then she gets serious. “I don’t know what horrid person that thing came from. But the number of deaths and missing each of those nights is daunting.”

She turns to face Terra and smiles. He isn’t confident enough to tell if it’s forced. “We call it Kefka.”

“Well, I’m here to help,” Terra says, and she returns with a solemn smile before facing the streets again. Noctis nods and pats Terra’s shoulder once.

The clock tower rings. It is six in the evening. But it’s the sound that catches Terra’s attention.

It’s an electric bell, and he’s heard this exact sound before as he watched Naminé sink into the water. There isn’t any way to describe this sense of just knowing it’s true. His stomach drops and his chest tightens as he stares at the clock tower, checking to make sure it is the same sound. Yes it is. Yes it is.

Does that mean Aqua is here?

[97bread]

why hello!! (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)💛 at the beginning of december last year, i hit 1k!! and with that being said, i thought that it would be appropriate to make my first follow forever! i'd like to take time to appreciate the mutuals that i have, and the friends that i’ve come to make this past year. i’m a very shy person, and so last year was a great accomplishment for me in terms of meeting new people and actually branching out to others!! i never thought i would be able to do stuff like that. i was able to meet so many amazing people that i couldn’t imagine not being in my life!! and while it’s still january, i would like to add that i hope that everyone has a fantastic year!! here’s to an amazing year filled with much joy & love! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)💛

also v quickly!! i’d like to thank abbey for my ff header !! 💐

key: 🐻 - you brighten up my dash !! 🌿 - i love ‘n appreciate you so much !! heck 💛 - i’m so glad we’re mutuals/friends 💌 - i’m an emo water sign and wrote u a letter :/

special shoutout to my irl friends ( @angemagica, @alleywaydreamer, @hazelbella, @panther4444, @possiblymichaeljones, @timesnewamericana ) for dealing with my annoying bum both irl and online... (´ω｀) ;; 🌙

a-f;

@ahgamark 🐻💛 / @attaboygf 🐻🌿💛 / @baekphia 🐻🌿💛 / @bamethyst 🐻🌿💛 / @baobeijackson 🐻🌿💛💌 / @birf 🐻🌿💛💌 / @bootybam 🐻 / @brokuroo 🐻 / @choiyoungjae 🐻🌿💛💌 / @cutepimook 🐻 / @cyjsgirl 🐻🌿💛 / @darlingjbum 🐻🌿💛 / @dovble-b 🐻🌿 / @dreamygyeom 🐻🌿💛 / @dreamyugyeom 🐻🌿💛 / @exoticface 🐻 / @fldeparture 🐻💛 / @flight-logs 🐻 / @flowrcafe 🐻

g-l;

@gayshinas 🐻💛 / @gikwangies 🐻 / @got7tooprettyfortheirowngood 🐻 / @gsvnrewind 🐻🌿💛 / @gye0mie 🐻🌿💛 / @gyeomsluna 🐻🌿💛 / @happyholidae 🐻🌿💛 / @hhyunbin 🐻 / @hoseom 🐻🌿💛 / @httpmarkie 🐻 / @ibegin 🐻 / @icarusjjp 🐻 / @iheartyugyeom 🐻🌿💛💌 / @iloveujaebum 🐻🌿💛 / @imjbummed 🐻 / @imxjaebeom 🐻 / @irenc 🐻💛 / @iridescent--wings 🐻 / @j-aer 🐻🌿💛 / @j1ny0ung 🐻🌿💛 / @jacksonwangblog 🐻🌿💛💌 / @jacksonwng 🐻 / @jajajaebum 🐻🌿 / @jinyoungslegs 🐻 / @jinyoungslover 🐻🌿💛 / @jj-nyoung 🐻 / @jj-prxject 🐻 / @joohunn 🐻 / @jsutright 🐻 / @lattegyeom 🐻🌿💛💌 / @limjaebum 🐻🌿💛 / @lisassgf 🐻🌿💛 / @lomlmark 🐻

m-r;

@marksluv 🐻💛 / @marksseunie 🐻🌿💛 / @mart-art 🐻🌿💛 / @mochabam 🐻🌿💛💌 / @mochimork 🐻🌿 / @morkookie 🐻🌿💛💌 / @n0average 🐻 / @odetopcy 🐻 / @park-jjinyoung 🐻 / @peachjy 🐻🌿💛 / @peachyugy 🐻🌿💛 / @pink-gyeom 🐻 / @pinkjbeom 🐻 / @pinkjy 🐻🌿 / @pizzawasabi 🐻 / @protectmarkjin 🐻 / @redgyeomie 🐻 / @redrookie 🐻

s-z;

@sadvinyl 🐻 / @sailordeer 🐻 / @sftchans 🐻 / @sharkmoji 🐻 / @shelovesjinyoung 🐻🌿💛 / @slay-bum 🐻 / @softforjackson 🐻🌿💛 / @softjnyoung 🐻🌿💛💌 / @softsmol 🐻 / @su-mel-strawberry4 🐻 / @sugarmaterfamilias 🐻 / @sunbeamjinhappybirthday 🐻 / @taehyunas 🐻 / @taeyeonzx 🐻 / @teenagermp3 🐻🌿 / @theycallme-tunathot 🐻 / @ungiis 🐻 / @vanelaqream 🐻 / @velveteen-queen 🐻💛 / @wangseunie 🐻 / @whyugyeom 🐻 / @yoongifer 🐻 / @youngjaesloudlaugh 🐻🌿💛 / @yu-gyeomiebabo 🐻🌿💛 / @yugy 🐻🌿💛 / @yugyeomsbaby 🐻🌿

#;

@11mark 🐻🌿💛💌 / @127stan 🐻🌿💛 / @2gi 🐻 / @2ndlove 🐻 / @3-rachas 🐻 / @6oct 🐻🌿 / @724148 🐻 / @7uv 🐻

💌 baobeijackson ( sam !! ) - sam!! hello my lovely human being. i love you sooo much, angel!! but i bet you already knew that, heh. :p you mean lots and lots to me, and i don’t think i can ever truly express just how much. before we really started talking, you always made sure to check up on me to make sure i was okay... and that really made me happy. :/ that’s how i knew you were such a sweetheart!! as you know, i Suck at replying, but everything you say/send me makes me smile because i know how much you care about me, and your friends. i love how i can confide in you when i have a problem, and i just want you to know how proud i am of you for all of your achievements, big or small!! you are such a lovely person, and people need to know just how much. i love you soooo much sam!!! i hope that one day we can meet, i really do. (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)💕 💌 birf ( jilly !! ) - jillian!! we don’t get to talk too often, but when we do, i really love it. you are such a big sweetheart, and i love your sense of humor so hecking much. i love talking to you so very much!! i also love how much you love jaebum, because it makes me smile so much... :’/ your sense of fashion is literally out of this world!!! did you know that? 💞 i admire the taste in fashion you have so much, it’s so awesome. i love the memes that you bring to the table, and your passion for the things that you love!! i love you lots and lots jillian, you’re truly one of a kind and someone who deserves the world and more. (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵) 💌 choiyoungjae ( fawn !! ) - fawn!! i believe that you were one of my very first got7 mutuals, and to this day that fact makes me so very happy. you’re one passionate human being, and one of the kindest people that i’ve ever had the privilege of talking to!!! you’re an actual angel. we don’t talk very often, but i love seeing you on my dash so much and i love it when we can have the chance to talk... because you’re literally so sweet. your love for youngjae fuels the fire in my heart tbh, it’s so lovely. you really care about him and it makes me so happy. :( 💖 i love your creative content so much, because it’s so unique and interesting! your gifs are so cool. (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵) i hope that we can talk more!! because you are truly such a wonderful gem to have around, and i love you!! (´∀｀=)✨

💌 iheartyugyeom ( hayley !! ) - my lovely hayley!!! did you know that i love you so much? :/ because i really do. your snaps brighten my day/night, and i love how funny and caring you are. you were one of my first friends here, and i’d never take that back. :/ you make me so very happy!! even if i suck at expressing that heck ; i love it when you gush about yugy and how i can gush right back with you, and how safe ‘n comfortable i feel when talking to you. i love you so much!! if i had the chance to fly to aussi, i’d meet you right away because!! i just love you so much. :( thank you for always being such a big sweetheart!!! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

💌 jacksonwangblog ( karobean !! ) - there’s literally so much i want to say? i literally love you so much, and you’re someone i can’t imagine my life without. i’ll probably cry writing this like the crybaby i am, but?? i just need to let you know how much you mean to me. not a day goes by that i don’t regret messaging you, even if it took the life out of me. we clicked literally right away, and i remember our very first time actually dying of laughter was over the term flabbergasted. that seems so long ago, and i know that we’ve literally had 493705349594508409 inside jokes since then. but can u believe that of all things was the first?? and then chocroivol.. itwwotst guy.. aliens & french fries, soulmate matters, swimming across the atlantic.. so much. you’re the virgo to my scorpio, the perfect dane to my american, the jack to my bam, my everything. :’/ you’re someone i can truly confide in and i know that you’ll be real with me and tell me how you feel, which is something i love.. because it makes me know that you’re telling me what you think is best for me. i love how we can have 40910 different conversation topics within the span of 10 minutes, and i love how much you can make me smile and laugh. the amount of times that i’ve been in public and smiling like an idiot at my phone is.. wow. not only can you make me laugh, but you’re someone who’s taught me so much about the world, and you’re someone that’s really inspired me to live my life to the fullest. we both have our moments when we’re sad at the same time, but i love how we can always count on one another to cheer each other up. one of my biggest goals in life is to get to denmark and meet you, because you literally mean the whole entire world to me. you’re one of my best friends in life, and i’d never trade that for the world!! i love you so, so much karoline, you mean more than words to me. jeg elsker dig mere end stjernerne! de skinner lyst, men du skinner endnu lysere. tak for eksisterende, jeg ved ikke, hvad jeg ville gøre uden dig!! du fortjener verden og mere, jeg håber du ved det! jeg elsker dig så højt, min sol!! (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)💛💛💛💛💛💛💛 💌 lattegyeom ( abbey !! ) - oh my gogdskjd, abbey. i truly, and utterly adore you to pieces. i can’t really express just how much, but it’s so much. you’re always there for me when i need someone most, and you always have the sweetest things to say to me. you’re so gentle and loving, and that’s just one of the many things that i love about you. you’ve helped me through a lot, and i can’t thank you enough. i really relate to you, and you’re someone i know i can trust 100%. you’ve taught me so much about the sky and what it holds, and you’ve helped me to understand myself when i couldn’t even do it on my own. and that’s something i truly am thankful for, because?? it just means so much to me. you’re so fking genuine, too. you care about the people around you, and it really does show. you’re one of those people that can light up rooms, i’m so sure of it!! you’re someone that means so, so much to me, and i’m always so thankful for your existence!! (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑) i look up to you lots and lots, and you’re someone i’d never want to disappoint. your love for yugyeom is one in a million, too. you love him to pieces, and i know he’d love you just as much back. (trust me, we’re both scorp suns and gemi moons!! we love u.) i can’t imagine my life without you, and i s2g i’ll drive up to MN one day and take you out to coffee!! you deserve all the happiness in the world, m’lovely abberson!!! thank you for teaching me so much and caring about me, because they all mean so much to me in more ways than i could ever begin to explain. you’re one of my best friends, and i cherish you so much. (also uh thanks for putting up with my memey ass when i know u hate 87% of the horrid memes i send u :p) i love you sooooo much abbey!!! my star-dusted angel !! (*´∇｀*)💫💛  💌 mochabam ( jemmy !! ) - JEMMY MY LOVE MY ANGEL MY LOVELY PAL!!! can i just say how happy i am that we started to talk more and more?? because you make me so happy and the way you can make me laugh is phenomenal. we have so many lil jokes, and i love knowing how stupid i can personally be and yet you’ll just laugh ever so lovingly with me. you have so much love to give, and it always amazes me just how much! i treasure you so much, and i care about you a great deal. you’re always there to listen to me when i need someone, and you can always cheer me up. i love how we’re always here for one another!!! your love for bambam is the sweetest and most genuine thing i have ever seen, and it really warms my hear. speaking of the loaf.. the loaf and i love you so, so much, and we’ll always be here for you no matter what!! i love you so much, m’coconut princess!! i hope you know how loved and appreciated you are!! i’m so thankful that you exist, and that i’ve come to know you in the way that i have. ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ💓💫 💌 morkookie ( alex !! ) - um... can i just start off by saying that i love you so, so very much? :/ let me say it again, but in your mother-tongue: ich liebe dich so sehr!! wow... :( you’re the loml, my mikan, and someone who is so very precious to me. i’d move mountains for you if i could!! i always want to make sure that you’re happy. you’re just one of those people, y’know? someone that i adore with my entire heart. your love and passion for me makes me so happy, and i just want you to know that i’m the same way back. you make me very soft, and i love your calming voice. you may think that your german accent may sound the exact opposite of what i’m about to say, but i love your voice so much. it’s so!! soothing to me, and i love it when you rant to me in german. i love my fiery woman. :p 💓 your love for jungkook is uh... exceptional. i love how much you love him, and i love knowing how pure and true it is. i mean who else would hecking go get his picture printed off and frame it. i love you and your shenanigans so, so much. i want to meet you so badly, so we can do everything on our list together. the day i meet you is going to be one of the best days of my life, whether it be in deutschland oder amerika. you mean so much to me, and i want you to know that. i know that when i tell you my problems you’re real and honest with me, and i love it. you’re always here for me. i love you so, so much alex... thank you for being you and for loving me the way you do. (´∇｀)💐💞 💌 softjnyoung ( rae !! ) - rae... my mama bun... my love!! you’re someone that means the whole entire world to me, because i know how much you care about/love me. you’re a beautiful woman, both inside and out!!! you’re always willing to talk about random topics with me, and i love how that’s one of the ways that we were able to bond with one another. i love talking to you almost every day, and i love how much i can confide in you. you’re someone i clicked with so, extremely fast, and i’d never take that away. you’re there for me when i need you, and you always make me feel so loved and appreciated. but guess what!! i love you more, and i always will. you hold such a special place in my heart, and that will never change. you’re someone i really look up to, and someone that i truly adore. you have so much wisdom, and you’re always willing to share it with me. you’re a whole big softie, and i love just how soft you can be for the people that you love. you always manage to put up with my crybaby self, but i know it’s because you care about me so much, and i can’t tell you how much i appreciate that. i swear when i go back to germany i’ll come and see you, and we can go get spaghettieis!! it’ll be the best experience in the whole entire world. your lil bunny loves you so much! you’re the sunshine when she feels at her lowest, and you can always brighten her days. you make me laugh to the point i can’t breathe, and i love how genuine you are. thank you for always caring about me, and just know that i care about you so, so much. you’re one of my best friends, and i’d never take that away. i love you soooo much, rae! more than you’d ever know! (๑˃̵◡˂̵๑)✨💛

💌 11mark ( victoria !! ) - victoria !!!! you’re such a soft little sunshine, did you know that?? you’ll always be someone that is so special to me. you were my cute lil rosey anon, and now you’re my cute lil rosey lovin’ pal!! you’re always there to make sure that i’m feeling alright, and i love it when you check in on me. you really care for me, and it shows so much!!! i care about you a great deal, too. you’re always introducing me to new things, and you’ve sparked my interest in the bulgarian culture. you’re my cute angel, and i love you dearly. i hope that we can continue to talk and grow closer, because you mean so so much to me!! thank you for coming forward and talking to me, because it means the whole entire world to me that we talk. i love our lil convos, even if they happen at odd times in the day! (heck those time zones. :p) i love you so much angel, continue to be yourself ‘n never change!! because i love you just the way you are. (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)🌹💛

[syxjaewon]

👀 + "What are three of your most favorite memories?"

favorite memories, ones he holds onto when the cold seepstoo far into his bones, when space gets too wide, expanding out faster than thespeed of light, when the ghosts come down the corridors in the darkness,calling his name, howling about spilt blood and horrors and war. favoritememories, ones he clings to with eyes nearly sewed shut, too-sharp vision withnothing he wants to see, pain bursting in his head like supernovae. notnecessarily important memories, not just the snippets of his life that have createdhis iron-plated skin, his mountaintop persona, the pricks and bruises that haveshaped his heart, colored it violet.

there are so many of those. ones he thinks about too oftenand ones he’d rather just ignore ( i wish i could forget you the way you forgotme… ), ones he knows are embedded in his ribs as deeply as the axe that wasonce shoved into his side, as deeply as the slave numbers branded on hiscollar.

but his favorites?

001.

he clings to the rooftop like a small animal, a boy with afake name and a fake birthdate, the vallurian skyline dark and dotted withmillions of stars he has never been able to touch. he’s made it all the way upto the top of this tower, fighting and shooting his way up, bullets cursed outfrom the guns he knows how to steal and use before discarding and gatheringanother. he has no gun of his own, one doesn’t need it when everyone else hasso many to pick over after they’ve died. he falls in line with a group offreedom fighters, star-dwellers he’s never seen before until tonight, and hedoesn’t know why he’s running with them, only that he has nothing left to goback to.

his reason comes over them like a god, engines whirling,lights shining, it’s presence kicking up a slew of whirlwinds that drag andpull at his hair, his clothes, his limbs. it’s a machine, a ship, large andbuilt into a peculiar shape, come around the edge of the top of the building,too close, close enough to shake the ground, shake the tower they stand on. andjaewon is on his knees, nails in the ground, eyes wide and awestruck, dustblowing into his mouth but he doesn’t cough—you’re not a true vallurian if youcough at a little dust.

the space ship lands a few meters away, its crew approachingthe docking area and jaewon sits still because he is not crew, he is not them,he is street rat, he is ghost, he is sand from the desert, sifting between thecracks of the world, between fingers that want to tear at him desperately.

a woman turns and stands before him, scars on her face likebattle trophies, her eyes cold and steady as stones, her jaw sharp enough tocut a man in half. tight lips, thin arms, a gun over her shoulder almost aslarge as she is. “which side are you on?” she asks, her voice like steel, thelights of a thousand stars burning behind her and he knows this is his onlychance.

he doesn’t hesitate. “whichever side gets me the hell offthis planet.”

002.

he stares at the blinking red light and knows this couldvery well be the end of everything. he hasn’t even started yet, hasn’t evenbeen given enough time to prove himself, but he knows well enough that he’llobey a direct order. if she tells him to come back. if she demands he returnher property. if she disowns him. his stomach twists into knots, his spinemelting into jelly; too many ifs. he doesn’t want to answer this, but he can’tignore it.

he pushes the light and stands straight up to attention, theway being an army sergeant has burned into his posture.

“jaewon,” she says, and with those two syllables, he knowsshe’d frustrated.

“okay before you start, let me just explain myself a littlebit, alright? i have three reasons for why i’ve done what i have, and if you’lljust listen to me, you’ll understand.”

she pauses, her dark eyes unblinking, contempt in the lineof her lips. “good reasons?”

“well, we’ll see in a minute, i’m making them up right now.so basically,” he begins. “i’ve more or less grown up here on this boat, i knowher ins and outs better than anyone else who’d try to buy it from you, and whilei can’t pay you back immediately, i can certainly send things back eventually.secondly,” okay now things are getting a little bit muddier inside his head. hehasn’t really come up with a strategy for this conversation—he really is makingthis up as he goes along. “i’m already off-world; henry and jonas and mina arewith me, we’ve taken the ship to yeret’s moon, where we’re working on thingsand reconstructing things—we’re going to have her back to operational very soon.so she won’t be unsafe or breakable out in the black, she’ll be completely new;i’m even going to rename her—”

“jaewon—”

“and thirdly!” he’s stumbling all over his words now, barelyable to maintain eye-contact. young sun-dried boy, 21 years old, still burningfrom the war, desperate now for something steady in his life, grasping ontoanything that is familiar. he wants to lock everything up into his chest,before he inevitably loses it all, because if the last four years of bloodshed,of killing and dying and horror, has taught him anything, it’s that he absolutelycan lose. “thirdly… i love this ship. it’s… home.” the only home he’s evermanaged to get. the closest to heaven he’ll ever tread. there is a hatefultremor in his voice, a weakness in his clenched teeth, and he’d rather die thanlook up at her right now. he cannot meet her gaze.

the silence that pours into the room is only a beat, butfeels like an eternity. finally she sighs. “jaewon. have you looked into the topright hand corner of the cabinet there?”

“i—what?”

she points to the cabinet off to the side of the bridge, theone carrying most of the paperwork for the ship, paperwork jaewon knows allabout, but knows not to mess with. he walks over and opens it up, pulls somefiles out, takes his time reading the documentation for the legalities of thespaceship. his name is littered throughout it.

“you…. you left it to me?” an inheritance?

“figured it’d be easier for you to make your way, if youdidn’t have to forge the documents.” she sounds unsurprised, unshaken, unmoved.

meanwhile jaewon falls apart at his seams, his teeth lockedtogether, his chest tightly wound, but that does nothing to stop his lungs fromshaking, his nose from stinging, his eyes from watering. he looks up at herthrough brimming tears, gold eyes uncharacteristically soft and shining. “yougave me the ship…?”

lost boy, street rat, desert orphan, born of sun and muckand trash, abandoned by faces he can’t remember, given nothing, saved for nothing,not even a name to go by. the families he creates keep dying or falling apart,losing friends, losing home, losing the war; his purpose, his ideals, hismorals shattered. golden eyes useless now, haunted only by the screams ofentire planets as they explode, his shoulders heavy with the weight of havingnothing.

vera lets a corner of her lips lift, a rare smile, a rarelight in her aged eyes, an unspeakable bond between them—mother and son. theyare not related and yet, they are. “take care of my boat, kid.” the screen cutsout.

003.

the third is not a memory of anything specific, not a singleset of dialogue or one interaction between himself and anyone else. it is ahodgepodge of views, the way jaewon sits at the head of the table in the messhall, reading over the cortex, day in, day out, his leg propped over the edgeof the arm of the chair, his posture slumped and comfortable. he reads andsometimes actually pays attention to what is there, but then mostly he’s payingmore attention to what’s going on around him, the way the crew and passengersinteract with each other as they meander through the room with the kitchenette andcouches. from this spot, jaewon can hear most things that are going on aroundthe ship as well, everything echoing off the halls; laughter and conversationsand shouts.

 “do you put your gorram feet on my countertops!?”

“i specifically remember you saying no standing on thechairs so i can’t use them. feet on counters it is.”

“i have some nice relaxing medi-packets if you are ‘stressed’CAP-tan…”

“well, I think you’reover-looking a third option: the brightest thing of all is my smile…”

“sorry, did you say plant? or planet?”

“or maybe you were dreaming. you dream of me, kafka?”

“oh like, could you teach me the tea stuff? and calligraphystuff you do too is like super pretty…”

“well?! is it a massive picture collection of dogs or apicture collection of massive dogs?!”

“i would totally sacrifice at least twenty cows for you…”

loud crew, noisy crew, alive and healthy and boisterous,some of them still wide-eyed, some of them with pasts drenched in blood, butall of them here, all of them safe under the wings of a ship named for abattle. jaewon’s people, a set of faces he won’t call family out loud, butinstead with every beat of a heart he swears doesn’t exist. their voices fillhis days to the brim, jokes and rumors, music and awkwardness, familiarity andquiet bonds stronger than the cohesion of atoms.

his crew. as long as they’re still flying, these are thememories he clings to, the ones he cherishes silently, the ones he lives for.at death’s door, these are the moments that will display across the universe ofhis life. and that would be heaven enough.

[mfmagazine]

Mountain Con

Article by David Miller

What are your names and what do you do in the group? Swede: My name is Swede and I play guitar, pedal steel, and regular guitar and banjo. Jim: My name is Jim and I’m the singer and I play a nylon gut string guitar. I play harmonica and I write some songs. Ben: My name is Ben and I play keyboards. Mike: My name is Mike and I play drums. Dustin: My name is Dustin. I do all the turntable and sampler work on stage and the ‘jack of all that’s needed that’s not musical. Pierre was in Montana this day and he is the bass player and genius engineer and as Dustin calls him, “the mad scientist.” You all combine music technology with pop song writing. What is the spark that gets a track going for this band? Jim: Well, a lot of times they start as Folk songs. We’re experimenting more with building loops and experimenting more with what might happen accidentally. Usually we start with songs that can be played with and acoustic guitar, lay it down with a click track and build it up from there. For this next record, we’re experimenting a little bit with going the reverse route to mix things up. When do the samples and loops come in? Jim: Our studio and writing process are inseparable, really, but after we get some chords and lyrics we start our insane process that is too complicated to get into. We won’t bore you with all the details today. But after much obsessing we finally get something that we are happy with and we hope other people are happy with too. What’s happening in the world right now that become topics or themes when you write? Swede: God, open the news paper. Watch CNN. Jim: Our lyrical side of things is usually existing in a different universe than the musical side. The musical side is an exploration of sounds, whereas the lyrical side is more personal. Lyrically, I’ve been dealing what I call, ‘conspicuous appropriation’ or a collage aesthetic that coveys a picture of something that’s happening today. When did Mountain Con start and what was the original idea? Jim: Four of us were in a band in Missoula, Montana where all of us except for Dustin are from. It was a more contemporary early nineties guitar driven rock band kind of thing. We moved out to Seattle when we were 18 and thought that within a year we’d be, ya know, big rock stars or whatever. Basically the whole thing just kind of fell apart. But we regrouped here in about 1998 and it gave us the ability to really rethink how we made “Rock Music.” Mike: We also really liked the beat approach to hip hop and the way that felt, so we experimented with taking Bob Dylan songs or rock songs and applying that to say, Public Enemy and basically trying to get that beat stuck into something that doesn’t fit. Jim: Yeah, that got the gears turning. I mean, when we first started out we didn’t even know how to make a loop. Now we can just about have our way with anything that we want. Tell me about the title “Dusty Zero’s, Dirty Ones.” Dustin: That title really puts together the two worlds of folksy rock and digital production, I mean you got the whole binary code thing that is at the heart of digital based production and sampling, and the human element of what all of do instrumentally and what styles we play. With the declining industry sales and the threatening legal strategies being implemented by record label, how do you guys feel is the best way to get your music to the public? Swede: Well, it almost got to the point with our dealings in LA that we fed up and just wanted to put out the last record on the internet. Dustin: We did the whole shopping thing (delivering demo’s of your music to record labels) with the record and it was brutal. I mean, unless you have a huge fan base and a lot of record sales to show on your own, people in the industry aren’t taking any chances. They got enough problems as it is. So we went to all the local record stores and radio stations and we’ve been getting a lot of great support from them. KNDD has been really helpful to us and KEXP as well. But Seattle and Portland are the only real markets that this record has seen. Jim: The only National grasp that record has achieved is over electronic means and the internet. Dustin: We just got on iTunes three weeks ago and that alone took months because we didn’t have a record company backing us and it’s hard to get the attention of these large companies on your own. Give me your top 3 or 4 hip hop production influences. Mike: I’m into the old school East Coast thing. Like Tribe Called Quest, and Public Enemy. Dustin: Erik B and Rakim. Jim: Digable Planets. Mike: Currently, I like Mos Def’s stuff. He’s got some great stuff goin’ on. But definitely not any top 40 stuff, or at least rhythmically to me that stuff is less interesting. Who would be your dream artist to open for or play with? Dustin: Beck! He would be the dream first choice obviously. Jim: The Dust Brothers are huge. Dustin: We’d love to open for the Roots and Interpol. What sets you guys apart from the rest of the crowd? Swede: We get a lot of comments on, the slide (guitar). A lot of people come to our shows and don’t even know what the hell the thing is. Dustin: If someone knows what they’re looking at on stage, they see a slide, an old Hammond organ, keyboards and drums, and tucked in the back is turntables and samplers. We have such a unique set up live that we just stand out by what we bring to the table. You all have a very pop oriented sound. The Stranger here in Seattle even commented that you had a “cookie cutter M-TV” sound. Where does that come from? Jim: I think that comes from growing up in a small town where, the only outside access was the mass media. So, it’s like it’s in our DNA when we want to arrange a song, we instinctively gravitate to the classics. It wasn’t even until we were 18 or so living here that we had any access to alternative music. Sometimes we hear criticism for that, but we can’t help ourselves and we have no interest in making music that we are not. It’s what’s true to us. What social or political elements do you champion in your music? Dustin: We like to combine social consciousness with good grooving’ music. Really we make party music, but one piece we’re proud of is a song that is a mixture of a beat that sounds kind of like something Outcast would do, and we took some lyrical influence from John Lennon’s “Gimmie Some Truth” and made a song that we really resonate with consciously. Also it was made in time for the elections and we felt very strongly about that outcome in that we didn’t want to see four more years of lying and cheating as demonstrated by the current administration. Tell me about the name “Mountain Con.” Jim: Our Grandfathers worked in one of the largest open copper mines in the country in Butte Montana. It was called “Mountain Consolidated” and we felt like it was a nice big powerful name for a band. Our music is a mine. We dig through the sedimentary layers of culture and make modern music, so we’re a mining project in our own right. For a closing thought, I want to go around and ask each of you this same question: If you could go back in time, what musical movement would you like to visit for a weekend? Dustin: I’d probably go back to the Bronx in the early eighties. I, mean, just the musical invention of plugging in two turntables into a light post on the street and creating the greatest musical art form since rock. Mike: Even though it doesn’t necessarily inform my rhythmic influence with this band, I’d like to go back to late ‘70’s London and be around the punk energy as well as the fashion and design movements happening then. Ben: There were a couple of weeks in the early ‘70’s when Pink Floyd rented a room and started jamming on E minor to A, which became “Breath” from Dark Side of the Moon. I would have liked to be around to see that. Jim: Did they have the Lear Jet in ’66? Because I need to bounce around to a few places if I’m only getting a weekend on this on. But there was like a competition between the Beach Boys and the Beatles and Bob Dylan around that time for the most amazing pop album of all time really. It’s like the history of pop music was moving into a gigantic focal point and after which rock music just broke out into a million shards. So, I’d need a Lear Jet to go from LA, to London, and back to Woodstock NY. Swede: I would have to say Hamburg Germany in 1959 with the Beatles playing at the Kaiser Keller and the Star Club back when they were all hopped up on speed and were still a punk rock band.

[eternally-yours-24]

The Trial (part 1)

The second the ship had shrunk into the pink and purple twilit sky, Pearl had been determined to get Steven back. The others were immediately hopeless. To them, Steven was gone, and there was no way they were ever going to get him back. “That little snake of a Ruby stole our ship,” Amethyst had growled. “We’re stuck here. He’s gone.” But Pearl had refused to believe this, refused to give up. She had promised Rose she would protect Steven at all costs. She would not let her down. She had almost built a spaceship once. She could do it again. The others were on board (except for a “yeah, but then you almost killed Steven” comment from Amethyst, but whatever.) “Steven will be put on trial,” Garnet said softly but stoically, in that way only she could. “We have to take any opportunity we have. It’s risky, but Steven is worth it.” They immediately warped to the barn, the flash rousing Peridot and Lapis from their early stargazing. “Steven is in trouble, and we need your help,” Pearl told them. “We have to build a spaceship.” Unearthing her old blueprints from the cluttered barn, she began to gather parts together, Peridot’s knowledge of more advanced space travel helped tremendously. The small green gem had agreed to work with her without a single snarky comment or even an eye roll, her hands trembling slightly as she welded and hammered and connected wires. She was worried about Steven too, although she tried to hide it. They all were.

In only a couple of hours, with their combined efforts, they had a spaceship. It looked just like the one Pearl had attempted to create almost a year ago, but bigger, stronger, and equipped with more gadgets. “It’s pretty well-constructed, considering it was a total rush job,” Peridot said, examining it closely. “It still isn’t much, but it should get us to Homeworld and back.” That was all they really needed. Cramming into the ship, they took off, breaking earth’s atmosphere and barreling right into space. Pearl sat staring blankly out of the large glass dome. The millions of glowing stars blurred together as they rushed by. She tried to focus on them, on the illusion created by their movement, that they were slowly swelling and melding into each other, becoming one racing white streak. But her thoughts seemed to be racing even faster. Thoughts of Steven. Thoughts of Homeworld. Thoughts of her past.

Garnet had said there was going to be a trial. Almost all of Homeworld would surely be present, especially for something as huge as the capture of the infamous Rose Quartz.

And if almost everyone was going to be there, then she would certainly be there. She was the queen of Homeworld, after all.

It wasn’t just her cruelty that had caused Pearl to rebel. Though she’d be lying if she said that it didn’t play a very specific role in her decision. White Diamond was a ruler that had shown no patience for weakness, being the only flawless gem in existence, both in her mind and everybody else’s. But it had been something bigger than that, deeper than that, that had truly given her the courage to break free from White Diamond’s iron grip. It had been her inability to fit inside the polite, subservient mold Homeworld had created for her the second she emerged from the ground. She never was like the others. She remembered Yellow Pearl, though sassy and arrogant, would go completely out of her way to serve and satisfy her Diamond. Blue Pearl was timid and docile, hands folded delicately in front of her, Pink Pearl boisterous and immature, but never spoke unless she was spoken to. Who knows what had become of her. But Pearl was always yearning for something more. For the ability to talk when she wanted. For the ability to travel when she wanted, where she wanted. For independence. But a Pearl who had any thoughts of her own was considered wrong. Broken.

“A lost, defective Pearl,” Jasper had sneered.

That was truly why Pearl had followed Rose so easily when she’d swooped in to save her. She didn’t have to worry about trying to force herself into that pretty little box. She didn’t need to. Now, however, Pearl was terrified. She didn’t even want to imagine what their pleasant reunion would be like. Those cold unforgiving eyes burning with disdain as they rested on her, an enormous white hand lashing out to crush her into dust with a single smack…

“Everything will be alright.”

Pearl jumped when she heard Garnet’s voice. She had been so consumed by her thoughts that she hadn’t heard her walk up. It was amazing how silent the fusion could be sometimes. “I know what you are thinking about,” Garnet continued. “And I know you are concerned. But you shouldn’t be. Everything will work out in the end.”

“But how do you know for sure?” Pearl asked, her voice rising into a slight whine. All the apprehension and fear and uncertainty were tightening into a ball in her chest. There were things that could evade even Garnet’s precognitive abilities. “What about Steven? Will we ever even see him again? And what about…White Diamond?” The name was almost inaudible as it left her nervous lips, as if simply uttering it would summon her. Garnet rested her large warm hand on her thin shoulder. Pearl could feel the round hardness of her gem pressing lightly into her skin. She glanced up, but is unable to catch sight of Garnet’s eyes beneath her visor. “I just know,” Garnet said slowly, “That whatever is meant to be, will be.”

…

Homeworld’s courtroom was enormous.

The Crystal Gems were huddled just outside the grand entrance, completely hidden by the shadows cast by the flickering lights. Gems of every shape, size, color, and rank were inside, talking quickly and urgently, their jumbled voices bouncing off the cavernous walls. At the very front of the room were glowing stairs leading up to a vast marble stage consisting of four chairs. One of them was occupied by Yellow Diamond, looking as strong and dignified and golden as ever. Blue Diamond sat in another one. Most of her face was concealed by her large draping hood, the chair beside her noticeably vacant. And, perched stiffly in the middle, slightly above the other two, was White Diamond.

Pearl found herself unable to take her eyes off of her former superior. She was different but exactly the same simultaneously. It was if time had somehow, impossibly, aged her. Deep sockets of shadow had formed beneath her eyes, as if someone had carved them out with a spoon. There seemed to be lines around her mouth that hadn’t been there before, and her long, almost skeletal hands never seemed to stop moving. She incessantly tapped her sharp, curved fingernails on the arm of her chair. The gem on her forehead, its placement matching her own, seemed to have lost some of its shine. Pearl heard a gasp from behind her. “It’s White Diamond!” Peridot gushed quietly. “She hasn’t been seen or heard from in millennia! This is truly legendary!” The others turned to glare at her, and her mouth immediately clicked shut. “We need a plan,” Garnet whispered. “We can’t just barge in there.” Amethyst nodded. “I agree. But what…”

All noise ceased. It was too quiet. Unnaturally quiet. Pearl strained too see what had caused the sudden silence, but there were too many gems around and she was too far away. There was a noise that resembled a door slamming, followed by footsteps. Strong, heavy ones and light, fast ones. Gems pushed and shoved each other, all of them trying to see who had just entered. An Amethyst in the crowd moved out of the way just in time for Pearl to see them—Aquamarine gliding in, her wings glittering, that smug grin permanently plastered onto her round face. She gave a self-satisfied twirl in the air as two other figures slowly came onto view behind her. One of them was Steven. Her Steven. Her wonderful, smart, precious Steven, restrained by the bulky Topaz fusion and being lead right up to the Diamonds. His expression was blank and his posture was straight, even with the three massive beings glaring down at him from their spot on the stage. Pearl was shaking. It took every ounce of control she had not to burst right in there and yank him out, away from the torture he was surely about to face, rescue him from being punished for something he didn’t even do. But she had to be smarter than that. She had to wait until the perfect opportunity.

Topaz shoved Steven forward. He was handcuffed, glowing chains wrapped around his wrists. A single tear was slowly sliding down his dirty cheek, the only sign of any emotion on his face. Yellow Diamond squinted down at them venomously. “Why have you brought us some human?” she demanded. “You said you had captured Rose Quartz.” Pearl’s eyebrows rose with surprise. She had been expecting White Diamond to speak first. Gems huddled around the stage, and she nearly lost her view again. “This is Rose Quartz!” Aquamarine’s shrill voice rang out. “She said so herself. She made a rather large show about it, turning herself in and all. I saw her gem. I even saw her shield!” Yellow Diamond still looked dubious. “This creature does not look anything at all like a Rose Quartz,” she said, her growing irritation evident in her voice. “We asked you to collect humans for the zoo, not waste our time with your trivial delusions. Your only chance to redeem yourself is to return to earth and complete your very simple task before I decide to punish you for failing to do anything useful and wasting our time. You are a disgrace and I will not tolerate this sort of ridiculousness again.” She was angry now, almost yelling. Aquamarine seemed to be shrinking into herself. Her mouth got wider and wider with every word. White Diamond still remained silent, though her fingers seemed to flutter faster with ever-growing impatience. If the situation had been different Pearl would’ve almost found the whole thing comical. “But she is Rose Quartz! She is!” Aquamarine’s foot kicked at the air, like a child throwing a tantrum. “I don’t want to go back to earth. I think you are the one who’s delusional! I know I’m right!” She was pouting now, whining. “I’m always right! I can prove it, you–”

“SILENCE!!!”

The word felt like a smack in the face, bursting right out of White Diamond’s powerful throat and resonating throughout the entire room. Gems cowered. Pearl’s legs went weak and almost gave out from under her. Her head spun with dull panic. That voice. Oh god, that voice. She thought she’d never have to hear it again, so commanding that it seemed to crawl right under your skin and chill you to the core. Even the ground beneath them seemed to have given a slight tremor. She felt Amethyst’s and Garnet’s arms around her waist, strong, reassuring. She almost pitied Aquamarine now. She knew all too well what it was like being on the receiving end of White Diamond’s fury…

Aquamarine was whimpering. Sweat oozed down her face, and she shuddered, the tips of her wings quivering. Steven appeared to be slightly dazed. Even the other two Diamonds seemed to have straightened in their chairs. “Don’t you dare speak to a Diamond that way!” White bellowed. Her hand twitched, as if she wanted to reach down and swat at Aquamarine, like an insect that had grown irritating. “Do not even think opening your mouth again without permission. Now leave my presence immediately.” Aquamarine nodded, so fast her head was a blur. “Y-yes M-my D-diamond.” She spun around to leave. The Crystal Gems glanced at each other in relief. They hadn’t believed the little brat. It would be much easier to rescue Steven without having to face the Diamonds. This was almost too good to be true.

“Wait!” Steven cried, and White Diamond’s silver eyes immediately snapped over to him. Her ashen face made her appear almost sickly in the eerie green light. “Aquamarine was right. I am Rose Quartz. And I can prove it.” No, Steven. No! Why are you doing this!? He closed his eyes. With a loud, deep sigh, he reached down and lifted up his shirt, revealing his shining pink gem in all its glory. Blue Diamond jerked forward, yanking her hood back. Her face was twisted with anger, her eyes wide as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “It is her,” she gasped, speaking up at last. “I’d know that gem anywhere.” She stared straight down at Steven, eyes filling with tears. “Why?” she demanded through teeth clenched with hatred. “Why did you do it?” Steven said nothing. He still held his shirt up, his own eyes watery. Pearl and the others were too stunned to move. “Why did you take her away from us?!” Blue Diamond screamed. “Blue, that’s enough,” Yellow Diamond said, reaching out in an attempt to comfort her sister. White Diamond hadn’t moved. Even her fingers had stopped tapping. “Rose Quartz. You despicable, impudent thing. I should personally shatter you where you stand,” White said quietly. She didn’t even sound angry anymore, but she was somehow even more frightening now. Her pale lips pulled back in a sneer. “But that would be too merciful.” Blue Diamond stood up. Her large eyes stared straight at Steven. Never had Pearl seen so much anger in anyone’s eyes. Steven met her burning gaze evenly. “I want to know what she thinks we’re going to do with her,” Blue Diamond growled. “Because I’m going to do something worse.”

[wonshik-as-frick]

<p>To my parents: You are both amazing. I remember when I was little and would be so annoying, saying good night four times and refusing to sleep until you said it back each and every time. Mom, I remember when you got a job and came home at 11 PM every night, and dad, I remember keeping you up so I could say good night to both of you in the same breath. I remember how I was after the car accident, I remember having nightmares for months and not being able to sleep, and I remember that you wouldn’t sleep either. I’ve come to terms with your flaws, your homophobia particularly, and I’ve decided that regardless of that you are the best parents I could ever ask for. I know that you’re only reflecting what you were born and raised in, even if it isn’t right. I can’t hate you for that. Even if you hate me for being as gay as I am, even if you disown me, I will never hate you. You did your best to be tolerant, but everyone has a line. I will always love both of you, and I wish you the best </p> <p>To my sister: We’re partners in crime. Even with our age difference, we manage to be thick as thieves and I am so glad for it. I am also glad to be the first person you told when you thought about getting a tattoo, the first person you went to when you thought you had OCD. In return, I told you everything I could about myself, and you constantly loved and supported me in a way I couldn’t understand. When I thought you couldn’t possibly love me anymore, you did. You’re the first person I came out to, the first person who knew when I was having a panic attack, and I’m assuming you had some kind of telepathy because you always texted right then. You support all my dreams, you’ve never pushed me to fit in any mold. I can say with confidence that you have no flaws, even if you can’t say that yourself. If I love our parents in spite of their flaws, I love you because of them. </p> <p>To my closest friend: <br> You know every thought I’ve ever had. You know the things I’ve considered at 4 AM in the seventh grade when I was in an ongoing crisis. You know how I’ve grown since we were both kids, and I know the same things about you. You knew even before I came out to you how fucking in love with our other best friend I was, and somehow you managed to manipulate the odds so she gave me the odd smile and made me want to die in the best way possible. I know you’re afraid of the future, afraid of change and us growing apart. I know how afraid you were when we ended up going to different schools. I want you to know that even when you can’t breathe, even when you think you’re dying because you’re huddled on the bathroom floor, you are so loved, and you’re going to do great things. Your drive is incomparable, the way you love is silent and it creeps up on you until you can’t live without it. Even when you get pissed that you aren’t artistic, remember that you are artistic, just in a different way than I am. I might be able to write, I might make the art, but you are the art. We don’t expect bloody Mona Lisa to climb out of her frame and paint something. You make me feel so safe in little ways, and I think I would have drowned without you a million times over. You ground me, remind me who I am even when I forget. You constantly say these little things and when I think about them later, I wonder: <i>how did she know I needed that? I didn’t even know I needed that.</i> I will never leave your side, and I love you so much it blinds me sometimes.</p> <p>To the kids I call my cousin, but we both know they aren’t: You both are the definition of lifelong friends. When you were born I was on my way, and I soon as I was born you both were there. Even if you constantly mock me(especially when the summer comes around), June 5th is still one of my favorite days of the year. You’re like older siblings, a second family that I treasure so much. You have been a part of my life since it started, have babied me since I was born. You guys are the ones who pop up at my house even though you live an hour away, just to give me a box of cupcakes and throw confetti at me because it’s my birthday. We never say we love each other, and I don’t think we have to. We know already. But just in case, I’ll say it now. I love both of you, and if you swear to stay in my life I’ll forgive you for spitting your tea all over me. Thrice. Both of you. Stop your tea addiction.</i> <p>To the girl that I clung to like a lifeline: Surprise, surprise: I was infatuated with you. And sure, you told me you were straight and all, and you had a boyfriend for a while, but I don’t think you know how hard you are to <i>not</i> love? You’re like a loud and quiet person at the same time, your smile, for so long, was like the sun warming us all up. I lived to proofread your writing, because I couldn’t really hold a conversation with you unless it was about your writing, and I really wanted to hold a conversation with you. I was so awkward and according to our old lunch table I was like a puppy begging for your attention every day, so I’m sorry about that. It’s just…I’m really gay and you’re really great. This is immortalized in your yearbook, but you are the purest kind of beauty I’ve ever seen, the only time I ever dared myself to ponder that we were all truly made by the universe and were all compacted star dust was when I saw you smile. You drive me to the ends of the earth with the way your eyes crinkle at the corners and even though it’s been a year of near radio silence, I don’t think I’ll ever forget that. Thank you.</p> <p>To my class: You guys are so fucking great. Do you even know? I swear I’ve never known a group of people so level headed and focused on an actual common good. I’m sorry, I probably screw up our reputation because I’m loud and I probably snark our history teacher too much, but I love each and every one of you, even if we haven’t spoken as much as the people I’m about to list.</p> <p>To the girl whose laugh straight up makes me dizzy: @mybeautifulnamjoonie Are there even words? I don’t think so. I feel like I can put everyone else’s qualities so eloquently because I’ve said them a million times but I don’t talk about how you are nearly enough so here is my first attempt. I don’t delude myself into thinking I know you, because I don’t. I know the things everyone who has ever had the pleasure of knowing you knows. I know just enough to make me love you but not quite enough to make you love me and that’s fine. I have time. I just want to let you know that you are beautiful, that I’m surprised I ever managed to breathe without hearing you laugh because you know how I can’t breathe sometimes because the english room’s circulation sucks and I swear I’m alive in that class solely because you sit diagonally across from me. You somehow have managed to make me grow ridiculously attached to you in a painfully short period of time and I can’t verbalize how much it fucking means to me that you exist and you chose me to share a piece of that existence with. I know I'm absolutely insane and I swear I'm trying to work on it but while that happens, maybe you can still stick around?</p> <p>To the girl who was absolutely the subject of One Direction’s “What Makes You Beautiful”: @perkstobeingafangirl You genuinely do not seem to know how beautiful you are and no, it doesn’t really make you more beautiful because confidence is great but it doesn’t exactly cancel out how beautiful you are either. I have done nothing to deserve your friendship but I’ve got it now and no, you can’t take it back. I am so platonically smitten with you that it annoys me. If you’re presenting, chances are I’ll spend the entire thing staring at the way your hair moves when you awkwardly shift or how your hand fidgets a little before you seem to forcibly stop it so you look less nervous. I think if everyone human is a garden, you must be the sun that lets them grow. You are bright and warm and if I’m around you without appropriate protection I might just burn up. And when you fade to dust, like everything eventually will, there will be a world of people grieving you because I swear, the older you get the more people you will light up the lives of and the more people will fall in love with you faster than they ever though possible.

To the people who will be on the next post because I dont want this to be too long: sorry kids

[junker-town]

10 things you should know about James Hoyt, 30-year-old rookie

The Astros are in first place, and they have a reliever who probably shouldn’t be within 40 miles of the majors.

If you’re not an Astros fan, you’re probably unaware that James Hoyt exists. The 30-year-old rookie started the season in Triple-A, and seven relievers on the team have thrown more innings than him. There are a lot of things to write about in the middle of May. What’s up with Ryan Zimmerman? Whose soul did Yonder Alonso lock away in the humming amulet he keeps around his neck? Is it Jim Thome’s? I’ll bet it is. Poor, poor Jim Thome.

But I’m here to share fun facts about James Hoyt, who is one of the most compelling stories in baseball, a subset of the real world that contains all sorts of compelling stories already. If you don’t think that the sixth reliever on the Astros’ depth chart can be compelling, well, you have a good nose for this kind of stuff. You can’t just get in the van of everyone who claims there’s something compelling inside.

There’s a case to be made here, though. And it goes something like this:

He’s struck out 13 of the 21 batters he’s faced this year

Technically, this is the most important factlet, because if he had struck out three of the 21 batters he’s faced this year, he wouldn’t have caught my attention. But while he’s probably not going to strike out 20.6 batters for every nine innings he throws, it’s nearly impossible to miss that many bats without having something special. Everyone loves a good sample-size reference, but when it comes to strikeout rate, things can stabilize mighty fast.

It’s not an anomalous strikeout rate for him, either. Since joining affiliated baseball, here’s what he’s done:

SO/9 2013 (A+, AA): 11.5 2014 (AA, AAA): 11.8 2015 (AAA): 12.1 2016 (AAA): 15.2

The line on the graph doesn’t have to go straight up to 27.0, but don’t rule it out.

This is his slider

It’s a fine slider. And Hoyt throws it a lot. He’ll throw it when he’s ahead in the count, of course, to get hitters to chase.

It’s the kind of slider he can throw five times in an at-bat, and still get the hitter to chase the sixth time. More importantly, perhaps, is that Hoyt can pitch backwards with it, throwing it for strikes when he needs to even up the count. Here it is on a 2-1 count:

He’ll throw it to steal a strike on the first pitch of an at-bat. He’ll throw it to close the at-bat. Really, find someone who’s as smitten with you as Evan Gattis is with Hoyt’s slider.

This is his splitter/change/what-have-you

Brooks Baseball has it as a changeup. Jeff Sullivan has it as a splitter, and so does Hoyt, so that’s officially what it is. But it’s a fine line between a vulcan change and a split-finger, enough to mess up the algorithms. What we know is that it goes about 5 mph slower than his fastball, and it drops. It’s a doohickey. And it keeps left-handers honest.

Of the 13 doohickeys Hoyt has thrown this year, 11 of them have come to left-handers. They look like this:

That’s going about as fast as a Marco Estrada fastball, except you can make sound effects when you throw it. Like, “Frooooooooop!” or “Bwooooooup!” It’s the pitch that Hoyt credits his surge to, which makes sense. He’s not just a ROOGY anymore.

His first gig in pro baseball was with Jose Canseco and the Yuma Scorpions in 2011

Evan Drellich has the definitive feature on these years, but the list of key points goes like this:

He paid $100 to try out for the Yuma Scorpions, who were being managed by Canseco at the time.

He was teammates with Tony Phillips, 52 years old, who took him under his wing

He was 24, and his first season went well enough, but not so well that major league teams paid attention

He played for three different teams in 2012

Because of the last one on that list, see. He floated from the Edinburg Roadrunners to the Olmecas de Tabasco to the Wichita Wingnuts, none of which are affiliated with a major league team.

He played in Mexico because those teams actually pay.

“I made $600 a month taxed playing in the independent league,” Hoyt said. “So I’m taking home like a $400 check. The Mexican League team called and offered me $9,000-$10,000 to play down there for a few months. I couldn’t turn that down.”

And he did well, striking out 20 batters in 13⅓ innings. Here’s one of those strikeouts:

That video is courtesy of James Hoyt, who uploaded it to his own YouTube channel. Which is something you do when you think, “Hot damn, I’m pitching on TV!”

Which is something you do when you’re pretty sure the major leagues are a pipe dream.

He was David Peralta’s teammate on the Wichita Wingnuts

Part of me wants to think this is a fluke, that a million monkeys sat down at a million typewriters to type out a million independent-league rosters, and two of the players eventually made contributions to a major league team.

Another part of me wants to find the Wingnuts’ director of baseball operations and introduce him or her to the GM for my favorite team. They have something you can’t teach. They got the eye.

There were other American Association players that season with experience in the majors, but they were mostly on their way down. Nate Robertson. D’Angelo Jimenez. Reggie Abercrombie. Players like that. As far as I can tell, just Chaz Roe and Tim Adleman clawed their way up to the majors from the AA, too.

But Peralta and Hoyt were teammates, and I’d like to think they had a Mario Kart session or eight where they daydreamed together. Except they couldn’t afford actual Mario Kart, so they were recreating it with items from a fast food restaurant. Those little tubs of barbeque sauce were probably the blue shells.

I’ll just assume this is canon now.

Bill Buckner was his high school coach

Hoyt was just the second player in the history of Boise High to make the majors, with the first one being five-time All-Star Larry Jackson. That’s because Idaho has the same problems as the other Mountain States: sparse population, a lot of land to cover, and too much weather. Idaho (and Wyoming and Montana and ...) don’t produce a lot of major leaguers for a reason.

Yet there was a former All-Star coaching baseball. And not only was Buckner coaching, but he convinced Hoyt to stick with baseball instead of basketball.

James Hoyt wanted to take his 6’6” frame and do the logical thing. He wanted to follow his passion and play basketball.

His coach saw an opportunity, though. And he convinced him to use his size in a different sport, to stick with baseball.

In other words, Bill Buckner wasn’t going to let his player watch this opportunity go right through his legs.

That text isn’t exactly in the profile linked above, but it should be.

He was teammates at Centenary College with Seth Lugo

There’s a fair chance that neither the Wichita Wingnuts or the Centenary College Gents will produce another major leaguer for the next 20 years. But wherever Hoyt goes, he either brings majors dust with him, or he’s sprinkled with it by a kind and loving teammate.

He came with Evan Gattis to the Astros

As long as we’re rolling through the random, unlikely stories in baseball, sure, why not? If you aren’t familiar with Gattis, please spend some time reading the New York Times feature on him. He, like Hoyt, wasn’t drafted. He worked odd jobs and saw the country, too. His road had some deeper potholes, but there are definite parallels.

The Astros probably had a list that read something like ...

Evan Gattis

James Hoyt

Brad Stantle (former shark fisherman and saxophone player)

Martin Perrera (43-year-old pitcher with 18.0 K/9 during six years in a federal penitentiary)

Mike Johanns (former Secretary of Agriculture)

... and told the Braves to pick one after Gattis. They got lucky and nabbed Hoyt in the deal.

He’s depth on a contending team that knows how to deploy relievers unconventionally

Last year, no one was entirely clear who Chris Devenski really was, but the Astros had a pretty good idea. They turned him into their version of Andrew Miller, a multi-inning reliever who took over the middle-inning messes like Goose Gossage and the firemen of yore. It worked. Oh, how it worked.

With someone like Devenski, though, who might pitch two high-leverage innings and make himself unavailable for the next game, the Astros will need their sixth and seventh relievers more than an average team. They’ll need someone like Hoyt.

I would comment on his chances to fill that role well, but I’m stuck watching those slider GIFs.

And that’s the abridged story of James Hoyt, who probably shouldn’t be here. The Astros are glad that he is, though, because that slider-splitter combination is lethal. We’re still in small-sample-size territory, of course, so don’t scurry to pick him up in your fantasy league just yet. But in a game filled with compelling stories, this is one of the best ones going.