dumpscribbles

[caterpillarinacave]

Hm, definitely not, you look the leader directly in the eye, stand straight and tall and firmly declare, "No, I'm not interested in joining you."

For brief moment there is complete startled silence and you can feel your heart in your throat, then the leader narrows their eyes and clicks out an order, you hear boots crunching through forest debris and you see uniformed officials start descending on you, you jump back to dart through the door as planned, but you feel a prick on your neck right before a sudden drowsiness blankets your senses.

You can hardly think straight much less see, you stumble and through the mess of your vision you watch shadows and hear angry tones, you feel sick, the ground swimming beneath your feet, there are flashes of coherency, falling on a ground of leaves, hands shuffling you around, glimmering strings of gold floating through the air, falling on to concrete, a figure standing before a doorway of bright blue flashing light...you can see their lips moving, as if from a great distance you hear them yelling out to you to close the door, now get up! You need to RUN!

The blur of a white deer, a ren you correct yourself, bounds to you from afar brushing away the image of dark voids and strange figures, the world goes dark for a while but eventually you notice the lights blinking into existence.

On.

Off.

On.

Off.

On...

Something moves and you jolt more fully awake, you're in a room lying on a couch, it's dark but there's a light on in the next room where someone is moving around in an unhurried and comfortable pace, you notice a soft blanket on you and on the ground beside you is your bag along with your things. Your head aches and you swallow back a bout of nausea waiting for it to abate. The figure moving in the other room starts to come over, you rush to sit up fully and the room dances unpleasantly.

"How! Wonderful to see you so mobile, yet let's try this more slowly next time. You seem much more injured than is standard."

Relief seeps in as you recognize your friendly nextworlder's voice and once you see them their face as they watch you with concern. You agree you are definitely more injured than standard, but the longer you stay awake the more alert you feel. You ask how you got here. Your friend tells you they were walking through the park last night when they saw the white ren you summoned days ago wandering around, they figured it was strange and went to see what was up with it when it suddenly bolted away back towards the alley the door was in. Thinking you were back and calling for it they went to go greet you, but found you falling in and out of consciousness and hurriedly took you home. They say the door was closed and the alley was empty aside from you and your things.

You take a moment to contemplate all of this. That was scary, you aren't sure what to do next, but you're grateful you said no now if that's how they treat people who refuse them. You don't want to imagine what would have happened if they'd caught you.

Eventually you find the energy to move and clean yourself up, you share a meal with your friend and show them the notes you've taken of the books they lent you last you met, they offer to take you to the library tomorrow. You're nervous about the government people of the last world and feeling cautious but you know you need to learn more if you want to figure out this door.

The next day you both head out early, when you get to the library your friend shows you around, where they found the books you'd found most useful and such, they go to return the books you gave back and head out, letting you know they'll stop by later to pick you up or you can head back early. You spend all day pouring over the books but by the end of the day you're no closer than before. Most depictions of the Inbetween sound like the world you were just in, not like your world or even a new one.

The next few days are just as unfortunate, your dreams uneasy and your search fruitless. You keep an eye out for anyone who seems out of place, but it seems you aren't being watched or followed. Your friend seems delighted to have you around and when they can they join you in hunting down information.

After nearly a week of hunting down every scrap of information you can find in the library you find yourself walking back to your friends place bummed once again. As you go to cross the street you notice an old building you'd overlooked most walks, it claims to be a museum of oddities, the windows are dark and the door is cracked open. You feel a powerful draw to go in, but you need to get back to your friends place soon since it's getting dark.

Do you go in?

Yes

[deadbiwrites]

hey, for the ask thing, can you do #9 under random: “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.”

This one was so fun!!

--

Kara doesn’t drink, usually.

It’s not like, a thing, that she doesn’t drink. Some sort of moral or religious blah blah whatever, it’s just that she… doesn’t.

So when she’s dragged out to the bar for Nia’s 21st birthday, she expects it to be more of the same- her friends will get drunk, Brainy will dominate at the trivia game that’ll inevitably be crawling across a screen at the bar, Nia will flirt with Brainy, Alex will stare and sigh at Sam all night, James and Mike will inevitably get at each other’s throats (how they manage to play on the same team without killing each other, Kara will never know), Mike will flirt with her and be hurt when she shoots him down, James will pull out his camera and take candids that Alex will doubtlessly demand to see and then delete immediately, and Kara will eventually wrangle them all into her minivan and drive them back to campus.

A typical Thirsty Thursday with her closest friends (and also Mike, for some reason).

Except that tonight, instead of Al’s, the dive they usually flock to, they’re at some martini bar downtown. And though the reasoning makes sense (Nia can’t really openly celebrate her 21st at the bar she’s been frequenting for the past 2 years with a fake ID), and it is her birthday and she wants to go someplace-

“Swanky,” Alex murmurs as Sam lets out a low whistle behind them.

This is barely a bar, it more closely resembles a set from a 30’s noir movie, with the large chandeliers dripping crystal overhead and the rich, polished wooden floor underfoot. For crying out loud, there’s a live jazz band- not a quartet, a full band- across what is clearly a dance floor, and the waiters and waitresses are all dressed in vests and ties (and not the cheap kind Kara had to wear for the week she worked at the catering company).

In short, it’s gorgeous, and glamorous, and she’s infinitely glad she’d asked Nia what she should wear because her usual jeans-and-a-sweater combo surely wouldn’t fly here, but the suit she wore to her cousin’s wedding this past summer definitely does.

They’re greeted by a friendly but slightly harangued-looking hostess, who quickly ushers their group to a large booth in the corner. Each of them peruses the drink menu, and quickly realize that they have no idea what any of the cocktails listed actually are.

"Yeah, great, this is- I love doing a Google search to get drunk," Alex grumbles sarcastically as she scrolls through her phone, pulling a face at something or other. "How many of these have absinthe in them? Jesus."

Kara laughs. "What, no green fairies for you tonight?"

"It was one time!"

"Aw, we still like you even though you're afraid of the mean, scary alcohol," Sam coos at Alex, smile tinged with an edge of teasing and Alex melts like so much wax before a flame.

Ridiculous. 

"Make out already," Nia jeers. When they both flip her off she turns to Kara, seemingly confused. "That was a legitimate suggestion, though?"

"I know. One day," Kara hums, throwing her arm around Nia’s shoulder and pulling her into a half-hug.

Their waiter appears, smooth and charming and managing to get Winn firmly under his spell in a matter of seconds. But in Winn's defense, he has a perfect smile, great hair, and a British accent.

Poor boy never stood a chance against all that. They each place their orders for a fancy drink, and when the waiter, Jack, turns his attention to Kara, Alex interrupts with, "She wants a Potion D'Amour."

"Oh, a love potion," he muses, smiling at Kara. His eyes catch on something and his smile widens. "I know just the lady to make it for you. Back in a tick."

And he's off before Kara can protest. Resigned, she turns to her sister. "Why?"

Alex rolls her eyes fondly. "Just take a sip. If you don't like it, one of us will finish it for you.”

“Fine, fine.”

--

So, as it turns out, Kara likes the love potion. A lot.

“It tastes like berries,” Kara marvels.

“We know, Kara, you told us when you were drinking the last one,” Alex chuckles.

“And the one before that,” Nia adds.

“You guys are so nice. I love you all so much.”

“Well at least she’s a happy drunk,” James chuckles.

“‘m not drunk,” Kara insists. “‘m always happy, ya butts.”

“Sure Kar, and the sky is red.”

Kara frowns as her friends all laugh. “Rude. Who wants another one?”

They all raise a hand, and Kara moves off in the general direction of the bar.

Or, well, she does her best.

“Hey there! Did you need something, luv?”

It’s Jack-the-waiter, looking at her with some bemusement.

“Yeah! Hi, sorry. Um, they all want more drinks, and I just, um…”

“Needed a break?”

She slumps in relief. “Yeah. Is that bad? Like, I love them and all, but I think I’m kinda drunk and they’re… a lot.”

Jack chuckles. “Trust me, I understand. If you want a minute of quiet, there’s a stool on the end of the bar that no one ever sits in. Got your name on it.”

“Thanks! You’re a very good waiter. Hey, d’you have any drink recommendations? Maybe one a little, um… lighter?”

“‘Course I do luv. Really fancy, too. C’mere, I’ll tell ya,” Jack says, motioning her close. When Kara is a few inches away, he tells her the secret. “It’s called ‘coffee’.”

Kara laughs as he winks and moves away to another table. She spots the empty barstool he’d mentioned and ambles over, dropping into it with a sigh. From here, she has a view of approximately nothing, given its location behind a pillar, and she leans back against the wall, the cool wood paneling chilly even through her jacket and shirt. 

“Long night?”

Kara’s eyes flutter open (when did they close? Maybe she is drunk…) and across from her is quite probably the most beautiful person she’s ever seen in her life.

“Wow.”

The girl smirks, quirking a brow upward. “You okay there?”

“Yeah. I um, I think I just had too many love potions.”

“Oh, so it was you ordering those,” the pretty, pretty girl drawls. “They’re a pain in the ass to make, you know. Mostly the garnish, but still, I’m tempted to be annoyed with you, for being so high-maintenance.”

“Oh, Jack said he knew the girl for the job!” Kara says. “They were really good, I usually don’t even drink, but those were great.”

“Well well, keep talking, I thrive on flattery,” the girl jokes. She extends a hand. “Lena.”

“Kara, Kara Danvers. Wow, your hands are big.”

Lena barks a delighted laugh. “You have all the subtlety of a hand grenade, Kara Danvers.”

Kara flushes. “Oh, that’s- wow, sorry.”

“You’re fine. Like I said, I thrive on flattery,” Lena says, throwing her a very cute two-eyed wink. She turns suddenly, fixing a polite, professional smile on her face. “Good evening, sir. What can I get for you?”

“Another round for my friends. And your number, gorgeous.”

Mike.

Lena remains polite, face impassive even as Kara hastily ducks out of sight under the bar. “What drinks did you and your friends have?”

“I dunno, fancy stuff. The waiter guy probably knows- my friend was supposed to come get us another round, but she probably bailed.”

“Oh yeah? Not much of a partier?” Lena asks, eyes darting to (hidden) Kara.

“Nah. Don’t get me wrong, Kara can be cool, but she’s a little… uptight. Needs to relax every once in a while.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So what’s your story, beautiful? You come here often?”

There’s a beat of silence before Lena drawls, “Well I work here, so… I’d have to say yes…”

Kara claps a hand over her mouth to muffle the laugh she can’t keep inside.

This obviously throws Mike off whatever game he thinks he has. “Oh, that- right. Um. That was a joke.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll ask your waiter what your order was- do you know who he is?”

“Um… he has a beard?”

“Jack, his name is Jack,” Kara mutters under her breath.

“Right. I’ll ask him. Did you need anything else?”

“No, thanks.”

There’s an extended silence before Lena says, “You can come up for air now, Kara Danvers.” 

Kara peeks over the edge of the bar, flushing again when Lena snickers at her.

“Good friend of yours?”

“No. He’s- I don’t even know why he’s here? Like one day we all hated him and then the next he was always around. Nia doesn’t even like him, and it’s her birthday.”

“Really? Good that she doesn’t- seems like a douche.”

Kara barks out a laugh, smothering in quickly and grinning behind her palm as Lena grins slyly over at her without turning her head. “He is a douche. He always asks me out even though I’ve told him no, like, a million times.”

Lena frowns at this, turning her attention fully to Kara. “Does he?”

“Yeah. My sister hates his guts, and so does our friend James, but somehow he just… sticks around.” Kara shrugs. “He’s pretty harmless, just really annoying.”

Lena hums, gaze narrowed. “He’s not worth your politeness, Kara.”

“Eh. Besides, I’m kinda doing the same thing to you, right? Just like, demanding all your attention?”

Lena bobbles her head side to side. “I’d say it’s a bit different.”

“Why, because I’m drunk?” Kara laughs. “‘m sorry about that, by the way.”

“First off, I don’t think you’re all that drunk,” Lena confides, leaning over the bar so . “Those drinks really aren’t all that strong. And secondly, there’s a difference because I am actually enjoying your attention, Kara Danvers.”

“Oh. Oh, okay. Cool,” Kara mutters to herself.

Lena smirks. “So, Kara Danvers- even though I already know the answer to this-, do you come here often?”

“Um, no. But I think I might start…”

Lena’s sly grin morphs into a broad smile, dimpling her cheeks and making her eyes shine in the low bar light. “Good.”

[descendantofthesparrow]

Finale - Rewrite - POYW - Harry Hook x reader - part 7 - Beast

=

It had taken a bit to get from the castle to the dorms but now you, Celia, and Uma sat in Audrey’s room as Mal and Evie searched the campus for any clues for where the possessed princess might be. Uma was on Audrey’s bed reading her diary while you lay across her legs, playing with the fishnet wrapped around Uma’s waist.

Celia was digging through Audrey’s jewelry as Mal and Evie turned to the room, both looking exhausted from their run around campus “she’s nowhere on campus” Evie breathed, leaning on the vanity as she caught her breath.

“Found her diary,” Uma said distracted as she continued to flip through the private pages. You had told her of Audrey’s struggles before but seeing them on paper was a bit of a heartache, wow her grandmother really was a bitch. “and damn did you ruin her life” Uma chuckled, setting down the diary and giving Mal a sharp smile

Mal just looked sad at the notion, yes, she might have originally not cared about running someone's life (Audrey and Uma being examples of her old cruelty) but knowing first hand from Audrey’s own diary that she had ruined her life made her feel terrible “did you find anything that we don’t already know or?” Mal asked dryly, trying to brush off her feelings so they could get this mission done.

“she hangs out at fairy cottage” Uma closed the book and tossed it aside, patting your leg as it hit your head. “you know? Where flora, fauna, and Merryweather hid her mom from your mom?” Uma teased, laughing a bit as Mal rolled her eyes.

“ha-ha, yeah yeah, do you think that’s where we'll find her?” Mal laughed dryly and looked down at you, as out of all the vks you were the one who was around Audrey the most.

“Maybe, she does hang out there a lot, and it’s very secluded, deep in the enchanted woods and way past Auroria castle, it’ll be past midnight by the time we get there” you muttered, picking at your nails. Mal nodded, it would be their best bet.

“Then let's head back to Evie's and wait for the boys, then we’ll head for Auroria immediately, we’re short on time as it is” Mal pushed you up from your spot on Uma’s legs and let you grab Uma, who was being very stubborn, wanting to stay on Audrey’s very comfortable bed.

Evie turned and gave a disapproving look to the thieving Celia, who had one of Audrey’s gaudy blue songbird tiaras on and multiple other pieces of jewelry. “First off, those don’t suit you at all, second, the bling stays here” Evie snorted as Celia pouted at her.

“But she’s bad!” Celia wined, shoulders slumping as Evie reached out and took the tiara off her head.

“And Dizzy made better jewelry when she was seven, now come on, put them away and I’ll get you some styling jewelry after this is all over, I’ll ever take you to the bayou.” Celia perked up a bit at that and started to take off Audreys stuff, rushing after the others with Evie after she set the last bracelet down.

-

“Ben!” Carlos called out for the lost king, looking around every turn in the search for their dear friend. Jay called out for him as well, Gil attempting to use his tracking skills for any footprints that might lead them to Ben, Harry trailing behind with Hadie as the five boys searched for the King.

Carlos sighed, calling Dude back to him and sitting down on a rock, pulling out a scrap of Ben’s clothing for Dude to smell and track. “come on, nothing?” Gil perked up and almost skipped over to a blueberry bush, picking some off and moving aside for Hadie as the older vk looked especially curious at the bush.

“Are these blueberries?” Hadie asked, picking one off and tossing it in his mouth, his eyes comically sparkling as the taste. Gil chuckled and picked off a handful for the god and poured it into his hands, Hadie devouring them in seconds.

“ya know” Jay chuckled walking up next to Gil and picking off a berry or two “that is the same face Mal makes when she eats strawberries” Carlos turned and laughed, nodding along.

“It is! Ya know, I always thought you and Mal had some similarities, I guess your dad being, well, your dad, solidifies that eh?” Hadie just shrugged, distracted by the delicious blue-purple fruit.

“soooo, how long have you known about you and Mal being siblings?” Gil asked, once again Hadie just shrugged.

“uh, I guess when Maleficent dropped her off at dads door” Hadie muttered rubbing his lips free from the stain of the fruit. "so, around 19 years I guess” Gil hummed and nodded, picking a couple more blueberries and popping them in his mouth, Dude and Harry walking around looking for Ben still.

Harry looked down as Dude pawed at his boot and then nodded, realizing Dude had picked up a scent. “Pup!” Carlos looked up at Harry, then silently cursed to himself, why did he still respond to that dumb nickname Harry had given him when he was 7. “Dude found somethin’ !” Carlos stood and ran after Harry, who was already trailing Dude as the dog went off the main trail and went deeper into the forest.

Gil, Jay, and Hadie quickly followed, not realizing there were eyes on them as they resumed their search for the king.

-

The girls arrived at Evie's cottage, which luckily wasn’t far from Auradon prep especially with the bikes, and hopped off their vehicles, Uma whistling in appreciation for the quaint home “nice place” Uma muttered, smirking a bit as Evie grinned at her.

“I got a good deal” she chuckled, taking her key out and unlocking the back patio doors, the five girls walking in and getting comfortable. Celia suddenly stopped as she noticed light snores coming from the parlor and tiptoed in, gasping a bit as she locked her eyes onto the twins and Dizzy, all three sound asleep.

Dizzy seemed to be having a nightmare, and Celia quickly calmed it with a long blanket and soothing words, Evie smiling at the two as (y/n) made sure the twins were okay. Mal walked into the living room and sighed with relief, all the other vks were still here, asleep, but here. Claudine, Colin, and Ginny were huddled up on the couch with Ginny as the main pillow, Colin on her legs as Claudine took her chest, and Diego was sound asleep in Carlos’ favorite armchair with the leg rest popped out.

Uma turned as sudden loud snoring came from the room just off the kitchen, Uma, Mal, and Evie quickly walked towards it only to find Doug on the ground in a crumpled mess, some tubes of fabric rolled out across from him. He must’ve been cleaning up when the sleeping spell washed over the house. “uh, who’s the dude?” Uma asked, Evie pushing past her and kneeling next to him.

“Doug, my boyfriend” Evie placed her hand on his head and checked for any injuries, sighing in relief when she found none, he might be sore from sleeping on the hard tile of her workroom but otherwise he’d be fine. “let's see if this works, Mal” Mal perked up, raising her brow “go get the yellow bubbling potion in the thin and long glass tube that’s at the top of the cabinet above the refrigerator,” Mal grumbled and turned, calling out for (y/n), since she couldn’t reach that spot; might as well get some help with it. Damn her 5’2 height.

Uma raised her brow in curiosity as Evie sat Doug up to get ready to administer the potion “uh, what potion?”

“Some anti-sleep spell potion I made a while ago” Evie smiled at Uma, and Uma paused a bit, suddenly fearing the once thought to be a simple fashion forward prissy isle princess “I made it from some of the poison from Maleficent’s spindle on the needle, should reverse the spell on Doug. I know Mal said there’s not a lot that can reverse the curse of the scepter but there’s no harm in trying” Mal and (y/n) returned with the bubbling yellow potion and Mal handed it to Evie. Evie popped off the cork and poured it down the sleeping Doug’s throat.

Evie clasped her hands together and prayed to whatever gods were listening that it worked. And it did, because a few moments later Doug's eyes fluttered open and he smiled softly at Evie “thank goodness for your potion-making skills” he rasped, leaning in to hug Evie as she squealed and pounced on him.

Uma laughed a bit and turned to give the two some privacy as Evie quickly caught Doug up to speed, (y/n) and Mal following close behind. Uma paused as she looked directly at the unpackaged Jane cake.

You met her gaze then looked at the cake, then sighed “well, it's gonna go bad if we don’t” you gestured to the cake and Uma practically skipped towards it “just leave a slice for Jane at least” Uma nodded, grabbing a knife and cutting herself a sizable piece, Celia running into the room to get on the cake action.

“I hope they find Ben” Mal muttered, sitting at the kitchen window counter and leaning on her hands, eyes downcast in worry for her boyfriend.

“I’m sure they’ll find him Mal” you comforted, rubbing her shoulder and offering her some cake. “have some faith in them”

-

Carlos called for Ben as Dude let them deeper into the forest, the dog pausing ever so often and then leading them in a new direction. “Ben!!” Carlos yelled out, spinning in a circle to get his voice to reach father as Dude sniffed at a large claw/shoe print.

Dude shook his head and turned to look at Carlos ‘I found a print! Smells like Ben and-something really really smelly! Even worse than Jay's power shakes!’ Carlos snorted and walked up to Dude to look at the print, yelping as a large stone statue leaped from the brush next to him, swiping at his face but thankfully missing.

“holy shit!” Carlos yelled, picking up Dude and running back towards Jay, the stone statue close behind. Jay’s eyes widened as he got a good look at the beast. It was one of the marble lion statues from Auradon prep!

The boys turned on their heels and ran, Hadie taking a small chance and creating a fireball in his hand then throwing it at the statue, grinning as it blasted the beast into pieces. But it was replaced with two more that lept from the brush just behind him. “fuck!” Hadie yelled bolting after the others.

…

Ben opened his blackened eyes to the sound of screams…familiar screams. He lept up from his shady spot under a tree and bolted towards the sounds. His friends! His friends were in danger! He slid to a stop on all fours and let out a pitiful whine as he watched Harry, Gil, Jay, Carlos, and Hadie run away from the marble beasts chasing them, Hadie taking quick shots at them but unfortunately missing.

Ben let out a low growl as several more marble beasts went to attack his friends, he arched back on his heels and went to pounce but stopped. He saw his horrific reflection in a small puddle next to him, beastly matted hair, black eyes, sharp fangs, dark curling horns, paws with claws the size of his face, he had also grown several times bigger than his human size.

He was a monster, he sank back, watching his friends with watery eyes as they attempted to fight against the beasts. Ben let out a pained roar as one of the beasts jumped at Harry and sliced into his shoulder, the pirate falling to the ground in agonizing pain as Harry screamed out. Blood poured from his shoulder and Ben steeled himself.

They were his friends, they were being hurt, they cared about Ben.

They wouldn’t fear him, and they would never hurt him.

He had to be brave, for them. As their king and friend.

Ben leaped out of the brush, letting out a mighty roar and slamming into two marble beasts, the stone crumbling under his claws in an instant. He whirled around and jumped towards Harry, slamming into the beast about to clamp its jaws around Harry’s throat and tossing it away. Ben let out a terrifying roar, one that echoed out throughout the forest.

“Beasty?” Harry weakly asked from below him, hand clamped on his heavily bleeding shoulder. Ben looked down at him and let out a cooing whine, looking back up and growling as another two statues came near him. Ben reared up and slashed at the beasts, the marble crumbling under his strength.

“Go Ben!” Carlos yelled from next to Jay, who stared slack-jawed at beast Ben. “you got this! Kick their butts!” Ben grinned at Carlos’ encouragement and did quick work of the last two beasts, swiping and destroying them under his jaw and claws.

Gil and Carlos cheered for Ben as Jay stared in awe, Hadie bolting towards Ben and sliding underneath him to attend to Harry. Ben backed away and nudged at the slowly becoming unresponsive Harry. “shit” Hadie curse, patting Harry’s face to wake him “come on Hook, don’t pass out on us”

Carlos, Gil, and Jay ran closer to the three, Jay grabbing onto Ben’s collar just in case he got afraid of their reactions and tried to run. But thankfully that was the last thing on Ben’s mind as he looked down at Harry.

“Harry come on dude” Gil whispered, taking off his bandana and soaking up the blood as Harry’s eyes fluttered “(y/n)s gonna kill me if i-woah!” suddenly Ben was sprayed with water, his body glowing a soft periwinkle as he shrunk down to his normal size and his horns, paws, claws, and fangs reduced with it.

Ben shook his head and looked around, eyes widening as he spotted Jane holding a long water gun, probably half full with enchanted lake water. “Jane!” he called, waving her over to Harry. “help him! the water can help!” Jane hurried over and gasped as she saw the badly wounded Harry. She kneeled next to him and gently sprayed the water onto this shoulder, the slices glowing the same blue as Ben had and closing up, the blood disappearing as the water ran over it.

Harry slowly regain consciousness and groaned, sitting up with the help of Ben and Hadie. “wha-Beastie boy? How did yeh?” Ben just nodded at Jane then quickly explained what had happened to him.

“Audrey, no, Maleficent cursed me to become my worst fear, an unlovable beast like my father, but the water” Ben nodded at Jane again, who was being hugged by Gil “turned me back, it breaks spells and can drastically reverse curses but-“ Ben gestured to himself, still mostly furry and fanged “-only mostly, we’ll have to defeat Maleficent to fully remove the curse” Harry just nodded, still out of it slightly and stood on wobbly legs, he had lost a bit of blood so it would be a minute before he didn’t feel dizzy anymore.

“Let's head back to Evie's place, they’re waiting on us,” Gil said, pushing Jane to Carlos for the younger vk to take her as Gil and Jay helped Harry get situated to move out. “and We’re running out of time” Ben nodded and followed after his friends, Hadie trailing just behind them, eyeing the marble statues that had been destroyed by him and Ben.

-

Mal stepped behind Celia's chair, looking at Uma slightly unsure before she decided to just go for it “Thank you, Uma. That was a really good idea” Uma turned to her with raised brows, confused on why Mal was talking to her willingly “searching Audreys room, now we have an idea of the right track” Uma frowned and glanced at you, who shrugged and continued to eat one of your snacks that you had hidden at Evie's just in case.

“Is there an insult in there or something that I missed?” Uma asked with a mouthful of cake, Mal shook her head, sincere in her words.

“no, no insult, I just…wanted to thank you.”

-

Audrey, no, Maleficent clicked her tongue in frustration, slowly her weak little failure of a daughter and her ‘friends’ were figuring out where she had gone and were getting closer to beating her…if only little Malsy didn’t have that blasted ember, it was the only thing next to the wand that could defeat the scepter and reverse the possession spell she had placed upon the daughter of Aurora.

“On the right track,” Maleficent said through Audrey, glaring down at the image on her scepter as Mal sat across from Uma, getting a plate of cake for herself “you won't be going anywhere” Maleficent looked up and smirked at Chad, who looked as if he was five seconds from peeing his pants. “how about we mess em up a little?” Chad looked at her fearfully and attempted to suggest something less…evil. Which made Maleficent angry.

“I say we go back to my place and binge-watch some tv?” Chad suggested, his eyes wide with terror “huh? Or maybe order some stuff online?” Maleficent/Audrey tilted her head with a smirk, somehow that translating to ‘yeah let’s do that instead’ to Chad “yeah? Yeah!” Maleficent/Audrey flicked her hand down and Chad followed it, his body glowing a soft green as he went to his knees. “no?! um-what about pizza?” Maleficent/Audrey flicked her hand out and Chad fell on his ass, his back facing an open closet…which gave Maleficent/Audrey an idea “okay, you don’t like Pizza, salad! Sa-“ Chad stopped as he looked towards the front door of the little cottage the two were in, eyes widening as he looked at “Audrey’s” shadow.

Except it wasn’t Audrey’s shadow anymore, once with long hair and a crown perched on her head, was now a taller older figure, with curling horns protruding from its head. Even Chad wasn’t dumb enough to not figure it out. He looked from the shadow to Audrey as discreetly as he could, clenching his jaw as he noticed Audrey’s usual honey brown eyes were turning a vivid green, similar to Mal's eyes.

He went to stand and attempt to take the scepter from his possessed friend but Maleficent blasted him back with a wave of her scepter and Chad was in the closet, the lock sliding shut with another wave.

He started to bang on the door, pleading for Audrey to fight the spell that had taken hold. Maleficent only laughed, there was no saving Audrey now, by the time her daughter and her friends got here, it would already be too late.

Maleficent turned and disappeared into a swirl of green smoke, she had a much better place to execute her evil plans than in this old hideout the good fairies once hid the princess Aurora.

-

Mal chewed her lip as she watched Uma from across the dining table, Uma ignoring her as she enjoyed another piece of Jane’s cake. “Okay I know I’ve been feeding you sugar for the past three years but slow down you’re gonna give yourself a sugar crash and stomach ache” you joked as you pulled the almost empty plate away from Uma, laughing as she glared and pulled it back.

“Fuck you let me have my sugar,” Uma said in a teasingly angry tone, a smile on her face as you tried to take the plate again “take the plate and I stab you”

“Stab me and I’ll turn you into calamari” you shot back, snickering as Uma rolled her eyes.

“That’s squid dumbass, I’m an octopus.” you held your hands up and sighed, leaning back in your chair and looking outside to keep an eye out for the boys.

“Hey, Uma?” Mal asked nervously, playing with her piece of cake as Uma looked at her with wary eyes “I um…I wanted to apologize” Uma looked genuinely shocked at that, sharing a look with you before looking back at Mal apprehensively, unsure of what Mal was going to say.

“I-I was a bitch of a kid” Uma snorted at that, going back to her cake as Mal continued to talk “I really was a bitch to you specifically, the…shrimp incident, the harassment after that, I treated you like dirt even before all that and I really want you do know that I regret it all, im sorry for the way I was and how I was so cruel to you, I know we were raised to be like that but still, I feel awful about it”

Uma glanced up at Mal, her face giving away nothing. Mal sighed, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear “im not expecting your forgiveness or anything like that, I don’t expect your friendship, just because I apologized doesn’t automatically mean you should forgive or forget about the way I hurt you. So I understand if, after today, we never speak again” Mal smiled at Uma and looked down at her piece of cake, seeming as if a weight had finally been lifted off her chest.

Uma stared at her for a moment before nodding and pushing around a piece of cake with her fork “You were right (y/n)…she has changed” Uma muttered, pushing down a smile as Mal perked up at that and looked at her confused.

“(y/n) talked about me?” Mal asked, looking at (y/n) with shocked eyes “Why would you talk about me?” you shrugged and grabbed your bottle of root beer, keeping your eyes on the outside.

“Told her ‘bout you going to therapy n stuff and how you are actually doing better than just saying it and not changing at all” you hummed, sipping at your soda and sighing. “in my world, the movie you was a whole ass bitch and the writers didn’t develop your character properly at all, treated everyone like shit, including Ben…weird thought but what if we’re in the third movie right now?”

Uma and Mal shared a look of ‘ah right forgot she’s from another dimension where we’re fictional characters’ “that’s possible, but please don’t even mention that again I do not want to implode” Mal snarked, laughing a bit as you flipped her off without looking.

You froze as the hum of magic suddenly pulsed around you, a dome of blue magic that shimmered with green and pink surrounded the house like an airtight cage, sealing the doors and windows. “What the fuck!?” Mal yelled out, standing from her chair and rushing towards the windows, yelping as the dome pushed her back from them “It's Audrey, she trapped us!”

“Celia!” Uma yelled out for the young vk, the aforementioned girl rushing in just after that with a panicked look, running into Uma’s arms and burying herself into Uma’s side.

“What’s going on!” Evie yelled as she ran in from the living room, Doug just behind her with wide fearful eyes as he looked at the magic dome blocking the windows and doors.

“Audrey trapped us, Mal do you got a spell or something for this!?” you grunted as you slammed your shoulder into the patio doors, rubbing it as pain flared from a particularly hard smack.

Mal froze for a moment, trying to figure out a quick spell to get out of the castle when one finally came to mind “please work” Mal pleaded to herself, holding her hands out “You’ve caused my friends pain and fear/we’ve had enough, now disappear!” Mal went a twinge of pain run through her, mostly hitting her head as her hands sparked light blue with magic but nothing else happened “shit! I don’t think I can, I don’t have access to my magic anymore” Mal pressed her palm to her head as Uma looked down at her necklace, the ember within glowing along with her shell.

“What?!” you screeched, backing away from the door as the glass started to crack from the dome pressing on it “But you used a spell on the knights?!”

“I don’t know?! I think I connected to the ember or something?!” Mal grabbed onto Evie as the windows creaked with effort “what is she trying to do, kill us?!” Evie winced as the windows cracked, whelp, that’s fun, and hundreds of dollars down the drain to get those fixed.

Uma’s mind went back to when she and Mal had combined their magic to defeat the knights, and then remembered Mal had cast a spell with her, through the ember! Mal was right, she had connected with the ember! Uma stepped up to Mal, holding out her hand for Mal to take. Mal just looked at her confused and scared.

“Together,” Uma said forcefully, shaking her hand a bit to encourage Mal to take it “like with the knights, our magic together can overpower it.” Mal looked relieved at the idea and took Uma’s hand, the ember blazing bright blue as she did and their hands glowed teal-blue. Uma and Mal nodded at each other once before turning towards the patio doors, focusing on the dome just outside.

Uma’s eyes glowed turquoise as Mal’s glowed yellow, and her hair moved like fire once again. “You’ve caused our friends pain and fear/we’ve had enough, now disappear!” Uma squinted as the ember and her shell burst out in a bright show of light and another glow burst out from her and Mal’s conjoined hands and flowed out towards the rest of the house and the patio doors. The dome shattered with the burst and they were free. Uma and Mal’s hands dropped and separated, the ember within Uma’s necklace dimming from its lost connection with Mal.

Both Uma and Mal let out a slow breath, their shoulders dropping in relief as the tenseness from being trapped released. “you did it” Evie breathed out, looking relieved that her doors or windows didn’t shatter

“Nice, now get me the hell outta here” you grumbled, moving to push the doors open and gasping as you saw the boys running towards the house, with both Ben and Jane. “It’s the boys!”

The other girls followed you and Mal ran to Ben, Uma colliding with Gil as you ran into Harry's arms, slowing down as you noticed his sluggishness. “Harry” you breathed, gently squeezing his torso before pulling back to examine him “what’s wrong, did you get hurt?”

He just nodded, stumbling a bit as his supports named Gil and Jay had gone to make sure the rest of the girls were okay “aye, Audrey sent some stone statues at us, one of ‘em got me pretty good, it’s mostly healed though, Jane had some enchanted lake water” you nodded at Jane in thanks and she nodded back, leaning on Gil’s arm as he introduced her to Uma properly.

Uma caught your gaze and gasped, seeing the slices on Harry's shoulder as he pulled his hand away. She raced over to him and laid her hand on top of the shallow cuts and muttered a healing spell, focusing on the rips in the fabric of his shirt and jacket as well. A moment later Harry was fully healed and his clothes were fixed as well, he also looked as if he had renewed energy. He pulled Uma into a hug and thanked her, the sea witch nodding and patting his arm to tell him to let her go.

Mal was making sure Ben was okay, pursing her lips at his fuzzy face and fangs “Are you okay?” she asked concerned, knowing one of his greatest fears was turning into a beast. Ben smiled and shrugged.

“I am now” he hummed, giving Mal a reassuring pat on the arm “hey it’s okay, I was scared at first but-I’m not now, I’m not a beast, Im just” he gestured to himself “fluffy” Mal looked unconvinced but let it go, they didn’t have time to argue over Ben brushing his problems away when they were clearly important.

Ben looked over to Uma, looking slightly surprised to see her “Now where the hell have you been?” Uma just looked sheepish as Gil and Harry pouted at her. “wait lemme guess” Ben pointed at you as you snuck behind Harry “(y/n)s been hiding you at your request?”

“How in the hell did you guess that?” Uma said surprised, her eyes wide. Ben just shrugged.

“I know (y/n) and that is exactly something she would do, and knowing you from Harry and Gil, that is also something you would do” Uma turned to her boys, slightly surprised they seemed to talk about her that much. Harry and Gil just shrugged as Mal turned Ben’s attention to her.

“okay, so Uma found a clue in Audrey’s diary” Ben looked at Uma slightly disappointed that she had gone into Audrey’s private life like that but Mal quickly turned his attention to her again “I know I know, we’ll both apologize to her after this is all over, but now we think she may be in Fairy cottage, the one her mom was hidden in when she was a kid, do you have any idea where it may be?” Ben nodded, wringing his hands a bit.

“yeah, she took me there every fairy godmothers day…speaking of FG’s where is FG?” Mal, Evie, (y/n), Jay, Celia, Carlos, and Hadie all looked uncomfortable at that.

“uh, she got turned to stone” Hadie muttered, kicking away a stone at Jane and Ben’s shocked looks. “we were trying to get the wand and I suppose Audrey found out and stopped us before she could get it.” Ben nodded solemnly turning back to Mal, who gave him a sad smile. Ben took a deep breath and went into king mode, turning to Doug and Gil.

“Doug, Gil” the two looked up slightly surprised at his authoritative tone “go with Jane, find FG, I know she stone right now but knowing her exact location would be good” Mal went to say she was at the museum but stopped as Ben continued to talk “then get the wand just in case, Jane should be able to access it” He looked to Jane for confirmation and she nodded, looking sure she could control its magic this time around. “and if we do fail in defeating the scepter, you’ll be our last hope.” everyone nodded, the tension rising in the area as you all realized you were all heading into a final battle situation, where the stakes were high and death was probable. “good luck, take the bikes if you need to” at that Carlos opened the garage to reveal Harry and Gil’s new motorbikes, to which Gil and Jane climbed on his and Harry quietly threatened Doug to not ruin his.

Soon the three were off into the setting sun, Mal biting her lip as she remembered Beasts words on the deal ‘return the scepter and the crown to the museum at sunrise, or the barrier will be closed for good’

Ben intertwined their hands, seeming to know what Mal was thinking about, she gave him a watery smile and they turned to go back into Evie's place for a moment to make a quick plan with everyone before they all headed out.

-end of p7-

part 7 yall!!!! hoped you liked it!!! i really like how the beast ben part turned out along with Mals apology and the scene just after that :3

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[ladynestaarcheron]

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Fourteen

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti ​ @rhysandsrightknee @missing-merlin @azriels-forgotten-shadow @books-and-cocos @sezkins79 @city-of-fae @someonemagical @dusty-lightbulb @messyhairday-me)

i think i’ve talked about this chapter more than any other. i’m VERY nervous scared excited to post it, and i cannot wait to hear what you think. please noe: any character’s views on God and/or the universe do not reflect those of the author

as per usual, thanks a million to my lovely beta, @thestarwhowishes, and to you all for reading!!

---

November 9 - 4 years after

 When Feyre sees Cassian the day after he arrives in Velaris after over a week away, he is unrecognizable from the day before. It had been depressing to see him like that. Somehow worse than when they had lost Nesta years ago. That unhealthy anger was better than this proper misery, this depressing lack, the only trace of anything in his being guilt.

But the day after, the usual twinkle is in his eye and he says to her directly, looking over Rhys, “Nesta and the triplets are coming for Solstice.”

She jumps up. “Are you serious?”

"She just sent word. I’ll tell Elain. Where is she?”

“Garden.”

He shoots her a grin before leaving to find her, whistling slightly as he goes.

Feyre laughs. “He’s happy now.”

Rhys hums in agreement. “Are you?”

She takes a minute to think about it. “I’m...happy with you,” she says slowly. “With our people. And our family, here. But it’s not just that Nesta isn’t here. It’s that things aren’t right with her.”

“Cassian wants her to move here.”

Feyre hesitates. “I don’t think she will.”

“What about what you want?”

She shrugs. “Sure, I want that. I want my sisters and my niece and nephews close to me. Why wouldn’t I want that? But Nesta worked hard for her home on the Continent.”

“There’s nothing there that doesn’t exist here,” he says gently.

“I don’t understand,” Feyre says, a wry smile on her face. “Do you miss Nesta?” She doesn’t feel any guilt thinking that—there is no love lost between her mate and her sister, not on either side.

An identical smile tugs at Rhys’ lips. “Can’t say I particularly do. But if you and Cassian want her here...and the children, obviously.”

“Nicky looks so much like Cassian,” Feyre says for the umpteenth time. She can’t keep the excitement out of her voice—it will never cease to amaze her, how she can see bits and pieces of Cass and Nesta and even herself and Elain and their father in three little creatures. It never fails to make her long for her own child, the little boy the Bone Carver had shown her. With Rhys’ hair, with her lips...lips that Nesta and Ava share as well. Will the resemblance be clear enough, if they all stand together one day? Will everyone know just by looking that they are a family?

“Cassian looked at a house.”

“What, here in Velaris?”

Rhys shows her the outside. Bigger than Nesta’s house in Sugar Valley, and not the same style at all. In fact, this one looks vaguely similar to the townhouse they had once spent most of their time in.

“Four bedrooms,” he says.

Feyre’s heart sinks. Four bedrooms. For a family. But what are the chances that Nesta will actually to agree to live there?

I really want her to. Even the voice inside her head sounds small. She misses her sister.

At once, Feyre decides she can’t wait till Solstice. “I’m going to visit her,” she says.

If Rhys doesn’t think she should, he keeps it to himself. “With Elain?”

“No,” she says. “I’d like to speak to her alone. Without a buffer.” Without a shield. “This is long overdue.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. She won’t...” Feyre struggles to find the right words. “She’s agreed to come for Solstice. I think we should keep her interactions with you...to a minimum.”

Rhys laughs as she grins apologetically. “Fine,” he says. “But...hurry back.” He tilts her face upward to kiss her.

She floods the love he sends to her back at him, tenfold. I will, she says silently.

But not before she gets what she’s going for.

---

November 22 - 1 year after

 With the mess of her finding out she was pregnant with triplets across the sea from everything she had ever known, Nesta thought she might be entitled to a bit of courteous privacy, but evidently, the citizens of Sugar Valley disagreed, and when she arrived at work, Miri was waiting for her in the area of the back room she normally worked in, with two steaming mugs of something.

It wasn’t that Nesta hated these people, it was that she could not understand why everyone in the world couldn’t simply mind their own business and why they had to be so interested in other people’s lives. Namely, hers. But the smell from the mugs was the same as that chocolate-berry drink Zeyn had given her yesterday, and since she had had it, it was all she could think about.

Well. That and the three fetuses currently growing inside her.

So she sat down and took the mug.

“Nesta, dear,” Miri said, voice dripping with sympathy.

Nesta stifled the urge to roll her eyes—she didn’t need coddling or anything of the sort. Sure, yesterday had been a bit of a shock, but she was fine now. Her thoughts were gathered. She would go through with the pregnancy and…well, that was the most important thing. That she knew that, at least.

But Miri only continued with, “You must be so hungry and tired,” and that, because it was the exact right thing to say, was apparently the exact wrong thing to say.

Nesta knew very well how to deal with people saying the wrong thing to her. Perhaps it could be argued that she did not deal with it particularly well, but she had her methods. But someone saying the right thing to her was so much more rare. And she wasn’t sure if it was being away from her sisters, or him, or the three little parasites in her uterus, or maybe the berries in the water, but—to her horror—Nesta could feel her throat and eyes begin to burn at Miri’s innocent statement.

“Oh, poor dear...”

“I’m fine,” she nearly sobbed, sounding shrill even to herself.

“It’s all right,” she whispered, running a hand up and down her back. “We’ll take care of you...we’ll write to whomever you want…”

This nearly made Nesta lose control completely, and she shoved a fist against her mouth to keep from crying out. She didn’t want to send a letter…she didn’t want this in writing, didn’t want it to be real.

Nesta’s pathetic attempts to stop herself from making any noise and the tears blurring her vision and the sudden uptick in her body’s temperature left her, unfortunately, in a coughing fit. Her whole form shook, racked with emotion, and for a very frightening few minutes indeed, she couldn’t even feel Miri sitting next to her.

But she came back to herself eventually, and Miri was still there. Still stroking her back, still murmuring to her, half in the common tongue, half in Gilameyvan.

“It’ll be all right,” she kept saying. “Everything will be all right.”

Nesta didn’t think she believed her.

---

November 11 - 4 years after

 Nesta’s had quite enough of her own cowardice and marches herself to the table Zeyn is sitting at, ignoring Xeyale’s greeting. “I need to talk to you,” she says to him.

His brown face tenses for a moment. But it disappears quickly, replaced by his usual friendly, patient smile. “All right,” he says, standing up.

She turns on her heel and leads him to the back room. “Out, Maz,” she commands.

“I’m working!”

“Well, work in the front,” she snaps.

“Sorry, Maz,” Zeyn says with a laugh, as he passes by with a scowl. He laughs again. “I guess this’ll be a good talk, then. Nothing makes you happier than yelling at Maz.”

Nesta ignores the guilt stirring her stomach at the twinkle in his eye. “I didn’t yell.”

“Oh, semantics.” He sits down. “What’s up?”

Nesta allows herself a few more moments to summon her nerve—swallows once, squares her shoulders, then says, “I’m taking the children to Velaris for Solstice.”

The teasing glint winks out of his eyes and his deerlike ears still. “And you...think this is a good idea.”

She’s not sure how much of a right he has to be upset, but it does irritate her a bit. “I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think it was a good idea.” She tries to keep the bite out of her voice. “I’ve never cared much for Solstice, you know that. And their father does. So it does seem to make sense that they celebrate it on his terms.”

As if presenting the argument as entirely logical, as only sensible, will make him believe and accept it.

“But we celebrate Solstice here.”

They do—they have, since she came here. And it’s...fun. It was always nice to see her children enjoying themselves. Last year they were even old enough to not only appreciate getting gifts, but also anticipate Solstice before it happened. It was important enough that they remember it, and still bring it up occasionally.

“Maybe we can celebrate two Solstices,” she suggests.

He frowns. “Summer?”

“No, I mean...one here, one there.”

“I always thought of it as our holiday,” he says. “Just the five of us.”

This definitely irks Nesta. He should know better than anyone she doesn’t see any holidays as her own. It’ll always feel frivolous and treacherous to her. “We’ve never celebrated it just the five of us,” she says. “We’ve always done something with the whole shop.”

She really hates this—arguing with Zeyn. She always feels like she’s in the wrong. He’s never seen her as she is; he always sees her as something better. 

He hates arguing with her as well, and she can see by his eyes darting around and the slight shuffle of his hooved feet that he’s going to drop it. She’s relieved, because she’s a coward, but a small part of her is disappointed. They are long overdue for a lengthy discussion regarding his vision for a happy little mixed family of five, and her desires for her children and herself.

It’s her fault, of course, that they had not had this conversation years ago, and so she can’t be upset with him when he finally gives a little shrug and says, “I’m sure you’re doing what you think is best.”

If it’s the tiniest bit irritating, that is prickly Nesta’s own fault, too. He isn’t trying to upset her—he’s Zeyn.

“You know I wouldn’t if I didn’t.”

He smiles at her, sweet and sincere. “I do.” His warm brown eyes crinkle. “When will you be going?”

“Only next month,” Nesta says. Probably only a day or so before Solstice—just because she wants them to enjoy the holiday with Cassian doesn’t mean she’s been deluded into thinking she’s going to have a particularly fun time herself. No need to make it longer than necessary.

"Let me know. I can help you pack.”

There’s no malice, no bitterness she can detect in his voice. She stifles a relieved sigh. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t answer, only smiles.

“I need to find Adil,” she says. “I’m going to be scouting for authors.”

He raises an eyebrow. “In Prythian? They don’t traditionally publish here…”

“It’s a new age,” she says, shrugging. And it’s true. While Prythian has generally been secluded, she has learned, since the defeat of Hybern they have tentatively been more open with trade amongst nations that hadn’t sided with their enemies. She imagines it’ll take longer for any partnerships with Montesere to kick in.

Adil is torn when she tells him of her plans. On the one hand, she knows, he is skeptical of her going. He has never liked Zeyn’s affection towards her, but he has also no reason to like Cassian or her sisters.

His blue lips purse, and she suppresses a smile as she can see the other side of the equation spin around in his head—that he definitely wants to be the first Gilameyvan bookstore to publish an author from Prythian.

“You’re a good mother and a sensible employee,” he says finally.

She tries to stifle a blush, but she’s too taken by surprise. “Thank you,” she says.

“Let us know before you leave. We’ll give you gifts to take with you.”

“I will,” she promises. He and Miri dote on her children; Solstice is a fun time for her to watch the five of them.

That's the thing about Solstice, Nesta thinks as she gathers her children from nursery and heads back to her house. It’s not that she’s against the familial nature of it all, the loving closeness during the coldest time of the year. She’s not a monster. It’s a nice idea, and it’s fun to watch her children get excited over gifts and whatever art projects they’re doing in nursery.

Before she had them, her main issue with Solstice was that it felt like giving in to the Fae. Like surrendering the last of her humanity. For they did not have holidays South of the Wall. Why should they? What was sacred to a people abandoned by the gods? If one had to be powerful to be loved by the faes’ so-called Holy Mother, she didn’t want anything to do with Her anyway.

And now? Now she likes the joy it sparks in the people around her. But this time of family only ever serves to remind her that she is missing half of hers. Blame can be shoved this way and that, but when everyone around her is thanking their Creator for all their loved ones around them, whose fault it is is the last thing on Nesta’s mind.

“Mummy, when is Appa coming back?” Nicky asks her when they get home.

“I still don’t know, Nicky,” she says patiently. Then she pauses. Now seems as good a time as ever to tell them, she guesses. “We’re actually going to visit him soon, though.”

“Go and visit?” Avery asks.

Nesta helps Ollie take off his outer things. “Yes,” she says. “Do you know where he lives? With your aunts?”

“Do they all live together?”

Well. “Yes.” It’s true enough. She doesn’t think Elain has gotten her own house in the past three years—there’s no way she’ll live on her own, and as long as she isn’t married, she won’t live with a male, so she’s definitely still living with Feyre. And Cassian hasn’t bothered to get his own place in Velaris in the past five hundred years or so; she can’t imagine anything has changed as of late.

“In a very big house, Mummy.”

“Yes, it’s a very big house, Avery.”

"It’s very very very very big!” Nicky says.

"They live all the way across the sea,” she says, stopping them before they can get into her least favorite game. 

"Where’s the sea?” Nicky asks.

"It’s to the west.”

"Are we going on a boat?” Ollie asks.

"No,” she laughs. “We’ll probably winnow.”

"Maybe we can fly,” Nicky says hopefully.

“Absolutely not.”

“Maybe we will.”

“No. We will not. Does that sound like fun, though? Does going to spend Solstice across the sea with Appa and your aunts sound like fun?”

“It sounds like so much fun!” Avery says.

“Do they have orange juice across the sea?” Nicky says.

“We can’t fly because it’s too far and Mummy can’t fly,” Ollie says.

“Yeah, Nicky, Mummy can’t fly.”

“Do they have orange juice or not?”

“All right,” Nesta cuts in. Apparently they don’t care as much as everyone else seems to. She’s sure they’ll bring it up again closer to the date. “Let’s get something to eat.”

There’s lots she has to think about, she realizes. Duration of their stay, how they’re getting there...she doesn’t ever take them along on her—ahem—preferred method of travel. And oh, she’ll need to take a trip to the lake before they leave. She’s not going to want to have all that magic pent up inside her while she’s there, and it’ll be best for all parties involved if she’s at her calmest upon arrival.

Amren will be there. Her first...friend, in Prythian. So different from Amorette, and yet the comfort she feels in the latter’s presence is so reminiscent of what she used to feel doing a jigsaw puzzle at that demon’s apartment. She’s not spoken to her for longer than she hadn’t spoken to her sisters...neither of them had attempted to seek the other out after their last fight.

“Can we go to the park now, Mummy?” Nicky asks her after they’ve been fed.

Nesta glances outside. A light drizzle has already begun. “No, angel, it’s going to rain. Let’s play inside today.”

There’s a bit of grumbling about this, but they are—as always—mollified when she starts out the game herself. Sometimes it’s coloring, sometimes building blocks. Today she’s situated herself inside the little house Cassian had erected for them during his visit. The three of them scramble to join her; it’s only a few seconds before Avery has declared the rules of this little house and their roles in it. This game lasts an hour and then, mercifully, transforms into “art projects” at the kitchen table. More of a mess for Nesta to clean up later, but less exhaustive.

She’s allowed not to partake in order to prepare dinner for them. She smiles to herself as she cooks; she’s always loved listening to them talk amongst themselves. They’re good friends; she thinks they would be even if they weren’t siblings.

After dinner, bathtime, a bit more play, and a bedtime story (Ollie’s turn to choose), Nesta walks back downstairs to make something for herself to eat. She pours herself a glass of wine and sits in the living room, in her favorite corner of the couch, with a notebook. She’s got to make a list of everything she needs to prepare before leaving. She’s never taken them anywhere farther than Privet Falls a town over.

A knock on the door interrupts her. She sighs as she stands up to open it. Probably Zeyn, upset at her decision. She did think, earlier, that he had given in a tad too easily. Although such is Zeyn’s way: he never confronts her. He’s not a warrior type.

But it is not Zeyn’s warm brown eyes staring back at her when she opens the door. It’s her own grey-blue.

“Feyre,” she says, too surprised to say anything else.

“I know I probably should’ve given you some notice,” her sister says apologetically. “Sorry. I just...had to see you.” She swallows and tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear.

“Come in,” she says, stepping aside.

She’s not sure what her feelings are on Feyre showing up on her front doorstep. She’s too taken aback to think straight, so she says, “Can I get you some wine? Or something else to drink,” she adds.

"Whatever you’re having is fine.”

Nesta pours her sister a glass of white on crushed ice and hands it to her. She takes wordlessly and downs half of it.

“Are you staying here?” Nesta asks suddenly, the thought only just occurring to her.

"I don’t know,” she replies. That depends on you, she doesn’t say.

Well, she’s not going to throw her sister out onto the street, but she hasn’t decided if she wants her sleeping here. Will she go to the inn to spend the night? Or will she winnow back? Or fly? Does she still fly very often?

“How are the triplets?” Feyre says, finally breaking the silence.

“Well,” Nesta says. “Very well. Happy. Healthy.” Well, Ollie might still be a little underweight...but as long as his lungs are strong, his healer says...

“I heard you’re coming for Solstice.”

“Oh. Yes.”

Feyre nods. She opens her mouth a few times but can’t seem to find anything to say.

Not for long, of course. Not her brash little sister. On her fourth try, she says, “Why didn’t you write to say you were pregnant?”

Nesta doesn’t hesitate. “Why didn’t you write to say you were alive?”

Feyre flinches. Then she laughs a little; more bitter than amused, but there isn’t any malice. “I guess that’s fair.”

Elain would never say so. And as a mother she can’t really say that two sisters hurting each other makes it fair, but as a sister...well, she’s not upset that Feyre agrees, at any rate.

“You know, that first letter,” Feyre starts, her eyes on Nesta but clearly seeing something else—Nesta’s own eyes see that dock in Montesere— “we ripped it open. We were so...after the note you left Cassian? And then we were so angry…”

“You were angry?”

Well, we were hurt. And the lines kind of blur when emotions run high.”

Nesta has nothing to say to that. A few moments ago she was more pleased that she and Feyre shared the same thoughts; now she is remembering how much she used to hate it as a girl.

“Your other letters weren’t much better.”

"At least I sent them,” she snaps.

"I know,” Feyre says. She sets her wine glass down. Her voice is thin, tight. "But...in your letter. After your note."

Nesta slowly moves to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. They have not yet spoken outright of her leaving, just of her having been gone.

"Because you said you were drowning."

"Feyre." Nesta stops herself.

"Why did you leave?" she blurts out. "I thought things were going well! I thought you and Cassian..."

"I know what you thought."

"So what happened?"

"I don't want to discuss this, Feyre."

"Well, I do!" Feyre says, and she straightens, snapping herself up. "I want to know why you had to leave, when we had finally got things going well for you!"

At this, Nesta freezes. "When you...had got things going well...for me?"

If Feyre is unsure of herself at Nesta's tone, she doesn't show it. She nods once, firmly.

Nesta sucks in her lip slightly, but tries to keep it from curling upwards. The children are excited for Solstice, she says to herself. And she doesn't want this to end in anger. Again.

But Feyre has quickened her pulse and risen her temper.

"Tell me, Feyre," she says, her voice cool. "Why was it so sinful, so unforgivable, for Tamlin to keep you in the Spring Court, and yet your right to send me to Illyria?"

Feyre’s mouth parts. “I...”

She’s begun to tremble, and Nesta is irritated at her for this reaction. She shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place. She shouldn’t get upset.

“Nesta,” she says, voice catching. “I...I didn’t...I never meant...”

“I know what you meant,” Nesta says, gruffly. She doesn’t want to talk about this.

“I just need to know...if you left…” Feyre trails off. This is unlike her, this anxiousness. “Nesta, am I your villain?”

She blinks. Is she her villain?

"I don’t have a villain,” Nesta says, slightly bewildered. “I’m not a story.”

Who put this in her head? Her idiot husband, probably. He’s the villain, we’re the heroes, or some stupid shit like that, as if they were simple fable characters, one-note and flat, instead of people, capable of kindness and manipulation with conflicting desires.

“But...when you said…” Feyre’s lip trembles. Is she—is she going to cry?

Nesta’s mouth parts open a little. When was the last time she saw Feyre cry? That night she got Elain back, during the war?

“When you said you were drowning...in your letter...I need to know if—if I did that.” Her sister’s eyes are wide and searching, fighting back tears. “And now...if I’m like—if you felt how I felt... Please tell me. Because...if that’s true...then I—I’m sorry, Nesta,” and tears do spill out of her eyes and down her cheeks, still rosy from the cold. Or maybe the wine. “I’m sorry.”

Out of love for the first baby Nesta remembers holding, she stifles an eye roll. She moves closer and pats her shoulder tentatively. When Feyre was very young, she had shown her a lot of physical affection, but she doubts she remembers any of that, and it would probably be weird for both of them if she hugged her. “Feyre,” she says, trying to be gentle. How to explain to this...this little girl, made to believe by a male, oh, twenty-seven times her age or so, that she is the most powerful creature in the world, special and essential to the function of the universe...that not all of her elder sister’s choices revolve uniquely around her?

She doesn’t fault Feyre for this, of course. And she doesn’t think Rhysand put it in her head directly—You’re the reason your sister left does not strike her as the kind of thing he would say—but Feyre’s always been rather miserable at connecting dots.

“Feyre,” she says again. “I don’t have a villain. I chose to leave. Just like you did,” she reminds her, bumping her knee lightly against her. Referring to more than one time, of course. Leaving home and then leaving the Spring Court. “I went of my own volition.” Were there other factors? Of course there were. But nothing she needs to share with her baby sister; certainly not while she cries. Nesta has no desire to hurt her further. She remembers the day Feyre was born. She remembers teaching Feyre to speak. That Feyre does not remember these things is irrelevant; it does not have anything to do with the sacredness of the acts. “But if I did,” she continues, moving closer to her sister, “it wouldn’t be you. You’re not like Tamlin,” she adds. She doesn’t tell her that she thinks her old High Lord and her new one share far more than their race and title.

Tamlin ruined their lives. He sold them out. His treatment of Feyre was enough to make Nesta vomit, and that was only from what she saw at that stupid High Lord meeting. The only thing she doesn’t loathe about her idiot brother-in-law is his patience with Elain.

But she doesn’t blame Feyre for those things. When you meet someone as a baby, she thinks, you see them that way forever.

Feyre wipes at her eyes and takes a deep breath, and Nesta feels another surge of irritation towards her idiot husband. Placing this girl as monarch over a people, after just learning how to read, no political experience or knowledge whatsoever...this is what it’s done to her. Feyre makes mistakes with her sister; the three of them do. But now Feyre believes there’s some echoing magnitude to everything she thinks about. People are angry at Nesta for not hunting alongside Feyre when she was fourteen, but she was only seventeen herself. Seventeen is not old enough to hunt either, just as twenty-six is too young to rule a country forever.

“But...you’re still angry at me.”

There she goes again, with her black and white world. Nesta gives a little shrug. “I’m not thrilled. I don’t carry anger.”

Feyre frowns. “What do you mean, you don’t carry anger?”

“I just...ignore things. Forget about them.”

“That doesn’t strike me as particularly healthy.”

“Well, I haven’t died yet, so…”

They both pause, and after a moment, laugh a little.

It’s not that Nesta is at peace with everything that has happened in her life. She most certainly is not. It’s that she doesn’t want to let things affect her relationship with her children. And if there’s one thing her parents taught her, it’s that you can’t be a good mother when you’re carrying pain.

“I’m really happy you’re coming for Solstice,” Feyre says softly.

“I’ll make up a bed for you,” Nesta replies, which is not quite forgiveness, but Nesta is still not quite forgiving.

But there are better uses of her energy than turning her sister out.

---

Chapter Fifteen

[fierypen37]

The Oasis: Chapter 17

Chapter 17

 They whiled away the afternoon snuggled on the couch watching movies. Her choice was a rom-com about a hard-ass businesswoman accidentally falling in love with her assistant. Jon felt for the poor bastard loving his lady from afar. It was easy to daydream and project the two of them into the roles. It suited his romantic streak. Daenerys really was a badass businesswoman after all. He’d pine for her in silence. Her tea would always be hot. Her appointments would always be on time. Jon would be her shadow, her right hand as she conquered the world. Watching them fall in love made him absurdly happy. Watching the firelight dance on her features and shine in her hair, he had never felt more content.

Now, in the kitchen, they nibbled on lush strawberries crusted with chocolate. Mesmerized, he watched Daenerys take a bite, red juice dribbling down her chin. Fuck. He could watch her fold laundry or file taxes and it would make him hard. Jon looked away to distract himself. What else could he think about? Her favorite color was green, like tree leaves in summer and the sea near her home on Dragonstone. She always double-tied her shoelaces. She liked wine and hated beer. She had neat table manners, except with dessert. She snored. And she probably needed glasses from the way she squinted at the warming instructions on the prepackaged tea. Well shit. Now his dick and his chest were aching with longing.

“You ok?” her voice was soft. Jon blinked. Sitting on the counter, tousled, in her dark purple nightgown, swinging her feet as she nibbled on another berry. It was really unfair how cute she was. And too sexy to be real. Daenerys was beautiful. Inside and out. How the fuck would she ever pick him? Awkward. Working class. Too serious. A mess of hang-ups and neuroses. There was a list of men a mile long who would be lucky to polish her shoes or fetch her tea.      

“Yeah. Why?”

“You’re staring at that wall like it personally offended you.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I guess I never noticed the crack around the support beam. I’ll have to tell Mrs. Stark to check the foundation.”

“Good to know. You’re a handy man to have around, Mr. Snow,” Daenerys said with a grin. Jon sidled closer to sample a berry. The soft richness of the chocolate exploded on his tongue chased by the berry’s bright sweetness.

“Damn, that’s delicious,” he said. Daenerys smile widened. There was a strawberry seed stuck in one of her perfect teeth. She wrapped her leg around him, drawing him closer.

“Let me taste,” she said, bending to kiss him. Yeah, so good. Soft lips, the faint lingering sweetness of chocolate, the stroke of her tongue. Jon hummed happily into her mouth, hands sliding up the strong grip of her thighs. Velvet-soft skin and so warm. Her hair fell forward around them both like a living veil. Jon cupped her hips, growling as her fingernails delicately scraped his scalp. Daenerys drew his lower lip into her mouth, nibbling gently. The sensation sent blood surging south.

“Yeah, you taste good,” she said with a languid lick below his ear. Jon bit his lip to keep from whimpering. Flirty, dominant Daenerys was a whole new level of sexy. The kiss spun on, Daenerys teased and coaxed him into a fever pitch. Trapped against the counter, his cock twitched, eager for the slick heat of her. Her arms and legs hugged him close, her mouth mapping new paths to pleasure as she kissed and nibbled on his neck.

“Dany,” he breathed, desperate and needy. Daenerys did that thing to his ear with her tongue. Gods, he fucking loved that. Something in him snapped. Jon yanked her hips toward the edge of the counter.

“Lie back.” His accent thickened, his voice was hoarse and rough. Pupils blown wide, lips wet and pink, she looked utterly delectable. Gods, he wanted to devour her. His mouth filled with saliva. She sank back on her elbows on the polished counter, legs spread to welcome him. Jon nudged her thighs wider, breathing deep of her sweet musky smell. Mmm, her nether lips were already glistening from just a kiss. A soft lap opened her. He would never slake his longing for her. As he worked her clit, slowly, patiently, he listened to the music of her whimpers and sighs and incensed breathing. So good. With a sharp cry, she came against his face, awash with lube.

“Jon,” she whimpered, her hands fisted in hanks of his hair. Jon smiled against her pussy, nuzzling her nether lips tenderly. He would exploit his intimate knowledge of her body until she was clawing and begging for his cock. Jon teased her clit with his tongue, feeling her shudder.

“Jon, Jon,” her voice was sharp, cold. Jon looked up at her face, confused. All the lovely color had drained away, now she look pale, scared.

“There’s someone at the door.”

Fuck! Jon whirled around, positioning her directly behind him. The doorknob jiggled.

“Get the gun. Now!”

Daenerys slid off the counter and bounded for the stairs. Jon yanked a knife from the block on the island. Fear doused him like cold water. How was he such a fucking idiot? She was on the run for her life and here he was going down on her in the kitchen without a care in the world with Barry’s gun upstairs. Gods, he could get them both killed—

“Jon? Are you here?” Arya’s voice deflated all his tension. His little sister shouldered her way through the door, laden with plastic bags of takeaway. Outside, he heard the din of the rain, and saw her black truck parked on the circle drive.

“You’ll never believe it, but this fucking cattle truck was jack-knifed on the highway. And somehow the cows got loose and--”

“Arya? Seven fucking hells, you scared me!” Jon said, setting the knife down and moving around the island to help her.

“Dany, false alarm, it’s just Arya!” he called upstairs. Arya glared at him beneath her fringe of wet dark brown hair.

“I called you about a million times. Check your phone!” His phone. Wedged between the couch cushions somewhere. Gods, he was a fucking idiot. Jon glanced toward the stairs. Daenerys would be well within her rights to tell him to fuck all the way off and find a real bodyguard to protect her.

Arya’s grey eyes wandered over the scattered foodstuffs, the faint flickering of firelight, Jon standing awkwardly behind the island. He was decent, at least. That zing of adrenaline had killed any arousal. A catlike grin stretched on Arya’s face.

“You were fucking, weren’t you? Gods, Jon! I knew it! I knew you two were fucking!” Jon lunged for Arya, intent on wrestling her to the ground to shut her up. She danced around the island with ease, giggling.

“Shut up! Gods, Arya. Yes, if you must know, we’re intimate. But shut up about it, yeah?” he said. Arya set down her burden. The potent spice and oil wafting from it made his stomach gurgle. Dothraki barbeque.

“‘Intimate,’ he says. Prig. I can’t wait to tell Gendry. He owes me ten crowns.” Jon cast an aggrieved glance up. Gods save him from little sisters.

“You want me to beg, I’ll beg. Please shut up. She’s been through enough.”

Arya sobered, dragging her fingers through her wet hair.

“Yeah, it’s a tough go. You’re mad for her, aren’t you?” The question brought him up short. Jon swallowed hard.

“I am,” he said quietly. Arya whistled low.

“Does she feel the same?” Jon closed his eyes. Daenerys with the sun shining through her hair, smiling in his bed. Holding her hand in the tense cab ride from the city. The way her mouth formed his name as they made love. Did she?

Gods, he wanted it so bad.

“I . . . I don’t know.”

Arya shrugged, boosting herself up to sit on the counter.

“Have you asked?”

A soft clearing of throat saved him from answering. Daenerys glided down the stairs, dressed now in black leggings and a goldish sweater, the neckline loose enough to bare one shoulder. Barefoot, with her hair a wavy silken waterfall. She looked like something out of the fashion magazines Sansa poured over.

“Hey, sorry if I scared you. I’d phoned Jon I was coming over. I brought food!” Arya said with a charming smile. Daenerys returned the gesture with equal warmth.

“No worries, Jon and I had a movie on. We must have fallen asleep. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said with an easy handshake, “Arya, right? Jon’s told me about you.” Arya cast him a sly glance. A touch smug. It said, ‘She’s got your number, Snow.’ And damn if that wasn’t the gods’ honest truth.

“Good things, I hope.”

“Mostly that you’re a bit of a wild card, and could kick his ass seven ways to the sept,” Daenerys said with shy glance his way. Jon slid his hand into hers, hyper-aware of his little sister’s knowing gaze. Daenerys gave his hand a comforting little squeeze. Arya laughed, preening a little.

“That’s definitely true. Gendry—my boyfriend slash manager slash promoter—he says we could get a title shot if my next few fights go well.” Jon’s jaw dropped.

“You’re fighting again? Does your mum know?” he asked. Arya shrugged, her patented gesture when things got a little too uncomfortable—or if her mother came up in conversation. Arya’s desire and skill in the arena were a source of contention between her and her mother. All of her decisions were a source of contention with the formidable Mrs. Stark.

“She doesn’t want to hear about it. I mailed her an invite to my next fight. I hope to see her there. If not, I have a lot of people in my corner.”

Silence fell for a long, uncomfortable beat.  

“Thank you for braving this weather to bring us food,” Daenerys said after a moment, waving a hand to encompass the heavy rain.

Arya snorted, sliding down from the counter to rummage in the fridge for a beer. Deftly popping the cap off on the counter edge, she handed one to Daenerys before taking another for herself. Jon arched a brow at Arya. She grinned in answer, and Jon released Daenerys long enough to nudge behind Arya to snag a bottle of water for himself. No more fucking around. He was on watch. It earned an approving nod from his sister.

“It’s fine. Just a bit of rain. You should see the roads in winter. Sometimes even the snow plows get buried.”

“I’m a city girl. I don’t even have my permit,” Daenerys said as she sipped her beer.

“The north is the best place to learn to drive. Sheep outnumber people five to one,” Arya joked.

“Maybe I’ll learn then,” Daenerys said. She moved toward the bulging plastic sack of food, sniffing appreciatively.

Talk flowed easily as they heaped delicious roasted meat on their plates, redolent with spice. Traditional Dothraki stuff was mostly game, but the spice blend was perfect for beef. Arya told them about her training, her apartment, Gendry. Jon had met him once. Big bloke, a former fighter himself. The pole-axed look he gave Arya told Jon enough. Gendry was made for her.

“Mmm, you have Dothraki barbeque up here?”

“There’s a Dothraki transplant in Winterfell, Quono Riderman. His food is the best,” Jon said.

“I love Dothraki food. I was horse-mad as a kid. Mother hired a riding teacher Irri. She was a stickler for tradition. We’d always go to this authentic Dothraki restaurant after lessons,” Daenerys said. He was aware of Daenerys watching him as he tucked in.

“I’m surprised you can handle it,” Daenerys teased him, laughter in her eyes. A northerner to his core, he had a Westerosi palate. Arya and Daenerys added hot sauce to theirs, while Jon sweated. The meat was good, but gods. His mouth was on fire.

“It tastes great. The salad helps with the spice,” Jon said, trying not to cough. The greens and vegetables were crisp, and the vinegary dressing was cooling. The melty ice cream for dessert was even better, a coffee and chocolate swirl thing that was Arya’s favorite.

“So I hear there’s some bad blokes after you. Tell me about it,” Arya asked as they tidied the dishes. He watched worriedly as Daenerys paused, hands wrist-deep in soapy hot water.

“They call themselves the Harpy Triumvirate. Individuals from the three great cities of the Bay of Dragons: Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen. I run an anti-trafficking organization called Breaking Chains. They’ve been sending me death threats for years. Only this week they’ve backed up the talk with violence.” The words were cold, clinical. Jon could hear the lawyer paring down the terror and death into impartial facts. Arya whistled low.

“That sucks,” she said. The understatement drew a crooked smile from Daenerys. She glanced at him, a soft, shining look.

“It does suck. But Jon saved me. That day and every day since.” Arya’s grin glowed with pride.

“He’s a good bloke to have around in a sticky spot,” she said.

“He is,” Daenerys said. Seven hells, he was blushing. There was nothing he could say without sounding like a fatuous asshole, so Jon took a long draught from his water bottle.

“Daenerys, I’d be happy to show you a couple things. Just in case.”

Daenerys’ face lit up.

“I would love that.” Both looked to him. Jon lifted his hands.

“I volunteer to finish washing up,” he said. Daenerys chuckled, kissing his cheek in passing. The glancing touch sent little tingles through him. He fancied the spot glowed. Their amiable chatter made him deeply happy. Arya was easy to get along with, but she was also very protective of him. Seeing her get on so well with Daenerys set him at ease. It had been the same subtle feeling when he met and approved of Gendry. Jon washed the dishes, tidied the leftovers, wiped down the countertops and set the kettle aside for tea. An ear turned toward the den heard the murmur of their conversation, punctuated liberally with giggling. With women, giggling was usually a good sign.

Jon tiptoed to the den and peeked in. Arya stood behind Daenerys, one muscular arm locked around her neck, the other pinioning her hands behind her. Gods, Arya’s been training hard. She looks like she’s gained a stone in muscle.

“Ok, so if a fucker’s got you from behind, more than likely he’s gonna feel pretty confident. This hand--” Arya jiggled the one holding Dany’s wrists, “—will more than likely be relaxed, ‘cause he’s got an arm around your throat. So first snap back with your hips, create a little space.” Brow forked in concentration; Dany tried. Biting back a smile, Jon leaned against the doorjamb. It made him crazy to think of Dany having to use Arya’s self-defense techniques, but the demo was important.

“Like that?” she asked.

Arya smile grew broader.

“Yeah yeah, once you do that you break the hold of his hands, you can duck under the arm—yeah like that and rip his junk off.”

“Leave the fucker writhing in pain as you run off,” Jon interjected. Arya had Daenerys repeat the move and its variations on both her and Jon over and over again. After forty-five minutes of training, his shoulders and chest felt a little sore, but he counted it worth it. Daenerys winced as she stood after Arya demonstrating some sort of Yi Tish balance-block move. Arya helped her up, nodding in sympathy.

“My first coach Syrio said every bruise is a lesson, and every lesson makes you better.”

“He sounds like a wise man,” Daenerys said. By consensus, they agreed more training would wait. They collapsed back on the couch. Arya sobered.

“Syrio’s a tough old bastard. He told me there is only one god, and his name is Death. And there is only one thing we say to Death: Not today.”

                                                               ~

 Daenerys and Jon stood on the porch waving to Arya as she drove off into the dusk. The rain had let up slightly, but grey clouds brooded overhead. Daenerys nestled closer to Jon’s side. Even in summer, the evening chill was biting. Jon followed her back inside and together they wordlessly began tidying the remnants of their meal. Despite the late lunch, Arya rummaged through the fridge and insisted on a bit of supper. Robb and Margaery’s choice of lobster was excellent, as was the turtle soup sopped up with oven-warmed bread dripping with butter. Calories didn’t count on the lam.

“Are you sure you’re ok with this?” she asked.

Arya had pointed out rather succinctly that given the odds against them, Jon was outnumbered and outmanned. Winterfell with its high walls, cameras, and hired security were a far better option. Anxiety coiled taut in her belly. A sidelong glance found his brow knitted, a frown flattening the lush curve of his mouth. Jon had been explicit: he wouldn’t risk his family for her sake. Arya had been quick to wave off any concern. The youngest two Bran and Rickon were south for the weekend with their mother visiting Mrs. Stark’s family in the River district. Mr. Stark was in the Storm district on business, Sansa was at uni.

Daenerys buried her hands in the dishwater to hide them shaking. Of course he wouldn’t want her in Winterfell. Even with most of his family away, Arya was still there, who he obviously adored. He had only known her for a week. He owed her nothing. The silence was unbearable.

“Would you say something?” she said sharply. Jon glanced at her, his scowl deepening.

“What?” he asked.

“’What?’” Daenerys repeated, “If you don’t want me to go to Winterfell, just say so. I can find my own way.”  

The words emerged sharper and nastier than she intended, but the thought of being unwanted pricked her deepest insecurities. Her father had wanted another son, Vis had wanted to live without the burden of a little sister, Daario wanted Jeyne. Daenerys chewed on her lower lip, struggling to breathe down the shrieking panic. Jon had become a safe place, a peaceful paradise. Without him, she felt cast adrift, rudderless. Something in his posture stiffened. His dark eyes flashed.

“You want to leave?” he said quietly. No. No, never.

“You’ve done enough. I can--”

“‘Done enough?’ Yeah, nearly gotten you killed, right? Or do you mean fucking you? Was that ‘enough?’” Daenerys flinched as if he’d struck her and shook her head, marching in the direction of the stairs. She would pack up a few things and hike to the nearest petrol station. A phone call to Vis or Jory would be enough.

“Stop, Jon. Now you’re just being nasty.” Jon followed her, dark and thunderous as the stormclouds outside. The bedroom was a wreck, sheets and blankets strewn on the floor from their earlier lovemaking. Tears clogged her throat.

“No, no. Here we are again. Spell it out for me,” Jon said.

“Why are you acting like this? You’re the one who didn’t want me to go to Winterfell!” Daenerys said, her voice climbing to a near shout. Jon matched her in ferocity and volume, squaring off across the bed from her.

“I didn’t know my family was away! If I had, I would have taken you there first!” Daenerys blinked, confused.

“But--”

Jon sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her and raked a hand through his hair.

“Do you realize how fucking stupid I feel about this afternoon?” he said. Daenerys circled the bed to sit beside him. His expression was tortured.

“What if it wasn’t Arya at the door? I could have gotten you killed! You deserve a battalion of guards to keep you safe. If you don’t want a fuck-up for a bodyguard, I get it. If things are too intense and confusing and you’re looking for an easy out, I get it. But don’t ever think it’s because I don’t want you around. That never gonna happen. Get me?” Daenerys choked back a sob. One tear eked free, and Jon smoothed it away with his thumb. The tenderness of the gesture broke her heart.

“I trust you, Jon. I trust you. And I don’t want to go anywhere without you.” I love you. How she wished she was brave enough to say those words.

“We’ll go to Winterfell in the morning. Together,” she said, taking his hand and pressing kisses on the back.

“Together,” Jon said, drawing her close for a kiss.

Perhaps it was the thought of separation, or the fact that privacy would be scarce in Winterfell, but passion boiled quick and sweet. Sensation blurred. Mm, Jon’s dark, worshipful gaze, long, drinking kisses, undressing her as if she was something fragile and precious. She let her touch speak for her, writing words of love on his body. They moved together, a gentle, timeless eternity. Climax washed over her in deep spasms. Jon followed her soon after, panting her name against her neck. They drowsed in the tub together, fell asleep in each other’s arms.

A beam of sunlight woke her. She squinted at the aperture of the curtains, and the sun-dappled blur of greenery beyond. Behind her, Jon snuffled in his sleep. The arm draped around her twitched. Daenerys kissed him awake.

“Good morning,” she whispered. Jon cracked open one eye.

“‘Mornin,’” he rumbled.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll make tea.”

“M’kay,” he said, already drifting off.

She slid from bed, stretching. Gods, with Jon she slept better than she ever had. Braiding her hair and dressing in clean clothes made her feel ready to greet the day. The burner phone buzzed on the nightstand. She snagged it, creeping into the hallway so as not to disturb Jon. Good, she needed to talk to Vis.

“Hello, Daenerys.” The smooth voice was unfamiliar. Fear sang through her.

“Who is this?” she whispered.

“Where are my manners? My name is Ramsay Bolton. Now, you naughty girl, look at your boytoy.”

“What—Where--?”

“Look.” Daenerys looked at Jon, asleep in bed, a red laser dot floating on his forehead. Oh gods.

“Now listen very carefully.”          

[norafike]

Despite All This, I still love you 24

Because ao3 decided to publish chapters a number ahead that means chapter 24 here is chapter 25 so technically speaking, this is the chapter that I have sorta been lowkey teasing for  a while. Hope y’all enjoy it regardless.. :)

Upon their return to Shady Belle, Grimshaw had forced Nora back to her corner to continue resting and wouldn't allow her to be sat alone without any supervision from one of the gang members for fear of her deciding to sneak away again. Nora didn't mind the company when it wasn't Bill or Micah but the days where they were forced to accompany her were one of the worse days of her life.

But after a few days of constant rest she was back to the old Nora they all grew to adore, walking fine and functioning free of any stiff movements. She still had a few scrapes here and there from that unfortunate night that wasn't completely healed but the stinging was manageable.

“Do you really have to go?” Mary-Beth asked as she followed behind the two as they prepared the horses for leaving. Lem's own horse was more than happy to finally leave Shady Belle but Branwen, who Charles asked Nora to take with her, did not want to leave so soon without his owner.

“Unfortunately, I have too.” Nora turned towards Mary-Beth and gave her a sympathetic smile. “Cripps has been left with my brothers for a bit too long, which is never a good sign.”

“Well ride safe, Nora… and don't get yourself caught by any O'Driscoll's again, please.” Nora chuckled at Mary-Beth's words and waved goodbye as she walked back down towards the house. When the other girl was gone did Nora finally turn towards Lem and Charles to help them with the stubborn horse.

“I don't think beggin' the poor creature is gonna help, Lemuel.” She joked, leaning against one of the hitching stations.

“It worked with Casper.”

“But Casper likes you, Branwen hardly knows anyone who isn't Kieran.”

“What do suggest we do then?” He sighed.

“Just be gentle.” Nora approached the stallion and gently placed her palm flat against the horse's muzzle. She half expected the horse to pull away but instead he only leaned further into her palm and let out a huff of air.

“He likes you,” Charles said.

“Most things do.” Lem returned before whistling his horse over. He looked at Nora for a moment and this sad look washed over his face, something that Charles raised an eyebrow to when he acknowledged it.

“Reckon he'll let you ride him?”

Nora looked over at the men and shrugged slowly before walking around to the horse's side. She would pat him a couple of times before mounting up and waiting for the horse to buck her off but he had accepted the new rider with no problems and Nora let out a long celebratory cheer.

“We have an answer.” She answered. With his job practically finished, Charles left the two of them and all that was left was for them both to leave but Nora was hesitant in doing just that.

“You're gonna be fine, Nora.” Lem called and she agreed, although rather reluctantly.

“Come on, when we get back I'll have Cripps make you a ‘Cripps special stew’ how's that sound?”

“Sounds lovely.”

“Come on then.”

...

“She's alive!” JB Cripps cheered the minute he spotted Nora coming in and she smiled towards him

“Hello, Cripps.” The older man ran towards the pair and Nora was barely off of her horse before he had pulled her in for a hug, very happy to finally have her back. Harry and James even rushed over and praised Lem for keeping her safe, which was very out of character for the brothers to do.

“Glad to see those two ain't killed each other yet.” Nora pointed at her brothers as they stood with their arms crossed near the group's tents.

“They came close. Poor Maggie Fike had to help with that.”

“What was so bad that you needed to get help for?”

“They had a knife fight in Valentine, nothin' too serious fortunately but I had to get Maggie and Marcel to pull themselves from each other.”

Lem gave Cripps a quizzical look, a bit curious to see how on earth Maggie, his aunt, was able to pull anyone off of someone with how bad of a state she was in. “How exactly did Maggie do that?”

“She didn't exactly separate the brothers, but she did almost shoot one of them with her cane.”

“Sounds about right,” Lem said before leaving Nora and Cripps to enter the groups camp.

“How are Maggie and Marcel anyway?”

Cripps wanted to mention how little hope Miss Fike had for Nora's return but chose that such a topic shouldn't be brought up and kept amongst the adults, but he forced a kind look and patted her shoulder. “They're good. Missin' you so you should go visit them soon.”

“I had plans too anyway.”

“Well, I won't keep you too long, it's great havin' you back though.” With that, Cripps left Nora to stand alone and instead of her brother's greeting her just as Cripps had done they simply regarded her with a subtle nod before leaving.

The only person Nora did enjoy talking too was Lem but he looked like he didn't want to be bothered any longer, sat at the campfire with a big frown on his face and so she only did the next best thing she could do, walk to her own tent and read a book for a few hours until something interesting was brought up for her to do.

...

“Hey, Maggie has a request for you.” Lem leaned into her tent, his hand planted on the rod that held the opening up and she smiled at the news of being needed for work so soon. Honestly, she was happy to finally be back on her feet so soon.

“Lovely,” Nora said in response, pulling herself from the cot and walking with Lem in tow over towards the horses. Casper let out a whinny when he saw Nora approach and she felt this surge of happiness well up inside her just from being reunited with her beloved horse.

“You may need this too.” She turned around and in his hand was the same schofield revolver he had gifted her before, the one she thought to be lost when those O'Driscoll's attacked her.

“God I got so upset when I dropped this.” She exclaimed as she took the weapon from his hands and holstered it. “It's a gun but damn it means a lot to me.”

“Does it?”

Nora nodded. “Of course it does, my best friend got it me.”

Lem's face only sank at her kindness and he looked away to hide the shame. She arched an eyebrow at the reaction and opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong but Lem only let out a long breath of air before saying his farewells and leaving her to get on with that business his aunt had prepared.

Nora watched as he walked away, turning towards Casper and shrugging as if the horse had asked what his problem was before mounting up herself. If he was in a better mood later she would ask him about it then, at least, if he was willing to talk.

...

The smell of berries and smoke from the basement was a pleasant surprise as she entered the shack. She welcomed it with a fond smile, lingering above the staircase just so she could continue smelling it longer.

“Nora, it's nice to see you alive and in one piece.” Maggie stood in the doorway, her cane held in front of her as she leaned against the doorway. Nora gasped in surprise and recoiled from the bannister, looking over at Maggie with a slightly annoyed expression.

“Y-Yeah, don't gotta scare me though.”

Maggie chuckled and turned around, hobbling back inside the room and expecting Nora to follow her. “I got an easy task for you since you've just come off of bed rest from what my nephew told me.”

“How easy?”

“If you can taint stills without gettin' caught, then easy. Sneakin' in and out'll be challenging though.”

Nora nodded as she took a sealed envelope from Maggie's hands that she handed over. “Lem asked me to give you this. Told me to tell you to not open it, at least, not until after you soured the rivals batch.”

“Why couldn't he hand it to me himself?” She asked as she tucked it away in her satchel, patting the bag gently following.

“I don't know.” Maggie walked around the desk and took a seat in the usual spot, giving Nora a proud grin as she leaned forward. “Fortunately for you, the rivals ain't too far.”

“Where too?”

“Butcher's creek.. nothin' you ain't dealt with before.” Nora nodded and headed for the door, pushing it open but not getting too far out before Maggie had called her back. She leaned into the room but was still halfway in the process of leaving, waiting for Maggie to say what she needed to add. “It's great to have you back, Nora. Didn't doubt you returning for a second.”

“It's great to be back, Miss Fike.”

...

She couldn't recall stealth ever being this hard or herself being this rusty at anything ever before, perhaps it was the time she had spent away from any action that faltered her skill or maybe she was just not good as what she previously thought.

“D'you hear somethin'?” One person asked once she took a step too far forward, snapping a twig. Nora gasped and quickly hid amongst the bushes and crates, praying the shadows concealed her enough as the guards came to investigate the noise.

“You were probably hearin' things again, Lyle.” Another replied but the one she alerted still looked around the area suspiciously.

“I don't know… seemed too real.”

“How the fuck-” The other guard let out a long groan and Nora found amusement in the frustrations she could relate too from living with her brothers. “you know what, I ain't dealin' with you today.”

“Whatever,” Lyle replied. He had inspected the area as best as he could and still missed Nora hiding there, walking away in annoyance with the false acceptance of his friend being right.

From what she could see there was only one vat set up which meant that as soon as the guards were gone she could sneak over, taint it and run; in and out. It seemed simple but they were not moving and Nora did not want to deal with killing two guys all at once, with her brothers this job would be a lot easier and she wondered why she didn't ask them to accompany her.

She lost count of how long she had been sitting there but eventually, one guy did walk away and from behind it looked like that ‘Lyle’ fella who had almost caught her earlier and so when he was far enough away she crept over, keeping an eye on the last guard who had his back to her and briskly poured in the mixture Maggie had concocted. Now, she just needed to get out of there.

She backed away, keeping her eyes glued onto the guard and when she felt she was far enough away she whistled for her horse. Unfortunately, it did alert some more people who were in proximity but they assumed it to be someone whistling while on the job and they chose to pay it no mind.

She couldn't mount up and gallop away, that would most definitely bring over some curious people but Casper was a good horse who followed his owner closely. There were a few huffs here and there and the one whinny but they were able to sneak far enough away from Butcher's Creek for her to pull herself back into the saddle and allow the horse to take her away.

“Let's go home, Casper.” She said, patting the horse's neck and urging him forward in a gentle trot. With the slow pace they moved at, she reached into her satchel and pulled free that envelope Lem had his aunt pass on. It was a little crumpled from being tucked away but wasn't ruined too badly and using her hunting knife she tore it open to pull out the letter.

When she read the note her heart sank and she could not believe the words penned on the paper. She had to pull on Casper's reins to get him to stop moving, still struggling to process what he couldn't talk to her about in person. A stray tear rolled down her cheek and she let out a sob once it all kicked in. Nora didn't cry when the O'Driscoll's attacked but what Lem had said did get to her.

“I still… I still have time.” She said softly, amidst the tears and spurred Casper into a gallop, diverting the route to Emerald Station where she presumed him to be. Maggie couldn't travel too far and that train station was the nearest to their moonshine shack, so it would have been the only logical spot they could go.

...

Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw Marcel helping Maggie onto a train carriage, Lem standing behind them with that same sullen face from earlier with Cripps only a few feet away. He was the first to spot her and the guilt kicked in the minute the recognition kicked in, but he couldn't bring himself to apologise; Nora didn't stay long enough to let him as she dismounted and ran to Lem's side.

“Lemuel!” She called and he froze in place. Maggie gave Marcel an awkward glance before having him move faster inside, not wanting to deal with this situation or be caught up in it.

“What's goin' on, Lem?” She asked but the male didn't answer, he only forced himself to finally turn around and face her and the consequences he brought upon himself from keeping as big a secret like this from his best friend.

“I-” All words were lost in that moment and he found himself incapable of offering an explanation even though she so desperately sought one.

“Nora, I gotta go.” He tried to deflect the situation itself and worm away but Nora didn't him too, she needed him more than either realised.

“Lem, you can't go- not yet.” Lem turned behind and looked as though he was contemplating something in those moments before he let out one final sigh, his decision had been made and he wasn't sure when an opportunity like this would arise again.

He dropped the suitcase to the ground and his hand moved to cup her cheek, his thumb wiping away some of the tears that began to fall.

Lem's head tilted softly to the side before he finally leaned in, closing any space between them as he finally caught her in a kiss and her arms froze awkwardly by her side, unsure of what to do with them or what to do with herself in this situation. But this was something Nora had wanted to do for oh so long and when he finally initiated it she didn't want to lose it, so gently she kissed back.

Minutes that felt like hours passed by before Lem did eventually pull away, his hand still on her cheek and now his forehead resting against hers. “I'll be back eventually, Nora. But there's s-something that I need to do first, that Maggie needs me for.”

“I wouldn't be upset if you told me what it is.” She whispered and Lem looked just as upset when she said this. He wanted to explain himself, but Maggie had given him strict orders not too, not even he knew the full extent of the reasons for their leaving.

“I have to go.” He didn't stick around too long, gathering what he had and pulling away from the girl. She stood there on the platform, watching as he boarded the train carriage and when he was finally inside and at the seats where his aunt was, did he look up and wave goodbye, still waving as the train pulled away.

The train was long gone as well as any sign of the Fike's but she still stood on that platform, holding onto those final moments shared Lem. Not willing to let them go.

“How long did you know?” She asked Cripps as she felt him creeping up behind her and he stopped dead in his tracks at the hurt in her voice, it feeling like a shot to the heart.

“Maggie asked me a couple of days ago, but they been planning this for a while now.”

“Christ, It's stupid of me to be upset over this isn't it?”

“Not at all.” Cripps placed a hand against her shoulder and gently squeezed it. “I was upset when Maggie an' I didn't get married.”

“You walked out on that, that was your fault.”

Cripps nodded slowly. “I know, was jus' trying to be helpful.”

“It helped a little.” She sighed.

“Come on, let's go home.” Cripps pulled his hand away and walked over to the wagon he drove over, leaving her to join him or ride back by herself when she was ready.

She stood for a minute longer before dragging herself over to the wagon, taking Cripps' hand as he helped her up. Casper was left untethered but she still whistled regardless so he could follow behind them.

“Cheer up, Nora. Maggie can't stay away for too long so they're gonna be back eventually... just gotta be patient.”

[37-children-of-the-dreams]

Day #11: Camping With Weapons

I remembered my first camping trip. It was nice, but the coyotes were everywhere. At least these guys won’t have to deal with a tornado ruining a camping trip.

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

Another day at the jungle planet and Fennec was sure that whatever Crosshair was doing today, it made no sense that Korkie would bring on a sword. Sure, it’s made from pure beskar and has been in multiple battles from centuries before, but why bring one? A blaster could do a better job at defending and it’s clear to anyone that Korkie was a novice with a bladed weapon.

“Well, it’s not like I shouldn’t use it,” Korkie argued. “It’s my family heirloom.”

“I think the fan is better,” Crosshair retorted. “Might keep you cool.”

“That fan is a long range weapon in secret. You guys have your rifles. I’m taking my family sword for my safety.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes as the three exited out of the ship. The terrain was rather different from yesterday due to the downpour. The rain only stopped some hours ago when they were all sleeping, and the land was extremely muddy.

Crosshair smiled and jumped first into the mud. Fennec and Korkie stepped back from him as the sniper snickered at the sight of the two surprised people. Fennec gave him a glare and had her hands up as Korkie touched the mud with his feet.

“What’s wrong?” he laughed. “Scared of camo? This terrain might be better than yesterday’s because we’re about to learn how to camouflage when sniping.”

“I’m not scared of mud,” Fennec cried. “I never thought you’d be happy to see mud.”

“I like mud,” Korkie said. “It meant the crops will be watered for some time.”

Fennec looked at Korkie. He had his hands and feet started to get covered with mud. If it weren’t for the blaster and sword on his hips, Fennec would have said he blended already with the environment because he picked some green clothes to wear. He got to look more like the ground when Crosshair grabbed Korkie and shoved him to the ground.

“I like mud too,” Crosshair said. “It’s soft and no one will know I’m close because I look like the ground you’re on.”

Korkie said nothing as he got to his feet. Then, he grabbed a handful of mud and threw them at Crosshair. Crosshair shrugged it off and covered himself with the mud. 

“Please don’t make me do that,” Fennec thought.

Crosshair grabbed some mud and showed it to Fennec. Fennec had to reluctantly take the mud and camouflage herself. She was thankful that her hair was already a wooden color or else it would be caked in mud. Crosshair went to the nearest bush and took off some leaves to finish his look as Korkie and Fennec followed his lead.

“Now, Korkie,” Crosshair called. “You said there were some game food here?”

“Mostly something walking on four legs and looked like a deer,” Korkie explained. “They were near berry bushes, so we should find a berry bush.”

Fennec used her rifle’s scope to find a berry bush and saw on a few meters near them. Fennec pointed out the bush and ran for it leaving the men behind her. When she got close to the bush, she saw what animal Korkie saw in his visions. An alien deer with brown spots on its back and grey hooves. It’s small body was covered in berry juice and she couldn't fully see the head. Fennec stopped and sat herself to shoot the deer. The animal didn’t see her and she had a perfect shot.

BANG!

The rifle shot and hit something. It was the deer, but not the head. The deer had manage to sense something was wrong and got it’s head out of the bush and Fennec had shot on of its antlers. The antler where it was shot had chipped and the deer was mad. It looked for signs of its shooter and Fennec went back to her stance and hit the deer again.

It missed the deer and the deer knew where Fennec was. Fennec went back to her shooting position but the deer was faster and attempted to ram her when her rifle shot through the air and hit the deer on its head.

It went down deceased as the men got to her.

“You did it!” Korkie cheered. “You shot it.”

“I made a mistake,” Fennec flatly said. “I didn’t see it’s head first. I almost rammed me.”

“But,” Crosshair started. “You’re not injured. So, we get food.”

“I want to try again.”

Crosshair got to her side and sat next to her.

“I get that. I do, but unless we know where we can trade excess food. We can’t keep shooting the animals to death.”

“Then just one more. Maybe a bird. Korkie, are there any birds here?”

“Yes, but it’s game birds are mostly close to the waterfalls and cliffs, which are some kilometers from us.”

“Then, how about none game birds?”

Korkie looked at her with concern. He does understand how gratifying it is to feel useful, but he also didn’t want to kill any non-game birds. He might be miles away from his former pet birds, but it doesn’t mean he’s willing to kill ones like them.

Thankfully, Crosshair got the memo. He remembered how kind Korkie was his former pets.

“You know, how about we go get those waterfall birds? We got our camping gears and I think the rain won’t come back.”

“It won’t,” Korkie agreed. 

The three went on a walking trip to the cliffs. Crosshair and Korkie were busy hauling the deer as Fennec watched the scenery ahead of them. It was beautiful and peaceful. Yet, she knows better, illusions are everywhere and they’re more dangerous at night. As they reached their destination, Fennec heard the birds at they flew over them. She ran to a cliff and almost lost her footing before Korkie used the Force to pull her back. She looked at Korkie to thank him, but saw that he had gotten on his knees and was breathing hard.

“Sorry,” he coughed. “I mostly used the Force for visions. Pulling things with the Force was hard for me to learn.”

“Then, I’ll try not to do that again,” Fennec said.

Crosshair pulled Korkie to his feet and sat with the exhausted man as Fennec search the area for a good camping spot. She saw there was a small area near the waterfall and went back to the man. Korkie felt better as he went back to hauling the deer with Crosshair. The placed tents at the area and realized they only had two.

“You guys have to share a tent,” Fennec said. “I’m a woman. Women need all the space.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to bunk with either or us,” Korkie pointed out.

“Yes, you talk in your sleep and he never wakes people up.”

“Fine, we’ll get the better tent,” Crosshair said. “There’s two of us and you’re wanting to be alone.”

Fennec said nothing and went to watch the birds away from the men. They were so close to her, she could see their nest and all their movements at the nest. She wanted to shoot one right now and just feel better after letting a deer get to her psyche. She sat on her feet just looking at what she wanted from them.

Crosshair saw her looking at the birds with contempt and asked Korkie if he knows how to cut a deer.

“Yes, I wanted the butcher to teach me how to cut meat,” he answered. “It worked to my advantage. I can cut the deer, you try to make sure Fennec won’t just shoot the birds without you.”

Crosshair left Korkie to cut the deer as he walked to Fennec. He sat down next to her and smiled.

“You can’t just ran there and shoot one,” he said. “Your mind’s not clear for now. Relax it.”

Fennec took a deep breath and exhaled. She did her technique five more times and got to calm down. She looked at Crosshair. He still had on his muddy camouflage while she had somewhat lost many of her camouflage.

“You brought extra clothes with you right?” Fennec asked.

“They’re mostly worn out clothes,” Crosshair explained. “But, I’m not rich.”

“I think Korkie there would love to buy you some clothes.”

“You got worn out ones, too, you know. Ask him if he’d like to spend money on your clothes.”

“I think he prefers you first. You had him first before you guys met me. Or do you not want to ruin your reputation?”

“I don’t. It’s just that Korkie’s technically poor now. I haven’t had the money talk with him yet, but I think I need to now.”

Fennec nodded and they looked at the birds with the idea that they know how they’ll hit a bull’s eye on them. Crosshair got up and Fennec did the same. They slowly walked near the cliffs. The birds were right at the best shooting range. Fennec set her rifle as Crosshair looked at her. No hesitation, she shot. 

Bull’s eye. A bird went down on the land near the campsite. 

Korkie looked up and waved at the two as he finished cutting up the meat for dinner. He was happy at how happy Fennec looked as the two ran after her kill. Fennec ran to Korkie with the bird in her hands.

“I did it!” she shouted. “I got a bull’s eye without a problem.”

“Always knew you could,” Korkie smiled. “You’re dedicated and you have the best teacher. You’ll be one legendary sniper in no time.”

The three laugh as they rested from the hunt. The cooking was going to take long so Fennec went away to shower underneath the waterfall. When she came back from her shower happily whistling, she saw Korkie taking a bath at the river as Crosshair was chewing on another toothpick.

She never had a great time camping, but these two showed her how nice it was to camp like a family. It was just her and her two new brothers.

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

Previously

[bijoulilou]

If Jude's parents still lived pt 3

Days had passed since that night. When I awoke, I was in my own bed, Taryn sprawled on the floor. I had deduced that we had come through my bedroom window on the second floor. Vivi answered my question by throwing it open herself and crawling through gracefully. She had given me a triumphant expression that I couldn't help but complement with a tired but relieved smile.

I didn't bother running that morning or any other after that. Dad noticed right away and asked if something was wrong. I merely replied that I was exhausted. But it wasn't true. None of it was. As I sat at my desk taking notes for history, my mind starts to wonder if I should join a gym or run around the track something falls out of my book. My eyes widen and I slowly reach to pick it up off the floor.

A black feather, the plumage so dark its iridescence shines between a purple and blue twirls between my fingers. I look up to see if anyone notices but they don't. I quickly place it beneath my notebook and turn the page to continue with lecture. There are scribbles there, too elegant to be my own, written anecdotes that don't make any sense. At least not to others like me. At end of the page there's a familiar one, Tayrn and I used to wonder aloud what it meant growing up and Vivi would tease us with a possible answer.

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

I remember Cardan tangling his arms through my own as we danced. The honeyed wine I was warned against drinking, the hungry eyes that gathered around and reveled in my humaness. How tired I became and the way we sat and talked for what seemed forever.

I glance at the page until class is over, I try to push the thought of it out of my head for the rest of day. After school, practice is a welcome distraction from the constant buzz of senior nonsense. During this time I don't have to worry about college admission, scholarships or be invested in Taryn's clique drama. She eats up the attention and admiration from everyone, particularly when she gets casted for a lead in a play. When we went back to public school, there was this expectation that it was going to be weird. After watching hours of television, with plotlines revolving around outsiders being rebuked by the general pop--it was natural to be wary. But no, not many people cared if we were homeschooled for a bit. They found us interesting and entertaining. I remember Taryn glowing with pride when our classmates would invite us over to their table for lunch or to hang out after pickup. I was bored and preferred Dad showing me his creations or mom her medicines. It amazes me how right the weapons always felt in my hand, especially the weight of the sword. Dad beamed and said I looked like a knight, I think that's why I took to sports so easily, I played other sports in the off season to stay in shape and ready. Mom would lecture us when we'd play with wooden swords about strategy and cunning. Vivi would leave the room, she didn't want to hear stories of battles that didn't happen or the undercut ways to win wars. But the way mom would describe would sound so real, she'd stop talking about when dad came in the room. Mom would wipe us with poultice and make us strands of hawthorn and rowan berries when we'd play in the woods. After we started hanging out with other children she'd stop doing it as much.

A teammate of mine had tackled the lights out of me, I felt the wind get wicked out of my lungs. This wasn't like me, to be here but not totally here. To be absentminded.

In the locker room, after a very long cold shower and scaring some of my teammates with my scowl, I slowly get dressed.

"Pick your poison." Katie, dark haired with deep bronze skin holds up a kinesthetic tape and baby aspirin. I pick the aspirin, taking two with a swig from my water bottle. Katie hands me the tape anyway and I reluctantly start to wrap up my ribs, hissing during the process. The phrase sticks in my head, like a rhyme.

Pick your poison.Pick your Poison.Pick your--

"Do you want to go to Laken's party tonight?" Mara asks us. She's the one that tackled me out on the field, she gives me an apologetic expression. I throw a pair of dirty socks at her and call it even. Mara accepts this with a wrinkled nose and sits next to me, waiting for our answer. Katie nods, we were going to go hang out at a coffee shop and do homework. But after today, I can blow some steam.

"Let me just drop off my bag at home at first." They both give me an unimpressed eye roll. They suspect that I'll bail, I'm not a huge fan of Laken's parties. They tend to get out of hand, not in a fun way either. "I gotta run it by parents first, you guys know how my mom hates texts."

They nod. It's only half true that , mom hates when we text her, she'd prefer seeing our faces with face time or in person. She's been wary about us being on our own as we get older. Dad usually covers for us, like he did for that night in woods. He thinks mom worries too much.

"Hey Jude, there's someone here for you." One of the junior girls notifies me. My brow furrows in frustration. Taryn can be a real priss sometimes, she detests coming into the locker room. Taryn complains of the smell, but I swear the boys locker room's stench wafts all the way to the tennis courts.

Katie gives annoyed snort, " That sister of yours is a piece of work."

Before I can defend Taryn, Mara interrupts and says she'll walk me out and makes us confirm that we'll meet up later. Katie and I give a half hearted okay. When I try to hand Katie back her wrap she tells me to keep it. I give her a thanks, which is rare. We call it a truce.

As we're walking out Mara starts to ask me what's the deal between Katie and Taryn. I explain that those two have always been at odds since middle school. Taryn accuses her of being a nag and a bore, Katie says that she's pushy and manipulative. Mara sighs, but before she can say anything, a slight girl with thick cloud of white hair greets me. Except she's not a girl.

Mara waves goodbye, telling me she'll hopefully see me later at Laken's party. My visitor greets me but I can see through disguise. A boy in passing gives her a hooded look, she responds by winking. As she retrieves a beanie from her back pocket, he looks back repeatedly hoping to catch her eye. She's oblivious, or probably doesn't care, as she asks me to follow her. Without hesitation, she grabs my hand to lead me anyway.

Not sure why, but I follow her. I could easily take her, magical being or not. We walk the past tennis courts cutting through the now empty fields to some abandoned benches. There's a slumped figure sipping what seems like a slurpee, the closer I get i can see that he isn't human either. His crooked nose hangs at a strange angle while his skin has unhealthy green gleam beneath it. I ask if he's alright and she grins like it's a joke. She whistles and he looks up but I see another figure shoots up like a bullet.

I stop, unable to help my jaw from dropping. Its Cardan dressed in casual clothes like his companions.

"Are you all actually dressed in regular clothes or is that glamour?" The three of them stiffen. "Is everyone really that surprised that I figured that out? I mean my sister is one of you. Half of you?" I wave off that math problem and face the one at hand.

"Ah. Yes and no." Cardan admits, the other two don't know how to process his open honesty. He makes introductions, "These are my acquaintances, I trust them with most things and I hope you do the same. This is the Bomb and the Roach." The male does a little curtsey while the female does a flourish with her hat as she bows.

"Fancy," I admonish," I am Jude as you all know." I bend my knees a little and awkwardly wave. Cardan beams and I start to notice all the little details. He's wearing an outfit that seems oddly familiar with a few tags sticking out. The Bomb and the Roach's attire look worn and inconspicuous.

"Funny, I would have thought you referred to as the Queen." The Roach points one of my many embellished sweaters I have on. An oversized maroon pullover with my nickname scrawled in gold on the sleeves and crown on my chest. Dad gave it to me for Christmas. There's a knitted cal that's meant to look like a crown at the back of my closet. I wear that after a game to show good sportsmanship.

"Yeah. Hey, I've seen that before. Did you get that off a mannequin at Target?" I squint and start to pull off the tags. Yep, definitely from Target. I notice the venti spiked black matte Starbucks cup in Cardan's hand. "DUDE! I've been saving up to get that. Where did you get this?"

"I just happened to come upon this today." Cardan casually shrugs but the way he phrases it sounds strange.

" You took this from someone didn't you." I can imagine him on his way out of the store with bags in hand, spotting this cup and taking someone's order.

"It was there in the open, nobody had claimed it. I assure you." Cardan rises and beckons me forward. "Did you get any of my messages?"

Before I could answer, the Bomb steps in. "Your highness, perhaps it be a better idea to have this conversation in closed quarters."

Cardan assess her but agrees with a tilt of his chin. "Jude, would you join me?" He extends his hand towards me as the other two turn to leave into the woods.

"Where? Wait where are they going?"

Cardan sighs and extends his hand again, "Do you trust me?"

Without hesitation I hand him my bag and say, "No. But I've got questions. Perhaps you can fill me in." I take his hand instead and start leading him away from the forest and start dialing my mom's number. I press a finger to my lips, gesturing for him to stay quiet. Mom picks up on the third ring, opting for face time.

"Hey mom. My friends and I are going out to eat and I might spend the night at Katie's. Laken's having a party." I roll my eyes at the last bit.

Mom tucks her hair behind her ears, revealing the seashell drop earrings Taryn gave her for mother's day. With a grimace, she calls Laken an awful child which prompts her to ask questions. Where's Taryn? Have I heard from Vivi? Why am I going to said awful child's thing if I detest it so much? What's the point of having so many children if they dont keep an eye for each other?

While I answer her questions with mostly shrugs and half hatched answers, Cardan observes the contents of my backpack. I throw my shoe at him, quickly hanging up before my mom can hear his disapproval.

"You should be so lucky." Cardan sighs and pulls on a beanie with my name emblazoned on it. Taryn made that so people don't confuse us, I'm not that narcissistic. "Ah, there it is. So you did get my messages." He flips through my notebooks and pulls out what looks like the feather I found in class today.

Cardan zips up my backpack while I decide what's the best course of action.

"Is it safer if we go to a human place to eat or your potential hide hole?" He cocks an eyebrow in my direction. "I only assume it's not where you actually live. I doubt I'm welcomed there."

Cardan fixes upon me, measuring my pause and I'm afraid he can hear how fast my heart is beating. I put my hand on my hips, relieved that I left my sports bag in my locker. All that weight might slow us down again.

"Let's go somewhere safe for the both of us." Cardan gestures and I take his hand to lead us to the diner.

We walk at a leisurely pace as Cardan takes in the sights and observing my kind in their natural habitats. We make it to the Moonlight diner to find it mostly empty. I lead Cardan to a booth and wait for the waitress to greet us.

Watching Cardan bounce on the seats and dump the sugar out of the canister prompts me to apologize and order water and napkins. The waitress is not amused by my companion's peculiar behavior. I mouth that he's an exchange student before she walks away. Cardan flips through the menu, catching the reflection off the laminated surface, he starts to flip it back and forth.

Repeatedly.

When the waitress returns I ask for more time. With an annoyed look she leaves us and I slam my hand to stop Cardan from playing with the menu.

"What do you recommend?" Cardan sits forward with his hands under his chin, upset that I ruined his fun.

"The cat tendencies with you." I point out and then quickly add,"If you have a sweet tooth then I suggest the pie a la mode or a milkshake." He holds a hand up and asks for both.

When she comes back I ask for two order of the pie, a vanilla milkshake, and coffee. I'm going to need the caffeine.

"So...where to begin?" I muse bringing the cup of black coffee to lips. My eyes flicker to his as he's sipping his water. Cardan makes a face but keeps sipping it anyway.

"Let's start with my unanswered messages." Right then the waitress, Cindee, as it says on her name tag brings Cardan his milkshake. An expression flies across her face as she catches the last bit of our conversation. She walks away thinned lipped, intrigued by our table.

With a clearing of my throat I explain that I haven't a clue about what he's referring to. I raise my legs to put my feet on his seat. Cardan's eyes fall on them and he asks about my knee. I tell him that it's better, I hardly notice it at all. What I don't tell him is that I saved the scrap of cloak that he wrapped it in. It's locked away in my jewelry box.

"Those riddles and rambling in my notebook...the feather, were those what you're referring to?"

Once again, Cindee chimes in with our food. When I thank her, she slowly retreats away to tend to somebody else.

"That and other things. What about the others? I had them delivered on your walk home and at your window." When he sees my confusion he reaches for my backpack and retrieves an acorn. Before I can ask how that got in there, he pops the top off and reveals a thin scroll of parchment with familiar scrawling.

"Is that why I keep finding acorns everywhere?!" I take it and hold it up to the light. Sure enough it's a message from Cardan about how he missed me for my morning run. Asking if he could join me. I try to imagine Cardan running and instantly laugh. He does not find this amusing.

"I sent them in pinecones and on ribbons. Imagine my surprise when I heard you finally came upon the ones I wrote upon your notebook. That's why I sent the Bomb to meet you. The Roach helped me blend in, you pointed out that my usual attire can be distracting."

"Sorry, I still can't wrap my head around the pinecone thing." There's a few that I found on the other side of my windowsill, one just this morning. Cardan makes crude noise. He tells me not to apologize ever to a faerie, especially himself. I reach for the extra milkshake cylinder and take a spoonful. Make sure to keep that in mind.

"What did you want to tell me that you couldn't tell me in person?"

One of Cardan's ears peek out of the beanie as he sips on his milkshake. I glance at it quickly before looking out the window. When we were little, Vivi let us touch her ears. The childish urge to trace them surfaces and I silently repress it. Sitting on my hands, I wait for his answer.

"I wanted to make sure that I was keeping up with my promise. You asked me to refrain from stalking you and I didn't want to offend you."

I turn to face him with a softened gaze, "Me too. I mean, I was half expecting you to show up at my window. I'm pretty sure Locke has been visiting my sister. Taryn doesn't want to admit that he can't tell us apart. " I recall how he called taped on my window one night and I threaten to push him off the roof.

Cardan bursts out laughing, the beanie falling off his head. Without missing a beat, he reaches to put it back on. His cheeks are rosy and I can't help the corners of my mouth from tilting up.

"I must admit, I was...wary of Locke being around. He tends to fancy himself a charmer."

I think back to the party, as Cardan and I conversed in the dark, from the corner of my eye I saw Locke talking with the blue haired girl.

"He doesn't sound like a good friend to me. I couldn't help but noticing the way the blue haired girl glared at us. They seemed to be talking half the night." I take a spoon and being to dig into my melting pie a la mode. "Was she an ex of yours?" I ask point blank.

Cardan frowns, "An ex?"

Taking a bite of the pie and melted cream, I supply the phrases 'ex-lover' and ''ex-girlfriend'. He nods and I can deduce that Locke had everything to do with it.

"Makes sense. I thought only girls on the field wanted to melt me with their eyes. Now I got a mermaid out to murder me."

Another chuckle leaves his lips, "It truly surprises me how quick you are." He uses his spoon to taste from my plate and I slap it away with my own. The metal clanging hirts my teeth but this is my life's honor I'm defending. He reaches for it anyway and I smack that back of his hand with my spoon this time. "Young lady, may I remind you that this is a prince you are dealing with. Most would find you bold--"

"Most do find me bold, dear prince." And I rapidly take a spoonful of his cherry pie and smile triumphantly at slight of hand.

Cardan does not find that amusing, "I've punished others for less you know." His voice is laden thick with warning and I serve him an equally cool tone.

"As have I. Though you are a prince, as funny as you may find, many consider me queen. This is my domain sort to speak and you are my guest. I expect you abide by our customs as most would yours."

His eyes darken at my words and he rapts his long fingers on the table. "If our roles were reversed and you were amongst my people instead of yours, would you pay me the expected respect of my title?"

"If you behaved as a faerie of your title should, with just and fairness?" I ask and he gives a little nod," If you didn't provoke or threaten my livelihood I might abide by those natural laws of your world. But that is neither here nor there. Besides, I can't imagine a situation were I would even get that close to you, much less be accepted under your court."

" Jude, even you with your lightly heeded title are respected amongst your peers. Though my kind are by your definition unpredictable but we still abide by rules and Mark's of respect. There are exceptions at my court, under my father's rule nothing quite surprises me. A human to be accepted as part of the gentry, it's not unheard of."

I'm not convinced, "Okay. Give me an example. A real example not something that you heard some inkling of from centuries before." I play with the last bits of my food the conversation turning my stomach as our light attitudes are dampened by what goes unsaid.

What a ridiculous notion, to fall in love with a person from a different world.

Cardan chooses his words carefully and he begins to trace the lines of my open palm. I've realized that he does this as a distraction and come to find all these excuses he makes to touch me. As if I might disappear like a whiff if smoke. He observes a garnet ring that I have on my ring finger. It belongs to my mom, theres an insignia on it. Honestly it could be anything for that matter.

"Actually, there was a general. A Red Cap that married a mortal." Cardan picks apart my fingers, memorizing their shape and intricate grooves. "I've been told that my mother was great friends with this woman, which is rare for such a mortal to not only be accepted but recognized as his legitimate wife. Those two would be at the center of it all causing mirth and chaos. One day the general comes back from battle to find his residence burned to the ground. His wife and child burned to ash."

I pull my hand away from the story. Something about it sounding so familiar. My voice is quiet and I manage to keep the quake out of it when I ask him to continue.

"Nobody knows. There are rumors that his enemies took advantage of his absence to take their revenge. Others say perhaps she had a spurned lover who committed a crime of passion." Cardan's eyes become engrossed with the outside world for a moment," But I believe otherwise. I'm convinced that our world, like for most humans, threatened to consume her and she ran away to start anew. Our ways are not for everyone you see. We fae are naturally violent and bloodthirsty. Our hedonistic lifestyles have lead many of then to abandoned their offspring to other faeries or creatures a like to look after them. Even at times switching us with human babies so that their parents can supply us with love and affection."

We stay silent, even as Cindee brings us our check and I hand her the money to pay. She returns with my change and I leave her a tip beneath the now empty sugar canister.

Cardan doesn't turn away instead he waits patiently for me to react or say anything. I don't do either but just sit there. My phone rings and Cardan's face finally breaks to retrieve my buzzing device. Its Taryn.

I quickly text back a response. Mom had told her that I left with some friends to go eat out before a party. She's making sure I meet up with her and that I wear something appropriate. I send her a snarky response and an illusive idk. Taryn quickly texts me back to no be lame and the time she expects me to be there. She's at a friend house getting ready it seems.

"I gotta go. Everyone's expecting me attend a kickback or whatever." I reach for my stuff and get up to leave. It takes a minute for me to go outside and process what he said. I'm not sure if the story sounds familiar or if it's a warning of what's to come if I choose to continue down this path.

Path? What am I going on a soul quest? No! I'm 17 and a senior in high school, waiting to go to college and figure out my life here. Nothing's changed. Except I met this weird boy whose definitely been stalking me for several months now. Sending me messages via pinecones and holding mybhand carrying my bag. The first part is off but the rest of it isn't anything new. I mean I've had boyfriends before that would do that stuff. Like Collin, he did that all the time before we broke up over the summer before college. Why I am worried about boy or whatever he is? This is dumb, my feminist foremothers did not--

"Jude are you okay?" Mara asks and I practically jump out of my skin.

While I was silently tail spinning, Mara and Katie happen to be going by. I'm not sure what I looked like, standing outside the Moonlight diner, staring at the void as all this new stuff came crashing down on me. But nonetheless, I'm glad they showed up when they did.

Katie and Mara share a moment before asking me where I'm headed. Katie's eyes narrow down at my backpack and she questions me about it. Just then, the last person that I wanted to be there decided to catch up with me. My friends do not hide their ogling as he butts in.

"Whose this?" Mara asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Oh this? This is Car-rigan. He's my new next door neighbor." Katie's sniper eyes move from my backpack back to me and then Cardan. Mara repeats the name that she was just given and Cardan promptly nods.

"That's what I'm called. It's a family name." Katie doesn't seem to buy it and asks where does he live because its obvious my family lives in every secluded area. "Its a hard to find but I can assure you it's back there."

They offer to give us a lift, that way we can all wait and leave for the party at the same time. I'm about to refuse until Cardan accepts their offer. As we get into the car, I worry if the amount of iron will kill him. But he seems unbothered by it for the most part. He reaches for my hand. I reflexively pull it way, still shaken by our conversation.

When we get to my door, they're surprised to see him follow me out. They offer to take him home but I decline. I'm surprised when they pull away, they text me that they were heading to moonlight diner for some grub anyway and just to text them when we were ready. Mara sent me a wink in our group chat and I had a hard time understanding what she meant.

Surprise surprise, my dad was out back. It was already dark but there was an half empty pizza box on the table. Typical. Cardan looked around, mystified by it all. There were drawings and portraits scattered throughout the house with pictures of all of us even Vivi. Recently there was a one of her and her girlfriend Heather on the fridge. Dad had wondered aloud if she should be included in our family Christmas card. Mom pointed out that we never had a family Christmas card.

"Yeah, it's an eclectic mix of bohemian meets OCD. It's like mom likes the idea of chaos but lives for rigid order. Don't get mud on the carpet, she'll skin you alive and show all her friends her rare pearl prince throw rug in the spring. "

I tell Cardan to wait there as I go upstairs. But I hear my dad call my name from the back porch and I grab Cardan's hand and race with him up the stairs. I shove him in my room and lean over the banister with a 'yeah dad?'. Dad pokes his head through the door way but doesn't move to join me. He thought it was me when he saw me through the window and he offers me pizza. From here I can just make out the graying temples of his hair, most men in his family gray early. He pushes his glasses that he seems to use more of now in older age, his olive skin with a smattering of freckles that make him seem younger than he is. Dad smiles and asks about my day. I give him mostly sincere answers and he tell me a bit about his. I'm trying not dance in panic because theres a boy/magical prince in my room. Dad doesn't catch on and waves me off to get ready. He informs me that mom is out with her friends so she's more than likely to come home buzzed and forgetful about curfew. Dad shrugs playfully and I giggle at his cleverness. The old man has it figured out.

When I hear the door close, watching dad's retreating figure return to his converted barn through the back porch window, I race back to my room. Cardan is casually sifting through my things, bauble earrings are threaded in his lobes and my knitted crown sits right above his head.

"You know it's really unfair how attractive you still manage to be when quite clearly look silly." I finally drop my bag and jump to lay on the bed. Cardan removes the earrings but not the crown before sitting beside me. In a flash I rip it off and replace it the hat from before. This time without tucking his ears. I nod at my handy work and lay down. Cardan doesn't move. At first. Eventually he moves to lay beside me, put feet dangling off the side of the bed.

"Now what?" Cardan asks but stay fixated on the ceiling. If I were to turn, there's no question what i would do. I would behave illogical as most girls would have done. But I Jude Duarte have no time to act illogical.

"This whole afternoon just came out of left field. It was unexpected. A pleasant un-expectation. Though I can't let it happen again." My voice sounds different but it's the tone I need to convey right now.

"Jude, look at me." Cardan's voice is soft but there's an edge to it like my own.

"If I do," I keep myself focused on this one spot above me, " will you kiss me?"

"If you allow me to do so, yes."

For a moment we don't move, my chest barely rising up and down nor do I hear the breathing of his. It almost startles me when Cardan begins to talk again. He's waving a thin piece of black almost gossamer fabric above me and I recognize what it is.

"Why did you keep this? I had earnestly believed this meant nothing to you. Just a simple bandage." He is about to toss it when I take it from him, his fingers quick to tangle with mine. "Jude?" Cardan asks softly.

I close my eyes as I admit "After the night, when I woke up in my room. I kept it as a reminder that that night was real. In case I ever forgot to keep my word."

"A reminder of my favor." There's a dulcet tone to his voice as he says my name again but I stay fixed upon the ceiling. It isn't until he start to kiss my fingers, palms then wrists. The controlled yet hungry manner he rolls up till we see chest to chest and he buries his hands in my hair.

For a moment, I allow myself to be young foolish and illogical. But even I have a hard time swallowing that lie.

[hazelandglasz]

Prompting 'our students think we’re dating' + 'we leave each other notes on the blackboards' AUs, cause it makes A LOT of sense. Pretty please? (I love you, chérie.)

disneyklaine asked: hmm….. the blackboard notes one :)

anonymous asked:OUR STUDENTS THINK WE’RE DATING AU omg

anonymous asked:Okay, so those hs aus were amazing! maybe you could write “our students think we’re dating au” some time? (for Klaine) :) :) :)

Alright then ^^

AKA Five times a student tried to prove his teachers are dating and the one time the teachers are undeniably dating.

On AO3

Lucas knows that there is something going on.

He knows it, with every fiber of his being. And Ishrak can tell him that he’s delusional and that it’s not sane to ship real people as much as he wants to, Lucas will not be undeterred.

Professor Hummel and Professor Anderson are undeniably in a relationship, and he will prove it to his unromantic boyfriend if it is the last thing he does.

(Hopefully, it won’t come to that.)

They are fairly obvious, when you know how to look.

1. Hiding in plain sight

The way they always, always, come rain, snow or sun, always arrive separately exactly 7 minutes apart.

“That’s not exactly a proof, Lulu, it just means that they are punctual.”

“Exactly seven minutes apart, every morning! No, no no, it proves that they are coming together, and then Mr Hummel waits what he considers a sufficient amount of time for it to be inconspicuous and make his entrance.”

“That makes … eurgh, I hate you for making sense.”

“Ah!”

2. Three is a crowd

Lucas does not stalk his two favorite teachers.

(He does not.)

However.

It just so happens that their paths often cross on campus.

And whenever Mr Hummel and Mr Anderson happen to be hanging out, there is always, always, at least one other member of staff with them.

Sometimes it’s Ms. Jones, who appears to be very happy to link her arms with them as they walk and laugh.

Sometimes it’s Ms. Berry, who leads the way with a confidence inversely proportional to her size while Mr Hummel and Mr Anderson humor her.

Sometimes they can be spotted having a very animated conversation with Mr Evans--especially Mr Anderson, while Mr Hummel shakes his head and hides his mirth behind a large travel mug.

If Lucas was not intimately convinced of Mr Anderson’s commitment to Mr Hummel, his apparent bromance with Mr Evans could be another theory, but no.

Mr Evans’s constant googly eyes toward Ms Jones are legendary across the whole school.

And while Lucas is particularly invested in the Hummel-Anderson relationship, he can see how they would make a cute couple.

3. The Travel Mug

Speaking of the travel mug.

Both teachers are known for being coffee addicts of the first order.

But.

Lucas would bet his life on the fact that he has now seen the dark travel mug on both desks, on separate occasions.

From afar, it just looks like a black cup, but on closer inspection, it does bear a pattern that Ishrak kindly identified as a Darth Vader silhouette, which fits Mr Anderson’s discrete geeky chic. But, it could be misconstructed for a skull, which would fit Mr Hummel’s seldom gothic aesthetic.

Ergo, game, set and match.

“You do know that these mugs are sold by the thousand, every day, right?”

“Why would Mr Hummel, McQueen is a genius and Gautier is the last designer who understood the dramatic possibilities for movie costumes, Hummel, would have a Star Wars mug of all things?”

“Did he actually say that?”

“Yep. Made us watch the Fifth element to make his point.”

“So he does like sci-fi.”

“... Shit, you make a point!. But still, I’m sure it’s the same than Mr Anderson.”

“So maybe they both like Star Wars.”

“Yeah they do. And they Yub Nub all night long, if you get my drift.”

Ishrak rubs his face. “I will give you that one if you never, ever repeat Yub Nub in that context, you heathen.”

4. The Post Its

That is perhaps the more damning proof Lucas has at his disposal.

Both teachers hold office hours on the same, which is not his proof.

But on the two occasions Lucas had to go and ask them for some informations--Mr Hummel for a book reference Lucas didn’t catch and could apparently save his essay, Mr Anderson to ask for an extension on a paper due the following week because his anxiety hit hard--Lucas spotted something on their respective boards.

Oh, while both teachers mostly have pictures and articles on those boards, there are little notes written on Post-Its carefully pinned to the panels.

Lucas doesn’t pry too much into them to figure out what they say--though the hearts drawn on Mr Hummel’s leave little to the imagination--but.

But.

He recognizes the handwritings.

“You can’t read what they say but you ‘know’ they’re each other’s handwriting? Babe, no more C.S.I. for you.”

“I’m telling you, Ish, they write each other little notes--I’m sure they hide them in their lunchbox, the dorks.”

“Hm. That would be cute.”

“Right?!”

“...No! Luke, you will not get me to ship two of my most esteemed professors! No! Bad Lucas.”

“Look at the notes next time you’re in their offices, and tell me I’m wrong.”

“If I do, will you stop with this obsession of yours and help me with my project?”

“What, getting Mr Evans and Ms Jones together?”

“Stop looking at me like that, it’s not shipping, it’s giving them a happy story.”

“Hm-hm.”

*Shush.”

“Hm-hm.”

“I hate you.”

“Sure you do.”

5. Too Single To Be Honest

The final point in Lucas’ case in proving that Mr Hummel and Mr Anderson are dating is the most damning, but also the most … well, convoluted, even he can see that.

Number 1: both men are handsome, if differently so, and in their prime.

Number 2: they always show up for the students shows and the balls and the mixers.

(Again, seven minutes apart, Lucas is going out of his mind with this gap.)

Number 3: they never bring a date that could be considered a date.

(“Mr Anderson’s brother does not count as a date, what the fuck?”)

Number 4: they never talk about a significant other. Never.

Number 5: But. They are both incurable romantics.

Conclusion: it is highly unlikely that both these men are still single and they are using the social events on campus to hide their relationships as a professional one instead of the romantic one that it is.

“That doesn’t make a shred of sense.”

“No, no, it does! Look: what better way to fly under the radar than making an appearance at the soirées? If they didn’t come--and I know what you’re thinking, why wouldn’t they take advantage of everybody being busy with the different events to have their own datenight on their own, right?”

“...Right.”

“Then, if they didn’t come, it would become quite obvious that both Mr Hummel and Mr Anderson are always missing on these; And then, it would be super easy to just connect the dots and figure out that the two are, um, closer than they would like us to think.”

“Shit, how do you make sense of the most convoluted and useless conspiracy theory!”

“It’s a talent.”

“Mr Anderson must love you in this creative writing class.”

“He does.”

“Why do you care so much about that? What does it matter if they are indeed dating?”

Lucas pulls Ishrak closer to him and rests his chin on top of his head. “I don’t know,” he says softly, “it would be cool to have an older couple to look up to. To see that gay relationships are not just a thing for us, but it exists for older people too.”

“They’re not that old,” Ishrak says as he snuggles up to his lanky boyfriend. “But I see what you mean.”

+1 The BlackBoard

Now, Ishrak would love to find a way to make Lucas drop the whole “Hummel Anderson” affair. 

It was endearing, at first, to see his boyfriend get all riled up, but it’s slowly becoming a Thing. Lucas even bought a corkboard to tie, literally tie with a red thread, all of his proofs.

Ishrak wishes he could find a way, really.

But what he just saw with his own two eyes is pretty damning evidence, fuck it all to the seven rings of Hell.

See, every week, Mr Anderson’s class precedes Mr Hummel’s.

Lucas and Ishrak are quite happy about that, it gives them a moment where they don’t have to rush across campus to get to their class (and some times to catch up on their making out, if they can).

Except today Lucas has a cold, so Ishrak had to leave the classroom and wait in front of it for Mr Hummel to arrive.

That’s how he witnesses it all, really.

Being the last to leave, he can see Mr Anderson scribbling something in a small corner of the blackboard. As he goes to leave, there is a small smile on his face that Ishrak can only describe as fond.

“Ah, waiting for your next class, Mr Rahman?”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Make sure to tell Mr Angos that I will send him the Powerpoint presentation later today, so he doesn’t have to worry about it.”

“That’s very kind of you, sir.”

Mr Anderson smiles at him before getting his messenger bag in place and walking down the hall.

Ishrak watches him go--he loves Lucas, but he still has eyes, okay--before looking back in the classroom.

He entirely blames his C.S.I. boyfriend on his first impulse to go back inside and read whatever Mr Anderson wrote.

He shakes his head and sits on the floor.

He tells himself that it is not his business, that for all he knows, Mr Anderson had a stroke of inspiration and wrote what went through his head to memorize it for later.

But, a voice that sounds like Lucas counters, why wouldn’t he write it down in his notebook? Or on his phone? Hell, on his hand would be more conductive to later work than the blackboard of a classroom he is not going to return to before the end of the week!

Ishrak sighs before getting to his feet.

But before he can step inside and snoop, Mr Hummel arrives, whistling.

That sounds like the Cantina song, but--

“Hello, Mr Rahman. Ah, deprived of your companion today, are you?”

“Hello, sir; Yeah, Lucas is under the weather.”

“Shame. He would have loved today’s class. Should I give you the sheet to give to him?”

“Sure, Sir.”

“Come on,” Mr Hummel says, opening the door, “I know the class starts in ten minutes, but even those wooden chairs are more comfortable than the floor.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Ishrak approaches the desk under the pretense of getting the papers for Lucas.

And that’s how he manages to read what’s on the board.

Hi Sally. There you are. B.A.

It doesn’t make any sense, and yet.

And yet, Ishrak simply has to put the look on MR Anderson’s face when he wrote it next to the look on Mr Hummel’s face when he reads it to know, with absolute certainty, that the message bears a lot of weight for them.

Because they are, irrevocably and undeniably, a “them”.

Eurgh, Lucas is never going to let him hear the end of it, is he?

[divinecuriosity]

Could u do a little Fjord ficlit based on lyrics from the song nightmares & flare guns by Seb Adams 👀

This song is so good! And wow I got inspired for this, I hope it makes a bit of coherent sense! (will go up on my ao3 soon, once I finish my 60th fic/200k word celebratory fic!)

Fjord stops sleeping in his room. The first night back in Xhorhas he spends pacing the house, stopping periodically by Yasha’s door. Waiting, listening, cursing himself and walking away, but his feet always carry him back. He winds up finally throwing himself down in a living room chair and digging his nails into the fabric and watches the stairs and upper landing close, convinced he sees shifting in the shadows. 

“Fjord?” There's a voice from across the room, and Fjord jumps, feeling the fabric of the chair tear a bit under his fingertips. 

“Uh, hey, Caleb.” He squints through the dark. Caleb leans on his doorway, Frumpkin curling past his feet. “How long have you been there?” Fjord asks timidly. Caleb chuckles, uncrossing his arms. 

“A minute or two. What has you spooked?” Caleb pushes off the doorway, following his cat into the room. Fjord stiffens as Frumpkin redirects at a low whistle from Caleb, but allows the cat to hop up into his lap. It’s more of a reflex to sneeze now, Caleb’s been working on making Frumpkin tolerable to Fjord’s allergies. Fjord buries a hand in the nape of the cat’s neck and smiles as he immediately sets to purring and flexing his claws in Fjord’s lap. 

“Uh, nothing. Just can’t sleep.” Fjord shrugs, looking back up to see Caleb wave a hand, lighting his fingertips aflame and scanning a bookshelf by their light. “What about you?” 

“It’s morning, Fjord,” Caleb says as an answer. Fjord looks to the window. 

“Right. No sun.” Fjord groans and rubs his eyes with the hand not petting Frumpkin. 

“You should tell Caduceus if you can’t sleep. He probably has a tea or something.” Caleb says softly. Fjord nods, stifling the urge to yawn. Eventually, Caleb retreats back to his room, book in hand, but Frumpkin stays purring in Fjord’s lap. Even if he wanted to get up now, he stays planted until the girls, Yasha included, even if she’s trailing behind a little, come hurtling down the stairs with screams of requests for breakfast. Frumpkin screeches and leaves claw marks in Fjord’s pants in his effort to get away, and Fjord hops to his feet with a wince. He’ll talk to Caduceus after breakfast, he tells himself. When there’s time. 

The second night is as much of the same, and he doesn’t even get halfway to taking Caduceus’s offer of tea up before Jester gets news of their new task for Essek needing immediate attention and they’re all packing bags again. Fjord pretends his grogginess is due to the midnight hour and goes along, shaking his head at Caleb’s pointed glare before they head off into the night. 

The third night he does sleep, on cold damp earth a mile underground, beaten and bruised, and he dreams. He dreams first of an eye, watching in still waters, but it’s not Uka’toa’s, it’s Yasha’s, first green, then lavender, then flashing between them so fast he covers his face with his hands, but no matter how hard he tries to turn away and shield himself the eyes stay, burned into the backs of his eyelids. He must cry out, because Jester shakes him awake, and forces water down his throat, which feels cracked and dry. He takes the next watch and doesn’t wake Beau for her shift, sitting hunched on a rock and watching the slight shifting of their firelight at the edges of Caleb’s magic hut. 

They surface mid-day, blinking in the sudden light, lost in the wastes of Xhorhas but successful and alive. Caleb’s out of spells to really take them home, but while Caduceus and Jester sit down to try and commune a clue about their location, Fjord lays on his back, feeling the sun beat down on his face. A distant part of his mind wonders if the sunlight will keep him awake. He’s asleep before he can manage to open his mouth to ask. 

Fjord dreams he’s treading water. He keeps feeling something in the depths, slimy skin snaking around his feet, but when he kicks out or dives under he sees nothing but dark waters. He can tell he’s losing strength, that the water that should be cold is warm to his goose-bumped skin, a deadly omen. He blinks and one moment where he saw the reflection of the moon, there is a boat. Sleek black wood, two oars, nothing built for open water, but it’s something. He kicks out for it, raises a hand to try and latch on and is met with a hand in return. Someone far stronger than him hauls him up, and he lies panting on the worn wood, blinking salt out of his eyes to see his savior. 

He scrambles back when he sees Yasha, dark wings outstretched, sword in hand. She’s still reaching down to him, and her expression...gives him pause. She’s crying, but she looks happy, happier than he’s seen her in a long time. She looks a lot like she looked over their breakfast before they left the house when Jester had made a face with berries on her pancake, and Beau had switched one of the eyes with a blueberry to make it Yasha’s face, and they had all laughed. Fjord takes a steadying breath and pulls himself up onto the bench of the small boat. Yasha drops her hand, stares at him for a long moment, and sits as well. 

Fjord doesn’t remember what they talk about, but he remembers that she talks, over the crash of waves and the creak of oars as she rows them- somewhere, he doesn’t know. He wakes up to a dark sky, and his friends sat around a fire a yard off, their bags and bedrolls arranged in a protective circle around him. Fjord rolls on his side and watches as Caleb says something that makes Nott laugh, and turn to Caduceus, who hands her a small bowl. He then turns to Yasha, hands her another. She stands and takes the few strides over to where Fjord lies. He blinks and forces his aching muscles to sit upright. 

“Hey,” He says groggily. 

“You passed out,” Yasha says, helpfully handing him the bowl, thinking better of it as his hands shake, and holding the broth to his lips for him. Fjord takes a large sip before responding. 

“I uh, I’m sorry, about that,” Fjord says, carefully taking the bowl in his own hands and forcing them to be still. 

“The other’s told me about why you talk like that, now,” Yasha says softly. Fjord blinks at her, taking another sip. 

“What did they tell you?” He feels bad for being snarky, but he’s still hazy and hurting, and cautious. Yasha smiles. 

“I understand why you would not want to risk another dream.” She says. Fjord slowly nods. 

“It’s not Uka’toa, right now, at least.” He says after another mouthful. Yasha narrows her eyes, stays silent and waits for him to continue. “My mind’s just not always the most pleasant space.” He says finally. Yasha nods, understanding. 

“I have... experienced that,” Yasha says slowly. Fjord sips, eyes trained on her. “I cannot say what works for me would work for you, but...” Yasha glances back towards the group. “I think we all do something, to fight it off.” 

Fjord squints at her. “How so?” Yasha looks at him, settles down on the ground beside him and points. 

“Beau stretches, every night before bed. When we all shared a room she’d push everything out of the way and do splits, hand-stands, every muscle group, just for a few seconds. Then pass out.” Yasha says, moving her hand a little and continue. “Jester, well, you know, she talks. She tells the Traveller about her day, writes and draws in her journal. I kind of do the same, but all to myself, in my head.” 

“Who do you talk to?” Fjord asks, instantly wincing, unsure he wants to know. Yasha barely meets his eyes. 

“Molly, Zualla.” She says, moving her finger again. “Caleb casts his spells, and Nott counts things. Sometimes just her own fingers, over and over until she’s tired enough to sleep.” 

“Caduceus makes tea.” Fjord adds, starting to get the point. Yasha nods and smiles at him. 

“You just have to find something that works for you,” Yasha says gently. Fjord finishes his soup and sets the bowl down. 

“How?” He asks. Yasha sighs and shrugs. 

“Have you ever had a hobby?” She asks, grimacing at her words. “I mean, something physical, repetitive. When you cast spells you always do the same motions.” Yasha says after a moment of silence. Fjord looks at his hands. 

“Guys on the ship sometimes picked up like knitting or woodworking. I was never that good at it.” He curls his thick fingers into his palms. 

“What about wire?” Yasha asks suddenly. Fjord tilts his head. “Beau has a bunch since she bought all those jewelers supplies for crushing the gems. She was complaining about it all just sitting in her bag.” Yasha turns and reaches around into one of the packs piled up next to them, emerging with a spool of silver wire. 

“Could you make something with that?” She asks. Fjord finds the end of it silently, twisting the cord around his index finger. 

“Maybe?” He says, not sounding very hopeful. 

“Try it, and if it doesn’t work try something else.” Yasha pats him a little awkwardly on the shoulder. 

“I need you to watch my back, Fjord.” She says, even softer now. Fjord blinks. 

“I...can do that.” He says. Yasha drops her hand back to her side. 

“I do not know if I will ever be able to... trust myself, again. So, it feels good, almost, to know you’re watching.” 

Watching. It echoes in Fjord’s brain. 

“I don’t think I’ll have to watch forever.” He says, surprising himself. Yasha looks at him, brow knitted. “I think you’ll get there, I mean. I think you were worth saving.” He tries to smile, motion fumbling a bit around his teeth. Yasha’s eyes widen a bit. 

“Thank you, Fjord.” She says with an exhale. “I hope you’re right.”

[docholligay]

A Little Love Story, Part Two: Green Eyes in the Mirror

For her commission, Jetty is having me rewrite an old, old story I wrote here on the blog, that I’ve always wanted to rewrite because I thought i could do a better job of it. It’s lovely BroTP shit! And the original story was quite well liked so I hope this is too. Part one is here. I would love some nice comments! a little over 2,000 words. 

The throne room was wide and tall, and you could almost forgive the dank and damp nature of it for all the grandeur of its sheer size. Mina did not need gold and pearls, at least not anymore. She was certain she had not ever, but only thought that the soft and glowing things had value. She knew better now. Gold bent, and pearls scarred, but she was a creature from a kingdom of iron and diamond, those crisp, cold things, that sliced and cut and killed, and she would bend this kingdom of gold and pearls to her will, now.

It was nothing, to have help from Metalia. She wanted the fall of the Moon Kingdom, and did not care much for the possession of earth itself. She had the rest of the galaxy to take under her wing, and what was one small planet, to her? Mina would rule it in her name, the real princess that should have been, a princess who is unafraid of cost, who will rule and not suggest.

Metalia was a strong queen, and Mina was drawn to her.

To sit at her right hand was to know the feeling of power, and she smiled with pleasure as Metalia’s voice boomed across the expanse.

“Princess Minako, you will, of course, be the ruler of the earth.” Metalia touched at Mina’s hand, which rested on the pommel of her sword, waiting and ready and hungry. “All I ask is that you clear the field of the others. It should be nothing to you. Do only that and then--”

“I will get what is mine.” The sensation send a shiver of pleasure down her back, even as the voice seemed foreign to her.

“Of course.” Metalia smiled. “What you have always longed for.”

It was true and a lie, and even as she was, Mina knew these two things at once, in the same way she had always known she longed to protect her princess and rise up against her. Loyalty was only uncomplicated for the very simple. If it was not Metalia, it would be someone else. If Mina ruled, she could protect the earth in her own way, even if she had to kill every last Sailor Senshi to do it.

Mina was a strong princess, and the world would bend their knee to her.

“If I kill the others,” she said with a sense of detached disinterest, some strange cry in her soul waved off under the promise off all there was to come, “Moon will give whatever it is I want. Even the crystal. I won’t even have to kill her.” She gave a chuckle. “She’ll cry and sob, but she will not raise a hand to harm me.”

Metalia looked over to her, that same twisted smile lurking like a tripwire across her face. “And will you? Kill her?”

“Of course not,” Mina flicked her eyebrow, “Dead, she cannot serve as a warning to others.”

Metalia clapped her hands together in delight. “Truly, I have chosen well.” she sat up straight, pride filling her, “You are intelligent, quick of hand and of mind,” she touched at the edge of Mina’s sword, “ambitious. Your mind was only waiting for the chance to be something more than you might have been.”

Yes, her mind had been waiting for something, and maybe it was waiting still, and maybe the many things that made Mina into whatever it was she had become were all at war with each other in her mind. But Metalia saw her. Her intellect, her skill, her power. She saw and recognized it all, in a way she had never been seen as Sailor Venus.

MIna leaned back in her chair and smiled. It had been powerful, to see the fear rise in the girls’ eyes as she had raised her sword against them. How the cool of the steel had vibrated as it ripped down Usagi’s back, how the line of blood had streamed like a ribbon down her leg, How there had been so many of them, and one of her, and still she had almost taken the princess.

It had been foolish, she knew, but it had been fun. They had seen that she outmaneuvered them in any arrangement, in any space, that they were powerless to stand against her. But now she would be smarter after it, having already inspired the necessary fear. Without her, they had no sense of strategy. Every formation they could create had been dreamed up by her, and she knew its every weakness.

She would take them down, one by one, plucking them off like sweet berries ripened on the vine, and they would crush in her hand. They stood no chance against her.

“I can hold the kingdom,” she said, turning from the thoughts of her work, “I won’t need the protection Moon does.”

“Of course,” Metalia said, nodding to her, “That is part of the reason I find you so very appealing. But I will grant you an army beyond measure, and you will lead it, my Sweet Venus, my Princess Minako of the Planet Earth.”

The stone in her tiara glowed, and Mina felt a wave of nausea fall over her, a thousand thoughts turning inside her head, before being silenced once more under the all-consuming promise of Metalia.

“It really is a shame, you know, that no one noticed your potential before,” She laughed, “Always praising Sailor Moon, never realizing you are the only reason she ever succeeds at all. How many times have a read her name, heard it, and never heard your tireless work mentioned?”

A different wave rose in Mina, then, remembering all the times she had fought alone, diving from rooftops to youma whose strength she had not yet known, but knowing that she had something to protect, that she was the one with the skill to be called hero. How she had worked with the Senshi, all the drills she had thought out, all the battles they had fought with her calling for position. And how Sailor Moon had stood in the middle after all of them, bathed in the light of her crystal, bloodless and smiling, the hero to all of Tokyo and the world beyond.

And she would stand in the back, anonymous, hair wild, skirt tattered, and look at the girl who would be princess.

No longer. Now it was Mina’s time to bring forth whatever came next for this world. She would be a fair leader, she would bring what she had to the earth and she would not be weak in front of their enemies. They would be cautioned for light years around that earth was best to be avoided, that the ruler of it was fierce and terrifying.

“If they can’t learn to appreciate me,” Mina stared out into the deep cave, “They’ll have to learn to fear me.”

She puzzled over which Senshi she would eliminate next. It was a sort of reverse Jenga, trying to figure out the quickest way for the tower to topple. Her best fighters were Mars and Neptune, and they could See besides, a valuable skill Mina would love to remove from the equation. Rei and Michiru, a voice echoed in the back of her mind, but she waved it off, dissipating it like mist. But Mars would be protected, close as she was to the princess. She could not imagine that Mars would be so stupid as to not have Jupiter with her, and Mina did not like the idea of getting Jupiter in close quarters. She required space to move, and would have to be drawn out.

Neptune, though, was a bit of a loner, whatever Mina had tried to teach her as a Senshi, and even if they were all together, it would not be hard to peel her off. Or rather, let her peel herself off. The way to strike with Neptune would be as quickly and quietly as possible, when she stepped outside to simply get away from the flurry of emotions the other senshi often let fly around the room.

Fear. She would see it spring into their eyes,again and again, and like a spring, it would nourish her growth. She felt the thirst for it, the desire to taste their blood on her lips and remember again and again that she had been the best, to hear the people tell her that, to hear the name of Venus, Minako, whatever she was going to be next, said with a quiet reverence and awe.

There were so many things, that would come, if only she would take them.

There are so many things, that will go, if you let them, said the small and weak voice inside her, a candle flame struggling against the wind, and Mina shut her eyes to it once more, let the winds of glory whistle and blow and tell her she was special.

There was a pinprick in the back of her mind, something familiar coming through, the low earthy rumble of a voice she had heard so many times, calling her name even though she did not open her mouth. Reaching into her mind, somehow. No, not reaching, to reach into her mind was impossible, but there was a gentle tapping at the door of her thoughts, something she had not felt before, and she sat up straight.

Metalia looked to her, and Mina met her gaze.

“One of them is here.”

“You can tell,” Metalia considered her a moment, and then nodded, “how interesting. I did not know of these other powers.”

Neither did I, Mina almost said, but could not quite let out of her mouth, not even to this new queen to which she had pledged her loyalty. Better to be a surprise to everyone, better to surprise even herself with these new talents. She had never had a sense of Sight. All Senshi had different gifts, strength or Sight or speed or smarts, in what Mina had considered a diversified portfolio of military talent. Mina had been strategic and quick and deadly but she had never been a Seer, though her skills at reading people were particular enough that you might be excused for thinking so.

No, this was the first time she had heard a voice that was neither hers nor Venus’, but someone else entirely, someone she had heard lying next to her on a couch somewhere very far away, the scent of chicken wings somehow mixing with her voice as it wafted through the air.

An H started off her lips, but was quickly replaced with the name of a planet, the name of a planet that went around on its side as stupidly as the senshi that bore its name, unable to do the most basic job of any given planet.

“Uranus.” She said, the name dripping off her teeth like poison.

Maybe she heard her because she was becoming the princess, now, the guardian of earth and the moon and maybe the system entire, if Metalia got bored with it, and so she would need a fuller complement of powers. That Moon had never had a full hand did not invoke doubt--she had never tried for anything, she had been handed everything, not like Mina, who had sacrificed and killed and died for this world.

Metalia seemed suspicious. “Alone?”

Mina smiled to her. “You don’t know her. She is impulsive and bullheaded. She has all the cleverness of a bullet, and must be fired by another. It doesn’t surprise me at all that she came alone. Or was sent alone. She would be a reasonable sacrifice.”

An image of Mina, knelt by her still side in a dank cathedral, head hung, flashed through her mind like lightning, leaving as soon as it came.

“It wasn’t my plan, but,” Mina shrugged, “I’ve never been one to refuse opportunity.”  

Mina rose to her feet, shoulders back in pride and in confidence, and pressed her palm to the blade, feeling it sing under her hand.

She chuckled.

“It begins.”

[ancientbooshartifacts]

The Only Song Worth Singing

Author: Neut

Year: 2006

Rating: PG-13

Pairing:  Bob Fossil/Dixon Bainbridge, Matt Berry/Vince Noir, Matt Berry/Rich Fulcher

"Hey, Matt," Rich said eagerly. "Matt." Matt did not respond. "Matt," Rich tried again. He had a teaspoon balanced on his nose. "You're a prick," Matt said from behind his newspaper. Crestfallen, Rich removed the spoon. "I'm so bored," he said. Matt still did not respond. "Hey you wanna play darts?" "Have you had another royalty cheque?" "No." "Fuck off." Rich began to drum his fingers against his legs. He looked around the room. He began to whistle. Matt dropped the paper and grabbed Rich's face with one hand. "Shut the fuck up." Rich froze. Matt slowly let go. "I gotta go piss," Rich said. Matt nodded as Rich rose from his seat. He crossed the room to the toilets and as he was about to open the door, heard a call of "Not that one!" His hand instinctively moved to the door next to it, labelled '1888'. He smiled. Of course. Sir Charles would be able to provide some entertainment. Despite having stepped through the rip in the time/space continuum several times now, it still left Rich disoriented. When he snapped out of his daze, he looked around and realised that Sir Charles was not in his usual seat. The room was empty, the only sign of life the fire flickering in the grate. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Rich sidled over to the chair and with one last furtive glance, sat himself upon it. It was comfortable. No, more than comfortable. This chair was a little piece of heaven. Rich rifled through the things on the table beside him, poured himself a drink from a crystal decanter and began to prepare a pipe. "I'm fucking Goldilocks!" he said, enthralled. He took a sip of the drink and knew before it even touched his tongue that it was going to be the best whiskey he'd ever tasted. "Wow," he breathed. The pipe was half raised to his mouth when he heard a door open. He dropped it in surprise and tobacco spilled onto the carpet. He turned slowly, expecting Sir Charles or his man, Wormwood. He would be in trouble regardless. He heard a voice before he saw the speaker. "Whoa there. What's going on here?" "Dunno," a second voice replied. "Thought you said this was the toilets?" It was neither Sir Charles nor Wormwood. With some disappointment Rich noted that it was not even the usual bevy of half naked prostitutes. Rather it was the two least likely people he could have imagined wandering into Matt's great, great uncle's drawing room. They stared at him. He stared at them. They hadn't changed much since he last saw them and judging by their faces, they were equally as surprised to see him as he was them. "Fossil?" "Hey, Vince. I like your hair." Vince looked at Howard for some explanation. Howard shrugged his shoulders. The last time that they had seen Fossil he had been unkempt, slightly manic and was flitting around after Bainbridge, hurling obscenities at small children. Now here he was in this luxurious room, wearing a smart, dark suit and neatly groomed. It was difficult to believe he was the same man. "What's going on?" Vince asked. "We just came in for a wee." "Yeah, I know," Fossil said, his face adopting the familiar look of dumb eagerness that Howard and Vince were accustomed to. They both relaxed slightly. "It happens all the time when I go for a piss." "You drink in the King's Legs?" Howard asked, looking back at the door he and Vince had just entered through. "No. The Hangman's Club." An awkward silence fell on the room. Vince nudged Howard. "So... um. How are you? How have you been?" Howard's interest was unconvincing, though Fossil didn't appear to notice. "Great!" he grinned. "I got a new job with my friend Matt. He works for the Queen. And I get to hang out in his gentleman's club." "You?" Howard and Vince said in stunned unison. Fossil looked a little hurt. There was something not quite right about him. He seemed calmer somehow. Maybe even a little quieter. Howard felt he could do with a drink to help him come to terms with the current situation. "You guys should come meet Matt," Fossil said. Vince looked at Howard again, his eyebrows raised in question. Howard shook his head and mumbled "I dunno". Vince cast a quick glance at Fossil. There was such a simple, gullible air about him. "We can't say no," he whispered. "Be like kicking a puppy." Howard couldn't believe that he was about to agree to an evening spent with the man who had made his life hell for so long, but he admitted to himself that he liked the idea of attending a gentleman's club. It sounded like the sort of place where Howard Moon would be appreciated. He nodded at Vince. "Alright, Mr Fossil. Lead the way." "Great. But, hey, lay off the Fossil stuff. I don't use that name anymore." "Who the hell are these two arseholes?" Matt was unimpressed with the strays that Rich had brought back. "Really, Berry," one of the old gentleman members said, nodding towards a sign reading 'NO SWEARING'. "Uh, these guys are friends of mine," Rich said unsurely. Howard and Vince exchanged a look with one another. The old gentleman cleared his throat and pointed to another sign, higher up the wall. It said 'NO COLOURFUL NON-MEMBERS'. "Piss off, you silly old fart," Matt said. The old man shook his head and made a sound of disapproval. "Just sit," Rich said. "And try not to draw too much attention." The irony was not lost on Howard and Vince as they watched Fossil- or Rich, as he insisted on being called- go to the bar. Howard turned back to Matt. "Allow me to introduce myself," he began. "I'm Howard Moon, jazz maverick. You may have heard of me. I span the genres." Matt stared hard at him for a good minute. "I haven't got a fucking clue who you are, pal. What about you, princess? Got a name?" Vince regarded Matt coolly. "Vince Noir," he said, almost making it sound like a threat. Matt looked him up and down with a smirk. "Sounds about right." Rich reappeared with drinks, placing a pint of something dark in front of Howard and a toxic pink cocktail before Vince. Matt gulped down half a glass of whiskey and pointed at Rich. Howard had a sudden and brief sense of de ja vu. "Talk," Matt commanded. "I used to work with these guys." "So what the hell are they doing here?" "Oi," Vince interjected. "We are sitting right here." "We don't know how we got here," Howard added. "We were in a pub, then we went through a door and ended up in that drawing room with Mr Fossil here." "Fossil," Matt said, rather than asked. He looked at Rich and sighed impatiently. He was fast tiring of this. "Look, Matt. I didn't tell you the whole truth about me." Matt yawned. "I didn't come straight from the States when I met you. I used to work in a zoo." Howard's attention wandered while Rich was talking. He noticed a portrait hanging behind the table. The subject was a man who bore a striking resemblance to Matt, save for his elaborate moustache. The plaque beneath it indicated that the man was Sir Charles Berry. The name meant nothing to Howard other than the fact that he was obviously one of Matt's ancestors. Yet there was something so familiar... "Why should I give a shit, you dickhead?" Howard's train of thought was broken as Matt threw another insult at Rich. "I was using a different name then because of all that stuff with my sisters," Rich mumbled. "Eh?" Vince asked, perking up. This sounded more interesting. "Your mate Fossil has dabbled with his own flesh and blood on more than one occasion," Matt said with a satisfied smirk. Howard and Vince grimaced. "That's even worse than Bainbridge," Vince blurted out. "Bainbridge..." Rich murmured in wonder, speaking the word as though it was something mythical. Matt looked up sharply and Howard caught his eye. It was the first time that Matt had dropped his guard. He was the first to look away. Bainbridge, Howard thought. That nagging feeling he'd had since arriving was starting to make more sense. "And this prick didn't even know that it was Bowie!" Matt had moved the party upstairs to his private room and was laughing loudly at Rich's expense. Across from him, Vince was grinning, stirring his drink with a straw and taking small, coquettish sips. "No way!" he giggled. "That's mental!" Howard and Rich sat apart from them, watching on awkwardly. Much to Howard's chagrin, as Vince's level of alcohol consumption had increased, so had his tolerance of Matt. Rich, meanwhile, had said little since Bainbridge had been mentioned. Howard found his silence unnerving. "Happens all the time," Matt continued. "Adam Ant was in the other week." Vince was visibly impressed. "We've gotta get the address of this studio, eh Howard?" Howard nodded in an offhanded fashion, knowing full well that Vince was intoxicated and didn't really want his opinion. Matt continued to regale Vince with his stories of this amazing rehearsal studio that he and Rich frequented while Howard struggled to get his head around the idea that Fossil could write music. And had a job. A job by appointment of the Sovereign. None of it added up. Matt was taking a piss in the adjoining bathroom and Rich was mixing some fresh drinks. Howard took the opportunity to talk to Vince. "There's some bad juju afoot," he said discretely. "Bad juju? It's worse than that. We just voluntarily spent our Saturday night in an old people's home with Fossil. And he's normal! Well... sort of. This is a twisted, freakish nightmare. Good cocktails though." "Look," Howard said, looking around with suspicion. "This Matt, does he remind you of anyone?" Vince looked blank. "Imagine him with big hair," Howard continued. "And a moustache? Like a ... silver horseshoe?" Vince frowned in concentration. Realisation slowly dawned on him. "Yeah," Howard urged him on. "Des Lynam!" Vince beamed. "Des Lynam?" "Yeah, the Silver Fox. Ladies love Des." "Wasn't quite who I had in mind." "Oh. Charles Darwin?" Howard fought to control his frustration. "Think about it, Vince. The insults, the cursing. And," Howard imitated the very distinctive way that Matt had pointed at Rich. "This!" Vince suddenly looked quite sick. Howard moved closer to him. "Are you alright?" "Yeah," Vince said unconvincingly. "Must have had one Cosmo too many." Howard carefully scrutinised his friend. "What happened?" he asked. "When we came upstairs. You and him, you tagged behind a bit." Vince looked sheepish. "There is a chance that I might possibly have just kissed him a little bit." Howard looked appalled. "Vince, how could you-" "Leave it out, Howard. It's bad enough I've got deal with getting off with a Bainbridge clone. I'll never live this down." Howard thought he saw Vince gag slightly when he said their former employer's name. Then Matt walked back into the room. Vince paled. "IthinkIwannagohomenow." "What's wrong with you?" Matt asked when he and Rich were alone. He was sprawled across a chaise longue while Rich was squashed into a small armchair. "I guess seeing those guys again brought back a lot of memories," Rich replied. "Y'know, I used to be a real asshole." "You're still an arsehole." "It was the guy I used to work for. He treated me pretty bad. I didn't realise it at the time. I would've done anything for him." Matt swirled the glass he was holding and the icecubes within it made a tiny chiming sound. "My uncle Dicky used to own a zoo." He said. Rich looked up, surprised that Matt was still paying attention to the conversation. "He's a complete tosser." They were silent for a while. "Hey, Matt?" "What?" "Thanks for getting me a job. I thought the zoo was my life and I didn't have a fucking clue what to do after it closed." Matt sat up and opened his mouth to speak. Rich looked him in the eye. He reached out and put his hands on either side of Rich's head, pulled him closer and placed a brief, hard kiss on his mouth. "You're mine now," he breathed.

[betterdaysareatoenailaway]

Out on the Interstate: S’more Thoughts on Neil Young

I don’t have any fentanyl stories today, so I’m writing another Neil Young post. (Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to mention heroin. You’ll see.) I still have a ton of fent stories, don’t worry bout that. I just don’t feel like mining my memory for any right now. Instead, I wanna talk about my favourite Neil Young song ever. It’s called “Interstate.” This performance was recorded at Farm Aid 1985. Young’s backing band at the time were called the International Harvesters, which is a funny joke (International Harvester was a company that manufactured tractors and other agricultural equipment). Young was on a roll in the 80s with clever band names. Later on he would front Neil Young & the Restless. Anyway whoever is playing piano with Young was the perfect choice, plucking individual keys instead of slathering big chords all over the descending minor chord progression. Young’s guitar is tuned to drop D, a favourite tuning of his throughout his career, from “Cinammon Girl” to “World On A String” to “Be the Rain,” and you can hear the low D buzzing throughout, giving the song a raw off-the-cuff feel. Of course, Neil Young is known for his raw performances, especially on albums like Tonight’s the Night, but by the time the 80s rolled around he was making albums with a lot of processing and production like Landing on Water, along with silly genre exercises like Everybody’s Rockin’ and Old Ways. 

Young would eventually be sued by his own record label, Geffen, for making “uncharacteristic music.” David Geffen would eventually apologize to him, but he wasn’t wrong that Young’s early 80s records were a bit of a disaster. This performance, however, shows that Young hadn’t lost a single step when it came to live performance. His vocal is clear and convincing, world weary but still kinda defiant, like all his best songs. And whether those are real or synth strings, they sound great, and really tug at one’s heartstrings. They have the spook, that high lonesome train whistle feel. To my ears, all the best Neil Young songs are haunting and plaintive. There is a loneliness at the heart of most of Young’s best work (ever hear “Albequerque”? Prolly the saddest song to ever mention the eating of ham?) Neil Young doesn’t write carefree party music. Hell, he once recorded an entire album about the death of his friend and former bandmate Danny Whitten - and to a lesser extent, former roadie Bruce Berry who was fired for pawning instruments to buy heroin...told ya I’d find a way to mention the drug ;). What I’m saying is, Young is no stranger to sad songs. As to which song is his saddest, there are many contenders, but as Young’s biographer himself admits, “Interstate is Neil Young’s loneliest song.” I agree.

Young’s longtime producer David Briggs, who knew damn well that “Interstate” was a rare gem, tried to get Young to record it for 1991′s Ragged Glory, but in typical fashion, “[Young] acceded, but perversely,” eschewing the full-band format and recording a solo acoustic version instead. That particular version would eventually see limited release on the vinyl version of Young’s 1996 album Broken Arrow, a forgettable affair that was hammered by critics and disavowed by most members of Crazy Horse. You can find the solo acoustic “Interstate” on YouTube but I’m not gonna post it, simply because it is so freakin’ disappointing. 

I love the line “I can hear a soft voice calling...telling me to bring my guitar home.” In the tradition of the Rolling Stones’ “Moonlight Mile,” "Interstate” is one of the all-time great I’m-A-Lonely-Rock-Star-On-Tour song. A more modern version of this idea can be found in Kurt Vile’s unimaginatively titled “On Tour,” a song where Young’s influence can be identified, especially in the way Vile tunes his lower strings to let them buzz, a technique pioneered by Young in the abovementioned song and most prominently in “Bandit.”

Thank God for YouTube, so that you can hear "Interstate” in all its gorgeous majesty. You can hear Young play the same guitar solo he’s been playing his whole career in minor key masterpieces like “Hey Hey My My,” “Like A Hurricane,” “Goin’ Home,” “Be The Rain.” Every time Young returns to it, you can feel the long shadow of his past, echoes of former greatness, the shambolic glory of his band bashing away at the chords, always emphasizing emotional delivery over technical proficiency. It’s a really really beautiful song, a song I treasure, and I hope you like it.

I’m also posting a rare version of “Shots.”

In “Shots,” Neil Young returns to a technique previously used on “Cortez the Killer,” where he switches from a third person omniscient voice describing trauma and violence to a first person voice describing personal emotion. In Zuma’s “Cortez the Killer,” Young spends two or three verses describing the endeavours of genocidal explorer Hernan Cortes, and also the Aztecs: people worked together/they lifted many stones/they carried them to the flatlands/they died along the way/but they built up with their bare hands what we still can’t do today/and I know she’s living there and loves me til this day. Now, that’s not Shelley, but it’s an effective and jarring switch. Young tries it again in “Shots,” and for me, the effect is even better. For whatever reason, maybe his sharp right turn when he became an outspoken Reagan supporter, or maybe because of the Iran-Contra Affair, Young’s lyrics took on a particular preoccupation with crime, border zones, and desert iconography in the 1980s, manifestations of which can be heard in “Crime in the City (Sixty to Zero Part I)” “Rockin’ In the Free World,” “On Broadway,” and “Eldorado,” all songs that ended up on Young’s last album of the 1980s, Freedom. But because of the remarkable internal consistency of Young’s discography, you can also hear such sentiments in one of his first 1980s releases: “Shots.”  Children are lost in the sand, building roads with little hands Trying to join their father's castles together again Will they make it? Hey, who knows where or when old wounds will mend?  Shots ringing all along the borders can be heard  Striking out like a venom in the sky  Cutting through the air faster than a bird in the night  But I'll never use your love, you know I'm not that kind And so if you give your heart to me I promise to you Whatever we do...that I will always be true To jump from depictions of border violence to gooey Hallmark card sentiments shouldn’t work, yet it does. The words might look silly written down, but the sheer conviction they are sung with, and the sheer power of Young’s loon-like vibrato, is what sells them, at least to my ears and heart. I’m not the first to make the loon comparison, Young’s biographer Jimmy McDonough has done so too. Young’s father Scott was the first writer to compare his son’s unique voice to the sound of the loon cry, a very Canadian sound, associated with Muskoka nights in summer, nights often soundtracked by Young’s vast and varied discography.

Disappointingly, the album version of “Shots,” which appeared on 1981′s Re-ac-tor, is pretty fuckin annoying, with its overblown machine gun affects (done by Young on the Synclavier), and Ralph Molina’s incessant marching beat. The song is already called “Shots,” Neil. You didn’t have to add machine gun sound effects. This isn’t audio verite. I’m not gonna post the album version here but you can find it easily. The album iteration has its fans though. Canadian blue-collar rockers The Constantines would cover “Shots” on a vinyl-only release with The Unintended, in which the Cons covered Neil Young and The Unintended covered Gordon Lightfoot. The Cons picked some weird songs, “Shots” among them, and you can tell they are referencing the Re-ac-tor version, not the superior one posted here. I’m not sure why Young slathered so many effects over the album version of “Shots.” The 80s definitely saw him taking his heavier music in an unpalatable direction. The Eldorado EP, in particular, has one of his most savage recordings ever, a song called “Heavy Love” where Young blows his voice out completely by the end of the song in an attempt to sing louder than the savage pulsing thrust of the band (the abovementioned Young & the Restless). The drummer on Eldorado was Chad Cromwell, not Steve Jordan who’d played with Young on his legendary SNL appearance where he played “Rockin in the Free World,” the definitive performance of that song, where Young tore all six strings from his guitar at its denouement. Unfortunately, SNL guards its content as jealously as a rabid guard dog, so I can’t post it. Maybe one day I’ll find a gif. I’ll leave you with two strong cuts from Eldorado. The first is “Heavy Love,” which is obviously a sister song to “Rockin In The Free World,” with its similar sonic texture and E minor riff. Listening is worth it just to hear Young’s voice go to pieces a la “Territorial Pissings” at the end (3:58 if you don’t wanna wait).

And this is the title track “Eldorado,” which ended up on Freedom. Young employs a fingerpicking style redolent of 80s megastars Dire Straits, and he sings of mission bells and senoritas and golden suns rising on runways and Mariachi bands while playing the A minor chord, a chord strongly associated with Mexican music and Mariachi styles. It’s a cool verite approach, one that works much better than the machine gun effects of “Shots,” especially when the gun violence Young has been hinting at the entire song finally explodes in a shower of distortion at 4:40. Have you ever heard something so loud compared to the backing track? I remember showing “Eldorado” to my friend/bandmate James, and I told him to prepare himself for how loud it is. Afterwards, James said, “even though I was ready for it, that scared the shit out of me.” It is so fucking loud. Check it out @ 4:40. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

One last point I’ll make...the Spanish-influenced guitar lick you can hear at 1:06 is really similar to the pre-chorus guitar riff Young plays on “War of Man” from Harvest Moon. I don’t consider stuff like that to be self plagiarism. I think it shows a consistency, but also it’s a way to reward fans for paying attention. Frank Zappa was known to do the same thing, re-introduce little musical nuances he’d recorded years or decades before. It’s cool. It’s what makes a discography live on long after the artist has burnt out or faded away. If you’re interested, here is a wonderful live early version of “Eldorado” titled “Road of Plenty” recorded with Crazy Horse in 1986: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=By6_oLYfrYk

[themadlostgirl]

Not Dead Yet (Part 41)

*New characters! Woo! Gonna be good! (Also timelines suck so we’re just gonna be playing a little fast and loose with it from here on out)*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warnings: language

For the next couple of months I played the piper. I had to admit it was more fun than I had thought. I chose a random town, played the pipes, and picked one of the boys to come back. None of them were the Truest Believer but they were much more enthusiastic about being on Neverland than some of the others we had recently recruited.

As for Peter he kept true to his word and didn’t make a move unless I approached him first. One night afterwards I spotted him making torch embers dance along the air. He insisted that his magic was not as powerful as it was before but I like to believe that not leaving Neverland was helping. Being stuck on this island so much though with no breaks from the boys did weigh on him though. He’s never had to be confined before this and I could tell it was driving him a bit mad.

He wanted to know how much time was left in the hourglass but was reluctant about traveling to Skull Rock himself. I told him I’d go in his place and only tell him if it was truly dawning closer to the end. Peter said no. The hourglass was his burden and didn’t want me to worry myself over it anymore than I already was. He wanted me to focus on finding the boy we needed and nothing more. That was until the one night.

After a night out in some other realm I returned back to Neverland. I understood something was amiss the moment I realized how cold it was. Even at night Neverland was incredibly warm. Now though, I could see my breath. I shoved the new kid off with the others and asked Ben what had happened since I left.

“I don’t know. Everything was fine, we were partying the night away, then out of nowhere the heat dropped.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll fix this.” I muttered. I pulled the pied cloak closer around me and covered my face with the bandana round my neck. It had been so long since I’ve been somewhere so cold and I could feel my lungs struggling to take it in. When I find Peter I am gonna kill him.

I shouted across the island but there was no response. Where had he gone to? I grabbed Candace from my tent and had her fly over the island in hopes she could spot him quicker. She came back a few minutes later and led me to a cliff overlooking Skull Rock. Of course. “He must have already taken the rowboat. Candace, you think my beautiful girl could fly me over?”

She latched her talons onto my shoulders and pulled me off the ground with ease. We flew across the expanse of ocean before she set me down in one of the rock’s eye sockets. “Thanks, sweetie.” I grabbed a handful of berries out of my pocket and set them down for her to snack on.

As I had guessed Peter was sitting in the middle of the cavern staring at the hourglass. “Peter.” I cursed the fact that it was somehow even colder here, “Peter.” I knelt next to him when he didn’t respond. “Chief, you okay?” I moved right in front of his line of sight. He stared back as if realizing for the first time I was speaking.

“Y/N…” his voice seemed disconnected from his body, “The hourglass.”

“What? What about it?” I turned back and saw what he meant. A hairline crack had appeared at the base of the glass and wound all way up toward the top. “That’s not good.”

“I don’t know what it means. I came here after you left to check on it and that was there. It’s a magical hourglass is shouldn’t just crack.”

“Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. It’s running just the same and no sand is leaking out from it. I see how it is concerning but I don’t think it’s worth all this panic.” I spoke slowly in hopes of soothing him. “Staring at it is only going to make you more paranoid. Let’s get you out of here.”

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s Neverland. Nothing makes sense.” I reminded him, “Please, let’s go. You’ll feel better once it’s out of sight again.”

“Right.” he swallowed, “Just a crack. Nothing more. You can barely even see it.”

“Exactly.” I shivered despite myself.

“Are you cold?” he noticed my quivering arms.

“Your little panic attack over a tiny crack didn’t make the island any warmer.”

“Apologies, pet.” He held my face in his hands which were blessedly warm compared to the air. I sighed into the touch and he gave me a deep kiss that ignited my insides with heat. “Better?”

“Much.” I was left breathless for an entirely new reason. He smirked back at me and pulled on my hand leading me back down to the boat. I whistled for Candace and she flew from her perch to nestle herself on my lap as Peter rowed us back to shore.

“Peter?”

“Hm?”

“I know you’ve been staying on the island to keep your strength up but maybe you should take a break from it. We could go out, just for one day, forget all this curse nonsense. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

He smirked across at me. “Outside of the patronizing tone it does sound nice. If I’m stuck on this island for another day heads are going to roll.”

“Now don’t do that. Or better yet, if you do go for the whiny kids.”

“I’m so glad you enable me. Makes things easier.” By the time we got to the shore the island had warmed up back to it’s usual humid temperature. “Any ideas on where we could go for our visit tomorrow?”

“I thought I’d let you pick.”

“How considerate.” We got back to camp and the boys were basking in the renewed warmth of the island. “You bring back a new boy?”

“Yes but he isn’t the boy we need. He does seem very promising though.”

“Great. Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” I searched the faces and spotted Ben jumping around the fire with the others. “I told you I’d fix it. Where’s the new kid?

“Blondie? He’s over there chatting with Devin.” Ben pointed out a log where Devin and some other boys were inspecting the new boy.

Peter and I walked over to them and I booted Devin out of his spot but before I could sit down Peter took the seat and pulled me down to recline in the space between his legs. “Imp.” I muttered under my breath but didn’t object when he started to play with my hair.

He gave the new kid the lowdown on the island, explaining that he was the real leader and I was just the temporary recruiter. The new kid, Isaac, had almost stark white blonde hair and even paler skin. He was older than the child we were looking for but had a lot of energy that made me eager to see how he would fare during training.

“I would love to see how your first training session goes but I will unfortunately be off island tomorrow.” I mentioned as the night grew later.

“Where are you gonna be?” Devin asked.

“I have a life outside of you idiots.”

“You mean your private time with this idiot?” Devin pointed to Peter. I laughed as Peter let out a long sigh.

“Ha ha,” Peter’s hands left my hair to grab a fistful of Devin’s shirt. “Tread carefully.”

“Only joking.” Devin gulped then snuck off to join another group of boys.

“Well, as fun as this has been I’m going to bed. Night boys.” I settled back in my tent and fell asleep. I had a feeling Peter had a big day planned for tomorrow and I would need my rest to keep up with him.

In the morning he practically pulled me out of my tent and soon we were off. I didn’t know where we were headed but it had me excited. We landed in some town completely devoid of rules like Neverland but instead of children running about there were dozens upon dozens of drunken men, women, and prostitutes. “Charming. And such a...strong smell.”

“It’s a fun place. I used to come here all the time.” Peter looked around the town and pulled on my arm toward the loudest bar. Every window was smashed and some people hung out of them dumping bottles of rum onto the people below.

“Where exactly is here?” I asked.

“Tortuga.” Peter pushed us through the crowd of clumsily dancing and brawling patrons. “It may be filled with reeking adults but there’s another reason I brought us here.”

“And what would that be?”

“To steal one of these filthy pirate’s ships and take it for a ride.”

“You want to steal a pirate’s ship? Now that does sound like fun.”

“It’s been something I’ve wanted to do for a while. With my magic I should be able to command it myself no problem. We just need to find the right one.”

“Alrighty then. Let’s stop burning daylight and go!”

“Not so fast.” Peter grabbed my collar pulling me back. “You eagerness is inviting but first we need to wait till nightfall. That’s when all the pirates are at their least sober. We’ll hang out here, pick out which ship we want, then when the sun sets we’ll steal it. Think you can wait that long?”

“If this wasn’t going to work until nightfall then why did you pull me out of bed so early in the morning?”

“Cause I needed off Neverland as soon as possible. If I had to spend another moment there then I was going to end up back at Skull Rock.”

“Peter,” I wanted to say something to comfort him but the words escaped me. Instead I decided to divert his mind from the worrisome thoughts and dragged him to a secluded corner hidden from prying eyes. He fell into the distraction gratefully as we shagged in the corner.

The morning pressed on and it amused me to no end how one town could be so rip-roaring drunk all the time. Peter and I were staking out the ships picking out our favorite. There was a beautiful ship with black sails docked at the pier. I  suggested taking that one but Peter advised against it. It was too big. We needed something a tad smaller.

We chose a nice medium sized ship called the Silver Lining. Promptly named for the silver edging around the fresh white sails. It stood out among the crusty pirate ships. Whoever docked here surely didn’t mind a bit of flamboyance. “Ooh, looky who else is here.” I pointed further down the dock. A familiar ship was anchored nearby and Captain Hook stepped onto the pier.

“Maybe we should take his for a joy ride.” I felt drawn to the ship.

“No pet. I don’t want to get into another fight with him because we took his ship. Let’s focus on our own fun and if we have time later we’ll mess with him.”

“Fine. What game can we play now? I’m getting bored.”

“Hm? I don’t know. What do you think?”

“Hide and seek?”

“Really?”

“Yep. We’re not on the island so you can’t just locate me.”

“Fine. Go hide.” He turned around and I took off to find the perfect hiding spot.

I ducked inside a stable and buried myself under a pile of hay. While waiting for Peter to find me I thought about all the fun we would have out on the open sea. Despite having seen many lands and gone on my own adventures I had never sailed. To be in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight. I couldn’t wait.

I wasn’t paying attention and a body dropped onto me. “Hey! Shove off!” I pushed the person off me. I fully expected it to be some random or even Peter being an ass but it was neither. It was some woman with dark skin and long black hair braided down to her waist. She was dressed in some animal skin but not like the pelts the boys and I wore. What threw me off more was the notched dagger pointed at me.

“What in the world are you doing in there?” she snapped at me.

“Looking for buried treasure.” I rolled my eyes as I withdrew my own dagger. “What the hell are you doing dropping yourself on me?”

“Well I wasn’t expecting a girl to be hiding under it. Put away the dagger, you are outside your skill.”

“And you severely underestimate who you are dealing with.”

“You’ve got nerve, I respect that.” She gave me a tiny smirk.

“Same.” I smirked back. As if we read each other’s minds we sheathed our daggers but kept a good distance from away from one another. She was still a stranger. Her dark eyes reminded me of a wild animal’s as in they couldn’t be read. She simply stared and I couldn’t make out what it was she could possibly be thinking. Not something I had ever encountered before.

“So, you look a little young to be traversing towns like this. Why are you here?”

“Just visiting with a friend. What about you? You definitely don’t look like you fit in here.”

“Just passing through.” she shrugged, “I never stay in the same place for long. With all these ships I should be able to sneak aboard and get out of here soon enough.”

“Well my friend and I are planning on commandeering a ship later tonight if you’re interested in tagging along. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“A kind gesture but I’ll have to decline. The land I’m looking to escape to is another realm. Stealing a mere ship isn’t going to get me there.”

“Another realm, you say?” The small beans in my pocket shifted as I started to pace the woman. “Again, I may be able to help with that. Come grab a drink with me?”

“Aren’t you a tad too young to drink?”

“I’m older than I look.”

“Fair enough.” It didn’t take us long to find a bottle of rum or gin and settled down in the back of one of the bars. We passed the bottle between us taking small sips so neither of us were compromised in case either tried anything. She didn’t trust easy. Another thing we had in common.

“So tell me, why is it you’re looking to escape to another realm?”

“I’ve gotten in a little trouble. Angered a few people I shouldn’t have. I need someplace away from all that.”

“Now that sounds familiar.” I took another sip of the rum, “I could get you out of here. It’d cost you greatly though.”

“If it’s riches you want--”

“Please,” I scoffed, “I use gold coins as skipping stones. No, what I would need from you would be something entirely different. A favor of sorts.”

Her hands clenched tighter around the neck of the bottle. “What sort of favor?”

“This realm you want to escape to, it has to be my realm.” I pulled out my dagger and started carving little circles in the table. “It’s a wonderful place. Warm. Plenty to eat. Never a dull moment. No rules.”

“Why would I have to go back to your realm specifically?”

“Can I be honest with you? I feel like I can.” I stabbed the dagger into the table, “I am the only girl in this realm outside from the murderous mermaids. I love my boys but if I am the sole female any longer I am going to lose it. You, well you seem tough enough to endure the kind of lifestyle my realm calls for. You get what you want and I get what I want. Sound fair?”

“What kind of realm only has one girl in it?”

“A realm like no other. This is your only chance. What do you say?”

She pondered it for a moment and took a long pull from the bottle before settling her unreadable dark gaze on me once again. “You got yourself a deal. Where is this realm?”

“A quaint little place called Neverland.” At this the color drained from her and she remained unblinking. “Heard of it, have you?”

“Yes…” she cleared her throat, “I thought it was just an old folk lore.”

“Far from it. Still want to go?”

She nodded. “If it gets me out of here. Yes. I’ll go.” Despite the almost regal posture she held herself her voice wavered. “When do we leave?”

“That part is a little trickier.” I can’t give her a bean or else Peter will know it was I who gave it to her. Magic beans weren’t exactly a household object outside of Neverland. I remembered who I had seen earlier and an idea wormed it’s way into my mind. “I’ve got it. Wait here. If all goes well you should be out of here before nightfall. Can you be ready to go by then?”

“Yes. What are you doing?”

“You’ll see soon enough.” I dashed out of the bar. I spotted Peter roaming the town still searching for me. I had almost forgotten about our game. It’s better he doesn’t know about this. He had no problem with me bringing new boys to the island but I didn’t know how he’d react to bringing a full grown woman.

I searched through the bars until I heard the familiar voice of a certain captain ringing from within. I slipped inside and spotted Hook and his crew having some drinks and shamelessly flirting with some barmaids. They had a deck of cards strewn on the table as they showed the woman how to play their game. “Ahem,” I walked up to the group, “Looks fun. Mind if I join?”

“Y/N,” Hook glared at me, “What are you doing here?”

“Excuse us men, I need to have a word with the captain.” I motioned for Hook to follow. He remained seated. “Did I forget to mention that I am not here alone, captain?” At this his jaw set. I smirked as he pushed the floozy off his lap and stalked over to where I was standing.

“What do you want?”

“I need you to ferry someone for me.”

“Another boy?”

“Not this time.” I swept my gaze over the bar to make sure Peter wasn’t in earshot, “A woman. She’ll be at your ship later this evening. I need you to take her to Neverland and for your own safety don’t try to woo her. Something tells me it wouldn’t end well for you.”

“Why do I need to do this?”

“I believe my reasons are my own. Just do as I say and you will not suffer any consequences. Understood?”

“Fine. What does the lass look like?”

“Dark skin, long black hair, dark eyes. Trust me, she’d be hard to mistake. It is imperative you get back to Neverland before Peter and I. So no dallying.” I pat his arm, “Glad we had this discussion. See you back on Neverland.”

I snuck back to the other bar and informed the woman that the travel arrangements had been made. She was to find the Jolly Roger and it’s hook handed captain before nightfall. She thanked me and got up to leave.

“Wait,” she turned back to me, “I never asked your name.”

“Y/N. Yours?”

“Tigerlily.”

“A pleasure meeting you Tigerlily. I’m sure we’ll be having a lot of fun together in the future.” I smirked at her and for a moment I saw something almost like recognition flicker in those unreadable eyes. Maybe it was just a trick of the light. She disappeared out the door. I went back to my hiding spot and was soon found by Peter.

We laughed and he went off to hide completely unaware of my plans. I was almost looking forward to how this was going to blow up in my face later.

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[ladynestaarcheron]

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter One

Hello, everyone! So, I'm very excited to finally post this. I've been working on it for such a long time! This is my first multi-chapter acotar fic. it’got three different time settings, and follows nesta’s exile to illyria (canon and canon compliant there), her leaving to a little country across the sea, and the inner circle finding her there with three Illyrian-winged children. she’s no longer interested in them, but cassian's lost her too many times to do so again, and this time, he has more at stake than ever before, if those three Illyrian-winged children have got anything to do with it.

you can read like pristine glass on ao3 and ff.net as well. enjoy!!

---

October 12 - 4 years after

It seems autumn has surrendered early to winter this year. The first cool drizzle had arrived in early September and the sun had immediately fled behind a cover of clouds and had not been seen since.

The unseasonable heavy rain has robbed Velaris’ people of their last few weeks enjoying the outdoors but Elain does not mind so much, as Feyre’s riverfront home has a beautiful dining room with a carved table she had helped picked out, and she is so excited to see her friends--now more like family--all gathered together, she does not care where the meeting commences.

“Oh, am I here before Feyre?” Mor says brightly from behind her. “Excellent. I thought I’d have to make up some excuse for being late.”

“What were you thinking of?” Elain asks her, turning around to greet her with a kiss on her cheek.

“Caught in the storm, or something? I don’t know.”

“That’s not very creative,” Cassian says, coming into the dining room with Amren behind him. “And the least you could’ve done was let yourself get wet. Try and sell it. Hello, Elain.”

A flurry of hellos and I’ve missed yous and hadn’t realized how long it’s beens, combined with hugs, followed, and within fifteen minutes, they are only waiting for one of their Circle to arrive.

Elain sits down near the head of the table, eyes fixed down, able to see the doorway in her periphery. Perfectly prepared, if anyone were to walk in... she hopes no one notices the faint blush she can feel growing on her cheeks--ah, but they are arguing about the food.

“It’s only Az,” Cassian is saying, “I don’t see why we can’t at least have some wine.”

“We’re waiting,” Feyre says firmly. “We don’t start dinner until everyone’s here.”

“Get over yourself, Cass,” Mor says, cutting him off. “He’ll be here soon.”

“You started drinking before you got here.”

“I did not. Is Varian coming to the High Summit in November, Amren?”

“Oh, no,” Feyre says, before Amren got a chance to reply. “No High Summit discussions. No work-related topics.”

Cassian whistles low and ran a hand through his hair. “You two have an unfair advantage.” He jerks his chin towards Feyre and Rhys, arms entwined together. “You have non-work-related topics going on.”

“Oh, please. Speak for yourself,” Mor says. “You’re the only one without a life.”

“Twice as much as you.”

“Mmm, not even close.”

“Pathetic,” Cassian says, shaking his head. “She courts one female, loses her mind. Does Emerie know you’ve lost your mind, Mor?”

“Emerie’s at perfect peace with my--”

“Oh, thank the Mother, that’ll be Az,” interrupts Feyre. “Now we can eat. Maybe Cassian’ll shut up when we put food in his mouth.”

“If you wanted me to shut up, you could’ve put food in my mouth ten minutes ago,” Cassian says. “Hey, Az, tell us, what’s your brilliant excuse for showing up late? Caught in the rain? See, Mor, at least he got himself wet.”

Elain looks up, desperate to keep her thoughts off her face, normally so hard to do whenever he walks into a room.

But one look at Azriel, still wet from the rain, sends everything but dread clear out of her. His expression is sombre, and his eyes sorrowful. He looks at her and Feyre and Cassian.

She knows what’s coming.

“No,” she tries to say, but can’t make any sound come out. Mor, from across the table, reaches out to squeeze her hand, but she yanks it back towards herself.

“I’ve found her,” Az says, and his voice sounded lower than usual.

Elain can’t move, can’t look at Feyre, can’t see--

Cassian shakes the table as he stood up, faster than Elain has ever seen him move. Simply sitting one moment, then standing the next. “Where is she,” he says, pain laced in his voice.

“She’s dead,” Amren says flatly to her left, and all the air leaves the room and everything vanishes from inside and around Elain, leaving a living void, pulsing and sucking out the life and light of everything, gone gone gone--

“She’s not,” Azriel says. And he says something else after that, but Elain can’t hear, too focused on the rush of blood in her ears, on she’s not she’s not she’s not she’s not, to pay to attention.

“Oh,” she says aloud. “Oh.”

Feyre pushes out of Rhysand’s embrace--had he pulled her into his lap? Elain didn’t notice--and sits beside her. She puts an arm around her. “She’s alive,” she whispers in her ear. “And Az has found her.”

Mor makes room for Azriel and he sits down, folding in his wings as he does so. He pulls out what looked like a small crystal ball--one she recognizes. From before, when they were human, Nesta at her side... and six mortal queens opposite. The Veritas. An orb with the power to show anything a previous holder had seen.

They all lean in. Elain can imagine Cassian and Feyre’s pain mirrors her own, but she feels something quite suddenly she doesn’t expect to: envy. Who has seen Nesta? Who, when she has not, she who has the power to gaze across the world, across time, who has looked so hard for her sister... who has seen her?

Pale clouds swirl inside the Veritas, the same she had seen a lifetime ago, with weaker eyes, and this time, instead of a city from above, appeared a figure. A female’s figure, wearing a hooded cloak, and holding a large bundle.

The image isn’t quite clear; whoever had held the Veritas and spotted Nesta  had done so from a distance.

The female in the scene turns, holding up an arm, and waves, like she is calling someone over.

“It doesn’t look like her,” Mor whispers, and Amren shushed her.

“It’s her posture,” Feyre says. “That’s her walk.”

The female puts down the bundle, but instead of staying in its place, it...moves. Waddles. Closer to the female...hugging her legs.

Feyre sucks in a breath.

“Is that a child?” Rhysand asks, entirely incredulous.

Elain’s eyes dare to flicker away from the Veritas, to Cassian, just for a moment. Fear and shock are on his face.

The female bends down and picks up the child again as she waves the person she had called before into the scene. Two someones.

Two more children.

“Maybe she’s helping out a friend,” Amren says, her voice low. “With their children.”

“I still don’t think it looks like her.”

“Watch,” Azriel says. She feels his eyes on her as he says, “I wouldn’t have brought this if I hadn’t made certain it was her.”

And sure enough, a moment later, the female puts the first child down. She tugs on one of the other two’s cloak, fixing it around the toddler’s chin. As she does, her own hood falls back.

Revealing her elder sister’s perfect face.

Feyre gasps, and someone else does, and Amren snarls and Cassian says her name, aloud, the first time she has heard it in four years: “Nesta.”

He says it just once, but it’s so heavy, his voice rasp with four years worth of pain and longing and everything, just everything, because Nesta is everything to Cassian, is she not?

Just as she is everything to Elain.

Because the bond they had was not the same as the bond she has with Feyre. She doesn’t love either more, but she loves them differently. And Cassian... Cassian feels now what she’s feeling. This she knows.

So this time, when Mor and Feyre reach over to comfort her, she pushes them both aside, and moves to sit by Cassian.

“She’s all right,” she says to him, her voice low. “And now we know where she is.”

He looks down at her, finally tearing his gaze away from the orb on the table, which still shows Nesta and the three children walking along.

“I know,” she says to him softly.

He looks back at the table, at Nesta.

“Where is she, Azriel?” Rhys asks. He’s running a hand up and down Feyre’s back. Elain can tell he’s already planning who to send, how to get her back. For Feyre.

“Gilameyva,” he says, and Elain has never heard of it, but the others clearly have.

“Gilameya?” Cassian and Amren say.

“The berry lands?” Mor asks.

“Sugar Valley,” Azriel continues. “One of the berry-townships, yes.”

“What’s a berry-township?” Elain asks, watching her sister--her sister--herd the three children along a pavement. In Gilameyva, apparently. “And where’s Gilameyva?”

“Just across the sea,” Cassian says, struggling to keep his voice even. “Ships dock from Gilameyva in Illyria once a month. And vice-versa.”

“And she’s been there four years?”

“Whose are the kids?”

“How’d you find her?”

“Gilameyva is not like a Court of Prythian,” Azriel says, ignoring them all and addressing her. “It’s self-governed by councils in each of their cities and towns. The council’s are elected and there isn’t a High Lord or a ruler’s assets and there isn’t a tithe. They sell berries.”

“Berries?”

“Each township has their own speciality. Nesta’s in Sugar Valley. They specialize in sugar berries.”

“You expect me to believe Nesta Archeron has spent the last four years picking sugar berries in Gilameyva?” Amren says with vitriol, before Elain has a chance to respond.

But Azriel does not answer in kind, and says calmly, “She has not been picking berries. I have reason to believe she works at a bookstore.”

A bookstore.

They have been worried out of their minds, every second for four years, and she has been at a bookstore.

“What about the children?” Cassian says.

“Watch,” Azriel says, and he sounds a bit more gentle. It’s the tone he normally takes with her.

Nesta and the children have made it to a neighborhood, lined with tiny houses with red roofs. They’ve all got little gardens in front. Toys on some front lawns.

Nesta and the three children stop in front of a blue two-story and walk up the pavement to a the white door. Just as they reach, one of the children--Elain thinks it’s a boy--turns away and runs towards a corner of the lawn. He grabs a toy Elain can’t quite make out.

And as he turns back to rejoin Nesta and the other two children, the observer, Azriel’s spy, moves bit closer and gets a perfect view of his back. And the child chooses right then to stretch... to stretch out....

To stretch out his black leather wings.

He flies, just a foot off the ground, to Nesta’s side.

They walk in the house together.

The Veritas fades.

“My source says no one left or entered the house again. They were gone at sunrise.”

“They can’t be hers.” Mor glances at Cassian as she speaks.

“We believe they are,” Azriel says. He looks straight at Elain, and then at Feyre. “They called her mother. Two boys and a girl.”

“So they are.” Feyre rubs her temples. “ Those are her children.”

“What ages?” Cassian says. His voice is soft, nearly weak.

Azriel looks at him now, something akin to pity in his eyes. “We guess around three.”

Cassian rubs his neck and stands up.

“Well?” Elain says to him.

He looks down and slowly drags his gaze to her face.

“Yes,” he says.

Elain hears the self-loathing, knows he must be in pain, but the camaraderie she felt with him mere minutes ago is gone. Now all she can think of is her sister, her big sister, alone in a land she doesn’t know, pregnant in a body that she couldn’t call her own, with triplets.

“What...have...we...done,” she sobs. “Feyre, what have we done?”

“Elain,” Feyre says, standing up, and she’s crying too. “We’ll--we’ll go to her--I’m sorry--oh, Nesta--”

“It’s not your fault,” Rhysand mumbles against her hair, and that’s it for Elain.

“Oh, yes it is!” she says, nearly choking on her tears. “It most certainly is our fault!”

“I’m going to Gilameyva,” Cassian says, through gritted teeth.

Mor stands up. “Don’t, Cassian--wait a moment.”

“No,” he says, and nearly charges out the door.

“He’s distraught. He’ll kill himself like this. Az, let’s go after--”

“No!” Elain cries out. “He should go!”

Mor looks at her in surprise. Elain is not a voice of dissent, and she certainly never raises her tone. “Elain, please--”

“He should go, he should have gone, he should have gone years ago. We should have gone years ago...when she sent those letters!”

“Elain,” Feyre says. But she doesn’t say anything else. Because there is nothing else to say.

Amren, still seated at the table, says softly, “You’re right.”

“Amren,” Rhysand says. “Elain, be reasonable, I know you’re upset. We’re all upset. None of us knew.”

“You’ve always hated her. From the second you saw her. You were glad she was gone. You were glad she stopped sending letters.”

Because she had sent letters. They had not been worried for four years. They had been worried for three.

“Elain, don’t blame Rhys,” Feyre says, wiping her eyes.

“I blame myself,” Elain says, voice shaking, “but I blame you, too. And I blame you more!”

“Elain,” Azriel says, his voice in her ear. She jumps a little. She hadn’t realized he was right behind her. “Sit down. Let’s get you some tea.”

“You all hated her,” Elain says, pushing him away. “And I loved her and I didn’t...” Elain can’t finish her sentence for her crying. “Oh, all the gods, I didn’t even read a letter, oh, I shouldn’t have let you send her to Illyria, I should’ve... I should have....”

“Sit down, Elain,” Azriel says again. “Cassian will be there by tomorrow morning. We’ll hear back from him soon. I’ll take you to meet her myself.”

His words are quiet, only for her. But she is too upset to stay and hear more, and makes her way out of the dining room, to her room.

Nesta’s perfect face appears in her mind’s eye. She looked well in the image, but all Elain can see is her frightened, alone, lost, desperately waiting for a reply that would never come.

She should have answered a letter. She shouldn’t have let Feyre send her to Illyria. And she shouldn’t have looked for her herself, when it became clear something was wrong.

She feels guilty, too guilty to breathe properly, because it’s suffocating her, oozing out, enveloping her body--

And perhaps some of it does ooze out, because she feels a cautious tug on her rib.

She gasps a little; she’ll never get used to that.

Her relationship with... her mate is not a romantic one, but it’s there. And so she sends a little tug back, to let him know not to worry.

And then throws up her shields, to let him know to stay out of it.

Cassian is on his way to Nesta now. But Elain needs to see her herself, to tell her she’s sorry, to offer help, to bring her back to Velaris--and then it hits her. The children.

Nesta is not pregnant and alone, because she has the children. Three half-Illyrian, half-whatever-Nesta-is children.

And are they what children are supposed to be? Are they a blessing? Are they the joy of her sister’s life? As she wonders, a tiny bud of hope blooms inside her.

Because if they are, perhaps Nesta is not so angry. And perhaps she will forgive her.

But whether or not she will, Elain knows she will never forgive herself for agreeing to Feyre’s plan years ago....

---

September 10 - Day of

She had not attended dinner the day before. Elain had thought it would be nice, just the three of them, saying goodbye to each other. Nesta had scoffed at that when she tentatively approached her in the sitting room, just after Feyre had finished delivering her judgment upon her. They were not saying goodbye to each other. They were exiling her. To a war camp, to hated mountains, with a male she could barely stand to look at.

“But if we won’t be seeing each other for a while...” Elain trailed off, one hand tugging on a lock of her gold-brown hair, color identical to Feyre’s. She did not finish her sentence at the look in Nesta’s eyes.

And whose fault is that she couldn’t bring herself to say. Instead, she had turned on her heel and made her way back to her own apartment.

“She’ll come,” she heard Feyre tell Elain.

Well. She hadn’t.

She hadn’t done anything else, though, when she had arrived. Feyre’s words left an echo of pain inside her, a dulled sort of ache. She was mildly, almost distantly surprised she had felt anything at all; she was so used to numbing every emotion that flared inside her. She could still hear her sister’s voice in her head again and again. I want you out of Velaris. Shaking, like she was nervous, or maybe even scared.

What was she scared of? She was not being sent away. She was still in charge of her own fate.

She woke in her room, in her bed, but she did not remember when she fell asleep.

She was sitting on her couch, but she did not remember getting out of bed, getting dressed. She was trying to remember if she’d eaten when he knocked on the door.

The same way he had yesterday, hard enough to rattle the entire apartment. Nesta felt every cell in her body fighting against her as she moved to open it. She took a deep breath before she pulled the door open, blocking his entrance.

He had the same insufferable grin he always had on to greet her, but she was too hollow to feel proper anger, just...cold.

“Hungry?” he said, pushing her aside and making his way in. “We could stop for breakfast before we go.” Before she started her life in her baby sister’s exile. “Where are your bags?”

He looked around the living area, and then at her, as if expecting her to pull them out of thin air. She didn’t say anything.

“Right, I guess I’ll just go get them,” he said under his breath.

Nesta put a hand on her couch and gazed around the room as she heard Cassian pull a bag out from somewhere and stuff her clothes inside. Her apartment was small and the location was miserable and sparsely decorated was a generous description, but it was hers. Four locks, one that only she could open--safe. Dodgy neighbors, sure, but they couldn’t get in.

Her piles of books everywhere...Nesta would’ve liked shelves, perhaps a mahogany or rosewood or cedar. And...pictures. On the walls. Not of people, not like the portraits Feyre had everywhere, more like the still lives that once decorated their estate. And a piano.

Her apartment was far too small for a piano. She was being ridiculous, creating the illusion of happiness here, just to give herself something to miss in Illyria.

“All right, here’s the essentials,” Cassian said, coming out of her bedroom. She ignored him, taking a last look at her...home. Her place. Her own. Paid for by her sister’s mate, maybe, but as close to hers as anything could be.

“We’ll send for the rest later. Your books, and...whatever else.”

She brushed her hand over the cushions. She had never liked this pattern. Stripes. She’d have liked a couch with one solid color, maybe some throw pillows with swirling decals.

“And we can pick up anything you need in Illyria. There are some shops...we’ll be fine. It’ll just be a month or so. Till we get the rest of your things.”

And she hated the color, too. A dull cornflower and faded cream.

“So, shall we go to breakfast, then?”

Nesta lifted her head and looked at him. Not even glared, just bore her eyes into his. He shifted his gaze.

“Look, we aren’t winnowing. We’re flying. It’ll take a while. I think you should eat first.”

But still she did not answer. Did not trust herself to open her mouth, and could not find anything to say anyway.

“All right,” he said, giving in even though it didn’t matter because he had already won and she had lost, “but we’re not stopping on the way.”

And even  if it wasn’t an empty threat, it did not bother her. Nesta had gone far longer than a morning without eating.

---

Chapter Two

[tokidokismile]

Hunter’s Moon

There is a beautiful hunter’s moon out tonight.

Spur of the moment I decided to post this chapter early on AO3, but it seems their doing some maintenance.

So... I’m posting here or at least a part of it. (Still feels like I don’t know what I’m doing... but that’s not too atypical.)

The Fisherman and The Stag chapter 3

He whistled and they reluctantly quieted as he listened. It was like a scream, a shriek distant but he was certain it was a doe. Will cringed, it was as though it resonated in his skull now that he heard it. He rubbed at his throbbing temple, he could feel a headache coming on from his earlier exertion. This was not something he had the strength to ignore. He paced across his small home.

Will plucked the lantern off the table and moved towards the door. He stopped lantern in hand, the other just above the door knob. The doe’s cries rung in his ears as he pinched his eyes shut. He could picture her clearly in his mind; frightened and alone: easy prey. He knew with how clearly, he could hear her cries, that undoubtedly a predator could too. She would cry and cry until something finally came, but not to aid. He clenched his fist, hesitating. The forest where no man tread at night. He could feel his heart thumping erratically in his chest.

He was afraid. Even though they were only stories, he did feel all their fear when they told them. Twisted, dark and vacuous; like a gaping pit formed in their center as they shared the old tales. Whether the monster was real he couldn’t say, even with his gift. But their fear was, almost to becoming a specter present as they spoke.

Will didn’t hesitate longer, he looked back and called for Micha, she jumped to her paws and was at his side as he resolutely swung the door open before them. Micha would find the doe through the dark and distance easily, he’d follow. As ready as he could be, he drew open the gate and Micha immediately round the fence headed directly for the forest. As Will had known and dreaded.

He started at a slow careful trot, they were off the path immediately. The ground uneven and littered in forest debris. Eyes forward, eyes down, making sure his way was clear. Micha some ways ahead just at the edge of the light; she was an obedient and clever girl, slowing her own pace to not leave her master behind. She paused sniffing the ground, raising her head to listen as Will caught up to her.

“Where next girl?” He asked as he glanced about the darkness, surrounded by tall skinny shadows, he swallowed nervously.

His imagination was ramped up, compounded by his nerves and throbbing head. Everything could be nothing, or anything in this darkness. Micha started deeper into the woods. Will steeled himself and followed, lantern swinging; eyes up, eyes down over the treacherous forest floor. The doe’s cry broke the silence and Will glanced back over his shoulder.

He jerked to a stop, his boot caught in a fallen branch. He’d just caught himself as he freed his boot and looked desperately around. The doe’s shrill cries seemed to surround him in the darkness, disorienting him. They hit him from opposing directions echoed in the vastness of the forest.

He glanced about having lost his bearings, each side of the forest looking identically familiar and foreign as he searched for Micha. He exhaled a shaking breath seeing something move in the darkness out of the corner of his eye. Instinctually, he turned only to find the same tree-thick darkness. His lips trembled, he managed the first syllable of Micha’s name as she appeared hurriedly at his side, having doubled back for him. He exhaled sharply smiling crookedly, relieved to have her back.

“Good girl,” he called rubbing her head. “Let’s go.”

With that Micha bound on to the edge of the light again, heading in the opposite direction Will had been facing.

He heard the doe before he saw her as they came to the thicket of blackberry bushes. She was knelt on the ground, her head bobbing panicked, as she tried to stand and run at the sight of Micha’s fast approach. Will slowed and called Micha to him as he lowered the lantern next to her. The doe stopped trying to pull her snared leg free as Will stopped and spoke softly to her.

“It’s alright,” He called softly trying to steady his heavy breathing. He took in the scene; she was a skinny shaking doe, maybe not even a full year old. Her back left hoof had been caught in a rabbit snare, and although it was set to catch small prey it had snared her all the same. Strong rope and a secure knot had left her captured among the blackberry bushes.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Will called quietly as he reached for the knife on his belt loop. “But I do need to cut the snare.”

The doe took a few timid shuffling steps, having nowhere to go as she stared at him. It was there, in the lantern light, that he realized how clear blue and bright her eyes looked. He’d never seen a blue-eyed deer before. It was both fascinating and terrifying how human her blue eyes made her seem. He felt pained by her ordeal as he slowly neared her. Her coat was splatter in mashed berries, but she didn’t seem to have any injuries. Frightened and thin as she was, she was still a fair-sized beast that could hurt him just the same if he wasn’t careful. He approached crouched, letting the doe relax after every crunch of the foliage underfoot.

When he was close enough, will reached out and secured the thin rope in his hand as he drew the blade to it with his right hand. The sharp blade made short work of the strained tether.

Free the deer shuffled back; finally, properly, back on her legs. However, she was cornered by the thicket of blackberry bushes behind her. The only way to freedom was forward, through Will. Will realized this at the same moment she did, as she set her blue eyes on him. As quickly as he could, he moved back as she went charging toward him, only narrowly missing him. She snorted and shook her head as though steading herself as Will watched her in the lantern light. She didn’t flee, she moved briskly around the blackberry bushes as though to put distance between them.

Micha jumped to her feet growling. Shuffling back and forth with sharp whinny barks, as though she wanted to charge towards the doe.

“Micha!” Will called. “Sit.”

Micha whined and shuffled back into a sitting position, with a quiet growl. He watched her, she seemed agitated. She sat uneasily, in the same spot Will had called her to. He rose to his feet and reclaimed the lantern in his right hand, dusting himself off.

Will froze as the doe came to stand next to an ominous bulking black tree trunk, just out of the reach of the light. He swallowed tensely, as he adjusted his glasses with his left hand and raised the lantern higher with his right. The forest undergrowth was thick; fallen trees and shrubs and vines from the blackberry bush cast odd shapes and shadows to begin with. But the doe hadn’t fled when he’d freed her, despite Micha, as if she wasn’t afraid of either of them. Only a few yards away her bright blue eyes still sparkling from the lantern light. He realized then, it wasn’t that the tree was out of the reach of the light, but that it seemed to swallow up the light.

The shape shifted then, what he had presumed to be the trunk and branches of a tree were in fact the hunched torso of a human looking form. The head adorned with a magnificent rack of antlers.

Will sucked in air and staggered back his feet catching on the debris as he stumbled back, falling.

Only he did not fall, without a sound an icy hand wrapped around his free wrist and pulled him back upright easily. With the light swinging between them Will saw that a man stood before him. Micha whined and stifled a bark just behind him.

His brain reeling with confusion and relief the only thing he could muster was a breathy thank you, as the man released his wrist.

The man before him stood only a tad taller, broad shouldered and powerful. With a crown of sandy brown hair, with a few silver strands catching the light. A sharply sculpted face, with defined cheekbones, a fine set jaw and pouty but thin lips stood before him.

“You are welcome.” He replied in a silky, accented voice.

Will blinked as though he were expecting this finely dressed vision to disappear from one blink to next, but he didn’t. Will staggered back, there was really a man who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, standing before him in the middle of the feared forest.

Will glanced about trying to put together a timeline as quickly as he could, where had this man come from? How was it that he hadn’t noticed him? How did Micha miss him? The man watched him with dark, onyx colored eyes, patiently.

“I- I’m sorry.” Will stammered out, as he pawed his face with his free hand pushing his glasses out of his way as he rubbed his stinging eyes.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” The man replied evenly. “It was I that came upon you, unannounced.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Will replied, readjusting his glasses.

“You’re not supposed to be in the forest after dark...” Will replied composing himself by simply letting go of how the man had caught him off guard, for now.

The man smiled, his lip rising a tick to reveal a sharp smile. An otherwise comforting and amicable gesture, made to feel threatening by their abnormally close distance to one another.

“Neither are you.” He replied amused.

“Yes,” Will conceded. “The doe-”

Will pointed to where the doe had stood, she was gone, only the darkness of the forest lingered there. The man, turned to look himself and turned back to Will.

“Rude little thing,” He replied with a light smile on his lips. “It appears she has gone, without properly thanking you.”

Will looked at him stricken. He joked, but in his gut, he dreaded that he’d been manically urged into the darkness of the forest by a phantom concocted by his mind.

“She’s as quiet as she is quick.” The man replied walking around Will to where the doe had previously stood.

Will steadied his heart, the man confirmed that there had been a doe there. He nodded, as he lifted his head glancing about their dark surroundings; the man walked without a sound back towards him.

“I should- We should be leaving. The woods aren’t safe.” Will murmured stepping back and looking at Micha, she was watching them her ears plastered to her head, tail curled under her, her body low. Will recognized it: fear.

“There are monsters?” The man asked with a pleasant smile, coming to stand in front of Will.

Will gave his temple a quick swipe, his mind was reeling, so many things at once. He stiffly nodded. “That’s what people say.”

The man nodded slowly, dark eyes observing him keenly. “That is what they say...”

Will’s nervousness was starting to rise. He felt stalked, as though he were being preyed upon. But there was only the man, the strange gentleman in the middle of the forest.

“I must be on my way.” Will replied clearing his throat and starting back in the direction Micha was lingering in.

“Are you going my way...?” Will asked pointing, pausing hoping to get a name. Being strangers in such a small village was not improbable. However, he’d never seen a man as handsome or well-dressed before; a man, like the one before him, would have easily stood out among the locals.

The man smiled pleasantly cocking his head to the side.

“Hannibal Lecter.” The man replied touching his slender hand to his chest and bowing his head courteously. Before extending his hand towards him.

Will closed the distance, passing the lantern to his left hand and taking Hannibal’s hand firmly in his. He felt cold but, solid- real.

“Will Graham.” He answered back, as Hannibal gave him a secure shake.

“It’s good to meet you, Will.” Hannibal replied. “And I am afraid not. I go a different way.”

“Ah,” Will replied pausing to gesture for Micha to follow him. “Safe travels.”

“To you too…” The man replied bowing slightly as Will turned his back to him.

Hannibal stood watching the lantern swinging lightly in Will’s grasp, as he made his way. Until all he was, was a dark outline of something that looked like a man and the lantern that resembled a tethered star.

Hannibal watched until the light disappeared into the forest and even long after.