#I’ll honor her proper someday

[sublimerences]

Yuri…. Save me yuri…

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 10}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby’s blogs! >> @snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Cassian poured Alis Birch a cup of coffee and sat across the rug from her on the couch.

It had been ten minutes since Cassian let her inside, and Nesta still wasn’t downstairs.

“Where is Ms. Archeron?” Alis asked, surely sensing Cassian’s nervousness. 

“She’ll be down in a minute,” Cassian promised, reminding himself to sit up straight. “She was just getting out of the bath. She often enjoys those at night.”

“Hmm.” Alis set the mug down on top of a coaster on the side table. She hadn’t taken a drink. After reaching into her bag for a binder, she opened it up and cleared her throat. “Am I correct in the understanding that you and Ms. Archeron are not in a relationship?”

Cassian swallowed. “That is correct.” 

“Interesting,” she began, clicking her tongue. “I must say that I’ve never heard of such a situation.” 

“The situation was exactly planned,” he said, a slight tone settling into his voice. “Her sister died. My best friend died. They wanted us, as Nyx’s godparents, to take care of him. We…wanted to honor their wishes.”

She took a few notes. “Which I find very admirable of you two. Just as long as there are no complications.”

Cassian blinked. “Complications?”

Nesta’s voice came from the stairs and Alis looked up. “Hi, I’m so sorry, we weren’t expecting you!”

She cleared her throat and stood as Nesta approached. “Yes, Ms. Archeron, that’s the point of random visit. We don’t want you to be prepared for it. We want to see you in your everyday life.” She shook Nesta’s hand and they sat down. “Now, I assume Nyx is asleep?”

“Yeah, but I can go get him if I need to,” Cassian replied, hooking a thumb over his shoulder, towards the stairs.

Nesta slapped his thigh with the back of her hand.

“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” Alis replied, an eyebrow raising at Nesta, before she went back to scribbling in her notebook. “We know you’re keeping him on a proper sleep schedule, at least.”

“Right,” Nesta nodded. “Two naps a day and in bed by eight, most nights.” She opened a water bottle Cassian had strategically sat on the side table and took a sip. “You two were talking about complications when I was coming downstairs? What sort of complications?”

Frankly, Alis asked, “I was just asking Mr. Nazari if you two are sleeping with each other?”

Water sprayed from Nesta’s mouth, thankfully over Cassian, not the social worker.

Even he seemed too stunned to be upset.

“If we are sleeping together?” She asked. She shook her head, adamantly. “No, cauldron, definitely not.”

“You seem offended by that,” Alis said, tilting her head. “Is there anything else going on? Any conflict?”

“Oh, no,” Nesta answered, far too quickly. “No, we’re just fine. Friends, even. Well, maybe not friends, but we don’t exactly hate one another.”

“Alright,” Cassian interjected. “Thank you, Nesta, for that. We are just getting to know each other is all she’s saying.”

“It seems like she’s saying a lot more than that,” Alis muttered, but shook her head. “Have there been any doctor visits or any other scares?”

“Nesta-.”

“I took Nyx to the doctor this morning,” Nesta said, interrupting Cassian. “Nasty rash on his ass, but nothing to be too worried about, at least that’s what his doctor said. Other than that, no scares.”

Gods, she was still drunk. She had to be, if she was telling the social worker assigned to their case that Nyx had a nasty rash on his ass.

Alis paused her note taking, looking at the two of them. “Have either of you ever taken care of a child before? Long term?”

Cassian shook his head, but Nesta said, “I was keeping Nyx, when the accident happened. It hadn’t been long, but I was taking care of him.”

Cassian knew that wasn’t the type of long term they were looking for, but thankfully, Alis didn’t push. She just resituated her notebook and asked, “Ms. Archeron, what is it you do for a living?”

Nesta immediately perked up. “I am the head chef and owner of the Thyme & Rosemary Café.”

Alis looked impressed for the first time all evening. “You’re a business owner?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Nesta replied, nodding. “I opened the café right after culinary school, thanks to some generous investors, and we’ve had a very successful four years, having a profitable year every year we’ve been open.”

Cassian looked out of the corner of his eye at the woman next to him on the couch. He knew Nesta had her own restaurant, but he had no idea how well she’d been doing.

“And you, Mr. Nazari?”

He turned to look at her and scratched at the back of his neck. “I, uh… I’m a bartender.”

Blinking slowly, Alis asked, “A bartender?”

He saw Nesta cringe from where she sat next to him,but mercifully, she kept her mouth shut. “Well, technically, I’m a bar manager, but I do help make and serve the drinks, on top of my many managerly duties.”

Nesta’s head fell into her hand.

He cleared his throat ignoring her. “I also make and sell homemade, custom acoustic guitars.”

Alis nearly looked impressed. “Is that so?”

Cassian nodded. “It’s mostly just a hobby, but I sell on Etsy and at art shows from time to time. Someday, I hope for it to be a full time gig. Bartending definitely pays the bills in the meantime, though.”

“I see,” Alis said, at last. “So, you’re telling me that Nyx is fully supported financially?”

“Fully,” Cassian said, just as Nesta said, “Damn straight.”

Drunk Nesta was an interesting creature, Cassian decided.

Alis clicked her tongue as she flipped through her binder. “One last question for the evening. What do you do with Nyx when you’re both at work?”

“We hired a nanny recently,” Cassian said. “She’s highly qualified and great with Nyx.”

“And has great qualities, if you ask Cassian,” Nesta added with a wink.

“I don’t follow,” Alis replied, looking at him.

Mother’s tits, he was going to kill her. “She recently received a degree in early childhood education from University of Velaris,” he said, covering Nesta’s ass. “No major jobs yet, but we decided her qualifications outweighed her lack of experience. And Nyx loves her, so we have no complaints so far.”

“Got it,” she replied, looking between the two of them.

As she looked down to scribble in her notebook, Cassian shoved the water bottle she’d sat down on the cushions back into her hands.

“I think I’ve seen enough,” Alis said, standing abruptly, closing her notebook and replacing it in her bag. They both stood as well, Nesta thankfully not swaying on her feet. As she headed for the front door, she informed them, “Your next visit will be random as well.”

“Will it at least be in the daytime,” Nesta muttered, and Cassian pinched her ass, silently telling her to shut the hell up.

Nesta stood up a little straighter, but that was the only indication that she was following Cassian’s annoyance.

“You two have a good night,” Alis said. “Next time, I’ll have to come when Nyx is awake.”

“That would be lovely,” Cassian promised.

Nesta snorted.

Alis looked at them both before nodding her head in respect and following Cassian out. When he shut the door behind her, Cassian stormed to Nesta and crossed his arms. “What the hell?”

“What the hell what?” Nesta asked, then laughed. “I think that went well.”

“Yeah, thanks to me,” Cassian said.

“Thanks to you?” Nesta asked, brows shot into her hairline. “You were struggling down here until I came along.”

Cassian blinked, then laughed. “You’re drunk!”

“I’m fine!”

“You can hardly string a sentence together!” Cassian argued. “If we were to lose Nyx, it would be your fault.”

“Bullshit,” she snapped, getting in his face. “She loved that I was a business owner. It was impressive.”

“So is your breath, you smell like a winery,” he said, stepping back and fanning in front of his face.

In all reality, she didn’t smell like wine. She smelled like lavender and vanilla…and sex. But Cassian had to step away from that smell, especially as his memory flashed with what he’d interrupted.

Her face didn’t indicate that her feelings were particularly warm towards him in that moment, but he sighed and said, “It went okay, and that’s a good thing, no matter what. We just…need to be a little prepared for her next time.”

She sighed, agreeing.

“You can…go back to your bath now,” Cassian said, clearing his throat.

Nesta’s cheeks heated. “I was done anyways.”

The words flitted through Cassian’s head before he could stop them. Didn’t look like you were done. Looked like you were right in the middle of something.

He swallowed, sharply, and nodded. “I’m going to try and have that beer again. Heat up some more lasagna.”

She nodded, and said, “Sounds good. I’m gonna try and get some sleep.”

“Well, goodnight,” Cassian said, his eyes still connected with hers.

“Goodnight,” she said, and yet, neither of them moved. Nesta asked, after a moment, “Did you like my lasagna?”

“It was delicious,” Cassian said, even though his words were clipped. 

“Good,” Nesta snapped. “I also made homemade breadsticks. They’re in the fridge. You may have some.”

“Great,” Cassian said, pointedly. “I like breadsticks.” Nesta scoffed. “Who doesn’t?”

The two remained staring at one another.

“I’m going to bed,” Nesta repeated.

“Fine,” Cassian said.

“Fine,” Nesta repeated. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

She finally turned and made her way up the stairs.

Cassian tried his hardest, damn him, he really did, not to stare at her ass.

He did exactly as he said he was going to do, grabbing a new beer from the fridge, his original one sitting warm on the table in the entryway, and heated up another massive serving of Nesta’s lasagna, tossing a few breadsticks in the toaster oven to heat up as well.

He definitely wouldn’t complain if she wanted to cook dinner for him every night. He hadn’t been lying when he said he could cook breakfast, which he was content to do for himself, but if this was how great her dinners were, he wanted to know what her breakfast tasted like.

Which then made him think about reasons she would have made him breakfast, in any other situation than the one they were in.

He could still see her head thrown back, half lidded eyes rolling back in ecstasy. And the soft moan he’d heard. He imagined her making that noise while she writhed underneath him, as he thrust into her, plunging deep and-.

Fuck, this wasn’t good.

This was so not good.

*

Nesta had the day off and she was grateful for it, considering she had a pounding headache and was sick to her stomach.

Thanks, alcohol.

Cassian went to the bar early to prep for opening, and Nesta was left alone with Nyx, who didn’t give a damn about her hangover. 

They were currently in the living room, Nyx standing up in his bouncer, and Nesta popping her third round of ibuprofen. 

With a sigh, Nesta shook her head. “Don’t ever drink, buddy.”

Nyx simply grinned in response.

As she turned on the tv, Nesta’s phone chimed.

A text.

Excited for our non-date tomorrow. We still on for noon?

Balthazar hadn’t given her his cell phone number when she’d left the doctor’s office the day before, only the office number, in case of “emergencies”.

She saved Bal’s number, before sending a quick reply back.

I hope you didn’t pull my number from your patient database. That seems very irresponsible. But yes, noon sounds perfect.

She sent the text off, her attention bouncing from the television to Nyx. She did her best not to watch her phone.

Nyx’s hands reached out to Nesta, and he began babbling. He was hungry.

As she took him out of his bouncer and carried him into the kitchen, Nesta’s phone went off, once more.

I would never be so unprofessional. I put in ten digits and got lucky.

Nesta snorted but forced herself not to reply so quickly. She didn’t want to give off the wrong impression.

Which is what? She asked herself as she put Nyx into his high chair. “You hungry, buddy?”

She spread a small layer of Puffs on his high chair tray, swiping one for herself as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and wrote back. She chewed slowly as she typed.

Some luck you have then. Maybe we should play the lottery on the way home from our not-date.

She sat her phone down and began heating a small portion of raviolis on the stove for Nyx. She couldn’t bring herself to make lunch for him from scratch. Her head was pounding too hard and she wanted to lay him down for a nap so she could take one, too.

After his chubby hands were sufficiently covered in pasta sauce, Nesta was cleaning them off by the sink when she glanced at the calendar they’d hung up to designate when someone was on baby duty and when either of them had big plans. She froze as she remembered that tomorrow was Cassian’s day to be off, while she was supposed to be looking after Nyx.

She knew she could very well take Nyx along to lunch with Balthazar, the man worked with kids, it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to them. But she knew there was a difference in separating work from personal life, it was the reason she hadn’t suggested her restaurant when he’d asked her to lunch. Hadn’t even mentioned Rosemary & Thyme. Not to mention, she would appreciate some uninterrupted time with him.

She would have to convince Cassian to watch Nyx for her tomorrow. Just for a few hours.

It shouldn’t be too hard, right?

*

Cassian got home just after one in the morning.

He had worked all day, thanks to the pick up in customers they’d had. It was good for business, of course, but he was exhausted.

And surprised, as he saw that Nesta was still awake, reading a book on the couch.

“More smut?” Cassian asked, tossing his keys on the end table.

Nesta’s eyes shot to him and narrowed. “That’s none of your concern.”

Cassian laughed, quietly, as he wandered into the kitchen. “Did Nyx have a good day?”

“He did,” Nesta said, nodding. “I had a pretty good day, too. How was your day?”

Cassian blinked, slowly turning to face her. “Fine. You sound suspicious.”

“I’m not suspicious,” she said, closing her book and setting it, cover down, on the coffee table.

It was Cassian’s turn to narrow his eyes, and he looked around the corner, into the kitchen, half expecting to see it in flames or some other disaster she was hiding from him.

“What’s up, Nes?” He said, looking back at her and leaning his shoulder on the door frame.

“Nothing is up, why would anything be up?”

She asked, not meeting his eyes.

He came and sat down next to her on the couch, leaving her nowhere to look, but at him.

She cleared her throat, knowing she’d been caught, but looked over the back of her book, resting in front of them. “I need you to do me a favor.”

He was thankful she wasn’t looking at him as his eyes dipped down to her hand resting on her lap, that hand that had been submerged under her bath water the night before. “What kind of favor?”

“I…need you to watch Nyx for a few hours tomorrow during the day,” she said, looking back at him and he dragged his eyes back to hers.

He blinked, as if he were processing his request. “What? Why?” He asked, then shook his head. “It’s my day off, you’re watching him tomorrow.”

Just as Cassian began to stand, Nesta grabbed for his hand. “Please! His pediatrician asked me to have lunch with him, and I’d really prefer not to take him along. I’ll still watch him all night, you can go hang out with Az or do whatever you want to do.”

He was so hung up on her words that he barely registered that her hand was clutching his. “His pediatrician?” He asked, alarm on his face. “Is he okay? I thought you said it was just a diaper rash!”

“No, no, Nyx is fine,” she promised. “This is less of a professional visit.”

“Less of a…” His words trailed off. “You’re going on a date with Nyx’s doctor?”

His voice was colder than she’d expected it to be.

“It’s not a date,” Nesta explained. “It’s a...non-date. Two acquaintances having lunch,” she said, repeating what Bal had said to her.

Cassian just stared at her, continuing to process. “Two...acquaintances? Nesta, that’s a fucking date.”

“And what if it is?” Nesta asked, exasperated, her own anger rising from his anger. “What if it is a date? Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t,” Cassian snapped.

“Sure as hell sounds like it does,” Nesta shot back.

“We have a baby now, Nesta, we can’t just date!” He said.

Nesta’s brows shot up. “And why is that?”

Cassian hesitated. “Because.”

Nesta snorted. “Great answer, Cassian.” He didn’t respond and she asked, “Do you have plans tomorrow afternoon?”

For a moment, he just glared at her before he finally admitted, “No.”

She stood, still holding onto his hand. “Please, Cass. I’ll owe you the biggest favor. You can have any day off you want. Please.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the way she said his name, that shortened nickname she never used, or the promise of a future Friday night off. It may have been the genuine plea in her voice, but he sighed.

“Fine. I’ll- I’ll watch him for you tomorrow.”

“Yes, thank you!” She threw her arms around him, squeezing tightly, and then suddenly stepped back, realizing what she’d done. “Sorry, I’ll just…” She picked up her book, clutching it to her chest. “Goodnight. Thank you.”

She was headed for the stairs before he’d even moved.

He just stood there, watching her go, wondering if he just made the dumbest decision of his week.

[sigynappreciation]

Sigyn Meta: Who is Sigyn?

A Norse Goddess who is known for being the wife of the Trickster, Loki, and holding the bowl to protect him from the snake’s venom. 

But besides that, Who is Sigyn? What does she mean to others? 

Journey with me as we explore who she is -- not only in the mythologies, but in other forms like the Marvel Comics, Worship and through fans.

#JusticeforSigyn

Sigyn’s Origins (Mythology):

Sadly, not many stories that have Sigyn in them have survived till today. She is only attested in the following works: Poetic Edda & Prose Edda. 

In the poem, Lokasenna, the most famous of poem’s with the couple, it talks of how Loki has been bound by the gods with the guts of his son, Nari, and how his son, Vari, has been turned into a wolf. The Goddess Skadi fastens a venomous snake over Loki’s face, from which venom drips. Sigyn, stated as Loki’s wife, stays by his side and holds a basin under and catches the venom so it won’t drip onto her husband, but when the basin grows full, she pulls it away to empty it, during which time venom drops onto Loki, causing him to wither so violently that earthquakes occur that shake the entire earth.

In the poem, Gylfaginning, Sigyn is introduced in Chapter 31 as being married to Loki and that they have a son by the name of “Narfi or Nari”. She is then mentioned again in Chapter 50 where events are described differently than in Lokasenna; Vali, described as a son of Loki only, is changed into a wolf by the gods and rips apart his brother, “Narfi or Nari.” The guts of Nari are then used to tie Loki to three stones, after which the guts turn to iron, and Skadi places a snake above Loki. Sigyn of course catches the venom in a bowl. This process is repeated until he breaks free, setting Ragnarok into motion.

In the poem, Skáldskaparmál, Sigyn is introduced as a goddess, an Æsir, where the gods are holding a feast for their visitors and in kennings for Loki: “husband of Sigyn” and “cargo [Loki] of incantation-fetter’s [Sigyn’s] arms.” 

Sigyn’s name means “Victorious-Girlfriend” in Old Norse. 

Sigyn may appear on the Gosforth Cross and has been the subject of an amount of theory and cultural references.

She appears in the 9th century skaldic poem Haustlöng from pagan times, written by the skald Þjóðólfr of Hvinir. Due to this early connection with Loki, Sigyn has been theorized as being a goddess dating back to an older form of Germanic paganism.

Sigyn in Worship/Honor: 

I’ll be speaking on this through my personal experience of working with Sigyn while also sharing some tid bits of basic info from others on this subject. I’m someone who works with Sigyn primarily, but sometimes gets help from Loki. 

A Lokean is someone who honors Loki as their primary deity ( or at least one of their primary deities.) Most are polytheists that respect a variety of worldviews and a wide variety of gods. FOR MORE ON THIS SUBJECT, VISIT THIS BLOG: https://lokeanwelcomingcommittee.tumblr.com

For those who work with Loki, you will also find yourself working with Sigyn. And sometimes you don’t even need to work with Loki first in order to work with Sigyn (like me!)

Sigyn is usually a calming and motherly presence. Loki is protective over her, but they usually work in unison together to help. 

SMALL DEVOTIONAL ACTS TO SIGYN: 

Holding the Bowl: It is a reflective act of Sigyn holding the bowl to protect Loki from the snake’s venom. This is usually the major one. 

Helping to support mothers (especially single mothers)

Support single parents

Supporting Women’s Rights

Keep fighting through the hardships 

Wear earthy tones

Commitment in everything you do.

Help others, but remember that self-care is important too

More devotional acts

KENNINGS/HEITI FOR SIGYN:

Wife of Loki

Incantation-Fetter

Lady of Staying Power

Lady of Unyielding Gentleness

Lady of the Unconquerable Heart

Mother of Narvi and Vali

North Star

Victory Woman

Lady of Loyalty

Loki’s Treasure

Devoted Mother

Lady of Endurance

Goddess of Constancy

Goddess of the Heart

Goddess of Neglected Children

Goddess of Comfort

Healer to All

Mother to All

Beloved of Monsters

SIGYN’S VIRTUES:

Strength

Loyalty

Grace

Humility

Gentleness

Charity

Constancy

Love

Endurance

Patience

Simplicity

Mindfulness

Compassion

I’ll cover more on this subject soon in a separate post, but this is the basic. 

Sigyn in the Marvel Comics:

Sadly, Sigyn is not portrayed the best in the Marvel Comics of Thor, resulting in her being missing from the comics since 1996 and practically killed off (only being referenced to in flashbacks.) 

Loki comes across her and desires to have her. However, she is already engaged to an Asgardian named Theoric, who Loki has killed and ends up taking on the disguise of in order to take Sigyn for his own. On their wedding day once the vows are said and done, Sigyn accepts her duty as his wife, granting her the title Goddess of Fidelity by Odin. 

She doesn’t have much of an agency or personality besides being Loki’s faithful wife in this. 

Fans wish for her to make a comeback in the Comics and MCU with better characterization. Hence, much Fanfiction, Cosplay, Roleplay and Fanart has been made of others own interpretation’s of Sigyn and #JusticeforSigyn is shared around in hopes of this. 

LIST OF SIGYN COMIC APPEARANCES:

Thor Vol 1 #275 (First appearance, 1978)

Thor Vol 1 #276

Thor Vol 1 #277

Thor Vol 1 #278

Thor Vol 1 #301

Thor Vol 1 #302

Thor Vol 1 #303

Thor Vol 1 #307

Thor Annual Vol 1 (9)

Thor Vol 1 #313

Thor Vol 1 #321

Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe Vol 1 (1)

Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe Vol 2 (1)

Gamer’s Handbook of the Marvel Universe Vol 1 (1)

Thor Annual Vol 1 (14)

Thor Annual Vol 1 (19)

Thor Vol 1 #479

Thor Vol 1 #483

Thor Vol 1 #484 (1995)

Thor: The Legend Vol 1 (1) (1996, last appearance)

Avengers: Loki Unleashed #1 (2019, first & only modern day appearance since 90s. FLASHBACK ONLY)

LIST OF SIGYN MENTIONS IN COMICS:

Thor Annual Vol 1 #10 (1982)

Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe Vol 1 #11 (1983)

Thor: Asgard’s Avenger Vol 1 #1 (2011)

Mighty Thor Vol 1 #12.1 (2012)

Loki Vol 3 #1 (2019 - referenced)

Sigyn and her impact with Fans:

Sigyn is still not that well known among others, but there is a small community of us fans who honor her through all forms she is displayed and her relationship with Loki. This is the reason this blog and @dailylogyn​ were created: to help unite fans and spread the word of Sigyn and her relationship with Loki through appreciation and education.

Fans also show their appreciation for Sigyn through Art forms like Fanfiction, Cosplay, Fanart & More! The cool thing is that she can be interpreted however you wish, but her love for Loki and her compassion is always her strong points. 

There is a tag #JusticeforSigyn in order to help give her the proper attention she deserves. MORE HERE. 

FANARTISTS:

I’m not going to post any of their art here in order to make others visit their blogs and give them the appropriate credit they deserve. 

Let’s support content creators! <3

@nanigram​/Nanihoo: This artist makes wonderful fanart of her own interpretation of Sigyn and her relationship with Loki (plus their children.) You can usually find most of it on Deviantart. 

@sigynart​: This artist makes lovely art of Tom Hiddelston’s Loki, but has recently come out with their own interpretation of Sigyn and has even started to draw Loki & Sigyn together. 

@dank-art​: This artist makes a lot of interesting twists to Sigyn and Loki either if it’s a modern look, an alternate universe or a certain aesthetic of the couple. They have a lot of amazing concept designs concerning Sigyn and Loki! 

COSPLAYERS:

@bubbleteycosplay​: She is known as the German Sigyn! This cosplayer has done a wide varieties of different versions/outfits of Sigyn. Besides here, you can usually find her on Instagram, Deviantart and other websites. She also helps inform others on Sigyn and her relationship with Loki.

In fact, HERE IS A LIST she has created pertaining to other Sigyn Cosplayers. I’ll list the others below though with links to their pages:

Vontrug (Instagram)

lady_laufeyson (Instagram)

Mizerious (Instagram)

Maryintothewoods (Instagram)

danni_darling (Instagram) 

I myself am planning to join these wonderful cosplayers too as I work to create my own Sigyn cosplay as well. :) They are all such an inspiration! 

CONCLUSION:

I could go on and on about the subject of Sigyn. She’s an amazing, caring and loving goddess who teaches us many helpful traits we need throughout life. Despite still not being that well known, she is greatly loved by this community -- and none other than Loki. 

Hopefully someday she will make a comeback in the Marvel world and get the proper characterization and love she deserves. Till then, us fans will continue to share the love, joy and appreciation we have for Sigyn and her relationship with Loki, welcoming anyone as Sigyn does with open arms and loving hearts. 

SOURCES:

Holding the Bowl: https://lokeanwelcomingcommittee.tumblr.com/post/102422224083/a-bowling-tutorial

Lokean Welcoming Community: https://lokeanwelcomingcommittee.tumblr.com

Small Devotional Acts to Sigyn: https://bramblevitch.wordpress.com/2020/06/23/small-devotional-acts-to-sigyn/

Sigyn on Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sigyn

Lokean Welcoming Community’s topics on Sigyn: https://lokeanwelcomingcommittee.tumblr.com/tagged/sigyn

Sigyn on Marvel Database: https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Sigyn_(Earth-616)

Sigyn’s Shrine: Who is Sigyn?: http://www.northernpaganism.org/shrines/sigyn/sigyn/who-is-sigyn.html

Sigyn - Norse Mythology for Smart People: https://norse-mythology.org/sigyn/

[capesandshapes]

All You Had to Do Was Stay (Post Reveal/Pre Relationship) (4/4)

Summary:

Three years ago, Marinette revealed her identity to him. Three years ago, he promised to wait in a hotel room for her. Three years ago, she opened the door to find it empty.

Now she's expected to play nice with him, since she's the maid of honor and he's unfortunately the best man. But old habits die hard, and old feelings die harder.

"This is a wedding, not a death march, Marinette."

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

She took a step towards him.

And then another.

All the words that she knew had failed her, and all of the emotion in her body had left her. What could she say? What would even make sense? There was no fixing the situation, not really, you couldn’t take away three years of waiting and wanting. You couldn’t take away three years of replaying every word in your head and wondering if you said the wrong thing.

“But you’re not him,” that was all she could say, and it hit the air like a deadweight. Because Adrien wasn’t Gabriel Agreste, because he never would be. The love Gabriel had was greedy and selfish, it took and took until it tore away all that he knew, until it ruined Paris and everything inside it. But Adrien? “It wouldn’t have mattered that he’s your dad, because you’re Adrien Agreste, not him, because I would have stood by you no matter what. I wouldn’t have cared what they thought or what they said. I wouldn’t have listened to them or let them stop me. If people wanted to close doors in my face because of who I loved, I’d make new ones. If people didn’t trust me, or see me for who I was, I wouldn’t care because I would know the truth.” Another step, another mountain climbed on her way back to him. “If they hated you because of who your father was, I wouldn’t want to be around them anyway, I wouldn’t want what they had to give me. I know that you’re good. You’re so good that everyone can see it—that they would have to admit it eventually.”

She held his gaze, her hands holding onto her shoulders like that could save her from sinking—like she wasn’t so far gone under the tide of Adrien that everything she had tried to hold back for three years wasn’t already killing her. She couldn’t stop drowning; she couldn’t stop wanting him.

“Adrien, I’ve been in love with you since I was fourteen years old,” she whispered, “all of you.”

He exhaled, the low, throaty sound hitting the air.

“When you left, I…” She stopped, because he didn’t need to know, because she didn’t need to see him hurt like she had. “You broke me, and no one else has been able to put me back together since.” That was enough, that had to be enough for then.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, the words almost lost to the crashing of the waves outside.

She shook her head. Maybe she needed the apology, maybe someday she’d want it, but then, at that very moment? She was the only person who could give herself what she needed, the only person who could pull her head above water.

She tugged her hands from her shoulders, and walked closer, far too close to him. It was the lack of distance she would have dreamed of when she was in school, the kind that led to moments she cherished such as placing her head on his shoulder or reaching across his lap to hold his hand. It was the proper distance to look him in the eyes, the proper distance to say what she should have said before.

“Adrien, I would wait three more years for you, fifty if I had too—because I’m so stupidly in love with you, I’ve been so stupidly in love with you.” She inhaled, looking up at him, taking in those beautiful green eyes, “all I want to know is, are you still in love with me too?”

And maybe she would have gotten the answer she wanted. Maybe she would have finally kissed him. Maybe that would have been the start of their happily ever after—

Had Lila Rossi not stumbled into the cabin with Kim’s hand on her ass and her fingers laced in his hair.

“God, you are so fucking lucky I’m horny right now,” Kim muttered.

And just like that, all the romance left the air.

And though she wanted to ask, to drag him out on the deck and demand it, she saw that look in Adrien’s eyes and she knew.

He was terrified.

And really, who wouldn’t be? Who wouldn’t be scared? Who wouldn’t worry about what the future held?

So, she laughed. An empty, loud sound, one enough to break any tension. And, not knowing what else to do, she ran. Because maybe not knowing was better than the truth.

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

"This is a wedding, not a death march, Marinette,” Alya said, frowning at the reflection of Marinette in her mirror.

Honestly, if it wasn’t Alya, Marinette might have gotten by. Anyone else would have believed her fake smile as she looked in the mirror, applying her makeup.

But Alya? Being her best friend, she was in the business of reading Marinette’s emotions. Marinette couldn’t get anything by her, she was surprised that she somehow managed to hide being Ladybug from her for so long.

“It’s your wedding, Alya, am I not allowed to be sad that I’m losing my best friend?”

“To your other best friend?” Alya asked. She could have at least hidden her skepticism.

“It’s your wedding,” Marinette repeated softly. As in, it’s your wedding, not my problem parade. It’s your day, not mine. Don’t worry about me.

“He’s just over in the next room,” Alya said, reading her mind.

“It’s been a month,” Marinette repeated, shutting down the plan before Alya could even begin to form it. “If he wanted to respond, he would have done it by now.”

“I’m just saying.” She was not just saying. She was suggesting in that Alya way that wasn’t really a suggestion, but rather a demand. “I’m sure if you vanished for just one minute, I could get Nino to pull him out in the hallway and you could get your answer.”

“Alya.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Focus on your wedding,” Marinette commanded.

Alya scoffed. “Right. And how am I supposed to enjoy said wedding knowing that my best friend is miserable waiting for a response that, if she doesn’t go and demand it, might not ever come?”

“You could look at your groom and be happy about spending the rest of your life with him?”

“Oh please, I would choose you over Nino anytime.”

She didn’t doubt that.

“Listen,” Marinette began, putting down her make up brush. “I’m going to be fine; I promise. I’m just going to get some air.”

“Sure,” Alya said with a roll of her eyes as Marinette got out of her chair and moved to the balcony door. “I’ll see you when you’re done having your fifth mental break down and finally want to talk, Marinette.”

Damn, she was good. Marinette sighed, turning the deadbolt before looking back at her friend’s knowing expression, the other bridesmaids busying themselves in the background. “Thank you,” she said, because she wasn’t about to deny it, not to Alya. And maybe, once she got it out of her system, she would talk to her. Maybe once it was all over, she would tell Alya everything.

But at that moment, all she needed was air. And so she went, pulling open the balcony door of the hotel room and letting the night air cool her skin. She let go of the handle, letting it click shut behind her as she walked further onto the balcony, the streetlights of Paris gleaming far in the distance.

It was times like this that she missed being a superhero. She wondered what Paris would look like then, sprawled out in front of her years later. Brighter, probably, the city had changed since Ladybug left.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” A voice said, and she was sure that it had said it to her a thousand times before. The words were so familiar in that voice, said in the same inflection at the same volume that she had heard growing up. “It’s ours,” she was sure he’d only said that once or twice before—on the nights when it felt like there was no one else and the city belonged to them alone.

“It’s Paris,” she corrected, just as she had before. Because there was no owning it. It was this living, untamable thing, a treasure for her to protect.

For them to protect, because there he was, standing out on his own balcony, looking at the city like it was far more beautiful than the stars.

Not Adrien, not at that moment. Just as she wasn’t Marinette, not when thinking of Paris. Chat Noir and Ladybug, the heroes of the city, both standing out in their civilian forms, looking over it once more.

There was so much distance between them, and yet it felt like he was right there. At any moment he would leap, clad in his black leather cat suit, and stand right beside her. That was how the story should have ended; if it couldn’t end with a kiss, then it should have ended with Chat Noir and Ladybug, together again.

But Tikki and Plagg were far away in a box in Nepal.

“I came out to get some air,” he said, not turning to look at her.

“Me too.”

“Do you remember when we used to sit on your roof and watch all the cars go by?” He asked, and she could only smile. How could she forget?

Things were so easy when the masks were on.

“We have half an hour,” Marinette informed him. “Then the wedding starts and we start walking. We should go inside.”

“We should,” he agreed. Neither made to move. Neither wanted to move.

She caught him staring at her out of the corner of her eye. Never mind the fact that she was staring too. She wished then, like she had so many times before, that she knew the right thing to say.

“What if we didn’t?” He asked, like it wasn’t this crazy, completely irrational thing to do. Like there weren’t so many people in the rooms behind them waiting on them. “What if we didn’t go at all?”

“It’s not even your wedding,” she said, turning to face him entirely. “Or mine.” He grinned anyway, sauntering over to the side of his balcony nearest her, leaning on the railing. “Don’t you think that would be rude?” They had been chosen for a reason.

“What do a best man and maid of honor even do anyway?” Adrien fired back, raising his eyebrows at her. “Past all of the party planning that we’ve already done, there’s just speeches and toasts ahead of us. I don’t think either of them want us reading our speeches, I planned almost every word of mine to embarrass Nino.”

She frowned, wishing she was able to resist it, but meeting him on the side of the balcony beside herself. He was so close that she almost thought she could leap. “And what would we do?”

“Stay here forever, find a way off this roof, run—Your pick, really,” he said, as if it was that simple. As if they could leave. It was her best friend’s wedding. “I know Andre’s stand closed years ago, but maybe if we’re lucky there’s another icecream man in Paris running around at night. I bet there’s one outside of the Eiffel tower, if you wanted to revisit old times.”

“And why would we do that?” She asked. This stupid, awful part of her was considering it.

“Because Nino just told me that he wanted me to be happy and that was one of the most important things to him today, and I bet Alya just told you the same thing,” he said. “But we’re not happy.”

“And?”

He looked at her like she was stupid. Maybe she was. He’d been out there longer than her, she could tell by the pink of his cheeks, maybe some great clarity had befallen him in that time, and he’d realized that she actually wasn’t all that bright. “Come over here,” he said.

“I am not coming over there.”

“Then I’m coming over there.”

“You are not coming over here!” Marinette declared, slightly astounded. “People are changing!” He didn’t seem to care all that much. “We’re not all models, some of us have shame!”

He laughed. Fuck, his laugh. She’d forgotten how good it was. “Meet me in the middle then,” he said, hauling a leg over his guardrails before she could protest. “I want to be closer to you.”

She was going to die because of him, she was sure, even if he was sitting oh so comfortably on his own railing. With her luck, she’d slip then fall to her inevitable doom. She could only hope that the bushes below her were soft.

“There,” he said once she’d settled, kicking out so that his foot lightly tapped her leg to prove his point, “Closer.” This was obviously some elaborate scheme to kill her that he had spent the last three years planning.

Almost as soon as she sat down, she began to second guess it. The voice in the back of her head was screaming for her to get up and go back to the suite. She could see the girls in the hotel getting ready to leave, Rose hauling up Juleka’s dress and Mylene reapplying Alix’s eyeshadow. She knew she should have left, sitting out there dangling herself over the edge of a building with Adrien wasn’t the best idea. She was supposed to be in there, taking care of things, fixing dresses and calming down nerves. But then there was Alya at the door, her face lighting up as she looked out at her, craning her neck just enough to see Adrien. She didn’t look like she missed her, only like she wished she could stay a moment longer.

She had to see it out for Alya, if only so there was finally an end to it all, a yes or no to the Adrien situation. Then she could be better, the kind of friend Alya deserved, one who wasn’t stuck in the past. Then she could dance at the reception with Nino’s cousins, and faun over men with Alya who weren’t blond supermodels.

“I know I should have told you that night,” Adrien said, drawing her back in. “And I did try to. Actually, I should have told you many nights ago, years even, but I don’t even know how to start now.” She closed her eyes, things like this were easier to take when you didn’t have to look. “I don’t regret disappearing, Marinette.”

There it was.

“But I do regret not taking you with me,” he said, and her eyes flew open.

If she hadn’t been holding on for dear life, she might have fallen off the balcony.

“Not just now,” he clarified, because it felt like a split decision. “But before too, so many times before. From the moment I left, I knew that I wanted to turn back, but I kept telling myself that I was doing the right thing. Over and over again, this is for Marinette. Marinette will move on. It didn’t matter if it hurt, you would be okay.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“You weren’t,” Adrien agreed. “I’m going to sound like an awful person, but I was happy about that. I was way too happy,” he admitted. “And this isn’t going to fix anything, this isn’t going to give you those three years back, this isn’t going to solve the problem an empty hotel room caused, and this won’t bring back Tikki and Plagg—But I’m asking you for just one second to give me this chance. I’m asking you to make the dumbest mistake of your life with me; to leave this party and everyone in it, to walk Paris again like it’s our city to own. For just one night, even though your body will practically ache with stupidity, disappear with me. Leave them all to wonder where we went, how even years later we always seem to miss things. Because I love you, even when you’re just walking on the sidewalk beside me and not saving the day, you’re my everyday Ladybug. Because I just want those moments back where it’s just you and I, and no one else knows who we really are.”

“And who are we, Adrien?” She asked. “The two biggest idiots in Paris?”

“A team,” he said, “amongst other things.”

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

Epilogue:

Alya Lahiffe was dancing with her newly obtained husband when she saw it, a flash of red and black over the hotel garden wall. Her hands tightened around his neck as she took it in, a woman in a red bridesmaid dress and a man dressed in all black sprawled out in a heap on the ground, laughing after having practically tumbled over the brick wall surrounding the venue. They both looked from side to side, their noses nearly colliding with each other as they turned, both lighting up in laughter as they assumed the coast to be utterly clear and them to have snuck back into the party without anyone realizing.

“You okay, hun?” Nino asked as he looked down at her, taking in her expression.

“Yeah,” she grinned, watching as Marinette left only a peck on Adrien’s nose, resulting in the young man’s outrage. “I think I am.” She turned them, letting Nino see as Adrien reached for Marinette once more, dragging her down to kiss him.

“The absolute worst best man,” Nino chuckled, looking away as he pressed his forehead against Alya’s.

“And the most seasick, lovelorn maid of honor,” Alya said. “It’s a wonder they got anything done.”

“I give them a year before we get to pay them back, and we’re not skipping the ceremony. We’re giving bad speeches and throwing the bachelor party on a boat, doing the cupid shuffle—the whole nine yards.”

“And letting Marinette’s dad overload them with cake?”

“If he forgets any, we’ll just have to pull the samples out of our freezer.”

[lemon-pear]

DIGIWEEK, Day 5: Crossovers (Appmon edition)

I have WAY TOO MANY Appmon crossovers and AUs that I haven’t done enough with, rotfl. Here’s a sketchdump and brief rundown:

1. PERSONA DANCING AU. This was not originally my idea (I’ve never played a Persona game!) but I loved the concept and briefly became OBSESSED with trying to design the perfect dance outfit for Haru. I eventually cracked it, and you can see a colorized model sheet version of it here. There was originally going to be a more polished piece with Actual Dancing and a matching Gatchmon, but it never made it past these sketches. Maybe someday!!

2. SAILOR MOON CROSSOVER. I LOVE crossing over digigirls with magical girls, so of course I had to try Eri. I’m actually picturing her magical girl story to be a bit more like the Codename: Sailor V manga than Sailor Moon proper, which is why she wears the mask (Also: Tuxedo Doka-chan I guess? XD) While introducing herself to her enemies, she would say the following:

“I am the idol of honor and justice, the pretty-suited center of the universe, Sailor Eri! In the name of Minerva, I’ll punish you… with an explosive punch!”

3. HARUJIN FANTASY AU. There was uh… gonna be a fanfic, and it was going to be shippy ^^; Sir Yuujin the Brave goes on a quest to try to save his kingdom from the terrible dragon Leviathan, seeking wisdom from an ancient and mysterious entity known as the Owl. Only the Owl seems a lot younger and less experienced than he would have expected based on the legends… still. And as they travel together, gathering strength and allies, Yuujin can’t help but think perhaps he is not the hero of this story after all, and his destiny lies along a slightly different path.

4. COLLEGE/COFFEESHOP AU. Another fanfic I started at one point but haven’t finished! The kids all come in and out of the local coffee shop; Haru and Rei are majoring in computer science, Ai’s an English major, Eri’s a theater kid, Astra’s family owns the place, Yuujin’s a barista… etc. etc :D

[legendsoffodlan]

The Unwritten Supports: Raphael x Dorothea

C – Support

Location: Dining Hall

OST: Respite and Sunlight

*Raphael enters the dining hall*

Raphael: Hey, Dorothea!  Just the gal I was looking for!

Dorothea: Oh, hello Raphael.  What can I do for you?

Raphael: I don’t need anything.  But I do have something for you.  Here!

Dorothea: Something for me?  A pendant?

Raphael: Yeah. I carved our class symbol on it.  Do you like it?

Dorothea: It’s quite lovely.  Did you make this?

Raphael: Sure did!

Dorothea: Oh, Raphael.  You’re a very sweet guy, and I’m flattered, but I’m afraid I cannot accept this.

Raphael: Huh?  Why not?

Dorothea: I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t think I’m the girl for you.  Please excuse me.

Raphael: Wonder what she meant.  Maybe she doesn’t like pendants?  I could make turn it into a bracelet instead.  Or maybe some earrings?  But first… gotta fuel my creative muscles with some food!

**

B – Support

Location: Outside

Dorothea: Damn! That brigand was a lot stronger than I thought. One more hit like that and I’m done for!  *gasps* Oh no, here comes some more enemies!  This could be it for me!

Enemy Soldier: Die!

Raphael: *appears* Dorothea, look out!

*fades to black, weapon strike*

*fades back in*

Raphael: Are you okay?

Dorothea: I’m hanging in here, but I need to get to a healer.

Raphael: You got it. Stay close to me and I’ll clear you a path.

Dorothea: Thank you.

*Fade to black*

*Fade back in*

OST: Calm Winds Over Gentle Waters

Healer: There, that should do it.  You were very lucky to get alive.

Dorothea: It was quite the close call.  Oh, before you go, could I see that thing you’re wearing?

Healer: This?  It’s the class pendant Raphael made for all of us.  Didn’t he give you one?

Dorothea: He made one for everyone? Ah, well… Oh dear.  *speaking to herself* It appears I’ve misjudged him. I need to find him and apologize.

**

B+ – Support

Location: Training Grounds

OST: Recollection and Regret

Dorothea: Raphael?

Raphael: Oh, hey!  You’re looking better.  How are your injuries?

Dorothea: All healed, thanks to you.

Raphael: What? I didn’t do anything. *pouts*  I’m not so great with magic.

Dorothea: I meant saving me on the battlefield.  I might have been killed if you hadn’t come when you did.

Raphael: Oh, that.  Don’t sweat it.  We’re friends, right?  And friends look out for each other.  Next time, you can protect me!

Dorothea: Speaking of, I also owe you an apology.

Raphael: *looking confused*  What for?

Dorothea: A while ago, you offered me a pendant.  I rejected it because I thought it was a courting gift.

Raphael: *blushes* W-what?

Dorothea: I’m so sorry.  It’s just – men don’t usually offer me trinkets like that unless they want a certain something in return.  But the healer who helped me was wearing an identical piece.  He explained that you made one for everyone in our class, including the Professor.

Raphael: Yeah. I thought it’d be cool if we all had one as a team symbol.  I mean, I know we all wear academy uniforms, but I figured it’d be nice to have something just for our class, you know?  Plus, that way, we’ll all have something to remember our time together once we graduate.

Dorothea: What an excellent idea!  I’m sorry I misunderstood your intensions.

Raphael: Aw, don’t give it another thought.

Dorothea: You wouldn’t still happen to have it, would you?

Raphael: Yeah, I’ve got it right here!  Except, I thought maybe you didn’t want it because you liked other kinds of jewelry instead, so I also made a bracelet and some earrings too.

Dorothea: *laughs*  Well would you look it that!  They’re all so beautiful.  May I have them?

Raphael: Sure!

Dorothea: And in return, perhaps you’d join me for tea? If we’re to be proper friends, then I’d like to get to know you better.

Raphael: Oh course!  Will there be snacks?

**

A – Support (Note: this support is only available after the Time-skip)

Location: Monastery Grounds

OST: Somewhere to Belong

Raphael: Long time, no see Dorothea!

Dorothea: Well look at you!  You’re a knight now?

Raphael: Yep!  Ever since my parents died, I wanted to become a knight so that I could take care of my little sister.  It’s been a long road, but we’re finally in a good place where we don’t have to struggle anymore.  As long as I continue to work hard, I won’t every have to worry bout my sis going hungry.

Dorothea: That’s very admirable of you, Raphael. *whispering to herself*  And if I’m honest, it very attractive.

Raphael: What’s that?

Dorothea: Oh nothing. *pauses* I was just thinking that I may have made yet another grave mistake regarding you.

Raphael: What do you mean?

Dorothea: Well, you see, for a long time, I’ve been looking for a suitable partner to share my life with, one who ensure both my happiness and survival.  But, rather unfortunately I admit, I limited my prospects to those who come from wealth and high standing because they would be in the best position to take care of me for the rest of my days.  As such, I discounted individuals such as yourself, who work hard every day for the ones you live, and are – above all – kind and honorable, more so that any noble I’ve ever dealt with.

Raphael: Um, thanks… I think?  I’m not sure I know what you’re saying.  But if you’re worried about the future, you can always come stay with me and my sister.  We’re thinking about opening an inn someday.  When we do, you can come stay any time you like.  And I promise I’ll always take care of you, just like I do with my little sis. 

Dorothea: *blushing*  Well, perhaps not quite the same as your sister.  But, thank you Raphael.  It’s nice to know I have a friend who’s willing to look out for me.

Raphael: You bet!

**

Paired Ending:

Raphael returned to his hometown to serve his liege lord as a knight, and spent his spare time helping out at the inn that his family had opened during his time away. Members of the Mittelfrank Opera Company lodged and performed at the inn whenever they were in town, and Dorothea became a favorite guest, eventually retiring from the opera and moving into the inn.  Raphael tirelessly ran the inn while Dorothea drew nightly crowds with her singing, making it huge success.  Some claim that they were married in a modest ceremony, as neither had another partner and Dorothea was always seen wearing Raphael’s homemade jewelry but regardless, all records agree that they were lifelong friends, living together in happiness and wanting for nothing.

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 18

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

THE NEXT MORNING

SIGURD’S CHAMBERS

Eivor pried his eyes open to a slit, immediately squinting in the sunlight that hit his face.

His fingers twitched with movement as his body returned to a state of consciousness, and his dreams vacated the stage that once sat in his mind. A subtle itch tickled the surface of his skin due to the strands of hair that dangled in front of his nose, and out of the corner of his eye, Eivor could see lingering smoke trailing from the dead embers of a torch once set aflame.

It was a calm morning, despite the mournful nature of the clan. A light breeze traveled swiftly throughout the empty halls of the longhouse, and distant chatter could be heard from the villagers who had already risen. It was the start of an ordinary day, and yet, Eivor had no motivation to see it through.

He just couldn’t stop thinking about Thora and Ulfar. 

Even though he managed to distract himself for a while with Sigurd’s company, the pain was inevitably sinking back in, and it felt as if a boulder had planted itself on top of his chest. 

There was no way to fill the new absence stalking his every move; no way he could ever see Thora or Ulfar again. Both of them were gone, and he had been left behind. He was stuck in this realm with nothing but the memories of those he had lost, and the only thing that could help him was the hope of putting Kjotve down for good.

Thankfully, Eivor wasn’t completely alone just yet. 

Resting gently over his hip, the young man felt the weight of Sigurd’s arm pressing down on him like a protective shield, holding him close in a world that was constantly trying to separate them. His breath kissed the back of Eivor’s neck at a steady pace, and a soothing warmth surrounded their bodies due to the blankets barricading them from the cold.

It was surprising to see that Sigurd hadn’t taken his leave, Eivor thought. Part of him had been expecting the prince to vanish like he did on the day of the wedding, and yet, he was here, keeping him company without any worry of judgement. His mind remained buried under dreams of war and mayhem, and his eyelids fluttered with the vivid images that flashed in his head.

He looked to be at peace, despite the turmoil brewing inside him. His expression was devoid of any usual disturbances, and Eivor’s comforting presence only helped to bring him more solace.

In addition to the relief Eivor felt upon seeing Sigurd however, the young man also couldn’t ignore the guilt he carried for taking the prince away from Randvi.

Gods only knew what that woman was going through right now. In a single day, she had lost both her blood-sister and father figure -- and unlike Eivor -- she had to deal with the pain alone.

She didn’t have anyone in her chambers to provide her with company or a shoulder to lean on, and Eivor began to wonder if he should’ve been ashamed of himself for robbing her of that. 

Perhaps it was a mistake to stay with Sigurd for the night. Perhaps he should’ve simply gone to the temple like he planned, and left the prince to his own devices. Maybe then, Randvi wouldn’t be forced to endure all this grief alone.  Eivor may have cherished every moment he spent with Sigurd, but he didn’t wish to do it at the expense of his sister’s well-being.

It was Randvi that Sigurd was supposed to be with, after all. And Eivor couldn’t help but question the morality of what he was doing. 

“...Eivor...?” The older man suddenly murmured, causing the Wolf-Kissed to glance over his shoulder.

He came face-to-face with a pair of heavy-lidded eyes, and smiled faintly upon hearing the man’s words.

“Good morning, love.” Eivor said, rolling onto his side. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

Sigurd chuckled, though it came out more like a grunt due to the sleep that still fogged his mind.

“...You didn’t wake me up. Truth is, I barely slept. My dreams were plagued with nothing but nightmares. I hope you had a better night.”

“I’d be lying if I said I did. All I could think about was Thora and Ulfar. About how they died.”

“I know what you mean. I can’t stop thinking about Dag either. It’s been hours since he first went silent, and yet... his final words refuse to leave me. It’s like he’s still here, berating me for everything I’ve done. Every time I close my eyes, my dreams take me back to the Tears of Ymir. Part of me feels as if I never left.”

Eivor snuggled up in Sigurd’s embrace, bringing himself closer to the other man.

“...We will get through this, love.” He reassured. “I know it wasn’t easy, but you gave us a chance at victory when you slew the traitor. Now, Kjotve has no allies within our walls. He’s completely by himself. And we have his son as a prisoner. We still have hope of winning this war... and it’s thanks to you.”

Sigurd raised a hand to Eivor’s cheek, gently caressing it with the back of his knuckles. 

“I hope you’re right. The last thing I want is for all our sacrifices to be in vain. We can’t accept defeat now. Not when we’re so close.” The prince sat up from the bed, causing his hair to slip from his shoulders. “But for now, let’s simply focus on honoring our dead. There are many farewells that need to be said before we take things further with Gorm, and I’d like to see Dag off on his journey to Hel. He may have been a traitor, but even he doesn’t deserve abandonment in death.”

Eivor’s mood soured at the mention of Dag’s name. In spite of his agreement to granting the man a place at the funeral, he couldn’t help but feel contempt for him after everything he and Gorm did to Thora.

“Do you think Dag would’ve done the same for you?” Eivor questioned.

Sigurd hesitated, not failing to notice the sharpness in his tone.

“I... I honestly don’t know. Did he even love me in the end? Or did he view me as an enemy? A foe that he needed to eliminate?” The prince combed a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. “I’d like to believe that he would stand by my grave in death, but in reality, I suspect he would’ve been the one to send me there.”

Sigurd rose from the bed and reached for his shirt, shaking his head in sorrow. “Gods... how did things go so wrong...?”

He pulled the piece of clothing over his torso, preparing to take his leave.

“Anyway, I’ll let you get dressed. I imagine my father will be awake by now, and I’d like to have a few words with him before we depart. Meet me outside when you’re ready to go. We can walk to the funeral together.”

The younger man followed suit and threw his legs over the edge of the bed, dreading the near-future. He didn’t want to attend the ceremony alone, but he also worried that he wouldn’t be able to keep his composure in the presence of Thora and Ulfar.

“...Alright.” He said plainly. “I’ll find you when I’m ready, Sigurd.”

The prince leaned down and placed a kiss on Eivor’s forehead, bidding him farewell.

“Take care, Eivor. I’ll see you soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~

ONE HOUR LATER

THE DOCKS

Walking along the edge of the ship, Ingrida’s boots quietly thudded against the wooden floor as she tended to the pyres, preparing them for their final departure. She scattered a mixture of herbs and petals at the base of the structures, whispering a series of prayers under her breath.

Her heart ached beyond words to see three of her beloved clan members sharing a ship to the gates of the afterlife. Thora, Ulfar, and Eirik all lay side-by-side in the center of the vessel, decorated with an abundance of gifts that the villagers had left for them. They had axes, shields, food, riches, armor -- every possible boon they could use in the next realm. Their bodies had also been adorned with a handful of sweet-scented flowers, and their hands had been arranged to hold the swords in their grip.

Meanwhile, Dag rested alone in a separate ship docked on the other end of the harbor. His boat had been left barren of any gifts or offerings, and the only attention he received was from scornful villagers who were irked to see his presence at the funeral. His pyre looked about as empty as the frozen sea before them, and it appeared just as cold.

Luckily, despite the animosity the clan held for Dag, Ingrida hadn’t yet forbade herself from saying a prayer for the man. Even though he was directly linked to the death of her son, she still saw it fitting to bless him with one last prayer, as well as the dignity of being sent on a proper vessel. She carried less than no love for the dishonorable traitor, but did not wish to defile his grave, lest she cause Sigurd even more pain.

“Wherever the bridge may guide you,” Ingrida whispered, walking up to Thora, “whatever obstacles you may face, know that your memory has been marked in our clan, sister. Your words, your thoughts, your actions -- they will all continue to live among us even though you have returned to the gods. Your spirit will become as natural as the trees around us, and your name will be shrouded in the honor that was robbed of you in death. May you find peace under Hel’s gaze, and may your axe never thirst for battle. You are free now.”

The woman brought her attention to Eirik, crumbling at the sight of her son.

“Oh, my son...” she murmured, “forgive me. I never thought it would end like this. I never thought it would be me who tended to your pyre. I wanted to watch you grow old. I wanted you to enjoy the life I had given you. I wanted better for--” Ingrida’s voice faltered, causing her to pause briefly, “--you deserved... better than this. You deserved happiness. I only pray that the gods will grant it to you someday, and that we will meet again when death takes us both.” She slid a hand down Eirik’s cheek. “Rest well, my son. Your struggles will not be everlasting.”

Turning to Ulfar, Ingrida cleared her throat and took a deep breath, regaining her composure for one final farewell.

“And my dear friend, Wulfgar,” she said. “I know you were fueled by hatred for many years before you came to us. I know you carried an abundance of regrets. But as the Valkyries guide you to the Hall of Valor, I hope you can find forgiveness for yourself. Even though you were not exempt of flaws, you were one of the best men I had ever the pleasure of meeting. You were a venerable husband to Linnea, and a loving father to many of the children here.” 

She sighed, placing a delicate hand over the hilt of Ulfar’s sword. “I do not know whether you will meet the Christian god or be accepted into the Allfather’s arms, but either way, remember that redemption walks with you, drengr. Your faults have been amended, and your shackles have been broken. May your freedom guide you home.”

Stepping away from the pyres, Ingrida said the last of her prayers and decided to leave the bodies alone for now, admittedly somewhat overwhelmed by the grief that was starting to sink in. For days, she had been focusing on the preparations for this funeral, and yet, nothing could’ve fully braced her for the severity of their losses.

The old völva had overseen multiple burials in the past, but she had never attended one with so many familiar faces. Thora, Ulfar, Eirik -- they were all vital people in her life. She watched them grow, she watched them cry, she watched them change. A part of her soul was attached to the three of them, and now... she had to watch them leave.

It was the hardest farewell she ever had the burden of bidding, and she hoped it would be the last.

“Ingrida?”

The seeress whirled around at the sudden greeting, not realizing that she had company.

“Oh, Eivor,” she said upon seeing her guest’s face. “I didn’t notice you were there.”

The young man approached her, keeping his hands linked in a respectful manner.

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” he explained. “I saw that you were saying a prayer for them.”

Ingrida glanced back at the fallen warriors’ bodies, nodding morosely.

“...Indeed. I just finished saying goodbye to Wulfgar.”

Eivor cocked a brow at that. “Wulfgar? You mean... Ulfar?”

Ironically, his question only seemed to garner more confusion from the old woman.

“He never told you?” She asked, clearly surprised.

“Told me what?”

A look of understanding spread across Ingrida’s face. “Forgive me, young cub. I assumed you knew of this already. The two of you were like father and son, so I simply thought...” she shook her head, returning to the topic. “Anyway. Tell me, did Ulfar ever reveal that he originally came from a Saxon family?”

“Yes,” Eivor recalled. “He mentioned that before.”

“Well, his name was Wulfgar before he was adopted by the Norse. He always asked me to refer to him as that in private. It may seem like an odd request, but I think it helped him preserve some semblance of who he once was.”

“I... I never knew that. Ulfar didn’t tell any of us.”

Ingrida gazed at the raider’s lifeless face, tilting her head out of empathy.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. He had a dark history before he married Linnea and joined our clan. He probably didn’t want to frighten you.”

Eivor’s curiosity got the best of him. “Can you tell me what he did, exactly?”

The seeress fell silent due to hesitance. “I... don’t think I should, Eivor. I don’t believe it would be my place. If Ulfar felt the need to keep it hidden from you, then perhaps that’s because he meant to take the secret to his grave.”

A hint of disappointment sank into Eivor’s mood, but he respected the secrecy nonetheless.

“...I understand.”

Ingrida offered another possible answer. “If your curiosity is truly piqued though, I’d recommend asking your father. Arngeir is also aware of Ulfar’s past, and he was much closer to him than I. I think he would be more suited to tell the story -- if you are willing to hear it.”

“I am. I’ll ask him about it later. Thank you.”

The woman crossed her arms and took a moment to examine Eivor, suddenly switching the subject when she noticed that he was alone.

“But enough about that. Where is Sigurd?” Ingrida questioned. “I expected him to come here with you.”

The inquisitive spark in Eivor’s eyes dimmed at the observation, and he took a slow glance at the nearby longship.

“He’s paying his respects to Dag.” He said, gesturing to the traitor’s pyre. Ingrida followed his gaze, watching as Sigurd said his goodbyes.

The downhearted prince was currently kneeling in front of the wooden tomb with his head hanging low, and a hand over Dag’s wrist. His face was hidden from the world due to his crouched position, and at the moment, all Ingrida could see was a slight quiver shaking the stillness of his shoulders.

“...His eyes burned bright with the heat of Muspelheim itself...” Ingrida whispered in revelation. “Oh, that poor man. I now understand what my vision meant. I understand what it was trying to say.”

Eivor gave the woman a puzzled look, intrigued by her train of thought.

“What do you mean?”

Ingrida brought her focus back to the young man and closed the distance between them.

“The night before Sigurd arrived, the gods sent me a dream about him. Do you remember? It was just before Freya’s statue fell at the temple.”

Eivor nodded. “Yes, I remember.”

A hint of caution took hold of her tone. “...Dag’s death will only fuel the fire already raging in your prince, Wolf-Kissed. I know I advised you to stay away from Sigurd in the past, but now, I suspect you’ll be the only one capable of pulling him back from the edge. Do not allow him to get lost in the dark. He’ll be leading us into battle not too long from now. Please, do what you can to ensure that his mind stays whole.”

“Of course, Ingrida. I--” he stuttered for a second, hesitant to be completely open, “...you know how I feel about him. I’ll try my best to help him.”

That seemed to bring relief to the seeress. “Thank you, Eivor. We need both of you if we’re going to win this war. Take care of yourselves in the storm to come. We’re almost through the brunt of it.”

Bringing their conversation to an end, Ingrida placed a soft hand on Eivor’s arm and guided him away from the pyres, stepping back onto the docks as the clan gathered for the final farewell. A line of archers had already taken their position at the front of the shoreline and set their arrows aflame, preparing for the upcoming ceremony.

“Come, young cub. It’s time to say goodbye.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Standing just beyond the tide’s reach, Eivor and Sigurd watched the funeral from afar as gusts of icy wind danced throughout the village, causing their capes to billow in the breeze. Specks of snow fluttered from the muted sky hanging above them, and in the distance, Eivor could see a number of dockhands pushing the ships away from the piers.

It almost would’ve been beautiful, if it weren’t for the morbidity of their gathering. The ships glided across the glassy surface like swans in a lake, and their hulls split the sheets of ice blocking their course. Ravens soared alongside the majestic sails as if Odin himself were guiding their departure from Midgard, and within moments, the archers had already prepared their first volley of arrows.

“Aim!” One of the warriors commanded, his voice thundering across the beach. A chain of flames immediately rose into the air, pointing directly towards the clouds.

The ships ventured a bit deeper into the ocean, causing waves of white foam to spurt around them.

“Loose!”

Releasing their grip on the bows, the archers sent a storm of arrows flying into the sky as their fiery tips set the heavens aflame, painting the atmosphere with what looked like a thousand suns. Their reflections bolted across the sea like streaks of ember, and soon after, the ships were engulfed in a cloak of fire.

Little by little, the sparks spread throughout the vessels’ entire structure, igniting everything they could touch. They easily latched onto the fallen warriors who occupied the pyres, and consumed their hollow shells like webs of frost crawling across the ocean.

It was a display fit for the gods themselves. The ships wandered like a pair of beacons shattering the dark, and Eivor could only hope that the divines would accept their new arrivals with open arms. These souls had officially traveled beyond the mortal realm, and now, their threads in the tapestry of fate had been cut.

It was finally time for Eivor to let them go. The very same war that had taken these people in the first place still burned with an unbridled fury, and it wouldn’t be long before they had to confront it once and for all.

The only thing they had to do now was get Gorm to talk. His forked tongue hid behind a guise of feigned ignorance, but Eivor knew better than to believe his twisted claims. 

That man knew where Kjotve was, and he knew how to lure him out of the shadows. His information was the key to winning this war, and neither the Wolf-Kissed nor the Raven Prince would back down until they got what they wanted.

It was their only chance of survival at this point, and the last obstacle blocking their way.

~~~~~~~~~~

LATER THAT DAY

THE DUNGEON

Shoving the barred door open with a firm push, Sigurd ducked under the low frame and slipped into the room, lighting the way with a torch as Eivor followed him from behind. The weathered hinges of the door squeaked sharply in the looming silence, and a soft rattle bounced off the walls as their prisoner struggled in his chains.

Gorm was completely alone down here. Not only had he been deprived of any human contact, but the tight bricks of the dungeon had also sealed out any intruding sunlight. His hands and feet had been tied down by harsh shackles, and a rough cloth had been wrapped securely around his eyes.

Despite Gorm’s recent arrival though, it looked like someone had already visited him. In the flickering glow that radiated from Sigurd’s torch, the prince spotted fresh cuts and bruises littering the prisoner’s skin. Tiny droplets of blood stained the collar of his shirt, and by now, a slick sheen of sweat had formed on the man’s bony chest.

It wouldn’t be difficult to interrogate this man, but that didn’t mean Sigurd would go easy on him.

“Heh,” he said with a chuckle, holding the torch closer to Gorm’s wounds, “looks like someone had a talk with you already. You been having company lately, Kjotvesson? Or were our men just a bit too rough when they dragged you off the longship?”

The prisoner groaned in irritation, recognizing his captor’s voice. “...Gods above. As if my first conversation wasn’t bad enough. Now you’re here too? I’m not going to talk, Sigurd. The jarl couldn’t beat it out of me, and you won’t either.”

“Ah, so it was Arngeir who did this. I should’ve guessed.” The prince paused briefly. “...You’re lucky, you know. Not many people in this world have the same level of patience as our jarl. If it was my daughter you had killed, I would have flayed you alive.”

Gorm scoffed, shifting in his seat. “You? Everyone knows you’re soft, Styrbjornson. You couldn’t even save the jarl’s daughter from being killed. What makes you think you can get me to talk? Just throw your punches and leave me alone. You won’t get anything from me.”

Sigurd knelt down, leaning towards to the man as he spoke. “...We are one step away from winning this fucking war against your father after decades of suffering because of it. This is the closest we’ve ever been to victory in years, and the only thing blocking our path right now... is you. If you think I’m going to walk away after everything we’ve sacrificed, you are sorely mistaken.”

The prince stood up from the floor. “You can either tell me Kjotve’s location, or I can make you scream it. Either way, we’re not leaving this room until you give us what we need.”

Gorm picked up on that. “We?”

Eivor stepped forward, joining Sigurd’s side. “I’m here too, Gorm.”

“Ah, the Raven Prince’s whore. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here. I know you follow Sigurd around like a lost pup, always pining for his attention. Word spreads quickly, you see--”

Sigurd threw a quick jab at Gorm’s cheek, silencing the man in an instant.

“Well you won’t hear anymore about us from now on. Your ally is dead, Gorm. We found him.”

That seemed to instill a sense of alarm in the prisoner. “...Ally?”

“Yes. Dag.” Sigurd clarified. “I know he was aiding you. I know he told you about the assault on your father’s fortress. But he’s dead now. You no longer have any friends here, Kjotvesson. There’s no one who can rescue you.”

The pace of Gorm’s breath quickened at the news, and his jaw clenched in fear.

“...So. What is it you want, exactly?”

“Have you not been listening to a word I’ve said? Tell me where Kjotve is, and all this comes to an end. It’s that simple.”

Sigurd reached down, ripping Gorm’s blindfold off with a harsh tug. 

“We’re running out of time...! I’m giving you one last chance to tell us the information we need, but after that--” he yanked out his axe, “--I start hacking.”

Still, the prisoner resisted. “...Y-You wouldn’t. You don’t have the stones.”

The prince smirked. “Don’t I? Let me tell you something, Gorm.” Sigurd raised the axe to the other man’s face, positioning it right underneath his chin. “Just yesterday, this axe was buried in the heart of my brother. I put it there... after he confessed his treachery.”

It didn’t take long for Gorm to put the pieces together. “...Dag was your brother?”

Sigurd nodded slowly. “Not by blood, but that didn’t mean anything to us. We were still family. We still shared a bond. In the end though... he proved to be a danger to our clan, and so, I cut him down in one strike.” His eyes narrowed in rage. “...I was willing to execute a man I had known for all my life, purely for the sake of protecting this clan. He meant the world to me, and yet, I still killed him with my own two hands. What makes you think you stand a chance?”

Gorm scooted back in his seat, plastering himself against the back of the chair in an attempt to get away from the redheaded viking.

“You’re out of your mind, Sigurd.”

“All the more reason for you to give me what I want.”

The prisoner was quiet in response, leading Sigurd to shrug in a casual manner.

“Fine. If that’s how you wish to do things...”

The prince brought the torch’s flame to his axe, heating up the edge until it was red hot.

“W-w-wait!” Gorm exclaimed. “Wait!”

“Having second thoughts, Kjotvesson?”

“I-- look, I can’t tell you!”

Sigurd removed the axe from the fire and grinned, brandishing its scorching blade to the man.

“What’ll your father do? Kill you?”

Eivor laughed lightly, undeniably amused by Gorm’s squirming. “He’ll be lucky if he’s still alive by then.” His tone hardened. “Maybe we should string him up and leave him outside. Give him the same treatment he gave to my sister.”

Gorm shot him a glare. “Oh, you’ll join her soon enough, Wolf-Kissed. Don’t think this is over. Just because you’ve survived this long doesn’t mean--”

Sigurd pressed the axe down on his arm, causing the man to let out an anguished shout.

“Shit!” Gorm yelled, jolting violently in his restraints. The prince removed the blade after a moment and stepped back, leaving a prominent burn on the surface of his skin. 

“If you’re done barking, I’d like to hear what we came for.”

“...You’ve lost your mind, Sigurd...!” The prisoner panted out, still dazed from the pain. “I’ll kill you for this. You and your whole clan!”

The redheaded man grabbed him by the collar, yanking him closer to his face.

“Tell me where Kjotve is! Now. Unless you want me to start slicing.”

Gorm turned away from Sigurd, doing his best to avoid eye contact with him.

“I... can’t!”

“Well, you will. I don’t care what kind of threats your father has made. You will tell us what we need to know, one way or another.”

The prisoner hesitated. “But why should I? You’ll kill me anyway! I’m as good as dead no matter what I do. I may as well keep silent.”

“Because your fate has yet to be determined. Cooperate with us, and perhaps I can grant you a faster death. But if you resist, I’ll have no choice but to keep this going. So save us both the trouble, and just tell me where Kjotve is.”

Gorm trailed off into silence once again, reconsidering his approach. He still appeared reluctant to comply with Sigurd’s demands, but his eyes flicked around the room in a way that made it clear he was slowly changing his mind.

“You... you promise you’ll give me a swift death if I tell you how to find my father? Is that what you’re saying?”

Sigurd looked directly into Gorm’s gaze, taking on a more sincere tone.

“...You have my word.”

The prisoner took the answer to heart and cursed quietly under his breath, frustrated at the dilemma that had been presented to him. He knew he was dead regardless of how the future unfolded, but he wondered if there was a chance he could find mercy in the hands of a proper executioner.

“...Damn it all.” Gorm finally said. “Fine. I’ll... I’ll tell you what you want to know. But you must keep your word.”

Sigurd waited patiently for a response. “Well? Where is he?”

The other man’s head drooped in shame. “...My father is sailing west. To England.”

That took the prince by surprise. “England? What in Hel’s name is Kjotve doing all the way out there?”

“He has allies in that country,” Gorm explained. “And they’re more than just simple raiders. His allies in England are part of something far bigger than you could ever anticipate. They will destroy you if he manages to rally them in time.”

Eivor crossed his arms in thought, suddenly feeling less confident. “...Shit. He must be miles ahead of us by now.”

“Actually, he could still be within your reach. I don’t think my father has officially embarked just yet. He mentioned stopping by an island along the way; to gather food and supplies before making the journey. You could still catch him.”

Sigurd stepped away from Gorm. “Then we need to leave immediately. We can’t allow Kjotve to sail into Saxon waters. If he makes it there, we’ll have lost him for good. There’s no way we could hunt him down in English territory without sparking another war.”

Eivor brought up another subject, slowing the prince down before he could get too far ahead of himself.

“Wait, what do we do about him?” He asked, gesturing to Gorm with a jerk of the head.

Sigurd eyed the prisoner up and down, contemplating how to dispose of the man. When he first set foot in the dungeon, he had originally planned to finish Gorm off with an axe to the chest -- similar to the method he used for Dag -- but now, he was having second thoughts.

“...We’ll let my father decide.” He settled with.

Eivor had to admit, he wasn’t expecting that. “Your father?”

Sigurd took a calming breath, thinking back to his conversation with his lover earlier that day. “He’s right about me, Eivor. I’m too impulsive. If I’m going to inherit the crown someday, I must learn to wield more restraint. Gorm murdered someone from our kingdom, so my father will determine his fate in a trial. Seems only fitting, seeing as how he’s the king.”

The younger man was pleased to see that the prince had taken his advice so seriously.

“A wise choice. We should inform Styrbjorn right away, then. We have no time to lose.”

Gorm jumped back in. “Wait! What if the king doesn’t allow me a quick death like we agreed?”

“I’ll explain to him the deal we made,” Sigurd assured. “My father is a man of honor, despite some of the things he does. He will understand.” He brought his attention back to Eivor, continuing their conversation. “Anyway, could you speak to Arngeir while I find my father? If we’re going to catch Kjotve on time, we’ll need everyone to be prepared. Everyone.”

“Of course. I’ll let him know of the plan.”

“Thank you.” Sigurd walked past the Wolf-Kissed, halting in his tracks to whisper something in the man’s ear. “Meet me on the hill outside the longhouse when you’re finished. There’s something I want to show you.”

Eivor nodded, whispering back to him. “I’ll be there.”

“Then I’ll see you soon, my love. But for now, let’s just focus on preparing for the upcoming battle. This war isn’t going to get any easier in the next few days, but if we’re lucky, it’ll end soon. Kjotve is hiding just beyond the horizon. We can’t let him escape.”

[curedeity]

Studying Days

Summary: Flora pages through her book, jotting down ideas for what enchantment to show off on her final test, when someone knocks at her door.

Why are they trying so hard to get good grades anyway?

    Flora sat in the room she shared with Bloom alone, her friend having gone out to a cafe with Stella. Laid open on her lap was a book on enchantments which she paged through, humming as she found particularly useful ones to demonstrate for her exam. Imbuing objects with permanent magic was the culmination of all they’d been learning in their enchantment class this year, and the amount of her grade that relied on this assignment reflected that.

    It was honestly good fortune that Bloom had gone out. Love her friend as she did, Flora could still admit that Bloom’s ability to sit down and study was lacking. She wouldn’t have been able to get much work done if she had spent most of it tutoring Bloom and getting the girl to focus.

    Flora had just completed the third chapter when someone knocked on the door. The tapping was too light to be Bloom, so it must’ve been one of the fellow Winx (excluding Stella, who had the unfortunate tendency to barge into rooms out of excitement). Flora closed the book, slipping a twig through to mark the pages, and called out, “Come in!”

    Flora excellently hid her surprise when Musa entered the room, a bag thrown across her shoulder. It was rare for Musa to seek out her companionship, perhaps she thought Bloom had already returned?

    “Hey, so,” Musa rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, sending Flora a crooked smile (and damn if that didn’t make her heart melt). “Tecna’s being kinda loud right now, yknow, destroying Timmy at video games again, and you and I normally get similar grades so…” Musa held out her book bag. “Wanna study together?”

    Now that Musa mentioned it, she and Flora did normally receive the highest grades among the Winx (and among most of the students, Flora was allowed to brag a little), a fact that was just so slightly out of place with their normal personas that even Flora forgot it occasionally herself. Flora’s eyes quickly darted up and down Musa’s figure, thoughts whirring through her head.

    Then, without much fanfare, Flora shrugged and gave Musa a small smile. “Sure, why not?”

    Perhaps Musa would make for Flora’s first good study partner.

    An hour later, they were both sitting on the floor with books fanning out around them. Musa’s recorder sat in the center, with Flora taking down observation notes as Musa attempted to enchant it.

    It had taken them a while to decide on what to do. Musa was apparently a practical learner, and Flora couldn’t deny that she also liked that method. Musa’s instruments made for very simple things to enchant, and they had decided that playing it should make it rain.

    It would be a very clear sign that the magic had worked correctly, and, if they managed to pull it off, be very impressive for the exam.

    Unfortunately, neither had managed to successfully do so yet.

    “Can’t we just go murder Stormy and put her essence into the flute?” Musa complained.

    Flora tapped her chin. “Well, I don’t think we would manage to do so properly if we still are having trouble with enchanting an object. Tying an essence to it would be much more complicated magic, and we should wait until we have the proper skills to do so.”

    Musa hummed and tipped her head in forced agreement, but not without adding, “I’d be really motivated to make the magic work though.”

    Flora laughed, covering her mouth with a hand. She had to admit, the idea of getting back at the Trix would be very good motivation. But she just responded with, “I guess we’ll just have to rely on the prospect of a good grade to keep us going.”

    “Sometimes it doesn’t seem that worth it.”

    At this Flora sat down more comfortably, leaning her chin into her palm as she looked over at Musa. They had already been studying for a while, so Flora supposed one conversation break was deserved. “And why’s that?”

    Musa was already waving away her previous comment. “I suppose I don’t mean it that much, I really like learning new things and that’s all the motivation I need. Guess I just wish my dad would be a bit more excited about me doing well in school. He’s nice about it and all but like, his support feels weird sometimes.”

    Flora hummed comfortingly. She had found her friends, just like Miele, liked the soft songs she knew by heart. Besides, what was there for her to say? Musa didn’t seem to want a retort, or unconditional support, so Flora would just be a vine on the wall, listening for now.

“I wanna be a musician, yknow? But my dad really hates that idea, so whenever I get good grades he’s happy, but happy in the way where he thinks I’m giving up on my dream and doing something he’d prefer. Just, sucks because I like school and I like doing well.”

At some point during her speech, Musa had flopped onto the floor, her head resting near Flora’s crossed legs. With deft fingertips, Flora undid the tight pigtails Musa’s hair normally was held in, and began running her fingers through the black strands. 

“Musa, I’m sure your father will come around to you being a musician someday, and if he doesn’t want to, I’ll go to each of your concerts to cheer you on.” Flora probably would’ve gone anyway, Musa’s music truly was beautiful, and it was always nice to hear the rare pieces she’d share with the group. And if Flora didn’t go, one of the other Winx (Tecna) most certainly would.

Musa giggled and swatted Flora’s hand away playfully. “Don’t say that, concerts take up a lot of time, especially if I ever get good enough to go on tour. You wouldn’t want to follow me to like, 20 different stops.”

Flora had never considered that. She mulled over the information, and then discarded it. “I would get Stella to teleport me.”

Musa rolled her eyes, obviously having to concede the point. “So why do you try so hard to do well in school?”

“This is trying hard to you?” Flora asked dryly, gesturing around at the state of their life. To be honest, this was probably Flora’s worst academic year of her life. She was far too busy dealing with the Trix to focus on school as much as she’d like. 

Besides Flora had never studied overly much anyway, it was more in her ability to focus.

“You know what I mean!”

Flora chuckled, and leaned back for a few moments. An answer didn’t immediately bloom on the tip of her tongue, it wasn’t something she had thought of much. School was simply something you were supposed to be good at, for no other reason than to be good at it. And Flora certainly had never found it very hard to be good at academics.

“I suppose I want to be at school to help me later in life, for a good career, but I think I may just like being good at it,” Flora shrugged, her last words making Musa cackle. “If I can be good at school, is that not enough of a reason to be?”

“I mean, it does mean you can hold your report card over Stella.”

“I’d never tease one of my friends like that. Stella does put in some effort to be good at school, and I’d never discourage her in that way.” Flora clutched a hand to her chest.

“Well, you certainly do consistently uphold your reputation of being the nicest person in all of Alfea,” Musa smirked.

Flora blinked down at her, a facade of innocence masking her face. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Musa snorted, “Sure you don’t. Now come on, let’s get back to work.”

There were many reasons Flora tried so hard at Alfea. Sometimes it was to be a good role model for her little sister, sometimes to defeat the evil forces that kept bothering them. But more commonly, it was for little things, like the look of hilariously overdramatic betrayal Bloom shot her when Musa dragged Flora out of the room, saying that “It’s time for the A honor roll girls to do some actual studying.”

[maybe-theres-hope]

Of Will and Wildflowers, Part 1

Tarlos | period drama/grudging acquaintances to lovers | Part 1/3 

Read on ao3

Thank you to @oquinn53 and @resiotcage for cheerleading and reading ahead of time. You both give me the motivation to keep going. 

Title by @oquinn53 :)

By law, TK Strand cannot inherit his father’s railroad empire until he marries. He has absolutely no intention of finding a husband on their trip down to Texas, but he finds himself blindsided by Mr. Carlos Reyes, only son of Doña Marialena Reyes. The problem is that Mr. Reyes resents the Strands coming to buy up parcels of his family’s cattle estate to build a rail line on. TK is perfectly happy to leave him to stew in his anger, as he has no use to see the man after the end of the week. However, TK will find that the heart wants what it wants, and there’s rarely anything one can do about it. 

Set in 1885

Below is an excerpt, full part 1 from the beginning is under the cut!

TK was astonished at his father’s ability to forgive anyone almost anything, but this was almost too far. Mr. Reyes had barely said a word at dinner, and that was only after he’d been forcibly pulled into conversation by Christina. Even then he’d talked of nothing but the weather and cattle movements, and he’d offered a mild chuckle at Elena’s story of her first time riding a horse. He’d spent the rest of the evening simultaneously staring at and avoiding TK.

TK knew this because he’d been doing the same, though he would sooner saw off his own hand than admit to it.

“He insulted us and called us names. He besmirched our honor. He wears brocade to ride in! What on earth makes him a good man?” TK huffed out a breath. He turned to see his father just smiling at him.

“He’s a good judge of a room, anyway. He seldom looked away from you,” Owen ribbed. TK could now see where this was heading. His own father was just as bad as the Doña trying to play matchmaker.

“Parents are far too successful in matching their children up economically, but when it comes to romance, parents are no better off than if they hadn’t known another eligible soul in the world,” TK recited.

“Oh, come now son, I’m not that insensitive! He’s handsome isn’t he?” his father returned, finally dropping the ruse and showing his true colors.

“Handsomeness does not a happy home make,” TK recited again.

“You’ve been reading too many Dame Juliette columns.”

“And you’ve been trying to plot my marriage since we were on the train, and the minute you saw a handsome son on this estate you’ve sealed my fate, have you?” TK groused.

At this, Owen softened his face. “I am sorry for being a bit pushy, but Mr. Reyes is the first man you’ve so much as made eye contact with of late. Is it so odd to wonder what about him brought you out of your self-imposed melancholy?”

“Who said I was out of my melancholy?”

“Your eyes whenever they met his.” Owen’s face was serious, no longer teasing.

“He makes me angry, is all. Anger is an emotion.”

“Yes. Yes it is.” And with that, Owen turned to climb into his own bed, the conversation abruptly halted and TK left wondering what his father thought he’d concluded from their exchange.

Lying on his own mattress across the hall, TK wondered at emotion. Sure, anger was an emotion. A useful one. But so was love, and he was determined to hold out for it.

Part 1

“Ms. Mercer’s proposal looks promising,” Owen says, mostly to himself but loud enough to include TK in the conversation, should he wish to participate. “And Mr. and Mr. Felton-Lowman have quite a sprawl, though it does look to contain more elevation than I was hoping. I thought all of Texas was supposed to be flat?” Owen muses as he tosses the papers back onto his makeshift desk.

TK is only half listening, choosing instead to stare morosely out the window at the passing countryside of the American South, eyes at intervals tracking livestock in the fields and lingering drips from this morning’s light storm rolling down the glass window of the lavish Pullman they’ve commandeered as their vessel for this journey. His father, bless his soul, had tried to get TK to care more about the business as of late, and truth be told, TK was very interested in the workings of his father’s company and he did take great pride in being able to inherit it someday and make his father proud. It was just that recently, he’d had his heart thoroughly crushed by an absolute rake of a man and he’d rather wallow in self pity than think about geological surveys and boundaries for livestock movements.

TK heard his father sigh, a sure sign that a lecture was coming soon. TK took a breath and held it.

“I wish you’d forget about that awful boy, Tyler. You wouldn’t have wanted a life with him anyway. His family was barely polite at best, and scandalous at their worst. Honestly, you got out on the good side of things.” TK wanted to say that he didn’t care about things like status and scandal, he cared about love and commitment.

Turns out all Alexander had been able to commit to was his harem of stable boys and footmen that TK had known nothing about until it was too late.

TK blew out his breath. He knew his father meant well. Owen Strand was not overbearing as some other fathers were, especially with an only child upon whom everything rested. He wished his son to be happy and settled, is all. TK knew this, and still he couldn’t help his sullen reply.

“Yes, father, I shall just forget. Forget every sweet nothing and every second and third dance. Forget every promise and every earnest declaration. Forget that it was all a lie. Yes, my mind shall be rid of Alexander’s presence by sundown. Then we shall celebrate. How simple.” He knew he was being unreasonable, but he wanted to be angry for a while. He’d only found Alexander with Mrs. Howell’s second footman three days earlier. It still stung.

As the train rattled on, closer to a place that TK was of a mind to understand was so far from proper civilization as to be considered exotic, he felt his father’s disappointment cling to him. That hurt worse than what he’d seen Alexander and the footman doing--which was something for which he was sure a name had not been invented yet.

“I’m sorry, father. It’s just that you’ve set this deadline for me with no explanation as to why, and I don’t want to let you down but I’m afraid I’ll never find the right man for me. I had thought it would be Mr. Thompson, but I was mistaken. Sorely mistaken.”

At this, TK looked up to catch his father’s soft look of commiseration. “I know you’re feeling overwhelmed, but you are getting on in age. Most boys are married off by three and twenty, and you’ve gone nearly four years past that. I’m not going to be around forever, you know. You need to secure a match that makes you happy, but you’ll need to do it sooner rather than later.”

“Why, father? Why must I rush such a momentous decision? You are in perfect health! I have another five or ten at least!” At this, he caught a very minute shift in his father’s countenance, something like pain, but it was gone in an instant. His father was the most stoic man TK had ever had occasion to meet; if he was in pain at all, no one would ever know. It must have been a trick of the flickering pre-dusk light coming through the windows of the train car. Owen took on a playful tone.

“Five or ten? What respectable young lad would want to marry a man of thirty-five? You’d practically be spinster by then,” he joked fondly.

“You’re a good deal past thirty-five and I’ve still seen twenty year old Miss Brinkman making eyes at you across the dancefloor of an evening. If I’ve inherited your genes I’ve nothing to fear,” TK shot back with a barely there smirk.

“Thank heaven for us all, but you’ve got your mother’s beauty. I couldn’t have asked for better,” Owen said quietly. TK’s mother had been gone these past ten years. A bout with pneumonia that the doctors could not cure had taken her from them. “But you do have my charm, I’ll allow you that. You should put it to use down south. Perhaps a cattle baron might catch your eye?”

“Oh by God, no. I couldn’t imagine whiling away my days on a smelly farm trying to read reports by moonlight and taking my sullen and fatigued husband to bed only for him to fall asleep minutes after his head hits the pillow. No romance in hard labor, that’s for sure.” TK shuddered a bit to think of life on an actual farm, constantly smelling of hay and manure like some streetsweeper back in Manhattan.

“I do believe successful cattle barons can afford more than a few tawdry tallows, Tyler,” Owen quipped with a smirk before turning his attention back to the maps and surveys scattered in front of him. The conversation that, just moments ago, had been fraught with uncertainty and earnestness seemed to flutter into the wind. TK and his father were like that most times: they’d lay things out on the table between them, and if it clearly couldn’t be resolved in a single good-natured quarrel, they both gave themselves time to regroup to resume the discussion at a later date.

For this particular subject, TK was coming to think of that ‘later date’ as a cuff slowly tightening around his wrist, the chain binding him to his destiny getting shorter and shorter.

He looked down at his hands, privileged hands that hadn’t had to do much manual labor in his life, save for the few times his father took him to the yards to show him how things were run. Owen, on the other hand, was an entirely self-made man, who saved and invested his earnings working for Vanderbilt and made enough to purchase his first railcar at just twenty. He contracted it with the Erie and charged passengers thirty-five cents for passage between New York and Boston. From there it only grew, to what was now a very respectable business, looking to lay lines of their own. Perhaps not the largest--that was still Vanderbilt’s claim--but certainly a player on the board.

And it would all be TK’s if he could just hurry up and fall in love already.

_______

The carriage from the station drove them twenty miles through gorgeous hill country. The cattle and horses grazed on rolling plains that swelled gently as they approached the horizon. It was warm, but not unbearable, which TK attributed to the absence of industry steaming and smoking and saturating the very air in one’s lungs as it did in Manhattan. Furthermore, despite the over-abundance of livestock surrounding them, the smell was far more pleasant than he was used to. TK could not help but conclude upon this observation that maybe it was not the horses that stunk, but the people. After all, fresh air was a luxury very few could afford, and they usually had to go thousands of miles to get it, such as he and his father were doing now.

Still, he held to his earlier affirmation that he could not see himself making a life in a place such as this. Despite the fact that he’d concluded they apparently smelled horrid, TK loved being around people. He supposed that was to be attributed to being an only child, and having no siblings underfoot to raise ruckus and otherwise pierce the silence that hung heavy over their home of late. Even though he’d not experienced that kind of life, he’d always hoped to make a large family of his own, his husband and he adopting ten or more children to raise and fawn over. TK had never considered for a moment that he wouldn’t be a father, regardless of his proclivity for finding only men attractive in any way. Some of that persuasion chose to remain as partners only, bequeathing their fortunes, such as they were, to their universities or other charitable pursuits. But TK had always wanted a house full of mouths to feed and hearts to warm.

He dreamed about the day when he could look over at his husband, gray-haired and body-bent, and smile at what they’d created.

Except it did not seem as though he would be acquiring a husband any time soon, and that thought vexed him more than he let on to his father. Yes, he agreed that he was getting on in years as far as marriageable age for young bachelors was concerned, but his one universal truth was that he would not settle for someone who was not the love of his life. That conviction, though others called it foolish, was the great constant that ran through every interaction TK had with any handsome man he happened upon.

He was determined to uphold that promise to himself, no matter how many years passed. If the right one came along, he’d know it. No matter for the moment, anyway, as he was doubly sure he’d not meet the love of his life in the middle of cattle country.

As the carriage rounded another gentle swell, a rather large bright structure came into view. TK put his hand up to shield his eyes for a moment, as it seemed the very sun shone out of the building. As they drew closer to the drive—lined with giant oak trees on each side like twenty such sentries—it became apparent that the house was not radiating light, but reflecting it. Every upright surface was covered with glittering textured limestone, something TK had seen here and there on their travels through the southern states. Also something they had encountered before was a grievously oversized stoop—which these people called porches—that spanned the entire width of the house, and it was evident that it wrapped around to the sides as well. It was dotted here and there with rocking chairs and benches, each with a wool blanket or cushion thrown haphazardly onto the seat to aid the sitter’s comfort on the otherwise hard wood surface.

They reached the house after a long drive up, and the carriage deposited them at the bottom of the steps up to the grand estate. TK had seen mansions in Manhattan and beyond, but this house was like a full government building. It was massive. He wondered how many people lived here.

As their driver helped them from the carriage and began to let down their luggage, a shriek of delight could be heard just inside the door. TK jumped for a moment, not expecting such a sound in such a peaceful place, before he was bombarded with the view of three bright young ladies in finely detailed seersucker and bustled skirts.  

“Oh, you’ve arrived at last!” the one who looked to be the eldest exclaimed. She was tall, at least half a foot taller than the other two, with ink black hair tied up in neat chignon. Her sleeves accented delicate wrists and her waist was nipped down modestly. She smiled like TK and his father arriving was akin to a grand parade, when really they resembled world-weary travelers who could barely un-stoop their backs from so long inside the carriage. The other two young ladies—girls really—giggled behind their hands. They bore a strong resemblance to the elder; certainly they were all sisters.

Ever the gentleman, TK removed his hat to gesture to the ladies, who gave curtsies in answer. Owen did the same, and received curtsies that went just a bit deeper. “Good afternoon, ladies,” Owen called with a smile. “I was told I could meet directly with Doña Marialena upon our arrival.” He quirked his eyebrow up in question, even though it was perfectly plain that none of these girls was old enough to be the proprietor of this estate, unless they had been sorely deceived. TK thought he might admire someone capable of extending that sort of ruse for as long as they’d been corresponding with the Doña. But alas, a moment later, a much older woman who resembled quite strikingly all three ladies gathered on the porch emerged from the wide open front door.

The Doña was an intimidating woman on her own, but the height afforded her by their current positions made it seem even more so. TK tucked his hat into his elbow and bowed low, following his father’s action. The older woman bent her knees a bit, and TK noticed she did not descend the steps to meet them, but instead kept her position above, behind her daughters.

“Welcome to La Hacienda Reyes, gentlemen,” she intoned in a very slightly accented, gravelly voice. It should have sounded harsh, but it just sounded well-used, as though she’d employed it many times to shout at her daughters for their impropriety at scurrying out to meet guests on the lawn without their bonnets, as she looked apt to do right this very second. TK did not mind their state of dress so much, as rules were getting a little more lax for the younger set these days, especially in the city. Though, now that he thought about it, these country folk might be a mite more traditional, but he let the thought fade into obscurity as the Doña smiled softly down at him a moment later, as if sharing a secret.

He and Owen approached the steps as the Doña descended to meet them. Owen made their introductions as TK took her hand in his, giving a small bow as was customary. He let his father lead the conversation as he made his way over to the daughters assembled on the lawn. He kissed each of their hands in turn, learning that their names were Christina, Elena, and Raquel, from eldest to youngest. He was also informed that Christina was not the eldest in the household; her sister Rosa was ten years her senior and married, and she and her wife were summering on the East Coast.

As Christina regaled TK with how wonderful and filled with revelry their visit was to be, a lone figure appeared at the edge of his vision, galloping up quite swiftly on horseback. The animal was beautiful, sleek and black and moving with its rider as though they were one. As they drew closer, Christina also lit on to the approaching figure.

“Oh, there’s my brother. Mamà will have his head for not meeting you directly, as the man of the house should. Even though he won’t inherit, she still insists he accompany her when seeing to the business of the estate, especially when Rosa is away.”

“I’m sure he had urgent business to attend,” TK offered, however he did not know what kind of business a man in fine brocade—as he could now see the golden threads shining in the Texas sun—would have out in the fields. “We did arrive earlier than expected, I believe. Our apologies.”

“Oh, no. He wished to stay away. I’m of right mind to assume he thought we’d already be inside by now and that’s why he’s made his appearance, and he’ll be sorely thwarted to see us still about.” She fought to hide a smirk, and TK was intrigued. However, he didn’t have time to contemplate on the apparent lack of manners of the man of the house before the man in question was upon them.

He was invariably handsome, that much was clear on his approach. He had tanned skin that shone in the rays of the afternoon sun, and curls atop his beautiful head that caught that same light and transformed into blacks and browns and golds as he moved. He was fit and tall, as TK could tell even from his seat on the horse, and he commanded an air about him that sang with regality. As he disembarked from the saddle, TK was struck dumb at the fluidity of his movements. It was as if he was still galloping along with the horse, moving slowly and rapidly at the same time, body deliberately placing itself where it needed to be rather than flinging his limbs about as some proud men were wont to do when they felt the urge to assert their authority.

As he turned to face the gathered group and at last revealed his face from a close angle, TK was struck dumb. This man was gorgeous. Exquisite. A dream made flesh. TK could all of a sudden imagine what this man looked like when he smiled, when he was upset, when he was elated, when he cried. He could picture a thousand candlelit dinners at the Fifth Avenue Hotel across from this man, surreptitiously dragging their toes against one another under the table, faces and hearts alight with the impropriety of doing such a thing in public, but being too enamored of each other to care.

He could picture all of this so clearly and crisply that he could almost smell the gardenia adorning the little vase upon the table. That was, until the man opened his mouth.

“Gentlemen,” he spit, as though the word were a curse upon their persons. He turned to the Doña and intoned in a volume that was surely meant to be overheard but made as if to seem secretive, “Mother, I thought you said only one was coming. We must entertain two greedy industrialist blackguards for the whole of the week when we’ve not even fully migrated the herd?”

At this, Doña Marialena did not even flinch. She simply leaned in closer to her son and spit out a quick succession of words no doubt meant to silence his gaucherie, but which only served to wind his already pinched countenance into a tighter knot. When their short exchange had ceased, he looked mildly chastised but still as though he would rather be anywhere than here, meeting TK and his father on the front lawn. However, after receiving that nearly silent dressing down from his mother in front of their guests, he screwed his face into a more acceptable visage, and approached Owen, who was holding out his hand.

Doña Marialena made their introductions, “Carlos, this is Owen Strand and his son, TK. Mr. Strand, this is my son Carlos. Please excuse his horrendous manners.”

Carlos took Owen’s hand. “Welcome to our Hacienda, sirs. You are from New York, is that correct?”

“We are. Nearly a fortnight’s journey to get here, but it was beautiful country to pass through,” Owen answered in a friendly tone, unfettered by the exchange of impropriety that had just taken place and determined to move into more friendly territory.

“Ah, well. Let us hope your trip was not in vain,” Carlos answered with a barely there sneer. He turned to TK and offered his hand as Owen and the women turned to shuffle inside the house.

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Reyes. I hope we can find some mutual agreement that is beneficial to all in this endeavor,” TK said solemnly while shaking the man’s hand. He’d abruptly become determined to dispense with all amorous thoughts of this abhorrent man. He and his father were here to do business, attend a party or two, and leave with contract in hand, and nothing more.

“There is nothing beneficial to my family about breaking off pieces of our home to sell to ardent capitalists,” Carlos hissed in a volume meant only for TK. “My grandfather’s blood is boiling in his grave as we speak.”

“Well then I suppose it is advantageous for us that you are not the one making decisions about the estate. Your mother seems quite keen to receive the compensation of ‘ardent capitalists’, as you say. Perhaps there are some issues with the household which require assistance which you, as third born, were not made privy to, sir.” TK could not help himself, and shot back the jab without thinking it through. It was ill-bred talk of money in the open, and much more so to bring it up in a first meeting, but Mr. Reyes was the one who’d alluded to finances first, so TK felt little remorse upon seeing the other man’s face flash with indignation.

Mr. Reyes looked as though he wished to lob one last verbal volley at TK, but seemed to think better of it which was a surprise given his utter lack of tact until that moment. He turned away from TK with a last look of barely tempered rage in his brown eyes and made his way up the steps and into the house.

TK followed, determined not to ponder on why that look had given him gooseflesh in a way that did not suggest fear for one’s life, but rather intrigue at what other thinly veiled emotions his own words could make those eyes flash with.

_______

Dinner was a modestly lavish affair. The table was adorned with yellow roses, to symbolize friendship and cooperation, which TK thought was a nice touch from the staff yet ultimately ineffective.

Well, possibly not entirely ineffective, as his father was currently wooing and entertaining the four women at the table with his usual easy charm, and they all seemed to be devouring his anecdotes and quips with good spirts.

It was Mr. Reyes that seemed out of sorts with the rest of the party. Even TK himself was beginning to forget their fraught exchange on the lawn and give in to the revelry of the evening. Truth be told he was glad to be at table with someone other than his father, who tended to give him pitiful looks and well-meaning advice about his recently broken heart. TK also had to admit that along with the laughing women, even Carlos himself was a nice change. His presence gave TK something to focus on other than thinking of his failed chance at happiness.

As it was, TK had already forgotten that he’d vowed he would not focus on Mr. Reyes at all.

“Your father tells me you are six-and-twenty and still a bachelor? How ever have you managed that?” The Doña asked across the table. Given his current preoccupation, TK didn’t even take the slightest bit of offense from the statement. It was helped along by the kind look in her eyes.

He gave a bashful chuckle. “Hard work and perseverance, ma’am,” he joked, and the table laughed along with him, save for one. “I’ve simply not encountered the right match, I’m afraid.”

“If he was married to the work, I’d be less anxious, but alas…” Owen trailed off with a good natured smile. Even with all his father’s nagging, TK knew in his heart that his father wanted his son to be happy and unhurried in choosing a husband.

“I’m holding out for my perfect compliment. Is that so naive?”

“Maybe not for a man in such good standing as you. I’m sure you have suitors left and right vying for your attention, Mr. Strand,” Elena said from across the table.

“I’m afraid at the moment I am quite unadorned with neither suitors nor passing interest,” he answered her.

“I, too, am similarly afflicted,” Elena mourned with a sigh. TK thought she couldn’t have been more than seven-and-ten, quite young to be so concerned. Then again he thought perhaps the country was different than the city. The Doña was mature to be sure, but she looked much younger than he’d thought a woman with a child of more than thirty years—as had been hinted about the absent Rosa—would look. She must have been wed around Elena’s age after all.

“Oh hush, sister. Your situation is not nearly as dire as mine,” Christina said. She placed the back of her hand to her forehead in an affected swoon. “Whenever shall I leave the nest?”

“When someone who possesses such a lack of wits that it precludes them from knowing better comes to sweep you off your feet,” said Raquel. Her sister gave her a scathing look before smirking and presumably kicking her lightly under the table. The younger sister just giggled and went back to her meal.

As TK watched the family interact, lightly teasing each other good-naturedly but never outright insulting each other, he could sense the love and connection among them. Oh, how he longed for a large family such as this someday. Surrounded by his children and their love for each other that ran so deep as to assure each and every one of them that no matter what was said in jest, they were always seeded first in the minds of the rest.

Even with all the lighthearted conversation going on at table, the sole Reyes son was still silent. TK thought it odd that such a stoic, contemptible man could be born into a family of such vibrant women; he was surrounded by their vivacity every day and still he was unmoved to even smile into his potatoes at their revelry. The rest of them also seemed to sense that Mr. Reyes did not wish to partake in the lively conversation, as none of them moved to include him. The Doña glanced to her son every now and then, and TK couldn’t have said her expression looked reproachful (as he would have agreeably afforded her) but it did not look content either.

Perhaps this was not usual behavior for Mr. Reyes. If that was so, then it really was the Strands’ arrival that had put him out of sorts and TK had no recourse to remedy that at present. He and his father were here for business that must be conducted, and Mr. Reyes would just have to live with that.

The Doña had apparently noticed TK going quiet among the ruckus and subsequently had noticed his earlier gaze flickering around the family accompanied by a soft smile. It seemed as though she’d misinterpreted his attentions, however.

“Perhaps the perfect compliment is sooner encountered than you think.” She gave a very slight incline of her head, seemingly meant to indicate Christina, who was sitting to her right and had proceeded to blush so profusely TK was momentarily concerned for her health. He endeavored to be diplomatic but firm against the Doña’s clear initiative, which was impossible for anyone at the table to miss.

“Ah, your family is lovely, Doña, but I fear your son and I would need to converse at length before we could find views on which we do not differ at the moment.” It was part lighthearted joke, part barely concealed jab at Carlos, and part signal of his preferences, so as not to invite any more ideas about betrothing him to one of the daughters.

Alas, he did not miss the Doña’s sharp eye turn to her son before landing back on himself in quick succession. Given their greeting, the Doña should not rightly expect there to be any amorous feeling available between them. Her face relaxed after a moment, and she returned her gaze to the rest of the table. TK did not feel cowed, per se, but the weight of her scrutiny could still be felt upon his cheeks. He was immediately given to wonder what could be contained behind those steady brown eyes, so like her son’s.

As the conversation resumed—Christina was finally ribbing her brother for his lack of mirth this evening—yet again TK found himself studying Carlos Reyes, handsome specimen that he was. But the cut of a man’s jaw and the shine of his eyes did not a welcome companion make, in TK’s view. Sure, he’d lost himself for a moment in the man’s fluidity of movement, the low timbre of his voice, the fire in his expression. But the measure of a man is in his actions, not his appearance. A man can appear any way he wants to; it is his behavior that epitomizes his character. Carlos Reyes had shown himself to be headstrong, closed-off, and prejudiced. TK had no use for such a personality. Carlos could while and wallow away his days alone for all TK cared. He would leave here with no attachments and that would not be a hardship.

Just at that moment, the man in question met his eyes. They stared for a moment, caught in some trap of unconscious strain, seemingly bound to the attempt to find the measure of each other in a single look. When TK looked away first, he felt as if he’d lost some contest.

When he chanced a glance toward the man again, he found his gaze hadn’t wavered but was now more open than it had been since they’d met, which admittedly was not to say much.

Later that night, when Christina had shown them to their guest rooms, Owen made an observation as they dressed for bed.

“The girls are quite well-bred,” he stated, apropos of nothing. The caliber of the family had no bearing on the land, therefore it was of little interest to them in coming into this negotiation. At least, that is what TK believed. His father, it was apparent, thought differently. “And Doña Marialena is a fine head of the household. She has taught her children well.”

At this, TK scoffed.

“And her son is quite adept, don’t you agree?” Owen continued as he hung his dinner jacket away. “A good man who knows the value of family and home.”

TK could not let this statement slide. “A good man? He’s an absolute cad!”

“Oh? He was perfectly cordial during dinner. There was that snafu when we arrived, but that was cleared up quickly. I say, he’s a fine man.” TK was astonished at his father’s ability to forgive anyone almost anything, but this was almost too far. Mr. Reyes had barely said a word at dinner, and that was only after he’d been forcibly pulled into conversation by Christina. Even then he’d talked of nothing but the weather and cattle movements, and he’d offered a mild chuckle at Elena’s story of her first time riding a horse. He’d spent the rest of the evening simultaneously staring at and avoiding TK.

TK knew this because he’d been doing the same, though he would sooner saw off his own hand than admit to it.

“He insulted us and called us names. He besmirched our honor. He wears brocade to ride in! What on earth makes him a good man?” TK huffed out a breath. He turned to see his father just smiling at him.

“He’s a good judge of a room, anyway. He seldom looked away from you,” Owen ribbed. TK could now see where this was heading. His own father was just as bad as the Doña trying to play matchmaker.

“Parents are far too successful in matching their children up economically, but when it comes to romance, parents are no better off than if they hadn’t known another eligible soul in the world,” TK recited.

“Oh, come now son, I’m not that insensitive! He’s handsome isn’t he?” his father returned, finally dropping the ruse and showing his true colors.

“Handsomeness does not a happy home make,” TK recited again.

“You’ve been reading too many Dame Juliette columns.”

“And you’ve been trying to plot my marriage since we were on the train, and the minute you saw a handsome son on this estate you’ve sealed my fate, have you?” TK groused.

At this, Owen softened his face. “I am sorry for being a bit pushy, but Mr. Reyes is the first man you’ve so much as made eye contact with of late. Is it so odd to wonder what about him brought you out of your self-imposed melancholy?”

“Who said I was out of my melancholy?”

“Your eyes whenever they met his.” Owen’s face was serious, no longer teasing.

“He makes me angry, is all. Anger is an emotion.”

“Yes. Yes it is.” And with that, Owen turned to climb into his own bed, the conversation abruptly halted and TK left wondering what his father thought he’d concluded from their exchange.

Lying on his own mattress across the hall, TK wondered at emotion. Sure, anger was an emotion. A useful one. But so was love, and he was determined to hold out for it.

_______

The morning after their first night in La Hacienda Reyes, TK woke with renewed energy to be devoted to forgetting Carlos Reyes even existed.

This endeavor proved extremely difficult when upon descending the stairs to the foyer, the man in question was seemingly awaiting him, pacing across the marble floor with agitated clicks of his boots. The sight brought TK up short, and he consequently forgot that his father was just behind him, causing Owen to collide into his back and sending TK tripping down the last two steps—

Straight into Mr. Reyes’ arms. They were pressed together so tightly for a moment that TK swore he could feel the other man’s exhales as they left his nostrils, softly caressing TK’s cheek as they went. One of his hands was gripped tightly on TK’s shoulder while the other had instantly wound its way around his waist to steady him.

It took TK an inordinate amount of time to catch his breath, all the while feeling that very firm body against his. As his senses returned, he felt himself blaze with the most furious blush at the proximity, and hurried to right himself. He nearly butted his head into the other man’s nose in the process, but proceeded to stand upright without further incident. He set about straightening his waistcoat before looking up and catching Mr. Reyes’ eye almost by mistake.

The other man seemed just as red in the face as he. They held each other’s gaze for a split second longer before TK was violently reminded that the incident had not happened in private, but that the whole of the ghastly encounter was overseen by his own father.

Owen asked, much too late in TK’s opinion, “Are you alright son? I apologize for being so clumsy there,” he added in address to Mr. Reyes.

The man of the house was the first of the pair at the bottom of the stairs to regain use of his tongue. “It’s quite alright, sir. No harm done.”

“That’s true, as you were here to prevent it. Lucky, that.”

TK thought to himself that he would like to disappear from this mortal plane rather than be party to his father’s smug innuendos, especially after their conversation last night and TK’s renewed vows of thoroughly avoiding the man of this house.

Mr Reyes, however, seemed unattuned to Mr. Strand’s jabs, and simply addressed them both again cordially.

“Good morning to you both, I hope you slept well.” They replied that they had, as was proper, despite TK’s own thoughts. He wasn’t about to share that . “I’ve actually come to offer you a tour of the grounds at my mother’s behest, and also in apology for my unmitigated rudeness upon your arrival.”

TK was inclined to believe the apology was also at the Doña’s behest, if not absolutely forced. She seemed a formidable enough woman to demand decorum from her adult son.

“I understand your company is pursuing the land in the northwest quadrant of the estate. It would be my pleasure to take you there so that you can survey at your leisure.”

“So early?” Owen asked. They had not yet broke fast.

“Yes sir, in order to avoid the humidity of midday, I thought we’d ride out closer to dawn. Our cook has packed some provisions in lieu of the breakfast meal.” At this, he gestured to a medium sized basket atop a side table by the door, apparently from which the scent of bacon—as TK had just caught on the air—was emanating.

To be quite honest with himself—which he would admit much, much later was not very honest at all—TK was not at all looking forward to spending the morning with Mr. Reyes and his ridiculously dashing seat on a horse. His father being there would temper his mood, but he’d rather spend the day walking about on his own, soaking in the fresh air and solitude of the country. Or even alongside his father and the Doña, negotiating the sale of her land, as Owen had expressed his desire that TK begin immersing himself in the business and he saw no better time than now, in avoidance of any extra time spent in Mr. Reyes’ presence.

The man made him hot around the collar and jittery, and the real problem was that TK was even more angry that neither of those emotions were particularly loathsome at the moment and he could not explain to himself why.

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Mr. Reyes. Unfortunately, I really must sit down with your mother and ask her about some specifics regarding the provenances, so I must decline your kind offer.” At this, he turned to TK, who was already giving him wide eyes of panic before he even opened his mouth. “TK, would you be so kind as to accompany Mr. Reyes around the property? You know the general gist of what we are looking for, and you can report back to me with what you find. I’d really appreciate your help on this, TK.”

The man was practically grinning like a fool. TK thought he might keel over right there on the marble tiles of the Reyes’ foyer.

Mr. Reyes’ face was unreadable at the moment, but TK could imagine the line of his thoughts. The two of them no more wanted to spend time with each other alone than either would want a hole in the head.

Mr. Reyes, however, was the first to recover from the abrupt change in plan, with a direct capitulation that TK could have punched him for, had he been a less tactful man. “That…would be agreeable,” he said haltingly. He turned to look at TK, who schooled his countenance into something less vile than he felt this turn of events warranted. “Would that please you, Mr. Strand?”

Would it please him? Absolutely not.

“Of course, Mr. Reyes,” he said tightly, resigned to his fate. “I look forward to seeing your lovely estate and hearing its history.”

Mr. Reyes looked almost surprised at his cordiality, and TK congratulated himself on his capability of social falsehood.

_______

Their journey was to take them from the back of the house out and around the northwest corner of the ranchland where they would stop to breakfast at a small manmade lake and then south to the orchards, through which they would find themselves back at the west side of the house. All told, Carlos informed him, the trip would take them for six miles. TK resigned himself to a morning of misery, and judging by his would-be companion’s face, he was not alone in that regard.

Their basket of provisions securely fastened to Mr. Reyes’ saddle, and both saddles securely fastened to their mares, the pair set off in silence other than Owen’s shout of farewell from the porch.

They strolled along at a leisurely pace—too slow for TK’s regard—for quite a while before either spoke. Mr. Reyes looked over to TK with a judgemental eye before saying, “Watch for snakes in the grass. Flor will not spook at them, but she will spook if you do.”

“I’m not afraid of snakes,” TK snapped, although he couldn’t rightly say he’d ever seen one up close. “Furthermore, I am high on this horse, why would I worry about something as low as a snake?”

“Rattlers can jump. They’ll have your boot off and will have half devoured your leg before you can think to turn the horse.”

TK whirled to look at him, consequently causing Flor to twist toward Mr. Reyes and Jimena, putting them much closer than TK would like after their bout that morning. He knew his face was a mask of barely concealed horror, the image Mr. Reyes’ words had conjured up no less than tremendously frightening to a city gentleman.

Mr. Reyes’ face, however, was all mirth; his cheeks were reddening in the effort of holding back his obvious laughter, which he gave up the moment TK noticed his ruse.

“That was a bold-faced lie and you are a scoundrel for it,” TK muttered, feeling teased.

“I’ll take that judgement just to see the terror on your face again,” Mr. Reyes laughed. TK was determined not to acknowledge that the man had a nice laugh, a full bodied, soft-edged one that sent warmth down to the tips of TK’s toes. TK was also determined to keep the scowl upon his face for the whole of this journey, never mind the wrinkles he was likely to develop. Curse this loathsome cowboy and his ill intentions and his shining curls and his full lips. They lapsed into silence again for another half mile.

In his endeavor to ignore his companion, TK failed to notice how he was being closely regarded by said companion. He should have been able to feel the gaze upon the side of his face like sunlight as heavy and warm as it was, but alas he remained ignorant of it in favor of the beautiful countryside.

TK began to notice little strains of wildflowers growing on the gentle swells of hills here and there, their elevations no more than four or five feet. It was like looking at someone’s floral bedding that had been disturbed in sleep and not righted in the morning; soft, loved, and lived in, a safe place to come back to at the end of the day, a warm comfort to calm the tumultuous stresses one was apt to battle in the waking hours.

“The red and orange ones that reach toward the sky are called Indian Paintbrush,” Mr. Reyes intoned softly causing TK to turn his gaze away from the flowers in a startle. It had been so quiet he’d almost forgotten his company. “There,” Mr. Reyes pointed, urging TK to return his focus to the flowers. “That line there is all paintbrush. And the purple spiked ones are Horsemint.”

“Why are they so named? Do they taste of mint?” TK wondered aloud.

“I’m…not sure. I’ve never had occasion or urge to eat one. Perhaps the name means only horses would taste the mint, but Flor and Jimena do not seem so inclined either.” His chuckle was tacked on at the end, but it didn’t feel accusatory this time. It sounded as if TK had honestly stumped him with his question and he was considering the answer in earnest, but had ultimately come up short of a correct guess.

TK focused again on the sweeping little hills as they continued to trot along. “And the pink ones? What are they called?”

“Ah, I believe those are Evening Primrose. Those are the most prominent of the wildflowers here, as I’m sure you can tell. Quite boring to look at compared to the others, but a constant nonetheless.” His tone gave TK the impression that he, too, found the fields of flowers calming. It would make sense, seeing as this was his homeland. Or…was it?

“Have you always lived here? Or did your family come into the property recently?”

“My great-grandfather purchased the land at a pretty steep discount in twenty-six, just a couple of years after the Colonization Law took effect. He came far enough north that he wouldn’t be too crowded in with the rest of his countrymen, and settled the bit to the south of us, where the house is located. He did build it, but it was not as large as it is now. It’s been expanded with both generations since, I believe.”

“Your great-grandfather came from Mexico to settle?”

“Technically, this was Mexico still when he came, since the war for Independence was not won until thirty-six. But yes, he came from Guadalajara. He thought less over cultivated land would suit better for cattle ranching, and it turns out he was right. We now have three hundred head.” His voice was proud as he recounted the story, and TK was drawn in by the clear reverence he had for his family history. He wanted to hear more, so he asked after how the estate came to be so large.

“My grandfather negotiated the rest of the land from the tribes settled here at the time, which admittedly were so few in number that the endeavor was swift. He offered them fifty head and a handsome cash sum as well, and the deal was struck in accord. The tribe moved north to the central territories and are still there today I believe. We’ve had a few high ranking members as visitors in my youth, and they were always amiable and welcome.”

Mr. Reyes’ soft smile had drawn TK’s attention again and this time he let himself look. The man practically glowed as he talked of his heritage, his family, and it was rather intoxicating. TK wanted to ask after more, but it seemed they’d reach the aforementioned lake that they were to stop and break their fast beside. He allowed Flor to carry them to a stop at a suitable spot and dismounted, again allowing himself to watch as Mr. Reyes did the same. He was taken in by the same fluidity and grace as he had been the day previous, before their awful actual meeting.

TK was finding it hard to remember Mr. Reyes being crass yesterday, no matter how hard he tried.

In tandem, they  spread out an extra saddle blanket in the grass, still slightly damp from the morning dew. Their provisions were divvied up and tea was poured into metal cups, and TK was just about to take his first sip when Mr. Reyes spoke, and his tone bade TK listen carefully.

“Mr. Strand—“

Without rightfully thinking about it, TK interrupted him with, “Please, you should call me TK. Well, my name is Tyler, but only my father calls me that. Friends call me TK.”

Mr. Reyes looked taken aback for a moment, possibly at the implication of friends , but TK kept his face impassive. He’d not have them making a mountain out of a grain of sand such as a name. They were to be business acquaintances anyway, and they should address each other as such. All of Owen’s partners called him by his first name, so TK took a page from his book by extending the offer. It would help keep his mind firmly on their business relationship.

It absolutely was not so he could hear his name, both sharp consonants of it, softened in Mr. Reyes’ steady timbre.

“TK,” he corrected, and the named man swallowed a sigh at being proven right about the sound of it coming off those lips. “I would like to—that is, I am committed to—well, what I would like to say is—“ he halted, frowning down at an apple clutched in his own hand. He set the apple aside, and turned to TK directly.

“TK, I mean to sincerely apologize for my behavior yesterday. It was rude and judgmental without cause, and I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me that transgression, as I do hope we are able to work together seamlessly in this partnership.”

It seemed sincere, TK thought. The man’s eyes were fervent and his face was open in a way it hadn’t been since the Strands had arrived. For a moment, TK was lost in those eyes that reflected the climbing sunrise off the water of the small lake like Mr. Reyes was radiating the warmth of goodwill through his very irises. His eyes were soft, inviting, shining with their earnestness. It was a long moment before he spoke, which Mr. Reyes seemed to take as reservation but was in fact TK pure preoccupation with studying the man’s face at the most inappropriate of times.

“I do hope I haven’t ruined things between my family and yours,” Mr. Reyes went on. “It’s just that I—well I’m quite attached to my home here and my pride is tied up in what my forefathers accomplished.”

“To see it broken up and sold off is to admit defeat that this generation could not hold the line,” TK finished for him, and his eyes grew wide.

“Yes, precisely.”

“I have misgivings about that kind of thing also. My father built such a tremendous enterprise—nothing like the Vanderbilts of course, but sprawling in reach nonetheless. I…find myself at times overwhelmed with the prospect of taking it on alone.” It must have been the country air, the absence of all human life for a few miles, and the still burgeoning sunrise combined that made his tongue so loose with such intimate thoughts. Surely he was losing control of his faculties if he was given to sharing his heart in this way, TK mused.

Even so, Mr. Reyes’ face had not closed off yet; it remained open and inviting to those thoughts and perhaps welling up with some of his own to share, now that the barrier had lost a few bricks and they could see each other over their respective sides of the wall they’d built over the previous day and evening.

“But, you won’t do it alone, will you? You cannot inherit until you marry, by law,” Mr. Reyes reminded him. Those deep brown eyes were on him again, somehow more liquid than before. TK must be imagining things now. He blinked the line of thought away.

“Yes, that’s true. But who’s to say I’ll marry a man who wants to be involved in the railroad business? My true love may be a man of the arts, constantly shut away in his studio creating pieces to adorn our home and teaching our children to appreciate the craft of them. Or he may be a man strongly devoted to politics and spend months away from home campaigning for the betterment of the American people. Or he may prefer the country life to the city, and I must remain in the city for the business for the bulk of the year. So you see, I may yet end up running the business alone, even if my life will not be spent in solitude. If I marry for love, I’ll be glad of that connection regardless if I get help with the business. Help is not what I’ll be marrying; it will be companionship outside of worldly endeavors that will make it worthwhile.” The picture he’d painted for himself inside his head was content, and he noticed he’d closed his eyes for a moment while he’d intimated the details to Mr. Reyes.

When he opened his eyes and refocused on his company, he saw Mr. Reyes duck his head slightly, a faint blush high on his tanned cheekbones. TK wondered if the other man was embarrassed of the intimate turn their conversation had taken, and hurried to move them to more casual topics.

“I do apologize, Mr. Reyes, I did not mean to be overly familiar with you. God above, it must be the early hour that has me as yet unable to master all my faculties.”

“No, please, do not apologize. I simply—that is—I do…admire your candor and conviction. Marrying for love is not rare, but it is not the standard. To be so assured of your path in life is enviable. I admit I haven’t given much thought to it myself.”

“You don’t think of who you’ll marry?” TK asked. He’d thought of nothing else since he was a boy.

At this, Mr. Reyes’ eyes turned down for a moment, a cloud of something passing over his features before the sun shone through his expression again. “Not in the sense you’ve described, no. I supposed I always knew I would marry, because I knew I would not inherit the estate—though I do envy Rosa a bit—but I’ve never imagined what kind of man I would spend my life with. I always assumed I’d know who he was when he came along.”

Their eyes met and for a moment not even the crickets or birds or any other constantly buzzing creature could be heard. TK was the first to break it, albeit in a slightly hushed tone.

“And he hasn’t come along yet?” he asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Mr. Reyes answered. He looked disinclined to elaborate. They gazed at each other a moment longer before Mr. Reyes broke the contact and gestured to their spread. “We should partake of Mrs. Smith’s generous meal. It seems she packed for much more than three this morning,” he laughed, and it only sounded a little forced. “I assure you, the fresh bacon cooked in rosemary will change your perspective on life the moment it hits your tongue.”

TK took the change in subject gracefully, also keen to step back from the precipice they’d found themselves on much too early in their acquaintance, truth be told. They’d forgotten themselves but no harm had been done, and they could go on as intended—as short-term business collaborators only.

_______

They rode the rest of the way around the western perimeter as the sun reached higher in the sky, Mr. Reyes pointing out landmarks here and there. Ostensibly this outing was for TK to survey the land for it’s viability for their project, and he was doing so, but he was also enamored with Mr. Reyes’ ability to guide them along with enthusiasm and grace. It was very clear the man loved his home and was deeply proud of it, and TK was entranced when he talked.

By the time they reached the apple orchard, TK had stopped deluding himself that he wasn’t fond of Mr. Reyes. He’d had his misgivings from the beginning, and for good reason, but there was a good man underneath the initial prickliness. Mr. Reyes could be likened to a cat protecting its young. Docile for the most part until his family was threatened, and TK could see where he’d felt that way initially. Mr. Reyes had come around quickly though and TK was not sure how much of that was due to his mother’s insistence and how much was just their conversation on this journey around the property in the early morning light.

“It smells so heavenly here,” TK mused aloud as the horses picked their way between the lines of trees. To be able to be abreast of each other to properly hold a conversation, the horses were so close that occasionally TK’s knee or thigh brushed against Mr. Reyes’. It startled him each time, even though he’d come to expect it. He supposed it startled his body but not his mind, which was a disconcerting feeling indeed, but not altogether unpleasant.

“They are called Gala apples. They thrive quite well here in the moderate rain. Would you like to try one?” Mr. Reyes asked. TK nodded with a small smile, and watched as Mr. Reyes dismounted Jimena and left her untethered. He turned back to TK and held out his hand. “Come along, it tastes better if you fetch it from the tree yourself,” he teased.

TK stared at the outstretched hand before taking it and dismounting gracefully, coming familiarly close to Mr. Reyes for the second time that day. This time, only their hands were touching as opposed to their whole bodies—as they had been on the stairs that morning—but it felt almost more intimate. TK noticed that they’d paused to regard one another again as they had multiple times on this journey. However, as they had done each time, they broke their gazes and their contact and went on as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. The only problem was that each time it happened—and this incident more than all he rest—set his heart aflutter in such a way as to distract from all else in the moment. It took him increasingly longer to come back to himself each time.

He watched as Mr. Reyes took a wooden-runged ladder from a pile on the ground and set it against the trunk of the nearest tree. Deftly, he climbed a few feet, reached up, and plucked a ripe bit of fruit from one of the lower branches before coming down off the ladder assuredly, his steps practiced as if he’d done this a thousand times before. Perhaps he had.

TK held his hand out for the fruit, but Mr. Reyes pulled it back and away. “Ah, ah. This one is mine. I told you, it tastes better if you fetch it yourself. I set your example, now it’s your turn,” he said, spitefully taking bite out of his prize, then using it to gesture to the ladder.

Unfettered by Mr. Reyes’ teasing, TK was determined to show that he could keep up with his companion’s prowess. He approached the ladder, assessing it for any weak points before tentatively stepping onto the first rung. It bowed gently under his weight, and he paused a moment to gather himself.

He felt a hand upon his hip and froze for a moment, feeling distinctly untethered. Looking down, TK saw Mr. Reyes’ earnest eyes on him, one hand steadying TK on the ladder and the other still casually consuming his fruit. He gave TK a reassuring smile and nodded in the direction of the tree, encouraging.

The climb to the correct height took TK a bit longer than it had the cowboy who was used to such endeavors, but he managed. He plucked a juicy-looking specimen from a close branch before carefully climbing down, deliberately placing each footfall for optimum support from the wooden rungs below him. It was slow and arduous, but he accomplished it.

Once landed on the ground, he held up his spoil triumphantly. Mr. Reyes smiled.

“And now, Mr. City Gentleman, you have farmed apples!” He declared.

TK bit his lip for a half-second before being unable to hold back his mirthful laughter. His eyes crinkled and his cheeks ached with it, and it felt so good that he didn’t notice his companion was gazing at him once more, admiration and awe in his expression. When his laughter came down to a more manageable level a few seconds later, they were caught in each other once again, as they had been many times that day. TK’s smile was still spread across his face and he looked up through his lashes at Mr. Reyes to see a serenity over his countenance that had yet to be shown since they’d known each other.

It was beautiful.

Just as quickly as the moment had began, it passed, with Mr. Reyes fingering his collar away from his neck in what seemed like a nervous gesture. “The heat is beginning to get oppressive,” he offered in explanation, though said heat was not yet unbearable in the slightest. “We should retreat to the safety of the house.”

“That sounds like a good idea. I wonder if our parents have concluded their negotiations for the day. I’d like to convene with my father to let him know what I’ve seen.”

“Of course, well. Shall we?” Mr. Reyes gestured down the path between the trees, Jimena’s reins held loosely in his hand as he led her on foot. TK grabbed Flor’s lead and followed in quiet contemplation. He realized his manners had slipped.

“Thank you, Mr. Reyes, for this tour. It was enlightening, as well as a pleasant diversion.”

“You are most welcome. And please, call me Carlos. After all, we are to be friends, as you put it.” His smile was radiant.

“Carlos,” TK tried out the name on his tongue with a nod. It tasted like the smoothest brandy, and TK felt like he was already drunk off of one sip.

“I wanted to reiterate my apology, to make sure it is clear. I judged you and your father before I allowed you to state your intentions. Your plans for the land, so far as you’ve told me, will not impact our operation negatively and I get the distinct feeling it is your mission to keep things that way as you work your way across the country. So I thank you for your discretion, and I once again humbly ask you to forgive my behavior yesterday.”

“It is already forgiven!” TK tells him, wanting to put any and all ill will behind them after such a glorious morning. “Do not worry over it any longer. Let us be friends from this day forth.”

Carlos smiled so wide it momentarily arrested TK’s heart.

They reached the house in due course to find Elena on the porch frantically waving a piece of paper in her delicate hands. They tethered the horses to the post off the side of the house and approached. The girl looked as if she could barely form words through her excitement.

“Carlos!” She cried as they ascended the steps and removed their hats. “Guess who’s coming to the ball tomorrow night!”

“I’m sure you will tell me without me having to guess,” her brother teased good-naturedly, sharing a conspiratorial smile with TK as they passed into the foyer.

“Mr. de Castillo,” Elena said, giving the name a weight that surely meant something, but which TK could not discern. He’d never heard the name before, but then again he did not know the upper class set of this region well enough to know their names and statuses that might warrant such excitement.

When TK turned to face Carlos, he wondered what Elena could find so appealing that her brother seemed to find mildly horrifying, judging by his expression. His eyes cut to TK and they almost looked…guilty.

Elena went on, oblivious to her brother’s distress. “His letter is posted from Santa Fe nearly two weeks ago, and he says he should arrive just in time to dress and attend. Isn’t that marvelous news, Carlos? He hasn’t come east since the fall. Oh how we’ve all missed him.” She put emphasis on certain parts of her sentence that didn’t entirely make sense to TK, but he could feel a growing lump in the pit of his stomach as he watched Carlos’ face drain of color slightly.

“He sounds like a character who’s good to know, if his presence at a dance excites you this much,” he offered to Elena to try and ease the focus off of Carlos, for he seemed unable to speak at that moment.

“Oh, it’s not me he excites,” Elena said, cutting her eyes to TK’s right, smirking but saying nothing more. TK did not turn to look at Carlos again, because that lump in his stomach was getting heavier the more Elena talked and he was not rightfully sure he could put a name to it just yet. Looking at Carlos’ guilty face was surely to spell it out quicker than he’d like. He halted his train of thought and plowed on.

“Well, I look forward to meeting this esteemed Mr. de Castillo. You said he’s not come east—do you mean to say he is from the west coast?”

“Yes, San Fransisco! His father rushed there in forty-nine and made quite the coup. They’re able to give the Rockefellers a run for their money, I’d wager,” she said. “And he’s so handsome as well.”

That bit tacked on at the end was again delivered with a weighted look at Carlos which TK again ignored.

He was saved from replying to Elena’s last comment by his father and the Doña appearing in the foyer.

“What’s got everyone in a fuss?” Owen asked.

“Mr. Fernando de Castillo is coming to the ball tomorrow night!” Elena exclaimed, elated to share her momentous news with anyone who would listen.

“De Castillo…” Owen pondered, “Is that Isador de Castillo’s boy? Of San Fransisco?”

“Yes, the very same. Mr. de Castillo the younger visits us quite often, as he’s got business back east with his company and likes to stop for a week or so on his way through. We’ve all grown quite fond of him, especially Car—“

“That’s quite enough, Elena. The Mr.’s Strand are not interested in country gossip. Run along and find Constance to start your lessons. Your sisters are already studying while you’ve been flitting about.” The Doña’s voice was firm and clearly dismissive. She glanced at her son and TK in turn, before turning her attention back to Owen. “Mr. Strand, might we all go into the drawing room for tea? Our sons can regale us of their journey around the property.”

Owen’s smile was wide and eager as he looked to the two young men. “Of course, I cannot wait to hear your thoughts on the land, TK. The Doña and I will also impart to you what we’ve agreed upon thus far, though there are still the finer details to work out.”

Carlos immediately followed Owen into the room off the left side of the foyer, barely sparing TK a glance in contrast to all their lingering looks throughout the morning. That, combined with Elena’s cryptic words regarding their future guest, unsettled TK more than he would have liked. Still, he was determined to soldier on in his mission to become good friends and business partners with Carlos and the rest of the Reyes’, and he’d not let a silly thing like a matter of the heart—which may not even exist—get in his way.

[dany-is-my-queen]

Born To Be Yours | Part II

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 1,795

Note: I’m back!!!

Part 1 here Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9

“You shouldn’t interfere when it’s none of your business.” Joffrey was still angry with you.

“Don’t mess with the ladies and we’ll be in peace.” You calmly said.

“Always so honorable... the hero saving the day.” Your mother mocked.

“Why you say it like that, mother? I would do it over again, you are so heartless and extreme about little matters.” You rolled your eyes.

“You don’t care about your brother's honor. That’s the real reason you defended those pathetic girls.” She spat.

“I do care about him. It’s the other way around. You are a pampered kid. You should start acting more like a man, Joffrey.” And with that you left his room.

“May I come in, princess?” The sweet voice of the oldest Stark daughter rang. You were on just a pair of trousers, definitely not wearing proper clothes to be talking to her.

“Of course, my lady. Just give me a second, please.” You put on a dress. “Let her in.”

“I wanted to apologize for my earlier behavior. You saved my wolf’s life, I’ll be forever thankful, my princess.”

“It was the right thing to do. I would have preferred her to stay by your side, though.”

“She’ll find a new home. I hope she returns to the north, where she belongs.” You gave her a soothing smile. “Does prince Joffrey hates me?” She asked sadly.

“No no, he is just a bit... irritating and gets easily offended. But it’s not personal, my lady. You are promised to him so with time your relationship will evolve.”

“I hope so. I’ll leave you to enjoy your evening, my princess.”

“Lady Sansa, if you need someone to talk to you can always come to me. You and your sister. I pray for your little brother to wake up. She nodded.

“You are very kind.”

~~~~~~

“Did you found a suitable candidate up in the North, niece?” Uncle Renly asked with a droll voice.

“I met a boy... very good looking and a gentleman but he wasn’t my type. He’s the eldest son of Lord Eddard.”

“Sounds quite the man.”

“We didn’t have the chance to get closer so I’ll forget about him.” You might never see him again after all.

“Princess Y/N, what can I do for you?” The tall man greeted.

“I haven’t had the chance to thank you, my lord, for accepting to be the new hand. I know it was a difficult choice to make, leaving your home. My father really needs you. He lacks of loyal friends and I believe you’ll be very helpful around here.”

“Oh, I will do my best not to let Robert down.” He smiled.

“A raven came this morning. I- I forgot to deliver it earlier, my lord hand.” Maester Pycelle said with his usual stutter and left.

“Good news?”

“My Princess! I didn’t expect to see you.” A voice that didn’t please you stated.

“Lord Baelish.” You faked a perfect smile.

“Lord Stark, perhaps you’ll like to share the news with your wife.”

“She’s on Winterfell.”

“Is she?”

“I won’t tell my mother. Lord Baelish knows I can keep a secret. Can I join you?” The relation you had with Petyr was not the best. He informed you of things your parents won’t share with you. Despite that you never liked him nor his personality.

“Better not keep her waiting.” You reached his brothel unnoticed.

“I’ll talk to her when you’re done. I’m not a spy. I can be trusted but I prefer to stay out of your business, Lord Eddard.” And it was true. You had no interest in gossiping.

“Thank you.” They entered. Not before he took Baelish and throttle him suspecting this was a trick.

“Lady Catelyn.” You bowed your head.

“Princess Y/N, what a surprise...” She looked at you with dismay.

“It’s fine. I won’t tell a soul. I am glad to hear that little Bran is finally awake. And also, I wanted to let you know that I’ll keep your daughters safe. Now that you both are here I give you my word. My family is complicated and tends to have a reputation. I will look after Lady Sansa and Lady Arya, as long as I can, I promise.” Since the incident with the direwolves you had this enormous feeling of responsibility, deep down you knew their stay in King’s Landing won’t be as enjoyable as they thought. You hoped you were wrong. Prevention was a good idea.

“I will be in your debt, my princess. Knowing this gives me relief. It’s hard to find good people here in the capital.”

“It certainly is. Say hello to Lord Robb from me.” You wished her good travel home but sensed trouble in her.

~~~~~~

“Y/N! Want to spar? I’m so bored and Myrcella is doing lady stuff.” Tommen asked you, holding his little sword.

“That’s not proper for a princess to do and mother doesn’t approve.” Joffrey hissed.

“But father does. We are not useless like yourself, big brother.” You rumpled your brother’s hair. “Let’s go Tommen.” You found Arya in the courtyard with his dancing teacher. “Mind if we join the class?”

“This is Syrio Forel, he is from Braavos.”

“My Princess, my Prince.” He did a small reverence.

“I want to learn how to be a knight!” Tommen said excitedly. After a long time practicing you got tired. Syrio was surprised when he saw the way you wield the wooden blade.

“Natural talent, Princess Y/N.”

“Thank you. My father was the first person that taught me how to properly do it so I can defend myself when there are no guards around. Ser Jaime also instructed me of some techniques.”

“That’s my intent too. Not wearing dresses and attending to councils. I was born for this.” Arya said sure.

“No one will be able to stop you when you are old enough, perhaps not even now.” She grinned.

You could see yourself in this girl, you have a lot in common. She was fearless and didn’t seem to want to marry a lord and live in a castle. You could also see the similarities between Lady Sansa and you. You love to fight and go hunting, use a bow, but you knew how to weave as well, how to properly greet the lords and ladies, and you wished to get married someday. You were a proper daughter, with dignity and manners, your father was always more fond of you, your mother on the other hand... she loved you in her own way, you were the perfect child in everyone’s eyes.

“Lady Sansa, I am happy to know your brother is fine.” You put a hand on her shoulder.

“He won’t be able to walk ever again. But it was a miracle. Thanks for your prayers.” She answered.

“Would you like to visit the Throne Room? Your septa can join us.” She nodded.

“Someday your husband will sit there and you by his side, then you’re going to present your son to the court. All the important people of the Seven Kingdoms will gather here to see the prince.” Septa Mordane stated.

“What if I have a girl?” The Stark inquired.

“If the gods are good you’ll have girls and boys, plenty of them.”

“They all going to be beautiful children. Just like her mother.” You complemented.

“But if I only had girls...”

“The throne will pass to Tommen, my little brother.”

“And everyone will hate me.” She harried said.

“No one could ever hate you, Sansa.” Her septa affirmed.

“Your Septa is right, my lady. I already told you. As your friend, I won’t let anybody speak ill of you. Besides, you are lovely.” You squeezed her hand.

“Thank you, my princess.”

“Sansa, do you remember your lessons? Who built the Iron Throne?”

“Aegon the conqueror.”

“And who built the Red Keep?”

“Maegor the cruel. My grandfather and uncle were murdered here, by orders of the Mad King. Why?”

“You should speak to your father about these matters.”

“You are dismissed.” The old woman left. You walked towards the throne indicating her to follow you.

“Would you like to seat on the throne, my lady? It’s not a comfortable chair but it was forged from the one thousand swords that had been surrendered to Aegon in the War of Conquest by the lords who had offered their fealty, though the actual number of the swords is less than two hundred. These were melted down by the fiery breath of Balerion the Black Dread.” You conclude telling her.

“You seem to like these type of stories, Princess. Your knowledge for the topic is quite vast.” She was surprised yet amused.

“Yes, I enjoy to read and uncle Tyrion told me a lot about this when I was just a little girl. What kind of stories enthralled you, sweet lady?”

“The ones with honorable knights, chivalry and love.” A dreamt sigh left her mouth.

“I like those too. Especially this tale about Ser Florian called Florian the Fool, he was a legendary hero of the Riverlands from the Age of Heroes. He felt in love with a maiden named Jonquil. Singers compared the sudden marriage of King Jaehaerys I Targaryen and Queen Alysanne Targaryen to their great romance.

“I know that one! Is my favorite tale of all time. But I didn’t know they compared them with the Targaryens of that period. It’s very romantic.” She blushed a little.

“And one of the songs... I think this is how it goes, Six maids there were in a spring-fed pool... oh my gods! I sound terrible.”

“No! You have an adorable voice, princess Y/N.” You grinned.

“You are lying! I found that song a bit creepy. He was watching Jonquil and her sisters bathed. The face of the girl turned just like her hair. I didn’t mean to ruin it.” Both of you laughed.

“It’s alright. I still love it.” The throne room was never your favorite place to be, it was hollow and boring. You imagine all the horrible things that happened here. But now with the presence of such a pretty lass it felt different, not gloomy at all.

The next day it was the tournament in the name of Eddard Stark. Though the man didn’t attend. You sat next to the oldest Baratheon boy. Tommen was inpatient so as your father. Lady Sansa smiled at your brother but he looked away, avoiding her completely.

“Is it so hard to be nice at your lady?”

“Shut up.” You return the smile to her. She was half disappointed it wasn’t Joffrey and half happy you did notice her.

“Start the damn joust before I pissed myself!” And the opponents made their appearance. Ready to begin.

[crazycrackersworld]

Today at 1:30 p.m. my Aunt Theresa passed away. She had been in the hospital with pneumonia and covid for about 2 weeks they never could get her oxygen where it was supposed to be , and couldn't get her to keep food down they couldn't fix her.

Just a couple weeks ago we were all together in her house throwing her a birthday party for her 70th birthday my Uncle Mike came down from Colorado and had surprised her the place was full of family and friends and laughter joy and happiness and none of us knew what was right around the corner. None of us had any idea what events were going to be getting to unfold within a week or so and I don't think we would have believed it if someone told us.

She got sick thought it was pneumonia she was dealing with it and I'm one night my Uncle Jerrry couldn't get her up out of the bathtub she didn't have the strength to do it on her own and he couldn't help her so he called the ambulance and they took her to the hospital and that's where she stayed.

And in that amount of time Uncle Jerry spent two stays in the hospital of about a day or two each before getting sent home on cousin Tim went to stay with his dad to help him out but clearly he was sick right away he's been in the hospital since this past Monday hopefully he gets better.

My mom did not pick a real winner to be my biological father since I've never met him since he pretty much ran and disappeared as soon as he found out she was pregnant. So for the first few years of my life my mom's family stepped up and between my five uncles and my grandfather it was like I had six dads and between my mom and my grandma and my two aunts it's like I had four moms. Everybody helped, I learned different things from everybody and I consider myself very lucky to have had all those people in my life.

A lot of times people in the family made jokes all my Aunt Theresa not being The brightest bulb on the tree or the sharpest knife in the drawer it was always done out of love. In reality was she the smartest person no, she wasn't the dumbest either she did have a tendency to forget things or get things wrong and we just chalk that up to being Theresa.

But despite any of that or any shortcomings she was one of the kindest most caring most generous people I've ever met in my entire life. She truly had a beautiful soul and had a way of lighting up a room when she walked into it almost always in a good mood even when she wasn't in a good mood. I remember her smile and her laugh I remember how even as an adult when she would come back to Wisconsin to visit after moving here to Arizona and she would see me it was like just taking a look at me just brightened her day.

I had made the decision to not move back to Wisconsin permanently and and to stay here for the foreseeable future couple weeks before her birthday party and I only told a few people cuz I wanted to keep it a secret because I wanted to tell everybody else at her birthday party I wanted to tell her at her birthday party it was kind of my present. And I remember the look on her face when I told her she didn't look like a 70 year old lady she looked like like a little girl who had just gotten the doll she wanted for Christmas or the piece of candy she had begged for all day and she gave me the biggest hug and she was so happy that I was staying. And now I'm here and she's gone and it does not seem fair or right I am hurting more than I have in a very long time.

My cousin Jeanette lives in Maryland and Tim even though he's here obviously as I mentioned he's in the hospital. And so my Uncle Jerry who isn't in the greatest health in the first place is all alone in that house because he just lost the love of his life and I honestly don't know how long he'll last without her. I always thought my Uncle Jerry and Aunt Theresa would be one of those couples that once one pass the other one would just kind of give up and die of a broken heart soon after. Because they loved each other that much. I'm sure their marriage wasn't perfect, they had their problems and their issues with both of the kids but they stayed together through all of it neither one of them ever gave up on the other one neither one of them ever quit. They had the kind of marriage that I always hoped one day I would have.

Obviously my love life has not turned out that way, but seeing them together still always gave me hope and I guess it still does.

I can't list all of the things that I am going to miss about her so I guess the only proper way to say it as I'm going to miss everything about her, just everything. I'm going to miss everything about her.

There was a time in my life where I had moved out of Mayville didn't tell anybody where it went and I distanced myself for my mom and my dad and as I was slowly beginning to patch that relationship there were a few times that I did reach out to my Aunt Theresa for help for a ride somewhere you know maybe even a few bucks for some groceries and she never judged me she never lectured me she gave me the ride or she borrowed me the money she was always there for me.

I'm not saying other members of the family weren't I'm just saying the entries that was a little different she almost felt like a second mom sometimes let's face it I probably needed more than one mom i'm kind of a bastard.

So today at 1:30 p.m. I I lost one of the most beautiful people that I have ever known and I am here in what is still a foreign land and I feel so alone and I'm trying to be strong for my mom and she just lost her sister and I'm trying to be strong for my Uncle Jerry because he just lost his wife and he's worried about his son and I am trying to be strong for him because he just lost his mom and he's in the hospital sick with what most likely killed her.

So I try to be as strong and resilient in front of everybody else as possible when inside I am just falling apart cuz it's something I can't make better I can't fix this and I want to I want to fix it so bad.

So I will probably cry myself to sleep after drinking half of my jar of moonshine and I'll wake up tomorrow and I will try to hold him to tears so I can be there for my mom and everybody else because right now they need them more from me and I'll just have to keep my grief inside as much as I can and realize that other than family nobody really cares if I'm broken or not.

But for everything that she ever did for me, heck for me Lisa and Katana at the beginning, the least I can do is be strong for her sisters and her brothers and her children and her husband. The least I can do to honor her memory is to be there for everyone else like she was always there for me.

I don't know about everybody else in the world but she seemed to always see the Best in Me even when I was screwing things up left and right she always Saw the Best in Me. Two summers ago and her and my Uncle Jerry were up in Wisconsin they they picked me up from jail to take me to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription and then to basically break the law and take me to Sue's apartment so that I can give Sue some contact information and some other stuff cuz we really haven't been able to talk cuz I didn't have any money on my books. And even when I walked out of the jail and she's standing there I mean there was no judgment there was nothing she was just happy to see me and happy I was safe. I mean one of the most lowest points in my life where I'd screwed up just about as much as you can she just hugged me and told me she loved me.

And that was my entries I know her kids might have some criticisms and they might not think she was always the best mom and maybe Jerry might think she wasn't always the best wife and maybe my mom and my Aunt Margaret and my uncle's might not think she was always the best sister but I can tell you she was just about the best a screwed up kid like me could ever have and I thank God that she was in my life and I wish she was still here.

For me myself I can definitely say that my life has been better having had her in it and it's going to be a little emptier now that she's gone and I hurt so much I do I hurt so damn much I miss her already.

Oh God I hope I get some sleep tonight, some good sleep unbroken nightmare free but I don't see that happening.

Because of all the covid stuff I mean Uncle Jerry was able to get my Aunt Margaret and my mom in to say goodbye to her but that took a lot of arguing apparently. I was at work and nobody wanted to tell me what was going on because I wanted to make sure that I was safe and it was paying attention to where I was driving and I understand all of that I do but I didn't get a chance to say goodbye.

So I guess that's what I'm going to do right now I'm going to say goodbye. Auntie Theresa this is your nephew Sean, I am so sad to see you go and I am going to miss you so much. But I know you were really sick and I know you were really scared and I know you were in a lot of pain it is cliche as it is I am glad that you're not in pain anymore I really am. But the selfish part of me wishes you were still here because I don't want to say goodbye I don't want to lose you I don't want you to be gone forever because forever it's too long.

I'll do my best to keep an eye on Tim and Jerry and even Jeanette I'll do that for you because I love you so much I just love you so much. And it hurts so bad that you're gone. And I just hope that I can keep making the positive changes in my life that I know you were so proud of I'm so proud to watch me fix myself and I just want to know that you're looking down and you're still proud of me. That'll mean a lot.

So until we meet again someday goodbye my sweet sweet aunt I hope it's peaceful where you are, and that Grandma and Grandpa were waiting for you and that you weren't scared.

And in addition to goodbye, I love you Aunt Theresa I'm going to miss you....

Love Sean

May you rest in peace

[cbspams]

Soft (Sentimental) Saturday

@5sosxjieun : You, genuinely, are one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met. Every post you make reminding other they’re loved and that they’re valued is filled with care. Every word you put out into the world is touched with love and presented with enthusiasm I wish I still had. Although you’re on break right now, know that I cherish you.

Some words from Minho: I couldn’t even imagine a world without you in it anymore. Without your voice, screaming or whispering. Without your touch, sweet and gentle. I love you more than the universe loves its creations made of stardust and gold.

@moonlightchn : We stan a creative soul. I am so excited for more of your lore, it is so unbelievably fun to read and learn about. I love how distinct you make your Chan’s, how each of them has their own personality. I love that you’re so determined to have a good time with everyone else, never wavering. I love the way you write. I love the kind of power your words hold

A few words from Felix: I look up to you, as someone I want to reach someday. Your dedication and tireless work doesn’t go unnoticed. Thank you for everything you do for me!

@gamer-yeji : Hello precious adorable one! I’m never going to forget you as one of my first interactions. Your spirit to always look out for your fellow community member is something I admire and adore. I know it’s been a bit rough for you recently but you’re incredible for pulling through and finding your own balance again. Thank you for always checking in.

A few words from Chan: Yeji, you are always so cheerful and you bring a lot of light and joy to my day. I know we keep putting off movie night (because adminnie is bad at proper schedules) but I’m excited for a fun, cozy night together.

@singledad-minho : I. Love. Your. Concept. Can’t get over it. Every post you make is so adorable and even though I don’t personally want kids (right now), I have every urge to want to baby Minjun. You’ve got the doting father down to a tee and it’s such a delight reading what you write. I know I haven’t really interacted with you because I’m shy and bad at things but I do really like seeing you on my dash.

A few words from Jisung: Everything you guys do is so cute! Hey, do you think I could meet Minjun someday? When you’re both comfortable with it! I think we’d get along, maybe as animal buddies.

@vampiremomo : Okay I know it’s been like, 3 days since I’ve gotten to talk to you but you’re amazing? You have a kind of daring energy I love seeing. And you’re so supportive! I see you liking and rbing things from me. Someday I’ll return the favor when I get my shit together. Your concept is so powerful too I’m excited to see more of it!

A few words from Minho: Damn princess, well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Having fun with our little game yet?

@modelyonghee : So cute!! It makes me smile when I see notifs of you popping up. I’m looking forward to talking with you more.

A few words from Jisung: Ah Yongyong! Come find me anytime, I’m always here for you! And yes you’re the best at cuddles and you have magic hands hehe

@freerentskz : Don’t think I don’t see you liking all my posts. I’m having a ton of fun with our RP! There’s a really dynamic quality to it where it’s constantly moving the plot forward but also creating really delicate relationships. I’m looking forward to what happens when they leave the church heh

A few words from Minho: I trust you enough not to stab me in the back at least. You’ve gotta a strong spirit, I know we’ll make it work.

@starsirah-oc : Thank you for living in and loving my story. And for always interacting with me! I treasure the talks we have. Sirah’s so fun and your writing is absolutely fantastic! Lowkey feel a little bad about not giving you lengthy replies hajdhd. I’m looking forward to building a world with you!

A few words from Chan: I’ll be waiting

@yourdahyxn : You have a great sense of aesthetic?? Your posts are the prettiest thing and I love seeing them. Plus you put so much fun on my dash and in my dm’s, which is really really appreciate!! I also want to get to know you better someday

A few words from Felix: I’m having lots of fun with you noona! Our pillow fort’s gonna be the best ever!

Honorable mentions:

@yourchaechae : I know it’s been rough for you lately but I’m really proud of you for properly owning up to and apologizing for your mistakes. All your posts are so lighthearted and a greatly needed break from the kind of gloom the community sometimes has. Chae is adorable! I love how you portray her as someone so bubbly and warm. Here’s to having a better future.

@sxltyshima : Eyyy what a journey we’re making! What’s hiding in the shadows mmmm???? I’m so glad you chose to RP with me and I’m super excited for your fic to come out. Let’s have a good time together!

@mafia-chaeyoung : dude you’re so funny ahdkshsj seeing you on my dash never fails to make me laugh

@empress-jiaqi : I know I don’t interact with you much if at all ahdkshdj but you seem like a lot of fun and I’d like to get to know you better. Still not over the fact that you thought I was pre-debut Chaeyoung aaaaahhhhh

@cupcake-yeri : we just started talking but I think you’re a lot of fun! Your concept is really sweet too (pun intended). You can always reach out to me for weirdly extra waxing about things

@camgirl-jihyeon : also haven’t spoken much but you made me laugh really hard at work yesterday and I almost squeaked. Hope I can talk to you more

@shinhaneul-oc : idk what to say about you other than you seem really cool and considerate and I wanna get to know you

My various anons: (Slaps inbox) this bad boy can hold so many fun and interesting questions and interactions. I love and cherish every ask you send.

Thank you for a week and a day of fun! I know I joined at a weird time with reforming the community and all but I’ve really enjoyed my time here. I’m a little shy so I’m working on knowing more people but I really am so happy with everyone I know now. I hope we can keep having really fun and memorable times together 💖

[phoenix-downer]

River of Stars

For SoKai Week Day 5 - Tanabata. (Today is actually Day 3 of SoKai Week, but it’s also Tanabata, so I’ll share my Tanabata-themed fic today and my Day 3 fic on Day 5 instead.)

~4020 words. Japanese Mythology AU. Star-Crossed Lovers, Angst, Romance, Marriage, Family. 

Kairi could hardly wait. Her fingers trembled and shook as she did her weaving for the day. She had to finish up in time. She had to. For soon, very soon, she would be allowed to cross the Amanogawa, the Heavenly River, to see her beloved. 

Cheeks flushed with excitement and heart pounding, she flew through her work. The sooner she got it done, the more time she would have to spend with Sora. But it had to be high quality too, or she would have to redo it all. 

What was Sora thinking? Was he as excited to see her as she was to see him? Would he have the cows on his side of the Heavenly River gathered together in time? 

And the river! She’d checked it this morning, but if it started to rain and the river swelled up too much, the magpies might not come to make the bridge. That had happened before, and she never wanted it to happen again. Seeing the sorrow on Sora’s face as he’d realized she wouldn’t be able to meet him that year had broken her heart. 

When at last she was finished with her work for the day, her father Tentei, the Sky King, came to inspect it. 

“How does it look, my honorable father?” she asked, bowing her head and averting her eyes because his approval (or lack thereof) would determine whether she got to see Sora. It was because she’d so foolishly slacked on her work, and Sora on his, that they had to endure this current situation. How she wished she could rewind time to when they’d first gotten married and do things over again. Then maybe they could live together like husband and wife should instead of enduring this punishment for their foolishness. 

Still, her father was not without mercy. Her sorrow and tears had moved him so deeply that he’d adjusted his original punishment and allowed her to see Sora once a year. Maybe, someday, if they both continued to work hard and be good, they could live together once more. 

“It is your best work yet, my daughter,” her father said at last, and she allowed herself a small smile before quickly covering her mouth with her hand. It wasn’t proper for a young lady to bare her teeth. 

“Thank you, father.”

She glanced at his face before averting her eyes again, and she could tell he was pleased. 

“This will be plenty to keep the heavenly court clothed for a while,” he said. “And if you don’t mind, I will select my favorites to keep for myself.”  

She nodded and waited patiently for him to make his selections. Every member of the heavenly court contributed something to keep life running smoothly, and it was her duty to make cloth, just like it was Sora’s duty to tend the cows. If even a single person neglected their duties, the entire court would start to fall apart at the seams. That was the disaster she and Sora had unleashed on everyone several years ago, and she didn’t want to hurt them again. 

Her father cleared his throat, and she waited patiently to hear what he had to say. In his arms were a few choice pieces of the cloth she’d woven, and her heart sped up as she waited for him to speak.

“I have made my choice. Now, my dear daughter, go see your husband.” 

She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face this time, but she hid it with a deep bow and then thanked her father and left with as much dignity as she could muster once he had excused himself from the room. Her feet carried her as fast as she dared move till at last the Heavenly River was within sight.

“Sora!” she cried as she reached its banks. He was already on the other side of it waiting for her, and his face lit up when he saw her.

“Kairi!” came his delighted voice over the sounds of the river. This year, they were lucky. This year the water flowed smoothly and was at normal levels. 

“My dear magpie friends,” Kairi called, “please, make me a bridge so that I may be with my husband.”  

A few moments passed, then the flock of birds descended and spread their wings till they’d formed a bridge for Kairi to cross. She thanked each one by name as she stepped on their wings, growing closer and closer to Sora till at last she was on the other side. He brought her into his arms and held her tight, and her eyes filled with tears. How she’d missed him, missed feeling his warm embrace.

“I’m back,” she said softly.

“You’re home.”

When he finally leaned back, it was so he could look her in the eye. “You’re as beautiful as ever,” he murmured as he cupped her cheek, like he couldn’t bear to look away from her. 

“And you’re as handsome as ever.” 

He smiled and found her hand. “Come,” was all he said, and she nodded and squeezed his hand. She paused to turn back and thank the magpies one last time, then followed Sora’s lead. 

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

Sora sighed as Kairi slept soundly in his arms. A part of him wished they could stay awake the entire day they had together, from sundown to sundown, but they’d tried that before and it had just made them both too tired to fully enjoy their time together. 

Still, there was something nice about holding her as she slept. She was in his house and in his arms, which was how things were supposed to be. His only regret was that she couldn’t stay with him always. But that was thanks to their own foolishness. What he wouldn’t give to rewind time and do things over again. 

Looking out the window, a deep sigh escaped him. “The moon sure is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” he murmured, then kissed Kairi’s cheek. “Sleep well, my wife.”

When he woke up the next morning, delicious smells greeted his nose. Kairi had cooked all his favorite foods, and his heart melted when she greeted him as he sat down to eat. She joined him soon afterwards, and they thanked the other members of the heavenly court before eating their breakfast. 

“What do you want to do today?” he asked her as he ate pieces of tofu from his miso soup. 

“Well, I’d love to write wishes together on tanzaku paper and then hang them on bamboo like we always do.”

“Sure.”

They did that every year, wishing that this would be the year they could finally stay together for good. 

“And then I want to see your herd of cows.”

“Of course.” 

Kairi had names for all of them, and she liked seeing how they were doing. 

“But what do you want to do?” she finally asked after drinking the rest of her miso soup.

“Be with you. Really, that’s it. Every moment we’re together is precious to me.” 

Her cheeks flushed a little and she averted her eyes. “My husband, you flatter me too well.”

“You deserve to be flattered.” 

He pulled her into his lap and kissed her, and she giggled. 

“We can’t spend all day in your house,” she chided even as she didn’t stop the kisses he was trailing down her neck. 

“But maybe, just a few more stolen moments…”

“Just a few more stolen moments is all we have,” she said, her voice low and her eyes drooping, and he paused. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“I’m tired of this,” she told him as she ran her hand through his hair. “I’m tired of being separated from you. One day a year isn’t enough. It just isn’t enough to show you how I feel about you.” 

“I know.” His heart was heavy at the prospect. “Still, one day is better than nothing at all, and I don’t want our time together to be poisoned with sadness.” 

“I don’t either.” She took a deep breath and smiled. “Enough talk of this. Let’s be happy while we still can and save the tears for later.”

“Yeah.”

They had so little time together as it was. Sora wanted to make sure the memories would be happy ones. Good ones that would tide them over until next year. 

For now, that was the best they could hope for.

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

Even though they did the same things every year, Kairi treasured them every time. First they saw Sora’s cows, and he introduced her to the new members of the herd and asked her to help him name them. Then they wrote their wish to always be together on long, rectangular strips of tanzaku paper and tied them to bamboo that had been laid out for the summer festival. Various other activities followed until it was time for lunch, which Sora made for her this time. 

For the early afternoon when the heat was most intense, they remained inside Sora’s house, and when the cool of the day had arrived, they ventured back outside again. The cicadas were buzzing loudly in the trees, and Kairi felt a pang in her chest as she thought about how much she wanted to spend every season with Sora, not just one day a year during the summer. They would never get to watch the leaves turn red and gold together. They would never get to experience the first snow together. They would never get to welcome the coming of spring with the cherry trees blooming together.

“Kairi?” Sora asked as they strolled along the river. They only had a few hours left together, and she would be punished harshly for being late. So at this point in the day, they usually just walked and talked together till it was time for her to go. 

“I’m okay, I just… wish we could experience every season together.” 

“I do too.” 

She couldn’t bear to look in his eyes right now. Despite their best attempts, their impending separation was looming heavy on their hearts. 

“Have you tried asking your father again to have mercy on us?” Sora asked quietly. “Surely we’ve more than made up for what we did. Seven years, Kairi. It’s been seven whole years of living like this, and it’s hell. I can’t take it anymore.” 

“I fear that if I do ask him, he will revoke even this one day we do have.” 

“Does he really love his daughter so little that he would doom her to a lifetime of misery over one mistake?” 

“It’s what we deserve, for neglecting our duties,” she said, her throat tight. “We’re lucky he lets us meet at all.” 

“But we’ve worked hard these seven years,” he said. “We’ve apologized for what we did. Now the heavenly court is more prosperous than ever. You saw how many new cows were born this year, and you told me that your weaving is your best yet. What are you so afraid of?” 

She paused, and he stopped too.

“Kairi?”

“I’m scared that if we’re allowed to be together, the same thing will happen all over again,” she confessed. “When I’m with you, I don’t care about anything else anymore. Not my weaving, not my duties, just you. All I can think about is you, and all I want to do is be with you. But we can’t live like that. We have to do our part. At least this way we get to spend a whole day together guilt free because we’ve earned it.” 

“No,” Sora said. “This isn't natural. It’s not good for us to be separated like this. I don’t care what happened in the past. We won’t neglect our duties this time, and we deserve a second chance. How will we continue my family name if we’re robbed of the chance to have children? How can we say we’re truly married when you’re not allowed to live with me, your husband?”

“But what if my father says no?” she asked, so quietly she couldn’t hear her own voice. “What if he bans us from ever seeing each other again?” 

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take. I vowed to protect you and to provide for you. You deserve better than one day a year of that.” He put his hand under her chin and gently tilted it up so she would look him in the eye. “And besides, your father loves you. He wants what’s best for the heavenly court, it’s true, but you’re his family, and he takes his duty to his family seriously too.” 

“Okay. I’ll ask him. But there’s no guarantee he’ll say yes.” 

“Yeah. But imagine if he did.” Sora wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “I could come home to you every evening after a hard day’s work. I’d get to tell you, “I’m back,” and you’d get to tell me, ‘You’re home,’ like it should be. Then after dinner we’d have the entire evening to ourselves to do as we wished, and the entire night to spend in each other’s arms. And then, maybe someday, there will be a few more cushions in our house—” 

“Don’t, please,” she said, her throat tight. She didn’t want to think about the life they couldn’t have because of what they’d done. 

“Why not?” he asked as he pulled back. “Why not let ourselves dream a little?”

“Because dreams always end in disappointment. You wake up, and then they’re over, and you feel worse knowing what you could have but can never get.”

He shook his head. “Not this dream. This dream can be real.” 

“If you say so.”

“We have to at least try.” 

She looked to the sky. The sun was setting now, and they didn’t have much time left. 

“You’re right. We have to at least try.”

They spent the remainder of their time together mostly in silence because some things didn’t need to be said out loud. Then Sora walked her to the place where the magpies always came as the moon rose again. As the loyal birds gathered to make the bridge, she turned to her husband one last time.

“Well, I’m off.”

“Goodbye, Kairi,” he said, ever so softly. “Return to me safely.”

“Goodbye, Sora. You know I will.” 

She released his hand and started across the bridge the magpies had made, thanking them again for their help. When she looked back at Sora, his hand still lingered in the air, and she could tell he was trying very hard to stay brave.

She had to look away at that point or she would start crying for sure. Each step away from him was tearing her heart asunder because he had a part of her heart and always would. And as she walked away from him, she knew she was carrying a part of his heart with her, too. 

“Until we meet again,” she called to him when she’d safely crossed and the magpies were flying away.

“Until we meet again.”

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

At first, Sora was hopeful that he would hear word from Kairi’s father. That the great Sky King would have mercy on his beloved daughter and her husband and let them be together. Despite the punishment he’d doled out to them, he was generally a merciful ruler, just and fair. And he’d already relented once to the pleas of his daughter. There was a chance he would relent again. 

So Sora herded his cows with a spring in his step and anticipation in his heart. He would work harder than ever to prove that he and Kairi deserved to be together again and wouldn’t slack on their duties. He was out in the fields from sunup to sundown tending to the cows, and even though the work was hard, it was sweet, knowing that any day now he might hear word from the king.

A week passed like this. Then two weeks. Then a month. But still he heard nothing. Doubt crept into his heart. Surely Kairi would’ve asked by now, right? And if her father had said yes, surely he would’ve sent word to Sora already. But nothing happened, and Sora’s heart began to falter. 

Was there a point to this? To any of this? Why work hard if nothing ever changed? Why slave away all day when he had no wife to come home to? Could he really keep doing this for the rest of his life? All for the chance to see Kairi only once a year, if her father deemed her work good enough and deemed his work good enough and if they lucked out on the weather and— 

He groaned and sank onto his cushions. “To hell with this, I’m this close to swimming across that damn river even if it kills me.” 

The night breeze blew through the window, and it made the tanzaku papers he’d hung all around the room flutter. Normally, after the summer festival was over, the bamboo branches with the tanzaku papers attached were floated down the river, but he’d always saved the ones he and Kairi made. He had precious few mementos of her, so every single one of these papers was precious to him. 

Maybe… maybe this was a test. To prove to her father they deserved to be together. If he gave in to his despair and stopped working, he might fail the test and jeopardize any chance they had of being together for good.

So that meant he had to keep working. Had to put in more effort than ever in the hopes it would be enough.

One month melted into two months, and two months blended into three months. Some days were easier than others, but Sora began to doubt that Kairi’s father would ever relent. He wouldn’t see her again for another nine months. The weather was getting cooler and the leaves were starting to turn colors. Summer was over, and this year would be like all the rest.

Kairi had woven him a special kimono several years ago that would keep him warm in colder weather, and he layered it over his other clothing one cool autumn morning. Even on cold days though, the sun often shone bright overhead, so he also donned one of his hats to keep the sun away and set out. 

Rain or shine, no matter the temperature, he had to look after the cows, and so he treasured the gifts Kairi had given him. They made the job easier, and they reminded him of her. And yet his heart was still heavy. He wanted to do nothing more than stay in his house and sleep. Because at least in his dreams he could be with her.

The days were long and dull even though the sun set earlier and earlier. The work was the same as ever, and he just went through the motions because his heart was far away. The days faded into each other as autumn faded into winter, and then snow coated the ground in a silent blanket. The nights were long and the days were short, and he longed for the coming of spring. Spring was when the world came alive again. Spring was when he knew he was close to seeing his beloved again, because after spring, summer would come once more. And that meant Kairi would come once more.

Unless her father had forbidden her from ever seeing Sora again. But there would be no way to know that until the time came.

At long last, the snow began to melt and the flowers began to bud. The birds were chirping and the animals were pairing up again, ready to bring new life into the world. Everything felt a little less hopeless than it had during the winter as everything came back to life. 

The day the cherry blossoms began to bloom, Sora decided to go by the Heavenly River to see them once he was done with work. The sun was setting over the horizon, and the view was incredible. Cherry trees lined the river on both sides, and the few days when they were all in full bloom, they looked amazing. He really wished that for once, he could share this with Kairi, but he’d just have to remember it well enough to tell her about it later. 

He stayed till the moon rose and the stars were twinkling in the heavens. Time to go home. 

As he approached his house, he noticed something strange. Light shone through the windows, and smoke was wafting out of one of them. Was someone there? 

That was strange, he couldn’t remember inviting anyone over. 

Frowning, he slid the door open and removed his shoes before stepping up into the house. “I’m back,” he called, the usual greeting he gave when he returned home. 

“You’re home,” came the voice that was more precious to him than any voice. A moment later, she appeared around the corner.

“Kairi?” he said, hardly believing what he was seeing. Sure enough, she was here in his house, holding his cooking utensils with a big smile on her face. She looked elegant in her layers of robes, and her face was practically glowing and her cheeks were round. 

“Is this really real?” he whispered, frozen in shock. He was afraid that if he moved, the dream would be over.

She nodded. “It is real.”

“Then—your father?”

A huge smile spread across her face. “We have his blessing.” 

“We do? But how? I thought, after all those months, that he wouldn’t—”

She took his hand and led it to her stomach. He gasped as he felt how round it was, as he realized what this meant, as he figured out why her face was round and why she was practically glowing and why she was wearing so many robes—

“Turns out that the prospect of grandchildren is enough to soften even my father’s heart,” she said with a smile, then her face turned serious. “I would’ve come sooner, but he wanted to spend time with me before I left his house, and I wanted to make up for all the work I’ll be missing soon. I brought my weaving here with me, of course, but I’ll need some time off after the baby arrives to rest and heal.”

A lump built in Sora’s throat. This was too much to handle. “You mean—you’re here to stay? We can finally be together?”

Even as he said the words, he could hardly believe them. Kairi was here and she had her father’s blessing? She was here and they could finally start a family? She was here and she was bearing their child, the fruit of all their years of suffering and heartache, of all their love and hope and perseverance?

A tear rolled down her cheek before she smiled, her most beautiful smile yet. “Yes, my love. We’ll be together forever.” 

He couldn’t take this anymore. He gathered her in his arms and held her as they both wept and wept and wept. All those years of separation for their foolish mistake were over. The dream had come true, and they would be together every day from now on. 

He kissed her after that, kissed her deeply to show her how much he’d missed her, to show her how much he loved her. And wonder of wonders, when the kiss was over, she brought his hand to her stomach and together, they felt their baby kick. 

“Welcome to the family,” he choked out as he knelt at her feet and kissed her belly, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes again. Kairi was here and their baby would be with them soon too. They were going to be parents, and they would finally get to have the family they’d dreamed of.

When he looked up into her eyes again, she was radiant. A little bit of that radiance must be rubbing off on him, because his smile felt bigger and brighter than it had ever been.

“Welcome home, Kairi.” 

“Welcome home, Sora.”

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

A/N: Ever since ReMind came out and there was this beautiful shot of Sora and Kairi against the sky...

...I wanted to write a Tanabata-themed story for them. And as it just so happens, Tanabata falls during SoKai Week this year, so it was the perfect opportunity. 

Anyway, I really enjoyed incorporating Japanese mythology into my writing this time. I’ve written some stories based on Greek mythology, so it was nice to branch out. And though the original story doesn’t really offer a resolution (as far as I know), I got to thinking about how the story might be resolved and how the lovers might be reunited again, and this is where my musings led me.

Thanks for reading! And thank you to @angel-with-a-pipette​ for the input and feedback!

[ryqoshay]

Happy Life: How to Walk a Familiar

Primary Pairing: YohaRiko Words: ~2k Rating: G AU: Angelic? Time Frame: Sometime during their college years Story Arc: Stand Alone

Author’s Note: Someday I’ll get back to the other YohaRiko scenes I’ve started, including the one that this one was supposed to be...

“Ne, Yocchan!” Riko called as she left her room on her way to the living room, her pug in tow.

“What’s up, Riri?” Yoshiko responded as she paused her game.

“I’m going to take Prelude for a walk. Want to come with us?”

“Definitely!” The blue-haired girl made to jump up from the couch before realizing there was a purring furball in her lap. “Uhm… one moment… Sorry, Phobetor.” She nudged the cat gently in an attempt to have him leave of his own volition.

For his part, Phobetor took his time getting to his feet and stretching with a sizable yawn before stepping down onto the cushion beside Yoshiko. He glanced among the other three occupants of the apartment as though trying to determine the purpose of his nap being interrupted.

“We’ll be back in a little bit.” Yoshiko assured, patting the kitten’s head before moving toward the entryway.

“Merow!” Phobetor uttered, rubbing up against Yoshiko’s leg as she knelt to tie her shoe.

“Be a good boy while we’re out.” Yoshiko responded, petting her cat. She frowned, however, when the meowing continued as she stood. “We’ll be back before you know it.” She assured.

Phobetor switched tactics and moved toward Prelude, bunting against her while his vocalizations became more pleading.

“C’mon, Prelude.” Riko started to open the door and was about to step out when she felt resistance at the other end of the leash. “Prelude?” She turned to find her puppy sitting squarely in place. “Do you think we should let him come with us, Yocchan?” Riko inquired of her girlfriend.

“I’d like to bring him.” Yoshiko admitted. “But I don’t know how we would do that. I haven’t even bought a collar for him as I wasn’t expecting to take him anywhere other than the vet on occasion. I should probably get one…”

“Hrm…” Riko considered, watching the protesting pets for a moment. “I wonder if…” She trailed off as she closed the front door and opened the closet instead. “Ah, here we go.” She said after a minute or two of searching. “I wonder if Prelude’s old collar will fit?”

“Maybe? It looks a little big.” Yoshiko took the collar and knelt. Phobetor immediately stopped yowling and moved to sit in front of her. “Usually owners use harnesses on cats because they’re harder to get out of and there is less risk of the cat choking. Huh, just barely. Still pretty loose...” She commented as she used the last hole in the leather to secure the collar.

“Perhaps we can add a stop at the pet store to our route.” Riko said, holding out a spare leash. “Maybe Ryoushi-kun will be there and can meet him?” She mentioned the name of their favorite associate.

“Sounds good.” Yoshiko agreed as she attached the leash to her cat’s collar. “You’ll be a good boy and not pull out of this, right? We just need to make it to the store and we’ll get you one that fits better and a proper harness. Oh, and a nametag too!” She knocked her knuckles atop her head. “I don’t know why I didn’t think to get one earlier.”

“Well we haven’t really let him out…” Riko tried to reason.

“Yeah, but there was always a risk that he could have gotten out at some point.” Yoshiko lamented. “I don’t want anyone thinking he’s a stray anymore now that we’ve given him a good home.”

As if responding to her change in mood, Phobetor ran himself against her hand, earning a couple pets.

“Well, better late than never, right?” Riko offered. “Anyway, we should head out so we have enough time to get to the park and back in time for dinner. Let’s go get Phobetor a tag worthy of his status as Yohane’s familiar.”

That seemed the brighten the younger girl’s mood. “Indeed!” She jumped up. “A fallen angel’s familiar deserves nothing but the best!”

Riko smiled and opened the door again to lead everyone out.

“Ah, Riko-san, Yohane-sama.” A boy greeted the two girls as they moved down the store aisle. “Good to see you as always.” He knelt and produced a small treat as their dog hurried over to him. “Welcome back, Prelude-chan.” He smiled as he patted the pug before standing again.

“Hi, Ryoushi-kun.” Riko returned the greeting.

The young man’s attention turned to Yoshiko’s shoulder. “Pray tell, might this be the legendary familiar for which Yohane-sama hath sung many a praise?”

Yoshiko grinned. “Thou hath a keen eye, Choukyoushi!” She intoned. “Indeed, this day, Yohane hath summoned forth my most faithful of servants to honor you with his presence! Meet Phobetor!”

The cat reached out a paw and leaned forward as though to jump.

“He loves meeting new people.” Yoshiko explained as her voice returned to normal.

“Well it is indeed an honor to finally meet you in person, Phobetor-kun.” Ryoushi replied, taking the kitten into his arms. “Let’s see what I have for good little familiars.” He shifted the cat to cradle him in one arm so he could retrieve another treat from his apron. “Are you four here for normal restocking or for something specific?” He turned his attention back to the two humans.

“Phobetor wants to join us when we walk Prelude,” Riko spoke up “so we need a harness for him.”

“And since we’re here, I want to get a proper collar and tag for him.” Yoshiko added.

Ryoushi nodded. “I believe we can find ones that will suit him.” With that said, he turned and lead the way with Phobetor still purring in his arms.

“Yocchan, look” Riko said soon after the group had found the display “doesn’t that one look a little like the symbol you used during our time with Aqours?”

Yoshiko leaned in to inspect the tag in question. “It does!” She cried excitedly, pulling it from the rack. “Good find, Riri! Ne, Choukyoushi, can you etch a demon face on this?”

“Our machine does have a custom setting.” The store associate confirmed. “Let me show you how to use it.” He lead them to the device at the end of aisle where he pulled up an image representing the tag.

Yoshiko hummed happily to herself as she used the touch screen to draw eyes and a fanged mouth on the digital blank.

“Alright, now use this button to flip it over.” Ryoushi explained. “Then type his name in the upper box and your address in the lower one. Perfect. Now while this does its thing, go ahead and pick out a collar to put it on.”

“Back in a moment, Phobetor.” Yoshiko called to her cat before practically skipping away.

Riko and Prelude followed at a more normal pace. By the time they caught up, Yoshiko was already inspecting a collar in her hand.

“Is black really a good color?” Riko inquired. “Phobetor’s fur is black, so won’t the collar blend in too much?”

“Hrm…” Yoshiko pondered.

“Maybe this grey one will stand out better?” The redhead selected a different one. “Grey was your color as an idol after all.”

“Riri makes a good point. Alright. I’ll get this one.” The blue-haired girl took the offered collar. “Phobetor!” She called, moving back to the end of the aisle. “Look at what I got for you!”

Phobetor looked over from his position on Ryoushi’s shoulder and cocked his head to the side with curiosity. He seemed fine until Yoshiko reached toward him, at which point he turned his head away.

“Just let me get the old one…” Yoshiko said.

The cat eluded his master’s hands again before retreating to Ryoushi’s other shoulder.

“Phobetor.” Yoshiko chided.

Another attempt was made to remove the old collar but this time, Phobetor jumped down and scampered over to Prelude, pressing in against the larger dog as though using her as a shield.

Yoshiko handed the new collar to Ryoushi before kneeling down in front of the two animals. “Are you sure you want to keep that one? It might be a little heavy for a while and loose until you grow into it.” She asked, reaching a hand forward and smiling as her cat stepped forward cautiously but eventually rubbed against her palm. She looked up at her girlfriend. “Can he keep this one?”

Riko chuckled. “Of course. He seems to like it.”

Yoshiko grinned and stood. “We’ll put the tag on the collar he has now.” She announced to Ryoushi as though it wasn’t already obvious.

“Alright.” The associate replied, popping the small metal plate out of the etching device. “Here you go.” He handed over the tag as well as a pair of pliers.

“It came out perfect.” Yoshiko marveled at the design. “Here, Phobetor, will you at least let me put this on that collar? If you want to go out with us, you need some sort of identification.” She knelt again in front of the cat.

This time, Phobetor did not retreat, instead he lifted his chin to allow easier access.

“Good boy.” Yoshiko praised as she opened the jumper ring attached to the tag, secured it to the collar and bent it back into place. “There we g- oh, hey…” She caught her cat as he jumped up into her arms. Giggling, she scratched him behind his ears.

“Shall we look at harnesses next?” Riko inquired.

“Those are right here on the other side from the collars.” Ryoushi pointed out. “Let’s size one out for him.”

“I think Phobetor likes his new gear.” Riko commented as she watched their cat strut proudly beside their dog.

“Definitely.” Yoshiko agreed. “I’m so glad he can join us for our family walks like this.”

“As am I.” Riko agreed. Though not just for his sake, she thought to herself as she also took pleasure in seeing her girlfriend this happy.

“So, we’re headed to the park next?” Yoshiko inquired as the group came to a stop at a crosswalk.

Riko nodded. “I figured we could toss a ball a few times for Prelude and just enjoy the weather for a bit before we head back.”

“Alright. Oh, the light chang- eh?” Yoshiko paused with her foot a few centimeters off the ground as their cat suddenly jumped onto their dog’s leash. “Phobetor wha-?”

A box truck careened through the intersection against the red light, plowing through the crosswalk where the four of them would had been had they stepped forward. Yoshiko’s leg came down awkwardly and she overcorrected her balance backward, tipping herself over in the process. She landed roughly, but otherwise safely on the sidewalk.

“What jus… Riri, are you alright?!” Yoshiko looked up frantically to see her girlfriend frozen in shock.

“I’m… f-fine…” Riko’s movements were like a marionette with missing strings as she reached down to help the other girl back to her feet.

“Did Phobetor… just stop us from being isakai’d?” Yoshiko stared at the cat who was now playing with the leash that had been dropped.

Phobetor rolled onto his back held the braided nylon with is front paws while biting it and kicking at it with his back legs, seeming to be completely oblivious to the reactions of the two girls.

The chuckle that escaped Riko’s lips from her girlfriend’s bad joke felt odd, yet somehow still managed to ease some of her tension. She swallowed before asking. “Are you okay, Yocchan?”

“Well, either my familiar has a strange way of saving us, or the luck of my angel ascended did the trick.” Yoshiko knelt to retrieve Prelude’s leash. “But so long as Riri and her familiars are alright, so is Yohane.”

Of course, Yoshiko would be calmer about the situation, Riko realized, this was by no means her first close call. Heck, she fell off a balcony back in high school and was back to normal in moments, or at least as much as normal applied to her.

Something stirred in the back of Riko’s mind, but when she tried to focus on it, it was gone. Same as always.

“Shall we go?”

Yoshiko’s voice pulled Riko back to reality and she looked down to see the other girl holding out her dog’s leash.

“Right…” Riko replied, taking the handle as the four of them resumed their walk.

Author’s Note Continued in Followup Post

[jacobanfundies]

Info: The Donners

I have a lot of thoughts and ideas about Reuben’s family, but I’m not sure how much of it is actually going to make it into Kimberly’s blog, so I thought I would write up a quick guide to them all! 

Left to right: Amara, Zeb, Elena, Ella

(Zeb’s traits: Family oriented, competitive, ambitious Elena’s traits: Perfectionist, homemaker, proper Amara’s traits: Cheerful, neat, active Ella’s traits: Cheerful, self absorbed, romantic)

Zeb and Elena are Reuben’s parents, and they have six children. In order: Amara, Kelvin, Prudence, Anita, Ella, and Reuben. Zeb very much has that kind of Southern used car salesman personality, if you know what I mean. Elena probably speaks with a Michelle Duggar level baby voice. They joined the Jacoban scene through a financial seminar held at the Forman Family Camp; Zeb is trying to make waves and alliances and Big Power Moves, with varying levels of success. For example, he molded Kelvin to be the family politician from day one, and accordingly when Reuben joined the family Zeb immediately decided he’d be the family priest. (Am I throwing a little Rodrigo Borgia into my headcanon for Zeb? Yes, but rest assured, Elena is the only sim he’d ever want to OTT make out with while on a mini golf double date with one of their children.) Elena, meanwhile, is utterly devoted to her Miracle Baby Reuben--Kimberly wasn’t her first choice for his wife (more on that someday, though I’m not sure if it’ll make it into the story or if I’ll just have to fill you in on all the drama elsewhere) but Elena has decided that she can mold Kimberly into the ideal wife/daughter-in-law.

Amara is their oldest child, but hasn’t met the right sim yet (read: after being the built in sister-mom she doesn’t want to risk having a bunch of kids of her own, so she’s holding out for a while), so she still lives with her parents. 

Ella is the youngest daughter, fifth overall child, and is considered the beauty of the family and knows it. She was a Toddler when Reuben was born, and she remembers being what the youngest was like and has never forgiven Reuben for upstaging her. She is very much a Daddy’s princess type and is waiting for for her Prince Charming.

Left to right: Kelvin, Lionel, and Simon

(Kelvin’s traits: Ambitious, cheerful, insider)

Kelvin is a mid-level politician, and accordingly lives in San Myshuno. He interned with well-known Jacoban politician Leon Baxter, an honor that both he and his parents have never and will never stop talking about. His husband, Simon, is quite a bit younger than he is (Kelvin is an Adult while Simon is a Young Adult)--Kelvin once wondered why the Watcher was taking so long to bring him a spouse, but understood as soon as he met Simon! (Read: Kelvin is both socially awkward and full of himself, but Simon is a social climber so he can work with that.) Lionel is their oldest, and Simon is pregnant with their second son.

Left to right: Bradley, Miriam, Ephraim, Prudence, Andrew, and Paul

(Prudence’s traits: Cheerful, family oriented, good)

Prudence is Elena and Zeb’s third child. Her husband, Bradley Forman, co-runs the Forman Family Camp with his father and stepmother, Ted and Rose. Bradley is actually Amara’s age, and Zeb and Ted talked all along about those two getting married someday, but as soon as Prudence became a Teen Bradley decided that she was The One for him. (Kids, run like hell if someone older than you admits to something like that!) They started courting near the end of her Teen years, and were married almost as soon as she became a Young Adult. Prudence is the one person in this family who genuinely cares about Kimberly with no other motives, but she just doesn’t think to question anything about her family or faith. (Yes, she is meant to have very Joe and Kendra energy.) Bradley and Prudence have four children: Ephraim, Paul, and twins Miriam and Andrew. 

Left to right: Van, Alonso, Anita, Darrin, and Devon

(Anita’s traits: family oriented, outgoing, materialistic)

Anita is Zeb and Elena’s fourth child. I picture her having very Jana and Jessa energy (but wearing [conservative] pants!) She married Darrin in the middle of her Young Adult years, some time after Darrin lost his first wife--Anita always wanted to live in San Myshuno, and was able to make it happen after meeting Darrin at one of Kelvin’s political events. Van and Devon are her stepsons, and Alonso is Anita and Darrin’s first child. Anita is pregnant with their second. Anita doesn’t visit a whole lot, or keep in contact really, and Kimberly will probably never stop being intimidated by her. 

[jasontoddiefor]

Tiny Emperor Luke AU Chapter 10

Also known as “Obi-Wan thinks Luke is dead and grieves on Alderaan ft. Bail Organa”.

Tumblr Tag | AO3

The first few days back on Alderaan passed in a haze. He knew he had all but collapsed in Breha’s arms, running low on energy. Obi-Wan had made it through the worst the war and all that Tatooine’s summers had to offer and yet he had broken down like a youngling, utterly exhausted. The Queen had put him in the same little cabin he’d lived in just a month ago and given him strict orders not to disappear.

It seemed unbelievable. Obi-Wan’s life had changed within the span of days so often, and yet he couldn’t grasp that just a month ago everything had been alright.

Not perfect, far from it, but alright.

He had told Beru that he’d be gone for two weeks while Owen was out working on the vaporators. She had laughed, told him not to worry and allowed him to visit Luke. The boy had been sleeping right up until Obi-Wan had stepped into his room to leave him another toy ship.

Beru had once let it slip that Luke adored the handcrafted ships much more than any other of his toys, much to Owen’s annoyance.

“Owen Lars was a good man,” Obi-Wan said quietly.

Bail took a seat next to him on the sofa. Breha had returned to the palace while Bail had stayed behind.

“He took in Luke without asking another question, loved his wife and his nephew dearly. I think, for all that he resented the pain Anakin represented, he might have loved the chance to have a brother as well.”

During the really dark days, the second year or so he had been on Tatooine, Obi-Wan had wondered whether the reason they didn’t get along was the fact that Owen Lars was an inherently good man. He was protective of his family, devoted, and wanted nothing but to see them happy. He was honorable down to the core and had even brought water and food to Obi-Wan’s meager dwellings when he had come to ask about floating toys and the kind of separation anxiety only Force-sensitive children experienced.

Owen Lars was a good man and Obi-Wan was a monster.

He’d justified all his actions in front of the Council and they had approved again and again as he committed hideous crimes in the name of the Republic and peace. Looking back, Obi-Wan knew that the Jedi had fallen from their path the moment they had stepped up to be Generals, but there hadn’t been any other options. Obi-Wan hadn’t been a proper Jedi in over a decade and that was perhaps the only reason the next words escaped him so easily.

“I hated him,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Still do. He told me to stay away so I wouldn’t get even more Skywalkers killed and I did just as he asked me to because I thought he was right.”

Bail put his arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulder, the hold so reminiscent of the way little Leia had thrown herself around Obi-Wan’s neck on the last day he had been on Alderaan the first time around.

“It’s not your fault, Obi-Wan,” Bail said. “You cannot blame yourself.”

“But it is my fault. I should have been there, begun training Luke so he’d be safer and I would know if anything happened to him. He’d already latched onto me when we had finally made it to Tatooine and that bond never broke. I should have reinforced it. I was already thinking about keeping him, raising him myself, but I thought he would be better off with his family. I walked the edge of their land so often, tempted to steal him away, but I always told myself I couldn’t give him what he needed, that he'd be safer away from me and now he’s-“

Dead.

Gone.

Like everyone else. People always left him behind and not for the first time did Obi-Wan wonder what lesson the Force was attempting to teach him that he always failed it. Maybe he had never outgrown the angry thirteen-year-old child, too attached to everyone around him. The galaxy might be a better place if he hadn’t been in it. Anakin wouldn’t have been trained or maybe he would have gotten a Master who could have stopped him from falling, who’d be able to protect his children and burn the Empire to the ground.

Obi-Wan knew he couldn’t do it anymore.

“It’s not your fault,” Bail insisted. “You Jedi always had a habit of piling the weight of every star onto your backs.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Held it. Exhaled.

“It was our calling,” Obi-Wan said. “We were meant to protect every life.”

If the desert had taught him one thing, then it had shown him in perfect clarity what the Jedi should have been doing. Obi-Wan didn’t know where Palpatine’s machinations had started and ended, how many choices his Order really had been able to make in the end before they were slaughtered, but he could feel in his bruised and broken bones who they always should have been.

And who Obi-Wan never could be.

“And what is your calling now?” Bail asked.

Obi-Wan didn’t have an answer for him. He should finish what he had started all those years ago on Mustafar, show Anakin mercy and kill Vader for his Padawan. He should look for any remaining Jedi, die in the most honorable way, like a star on the verge of collapse.

He should, he should, he should-

He didn’t.

Sensing that Obi-Wan didn’t have an answer for him, Bail began to speak again. Alderaan’s Senator had aged, but by far not as much as Obi-Wan and yet, despite all the marks grief had left behind, Bail still managed to smile kindly.

“After you left the last time, Leia kept asking for you,” Bail said. “’When is Mister Ben coming back?’ and ‘Do you think he can tell me more stories?’ She has taken quite a liking to you and not only because you showed her how to make her books float on purpose.”

“I can’t stay here,” Obi-Wan said. “The first trip here was already a risk and this second- I never should have come back.”

Alderaan was as anti-Imperial as you could be without outright committing treason. They were under constant scrutiny and Obi-Wan couldn’t risk endangering the government of an entire planet. If even just one Imperial spy could see past the image of a haunted man, Alderaan would be made an example of.

“But you did.”

“Because I was desperate.”

The brutal honesty had become one of Obi-Wan’s most well-known companions. On Coruscant, he always had to watch his words no matter whether he spoke in front of Representative or another Jedi. People had high expectations of him and Obi-Wan had lied so often to please everyone around him that the truth the sharp winds of the last years had cut into him was terrifying but relieving.

Bail let go of Obi-Wan and with a sigh unbefitting of a royal, jabbed Obi-Wan’s ribs like they were children instead of grown men.

“You are my friend and you were Padmé’s friend,” Bail said. “You’ve been alone for a very long time, so do me a favor and honor those friendships and let us help you.”

“I’m not a good man, Bail,” Obi-Wan said. “Chaos follows me everywhere.”

Bail smiled and Obi-Wan wanted nothing more but to know how he managed it after all the horrors he had been forced to witness.

“At least this way I’ll always know where it is, instead of having to chase my daughter down.”

“Leia is a sweet child,” Obi-Wan replied.

Happy too, loved and cared for like her brother had been.

“I’m not denying that,” Bail said. “I am simply pointing out that she also happens to be an utter terror with no regard for people who do not have her particular brand of luck on their side. It must be a Jedi thing, Master Kenobi.”

“I’m not a Jedi anymore.”

“You have to be. My daughter is depending on it.”

Obi-Wan was hesitant to try. There were so many things that could go wrong and Leia was safe still and with luck, she’d never need to wield a weapon, certainly nothing more dangerous than a blaster.

But if Luke had been able to, he might still be alive and Obi-Wan didn’t have anyone left. His people had all been executed and all that remained of them were him and Leia Organa, her father’s laughter and her mother’s wit.

“I need time,” Obi-Wan said.

Time to heal and time to think and time to teach Leia to be better than the Jedi had ever been.

“Of course,” Bail agreed.

Obi-Wan could only hope she wouldn’t resent him for burdening her with the legacy of a thousand generations, that someday she might even forgive him for depriving her of the chance to share that weight with her brother.

He wasn’t sure he ever would.