#In light of my very old vow to mean what i say i am obligated to assure you that this is a joke

[commander-chaoss]

*cocks gun* I am done being nice about explaining how platonic relationships are equal to romantic ones. Accept this fact or die.

[phoeebsbuffay]

Imagine “Star Wars” especial edition: crossovers.

[4/4?]

House of Jedi.

Imagine: you are the daughter of a powerful king whose realm is located in a not so far away galaxy. You have an older brother who died, and thus you are the king’s only heir. The council is obliged to acknowledge your inheritance, but upon the king’s death, you are found usurped by your half-brother—the king’s son by his second married. You need to fight back, but you also need more allies. Hence, you contact Anakin Skywalker, your old friend from the days where you almost became Jedi yourself. However, when he comes to you, he finds you a very different person… Will your friendship remain in these turbulent days? What will be of you?

Warnings 1: this is based on “House of the Dragon”s plot. For those who might not be aware with the upcoming “Game of Thrones”’s spin-off, it’s about the dispute of the iron throne between Rhaenyra Targaryen and her half brother, Aegon II. Some names are changedand some other details are different too, but the story is basically the same (hence the crossover).  

Warnings 2: this wasn’t meant to be long, but okay. It contains smut, violence, a LOT of drama with fluffy (?) ending (??).

Recommendations: this part is loosely based on “Going Under”, “Bring me to Life” and “My Immortal”, all songs by “Evanescence.”

***

Anakin’s POV.

He follows you to the boy’s bedchambers, his heart racing against his chest. Who’d have known that night where both of you followed your hearts would lead to this? Most intriguing is that he’s the father of the next king of Westeros.

As much as this information shocks the Jedi, nothing compares to the sentiment of becoming a father. However, it’s only when Anakin realizes that the boy had been raised as your husband’s son that he is very much irritated.

“Is he aware that I am his father?” Anakin asks you.

You take notice of his annoyance and, before the both of you get into Aegon’s privy chambers, you turn at him.

“Yes”, and it surprises him to hear so. “Daemon suspects, but says nothing about the matter. Aegon is a young man now so he needed to know the truth, despite being instructed not to tell this to anyone. He’s the heir of the throne regardless and is as much as a Targaryen as a Skywalker. I pray you not think that night we had, where I gave myself to you, is regretful to me. Unless it is to you.”

He is taken aback by your words, not expecting to hear them. It provides Anakin the crude vision of what lies in your heart, a long time struggle between light and dark, duties masked by ambitions, thus eclipsing sentiments that both of you had been forced to conceal due to circumstances.

Nonetheless, he sees the light in you. When you look at him ever so lovingly. Anakin steps closer to you and gently caresses your cheek.

“I did not mean to question you, my love.” It is when he confides you. “I’ve been plagued by nightmares again.”

Anakin looks away, but this only makes you sympathize with him. You are remembered of the days where you consoled and comforted him when deep fears haunted him in the shape of unreal events disguised as nightmares.

“I hate how I lost you. I was unable to choose for myself. I’d have chosen you.”

“I know. But you’ve never lost me, Anakin.” You tell him, gently. “You are irreplaceable to me. Your affections never dusted into wind. They are my only comfort. To look at our child, our boy, as much as I fear for him, is to be gladly reminded of you, of us.”

Anakin interrupts your words by kissing you passionately. Thankfully, there is no one on the corridors and the few guards present pretend they are not the ocular witnesses of what’s going on.

“You will be mine again”, he vows it.

Upon which you give a mischievous smirk.

“I’ve always been yours, Ani. As I hope you have always been mine.”

“There’s no question about that.” He presses a kiss on top of your forehead.

You do not take more time in the corridors; anytime now Obi-Wan would go back to meet them with Daemon right beside him. So Anakin follows your footsteps to the boy’s bedchambers already sensing the Force in him.

As the door is open right after you are excused of the guards’s presence, Anakin is right behind you. The son you and him conceived about nine years ago was preparing to sleep when you announce yourselves.

Anakin is thrilled, emotive when laying his eyes on his son. He is tall for his age and is every inch like you. A Targaryen, indeed, but he’s such a Skywalker in many ways.

His hair is silver and drops in his shoulders; his eyes, so vivid, possess different colors: the same blue of Anakin’s and the lilac of Y/N’s. Though serious in countenance, Anakin senses he’s more temperamental than he shows, although also counterbalanced by a deep melancholy.

He’s been exposed to constant trauma.

Anakin frowns lightly when analyzing the kid’s sentiments and thoughts. He’s confused, but fearful, seeing me with distrust: will I betray his mother like so many, including his adoptive father, did?

“Say hello to your father, Aegon”, you break the silence that has suddenly taken over the environment.

Aegon steps forward, rather reluctantly. Anakin makes sure to earn his trust, firstly by opening his arms wide and staying on his knees. The tactic works: because Aegon is inspired by the Force, which flows as naturally in him as in both his parents, he can tell of the Jedi’s true intentions. So he goes to Anakin and hugs him. And Anakin returns it, eyes tearing when sensing the kid’s scent, feeling as much as him the need of love and affection.

Oh, to grow in such troubled circumstances! How tormenting must’ve been! And yet, somehow I understand you, my boy. My son.

“Hi”, Aegon says it, still struggling with calling Anakin “father”. “I’m Aegon Targaryen.”

Anakin would’ve correct him, though. No, you are Aegon Skywalker. But what does this matter? Details, mere details. What is more important, however, is Anakin realize that his son is healthy and a survivor of this bloody dispute upon which he’s also involved whether he liked it or not.

“It’s a delight to finally meet you, my boy. I’m Anakin Skywalker.” He pauses. There’s a long glance of mutual understanding between the two parties. You watch all with a new sense of delight. It’s what you’ve dreamt all this time. “Aegon, I’m your father.”

“I know.” There’s a little smile twitching upon the corner of the kid’s lips. “I was told about you. I… I hope I can make you proud, sir. And…” he pauses, unsure what to say. Aegon turns his head to you, and you nod your head, encouraging him to speak his mind. “…i hope we can get along.”

Anakin feels tears rising to his eyes, but choked in the way to his throat, thus suffocating a sob. This meeting means so much more than he thought. When looking at Aegon, the Jedi is remembered of all the goodness that somehow mirrors the light there is in him. He’s the savior, and Anakin knows it.

“You make me very proud, son. I’m sorry we haven’t met before but I assure you I am not leaving so soon.”

Aegon’s face lightens up. He has such a good heart, Anakin beams when noticing it.

“I pray so. Can you tell me more about you?”

As much as Anakin is willing to bound with him, it is not the moment. You leave the position of observer and tell your son he needs to rest and that Anakin and him will have plenty of time to talk.

When you both say goodbye from him and return to the Conqueror’s throne room, you snake your arm into Anakin and says:

“He is a good boy.”

“He is”, Anakin agrees delightedly. “You have raised him well.”

You blush, a sight pleasant to Jedi.

“I’ve meant it what I said, though.” He insists, making you look at him. “I am not going back to the Order. I’m staying, Y/N. For good.”

***

Your POV.

The little moments of happiness you’ve enjoyed by Anakin’s side and your son Aegon’s are now past. You entrust the boy’s care to one of your ladies as the battle day comes.

Anakin watches as you come to the small council dressed for the battle. You are wearing silver armor, possessing a sword in your right side and a dagger to your left, even though you are intending to make use of your powers for the first time. Perhaps it’s by reading your intentions that Obi-Wan tells you when you have a moment before Daemon’s arrival.

“Please, Y/N. Be careful as you fly today for war. We need you safe and sound.” Before you answer, an appreciative smile forming in your lips, he adds seriously still: “And I don’t mean it physically only, but mentally too. I know more than anyone the effects of a long war.”

“I take your counsels in consideration, my former master”, you say in such a blissful manner that warms Obi-Wan’s heart. “I have endured this too long to fall now. Rest assured, old friend, that I know what to do.”

The conversation is interrupted as Daemon Targaryen walks in. He is exchanging some words to Anakin in regards to battle before looking at you.

“It’s time. They are coming.”

You give Obi-Wan one last look before nodding. To the men there present, and here you force yourself to ignore Anakin, sensing his deep concerns towards you, you address the following speech:

“My lords, today is the last day. The battle that will be either victorious to our cause or smash us in a grand downfall is to be finally fought.” You put a smile in your face as you walk around the table, the same one your ancestor once looked upon to plan the conquest of seven kingdoms.

“I, more than anyone, understand the values of sacrifice for this cause, the energies we put in efforts to defeat the usurper. But this isn’t about me anymore. This is not about this family, but to the unity of the Seven Kingdoms. I’m betting my life to it, to govern it with justice and peace. To rule, when victorious, with wisdom and balance. I’ve made mistakes in these past years that cost me so much. But this ends today. This ends now.

“We fight for the rights of your daughters and granddaughters, your wives and mothers. We fight for the justice of men; of your sons, grandsons, brothers and fathers. We fight for one righteous cause. We are not here to bend before the darkness that awaits outside. We stand together over what’s right, never tolerating what’s wrong. May those on the wrong remember that the real Targaryens are just in their claims. Therefore, if it is needed the use of fire and blood to win this war, then so be it. It’s by fire and flood we will sweep out injustice of our realm.”

It is when you are applauded. Even Daemon acknowledges your charisma, your skills presented in your speech by giving you a small smile. Perhaps in another life the two of you would have synchronized in this union.

It is time to leave. You know Anakin wishes to have some time spent with you before you go, but for the sake of you both you don’t give him his moment.

You separate at last. You fly with Daemon by your side. Mounted in Syrax, you spot the enemy. You watch as Daemon goes forward.

The battle descends in blood. It begins.

*

You fly fast forward to meet your brother Aegon II in the air. Both of your dragons collide, each claws trying to rip each one’s throat. There is offense in the air, but you try to concentrate by using the Force to your favor.

You need to know Aegon down. But sensing something is coming from you, he holds onto his dragon.

“What have you become, Y/N? Sister, you are a witch!”

“Words of a weak man such as yourself are nothing to me, Aegon.” You respond him in the air. “Often frightened boys as yourself call powerful women as me by witches. If you were so secure of yourself, you’d not offend me. But perhaps you do so by existing.”

He snorts at you, fury crystal clear in his countenances. The dragons clash again and again, dancing as high as above the clouds. Winds are cold, and there might come a storm soon.

“You will deserve the death of a traitor.” He yells at you.

As clouds get darker, so do you. A prelude of blood, an announcement of a storm.

Syrax feels the fury you are attempting to hold back, having promised Obi-Wan you’d not bargain with the dark forces, and slashes it upon your brother’s dragon by cutting it’s left wing.

It is when Aegon surprises you by removing from his back an arrow. How..? It comes faster than you’d think. He shoots you an arrow and it is close he does not hit you. You make sure Syrax presses her claws upon Aegon’s dragon. It is when he shoots you another arrow.

This time, however, he hits you.

***

Anakin’s POV.

It rains as the battle in land continues, bleeding the field with the red blood of thousands of men, clones included. Out of a sudden, however, two dragons are seen falling from skies, carrying to the ground their riders. For a moment, Anakin fears it’s you, but according to men the fallen are Aemond Targaryen and his uncle, Daemon Targaryen, your husband. Both of them are declared dead.

“What does this mean?” Anakin asks Obi-Wan right in the core of the battle.

“It means the battle is balanced”, Obi-Wan explains, preoccupied.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” He looks up and his master follows his look, anxiously noticing the shadows of two other dragons dancing deadly higher the sky. “If only I could go there.”

“Don’t be stupid, Anakin. Our roles are here to help those who require us in helping conduct the war.”

“She’s in danger! I know it! I feel it”, Anakin protests it.

Obi-Wan does not want to admit he feels something’s wrong with you too. But whilst he may be many things, he is not one known for being hopeless.

“Perhaps your judgement is clouded by your feelings for Y/N. Come, Anakin. We ought to make ourselves useful for Y/N’s cause by staying here.”

Anakin reluctantly agrees, but as he moves in the battle a strong noise captures his attention, startling all those present. Another dragon falls dead. What happens next appale him and Obi-Wan all the same.

Blood is out of your arm and leg, but you somehow resist the wounds. There is also blood in your neck and face. Your hair is a mess. You stand over your dragon, who’s occupied breaking the other’s neck.

To a general surprise, you are using the Force to choke Aegon. The usurper’s eyes go wide, struggling for air, to live. There’s no mercy in your eyes. You weep uncontrollably as you enjoy having your enemy at your mercy.

Anakin knows the sentiment. For knowing so he makes his way, despaired to prevent the scenes of his nightmares become real.

“Y/N!” He calls out your name, ignoring Obi-Wan’s own preoccupation. “Listen to me! You’ve won this war! You don’t have to prove yourself for anyone! Don’t become the one thing you vowed to destroy!”

You turn your head slowly in pure angst. Anakin could swear your eyes are beginning to acquire another coloration.

No. He’s not going to lose you to the Sith. Whereas Obi-Wan goes out to look the Sith influence in order to detect and prevent it further to have you weaved in such darkness, it’s up to Anakin to prever your fall.

“You are better than this!”

“He took away everything I hold dear! Alicent, his mother, deserves to see the fate of her dear son!” You yell at him, your hand still up in the air, manipulating the Force. Aegon is still fighting for his life. “He’s accountable of how low I went! How many deaths I died because he refused to acknowledge my birth rights! He’s the reason we are paving upon blood right now!”

Anakin is, unlike others, not fearful of the demonstration of your angst. Knowing your good side, how merciful you could be, he is aware that’s up to him to bring you back to life, to save you from your darkness.

“Do not make this bloodier than already is! Give him the justice he needs!”

You turn at him, partially blind by tears. The dragon howls and groans, so connected is Syrax to you…and your pain.

“He did not give justice to my son! To any other man who perished under his hands!”

“Y/N, this is not the Jedi way of resolving injustice! This is not the queen Obi-Wan trained you to be!” As you hesitate, Anakin is encouraged by his own speech. “This is not the woman I’ve fallen in love so many years ago! Do not let darkness consume you!”

It is then. Only then you realize what you are doing. Aegon’s life is about to end when you release the grip on him. You cry because you were so close to become what you were taught never to be.

All men breathe relieved. It seems they are all willing to forget the display of fury, for once you show mercy, it’s all good in the soldier’s mind. Nonetheless, whilst Aegon is arrested and ready for trial, Anakin holds you against him.

“It’s all right. There’s no need to surrender yourself into guilt, Y/N. I’ve been there myself”, Anakin has much to thank Obi-Wan when not so long ago he was tempted by Count Dooku. What’d happened if Obi-Wan had failed to prevent him from killing mercilessly the enemy, Anakin fears to know. But now he’s restaured to peace, he rocks you against his arms.

“You won, my love. The victory is yours”, he tells you. “In many ways, you are a victor to be looked upon.”

“But at what cost, Anakin? At what cost?”

Anakin holds you close. He makes you look at him, dwelling in these lilac eyes that hold a depth of sadness that he wishes he could erase. Whilst the world around you commemorates, it all feels so silent when you lock gazes.

“Let me sweep away your fears”, he whispers. “Trust in me, the days of fighting are gone. We can build ourselves better now.”

“I don’t think I deserve that… I disappoint Obi-Wan.” It’s all you can say. “Please, Anakin. Don’t leave me.”

He realizes he’s not the only one to have been deeply wounded by your depart so many years ago. As you sob, Anakin comes to see how this is a wound that is not healed for neither of you. But now you are reunited. Now all is good.

“I will never. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too.”

And you kissed.

***

Your POV.

You watch as old Corlys Velaryon, your hand, gives the veredict of Aegon’s trial before court.

“Aegon of the House Targaryen, how do you pledge yourself?”

Your brother’s eyes are transfixed upon you in the moment he declares himself innocent of all the crimes he’s been accused of. You are tired of feeling angry, often flowing in between it and sadness in all these years. Thanks to the aid of your lover and your former master, however, your conscience is in peace for the ending of this war.

The Hand of Queen proceeds the end of trial by saying so:

“Aegon Targaryen, unfairly associated to many as second of that name to rule Westeros, you are demoted of a throne you unjustly occupied. You broke a vow to His Grace, the late king Viserys. You committed lese-majesté against our queen Y/N. You shall, therefore, suffer the penalty reserved for traitors: death by fire.”

You are occupying your iron throne when the sentence is read out loud. By your side is the two sons—Viserys has finally been found by the Greyjoys almost three years after his disappearance—and an unborn child that your guts tell you it’s a girl.

Finally you step down your throne and come close to your brother. You spared his wife, Helaena, and a daughter who survived—she’s to marry your son Aegon. Everyone else died in the long conflict that divided the draconian dynasty.

You stare at him as you speak:

“Whatever the insults you might think about me or my character, brother, I was inclining to comute your sentence. But I understand that your mother planned to conspire against me with your whole support in the visit she was allowed to pay you. It saddens me we could not make peace as we should. But may you think of my words as the fire of Syrax engulfs you: I forgive you for all that you’d done.”

And you watch him go, rather perplexed and desolated with a heavy conscience at the words you give him. Obi-Wan comes at you and smiles:

“You did what a great queen should do. How unfortunate that some men persist in the pursuits of wars.”

“Foolish are those who cultivate greed and pride in their hearts”, you tell him. “Isn’t this a line you taught me, dear Master?”

Obi-Wan smiles, tearful upon your words.

“Indeed, my dear Padawan. You’ve come to learn so much.”

*

Later that day, you are finally crowned Queen of Westeros with the full support of the noblemen and noblewomen all across the realm. A new council is formed with a Stark replacing the old Velaryon as your Hand.

“I’m too old to be useful to you, my niece”, he says kindly to you. “I would rather give the place for those younger and with a thirst of doing things right as I in my days once had.”

“You speak as if you are dead, my lord.” You protest. “But I appreciate your honor and dedication to my cause. This will not be forgotten.”

Although you thought Lord Stark is more strict and rigid than lord Velaryon, you come to find that his sense of duty equals yours. Both of you seem to be pleased to find that.

In the meantime this happens, Alicent Hightower dies. She’d been inflicted by a long, summer fever, though there’s suggestion she’d died broken hearted. She’s mourned by the only daughter she left. Eventually Helaena asks your permission to join the Silent Sisters. You grant it, somewhat relieved because, whether you both like it or not, her presence at court was a remembrance of the days Westeros bled.

Your reign starts peacefully at last and Obi-Wan is pleased to see the woman and queen you have become. But time comes and he needs to go back to Costurant. The Sith presence in Westeros dissipated, but it’s head is found back to his homeland—and he suspects that Chancellor Palpatine might be involved.

“I wish you’d stay a little longer”, you tell him a day after you married Anakin Skywalker. An union that only pleased the lords when he refused to take part in the politics of the realm, contenting himself to be the Prince Consort. “Anakin and I owe you so much, my dear Master.”

“As much as it pleases me to know so”, says Obi-Wan. “I have duties to attend. Anakin, you’ll be missed. But you know the Order will always be open for you if you feel like going back.”

You watch him with delight in your eyes as he politely refuses the invitation his now former master extended to him.

“I appreciate, Master, but my place is beside Y/N and our son, Aegon.”

And so you say goodbye from Obi-Wan… from now.

***

Epilogue.

Anakin pants when feeling your mouth right around his erect member. His fingers grab your loose curls and gently pulls as his eyes scan yours with a smug grin on his lips. He likes seeing how a powerful queen such as yourself submits to him so easily.

In fact, it does turn him on how both of you comply to the dark side of the Force in moments like this. After the birth of Visenya Skywalker, you realize that nine months (counting perhaps the time of conception when the morning after that decisive battle happened) were enough for you. You wanted to enjoy him so much now that there are no objections for you to stay together.

And it all starts with you going down on him. You have woken up early that day with that aching in the between of your legs. Now he’s about to come into your mouth.

Perhaps he would had he not pulled you up and placed right under his body. Anakin kisses your lips passionately, having a taste of himself as his tongue dominates you—reflecting the possessive gestures he has towards you by pinning your hands above your head all the while he teases his manhood into your entrance.

“Hmm. My queen is needy today, is she not?” He speaks hotly into your ear, attentive to the reactions of your body, aware of your needs. It turns him on how desperate you are for him, so eager, so… famine.

“I want you, Anakin. Please!” You beg him.

He begins slowly, of course. Much to your dismay, he kisses your neck and little by little he goes down to your chest. His eyes stare in an almost impolitely manner to your breasts, admiring the shape of each one before placing a hand on one while engulfing the other with his mouth.

“Fuck, Anakin!” You whimper, getting your husband to smirk against your skin. “Fuck me!”

He laughs at your words and the sound gives you chills. Anakin moves his lips to your other breast all the while squeezing the other he’d been with. You sense a growing ache right there, and your moans become impatient.

Eventually, Anakin cedes to your demands by giving a finger right there. He stops what is he doing to watch you. A sly smirk crosses his lips because, oh, his wife enjoys her husband watching her.

The former Jedi overstimulates you with continuous movements right inside you, his eyes capturing every indecent thought that does not reach your mouth; every sentiment that brings butterflies to your belly; every ache that melts in his hand.

He then leaves traces of kisses to your legs before replacing his fingers to his mouth. You come undone almost immediately. You ride Anakin’s face unashamedly. You step aside to your dirty self come in, disguised by the shadowy and obscure version of yours that you never imposed to forgetfulness but embraced it and accepted it being part of you.

It is precisely that Anakin feels this side of you coming to surface, that right after your orgasm he comes to you and thrusts into you rather rapidly and intently.

“Y/nickname…” his voice contrasts to the ferocity of his moves, so caring and sweet. “I love you.”

You roll your eyes, your legs around his waist.

“I love you, Ani!” You whimper, you too softening your lust when feeling him so close to you. “I love you so much!”

It does not take much of time for you both coming in. The two of you mewl in each other’s embrace and after kisses and mutual’s professing love, Anakin cups your face and says:

“Aegon and I have finally defeated every barrier we once had. Viserys is also seeing me like his father even though I wasn’t the one conceiving him…”

There’s a small jealousy in this fact, which makes you giggle.

“You are the father he needs, my love. I’m thankful you are playing the part well.” You beam at him, holding you close.

Anakin blushes slightly at your compliments.

“I’ve always wanted a family of my own”, he confides you. “Thank you, my love, for providing me this.”

You giggle sweetly, cuddling him as much as you could.

“I have a feeling we are enlarging this family soon”, you tell him, making Anakin arching eyebrows.

“The Force is strong in us, isn’t it not?” He says, smug as always.

But in due time your prevision proves correct. Nine months after Visenya, you give birth to a girl named Rhaenys. The year next, a boy named Lukerys came with a twin sister named Leianyra. And before you knew, it becomes the time to decide for their future: whilst Aegon, the heir, marries his cousin, Viserys takes as wife a daughter of Winterfell by espousing Lord Stark’s oldest daughter. Visenya is expected to take as a a husband Princess Rhaenys and Lord Velaryon’s youngest grandson. Rhaenys’s hand is offered to the Lord of Casterly Rock, a Lannister son of your old ally Johanna. Lukerys, though, is expected to become a Jedi according to the desires of his father and Leianyra‘a betrothed to the Lord Arryn.

It does seem that everything ends well after a start in the depths of blood… until the two of you receive a visit of Ahsoka Tano.

***

Posface.

“Welcome my dear!” You greet her happily, treating her like a daughter. Anakin too is overjoyed by his former Padawan’s presence, though she is clearly uneasy. “How may we assist you? We haven’t heard of you for years.”

She takes a long gulp of wine before settling down. All smiles die when she says, clearly afflicted:

“I need your help. The Jedi Order fell. Obi-Wan’s gone to the Dark Side. He’s taken the name of Lord Vicious.”

These are not the news neither you nor Anakin expected to hear. This is not the happy ending you’ve been waiting for…

[chronicbatfictioner]

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 20

The dinner was just as Jason expected, bland, dull, a lot of formalities in which Bane was visibly struggling with and did not even bother to pretend to know the difference between steak or salad forks. Jason, Dick, and Tim managed to keep the conversation alive and light, somehow without offending the formality of the dinner. Good thing, Jason thought, that The League had taught him of formal dinner etiquette and whatnot, otherwise he would have been slurping the baiwang with the soup spoon instead of the Chinese soup spoon provided by Alfred - like Bane.

Dick, for all of his lack of etiquette education, won in the manners division - regardless of the fact that Tim was helping him by pointing out which cutlery should be used for what. At the very least, he was not beneath asking what he wasn't sure of. 

The day after was a little duller. Alfred merely informed them that the police were there along with the District Attorney, Harvey Dent, to arrest Bane on several counts of murder. Bane was arrested nearly without a fight - he had been purged of his venom strength and knew that he had no chance against some of the cops who were ready to taser him.

Jason was... frankly, a little disappointed.

"Would've been nice if there was a brawl or something," Dick voiced Jason's thought out loud just as he walked outside.

"Oh, goodness, I'm just glad this is over," Bruce commented, glaring apprehensively at Dick's back as the latter walked away with Damian. There was a good long silence before he added, "I presume now that Bane is out of this house, Damian will no longer need you two? I mean, he has me now - and his grandparents." he pointed out.

"I have vowed to guard Damian until he is an adult," Jason replied simply. Ignoring Bruce's sudden change of expression. "it is my order."

"Well, Talia... no offense. But Talia won't-- is no longer around to hold you accountable." Bruce argued.

"No, she's not. But Damian is." Jason looked at the child, sitting under one of the Manor's massive trees with a thick sketchbook before him. Dick, Jason knew, was on the tree. Even with Bane arrested, Oracle had warned that as long as he's not fully incarcerated in a maximum-security facility, he could still either get out and hurt the Waynes - including Damian. Therefore Jason asked Dick to remain with them for a little while longer. Thankfully, Dick didn't mind.

"He's a child. Children adapt well with changes of environments," Bruce said. "and if you're afraid that Bane would come back, I can hire some bodyguards for him."

Jason managed to hold back his smirk. People always thought that he was there to protect Damian; not realizing that he was protecting others from Damian's temper. Instead, he smarted, "like you protected your parents by sending them overseas."

"Oh, now, that's not fair." Bruce protested. "It was... we all thought that... at least mother and I..." he didn't finish his sentence as he exhaled exasperatedly. "His DNA check is back," he continued after a few moments of silence.

"Obviously, he hasn't a drop of Wayne blood in him," Jason suggested, a little dryly. "Something anyone with knowledge of the molecular structure of DNA would have known right away. You accepted Damian right away because you saw he has your mother's ears, in spite of his green eyes. Yet you doubted your father's denial in spite of the fact that there is nothing on Bane that resembled any of you - including about all of the portraits of your ancestors.

"And then there's something else I realized. Bane came with nothing; whereas Damian came with the Al Ghul wealth. You were more accepting because Damian would not equal splitting the Wayne wealth..."

"That is not true!" Bruce growled. "I would not have turned Damian away even if he was not Talia's child. He is my child, and I know that he is!"

"Then we're back to my initial point: You were unable to defend your parents because you did not have 100% faith in their virtues. The Al Ghuls are known leaders of the League of Assassins, to which the leadership shall now be Damian's. What will be your argument, when he decides to take over the League fully? 'Oh, I can't be associated with criminals, even if said crimes were just allegation and not a video recording of someone snapping off another person's neck'?" Jason sneered. "Now, Mister Wayne. I also would like to remind you, that I have Damian's legal custody. If you insist I should leave, I shall bring him along."

"You can't do that," Bruce scowled. "He's my biological child..."

"You have studied your country's laws, Mister Wayne. But you forgot the one crucial thing: Damian is not your country's boy by any means other than your claim." Jason mentally realized that he has placed one of his ace cards onto the table. But he honestly prefers this kind of conversation not to be had when Damian is present. And from the looks of it, he has packed his sketching materials and was making his way back indoors. "Do not try to deny Damian's access to me, or the League, Mr Wayne. He is not yours to manipulate," he added softly while Damian was still out of range.

"Hey guys, Damian and I are hungry," Dick announced as they went past the door. "Think Alfred would let us have cookies?"

"He's the one who is hungry, Todd," Damian told Jason. "I shall wait until tea time for the cookies. It is only a mere hour away."

"Why don't you scrub up a little? Tea should be ready by the time you're done." Bruce suggested.

Damian's scowl could have killed a cobra. "While I am planning on refreshing myself, father, it would be kind of you to cease directing me as if I am an imbecile," he stated, and for the second time in less than 10 minutes, Jason bit the inside of his cheek to stop a snicker.

Bruce, however, was not amused at Damian. "Well! That is not what a child should say to his father!" he admonished.

"Todd," Damian glared at Jason. "Did you not inform Mr Wayne here that I merely referred to him as 'father' due to common societal practices?" he asked with air quotes around the word 'father'.

"I have informed him that, Damian," Jason assured him.

"Do remind him on a daily basis that I am not obliged to remain here beyond what is demanded by his country's societal norms." Damian continued.

"I shall, Damian," Jason replied.

"Very well, I shall be in my quarters until tea time. You might consider feeding Grayson here, Todd," Damian said dismissively.

"I actually have some matters to discuss with you, Damian, if you don't mind. I think Grayson can fend for himself just fine," Jason told him.

"I don't mind. Let us, then." Damian said, leading the way back to his room.

Jason nodded politely to Bruce and motioned Dick to join him. "Mr Wayne, Grayson."

As they left Bruce, still standing in confusion - probably - Dick remarked, "ouch," softly.

"Go on and get your own cookies, Grayson," Jason remarked.

"I need to discuss something with you, too. You two, actually, somewhere safe." Dick said. Both Jason and Damian paused their steps. "Yeah, and we might need to call upon a certain bird for backup," Dick added, almost nonchalantly. It was not until then that Jason noticed the tenseness on his shoulders. He remembered that Dick, too, was trained to keep an eye out for danger.

"You go on ahead with Damian, I'll ask Alfred if he may have tea in his quarters." Jason decided. Damian nodded, realizing the urgency in Dick's posture, and stepped a little closer to Dick as Jason turned the other way.

Whatever it is Dick has to say, Jason could be certain now that besides himself, Dick would protect Damian fiercely. And/or protect other, possibly innocent people, from Damian's tempers.

He was just wondering why did it seem that Bruce Wayne was so intent on removing him.

And why Dr and Mrs Wayne would suddenly take a trip to Europe right after they were proverbially and literally freed from Bane.

Alfred, as usual, was in the kitchen preparing for tea time. In spite of being Americans, the Waynes seemed to like the habit of afternoon tea time.

Jason told Alfred of Damian's request, and Alfred nodded slowly. "Is Master Bruce still in the sun-room, then?" he asked.

"Last time I saw him, yeah."

"Ah, then... young Jason, may an old man request something from you and your vast knowledge of herbs?" Alfred's face was as impassive as ever when he said that, just a shade before he returned to his task of preparing some small sandwiches. But Jason was a little confused. Why would Alfred ask him for herbs? As far as Jason could tell, he was as healthy as... well, someone Jason's age, which has got to be at least a third of Alfred's; half at most. Jason didn't think that Alfred was any older than mid- to late-40s.

"Sure, how can I help?" he answered, anyway.

"Oh, I was wondering if there is any method you may suggest to... how do I put it... Chafe off surgical remains within oneself? I have had work done for my nose, you see, on a whim as a young lad; and I do not believe it looks becoming on me as I age. I feel as if it makes me look like another person is inhabiting my body, as Master Bruce was wont to say."

Jason blinked, and partially wished Dick was there to confirm his thoughts. In spite of being the exact same height as Jason, Alfred was bowing his head a little as he spoke; and Jason knew that there was a surveillance camera that would be able to record their conversation in the kitchen. His shoulders were tenser than the task of cutting bread would have required.

"Well, wow... okay. I'll need to actually search my books. You know some of the ladies back then would apply something to their skin for scars or bruises. But I'm not sure if it'll work on surgical stuff. I'll let you know?" Jason replied carefully.

"Thank you, Jason, for considering. While it shames me for being vain, it is... rather crucial." Alfred smiled at him.

"No problem, Alf," Jason patted him on the shoulder and made his way back to Damian's room - where each and every surveillance device has been disabled and/or misdirected by the combination of Tim, Barbara, and Damian's own skills.

Once Jason walked in and closed the doors of Damian's room behind him, he was greeted by both Damian and Dick's voices.

"That man is not my father, Todd! I believe my grandparents may still be in danger!" Damian exclaimed as Dick stormed over and announced 'There was an increase of drone activities outside, that's why I brought Damian in!' - followed by Damian and Dick glaring at each other, and Damian said, "Todd, we might need to acquire some new exit strategy!" at the same time as Dick saying, 'I've sent a text to Tim, but he hasn't answered. I've texted Babs, though!'

Jason cringed at them. "Whoa! Hold up! If this is how you two kids report, nobody would need surveillance equipment to hear you from Gotham Harbor!" he snarled. The two promptly stopped and glared at each other again, as if they both were hoping to have Superman's laser vision or something. "Okay, I've heard you both, and I'm upping the ante. Alfred just asked me practically for a method to dissolve foreign objects inside someone's body and allude that someone in the house is not who they seemed. And said someone might be Bruce."

Damian threw his fist to the air, stating, "I knew it!"

Dick's eyes were wide as saucers. "Okay... I would... I've wanted to say the same thing since we got in. But I was kinda scared I might be wrong. What makes you sure?"

"Alfred referred to Bruce in the past tense when talking to me," Jason said. "You? --wait, no, Damian first."

"He looked and behaved differently than the videos mother had shown me," Damian replied.

"I second Damian on this. Well, dude... we need to communicate better, don't we?" Dick said, telling the last bit toward Damian. "I've only met him once, way back when-- when my parents were... you know. But like I've told you, I remember everything from that day as if it has just happened. I remember Bruce Wayne was there with a blonde girl wearing chinchilla fur, a 50s hairdo, and an actual pearl pin. But when my parents... right after, I saw him directing traffic of people out of the tent calmly. His presence then was literally calming, like, everyone was looking at him for direction. This Bruce... generally, looked too nervous on everything; if that makes sense."

Jason thought a moment. Dick was really good at reading people's body language - even the most stoic Alfred. Before Bane was removed, Dick's assessment of Alfred was that he was uncomfortable with Bane, yet very welcoming of Damian. Thus his immediate trust in Alfred. However, since Bane was arrested and proven to not have been a Wayne; Jason hasn't got the chance to ask Dick to re-assess Alfred.

"Okay, I'll retrieve the video footage of your dad from 10 years ago from the League's servers. We'll cross-check. We'll tell the Birds once we're sure, yeah?" Jason suggested.

"Agreed," Damian nodded slowly.

"I'll have Tim keeping an eye on the Doc and Missus while we're at it, though. I mean, you know, precautions and all." Dick suggested.

"Okay, call Tim. If he doesn't answer, call Babs or his mom. I'd like this whole thing settled quickly before Bruce can do anything to harm Damian." Jason huffed a breath slowly, wondering what the hell is it with the Waynes that seemed to run on endless conspiracy theories, anyway.

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Family - 5

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1591

Warnings:  Pregnancy

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family.  When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 5: I do

The month that led up to the wedding went by very quickly.  We were all super busy setting up the compound to run without any of the actual Avengers there to run it, making sure the Tower was ready to move back into and making sure the hotel was ready for our wedding.  Both Natasha and Wanda had both started experiencing morning sickness, but most days they could keep it under control with ginger pills.

The doctors had arrived and were running their tests and just before we left to our private Caribbean island, they each had their first ultrasounds and we got to see their little peanut-shaped lifeforms growing inside them.  Everyone was excited and I was finally at peace with the idea that they were getting the kind of support I didn’t right from the start.

Two of Tony’s private jets took everyone to the island.  One contained us and the kids and the other took Rhodey, Happy, Jax, Clarke, Sam’s siblings, May and Peter Parker, Vision, and Hill.  That was the entirety of the group attending the wedding.  The bonding on Asgard had been the real wedding, this was just making a legal part and our honeymoon.

The honeymoon villa had been renovated to suit us specifically.  It had been there in the original hotel, with two bedrooms, a dining room, and living area, as well as its own private pool and a hidden entrance that led right out onto the beach.  The dining table went from a six-seater to a twelve-seater and the master bedroom was extended out and a bed to fit all ten of us was built specifically for it.

We didn’t separate at all the night before the wedding.  We’d already done all those traditions, and besides, we were far from traditional.  Instead, after breakfast, the men went to a different hotel room to get ready, while I had Natasha, Wanda, and a small team getting us ready for the ceremony.

Getting dressed wasn’t too hard.  We were wearing simple lace dresses.  Natasha and Wanda’s were in matching long red lace.  Both were fairly transparent, and while Natasha just wore matching lace underwear in the same shade of red as the dress under hers, Wanda wore a fitted black playsuit under hers.  My dress was white lace, loose fitted, and very short, only barely reaching past my ass if I raised my arms above my head or bent over.  It was also extremely transparent and I wore a matching white lace bra and panty set under it.

When we had our dresses on, they went about doing our hair and makeup.  Riley and Pietro were dressed and ready already and we were also keeping half an eye on them so neither would mess up their hair.  Riley had a long white lace dress on with her long blond hair in a halo braid with a crown of small white roses on.  Pietro had a similar crown that his shorter blond hair curled into, and he wore a pair of white linen pants with a white linen button-up shirt that was not tucked in over it.

“How nervous do you think Tony is right now?” I asked as the make-up artist put the finishing touches on my makeup.

“Groomzilla?”  Natasha asked.  “Three thousand.”

I laughed.  “But we already did the proper one.”

“Yes, but this is the public one,” Natasha said.  “And it’s legal.  You’re a Stark now.  Yeah, there was the prenup, but you now have him.  Legally.  He’s going to start thinking he’s going to fuck it up.  Plus you know that no matter what, it’s going to get out.  I can cloak us, but people will post photos.  Those photos are going to get out.  And even if they don’t - word will.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” I agreed and the makeup artist moved away making room for the hairstylist to put my crown of white frangipani on.  My hair was just left in loose curls that hung down my back and over my shoulders.

“Mm-hmm,” Natasha hummed getting up.  Her hair was in a half braid with small red roses worked into it.

The stylist looked me over and gave me a nod.  “I think you’re ready,” she said.

I stood and did a half-twirl.  “What do you think?”

Wanda looked up at me from where they were threading red Frangipanis into her braid.  “He’s going to cry.”

“It’s gonna make his pirate liner run,” Natasha teased.

I gigged.  “But I barely even look like a bride.”

She shrugged and they let Wanda up.  I picked up my bouquet of pale green, pink, and white tropical wildflowers and looked around.  “Do I have everything?”

“Old, new, borrowed, blue? Garters?”  Wanda asked.

“Well, I can see you’re wearing your underwear, so that’s no problem,” Natasha teased.

“I don’t have any of the other things,” I said, making a face.

“How can you have a proper American wedding without the traditional wedding things?”  Wanda asked.

I shrugged.  “I don’t like to do traditional things.  Also if I add a garter to this outfit I’ll look like a stripper.”

Natasha looked me up and down.  “Confirmed.”

I laughed.  “Thanks, Nat.”

“You’re the one that dressed as a stripper for your wedding,” she teased.

Wanda picked up the bottle of bubble mix and the little satin cushion with the rings on them, while Natasha got both of their bouquets of red and white wildflowers.

“Okay, let’s go get married,” I said.  “Come on, kiddos.”

We went down to the hidden entrance.  I could see the wedding arch standing on the sand, the men all milling around it.  In front of them were chairs set up in an aisle with our very small group of guests sitting at them.  There were threads from me to every single person there, except the staff.  It looked like a big web of light.

Wanda gave Riley her bottle of bubbles and the cushion to Piet as a staff member gave the nod to the duo on acoustic guitar and they began to play ‘Fluff’ by Black Sabbath.

“Okay, kiddos.  It’s time,” I said crouching to talk to them.  “Pietro, can you walk down to your daddies?  Not too fast, not too slow.  Go with the music.”

“Otay, mommy,” Pietro said and went through the gate and down the aisle that was laid out with petals.

When he was about halfway down I pointed Riley in the right direction.  “You next, bug.   Make sure you blow lots of bubbles for everyone but follow your brother.”

She nodded and took off after Pietro a little too fast.  I chuckled as I watched her and Wanda took her flowers from Natasha.  “See you down there, my love,” she said and kissed me gently before heading out after the kids.

I took Natasha’s hand and squeezed it a little too hard.  “Oh, so now you’re nervous?”  She teased.

I nodded.  “Just a little.”

“It’s Tony,” she said.  “And us.”

I nodded.  “I know and we did it already.”

She looked at me with her head tilted.  “Will you be okay for two seconds?”

I nodded.  “Yes.  I’ll be okay.”

She kissed me gently and let my hand go.  “See you soon, Mrs. Stark.���

I watched her walk down and when she got to the end I stepped out through the gate.  Tony looked up at me, his eyes shimmering.  He was fidgeting a little, shifting from one leg to another and tapping his fingers on his thighs.  When I reached him I offered him my hand and he took it quickly, his hands shaking slightly.

“Hey,” I said softly and gave his hand a small squeeze.

“Hi,” he replied, just as softly.

The celebrant stepped up to us and began. “First,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’d like to begin by welcoming everyone and thanking each and every one of you for being here on this happiest of days.  It’s no accident that each of you is here today, and each of you was invited here because you represent someone important in the individual and collective lives of Tony and Elise.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the joining of these people.  A union that has already been made, but will now be formalized in front of you, their closest friends and family.  Not just two hearts but many using these two individuals as a symbol of their group’s unity,” he said and focused his attention on Tony and I.  “This contract is not to be entered into lightly, but thoughtfully and seriously, and with a deep understanding of its obligations and responsibilities.  Tony and Elise have prepared vows that they will read now.”

Tony cleared his throat and looked into my eyes.  “I, Anthony Edward Stark, take you, Elise Frances Cooper, to be my wife.  I promise to never lock you out of my lab, especially when you’re only wearing a lab coat and nothing else.  I promise that I’ll never enact the ‘kick you out of the tower’ protocol on you and that we will get Shake Shack after every stuffy event I take you to.  I promise to make sure I cherish you every second we spend together but to make sure I let the others do that too.  Today, tomorrow, and for our forever.”

I teared up as he spoke despite the soft laughter from everyone around.  I squeezed his hands and took a deep breath.  “I, Elise Frances Cooper, take you Anthony Edward Stark to be my husband.  I promise to be patient when you get all caught up with your work and to try not to distract you from it unless I’m only wearing a lab coat.  I promise to not get all weird when you give me presents and to listen carefully when you say ‘I love you’ when you aren’t using your words.  I promise to love you with all my heart, just exactly the way you deserve so you never doubt that I am here for you and I’m not ever going anywhere.  Today, tomorrow, and for our forever.”

“Do you Tony, take Elise to be your wife?”  The celebrant said.

“Can I say maybe?”  Tony teased.  “No?  Too late?”  I giggled and pouted playfully and he caressed my cheek with his thumb.  “I do.”

“Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect her until death do you part?”  The celebrant asked.

“I do,” Tony repeated.

“And do you, Elise, take Tony to be your husband?”

“I do,” I replied.

“Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect him until death do you part?” He asked.

“I do,” I repeated.

“Then can we have the rings?”  He asked.

“Dat’s me!”  Pietro shouted, getting up off the ground where he and Riley had been building a mound in the sand.   He bounced over with the pillow and Tony crouched down and took it off him.

“Thanks, bumblebee,” he said, kissing his son’s forehead.  He got back up and untied the rings from the cushion and handed one to me.

“These rings are forged from precious metals taken from the earth, raw and imperfect.  They were shaped and molded into the perfect circle.  Unbroken and never-ending.  Just as the love you have for each other was rough and imperfect and was shaped and molded together to something strong and eternal.  Place them on your fingers as a symbol of your love,” the celebrant said.  Tony’s hand shook a little as he slipped the ring on my finger and while I slid his into place on his.

“By the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.  You may kiss each other,” the celebrant announced.

“About time,” Tony said, pulling me flush against me and dipping me back as he kissed me deeply.  Around us, the others kissed too, and our small gathering of friends and family all cheered.

When he let me back to my feet, he held my hand tight and the celebrant held up his hands.  “I now present to you, not just the happy couple, but the full polyamorous family!”

The guitarist started to play an acoustic version of ‘Back in Black’ and we made our way back down the aisle in pairs, a legal binding now part of our family bond.

// NEXT

[aces-to-apples]

Written for Day 5: Fluff of Codywan Week 2020 @codywanweek

Here on AO3

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Category: Multi Relationship: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi Characters: CC-2224 | Cody, CT-7567 | Rex, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker Additional Tags: Background Padmé Amidala/CT-7567 | Rex/Anakin Skywalker, Implied/Referenced Future Rexsoka, GFY

For best results please look at this Rex and this Cody before reading.

“tribute”

Another one of the local little chompers marched towards the dais with all the solemnity and determination of a verd’ika plucking their first set of whites off the assembly line. Cody met Rex’s eye and they both very carefully avoided grinning at the sight. Not only could it be bad for their relationship with said locals, it wouldn’t do to let their Jedi think they were, in fact, having a good time up there.

When the kid came to a halt a ‘respectful’ distance away, Cody nodded for them to approach and bent his head to receive the kid’s blessing and subsequent gift. He watched Rex do the same.

The celebration had been going for hours, by that point, and they’d amassed a pile of shiny little wearable trinkets to give any sovereign of Naboo a run for their credits and enough blessings to make them holier than most deities. It’d been a relief, at the start of the night, to hear that—aside from the ceremonial outfits they’d been bullied into wearing—he and Rex were free to redistribute the gifts as they saw fit. Something about sharing luck, or good vibes, or what have you.

Said ceremonial outfits, on the other hand, they were obliged to keep and maintain with honor.

Obi-Wan had smoothed over any offense they’d given with their lacklustre reaction to the news but Rex’s general had been less than subtle in his delight at their new possessions. Tano, at least, had just told them they looked nice and kept her own mocking to a bare minimum.

And it wasn’t that they were grateful, Cody had reflected at the start of the celebration, when he and Rex had stepped out under the light of the moons to deafening cheers, but. It wasn’t quite their style, no matter how well the two of them pulled off the intricate, and admittedly beautiful, get-ups.

Rex, by dint of his Torrent paintjob, had been immediately deemed the locals’ Goddess of War come again and draped accordingly in layers of blue fabric. Some of it was dark and blaster-resistant and some of it pale and so sheer as to be almost nonexistent. Bands of silver, often studded with precious blue stones, were wrapped around his wrists, forearms, biceps, and throat, and a silver cap affixed with yet more jewels and a pale blue veil had been placed on his head with much reverence.

After a great deal of muttered debate, they determined that Cody must be their war deity’s twin, the Goddess of Beauty. Not an insult by any means…

The traditional garb he’d been presented with, by contrast, was deep red with a long flowing cape and headdress of heavy twisted fabric. It came with its own set of jewelry, as well, shining gold and polished red stones, bulky and eye-catching around his wrists and throat and slim and delicate around his forearms and biceps. Something about the placement was culturally significant, but hells if Cody was going to ask what.

They’d already lost the battle against: 1) staying for several days to rest and recuperate, 2) accepting the titles of living incarnations of their local deities and all the celebration that entailed, and 3) keeping both the get-ups and the gifts for themselves.

No way was Cody going to invite more conversation about their cultural practices. He could win against droids and bounty-hunters and half-baked Sith, but apparently, he couldn’t convince a bunch of over-awed, Mid Rim locals that he and Rex weren’t tools of War and Beauty.

Tools of the Republic, sure, but nothing divine.

The leader of the city they’d liberated had just smiled gently and reassured them that belief on their part was not necessary, only acceptance of their gratitude. Which came with lots of shiny metal, sparkly rocks, and a pair of gowns that they had to either accept or throw into a sacrificial fire and publicly reject.

Obi-Wan had stepped in at that point.

He’d assured everyone that they had no interest in disrespecting their culture and asked for a debrief about the ceremony.

Wear the outfits, sit on the thrones, and let people fawn over them at least a little bit, had basically been the long and short of it. But, hey, they were comfortably cushioned, well-fed, and kept hydrated throughout the whole thing, so it could have been worse. Sharp-toothed little ankle-biters shyly kissing their foreheads and handing them shiny bits and bobs before scampering off weren’t much of a hardship.

“How’re you fellas doing?” Skywalker asked, strolling up to the dais with a grin that had yet to falter all night. “Getting into the spirit of the thing? Really feeling the divinity flow through you?”

Plenty vode had wandered over to check on them over the course of the night, mostly to heckle, but the Jedi had visited just as frequently. And for similar reasons, too.

The way Rex’s general had been eyeing him all night, Cody was almost worried for Rex’s safety. He’d heard plenty of complaints from Obi-Wan about Skywalker’s willingness to eat damn near anything; who was to say that he hadn’t acquired a taste for Mandalorian-adjacent flesh and wouldn’t gobble poor Rex up in just a few bites.

He was pretty sure Commander Tano was having some kind of intermittent crisis over at their table as well.

It was his responsibility, as both Marshal Commander and ori’vod, to bring his concerns to his superior officer and then ruthlessly mock all three of them. After Skywalker eventually got tired of making Rex blush and wandered away whistling a jaunty tune to a very raunchy cantina song, that was.

“So does that ‘angel’ of his know the two of you have started sharing blankets since your last stop-over on Coruscant or should I start planning your funeral now?” Cody said archly, watching his vod’ika visibly consider punching him. “I’ll be sure to wear this and lie about how smart and good-looking you are, like a proper vod.”

Rex pressed a hand over his eyes and groaned. “Angel knows,” he admitted, darting an unsubtle glance at his general’s shebs. “What I am afraid of, though, is that next time we stop over on Coruscant she’s gonna have a whole new wardrobe just like this one and it will just happen to be in my size.”

“Well, hey, get a full-coverage veil and you’re probably good to step out with them,” Cody said with false sympathy, gleefully imagining the uproar that would cause. “Just make sure they’re made out of that fabric that’s designed to ruin holos. Pakod.”

The ol’ boy made a sound like a malfunctioning mouse-droid.

“Is it too much to believe that I’d like to spend whatever leave I get wearing as few clothes as possible?” he wailed, quietly, with a desperation that made Cody think this was an argument he and the senator had gotten into before. With this revelation in mind, he snapped a few holos of his own while Rex was distracted and vowed to get them to the senator if Skywalker’s brain cell was too lonely to manage it. “Isn’t it enough that I have this already?”

“Oh, dear me,” a low voice said from behind Cody’s left ear, “I can’t imagine how terrible it must be to have two attractive, attentive lovers who wish to shower you with tokens of their affection. Truly, Captain, your misery must be exquisite.”

Cody turned his head to press a sloppy kiss to Obi-Wan’s cheek in gratitude for the pitiful sound his words had drawn out of his favorite brother.

“General,” Rex whined pathetically, “they keep getting me plants. Alive ones, dead ones, prickly ones, poisonous ones. My quarters are being taken over by non-sentient invaders.”

Obi-Wan made a little noise of patently fake sympathy. “My old master’s quarters were like that as well,” he commiserated, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin behind Cody’s ear. The noise of the locals around them changed in pitch, but Cody’d had enough to drink over the course of the evening to not feel worried by the change. If he was lucky, Obi-Wan would be shoved into a pretty outfit like this next. “It drove me mad that he never formally answered, let alone turned down, any of the suits. Just let the poor, smitten beings keep sending him gifts. So uncivilized.”

“Speaking of uncivilized,” Cody said, wondering if he could get away with pulling Obi-Wan down onto his lap.

Rex rolled his eyes. “If I don’t get to canoodle in public with my Jedi then you don’t get to with yours,” he huffed, leaning over to push Obi-Wan a few inches away. “Leave room for the Force, sirs.”

“‘Leave room for the Force’?” Obi-Wan repeated, nonplussed, while Cody found himself hung up on, “Canoodle?”

No longer quite so flustered, Rex shrugged. “Skywalker talks like a scandalized opera singer, sometimes, and Ahsoka says that when she catches the lads giving each other a tune-up. How’s the kid doing, by the way?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan said ruefully, “she’s seventeen and in the middle of a war and puberty. Thus far, I believe she’s coped by placing you all in the ‘dear friends and family whom deserve her utmost respect’ category of her mind, rather than allowing herself to see you as attractive young men. Tonight seems to be causing some kind of breakdown in that line of thinking.”

Cody turned to give Rex his full attention and clapped him on the shoulder. “Cheers, vod’ika, keep it up and you might have a full set soon!”

In response, Rex covered his face with both hands and groaned again.

“Remind me to send the good captain some appropriate literature about age of consent laws, would you, dear?” Obi-Wan murmured into his ear. He most assuredly was not leaving room for the Force between them. “Until then, I believe you mentioned being uncivilized?”

Cody made a mental note to remind him as requested before standing up, bowing at the local assembly, and following Obi-Wan wherever he led.

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

Me, two days ago: I’m so sad, man. Not sure if I’ll EVER MAKE FROZEN STUFF AGAIN. Old Frozen Fandom Favs: We gotchu, fam. Me, through grateful tears: THANK YOU.

(Spoilers, obvs.)

...

Every date book, ledger, almanac, and to-do list in the castle has Fridays marked off in the brightest red ink that Kai could procure; the bold red text is also accompanied by some hard-to-decipher sketches, as Olaf has been dabbling in Realism, of late, and insists on practicing portraiture whenever and wherever possible.

(Much to the chagrin of Gregers, who is in charge of maintaining the main floor parlors. I appreciate the generous offer, Olaf...but, no, we cannot relocate the portrait of King Hakon the First to make room for your...ah, hrm...art.)

Anna regards the collection of papers on the desk with a smile, because out of the corner of her eye, she can see the bright red letters nearly crowding out the date marker.

FAMILY GAME NIGHT!

Olaf shuffles in, a bundle of papers tucked under one twig arm, his snowy brow furrowed.

“Any luck this time?” Anna asks brightly, already knowing the answer. 

Olaf tosses the stack of papers on top of the other papers on the desk, and Anna chuckles, rolling her eyes as she scoots them off to one side.

“Gregers just can’t appreciate my vision,” he explains with a dramatic sigh, before throwing himself on a nearby chaise. “He doesn’t understand that I use the cathartic release of creative expression to cope with my bludgeoning maturity and creeping existential dread.”

Anna sifts through the stack of drawings, taking time to examine each one thoroughly, “Artists are often unappreciated in their time,” she tells him. “...I think you mean burgeoning.”

“Oh, right!” Olaf exclaims, hopping upright, all moodiness forgotten. “Burgeoning, of course.”

“Oooh, I like this one!” Anna extracts a still-dripping painting that is an interesting collection of swirled colors and...some oddly-shaped dark lumps in the middle. 

“You have an excellent eye,” Olaf says, smoothing his previous exuberance into an exaggerated air of refinement. He clasps his stick hands behind his back and saunters over, gesturing to the runny paint. “It’s a commentary on planned obsolescence in industry and economics.”

Anna squints.

“...It kinda looked like a family portrait, to me.”

Olaf hops up on the desk, and squints with her.

“Oh, yeah,” he says after a moment. “This is my scathing indictment on the waste hierarchy,” he gestures to another equally drippy drawing. “That one’s a family portrait. You can tell because Sven’s right there!”

He indicates one of the larger blobs, and Anna nods.

“Thought so.”

“I’m gonna go show Kristoff!” Olaf declares, reaching for the pile. It’s then that Anna sees the paint trail that Olaf has left behind him, and thinks of poor Kai.

“Um, maybe we should let them dry a little more, Olaf,” Anna suggests, gathering her skirt and stooping to try and rub out a puddle of blue paint. She panics a little as she makes it worse, and decides to slide the rug over the offending spot. “You can show Kristoff later tonight. And Elsa, too!”

Olaf gasps excitedly. “Elsa!” He exclaims, leaping from the desk. “Is it Friday already?! It haunts me...the passage of time...” He intones, before beaming broadly. “Is she bringing Bruni?”

“Proooooobably not,” Anna says, taking a seat back at the desk. Olaf waddles over and reaches out his arms, a silent request. Anna obliges, pulling him up so that he’s seated on her lap, and can look at the date book when she pulls it over. “Kai...didn’t appreciate what Bruni did to the dining hall wall hangings.”

Olaf giggles at the memory.

“That fire was huge.”

“A ‘colossal conflagration’,” Anna agrees, smiling as Olaf excitedly repeats the phrase, vowing to add it to his vocabulary...maybe ‘sprinkle it into casual conversation.’ He’s going to share it with Elsa tonight, certainly.

He goes on, and Anna listens, though admittedly her mind is wandering...thinking of the strange new shape their lives have taken. It’s a good strange! ...Most of the time. She loves the challenge that each new day brings--new problems to solve and new people to talk to. She marvels at how easy it was to slip into the role of Queen--something she’d never even considered, and yet...feels like such a natural fit.

But of course. Some days drag. Some challenges feel less like mountains to scale, and more like storms to be weathered. It frustrates her--she’ll pace and ramble and, Kristoff, can you beLIEVE these tariffs? Maybe we could live without salt. We could do that, right? Wait, no, how would we pickle anything.

Which is why she loves Fridays--she can take a break, spend the afternoon with Kristoff, critique Olaf’s latest artistic endeavor...and of course, as the shadows grow longer, and the lamplighters take to the town square, there’s the promise of game night, and with it? 

A visit from Elsa.

And speaking of...Anna can hear the window panes rattle as a breeze blows through. Not just any breeze, though.

“Gale!” Olaf says, wiggling his way off of Anna’s lap and onto the floor. He hurries to the window and grins in greeting at the swirl of leaves. “So good to see you! How’ve you been? What are your thoughts on Turner’s use of light as relates to his preferred subject matter, namely, big boats?”

Anna shakes her head, and leaves Olaf to talk to the...leaves. She finds Kristoff already out in the hall, Sven close behind.

“Hey, have you seen the hourglass anywhere?” he asks as they head for the stairs. Sven grunts, seeming to echo Kristoff’s question. “It wasn’t in the study, and Sven said he didn’t take it down to the stables.”

“I’m pretty sure it ended up in the southern courtyard,” Anna tells him. Kristoff slowly nods.

“Oh...right. After it went through the window.”

“Uh-huh.”

It had been...a very intense game of charades.

Kristoff and Sven turn down another hall, heading for the courtyard. Anna approaches the main foyer, and waves Kai off, who is already halfway there.

“I got it, I got,” Anna assures him, as she does every week. He smiles and steps back, allowing the queen to pass, and open the doors wide.

“Els--” Anna starts to say, “...Uuuuhhhh?”

“Hi, Anna,” Elsa waves in greeting.

Or. At least. Anna...thinks it’s Elsa. It certainly sounds like Elsa, but.

“What. What am I looking at, here?” Anna asks, and she can hear Kai guffaw behind her.

Elsa looks down at herself, and Anna thinks maybe she’s wearing a sheepish expression, but it’s hard to say.

Hard to say, because Elsa is covered, head-to-toe, in brightly-colored autumn leaves.

“Oh. This?”

“What do you mean oh this? Of course this!” Anna says, but she’s laughing, circling her sister, taking in every inch of the outrageous sight before her. “What did you do? Bring the whole North Woods with you?”

“Bruni and I were exploring this morning,” Elsa explains, trying to shake off some of the offending foliage. Anna can just about see an elbow in there. “There was a...bug.”

“A bug.”

“That we hadn’t seen before.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And. We followed it.”

“Into a pile of leaves?”

“Well, no.”

“No?”

“The leaves came later.”

“Ah.”

Elsa’s still trying to get rid of the leaves, but to no avail. Anna smiles and helps, but not before shaking her head in wonder.

Because so many things have changed--and not just any changes. Big, intimidating changes. 

But the little things. Like Kristoff’s large, calloused hand around her own, when they walk along the mountain trails together in mid-morning, like Olaf’s delighted laugh when Sven steals his carrot nose at the dinner table...

Like Elsa’s boundless curiosity, and her warm, welcome, hugs.

Those things never change. 

(...Well. Elsa’s hug is quite a bit leafy, this time.)

[cecilspeaks]

156 - The Trouble with Time

‘tis better to have loved and lost Than to be slowly eaten whilst still alive. There are, on the whole, Many things worse than having loved and lost. Welcome to Night Vale.

Well, listeners, we have all been grappling with the same problem. Time has become normal in Night Vale, or as normal as time ever is. Time is pretty weird everywhere. As a result of this shift in our experience of time, none of us are remaining the same age for centuries anymore. We are aging one year per year, one month per month, one second per precious second. Every moment that passes our skin is less supple. Our mind is less pliant. Our joints ache just a little more.

The entire town is in an uproar, as we are all coming to terms with the idea of getting older. Gym memberships have soared. Everyone is talking at the same time and they’re all recommending green juice diets to each other. The City Council has tried to make ageing illegal, but it turns out this would be unconstitutional as the Supreme Court decided that slow deterioration of the mind and body is an American right.

I myself am not immune to these worries. When I think about what my life would be like after Carlos or, what his life would be like after me… These are the kinds of fears that can’t be shaken off by the light of day. That linger, even after all the shadows of evening have faded. Is love a gift in a finite world? I’d like to think so, but oh, my stomach is in knots. I’m sure your sis too.

And now a word from our sponsors. Afraid of ageing? Terrified of the tides of time? Spooked by the sequential nature of existence? Stop looking at the calendar and moaning. Sure, it may be cathartic to start every morning by picking up your alarm clock and shouting: “You are a murderer! Your numbers are murder weapons! I am the murder victim!” But it’s not helping you out. Instead, try lotion. Just lotion those limbs. Lotion that face. Got any other parts? Lotion them too. Rubbing lotion on yourself won’t stop time. It won’t end the inevitability of death. But when you die, you will be silky smooth, and folks will whispers: “Why, it doesn’t look like they’ve aged a single day.” Buy lotion now and we will send you a box of other things that will not stop you from dying, but will make you feel a little better on your way out the door. Such as fish oil pills, a pair of running shoes, and books with titles like “Get Happy Now, or Else”. Lotion – you can’t stop ageing, so settle on mitigating the surface appearance of ageing. And this has been ma word from our sponsors.

In a new press release, Night Vale resident Leah Shapiro announces the Mariam McDonald memoriam fund. This fund, in honor of the recently deceased Mariam, will be used to finally fulfil Mariam’s lifelong dream, a dream she did not live long enough to see come to fruition: the removal of all sand from the Sand Wastes.  Mariam hated the sand, thought it looked frightfully untidy, and that it made a bad first impression for folks just coming to town. She could often be seen when she was alive out with her broom, dutifully sweeping the dunes into her dustpan, and depositing the result into a black trashbag. Obviously, this was slow going, but Leah has vowed to continue Mariam’s quest. “It’s a stupid wish, a real dumb one,” said Leah. “I hate it! I hate it so much, but I don’t know, it’s what Mariam wanted. And so I feel obligated for some reason to keep after it. God, this sucks!” Leah concluded. According to the press release, the Mariam McDonald Memorial Fund currently contains 3 dollars, and is not taking donations. Well, isn’t that the feelgood story of the year? Good luck, Leah. I do hope you get rid of all that sand. Mariam was right, sand is very untidy.

And now for the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner. So today, we will be discussing how to tell whether something is a person. Here are simple tests that can be done at home with whatever you find in your parents’ cabinets when they don’t know you’re looking. Does it grow? It’s a person. Does it bend? It’s a person. Is it square or similar to a square? That’s a person. Nodes or nodules? Person. A frank and enticing laugh? Person. Can it hold liquid? Person. Is it a dog? Yup, that’s a person too. That ooze at the back of your closet? Not a person. We don’t know what hat is, best not to touch it, best not to think on it. Perhaps it is the thinking that gives it its power. This has been the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner.

In response to the current “time is normal” crisis, many companies are moving in to offer services to alleviate ageing. Arby’s is suggesting that a regular diet of roast beef has been shown to extend life expectancy by up to 20 years. When they were asked who showed that and how they did so, Arby’s kind of mumbled and sad that they would have those sources for us soon, but in the meantime, come on down and buy yourself a meal. 

A number of new gyms have opened up in town, promising advanced workouts that will keep the body and mind tiptop. There is an LA Fitness, also a 26 Hour Fitness, which promises workouts at any time day or night, plus two bonus hours every day that are only experienced by members. And local legend Louie Blasko has started what he calls a Crossfit gym, but it appears to be just the burned out remains of his old music store, untouched since the night of the fire. “Oh yeah,” Louie said. “You can really get a good workout in here, believe me.” His eyes flicked back and forth nervously.

A different angle is being taken by newcomer to town, Casper Rhodes. Casper says that he has conquered the ultimate obstacle: death itself. He does this by freezing the brain upon death until it can be resuscitated by advanced technologies of the future. “Cryogenics means never having to say ‘I’m dead’,” Casper declared, whirling around the red cape he wears and wiggling his eyebrows. “Oh yes, this is a completely real technology. Once you die, we simply and safely remove your bran and freeze it in here.” He indicated the disused grain silo on the edge of town. “That thing is full of brains,” he said. “And each of those brains will be reanimated to a bright and beautiful future hundreds of years from now, and you can too, for a mere 10,000 dollars. Payable upfront, no refunds offered.”

Suspicious journalists asked if they could take a peek in the grain silo and see if it was actually full of brains. But Mr. Rhodes blocked the door with his body. “Uh oh uh,” he said. “Opening the door would mess up the, uh, freezing process. Uh, wouldn’t want that to happen. You just have to trust us.” Hmmmmm.

And now traffic. It’s looking pretty clear on the roads right now. There isn’t a single car to be seen. The parking lots are barren, the highways are mere doodles of the gods without the roaring machines that give them purpose. Where did every car disappear to? We wonder this as we walk to work. Walk to school. Learning the limits and the capacity of our own legs, magnificent machines attached to our own bodies that we had long ago discounted, but now can only propel ourselves by the length of them. And then again and again, one after another. The hours pass and we gradually pass through them, and where are the cars? Did they ever exist? The factories where cars once were built are now full of robots with no purpose, arms ending in specialized tools and drills, all designed to construct a thing that no longer is there to be constructed. And so they bob and weave for nothing. In this way, perhaps, it could be said that they are dancing. To take purpose from a movement is to suggest the possibility of art within it, that perhaps the movement could have meaning merely for itself, but I ask again: where are the cars? Where did they go? Every other form of transportation still exists. Planes still claw their way into the stratosphere, while boats wobble on churning seas. Motorcycles even, given the compete freedom of the highway, tearing into the turns and straightaways at dangerous speeds, but no cars. Was it something we did? Is this our fault? At least there’s no traffic, I guess, and we’re all getting a little more time outdoors which is nice and, oh – Nevermind. The cars are back, all of them. Aaaall at once, driverless and speeding. Well, it’s nice to have them back. This has been traffic.

And now for corrections. In a previous editorial aired on this station, a reporter indicated his belief that peanut butter is a type of rock. That reporter sincerely believed, based on a half remembered lesson from elementary school that he now realizes might have actually been a cartoon he watched, that peanut butter along with sedimentary, metamorphic, and ignius was in fact one of the main types of rock. This reported harbored no ill intent when he lectured for what may or may not have been two hours about his belief that peanut butter was a type of rock. This well meaning reporter may have ignored several calls from his scientist husband, who was trying to get through to correct this completely understandable mistake. But the reporter was on such a roll that he didn’t even notice the calls coming in. Which could happen to anyone. The reporter may have even printed up posters for local schools showing the types of rock, with peanut butter prominently included. If that is the case, these schools should feel free to return the erroneous posters, or keep them, if they feel it might be in some way educational. In any case, the reporter in question regrets the error and now amidst that maybe, peanut butter isn’t a type of rock. Maybe that’s true. Decide for yourself. This has been corrections.

Casper Rhodes and his Quality Cryogenics Corporation continue to advertise their dubious service all over town. He has bought a billboard next to the Waterfront Recreation Area declaring: “A new life awaits you in the future”, with a picture of a disembodied brain that is somehow both smiling an giving a thumbs up, despite its lack of hands and mouth. The Quality Cryogenics Corporation strung a banner along the top of the disused grain silo on the edge of town saying the name of the company. Except the word “quality” has been misspelled, as has “corporation”. Listeners, I am not one to editorialize, not after the recent peanut butter debacle we’ve heard so much about. But it does not seem to me that this Mr. Rhodes is on the up and up. Nothing about this strikes me as a scientific operation, and trust me, I know from scientific operations. Despite these warning signs, a few people have in fact taken them up on their offer, including weekday shift managers at the Ralphs, Charlie Bear, whose lifetime ambition of becoming a ghost has recently curdled into a frantic fear of death. “I thought we had eternity. Now every minute spent is a minute lost,” Charlie said to me when I asked him if they had any more cilantro. So that was a bummer on my afternoon. I must warn everyone not to buy into this Casper charlatan’s lies. Cryogenically freezing brains is not going to save you. In fact, it is time for me to bust this scam wide open. I will sneak into the disused grain silo, and I will tel you what is inside. Then all of us will know the truth.

As I head over there, Let’s all head over To the weather.

[“Revolution Lover” by Left At London http://leftatlondon.com]

OK, listeners I’m.. hold on. This portable recording rig is just a little heavy. Whoo! I have got to get back to my weight training. I was deadlifting as much as 15 pounds, and now look at me.

OK, I am looking up at the towering disused grain silo on the edge of town. The silo that one Casper Rhodes would claim contains cryogenically frozen brains, destined to be reawakened in the future. Well, I’m sure Mr. Rhodes, but allow me to just check in on it myself. The door to the silo is locked with a padlock and heavy chain. Fortunately, I don’t go anywhere without my Special Reporter’s welding torch. It comes in handy more than you’d think. [welding noises] And off it goes. Another win for the first amendment. Listeners, I am opening the heavy metal doors [creaking], and inside it is dark even in this late afternoon sun. I am stepping in. [voice echoing] My eyes are adjusting and oh my god! Listeners, oh my god! The tanks are full, frozen intact human brains, attached to various support equipment, it is all completely clean and seemingly running well, this – this isn’t a scam! The great Casper Rhodes is telling the truth! Death is now voluntary, aging is meaningless! We will all see the future! We will ALL see the future!

Listeners, I must go, I must talk to my husband. We could be together forever, don’t you see? A new world awaits us in the future! I must talk to Carlos, I must! [equipment drops]

Today’s proverb: On one hand, you have skin. On the other hand, you don’t- oh man, what happened to that hand?!!

[mattginnow]

JFK

Matt Ginnow Matthew Ginnow

President Pitzer, Mr. Vice President, Governor, Congressman Thomas, Senator Wiley, and Congressman Miller, Mr. Webb, Mr. Bell, scientists, distinguished guests, and ladies and gentlemen:

I appreciate your president having made me an honorary visiting professor, and I will assure you that my first lecture will be very brief.

I am delighted to be here, and I’m particularly delighted to be here on this occasion.

We meet at a college noted for knowledge, in a city noted for progress, in a State noted for strength, and we stand in need of all three, for we meet in an hour of change and challenge, in a decade of hope and fear, in an age of both knowledge and ignorance. The greater our knowledge increases, the greater our ignorance unfolds.

Despite the striking fact that most of the scientists that the world has ever known are alive and working today, despite the fact that this Nation¹s own scientific manpower is doubling every 12 years in a rate of growth more than three times that of our population as a whole, despite that, the vast stretches of the unknown and the unanswered and the unfinished still far outstrip our collective comprehension.

No man can fully grasp how far and how fast we have come, but condense, if you will, the 50,000 years of man¹s recorded history in a time span of but a half-century. Stated in these terms, we know very little about the first 40 years, except at the end of them advanced man had learned to use the skins of animals to cover them. Then about 10 years ago, under this standard, man emerged from his caves to construct other kinds of shelter. Only five years ago man learned to write and use a cart with wheels. Christianity began less than two years ago. The printing press came this year, and then less than two months ago, during this whole 50-year span of human history, the steam engine provided a new source of power.

Newton explored the meaning of gravity. Last month electric lights and telephones and automobiles and airplanes became available. Only last week did we develop penicillin and television and nuclear power, and now if America’s new spacecraft succeeds in reaching Venus, we will have literally reached the stars before midnight tonight.

This is a breathtaking pace, and such a pace cannot help but create new ills as it dispels old, new ignorance, new problems, new dangers. Surely the opening vistas of space promise high costs and hardships, as well as high reward.

So it is not surprising that some would have us stay where we are a little longer to rest, to wait. But this city of Houston, this State of Texas, this country of the United States was not built by those who waited and rested and wished to look behind them. This country was conquered by those who moved forward–and so will space.

William Bradford, speaking in 1630 of the founding of the Plymouth Bay Colony, said that all great and honorable actions are accompanied with great difficulties, and both must be enterprised and overcome with answerable courage.

If this capsule history of our progress teaches us anything, it is that man, in his quest for knowledge and progress, is determined and cannot be deterred. The exploration of space will go ahead, whether we join in it or not, and it is one of the great adventures of all time, and no nation which expects to be the leader of other nations can expect to stay behind in the race for space.

Those who came before us made certain that this country rode the first waves of the industrial revolutions, the first waves of modern invention, and the first wave of nuclear power, and this generation does not intend to founder in the backwash of the coming age of space. We mean to be a part of it–we mean to lead it. For the eyes of the world now look into space, to the moon and to the planets beyond, and we have vowed that we shall not see it governed by a hostile flag of conquest, but by a banner of freedom and peace. We have vowed that we shall not see space filled with weapons of mass destruction, but with instruments of knowledge and understanding.

Yet the vows of this Nation can only be fulfilled if we in this Nation are first, and, therefore, we intend to be first. In short, our leadership in science and in industry, our hopes for peace and security, our obligations to ourselves as well as others, all require us to make this effort, to solve these mysteries, to solve them for the good of all men, and to become the world’s leading space-faring nation.

We set sail on this new sea because there is new knowledge to be gained, and new rights to be won, and they must be won and used for the progress of all people. For space science, like nuclear science and all technology, has no conscience of its own. Whether it will become a force for good or ill depends on man, and only if the United States occupies a position of pre-eminence can we help decide whether this new ocean will be a sea of peace or a new terrifying theater of war. I do not say the we should or will go unprotected against the hostile misuse of space any more than we go unprotected against the hostile use of land or sea, but I do say that space can be explored and mastered without feeding the fires of war, without repeating the mistakes that man has made in extending his writ around this globe of ours.

There is no strife, no prejudice, no national conflict in outer space as yet. Its hazards are hostile to us all. Its conquest deserves the best of all mankind, and its opportunity for peaceful cooperation many never come again. But why, some say, the moon? Why choose this as our goal? And they may well ask why climb the highest mountain? Why, 35 years ago, fly the Atlantic? Why does Rice play Texas?

We choose to go to the moon. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too.

It is for these reasons that I regard the decision last year to shift our efforts in space from low to high gear as among the most important decisions that will be made during my incumbency in the office of the Presidency.

In the last 24 hours we have seen facilities now being created for the greatest and most complex exploration in man’s history. We have felt the ground shake and the air shattered by the testing of a Saturn C-1 booster rocket, many times as powerful as the Atlas which launched John Glenn, generating power equivalent to 10,000 automobiles with their accelerators on the floor. We have seen the site where the F-1 rocket engines, each one as powerful as all eight engines of the Saturn combined, will be clustered together to make the advanced Saturn missile, assembled in a new building to be built at Cape Canaveral as tall as a 48 story structure, as wide as a city block, and as long as two lengths of this field.

Within these last 19 months at least 45 satellites have circled the earth. Some 40 of them were “made in the United States of America” and they were far more sophisticated and supplied far more knowledge to the people of the world than those of the Soviet Union.

The Mariner spacecraft now on its way to Venus is the most intricate instrument in the history of space science. The accuracy of that shot is comparable to firing a missile from Cape Canaveral and dropping it in this stadium between the the 40-yard lines.

Transit satellites are helping our ships at sea to steer a safer course. Tiros satellites have given us unprecedented warnings of hurricanes and storms, and will do the same for forest fires and icebergs.

We have had our failures, but so have others, even if they do not admit them. And they may be less public.

To be sure, we are behind, and will be behind for some time in manned flight. But we do not intend to stay behind, and in this decade, we shall make up and move ahead.

The growth of our science and education will be enriched by new knowledge of our universe and environment, by new techniques of learning and mapping and observation, by new tools and computers for industry, medicine, the home as well as the school. Technical institutions, such as Rice, will reap the harvest of these gains.

And finally, the space effort itself, while still in its infancy, has already created a great number of new companies, and tens of thousands of new jobs. Space and related industries are generating new demands in investment and skilled personnel, and this city and this State, and this region, will share greatly in this growth. What was once the furthest outpost on the old frontier of the West will be the furthest outpost on the new frontier of science and space. Houston, your City of Houston, with its Manned Spacecraft Center, will become the heart of a large scientific and engineering community. During the next 5 years the National Aeronautics and Space Administration expects to double the number of scientists and engineers in this area, to increase its outlays for salaries and expenses to $60 million a year; to invest some $200 million in plant and laboratory facilities; and to direct or contract for new space efforts over $1 billion from this Center in this City.

To be sure, all this costs us all a good deal of money. This year¹s space budget is three times what it was in January 1961, and it is greater than the space budget of the previous eight years combined. That budget now stands at $5,400 million a year–a staggering sum, though somewhat less than we pay for cigarettes and cigars every year. Space expenditures will soon rise some more, from 40 cents per person per week to more than 50 cents a week for every man, woman and child in the United Stated, for we have given this program a high national priority–even though I realize that this is in some measure an act of faith and vision, for we do not now know what benefits await us.

But if I were to say, my fellow citizens, that we shall send to the moon, 240,000 miles away from the control station in Houston, a giant rocket more than 300 feet tall, the length of this football field, made of new metal alloys, some of which have not yet been invented, capable of standing heat and stresses several times more than have ever been experienced, fitted together with a precision better than the finest watch, carrying all the equipment needed for propulsion, guidance, control, communications, food and survival, on an untried mission, to an unknown celestial body, and then return it safely to earth, re-entering the atmosphere at speeds of over 25,000 miles per hour, causing heat about half that of the temperature of the sun–almost as hot as it is here today–and do all this, and do it right, and do it first before this decade is out–then we must be bold.

I’m the one who is doing all the work, so we just want you to stay cool for a minute. [laughter]

However, I think we’re going to do it, and I think that we must pay what needs to be paid. I don’t think we ought to waste any money, but I think we ought to do the job. And this will be done in the decade of the sixties. It may be done while some of you are still here at school at this college and university. It will be done during the term of office of some of the people who sit here on this platform. But it will be done. And it will be done before the end of this decade.

I am delighted that this university is playing a part in putting a man on the moon as part of a great national effort of the United States of America.

Many years ago the great British explorer George Mallory, who was to die on Mount Everest, was asked why did he want to climb it. He said, “Because it is there.”

Well, space is there, and we’re going to climb it, and the moon and the planets are there, and new hopes for knowledge and peace are there. And, therefore, as we set sail we ask God’s blessing on the most hazardous and dangerous and greatest adventure on which man has ever embarked.

Thank you.

Matt Ginnow, Matthew Ginnow

[keichanz]

You Rescued Me: Chapter 2

For some reason, tumblr is bunching italicized words together after I paste it onto here from Word, so if you happen to spot one, lemme know. I tried to catch and fix them all, but I can’t be sure.

A note about Inuyasha: When I first started this story, I had a very clear image of how I wanted this AU’s version of Inuyasha to be; I wanted him to be rough and gruff, but someone who exudes a quiet strength that Kagome is easily able to recognize. He’s someone who’s used to hard work, getting his hands dirty, and yeah he’s seen some shit, but you’ll learn about that later.  I wanted an element of mystery, but someone still approachable. I wanted to go for a “I’m lonely, but I don’t want to be” sort of vibe and I hope I managed to pull that off. See where I’m going with this? Lol.

Yes, he does smoke in this story. I apologize if you don’t like that, but it’s part of the image I wanted to portray, and you’ll learn why he does in a later chapter.  I suppose in short I wanted a rough ‘n’ tumble type, but gentle when it truly matters. On the outside, he looks mean, and scary and unapproachable. On the inside though, he’s a big softie who likes to protect those weaker than him, loves his niece, is a closet comedian, and has a secret love affair with bacon. So don’t worry; I still kept some aspects of the dogboy we all know and love. I wouldn’t change him completely, of course! :)

I really hope how I portray him doesn’t dissuade some people form reading, because even though I did say I hate this fic (okay so that was a boldfaced lie lmao) I am really, really proud of how this story turned out, and I’ve been working on this for literal months now.

If it turns out that my Inuyasha is not your cup of tea, that’s fine. But I do hope you’ll give him a chance. :)

The interior design/decor of Inuyasha’s house was loosely inspired by the Bartlett ranch house in the show Heartland. (I love that show and I’m addicted to it ;adjfa;dfahdfal)

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Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 || Chapter 15 || Epilogue 

The ten-minute ride to his house was quiet and uneventful but he didn’t care, and he suspected his guest didn’t either. She had her head leaned against the door and her eyes closed as the wind caressed her face and played with the stands of ebony hair that hung down and for the first time Inuyasha wondered how old she was. Now that he was closer, he could deduce she couldn’t be much older than him, perhaps a few years younger, even. The stress of the night, however, made her look much older and abruptly he found himself wanting to deck the motherfucker who had put those bruises on her. How dare he hurt such a beautiful, fragile creature? Women were supposed to be treasured, cherished, and protected, not used for fucking punching bags. Without them, literally nobody would be alive on this godforsaken planet and he had the fucking balls to—

Abruptly Inuyasha realized he was growling and instantly he cut the sound off with guilty wince, flicking his eyes over to the woman beside him. She was staring at him in alarm, her eyes wide and he couldn’t help but notice how she’d shrunk against the door in an effort to put some distance between them.

Aw, shit. He’d gone and done the one thing he vowed that he wouldn’t do and now he felt like absolute shit. “Sorry,” he muttered and focused ahead once again, his hands tight on the wheel. “It wasn’t…” He cleared his throat. “That wasn’t because of you. I was just—” He stopped himself before he could finish and clamped his jaw shut, not sure it would be a good idea to admit what he’d been thinking and bring up horrible memories for her.

But then, taking him by surprise, she gradually relaxed again and gave him an expectant look, head tilted curiously to the side, so he obliged her. Slanting her a cautious look, he flicked his finished cigarette out the window and rumbled, “I was just thinking how about much I’d like to deck the asshole that did that to you.”

Surprise flared in her eyes as her hand came up to flutter over the bruise on her jaw and over her neck. Then her eyes dimmed, she turned away and Inuyasha mentally cursed.

Clenching his jaw in anger aimed at himself, Inuyasha flicked his blinker on and hung a right onto a considerably smoother road. A minute later he slowed down and turned left into his dirt driveway that led up a slight incline to his two-story ranch house. He’d bought it solely because he had no neighbors for miles and it was isolated and set back from the road, even though there was minimal traffic this far out in the country.

As he pulled up to the wraparound front porch, Jaxson lifted his head and started wagging his tail from his location sprawled on the porch before the steps. He heard a soft gasp as he put the truck in park and cut the engine and a glance told him his impromptu houseguest had spotted the large dog and the look of delight that lit her face had him briefly spellbound.

Then Jax released a happy bark and whatever trance Inuyasha had been in was broken. Glad that his dog wouldn’t pose as a problem for the skittish woman, Inuyasha opened his door and hopped out, not really surprised when she lingered in the cab and simply stared out the window as he made his way over to greet the wolf-like canine.

Despite his size, Jaxson still acted like a puppy whenever he came home and he was all excited energy, tail whipping back and forth ferociously, standing up on his hind legs as he knelt down and then barraging his face with a thousand licks of hi, dad. Inuyasha took it all without complaint, rubbing his sides vigorously and scratching the pointed ears similar to his own. He slid his gaze to the side, looked into the cab of his truck and as if that was what she was waiting for, his guest finally exited and made her way slowly over to them.

Excited at the opportunity to make a new friend, Jaxson predictably left his side and trotted on over to her, all happy panting, wagging tail and lolling tongue as he nudged her hand with his big nose for pets. She made a soft sound in the back of her throat and knelt down to give the big dog some lovins.

Watching from the porch, Inuyasha saw her smile for the first time and his heart skipped a beat in his chest. Her caramel eyes, before looking so dim and lifeless, were bright with amusement and affection as Jax licked her face and the sound of her soft laughter was the sweetest melody.

Realizing he was staring, Inuyasha shook himself out of it and brushed past the pair to retrieve her bag from the floor of the cab. He frowned at how light it was but didn’t comment as he shut the door and went to crouch beside them, extending his hand to scratch behind the dog’s ears. Jax gave his hand a lick then continued snuffling and nosing his new friend, eager for more attention. “This is Jaxson,” he murmured and said dog’s ears perked up at the sound of his name. “He’s a big fluffy idiot, has a habit of stealing my bacon when I’m not looking, and likes to pester Rain until she gets sick of it and chases him around.” He gave his dog a pointed stare.

Jax barked at him and wagged his tail.

While Inuyasha just looked deadpan, his female guest giggled again and softly asked, “Rain?”

A little startled to hear her voice for the first time, Inuyasha blinked and stared at her but recovered quickly. He shook his head and rumbled, “Tomorrow.” He didn’t think she was up for a tour at the moment, not when she looked dead on her feet and like she could sleep for the next week. He stood up, slung the strap of her bag over his shoulder and offered her a hand without thinking. Before he could retract it, though, she surprised him for what seemed like the nth time that night and grabbed it without hesitation and instinctively he hauled her up with no effort at all.

Jax darted ahead of them and zoomed up the stairs to wait at the door and she spoke up again. “What breed is he?”

Inuyasha decided that he liked her voice and doubly liked the fact that she was feeling comfortable enough to talk to him. “Native American Indian,” he replied and opened the front door, stepping into the open mudroom that led directly into his kitchen as Jaxson zoomed off to god knows where. The soft glow coming from the stove light he’d left on provided just enough illumination for her to see by as he ushered her in then closed the door behind her. Then he paused, shot her a speculative look, and with deliberate movements Inuyasha slid the deadbolt home and twisted the lock on the knob.

The look she gave him spoke volumes of her gratitude and he nodded in reply. Jax took that moment to come skidding back into the kitchen with one of his well-loved toys in his mouth and promptly sat down in the middle of the kitchen floor, placing his toy right between his paws before tilting his head and looking the very picture of A Good Boy.

“He’s beautiful,” she whispered. With the dim lighting from the stove, she could make out the gray and white shades with some scattered brown of his long fur and it was truly striking just how much the canine resembled that of his wilder ancestor.

Inuyasha snorted. “Yeah, you wouldn’t be saying that after seeing how much he goddamn sheds,” he muttered more to himself than her but judging by the badly stifled snicker, she’d heard anyway.

His dog started using the “look at me, I’m cute” card and used to his dog’s shenanigans, he ignored him and focused his attention back on his lovely houseguest. While clearly still recovering from this nightmare of a night, she was a bit more relaxed now as she glanced curiously around his home, however that could be because of the bone-deep weariness he sensed in her, all of the stress starting to really take its toll and he didn’t even need his nose to tell him she was completely exhausted.

Still, before he took her upstairs, he needed to make sure she was taken care of in all aspects. “Hungry? Anything to drink?”

She shook her head, hesitated, then shook it again and avoided his eyes.

Inuyasha studied her silently for a moment then nodded. “Alright.” Despite her answer, though, he still ventured over to the fridge, grabbed a bottled water and took a few sips for himself before gesturing for her to follow and crossed the hardwood floor into the living room. Tomorrow he’d show her around, that is if she wanted, but for now he figured it’d be best if he showed her where she’d be sleeping. The shuffle of soft moccasins told him she was right behind so he hung a left and headed for the stairs, nearly getting knocked over by Jaxson as he bounded ahead of them and raced down the hall.

He gave her the guest bedroom that was right next to his. “Make yourself at home,” he said as he went forward and flicked on the lamp on the nightstand. Jax zipped in and jumped onto the bed. “I wasn’t talking to you, Fluff,” he deadpanned as the canine circled a few times in his nightly routine for sleep and was rewarded by a quite laugh and his dog’s soft whuff.

Shaking his head, he deposited her bag on the bed and discreetly set the bottle of water on the nightstand. “Bathroom’s right across the hall. Feel free to take a shower, or whatever. If you get hungry, help yourself to anything in the kitchen, I don’t care.”

Inuyasha watched as she sank down onto the bed and a second later Jaxson’s head plopped down onto her thigh. Her smile was small and tired but genuine as she stroked the dog’s head fondly and Inuyasha wondered when the hell his dog had become such a ladies man. Er, dog. The only other person he could think of that he’d taken to so quickly was his mother. Not that he was complaining, of course; if Jax’s company eased even a fraction of her distress, he supposed he could deal with his loyal companion of eight years forgetting that he existed.

He inwardly snorted then said, “Jax,” and knelt down as without hesitation the large dog hopped down and loped over to him. Scratching behind his pointed ears and around his neck, Inuyasha told his dog, “Keep an eye on her for me, alright? I’m counting on you to protect her.”

Jaxson blinked at him and then leaned forward to lick his chin.

A ghost of a smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “Good boy,” Inuyasha murmured and with a final scratch to his dog’s chin, he stood up. Jaxson returned to the bed and made himself comfortable, stretching out with a gusty sigh and going still.

Inuyasha turned amber eyes her way and locked with caramel depths. He opened his mouth, closed it, and sighed. “Goodnight,” he murmured and turned to leave.

“W-wait? …Please.”

Inuyasha stopped and turned back around, his face blank, but not unfriendly as he gazed expectantly at her with his hands in his pockets.

She was staring at him and biting down on her lip, looking a little uncertain and once more surprising himself, Inuyasha waited patiently for whatever she had to say. But it wasn’t long at all until she seemed to steel herself and hesitantly ask, “…What’s your name?”

Inuyasha considered her quietly with no change in his expression before answering simply, “Inuyasha.”

She fell quiet and although Inuyasha was curious, he didn’t ask for her name in return. He figured she’d tell him in her own time, when she was ready to stop being anonymous.

“Inuyasha,” she murmured so quietly he almost didn’t hear her and his ears trained forward under his hat to catch her soft voice. When she locked eyes with him again, they were wide, misty and the breath caught in his throat at the utter trust he found swimming in those cinnamon depths. “Thank you.” The smile she offered him wavered as she tried to keep her emotions in check and just like that Inuyasha’s emotionless façade cracked.

His face softened and honeyed eyes grew warm as he gazed at her then with a sigh, Inuyasha took off his hat and ran a hand through his short choppy hair, amazed at this little slip of a woman’s strength. “If you need anything,” he began, voice a little gruff but no less sincere, “I’m right next door.”

Inuyasha didn’t say anything more than that but he didn’t need to; his lovely guest nodded, closed her eyes as her shoulders started to shake and he took that as his cue to leave. The door closed with a soft click and Inuyasha forced himself to walk away as the sound of muffled sobs reached his ears and went straight to his aching heart.

Kagome woke up to a dry mouth, a pounding head, and the sound of somebody snoring softly beside her.

It was the last one that caused Kagome to jolt upright with a choked cry and scramble off the bed as fast as she could, nearly tumbling to the floor in her haste to get away. She spun around and threw her hands up without thinking, prepared to defend herself—

Only to be met with the lazy stare of a large and familiar furry dog that was lying comfortably on her bed. He blinked at her before stretching his jaw in a wide, tongue-curling yawn and that was when Kagome remembered where she was and what had happened last night.

The relief was so great she sank to the floor, her legs unable to support her and she closed her eyes as a soft whimper escaped her mouth. She pressed a hand to lips and took a shuddering breath, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart, and then nearly screamed again when something cold nudged her cheek. Her eyes flew open to find her bedmate sitting in front of her and giving her the equivalent of a doggy smile, tongue lolling and tail wagging back and forth.

Kagome issued a watery laugh and wrapped her arms around the gray and white dog, burying her face in his soft fur. “Thank you, Jax,” she whispered, recalling how he’d patiently let her cry into his neck last night and basically use him as her own personal snuggle buddy. She received a fond lick on her cheek in response and she gave another husky chuckle before leaning back and kissing his snout. “Good boy.”

Evidently recognizing those two words, Jax tossed his head and danced around, wagging his tail and giving a few soft barks before suddenly freezing and staring at her raptly, as if waiting for more praise.

Kagome laughed genuinely that time and framed his doggy face in her hands. “Such a good boy!”

A loud, pleased bark echoed off the walls and Kagome watched in amusement as Jaxson spun around in circles before abruptly taking off faster than a bullet, zooming out of her room through the cracked door and disappearing down the stairs.

Shaking her head, but not without a smile, Kagome wiped at her damp eyes then heaved herself back onto the bed. Unfortunately the movement reminded her of the pounding headache currently ricocheting in her skull and she winced, bringing a hand up to rub her forehead. Wrinkling her nose at the cotton-like texture in her mouth, Kagome cracked her eyes open and peered around the room. “Ugh, what I wouldn’t give for some—”

Kagome froze as her gaze landed on the nightstand beside the bed and stupidly her eyes began to water. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she reached out and grabbed the little white container that sat innocently beside a bottle of water and a trembling smile slowly curved her lips. Blinking rapidly as her vision grew blurry, Kagome gave a shaky sigh and thought about how strange it was that a complete stranger had given her more kindness in compassion within the first hour of knowing him than her boyfriend—ex-boyfriend had in all of the four years she’d been with him.

Thinking of that wretched man who had caused her to end up in this predicament and most likely being the source of her current headache brought another deluge of tears and she huffed in annoyance, quickly dashing her hand across her eyes. Dammit, she’d cried enough over that worthless piece of trash! He didn’t deserve her tears, he didn’t deserve anything from her anymore and Kagome resolved to put him out of her mind, at least for now.

Sniffling, Kagome shook out two capsules of the Ibuprofen Inuyasha had, at some time this morning, put there for her to find and washed them down with a swig of the bottled water he’d also left for her. She smiled, wondering if he really was that perceptive or if he was just plain sneaky.

Deciding it didn’t matter either way because she was grateful all the same, Kagome ended up drinking half the bottle, not even realizing she was so thirsty, before setting it down with a sigh of satisfaction. She glanced out the window, wishing she still had her phone so she could check the time, but she hadn’t wanted to bring it with her when she left since it was under his name and she didn’t want anything that belonged to him. By the amount of sunlight she could see, Kagome judged it to still be early morning, perhaps 8 am at the latest.

Scowling once she realized her thoughts had turned back to him again, Kagome shook her head and stood up, thinking a shower sounded positively divine right about now. She retrieved her toiletry bag from her duffel and peeked out into the hallway, not at all surprised to find her host’s bedroom door wide open and empty. For some reason she’d suspected him to be an early riser, and it looked like she was right.

Crossing the hallway and entering the bathroom, she set her bag on the sink and turned on the water in the shower, getting it nice and hot before shucking her clothes. But then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and she gasped, her eyes going wide as she leaned forward and lifted a shaking hand to her face.

God, she hadn’t realized… Seeing her reflection for the first time since Naraku had struck her, Kagome was taken aback at how terrible the bruise looked. It had turned an angry dark bluish-purple overnight that spread from the left side of her jaw to under her chin; no wonder she had a headache and it hurt to talk! Her astonished eyes flickered down to her neck and she winced at the circle of discolored flesh, shuddering as she recalled the feeling of his hand squeezing the breath right out of her lungs. Well, that explained the sore throat.

Kagome braced her hands on the sink and took a few deep breaths, closing her eyes, forcefully pushing those thoughts from her head. She had to stop thinking about it, about him. He was poisonous, toxic to her health, mentally and physically, and she’d be damned before she ever let him get to her again. She couldn’t believe it had taken Naraku actually hitting her for her to wise up and leave, but now that she had, she didn’t regret it. Their relationship had been going steadily downhill for the last two years and now things have come to a head, and she couldn’t be more satisfied with her decision to leave.

It took a moment, but she was able to regain her bearings and she stepped under the hot spray of the shower, washing away the proverbial dirt, her ex’s violent touch, and everything bad that had happened last night. As the water sluiced down the drain, she pretended that all of the negative memories attached to last night went with it, leaving her with a sense of cleanliness that was wholly refreshing.

Twenty minutes later and donned in comfortable shorts and a forest green t-shirt, Kagome was feeling much more like herself as she wandered down the stairs in moccasin-clad feet. Since she hadn’t been able to last night partly because she’d been tired but mostly because it had been too dark, she paused to admire the décor of the living area. The walls reminded her of a log cabin and the floor was polished hardwood, covered with a large oriental area rug in shades of dark reds and gold. An old fashioned fireplace took up the far wall, the brick mantel giving the room a rustic, charming look that made Kagome want to curl up on the comfy looking couch and snooze the day away. His entertainment center was top notch – of course – and the large bay windows provided a gorgeous view of open field and blue sky.

Inuyasha definitely has good taste, Kagome thought as she ventured into the kitchen and she had to smile upon spotting what was on the small two-seater table. Her heart gave a curious little flutter as she picked up a piece of toast and munched into it, eyeing the rest of the meal of eggs, bacon and sausage. While everything looked delicious, Kagome didn’t think her stomach would be up for it and she nearly whimpered as her eyes landed on the fresh pot of coffee sitting on the counter.

“Screw it,” she muttered a second later, snatched the empty mug on the table and marched over to pour herself a nice hot cup o’ joe. “Mmm,” Kagome sighed as she lifted it to her lips and took that first blessed sip; it was the perfect temperature.

From somewhere outside she heard Jaxson bark followed by a man’s deep timbre and without even thinking about it Kagome found herself crossing the kitchen, entering the little mudroom then with her coffee in hand, she exited the house into the pleasantly warm July morning. She spotted him instantly over by the fence that started at the barn and extended outward, using the hose to wash out some buckets and he was talking in low tones to Jax, who was trying to eat the water from the hose, and to the absolutely gorgeous creature that kept lipping at his hair and hat.

Kagome’s eyes lit up with delight and smiling, she descended the few steps and meandered her way over to him, clutching her coffee with both hands. He looked damn fine in a pair of torn jeans and a white t-shirt that showed off the spectacular muscles in his arms, and she couldn’t help but notice he hadn’t bothered to shave this morning, his jaw still darkened attractively with stubble and she very suddenly wanted to run her fingers over the roughness. He was wearing the worn hat again from last night and she suspected he used it to keep the sun out of his eyes more than a fashion statement.

And the dust out of those adorable ears of his, she thought and had to bite her lip to stifle the giggle that welled up.

Inuyasha heard her before he saw her and after giving the black feed bucket one last rinse, he set it down and then slipped the open ended hose, still dispensing cold water, into the large water trough on the other side of the fence. Rain snorted and tried to grab his hat again but he thwarted her with an irritated grumble and gently shoved her long nose away.

“She’s beautiful,” Kagome remarked as she came to a stop beside him and reached out to stroke her palm down Rain’s soft muzzle to the even softer nose. The Paint horse nickered and happily accepted the attention for a few seconds before stretching her neck out and snuffling at the new person in curiosity. Kagome’s smile widened and she stroked that strong neck, marveling at the softness.

“She’s a pain in the ass,” Inuyasha returned but the way he slipped his hand under the brown and white mane to give a few fond scratches belied the careless words.

She laughed and his heart felt lighter. “What’s her name?”

“Rain,” he replied and leaned back against the fence, crossing his arms and keeping an eye on the water trough; he didn’t want it to overflow. “She belongs to my niece.” Giving her a quick once over, the damp hair pulled into a thick braid hanging over her shoulder and the subtle scent of cherry blossoms suggested she’d taken a shower and Inuyasha had to consciously resist the urge to inhale her scent deeply, glad that he detected no fear or exhaustion.

He didn’t elaborate any further but when she failed to hide the flash of disappointment that crossed her face before she looked away, Inuyasha grimaced and mentally cursed himself. He’d never been much of a conversationalist, never really seeing the need to waste energy on needless chatter. Besides, he wasn’t really good with the whole talking thing and living alone with nothing but animals for company hadn’t given him much practice in that aspect.

But staring at her now, he couldn’t ignore the guilt that swept through him and abruptly he felt like an ass for denying her the simple pleasure of idle chatter. It wasn’t like talking really required that much effort, and he didn’t want to make her feel like she was a burden after the nightmare she’d been through, or like she was an annoyance. On the contrary, Inuyasha liked having her around, which was strange because he also liked his solitude, but he didn’t dwell on it too long. If she was looking for a distraction to keep her from thinking about previous events, he’d do his best to oblige and in the meantime try not to be…well, himself and offend her somehow.

Mind made up, Inuyasha cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him, and explained, “Rin’s eleven years old, started asking for a pony at about five years, then for her birthday last year her dad finally caved, but with a few stipulations.” He rolled his eyes. “Since she obviously couldn’t keep a damn horse where they live in town, my bastard of a brother pretty must just showed up here with the animal one day, told me it was staying here, no asking involved, then fucking left with no other explanation.” He scowled but Kagome knew it wasn’t directed at her. “He’s such an asshole sometimes I can’t even believe we’re related. If it weren’t for Rin I wouldn’t want anything to do with him.” He snorted, and then growled when Rain shoved her nose next to his face and started nibbling his hair. He swatted her away and the horse snorted in annoyance, stomping her hoof.

“Yeah, yeah, back atcha, ya pissy mare.”

Kagome bit her lip to stifle her giggles. “So…Rin and Rain, huh?”

Inuyasha sighed and rolled his eyes again. “She likes to go around and say ‘I need some R and R time.’”

“That’s adorable,” Kagome remarked and hid her smile behind her coffee mug as she took another sip.

“It’s annoying.”

“I take it she’s watched Spirit a couple of times.”

He snorted at the under-exaggeration.

While Kagome tired not to choke on her coffee as she snickered, Inuyasha shook his head and fought a smile of his own. It was nice to see her looking happy; it was a completely welcome change from last night’s frightened disposition. “Anyway, it was a damn good thing who ever owned this place last apparently had a barn animal because it already had a stall. I just had to spruce it up a bit.” He paused. “After making Sess pay for the supplies.”

“So, you take care of her?”

“No.”

She gazed at him expectantly, clearly waiting for more on the subject, and he inwardly kicked himself for already forgetting his silent vow. Hadn’t he just decided to not be an ass and not be his usual antisocial self for five goddamn minutes? “Rin comes by every morning before school to feed and turn her out, then after school she’ll show up to clean the barn a bit – her payment for boarding her here – feed her again around 5 pm, and if she has the time, take her for a ride. A lot of the time the brat skips mucking her stall, so I’m stuck doing it, but it gives me something to do, so.” He shrugged.

Kagome nodded and watched the brown and white creature as she lowered her head and investigated the water hose filling up the trough. “It’s very nice of you to keep her here for Rin.”

Inuyasha shrugged again. “S’not a big deal. Not like there’s no room for her, and Sess pays for all her expenses. Besides,” he said as Rain nudged his head with her nose and he let out soft sigh as patted her shoulder. “She’s sorta grown on me, and I’m pretty sure Miss Attitude here is attached to me, too.” And as if to prove that point, Rain made a few soft grunting noises and laid her head on his shoulder with a big gusty sigh.

Kagome could completely relate to that. Even after knowing him for only a handful of hours, she was growing attached to him too, and it was a little alarming at how much that didn’t bother her. It should have had warning bells going off in her head, she should be running for the hills at the mere implication that there could be something deeper going on here, but the thing of it was, Kagome didn’t feel threatened at all. Despite being a man of few words, Inuyasha was…easy to talk to. And maybe it was because he didn’t talk much that she was so comfortable around him, but whatever the reason, Kagome felt safe, fully able to relax for the first time in a very long time and she was reluctant to give that up.

The Paint mare suddenly lifted her head and snorted in agitation, shaking her mane once and flicking her tail. Inuyasha frowned but the playful growl he heard next answered his silent question and he rolled his eyes. Jax had crawled through the fence and was currently doing his most favorite pastime of provoking the poor horse, running around her legs and nosing under her belly.

Kagome giggled behind her coffee mug. “I see what you meant now when you said he likes to pester her.”

Inuyasha stared at his dog like he was a lost cause. “He probably ain’t ever gonna stop, either, because Rain never hurts him. The most she’ll ever do is shove him down with a rough head-butt and chase him around, but Jax loves it because he thinks she’s playing with him. And in a way, she sorta is. Despite what it looks like, they’re best buds.”

Rain snorted again and pranced around before backing up and nudging Jax’s side with her big nose. The dog released a few excited, playful growls and zipped underneath her again and then the chase was on, Rain swinging her big body around and taking off after him.

Kagome watched them go with a fond smile and would have been content to stand there all morning in companionable silence with him, but then Inuyasha cleared his throat and she glanced over at him curiously. She wasn’t prepared to be met with intense amber eyes gazing at her and her heart skipped a beat in her chest as a soft flush stole across her cheeks.

He studied her quietly for a moment, the brim of his cap shadowing his eyes but she could still feel the way they bore into her own. “How you feeling?” he finally asked, his voice a low rumble that caused a not-so-unpleasant shiver to crawl along her spine.

Regathering her scattered wits, Kagome sucked in a breath and gave him a smile. “I’m…much better today, thank you.”

He visibly relaxed and gave a short nod, relieved. Then quiet reigned once again and so he didn’t feel so awkward just standing there silently, Inuyasha strode the few paces over to the side of the barn and twisted the knob to cut off the water.  He started rolling the hose back up, thinking he still needed to get some hay down from the loft—

“Kagome.”

Inuyasha snapped his head up and stared at her in open surprise.

She blushed and ducked her head. “My name is Kagome. I’m…sorry I never told you last night. I guess I just…” She trailed off and fiddled with the lukewarm mug of coffee in her hands, staring down into the dark liquid.

“Don’t.”

Kagome blinked and lifted her gaze back to his. “Huh?”

He wasn’t looking at her as he coiled the hose with practiced ease, hooking the length under his elbow and winding it around. “Don’t be sorry for not telling me. After the hell you went through, you deserved a little anonymity.” He slid the neat coil of hose off his arm and draped it over the metal hook.

Kagome’s eyes widened slightly and then a smile slowly curved her mouth. “I…suppose you’re right. I never really thought of it that way.”

“Hard to think about much of anything after—” Abruptly he cut himself off and shot her a slightly panicked look.

Her smile turned sad and she shook her head. “Yeah. I suppose I had more than enough reason to be distracted.”

Relieved he apparently hadn’t fucked up by saying the wrong thing, Inuyasha nodded. Now that the subject was breeched, however, he was reminded of the phone call he’d made earlier. “I called the nearest tow company this morning,” he started. “Gave them the location of your car, and they told me they’d have a truck out there within the next hour or so. That was”—he checked the time on his phone—“just about an hour ago, actually, so I should be getting a call back soon.”

Kagome wondered why the good news didn’t lift her spirits. “I see,” she said and stared down into her now cold coffee. “I guess…I’ll be out of your hair soon, then.” A pang went through her chest and though she tried to tell herself she didn’t understand it, Kagome knew why she was suddenly feeling so…empty.

For some reason those words elicited an achy hollow feeling in the middle of his chest and Inuyasha absently rubbed the spot, suspecting why he suddenly felt thus, but refusing to admit it, even to himself.

Falling quiet, Kagome watched him walk back over and stack up the buckets he washed out earlier. Her smile faded and a tight knot of anxiety formed in her chest. Inuyasha had been nothing but considerate toward her, unbelievably patient, had even opened up his home to her, and here she was not even having the decency to be honest with him. She’d wanted to repay him for all of his kindness somehow, and she supposed she could start with telling him everything that had happened. He deserved nothing less after what he’d done for her.

“Inuyasha,” she started but when she looked up she couldn’t find him anywhere. She frowned and opened her mouth to call for him again, but a nearby “In here” had her walking forward and ducking into the barn through the open side door. Kagome paused because she still couldn’t see him, but then suddenly a bale of hay dropped heavily a few feet in front of her and she jumped in surprise with a quiet gasp. Her half-demon host followed shortly thereafter and landed with a grunt beside the bale. It took Kagome a moment to realize he’d jumped from the loft and not from the rafters.

“That’s handy,” she commented in amusement and thought she saw Inuyasha’s lip kick upward briefly.

“Keh.” He slipped his fingers beneath the twine and heaved it up with little effort before carrying it over to Rain’s stall.

Kagome stared. Weren’t hay bales supposed to be super heavy? He was carrying it like it weighed nothing! “Color me impressed,” she muttered to herself and this time she missed the slight upturn of Inuyasha’s mouth.

“Did you need something, Kagome?” he asked abruptly and then immediately hoped that hadn’t come across as impatient or annoyed. His ears flattened beneath his hat and he cursed himself. Damn, but his people skills sucked. With a little more force than was necessary he yanked a muck rake from the wall and wheeled over a muck bucket.

It must have sounded normal to her, however, because she didn’t look offended, but she did suddenly look…ashamed? Inuyasha frowned and stopped before he entered Rain’s stall. Leaning the rake against the door, he turned to face her fully and leaned back against stall door, hands in his pockets. He wanted to tell her she didn’t need to be ashamed of anything, but waited to see what she would say first.

Seeing that she had his undivided attention, Kagome sucked in a breath and looked him right in his startling amber eyes. “I…owe you an explanation,” she began but Inuyasha was already shaking his head before she could finish.

“You don’t owe me anything, Kagome,” Inuyasha tried to tell her but she wasn’t having it.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I do. You’ve already done so much for me in just the short amount of time I’ve known you, Inuyasha, and the only way I can think to repay you is with complete honesty. I need to tell you…what happened. And I’m not doing this because I feel obligated, or pressured, or anything like that. I want you to know because you deserve the truth after sticking your neck out for me.”

Inuyasha wanted to point out that those two punks hadn’t even been the slightest bit of threat to him but he stayed quiet and waited, allowing her to explain. And despite himself, he was curious, even though he had a feeling he’d end up getting pissed from hearing about how some asshole had purposely hit an innocent woman.

“Before I get to all of that, though, I want to apologize for my behavior last night,” she began and stared down into the dark contents of her coffee mug as she gathered her thoughts. “I wasn’t…myself, and it was like I was…I don’t know, looking at myself from someone else’s point of view, or something. I was there, but not. And I—”

“No.”

Kagome started at his vehement interjection and her mouth parted slightly.

Golden eyes, swimming with something Kagome couldn’t quite identify, burned into her own brown depths so intently she felt her heart stutter in her chest. “Don’t you ever apologize, to me, or anybody else for acting the way you did. What happened wasn’t your fault and I’m pretty damn sure anyone would have acted strangely or different after getting fucking punched in the face from somebody you thought you could trust. So there ain’t nothing to apologize for, you understand me?” He crossed his arms and stared her down, daring her to object and Kagome felt a curious fluttering in her stomach at his passionate reasoning.

And then stupidly she felt like crying because it felt so good to have someone stand up for her and defend her honor. Or something like that. Whatever, Kagome was just so grateful to have met this man, suddenly feeling foolish to have ever doubted or mistrusted him.

Despite her best efforts, her eyes welled up with tears and through blurry vision she watched Inuyasha’s face twist into an expression of panic, his eyes going wide and his entire body tensing. “Aw, shit, no don’t—I didn’t mean—”

“He’s never hit me before,” Kagome admitted, her voice soft and Inuyasha snapped his jaw shut. “For the entire four years we were together, Naraku hadn’t even hinted that he wanted to hurt me, or hit me. He wasn’t even verbally abusive, he wasn’t…he didn’t drink, or have anger issues or anything like that. But…” She hesitated, then sighed and laid it all down. “For the past two years, our relationship had been…well, it wasn’t like it used to be. More fights over stupid things, we hardly showed affection for one another anymore, barely even talked…it was just going downhill.

“I’ve never once felt threatened, though,” she continued. “Or scared, or doubtful. Nothing extreme ever happened to make me want to leave, so this…” She vaguely gestured to her face and Inuyasha forced himself to take in the mottled flesh, feeling familiar anger boil in his gut. “This came out of nowhere. We were getting ready for bed, and he…well, he wanted sex, and I didn’t. So I said no, he got pissed and—” She shrugged. “Maybe it was drugs but I can’t be sure. I mean he had been acting a little strangely the night before, sort of zoning out at odd times, snapping at me for absolutely no reason, and spending an abnormally long time in the bathroom but it was nothing too extreme to make me immediately start thinking, ‘oh my god it’s drugs,’ but I didn’t stick around to ask because I didn’t care. I just knew I needed to leave.

“But anyway,” she continued and lifted a hand to swipe at her eyes, sniffling once. “Right after it happened, Naraku started apologizing, telling me he didn’t know what came over him, it’ll never happen again, you know, all that bullshit. But it was all just noise to me. I walked away and started packing a bag because I’d always told myself that if something like that ever happened to me, I would leave. I didn’t want to be one of those girls who stayed with their abusive boyfriends because if he did it once, he’ll do it again. So I packed, and he kept talking to me, trying to get me to stop, but I ignored him. He didn’t like that so he threw my bag across the room, grabbed me by the throat and shoved me against the wall.” She frowned as her hand came up to flutter her fingertips across the bruised flesh of her neck. “That was when I got scared because he was…he was squeezing and I couldn’t breathe and I remember…God, I remember—”

She cut herself off with a choked sound and Inuyasha had to physically stop himself from wrapping her up in his arms and begging her to stop because this was obviously too hard for her. But he dug his claws to his palms and clenched his jaw so hard it ached. After a moment she composed herself and continued, her voice thick with emotion, “I remember his face…it was terrifying. He—he terrified me. He was a completely different person then, someone I didn’t recognize and I just kept thinking I had to get out of there. Then, like a spell had been lifted or something, his face suddenly cleared and he let go. He looked…horrified at himself but I didn’t stick around to see what would happen next. I grabbed what I’d managed to pack, put on the closest pair of shoes, grabbed my keys, and ran.”

Kagome took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I didn’t have any place in mind to go. I just…drove. My family lives hours away out of town, my best friend’s shacked up with some guy she met and not answering her phone…I had nowhere to go. And then my car broke down on that back road, those two guys showed up, and if you hadn’t stopped and scared them off—”

“But I did,” Inuyasha cut her off that time and she gasped, her eyes shooting open and locking with his. “And I’d do it again.” Keeping his gaze on hers, he lifted a hand and tenderly wiped away a wayward tear from her cheek with a sweep of his clawed thumb, the urge to touch her too great to ignore.

Kagome released a strangled sound that was half sob, half gasp and grabbed his hand with one of hers, holding on tightly as more tears leaked out of her eyes and streaked down her cheeks.

Inuyasha let her hold his hand for however long she wanted, wishing he could do more, because the sight of her like this was killing him. The temptation to beat the fucker who hurt her into a bloody pulp came back with a vengeance and the growl that erupted from his throat promised all kinds of pain if this no good piece of shit named Naraku ever showed his face to him. He didn’t listen to the little voice in his head telling him that he never would because she was leaving, and instead focused on the young woman before him, his growl turning into a soothing rumble in his chest while his other hand rose to very carefully brush his fingers across the bruise on her jaw.

Caramel-colored eyes fluttered open at the whisper-soft touch and she read the question in those twin pools of sunset yellow. Getting a hold of herself, but not releasing his hand, Kagome mustered up a smile for him and let out a shaky sigh, nodding once.

Though small, he could tell her smile was genuine and he nodded back, his expression softening and without thinking he stroked her cheek. A soft flush colored the skin and his mouth kicked up into a half-grin, both relieved that she hadn’t shied away from his touch, knowing that the last man to touch her hadn’t been so gentle, and extremely gratified that he could make her blush.

Kagome sighed, leaned into his touch, and Inuyasha opened his mouth to say something, anything, but before he could utter a single word the shrill sound of his cell phone ringing pierced the silence between them and the moment was gone.

Inuyasha’s hand dropped and Kagome hastily scrubbed at her cheeks and eyes to rid of the damning evidence as, not without a grumble of annoyance, he fished the mobile out of his pocket and checked the screen.

Sniffling one last time, Kagome lifted her gaze just as Inuyasha accepted the call and held the device up to his face. “Yeah?”

He listened for a minute, and then his eyebrows popped up into the fringe of his bangs before they dipped into a puzzled frown. “What?” He sounded bemused and Kagome’s own brows furrowed slightly. Who was he talking to? “Yeah, I’m positive.” Pause. “Are you sure? Nothing’s there?” Whoever was on the other line must have answered in the affirmative because Inuyasha’s expression darkened and a growl erupted from his throat. “Shit. Yeah, alright. No, I believe you.” There was another pause, and then his eyes cut to hers. “Don’t worry about it. Thanks, Hachi.” He hung up, stared at his phone with that frown still in place, and then pocketed it again with a sigh.

Beyond curious now about that peculiar exchange, Kagome ventured, “Inuyasha? What was that all about? Is everything okay?”

Inuyasha stared hard at her for a moment and then revealed, “That was Hachi. He owns Tanuki’s Towing.”

A wave of foreboding washed over Kagome and she stiffened. “Did-did he…”

“Your car is gone, Kagome.”

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[gloriamarion48]

Free Your Mind and Heart

Transcend Karmic Though-Forms, Groups, Relationships and Practices

There is a belief held by many that in order for one to ascend or become one with God / Source one needs to go backward in time and resurrect past practices, ordinances and ceremonies and relive them. For example, in many LDS factions or offshoots they practice and believe in multiple wives (polygamy) or husbands (polyandry). They believe this is required of them by God/Source. That in order to ascend or gain “salvation” one needs to form important connections with others or sacrifice their power and love for a higher cause. They see that the practice of polygamy, polyandry or other forms of intimate relationships is the method needed to become of one mind and heart. Many believe that this is a sacrifice they need to make for God. This is a clue that they are still connected to thought forms of the past, as this day and age is stepping into the energy of serving and receiving (accepting salvation) and stepping away from the energy of sacrificing. Utah has a huge group mind (beehive mind or group thought-form) that many are plugged into, especially if you are still connected with a church that once practiced this form of relationships.

I have seen many groups who use past-life connections between males and females as either an excuse to reconnect in this life or it may seem like they have no choice on the matter. It holds them like a bond that prevents them from fully being free to make decisions based on wisdom instead of old emotion, soul contracts, and obligations to that person or thought-form. When you are still connected to a thought-form you can also receive revelations from that thought-form, even higher source revelations may be filtered through that thought-form, or the ego may take a pure revelation and twist it to serve the ego.

The world watches as groups cause hurt, pain and even death with their group-thought mind . Take for example the “Jim-Jones Group”, wherein Jim claimed to be their spiritual leader and eventually almost 100 people were killed or committed suicide. Also, the David Koresh group in Waco Texas, which ended with 79 dead after their leader declared himself to be their prophet. Not all group thought-forms end in death. Some end in sexual enslavement, monetary depletion, or simply loss of identity and personal power, etc. These leaders may actually receive revelations and because they are still attached to thought-forms, or clouded by ego and desire, they take the information and it is twisted so neither they nor those they influence see it clearly. They may then feel they are the leader or prophet of many. They can be very convincing and have great charm, charisma, and even spirituality.

My comments are not intended to judge or bring in fear among people who are in groups and organizations . There has been a lot of good done in groups and even in possible thought-forms in the groups. I merely suggest digging deeper into your energy. It can be helpful having someone help you see if your power (chakra center), mind (third eye) and heart (in a negative way of… ‘you have to love me’), is being tied to a group or to a leader in the group and identifying how much control they have over you. Ask yourself if you truly have free thought, love, action, beliefs and power that are yours , or does the group have such a firm and thorough connection to you that you do not feel free to act, believe, love, etc. Ask to see through the illusions.

When one begins to be set free of old contracts, vows, obligations and promises that no longer serve them and their highest light and good, possibly through energy clearing, they find they are no longer bound to connect in that way with these individuals. It sets them free to connect in a higher way, through the upper chakras, mainly the heart (love). Taking steps to free oneself from the thought-form is another step. This can be done by connecting to Source, removing old obligations to that thought form and final clearing and disconnecting from that thought-form. It may require steps in the physical to truly be free of contracts and negative connections with that thought-form and all it’s appendages and roots.

In my journey and practice, I am beginning to see more and more of these groups trying to connect with others, but through the lower chakras, especially through sexuality, in the name of ascension or their salvation. I asked to be shown source’s truth for me regarding this subject. I was taken on a vision walk. I share that experience with you now.

One weekend I was in Bear Lake, Utah with some like-minded friends. I had some time to myself and went hiking. It was a beautiful fall day. The vibrancy of the colors of the trees was breathtaking. The sky was blue and the lake glistened with clarity and beauty. I first was guided to climb higher and clear my head and heart of energies. As I hiked I cleared all old programming, limiting beliefs, judgments and past obligations in relation to this thought-form. I finally reached the peak of the mountain I was hiking and looked down with gratitude for my journey and the climb and all I learned along the way. I focused on the lake and the spirit directed, “Go to the Lake”. I knew from that weekend’s experience we were using the lake as a symbol for higher frequencies, and for connecting to pure source and stepping into the higher dimensional realities.

I began to hike down the mountain toward the lake. I reached a point where all that stood between me and the lake was a swampy field. I didn’t see a path through the field to the lake and didn’t want to go through it, yet spirit was persistent in saying, “Go to the lake”. So, I began to walk across the swampy field. As I walked I tried to keep my feet clean by stepping on the tall grass and reeds, but soon I was up to my shins in mud. It was thick, black and disgusting. I walked a bit more in frustration until I said, “Enough, I will not walk through this muck to get there. If you want me there, you will have to find another way to get me there.”

I walked out of the muck and mud a bit frustrated at my now dirty shoes, socks and legs. I was also frustrated at spirit for asking me to go to the lake. I looked around after getting out and found a hose hooked up to fresh water only 15 feet from me. I turned on the hose and got clean.

Spirit then spoke again, “Very good Jenny, I will now show a different way that will not require you to get muddy.” I realized the directive was to, “Go to the lake”, it didn’t specify how to get there or even when. It was my perception that I needed to go now and to go that way getting myself muddy.

Later that day as a group we drove to the lake, in a vehicle, to a spot right next to the water. We got out and with clean feet entered the beautiful crystal blue lake and enjoyed our connection there. We enjoyed the healing in the waters and worked together to clear fears and disconnections to heaven and earth. It was a beautiful end of the day.

This experience showed me that the concept of trying to ascend and gain greater connection to others and God through the thought-form of polygamy, polyandry and multiple sexual partners for ascension isn’t the highest and best way. It may get really messy and require a great amount of “clean up” before one can fully get what they were looking for all along.

Some few days later, I was given another dream where Mother was driving me and a group in a large van, our destination was ‘home’. She drove past a city block that was burnt to a crisp. I saw in the windows of many homes people sleeping together in groups (meaning multiple partners) and saw symbols of the early days of the LDS church. I was interested in seeing what was going on in the burnt houses, but mother turned the van abruptly in the opposite direction. She told me, “Don’t even look there, keep your focus ahead.”

I now choose to hold the space of going forward in my thoughts, beliefs, and practices, not backward in time, nor am I to encourage resurrecting the past. You can learn from the past and its mistakes, but leave them there, in the past. I am to be a bridge to the future. So, I encourage others who find themselves in a place of practicing old ways to learn from those ways, but to find a higher way of connection, love and integration with others as you strive to become of one heart and one mind. As you strive to heal and grow and progress, be open to seeing things from a different perspective.

Now in the spirit of seeing things from a different perspective, I understand many really want to go backwards. They feel it is the better way. They may not have learned everything they need to have learned from those experiences of the past in order to heal and move forward in their progression. Some choose to relive experiences of the past to gain wisdom, characteristics and virtues that have not been conquered yet in this life nor in the past. To those people who do really feel this is their true purpose and way, I suggest doing the clearing work to free yourself from the group, belief and time period that the thought-form originated from, then make a decision with a free heart and free mind. If after doing so you still feel that is where you are to go for your own highest light and joy, then I respect that decision. Some people like to go through the “mud” so to speak. They may see the “mud” as healing. Mud is known to pull toxins out of the body as many practice mud clearing baths and face scrubs, etc. It may be healing for them. In that thought, it is one way to heal, but I know there are a myriad of ways one can heal and clear toxins out of the body. For some who take that journey, it may take them longer to get to the “lake”, but in time I have faith we will all rejoice in that place of ascension, “the lake” of pure peace, joy and enlightenment.

If you believe you may be caught in something like this and would like help getting free from thought-forms, group-mind thought and other energies that keep you obligated, bound and stripped of your personal power, you can schedule a clearing session with me. I will assist you in identifying, and clearing these energies to help you become free.

May peace and joy find their way into your heart and mind.

source https://energyhealingutah.wordpress.com/2020/12/15/free-your-mind-and-heart/

[azrielsiphons]

Rowaelin’s Daughter x Fenrys Headcanons

Based on this post here originally from @queen-of-lightning-and-fire

So before Rowaelin’s daughter was born, Fenrys was constantly struggling with his feelings for Aelin 

He loved her, he was drawn to her, but even he couldn’t determine if he loved Aelin romantically or if it was just her power and the wildness in her blood that matched his own. A part of him always hurt knowing that she was Rowan’s and Rowan was hers, but he still felt so drawn to her. He resigned himself to reality though, and loved Aelin as much as he was able and that was enough. Not everything, but enough. 

And then Rowaelin’s daughter was born. Romena Lyria Whitethorn Galathynius. She had her father’s silver hair and her mother’s piercing eyes. 

When Fenrys first held her he cried. He vowed to protect this innocent, perfect, pure heir with his life. Rowan and Aelin could only watch, stunned, as their friend showed a vulnerability they had never seen before. 

They appointed Fenrys the official protector of Romena. As she grew, he was her protector, her mentor, and her best friend. As a toddler she would ride on the back of his wolf form, as a young child she followed him around and tried to jump on the heels of his feet or try to scare him (to which he always pretended she succeeded, and rather dramatically to everyone else’s amusement). 

Naturally Romena loved her entire family, she was also very close with her Uncle Aedion and Aunt Lysandra, but her Fen was her best friend. And she was his Mena. No one else called her Mena - only Fenrys.

Her teenage years were a nightmare. She was discovering her powers, her fire and her ice, the dual sides within her causing difficulties mastering control. This meant a fluctuating temper that was impossible to predict coupled with crippling insecurities that she had so much struggle controlling her magic. 

She went to Fenrys with everything. Every fear, every joy, every ridiculous story or joke, every rant against her parents (that he certainly didn’t take sides on… no, never), every thought she was too afraid to share with anyone else. 

Fen knew how desperately she didn’t want to rule, he knew how she hated how hard Aelin pushed her in training sometimes, he knew how she wished to travel all on her own - not just going with her mother or father on diplomatic meetings. He knew how free she wished to be and how trapped she felt. He knew how the guilt consumed her that she even felt that way. 

Fast forward to 18 year old Romena who has matured into a young woman both emotionally and physically. Also fast forward to a very conflicted Fenrys. 

The first time he looks at her like she is a grown woman and not his little Mena he winnows to his room and vomits for a solid minute. The guilt eats him alive. He can’t look at her for three days and she finally burst into his room and tells him to get over whatever his problem is because if she has to train with Lorcan one more day she is going to castrate him. 

He deals. The guilt is still there, but it is no longer crippling. 

It is only overwhelming when she enters her first relationship with Manorian’s daughter. They court for a year, and it is only then when he sees her with someone else that he realizes that she really isn’t his little Mena anymore… she is a grown woman, a powerful woman, a beautiful woman. 

Seeing her in this new light is both good because he recognizes and appreciates who she has become, but horrible and painful because he realizes he is completely and totally in love with her. 

He only knows this because it’s different. When he thought he had been in love with Aelin years ago, it had really been an infatuation with possibility, and a primal part of him reaching out to her power. What he feels for Mena though, it’s an adoration for her. Not her power, not her beauty - though he of course loves those too - but he absolutely adores her. His Mena. Even without her power, without her potential, he would still love her. 

He doesn’t say a word though. Mena is still in a relationship with Manorian’s daughter, and it seems to be going well. So he resigns himself to unrequited love. As long as she is happy and safe and healthy, he will watch and protect her from afar. Even that is a gift that he won’t squander, he won’t ruin. He will keep his vow that he made to her the day she was born.

And then a year later she is knocking at his door and he opens it and she throws herself into his arms crying. He manages to make out through her sobs that she and Manorian’s daughter were only together because they were trying to please their parents because they knew it would be good for all of Erilea if there was a combined front between Adarlan and Terrassen, but they just couldn’t pretend anymore and Manorian’s daughter was in love with another woman and so when they told Rowan, Dorian, Manon and Aelin, they all got angry and said they never expected that of them.

Fenrys says nothing, only holds her tightly, letting her cry onto his shoulder, his heart breaking for the dedication she has to a role she never asked for nor even wants. A few minutes pass and she manages to stop crying, pulling back and looking at Fenrys through tear speckled lashes. 

“I was just trying to do what’s right for Erilea,” she whispers. 

“What about what’s right for you?” He asks, wiping away a stray tear with the pad of his thumb. 

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I don’t know who I am besides ‘Princess Romena.’ I don’t know myself at all.”

“Well I know you,” he tells her. A crazy thought flashes through his mind. “And I know I’m taking you away from here.”

“What?”

“I’m taking you away. You and I are going to travel all across Erilea. You’ll have a chance to experience, to live as your own person, to go places where nobody knows who you are.”

“My parents would never–”

“I’ll talk to them.” He takes her face in his hands, looking deep into her eyes. “Trust me.”

And she does. Fenrys goes to his king and queen that night and tells them his request. Aelin loses it at first, but Rowan gently whispers something in her ear. Her eyes flash and she looks at him incredulously before some sort of realization sets in. She grants him permission and he doesn’t question it. 

They leave as dawn breaks. They go everywhere. Down Fenharrow and into Ellywe. Through the Oakland Forest and over the Whitefang Mountains before crossing the Gulf of Oro into the Black Dunes. 

They come across villages of kind people, villages with cruel people, adventures with merchants and pirates, a death defying fight with a monster ten times their size. They work on Mena’s magic, learning together how to control her power and how to control her fear. 

Everywhere they go, they pretend to be someone else. They come up with ridiculous names, ridiculous scenarios, and then one day in a village just outside the Bogdano Jungle she takes Fenrys’s hand in her own and says in an accent she made up on the fly that she and her husband are looking for a room. 

Fenrys doesn’t even hear her words though, can’t bring himself to laugh at her voice or play along with the scenario. All he can do is look down at where her fingers are interlaced with his - a perfect fit. 

The word clangs through him as if he has been shot. 

Mate. 

When he doesn’t play along, Mena turns to him. “Fen? You okay?” And he manages to look up at her and is struck stupid. Those eyes - those eyes he had known for almost 20 years, those eyes he thought were the same as Aelin’s but only then realizes are just a shade darker of blue and the ring of gold is a bit thinner - it is those eyes that lock the realization in his soul. 

Mena is his mate. His mate. His Mena. 

And she has absolutely no idea. 

“I’m fine,” he manages to croak out, knowing she can tell something is wrong with him. Mercifully, she doesn’t push it. 

They continue to travel, but everything has changed for Fenrys. Every touch, every glance, every word she gives him is like breath in his lungs. He has never been happier, he has never been so full of joy. 

And yet he feels like he is dying knowing that she doesn’t know the bond is there. And he can’t bring himself to tell her. She just got out of a life she felt trapped in - he won’t push her into a bond she may feel obligated to accept.

No - if she is going to love him, he wants it to be a decision she makes all on her own. Not with the pressure of a mating bond looming over her head. 

They continue their travels and a month later they are a day behind finally returning to Terrasen. To responsibility. To a choice she will have to make: to step up and help her parents rule or choose a different sort of life. 

They have set up sleeping mats on the forest floor just beneath the Staghorn Mountains, right outside of Terrasen. He can sense the stress weighing on her shoulders as they lay side-by-side, but not touching.

“You know they will love you no matter what,” he says softly. 

“I know. I just… don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“You won’t.”

She turns on her side to face him, her piercing gaze making his heart stutter. “How do I balance duty and desire?”

He laughs at that. “I’m the wrong person to ask that, Mena.”

“Well you clearly picked duty.”

“What do you mean?”

She rolls her eyes. “Come on Fen. I’ve heard all the stories.” She scoffs, rolling on her back and looking up at the stars. “I know you were in love with my mother before I was born. You loved her, but she loved my father, and you stayed in her court. You picked duty.”

“Hey.” Fenrys leans over, grabbing Mena’s shoulder gently as he hovers over her. “I didn’t love your mother. I was… I was in love with the idea of loving her. But I wasn’t really in love with her, I couldn’t have been. I was waiting for–” He cuts himself off at the last second.

Mena’s eyes are wide, her breathing heavy as she stares up at him. Fenrys can’t help himself as he gently pushes a strand of her white hair out of her face. He moves to pull his hand away but she reaches up and grabs it, holding it tightly. 

Fenrys freezes. He can’t think, he can’t breathe. Slowly, ever so slowly, she guides his hand from her cheek down her neck and rests it over her chest, right above her heart.

He feels it beating, feels her blood pumping beneath his hand. A heavy, shaking breath rattles through him as he realizes her heart is beating in exact time with his. 

“Mena…” his voice cracks, thick with emotion as he lowers his head, nuzzling her neck. Her breath hitches and he can scent in her what he’s only ever dreamed about. 

She lifts her leg, hitching it around his waist and pulling him closer to her. As she lifts her hips against his he groans against her collar bone, the restraint he is barely holding onto making his entire body shake.

And then one word from her and he goes completely still.

“Mate.”

He jerks back, eyes blown wide and mouth parted in complete shock. Her eyes are lined with silver and he’s never seen her look so vulnerable.

“Did you just–”

“I should’ve told you,” she spits out quickly. “I should have told you I was just so afraid that you still saw me as just a little girl or you only saw me as a replicate of my mother and I didn’t want you to feel forced into anything and I know how loyal you are to the court but I also know how insecure you can be and I’m sorry Fen I am so sorry, I–”

He silences her by pressing his lips against hers. She gasps before melting into his touch, her arms wrapping around his neck and her chest arching into his. He growls deep down in his chest when she takes the lead and brushes her tongue against his before nipping at his bottom lip. 

“How long have you known?” He gasps as he finally manages to pull himself away long enough to speak. Her breathing is shaky as he immediately starts trailing his lips down her neck.

“Since I was… 17…” 

Fenrys groans, canines scraping against her neck. She whines, biting her lip as she lifts her hips to press up against his. 

“Well if it makes you feel better,” he murmurs against her skin, “I’ve known for a month and didn’t tell you either.”

“What?” 

Mena puts her hands on Fenrys’s face and pulls him back far enough to look into his eyes. “You knew?”

He laughs heartily, peppering kisses across her browbone and cheeks. 

“Only for a couple weeks although it has… felt… like a lifetime.” He annunciates each word with a firm kiss to her mouth. 

She is still stunned, but after a few seconds her shock transforms to pure joy. She starts to laugh, hiding her face in Fenry’s chest. He can only look down at her with adoration, the biggest smile he’s ever had on his face. 

“We’re both idiots,” she says between chuckles. 

“Mena,” he says softly, still smiling down at her as he rests her forehead against his. “My Mena… my mate.”

He holds her tightly, worshipping her body with his hands and his tongue all night beneath the stars. And as they came together everything clicked into place and their souls intertwined deep within them - a bond never to be separated. 

As they walk hand in hand into the castle to tell her parents, Aelin laughs hysterically and hands Rowan a wad of money before embracing them both. She tells Fenrys that she can think of no one better suited for her daughter and he can barely choke out a thank you. 

Mena tells them that she doesn’t wish to rule – at least not yet. She wants to continue traveling, to cross the seas into other lands, maybe even other worlds one day. But she promises to return. 

They promise to return. 

And as they leave Terrasen after a full day of hugs and kisses and emotional goodbyes, they stand at the border of Terrasen hand-in-hand overlooking the sea. 

“Are you ready?” She asks him, white hair flying around her from the sea air.

Fenrys smiles, lifting her hand and pressing his lips against it. 

“Always.”

Hope you enjoyed! Reblog if you did!

[little-black-dress-24]

Pater’s Rose 2

The story continues..... 

I hope you will like it and I would be happy if you tell me what you liked or not!!! 

Lots of love 

E. xx 

The morning sun wakes me up and I smile with my eyes closed. Burying my face deeper in the white clean pillow, I open my tired eyes. I guess it’s a beautiful day waiting for me outside. And for the first time I feel excitement; what will I do today? Nothing here is compulsory, like my days in London. Looking at the alarm clock on my nightstand I am startled. 9 am. I slept very long. With a satisfied smile I fall back into the pillows and close my eyes, feeling a long missed feeling. No pressure, no expectations which I have to fulfill.

Pulling back the duvet I creep out of the bed, slipping in my expensive slippers, walking towards the window which is covered with curtains. I pull the soft rosé coloured curtains away.

The sun warms my face and my white nightgown shines bright in the light. It’s a beautiful day.

Normally I would be on my way to Mrs Smith. She and other women meet at her house for petty talks, exchanging the latest gossip. One of my duties. After the hideous tea I visit the orphanage. William doesn’t know that I help the nurses there. He would boil with indignation. Shaking my head,  I try to dislodge the thoughts from my brain.

I open the window, and the soft breeze tickles my skin, I let my nightgown blow in the wind. I love the fresh morning air. The day is new; anything can happen. The day is fresh, unused.

At some distance I see the sea and the top of the white lighthouse, and some roofs of the little village. The green is lush, and I feel the urge to feel it on my bare feet, like Olivia. I wish I could be that young again.

“Good morning, sleepy head!” my sister pushes the pram, looking up to my window. I grin.

Her hair is pinned up in a bun and some curls hang loosely around her neck. She stops walking under my window, bobbing the pram up and down with her left hand. Her right hand rests on her forehead to protect her eyes from the sun. Her wedding ring shines in the garish natural light. Emily looks up with a bright smile on her face. It reminds me of earlier days, where she pushed her doll’s pram carelessly over the green lawn of our parents’ house, running away from our older brother Michael. The dogs barking and running over the lawn with her. But now she carries her own child over her own lawn in a real pram. Michael is grown up, a proud soldier who is ready to fight for his fatherland. And I? Whatever became of me?

“Come down! It will be a beautiful day!” I nod, turning around with flying hair, closing the window and dressing myself in a rosé colored skirt and a white light blouse. My hair is braided, unusual for me, because in London my maid creates extravagant hairstyles.

Running light-footed down the stairs, my hand dances over the wooden banister, which feels like the old one at our parents house and just in this moment I feel twelve again. Heart light, skirts flying and hair braided.

I run through the living room towards the wide open french doors, the white curtains blowing in the morning breeze, and I nearly overlook John, who is sitting in a white garden chair, reading the newspaper. A cup of coffee is standing in front of him and he folds the newspaper, looking at me through his glasses.

“Oii, there is someone in a hurry! Good morning, my favourite sister in law! It’s a beautiful day; I won’t stop you. Emily is with the little one out there!” he smiles and winks.

“Good morning John!” I say breathlessly. “You’re right it’s a beautiful day!” I turn around to look at him, and my skirt swings like the excitement in my heart.

“Darling, I’m always right, it’s an unwritten law” he grins, holding the newspaper in one hand as he bends forward to sip on his coffee.

“Oh John!” my sister exclaims as she parks the pram. Carrying her little daughter, she steps up the wooden stairs of the terrace.

“She caught me. She’s the actual regent.” John stands up and kisses my sister’s forehead and then the little head of his daughter. It’s pure harmony, and I feel like an intruder right in this moment. I know that I’m always welcome but I feel uncomfortable. I have an own house in London, my own man, but no children. My heart grows heavy, and I smile at them sadly.

“Let us see if Martha has something to eat for my sleepy head.” Emily says with a cheeky grin on her sensual lips.

*****

We’re sitting outside under an umbrella, eating a delicious cake, which Martha had baked. Putting the fork on my empty plate I fall back, laughing, I touching my stomach.

My sister’s eyes become serious.

“Will you write William?” she asks me, soothing the baby. I close my eyes, looking to the side.

“You can ignore me, but I will ask you again.” she says in a quiet voice and I know that she will.

“I don’t want to talk about him right now.” I say feebly, fixing the roses which waggle with  their heads in the balmy breeze.

“Well, do you like Pater Styles? He is a nice and handsome man! He is such an enrichment for our parish!” She sips on her orange juice, and my head turns to her immediately as I hear his name.

“He is very young. Why is he here in this wasteland? He could be in Rome. I bet he is here in exile.” I say, narrowing my eyes at my sister.

“Maybe he defied the vow of abstinence,” I say with a feigned laugh.

My sister rolls her eyes and strokes Josephine’s little head. She became older, I can see little wrinkles around her eyes: laughter lines. It fills my heart with happiness that she can laugh and that she’s happy with her life here. But I can also see a little worry line in the middle of her brow. A typical worry wrinkle of a mother. And her eyes are full of love.

“He told me it was the obedience.” Emily says.

“Oh,” is my response.

“He teaches the children here in the village. Only a handful but I guess he does his job very, very well. Olivia is keen on him; she raves of him. The older people love him too. The funeral of old Mrs Miller was heartbreaking. He found nice words for the elderly; you know you shouldn’t speak bad about dead people,” she waves her hand.

“Oh Emily!” I laugh. “I think he is a thinker; he has a heavy soul.” I blink against the sun.

“Maybe. He visits us often; he and John ride out together. But he seems like a man who stands over all and nothing can jar him.”

We’re sitting there for a while, talking about him, God, the family, avoiding the most important theme: me.

I frown as I hear a car.

“Auntie,” it’s Olivia’s light voice. I turn my head and see the little girl running towards us.  

Her blonde curls blow in the wind and her white dress shines, and the giggle delights my heart. I smile at her, standing up and spreading my arms to welcome her.

I bend forward to embrace my little niece. I stroke over her blond curls as I look up, seeing him standing there. His black cassock flutters in the wind and his hair swings as he walks towards us. He has his hands crossed behind his back, like a typical father. He looks down on his feet as he walks across the green lawn.

My heart runs, my chest raises in an unsteady rhythm.

“Pater, Styles! We talked about you” Emily says, and I blush, trying to avoid his green eyes. But nothing escapes them, not even my eyes. A magical sparkle is in his eyes, and my heart skips a beat as he jumps lightly onto the first step of the terrace. His crucifix jumps and lands with a muffled sound on his chest.  

“I hope the ladies talked only about the good things.” He has a crooked smile on his lips. I could watch his face for an eternity. The smile signifies his dimples, and I swallow, pressing Olivia more tightly around my body like a human shield.

He has to narrow his eyes as he walks around the table.

“May I?” he asks pulling one of the white rattan chairs back.

“I insist.” Emily says, but before she can add anything, I open my mouth. My voice sounds strange, and I have a dry mouth.

“Are there any bad things about a priest?” I look him directly in the eyes. He stops in his movement, half sitting, supporting himself with his hands on the armrest of the chair, looking up to me.

“My child, every soul has abysses. We’re only human. The flesh is weak.” he says and every boyish charm has disappeared from his eyes. The green pupils rest too long on mine. The dark in his eyes tells me that there is something inside him, something mysterious.

All the other men are predictable, easy to read, but I don’t know what it is about him. Is it the cassock? The spiritual aura? I can’t place the air of mystery..

“You’re thinking intensely about my answer.” He folds his hands and rests his chin on them. I must have a deep furrow between my brows. My sister smiles in amusement, and his crooked smile appears again on his lips.

“Pater, she overthinks everything. She’s our thinker.”

Olivia fidgets herself free from me, and I feel vulnerable and naked. With a trembling soul I take place on my chair again.

“That’s dangerous,” is all he says. And I know exactly what he means. I know that he knows that I have glimpsed high society life in London, despite not knowing that I it is my life.

“Pater, do you want anything to drink? I will call for Libby.” Emily asks him.

“Maybe a coffee?” he smiles.

“Mummy, can I go to the horses?” Olivia interrupts.

My sister stands up, still with little Josephine in her arms, nodding to Olivia.

“Do you want to ride out today with John? He left a few hours ago, but I’m sure he will be back soon,” she adds.

“No, Emily. I have some obligations.” he responds.  With a short nod, she walks into the dark house. I look after her until the darkness swallows her completely.

I sit here alone with him here in the garden. Kneading my hands nervously. I can feel how his eyes rest on me.

“So you won’t be present tonight at dinner?” I ask shyly, looking up from my hands. A part of me hopes he will say that he wants to be there, but the other part, the rational part, says that he is a priest, a man of God.

“No, I visit the orphanage every Wednesday.” he says, and I can see something sad in his face as he thinks of the lonely children. His green eyes looks so gloomy, and all I want is to touch him. I want to press my hand on his cheek.

“It’s a very specific place. But everyone deserves the love of God, especially the children,” his voice is so deep and I could listen to him hours, days, nights.

“I know such places,” I say quietly, looking in his green eyes which start to sparkle. “I used to visit the orphanage in London.” He raises his eyebrows, and I have the feeling he thinks that I do this for my own reputations, only so I can say that I do charity work.

“I do it for them. Not for me or any status in the society of London. It’s no happy place, all the little faces, all the big dark eyes which are looking up to you. Nobody knows that I visit them.” The last sentences is scarcely audible.

“You don’t need to justify” he says, leaning forward, touching my hands. His warm hands feel pleasurable on my cold ones. Slowly he strokes with his thumb over my hand and in this moment everything is standing still. The wind stops blowing through the flowers, the bees stop humming, my heart stops beating, only his forefinger and his thumb are cycling over my shivering skin. Looking at our intertwined hands, I turn my head up to look at him, meeting his glance and there is this moment. This secret moment only two people can have when their hearts beat together and for that few seconds our hearts pounding together.

“Here is your coffee,” my sister says as she steps out. His hands rest a few more seconds on mine, and I slide my hand over his. It’s a small gesture, but it means so much for me to touch his hand again, feeling his skin on mine. He looks at me, and the sadness returns to his eyes, but this time it’s a different sadness, maybe despair? He withdraws his hands, standing up to receive the cup of coffee. The white cup with flowers on it looks little in his big hands, and I catch myself of thinking of his hands touching my hands again.

“I don’t want to be rude, Emily. But it’s time for me to leave.” He says, looking seriously into her eyes. She nods and smiles, like a mother who has to let her child go.

He sips on the coffee and puts it down on the little table in front of us while he stands up, taking Emily’s hand in both hands and kissing her hand.  

“Thank you, my dear.” he says to her, smiling.

I stand up too, throwing my white napkin on my chair. He releases Emily’s hands. His broad shoulders turn towards me and the summer breeze plays with his hair and with his cassock.

Touching my arm, he slides down until he reaches my hand.

“Goodbye” is the only thing he says to me. He turns away, walking over the lawn to the fence, he doesn’t look back, and it breaks my heart a little bit that he doesn’t look back. His shoulders move smoothly as he walks and once again he runs his fingers, which held mine so tenderly, through his hair.

As the engine of the car starts, I sit again in my chair, embracing the arm rest with my hands. Why does it feel like a goodbye for a long time? I know he is a divine and I’m a married woman. But we’re only humans made of flesh right?

[bkwrm523]

In the Shadows of Mid-World: The Door.  Chapter 1

Title: In the Shadows of Mid-World: The Door Rating: Explicit Author: Not me, but my boyfriend Andy who does not have a tumblr. Pairing: Eventual Susan/OC Word Count: 4131 Warnings: Romantic angst, violence, sacrifice by fire, smut Summary: 17-year-old Ronnie Gage from New York City in 2017 is having very vivid dreams about a place called Hambry and a girl named Susan Delgado. Author’s Blogger’s Note: This is for the Dark Tower series by Stephen King.  This is only the first chapter.  If you want me to tag you in this, reblog or comment on the post.

The dream began the way it always did. I’m sitting astride my horse Rusher, on the spot near The Drop where I often go to be alone and to think. My thoughts were heavy with a great many things, like my mother’s betrayal, my father’s face, Marten Broadcloak, my friends Cuthbert and Alain’s loss of faith in me, Eldred Jonas and his so-called Big Coffin Hunters, John Farson, Gilead and of course...Susan. For weeks I’ve tried to put Susan out of my mind for both our sakes...but to no avail. All I could think of was that last time we spoke together, when we kissed, when she said to me so sweetly, almost pleadingly “If you love me, then love me. Make me break my promise.” As much as I wanted to, as much as I wanted her...I told her I couldn’t. I kept thinking of what might happen to her if she broke her obligation to Mayor Thorin, of what might happen to us both. But alas, neither Susan nor I were gifted with The Touch like my good friend Alain. She couldn’t see into my thoughts and know that I was only trying to act in her best interests. Tearfully and angrily she jumped on her horse and rode off, no doubt feeling both hurt and rejected, as I allowed myself to shed tears of my own...preparing myself for the knowledge that I probably would never see her again.

I tried to once again put this painful memory of the lovely Susan Delgado out of my mind and once again I failed...because I saw her with my own two eyes. She was many yards below and away from where I sat upon Rusher, riding her own threaded mount Felicia toward a willow grove, her well fitted white sleeveless dress being the only thing cutting through the darkness. My heart jumped around inside my chest at the very sight of her. I so desperately wanted to chase after her, to cry her pardon for saying no to her offer of the most precious gift that any girl can give to a boy or man. I desperately wanted to tell her how much she owned of my heart...to beg her to repeat her offer. But I thought better of it, I had made the painful decision to stay away from her for a good reason and if I so easily abandoned that vow...then I had truly indeed forgotten the face of my father! So I took up Rusher’s reins and prepared to ride back to town, back to the Bar K bunkhouse where Cuthbert and Alain were sleeping, back to my mission and life as a Gunslinger! But as I turned to leave, I caught sight of something that was quite odd to me. Susan was riding bareback...she always rode with a saddle, meaning she had mounted her horse in a hurry...meaning that something was very wrong in her world. Against the logical verdict of my better judgement, I tugged on Rusher’s reins, gently kicked my boot heels into his sides and rode off in the direction of the willow grove.

I left Rusher near the edge of the willow grove and crept inward on foot. I immediately caught sight of Susan kneeling on the ground next to a brook. Her back was to me, so I could see her beautiful blonde hair fashioned into a braid that nearly reached down to her rear. As I got closer I could see her shoulders involuntarily jerking up and down and I could hear short, choked gasps coming from her throat...meaning that she was crying. I abandoned my stealthy approach instantly and walked toward her. The first branch that snapped under my boot startled Susan and caused her to look over her shoulder. The second branch that snapped under my boot and caused her to turn in my direction. “GO AWAY!”, she desperately screamed through her tears. “GO AWAY, whoever ye are, be decent and leave me alone!” But as soon as those beautiful stormy gray eyes fixed upon me, her anguish momentarily dissipated. It was a crime to see those eyes that I had often found myself lost within, flooded and red with tears. As soon as I reached her, I knelt down to her level and put my arms around her. She reciprocated by hugging me tightly lest I blew away like smoke in the wind...then she began to cry again.

She asked me how I knew where she was and I told her. I told her how I saw her riding bareback across The Drop and how I believed that something was wrong. With fresh tears streaming down her face and soaking into my shirt, she pitifully responded, “Everything’s wrong!” Without hesitation, I began to kiss her tears away like my mother may have done had I fallen down and hurt myself as a child. I tasted the saltiness of her tears each time my lips made contact with her cheeks. When I was certain that my kisses had done their work, I gently took her by the shoulders and held her back from me so I could look into those gray eyes. Then as my heart beat with the vigor of one hundred stampeding horses, I say the words I so desperately wanted to say to her for weeks. But as the words emerged from my mouth, I knew I was setting something into motion that couldn’t be stopped. I said to her, “Say it again and I will Susan. I don’t know if that’s a promise or a warning or both at the same time, but...say it again and I will.”

At that moment, Susan ceased her agonized sobbing and her face was overcome by a look of blissful indecision. My feverishly romantic heart begged her to say it again while my viciously logical mind demanded her silence. Those beautiful gray eyes soon had an answer. “Roland!”, she said. “Yes, Susan”, I replied. Before any real notion of stopping her could take root within my mind, Susan moved her small feminine hand to the spot under my belt buckle and through my jeans she took hold of the weapon God had placed between my legs for the purpose of which we were now upon the brink. “If you love me, then love me”, she said with that same sweet and pleading voice as before. Knowing that the point of no return had already been passed, I replied, “Aye, lady. I will!”

Within moments, my shirt was off and had become a crumpled mass upon the ground. Susan had her hands busy with unfastening my belt while I took hold of the shoulder straps of her dress to slide it off of her. Soon our clothes were strewn about the ground and I had Susan’s heavenly nude form pressed against me as I held her in my arms and kissed her passionately. I kept my hands firmly planted on her hips and she kept hers planted on my shoulders. Using the knowledge I had gained from my disappointing first encounter with the pretty whore from Gilead, I began to nuzzle her neck while gently massaging her back and rear. She gasped, moaned and wriggled under my touch, evidently my hands were gifted with giving pleasure as well as shooting. She tightly gripped my shoulders, stood tiptoed and began to lick and nibble on my ear...nearly banishing what was left of my reason from this world.

My senses were overwhelmed with stimuli, which only augmented the experience. There was the scent of the damp night air, the light of the moon, the softness of Susan’s skin, the breeze cooling our rapidly warming bodies, her lips nibbling on my ear, the sound of her breath, the throbbing in my stiffening cock, the warmth radiated by her virgin pussy and a great many more sensations. The one that resonated the most to me, the one that bore the greatest importance to me was the moment when Susan joined one of her soft delicate hands with mine. Our intertwined fingers became a symbolic extension of our brief union. Through the haze of ecstasy, I am able to grasp my reason and pull it back to my plane of existence. I lifted Susan into my arms like she was my bride and I was carrying her across the threshold to the marital bed. I laid her down gently next to the brook and focused all of my attention on her.

I began to kiss her body. I kissed her legs, her thighs, her belly, her chest, her neck and her mouth. I refrained from touching her pussy with my mouth...although I wanted to. I wanted to slide my tongue inside of her and taste her...but I felt that should wait until she told me that she was ready for that. After kissing her lips like a drowning man desperate for air, I turned my attention to her breasts. I took them into my gifted hands with a firm yet gentle grip and began to suckle on her nipples. My actions elicited welcome sounds of delightful moaning from Susan as her body wriggled beneath me.

I switched nipples every few seconds with my hands tending to the one absent from my mouth. Apparently my equal attention to her nipples met with my lady’s approval, because I felt the quick motion of her hand running down the length of her body as she began to tend to her pussy with feverish delight. When I felt her nipples stiffen between my lips and fingers, I gently began to apply pressure with my teeth. Susan gasped and moaned so loud that small animals hiding in the nearby bushes became startled and fled. The misery and angst that had haunted her for months was gone, replaced with love, affection and pleasure she had never known...which I was more than happy to give. I really didn’t care about my own needs at that particular moment...because my Susan was happy. Suddenly I felt Susan grip my cock and she began to slowly stroke it, her hand was quite slick from the attention she had given her pussy and it must have been as wet as the brook. Our eyes met and with the silent vocabulary that we were making up as we went along...she told me that she was ready for me.

With my cock now as solid as the barrels of the guns of Arthur Eld, I took it into my hand and slowly found my way inside Susan. While she was very wet, she was also very tight. Unused to my girth, she winced with some discomfort, her tears were now those of physical pain instead of emotional anguish. I continued to slowly and gently inch my cock deeper to limit her discomfort, but the deeper I went, the more she whimpered. Soon I felt some resistance within and she loudly groaned in pain...I had reached her maiden head. I was now conflicted, do I withdraw a little to give her some relief? Or do I keep going? I looked into those gray eyes for an answer...and once again I found one.

She looped her legs around my knees and pulled me deeper into her. She cried out in pain and then...I was all the way in. My hilt was against the lips of her pussy and my balls were against her rear. Tears were still lightly trickling from her eyes...but she was smiling regardless. I kissed her long and passionately, her tongue entered my mouth I regarded it as consent to keep going. I withdrew my cock from Susan’s pussy a little bit, then I pushed my way back in. Out and in, out and in, out and in. I stared into Susan’s eyes and was relieved to see the tears stop. Her whimpers of pain subsided and became moans of pleasure...it was starting to feel good and she was loving it.

I quickened my pace slightly, I thrusted into her with more power and her moaning became louder and more frequent. With her legs still looped around my knees she pulled me in deep when I thrusted into her and then relinquished when I withdrew...out and in, out and in, out and in. We were like dancers joined in an erotic waltz and she was matching my rhythm perfectly. As my boldness and confidence grew, I thrusted even quicker and harder...and Susan had no trouble keeping up with me. Soon I was moaning right along with her as the head of my cock tingled with the nirvana it had discovered within the soft folds of her pussy. My heart was pounding, I could barely breathe, sweat was dripping off of my forehead and onto her body. This may have been Susan’s first time, but she already had such unbridled passion within that she now shared with me. It was my second time...but I felt as ecstatic and as nervous when I lost my virginity.

The tingling sensation had reached my balls and only intensified. If God had seen fit to strike me dead...I would’ve wanted it to be at this moment and would’ve had no regrets. We kissed, I thrusted into her, she pulled me deeper...out and in, out and in, out and in. We spoke no words as we had no breath to spare, but we looked into one another’s eyes and we knew that we were both close to climax. She kissed me again, playfully nibbling on my lower lip...her wordless way of saying that she was nearly ready to cum. So I summoned up my final reserves of energy and gave Susan everything I had. She moaned as loud as her lungs could manage could manage and my own moans were close behind. Out and in, out and in, out and in...we were so close.

Susan gripped the back of my neck and brought my forehead flush with hers. As I threw all of my energy into one final thrust, we stared into each other's eyes as we reached the brink. Susan came first, her moans crescendoing into a deafening near scream. The contractions deep within her pussy pushed me over the brink and I came inside of her. Our sounds of passion merged together as we held each other tightly, our bodies shuddered as the pleasure we felt rose up from our loins and washed over us like a warm wave. We panted like we had just been chased by the devil himself, I felt the last traces of seed exit my cock and felt a chill up my spine as the cool breeze struck me. Our muscles relaxed and I rested my head on Susan’s shoulder while she ran her fingers through my hair and massaged my scalp. I raised my head, met her eyes again and we kissed...the perfect finale to this wonderful encounter.

I pulled my softening cock out of Susan’s pussy and rolled onto my back next to her. I briefly took in the sight of her as she lay there. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath she took, her skin glistened with sweat and her pussy was spattered with traces of blood and my seed. Her eyes were closed and she was at peace. As my eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion, I lay there looking at my Susan, whose virginity was now only a memory. For better or worse, we were now lovers.

We lay there hip to hip, basking in the sweet afterglow for what seemed a pleasant eternity when Susan broke the silence. “Roland?”, she asked. “Yes?”, I answered. With a voice both sweet and unsure she asked, “Will thee take care of me?” I tell her yes...but I feel the dull yet ever present pain of guilt as I do. She then voices her quite warranted concerns to me. There was the matter of her obligation to Mayor Thorin, which had now been broken by our act of love. Then there was the seed I had deposited in her womb that would very likely grow into a baby. I managed to find the right words to reassure her, I told her that “Whatever comes, we’ll do as we must. And I’ll always love you, no matter what comes”. I told her that she would never go to Mayor Thorin’s bed. I said,  “That you can count on. I set my warrant on it”  But as I see her worries fade from her troubled brow, I feel like a liar with every word that comes out of my mouth. I know that I am making her promises that I cannot keep...that I will not keep! But for the life of me I cannot fathom why it is so!

As the fog of memory comes to erase my surroundings, I see that warm smile adorn her lips. I feel her soft delicate hand grip my cock, which had begun to stiffen again. “Here’s a warrant ye can set on me, if ye would,” she said. I smiled, pulled her close and kissed her. As the fog comes closer, I revel in the glimpse I catch of Susan’s moist pussy as she mounts me for our second time together. I run my hands up the length of her body and hold her breasts with the same firm yet gentle grip as before. As the fog clears away the willow grove, I catch sight of Susan’s stormy gray eyes one last time. She is happy, content...and free!

The dream ended the way it always did...or so it seemed! I was in the middle of the town of Hambry, within the midst of a mob at least two hundred strong maybe more. Their demeanor was a toxic mixture of rage, euphoria and hysteria. I laid eyes upon a sight dead ahead that I sadly knew very well. It was a charyou tree as the locals called it. Every year during the Reaptide festival the folks of Hambry would burn the charyou tree along with a sacrifice to bring life to the next year’s crops, sometimes a human sacrifice if they were lucky. This year they were cursed with wonderful luck, bought with blood. Hambry’s beloved Mayor Thorin had been murdered and the hag known to all as Rhea of the Coos had convinced them that the perfect sacrifice would be the the treacherous little cunt responsible...or so they were told. So I watched  as a small wagon brought forth the unfortunate sacrifice to the charyou tree...the lovely Susan Delgado.

I watch as she is lifted from the wagon, over the heads of the bloodthirsty crowd to the top of the pile of dried cornhusks that will serve as the fuel for the bonfire. Her beautiful face is swollen and bruised from the obvious beating she was thrown, her lips move in words of silent prayer as some of the frenzied horde she once called her friends and neighbors tied her to the charyou tree. This chain of events was forever burned into my memory, but this time it felt...wrong! Not just morally wrong...but inaccurate. I couldn’t understand why, the circumstances played out as they had always done so far! Next the bonfire would be lit, Susan would give a brave and defiant final declaration of some kind, then she would be burned alive and the hellish inferno would erase her beauty and spirit from existence. I knew these events quite well...along with their perpetual effect on me...so why did this feel all wrong?!

After a few precious seconds of searching my memory archive, I had an answer. They felt wrong because I had always been miles away from Hambry when these events transpired. I remembered very clearly being near Eyebolt Canyon with Cuthbert and Alain right after killing Eldred Jonas and several followers of John Farson himself, including his right hand man Latigo. I remember helplessly staring into the pink glass of  Maerlyn's Grapefruit and witnessing my Susan’s final moments...how my young romantic heart was broken and emptied of love...ready to be filled with something else. But this time was very different, because I now bore witness with my naked eyes. I was now standing shoulder to shoulder with her killers, who I now wanted to put down like the rabid billybumblers they were...my broken empty heart now filled with hate! Once I was safely miles away looking through enchanted glass, now I was close enough to see her body turn to ash, close enough to smell the odors of smoke and burning flesh, close enough to feel the heat from the flames, close enough to hear her scream. It’s a very different experience to witness the death of your beloved from only a few yards away, when you are so close yet so powerless to stop it.

I had grown used to to seeing Susan die from miles away, but I couldn’t bear to see it happen so close...so I shamefully looked away. I tried to ignore my Susan tied to the charyou tree with a cheering crowd about to set the ground beneath her alight, turning my sights on the starry sky or something less horrible. I ended up spotting something perplexing, something I had not seen for a long time. Far from the mob and the charyou tree, near the edge of the town square was an object that couldn’t possibly be there...yet I was compelled to move toward it. The object in question was a freestanding section of decrepit white wall. It was about eight feet high and plastered with graffiti, mostly variations of the words FUCK and SHIT, along with a quote, “Abandon all hope ye who enter here” Dead center of the wall was a six and a half foot door made of dark wood, with a brass knob and matching key plate. As I got closer, I saw other details I recognized, near the top of the door was a crest etched into the wood...a skull with two criss crossed revolvers. Underneath the crest were words engraved into the wood…”The boy” and “The maiden of the lake” This did indeed “look” like the door that had been absent from my dreams for five long years.

I reached out and touched the door with my hand and felt the smooth texture of the polished wood...it was definitely there! But why was it there? Why after five years had it reappeared to me now? Before I could begin to contemplate the meaning of the door’s appearance in Hambry, I heard my Susan far behind me defiantly and proudly yell, “ROLAND I LOVE THEE!!” I spun around to see her deep within the flames, about to vanish forever.

I run toward her with every ounce of strength and speed in my body, my hand reaching for her. I had only two possibilities running through my mind, either I get her off that goddamned fire...or I burn with her! I shout through my own tears of sorrow, “SUSAN DON’T GO!!!”, but she can’t hear me. I come to an abrupt stop against the mass of flesh that was the mob when her final words cry out from the flames, “ROLAND I LOVE THEE!!!!” The inferno consumes her as I sob and scream like a grief stricken child. I shout at the top of my lungs, “SUSAN I LOVE THEE!!!” I kick, punch and shove my way through the mob, hopelessly reaching for the bonfire so I can touch her one last time. The fog of memory comes...then I wake up.

I rose from sleep with my hand still reaching for her and I scream out into the darkness, “SUSAN I LOVE THEE!!!!” After a brief moment of confusion and disorientation, I realized that I was not in Hambry watching her die. Nor was I in the willow grove making sweet love to her. I was in a rented bed in a cheap motel room in New York city that I had paid for a week earlier with a fake ID. After catching my breath and re acclimating to the waking world, I collapsed onto the pillow...and I cried for a full fifteen minutes. Then just when I thought I would cry myself dry, I slipped into a mercifully dreamless sleep from which I would not emerge until 8:30 the next morning. This had been my life every night for nine long months...my name is Ronny Gage and this is my story!    

[shadydenimcatwalktrash]

That Night

It was a cold serene night, the sky was dress in black and the stars are shimmering amidst the vastness of it. The gentle blow of the wind enveloped me into a comforting hug as her phone serenade our tired mind and broken hearts into a melancholic peace.

"Guys, I gotta go." His familiar bass voice break the silence. I looked up to his face which was illuminated by the light of my phone as he replied to his father's messages. A frown made its way to my face to which he replied with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I really need to go." He said while giving us that puppy eyes of his.

"Sige na. Mag momomol pa kami ni Stef, o gusto mo pa makita yun?" My other companion jokingly said. She's been joking about kissing me for a few times now and everytime she mention it, my heart would skip a beat. Weird.

John leave after a few minutes and we were finally left alone at the fire exit six floors above the ground. I lit my last stick of marlboro, inhaling the poisonous smoke letting my lungs to suffocate in it before puffing it out of the cold night air. My heart was doing flips for unknown reasons and I need to calm down. Smoking calms me down. Oh mom, if you could see me right now... I laugh at my thoughts.

"Hindi nga babe, okay lang sayo kapag kiniss kita?" Nicole, my new found best friend who helped me so much these past few weeks during my hell ride with Satan, inquired with a serious tone. There goes my frantic heart again. Oh god.

I stare at her, wondering if I should tell her of my little escapades with my previous best friends. Kissing my friends isn't new to me. I've been dared during parlor games to kiss them. There are few who would kiss my lips during a moment of victory and there are few shared drunken kisses as well. Is it okay? Yes. Logically it should be. But I don't think my heart can take it. So...

"Yep. My best friends used to kiss me and it's nothing new to me." Stating facts only.

"Weh? Hindi ka naiilang?" Honestly, no. It was consensus and we both know the meaning it held so I don't feel agitated. I shook my head, inhaling the last of my cig and crushing the filter on the staircase. I put perfume all over my torso and I lay down beside her, enjoying the night sky, the music, and her presence.

She faced me and I had to stop breathing because my heart skipped another beat and it's crazy. I was welcomed by her brown eyes, which was glazed with uncertainty and challenge. Her olive complexion was illuminated by the moon light, giving her beautiful features an enhancing glow. Why must she feel insecure about her looks? Can't she see what I see?

"So kapag kiniss kita ngayon okay lang?" She asked again. I replied with a nod and a smile.

"Ehhhhhh. Baka naman after nito di mo na ako pansinin." I almost laugh at her antics. Seriously, it is okay with me. I am used to it not to mention that apathy almost devour my whole existence as of now... i don't really see what the fuss is about.

So I decided to share to her my drunken misadventure with a good friend of mine during a night of break ups and a round of spin the bottle between the two of us. How my first experience with a woman end up like a big fuxkin joke the next morning. And how we continue to be friends even after having sex.

We share a good round of laughter and she held me tight.

"Eh babe gusto ko ng ganito lang. Yung alam mo yun? Walang commitment pero nagagawa nyo yung gusto nyo sa isa't-isa ng walang takot? Bastaaaa. Na gegets mo ba?" She rambles and I find it cute.

"Yup. I get it."

"Pero babe ha..." she proceed to tell me about her previous best friend who fell in love with her which destroyed what they have and it actually terrifies me.

But I am not falling... am I?

"Okay babe. But do promise me one thing." I look at her straight in the eyes. "That you'll be transparent to me. Tell me kung naiilang ka na or ayaw mo na." I told her how I lose one of my friends because she hid everything away from us until she snap.. never to be seen again. She said yes. Now we're okay. I am not losing a friend anymore. I know I can handle to stop or to stay away if she ask me to... i mean we're just friends right? I can do that.

I forgot what transpired after that, all i know is she move closer to me, puckering her lips in a joking manner and me smiling at her before actually leaning in to her lead and finally kissing her.

It was unlike any kiss I share with anyone before. It was purely magical and blissful. My heart beats frantically, my stomach is frenzied with butterflies and goosebumps appeared on my skin. I lose my wits with that kiss. I just know I need more and I want to stay with her. She pulled me closer to her and I happily obliged.

The wonders this girl could do to me without even saying anything.

I stared at her captivating eyes, getting lost in it while my head was still buzzed from bliss. This made me wonder why is my body reacting to her like this. Why do my heart somersault at our proximity? Why do I develop goosebumps at her touch? Why am I feeling this sweet electricity when our lips met? IS THIS EVEN NORMAL?

It slowly hits me. It can't be. I cannot fall for her. I denied it for so many times, having an eternal battle making me weak inside. I looked up to find my solace. There I found my Orion, the valiant hunter.

As a kid who went through a lot, the night sky had been my safe haven. The moon, my lover and the stars, my siblings. The darkness beneath them is my favorite place. I love them way better than I love anyone or anything in this planet. Orion, on the other hand, became my favorite among billion. It reminds me to stay brave, unconquered, invincible, and strong. I claimed that certain cluster of stars.

But that night, with her in my arms, I learn to share them with her. Not even the long favored constellation can take my eyes off her. I found a woman who surpassed the beauty of the night sky.

We joke for a few minutes sharing short anecdotes and secret favourites in the dark. As I cradle her in my arms, I vowed to myself that I'll only pursue her happiness. That's what friends do, right? Or so I thought.

A meaningful silence passed between us, our eyes connected just then again. 'Why?' I thought. Why is she doing this? Am I in her potential list of lovers or this is just another renegade adventure that we will tell our children when we are old? All logic was throw n out of the window when her lips was connected to mine. This is beyond words. Hands run wild, distance become a naught. My body was set in fire.

This can't be right.

How do I know? It is rare for me to feel this much bliss and when I did, it usually ended up with chaos or heartbreak. Is it so wrong for me to feel alive again?

Her hands roamed the valley of my breasts with that playful smirk in her lips; teasing my weakness. This, of course, transpired with my permission. Is this wrong? Inhibitions out of the window, her hands continuously tease me as her lips was on mine. Her hands went south with my permission and everything just felt nothing short of satisfaction.

I didn't reciprocate. My hands stay still. No matter what, I still cannot make love to someone who doesn't have an emotional attachment with me. I know she's not over with DJ. But why am i letting her?

Sadly, that night I was caught up with the little taste of faux heaven in my arms after a much thorough battle in hell.

I let her have her way with me. It was wrong but why does it feel so right?

Voices below us shook us back to reality. We immediately put distance between us and we shared uneasy an uneasy glance.

What have I done?

After that, I lay down again. Staring at her back as she stayed quiet after what happened. It is consensual right? Nothing wrong transpired? I can feel my heart breaking but I pushed it away when I notice her watering eyes.

I envelope her into my arms, letting her cry her heart out as she release a lamentation about her ex lover. I was fuming with rage that it silenced me knowing well enough that I'll burst if i utter a word. How can someone hurt her like this? This amazing woman who only knows how to love someone so much was badly hurt like this. It is maddening.

She admitted that she is not okay. She broke down in front of me and I was powerless to take her pain away. I can only hug her and let her know that I was there for her. After that we decided to go home.

It was a cold serene night, when I shared a precious memory with an even more precious person.

It was a cold serene night, when I feel the exhilarating free fall called love.

It was a cold serene night, when I become my best friend's dirty little secret.

I should've stop her but I can't. I fooled myself into believing that we share the same feelings. Logically everything was wrong about that night. We were not thinking right. Both caught up from the pain of our past that we use each other to relieve ourselves in the present.

I just can't help but to remember how wonderful it feels to have her in my arms.

How that one night made me feel alive.

And how she wanted me to forget and bury that night into oblivion.

I'm sorry, Nicole. For destroying what we have because your words hurt me. I hope you understand that my tolerance and understanding about pain during that time was non existent and i am not okay as well. I'm sorry for trying to appease the painful thoughts in my head by reverting to an immature and foolish way of saving myself. I'm not justifying my wrongdoings. I am merely trying to express myself.

I just want to move on and to be free from you. I know I cannot do that when I left this untold. You forbid me. But here it was. Written and very much real.

I fell in love and I fell apart knowing I lose what could've been something beautiful.

I love you. And I am sorry for I am not in the proper condition to give it to you.

[catraowlady]

Wedding Day... Imperfection?

A collaboration with amazing @niasusanto It was a pleasure working with you! - - - - - The morning light starts feeling the room as you slowly open your eyes, letting all your senses to come alive. The chirps outside the window, the familiar sweet scent of vanilla, they are calming, curving the ends of your lips up. Above all, it is your first sight that takes your breath away, like every other morning. You spend a long second staring, admiring every single detail before she turns to you, awake. She looks into your eyes, her expression is soft and you are still unable to catch your breath. “Morning.” She kisses you and quickly flops back down into her pillow, her eyes still fixed at you like you are the only thing she ever sees and yours on her. “Morning. The house is unusually quiet.” “It’s too early-” “Momma, Momma!” A five year old kid bursts through the door, in a loud blast of sounds. “What is it, baby?” Says her mother in a calm voice. “Look what I found!” The kid waves a photo album up in the air, proud of her newest discovery. You recognise the white album immediately. She climbs onto the bed into her mother's’ arms, followed by her three-year old little sister, who is still clenching tight into her blanket. “Oh my God…” Says your wife, taking the album from your daughter's hands. “I was looking for this since we moved in…” She let's out a shaky laugh. “This album is full of memories… our memories.” She says holding your arm, kissing a small diamond ring on your finger. “The best memories ever.” You say softly to her. You lean in to kiss her, but stop as you hear your daughter's gagging sound. “Bad mommy! You said you wouldn't kiss each other near us!” You laugh and separate, your wife opens the album and starts looking at the pictures. She stops at the picture of two guys holding each other, both wearing flower crowns and waving a rainbow flag behind them. “We took this one on Zack’s and Brandon's wedding. Do you remember the Vals?” Your wife laughs as she remembers the song choice. “They learned not to pick Pitbull ever again, that place became a Fireball!” The girls giggle as you start humming and dancing with the thin air, closing your eyes and you hear another page being turned. “This one was the best picture ever!” You open your eyes in excitement and she shoves the album on your face. “Do you remember this?” You look at the picture to find your wedding’s picture. “Oh, wow… That was one crazy day…” You look away, smiling to yourself, remembering all the events from that day. “What happened that day?” Asks your oldest daughter. You both look at each other and smile. “It started with one very stressful phone call…” - - - - - - - - “What do you mean we lost our reservation?!” You hear your girlfriend scream from the room, you leave your book on the couch and walk to her. “Kaitlyn, what's wrong?” She sighs and puts the phone down, harshly. “We lost our reservation for the wedding! Those fools from La Via Vita can't even tie their shoes properly! I swear I'm going to-” You walk to her and squeeze her shoulder. “Don't get angry, we'll find another place… And I think I know just where.” You walk to the computer, she stands behind you as you open the Pictures. “My childhood friend, Diego recommended this place to me! It's an island and it's just amazing! Take a look.” She passes the pictures and laughs in awe. “I'm happy those fools canceled our reservation.” You pick up your phone grinning, punching the numbers. It rings a few times before a man greets you. “Hello, thank you for calling La Huerta Resort and Cottages, how may I help you?” “Hello, we wanted to make a reservation for a wedding. Is it available for Saturday?” The line goes silent for a while, then the man talks again. “You are lucky! It was the only day available! On our webpage you'll find the costs for the planes.” You finish your call with the man and smile towards Kaitlyn. “We got ourselves a Wedding place!” She laughs, grabbing your hands as you look up at her. She leans down and kisses you on the lips. “I'm happy to have you as a fiancee. I really am.” You rub her cheek with the back of your hand. “If you are happy, then you can't even imagine how I am!” You both laugh, when you hear the door open. “Hey guys! Am I interrupting anything?” A young lad enters the room. “Not at all Zack! It's great to have you here!” You stand up and wrap Zack in a hug. “We were about to buy plane tickets for La Huerta!” Zack looks at you uncertain. “Isn't that the place with the human experiments, volcanos and smurfs?” You nod. “Yes, but don't worry. The blue people work for Rourke now, in exchange of them living on the island.” You hear Kaitlyn gasp from across the room. “Come see this, baby!” You oblige and run to the computer and stare in awe… ...The plane ticket costs 300 dollars only! “Well, burn my bunker! This is great!” Zack comes and starts watching the rest of the prices. “Wedding guests go free!” He throws his arms to the air and starts chanting.  “La Huerta! La Huerta!” You and Kaitlyn look at each other, then shrug, as you begin to chant with him. “La Huerta wedding, here we come!” - - - - - - - - “Wow, I had no idea Mommy was so childish!” You blush as your wife laughs at you. “Also, godfather Zack!” “Yeah, Zack was always a kid, he is younger than us for… 5 months?” You nod in agreement. “Yeah, 5 months. Yet he got married before us.” You both laugh. “Continue the story!” You sigh. “Alright… So the wedding at La Huerta…” - - - - - - - The venue is beautifully decorated with flowers, the 8-layer cake sits beautifully by the altar and even the weather is perfect. Everything one can only hope for. Except, everything else turns blurry as soon as you see Kaitlyn walks down the aisle, so beautiful in white with a nervous smile. Even as you exchange vows and share your first kiss as wives, nothing feels real. It all seems like a dream, one you do not wish to wake up from. “AHHHHH!” As if on cue, someone in the crowd let out a scream and you know that it’s real. You turn around, seeing a chaotic crowd, they are pushing and shoving each other in panic. “What the …” You turn around to see a bunch of animals, including a fierce-weird-looking tiger with really big teeth and a tiny fox, running into the wedding, knocking everything off, eating all the food. “Oof!” You see see people falling down thanks to the slippery floor, caused by the food. You and Kaitlyn look at each other worried. “Well, this is… unusual. It can't be worse, right?” As if the universe is messing with you, another scream is let loose. “Now what!?” You stare in awe at what your eyes are seeing, you touch Kaitlyn's shoulder softly, without looking at her. “What is it?” You point to the new problem. A swarm of bees makes an entrance, immediately heading for the food, the flowers, and even some of your guests. “Tyler stay still! If you go mad they'll-” “Yow!” “-Sting you…” Abbie grabs Tyler's arms as they run towards the exit. Tyler collides against Logan, both of them fall backwards and knock off a can of pink neon paint, covering you and Kaitlyn in it! - - - - - - - - At this point your daughters are laughing so hard, you join them too. “Wow, that's really bad luck! That wins over that accident last Christmas!” Kaitlyn shudders over the memory. “Let's focus on one misfortune at a time.” You look down to see the youngest of your daughters asleep in your arms. “Where was I? Oh yes. So, the paint splashed us…” - - - - - - - You and Kaitlyn look at each other, horrified as the sticky paint drips off your hair and gowns. “You are all pink! And I mean literally!” “I--” HHHNGGGGGGGHH. All the guests frantically grab a hold of their ears and the animals start fleeing the venue. From afar you could see a figure, a tall skinny man, sitting straight up on a brown magnificent horse with a stick covered in jewels in one hand, and an odd shell shaped air horn in the other. You have seen that man before, where? Oh. “Mr. Rouke…” You whisper to yourself. He stops blowing the horn when the area is clear and turn around to leave. Your focus immediately returns to Kaitlyn. “Kaitlyn, are you okay?!” She looks down her gown and her face turns red, glaring at Tyler and Logan, which send the two of them into panic. Kaitlyn starts taking calculated steps towards them and they step back each time in response. “Kaitlyn, we are so so very sorry, we- ah!” Kaitlyn picks another can of paint and starter splashing them to the boys. Logan ducks, but Tyler is now covered in paint and so is Becca who turns out to be standing behind Logan. Becca’s mouth opens agape in disbelief, “you!” And she goes to get another can and start splashing Kaitlyn along with everyone nearby. Within minutes, everyone has a can of neon paint on their own. Turning the venue into a warzone. Why would the management have neon paint cans lying around near a wedding venue! Gargh! You have had enough! “ENOUGH! ENOUGH!” You scream on top of your lungs and everyone freezes and turns to you. Kaitlyn sees your eyes are teary from frustration, drops her paint and walk over to you, holding your hands in hers. “Hey hey, it’s okay. I know this isn’t how we expected this day to be-” “It was supposed to be perfect!” “It is perfect.” She lifts your chin slight up, looking right into you, “wifey.” You can’t help but to chuckle, washed over by happiness. You close your eyes and feel her lips on yours, soft, gentle, sweet, everything that makes your world spins around, everything that make everything okay. Whistles, you hear cheers and whistles from your friends, but you are so lost in her. So lost, that you have to take a moment to breathe as you put your forehead against hers, ignoring the shutter sounds. “Imagine your kids see this picture and ask you, ‘so … What’s the story behind this picture?’” “I don't think they will get kids, they don't seem like the type to…” “What do you say, Kaitlyn? Should we form a family?” She brings your hand to her lips and kisses it. “I'm not the family type of girl, but if it's with you then I'll become one.” You smile at her. “But factory closes at one kid…” - - - - - - “You ended up having two kids!” You feature her to talk lower, as your youngest daughter is about to wake up from the loud scream. “I realized that having a daughter was the second best thing to happen to me, and I wanted to have the same feeling of holding a newborn, my newborn again.” Your daughter looks up at her in awe, then smiles. “You two are the best mommies ever!” She stands up and yawns. “I'll go back to bed, goodnight mommy!” You follow her, carrying the younger one and put them back in bed before you return to your own. When you get back you find Kaitlyn in a lacy, black lingerie. “How about we reenact our Honeymoon?”

[sueboohscorner]

The Vampire Diaries 815 Recap “We’re Planning a June Wedding” #TVD

Episode grade: 10.

We’re down to the final weeks of this wonderful series, and I am going to miss spending time with these characters! Thank goodness for the modern age, with Blu-ray box sets and Netflix-CW deals, allowing us to watch the best shows over and over again for all time. Remember when we had to make our own tapes of shows, with the VCR, and they’d either preserve the commercials, or you’d have to carefully hit pause on the recording and restart it at just the right time? Just me? All right, never mind.

In the final season’s blast from the past parade, we start by welcoming Matt’s crappy mom back to Mystic Falls. Remember Kelly Donovan? Drunk and embarrassing, neither providing a good example for her kids nor watching over them? Yeah, she hasn’t been exactly missed. Including by Matt, who reacts to his long lost mom in about the same way you might react to running into your high school bully at a chain restaurant. She’s apparently here with Peter, because contemplating hell makes one want to reach out to the wives they abandoned and make some amends, I guess.

Our heroes are hatching a plan to deal with the imminent return of Katherine, and it’s Damon who suggests that Katherine would be helpless to resist ruining Stefan’s wedding. I think there’s a little more to this, of course, that Damon is determined to see Stefan get a happy ending, and he knows that in their lives, the longer you wait to start your happy ending, the less likely you are to get there at all. So he chooses a Katherine plan that conveniently also lets him celebrate his little brother’s humanity and happiness. Notably, though, Caroline is not quite as sure about this plan. She says it’s because she wanted a big, beautiful wedding with time to plan (and no super-villain waiting in the wings), but it’s hard not to read a little uncertainty into her reluctance.

Stefan overhears Bonnie and Caroline in a moment of girl talk, and while the text is clearly about why Bonnie won’t be there as maid-of-honor (no offense, bestie, but you’re marrying the man who murdered my true love a couple of weeks ago), the subtext is unmistakably that Caroline isn’t really sure about this pairing. I think there’s a chance she’d back out if she actually believed the wedding was going to occur; she’s kind of rolling with this, because she’s pretty sure the ceremony won’t be completed. From the look on Stefan’s face, I think he’s reading her the same way I am. 

Also instrumental to the Katherine plan? An actual instrument with which to bring about her bitter end. Taking their inspiration from the Cade blade, they note that luck is on their side for once–Katherine’s body was burned here in Mystic Falls, so her bones are still around to turn into weapons. Peter Maxwell finally gets to be useful, because he’s a legacy metalworker, so he’s given the crucial task of forging the weapon. Don’t screw this up, bad dad.

Bad dad’s task leaves Matt alone with his crappy mom, giving us a chance to see her cough up some black goo and kill the hell out of a random chick, because Kelly Donovan is actually back…from hell!

Back at the mansion, Caroline finds a gift that is 100% obviously from Katherine, but she won’t realize that, because plot and stuff. I mean, seriously, it’s a printed card, not written, so there’s no handwriting to recognize, it’s addressed simply “To the Bride,” which is ominous AF, and inside the card, the typed message of “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue,” has the first phrase circled. Get a clue, Caroline. But hey, she’s got stuff on her mind. 

Here comes Damon, a very drunk Stefan in tow…no vampire metabolism anymore means rediscovering the experience of drinking yourself into a stupor and waking up hungover. Um…yay humanity? While Stefan is passed out, Damon and Caroline share a lovely moment. He puts her through a series of no doubt hilarious practice toasts for the reception, but we only see the last of them; he gets real and toasts to his dear friend Liz Forbes, who raised this strong, wonderful woman he is now honored to call his family. This is the truest smile from Caroline yet–even if she’s not 100% sure about Stefan, she can’t deny that being Damon’s sister-in-law is a-okay.

Damon puts Elena’s necklace on Caroline’s wrist, adding the “something borrowed,” and ensuring her friend is part of her day in some way. Damon, I’ll miss you most of all.

Caroline is getting ready for the wedding, and she opens a gift from Bonnie–here’s the something new! It’s a gorgeous tiara, because Bonnie’s a good friend who knows this isn’t the wedding Caroline has dreamed of…but that doesn’t mean she can’t still be a princess.

As another surprise gift to Caroline, Lizzie and Josie come running in, all dressed up for the big day! Alaric explains that Katherine would smell a rat if Caroline’s own daughters weren’t at the wedding, so Valerie did a protection spell to keep them safe that day. 

He, on the other hand, will not be there…Alaric was, after all, engaged to Caroline a few years ago himself. And just last week, before Stefan again showed up to screw him over, Alaric had been reaching out to Caroline about building a future together, centered around their kids…while it wasn’t overtly romantic, you could see the light in his eyes when he looked at her. I should note that I’m not often a fan of a storyline about a wistful love triangle and marrying the wrong person, but this really works for me. Alaric is such the better man! And while it made some sense that she had unfinished business with Stefan because of his having to go on the run, and it made some sense for vampires to be together…those aren’t factors anymore. She could have been free of her obligation to Stefan, but he came back and begged her to marry him anyway, and Caroline’s defining characteristic has always been steadfastness. She is being fairly railroaded into this wedding ceremony, and Alaric’s heartache is reasonable, not to mention beautifully acted.

Guests are arriving, starting with Matt’s lousy parents. Kelly Donovan greets her ex, Peter Maxwell, then instantly pries for details on the weapon he’s been forging to kill Katherine. When he acknowledges he’s already delivered it to Stefan, he is rendered useless to this hellcat, and she slashes his throat.

Bonnie again proves what an amazing person she is, showing up to the wedding to support Caroline. Enzo’s been the angel on her shoulder, begging her to put aside her anger toward a version of Stefan that no longer even exists. Aside: Enzo and Damon are both really good at compartmentalizing Ripper vs. Stefan, and that’s really because they are not like Stefan. Being a Ripper puts Stefan in a completely different category of vampire. Enzo and Damon can flip their switches and be legitimately different people than they were a moment before. Stefan is a Ripper, so his evil is a more ingrained part of his personality, not just a position on his humanity lever. But bless them, they don’t have his weakness, so they give him the benefit of the doubt.

Because Matt Davis is a truly spectacular actor, one of the best scenes in the episode is Alaric’s monologue to Dorian, remembering the long and winding road that brought him into these people’s overly complicated lives. I’m so grateful TVD made time for this quiet moment with one of my all-time favorite characters.

The wedding is getting started, and Caroline looks gorgeous walking down the aisle, of course! But when she takes her place beside Stefan, he recognizes the cameo necklace she’s wearing, and just as the audience knew, it was totally sent to her by Katherine. She freaks out, but Stefan says to leave it on, because Katherine will hate seeing it on her.

Sitting out in the crowd, Matt whispers to his lousy mom about how his dad should be there by now. Hilariously, she makes a well, isn’t that just like your dad? face, which is recognizable to any child of divorce.

Damon, acting as the officiant, loudly invites anyone to voice their objections to this union. When Katherine fails to show, Caroline’s moment of panic is evident–she really didn’t expect to have to go through with this wedding. But it’s too late now! 

Because they expected this to be interrupted by now, and perhaps because neither of them really believed the wedding was a great idea, the bride and groom have failed to prepare vows. Oops. Credit to Stefan for coming up with something charming enough to win Caroline over in the moment. By the time he kisses the bride, it seems like they’re both in the spirit of the event again, despite all the craziness.

There’s a little timeline weirdness here, in that Kelly Donovan runs out before the daytime wedding is over, yet it’s full dark out and well into the reception before Matt is seriously looking for her. Fortunately for Peter, she didn’t strike too deeply with her scary knife; Matt finds him alive and learns the truth about mom.

No one else knows yet, so we’re treated to a drunken toast from Kelly Donovan in the reception tent. She rants about how this crappy town never gave her a chance, and she reminds Damon of that time they made out (ha!). Then she brings up what he did to Vicki, who “never hurt anyone” (this is important). Finally, she gets in Matt’s face about how he cared for her so little that he didn’t even know she was dead. And the penny drops.

Confronted with the question of what Katherine is up to, Kelly honestly says she has no idea; she was too busy starting a gas leak in the house. Caroline knows that Bonnie just took Lizzie and Josie in to use the bathroom, so they’re all in a house about to explode…which it does.

Inside the blazing mansion, Bonnie and the girls are standing in a bubble of safety. The girls are magic siphons, after all, and holding Bonnie’s hands gives them access to her latent magic. Enzo appears to her to say his goodbyes; letting her magic get siphoned will save her life and the girls’, but it will also sever her connection to his pocket dimension. She doesn’t want to give him up, but the alternative is death, and he talks her into living. It’s heartbreaking. Enzo, you were the best vampire.

With the girls and Bonnie safe from the fire, it’s time to get back to squeezing Kelly Donovan for information. She took a deal from Katherine in exchange for a true death, returning to oblivion rather than more torture in hell. She reveals what else she knows of the master plan: Katherine is using the Maxwell hell bell! 

But wait, it can only be rung by someone in the Maxwell family line…and Kelly reveals that Vicki has also come back from hell for this assignment. And here’s where I again question the bizarrely selective quality of hell. Vicki died as a vampire, and she died long before the Other Side was destroyed. It makes sense that Katherine was so bad she was sucked into hell, but Vicki really wasn’t a bad person! Her mom just made a point of that in her drunken toast. I mean, I’ll take it–nice to see you again, Vicki–but I’m not sure it makes total sense. (Granted, I do recall Jeremy’s visits from ghost-Vicki who begged for help because she was in pain, and that fits with hell…but I’d still like an explanation of how she wound up there.)

Ah, TVD, I’m going to miss you. One more week of this gloriously well-written and well-acted series. Thanks to The CW for giving us The Vampire Diaries, and for letting it end with a plan, honoring the show as it deserves.

Who will you miss most of all? Comment with your favorite character!