#THANK YOU to Ash for letting me use her as a soundboard and also for encouraging meeeee

[thornilee013]

Push and Pull

[Instead of a WW for today, you all get (unfortunately only part of) a new project I started because I made myself emotional thinking about it. Thankfully it will be quite short.]

[Summary: Jean is an art major specializing in clay/pottery and goes through some introspection while working on things.]

[Enjoy!]

Jean frowned at the slab of clay sitting in front of him. He was certain that it was mocking him in its readiness to be shaped into something–anything–other than a cone, daring him to try and mold it into something else. Normally Jean handled taunting with a rough check or an even more scathing remark, but clay could not be insulted. It was literally part of the dirt. If he wasn't careful with how much water he applied to the cone, it could very easily become mud underneath his fingers. What kind of insult would be capable of hurting a clay heart? Jean knew that if he was struggling to think of an insult, that there likely were none that would be applicable.

Still, there was a peacefulness in the blank slate that the clay provided. A blank slate that he could always bring back, regardless of how many times the side of the pot caved or the clay slipped off the wheel or if he started the pot off center by accident. No matter what, he could always peel it off the wheel and start again. There was excitement in seeing what he’d be able to create out of the earth, and of seeing just how much the clay would reveal to him of its final purpose along the way. 

Jean Moreau always began his pottery projects with the same approach: by building solid walls that he could later adjust through pushing and pulling. When he’d first started making pottery he’d worried that his crooked fingers would hinder the process. That somehow, his hands would be too broken to properly shape the clay. As a result, his first pot had ended up with walls that were too thick and were uneven on top. And yet, when his professor presented the final, fired result, Jean could hardly believe that his lumpy, misshapen pot had been able to withstand its true test. 

He’d turned it over and over, searching for clues that it was a fake. He’d been convinced that there was no way that it was his project; after all, the professor had to have recreated it so that it would boost his confidence. Instead, as he’d reacquainted his hands with the clay and examined its curves and flaws, he realized that it fit perfectly in his misshapen hands. It was like holding a piece of himself─a single piece of the puzzle of his selfhood that had, until then, been lost. Then, he found the ghost of one of his fingerprints in the fired clay and all his doubts had been put to rest. 

It was still his favorite piece he’d created. It stood as proof to him that he wasn’t too broken to create something new, and on days when he doubted that fact, he would pick up the pot and turn it over once more in his hands and line his thumb up with the fingerprint.

He pulled the clay out in a bold curve, careful to stretch it in a way that would make it expand gradually, only to pinch it back in at a steeper slope. 

He’d improved with practice, of course. Soon he’d created bowls and cups and small vases. But for each project that he turned in, his professor would always say the same thing: he needed to work on making the walls thinner. But he’d refused to believe that he could handle anything thinner. He was convinced that his hands were meant for two things: hurting others, and being hurt. Already he’d proven that he could create, but convincing himself that he wouldn’t destroy something was another hurdle he had to overcome. 

It hadn’t been until his professor came to stand in front of the station where he’d been working that day and challenged him to create a bowl with a wall thinner than his pinkie. 

“But what if it folds on itself? What if it tears?” he’d asked. 

“Then you can scrape the clay off the wheel, wedge it, and start over. There’s no limit to it. You can always go back to the beginning. The clay doesn’t mind, and neither do I. As long as you lock up behind yourself when you leave the studio,” his professor had said with a shrug and a smirk.

Sure enough, he’d made the bowl too thin. It ended up tearing and folding in on itself in a pattern that almost resembled a ribbon. Jean had swallowed the defeat and followed his professor’s instructions, and the next time he’d pulled up the walls, he was almost able to maintain a consistent thickness in the walls throughout the entire bowl. 

Jean finished the vase by flaring out the top of the project, careful not to let the clay at the top of the piece get so thin that it wouldn’t be able to support its own weight. While other students in the art major program would typically get rid of the slip and any signs of the work being thrown on a wheel, Jean was careful to preserve the imperfections in the surface of his new vase. He was even more nervous to slide the wire under his project, especially given how much he liked how the vase had turned out. 

To keep his anxieties at bay, he shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and reminded himself that it was all temporary anyway. Nothing in the world is permanent, and this vase is no exception. But I can make it again, if I want to. It wouldn’t be the same, but I wouldn’t want it to be an exact replica anyway. Once he made peace with the fact that his work was only partially over, he slipped the wire through the clay as close to the base as possible, holding his breath the entire time. 

It came off the wheel cleanly, with only a thin layer left behind on the wheel that he scraped off and tossed back into the bin with the rest of the clay they used in class. Once his vase was set aside to air out for the next stage of its creation process, Jean plucked one of his projects that was nearer to completion from the shelf─a plain, relatively small tea cup─and brought it to one of the tables meant for detail work and for glazing. 

He was done with the glazing in less than thirty minutes, having picked a unique glaze that was designed to react to the firing process by changing hues and developing a melted appearance. 

Jean placed his completed project into the open kiln, whispering a quick prayer under his breath before shutting the lid. Part of him expected that each and every project of his that his professor put into the kiln wouldn’t survive the heat. And if that happened, it would take out the other projects around him as well. 

He’d told Betsy several times that he had the same fear about himself─that he would snap someday, and that it would mean that those around him would get hurt in the process.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

MASTERPOST

[mysticgoblinwriter]

Driving In A Cold Sweat; There Is No One On This Highway

Warnings- Murder, infidelity, swearing, food imagery, shitty parents, i made Steve the villain who’s in the HOA and a politician, adult content, dark!reader, cheating, a bit of flirting, mental health joke (mental health is NOT a joke, y’all), religion symbolism, dark!steve, peggy x bucky,

Word Count- 1.9k

kudos to @blackberrybucky for being my soundboard, and @fandomsandxfiles for being my beta reader. Love y'all

a/n- This is inspired by Hypothermic by Goodnight Texas.  Its really dark, and I surprised myself writing this but I like it. I also changed the landscape to desert. Leave comments if you want! As many as you like, I fangirl over my work too. All writers should, its selfcare.

IF YOU WANT SOMETHING FLUFFY AND SOFT TURN AWAY NOW; MINORS DNI

DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE. A REBLOG IS APPRECIATED. A REPOST IS NOT.

Bucky looks you up and down, taking you in like you are the gods own ambrosia.  “So, doll.  What brings you to this shit hole?”

You laugh to yourself.  “I murdered somebody.”- was the sentence that also inspired this but its not in the actual story.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The radio gave out miles ago.  It was emitting nothing except for crackling and static.  Every now and then it would cut back to a sermon, funnily enough it’d been the same one that was on when you started your trip.  Sunset was a little ways off.  If you looked hard enough you could see coyotes just off the asphalt.  Alive, yes.  But just how long had their souls been gone?  Someone was screaming.

A man.  You’d heard that scream before.  Seared into you memory like that steak you had for your 15th birthday. It was right next to you.  Oozing blood and raw-red.  You could hear the clink of the knife as it scraped against the plate.  Shaking your head to clear it, you notice an exit with a gas station.  “Now’s a time as good as any to stop.”  Gravel crunches as you slide up next to the pump. The neon beer lights from the bar across the road are calling.  But you can’t answer. The gas handle is slick and grimy, you’ve felt something like that before, but you can’t remember what.  A fuzzy noise in the back of your ears gets your attention.  Another truck has pulled in.  Right in the spot next to yours, never mind the dozen others that are free.  A bulky man steps down, his face hidden by a rangers hat.

You could tell he worked out though.  And had hair in need of a washing.  Clunk.  The tank was full.  You thought it best to leave before anyone could place you, but your stomach needed something other than greasy two-bit fast food.  You glance around, looking for any sign that promised a hot meal.

“Looking for something, doll?” You let out a small gasp.  He was staring straight at you now.

“Does this shithole have a place to eat?  I might have to start eating the cactus.”

He lets out a soft laugh, “Yeah, there’s a diner about half mile down the road.”

His face brightens like he just thought of something.  “You wanna meet me there?  I’ll buy dinner?”  You weigh the options.  You can’t have anybody recognize you; but your cash is getting low and however you can stretch it, you must.  You nod once.  “Sure.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The diner is every trope you’d seen in the movies your pops watched when he got off work.  Flies buzzing, neon sign flickering, checkered tile.  It even had the shiny red leather booths.  What a dream.  “Getcha a seat anywhere, honey.  I’ll be right over,” came a perky voice from the back.  Presumably a waitress. You choose the booth near the back exit.  Its always good to have a backup plan.

The man said he needed to get something at the mini-mart, that you could go ahead and he’d catch up.  Somebody screamed right next to you, causing you to jump out of your seat.  You whip your head around.  No one was even in the dining area.  It sounded so real.  Like you could reach out and grasp the shattering inky blackness.  You take a couple of deep breaths.  Try to remember your happy place.  Tahiti, its a magical place.  Or so you’ve been told  You just picked it from a magazine that was open on the coffee table the night your mother set fire to the curtains in the living room.  The flames had licked up the page, burning the island resort into ash.  Boots thudded as they made way to where you were.  He slides in across from you.

“Um, the waitress’ll be right out,” you said softly.  He barely heard it over the rickety air conditioning.  He nods to show he heard.  He’s sitting close.  Closer than you’d thought another human would ever sit next to you again.  His hands are rough and calloused.  The sleeve cuffs of his hoodie are frayed; as if someone clawed at them.  Eyes traveling up his body, you take in more details.  The hoodie isn’t faded, its brand new.  He wears a bracelet of leather on his right hand, with a charm you can’t quite see.  His necklace is corded hemp, plain and understated.

A light stubble that’s maybe three days old covers his jaw.  His eyes... are piercing right through you. You take in a quick breath, not being able to look away.  You’d never seen that shade of blue before.   He’d been watching you watching him.  Quirking an eyebrow, ”See anything ya like, doll?” You start to sputter an answer but the waitress comes over.  “Sorry about the wait.  Here’s your-”  Blue eyes interrupts her, “We don’t need those.  I’ll have the special and she’ll have the ‘Its Impossible To Go Away Hungry’ plate”  “Okay, then.  I’ll get that right out to ya folks.”

You glare at him, he mirrors it with dicky nonchalance. “Why did you order for me?”  He leans forward, tilts his head the right the tiniest fraction.  “You’re starved.  I really don’t give a damn what kept you from eating but I ain’t gonna let you go without giving you a meal.  The steak plate is the biggest meal they have.  You can take a to go box, that is if you don’t eat the whole thing.”

“Oh.”  You cast out a huff, “Well, thank you.”  He flashes a killer smile. Pearly white teeth in a straight line.  Not an imperfection to be found anywhere.  A silence falls between the two of you.  You can’t decide whether its comfortable of not.

“My name is Bucky.  I thought you wouldn’t like eating with a stranger.  I like to doodle in the margins of my books sometimes.”  “Please tell me not library books.”  He scoffs as if you suggested the impossible, “Never.  Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Jury’s out on that, Bucky.”  He looks at you more intently now.  “Really?  Same could be said about you.  When I first spoke to you it was like a deer in headlights.  Ya running from something, sugar?”  He’d said it jokingly but you didn’t laugh.

“No.  Nothing like that.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Shirley came back with your plates, and two root beers.  She left the check at the end of the table and Bucky swooped it up.  The meal passed by in the comfortable sounds of silverware clinking and ice clacking in the cups.  You both ate in record time.

You were careful to save enough for a second meal. That went into the to go container.  Now both cups were drained and plates scraped clean.  You start to slide out of your seat, mumbling a thanks but Bucky stops you.  “Wait, won’t you sit here a while longer?  I’d be kinda sad sitting here alone.”  After a moments hesitation, you resume your position.  “What do you wanna talk about?  It can’t be the weather.  Its been dry as bones for weeks.”   He ponders for a moment, “You.”  He shifts a little, resting one ankle on the opposite knee.

“I want to know what you’re running from, and see if I can offer...a distraction.”  That shocks you.  “Life?  Aren’t we all running away in some form or another?  I just happened to take the mobile route.”  You shrug, “What do you want me to say?  It was all shitty so I left it behind.  And as for the distraction part, I got a whore last night, so don’t bother.”  He is silent.  Just sits there and gazes at you.  You cock your head, getting impatient.  “Am I allowed to leave now?  Or do you want to talk about our feelings?”

“I slept with my best friends wife.”

“I-I’m sorry you what??”

“I slept with my best friends wife.  He owns half the town, what with him being mayor and all.  I couldn’t take it anymore, he’s always been the golden boy.  Always been the beacon of light.  I just wanted a slice of what he had.”  He looks up, his eyes are dead.  “She was willing, and I just... took her.  There on his desk.  He’d been out for lunch with some bigwig, and I made her cum twice on my cock.”  He chuckles darkly.  “That’d been the first time.  All the other times don’t matter, he doesn’t know about those.  But he does know about the time in the craft shed.  Peggy did pottery.

Had a nice little workshop, it was connected to the mansion they had.  I wanted to bring her pleasure in the place where she gets frustrated often, so she’d have something else to think about.  Steve caught us on the floor.  A big bunch of daffodils in hand.  Stupid, those weren’t even her favorites.”  He was gone now, lost in memories, not even knowing he was talking.  “Said he had come by to take her to lunch.  That was always like Steve.  Expected her to clear her schedule at the drop of a hat but never doing the same for anybody. He didn’t even get mad.  He just walked away, muttering something about his office.

Peggy said she could talk some sense into him.  The next day I found her in the garbage when I took out my trash.”  Your sharp inhale and big eyes do nothing to catch his attention.  “Steve comes strolling out of nowhere, said that she was a threat to his image.  Said that I need to leave or face the same.  I asked why he left me alive and he said ‘So you can remember the pain until you lay down in the ground and the mice and carrion drag your body up from its silk cocoon to feast.”

But that’s not all.”  He said the last bit so quietly, it was as if he said nothing.

“What?”  He’s crying now, tears are forming rivers in his eyes.  “She knew.  She knew  he was going to be there and that’s how she wanted to go out.”  Your puzzled expression makes him laugh.  “Don’t know many politicians, do you?  Good.  Keep it that way.  That day when the mail came I got a letter.  From her.  It said how she wanted to divorce Steve ever since he became the HOA president.  But she couldn’t.  He had threatened her once, just once and what he said was so blisteringly awful.  And he did it.  He is a man of his word, after all.  He kept his damn word.”

“So...she used you as an out?”  He winces.  You hadn’t meant to sound like that.

“Yes.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Out in the diners parking lot you say goodbye to James.  Wait.  No, no.  His name is Bucky.  He’s got a green  Chevy and blue eyes.  Or was it red?  It doesn’t matter anyway.  You back out and head for the next state, ignoring the blood leaking from the tarp in your trunk.  The screams have stopped.  And the moon is bright.

[avatarofthepining]

50, Barclay for the writing prompt thing if you want?

okay so here’s some barclay and aubrey bc i want more of their friendship and him being the Protective Papa Bigfoot of amnesty lodge. but also aubrey’s a little shit. thanks for sending me a prompt my dude!

50. “People are staring”

Aubrey’s “stage” didn’t take long to set up or tear down, this much was intentional. Sometimes you had to make a quick escape and having fifteen things to pack up was not efficient. Though this time she had the added advantage of Barclay’s help. However, he was currently standing off to the side, nervously petting Dr. Bonkers. It had been a long time since he’d left Kepler, and much longer since he’d done something that could seem even slightly illegal. He was not about to go back to that today, and Aubrey was going to her best her to prevent it too. That was why she’d chosen a college campus. You could get away with some drastically weirder stuff here.

“Alright Barclay, we’re ready.” He nodded and stood up, setting Dr Bonkers on the stool next to her. “Look at us! We’re like the cryptid Sharkboy and Lavagirl. Except we’re Torch Girl and Squatch Boy… And actual cryptids, I guess.”

“Do you think they aren’t real Sylphs?” Barclay raised an eyebrow.

“Barclay I have a show to do. You can’t tempt me with stuff like that right now!” He laughed and Aubrey pulled on her gloves, flexing her fingers for a moment. “Alright. Turn the music on.”

Barclay pressed play on the small soundboard Aubrey had, and stepped back. He hadn’t wanted to come, but Aubrey hadn’t wanted to go alone. However, it took all of five minutes for her to convince him to come. Maybe it was because she was young and that same semi-parental instinct he felt over the other ‘kids’ at the lodge kicked in, maybe because Aubrey was still figuring out her powers. But Barclay had a soft spot for her and felt like he should be there in case something did go wrong. Though his own century long habit of running may kick in should the police show up.

“Everyone gather ‘round, and I want you to listen closely… Three thousand years ago, on the banks of the Nile, the priests used to believe that if someone believed hard enough and pushed their will to the brink they could conjure, from nothing, flame itself. I am that person. With the strength of my will alone, not only can I conjure flame from nothing, but I can manipulate that flame to become whatever I desire.” Aubrey swirled her hands through the air before snapping her fingers, creating a small flame in her hand. “Because I am the Lady Flame.”

Only two people had stopped to watch so far, but Aubrey didn’t seem bothered. She plowed head through several more tricks and introduced Dr. Bonkers. Barclay had seen her do a few magic tricks around the lodge, mostly when she needed to distract Stern, and he’d seen her do real, powerful magic. Watching her perform like this was something else entirely. She was amazing, often making Barclay forget he was supposed to be helping keep an eye out for police. Everything was going smoothly though, so far Aubrey stuck to just using stage magic.

Barclay was astounded at how well she could read a crowd too, though he shouldn’t be. Aubrey was great at connecting with anyone she met. She seemed to have another sense for when to wrap things up, “And now, for my third and final act, I’ll need an assistant.”

Barclay looked at the people standing around and noticed the hesitant

looks on their faces. Volunteer assistants worked with kids, not college

aged adults. Not these ones at least. “Everyone, please welcome to the stage… Squatch Boy!”

Aubrey clapped her hands together, creating a shower of sparks that definitely wasn’t stage magic.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the ‘stage’ with her when he didn’t move. As she did, Barclay whispered, “Aub— Torch girl. People are staring.”

“Yeah that’s the idea. They’re also about to start giving me money so be ready to grab shit and run.” Aubrey turned to face the audience again, and launched into another speech.

Barclay had stopped leaving Kepler because he hated the constant threat of being found out. Kepler was known for weird sightings and unexplained events, no one in town would investigate a bigfoot sighting. Bigfoot showing up on a very public college campus? That was definitely going to grab the attention of someone. Especially with Aubrey giving him the name ‘Squatch Boy.’ His fears aside, she was right. She’d set her hat down on the ground in front of her and people were starting to drop money into it. She was also right about getting ready to run, as there was a pair of campus security guards inching closer.

“Now, dear Squatch Boy. Do you think I could make your bracelet disappear?” Aubrey had grabbed Barclay’s arm and was inspecting his wrist.

“No I don’t my Lady.” He looked her dead in the eyes. “And I think it would be a very, very bad idea if you did.”

“Ah, yes. Perhaps you’re right, but what about your watch?”

“That seems li— Wait. When did you take my watch?” It was already missing by the time Aubrey had started asking about it. “And can I have it back?”    “Next, I am going to need you to pick a card!” Yet again Aubrey seemed to summon a prop from some pocket dimension, and Barclay knew he looked about as dumbfounded as everyone else. “Go on. Choose one and please show it only to the lovely Dr. Bonkers.”

He rolled his eyes and showed the card to the rabbit. “Really, Torch Girl? Your final act is a card trick?”

The audience laughed while Aubrey looked scandalized, “How dare you insult the magician’s most important and basic trick! And my name is not Torch Girl.”

“Whatever you say fire bender.” Aubrey was temporarily torn between laughing and being shocked that Barclay knew anything about Avatar, but she had a show to finish.

“Please, Barkley. Put the card back in the deck… Now take the entire deck of cards and shake them.” Barclay looked at her hesitantly before gently shaking the cards. “No like. Shake them. Shake them like you mean it.”

Barclay shook the cards more aggressively, glaring at Aubrey. If he didn’t feel so personally responsible for keeping her safe, he would have left her here. “Great. Thank you. Now, please, set the cards on my palm and prepare to be amazed.”

Barclay folded his arms over his chest and sighed. He absolutely was, he could just tell, but for show purposes he had to act uninterested. Aubrey waved her hand over the deck, snapped her fingers, and the entire thing burst into flames. After a few seconds, the flames faded away. Barclay couldn’t contain his shock and excitement when, left in the ashes from the cards, was his watch. Aubrey had definitely used Sylph magic but it was an insanely good “trick”. Sure, his watch was crumpled and definitely broken, but it was there!

“Holy shit!” He couldn’t stop staring at the watch. “That was amazing!”

“Why thank you! And now, for our final trick. I’ll make us disappear!” She grabbed Dr. Bonkers and put him on her shoulder. “Gotta go Bigfoot! We just committed arson.”

“Wh— We— What?” He didn’t move, arson was a felony? Right?

“Barkley. Come on. Let’s go.” Aubrey shoved the carpet into his arms and took off running towards the car.

The police that had been watching them didn’t seem to be following them but Barclay was not about to stop to check. He tossed Aubrey’s stuff into the back of the truck before jumping in and taking off. Aubrey barely had her own door shut when he hit the gas. Barclay peeled out of the parking lot, quickly getting them out highway 33 and heading home. No one was following them, but that was still the closest he’d come to getting caught in a while. Barclay drove in silence, white knuckled on the steering wheel for almost thirty minutes, before he finally relaxed.

“Are you hungry, Aubrey?” Barclay sighed.

“Yes I’m starving.” She pulled out her phone to look up somewhere to stop. “God I’ve missed cell phones… There’s a Wendy’s at exit 107, pull off there.”

“No. We have food at the lodge.”

“Barkley! You offered!” Aubrey crossed her arms over her chest. “I haven’t eaten since eight this morning.”

“Not my fault. This is what you get for making me think we committed a felony.” Barclay smiled and put on his blinker. “At most that would have been a misdemeanor. It was completely contained on your hand as part of of a magic trick.”

“You fell for it!” Aubrey laughed. “The look on your face was hilarious. Besides. You know you had a great time.”

“Yeah… Yeah I did. Thanks for bringing me along.”

[disney-princess-ehlena]

The Language of Flowers

There are not many simple matters in life, and when two opposing forces clash, the aftermath creates an unrecognizable world for all.  Rey Kenobi had witnessed this crucial life truth from a young age.  Her grandfather, Obi-Wan, reigned over the collective surrounding territories until his ward rose up and took control over a significant portion of the galaxy through force and fear.  

After gathering a substantial amount of support from frustrated and hungry citizens who felt that their needs were being neglected, Anakin Skywalker took their force along with a new name.  From the smoke and ashes of a divided republic came Darth Vader and his disciples, and so began a war that spanned over three generations.

Looking out over the sparse gardens that once sheltered blooms of daisies and calla lillies, Rey was saddened to see the brown earth so barren.  Her mother used to tend to the flowers, but with Lady Kenobi's death came a dry spell of its own.  No longer was Rey able to confide in another woman, nor in her own father.  Both of her parents had been taken by this pointless conflict, which left Rey in a difficult position as of today.  

A slightly muted knock came at the door, alerting Rey of her incoming assistance.  "Come in," she called, still looking out the window.  In came an older brunette holding both arms full of cloth and ribbons.  "Good morning, Elise."

"Good morning, m'lady."  Elise curtsied as Rey came over, taking the garments from her maid's hands.  "How are you feeling today?"  The melancholy expression on the princess' face spoke volumes, and Elise clamped her lips together.  "Shall we get you dressed?"

"I suppose it would be best to get this over with."  Rey shed her sleeping gown and started to don her finery.  She gave a little chuckle when she realized what her outfit looked like in the light.  "Grandfather will love the color of this dress."  Elise smiled mischeviously at her mistress.

"I do hope so.  The last time this was worn, your mother was publicly announcing her engagement.  I hope this arouses a sense of hope just as it did that day."  Rey smiled through tears toward her haidmaiden.

"Thank you for putting so much thought into it.  So much rides on the events of today, and it's a bit stressful in and of itself."

"If you put as much effort into making a better kingdom as you worry about, I'm sure we'll all be fine.  Come now, let's get your hair and face completed."  Elise took Rey's hands and guided her over to turn a sweet princess into a regal queen.

Elise had stepped away to retrieve a bottle of perfume when another knock came at the door.  She answered the call and came back over to the vanity holding a large bouquet of flowers.  "For you, m'lady."  Rey looked in the mirror and stared at the reflection in wide-eyed awe.  

"That's the biggest one yet."

"Who do you suppose they're from, if I may ask?"  Rey took them from Elise's arms and examined them.

"To be honest, I'm not sure.  They've always been different combinations.  I thought they were from Finn when I first started receiving them because there were asters, carnations and gladious blooms.  But the more I get, the more I wonder."  Rey twisted the bouquet in her hands, looking at the selection for this occasion.  "Hmm... my shadowy friend decided to send white gardenias, yellow daffodils, red amaryllises, and red and blue roses.  What is the message this time, Elise?"  The handmaiden looked a bit baffled as she recited her knowledge of flower lore.

"White gardenias mean that the receiver is lovely, as well you are.  But they can also mean a secret love.  Red amaryllises are a sign of worth beyond beauty.  Yellow daffodils stand for new beginnings and rebirth, such as your engagement today.  Unfortunately, they can also represent unrequited love, although I don't think this is the case if they're from Finn.  The strangest part is the roses."  Elise's brow furrowed as she studied the collection.

"Why is that?"  Rey began inspecting the roses for some type of blemish or strange symbol.

"By usual standards, red roses are the symbol for passion and love.  Their deep color is the perfect way of reflecting deep emotions, but the blue roses..."  Elise walked away to retrieve a bottle of perfume.  As she came back to stand in front of Rey, she wore a look of worry on her face.  

"M'lady,  I don't think the flowers are from Finn.  Blue roses cannot be attained naturally.  They are a symbol of unattainable love and mystery, and they convey the message of not being able to have an object of affection."  Rey felt her eyebrows knit together in confusion, but words failed her.  "Would you like me to alert the royal guard to stay closer for the festivities?"

"That shouldn't be necessary.  If this person was going to harm me, they've had more than a handful of ample opportunities.  I can handle this."  Rey laid the bouquet on her vanity and pulled out a single blue blossom, threading it through her hair to test a theory.  "Now, we have a celebration to attend. Let's finish this costume and be on our way."

Hiding in a crowd had always been the easiest way to observe and take notes.  Some things, such as that universal fact, would never change.  Pulling his hood up securely over his head, Kylo Ren made his way into the sea of bodies.  Everyone had dressed in their finery to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of their princess and some publicly unknown... well, the word 'gentleman' could be a bit too kind depending on who the man was.  

Casting a silent spell to make himself a bit more inconspicuous, Kylo walked to the front of the gathering and pulled a single red rose from his cape.  

She would have to notice this way.  One of the reasons he liked her was because she was smart enough to figure out things like this.

Sending up a prayer that she wouldn't do anything drastic in front of the guards, he waited for her like the rest of her obedient subjects.

The moment was quickly approaching for her speech, and although she was practiced in the art, Rey still felt herself growing nauseous.  Elise stood by her side, rubbing up and down her arms gently.  "Don't worry m'lady, this is just the same type of public appearance you do all the time.  Breathe, and don't trip over your feet."  Rey started sweating a bit more at that piece of advice.

"May I present my granddaughter, Princess Reyne Alena Edlyn Kenobi."  Rey stepped forward and waved with a broad smile toward her subjects.  Obi-Wan stepped politely to her left side, applauding with the crowd at her arrival.  Through the noise, she could feel a significant spiritual pull through the crowd, but she couldn't pinpoint from where.  It was strong enough to steal her breath away, but thankfully, the audience paid no mind.

Once the applause began to grow quiet, Rey cleared her throat and started to speak, gathering confidence as she went.  

"My loyal subjects, it has been a long and hard road to building a better society for all.  Some said it couldn't be done, but my grandfather and I have worked tirelessly to achieve this current point of success.  Our work is not yet complete, but what we have done, we could not have done without the help of each of you.  Patience, understanding, and a hunger for a better life are elements that drive our beautiful kingdom to places that we have not seen in decades."  

A loud rallying cry echoed off the wooden platforms holding Rey and her family above the crowd.  Encouraging her to continue, Obi-Wan smiled and motioned with his hands.

"The success of a leader depends largely on surrounding support systems.  I watched my mother and father, your queen and king, prepare for a future they never got to witness.  My own coronation is quickly approaching.  In honor of this momentous occasion, I would like to introduce to you Prince Finn Thelcar, future king consort of Takodana.  We share a public announcement of our engagement as of today with the people who have made our kingdom the dream we wished."  

Rey reached her arm out to the right wing of the stage, signaling for him to join her.  He walked out nervously, waving toward the citizens with a tentative smile on his face as the audience applauded.  His navy blue coat accentuated her own powder blue dress, and all she could think was that although she didn't quite love him, they could be a power team for her country's future.  Rey's nerves had gotten the best of her over the past few weeks, trying to figure out how to love a man that felt more like family than a husband.  Watching as he addressed her... no, their kingdom, she felt a bit of hope.  Maybe they could learn how to love and take care of each other, together.

Looking out over the crowd, Rey felt the same spiritual pull from the beginning of her speech.  Her eyes scanned across all the bodies, unable to gather a specific location once again.  Feeling a bit defeated, she started to look back at Finn but saw a tall, cloaked figure standing in the front of the crowd.  It appeared to be a hooded man holding a single red rose, staring her down as though he intended to devour her whole.  Tearing her attention away before she displayed her fear, she turned back to her future husband and listened as he ended the speech to her subjects.

Once the public speech was finished, Rey and Finn made their way to the reception area.  All the dignitaries were waiting for them to make their entrance, arm in arm, as was expected.  Rey smiled at Finn, knowing that he was still a bit nervous.  "You can always imagine them naked," she whispered in his ear.

"I think that would be a bad idea for a number of reasons, peanut."  His childhood nickname had stuck with them through time, reminding her of simpler days.  They made their way to the other side of the room, taking a seat on the thrones her parents had sat in when she was a child.  Nostalgia was a strong theme today; she had prepared for that inevitability.  "So what do we do?"

"We watch our people, even if this isn't an accurate representation of all, and we provide a soundboard tonight.  Everything tonight is just mainly for show and practice, for now.  Grandfather will take of the urgent matters while we get to know the people."  There was a moment of comfortable silence between the two of them as they watched the mingling and elbow-rubbing.  "Sorry for forgetting, but I meant to thank you for the flowers earlier.  They were beautiful."  Finn looked at her in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"The bouquet you sent me earlier today.  I thought you'd see the rose in my hair and be happy."  His eyes shot to the flower she wore and grew wide.

"I wish I had thought to get you flowers, but I was so nervous that I forgot.  There's no way to obtain a rose that color anyway, I wouldn't know how..."  Rey's face fell, turning her smile into a frown.  "Rey, are you okay?  Is someone stalking you?"  She stood suddenly, face contorting into determination.  

"I'm fine.  I'm going to take a walk, I'll be back shortly."  Finn stood to escort her, but she waved him back down.  "This is something I need to do myself."  Placing a chaste kiss on his cheek, she smoothed out her skirts.  "Trust me, I'll be back in a few moments.  I have to check out something, and I have a feeling I need to do it by myself."  Leaving him standing alone in front of their thrones, Rey made her way to the side doors of the ballroom.

So many pointless discussions were being held by people who thought themselves significant for no reason.  Coming to these events always made Kylo sick at his stomach.  It might help if they hadn't cast him out of "normal" society, but perhaps the solitude had been beneficial.  His skills had grown tenfold since he was a teenager.  Watching his mother being sent to live in a different land than himself had given him just the appropriate push to overtake these... commoners.

As much as he hated himself, he couldn't stay away from town.  This princess, average as she appeared, had caught his attention.  She may not be aware of it right now, but they shared something.  That certain something that had sent himself and his mother into exile.  He intended on telling her tonight, but he would have to get her away from the crowd, and that man who had been declared her consort this afternoon.  

The sound of clicking heels was his signal to hide behind the shrubbery once more.  Patience was indeed a virtue, but it was starting to feel a bit tiresome.

Cool, fresh air hit Rey's face with a bit of force, calming her anxious nerves.  Entertaining a high number of bodies was never the kind of event she enjoyed, especially with such a snooty crowd.  She had learned how to properly communicate with counts and duchesses, but the desire to gossip and demonstrate the power of wealth and standing was lacking in her personality.

Unweaving the blue rose from her curls, she examined it with a shrewd stare.  If Finn hadn't been sending her these careful arrangements...

"I see you found my blossoms."  Rey jumped back away from the man in black.  He seemed to have appeared from nowhere, quiet as a mouse.  

"Who are you?"  She watched as he moved toward her in small steps as though he were afraid of spooking her.  

"Your family cast out my own.  But I'm sure you wouldn't remember the lore of the Skywalkers."  His tone had turned hard and bitter as he continued to speak.  "Your grandfather turned out mine, leaving him to wallow in the filth and cold, while he was never made to suffer."

"Anakin.  Your grandfather was Darth Vader?"  Rey's hand jerked to her mouth in realization.  

"One and the same."  The dark man walked toward her, enclosing her between himself and the wall.

"All I have to do is scream and the guards will come looking for me."  Sweat beaded across her forehead and neck, sliding down her spine.

"I don't mean you harm.  But I'm glad to see that you're enjoying my gifts."  He reached for the rose in her hand, pulling the red one from his cloak as well.  Intertwining them, the man reached for a curl and weaved both the roses into her hair.  "I had hoped you'd notice me in the crowd today."  Rey's eyes grew large as she recognized the spiritual pulse from earlier.  

"You need to leave, now.  Mages aren't allowed in the land anymore."  She tried to run around him and found herself encaged by his arms.  

"Not since the Kenobi's banished us.  But no worries, I don't hold past transgressions against you."

"Then what do you want?"  He traced a hand down the side of her face, leaving electric sparks in the wake of his glove.  

"To give you a bit of information, and to make an offer."  He stood back and allowed her to step away from the wall.  She watched him with caution as he looked through the door with narrowed eyes.  "The man you have chosen to govern this country with, this Finn character, he's not an adequate partner for you."

"What would you know about the House of Thelcar?"  He walked back toward her with a devious smile shining from under his hood.

"I know that they are not yet aware of your magical powers," he whispered into her ear, eliciting a gasp.

"How did you..."

"Not here, and not now."  

"If not now, then when?  And how would I find you anyway?"  Rey crossed her arms and craned her neck, trying to get a better look at the man who seemed to know so much about her personal life.  He turned away and pretended to ignore her question.

"People will tell you to stay away from me, but you, of all people, having nothing to fear from Kylo Ren.  Come find me when you're ready for a teacher."

"How do I find you?!"  She came running up behind him, realizing that he was preparing to leave.

"You're a smart girl, you'll find a way."  When Kylo turned to face her, he wore a sideways smirk.  His expression momentarily left her breathless and a bit unaware of her surroundings.  When she came to, Kylo was standing directly in front of her.  "Just call out to me in your mind and I'll find you."  He pressed his lips gently on her's and felt as she tensed for a moment, then relaxed and closed her eyes as if he were an old friend.  When she opened her eyes, Kylo had vanished into thin air.

Rey touched her lips with tentative fingers, knowing that she wouldn't be able to rest until she knew more about this Kylo Ren figure.

[thornilee013]

Push and Pull

[Instead of a WW for today, you all get (unfortunately only part of) a new project I started because I made myself emotional thinking about it. Thankfully it will be quite short.]

[Summary: Jean is an art major specializing in clay/pottery and goes through some introspection while working on things.]

[Enjoy!]

Jean frowned at the slab of clay sitting in front of him. He was certain that it was mocking him in its readiness to be shaped into something–anything–other than a cone, daring him to try and mold it into something else. Normally Jean handled taunting with a rough check or an even more scathing remark, but clay could not be insulted. It was literally part of the dirt. If he wasn't careful with how much water he applied to the cone, it could very easily become mud underneath his fingers. What kind of insult would be capable of hurting a clay heart? Jean knew that if he was struggling to think of an insult, that there likely were none that would be applicable.

Still, there was a peacefulness in the blank slate that the clay provided. A blank slate that he could always bring back, regardless of how many times the side of the pot caved or the clay slipped off the wheel or if he started the pot off center by accident. No matter what, he could always peel it off the wheel and start again. There was excitement in seeing what he’d be able to create out of the earth, and of seeing just how much the clay would reveal to him of its final purpose along the way. 

Jean Moreau always began his pottery projects with the same approach: by building solid walls that he could later adjust through pushing and pulling. When he’d first started making pottery he’d worried that his crooked fingers would hinder the process. That somehow, his hands would be too broken to properly shape the clay. As a result, his first pot had ended up with walls that were too thick and were uneven on top. And yet, when his professor presented the final, fired result, Jean could hardly believe that his lumpy, misshapen pot had been able to withstand its true test. 

He’d turned it over and over, searching for clues that it was a fake. He’d been convinced that there was no way that it was his project; after all, the professor had to have recreated it so that it would boost his confidence. Instead, as he’d reacquainted his hands with the clay and examined its curves and flaws, he realized that it fit perfectly in his misshapen hands. It was like holding a piece of himself─a single piece of the puzzle of his selfhood that had, until then, been lost. Then, he found the ghost of one of his fingerprints in the fired clay and all his doubts had been put to rest. 

It was still his favorite piece he’d created. It stood as proof to him that he wasn’t too broken to create something new, and on days when he doubted that fact, he would pick up the pot and turn it over once more in his hands and line his thumb up with the fingerprint.

He pulled the clay out in a bold curve, careful to stretch it in a way that would make it expand gradually, only to pinch it back in at a steeper slope. 

He’d improved with practice, of course. Soon he’d created bowls and cups and small vases. But for each project that he turned in, his professor would always say the same thing: he needed to work on making the walls thinner. But he’d refused to believe that he could handle anything thinner. He was convinced that his hands were meant for two things: hurting others, and being hurt. Already he’d proven that he could create, but convincing himself that he wouldn’t destroy something was another hurdle he had to overcome. 

It hadn’t been until his professor came to stand in front of the station where he’d been working that day and challenged him to create a bowl with a wall thinner than his pinkie. 

“But what if it folds on itself? What if it tears?” he’d asked. 

“Then you can scrape the clay off the wheel, wedge it, and start over. There’s no limit to it. You can always go back to the beginning. The clay doesn’t mind, and neither do I. As long as you lock up behind yourself when you leave the studio,” his professor had said with a shrug and a smirk.

Sure enough, he’d made the bowl too thin. It ended up tearing and folding in on itself in a pattern that almost resembled a ribbon. Jean had swallowed the defeat and followed his professor’s instructions, and the next time he’d pulled up the walls, he was almost able to maintain a consistent thickness in the walls throughout the entire bowl. 

Jean finished the vase by flaring out the top of the project, careful not to let the clay at the top of the piece get so thin that it wouldn’t be able to support its own weight. While other students in the art major program would typically get rid of the slip and any signs of the work being thrown on a wheel, Jean was careful to preserve the imperfections in the surface of his new vase. He was even more nervous to slide the wire under his project, especially given how much he liked how the vase had turned out. 

To keep his anxieties at bay, he shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and reminded himself that it was all temporary anyway. Nothing in the world is permanent, and this vase is no exception. But I can make it again, if I want to. It wouldn’t be the same, but I wouldn’t want it to be an exact replica anyway. Once he made peace with the fact that his work was only partially over, he slipped the wire through the clay as close to the base as possible, holding his breath the entire time. 

It came off the wheel cleanly, with only a thin layer left behind on the wheel that he scraped off and tossed back into the bin with the rest of the clay they used in class. Once his vase was set aside to air out for the next stage of its creation process, Jean plucked one of his projects that was nearer to completion from the shelf─a plain, relatively small tea cup─and brought it to one of the tables meant for detail work and for glazing. 

He was done with the glazing in less than thirty minutes, having picked a unique glaze that was designed to react to the firing process by changing hues and developing a melted appearance. 

Jean placed his completed project into the open kiln, whispering a quick prayer under his breath before shutting the lid. Part of him expected that each and every project of his that his professor put into the kiln wouldn’t survive the heat. And if that happened, it would take out the other projects around him as well. 

He’d told Betsy several times that he had the same fear about himself─that he would snap someday, and that it would mean that those around him would get hurt in the process.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

MASTERPOST