#and ever since then i woved to myself to do whatever it took... i mean i dont want to be in that situation

[g0thsoojin]

i wanna go missing and have him hide me away and keep me safe in his attic forever... sighh

[rainii-reads]

Chateau

DESCRIPTION: After a fateful encounter, you and Yoongi have finally decided to go public with your relationship.

This was inspired by the song Chateau by Tokio Hotel. Bolded dialogue are direct lyrics.

WORD COUNT: 1, 903 PAIRING: Idol!Yoongi x Reader GENRE: Fluff and comfort

Warnings: Implied slut shamming; analogies referencing cuts (there is no self-harming, only references to words hurting.)

Author’s note: This is my first fanfiction for BTS, and my first story in a long, long time. Hope it’s not too bad! You can also read it on AO3.

🌸

Taking up Arms: ARMY Feuds Over SUGA and Y/N

As news of BTS’s SUGA sweeps the kPop world, fans are divided. Many ARMYs citing Y/N as a clout seeker - stealing their Min SUGA. ARMY’s on the offense challenge the perceived ownership of the Bangtan rapper. This brings to question, however, do these fans approve of the relationship or are they simply defending SUGA?

The Next Yoko Ono: Will Y/N be the end of Bangtan Sonyeondan

Silence rings clearer than the stroke of the keyboard. Three weeks have passed since word broke of the famous rapper’s new relationship. The onslaught of hatred continues to poor out in droves, yet silence remains from the musician’s fellow members. Is it possible the six comrades also dislike Y/N?

Anti-Y/N Accounts Take Twitter by Storm

In the last week Twitter has taken action and began removing dozens of accounts dedicated to canceling Y/N. While Twitter works to delete the insults and threats of harm, where is Big Hit? Will they take action to protect BTS’s SUGA and his new sweetheart?

“Sweetheart?” You snapped. “And what’s with the italics – we all know you’re being sarcastic. No need to lay it on thicker.” You fumed for a moment longer, at the snippy report, before you found your laptop being pulled from your grasp. You dared not look up at the sleepy gaze of the man in debate.

“Sweetheart, why are you reading the headlines again?”

It was the truth. Your streak of laziness was something Yoongi often appreciated about you. It resulted any many home dates and working side-by-side in the Genius Lab at all hours of the day. Shared moments you loved. However, you couldn’t handle any more inquires from that man, he had been unyielding for days, and you were slowly breaking.

“Excuse me, are their free refills on black coffee?”You had asked, trying to spare him from the one-sided conversation (if it could even be called that). Yoongi used the moment to escape and take a seat at the table nearest you, waiting for his iconic iced-americano. You remember the sweet smile he gave you as he mouthed ‘thank you’ – the start to your simple chitchat about the shop’s décor and more.

You often giggle as you remember the notes you passed on the plane ride home. The ones kept safe in your nightstand. Had you not looked up, the moment he walked down the cramped isle, Yoongi wouldn’t have shared a smile with you, before taking his seat in first-class.

Within an hour of the flight, a young, excited stewardess had come to your seat handing you a folded sheet of paper. Noticing she was waiting for you to read the note, you unfolded it and struggled to stifle the laugh that emerged. “So, who is your bias?” Yoongi wrote in memory of when your phone rang at the coffee shop, announcing your ARMY status as Converse High played. It was the rare time you had left your sound on.

From time to time, you wondered about the excited flight attendant. You wish you could see her again just so you could tell her thank you for putting up with Yoongi’s archaic flirting. Had she not been so kind and willing, your relationship may not have formed.

These and many more memories were what put you to ease when you sat in a conference room at HYBE Entertainment. It was there where plans were made for the announcement your relationship with the one and only Min Yoongi of BTS. Photos of your not-so-secret dates had progressively found their way onto Tumblr and Twitter, gaining the attention of gossip sites. However, it was more appropriate to call it an interrogation than a planning session.

“Y/N,” you remember the head of PR starting, “Are you sure there are no past scandals that will cause Min Yoongi any problems?” The intention behind ‘scandals’ had not been lost on.

Your usual demeanor was gone as you snipped back. “I’m pretty sure I was too lazy to have any scandals.”

Yoongi snorted as he held back his laugh.

It was the truth. Your streak of laziness was something Yoongi often appreciated about you. It resulted any many home dates and working side-by-side in the Genuis Lab at all hours of the day. Shared moments you loved. However, you couldn’t handle any more inquires from that man, he had been unyielding for days, and you were slowly breaking.

Your sarcasm hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Do you not understand what kind of position you are putting our artist and company in? We need to be prepared for whatever we will need to clean up after you. You need to take this seriously.” Intentions ringing clearly, again.

In your heart, you knew he trying to do right by Yoongi and the company, but the judgement that wove into his words cut. You also took offense to how he made you sound like a disease that clung to Yoongi, bringing him harm.

As you looked back, it was the first of many wounds that told you, you were unworthy of Min Yoongi.

“Y/N is very aware of what implications a public relationship will have.” The man in question spoke, his tone shifting as he said, “She is more than clear of any scandals. Worst we’ll see are malicious lies and rumors – no truth within them – and that is where this discussion will end.” As Yoongi spoke, his few words carried immense weight. For each previously inflicted cut, his words bandaged themselves around to ease the pain.

Heeding the warning, the interrogation ended, and the meeting regained its original focus: preparation for the announcement and aftermath.

Two weeks after the tense convening, the news was released through an official statement form HYBE, confirming the relationship of Min Yoongi and his new girlfriend. The media and social-media platforms were instantly in a frenzy and, as planned, everyone remained silent. It had been decided that everyone would keep silent for a month, to see what would earn a response.

That singular month had been the sharpest cut to your fragile skin.

_______________________

Breaking through your thoughts, Yoongi spoke again, “Y/N.”

You looked up at him, finally, and sighed. “I’m sick, okay? I can’t help but want to see what is being said about me, about us. Did you see they’re calling me Yoko Ono? Will the media ever cease with the constant Beetles comparisons? Don’t they see you guys are tired of responding to the accolades?”

He spared you a look, leaving you to end your rambles. The rambles he knew you were using to deflect from your current, unhealthy obsession.

“I really can’t help it Yoongi,” You sighed. “In less than a week we can finally speak out and I need to know what I’m defending myself against.”

In an almost languid fashion, he placed the laptop down and sat next to you. Pulling you closer as he organized his thoughts. “That’s not really for you to worry about. The company and I will handle that.”

“No, I need to do something. I can’t just hide behind you. People are talking about us and they’re going to watch and critique every little thing we do. I know that isn’t what we discussed, but this anxiety is unlike anything else.”

He reached out and gently ran the tips of his fingers down the sides of your face, smoothing out any traces of stress. The very hand that famously held a tight grasp on a black microphone, was now the source of your ease. The very hand that was adored by many, was saved for you.

“Here’s the thing,” he spoke slowly, “People are gonna talk. So, let them talk; let them talk about us. People are gonna watch. So, let 'em touch, let 'em see, let 'em feel what love is.”

They were simple words, yet, as the always did, they healed the damages from the last three weeks.

Tears overwhelmed your eyes, gliding down to touch the tips of his fingers. “Let it all go, since it finally happened.” He had worried about the brave face you had been parading. “I know they’re going to talk. I know they’re going to watch. Baby, I don’t mind as long as it’s you and I. We’ll just let them see what real love is.”

As you processed the abundance of emotions that had accumulated, Yoongi held you close. Occasionally whispering the right sentiments to soften the anxiety more. While you laid with him, you wondered: Exactly how much had to go right for you to be with him? The gossip columns may say that the two of you were different, too different in fact, but your time together showed you how alike you were. How right you were for each other.

Many more challenges awaited you, but with him you knew it would be fine. You were not coming down from your cloud.

_______________________

Later that evening, as the tears dried and the anxiety eased to rest, you proposed a trip. “Hey, the next time were in California we should stay at the Chateau Marmot.”

“Isn’t that place haunted?” His abundance of quirky knowledge never ceased to amaze you.

After a quick search to confirm, you scratched the plan. “I’ll find another chateau. One free of the paranormal.”

A short moment of silence passed before you asked your next thought, “What did you mean earlier when you said, “let them touch”?

Yoongi looked up from his phone and paused for affect. “Don’t know. It just sounded right in my head – I didn’t mean anything weird by it.” He laughed, exposing his renowned smile.

“Pervert.” You teased, tossing a pillow his way.

In an unexpected fashion, Yoongi lunged forward seeking retaliation. Having not anticipated it, you stumbled off the bed, in an attempt to run away, but he pulled you back before you could escape. In the most cliché of moments, he tickled your sides until the fits of laughter led to you sharing a loving gaze and slow kiss.

“You’re right,” you said as your lips separated, “Let ‘em talk – we’ll show them what real love it.”

_______________________

The Power Couple that is Y/SN

A year has since passed since news of Y/SN occupied our every thought. In celebration of our favorite power couple, we’ve broken down the Top 10 Reasons why we love Y/SN!

Goals: How do we land a relationship like SUGA and Y/N’s?

Recently, photos and videos of a not-so-secret date between SUGA and Y/N made their way onto the internet. As the young couple is seen leaving Chateau de Sureau, they’re hand-in-hand showing signs of laughter. The love between the two is so clear not even an anti-Y/SN could deny it. So, the question remains, how do we get our own fairytale romance?

We’ve been asking, but has SUGA?

The question all fans of Y/SN have been wanting to know: When will SUGA ask the big question? Our sources suggest it may be sooner than you might think. As BTS wraps up their latest world tour, preparing to go back to the studio, rumors of the young rapper ring shopping have bubbled up. Whether this is true or not remains to be seen, but we look forward to the exciting news for our favorite couple.

[writtenonreceipts]

The fanfic no one asked for, not even me.  Based on characters from the Throne of Glass Series.

When Aelin and Elide have their car impounded by police, they turn to their boyfriends for help.  Modern AU.  Lorcan and Rowan are idiots together, bromance at its finest, I hope.

Boys Night Out

Despite the fact that he without a doubt loved his girlfriend and the fact that he would do anything for her—Rowan Whitethorn questioned her sanity more often than not.

“All I need is the cellphone charger,” Aelin assured him.  Her slim fingers straightened the collar of his shirt before slowly running down his chest.  A pert smile rested on her sinful mouth as she leaned into him.  “And when you get back, I promise to make it up to you.”

Rowan groaned tilting his head back when she pulled away.  She was going to be the death of him.

Humming to herself, Aelin flashed a dazzling smile as she delved deeper into the apartment she shared with her cousin.  Without saying anything else, she began putting away the dishes that he had washed just a few hours ago.  

“Aelin,” Rowan began, trying desperately to come up with excuses to get out her request.

“Charger, Whitethorn,” Aelin said.  She pointed a knife at him before sliding it into the wooden block holder beside the sink.

“And silver pumps!” Elide, Aelin’s cousin, sashayed into the kitchen from her room down the hall.  Her long, dark hair hung around her shoulders. She smiled pleasantly at Rowan. “I borrowed Manon’s shoes without her permission.  I need them back.”

Rowan looked between the two girls.  Between Aelin’s deft ability to throw a punch and sever a carotid artery and Elide’s charm and manipulation, Rowan knew he was cornered.

“I already called back up,” Elide said when Rowan hesitated.  She flashed a brilliant smile before winking at a cackling Aelin. “He’ll be here—”

A knock thudded against the front door of the apartment.  Without waiting for anyone to answer, the door swung open and Lorcan Salvaterre stood in the hall.  His ever-present scowl was carved deep into the sharp lines of his face, though his eyes softened when they landed on Elide.

“See,” Elide chirped glancing back to Rowan, “back-up.”

The two men glared at each other.  They’d been close friends, up until Rowan started seriously dating Aelin.  Since, they’d only seen brief spurts of each other. Thing improved, barely, when Lorcan and Elide began seeing each other.  Still, there was unresolved tension between the friends that Rowan had no idea how to fix.

“Great,” Rowan said.

#

“So, you’re saying that Aeilin’s car got impounded and she can’t live eight hours without her charger?” Lorcan asked as the two stalked around the outer fence of the Adarlan impound lot.

It was barely one o’clock in the morning making everything take on a dull stillness.  Gratefully there was an almost full moon over head making the yellow streetlights a little less eerie.  

“And Elide’s shoes,” Rowan added.  He stared at the chain-link fence topped with barbed wire.  “You think there are cameras?”

Lorcan grunted from beside him and hefted a large black bag from off his shoulder.  “I came prepared.”

Tying his black hair out of the way, Lorcan opened the bag and pulled out a sleek black weapon.

“You brought your paintball gun?” Rowan asked, quirking a brow. “Seriously?”

“Always be prepared,” Lorcan said.  He glanced over his shoulder at Rowan. “We were in boy scouts together, remember?”

“You hated boy scouts.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t pay attention.”

Rowan didn’t even want to know why Lorcan had a paintball gun ready and able in his car.  

Kneeling next to the fence, Lorcan readied the gun.  It was outfitted with a scope and everything.  This was a bad idea.  But Rowan had no room to protest as Lorcan took aim and shot out the camera perched on a tall post in the middle of the yard.  It was a direct hit.

“Scouts?” Rowan asked unable to help the grin.

“You try playing paintball with Elide,” Lorcan replied.  A ghost of a smile flashed across his mouth.  “Ruthless.”

As would be expected of the petite girl.  An old injury left her with a slight limp, but Elide never let that stop her.  And while Rowan hadn’t spoken with Lorcan much in the past few months, he knew that a girl like Elide was just what his friend needed in his life.  

“I’d say we have twenty minutes before security notices us,” Rowan said as Lorcan put the gun away. He put a hand on the fence and rattled it gently.  There was a padlock and chains keeping it in place, obviously, but Rowan wondered if there was a way to slip between the two fence parts.  

“You think there’s dogs?” Lorcan asked.  He peered through the fence only slightly wary.

“You’re not afraid are you Salvaterre?” Rowan mocked.

“Dogs don’t like me.”

“I thought I heard Elide say you were going to adopt one?”

���She,” Lorcan emphasized, “she is going to adopt one.”

Rowan snorted back a laugh and examined the fence again.  “I don’t hear anything.  You know Mayor Havilliard’s cut police funding, there’s no dogs.  Now start climbing.”

Lorcan cursed, but indeed began to climb.  It was only when the two men reached the top of the fence, face to face with the barbed wire that they paused.

“My jacket’s leather,” Lorcan said.  He glanced at Rowan.

“So, I’ll just sacrifice my shirt then?” Rowan looked down at his button up.  It had been a hot day and the night had contained that heat leaving it unnecessary for more than a long-sleeved shirt.

They examined the barbed wire.

“Oh hell,” Lorcan said. With surprising ease, he slipped out of his jacket and slung it over the barbed wire.  As he hefted himself as best he could over the top of the fence, he tried to remember why he’d agreed to this plan. “Because you love her, because you love her.”

“What?” Rowan hissed as Lorcan descended the other side of the fence.

“Reminding myself why the hell I’m here!” Lorcan snapped back.  He dropped down the last five feet, landing in a crouch. “Don’t rip my jacket.”

“You sound like Aelin talking about her nightgowns,” Rowan said.

“I did not need to hear that.”

Rowan barked out a laugh and pulled himself and Lorcan’s jacket over the fence.  He received no scratched himself, but there was no mistaking the soft rip of one of the sharp barbs on the jacket.  

Cursing thoroughly, Lorcan snatched the jacket from Rowan after he’d landed.  In the dim light of a few overhead lamps, he examined the rip at the left shoulder.

“Think of it this way,” Rowan said bumping into him lightly, “you can put some more of your boy scouting days to use.  Wasn’t there a sewing badge?”

“Shut-up,” Lorcan said. He yanked the jacket back on and stared mournfully at the rip.

Rowan didn’t wait.  He had a sinking feeling that they weren’t going to get out of this alive.  Well, alive yes.  But completely free?  Unlikely. Especially if Chaol was an on-duty cop tonight.  He was a good buy but had too much damn honor to let things go sometimes.

“Silver Lexus,” Rowan said. He looked over the lot and saw mostly beat up trucks or Toyota Corollas composed of ten different car parts.  Was this the impound lot or the junkyard? Hell, it was going to be a long night.

“Of course the bitch-queen has a Lexus,” Lorcan muttered.

Rowan was certain his friend hadn’t meant to say it so he could hear, but Rowan had hearing better than most.  He stooped over and grabbed a piece of plastic that had fallen off the bumper of the car next to him.  He tossed it at Lorcan.  The other man dodged the attack with ease and cast Rowan a vulgar gesture.

“Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that,” Rowan said.  He glowered in Lorcan’s direction.  Jaw setting, Lorcan shrugged and continued the search.

In all honesty, Rowan wasn’t certain what had transpired between the two.  But in all the time Lorcan and Aelin had known each other, which was nearing on two years, there was little diplomacy or kindness shared.

Lorcan turned away from Rowan so he couldn’t see his reaction, but something told him it involved eye rolling.

“She’s a good person,” Rowan called out as the search continued.  He glanced over to see Lorcan had launched himself onto the hood of a red corvette.  Given that Lorcan was practically a giant, the action seemed a bit overkill to Rowan. “If you’d give her the chance you might actually like her.”

He heard a dark chuckle echo across the distance between them, but no answer beyond that.

“Sure, be all broody, is that what Elide calls it?  Silent and broody.”  Rowan said. He mostly just wanted to get a rise out of Lorcan, see how far he could push his friend.  And of course, try and get to the bottom of the hostility that always seemed to be brewing. “Broody, broody, broody.”

“Whitethorn would ya shut-up?”

Rowan grinned and ducked down to peer through a car window, maybe he was missing something in the other row.  If this was some wild goose chase Aelin had constructed, Rowan was going to murder her. Even if it meant facing Elide. And Aedion.  And Lysandra.  He’d need to think the murder through.

The two searched in silence for another few minutes before Lorcan let out a sharp whistle.  “Over here.”

Rowan wove through the rows of cars until he reached Lorcan’s side.  They stared at the sleek Lexus where it nestled between a Ford and a conglomerate contraption of at least four different cars.  Aelin would have a fit if she could see her car now.

“Let’s get the stuff and get out,” Rowan said.  Thankfully, Aelin had given him the spare keys to the car.  As he unlocked the doors, Lorcan stiffened.

“Did you hear that?” Lorcan asked.  His eyes narrowed and he looked around the lot.  

Rowan threw open the driver side door and paused.  He glanced toward the old guard station, but it was black, looking distinctly empty. Whatever Lorcan had heard didn’t sound again.  Slumping into the car, Rowan poked around for Aelin’s charger.  The car, miraculously was kept clean.  A miracle considering how much chocolate cake Aelin ate on a regular basis and how often her snacking occurred in her car.  The lingering scent of her perfume wafted from the seats and despite how annoyed he was at this lucrative situation; Rowan made a note that he should buy Aelin both chocolate cake and another bottle of perfume.

He found the charger in the glove box.  “Found the charger.  I don’t see the shoes.”

Rowan straightened to see Lorcan was still examining every inch of the lot.  His brow furrowed in concentration.  Rowan was about to ask what was the matter when he heard the distinct howl of a dog.

“Crap,” Rowan said. He and Lorcan met gazes, neither moving. “Someone could be walking by?”

Lorcan shot him a withering look when the bark came again.  Louder and definitely closer.  “Oh hell,” Lorcan hissed.  The bark was joined by another dog.  “Oh hell, oh hell.”

“Lorcan get the damn shoes!” Rowan yelled already spinning away from the car.

Lorcan dove into the front door, half splayed over the front seat as he dug around the back of the car. He flung one sliver pump over his shoulder to where it settled on the front seat.  The other soon followed.  Wiggling and cursing, Lorcan dragged himself out of the car, shoes in hand.  He looked half-wild with his hair splayed over his face, dark eyes wide.

“Run you idiot!” Lorcan said.  He clutched the shoes to his chest and dashed past Rowan as the barking took up in earnest.

“I’m not wearing the right shoes for this.”  Rowan stuffed Aelin’s charger in his pocket and launched himself atop the closest car. His shoes, indeed were not conducive to jumping on top of cars and sprinting passed pissed off guard dogs. For some stupid reason he was still in his sleek office shoes that had no traction whatsoever.  This is what he got for getting a 401K and benefits.

“You’re worried about your shoes?” Lorcan yelled back.  He was already halfway back to the front fence intermittently jumping onto the hood of various cars and back down to avoid raging Cujo’s.

“You have your jacket, I have my shoes,” Rowan called.  

The dog leaping toward him was a Doberman with sharp ears and sharper teeth.  It snarled at him chomping its jaws wildly.  With dexterity he’d forgotten he had, Rowan launched himself over the hood of the car behind Aelin’s and over the top towards a beat-up truck that was massive enough it should prevent the dog from getting to close.

“Rowan, get your ass over here!” Lorcan bellowed.

Launching himself on top of the truck, Rowan ran over the tops of the row of cars toward Lorcan.  The dark-haired man was already out of his leather jacket and climbing the barbed fence. Despite his bulk, Lorcan could move damn fast if he wanted.

From somewhere behind Rowan the dogs gave chase.  He could hear the heavy breathing, the nails on pavement, the growls.  And then came the human shouts.

“Hey!  Adarlan Police!” The voice, thankfully didn’t sound like Chaol’s.  Though maybe Chaol would have been more pliable to let Rowan and Lorcan off with a warning.

In three long lunges, Rowan made it the final distance to the fence and began climbing.  Lorcan was already up and over the fence, the bag with the paintball gun slung on his shoulder.  

Rowan hauled himself unceremoniously over the top of the fence, grabbing Lorcan’s jacket in one fist and scrambling down the other side.  He dropped too high off the ground, but managed to stick the landing. He looked over his shoulder in time to see the Doberman launch at the fence, claws rattling against the metal and slobber flecking out from it’s mouth.

“Hell,” Rowan gasped.

Lorcan grabbed his arm and began pulling him down the side walk in a brisk walk that quickly turned into a run.  The two didn’t stop until they were as far from the impound lot they could get. Rowan’s car left forgotten along the street.  They’d been so desperate to get away and avoid any sort of detection that the car seemed to scream trouble.  

Nearly ten blocks later, after several pauses to curse Aelin for parking in an illegal zone, Rowan and Lorcan sagged against a the side of a building near a popular club.  Music pulsed around them as well as the thick stench of smoke, alcohol, and vomit.  

Lorcan spat before looking at Rowan. “So remind me, what is it about her you like so much?  Her wilds schemes that land her into trouble?  Or her wild schemes that land others into trouble?”

“You’re one to talk,” Rowan fired back.  He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “You and Elide are polar opposites.”

“She sends you out at two o’clock in the morning to get a phone charger,” Lorcan continued.

“You’re holding onto those shoes like they’re gonna save your life.”

“Have you met Manon?”

Rowan snorted and shook his head.  He paused as the bass from the club behind them rumbled.  Whatever he said wasn’t going to help Lorcan see Aelin in a different light.  But he could hope that it would mend whatever bridge had been broken between him and one of his oldest friends.

“Aelin makes me want to be a better person,” Rowan finally said.  He shrugged glancing Lorcan over.  “And I have a feeling the same could be said for Elide about you.”

Lorcan said nothing. He merely leaned his head against the brick behind them.

“Plus, I know I can do this,” Rowan added.  He pulled his phone from his pocket and made a phone call.  When the line connected, he grinned.  “Hey Fireheart.  We need a ride.”

[omgkalyppso]

Honeyed Words

How many fics have this title? Probably a million. I wrote something featuring @esaari‘s tes breton oc Philip, and my imperial oc Oretia. Enjoy!

.

The grass was cold and wet from vestiges of the midnight frost puddling under the weight of the midday sun. Summer at Winterhold. The worst possible time to be a tome, or scroll, or a visitor. Inside the College, papers were kept magically dry and well kept, but as soon as you stepped one foot into the city, everything wilted with the humidity, including the people.

The citizenry was more amenable to the mages and their initiates since the reconstruction, after the civil war, but that did not forestall all of their prejudices, Philip had noticed. They phrased their suspicions of foreigners, of which he was no longer considered, as warnings of unstable mountaintops, roads that were thin with ice and awaiting unwary travelers, and beasts that roamed beyond their hibernal caves, but he heard the truth behind every bitter courtesy. ‘You are as unwelcome by the land as by our hospitality,’ they cried.

It was why they still lacked a dedicated blacksmith, a tanner, a wheelwright, fishermen — and Nine help that poor dentist who’d tried to move in four months past.

There were new bodies to fill the houses that had been built — carpenters and farmhands, tailors and midwives, but it was no wonder they still had to rely so heavily on the summer caravans.

The largest of the year was present now, the one that circled from Windhelm to Whiterun and Dawnstar, leaving Winterhold with both the last selection from Windhelm and the benefit of what the caravan had collected on its journey, just before they finished their circle and headed back home. The gamut of their venture was nearly complete, and so Philip felt triply insulted by the price being demanded of him to carry scroll and missive — which included a painstaking transcription of an extremely valuable book — to the new astrologer in Windhelm.

“Thirty gold is more than fair,” he insisted. “Twenty would cover a gold a day for the service, and fourteen was the cost last year.”

“Thirty might be fair,” replied the nord man, who was clearly dealing with other problems — but none of them were Philip’s, “but eighty is the cost.”

“Set by you, unreasonably.”

“Are you calling me unreasonable, my lord?” The title had been wrong, but Philip’s choice of words had been fumbling. He needed this, it was important.

“I misspoke. Surely, you are a man who knows his worth and his services, and so, you must know, that it is not up to the College to champion the losses of your caravan. You are headed to Windhelm anyway. I will offer forty, far more than you’d require.”

The nord nodded to someone standing outside of Philip’s periphery, and his shoulders tensed. The temptation to invoke others to grant weight to his title and his person was present, for he was on good terms with his Thane and his Jarl, and Skyrim’s champion of the war; but so too was he Archmage now, and whatever his personal insecurities, knew that he demanded his own respect. He shrugged his elbow towards the person who approached from his side, striking them, if lightly.

“I am not some common miscreant. Do not look to demean me. There are other couriers.”

“Then find one,” replied the nord.

Philip looked to the imperial woman at his side as she spoke and frowned in surprise. She was hobbling a little, unsteady on her feet, and not the manner of muscle he’d expected the nord to be summoning.

“And I wasn’t hired to help with customer service, Herknir. This doesn’t look like a case of banditry.” Her accent was thick and southern, and Philip flinched to look at her more directly as despite her words she still laid a hand upon him — but it was gentle, so much so that he couldn’t even feel it through his robes, on his upper arm, a signal to wait and not a reprimand. Philip took a step away from her anyway, disinterested in her reassurance.

“Take the illustrious Archmage for a walk, Oretia. I can smell the enchantments on him, and I won’t risk the safety of our men to the whims of secret, magical documents without collateral.” Philip blanched, he hadn’t expected Herknir to be thinking of anything beyond what he could get with the money. Herknir pointed a finger at him, to further cement his point, “If it were a message from one of your initiates back to their parents or their sweetheart in Windhelm, then that is one service; but you should know that your time is worth more, and you should be prepared to pay more in the future. Cool your head. Try Tilly’s honey-pops, and come back to me when you’re willing to talk business.”

“Sorry about him,” Oretia sounded exasperated, and Philip had to wonder if she had felt suitably chastised by Herknir over the course of her time with the man, as he did now, sent for a walkabout like a petulant child — though one who had been flirting with the crackle of magic on the edge of his fingers. “And me, I had assumed you were a nobleman. I should not have placed my hand upon you.”

“It is nothing,” Philip assured her, dismissing the perceived insult with a smile — tickled by the idea that she would more readily lay her hands on a Thane. They wove their way through a crowd, where the locals parted naturally by his presence. There was nowhere for Oretia to hide her stumbling.

“But perhaps I owe you an apology? Did I set you so off-balance?”

“Oh!” she laughed. “No, I— My legs are sore. I’d spent the last four days climbing up and down your mountains.”

Philip snorted, infected by his companion’s good humor. “Whatever for?”

She sighed, smiling, wistful. “To see my sister. It had been a few years and she’s settled up there. I thought that, seeing her would make it easier to accept, but now I’m less sure than ever about leaving; but you don’t need to hear about that. What was Herknir so upset about? Do you really have secret, magical documents?”

The way she exaggerated the word was light, teasing, and free of ill-will Herknir had managed to fit into the word.

“I—” Philip scoffed, “I suppose I do. The documents themselves aren’t magical, but few things that leave the College can be described otherwise.”

“Secretive?” Oretia prompted.

“For certain,” Philip assured her.

She seemed to take a measure of him then, a once over with suspicious eyes. Philip wondered what she saw.

“I could leave you now,” she suggested, tilting her head. “I rather doubt you need my company.”

Philip thought of the trader and patrons, and wondered whether for the moment she might need his. He wondered if she was asking for the freedom of privacy or to socialize with a friend from the caravan, but outside the College and inside Winterhold, his friends felt ever fewer, and Oretia had been friendly enough as to prove distracting from his other worries.

“There are a great many things I don’t need, but enjoy regardless. Of course, you’re free to go, and I’ll make my way back to Herknir in due time, but if you’d like to point me towards those honey-pops…?”

Philip felt any lingering stress melt off his shoulders when Oretia brightened.

“They’re very sweet, but delicious,” she insisted, directing them now with purpose. “There are some with raspberries caked in which are wonderful in tea, but they’re just as fine as a little delight.”

Philip bought ten for a gold piece, a strange assortment of things to pocket, even wrapped in wax paper as they were, but Oretia was right, they were good, as the two of them found a bench shielded by the cold of the sea, but still hidden by the warmth of the sun, as they each enjoyed one of the candies for a few silent seconds.

There was something about the way others seemed to have more time for trysts, and he wondered whether another person might take this time to proposition their companion. The pair of them with lips flush and spit slick from their choice in dessert, people might even think they had done something elicit when they returned to the main road. The air was thick and the blossoms were sweet, and Philip wondered whether he’d simply been surrounded by familiar faces for too long, that the blush upon a stranger’s cheeks would send his mind so far from his original intentions. He pat himself down, confirming the location of his missives, before plucking the honey-pop from his lips and assuring Oretia, “Thought I’d dropped something.”

He sighed, resting his hands on his knees. “Tell me about your sister? Might I know her?”

“No,” Oretia answered quickly. “Wylla Cosmotius — err, Wylla Ienith now, I suppose. She might have spent some time here, but wouldn’t have made a name for herself. Found the Shrine of Azura by accident, and then spent a few years “adventuring,” or whatever you might call it, with the priestess, to whom she’s now married.”

“Cosmotius?” Philip echoed. “‘Of the stars?’”

“Mm,” Oretia hummed in agreement. “A name I imagine Wylla was glad to be rid of. Pretentious ancestors. Not that the title of Archmage is any less assuming.”

“I?” Philip hesitated. “I didn’t choose that. And it’s practical, the position is what the title says, I oversee other mages, and am one myself.”

“I didn’t say it was wrong, I said—”

“You implied it was pretentious.”

“And you became defensive,” Oretia observed, amused. “Is my good opinion so important?”

“As important as any other,” Philip said, dismissive, shrugging. “There are a lot of things said about The Archmage, meaning both myself and my predecessors. I do my best to improve those rounds of gossip.”

“I apologize, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know.”

Oretia bumped a knee against him. She went on, “My sister went through a lot, as a mercenary and … well as an imperial in Skyrim during the civil war. When I was a child I would think of how one day marriage might separate us, but I hadn’t expected to be lost to her when she needed me before that. To be treated as a guest, and not as family, when I would see her again. I worry that she could die on that mountain, and if I were to be in Windhelm, I should never know.”

“And so you’re thinking of staying?” Philip remembered. “Do you ply a craft? There are still incentives to settle in Winterhold.”

“The city is known for surviving winters without me. I don’t know how useful I could be, or how interested people would be in buying leathers, or how abundant the game is year round for the purpose of gathering supplies. I feel I don’t know much of anything lately.”

“If it’s any consolation I find that to be more true with each passing year.”

“Even for the Archmage?”

“Especially for the Archmage,” Philip groaned. “There’s much to learn and more to discover. That’s why I need to see my post sent to Windhelm.”

“I could take it,” Oretia suggested.

“As a reason not to stay?” Philip inquired, furrowing his brow.

She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t just stay all at once. I have employment and friends and possessions. But I might come back. Settle. It wouldn’t hurt to be owed a favor by the Archmage.”

He hesitated, surprised and unsure. Philip wondered whether he could get her in trouble with Herknir, and whether she was even trustworthy to begin with.

“I couldn’t make a pact like that,” he said quickly, in regret.

“I’ll take the fourteen gold?” Oretia offered. “And no favor.”

“Thirty then,” Philip suggested. “And maybe dinner, if you return?”

[howemancing]

WIP Wednesday?

I was tagged by @dalishkadan​. I tag uh. @thedascharlatan​, @allisondraste​,  This is somewhat a sneak preview for my main fic, but I’m also not sure I’m gonna keep it - it’s an intense chapter and this might be a little too off the main point of the chapter. It’s WIP, so clearly editing hasn’t happened yet. A flashback scene in progress - maybe the last I’ll do for awhile?

Elsa Cousland, 9 years ago

 Grey eyes stared at me, stony, cold, and full of threat. My throat felt suddenly drier; what had I done to piss Nathaniel off this time? It had been a long time since I’d made him so genuinely angry.

My grip tightened on my daggers, holding them ready. I could see him do likewise, eyes narrowed.

“You can do this, pup,” Father cheered me from the sidelines.

Rendon chuckled, casting a sidelong glance. “Are you so certain she needs the encouragement, my lord?”

Papa clapped him on the back cheerfully. “Probably not, old friend, but a father can’t help be proud of their child. I admit, I’m rooting against yours, now.”

Rendon chuckled, but my focus was back on Nathaniel, who was openly scowling at this point.

“Are you...alright?” I asked, hesitant.

“Focus on the match,” he chided me immediately. Which, rude, but he wasn’t wrong.

I nodded, getting into a ready stance. 

“Begin,” Rendon’s voice snapped out.

In a flash, Nathaniel came at me harder than I’d ever seen before. The ferocity of it almost made me lose the match right there, but a particularly aggressive moment on his part left a wide opening I could brutally punish with a kick, buying myself a moment of breath.

“Attagirl, Pup!” Father called cheerfully, while Nathaniel scowled harder.

I stared at him, trying to divine what was wrong, but after a moment, realized it didn’t matter. Father was here. Father was going to decide if I’d learned anything after all. I had to prove myself, prove that I hadn’t wasted my years, that I wasn’t the silly, frivolous girl Rendon thought I was. 

Everything was riding on this moment. I wouldn’t let even Nathaniel stand in my way.

I met his eyes, then, determined. In his own I saw understanding - and, confusingly, hurt. Clearly I’d erred somehow, but I’d have to find out why, later. This match mattered. And if Nathaniel wanted to bring his all to stop me, well, I could appreciate the challenge. And I’d rise above it.

Unusually for us, no taunts were exchanged, no words spoken. Nathaniel’s practice daggers flashed out, continuously intent on striking the killing blows which would end the match.  I ducked and wove around them. Thomas had given me more than enough training in someone who just wanted to do whatever it took to stop me. Coming from Nathaniel, it was surprising, but - this was Nathaniel. 

I was missing something, and as much as I wanted to focus, my brain couldn’t help pick apart the knot of whatever was wrong with my friend. It took me a moment, but finally I realized - he just wanted to push me, to give me every chance in the world of showing off exactly how much I had learned.

A savage grin took me, finally stumbling upon this realization, and the last chain holding me back fell away. Nathaniel was holding nothing back. Why should I? 

I struck out, sliding my dagger in between the gaps in his defense I’d noted, beginning to score on him more and more. His frustrations only seemed to grow, which I didn’t quite understand, but it didn’t matter. The match was steadily turning in my favor. Nathaniel usually had a plan, and tended to get easily unsettled when things threw him off - and grumpy, too. 

I could use that.

One particularly keen moment locked us, and I felt him trying to bear his entire strength down on me, which felt a bit unfair, as he had 5 years and a few stone on me. 

“I’ve always admired you,” I said quietly, and his eyes widened, startled. I used that moment, hooking out a leg and breaking his stance.

“But I won’t let you stop me,” I finished, shoving hard at the right moment, forcing his stumble back.

It was enough of a weakness, and I pounced, practice daggers flashing faster then they ever had before. A particular energy had taken hold of me. Rendon had never believed in me, but couldn’t I prove myself, now? I was good. I was very good, I knew I was. Nathaniel believed in me - why else would he come after me so hard? I would show them all.

Nathaniel, my rival, my best friend (with Delilah!), the boy I’d been silly enough to have a crush on, thankfully one I was finally getting over. But he was smart, talented, and I would prove I was his equal. No, that I was better. Maybe there were some things he could still beat me in, and he was probably a better rogue than me, but like Thomas always said, I was a freakishly violent girl. I could do this.

It wasn’t easy. He was probably my fiercest challenge to date. But in the end, I was more prepared for his ferocity than he was mine, and the match ended when I dumped him on his butt and slammed forward, dagger hovering at his neck.

My father let out a loud whoop, but Nathaniel just squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. And it began to occur to me that Nathaniel very much hadn’t wanted to lose.

“Ashes, Nate, what’s wrong?” I muttered, dagger still hovering, hesitant, at his neck.

“Nothing,” he lied, refusing to meet my eyes. “Congratulations on your victory.”

Father congratulated me with a whoop and a fierce hug, which squished all the giggles out of me as I clung right back to him. 

“Didja see, didja see-?” I began, and father laughed louder, kissing my cheek.

“Old friend, you’ve trained her wonderfully,” he congratulated my mentor.  “Better than your own son, I noticed!”

“Thank you, my lord,” Rendon replied evenly. Nathaniel stood up, brushing himself off, looking bitter.

Oh.  Oh.

Sod it all. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I found him later by our tree, angrily chucking stones into the lake.

“Hey,” I said hesitantly, unsure. He had to be aware of my approach, and yet he’d said nothing.

“Good match,” he said evenly, chucking another stone.

“What’s-”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he asserted immediately, lying. 

I stamped a foot. “Nate,” I objected, stealing the next stone before he could chuck it. He blinked, looking at his hands, before glancing to me, sighing.  

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m being an ass.”

“A little,” I agreed solemnly, and he scowled, before a rueful expression took his face. “But I was an ass too, I shouldn’t’ve-”

“This isn’t your fault,” he interrupted me quietly. “Honestly. You did - you did everything right.”

“So what’s-”

“I’ll miss you,” he told me, and it was excuse enough; I launched myself at him and hugged him tightly. 

“I’m not gone, you goose, just going home,” I pointed out. “You can visit me any time. You and Delilah. In fact, I insist!”

He chuckled faintly, reverberating his ribcage pleasantly, arms tightening around me. It began to provoke inconvenient feelings in me, so I disengaged. He sighed, shoulders slumping as he allowed it, eyes drifting to the lake. “It’s...going to be a little hard to visit, soon,” he said gently. 

“See, that’s why you should come in late fall, and then, oops! Guess you can’t travel and you’ll have to stay in Highever all winter,” I informed him cheerfully.  “I can’t wait to show you everything, home is so pretty, and our hounds are WAY better, and we have so many beautiful trees, and...hey. Why do you look so glum?”

His hands twitched, and for a concerning second, I thought he wanted to fold me into another hug. 

I probably wouldn’t have resisted, which said something about me. I really needed to explain to Nathaniel to stop flirting so much, but - it was my fault, really, for getting carried away, and anyway, it wouldn’t matter, soon, right?

But instead he just shrugged helplessly. “I...don’t think that will work,” he claimed, and I sighed. Neither he nor Delilah were keen to visit me, and I didn’t really understand why, but letting them know I was hurt would just be rude.

 “Of course,” I said simply. “Well, I hope you’ll find the time to visit me at some point.”

“You’ll still visit us, right?”

I gave him a wan smile. “Any time, Nate. Just...just ask.”

“Ok. Ok, then,” he said quietly. A faint smile crinkled his eyes, which seemed - stormier than usual. “You did amazingly, today.”

“YEAH I did,” I crowed gloriously, pleased he had recognized as much. 

“I bet so many nobles are going to want to marry you, now that you’re going back home,” he pointed out, and I shoved him, hard.

“I’ll make you eat dirt again, I will,” I threatened him.

He chuckled, faintly, and with a surprising lack of grace for Nathaniel, plopped down on the ground, and after a moment, I came to sit next to him. “I’ve dreaded this day for so long,” he confided in me. And I blinked. 

Then sighed. Damn these boys and their damnable pride. “Nathaniel, you’re still a much better rogue than me,” I admitted, words galling, but he deserved the honesty. “If you’d had real daggers, if you’d wanted to kill me - th’match would have been over much quicker. I just went for your weaknesses and tricked victory out of you.”

“Elsa!” he said, shocked. “I don’t-”

“Want to hurt me, I know,” I groused, rolling my eyes. “I just mean - I’m gonna have an advantage in friendly matches. ‘Specially against people I know. But when it counts, if you were up against a real bad guy...well, I’m very glad we’re friends, is all.”

“You wouldn’t have to leave if we were engaged!” he burst out. 

I stared at him. And blinked. And fought the sudden tears in my eyes. Dang rogues, why did he always have to go for my weakest parts?

“Oh - oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” he said quickly

I laughed, forced. “Don’t joke like that, Nate, it’s rude.”

“I…” he said, trailing off. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“I forgive you,” I told him immediately.

“Liar,” he whispered. “I keep hurting you and you keep forgiving me, and-”

“Nate,” I breathed, aggrieved. “You’re making a big deal out of it. Stop. I said I forgive you and I mean it. You’re my friend, I don’t - I don’t want to be mad at you.”

“Oh.”  

Silently we sat, staring at the water before us, Nathaniel a gloomy cloud next to me.

“I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished here,” I said quietly, wishing my friend would just be happy for me. “Even if  - even if your dad thinks I’m silly, I’m - I’ve learned a lot. And I’m happy I’m going home. I missed my family, Nate,” I said quietly. 

He hunched over, lower.  “Oh. Maker. I’m such a selfish ass.” 

Considering he was getting all contrary about visiting me and expected me to drop everything and visit him - “You are,” I agreed.

His scowl deepened, and somehow the shadows seemed to grow. “Are you going to forgive me for that too?”

I snorted, giving him a sidelong look, assuming he was teasing, but he just glared ahead. “Only if you come visit,” I teased him.

A spark of life appeared in his eyes, then. “Ok. That’s fair.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He never did end up visiting me, but he had a pretty good excuse. Not long after I left I got a letter, informing me he was going to go all the way to Starkhaven to start knight training. I may have thrown myself onto the bed and sobbed a bit when I read that. But he asked me to come visit to see him off, and there was really only one response.

Seeing the Howes again was fun, though of course Thomas challenged me to a sparring match right away and the cad tried to turn it into overly touchy wrestling. Unluckily for him, I suddenly remembered I didn’t have to care about pissing him off too much such that he’d whine to his father, so I simply caught him in an unforgiving headlock and choked him out, dropping him unceremoniously to the dirt when I finished. 

Delilah claimed time, as apparently Nathaniel was getting his clothes fixed by Adraia, and had borrowed Helma from Delilah as well, so she found it only fair to borrow me. 

We  laughed and giggled and swapped stories about Nathaniel, both of us keen to avoid admitting how much we’d miss him. 

“Did you ever tell him how you used to feel?” Delilah asked me. 

I rolled my eyes. “I’m over it, Delilah, what’s the point in bringing that old story up?” 

“I guess,” Delilah agreed, flouncing back on her bed, legs kicking out. “It’s still be cute though.”

I giggled. “You’re such a silly romantic,” I teased her. “What do you want me to do, write a love letter?”

“Elsa, no!” she protested, offended.

“Oh dearest Nate, my heart yearns the hardest, it burns so burningly,” I began performatively.

“Elsaaaaa!” she whined, standing up and stamping her foot. “You can’t confess through letters, that’s just wrong.”

“Didn’t what’shiface confess to what’sherface through a letter?” I pointed out slyly. 

“Exactly,” Delilah agreed. “It went TERRIBLY. See-”

I quickly waved my hands in surrender. “No, please, don’t try to tell me about that book more, it’s rotting your brain.” 

“I’m just saying,” Delilah pouted. “You’re friends. You shoulda told him properly, is all.”

I giggled. “I’m glad I didn’t. That would have been SO mortifying.”

“But-”

“Lilah, c’mon.” My eyes slid from hers, and her mouth snapped shut, apparently my tone was more serious than I meant to reveal. “I’m not as brave as you think I am.”

She sighed, and came to sit next to me, arm around my shoulder, and we sat in silence. “I’ll miss him.”

Tears welled in my eyes, and with effort, I forced them back. “Me too,” I whispered.

[michyreadsthenwrites]

Plain Bad Heroines - Let Me Give You My Thoughts On This

**minor spoilers ahead**

Testing, testing… that’s not a thing anymore, is it? 

Hi, friends, and welcome to the first chapter/episode/whatever this is of this brand new ‘thing’ I’m doing on my brand-new Tumblr called ‘Let Me Give You My Thoughts on This’. It’s perfectly blunt and to the point – let me tell you what I thought about this shit. It’s not shit, of course, friends, but you know what I mean. Or you’ll learn soon enough. 

And now since this introduction has been (God)awfully long enough, here’s what I thought about Emily Danforth’s Plain Bad Heroines. 

I’d like to preface this by saying that I’m never generous with good reviews or giving five stars to anything I’ve read. Despite having absolutely no real expertise in reviewing books professionally, I know what I like in a book and I know what makes my little writer’s heart sing, both with appreciation and envy (I mean seriously, why can’t I write like that?). Now, having gotten that out of the way, I’ll say this: Plain Bad Heroines gets a goddamn five out of five stars from me. 

I have never read anything like this book before. I’ll admit it took my brain a few chapters to understand what was going on, the constant back-and-forth shift between timelines and perspectives. Once I got the hang of it, I couldn’t get enough. I think it took me three or four days in total to finish this 600-page beast, and that’s only because sleep and showers are a thing. I just couldn’t put it down. Danforth created a compelling storyline, then wove ten more storylines in between, finishing nicely with every one of them wrapped up in a neat, queer little bow. And if the compelling and intricate plot wasn’t enough, Danforth went ahead and gave us some of the best and easy-to-love characters that I have ever encountered in a book. I found myself rooting for fictional characters that seemed more real than they should have; but after all, isn’t that the magic of good writing? I felt Merritt’s butterflies in my own stomach on her date with Harper, and I experienced Libbie’s grief and heartbreak when her Alex died. I felt all the angst and tension, all the fear and misery, felt every emotion that each of Danforth’s characters felt because it was all so well written, so raw and emotional. Yes, friends, I do realize that I’m a bit of a broken record about this. But it’s rare to find a book that not only has a good, even great, plot, as well as characters that you can’t help but love – and even better, characters you can relate to. 

I don’t usually seek out books that fall under the LGBTQ+ criteria, mainly because I’m always drawn to horror or thrillers. I hadn’t known that this book was chock-full of queer women, and when I found out I felt the love for this book grow ten times in size. This was a book about queer women, written by a queer woman, and it made my lady-loving heart so happy. And if any of you are wlw, friends, I would sprint to get this book. Maybe even a light jog. 

Let me know if I’m crazy, friends, but I judge how much I loved a book based on the ‘book hangover’ I get after I’m done reading it. You know, that little ache in your heart because it’s over, or because the ending broke your heart or any other reason in between? No? Just me? Well, I’m sticking to my guns on that one. Book hangovers are real, and while this one wasn’t horrible (read The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller if you want a heartbreaker), I was still sad it was over. I could have easily read six hundred more pages of this beautiful world that Danforth had created, and it saddened me to turn that final page to the end. But it was such a good end, friends, and I think that’s what matters most. There were no dull moments – a real page-turner if I’ve ever read one. Fantastic and thrilling from the beginning, middle, to end. 

Well, friends. That’s as much as I’m willing to say without spoiling this masterpiece to you (if anyone of you has bothered to read this far). I say get this book and run (do not walk) to your nearest bookstore. I swear you won’t regret it. Hopefully, I’ve convinced you, but I have a feeling this review was more for me than it was for you. After all, we all need a place to word-vomit somewhere, right?

[viinas-writes]

Fire and Silver: After the War - Ilum and Charity

Something old-ish that I recently found. I miss these guys. I love writing soft scenes like this more than big action sequences. I’m just a big fan of character dynamics. And these two are particularly fun for me to write.

__

I’d never been to the big lake on the outskirts of town. It was a still, quiet area where old guys would take their boats or outdoorsy people liked to go canoeing. Aero once told me that when he was young, he and Vanessa would come to swim. According to him, being surrounded by nothing but water, trees and sunlight made it feel as if time didn’t exist. 

He’d soon come to regret the sentiment. He couldn’t come back to this lake without remembering all the time he’d taken for granted, pretending that the company of the one he loved most gave him immunity from the time he’d one day be desperate to get back.

Despite it all, I couldn’t help but understand what a younger Aero saw in a place like this. The setting sun skimmed the horizon and glittered over the water. It was glass-smooth, expanding beyond my field of vision and disappearing into a blur of white. Strokes of pink and gold painted the sky and shone over the foliage in a way that looked surreal. It would be easy to get lost in a place like this. Silent. Vast. Peaceful.

Charity sat at the very end of the dock, her black hair streaked with gold sunlight. She was dressed in the same casual getup I’d grown used to -- loose white tank top, faded shorts, and a red flannel shirt tied around her waist. It made me think of a version of her from a different, ostensibly simpler time, eyes filled with fire as she pinned my wrists to a wall and demanded I help her. We’d been so ill equipped then, but somehow, it was only the beginning of what would become a lifetime of chaos.

The dock let out a low croak under my footsteps as I made my way down. Charity startled and cast a glance over her shoulder. I saw her lips pull into a grin.

“Stalking me?” she asked.

I approached her, stepping into the same light that made her shine gold. I took a seat next to her on the edge of the dock, letting my legs dangle above the water.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I teased. She wasn’t entirely off, though; I did come hoping to find her. 

Aero wasn’t the only one who had memories of this lake, after all. 

“Sure,” she mused, swinging her long legs back and forth. She glanced up and down my body, then asked, “How are you feeling, by the way?”

“Fine.” I stretched my arms over my head until my shoulder gave a satisfying pop. She wrinkled her nose. “You can barely tell I was fighting for my life just last week. It’s sweet to know you’re concerned, though. You must have missed me terribly.”

Charity snorted. “Is it too late for you to slip back into a coma?”

“Alas. Here I am. Forever and always, baby.”

“Call me baby again and I’ll kick your ass into the lake.”

I laughed and whatever tension may have fallen over us since the end of the war shattered, just like that. I felt my chest fill with warmth. For the first time in days, things felt normal. 

“You didn’t just happen to stumble upon me, though,” she said, more quietly. To her credit, whether it was a light moment or not, she always knew my intentions. 

I followed her eyes to the surface of the lake where I could just make out our silhouettes reflected in the dark water. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” I admitted.

She leaned back, pressing the heels of her palms into the dock. Her eyes remained fixed on our reflections. “Of course I’m okay. It’s over, right?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

I touched her arm and her gaze met mine. God, those eyes of hers. They were ocean-blue and compelling, like sirens dragging me under. It was part of what made it so easy to trust her, and what made it impossible to lie to her. 

“I get trying not to fall apart in front of Caleb, your uncle, or even our friends,” I said. “But it’s just us right now.” 

She sighed, letting her eyes flutter closed. She nodded once. 

“I think I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to find meaning in everything we did out there,” she said. “And even if I do, a part of me will always be in that asylum, or on the forest floor, or on the other side of Aiden’s knife.” 

She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing the goosebumps pebbling her arms. 

“It’s over, but it’ll never be over. Not really,” she said. “I knew that when I signed up for this and I’m trying not to have any regrets, but if you want to hear the truth...this is it.” 

“Do you resent me for it?” 

It was an unspoken question between us since the day I roped her into this mess. But now, past the battlefield and the settled dust, when there was nothing left to anticipate, only reflect upon, I had to know. 

“No,” she said immediately. “If there’s anything I’m sure of, it’s that I don’t regret any part of this that had to do with you.”

“Why?” I asked. 

She gave me a sad smile. “You know why, Ilum.”

My heart leapt in my chest. I was brought back to the morning of the infiltration, when she kissed me in the car, and then the night after, when we fell asleep entangled in each other’s limbs, the other’s desperate kisses still stinging our lips.

Yes, I knew why. I should have hated myself for it. 

But I didn’t. 

I couldn’t when the road to Hell also brought me to her. 

“I know what you mean, when you talk about it all lingering,” I said.

Trying to find the right words with Charity was worthless. The only way we knew how to communicate was by emptying our hearts into each other’s hands. So I didn’t rifle through my brain or think. I gave her what she deserved and what I knew how to give only to her. 

Honesty.

“It’s like when a lost spirit clings to you and you don’t know how to help them cross over,” I went on. “It’s a burden you’re not sure you deserve, but one only you can carry. It’s a personal Hell too unique to explain and you feel like even if they find their way to the other side, a part of their soul will always be with you. I still feel that way about Aiden. Sometimes I wake up and I’m not sure whether it’s me or him inside my head.

“But I’m trying to come back. Every day, I look at Aero, Avril, Hel, Ellard, you, and I remember that this war has taken so fucking much from me and I’ll be damned if it takes anything else.”

Despite herself, she gave me a crooked grin. “You know, a past version of you would have considered that selfish.”

“Maybe I am selfish.” I turned to face her. An inky strand of hair fell in between her eyes and I carefully moved it aside, letting my fingertips graze her jaw. Her breath hitched and her cheeks went a beautiful shade of pink. “I don’t want to waste anymore time. Life is too short.”

She swallowed and studied my face. “What are you saying?”

“I want to kiss you.”

I could feel my face prickling with heat. I’d never felt so vulnerable and confident all at once. I still wasn’t sure what I wanted from a lot of things. I didn’t know where the next phase of my life would take me or whether I’d ever fully recover from the things we experienced.

But Charity? She was the only thing I never had to question. Right here, trapped in her gaze, and grounded by her honesty, I was safe. 

She smiled and suddenly the sunset looked pale. “Well, don’t be a coward.”

So I took her face in my hands and kissed her. She smiled under my lips and leaned into it, wrapping her arms around me, gripping the back of my shirt. 

I thought of our first kiss and how it was one-sided and hasty, and then the night after the infiltration when we kissed to lose ourselves. This time, we took it slow, knowing that for once, we didn’t have to worry about it being the last time. I ran my fingers through her silky hair, savored the rose-petal softness of her lips, and admired the way the curves of her body fit against mine. 

Kissing her like this was like breathing for the very first time. I fell open under her touch and at that moment, I was willing to tell her every secret, give her everything I ever had and show her everything I ever was. 

Maybe I already had.

Maybe that was why this felt so good. 

“You’re beautiful,” I murmured against her mouth. I kissed her again, and again, and again.

When we pulled apart, she was flushed all over and her hair was disheveled. I wanted to kiss her again but instead, I watched the rise and fall of her chest and the way the sunlight shimmered over her skin. Beautiful wasn’t the right word. Right now, she was downright ethereal. 

“I…” She shook her head and giggled. “Sorry...I just...are you sure about this?”

“About…”

“Us,” she clarified, then blushed deeper. “Because I know how I feel.” 

Charity took my hand and wove her fingers through mine. 

“I’m sure about you,” I said. If there was a shred of certainty in the aftermath of all this, it was Charity. 

She leaned back in and left a kiss so soft on my lips it made me shiver. 

“So am I,” she said. 

[mcchipisfried]

DEArtfest Day 31 - Touch Starved

Ahh I’m so glad I got to make something for each day of DEArtfest. I don’t think I’ve ever been more productive in my life! As promised, I’m not gonna hide anything but for this prompt I made some drawing to go along with the little thing I wrote! Hope you guys enjoy them!!

The prompt starts right after a short paragraph I wrote that you can just ignore!

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(You guys don’t have to read this I’m just gushing) Wow last day. This has been a roller coaster for me. Going back to writing after like six years. Detroit Evolution, the movie, Octopunk Media, the fan base, the art, the stories, cosplay, everything has made such a huge impact on my life. Thank you so much to amazing people at @octopunkmedia​ for bringing such amazing content into the world. Your work has inspired me to accept and explore many different parts of myself from my art and writing to my own sexuality. (I’ve always identified as Pansexual but I’ve always struggled with intimacy. You guys can probably guess why I love Reed900)  and I can never thank you enough for just existing. I am looking forward to all your future projects and I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.

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Gavin sat at his desk. He was currently trying to file through his paperwork but he was having a hard time concentrating with Nines hovering over his shoulder. He sighed and looked up at Nines as he felt him lean over to point out yet another error. 

“Nines why don’t you just do all the paperwork? It would probably take less time if you did it than just fucking leaning over me and pointing out whatever errors you find.” Gavin said. His hands were honestly about to start cramping and his legs were sore from sitting on his ass all day.

“Detective, I believe paperwork builds character and I think we can both agree that your… diligence could use a bit of work.” Nines said. He smirked as Tina snorted before looking away and trying to hide herself behind her screen. Hank gave a hearty laugh before Connor gave him a pointed look though he still smiled. Gavin’s face reddened and he glared at Nines.

“Okay asshole, you could at least give me a fucking break. My fingers hurt and my ass is sore.” Gavin grumbled out. Nines’ LED quickly spiraled yellow before he responded.

“I could give you a massage?”

Tina, Hank, and even Chris laughed at Nines’ response. Connor looked confused for a moment before going back to work. Gavin was livid and looked ready to burst from all the blood that rushed to his face before he began sputtering.

“Nines- NO that’s so- NO what the fuck is wrong with you!?” He tried to muster up with an appropriate response but he kept stumbling over his words. Nines cocked his head to the side, a look of android-like innocence upon his face. But Gavin knew better. 

“Detective Reed, I hope you understand I meant your hands. You and I both know neither of us are interested in such...endeavors. Although I could give you a back massage if you’d like?” Nines responded. Clearly amused by Gavin’s reaction.

“Fuck you. And you know what? Yeah massage my fucking hands. If you’re not gonna help me at least do that.” Gavin said. He was still blushing but he had regained some of his composure. He knew Nines would do whatever he asked within reason if he really wanted to and an honest to god massage didn’t sound so bad at the moment.

Nines showed a more genuine smile as he sat on Gavin’s desk and took one of his hands into his own and began to gently knead his knuckles and the space between his thumb and pointer finger.

Gavin felt a surge of electricity go up into his arm the moment Nines took his hand. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck? Gavin had never felt anything like that before. It was strange. And it only became more intense as Nines began to knead his hands. He nearly rolled his eyes to the back of his head. Fuck this felt...intense. There was no better word for this. It was almost too much until Nines let go before gently taking his other hand and he felt the same intensity rush up his arm and curl down his back. He shivered and pulled his hand out of Nines’ hands. 

Nines’ looked up with a questioning look but Gavin simply smiled and said he was okay. He turned back towards his computer and continued to work. He didn’t complain about the feeling he had in his hands although he wasn’t sure if what he was feeling now was actually pain or something else.

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Nines was sitting next to Gavin on the couch. They were both watching some random movie from the early 2000’s. An oldie, as Gavin referred to them. Classics that had aged well enough. Nines didn’t really care about the film since he already knew how it ended thanks to his database specifically used to understand Gavin’s Millennial/ Gen Z humor. No, what he was currently focused on was the gentle fingers that were coursing through his hair.

Nines was leaning into Gavin just in between his legs. Gavin was propping himself against the side of the couch with his arm hanging just on the edge while his other hand gently wove its finders through Nines’ synthetic hair. He felt Gavin’s body pressing into him from behind. He felt nothing in that regard but he was warm. He was happy to feel Gavin against him and it left a buzzing sensation upon his skin. He didn’t know why this happened but he tried not to question it. His deviancy caused him to feel so many things, it was hard or him to understand them all at once so he tried to indulge in what he knew felt good without question and this definitely felt good.

Gavin’s hand was far more warm though. It sent what Nines registered as shivers down his back. Surges of electricity down his back. He hummed. It was almost too much but he simply turned his sensitivity down and enjoyed the warmth he felt from having Gavin so close to him.

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Gavin woke up to Nines holding his hand, his skin white and synthetic. He smiled and squeezed Nines hand. Nines visibly tensed slightly, not realizing Gavin had woken up, before turning to look at him and smiling. He gently ran his thumb over Gavin’s hand as he whispered a soft good morning to him. Gavin closed his eyes and shivered. Jesus, it was just fucking hand holding and he was already shivering like a teenager. 

He opened his eyes and looked at Nines. Nines stared back at him, his LED a bright yellow. They both looked down at their hands. Gavin tried to avoid Nines’ gaze until he spoke up.

“Gavin...why does this feel different sometimes?” Nines asked. Gavin looked up at him, a bit confused.

“What are you talking about?” Gavin asked.

“Sometimes… when we touch it feels different. It feels warm and intense. Like it’s too much? Is that normal?” Nines worriedly asked. Maybe he was experiencing an error. A virus?

Gavin relaxed, albeit only slightly. 

“I think...it's what people call being touch starved. It doesn’t mean anything like that but it happens when you don’t have a lot of contact with other people. And whenever you touch someone it’s more...intense. And it can happen from anything like holding hands or just bumping into someone on the sidewalk. Like you said, it's warm and it can feel like a lot but it’s normal, or at least it is for me. And sometimes it can be bad if it is something that comes from someone you don’t like but it's good. With you.” As Gavin talked he flattened his palm against Nines’ and he curiously looked at Nines’ skin as it seemed to glow in the morning light. He was glad that Nines could feel that. The intensity. It made him that much more human, though there was never a question about that.

Nines relaxed and realized that Gavin felt the same. He could feel how shocking it could be. Except he couldn’t just turn down his sensitivity levels like Nines. He had to live with people bumping into him and feeling this intensity. He could imagine himself shying away from touching other people simply because touching anyone he didn’t like or know felt like being burned and knowing Gavin could go through that worried him.

Gavin saw the worried expression that crossed Nines’ face. And tried to reassure him.

“Hey Tin Can, it's not that bad. You kinda get used to it, I mean I am. And you’re a fucking badass android. If anyone even tries to touch a hair on you you can just knock that person on their ass. Hell I’ll do it for you!” Gavin said. Nines smiled, quietly reassured. His smile turned into a smirk before speaking again.

“So you’re used to this feeling? Well I am still very aware of this feeling and I’d very much like to “get used” to it, through cuddling, maybe?” Nines said and smirked wider at Gavin's reaction.

“Oh my god, you are such an asshole-”

“Takes one to know one, Detective”

“FINE, yes we can cuddle. But you’re making me some snacks for this!”

“Of course, Detective.”

And then they cuddled!

I swear I don’t have a hand fetish what-

[konietzko-sylvoran]

My Beautiful Nightmare

Daily Writing Challenge Day 24 - Rescue/Treason 10/13

The night I returned with Sivandris back to Suramar after a long long trip exploring all that Azeroth and its night life had to offer was the same night that I happened to discover that Sivandris was not only already wed, but wedded to someone I knew intimately well. Adrella it seemed was not at all shocked when Sivandris returned from his long journey home with another lover at his side, apparently this was nothing new even after they were wed. However she was just as shocked as I when we both were left standing there in the entryway of his estate he called home facing one another. We both played it cool at first, but Sivandris had matters to attend too back at the club and left us to reacquaint ourselves once he realized we happened to know one another. She invited me to sit with her in the parlor and offered me a drink as we awkwardly spoke with one another. I had literally not seen her in all these years... not since that day she’d left me for dead in the dying grove where I had sacrificed everything to save her life. As fate would have it, that day had changed her as much as it changed me.   Not but an hour into talking with one another, she’d refilled my drink for the fourth time as we spoke trying to let liquid courage numb us both enough that we could get past the shock and mix array of emotions circling us both realizing how fate had crudely brought us together again. But as I sipped that fourth drink, trying to come to terms with the fact that if I wished to continue my life with Sivandris it would mean I also had to rekindle my relation with my former and first love... well to put it frankly she made her own intentions rather clear. The drug she’d mixed within it was tasteless, or perhaps I was so drunk by then I couldn’t taste a thing. Either way, it was the last thing I expected her to do, but then I hadn’t really known just how much she’d changed.  As I started to get up sensing something was wrong, instantly I knew it was a mistake as I started to fall. She caught me but as she laid me down the last thing I heard her saying to me before I lost consciousness that night like so many others was forgotten due to the effects of the drugs. I still wonder what it was, but at times the night terrors tell me one thing or another. Whatever her words were... I knew that she didn’t trust me. I also knew just as she knew that we’d fight to keep Sivandris no matter what it took, and that is when the beautiful lies began.   

He wasn’t usually present for our fights, most the time we were rather disturbingly good at hiding it. Our own ploy at becoming a happy ménage à trois was always a lie... though I foolishly let myself believe a time or two that maybe just maybe it wasn’t all a lie. I did still care for her, but I didn’t love what she had become. The more and more I learned of the woman she’d become I started to wonder if I had saved her at all that day. Or had I set her on a path or caused the corruption within her because of my actions without ever knowing it. All I know, is that that is when the worst of the night terrors started. From that moment on day by day, week by week, months turned to a year and still those nightmares continued to coil their way into my resting mind.  My pursuit for happiness had coincided with my pursuit for relief To ease the bouts of insanity I would suffer time to time from lack of sleep I would always find one drug or another and sometimes it was even  her who would offer them. Truth be told some part of me knew whatever she offered had to be making it worse or part of some game of hers, but whatever I had done to her I was lost in trying to find a way to atone and letting my heart beat louder than my own sanity. Maybe Sivandris knew, maybe he didn’t but he was always one trip or one ‘experience’ away from mental clarity like a true hedonist should be. So like him I chose to live in the lie and at times when she would use my own vices against me, I’d allow myself to believe that she truly was helping me, that all those times she’d find me a wreck or two steps from the edge coming down off some high or deranged from lack of sleep that her healing hands were helping me. That my beautiful Adrella was coming back, that she was forgiving me as she lent me her healing touch to ease the pain.  And thus was the cycle. The continual games we played, the web of lies we wove with each other as night after night, trip after trip, nightmare after nightmare, one tender touch after another, one fight and then another. My first love, the woman who would pull me back form the edge and save me time after time while sinking her talons deeper and deeper within me as I became the living nightmare of her design. What I didn’t know then was that one day... I would be forced to make a choice to fix the mistakes I’d made. And on that treasonous day I knew there is no chance at a happy ending for my soul in the end.

@daily-writing-challenge​

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 51

~*~Sebastian~*~

I love stupid drinking games. One of the reasons Marvel press is fun is because of the dirt we have on each other from drunken nights and hours of waiting. Both result in otherwise inappropriate questions. This was just an organized version. When Boone said you never had fun with who you were sitting next to, I started counting people between and wrote a dare to make out with the person three people to your right.

Eli went first because it was his invention. Plus, since everyone did the never have I ever and could jump in with the truths, and the point wasn't to win, it didn't matter who went first. Straight in he pulls out, "Never have I ever had a threesome."

Me, Boone, Eli, and Alissa drink. I didn't know about Alissa. Will didn't drink, but he did laugh, "Bunch of whores."

Alissa shrugged, "Everyone experiments."

Kirk looked at her, "Not everyone. About half."

Emma was next, "Last movie that made you cry? Easy A Star is Born. I cried twice during. Sat threw the credits crying. Then absolutely sobbed in my car for another ten. Then went to see it again the next day and cried just as much."

Everyone shared theirs. Mine had been a month ago when ET was on late-night TV.

Alissa got two squares, so she got a question and a dare. Angry sex or makeup sex. Me, Eli, Kirk, Boone, and Emma were in for the angry sex. Alissa had to take off her bra and hang it from a light.

Boone had to share his worst sexual experience. That led to some funny shit. Eli had a woman throw up on his dick. He claimed the tour bus gave her motion sickness. Emma's was a guy who said his own name when he came. Mine was in the back seat of a car, missing a stroke when the cop banged on the window and thinking I’d broke my dick.

Angie pulled, "Never have I ever sent nudes." All of us drank. Will's truth was his virginity story. Kirk's ended in tears, but he wasn’t the one who cried.

I got a double color. Least favorite sex position and why. Sixty-nine because I can’t fully enjoy either and I wind up focusing more on my blow job and do a shitty job taking care of her. Emma's was reverse cowgirl because there's a problem with angle of entry and an unflattering view of her ass.

"There is no unflattering view of your ass." That just popped out.

Angie agreed with Emma, "She's right. Because in reverse cowgirl your ass is going to connect with his body and jiggle. Gravity works much better to smooth things out in doggy style."

Will smiled, "The jiggle is a feature, not a bug. But I do agree with the dangerous angles." All the straight men cringed.

My dare was to switch places with either person beside me, have the next person sit on my lap, with my hand on their inner thigh until my next turn. I ended up feeling up Angie in my lap. If I’d gone the other direction, I’d have Eli in my lap. My way was better.

Kirk read, "Never have I ever had phone sex."

Emma didn't drink, but she did glare at the woman in my lap. I raised an eyebrow, "Opposed or opportunity?"

She smiled as she said, "Opportunity."

I hummed, "You'll be in Georgia and I'll be in Canada next Sunday."

"I know."

"A lot of distance."

I started to say something about getting to be the teacher, but Angie swatted me and pointed a finger at Emma, "Any erection he gets is going to poke me in the ass, so stop what you’re doing."

You get the idea. Conversations about sex, preferences, and dislikes. Some basic shit with movies and music. Some good questions, so not so much. I learned Emma loves lazy morning sex, but not lazy evening sex. She learned I like it when she takes my hand because that's her wanting the contact. Everyone had to answer how many times they had sex in the last week. That wasn't fair. Not because I'm embarrassed by the number, but because it’s a lot to remember. I said, "Seven?"  Emma pointed up. "Eight?" She nodded.

Angie and Alissa exchanged a look, "No wonder her parts we still tingling the day after he left."

Will got a dare to explain in detail his last sexual experience, pick someone else to share, and then everyone had to vote. Wonder who he was going to pick? I prepared myself. Will and Alissa had a perfectly acceptable Thursday night with three position changes. She orgasmed during position two, switching to three to finish him. He told a good story that made his wife blush. He finished and looked at me. What did I say? I knew he’d picked me. Only he didn’t. He pointed to Emma.

Emma threaded her fingers together, turned her hands out, and cracked her knuckles.

What followed was a rather detailed accounting of our shower this morning. The physical part anyway. With just the physical description I realized just how much we talk during sex. I was filling that part in as she wove the story. Specifically, her asking if she should finish me and how her question nearly did. She didn’t share that part and her eyes darting to mine gave me a thrill.

As soon as she stopped talking everyone pointed at her, including Will. He nodded in my direction, “He alludes to a four-letter word starting with “W” and you’re blushing, but not one hint of pink from the erotic shower story?”

She took a sip of her drink, “I don’t like to lose.”

Angie raised her hand, “How did you not fall over? Showers are so slippery.”

Emma stood up and put her foot on the futon, “Tiled bench on the wall and a cut out shelf to hold onto to.”

I saw her put her hand on Eli’s shoulder and covered my face with my hands, “Somebody make her sit down.” I shook my head, “So fucking thankful Angie isn’t in my lap anymore.”

I heard Kirk laugh, “I think she’ll do fine with phone sex, Seb.”

His words got my attention. I dropped my hands, “Oh shit!”

A perfectly innocent question, “What’s your favorite thing about your birthday?”, took a turn. Angie had answered buying her favorite cupcake and two new ones from a bakery close to her school. Emma answered how it was her guilt-free day to be pampered and do whatever she wanted. Will smirked, “Birthday sex.”

Heads nodded with agreement. I shook my head, “Birthday sex means anal.”

Everyone laughed and Will shoved me. Hard.

Alissa crossed her arms over her chest, “Do not even act like that’s the only day you get it.”

Eli snorted, “I never get birthday sex.”

“You’re not getting non-birthday sex tonight either.” Beside me, Angie crossed her arms over her chest too.

I half expected Emma to cross her arms in solidarity.  I was struck with a drunken laughing fit. Others joined in.

Eli was not one of them, “How’s your birthday, Seb?”

“My birthday is in August.” See how I dodged the question.

Kirk started laughing so hard I thought he might piss himself. “Eli never gets birthday sex. Will has bonus birthday sex. I have lots of birthday sex.” He looked at me and pouted, “And poor Seb doesn’t know what he gets for his birthday.” He let out a very loud snort, “Straight people and anal.”

Emma pulled, “Pick a stripper or lap dance song.” I was fascinated by the way her eyes shifted from up and left to up and right and the way she chewed on her lip as she thought. She was thinking hard.

Eli elbowed her, “It’s not that hard of a question, Emeliana.”

She flipped him off, “Don’t Let Go, En Vogue.”

I have no idea what anyone else said. I was too busy finding the song on Spotify and creating a playlist. Will elbowed me. I looked up to see everyone looking at me. “Oh, not doing either. Naked is fine. Naked and dancing . . . nope. Too many body issues for that.”

Eli looked at me strangely, “Damn, if you’ve got body issues the rest of us are fucked.”

Emma smacked the back of his head, “You damn well know that outside and inside don’t necessarily match.”

He rubbed the back of his head, “Sorry. Fuck, that hurt.”

My text alert went off. It was from Will, who was sitting next to me. “Keep her.”

The questions and stories went on. The “game�� ended when Eli reached the Candy Castle after skipping a big chunk of the board going through some sort of wormhole involving dots on spaces. I think he made it up.

We all did a celebratory shot and Emma pulled Angie off the couch, dropping down next to me. Alissa squished in between Emma and Will, so when we put our arms around the women, we brushed hands. Us, being us, we held hands for a few minutes. Long enough for Angie to take a picture and text it to Emma and Alissa.

I don’t even know how long we sat talking and sharing laughter. It was a good night. The kind of night you want to remember and never want to end. I would have never imagined a guy who’d dressed me over ten years ago on a TV show would be part of a couple who bridged my world and the world of a woman I met in a grocery store. A woman I adored more every day.

Everyone seemed to decide the party was over at the same time. We shared an Uber with Will and Alissa back over the Williamsburg bridge, dropping us off first. Inside the elevator Emma attacked me. Damn woman lacks self-control. I was going to wait until we got into my apartment. Instead, I found myself trapped in the corner, a hand on the back of my neck and one on my crotch. Sloppy, sloppy kisses were a preview of what was sure to be equally sloppy sex. We zig-zagged down the hall, fell through the door, and started shedding clothes on the way to my bedroom. She pushed me onto the bed and we fought with my jeans, laughing the whole time. Finally, we figured out my shoes had to come off first. I slapped at the nightstand drawer a few times before finding the handle and managed to get the condom on. Emma had much better luck with her shorts. I’d already pulled the drawstring on our way, so I gave her a head start. She straddled my hips and sank down on me.

I groaned loudly, “You feel so fucking good.”

Emma’s fingers pressed into my stomach, “You too.”

I used my thumb on her clit while she rode me. At least, I think I did. I was in the general vicinity. Precision with fine motor skills is one of the first things that go for me. I tried. It felt good, but I wasn’t getting any closer to an orgasm. I held onto her hips and rolled us over. Luckily, it only took two or three strokes to realize I wasn’t inside her anymore. We laughed as I got us back on track. A lot of groping and messy kisses later I pulled out and rolled onto my back. I looked over at her, “This isn’t gonna happen for me.”

She convulsed with a laugh, “Me either.”

While we laughed, I took her hand and held it against my stomach. “I don’t think you’re a real couple until you’ve had a sex failure.”

“And I have no confetti to throw.”  That started us laughing again. “Hey, your dick’s not broken and nobody yelled their own name, well, any name.”

“It could be worse.” I let go of her hand, lifting my arm for her to cuddle up. “Let’s go to sleep and forget this ever happened.”

“Not a chance.” She kissed my chest.

I pulled my head back and glared at her, “I don’t like you anymore.”

Emma kissed me very softly, “Yes, you do.”

I smiled, “Yeah, I do.”

~*~*~

About seven I sprang up in bed finding it hard to breathe. Night terror. Emma was sleeping soundly and I didn’t want to wake her. I picked my underwear off the floor and went to the other room. I sat in my favorite chair, focusing on my breathing to pull myself out of this. The racing heart and hyperventilating had me feeling dizzy and with numb extremities. Middle of the night panic is the worst. If I’m awake I can usually catch it quickly and do what I need to manage. In the middle of the night, I’m a couple of steps behind. Takes a little longer to calm down. When I left the calm place I visualize and opened my eyes I was better. The panic had passed as it always does. It would take a little while for the adrenaline to metabolize. I padded quietly to the bathroom, not wanting her to wake up and see me like this, to brush my teeth and wipe away the sweat. Back to the kitchen, I grabbed the biggest bottle of water I had. My journal was in the office. I swung by for it before heading back to my chair. My rule for this is to just write. Thinking or trying to figure out what was going on never worked. I would look back later, but for right now it was just stream of consciousness.

I heard Emma in the bathroom about an hour later. Putting my journal on the coffee table, I turned in the chair to be able to see her. When I’d gone to the bathroom, I’d moved our discarded clothes to the bedroom. She must have found them because she was in my shirt. Talk about something to put an instant smile on my face. I reached out a hand for her, “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Emma took my hand, letting me lead her to sit on my lap. She pressed her lips to mine before laying her head on my shoulder. “I missed your warmth.”

Kissing her head, I hugged her closer and made an instant decision to tell her. “I’ve been up for a while. Had a night terror. Fucking hate waking up in that panic.” Now, as I say it aloud, I realize even more than the panic, I hate feeling weak and out of control.

Emma lifted her head, her green eyes meeting mine with soft concern. She ran her fingers from my temple, around my ear, down my neck, over my beard, and finally to rest on my chest. “What do you need to take care of you?”

I smiled and kissed her. Fuck. I should have woken her up because the last ten seconds had done more to calm me than everything I’d done in the last hour. “I’m ok. Meditated, water, journaling.” I pointed to my journal.

“Any luck identifying the trigger?”

I shook my head, “Na, just wrote. I see my therapist on Thursday. She’ll tell me.”

She laughed, “Will she? Mine won’t tell me anything.” She imitated a voice I didn’t know, “I’m here to help you find your answers, not give you mine.”

“Good point.” I kissed the bare slope of shoulder not covered by my shirt.

“It’s been years, but I remember the after felt like bugs crawling through my veins. And the shaking.”

I held out my hand, watching the slightest tremor, “Not so bad.” Her fingers laced with mine, steadying more than my hand.

“Why don’t you go for a run and burn it off?”

“Thought about it, but didn’t want you to wake up to a note and think something was wrong. Too much to write out.” The thought of her thinking this had anything to do with her was enough to get my heart racing again.

“If there’s a next time, I’ll know.”

I like that she didn’t automatically tell me she wouldn’t have wondered.

Before I could voice my thought, her hand was on my face and she kissed me, “Seriously, Bastien, go for a run.” She nodded toward the door.

“And leave you here?”

“I will be right here when you get back.”

There’s a comforting thought. “Ok.” A run sounded good. Usually, I’d head to the gym early and hit something cardio and I’d be back to normal before the rest of the guys got there. She stood up and took my spot when I went to put on some clothes. I pulled my running shoes out of the closet and sat on the couch to tie them. “I won’t be too long.”

“Take as long as you need. I’ll shower. Maybe switch around some of your drawers and cabinets.”

“Sounds good, enjoy yourself.  Still want me to show you around today?”

“Absolutely.” She put her hand over her stomach, “You’re going to have to feed me.”

“I can do that.” I kissed her and headed out the door.

I put in my earbuds, cranked up the music, and just ran.

[signs-of-the-moon]

Moon Rise: Chapter 46

Swiftcloud was one of the first warriors to return home from battle. She was exhausted; aching, bleeding. Almost as soon as she entered through the bramble tunnel she crumpled to the floor. Her chest heaved with effort, tears pooling at the edges of her eyes.

Tabitha hurried over to her in a panic.

"Stars! Swiftcloud, what happened to you!?" She mewled, leaning down to cover her friend with licks. Swiftcloud glanced up at her, whimpering in pain. Goldensong came rushing over, alerted by the scent of blood. She helped Swiftcloud to her paws with Tabitha's assistance, guiding her carefully into the medicine den.

"It's alright now, we've got you," the golden tabby cooed comfortingly. Snowfrost was waiting for them in the heart of the den. Herbs were laid out before her paws in neatly organized piles. She helped guide Swiftcloud into a nest, ordering the injured warrior to lay on her side.

"There's a lot of blood. We're going to need a moss-cobweb combination to soak it all up. Then I think a poultice of broom, horse tail, and marigold would be best to put on her wounds. Goldenrod would work better though, but we'll have to make do with what we have," the older medicine cat noted as she turned.

"How are you feeling, Swiftcloud?" Goldensong asked. But Swiftcloud did not answer. She stared off at nothing, her mind racing. Her hearing was dulled as well, and the world around her felt distant. "She's in shock. Let's give her some thyme and lavender. Some burnet and juniper berries for strength, too."

Snowfrost nodded, picking out herbs with her expertly trained paws. She carried them over to her colleague, seating herself nearby to observe and provide aid.

Goldensong worked hard to gain control of Swiftcloud's shoulder injury. The wound gushed blood, staining the warrior's white fur crimson. Snowfrost passed Goldensong the moss-cobweb mixture, observing for signs of complications.

"Her wounds are deep," Snowfrost noted, leaning closer.

"But she's young. Surely, she will heal quickly." Goldensong added, applying pressure to the wound. Swiftcloud groaned, gritting her teeth in pain.

"Are you sure about that?" Snowfrost countered. Her eyes were narrowed, focused on the patient.

Goldensong looked at her old mentor, an unreadable expression on her face. "Nothing is ever certain," she meowed carefully, "you've taught me that lesson well."

Snowfrost hummed in response, a noise that sounded acknowledging, yet indignant. Swiftcloud didn't know if she was imagining it, or if her mind was playing tricks on her. She was in shock after all. A lot of things didn't feel real to her at the moment.

Snowfrost turned briefly from her partner, leaning down to lick up herbs. She chewed them carefully, spitting them out onto an old oak leaf to settle until Swiftcloud's wounds were under control. After a short while, Goldensong peeled back the cobwebs, assessing the blood loss. Then she scooped up some of the poultice to smear onto the warrior's shoulder. Swiftcloud whimpered and shut her eyes. As she did so, a powerfully sweet scent was stuck under her nose and stuffed into her nest. Swiftcloud took a moment to glance down. Lavender had been placed all around her, it's scent soothing the young molly almost instantly. In front of her, Snowfrost stood waiting to feed the warrior her medicine. Swiftcloud opened her mouth like a baby bird awaiting it's dinner. Snowfrost gave her the herbs, making sure the younger she-cat chewed and swallowed the entire wad of the bitter plants before turning away to create another poultice.

Outside the den, the yowls of various cats broke the silence of camp.

"The warriors are returning!" Lightpaw exclaimed just past the ivy veil, an attempt to summon the medicine cats from their chambers.

"You go, I'll take care of Swiftcloud," Goldensong insisted with a tail flick. Snowfrost looked at her old apprentice skeptically before picking up a bundle of herbs and carrying them with her into the clearing. When the older medicine cat was gone, Goldensong slipped Swiftcloud some poppy seeds.

"Here, take these. They'll numb the pain while the thyme kicks in. Don't listen to what Snowfrost said. You're... you're going to be just fine."

Swiftcloud didn't like the way Goldensong had put that last statement. But she was in no condition to argue or prod for a further explanation. Instead she licked up the tiny seeds, shuffling in her nest to get more comfortable. Not long after, she began to feel drowsy.

"We're going to need more lavender," Snowfrost meowed as she came back into the den. "Tornface's body was just returned home. And some of the warriors reek of his death stench. Myself included."

Goldensong shook her head slowly, pausing whatever task she had began doing to pass the older she-cat some of the purple flowers. A couple of stems she took and wove into Snowfrost's long fur, perhaps as an easier means to carry them, or even to act as a ward against future fowl odors. Swiftcloud could barely register what was going on anymore, her vision blurry and dark at the edges. Her eyes felt heavy with sleep, and before she'd realized it, the warrior had been pulled into a deep dreamless slumber.

Bright evening light slipped past the ivy tendrils of the medicine den, dappling the clearing in orange and gold. Swiftcloud awoke as one beam rested gently upon her face, greeting her kindly to a world of silence. Swiftcloud let out a yawn. It seemed all the craziness from the battle earlier had finally settled down. Good, she thought as she heaved a sigh.

"You're awake," a voice noted from across the den. Swiftcloud turned her head to acknowledge  whoever had spoken to her. She hadn't realized another cat was present until now.

Snowfrost sat a tail-length away, a few rows of berries and flowers set at her paws. She appeared to be reorganizing them. At her side was a fat, uneaten mouse. Swiftcloud's belly rumbled, loud enough for the other molly to hear. Snowfrost's expression became soft, a gentle smile pushing at her muzzle.

"You must be famished after what you've gone through today. It's a good thing I grabbed this prey for you," she mewed as she stood. Carefully, as if handling a newborn kit, Snowfrost picked up the mouse and carried it over to Swiftcloud. She settled it in front of the warrior, giving a quiet purr. Swiftcloud glanced up at Snowfrost, a little confused at the medicine cat's behavior. She wasn't usually this sweet towards anyone except her kin, at least not that Swiftcloud had seen. Yet it'd been some time since she had been left in this particular medicine cat's care. Perhaps this was how Snowfrost's nest-side manner was with all of her patients nowadays.

Swiftcloud let go of the thought for the time being, distracted by the tasty prey laid out before her. As she bent down take a bite, a strong scent wafted from her meal. The mouse smelled a little too sweetly of lavender, caked in the perfume of the hard working medicine cat. It was almost enough to make Swiftcloud lose her appetite. It wouldn't be so bad if she didn't eat it, right? This prey could better serve to feed a hungry kit, or another injured warrior. Besides, Swiftcloud could fetch herself something else later on.

As she lifted a paw to push the mouse away, Snowfrost's tail came upon her, slapping her in the muzzle. Swiftcloud sat up in surprise. The lynx point molly fixed the younger she-cat with a glare, like a mother staring down her fussy kit. Only, the sensation of her ice blue eyes upon Swiftcloud's pelt was not as warm. Any softness the healer had shown before had completed disappeared.

"You must eat," Snowfrost insisted. "You will never heal if you do not get your strength back up. Besides, prey like this in Leafbare is too precious to waste. The other Hunting warriors worked hard to track that mouse down. Now eat." Swiftcloud shrank against the other she-cat's words, recognizing them to be true. Sucking in her breath, she craned her neck and took a slow bite from the prey. Satisfied having seen her at least take a bite, Snowfrost turned around, padding out of the den with a swish of her plumed tail. She took one last glance over her shoulder at Swiftcloud before disappearing from sight. Swiftcloud continued to eat through her prey, enjoying it's meaty flavor until it began to change. Change? Swiftcloud glanced down at the carcass as she swallowed the next mouthful she had taken. A strange red juice oozed from the now open cavity. It was too bright and too runny to be blood. A tingling, almost choking sensation began to scratch Swiftcloud's throat a moment later. She coughed, pushing the mouse away with a now flailing paw as she tried to catch her breath. Her vision began to swim and ears rang with numbness, her heart beating at an irregular rate. What's happening to me?! Swiftcloud began to panic, kneading her claws into the ground by her nest. She wanted to yowl out; beg for someone to come help her, but she couldn't bring herself to do more than gasp. Agony shot through her every nerve; blood roared in her ears. Her life force felt as if it were draining. And soon, everything slipped into darkness.

When Swiftcloud opened her eyes again, a silver shape was hovering above her. Panic shot through the patched molly, causing her to bristle. Oh no, am I in Starclan!?

"Swiftcloud..?" A familiar voice spoke to her, sounding distant and dreamy. Swiftcloud blinked a few times, her vision clearing up to reveal the figure in front of her. She was relieved to see that it was not a Starclan warrior at all. It was Mistyleaf who stood above her, staring down at her with full moon wide eyes.

"Swiftcloud!" She breathed, pressing her forehead to the warrior's. Swiftcloud blinked up at her weakly.

"Wh..at...happ..ened...?" She strained her voice to speak, finding her throat to be incredibly sore and dry. The taste of vomit clung to her tongue, making her scrunch up her nose and smack her lips in disgust.

"Something terrible," Mistyleaf responded, voice barely above a whisper. "Something sinister."

"What..?" Swiftcloud asked again.

"You...you were poisoned."

Poisoned?! Swiftcloud sat up straight in her nest, her head feeling heavy as stone. She flopped down onto her side almost instantly, eyes still wide with fear. Someone had tried to kill her?

"You've been unconscious for quite a while. I'm relieved that I was able to get to you in time. For a while I...I thought the clan was going to lose you. That Shadowfang would lose you. That...I was going to lose you...."

"Oh Mistyleaf..." Swiftcloud teared up, her mate lowering her head to rub their muzzles together. "Wait..how long have I been unconscious?"

"It's been about three days. Though you've been in and out of it for a while."

Three days..? Swiftcloud's belly twisted. Hunger and nausea battled within her system, deciding between themselves which would take over the patched molly's senses.

"How did I even survive?"

"I came into the medicine den from herb gathering, and found you choking on the ground. I fed you some yarrow to see if that would help. It was touch and go for a while... I was so worried about you."

"You saved my life." Swiftcloud was starstruck, looking up at her mate with glossy, grateful eyes. Mistyleaf perked up a little, flustered. She groomed down her chest fur, avoiding Swiftcloud's gaze.

"How could I not..? I love you."

Swiftcloud forced herself to stand, burying her face into Mistyleaf's soft fur. She smelled like mint and honey. A fresh, delicate scent that Swiftcloud was addicted to. Mistyleaf purred, licking Swiftcloud between the ears affectionately.

"I should fetch Shadowfang. He'll be thrilled to see you're finally awake. Starclan knows how much strength it took to get him to leave your side."

Swiftcloud nodded her aching head eagerly, watching the beautiful she-cat disappear behind the den's ivy curtain then reappear briefly after. Behind her, a black shadow came rushing past.

"Swiftcloud!" Shadowfang breathed, wrapping his entire body around his mate. He covered her face with licks, a loud purr rumbling in his chest. "Thank the stars! You're alive, you're ok! Starclan...thank you, thank you. Ooh my Swiftcloud..." The black tom rubbed his cheek against hers between licks, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Swiftcloud purred back at him, returning her mate's affections.

Mistyleaf watched the pair fondly. Love glowed in her pale green eyes and tears slipped down her star speckled cheeks. Swiftcloud rose briefly. She grabbed Mistyleaf by the scruff, pulling the larger molly down into the nest to create a cuddle pile. Mistyleaf and Shadowfang shuffled around for a moment until they were laying comfortably together, Swiftcloud trapped between them. The mates took this time together to share tongues in silence. The only sound filling the den was their happy relieved purrs.

"I love you both so much," Swiftcloud mewed softly after a while. She shut her eyes, taking in the presence of her mates.

"We love you too," they answered in unison, pressing themselves further into Swiftcloud. The three remained this way for the rest of the night, content to be engulfed in one another's embrace.

But Swiftcloud did not feel so secure as time passed on. An uneasiness had wormed it's way into her heart, festering like a disease. Her mind raced with the thoughts of her possible demise. Someone had deliberately tried to kill her. Swiftcloud was sure the juice oozing out of the mouse she ate was from deathberries. Who would want me dead..? She pondered, going over a list of suspects in her mind.

Treeclan was a prime target to blame. Swiftcloud had been the first to mark a new border within their territory, and had meddled with clan affairs on numerous occasions. And some, including Blazestar, still blamed her for the kitnapping of Skunkpaw. It made sense that someone in Treeclan would seek vengeance on her. But Swiftcloud wasn't willing to believe any Treeclan cat was responsible for this, just as she was sure they hadn't poisoned some of the other deceased warriors in Grassclan. So that only left the possibility of the assassin being within her own borders. Swiftcloud contemplated very hard, trying to piece together clues from the previous poisonings. What were the common factors between all of them? Who was around when all of the poisoned cats were found?

Snowfrost!

Swiftcloud sat up in her nest, eyes wide at the realization. Mistyleaf shuffled beside her slightly, aware of her mate's movements. Swiftcloud settled herself back down, resting her head on her paws as she continued considering the possibility. Snowfrost had been passing by when Swiftcloud had discovered Waspwing's corpse. She was the one to give an excuse for Butterflytail's seizures. Snowfrost had returned moments after Ambereye had collapsed in camp. And she was the one to insist Swiftcloud eat that mouse. It all made perfect sense. But could Swiftcloud really rely on this evidence to prove that the medicine cat was guilty? She wasn't sure.

Fatigue began to work it's way into the weary warrior, pulling her back into unconsciousness.

When she awoke, Swiftcloud found herself in a dimly lit forest. The trees surrounding her were nothing more than blackened silhouettes, the canopy above her a void. Fog pooled around her paws like water, and snow cascaded down from the unseen sky in thick, heavy clumps. A chilling breeze ruffled through the molly's short fur, carrying with it the sickening stench of death.

"Where am I..?" Swiftcloud bristled as she glanced around. In the darkness surrounding her, the patched warrior began to hear the painful cries of other cats. Panic shot through her, forcing her into a defensive crouch. Her heartbeat quickened, drumming loudly in her ears. Yet not loud enough to mask the mysterious sounds of the woods.

Suddenly something brushed past her from behind, and tugged on her short tail. Swiftcloud nearly jumped out of her fur. The scared molly sprang to her paws instantly, taking off into the icy forest as fast as her legs could carry her. The woods seemed to be closing in around her as she moved, narrowing Swiftcloud's path until there was only one way she could go. The ground beneath her paws dipped, pulling her further and further along into the unknown. Swiftcloud began to slip, the frost beneath her paws making her footsteps unsteady.

"Swift...swift...swift..." The forest itself seemed to whispering to her ominously.

Just ahead, a dried up ravine came into view, marking the end of the path. It curved around like a claw, giving way to a dead end. Swiftcloud skidded to a halt by the earthy wall, turning tail to run back in the opposite direction. But when she looked at where she came from, she noticed her exit was blocked by a wall of eyeless cats. Deceased cats, Swiftcloud realized; her clanmates. Poppycloud, Waspwing, Butterflytail, Ambereye, and Heatherwing were here. So was little Dovekit. Swiftcloud recognized Cricketsong's most recent litter among the crowd as well. But there were some other cats surrounding her that Swiftcloud didn't recognize. One looked far too similar to Chicorynose, another closer to Quailbelly. Who were they? What did these spirits want?

Swiftcloud backed away from the ghosts slowly, her hindquarters making contact with the wall of the ravine. Why were they all here, she wondered. Why weren't these cats at peace in Starclan? Was it because they were all murdered? Because their killer had not been brought to justice?

Swiftcloud stared at the cats in front of her, petrified. Frost coated their pelts, red liquid dripping from the their jaws. Their expressions were set like stone; lifeless. Far too uncanny.

"Beware, snow's unyielding frost," one of the mysterious cats whispered.

"Be..beware?" Swiftcloud stammered with a gulp.

"It draws the night closer," Dovekit chimed in, her tiny voice shrill and haunting. "They will destroy the Star. Fortify yourself. Swiftness will save us... Help us all."

"Help us...help us...help us....!" The other cats began to wail, their voices growing louder and louder. The snow fell harder with their caterwauls, filling the ravine within the blink of an eye; trapping Swiftcloud. She tried to yowl for help, urging her limbs to move before she was buried alive. But it was no use. Her voice was swallowed up by the foul smelling wind, her body frozen where it stood. All Swiftcloud could do was cry pitifully as the ghosts of clanmates passed watched on, their bodies encased in ice....

Swiftcloud awoke with a start. Her heart was racing like a rabbit in her chest. The nightmare she had hung heavy in her mind as she sat up in her nest, still panting.

Now, Swiftcloud was certain that Snowfrost was responsible for all of this; for all the wrongful deaths of the clan. Somehow, some way. That had to have been what her dream meant. But Swiftcloud knew other cats would disagree with this conclusion. Snowfrost was a medicine cat, others would reason, she would never cause harm to any cat. Then why did she try to kill me? Swiftcloud thought to herself bitterly, remembering the sickeningly sweet and sharp taste of deathberries in the back of her throat. She shuttered slightly, once again forcing herself to relax for the sake of her sleeping mates. In the morning, she'd have to talk to Whitestar. To tell her of this revelation, and hopefully convince the leader that Snowfrost was dangerous. I have to protect the clan, Swiftcloud told herself. This is the only way. Whitestar must know the truth. But... will she believe me? Will anybody believe me?

[i-do-trash-fanfictions]

Thera’s Journal Entry #28

I woke up earlier than usual the next morning. Scout was already in the cockpit, directing the ship to the Reef so I could talk to Crow.

As I got ready for the morning, changing out of my night clothes into my armor, I thought about what had transpired yesterday.

Crow might be getting memories from his life as Uldren back. I didn’t like that. I didn’t want him to know who he was. I didn’t want him to know that he had killed Cayde-6, the hunter vanguard, and had been the cause of so much pain. I especially didn’t want him to know that I, his best and only friend, was the one who had hunted him down and shot him. Yet, I knew that it was likely he would find out eventually. Someone would either tell him, or something would slip. It was a secret that I believed couldn’t be kept forever.

I put my guns in their sheaths, then headed to the cockpit with Scout.

When I arrived at Crow’s little room in Spider’s lair, he was waiting. 

“Alright, get on with it. I’ve got no missions to do for the rest of the day, so I’ll be ready to do whatever you need.” I said.

He smiled and nodded. “It’s a cycle.” He said confidently. “Life, death, rebirth... The Traveler is trying to tell us something in metaphor because it- or we- lack the words to have a true conversation. Hawkmoon... an effigy of a fireteam spun from the same material as the Traveler. These crystals inside the frame, they’re dark but- part of me is certain they should be glowing. Glint thinks we need to charge the crystals with light... as if we’re trying to bring the gun back to life.” He hesitated. “The way you do with a dead Guardian. I’m ready to test that theory whenever you are.”

“I’m ready. When I get things figured out, I’ll come back here.” I told him, just before Scout transmatted me to the Queen of Hearts.

“The Traveler is made out of paracausal material that is, essentially, alive.” Scout told me as I sat in the pilot's seat. “It responds to the light like a living being. Maybe that means it could be restored... like a Guardian born of someone once dead.”

“Maybe.” I said. “Perhaps orbs of light are the way to go. Maybe that will help it?”

“Let’s try it out.”

And it worked.

“I can’t believe it; it worked!” Scout exclaimed. “The effigy grew and wove itself out of the light, replacing the missing components. But something’s still missing. A spark, perhaps?”

“Perhaps. Let’s go talk to Crow.”

And once again, I headed back to the Reef.

“Hawkmoon is transforming before our eyes. Every step we take, it changes. Grows stronger.” Crow said, moving his hands in gestures as he spoke. I found the hand gestures cute. “On our way back from the EDZ, I remembered something else. A dream of a dream.” He pointed to me. “You were carrying the effigy.” His hand returned to his side. “It was simply radiant, charged with a power I’ve never felt before. We were taking it to the shard of the Traveler, together, and then... I don’t know what happens next. But we’re going to find out.”

He suggested that I head to the EDZ to investigate. After Scout transmatted me to the Queen of Hearts again, he said, “First the taken in the Hallowed Grove, now this mysterious interference. This all feels strangely familiar. It feels like Savathun.”

I headed to the cockpit, and headed to the supplied coordinates.

“Thera,” Crow told me through the coms after I arrived. “The coordinates the Traveler sent us lead to the dam. It’s overrun by taken, but we’re going deep inside. They’re less active on those levels. I’ll clear the spots the taken usually infest. Clear the path for you the best I can.”

“Do you come out here often, Crow?” I asked him.

“Not as much since we met, but I used to when on assignment. It’s quiet out here. No one to bother me... hmph, or for me to bother.” He answered.

“You like to be alone?” I jumped around, heading inside.

“Not usually. I like to hang out with you. But... it is nice to have a place to go when you need quiet. Do you have a place like that?”

“Not a specific place. I’ll go anywhere to get a break. That could be my room, my ship, or anywhere on the planets.”

He hummed. “You should find a certain place, one you can call just your own. Where only few can find you.”

I continued on and reached a large pipe that I went into. Another feather sat in there.

“It both exists and doesn’t exist. It’s a manifestation of potential energy. The choice between action and inaction.” Scout said.

“Keep an eye out for taken. That’s exactly the sort of thing Savathun would love to get her spindly little hands on.” Crow told me.

I maneuvered through the pipes, shooting taken when they appeared.

I walked for quite a while before Crow spoke through the coms again.

“Not to worry you or anything, but there’s definitely something going on here.” 

“What he means is that we’ve picked up numerous paracausal readings throughout the dam... and a number of very agitated taken.” Glint spoke up.

“We’ll handle Savathun’s taken, but the other energy signals are closer to you.  Can you look into it?” Crow asked.

“Will do.” Came my answer as I kept going.

There were many more taken as I went farther in. Barely any of them left a scratch on me as I shot them down with Riskrunner. I collected two more feathers. Then I came across the third one as I turned down a tunnel. 

There was a small room with a few pieces of furniture in it. A table and orange folding chair pushed against the wall. A large cabinet in one corner. A cot in the other. A hive knight’s sword leaned against the wall beside the cot.

“Don’t mind the mess. Glint’s a terrible maid.” Crow said over the coms as I went in.

I smiled a little.

“This is just where I come to... get some distance when I need it. Someplace to call my own.”

“It’s his Crow’s nest.” Glint chimed in.

I started laughing.

“It absolutely is not.” Came Crow’s reply, which made me laugh a bit harder.

“I’m calling it your Crow’s nest, you can’t stop me.” I said.

“See, Thera agrees with me.” Said Glint.

I went over to the cot and picked up the feather which sat on top of it. I then looked down at the bottles that lay beside it.

“I didn’t drink that all by myself in case you were wondering.” Crow said. “In fact, I didn’t have any of it. After Glint brought me back to life, I quickly came to realize that Guardians recognized me as whoever I was before. They... weren’t always kind. Heh. So I took to wearing a helmet to hide my face. Before Spider. Even then, I rescued a Warlock and her Ghost once. She offered me a drink afterward, but I left before she came back with it. I don’t know why, but I returned for the empty bottle later. I’ve always wondered how she would have treated me if I’d stayed. If she saw my face.”

I frowned. I knew I couldn’t blame Guardians for hating him. They didn’t know what I knew. They only saw the man who had killed Cayde. I had been the same as they were, before. I couldn’t help but get angry whenever his name was mentioned. But now... I didn’t hate him anymore.

I hope that whenever I bring him to the Tower, or whenever he comes on his own (because I’m sure it will happen eventually), that the other Guardians will forgive him as I have, and see the good in him. Yet, I know that is never going to happen. There will always be those who can’t forgive.

I looked over at the white sheet that lay beside his bed.

“I forgot this was here. My first memories are waking up under this shroud. The first thing that was mine. It was comforting, somehow. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. Someone cared enough to lay me to rest. I meant something to them, whoever they are, and that... means something to me.”

Seeing that Crow didn’t mind me looking around, I turned to the knight's sword that lay against the wall, and ran my fingers over the large blade.

“I’ve learned many things since my second birth.” He said. “Fear. Humility. But this... this was where I learned pride. That sword belonged to the hive knight I killed to protect Osiris. It felt good, saving someone so important to the Vanguard. Someone who used to be an outcast. It was like I had finally found my purpose. Like I was brought back for a reason. And there you were, Thera.”

I had that same feeling before. The feeling that I had found my purpose. It was after I had saved the Last City, when I had saved the light. For once, I didn’t feel like I was just another Guardian. I was a hero. Someone of importance. That always made me feel pride.

I went over to the blue bowl that sat on top of the white sheet. I picked it up and looked at the golden star designs that encircled it. It was beautiful. 

“Oh, right. Glint gave this to me.”

“It was a gift.” Chimed in Glint. “It was the Dawning. Your first Dawning.”

“The first time I ever felt like it might be safe to be around other Guardians. I’m not stupid. I know... the person I used to be, he did something terrible. I can feel it when people look into my eyes and see him. The way you looked at me when we met. I don’t ever want to know him.”

I felt a pang of guilt over looking at him that way. There was anger in my eyes that day. I think a bit of fear too. And confusion. It was still hard to push the memories away of what he did. And what I did to him.

I walked over to the small table and picked up one of the tools which sat on it, fiddling with it in my hands.

“Ahh... ha, yes. Spider wanted all of this thrown out, but I couldn’t bring myself to. Even broken, it might still have a purpose to someone. I’ve heard that before the Collapse, there used to be an art. It took broken things and put them back together with precious metals. It made something new and beautiful out of something that would have just been thrown away.”

I smiled. I remember when I used to do that a lot. I’d take things and make something new out of it. I learned that from watching Sora. A lot of Guardians knew Sora, and if there was anything they thought she could use that they didn’t need, they’d give it to her. She’d take it, and end up with something beautiful. Sometimes it would be jewelry. Maybe an outfit, if it was fabric. All sorts of things. A few knicknacks she had made still sat on my bookshelf. And I still had some jewelry she had made as well.

“You should do it more often.” I said. “It’s good to have a hobby that doesn’t include fighting. Something you can do when you finally have a break and can sit back and relax for a bit.” I took another look around the room. “It’s a nice nest.”

“You’re free to come here whenever you want.” He stated.

“I’ll try to. If I find the time. This would be better than talking near Spider all the time. Who knows how much he’s heard us talk about.”

“Yes, it would be better.”

The coms clicked off for the time being.

I sighed. “He’s so much different than who he was before.”

“That’s the thing about Guardians. No Guardian is like their past self. I don’t know what yours was like. The only thing you still had was your name, and a lot of Guardians can’t even remember that.” Scout told me. “I like that they don’t remember. I don’t think half of the Guardians would want to.”

“It’s a chance for a new beginning. A chance for the past to be forgotten and for us to forge a new path. But for Crow, it’s harder, because so many people still remember what he did. I’ve forgiven him. I wish others would to.”

There was a moment of silence.

“When are you going to admit that you like him?”

I paused for a moment. There was another silence.

“It’s obvious you do.” Scout continued. “At least to me it is. And you know that Ann knows too. It’s clear from the way you talk about him. The way your eyes light up, and you smile whenever you see him. The way you’re always thinking of him. Have you noticed that?” 

I had noticed. The happiness I got from seeing him and talking with him and hanging out with him. I thought about him in everything I’d do. From baking, to a quick adventure, and everything in between.

“I know deep down I like him.” I whispered. “But there are so many things that are stopping me from accepting it.”

I heard the sound of a taken screech and got snapped back to reality. I still had a mission to do.

“We’ll talk later, after you finish the mission.” Scout said. I continued on.

[thewildwaffle]

Abduction - Chapter 27

Would you look at that? Got it posted on time! Thanks for the motivation everyone! especially @cyberstrikebeast​ - you don’t need to hunt me down, we good! :D I’m not sure if I’ll get another chapter out before the new year, I will for sure be writing in it since I’m taking time off work, but we’ll see how it goes!

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“For the sake of sanity, ”Simmo hissed, “would you hurry it up!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mike whispered back, “am I taking too long? Would you like to do this instead?”

Simmo sighed and clicked her mandibles faintly.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Mike grumbled under his breath as he turned back to the task at hand.

The task was, to be honest, one that 7-year-old Mike would have absolutely loved. They needed to find where Jeb was being held. To do that, they needed a computer that could grant them access to confidential information. To get to a computer that had the right authorization, they needed to break into an information control room. The ship was currently in what Mike referred to as “night mode,” so the control room would be empty. However, that didn’t mean it was easy to get to. Hence the high security in the corridor.

And what a fun security system it was too! Obviously, it must seem impossibly daunting to most- otherwise, the Burnti would never have installed it, but to Mike, it was straight out of his childhood games where he’d imagine he was a secret agent and had to infiltrate the bad guys’ lair. There were lasers to avoid and everything. He could see them, dimly, but they were definitely there. When they’d arrived, he’d had to stop Simmo from walking right into them. She stayed behind as he carefully wove under, over, and around the beams of light, quietly humming the Mission Impossible theme song, much to Simmo’s annoyance.

Currently, he was standing in front of the gate that blocked the hall. He’d climbed up to where it looked like there was a locking mechanism. No luck there. He was stumped for a moment until he noticed the small colored pins inset along the wall. He picked at them, poked at them, twisted, pulled. It was clear they were mechanized. If he tried hard enough, they probably could be moved by hand.

“Do you know if there’s some sort of pattern or whatever for these pins? Like, do I need to match up the blues, or…” He trailed off. He forgot she wouldn’t be much help with this. Simmo, and apparently all Montauk are colorblind. Seeing in color was something only a handful of species could do, or at least, only a handful of species in the Galactic Confederation. Maybe more could see color in the Burnti Empire. That might explain why there’s some sort of color-coding something on this stupid gate.

It took a bit, but eventually, he was able to figure out how the pins were supposed to move when the locks were engaged or disengaged. Moving the first pin out was hard - they were so small! Thankfully, due to the fact that he hadn’t had access to any clippers or files, his nails had grown long enough to pick out the pins so he could work them along their grooves and out of the way. Once he moved a few, it became easier to move the rest.

He grabbed one of the horizontal bars and pulled. It budged, but just barely. He tried again. It rose maybe two inches. Dang, this was heavier than it looked. It didn’t help either that he didn’t have much room to lift - there were two lasers he had to avoid right behind him. Mike turned around and leaned against the gate, trying to figure out the best move.

“Don’t look at me,” Simmo grumbled. “Even if there weren’t all these light sensors, I wouldn’t be much help lifting that thing. Why do you think I brought you along?”

Mike turned back to the gate. “And here I thought it was for my winning personality,” he sighed. He widened his stance and carefully squatted down to the level of the bar he needed. He’d taken a weight-lifting class once in school. He’d been pretty good at it then, and he did his best to keep good form- not that he had much choice. One wrong move and he’d set off the sensors. He grabbed the bar, locked his elbows and lifted with his legs.

Oh boy. If they got out of this, he was going to hit the gym, get back in shape!

The gate lifted enough that he could shuffle his knee under it and give his arms a break. He lifted again and repeated with his shoulders. He carefully stepped over a beam of light on the other side to try to give himself a better stance as he lowered the gate back down. The angle was a bit awkward and it slipped halfway down and slammed loudly against the floor.

Both Mike and Simmo winced involuntarily. Simmo glanced down the hall they had come before turning back to glare at Mike.

He sighed and pretended to brush it off by continuing the rest of the way over the lasers. He was glad Simmo couldn’t see his hands or legs shake, or hear how fast his heart was beating. 

He was able to maneuver the rest of the way without incident. A little stumbling, and a lot of shaking, sure, but he made it.

He let himself take a bit of a breather at the other end, shaking his legs so they’d stop feeling like jelly. “Wow,” he muttered to himself. “Always wanted to do that. Always thought it’d be more fun. Life and death situations seem to suck the fun out of everything.”

He entered the code on the panel like Simmo showed him. The laser light show sensors turned off. Mike’s mind was starting to wander as he thought of what the differences there must be between his and Simmo’s - and whoever designed these things, eyes. Why could he see the beams that were supposed to be invisible? Was it with the cones or rods in the eyes? Was it because of how the brain processed the light? He didn’t get very far in thinking though. A loud clang nearly made him jump out of his skin. The gate was raising. That was the loudest gate he’d ever heard. Why did everything always so loud when you were trying to be quiet? After getting over his initial scare, he cringed as it continued its way up loudly. He really hoped no one else was nearby. They would get caught all because of a stupid gate that desperately needed some WD40. Or whatever the Burnti used.

Simmo quickly made her way over and entered the command to restart the security protocols. Mike wasn’t keen on the idea of having the dang gate move around again, but Simmo assured him it was necessary to maintain their cover while they were in the control room. Thankfully, the mechanism that moved the gate was a lot quieter going down than it was going up.

The control room itself was not exactly what Mike had been expecting. As soon as they opened the door, he anticipated seeing a few cramped desks or tables covered with computers and monitors, star maps, electrical displays, the works. Instead, it was a rather spacious room with large decorative tapestries with several inlets and nooks along the walls. In the middle of the room was an impressively large, round computer console. A few steps away was a set of shelves storing everything from datapads, books, what looked like scrolls, and cylinder can things of various sizes and colors.

“So,” Mike drew out the word as he walked in and looked around and up. This place had a vaulted ceiling? On a spaceship? Classy. “Is this like some sort of library, or…?”

“A what?” Simmo marched immediately towards the computer console. She opened up the holographic display and began entering information.

“You know, a library,” Mike circled the room, checking out the inlets and tapestries. “A place where people keep lots of books and movies and old magazines or whatever. You can read there, or study, or research things?”

Simmo didn’t answer. She was now moving through the readouts on the display and scrolling through what didn’t seem important. Mike ran a hand over one of the tapestries. It swayed with his touch. Behind it, there was a small nook tucked away. Nice. He grabbed the tapestry again to steady it. It was huge - it hung all the way from the ceiling to the floor, and it was beautiful. He wasn’t sure the shapes on it meant anything, they were a little abstract and there were symbols he couldn’t read, but it was beautiful nonetheless. He stared at it a while longer, admiring the handiwork and skill that had gone into its creation before walked back to where Simmo was still looking up where Jeb was being held.

“Any luck?”

“He was put in the brig two levels up from us and in the rear of the ship.”

“Okay. Great! That was fast,” Mike nodded and headed toward the door. “Let’s go get him, let’s… Simmo?”

Simmo didn’t move from her spot. Her antenna flicked slightly, but she kept searching the hologram.

“Uh, Simmo, we’re on a bit of a time crunch here, let’s get a move on.”

“And how do you plan on getting out of here without a ship?”

Mike stopped. “I thought we’re taking yours.” He paused for a moment, waiting for a response. Simmo just continued swiping and searching the computer. “Do you… not know where yours is?”

“It’s been missing for about a partec now. It was supposed to be moved to bay 9 after it was done with some repairs, but it never showed up. Rozar told me to not worry about it, that the repairs were probably just taking longer than expected. Thing is, he never checked into it further. Every time I try to do so myself, I never have clearance.”

Mike’s stomach dropped. That didn’t sound good. They had to find the Junk Lego, it had to be somewhere.

He stepped over to Simmo to help her look. He couldn’t really read many of the symbols on the display but moving felt like something he could do. He needed something to do, needed some way to help. Before he could get far, however, he heard the loud gate outside the corridor being raised again.

“Simmo, someone’s coming! We know where they’re keeping Jeb, let’s get out of here! We’ll figure out where your ship is later.”

But Simmo didn’t move from her spot. Files and reports continued coming up and she kept sifting through each one at incredible speed. Mike stepped closer to her, sizing up how best to grab her and pull her along in a way that wouldn’t end up with him getting cut up by her sharp hands. Suddenly, the screen froze. Mike glanced at the topmost file on display. He still couldn’t read it, and for several tense moments, Simmo couldn’t stop reading it.

“Simmo,” Mike ground out. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and all this standing around business was beginning to feel torturous. They had to hide!

“My ship,” Simmo whispered without taking her eyes off the display. “It’s gone.”

The loud clanging noises of the gate stopped. Shoot. Mike looked back at Simmo. She must have heard it, even with the control room door being closed. She was still fixated on the screen.

“Simmo!” Mike hissed through his teeth. The voices were right outside the door now, muffled and talking quietly, but getting closer.

Mike slapped at the screen’s controls, shutting it down and all but tackled Simmo and dragged her behind the tapestry. Just in time too - the tapestry was still moving and swaying a bit when the door slid open. Thankfully, the new arrivals were too deep in their conversation to notice. Mike didn’t dare look around to see who it was, but he could swear he recognized the voice of one of the speakers.

“This is not what my people were told,” a silvery voice entered the room. “We’ve waited long enough. The Burnti aren’t the only ones with whom we can make deals.”

“We’ll have the truminium soon now that the Galactic Confederation out of our way.”

Mike shrunk back farther. He knew that second voice. Commander Rozar had one of those very distinct voices.

“That’s been partecs now. You’ve sure been taking your time since,” the silvery voice countered. “Having too much time with your galactic streamings about your little prizes, perhaps?”

Mike tentatively inched to the edge to get a look, being careful to not be seen. Sure enough, there was that grand, feathered sloth jerk himself, talking to an alien Mike had never seen before. She looked very catlike. Larger than a booka, but larger and with a much longer torso with thick spotted gray fur and long antenna-like whiskers all over her body. She was standing on her hind legs, or maybe standing was too generous a term. It was more like she was balancing on her back legs. It’s long, thick tail helped to keep her balanced.

Mike ducked back behind the tapestry. ”What ith that?” he lisped to try to avoid being overheard.

Simmo leaned over to peer around the corner. “Priso. They’re not with the Burnti. They’re from some coalition near the Green Mallak nebula.” “Ok. That doesthn’t help. I have no idea what any of that ith.” 

Simmo made some sort of gesture that Mike had to assume was Montauk sign language for ‘shut up.’ 

Rozar and the priso hadn’t yet noticed they weren’t alone. The priso had said something which caused Rozar to flatten the feathers at the back of his head cooly. “If you’re going to be keeping up with your delightful attitude, you can always spend another cycle or two in a cell.”

The priso shot him an icy glare. “Your diplomacy leaves much to be desired.”

“And what, do tell, are you going to do about it? Complain about me to your superiors? I’m sure they’d applaud the lengths I’ve gone to not outright strangle you.” The priso’s fur ruffled. “Is that a threat?”

“No,” Rozar said calmly, “a statement. Though I’m sure many of your superiors wouldn’t mind if it were. I’m surprised you don’t hear more of them.”

The priso’s ears went flat against her skull, the same with its whisker-like antenna. She bared her teeth and let out a low growl.

“Oh do calm down, Sitran my dear,” Rozar sighed. “That’s what got you in trouble before.” He turned to the computer console and pulled up the display. Mike tensed. He hoped that whatever Simmo had been looking at before wasn’t still there, or if it was, it wouldn’t tip Rozar off that something was wrong. Thankfully, the display had reset itself when they closed it down in their rush.

“Ah, here we are,” Rozar looks closely at the display before turning toward a set of shelves. Picking up a datapad, he activated the display and handed it to the angry priso. “Perhaps this will help allay some ill will. This datapad should include the pertinent communications we’ve had with Earth. Or at least with the governments that have been expressing an interest.”

Sitran took it and began scrolling through with a paw. Her ears came forward and the offended expression on her face melted away into a mix of curiosity and wonder. “These are just the ones that...” she continued to scroll. “How many governments does Earth have?!”

Rozar stepped back toward the main computer console chuckling lightly. “My understanding is that humans just wandered around their planet. When they got too far from each other, they started doing their own things, made their own cultures, formed new languages, and even their widespread appearances changed in some cases to adapt to new environments. In short, there are enough for everyone to share.”

Mike felt a mix of confusion, alarm, and anger. He wished he could just step out there and wipe that smug look right off Rozar’s face. Like he knew anything important about humans! What was that jerk planning?

Rozar,still very much unaware of Mike and Simmo’s presence, was very much enjoying showing off his human-related knowledge.

“There’s a file with everything you need near the top. Several files actually. I’d recommend reviewing the health and safety files thoroughly. There are things you wouldn’t think would pose a health hazard. You wouldn’t want to get something in your paw broken during a customary human hand greeting.”

Simmo leaned into Mike’s ear, “Please tell me that’s not a real thing.”

Mike turned back to her and thought for a moment. “Uh, handshake? I think he’s talking about handshake-th. That’th tho dumb. They don’t hurt”

Simmo didn’t look comforted in the slightest. 

The priso was still looking through the files, fascinated. Her wide eyes were darting across the screen. “I thought most of this was just rumor. Humans sure don’t mess around, do they?”

“Oh no. They certainly do,” Rozar corrected. “That’s part of the problem with working with them. But I imagine that if the Galactic Confederation has been successful at integrating them, then it’s obviously manageable. The rewards vastly outweigh the risks, as you can see in the next file.”

Simmo leaned into Mike’s ear again. “I want a copy of that datapad.”

Mike pushed her face away from his and peeked back out.

“You’ll want to read through the behavioral files as well,” Rozar had now moved over near Sitran and was pointing out the folder in question. “We’ve tried to log as much information as extensively as we can, but it’s very much an ongoing endeavor. Our own humans have been exceptionally-”

The door slid open again. Mike jumped back a bit out of habit to avoid detection. He didn’t really need to, the new arrivals, a pair of yellow guards immediately rushed in and saluted Rozar.

“Commander,” the shorter of the pair rushed, she sounded like she was out of breath, “We have apprehended a ship, sir.”

“The escaped prisoners?”

“No sir, a Galactic Confederation ship.” That got Rozar’s full attention. 

Rozar ignored a quirked look from Sitran. “Come again? A Galactic Confederation ship?”

“Yes sir, we were in pursuit of the escaped prisoners and they came out of nowhere sir. By the time we had them, the prisoners had gone to hyperspeed.” “A diversion perhaps?” Sitran mused.

“Quite possible. Two of the three missing prisoners were Confederation officers, I believe.” Rozar’s tail swayed dramatically from side to side, red and purple feathers brushed lightly on the floor. “They helped them get away and let themselves be captured. We’ll know for sure after we’ve interrogated them. And then we’ll make an example of them for the rest of the meddlesome Confederation fools.”

The guards suddenly looked rather sheepish. “Ah, yes, about that,” the second, taller guard started. Rozar snapped his head towards him, which only disconcerted the guard more. “Their ship is still in docking bay 4, but they themselves… aren’t.”

Rozar stared at the pair of them silently for what seemed like forever. Mike leaned out a bit more from behind the tapestry.

“They aren’t… what?” Rozar nearly spat.

The guards shifted uncomfortably. “They… aren’t on their ship anymore. Ah, a few moments after the air seal locks disengaged, three of them rushed the doors and were able to break through the ranks. They, ah, well they are now loose aboard the Arum Bloom, sir.”

Silence.

“They... broke the ranks?”

“Ah, yes… sir. The guards were not prepared for them to leave their ship like that, or leave willingly at all. Several have had to be taken to the infirmary. Two granims have serious concussions and are in critical condi-.”

“How many?”

“Uh, sir?”

“How many Galactic Confederation soldiers are now running amok on my ship?”

The first guard paused nervously. The second piped up, “From the reports we’ve received, there are three, sir.”

Rozar stepped away from the computer console and began pacing slowly, sharp claws clacking against his jaw. Mike slipped a bit back behind his hiding spot as Rozar walked by. The Burnti Fleet Commander had his eyes closed, sure, but he still felt dangerous. Mike could feel the anger and tension building up. He was pretty sure everyone in the room could. Even Simmo, who had barely moved from her hiding spot at all, scooted almost imperceptibly closer to Mike’s side.

“Three.” Rozar sighed deeply. “Three soldiers were able to ‘break your ranks,’ injure several guards, and avoid capture?” Rozar stopped in front of the guards, his feathers puffed out a bit as he arched his neck to look down at the guards. “Please illuminate to me how, by all that is bright and shining, three soldiers were able to, thus far, elude you all.”

Mike did not envy the guards’ position. He knew it was silly, they were Burnti- his captors- but part of him even felt a little bad for them.

One of them, the second one, managed to gather a bit more courage and straighten up. “Two of them were human sir.” 

Mike gasped. Simmo glowered at him.

No one must have heard, thankfully, because the guard continued, “We had scanned their ship as we brought them aboard, but something was interfering with the scan. Before we could completely set up for boarding protocols, two humans and a booka attacked and got away.”

“Well, Commander,” Sitran drawled out dramatically, “It seems you certainly are busy. I can make sure my superiors take this,” he closed the display of the datapad, “as a gift of good faith for the truminium trade, shall I?”

Rozar made a sound that was a mix between a grunt and a growl.

Sitran walked toward the door. The two guards hesitated, unsure if they should try to stop her or not.

“I’ll just see myself out then,” Sitran stepped around them and toward the door, calling back smugly, “Don’t worry, I remember where my ship is, unless of course it’s been moved or stolen in all the commotion lately.”

Mike ducked back to hiding as Rozar stormed by. He was definitely growling now. After a moment, he heard the blips and hums of the computer console as he pulled up the report readouts the guards had brought him. More reports were sent in as the search for the intruders went on.

Simmo quietly thunked her head against the wall. “They are never going to leave. We need to get out of here,” she hissed under her breath.

“There are humans,” Mike whispered back. “They’ve probably come to rescue us!”

“Two humans. Two humans came. Oh, and a booka. Great.” Simmo started to roll her eyes but stopped herself once she realized what she was doing. “Against everyone else aboard the Arum Bloom? They’re idiots for coming at all.”

Mike sighed and leaned to spy on what the other occupants in the room were doing, but before he could, Simmo grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

“Now look here you little monster,” her face was right in Mike’s again, “don’t you go getting any stupid ideas. We’re getting out of here as soon as we can. I agreed to take you, Wenona, and for some reason, Jebannuck, but I draw the line there. We are not risking our plans to save more humans on a doomed mission.”

Mike smiled. “Aw, Simmo, you said our plan. Like we’re a team,” he teased. Simmo hissed quietly and pushed him back. It’d been a soft push, sure, but as Mike stepped back from it, he tripped over his other foot and stumbled back, landing on his butt past the tapestry.

He froze. He felt like he could feel every. Single. Heartbeat.

Frewan.

He turned his head to the middle of the room. Maybe Rozar hadn’t seen. Maybe he’d had his back turned and didn’t notice.

Yeah, no such luck.

Rozar stared back at him, surprise coloring his wide golden eyes.

After a few tense heartbeats, the two guards finally snapped out of their shock and pulled their blasters, leveling them right at Mike. 

Before any of them could react further, the control room door opened again. A huge hairy mass raced towards Mike. Booming barks felt like they were shaking the entire room.

“No one shoot!” a familiar voice commanded. “Put your weapons down!”

Mike had his hands full of massive, hairy, very excited dog. By the time he was able to sit back up and wipe the slobber off his face, Wenona had disarmed the guards and was handing their weapons to Jebannuck. She kept her blaster pointed directly at Rozar, but carefully, her eyes wandered to where Mike was trying to settle down Carson.

“Oh, Mike,” her voice bounced cheerily, “I’m glad you’re still alive. Because I’m about ready to kill you.” She dropped the smile. “Where have you been?!”

“Uh,” Mike stood back up, “with Simmo.” He motioned for her to step out from behind the tapestry. She was hesitant, but as soon as Mike had acknowledged her, Carson started sniffing. Then growling. Mike stroked the dog’s head. “It’s ok boy, she’s a friend.” Which earned a simultaneous scoff from Simmo and a quiet “Well…” from Jebannuck.

Simmo cautiously took a step out from behind the tapestry. Carson sniffed eagerly at her while Mike held his collar.

“What is that thing?!”

“That’s Carson,” Mike scratched the dog’s ears. “He’s our unofficial pet until we can get him home to his real owners back on Earth.”

Simmo’s antenna were flat against her head and her mandibles clicked quietly, but she didn’t stop the canine and instead stood stiffly, waiting for it to be over. When Carson was done, he huffed loudly and stood resolutely between Simmo and Mike.

“Simmo,” Rozar’s voice broke the tense silence, “I assume I’m to hold you responsible for at least most of this mess.”

“Quite likely.”

Rozar looked like he was trying to kill Simmo just by glaring at her. He looked like he might say more, but Jebannuck spoke first. “Simmo, are you the one who opened the cells?”

Simmo tilted her head stiffly. “Yeah, whatever. You’re welcome.”

Jebannuck stared at her. “You opened the entire cell block. There were more than just prisoners in there. You almost got me killed.”

“If I’d known it was your cell block, believe me, I would have found another distraction.”

Mike waved them both down. “Okay, fine, it’s fine. I mean, now we don’t need to break Jebannuck out.” Simmo made a long grunting noise and looked away. Mike looked at her, but shook his head and chose to ignore whatever she meant by that. They were together now, and they had to act quickly. “Simmo, you said something earlier about your ship?”

Simmo looked to Rozar who gave the smallest hint of a grin.

“It’s gone.” Simmo clenched her sharp claws. Mike, Jeb, and Wenona glanced at each other. Simmo only had eyes for Rozar Silence. Finally, Wenona, still aiming a blaster at his chest, took a warning step closer.

Rozar sighed. “The parts were useful. Plus,” he sneered, “we didn’t want you getting any bright ideas. Apparently, I was right to be concerned.”

“So we steal another ship. We get out of here,” Wenona said matter-of-factly.

Jebannuck shook his head. “That may be impossible. They’ll have increased guard duty since the last prisoners did that.” “We can take them, we have the blasters.”

“We don’t need to.” Mike jumped in. “There’s a ship, a Galactic Confederation ship.” He nodded at Rozar. “I overheard them earlier.”

“Yeah,” Simmo scoffed, “with its crew now wandering somewhere on the ship.”

Rozar chuckled. Wenona readjusted her aim on him that had been slipping during the conversation. “So what will you do now? Will you steal their ship and save yourselves, or will you get yourselves captured by trying to find them?”

“Shut up, Rozar, no one asked you.” Wenona gave him her iconic glare.

“Shoot him,” Simmo growled. “We don’t need him overhearing our plans so he can stop us once we leave.”

“And give the Burnti a reason to go to war against the Galactic Confederation?” Jebannuck countered. “He’s not just some guard, he’s a fleet commander, and we wouldn’t be doing it in self-defense!”

Wenona sighed and looked back at Jeb. “We can’t just leave him either.”

Rozar used the momentary distraction and dove behind the computer console. Wenona shot a blast which barely missed him as he went, brushing over the feather tips of his tail. Carson barked wildly, pulling Mike who was still holding his collar with him a few steps before Mike could regain footing.

The entire control room erupted with noise and no small amount of panic. The guards, even without weapons, rushed them in order to protect their commander. Wenona swore and tried to move to get another shot at Rozar, but her limp slowed her down. Jeb was able to shoot one of the guards, but the other crashed into Wenona and both of them fell to the floor.

Carson was still barking wildly but was now trying to pull Mike along to defend Wenona. He let go of the dog’s collar and yelled to Jeb to throw him one of the spare blasters. The guard that had attacked Wenona screamed as Carson bit its arm.

A loud tonal beep blared from speakers that must have been installed in the walls or ceiling. Rozar’s voice echoed in the room, outside in the hall, and Mike assumed, everywhere in the ship, “This is Fleet Commander Rozar. Humans have escaped. Armed and dangerous. Kill on sight.”

Mike felt like a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on him. We need to go. We need to go! WE NEED TO GO! He wasn’t sure if he had yelled any of that as he rushed forward and pulled Carson off the alien guard who quickly scrambled away holding its arm tightly to try to stop the purple blood from where they’d been bitten.

Simmo picked up one of the dropped blasters and tried a few more shots towards the computer console at Rozar as Jeb helped Wenona to her feet. She stumbled and gasped in pain.

“For my ship!” Simmo roared as she blasted away at the console. “For my crew!” She rushed the side to get a better angle. Mike couldn’t see if she got him or not as he struggled to pull Carson towards the door. He wished he had some sort of leash to help guide the dog away from the now-cowering guard and toward the door. 

“Carson, come!” The dog grudgingly let Mike pull him along.

Jebannuck was trying to pick up Wenona who was almost bent over with pain.

“What’s wrong?” Mike yelled. “What happened?”

“No time, hold this,” Jeb handed him an extra blaster so he could lift Wenona over his shoulder, using his now free hand to hold her in place as he ran to the door. “Simmo,” he shouted back, “We’re leaving! NOW!”

The montauk was already at his side. She frowned as they headed for the door, “What’s wrong with her?”

Jebannuck didn’t answer immediately. He led the way down the corridor and paused at the next turn. “Did either of you happen to overhear where the Confederation ship is being held?”

Mike thought back for a moment, trying to remember. “Docking bay 4,” He turned to Simmo. “Do you know where that is?”

Simmo paused then nodded and took the lead down the corridor.

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[jancmalandra]

The Moominvalley Community Center

On finding new ways to get together

The Moominvalley Women's Club held their last picnic meeting on the first Saturday in September. The members had never been able to agree on whose house they would meet in during the Fall as the weather grew too cold to meet outdoors. Moominmama resisted the idea of meeting in Moominhouse because she wanted the group to remain as informal and casual as possible. She recognized that she was frequently seen as the leader among Moominvalley's women and she disliked that idea. She didn't want to be seen as imposing her will over the Women's Club, even though everyone deffered to her judgment most of the time when she was consulted on anything, which was all the time. Every one of the members of the club, including Mrs. Fillyjonk, didn't want them to meet at Mrs. Fillyjonk's cottage. Mrs. Fillyjonk still couldn't help being far too particular about how things should be run, especially in her own home. She was doing better at letting others alone outside of her home, but now she resisted appearing to take the lead in the group for fear of losing the precious friends she had won over the years.

Including Queen Moomin in the group had also been a serious source of controversy among the members of the Women's Club. An unexpected alliance between Moominmama, Snork Maiden, and Mrs. Fillyjonk on Queen Moomin's behalf had won the day and now everyone was used to having a ghost as a member. Queen Moomin had proven herself to be very sensible and she very much enjoyed escaping the stuffy formality of her husband's court and being treated as an ordinary member of the community. She immediately vetoed the idea of meeting in the ghosts' castle. She pointed out that her castle was an impossible place to relax in and enjoy one another's company and that it would give her far too great an advantage in their discussions. She was quite correct, of course. It was clear that everyone agreed that they needed a building that didn't belong to any one of them as some kind of neutral ground, but no such place currently existed in Moominvalley. So, they were stuck without a place to meet in October to organize for the coming of Winter and the mass hibernation.

"I know that we don't usually include the men in our lives in club activities," said Snork Maiden, "But we could really do with my brother's help right now. He hasn't rebuilt The Hanger since The Muffle blew it up by accident. I was just thinking that it would have been the perfect place to hold our meetings and for the community as a whole to do any number of other things. The foundation is still intact, so rebuilding it shouldn't be all that difficult. We would need the blueprints and help getting the lumber and other building materials together. If we can get the same level of cooperation from everyone that we had building the first Hanger, we could have it finished before October."

Everyone in the Women's Club agreed enthusiastically with this idea and immediately headed to The Snork's house to make their proposal to him. He and Sniff offered their cooperation readily and Snork handed over his blueprints for The Hanger and they headed to the abandoned site to see what they had to work with. Moominpapa's concrete foundation was still solid and strong and only needed a few concrete patches. The post holes where the support columns for The Hanger once stood were looking good. Now it was just a matter of gathering the building materials.

Over the next three weeks, everyone in Moominvalley contributed whatever effort and spare time they could every day to building what the Moominvalley Women's Club decided would be called the Moominvalley Community Center. Like all the building projects in Moominvalley, the process brought everyone in the village even closer together and affirmed their commitment to each other. The opening ceremony was really more like a grand party. Most of Moominvalley showed up, including a squadron of the Moomin Knights and ghostly court musicians. The mix of Medieval music from the ghosts and Swing music from Moominvalley's musicians proved perfect for the occasion. The Moomin family and Snork and Sniff were the life of the party. Moominpapa and Moominmama didn't have the endurance that they had in their youth, but they could still waltz like they were gliding on air. Snork and Sniff had never been known for agility or having an ear for music, but their love for each other seemed to have brought out the music in their souls. Moomintroll, Snufkin, and Snork Maiden wove around each other as lightly and effortlessly as three floating seeds from a dandelion. As the party ended and everyone headed for their homes in the late afternoon, everyone was already looking forward to all the uses that they would find for the Community Center next year.

Snufkin lagged behind Moominpapa and Moominmama deliberately as the Moomin family headed for Moominhouse, and Moomintroll and Snork Maiden waved them on ahead and stayed by Snufkin's side and walked with him. He looked weighed down by some terrible inner turmoil and began to sigh heavily and tears began to stream down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Moomintroll.", began Snufkin, "I know that you've been looking forward to going South together with me again for the Winter, but I can't bear to leave Moominvalley for that long ever again. I'm tired of constantly running away from you all and being a vagabond without a place to call home. You must think I'm incredibly stupid and silly after all the fuss I made last October and how I always kept you at arms length and kept leaving you every Winter for so many years. I don't deserve you, or your parents or Snork Maiden loving me as much as you do. I don't deserve to be this happy! I've brought you all so much pain!"

"That's not true, and you know it!", Moomintroll insisted, embracing Snufkin powerfully and putting his face against his shoulder so as to absorb all of Snufkin's tears, "Remember everything that I promised you last October? I still mean every word: I will always let you go. I will always love you exactly as you are. I will always chase you wherever you go and no matter what you do. I will NEVER resent you or grow to hate you or stop chasing you! I will always accept however much or little outward affection that you're ready to give me and I won't ask you for more. You know that I have always wanted to give you all the love in my heart every day for the rest of my life, but I promise that I'll always do my best not to frighten you by overwhelming you!"

By this time, they were both weeping openly. Snork Maiden embraced both of them as best as she could could and began to weep as well. "The same goes for me, Snufkin!", she said through her sobbing, "We're all a family now, and that means that we'll always be there for each other, no matter what! You, me, and Moomintroll....we all deserve to be this happy and loved! I haven't believed that myself until this year, but I don't doubt it at all now! Come back with us to Moominhouse and we'll help you pick out a room just for yourself! You'll see: there's always been a home waiting for you there, a home that you've always deserved!"

Moomintroll and Snork Maiden gently helped Snufkin back to Moominhouse and took him up to the guest room and tucked him into the double bed. "We'll both stay with you here tonight.", said Moomintroll, tears of love still streaming from his eyes. He grasped Snufkin's paws in his tenderly and kissed him gently on the lips, "We'll start figuring everything out all over again in the morning. There's no need to rush!"

"That's absolutely right!", said Snork Maiden. She put her paws over Moomintroll's and kissed Snufkin on the cheek. Snufkin was utterly exhausted and looked up at the two of them with a smile of deep gratitude and love before he fell into a deep, untroubled sleep. Moomintroll carefully removed Snufkin's hat and put it on one of the bedknobs on the headboard of the bed. He and Snork Maiden prepared the bunk beds for themselves, kissed each other, tucked themselves in and fell asleep almost instantly. Tomorrow was going to be a most exciting day, so this was a very good thing.

The End

[thatfanficstuff]

The Light in My Darkness - 6

Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader

Warnings: nope

A/N: Hello lovies! Important things happen here though it may not seem like it. We’re laying the groundwork. Enjoy!

***

It wasn’t long before you once again found yourself standing in front of Wade Wilson’s desk waiting for him to acknowledge your presence. When he continued to type without glancing at you, you cleared your throat. You waited another moment before saying, “Excuse me.”

He held up one finger in a sign you should wait, finished his typing, then looked up at you with a smile and his hands laced together. “How may I help you today?”

“I have some things I need to give to Clint. Could you let him know I’m here?”

He tilted his head to the side and his smile slipped into an ‘I’m sorry’ expression. “Mr. Barton is terribly busy today. If you would like to leave whatever it is with me, I’ll see to it he gets it.”

Yeah, that so wasn’t happening. “I’d rather give them to him myself. If you would just let him know I’m here, I’ll wait until he has a second. It won’t take long.”

“Suit yourself.”

It didn’t take you long to realize that unless he’d sent an email, Wade had done nothing to inform Clint you were there. You gave a shake of your head as you pulled out your phone and sent a text.

Moments later, the door to Clint’s office swung open to reveal him frowning at his phone. A smile replaced the frown as he glanced up to meet your eye. He motioned you in before turning his scowl on Wade. You grabbed his tie as you passed by and pulled him along with you as you passed.

You closed the door before turning your attention to straightening Clint’s tie. Your eyes ran over the length of him and you licked your lips. Currently he was dressed in a black three-piece suit minus the jacket which was discarded over a nearby chair. His sleeves were rolled up to show the tattoos on each forearm. Realizing you were lingering, you cleared your throat and stepped back after one last pat.

Clint’s head was cocked to the side and he wore a half-smirk as he looked you over. “You okay, sweetheart?”

A quick nod was your response.

His eyes narrowed and he pulled you back to him. “You sure about that?”

You glanced down before looking back up to meet his gaze. “Remember when you asked me what my favorite look on you was? You found it.”

His smirk morphed into a grin. “I’ll have to remember that.” He kissed your forehead before stepping away to move back around his desk as a notification chimed on his computer. “Now, what brings you here? I hope there wasn’t a problem with the move.”

“No. They were great. I just wanted to bring this in.” You handed over the contract first. “Signed and delivered.”

He flipped through it to ensure it was signed in the appropriate places before unlocking his top desk drawer and putting the papers inside. Once he locked everything back up, he put the key in the pocket of his vest. “Thank you for that. I’ll get you a copy of the signed document.”

You shook your head. “It’s not necessary. I wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t the man you are, Clint. I trust you.” You shrugged. “Besides, if you fuck up, I’ll sic Wanda on you.”

His smile softened. “Guess I’ll have to be on my best behavior then.”

“Clint Barton behave? I wasn’t aware that was even possible.”

“Ha ha. You’re hilarious. What else do you have there?” he gestured at the paper still in your hands.

You bit your bottom lip and handed over the bill for your tuition. “I signed up for classes. Since I’m so late, the bill has to be paid by Friday to hold my spot.”

“Not a problem. I’ll make sure it’s taken care of today.” He picked up his suit jacket and slid the bill into one of the inside pockets before putting it on. “What’s on the agenda for you today?”

“Well, even with all my furniture moved in, my apartment looks pretty empty. I evidently need to go shopping.” Your cheeks heated at the admission. Part of it was embarrassment at how little you actually owned, the rest was talking about spending Clint’s money. It just wasn’t something you were comfortable doing.

He hummed and nodded his head before placing a hand on your back and turning you toward the door. “Sounds fun. Let’s go.”

You planted your feet and looked at him with wide eyes. “You want to go shopping? With me?”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to go with anyone else. Besides, there are some things I want to make sure you pick up.” His hand fell away and he turned to face you. “Unless of course, you don’t want me to go with you.”

You shook your head and grabbed his hand in yours to pull him toward the door. “Oh no, Barton. You aren’t getting out of it that easily.”

He laughed and followed after you. He couldn’t blame you for being surprised that he’d even offered. He’d taken Wanda and you shopping for Junior prom dresses and sworn it would never happen again. You wondered if he remembered, but you weren’t about to remind him if he didn’t.

He pulled you to a stop in front of Wade’s desk. “I’m out for the day, Wilson.”

The assistant’s gaze shifted between the two of you. Finally, he nodded and the corner of his mouth curled up ever so slightly. “Of course, sir. I’ve got it covered.”

Clint pursed his lips. “I know you do. That’s the reason I haven’t fired you yet.”

“Thank you, sir.”

If sarcasm could be conveyed through a smile, you were pretty sure Wade Wilson had it down to an art.

***

The store that Clint took you to was completely overwhelming. They had absolutely everything you needed to outfit your apartment from spatulas to sofas. You hadn’t been there long, maybe only half an hour or so. Clint had stripped down to only his dress shirt and trousers in the car so he looked significantly more casual than he had before. He was being uncharacteristically quiet as he trailed behind you but you could feel his eyes on you.

You had started in kitchenware but kept picking up things and putting them back so you’d moved on to furniture. The sofa in your living room was way past needing to be replaced and it wasn’t nearly large enough for the new space anyway. When you reached that department, your gaze immediately fell on a deep blue sofa with a chaise lounge on one end. You ran your hand over it reveling in the softness of the fabric beneath your fingers.

It was displayed with a pair of chairs covered in large blossoms in shades of blue and purple. You instantly fell in love with all of it. Until you saw the price tag. It was all entirely too expensive.

“Can I help you folks with anything?” a friendly voice said nearby and you turned to find that a salesman had stepped up beside Clint.

Clint shook the man’s hand. “My girlfriend and I are furnishing our new apartment. Unfortunately, we need pretty much everything. Think you can help us with that?”

A little thrill went through you when he called you his girlfriend but you shoved it back down. What else was he supposed to introduce you as?

The man’s brows lifted though you could tell he tried to keep his smile contained. “That’s my job, sir.”

Clint’s lips twisted as he glanced to you, his eyes flashing with amusement. “Fantastic. We’ll start with this sofa and two of these chairs.”

“No,” you exclaimed without even thinking about it. Both men looked at you in surprise. “I just mean it’s…I want something different is all.”

“Could you give us a moment?” Clint’s eyes stayed locked with yours though it was the salesman he was talking to.

Once the other man had left, Clint closed the distance between you. When you tried to break eye contact, he grabbed your chin and turned your face back toward his.  “What’s this?”

“I just want something different is all,” you protested.

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

He sighed. “Don’t feed me that, Y/N. I know you well enough to be able to tell when you like something or not. We’ve been here for forty-five minutes and you haven’t spent a dime. So, I’ll ask again and I expect the truth this time. What is this?”

“I don’t like spending money just for the sake of spending it, Clint. Yes, this couch is gorgeous, but I’m certain there is one a tenth of the price that will do just as well.” You gestured at the myriad choices around you while you spoke.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest and held you there for a long moment. He pressed kisses along the top of your head while he did. Your arms wove around his waist and you just enjoyed being held. “God, you’re a refreshing change,” he said disrupting the quiet.

His hands found your upper arms as he put some space between you so he could look in your eyes again. “Let me do this. Let me take care of you. You need furniture. Hell, we need furniture. You can either pick out the stuff you really love or I will purchase the most expensive alternative just because I can. Okay?”

You still weren’t entirely comfortable with the thought of spending his money, but you knew he’s make good on his threat. You nodded once. “Okay.”

“Good.” He signaled for the salesman to come back over. “Sorry. She got a little sticker shock is all, so no discussion of prices.”

From the looks of him the salesman was moments away from cackling in glee. “Not a problem, sir. So, the couch and two of the chairs?”

“Yes—”

“No,” you interrupted and Clint looked at you in complete exasperation.

“Y/N, we just talked about this.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and you resisted the urge to giggle.

“One chair, please. And an ottoman. Do you have something in purple?”

***

Once you had selected every possible thing you could need for your apartment, and several things you didn’t, the two of you headed for the car. Clint’s fingers were laced with yours. You weren’t certain if it was because he just wanted to hold your hand or if he was afraid you’d pass out if he let go. You had spent more today than you ever had in your life and it wasn’t even your money.

You were stunned, but you didn’t want him thinking you weren’t appreciative though you’d already thanked him several times. “Are you hungry?”

He smiled. “I could eat. Have something in mind?”

“Yes, but you have to let me buy your dinner. As a thank you.”

His eyes revealed nothing as they ran over your face, but his smile turned into a grin. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

After the two of you had gotten into the back of the car, you leaned forward. “Hey, Scott. Take us to the Red Eye, would you?”

“Sure thing, Y/N,” the driver answered with a grin.

[cordoniasmost]

It’s Always You - Part 2

Find Part 1 Here

Book: Platinum

Pairing: m!Raleigh x MC (Cadence)

Word Count: 2637

Warnings: Language

A/N: I’ve been wanting to test out writing from a first person POV since I’ve never done it before and this is my attempt. This little fluff piece takes place after Platium chapter 13. It’s going to have two parts.  I’m super excited to write my first Raleigh fic because he totally owns me. Happy reading!

Inspiration Song: I Know Places - Taylor Swift

Tag List: @averysheart-raleighsdick @kingliamsbish @furiouscloddonutpeanut @didyoujoinacult @desiree-0816 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @sarahhzkh31 @lovedrakewalker

As soon as the word left my lips, Raleigh crushed me to his body, pushing his tongue into my mouth and I loved every second of that kiss, as if he were claiming me as his. He pulled back gently, a look of wonder in his eyes. “Are we really doing this?” he asked me, a huge smile on his face.

“We’re really doing this. You’re going to be stuck with me for life, Carrera.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, but it’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever heard. Come on,” he said, pulling me up with him. I had to grab the blanket and wrap it around myself because I was still totally naked from earlier. “Uh, Raleigh? We need clothes,” I said through my laughter.  

“Right, shit.” He stopped and ran his hand through his hair, a smirk on his face. “Unless you just want to wrap ourselves in these blankets and hop on a plane now?”

What was he talking about? “What do you mean, ‘hop on a plane’?”

“We’re obviously eloping tonight. You just said you’d be my wife and I don’t want to wait until tomorrow. Let’s fly to Puerto Rico tonight and get married at sunrise on the beach.”

Holy shit, this was happening and it was happening now. One of the things I love most about Raleigh is his spontaneity. Once he decides he’s doing something he fully commits and he wants to do it right away. Waiting isn’t really something he does well.

“Wait… Wait!” I pulled on his hand to get him to turn back toward me. He turned back, that smirk still on his lips, and raised his eyebrow.

“We need witnesses. Let’s grab Avery and Zadie.”

“Good plan, babe. You’ve got ten minutes. The plane’s already waiting,” he said, grinning at me.

“It’s almost like you’ve been planning this the whole time.”

“I have.”

“What if I take longer than ten minutes?” I had to ask. Challenging Raleigh was one of my favorite pastimes right behind making out with him or fucking his brains out. He’s possessive and commanding and I love it.

His eyes narrowed at me glinting dangerously. “Don’t test me, estrella. You’ll find yourself thrown over my shoulder and carried to the car whether you’re naked or not. I don’t give a fuck. We leave in ten minutes.”

I bit my lip to try and hide my smile. I just might test him after all…

***

When the wheels of the plane touched down, the jolt woke me up suddenly. My head was still on Raleigh’s shoulder and my neck hurt because I’d been in this spot for a couple of hours. I hoped I didn’t drool on him, not that he would have minded but still. Turning my head slightly to look at his shoulder, it looked like the coast was clear. He noticed the movement, though.

“Hey, babe. We’re here. Ready to become Mrs. Carrera?” he asked, pressing his lips to my forehead.

I smiled and stretched my body out, working out the tightness in my muscles from the long flight. I can feel his eyes on me, watching how I move. He always stared at me like he couldn’t wait to devour me and it made me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.

“Who says I’m taking your last name?” I tease knowing full well that I am. Like I said, messing with him is fun.

“Why, you want me to take yours? Raleigh Dorian… It has a nice ring to it.” That’s the thing about Raleigh. He’s just as good at messing with me.

I can’t help myself, he makes me laugh. “Now that would make headlines.”

“You and I both know you’re taking my name. The sun’s rising in an hour so we don’t have a lot of time. You’re probably going to want to change in the bathroom.” He pointed to the back of the plane.

He’s right, I need to change. I’m not getting married in jean shorts and a tank top. Walking toward the back of the plane, I passed by Zadie and Avery. “Hey, Z. Did you happen to pack me anything for this?”

Zadie rolled her eyes but I know she secretly loves me. “Already in that poor excuse for a bathroom, Cadence.”

“Thanks, Z. I owe you.”

“Pretty sure you owe me and Avery both for hopping on this plane in the middle of the night and flying to a different country for you,” she teased, turning back to the copy of Vogue open in her lap.

“Thanks, Zadie. Thanks, Avery.” I sang it out and neither of them could help smiling at me.

“Like we’d miss it, love. You know us better than that,” Avery said with a grin.

I turned and made my way into the bathroom, quickly changing into the dress. It was white linen and hugged my curves in all the right places. It hit at mid-thigh so it showed off my awesome legs. I didn’t do 100 squats a day just to hide these bad boys away.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, Raleigh was nowhere to be found but the plane door was open. I glanced at Avery who just smirked at me before standing up and grabbing his bag. “Ready, love?”

I nodded. Yep, this was definitely happening. The funny thing was I didn’t even feel nervous. I felt excited. Totally and completely ready to take this step even though it had come out of nowhere.

I made my way out of the plane into the thick humid air. The sky was just beginning to show the first streaks of light as the sun prepared to rise this morning. We didn’t have much time before it would be coming up and Raleigh said he wanted to get married on the beach at sunrise. I had no idea how far away the beach was but we were on an island. It couldn’t be that far, right?

“Where’s Raleigh?” I asked, turning to Avery.

“He went ahead in another car. We’ll meet him at the beach.”

That made sense, I guess. “Well, let’s get me married then. I still can’t believe I’m doing this. This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done and I just tackled someone on stage in front of millions of people.” I threw my head back and laughed at the ridiculousness of my life. I felt immensely happy, though. This was a spontaneous decision, but it wasn’t one I took lightly or hadn’t been already thinking about for a couple of months. It was just happening a lot sooner than I’d expected.

The black SUV pulled up to what looked like a private cove. The sky was glowing with pinks and purples as the sun made its way toward the horizon and the light cast an ethereal glow to beach in front of me. I hopped out of the car, shutting the door behind me. Avery climbed out of the other side of the backseat followed by Zadie.

My eyes were sweeping the white sand in front of me in search of my fiance. I smiled to myself. There wasn’t any time to get used to calling him my fiance since we’d only be engaged for less than 12 hours, but in this moment that was exactly what he was.

I spotted him down the beach a little ways standing next to a familiar figure. The three of us made our way down the beach and I kicked off my flip flops as soon as my feet hit the soft sand.

“Hank? What are you doing here? How’d you get here before us?”

The man who’d been like a surrogate father to me was standing next to my future husband. Raleigh reached out and wove our fingers together. “Raleigh texted me and asked me to come with you guys. I was on the same plane as you but I stayed hidden so it’d be a surprise. I got ordained a couple of years ago just in case I ever needed it. You never know when you’ll need to be prepared for a spontaneous wedding to save someone’s reputation,” he said, winking at me.

Gotta love Hank’s thorough preparation for any situation that could ever possibly come up.  I looked up at Raleigh and he was gazing at me with so much love in his eyes it almost took my breath away. “Last chance to get out of a lifetime of my shenanigans, babe.”

God, he was incredible. He had changed into Hawaiian print shorts and a white linen button down short sleeve shirt that showed off his tattoos running down his forearms and up his neck. It was just so Raleigh. It was about as non-traditional as someone could get when getting married but it fit our situation perfectly and I wouldn’t change a thing.

“Not a chance, Carrera. Now that you’ve got me here, you’re never getting rid of me.”

He broke out into a wicked grin. “Good. Let’s do this. Z, be our photographer?” he asked Zadie, handing her his cell phone.

“Whatever, Raleigh,” she said, but she took the phone and began snapping pictures from different angles.

“Ready?” Hank asked.

I nodded. Raleigh squeezed my hand and leaned forward, pressing his lips gently to mine. His lips were so soft, even though the kiss only lasted a few seconds, I leaned forward a little bit when he pulled back, not wanting it to end. When he kissed me like that, I forgot about everything else. He chuckled as I opened my eyes.

“Don’t worry, babe. There’s more where that came from later,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at me.

I smacked him lightly on the chest, feeling my cheeks heat up. He was more open with his affection than I was so he liked saying things like that in front of our friends because he knew it embarrassed me.

“I’m going to skip a lot of this because there’s not a big group of people here,” Hank said. “It’s just the five of us so we’ll make it what we want. Sound good?”

Again, I nodded at him and saw Raleigh do the same. Holy shit, this was really happening.

“We’ve all watched you two grow closer over the past several months. What started as a publicity stunt turned into something real. I’ve personally watched you support each other, lift each other up when it was needed, care for each other when one of you was sick, cheer each other on from the sidelines, and mutually respect and love one another.”

Hank turned to Raleigh. “You know I’ve always been protective of Cadence and I wasn’t sure about your influence on her at first, but watching you with her, how you’ve helped her become more confident in who she is and made her believe in herself even in the hardest moments of self doubt has shown me that you truly love her and want what’s best for her even if it means a sacrifice on your part.”

He then turned to Cadence. “And Cadence, you’ve helped ground Raleigh. You humble him and bring him back to the real world, remind him of what’s real and keep his ego in check. You’ve shown him love and respect but you never take his bullshit.”

Everyone laughed, including Raleigh. “It’s true,” he said, a wicked grin on his face.

“I have no doubt your love will endure the tests of this life. That being said, it’s time for the vows. Since this happened so fast, I’d suggest you just speak from the heart. What do the kids say? Wing it?” Hank said.

Raleigh turned to me, holding my small hands in his bigger ones, his thumbs rubbing the backs of my hands as he looked into my eyes. “Cadence, from the first day I saw you at the One in a Million auditions, I knew you were going to turn my world upside down. I had no idea what it would look like, but I knew my life would never be the same after you. I was right. What I feel for you, it goes beyond words. You’re like a piece of me that was missing and I didn’t even know it, but you just fit. Without you, my life has no meaning. I’ll never stop showing you how much I love you every day for the rest of my life. I promise to keep you on your toes, too, because there’s no way our life is going to be boring, babe.”

I laughed. He had me there. Life with Raleigh would never be dull.

I looked up into his eyes which were filled with wonder as he gazed back at me, replacing the usual impish gleam that usually shone through. I took a deep breath, breathing out slowly. “Raleigh, you ruined me for anyone else the moment you kissed me that first time. Every day since you’ve found new ways to surprise me and sweep me off my feet. I still don’t even know what happened,” I said and he laughed.

“My heart has always belonged to you from that first kiss. I promise to always show you that no matter where we are, home is with each other. I love you.”

His eyes were shining with unshed tears and seeing him like made my eyes tear up, too. I’d never seen Raleigh cry, not once. A single tear broke free and ran down my face and he lifted his thumb and wiped it away. “I love you, too,” he whispered.

“Raleigh, do you take Cadence to be your wife?”

“I do,” he said.

“And Cadence? Do you take Raleigh to be your husband?”

“Hell yes!” I shouted, laughing through the tears now flowing freely down my face.

“Then by the power vested in me by Puerto Rico and the internet, I now pronounce you husband and wife! Kiss your bride, Carrera,” Hank finished with a grin.

Raleigh closed the distance between us, threading his fingers through my hair and pulling my face to his. His warm lips closed over mine before he deepened the kiss, our tongues dancing together.  I could hear hoots and whistles from somewhere behind us but in this perfect moment I didn’t care. Finally, he pulled back, resting his forehead on mine.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” I breathed, a huge smile on my face.

“You’re my wife now. No takebacks,” Raleigh teased.

His wife. It was a strange new title and yet it felt completely right.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

“Now I’m taking you for breakfast. I’m starving, and not just for food,” he said, dropping his voice low.

I felt a chill of anticipation run through my body.

“And sent!” I heard Zadie say. I glanced up at her. “What do you mean 'sent’?”

“I just sent a couple of pictures of the wedding to Fiona so she could use them to fix your mess. You’re welcome,” she said.

“I guess that’s it then. The world’s about to know you officially belong to me, Carrera,” I teased.

He leaned down and scooped me up in his arms, starting to carry me towards the waiting SUVs. “The more people who know you’re my wife, the better. I want to shout it from the rooftops.”

I understood how he was feeling. Just a few months ago, Raleigh Carrera was just another famous face who felt completely out of reach and now he was the love of my life, my husband, the person I’d share the rest of my life with.

I smiled. “Can we get pancakes?”

“Only if I can drizzle you in syrup and have you for breakfast after,” he countered.

“Deal.”