#better do it in cascade too so I have a chance of matching colors later if I run out

[otterknits]

My local yarn store is closing next month - the downsides of living in a small college town with low wages, a city council hell-bent on eliminating growth if not reversing it outright, and multiple Big Box acrylic-dominated stores targeting/wooing away the general crafts audience

I am gonna go SO BROKE at the clearance sale this weekend >___<”

[miss-multifandom-mess]

I got a little bored... So I wrote this!

This short story is partly based on/inspired by the song More by Halsey.

I have recently heard that the singer (Halsey) had many miscarriages, and she has been wanting a family for a long time. I also heard that sometime recently that her doctor has said that she has a good chance at finally having a child of her own (if I heard correctly). And so I hope that she will get the family she's always wanted.

And to others who've always wanted children but couldn't: there's always going to be hope. And this goes for everyone as well. Not just for those who've had miscarriages.

There's always going to be hope, and you should never give up.

Eliza and Maria Schuyler had been married for four years, and they wanted a family. They wanted children.

At one point, before they had gotten married, Maria had been pregnant and hoped she and her wife would have the child together...

But sadly the newborn had died at birth.

Both women were devastated since then. They hoped and prayed for a day that they would be blessed with a child---day and night they prayed; day and night they cried.

They could adopt a child, but money was so scarce for them---what with the low-paying jobs they had. This was due to living in a small town with not very many places to work at (and not very many customers). But they had to work with what they were able to get.

Eliza was working full-time at a small diner that was four miles away from their cottage they had, just on the outskirts of town.

While Eliza was away and working at the diner: Maria worked part-time at a convenient store before heading back home to prepare dinner for when her beloved came back.

It was another year later that they got a phone call. A phone call that would change their lives altogether.

"Hello?" Maria picked up the phone from where it hung on the wall in the kitchen.

"Oh, Mary!" Came Samuel's voice, sounding relieved and ecstatic. "Thank goodness!"

Samuel Seabury had been a close friend of Maria and Eliza's ever since they moved to the small town of Boring, Oregon. He had also been the first to welcome them, being one of the closest neighbors to the couple.

"What is it, Sam?" She asked somewhat worried. "Is everything all right?"

"It's Peggy! She's- She's-" The young man sounded as if he was on the verge of tears. "Jus- Just come to Doctor Withers's office! Right away!"

Maria didn't say anything else as she nearly slammed the phone back on its perch. Obviously it was an emergency. She rushed to slip on her shoes, grabbing the key to the house and running outside.

Her wife took the small convertible they owned to work, so she was left with taking her bike. The couple had fallen into a traveling-to-and-from-work routine ever since moving, and they were quite alright with it:

On her work days, Eliza took the car to and from work, while Maria either walked or biked to hers---she was always more of the outdoor-sy type than Eliza---the diner was farther than the convenient store any way.

The community hospital that was established in Boring was small, but perfect for the small town and its small population. The man that owned the place, Doctor Withers, was a kind and friendly gentleman, who was willing to do whatever he could to help the townsfolk.

Maria peddled and peddled, tires kicking up dirt and gravel. She managed to arrive at the hospital in a mere few minutes. She skitted to a complete stop once pulling up to the front and hurried in getting off it. She let it fall to the ground before jogging inside.

"What's wrong?! Did something bad happen?"

"Mary!" Shouted Samuel as soon as she had walked in, embracing her into a tight hug. "Nothing's wrong; it's okay."

"Actually, it's better than okay."

"Oh my God, Angie!" Maria squealed after she and the ginger had broken away from the hug, her attention going over to Eliza's older sister, Angelica. They both embraced each other. "Eliza and I weren't expecting a visit from you for another few weeks."

Angelica smiled warmly, tears in her eyes as she rested her hands on the other woman's shoulders. "Well, plans have changed."

Maria was confused as to why both her friends were crying---she was even more confused when she didn't see Eliza anywhere.

As if knowing what she was thinking, Angie said, "We haven't called Eliza over yet---we thought you'd like to give her the surprise."

Again, Maria was still confused when the doctor himself walked into the small lobby. "Ah, Maria!" He acknowledged her at first glance. "Good news..." He trailed off for dramatic effect (like how he usually did) when Samuel cut in, obviously too anxious for a dramatic pause.

"Peggy will be delivering your baby!" He cried, his smile so wide that you would think it be impossible for someone to smile that big.

A gasp escaped past her lips, hands clasping over her mouth. So many mixed feelings flooded into her like a cascading waterfall: shock, excitement, sadness, hope, but most of all happiness. She choked out a sob, tears already flooding down her cheeks. She couldn't believe it.

She and Eliza were finally going to have the child they've always wanted; they were finally going to be parents; they were finally going to have the family they've always wanted.

It wasn't long before Maria finally called Eliza. Minutes later, said brunette came running in, looking the same as Maria did when she first arrived at the hospital.

They embraced one another, Maria crying into her shoulder. And with a soft and another sob, she told her of the news. Tears poured from her own eyes as soon she had processed everything. The couple becoming a complete mess in the lobby as Samuel and Angelica joined in the hug, too.

The four of them sat in the lobby in wait, all nervous and praying for Peggy and the baby's well-being. Doctor Withers had gone back to Peggy's room at Eliza's arrival, now already been gone for two hours.

Time passed by slowly, it seemed, and one by one, each fell asleep. (Later came Samuel's boyfriend, Charles, to stay and wait with them. "Sorry I'm late---my boss kept me." He had explained.)

It was then, after three hours of waiting, that Doctor Withers walked out and calmly woken them all up. "Care to follow me?" He had on a small smile.

Angelica, Samuel and Charles all looked to Maria and Eliza in silent encouragement. The said women exchanged looks with one another, taking deep breaths and taking hold of each other's hands before standing up from their seats. They followed the doctor down the hallway and into one of the rooms.

"Peggy," Eliza sighed, a hand over her heart. She walked to the side of the bed and bent forward, hugging her sister gently in her arms. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel wonderful," she let out a hearty giggle. "And don't you dare say, 'you didn't have to do this.' You always say that." Eliza shook her head with a playful roll of her eyes.

Peggy then turned to Maria, who now stood at the bedside next to Eliza. "Mary, it's so nice to see you again." She reached her arms up to give Maria a hug, too.

"You too, Peggs."

"Want to see your pride and joy?"

"More like your pride, Peggy," Eliza chuckled and smiled softly. "You're the one who gave birth."

"True." The three giggled.

The door freaked softly behind them as Doctor Withers walked back in (when did he leave?), cradling something in his arms---it was their baby, swaddled in a soft blanket.

The doctor walked up to the ladies, lowering the baby into Eliza's arms (at Maria's insistence).

It was a girl. A light pink, long-sleeved onesie was put on her underneath the blanket wrap she laid in; a matching hat adorned her small head. Her skin was a light chocolate color; her skin also smooth as Eliza lightly stroked her cheek.

"She's beautiful," she breathed out.

Eliza took another moment holding the little newborn before carefully handing her off to Maria. Maria held her close and smiled, a contented sigh leaving her lips. "She's lovely."

"What are you going to call her?" Withers asked patiently.

There was a moment of comfortable silence.

"I think we'll call her..."

"Margaret." Eliza finished softly. "We'll call her Margaret." It was a silent agreement between the two as they softly smiled down at their new baby girl. They were mothers now. They will be there for their daughter always, and they will become a family. A strong family, with the help of their friends and family members.

"Margaret's a lovely name." Peggy softly smiled as she was then passed the newborn, looking down at her with loving eyes. She knew that Maria and Eliza would be great parents.

[briefololtragedy]

Bleed for me

Pairing: ShiSaku

Rating: M (for violence)

Summary: Shisui didn’t like people touching what was his

for day 3 of shiSaku weekend: Yakuza AU, obsession, You’re mine and only mine @shisakuweek

Also posted on AO3

A pale child laid in a hospital bed. Their skin almost blending into the stark white sheets that encased the bed. A man and woman sat beside the bed holding onto the child’s hand. Tears could be seen streaming down their faces. They spoke sweet nothings into her ear. The young girl could not hear what they were saying. It was hard to distinguish the small fragile body of the girl from the lines going to and from her. She was almost more machine than human at this point.

The click clack of heels could be heard nearing the door. A gentle knock took the couples attention from their child to the woman now in the room.

“Mr and Mrs. Sato, I’m Doctor Sakura Haruno and here to talk to you about Rin.” The married couple grasped onto each other. They stared at the woman before them, waiting on bated breath for good news.

“I am one of the transplant doctors who specialize in pediatric cardiothoracic surgery. Do you mind if I sit as we talk about Ms. Rin?” A gentle smile made its way onto Dr. Haruno’s face as the couple nodded their heads yes.

“As you know Rin was born with hypoplastic left heart syndrome. She has undergone the three stages of repair for her condition, but has now developed complications from not having a 4 chambered heart.” Sakura paused giving time for the parents to process. She always hated these conversations. She glanced at the child laying in the bed. It was likely that good news would not come to this family.

“She has started to develop heart failure in combination with protein losing enteropathy, PLE, as we call it. We do not know the exact reason why some children who have undergone the second or third stage of repair develop this condition. There are some experimental procedures that some surgery centers have tried with little improvement in the patient's condition.” Another pause.

“We are currently pumping the blood through her body artificially with the machine you see. I know when Rin was placed on this they told you what it entails. Her heart is no longer strong enough to function. The machine is giving her lungs a break as well. Right now the best chance Rin has is a heart transplant. She will be near the top of the list in her current state. However, I want you to prepare for the worst case scenario. I am not sure when there will be a donor who matches Rin’s needs…” The words faded into the background for the couple as the sobs overtook them. The doctor placed a hand on the wife’s back rubbing soothing circles. She hoped for a miracle, but life was a cruel bitch.

_______________________________-

The doctor from before was sitting at a bar stool, her petal pink hair cascading down her back. She took a swig of the beer in her hand wanting to erase the day she had. She was dressed to kill with a body hugging backless dress. It was wine red in color, accentuating her alabaster skin. Her green eyes shined like emeralds.

She felt a calloused hands caress her back causing her muscles to twitch. She could smell the alcohol on the individual's breath.

“Aint you a pretty little thing. Let me buy you a drink and you can repay me later.” She had to roll her eyes.

“Beat it. I’m not interested.” She didn’t even bother looking at the man.

“Come on pinky. I can rock your world. You look like you need something stiff.” His laugh grated on her nerves. When he wouldn’t leave her alone, she got up and started to leave. The oaf of a man couldn’t take the hint and grabbed her waist, pulling her to him. She wanted to hurl fron the stench.

“You smell good pinky.” He was starting to rub his nose in her neck. Before she could send her elbow to the man’s skull he was already falling to the ground.

“Ahh!” The drunken idiot now had a foot crushing the bones in his hand. Sakura could hear the crunch of bone from where she was.

“I think the lady told you she wasn’t interested.” A rich baritone voice spoke.

“Oh you just want the bitch for yourself. Find your own. I saw this one first.” The man before her applied more force through his foot, causing the man below him to groan in agony.

“I think it would be best if you leave before something unsightly happens to you.” Sakura knew the man’s fate was dealt the moment he touched her. Sakura already saw a few men in the corner start to move. Once the drunk was up and moving to the exit, he was being followed.

“Was that really necessary, Shisui?” Sakura took the martini from him and started to sip it slowly. She melted when he wrapped his right arm around her. He brought his index finger to her chin and traced her bone structure. Shisui stopped once he was under her chin and turned her face to look at him.

“He was touching what was mine. Don’t forget you’re mine and only mine.” Shisui then sealed their lips together with a kiss.

“Hmm don’t forget you are mine as well.” Shisui smirked. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Shisui would do anything for her. _______________________________

Shisui sat in his leather chair listening to his lackeys talk about different shipments. He really didn’t care at the moment. Sakura was upset about one of her patients. While she told him most things, she always kept her work at arms length from him. Well she tried to for the most part.

When Itachi entered the room Shisui found his back straightening. The glint in Itachi’s eye told Shisui that he was successful in his mission.

“You three leave now.” The three scattered out the door faster than cockroaches clearing ,when a light was turned on. The two waited for the door to close before speaking.

“It appears Sakura has a patient who recently went on the heart transplant list. It's a young girl 8-9 years of age. She has two younger siblings. Mother is an elementary school teacher and father works for a bank. He is a low level teller. The nurses were saying how they don’t think a match will come in on time. Parents are preparing for the worse.”

Shisui leaned onto his clasped hands. “Did you get her blood type and cross matching?”

Itachi smirked and held up a file. “Of course I did. I also tracked down some of the regulars at that bar the two of you go to. I found one who is a match.”

This was just all too perfect.

“You know what to do. Sakura and I will be meeting there for drinks tonight.” Shisui got up from his desk and grabbed his jacket. He was going to kill two birds with one stone. Rid the world of a lowly excuse for a human being and make Sakura happy.

___________________________________________

Shisui had gotten to the bar early to make sure he was sitting in a dark corner. He watched the man go to the bar and order his drink. The bartender glanced his way and Shisui gave a nod. The guy was too busy talking with his friends to see the purple liquid get added to his drink. In just 30-60 minutes the man would lose all inhibitions and fall into the trap.

Itachi was stationed with two others around the bar. The moment Sakura walked into the bar Shisui’s breath escaped his lungs. He could never figure out how she looked so ethereal.

_________________________________________

Sakura snuggled to the man next to her. She buried her nose into his chest. He smelled of sandalwood.

“Hmm where did you go after we got home?” Sakura mumbled as she talked to him. Before he could answer her pager went off. Sakura jumped out of bed and grabbed her phone.

Soon she was kissing Shisui and rushing to get dressed. Shisui just leaned back in their shared bed. Thinking of earlier.

The blade ran up and down the man’s skin. Shisui made sure not to apply enough pressure to cut into the epidermis, at least not yet. The man’s arms and legs were bound to the table immobilizing him.

“Do you know why you are here...What’s your name again?” The man was a sobbing mess.

“K..Ken. Please I have a family.” Anger boiled in Shisui’s veins. He grabbed Ken’s chin, squeezing hard.

“You have a family? Do they know you were at a bar trying to force yourself on women?”

“I’ve never.” A forceful sob caused Ken’s body to jerk violently. Shisui squeezed harder on the man’s jaw. He could feel the bones give under his grip, with a flick of the wrist he jaw gave way.

“What were you doing tonight then? Touching what is mine.” Shisui knew he was not going to get an answer due to the dislocated jaw in his hand.

“Don’t worry your life will mean something once it is ended.” Shisui took his other hand and dug the knife at the base of Ken’s skull. He had read enough of Sakura’s medical textbooks to know the right place to hit to render someone brain dead. Ken would still have his brainstem functions allowing his heart to beat long enough for it to live in another.

In the corner sat Kabuto. While Shisui didn’t agree with his politics, he knew the man could keep a secret. Kabuto also knew better than to cross Shisui. Shisui would not waste any time adding more bodies to the bottom of the ocean.

“You know your part?” Shisui cleaned off his blade.

“Yes. I will take this man to the OR after declaring him brain dead. The nurses will find his organ donor card and alert the transplant team.”

“What are you waiting for? Go.” Shisui wanted to go back home and crawl into his bed. He knew his slumber was going to get distrubed in a few hours with the page Sakura was going to get.

Sakura was running around their bedroom grabbing the nearest article of clothing to dress in. Shisui threw the covers off his body and followed her.

“What are you doing?” Shisui just raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll take you to work so you can rest on the way there. I don’t have work in the morning so I can stay to drive you home.” Shisui melted when he saw her smile. He soon felt arms around his neck and a soft kiss.

“You’re amazing. I can never get over how kind of a husband I have.” Shisui just rested his head on hers before hurrying her to the car.

_____________________________________

He was pacing back and forth. He could see a couple with two young children sitting in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs. Sakura had been in the OR for over 5 hours now. He was lucky she let him sleep in her office, but he was restless. Multiple what if questions ran through his brain. Shisui started chewing on his thumb nail. He ignored the pointed looks from the staff and visitors who passed him.

Shisui propped himself on the wall. He wanted a view of the OR doors when they opened. After another hour or two, the doors finally opened. Sakura’s hair was tucked under her scrub cap and part of her face obscured by her surgical mask, but she still looked stunning. As he watched her walk over to the family Shisui knew it was all worth it.

It just wasn’t tonight that was worth it. He thought back to when he first met his wife. She was a struggling medical student who his little cousin brought over to stitch him up. Shisui was ensnared in her beauty at that moment. She didn’t bat an eyelash when he cursed at her due to the pain. Sakura didn’t care who he was or how he would be taking the mantle of the Yakuza head.

Shisui spent months planning on how he would bump into her. He memorized her schedule, followed her some nights. She became his obsession. His life was consumed by her. He felt like a nervous fool asking her out the first time. They fell into a comfortable rhythm after that. She was always by his side. Shisui found that they shared a lot of the same ideals.

“Shisui did you get any sleep?” Her hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts.

“I got some. Let’s get you home. Was the surgery successful?” He held her close as they walked back to her office.

“It was. Thank you.” Her head rested on his shoulder as they walked.

“No need to thank me.” Shisui found himself against her office wall as she devoured him.

“Without you there would have been no surgery tonight. So thank you. You got Kabuto to help didn’t you?” Well hearing that rat's name killed the mood.

“You said you didn’t want to be involved anymore.” They stood in her office embracing.

“You know it’s best for me to not be involved. Let’s get back home to Hiroyuki, he’ll be missing us.” Sakura was right. Their son would be missing them.

[twinkle-320]

Mommy-to-be

Pairing:  Drake x MC (Riley Nevin Walker)

A/N:  I wrote this for something fun and lighthearted.  I am currently working on a TRR AU that has me stuck and feeling sad so I needed some fluff in my life.  Baby showers are perfect for fluff.

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2513

Tag list: @kingliam2019​ @batgirlassociationofgothamcity​ (If you only wanted to be tagged for mood boards, let me know.)

Rain pelted against the glass ceiling of the solarium in Valtoria, where Riley sat surrounded by her friends trying to keep up with their chatter.

“It should definitely be an apple theme,” Hana said in her usual calm, gentle tone.

“Oh please,” Olivia scoffed. “Practically every woman in Cordonia has a ridiculous apple themed baby shower. At least try to be original.”

“Well, do you have any ideas?”

“I think...”

“Don’t say knives,” Savannah interjected.

“Don’t be such a simpleton. I was going to say axes...you could make that work with apples if you must.”

“How about we ask Riley what she wants...it’s her shower,” Savannah suggested.

All eyes turned to Riley, who was staring out at the rain, lost in thought. Olivia snapped her fingers practically right in Riley’s face. “Riley...earth to Riley...are you still with us or did the baby get the last of your brain?”

“Hmm...what? I’m sorry, what were you asking?”

“Themes,” Hana said. “For your shower.”

“Yes, because that’s what good ‘friends’ do, we ask you to plan your own shower,” Olivia quipped.

“Oh, umm...well, I love Disney,” Riley said.

Olivia looked at her disgusted. “Disney? That god awful amusement park with the oversized rat and screaming demon children? Sure, that would definitely be better than axes.”

Savannah rolled her eyes at Olivia. “Disney could be cute and if Riley likes it, that’s what important.”

“Guys, I’ll be fine with any theme you want, really. My only request is that we have games.”

“You Americans and your games,” Olivia scoffed.

“Games and Disney. Don’t worry, Riley...we’ve got this. It will be perfect,” Hana assured her.

                                             —————————

As Riley inched closer and closer to her October due date, the day of her shower finally arrived. Everything had been planned with her knowledge so she could be prepared. It wouldn’t due to have a Duchess show up to her own shower in leggings and a hoodie. Select members of the press would be in attendance and a photo shoot was planned. Hana had helped Riley select an elegant, ivory lace maxi dress that perfectly hugged her bump. Her hair cascaded down her back in elegant waves and she wore rose gold flip flops to accommodate her swollen feet.

When Riley stepped into the gardens behind the estate, she was in awe. Soft pastels of pink, blue, green, and yellow accented the clean white color pallet. There was a giant balloon arch featuring all the colors set up over the dessert table. Hana had worked with a local baker on not one, but two perfect cakes. One was a two-tier cake in soft pinks and blues with Mickey and Minnie accents. The other was a nod to Riley’s favorite princess; a small replica of Cinderella’s coach also done in pink and blue. Elements of Disney were subtle and tasteful including Mickey silhouettes made of branches, vines, and flowers. Each table was named after a Disney character and featured lush centerpieces with hidden Mickey’s, lanterns with glittery rose gold Mickey heads hand-painted on the glass, and a Disney story book for those at the table to sign as a guest book. With over twenty tables, all the books would be the perfect start to a baby library. Tears sprang to her eyes as she took in the beautiful work her friends had done. All that was needed now was for the guests to arrive.

                                              —————————

Drake spent the morning working in the nursery away from the hustle and bustle of party set-up. Once her classes had wrapped for the semester, Riley finally settled on decor and gave Drake a to do list a mile long. Rustic woodland animals was the chosen theme. Riley thought it would be easy to add to after the baby arrived; floral elements if it was a girl or more woodsy elements if it was a boy. The walls were a soft ecru with an accent wall done in reclaimed barn wood. When Drake finished assembling the simple white crib Riley had chosen, he moved it into position against the wood wall and admired his efforts. In his pocket, his phone chimed, alerting him it was time to get ready for the party.

Once he was showered and changed, he headed to the gardens and found Riley standing over the dessert table. Sneaking up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her and her growing belly. “Lay off the cookies, Nevin. Those are for the guests.”

Riley jumped and giggled. “Cookies weren’t my idea, Drake...Bean wants one.”

“Just like Bean wanted ice cream and s’mores last night?”

Riley turned in his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck. “This little one has a sweet tooth, what can I say.”

“Like mama, like baby,” Drake laughed. “So, this looks pretty awesome out here,” he said, turning to take in the set-up.

“Right?!?” Riley exclaimed. “It’s fucking amazing.” 

“Duchess Riley...language!”

Riley turned in the direction of the voice scolding her and wasn’t surprised to see Bertrand and Savannah approaching with their arms full of gifts.

“Holy shit guys, did you buy out the store?”

“You just can’t stop yourself, can you?” Bertrand asked.

Riley shrugged. “Nope. And no one’s here yet to hear me so stop fretting, Bertrand. Drake, don’t just stand there...help your sister,” she said, nudging him forward. Once the gifts were safely placed on the gift table, the group stood together chatting as other guests slowly started arriving.

“You and Hana did an amazing job,” Riley said to a beaming Savannah.

“I thought Liv helped too?” Drake asked. 

“She did...a little,” Savannah replied.

Riley laughed. “Should I be looking for hidden daggers in addition to the hidden Mickey’s?”

“No, we managed to keep daggers out of the decor. She had proposed a sword wielding Mickey ice sculpture but thankfully the sculptor refused for trademark reasons. We ended up putting her in charge of the food.”

“Great,” Drake groaned. “Can’t wait to see what kind of fancy crap she planned.”

Bertrand groaned and shook his head, looking like his head was about to explode. Savannah wisely took his hand and led him away to their table.

Ana de Luca quickly took their place at the happy couple’s side and ushered them deeper in to the garden for a quick photo shoot and interview before the festivities began. Riley was able to approve the digital proofs on the spot and an elegant black and white of her cradling her belly was chosen for the Trend cover.

When they arrived back at the party, nearly all the guests had arrived and things were in full swing. Drake was pleasantly surprised to see the buffet spread of comfort foods. There was a carving station with whole roasted chickens and herb crusted filet, and sides of garlic mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and steamed vegetables. Olivia’s personal touch was obvious due to the chefs wielding larger than necessary ornate knives for carving.

Hana was the perfect hostess, keeping things orderly as each table took their turn through the buffet. As guests filled their plates, she announced the first game...a Disney match game matching Disney characters to their parents. There was a print out at each place setting and guests could complete it at their leisure to turn in by the end of the meal.

Riley had taken a plate with a little bit of everything and promptly ignored it while she turned to the game with hyper focus.

“Nevin...are you gonna eat?”

“Huh...oh, yeah, I will. I just wanna get this done first.”

“Are you even allowed to play the games at your own shower?”

 “Of course I am, silly!”

When the meal was over, Hana had everyones game sheet and tallied the answers. “And the winner is...Duchess Riley,” she announced to the crowd.

 Most in attendance cheered or applauded politely but Riley heard the groans among her friends at her table.

Guests took the opportunity to mingle while Hana got set-up for baby shower bingo. Mingling was the perfect opportunity for the ongoing game of “Don’t say baby”. Each guest was given three clothes pins when they arrived. If they said the word baby at any point in a conversation, someone could steal one of their pins. Whoever had the most pins at the end would win a prize.

When Hana called for everyone to take their seats, Riley returned to her table with at least twenty-five pins clipped to the ruffle of her dress. Savannah and Maxwell sat giggling while Olivia rolled her eyes. “Really, Riley...you can’t be serious? You’re competitive nature is occasionally admirable but this is bordering on ridiculous,” Olivia sneered.

“What?” Riley said sheepishly. “People can’t help saying baby to the pregnant lady, that’s not my fault!”

“I somehow doubt it was as simple as that.”

“Well, I may have practiced saying nothing but Bean or infant for the last week but still...I won these pins fair and square.”

After everyone had a chance to fill out their bingo boards with baby items, Hana began calling out items at random. It only took seven items before Riley was on her feet, holding her belly while she jumped up and down yelling ‘bingo’. The groans that had been contained to her friends earlier now rippled through the other guests. Olivia forcefully grabbed the bingo board as Hana made her way to the table.

“Riley...I um...I think maybe you should give someone else a chance to win the game prizes,” Hana whispered hesitantly.

“But...”

“Blossom, Hana’s right,” Max said gently.

“For once, I agree with these fools,” Olivia interjected, still clutching Riley’s game board.

Riley pouted as Drake put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “You and Bean get to leave with all the presents, let the guests have the prizes, Nevin.”

“Ok, fine,” she conceded.

Hana turned back to the crowd. “Duchess Riley has graciously forfeited her win so we’ll continue with this round.”

Two items later, Liam stood and called out Bingo.

“You’re welcome,” Riley whispered as Hana handed Liam one of the bottles of whiskey Drake had selected as ‘manly’ prizes.  Liam smiled at her affectionately and laughed.

Two rounds later, Kiara and Emmeline had each won a prize and Hana announced it was time for presents.

Riley sat on a throne decorated with vines and flowers with gifts piled all around her. She took care to read each card and announce the gift giver and show her appreciation. There was everything from the simple: blankets, layettes, and plush toys; to the extravagant: tiaras, crowns, scepters, and crystal rattles. It felt endless and overwhelming in the best way possible. Riley was sure she had opened something from everyone in attendance but there was still a large pile unopened.

“These are from your family,” Hana explained. “Since they’re visiting when the baby arrives, they couldn’t make it today but they sent these over.”

Riley resisted the urge to steal one of Hana’s pins as she smiled gratefully at her. Her heart swelled with each gift she opened; her family knew her so well. There was a baby book that matched her woodland theme that had pages already filled in for her side of the family tree, complete with photos and memories about her mom, whom Bean would only know through stories. Riley felt the tears pricking at her eyes and they finally broke free when she opened a blanket that her dad had custom made out of some of her mom’s clothes. He took care to chose the softest sweaters in colors that would compliment the nursery. It was the closest Bean would come to feeling the embrace of their grandmother and it took everything in Riley not to ugly cry.

After a minute to compose herself, she moved on to the next gift. It was from Drew. The card said that he wanted to get something just for her because he knew that Bean would be getting more than enough. When Riley opened the box she began to giggle through her tears; it was just the humor that she needed.

“What is it?” Drake asked.

“I’m not sure I should show it to everyone,” Riley laughed. “There doesn’t need to be a picture of this in Trend.” 

“Just show us then, Blossom.”

Riley’s friends moved behind her and she lifted out a t-shirt with the front facing away from the guests. It was red with short sleeves and in bold white print it read ‘I’m a drop the F-bomb kind of Mom’.

There was laughter among her friends as Liam said, “Well your brother certainly seems to know you well.”

“Is that really the kind of thing you should be advertising?” Hana gasped.

“I see no problem with it,” Olivia stated matter-of-factly.

“It’s definitely funny, but Nevin’s gonna be watching her language once Bean arrives.”

Riley dropped the shirt and turned to Drake with her mouth agape. “Do you know me at all?” she exclaimed.

“Come on, Nevin. You don’t want him or her copying you.”

“Bean will just have to learn what I did growing up...do as I say, not as I do; no copying Mommy.”

“I hope its that easy, Nevin.”

“It will be,” she assured him as she pulled him down for a kiss.

With the last of the presents opened, guests were invited to enjoy the dessert table and the party began to wind down. Gladys and a few members of the staff started taking the presents in to the nursery and Riley made a beeline for the cookies she had been eyeing.

As the sun started to get low in the sky, they said their goodbyes and made their way into the estate.

“Why don’t you go up and get comfortable...I’ll make us some popcorn and we’ll watch a movie,” Drake suggested.

“Sounds perfect.”

When Drake finally got upstairs, he found Riley standing in the doorway of the nursery, clutching the blanket from her dad to her chest. “You okay, Nevin?”

Riley nodded and wiped away a stray tear. “I just can’t wait to hold our baby, Drake, and...and I hope I’m a good mom.”

“You’re gonna be a great mom, Nevin. An amazing fucking mom.”

Riley turned to him with a big smile on her face. “Ssshhhh, language Daddy.”

“You’re a piece of work.”

“I am,” she shrugged. “But you love it.”

“Damn right, I do,” he said as he pulled her into a passionate kiss and guided her to their room.

Exhaustion took over and Riley was a sleep in minutes. Drake ate the popcorn and watched Riley’s chest gently rise and fall as he rubbed her belly. “Hurry up and get here Bean, we can’t wait to meet you.”

The once grumpy commoner felt the last of his walls break down when his loving words were rewarded with a kick. Everything he never knew he wanted was right there in his arms...a family of his own to love and protect; all because he walked into her bar.

[heythatpenguinhere]

Marry Me

*Hello again friends! Here’s another Eleteo fanfic to make you sob. This is by far my most emotional and personal story to date, with good chunks of it being inspired from my very own life. Enjoy! Give it a like and let me know if you cried too. 

Off in the distance, bells chimed in cheer. The whole kingdom was celebrating the momentous day that awaited them and especially the royal family. The Crown Princess, recently Queen, had chosen a suitor and husband-to-be. The union would cement two kingdoms together and bring even more peace and prosperity throughout the realm. The citizens were smiling and dancing around as music filled the streets. Merchants were selling flowers and visitors from far and wide had come to join the festivities that were sure to last the weekend through. The joy was infectious to all it would seem...but the very bride to be…

The sun shone through the balcony doors into the royal suite of the Queen of Avalor herself. Handmaidens bustled to and fro bringing different items to pamper the Queen with in preparation for her big day. The Queen sat on a chair in front of her vanity as two ladies busied themselves with taming her thick curls into a gorgeous up-do, woven with orange Avaloran flowers. Another maiden sprinkled the Queen with scented perfumes that smelled of the very same flowers she adored so much. She sat poised and composed, staring into the mirror at the work being down around her. 

“Oh mija, they brought your dress!” Abuela squealed as another lady came into the suite with a large bag. This caught the Queen’s attention and she turned around as the same woman began to open the bag and unveil a dress. Multiple gasps filled the room as they took in the sheer beauty before them. The dress was delicate; ivory colored lace was placed throughout the top bodice and flowed into the corset design. The sleeves were off-the-shoulder and they too were covered in a lace pattern. The skirt was a full ball gown that glowed with lace and beading at the trim, attaching to a magnificent train that cascaded in length. Securing the waist, a bright red ribbon with beading to match; the Queen’s signature color. 

Elena felt herself gasp too and yet she could not bring a smile to fully reach her eyes like everyone else in the room. She didn’t know when it started exactly, but the illusions revolving her wedding day had begun to turn more bitter as the days passed. 

Prince Eliseo was a wonderful young man. The two had met in passing at several balls and been formally introduced doing a key trade agreement between their two kingdoms. The Prince had taken the plunge and approached the princess after admiring her from a distance for some time; they had clicked and formed a lovely friendship over Avaloran chocolate and several mutual interests. To anyone watching, it seemed like the stars had aligned.

Elena, for her part, thought he was a very sweet man. Prince Eliseo was a caring man, respectful and noble in his intents. He was charming with his words and with his looks as well. No one could deny his attractive features and yet he was not cocky; or at least until you really knew him. He was very intelligent and that was where he could become a bit conceited at times; though it was quite easy for Elena to knock his ego down if she had to. At the beginning their small adventures were fun… and then she had begun to bore, though she would disclose that with no one. 

He had taken great care into planning the proposal to include her family and friends, even the things she enjoyed the most. She had known of the plan when she wasn’t supposed to however and had to act surprised. Her tears had been real, as she faced an overwhelming amount of emotion in the moment at the fact that someone would go through such effort to share their affection and desire to spend their life with her. Those emotions soon fell mildly flat when she realized that everyone she loved was in attendance, except a certain pair of hazel green eyes. 

He would later claim his mother had been ill and he could not leave her alone, but the fact remained; he wasn’t there. On one of the most important days of her life, her dearest friend hadn’t been there and perhaps the impact that had on her had begun to turn the wheels that would lead her here today. 

He was part of her court, one of those who would stand by her side as she spoke her vows and celebrated her new life, and yet...something was terribly off. As she gazed at her dress, she couldn’t help but think back to a conversation she had with her royal wizard months before. 

“Are you sure you are ready Elena?” He had asked her as they sat together in the garden. It was during another royal celebration where the two friends had snuck off to get some air when she had mentioned to him of how she had caught wind of the proposal plans. 

Beaming she had looked at him and said, “Of course I am! Eliseo is a wonderful partner. He cares for me and my family loves him as well. He would take care of me and the kingdom; I know he would.” 

If she had looked more closely, she would have noticed Mateo’s face fall, echoes of pain flash through his usually playful eyes, but she didn’t notice; she was lost in a daydream. 

“Then if you say you are ready, you know I’ll be right by your side. I’ll be there always.” He had said with deep emotion behind his words. Emotions she would seemingly never know. 

She smiled as she hugged him, “Thank you so much Mateo. I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

And months later, another conversation was spoken. 

“You’re...you’re leaving?” She said nearly speechless. 

Mateo nodded, “I have been offered a chance to deepen my magic skills along some seasoned wizards in Enchancia. I-I’ll be leaving right after your wedding actually.” He said, not meeting her eyes. 

If you could have heard it, you’d have heard the sound of the princess’ heart tearing in two. 

“I-I don’t know what to say Mateo… That, well that would be a wonderful opportunity for you. You’d learn and grow so much. I, I just wish it wasn’t so far away from here honestly…” She struggled through the words to convey a sense of happiness for him. It was incredibly painful however and it would dash her emotions for the rest of the evening. 

Gazing at the gorgeous dress in front of her, she saw her absolute dream come true. Everything she could have asked for and wanted was coming to place, so why wasn’t she... happy? She was truly perplexed and today was NOT the day to be dealing with deep confusion over her emotions and plans. She was getting married. 

-

If her emotions had been confusing before, they multiplied when the dress was actually on her. She could now see herself fully, ready to give herself to someone and spend her life with them. She felt sick. She feigned smiles with those around her and began to move into the separate suite to meet with her court before beginning her journey to the chapel. She could have honestly bolted right then and there as she recalled that she would have to face those hazel eyes she had been thinking about in mere seconds. 

As she walked through the doors to be greeted by her bridal court, she instantly locked eyes on the pair she was dreading to do so with. Mateo’s mouth dropped. As the ladies around them gushed about how beautiful Elena looked, she could only see him. He looked handsome clad in new vestments that still stated he was a royal wizard and yet were still so him; a maroon vest with gold lining, dark pants, and polished boots. His hair had been combed from it’s usual messy waves and he wore a golden bow tie to match. 

He found he could not speak. He could feel the tears pool in his eyes at the sight of the person he felt to be his soulmate. She was beyond words; she was radiant. Truly no more beautiful a picture of grace and splendor existed but her. 

“Beautiful.” He mouthed to her, with that being the only word he could say, as his eyes shined with tears and his hand was placed over his heart. 

She could feel her eyes began to water and she smiled before mouthing back, “Gracias mi amigo.” 

-

As she walked down the aisle, arm-in-arm with her abuelo, she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Prince Eliseo stood handsomely at the altar waiting for her with a smile, conveying his utmost love. Her family wept happily from their seats as she passed and her bridal party as well could not contain their emotions at the sight of her. And then, there was him. For as hard as she tried to lock eyes with Eliseo only, she could not. Her eyes fell to her closest friend.  

He looked like he could crumble at any moment and yet, a bright smile remained on his face. But she knew him better than that. She had known him for years. They had laughed together, cried together, grown together. He knew her heart and soul like no one else that existed. Flashes of memories played across her mind from years before of all their adventures. Every hug. Every smile. Every laugh. Every moment that felt like home. And it was in that moment of not being able to breathe, that she suddenly took a deep breath… and everything made sense. 

She stopped walking. 

The crowds began to murmur in confusion and her Abuelo nudged her carefully, “Mi reina, are you alright?” He asked her. 

Eyes shining with confidence and newfound fervor, she looked at her grandfather before laughing, “Abuelo. I’ve never felt better.” She said and unhooked her arm from his before walking quickly to Prince Eliseo herself. 

The prince looked incredibly confused as she approached him; a sad smile on her face. 

“Eliseo… I am not marrying you today.” 

Loud gasps rang in the chapel and outrage was heard between the whispers. 

“Elena...Elena...why?” He said; his voice conveyed all of his heartbreak. 

Elena knew that she would never be able to erase his face and voice from her mind for as long as she lived. She had meant what she said, but she would forever regret causing the pain and suffering of the innocent man in front of her. For it was her own inability to recognize her true emotions earlier, that had lead to his pain now. She knew that there was nothing she could say or do to ever soften the blow that she had dealt him. 

"Eliseo. My friend. You have been nothing but kind to me. You have shown me great care. I will forever be thankful for that truly… But you do not have my heart. I'm afraid it's belonged to another long before I even realized it myself! For that, I am truly sorry. I hope you can forgive me and find true happiness." She said holding his hands gently. 

A stray tear fell from his eye as he closed them tightly. She tenderly wiped it away. 

"Elena. My dear. As much as it pains me like nothing else, I-I understand. I want you to be happy. I hope you both have everlasting happiness. I mean that." He said and squeezed his hands once more, before letting them go… forever. 

The prince departed in agony, but with his head held high. He knew that he would be happy one day. 

Elena took a huge sigh, feeling an elated weight off her shoulders. She was free. 

Before the crowds could fully begin to protest or her family scramble to her, she took the moment of shock to speak again. 

"My fellow friends and family, I apologize. From the deepest parts of me, I apologize for my indecisive heart. I have wounded many today. I have probably made some doubt my decision making and who I am. But I believe a greater injustice would have been to marry someone I did not truly want to commit my life and heart to. What kind of a queen and person would I be if I did that? Please, learn from my example dear friends. Listen to your heart's callings and do not wait." She spoke with the demeanor of the queen she was: strong and valiant, yet emotional and vulnerable.

Silence turned into clapping and soon people began to join in support for their queen for being so candid with them. She was not perfect, but one could never say that she wasn't honest with her people. Elena's heart soared. But now, she had something long awaited to do. 

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the Queen then turned to her bridal court and all eyes followed her movements. Her footsteps took her to her dearly beloved best friend before anyone knew it. 

Mateo, who had been lost in an array of emotions mixed with pride for his friend, soon was gazing into her amber eyes up closely in surprise. "Elena?" he asked. 

The Queen's smile shined brighter than ever, her eyes tender and blissfully gazing into his emerald orbs. Her face shone of understanding, of peace, and of so much more. 

"My dearest friend and faithful companion. You'll have to forgive me as well, for I think I have wronged you most of all. Mateo, you have been by my side for years and years now. We started off as friends and soon became so much more. You were the person I would confide in without a second thought. Through all of the up’s and down’s that came my way, you were the one that pulled me through. You gave all of yourself so openly and never asked for anything in return. You were content being by my side however I needed you. You were never afraid to speak up and tell me the truth when it needed to be said. You were always willing to encourage me and remind me of who I am if I ever struggled or forgot. I mean my goodness, just by looking at each other we could know what the other was thinking! Your hugs are absolutely legendary and your smile so great. We’ve been through so many adventures that I’ve loved so much and I could never imagine adventuring without you. Thank you my friend for being so wonderfully, amazingly, and magically you.” Elena spilled without filter and not caring who heard. 

Mateo gazed into his friend’s eyes with deep care as his heart soared at her words, but confusion. “Elena, you don’t ever have to thank me for that. But how did you wrong me though?” he said. 

She nearly laughed and drew closer, making him go still. “I’ve wronged you because while we promised to keep no secrets from each other, I’m afraid I lied about one thing. I don’t think I can hold it in any longer either. Mateo de Alva, my dearest friend, I am irrevocably in love with you.”

As the words that had been waiting to be said finally fell, no one in the room could dare react. Mateo thought he was dreaming. He had to be dreaming. This was never meant to be more than a fantasy to entertain his mind with. It was never meant to be and yet, here it was… happening. 

Elena watched him carefully, trying to read his expression and for all the familiarity between them, she could not know what he was thinking in that moment. 

His lips parted slightly before the words spilled out with years worth of adoration and hidden love driving them, “Elena Castillo-Flores. Marry me.”

[jace-the-writer-guy]

The Stray of Atlas (Part Two)

Word count: 3,335

“Jace, my friend! I hope you’re doing well!”

When Jace and his team walked out of the amphitheater after being dismissed, they soon met with two of Jace’s closest friends in Atlas, the speaker’s name being Tyr Alexander. He was six feet and three inches tall with well built muscles, which went well with his fighting style of using his claymore. His eyes were a light olive color and his short hair was a deep red color. His prosthetic right hand and forearm were fully black in color with studs on the knuckles in case he needed to punch anything that got close to him. Right now, he was wearing the uniform of Atlas Academy and not his combat outfit. Like Jace’s prosthetic, it had the technology to let him feel with the finger tips and all around the outsides of the hand and wrist, and a coil inside the wrist itself could generate his body heat throughout the metal.

The girl that was with Tyr was Ashe Crane, who was also one of Raine’s closest friends and fellow apprentice Ranger. She stood at five feet and seven inches tall, and her body was slender and athletic to match her own fighting style, which involved her running and dancing around enemies with her dual pistols, and striking them with kicks when they get close. Along with the shortsword her pistols could turn into. She had dark hazel colored eyes and medium length, jade colored hair with both sides cascading down either side of her face.

Jace nodded to them both and smiled a bit. “I’m surviving, being back here and all… It feels weird, and honestly I’m scared of losing control of my emotions. I almost did earlier but Alyss and everyone helped me out.”

“Ah, I am sorry to hear that. But I know that you are strong, and you will be okay.”

Ashe nodded in agreement. “We know you, Jace. You’re stronger than you know.”

“It’s just the memories of everything getting to me, but… with everyone here with me, I know I’ll manage.”

Tyr grinned. “You have a warrior’s heart. We know you will. I apologize, but we have to go find Terra and Paige.”

Raine gave a smirk. “Making sure they aren’t having fun in a closet?”

Ashe laughed at that and nodded. “Absolutely. We’ll catch up later, Raine.”

“I think I’m actually gonna go find Shy an’ Holly,” Auron said and gave a smile, “Gods I really wanna spend more time with ‘em before classes start.”

Jace nodded to him. “Go ahead, man. We’ll text you directions to the dorm when we find it.”

“Alright then. Talk to y'all later.” Auron said and patted Jace on the shoulder before walking off, pulling his scroll out to message Shyla.

“You know, I’ll come with you guys too,” Raine spoke up towards Tyr and Ashe, “I’d like to catch up with you guys.”

Alyss let out a small giggle. “I guess our group is shrinking. Good luck finding Terra and Paige. Is his eye still doing okay?”

“It is. He’s still had no complications with it,” Tyr answered, and he gave her a smile, “You healed it completely four years ago after that match in the tournament. You know you don’t have to ask about it.”

“I know, but I still like to ask how my old patients are doing.”

Tyr chuckled. That is very fair. Farewell, you two. We’ll speak later.“

"Talk to you later, Tyr.” Jace said to his friend, and then they all separated. Jace and Alyss went further into the school while Tyr, Ashe, and Raine went outside.

Jace and Alyss continued on down the halls after Tyr and the others left. A few moments passed by and soon the two were left nearly alone in the halls as most everyone else were going outside after Ironwood addressed them. A few moments longer than that, Jace squeezed Alyss’ hand a bit.

“Thank you for everything, Alyss…” He murmured to his mate.

Alyss looked up at him. “Hmm? What are you thanking me for?”

“Just… everything. Being with me, helping me on the nights I can’t sleep because of everything that happened… healing all those burns on my arm when we first met, just… walking into my life like you did. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me.”

Alyss kissed him on the cheek and smiled. “You don’t have to thank me for any of that, sweetie. Thank you for coming into my life too.”

Jace began to smile and he placed a soft, light kiss on her lips. “I’m really happy we met. I thank Light every day for it.”

They walked hand in hand like they have been through the halls of Atlas, and Jace was slowly beginning to put back together memories of where everything was. It was still hazy for him, but he was remembering. One thing he always remembered though was that all of Atlas’ dorm rooms had small kitchens in them, but he or Genesis had never really gotten a chance to use the one in their dorm before they were ambushed and kidnapped. They even had video casters in them too, so students didn’t have to buy any to bring in for themselves. Students were always encouraged to cook their own meals after classes, but the cafeteria was of course always open for breakfast and lunch.

Jace wondered if anything changed with the dorms in the last few years.

He was soon broken out of his thoughts when he caught sight of two people approaching them, two very familiar people. They were his old teammates, Michael Slater and Liza Flair. Michael stood at the same height as Jace but was a bit thinner in terms of muscle, and he had completely black hair and deep blue eyes. Liza was five feet and six inches tall with a skinnier build than most but it helped her move around the battlefield well, and she had long silver hair with streaks of light-blue dyed throughout it. And not only were they once Jace and Genesis’ teammates, but they were both once their bullies as well, something the two still regretted immensely after learning everything about what the two had been through.

“Oh, hey,” Jace greeted them both, “You got rid of the green in your hair?” He said to Michael.

“Umm, hey. And yeah, I did,” Michael replied rather nervously. They were both always like that around Jace now, “Kind of grew out of it, y'know.”

“Are you both doing okay?”

Liza nodded a bit. “We’re getting by. Not dragging our team down at least, hahaha…”

“Come on, you guys can’t seriously still think that, can you?” Jace said to them both, shaking his head slightly, “I don’t think that anyone that did what you did can drag their teams down. You came to help us all retake Beacon when we needed it the most and I saw even then that you both got a lot better with your fighting styles. You’re not even close to holding your team down.”

“How… can you still not hate us?” Liza asked Jace, “We made life hell for you and Genesis. We were complete assholes to you two, We called you trash, we just let you both do all the work, and we accused you of running away from Atlas…”

“And back then, you know we would have said a lot of… bad things about you dating Alyss, and definitely about you growing cat ears and a tail.” Michael continued.

Jace could definitely hear the guilt in their voices, the same as it had been every time they spoke after the battle to reclaim Beacon. “Michael, Liza… the reason I don’t hate you both is really simple. You changed. You got better with your attitudes, you apologized to me, and then most of all you helped me take this back,” He reached up and put his hand on the hilt of Standoff over his shoulder, “You helped us retake our home. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I forgive you both, but I really do. You deserve that. And thank you both.”

“We just… feel so bad…” Liza said after a moment of silence, “We didn’t know…”

Alyss had stayed silent for the entire time the three talked, and she finally let out a sigh. “What matters is that you two realized what you did was really, really wrong, and you owned up to it, apologized, and improved yourselves. Jace forgives you both for it. I think what you two really need is to be able to forgive yourselves.”

Liza shook her head. “It’s not easy to do that.”

“I know, but you need to try and move on so you can be even better,” Alyss replied, and she glanced up to Jace and grinned a bit, “Don’t stare too long into the sun that you forget the rest of the sky.”

Jace grinned at hearing her say his family saying. “You can’t move forward when you’re stuck in the past. I’ve moved on, and I know Genesis has too. I think it’s time you both did.”

Michael gulped a bit and let out a slow breath. “This… is always gonna be weird, just talking to you normally like this.”

“I can imagine,” Jace replied, and he chuckled, “We’re gonna go find our dorm now if you guys don’t mind. Don’t hold yourselves down anymore, please.”

“Right… Bye Jace. Talk to you later.” Liza said to him and she and Michael walked on by them.

Jace shook his head. “It’s probably gonna take a lot longer for them to move forward.”

“There’s no doubt about that,” Alyss said, “I wish they could.”

“Yeah, I do too. They really feel horrible about that.”

A moment later, Jace felt his scroll vibrate in his pocket and he took it out to see he had received a message from General Ironwood. “Jace, after you get yourself acquainted with your dorm room and its location, please meet with me in my office. I have something to tell you.”

“Huh… Ironwood wants to talk to me.” Jace said to Alyss.

“Oh? What do you think he needs?” Alyss asked.

“I’m not sure, but after we find our dorm then we should go meet with him.”

___________

Later

___________

After Jace and Alyss located their dorm and dropped their belongings off, the two made their way towards the office of James Ironwood. While Jace had left Legacy in the dorm, he kept Standoff in its place on his back. Alyss had sent messages to Auron and Raine with directions to their dorm, and their replies were those of confirmation. Eventually the two had arrived at the doors of Ironwood’s office. Standing outside were two guards with standard equipment of the Atlesian military. They made to block off their entry, but then recognized who they were and stood to the side. Jace nodded slightly to them both before he stepped up to the doors and knocked on the heavy wood.

“Come in.” The muffled voice of the General said from inside.

Jace opened the door and, despite knowing that it was one of the safest places to be, gently pulled Alyss behind him as they entered. He hated that his instincts made him distrustful of his surroundings most of the time. After nearly losing Alyss because he wasn’t there with her, those instincts always made him want to keep her behind him when walking into any place, even classrooms. The only place Jace’s instincts let him fully relax was in their dorm room at Beacon.

Ironwood turned from the large window as the door opened and noticed Jace place himself in front of Alyss defensively, and he smiled a bit. “It isn’t any easier, is it?”

Jace sadly shook his head. “No… it isn’t. I don’t mean to seem distrustful, sir.”

“I take no offense by it, Jace. And please,” Ironwood walked from behind his desk as Jace closed the door, “Just call me James. After all you’ve been through, I won’t ask you to be formal with me.”

Jace let out a sigh. “I hope I can finally relax someday.”

“You can take all the time you need, sweetie.” Alyss told him and lifted his hand up to softly kiss the top of.

Jace felt himself relax a bit. “Why did you want to talk with me, sir… James.” He corrected himself.

James turned back to the window and walked over, and he beckoned Jace over. Jace did so with Alyss of course, and James went to speak. “I know rumor has gotten out about our plans to take Atlas to the skies. I assume you’ve heard of that.”

Jace and Alyss both nodded. “Right. It was the talk of Beacon for a few weeks straight.” Jace replied.

“I could guess as much. I’m not sure how that information was leaked, but we can’t focus on that. What we keep even more of a secret from as many people as we can is exactly how we’ll do it.”

“Should I leave or anything?” Alyss asked James, “This is probably really classified information.”

James chuckled at that. ��It is very classified information, but I know Jace wouldn’t be comfortable if you weren’t by his side even if I were to give the Ace Ops orders to protect her. It would be best if you were here.”

“Thank you for that, James. I really appreciate it,” Jace said in relief, and he gently squeezed Alyss’ hand, “How are you going to take Atlas into the air? And why do you want to tell me this?”

“The reason I want to tell you is that out of anyone I’ve ever met, I consider you a hero to the people of Remnant more than anyone,” James began to tell him, “You’re a symbol of hope to those that have lost their loved ones to kidnappings all over the world. They always have that hope that some day, their wives, husbands, sons or daughters are going to be found and rescued. You’re one of the people I respect the most, even out of those I’ve known the longest. You’ve fallen so low but you rose back up and rose higher than I ever imagined you would. I have complete trust that neither of you will use this knowledge for evil means.”

Jace felt himself shrink a bit at the praise he was given, and he looked down over Atlas Academy through the window. “I… wouldn’t have gotten to this point without so many people, James. If it wasn’t for you, Ozpin, Qrow, Oobleck, team RWBY, Alyss, or so many others then… I wouldn’t be here at all right now. I’m not sure if I deserve praise if no one that helped me gets the same.”

James let out a smile at hearing that. “You have a good, pure heart. You deserve all the praise in the world for your part in ending that string of kidnapping five years ago, for your part in helping reclaim Beacon and Vale, your part in destroying the Crimson Lance, and your part in putting a quick end to the White Fang’s attempts at forced recruitment after the reclamation. You’ve done so much for the world along with your entire team, and your friends. You’re a hero to so many people, Jace. Everyone knows your story from your speech at the reclamation ceremony.”

Jace remembered that day clearly. He never expected to give such a long speech, but he had a lot to get off his chest. He spilled his heart out about everything he had been through, and told the world what he had done to end the suffering of so many people that had been used in such horrendous experiments. He told them all about his darkest moment when he thought about ending it all for himself, and he told them all about the girl that saved his life and his soul.

And after that, he met the family members of a few of those people he had killed, and was thanked for ending their suffering.

In the few years following that speech, he had met with more families of those victims. While some had taken it harder than others, they all had thanked him for letting their loved ones rest in peace, and giving them closure. Even with all of them not holding anything against him, a part of himself always felt the guilt of ending so many innocent lives, but those people’s words had softened the blow of that guilt substantially.

“Now as for how we are raising Atlas into the sky…” James continued after a few moments of silence, “I know very well that you both know about the Maidens. Miss Rose… isn’t the best at keeping secrets to her friends it seems.”

Jace couldn’t help but give a choked laugh at that, barely able to hold his emotions down. “N-no, not really. None of us h-have told anyone outside our circles though.”

Ironwood nodded. “I’ve noticed that too. Thankfully Glynda was able to hear of it though and spoke with you all about it. Along with the Maidens, there are four relics. The Relic of Knowledge in Haven’s vault, the Relic of Choice in Beacon’s vault, the Relic of Destruction in Shade’s vault, and the Relic of Creation here in Atlas’ vault.”

“I feel like that going by the fact that Maidens are real, then those have a lot of power.” Alyss remarked curiously.

“They are immensely powerful,” Ironwood affirmed with a nod, “We know that the Relic of Choice was what Cinder Fall was truly after when she and her cohorts attacked Beacon, and thankfully Ozpin had it moved with a trusted ally that we won’t name here.”

Alyss rubbed Jace’s back soothingly, her hand moving in circles between his shoulder blades as she began to speak again. “You’re gonna use the Relic of Creation?”

Ironwood nodded once again. “Precisely. We plan to have the Winter Maiden open our vault here so we may use the relic to create enough air and gravity dust to make Atlas take to the skies. This is a very big plan we have set up, and we hope to have Atlas in the sky in the next fifteen years.”

Jace finally opened his mouth to speak again after he felt he could. “Th-that sounds amazing, James. You don’t think…”

“Absolutely not,” James interrupted with a shake of his head, knowing what he was going to ask, “Your home will be safe since it’s so far from the city limits. You should have a nice view if you’re home at the time.”

“I… can imagine,” Jace replied, “Thank you for trusting us with that knowledge, James.”

“It’s no trouble at all. To be honest, I think the Rangers knew of that plan before we even finalized it as what we wanted to do.”

Jace laughed at that. “I really don’t doubt that.”

Ironwood clasped his hand over Jace’s shoulder and looked into his eyes, and he gave him a small nod. “What I said before is true Jace, and I meant every word. I respected your father a great deal, and I respect you even more than that. Now, that’s all I wanted to tell you. You are free to return to the dorm you’re staying at and relax for the rest of the day. If you want to, you can tell your teammates and friends if you trust them enough, and I know you do.”

“Thank you, sir. We won’t tell too many people,” Alyss replied to him, and she turned her attention to Jace, “Are you ready to go?”

Jace nodded. “Yeah, I am,” He turned to Ironwood, “Thank you again for trusting us, and thank you again for everything you’ve done for me.”

“It’s no trouble, Jace. I hope you have a nice time here in Atlas again.”

[that-bog-witch]

A Faded Trail

Characters: Gender-neutral fey (Halcyon) x Gender-unspecified reader

Warnings: A thunderstorm, getting lost in the woods

Rating: Citrus (just a kiss on the hand)

Words: 1.8k words

Set in a fairly generic fantasy setting. 

You knew it was going to rain. You could see it in the green that overtook the clouds. The trees swayed as the wind picked up, whispering among the branches. A heavy fog rolled off the river. The path ahead was obscured, but you knew the way well. You traveled this path home, often. Your feet would guide you where your eyes could not.

Or so you thought. The rain fell first as a drizzle, then in thin sheets. The path became muddy. You should’ve reached home, by now. One look at your compass made sure of it. You were going in the right direction. Something must be very wrong.

It was then that you turned to retrace your steps, but found no footprints. It had been only moments- there was no time for them to have washed away. You paced the clearing. The worst of the storm hadn’t hit, yet. There was a chance.

About an hour later, you were in no better shape. The fog had grown fitful and thick, and you could hardly see the end of your own arm. Thunder crackled above, but it was still far away. Only the occasional lightning lit up the path. Your lantern had refused to light, its fuse too damp. It was then that you really took it in. It was dark. The sun was going down. You would be stranded out here, at night. During a storm, no less.

A sense of urgency overtook you. You were too lost. There was no use in fumbling about the nighttime woods in the fog. You needed to find shelter.

As it turned out, shelter found you. Leaning to inspect a fallen oak that might serve as shelter- albeit a shoddy one- you slipped and rolled. Your feet went out from under you and you landed heavily in a pile of leaves. You stood, looking around at the shallow ravine you had fallen into. It blocked the wind, and the outcropping above it shielded you from the worst of the rain. It was far better than nothing, and on high enough ground that flooding wouldn’t be an issue.

Unable to sleep, you stared out at the sheets of rain and flashes of lightning. A shiver had begun to set in. Delirious from the cold, travel, and lack of sleep, your vision began to blur. Two soft, fuzzy lights pierced the fog ahead of you, but you couldn’t quite make them out. They vanished for a moment.

There. They reappeared in an instant. The soft lights came closer, flickering at the edge of the ravine. Soft footfalls followed, and a darkened figure drew near. In your delirium, you only managed to tilt your head a bit. It hardly occurred to you that the figure could be dangerous.

“You poor thing,” a soft voice spoke, somehow cutting through the rain and thunder, “You must be freezing!” Unable to put up much of any protest, you were lifted up and hauled over the figure’s shoulder. You blinked. Your vision swayed and gave out.

---

When you woke, you were warm and wrapped in something soft. You opened your eyes and blearily took in your surroundings. The mud that had caked your skin and clothes after your fall into the ravine was gone, but you still wore your own clothes. You weren’t in the ravine. You were in a bed. It wasn’t your own. With your heart starting to pound, you glanced around the room. It looked like a cabin of sorts, but it had a soft, unearthly glow to it. Everything was a bit too fine and warm, like the summer home of a prince.

A mug of steaming apple cider and a fresh biscuit were set on the bedside table. The biscuit seemed homemade. You glanced around, then inspected the biscuit. Surely no one would bother saving you from the storm, just to poison you. You took a hesitant bite, and discovered that it tasted great. It didn’t take much longer for the biscuit to be gone. You hold the mug of cider between your hands, letting it warm out the last of the storm’s chills. Before you can raise the cup to your lips to take a drink, the door creaks open. You nearly jump.

“Awake, at last,” the creature standing before you is no vacationing prince. For one, they’re nearly seven feet tall, but rather slender and with the appearance of carved driftwood. Their hair is made of cascading marigolds, and matching tattoos- all flowery and gold- run across their skin. They’re clothed in rich, honey-colored silks. Most striking, though, is their eyes. They’re entirely amber, with neither iris nor pupil, and seem to glow softly in the morning light. They must’ve been the lights you saw in the woods.

“Oh,” you find yourself at a loss for words as the creature stands over you. You it in. This is a fey. A creature of legend, one that you knew existed but never even dreamed of meeting. The same fey people whispered about. The ones that stole people away and tricked them. And you had been saved by one, and eaten their food. Surely you owed them something horrible, “You’re... You’re a fey, aren’t you?”

“Why yes, I am,” spoke the fey, voice as gentle as ever. They lower and sit at the foot of the bed, “Are you alright? Warm enough? You weren’t hurt at all, were you?”

“Ah, yeah. I’m fine. Thank you, really,” you respond, setting down the cider.

“Don’t worry about that,” the fey waves their hand at the empty plate and the cider, “It’s a gift. You owe me nothing for it.”

“Really?” You can’t help but be amazed. In stories, a fey could own your life for a simple sip of wine or bite of bread.

“Yes, really,” their smile is as sweet as their honeyed voice, “Although you do owe me for saving your life, but that’s more of a given.” You feel your heart hammer in your chest as the glowing, golden eyes regard you.

“I don’t have anything to repay you with,” you manage to say, though you know they aren’t talking about money or possessions.

“I’m sure you know the stories,” the fey chimes, leaning to pick up the cup of cider, “May I have this, if you aren’t drinking it?”

“Yeah,” you squeak out.

“It is such lovely cider, isn’t it? I grew the apples, myself,” the fey starts, “Though they haven’t been as good since that storm a few years ago-”

“Can we talk about cider after you’re done weighing my life in your hands?” You blurt out, unsure of where the confidence came from. The fey looks stunned for a moment, and you nearly curse at yourself.

“Certainly,” they say, rising from the bed, “Let’s discuss this at the table, shall we? It’s bad for my posture to be slouching over by the bed, you know.” Confused by the fey’s continued anecdotes, you stand and follow. You have a couple of bruises from your fall, but it’s nothing bad. In the next room, the fey has seated themself at an ornate wooden table. You sit across from them.

“So... I would really prefer not to work for you, forever. As sweet as you are,” you paused at the statement, “I would like to continue to live my life.”

“Well, you’re quite sweet, yourself,” the fey takes a sip of cider, “I would love to have your company, but I understand.” They put down the glass, “Though I’m impressed that you found this place. Really, you’re quite something.”

“Found this place?” You echo, a bit flattered but thoroughly confused, “I didn’t find it. I fell into the ravine looking for shelter.”

“The fallen oak. It’s sort of a gateway to my woods, so to speak,” the fey responds, tucking a vine of marigolds behind their ear, “Most travelers pay it no mind.” The fey stares into your eyes from across the table, “You can go free, but I will miss you. You’re the only company I’ve had in... perhaps centuries.”

“Well,” you mutter, “I know how to get here, roughly. I can come back from time to time.” The fey’s eyes light up.

“Oh! I hadn’t thought of that at all!” Their smile is all pointed teeth.

“Wait, really?” You frown, “The only two options were keep me forever or let me go free? You didn’t think of an in-between?”

“I’m not very good at the whole “bartering” thing,” the fey admits, “I don’t make many deals. It’s not like I need to.”

You laugh a little, and the fey’s smile grows wider.

“What a beautiful laugh,” they coo, and you feel your face flush.

“You’re too kind,” you say.

“Nonsense!” The fey chimes, standing from their chair, “Now, you said you had to be going?”

“Ah, yeah,” you say, “I needed to get home.”

“Take this,” they say, and a flurry of orange magic comes from their palm. It vanishes, revealing a basket with a few pastries, “In case you get hungry on the walk, home.”

“This isn’t a test, is it?” You think to ask.

“No, no,” they reassure, “I’m not very good at being a fey.” They hand over the basket and make their way to a heavy oaken door with a stained glass inlay, “Will I see you, soon?” They ask.

“Yes,” you nod, “It’s been nice, however short.” As you step into the doorframe, the fey bows. They take your hand softly and kiss the top of it. A glimmering filigree of marigolds wraps around your wrist, forming a sort of bracelet.

“This will help you find your way back to me,” their face appears flushed with a slight, yellowish glow. You blush and smile, “And if you’d like, you may call me Halcyon.”

“You’re... real name?” You remark.

“Yes?” They say, as if that’s so strange.

“Fey don’t usually give those out,” you comment, “Since names have so much power.”

“Well, I’m bad at being a fey,” Halycon muses, “And I trust you. I found you at my doorstep in that storm, and took you in because I saw your heart glow through the fog.”

“That’s...” you whisper, but don’t manage to form words.

“It’s okay,” Halycon says, “Don’t worry yourself. Get on your way home.”

“[Y/N],” you say, “That’s my name. It’s only fair,” it was said to never give your name to a fey, but then again it was always said that fey would guard their names like their lives depended on it.

“It suits you,” Halcyon whispers, and the fey forest fades to glowing sunlight and fireflies as the door closes. You start on your way home, a warm feeling in your chest and the basket held tightly by your side.

[knittedkikwi]

I found a solo rpg!

So, Mark Hulmes has been playing Ironsworn on his personal stream because it has the ability to support solo play. I finally took some time to watch a little bit of it and, me being me, jumped right into my own campaign. I had this idea of finding out what happens if you make a character with no past. Could you come up with a coherent story for someone starting with amnesia? Solo play relies a lot on you rolling on random generator tables and then making them fit into the situation. Could this be used to reveal a character’s past or would it just turn out crazy. I’m gonna try it and post it here. I’m writing out the campaign as I go as if I were writing a story (with random inserts of the rolls I’ve made so I can remember what I’ve actually done.). I’ve written up her story so far below the cut if anyone’s interested. Be warned, it’s long and I am not a writer. Let’s see how this experiment goes, shall we?

The first thing Mira noticed as she awoke was the complete lack of light. The second thing was the staleness of the air. It was getting harder to breathe and she was starting to panic. Adrenaline surged through her as she took stock of her surroundings. There was something heavy resting on top of her and her hands were wrapped around it. It seemed to be poking her palm, so she released it and started feeling outward. It was a small space, the walls felt like wood. Mira brought her arms up and braced them against the top panel of this box. Using all the strength she could summon, Mira pushed upwards. After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, the panel moved. Dirt cascaded down on her as she continued to push. Coughing, Mira sat up and looked around. She was in a cheap pine box, whose top was about four inches below ground. Someone had buried her, but she didn’t know who, or why, or even where she was. Come to think of it, she didn’t know who she was either. She knew her name was Mira, but nothing else.

Mira sat there a while longer to get her breathing under control before attempting to stand. When she did, something heavy fell from her lap with a sold thunk. Her glance down revealed a battle axe, the hand worn smooth with use, the blade showing wear but the edge razor sharp. She frowned. A handle that smooth shouldn’t have been poking her hand, so what had she felt earlier. Mira picked up the axe the axe with ease, despite it being quite heavy. There, hidden under the axe’s head, was a piece of paper. It was folded small enough that it could easily have fit in her palm. She picked it up and unfolded it, revealing writing on the inside.

“Mira-

You must flee. You are no longer safe here. I will catch up with you when I can.

-        R”

Odd. The confirmation of her name was reassuring, but she couldn’t remember where she was running from. And who was this R she was supposed to meet? She started rifling through her clothes to see if there were any other notes. Unfortunately, she was only wearing a simple dress that she supposed had been cream colored, before the dirt bath, and a green cloak. The cloak caught her interest. Symbols she did not recognize were embroidered all over it in black thread. What could that mean? Mira supposed the only way to find out was to find a village and start asking questions. Now if only she knew which way the village was…

Mira wandered the woods for hours before she was found by an elf named Dotani Kerihu. They were surprised to see her, but showed her compassion nonetheless. They traveled with her for a month, teaching her how to hunt and navigate the area she now knew was called the Deep Wilds. Dotani showed her how to craft a simple shield, light a fire, set snares, and, eventually, how to befriend animals. Mira seemed to have a special affinity for owls and manage to convince one to travel with them. She named it Gabriel, though she does not know why.

She doesn’t know why she does a lot of things. Her axe, for example. When Dotani was trying to show her how to split wood for a fire, Mira was immediately able to choose the precise point on the log to split it cleanly into two. When her axe stuck into the stump they were using as a base, she was able to wrench it free as if she had done it hundreds of times. Dotani let her borrow the whetstone he used on his daggers one evening. Before he even had a chance to start explaining what it was or how it worked, she was running it along the edge of her axe with the ease of someone well versed in the practice. She found herself going through what she assumed were training stances every night. She wished she knew where she learned them. Dotani seemed impressed with her form, finding very little to correct.

Eventually, Dotani lead her to the edge of the Wilds. They explained that due east was a large village named Grimtree. It was safe and she would likely be able to find work there. Hopefully she would be able to find answers. He gave her a token before they parted, a small wooden circle with a symbol carved on it. They explained that should she ever return to the Wilds and need Dotani’s help, find someone and show them that token. Then Dotani disappeared into the dense forest and Mira headed off on the first leg of what would hopefully be the journey to her past.

Mira stumbled into town, nervous about what she might find. What she ended up finding was Sadia Chandra, the owner of the only inn in town. Mira knew she needed someplace to stay and realized she would not have much luck with the general populace once she saw the distrustful looks from the townsfolk. (Not that she could really blame them. She’d washed her clothes as best she could, but they were still stained from her time underground.) So she headed to the Dragon & Raven Lodge to see if she could make some sort of arrangement. That’s where she met Sadia, barking orders at some long suffering waitress while simultaneously getting people room keys or extra blankets. Sadia was a sever woman with a eyes that always made you feel like you’d done something wrong. She nearly threw Mira out when she asked to pay for a room through work. Mira mentally thank Dotani for everything they had taught her as she played up her skills as a hunter and laborer. She was eventually able to convince Sadia to let her stay in exchange for running odd errands and helping at the inn whenever needed. The room wasn’t much, but it was clean and had hot water. Sadia even gave her a sensible set of work clothes (although this might have been because Sadia couldn’t stand that dress. Mira kept it in hopes that it might mean something later on.).

After a month, Sadia even trusted her to make a purchase from the traveling merchant, Themon Kai. He had been in town when Mira arrived, but she hadn’t paid any attention, being rather focused on find someplace safe to stay. Now, she was seeking him out with a couple of silver pieces to hopefully purchase more cutlery for the inn. Themon was easily found, seeing as he wore more elaborate clothing than most of the folks in town and had the voice to match. He was set up in the square, shouting about his wares and laughing with customers as they talked. He seemed to know everyone in town, including Mira somehow. When she approached, he remembered seeing her pass through and remarked that she looked considerably better than last he saw her. Surprised, Mira found herself having a quite enjoyable conversation with him. Looking over his wares for new forks and spoons, Mira spotted some old armor that intrigued her. Themon caught her eyeing it and explained he’d picked it up from an old shield maiden who retired several years ago and no longer needed it. The price was 5 gold pieces, but he might be willing to lower it if she could tell him a good story.

Mira had no money beyond what Sadia had gave her for errands, but she couldn’t get the armor out of her mind. Mira asked Sadia if she could take extra jobs at the inn to earn some money. Sadia begrudgingly agreed (Mira thinks Sadia’s starting to warm up to her, even if she won’t admit it) and Mira started making money for the first time in her life (as far as she could remember, anyway). It took a couple of months, but Mira saved up the 5 gold for the armor. Themon had been through town a few more times and Mira found she really enjoyed his company.

This time, though, she had a mission. She wanted that armor and some extra supplies if possible. When Mira marched up to Themon, he seemed to already know what was on her mind.

“You look as if you intend to purchase some armor!” He said with a smile.

“I do, and some other items if you have them. But first, let me tell you about the first thing I remember.” Mira told him as much as she could about waking up in the grave, befriending an elf, and eventually making her way to Grimtree. She left out the note, sharing that felt a little too personal, but tried to dramatize in a way she knew Themon would enjoy.

By the time she finished, Themon appeared simultaneously delighted and concerned. “You most certainly have had an interesting few months. I believe that story was well worth a discount. Let’s say 3 gold for the armor. And….take care, Mira. If what you just told me is true, you must have run afoul of some very dangerous people. Don’t go charging into adventure foolishly, or you may end up in the same place again, but you won’t wake up that time.”

Mira gave him a nod, “I am aware, Themon. Though I may not know why I was there, I intend to not repeat the same mistakes. But I do need to uncover who I am, one way or another.”

“Alright, just so long as you’re careful. If you start traveling, we’ll likely run into each other again. While I stay mostly in the Havens, I have been known to go to more far-flung areas from time to time. Keep me updated and I’ll see what I can do about keeping you supplied.”

“Thank you, Themon. I look forward to it.”

Mira walked back to the inn with her armor, a new knife, some basic provisions, and a plan to start travelling around the Havens in search of her past. The next morning though, bells started ringing as the townsfolk swarmed to center of town. Emelyn Sayer, the Head Woman in town, was standing on the porch of the main hall. She was a cheery woman with a powerful voice and the ability to get her way no matter the resistance. She had lead the town well the past few years and people tended to rely on judgement and level headedness. So Mira was shocked when she saw Emelyn looking frazzled. Emelyn seemed to return to herself after a moment and her voice rang out clearly over the square.

“Townspeople, 140 years ago, when this town was founded, we made an agreement with the Firstborn of the Deep Wilds. We would protect their realm and in exchange we received the Iron Shield to protect us. That shield has hung in the Main Hall ever since to keep us safe from the monsters that roam this land. But now, it has disappeared. Stolen in the night, leaving us exposed. I need a volunteer to find whoever stole the shield and return it to us before the terrors of the land realize we are vulnerable.”

Gasps were heard throughout the crowd as Emelyn spoke. Mira knew of the Iron Shield. It was always hanging behind the Head Woman’s chair. Sadia had told her that it had never rusted and never needed polishing. This was her chance! She could test her skills and her armor now before heading off to find her past.

“I will go!” Mira shouted, “I will find the Iron Shield and bring it back.”

Emelyn looked at her appraisingly and then looked to Sadia. Mira wasn’t sure, but she could have sworn she saw Sadia nod ever so slightly. “Step forth, Mira, and take the Iron Vow.”

Mira worked her way to the front of the crowd, excitement thrumming in her veins. The townsfolk parted for her as she got closer. Those faces that had seemed so distrustful her first day now showed some dawning respect as she pulled her axe from her belt and knelt in front of Emelyn.

“Mira of the Deep Wilds, do you swear to find the Iron Shield and return it to the people of Grimtree?” Emelyn did not state it, but Mira understood what would happen if she failed. The village would be raided and this small community she had started to like would be destroyed.

Gripping the iron of her axe head, Mira made her oath, “I swear to return the shield to its rightful place here in Grimtree, or die in the attempt.”

[kattloaf]

Unexpected Guest (Dinner Party pt. 2)

Following the tour Tidus and Kamila had given her, Kat found herself with more time than necessary before the night’s festivities began in full. The well-chaperoned tour of the manor showed off its finer features, the grand, opulent rooms, the breathtaking views, the sheer wonderment the manse provided. During it, however, Kat had taken note that, while they covered most of the manor, there were certain gaps that lacked appreciable reasoning. Private quarters were a given, of course, but other parts of the building had been left sight-unseen. 

As her escorted tour of the place concluded, they had offered her a room to retire before the celebration began. As she had so many times during the tour, Kat couldn’t help but marvel at the opulence of the room they’d shown her to. Sapphire blue carpeting with gold patterns near the walls, the pattern reflected in filigree on the baseboards and throughout the wall, which was a deeper shade of blue. As with the other rooms she had seen, there were a number of paintings and pictures with ornamented frames adorning the wall to break up the sea of blue and gold. The furniture, interestingly, was red with silver accents, as though to stand in stark defiance of the ocean they resided in. Against one wall sat an enormous, plush bed with a canopy also of red. Reaching the far wall of the room, there was another set of doors leading to a balcony. Nearly every room facing seaward had a balcony, she’d noted. 

At first she simply spent some time thinking, allowing herself to process all she had seen -and what she hadn’t-. Should she need to run, having a mental map of the estate could prove a matter of life or death. Once that matter was addressed, she surreptitiously took stock of the things she’d brought with her. Tucked into slip pockets along her waistline were three of the wolfram-cored kunai she was fond of. Strapped to her thighs, and glamoured to be unseen, were the two daggers Laplace had forged for her, Fuyakaze and Harukaze. She’d mentally taken to calling them the ‘Twin Winds’, but they had proper names all the same. Lastly, she’d tucked several vials in various places, mostly in her dress, but also her boots. 

Inventory taken, she rose, ambling about the room before inevitably making her way to the balcony. The view was, as she was coming to expect, breathtaking. She stood at the midpoint of the river the manor was built over, gazing out first to the waterfall that cascaded down, then to the valley itself. The sun setting to her left cast long shadows over the near valley, the cliff facing she sat atop curving along the shore. Such brought an early nightfall to the town below. As Kat watched, streetlamps and windows began to glow with light as life began to wind down for the evening. Out at sea, ships lit their lanterns as they sailed in to the docks, seeking safe haven for the darkness of night that was approaching. At her vantage, night was yet to arrive, but down there, in that town, it had begun to descend in earnest. 

Unfortunately, she only had so much time to dwell on the tranquil, beautiful scene before her. Tonight was not a night to let her mind wander to the frayed ends of possibility. Tonight she had to focus. She was in a Garlean province, at the estate of a lifetime politician and, she was fairly certain, the intelligence officer he had as a wife. She couldn’t afford to let whimsy take hold. And so, after several deep, controlled breaths to re-center, she set off to meet the night head-on.

When she had heard there were to be other guests, Kat had expected a half-dozen or so, maybe twenty. Instead, there were over forty that had arrived thus far, with little signs of slowing. They arrived in ones and twos at first, some in carriages, some in magitek vehicles of varying fashion. As the time for the beginning of the party drew nearer, and it was a party, or gala if one wanted to be proper, the guests began to arrive more densely. It was not long before the rotunda was bustling with vehicles coming, dispensing their occupants, then leaving. It’s rather marvelously orchestrated. Just enough chaos to keep it from pure order.

I should like to take a look at some of those magitek rides, not that we’ll get the chance. I’m more concerned about the people -in- the vehicles, as you all should be.

At least we don’t recognize many.

Indeed, quite mercifully so, none of the arrivals thus far had been recognizable outside of name recognition by Kat, or vice versa. She stood in the entry hall, that grand checkerboard entrance that had so entranced her mind when she first entered it. Now, rather than echoing vacuously with the footfalls of two people, it rang with the clamor of  dozens of voices all speaking at once. There were cushioned benches and even end tables lining the spaces between archways now, many of them occupied in some way by the attendees. For her part, Kat had kept mostly to herself, offering greetings to those who passed and took interest, but largely letting the rest of them mingle. It made it easier to listen, watch. To learn who liked whom and who they avoided.

Garlean, red jacket, black pants. Baleful look at the hyur woman in the green dress. Portly balding man, black jacket and cravat. Ill-liked by those around him. Laughs at his own jokes.

Black-haired hyur with the blue shimmering dress. Has a small baby bump. Likely pregnant. Man with her is not her husband. No ring. I like her dress. The pregnant one. Oh! Also, man with her is only half-Garlean. 

So went the beginning of the party for Kat, cataloging as much information as she could about the attendees and trying to draw conclusions from it. It did help that each arrival was announced by one of the servants. Kat recognized the servant in question, though only in passing during her tour. She spent most of her time this way, until the herald at the entry declared another name that shook her from her data assessment. 

“Now presenting his excellency Cassian fae Victus, Vicarius of the Southeastern province.”

In with the announcement walked a man that was, lamentably, familiar to Kat. He was Garlean, with sharp, angular features and a smile that was altogether too self-assured and self-satisfied for Kat’s taste. He was tall, with blonde hair pale green eyes, a hue that matched the color of the vest he wore beneath a dark jacket that had gold trim. The trim, naturally, continued down onto his trousers and even his shoes. The ensemble, which Kat found fitting, but garish in the details, only served to complement his upturned chin as he ambled through the hall. 

Moving furtively, but with caution to appear as though she weren’t being evasive, Kat moved her way further into the hall, taking residence in another of the archways that led into other rooms. Greeting other guests as he meandered, Cassian almost missed her. Such potential success was, inevitably, foiled as his moved his gaze to Kat in spite of her efforts. A ripple of confusion played across his lean features, followed by a haughty, bemused smirk as he made his way through the crowd toward her. 

Ah shit.

Damn.

Why did he have to be here….

Fuck this asshole. 

“Well well, now what do we have here? We are quite far removed from the island of Thavnair, for such a rare variety of desert flower.” Reaching out, he neatly took Kat’s hand, which she had held out in way of customary greeting, and kissed the back of her palm. 

Kat smiled a politician’s smile, full of good cheer without an ounce of warmth in her eyes. “You should have paid closer attention to the gardens on your approach. The gardeners have quite the skill for making desert flowers bloom here. I counted four different varieties native to Thavnair.”

Cassian just chuckled at that, somehow managing to fill the sound with as much casual disdain as possible without making an openly mocking gesture. “Is that so? I was, regrettably, occupied with… other matters that required my attention on the ride in. I shall have to pay attention next I have the chance.” Still smiling that smug, triumphant smile, he finally let Kat’s hand go, which she quickly retracted. 

Changing tact slightly, since Cassian was the sort that could spout platitudes until the sun died, Kat steeled herself. “So, you are a Vicarius now, replete with the title. Last I’d heard, you were still an Eques at the embassy in Radz-at-Han.” She plastered on another of those politically-savvy smiles. “Moving up in the world, aren’t we?”

Cassian simply nodded, his ever present smile not wavering. “Indeed. My efforts and diligence at the embassy were recognized, and thus I ascended to my current position.” He waved blithely with a hand. “It’s all.. So very according to plan and procedure, if you’ve an appreciation for such.”

She lifted a hand to her chin, posturing as though she were thinking fervently. 

Do we?

Logically? No.

Yes, but we really want to.

Really, really want to. 

Kat smiled at length.“I can appreciate following protocol. Remind me, though, how many female serving staff did you go through in a moon? What’s the procedure for that?”

Immediately, Cassian’s demeanor grew frigid, his posture stiffening as the cold delight in his eyes turned to a burning venom. Immediately, his voice lowered, its timbre heavy with implication of malice. “Not so many as the number of beds your back has sullied.”  

With an icy smile, his voice and demeanor returned to the air of casual indifference he wore as a badge of honor. The venom still in his gaze as he stared Kat down, he continued in a voice that carried to those nearby. “Please do forgive my brevity in our reacquainting, there are a number of people I have yet to greet. Perhaps we will be able to… better familiarize ourselves later?”

Inwardly, Kat sighed. He’d bested her in this small move, even if she had gotten under his skin. It wasn’t entirely false that they knew each other, but one night of a drunken Garlean groping her like she was a sack of popotos before passing out was hardly something to discuss openly. No, there was no way she could decline his general offer without committing social suicide this evening. While being associated with him would make it easier to navigate the social scene, he was the last person she wanted to be attached to in the minds of others.

So, she did what she could, and smiled graciously, nodding as she spoke clearly and loudly, “Should the opportunity arise, and our cups be full, I would like nothing more.” It was a small barb, one that she didn’t expect to be discerned by the crowd around them, but it was a barb meant for him. With an achingly subtle sneer, Cassian turned to find other party-goers to greet. 

It took less than a minute for another to step into Cassian’s place. By greeting her deliberately and associating with her, he’d rent asunder the stigma that surrounded her. Now Kat would have to deal with the parade of faces, many of whom she had already met and catalogued, once again. 

You’re right, One. Fuck that man.

Ironically, we haven’t. 

That’s the point.

Blue dress is coming over! And yes, fuck him.

It was not terribly long before the dark, lacquered doors at the end of the hall swung wide, the aged head servant from Kat’s arrival acting as herald. “Good Lords and Ladies, Gentlemen and Women. At your leisure, the dining hall is now open.”

Immediately, there was a cordial, patient rush of people to the dining hall. Naturally it was, in essence, purely a case of migrating from one area for gossiping to another, but it was progress of a sort. Making her own way into the dining hall, Kat once more had to take in the spectacle borne of wealth and appreciation for interior decor. The checkerboard marble floor gave way to one that was of solid black marble, seams of gold in the tiles giving it a splash of decadent color. Adding to the color palette were red banners, some with the Garlean emblem, others without, spaced evenly along two of the walls and between the twin staircases that curved up to the second floor. The fourth wall, while also bearing red drapes and curtains, primarily consisted of large windows flanking sets of open doors, leading to a grand balcony.

The table, which stood as the centerpiece of the entire room, was massive. A red cloth runner split the table in twain visually, but by all appearances it was a single, seamless expression of extreme craftsmanship. A warm sienna, the wood grain was almost indistinguishable from all the work that had been put into it. As she was led to her seat second to the right of the table’s head, Kat tried to suss out whether it was a single object, or if there were sleeves cleverly disguised. 

That HAS to be multiple trees. There’s no way that it’s a single piece.

At a glance, I don’t see any divisions. It looks solid. 

I’m with Four, no way it’s not composite. 

Still looks good. 

Her chair held out for one of the servants -the same miqo’te woman who had first greeted her, curiously, she claimed her seat, the servant woman helping her scoot in to a comfortable degree. Kat turned her head to offer the woman her thanks, but she was already gone. Off to tend to another guest, no doubt.. Shrugging, Kat turned her attention forward, just in time to see Cassian being seated across from her, next to a spindly, anxious-looking man she recognized from earlier as one Bicchus nan Dichus. 

Dinner was going to be interesting. And long.

[phoutube]

while the rhythm of the rain keeps time

ao3 link (kudos appreciated!)

Rating: General Audiences (subject to change) 

Pairing: Dan Howell/Phil Lester

Words: 3,906

Summary: Dan loved the rain. He loved how it made the world just a little bit duller, but not in a bad way. Never in a bad way. When the world seemed to get a bit too intense, too noisy and crowded and chaotic, Dan could always count on the rain to melt the colors together, blending them and morphing the scenery around him into something dull and comforting. It would only make sense that - on a day that was wet and cold and drizzly and perfect--Dan would meet someone who would change his life in so many amazing ways.

a/n: a special thanks to my beta readers, @freckliedan, @shrugs-are-kinky, and @edgylester for making this fic possible! Go show them some love!

likes and reblogs appreciated!!

Chapter One: Water Washes It Away

Dan loved the rain.

He loved how it made the world just a little bit duller, but not in a bad way. Never in a bad way. When the world seemed to get a bit too intense, too noisy and crowded and chaotic, Dan could always count on the rain to melt the colors together, blending them and morphing the scenery around him into something dull and comforting.

He loved how it made the world smell, how the rain made all the scents spring from the earth and dance in the air, bringing forth a vivid fragrance that lingered in the air and reminded him of woods and rivers and freshness.

He loved how it sounded, the steady metronome of rain drumming on the roof of his house, the sporadic but peaceful rhythm caused by drops cascading through the trees, and even the occasional rolling of thunder in the distance.

Dan even loved it when the rain would come all at once, in fierce gales and howling winds and big cracks of thunder and flashes of lightning that lit the entire sky. He loved how it made the world look afterwards, when the rain had stopped but drops hadn’t quite ceased dripping from the trees, when the sky was grey and beginning to clear and the world had a distinct waterlogged look about it.

Most of all, though, was how it gave him every excuse to stay at home, warm and cozy and wrapped in his favorite blanket. He’d sit, sipping a cup of coffee or hot chocolate, content with the world outside. Maybe he’d read a book or sit on Tumblr or watch a show on Netflix, but sometimes Dan would just sit outside under the balcony, headphones in his ears and at utter peace with the downpour around him.

Dan wasn’t the most superstitious, but whenever it started to rain, he knew instantly that his day would be a good one.

It would only make sense that - on a day that was wet and cold and drizzly and perfect--Dan would meet someone who would change his life in so many amazing ways.

--

It began sometime in early June. Dan could never remember the date (he’d always joked about how warped his sense of time seemed to be), and he’d harboured the vague idea that his birthday was nearing as the days dragged by.

Dan had woken up in a despondent state of mind, a unique sort of exhaustion weighing in his gut and a fuzzy feeling that started in his brain and wormed its way through each of his limbs.

Days like this were ones he immediately chalked up to be useless and hollow, days that were empty and futile and meant that there was no point in getting out of bed because he knew he’d only be an echo of himself.

The rain drizzling outside was calming in a way that nothing else was--a steady downpour that matched his melancholy state of mind.

Depression. That was the word for it. Disgusting.

Glancing out the window once more, Dan debated calling in sick to work or just not bothering at all. Would he get in trouble again if he ditched? It was hard to remember what the policy was for that. Also, Dan was finding it hard to care.

Should he get out of bed and try to fill this gaping void with a hot cup of steaming caffeine? He could even scrawl down some bullshit in his journal (the one his therapist insisted he keep) about the steam tendrils curling through the air like a hot breath on a winter’s day, injecting the warm scent of coffee into the air around him. He probably wouldn’t. Just drinking it was enough for now.

Coffee, Dan thought, was probably the only thing that was worth making on one of these days. He had never been a breakfast person (eating so soon after he’d woken up always made him nauseous), and besides, clutching something warm gave his hands something to do. Occasionally the caffeine was even enough to jerk him out of this stupor so he could do something productive, like the dishes. Or maybe the laundry.

Ugh. Even thinking about laundry was almost enough for him to burrow his head under the covers and never emerge again. Almost.

He sat up in bed and swung his legs over the side. His head pounded with the beginnings of a migraine, and his hair was greasy--probably due to the fact that he hadn’t showered in… shit, what day was it? What day had it been when he last showered?

Sometimes the days got like this. They seemed to drag on forever on their own, but if Dan wasn’t paying enough attention it seemed months could go by without his noticing.

He threw on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that didn’t exactly smell clean. It wasn’t like he cared.

He padded out of his room, tucking his hands into his pockets and muttering to himself as he went. The hallway was sparse, devoid of any decoration (save for the plastic potted plant sitting in the corner--Dan couldn’t trust himself to take care of a real one), and the tile was cold beneath his toes.

Rounding the corner into the kitchen, Dan went through the motions of making coffee--pouring water into the machine, getting a coffee filter out of the cabinet above his head, drifting away while his hands were busy. In a few minutes, he had a warm cup sitting in front of him and only the vaguest memory of actually making it.

He did that sometimes--floating away, phasing through the day like some sort of lanky ghost. Some days were better than others. Most were the same, though.

He hummed along absently to a song he hadn’t bothered to listen to in months, his scratchy vocals accompanied by the drip, drip of the tap and the slight creaking of his chair as he shifted around. The rain outside drummed a sparse beat onto the window pane, the clouds above not quite enough to hold back the weak sunlight now streaming through his curtainless windows.

His brain felt fuzzy, and Dan lifted the cup up to his mouth for the first time. It had gone cold. When had that happened? How long had he been sitting here, while echoes of Reinventing The Wheel To Run Myself Over bounced around in his head? Was that even the name, or had he gotten it confused with another, equally angsty title? Dan had to admit it was off a pretty decent record, but it reminded him too much of his awkward teenage years and hating himself and everyone else.

God, being a teenager was such shit. He didn’t even remember much of it, his brain clouded in a haze of My Chemical Romance and hoping that he would ever mean something to anybody and the first bitter realization that he wouldn’t. He could practically taste the first sip of lukewarm beer he’d had (he’d nearly spit it out), his first kiss with a girl (which, ironically, was exactly the moment he decided he didn’t like girls very much--at least, not in that way), and especially the day he realized that his friends seemed to have grown up without him--feeling separated from his peers and wanting desperately to figure himself out, et cetera. Fuck, was he spiraling? He was spiraling. Damnit.

Dan was suddenly jolted away from wherever he was by the buzzing of his phone on the table beside him. He didn’t remember bringing it out to the kitchen with him, but he supposed he did, at some point or another. He reckoned that was his boss calling, wondering where he was and why he hadn’t bothered to call in sick and why the hell he thought it was acceptable to miss another day of work and still expect to keep his job.

Dan answered it, not bothering to mask the apathy in his voice.

“Hello?”

“Dan. Where are you? Your shift started ten minutes ago, and I can’t ask Leslie to cover it again, she did that last week and she’s out of town today. You know this. Why aren’t you here?”

Dan sighed, quickly realizing that he had been breathing directly into the speaker. He cringed. “I’m sorry, Matt. I- I guess… Well, I don’t know what I guess but-”

Matt’s voice was tinny through the phone speakers, but the exasperation in it was clear. “This behavior isn’t acceptable, Dan. You know it isn’t, and I don’t want to have to let you go, but you realize that I don’t have much of a choice, you know that, right?”

“Sorry?”

“I’m going to give you one more chance to get yourself together, and then I’m afraid you’re going to lose your job, and you know more than anyone else I’d hate to do that.”

Dan’s boss assumed that Dan knew a lot of things, when really, he didn’t. He’d always got the impression that Matt had only put up with him because he did his job half-decently. When he showed up.

“You know I like you, Dan, but letting you go is really my only option, and if you can’t get your act together by the end of the week… Well, let’s just say you won’t be working at Asda any more, you understand what I’m saying, right?

“You’re lucky you don’t have to come to work today, because Tom just got here--but please, Dan, you know you have to come to work sooner or later.”

Matt hung up before Dan could say anything else.

Dan frowned, staring contemplatively at the wall opposite him. He was going to get fired, and Matt was probably going to do it both by finding ways to say the phrase “you know” a million times and also without saying the word “fired” at any point in the conversation. How would he pay the bills? He was already relying on pity checks from his parents to help with the monthly expenses that came from renting a tiny flat in the middle of London.

He sighed dejectedly and stood up, draining the cold dregs of coffee in his cup and placing it in the sink. He wasn’t sure whether the dishwasher was clean or dirty, and if he didn’t check now then he wouldn’t have to be angry at himself later for not unloading it if it did happen to be clean.

Dan made his way over to the couch, fighting back a shiver as he sat down. It was plenty warm in the flat--in fact, he could feel a sheen of sweat beginning on his forehead, but it still felt like his very core was freezing. He supposed there wasn’t really anything else he could do except get a blanket from his room and be content with lying somewhere other than his bed for once.

He suddenly resented himself for making coffee, knowing that the caffeine now in his system resulted in his body being physically tired enough to lounge around like a sack of lanky potatoes on the couch, but not enough to warrant actually going back to sleep. He wasn’t even sure whether he would be able to sleep, anyway--he’d gotten about five hours the night before, which Dan considered a luxury he was rarely able to indulge in. He didn’t even have dreams anymore, which he was okay with. Dreams were overrated, most of the time.

His laptop was on the coffee table in front of him. Reaching out and pulling it closer to him, Dan opened it with vague intentions of watching something interesting on Netflix. It was dead. He didn’t know where the charger was. It didn’t matter.

Closing the computer, he set it back down and sat back against the sofa, the sorry-looking couch cushions molding around his body almost perfectly. He could turn on the television, Dan supposed, but the commercials gave him headaches and he was at least 70% sure the only thing currently on were talk shows and football matches he didn’t care about.

Maybe he’d just rest here until his miserable excuse for a body needed food. It’s not like he had to go to work, or anything. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to sleep and that the position he was currently in would make his neck ache for hours afterwards. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

--

Dan stood in front of the fridge, dumbfounded. The milk had expired six days ago? When the hell had that happened? For God’s sake, he couldn’t even have a bowl of cereal without something getting in his way.

He’d finally gotten his arse off the couch once his stomach started growling--and now, with a refrigerator that was as empty as his stomach, he supposed that the time had finally come for him to leave the house for the first time in what felt like forever but was probably a bit closer to four days.

He was due to go grocery shopping anyway--he hadn’t been in almost two weeks and at this point the only edible things in the flat were (dry) cereal and a half-empty jar of peanut butter that he supposed he could eat with a spoon if he were particularly desperate. The corner store down the street was much too expensive, although nobody looked twice if you wandered in wearing pajama bottoms and looking like you hadn’t showered in a week.

Speaking of showers.

Dan supposed he had to take one at some point, and hadn’t his therapist (who he had sporadic appointments with) said that maintaining his physical health was just as important as maintaining his mental health? Some bullshit like that. He walked back through the kitchen, shucking his shirt off and tossing it somewhere towards the corner of the room. Maybe he’d go to the Tesco that was a bit further away, the one with much cheaper prices and better products. Maybe he’d even stop at the Starbucks across the street and indulge in coffee that didn’t taste like shit.

He padded into the bathroom, humming the harmony of All The Small Things and stepping out of his boxers. Good moods were rare, and came on as suddenly as they went away, and Dan knew he’d have to make the best of it.

Turning the shower on, Dan looked, really looked, at himself in the mirror while he waited for the water to warm. Sometimes he didn’t recognize himself in the mirror. Sometimes it felt like the person he was inside didn’t look like the person staring back in the mirror--which he always had a hard time explaining to other people, ones who didn’t understand the jerk in your stomach and the pounding in your skull when you looked in the mirror and a stranger was looking back.

Today, however, he thought he could see a sliver of himself in the dark eyes of his reflection, in the curly strands of his hair, in the way he held himself. Maybe something would actually happen today. Sticking his tongue out at his reflection and stepping under the hot stream of water, Dan suddenly remembered why normal people showered regularly. It felt fucking great.

He would stay in here forever, if he could.

--

Stepping out of the shower, Dan toweled himself off as he walked out of the bathroom, picking up the clothes on the floor that he’d worn earlier that day. He’d forgotten how nice it felt stepping out of the shower and wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel--and, knowing himself, he’d likely forget it again when it was time to bathe himself again in a few days. At least it was nice to rediscover the feeling.

His room was a mess. Dan really didn’t feel like cleaning it today, and besides--he already had a very important Adult Thing to do that involved leaving the house and spending money responsibly. Picking up a shirt off the floor, Dan surveyed it--there weren’t any questionable stains, and it wasn’t incredibly wrinkly, so that would have to do.

He picked up the first pair of jeans he found (because nobody even looked at trousers anyway) and stepped into them, hopping around about as gracefully as a sack of geese trying to escape from said sack. Dan crash-landed on the bed, muttered a quick, “Jesus Christ,” and stood up once more, attempting to get the trousers up his thigh. At least he was getting some exercise.

When all his clothes were properly on and he deemed his appearance acceptable enough to leave the flat, Dan stepped back into the hallway and immediately tripped over the towel he’d thrown on the floor prior to getting dressed. Cursing loudly and colorfully, Dan slung the towel over the open bathroom door (musty-smelling towels were the worst) and wandered around the flat in search of socks he could wear. He’d already checked his room, and the absence of clean socks only meant that a load of laundry was long overdue--so, naturally, Dan was looking for any excuse to delay that.

Finally locating a mismatched pair behind the couch and putting on his shoes, Dan grabbed a jacket from the coat rack (“A coat rack? Why in the bloody hell do I have to buy one of these when I could be getting, I don’t know, things I actually need?” Dan had asked after his mother insisted he get one--turns out they were actually pretty useful) and stepped outside, keys in hand.

Dan hadn’t taken more than a few steps before he had to turn back into the flat, silently scolding himself for forgetting his phone and leaving it who knows where because now he has to go look for it and- oh, it was just on the table. After a moment of hesitation, Dan grabbed his earbuds and shoved them in his pocket.

Leaving the flat (again) and locking the door, Dan felt a swell of pride in his chest. He was going outside, and he was going to do mature, adult things maturely. It wasn’t like he had a history of going out with the intention of spending his money wisely and coming back home with £50 worth of Maltesers, or anything.

Dan put his arms through the sleeves of his jacket while walking down the stairs (he was great at multitasking) and nodded at the security guard standing by the door once he reached the ground floor.

Striding outside, Dan inhaled, taking in the scent of the rain. The world was beautiful today.

The rain cascaded from the dark grey sky like a waterfall, splattering onto the sidewalk and dripping from trees. Dan was glad he’d abandoned straightening his hair years ago as the occasional drop smacked the top of his head and rolled down his scalp, managing to soak his hair and send shivers down his spine every time it happened.

Dan hailed a cab and spent a few minutes sitting in silence before putting in earbuds. After a few taps of his finger, Spotify was rolling and Dan stared out the window, lost in thought. The rain tapped against the window, and the grey world around him seemed to put his mind at ease.

Dan had created a playlist for days like this, with songs he loved but were mellow enough to create that rare feeling of peace that Dan was so quick to associate with the downpour around him. Using his hands to drum the beat of the music on his thighs, Dan gazed through the window contentedly until it was suddenly time to get out.

Stepping through the doors of the Tesco, Dan was immediately overwhelmed by the superficial glare of the lights on the shiny floors and the fact that there were people everywhere.

Dan wandered through the aisles, picking up packages of food that would last a long time, like instant noodles and frozen dinners. He also made sure he spent his money responsibly on essentials such as chocolate and… chocolate. And more coffee. He was pretty sure he’d used the last of it this morning.

When he’d managed to gather all the groceries he thought he’d need and avoid making eye contact with anyone who passed him in the aisles, Dan got in line behind some bloke in the SelfServ.

The man had an interesting tattoo on his shoulder, and Dan took the opportunity to study it closely as he waited in line. It was very intricate, with swirls of color that starkly contrasted his dark skin. What looked like gears for a machine of some sort were inked onto the man’s skin, and-

“What the hell do you think you’re looking at, mate?”

Dan was jerked back into reality by the stranger, who was now uncomfortably close to his face and glaring menacingly. “Nothing- I-I’m sorry, it’s just, I mean, you have a really, uh, cool tattoo, and I-”

The man, whose cash register had begun to beep, only stared at him for a second longer and returned to his purchases. As soon as he was done, Dan quickly scanned his items and left the store as soon as possible. Heart thundering, Dan rushed into the Starbucks next to the Tesco and collapsed into a booth in the corner of the coffee shop. That had been absolutely mortifying, this is why he didn’t go outside, that poor man had been just trying to shop and Dan had been ogling him like he was a display in a shop window, what had he been thinking?

Dan forced himself to take deep, calming breaths as he surveyed his surroundings. The few customers who had turned to stare at the lanky bloke bursting haphazardly into the coffee shop had returned to their drinks. In fact, it was fairly quiet in the shop, with nothing but the soft murmurs of people not wanting to disturb the peace and the quiet hum of coffee makers putting out the scent of freshly ground coffee beans.

Stomach growling, Dan remembered that after he’d realized that there hadn’t been any food in the fridge, he hadn’t actually taken the time to eat something amongst all his impulsive decisions (such as taking a shower and leaving the house with no prior plans to do so. Who did that?).

In the midst of all this thinking, Dan suddenly realized that he was in a coffee shop and could literally buy something to eat right at this very second. Standing up and walking over to the line, Dan contemplated what he should get. A muffin? He was going to get coffee, obviously, but as his tired idiot brain didn’t realize this morning, caffeine on an empty stomach made Dan want to vomit. Which was a lovely prospect, in all consideration, but Dan still decided to get some food as well.

He’d just stepped up to the counter and turned to look up at the menu when his eyesight was suddenly bombarded with pale skin and black hair and eyes that were blue-green-yellow and a shy smile that made his stomach do backflips.

“Er, hello,” the barista said, completely unaware of the apparent effect he was having on Dan, “I’m Phil. What can I get for you today?”

[l0chn3ss]

Morpho Menelaus

Written for @mastar-week MaStar Week 2018 Day 2: Training

She was born with ash blonde hair and eyes that matched neither of her parents’. The wee tuff of grayish yellow was to be expected: her grandpa had always said that blond ran through the veins of the family. But the eyes? They were a dark earth, a swirl of brown that wasn’t present in either of her family lines.

“So she has a soulmate in this lifetime,” the doctor chuckled. She passed over the newborn daughter to the father. “Be wary for people with sunshine eyes and milk chocolate hair,” she teased.

Spirit sniffed indignantly. “My little Maka is too good for them, who ever they are.” He went on a tangent while simultaneously coddling her all at once.

They, the entire population of humans weren’t always so certain of the presence of a soulmate. Some were born without a trace of a bond, while others’ were so carefully hidden in plain sight that it was often times never realized. But a strong history of genetics and a well kept record often suggested the fact when the child’s eyes opened for the first time. And then when it changed colors? Indisputable.

Maka’s hair grew different with time, getting more bright and yellow as she grew older rather than in the opposite direction. Save for the strange green tint that she would get every summer from swimming classes, her locks became consistently lighter with age. With her mother’s blonde-turned-brown and her father’s tomato red, Maka hardly looked connected to any of her parents. She didn’t mind all too much after a while, because color was only just one thing. The shape of her face and outline of her features were the proof that settled her doubts.

Forgetting about the soulmate bond, Maka was rudely reminded in one college morning. Just a quarter past nine she shocked herself awake. There was a tingling sensation in her skin, and a presence that shadowed over her eyes. She leapt towards her bathroom mirror, seeing her irises already midway changed. There was a drop of wispy liquid like food coloring dispersing in water, but rather than clear, it was her brown that was fading away.  Replacing it was a shock of electric blue, closer to neon and brighter than the morning sun trying to flood her bathroom.

Maka couldn’t look away for a long time, until the transformation was completed and not an ounce of chocolate brown was left in the mirror. Then she screamed loudly in her dorm, waking her roommate and adjourning neighbors. “Are you fucking kidding me? I have team portraits at one!”

Her friends all cooed at the change, calling the color beautiful, but only after they were done scolding her noisiness. It was unlike anything that any of them had ever naturally seen-- hard to miss.

“Well, it will be easier to find them now right? Your soulmate.”

She groaned, “A soulmate is troublesome. They could be halfway around the world and I may never find them. What if I don’t even like them once I do. Why wait?”

“Or maybe they’re close, you know?”

“I guess that’s just the problem. I really don’t know.”

She pettily wore her sunglasses for the rest of the day, even indoors, refusing to acknowledge the bright blue.

A few weeks later, her volleyball coach announced a joint practice session with a school close by. They would be coming here for the next few months as their school’s facilities were in construction, so tomorrow would be a test run.

“I expect you all to be on your best behavior,” the coach glared at Maka’s group, playfully. “That includes you girls.”

A cascade of giggles followed.

She came to practice the next day armed with extra tape and water, for courtesy. But before she could step into the room, her friends swept her away in hushed tones.

“Everyone’s talking about it, Maka. You won’t believe it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Are all the boys hot or something?”

Tsubaki and Liz met eyes, but Patty was the one who answered her. “Not that, my dude.” She reached over to gently lift Maka’s sunglasses off of her nose. “One of them... their hair is blue.”

As Maka ran off, she heard behind her, “None of us can catch his eyes though! It might not be him!”

Her heart raced and her hands were shaking. The group of girls crowding at the door saw Maka and parted like a curtain. Such a motion attracted the eyes of the newcomers, but the one person that she wanted to see was already staring back at her. Blue hair, and liquid gold eyes.

She couldn’t hold back her first thoughts, letting them slip out and into the silent gym.

“Ew.”

“Ew.”

Those were the first words that he heard from his soulmate’s mouth.

She was out of breath as if she’d just sprinted a marathon, hair tossed and her clothes askew. And her eyes, her wild and bright blue eyes, were wide.

As if she was slapped, she winced, realizing what she’d just said to a stranger. The girl doubled back and started stammering, bumbling over her words and looking down to her feet instead of at him. The silence that had formed in the gym caused her words to bounce back loudly, echoing. In the meantime, Black Star’s eyes darted from her face to her hair, and from her hair to her to her ears, and from her ears to her nose, and from her nose to her still rambling mouth.

She was an adorable specimen. While small, her build was noticeably lithe, yet athletic. She stood with her feet apart, hands unable to keep still, and shoulders confidently squared even as she was doubting herself. The other teammates around them watched her, entertained-- lovely so.

Black Star, after taking her in, slowly revealed a big, shit-eating-grin. He also couldn’t hold back his thoughts, showing them in the form of a drawled, “Awwww shi-et.”

His cackling stopped the girl in her tracks.

So maybe in hindsight, it wasn’t the correct reaction to the situation, but Star had been waiting for her-- his soulmate-- for so long. He dyed his hair weeks ago because he was tired of the people who pretended they were  his match, revealed otherwise in more ways than one. A life partner should not try to fit themselves into a mold, and on that note, they shouldn’t not force him to either.

Still, he was impatient to find the person destined to be his. The blue that he chose was a desperate move, not as desperate as what he’s seen on the internet. There were people who dyed their hair to show numbers and addresses, even going as far as to print obscene words or icons out of spite. He decided that the color was harmless enough, but wild and unignorable, unique and matched the blond that his soulmate had. If anything, Black Star was the one who was taking the brunt of his decision. He wanted to find them though, at least meet them once in their lifetime.

Luckily, the host school’s coach stumbled onto the scene then.

She took one glance at Star’s hair, and in an act of mercy, she called out, “Albarn and, uh.”

“Braxton,” he supplied.

The coach nodded. “You two, out of my gym. Don’t come back until you’ve had a proper chat.” With that, she met eyes with the girl, Albarn, and tilted her chin towards the door. “Out.”

Reluctantly, Albarn followed Star out where they settled beside the wall. He didn’t plan what to say next after they’d left, much less expect to have a chance alone so suddenly, but he couldn’t erase the smile off of his face for the life of him. She sat an arm’s length from him, and he scooched closer to make up the difference.

“So,” he offered. “You’re a volleyball player, too, huh, Albarn?”

“Maka,” she said quickly.

“Huh?”

“My name. It’s Maka. Albarn is my last name.”

“Oh,” he replied, but undeterred. “That’s a nice name, too!”

She thanked him, uncertainty laced in her tone. The feeling that she was being too guarded weighed on Black Star. He wondered why it was so, or why it bothered him so much. Maka showed she was impatient in the form of her body language, but not in the way that he was to get to know her. She continued to glance into the gym where their friends and team were warming up, stretching and slapping on their gear. Did he really spark that little interest?

“So, you got a partner?”

Maka sighed, finally looking at him since they’d left the building. He could tell that she was finally studying him. “Not right now, no.”

“Great! Let’s—”

She cut him off, voice already tired. “Come on, Braxton. Are you serious? We’ve only just met.”

“I know,” he tried. “My friends call me Black Star, not Brax. And why wait? I already know that I’m into you.” He saw her withdraw. “I’m serious, I am.”

Was he earnest enough? Did he sound firm?

She hesitated for too long for him to be certain.

“I’ve been waiting for you my whole life,” he said softly. “We don’t have to jump into it. Just be my friend. Just try for a little.”

Maka uncrossed her arms, letting out a breath that she was holding for too long.

“Alright. I- I’m sorry. I’m not usually this… wound up.”

He wanted to touch her hand, badly.

She continued, “This is just a really big surprise. And uh, your hair. No offense, but what is that color?”

Black Star ran a hand through the top, chuckling. “You noticed it though, right? Was that why you said what you did?” Her nod confirmed it. “It worked the way it was supposed to, then! Well, it definitely looks better as your eye color, doesn't it? I dunno. Fuck it, man, I was desperate. I wanted to find you that bad.”

A faint blush splashed her cheeks. “But, why?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Find out with me.”

Maka mused it in her head. “Alright, fine. But just to make sure, on three, we say the date that the blue appeared. You remember it, right?”

He nodded.

“Ok good. Ready? On three. One, two—”

“Wait, like on three or on go?”

Maka squinted while Star gave a sheepish grin.

“Three. One, two, three.”

“February seventh,” they said simultaneously, unsurprised.

“I don’t know why I even bothered,” Maka sighed. “It was pretty obvious what this is.”

“So, we can keep seeing each other?”

Smiling, she answered, “Why not. You’re not terrible.”

“And we’re soooulmaaates?”

“Don’t push it.”

“Come on, say it.”

“Fine, we’re soulmates.”

“Awwww shi-et,” Black Star said, breaking into another wide grin.

[94pigeons]

Rez Day, Crucible, and a Warlock

For @newbabyfly, I think I may have figured out why Stoom changed teams in the middle of a match...

“Hey, Lynn! Lynn! Lynnnn!” Mihovanna’s voice slowly abolished the walls between Lynn-3’s peaceful thoughts to the chaotic room around her.

Miha had called her to a meeting, which was very uncharacteristic of the titan. Well maybe not, but it was uncharacteristic of Lynn to accept the invitation, as the warlock tended to neglect the responsibility of maintaining, let alone enjoying, time with Mihovanna. It was what they were to supposed to discuss that drew Lynn to accept the meeting. Well, “discuss” is a bit of a generous term when applying it to the current events. The meeting had been fairly one sided. When Lynn had sat down on her knees, Miha had gone off on a tangent about Ymir (their fireteam hunter), and her resurrection day upcoming tomorrow. The titan flailed her arms about in exuberant gestures while she had explained her plan to make Ymir’s day one of the best she, in the words of Mihovanna, “will ever have… until next year. Probably.” Somehow the titan managed to skim over the fact that she was rezzed before Oryx’s fall, which meant that the chances of one upping anything her previous fireteam had done would be unlikely. Her old fireteam had way more time to get rez days right.

Lynn had zoned out around the part where Miha had talked about bribing the Drifter. Not because it was a stupid idea (The Drifter did not strike Lynn as moral, and would probably accept a bribe), but because the idea seemed simply barbaric. But what was she to expect from a titan? A civilized plan? Oh please. The class prided themselves on their rambunctious, loud, nearly disrespectful nature. If there was such thing as a good plan, it came from a warlock. No exceptions.

So when Lynn had been unpleasantly pulled out of her thoughts by the obnoxious repetition of her name, there was only one good response. “Let me handle it, Mihovanna”.

The Titan’s smile grew, excitement glimmering in her eyes. “Don’t worry!” Miha said, puffing out her chest in pride. “I already took care of it! I figured with you so busy with the whole fireteam Lamril situation and all, I’d better...” The Titan’s voice became softer and nearly incoherent as Lynn tuned her out.

Of course Miha had dealt with the situation. She was what, a year old? What else was she ready to do but cause problems for her.

Without another word, Lynn got up and left. As the door closed behind her, she could still hear Mihovanna talking.

The next day….

As a part of Ymir’s rez day, Mihovanna had scheduled a “special” Cruicible match with her “friend” supervising. It took much reassurance to get the Awoken hunter to consent to the plans, but they got her to agree, and together, they prepped for a match. When the three of them had arrived, the enemy fireteam was already there. By the looks of things, they were doing a four versus four match.

The enemy team consisted of 3 hunters, and a warlock. Two of the hunters were awoken: one male, and one female. The female hunter looked very nervous, her purple locks kept cascading out from behind her ears. As they did though, she quickly scooped them back up and nestled them back behind her ear. Lynn tagged her as a kinderguardian. Possibly an easy target. Possibly. One couldn’t be too sure when it came to guardians.

The other awoken, the male, radiated a completely different energy than the smaller awoken hunter. He stood, broad shoulders back and arms crossed. Four lines of black paint (designating that he belonged to the Sixe family) fell down of either side of his face, from just under his eyes to down below his ears. This man had an aura of confidence. Lynn took careful note of him and moved on the the next hunter in line.

The next hunter, who, unlike the other two, was human. The frizzy bob cut blonde hair  gave the girl a sassy look. She gave Lynn a cocky smile with a tilt of her head, and whispered something to the warlock at her side.

The Warlock, like Lynn, was an exo, and appeared to be female. She, like the awoken male, seemed to be very confident. There was also something different about the Warlock across from her. Whatever it was, made Lynn shiver.

Turning her head, Lynn assessed her own team. Next to her was Ymir. Outfitted in armor with a rather pricey shader, Malchesidec Bramble, equipped to it. Lynn was almost excited to see Ymir don her helmet, which the hunter fiddled with in her hands. Ymir was intimidating when one could not see the emotion she expressed. Her face was light blue, and her straight bob cut hair was a darker version of the same color. Lynn noted Ymir’s twitching face. She was nervous. The white, barely visible U between her eyebrows was pushed together in worry. Her eyes, also blue, were skimming the enemy team. She too seemed to be worried about the outcome of the game. More so than Lynn was.

Next over was Mihovanna, decked out in chucky armor and covered the shader Ymir had given Miha when it was her rez day. Lynn recalls that Ymir had thought Metallic Sunrise complemented Mihovanna’s dark complexion. As much as the warlock hated to admit it, the hunter was absolutely right. The shader did look good on the titan, made her look experienced. But she wasn’t, and anyone could tell, especially at the present moment. Mihovanna was not assessing the enemy team in the little time she was granted to do so, but instead was whispering to her ghost, Pip, a wild grin on her face.

Lynn shifted her gaze to the spot next to Miha, and to her dread, discovered it was empty.

“Five more seconds” Lynn’s ghost, Ophilia, said.

Sighing, the warlock slid her helmet over her metallic head, and pulled her weapon off her back, getting ready for transmat.

Looking over at her fireteam, they were doing the same thing. Ymir exchanging a shy smile with the enemy team before she slid her helmet over her head and tugged her hood over it, shielding her helmet from Lynn’s view.

Then they were transmitted in. Over comms, Mihovanna let out a whoop of excitement as she charged forward. Ymir gave a barely audible chuckle, and rushed off to catch up with the titan. Lynn just sighed, and trudged forward. This would be a bad day.

Five minutes later…

Lynn and her team were getting crushed. Five minutes and no backfill was provided. Ymir was frustrated. Mihovanna kept charging in, having a blast but refusing to acknowledge the consequences of doing so. And Lynn? Lynn was pissed. Getting dragged into losing a game because of Mihovanna’s poor planning skills.

And the enemy team showed no mercy.

They split up in teams of two. The warlock and the frizzy haired hunter were together, and the awoken kinderguardian and the awoken male were paired up.

Anytime Lynn and her team attempted to take advantage and kill the awoken kinderguardian, her partner would swoop in out of nowhere and absolutely obliterate anyone within sight. Like some sort of protective papa bear.

After failing and trying multiple times with the awoken team, they decided to try and single out the other pair. They soon discovered that they had made a mistake trying to fight the hunter warlock duo. They had made a big mistake.

Once red had showed up on Miha’s radar, the titan charged in, getting stabbed in the face by the frizzy haired hunter. Standing over Mihovanna’s corpse, the hunter paused. Her helmet tipped to the side, and she dashed around a nearby corner. Frustrated, Lynn and Ymir gave chase, eager to add the hunter to their meager kill count.

After rounding the corner that the frizzy haired hunter had just a moment before, the duo stopped. The warlock stood confidently, blocking their path. The hunter was on her left tossing her knife into the air, catching it, then repeating the process.

The warlock laughed as she unleashed her Nova bomb on the two guardians. Lynn managed to barely avoid the Nova Bomb, taking massive amounts of damage. Ymir wasn’t so lucky. Scrambling backwards, Lynn fired her gun. It was in vain though, and the frizzy haired hunter flung her knife towards the injured warlock. It embedded itself between Lynn’s optics, smothering out Lynn’s last bit of health.

Back at spawn, morale was low and silent. Miha was in shock that she had just been stabbed by a knife, and Ymir was waiting for Lynn, knowing it would be in vain.

Ymir’s ghost, Antony, broke the silence. “A member of the enemy fireteam has left” he said, nonchalantly. “Looks like you three might have a chance after all.”

Miha laughed. “We’re gonna win now!”

Lynn stayed quiet and let Miha get her hopes up. It was good for the team. But then a notification popped up on her hud that read: “A new member has joined the fireteam”. It was quickly followed by a transmat next to fireteam Hazard.

As the special effects faded away, the fireteam’s eyes came to rest on a familiar figure. To their horror the three came to recognize the new guardian as the warlock from the enemy team. Out of the corner of Lynn’s eye, she saw Ymir spread her feet and raise her ebony pulse rifle to her shoulder, ready to shoot the warlock.

The warlock seemed just as surprised as Lynn was, looking around, confused.

Miha laughed again. “I told you we would win!”

After the match…

They didn’t win. But with the assistance of the warlock, Stoomdorm-2, their team had gained momentum. Lynn had to admit, finally getting kills felt good, even if they were just assists.

Miha was a bit down, since she was so confident that the team would win after Stoom had joined. Turns out, Miha had paid nearly all her glimmer to hire some shady guy in the tower to mix up the enemy teams and give her team the unfair advantage. It happened a bit late. But worth it. The expressions of Stoom’s former allies when they realized she had switched teams was priceless.

Mihovanna finished up the day going out to some obscure restaurant down in the city. They sat down at the table, and Miha grilled Ymir with questions about her day.

“What surprised you the most?”

“Probably when you found me at the memorial.”

“What was your favorite part of the day.”

“That unsupervised Crucible match.”

Lynn choked on her drink. “What? How the hell was that the best part of the day?”

“That other fireteam…” Ymir chuckled. “Reminded me of the good old days.” Smiling she took another sip of her water, lost in fond memories.

Miha, as if on queue, absolutely obliterated the mood. “Yeaaah, I remember you telling me about those guys. One of them is at the memorial, right?”

Lynn flinched, knowing this topic all to well, and the sadness it could bring to fireteam Hazard.

“Yes Miha.” How Ymir had so much patience with the titan, Lynn had no idea. “Kahlil was his name.”

Lynn was eager to get off this topic. She glanced around the room, trying to discover a reason to change the discussion. Luckily, it was easily found.

“Oh my Lord…” Lynn said. “Over there near the bar.” She gestured to a table with three hunters and a warlock sitting at it.

Miha exclaimed rather loudly, “It’s them!” The room grew quiet, and the occupants watched Mihovanna abruptly stand up, and stop over to Stoom’s table. The room regained it’s normal ambiance after Miha had sat down at the table with the other fireteam.

Lynn glanced at Ymir, who chuckled. “Nice save, but it could have been smoother, Lynn.”

Snorting the warlock rolled her eyes. “Well you seemed so fond of them, I feel like I should have pointed them out to you.” Lynn paused to take a sip of her beverage. “You should probably go over there, make sure Miha doesn't tell that warlock about that bribing stunt she pulled.”

Grinning, Ymir stood. “If you insist…” She chuckled as she sauntered over to join Miha and the other fireteam.

Lynn just leaned back in her chair, relishing the time she had to herself, and the laughter that filled the room.

[kusunogatari-a]

[ SasuHinaMonth Day Four: Marriage Alliance ] [ @sasuhinamonth ] [ Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Fugaku, Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hiashi, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: To Rule Them All ]

“...you know he will object to this.”

“He objects to everything I say. I’ve grown used to his bullheadedness. It’s why I decided to talk to you first - maybe you can help him see reason.”

Sitting back, Itachi strokes a hand along his chin. The wheels of his custom-built contraption jostle slightly at the movement. “...is there no other way?”

“My son...I know you are resigned to your future. I cannot in good conscience offer you as a suitor given your limited capabilities. Best to plan ahead and simply...skip the inevitable. If we have Sasuke marry Hinata, he will step up into your place when...the time comes. That way, she will not be left a widower. We will have an Uchiha king to produce heirs, and ensure someone foreign-born does not inherit the throne entirely.”

Masking his distaste of his father’s opinions smoothly, the crown prince muses in silence for a time. “...I agree, it makes the most sense. But Sasuke clings to his freedom. He will not relinquish it so easily.”

“I know. It’s why this news best come from you - he hates you less than he hates me.”

“He does not hate you. It’s all a matter of circumstance.”

Fugaku huffs a humorless laugh. “...perhaps you are right. But either way, we need this alliance. We’ve money in our treasury, but no land - we swell at our borders. The Hyūga kingdom is sparsely populated. Integrating will help fill their coffers, and give our growing populace a place to thrive.”

“And what of Hiashi? Will he see this same reason, or refuse his heiress to a second born?”

“I’m to bring the offer to his attention in the coming week when he arrives. Surely the plan’s logic will appeal to him. He is also desperate for something to change. If nothing else, that may sway him.”

“...very well.” Hands finding his wheels, Itachi offers, “I will speak to Sasuke. But I make no guarantees, Father.”

Waving a weary hand, Fugaku merely replies, “Do what you can.”

Rolling from the man’s study, Itachi takes to the halls. Surely his little brother will be out of doors on a day like today. His first guess takes him to the archery range, and it’s there he finds Sasuke.

Drawing his bowstring, the younger prince takes a moment to aim before letting the bolt fly. It lands with a solid thwack against the target, up slightly and to the left of the bulls-eye.

“You still favor to the left.”

Turning at Itachi’s voice, Sasuke brightens. “I’m getting better at compensating. How did you get out here by yourself?”

“Pure will.” Folding his hands atop his lap, Itachi gives a soft smile. “...I wished to speak with you - I knew I’d find you here.”

Expression dulling, his brother gives a nod. “...I can tell already it’s not good news.”

“It depends on how you look at it.” After a pause, he sighs and offers, “...Father has found a match for you.” As Sasuke bristles, he holds up a hand, begging silence. “Please, let me finish before you go off. It’s a neighboring land. They’ve large borders, but little money. Father hopes the exchange of coin for veritable space will be profitable for us all. We can relieve our overcrowding, and the Hyūga will be able to repay several debts.”

“But you’re the eldest!”

“I am also dying, Sasuke.”

The blunt reply stutters him so hard, he takes half a step back. “That...that’s not -”

“It is unfair to offer a dying man as a husband. And Father knows it would lead to an outsider having full control of the throne. Best to have you take the role instead. You’re fitter, younger, and -”

“And unwilling,” the boy growls.

“Sasuke…” Itachi heaves a heavy breath. “...you know as well as I that neither of our lives have ever been our own. Since birth, they have belonged to our people. And this is how you can best serve them. Thousands are counting on you.”

“I never asked for this.”

“No one does.”

“...what about Shisui? He’s third in line.”

“And thus even less appealing for a first-born heiress than you,” Itachi replies dryly. “We’re already down on our offer, given my condition. I doubt Hiashi will make any further allowances.”

Pacing as an outlet for his temper, Sasuke scowls. “...did Father really not have the gall to tell me himself?”

“He knows well enough what you think of him. Thus he assumed it would be an easier blow, coming from me.”

“Tch.” The younger brother comes to a stop. “...am I even to meet her before this is all said and done?”

“I am not sure - Father said Hiashi is to visit in the coming week, but said nothing of whether the princess will accompany him.”

Running a hand back through his hair, Sasuke exhales a sigh. “...we both know you’d make a better king than I.”

“It would appear the gods have other plans.”

Worry colors Sasuke’s face. “...there has to be something…”

“Perhaps. But for now, we must prepare for the possibility.” Itachi reaches a hand, which Sasuke takes. “...this may be selfish of me, but...if nothing else, Sasuke...do this for me. I will not get this chance. I know it’s not what you want...but it’s what must be done. I will assist you for as long as I am able. But eventually...you must face this on your own.”

For a moment, something mists over Sasuke’s eyes, swallowing thickly. “...I’ll try.”

“That is all I can ask.”

For the next week, Sasuke avoids his father like a plague-ridden rat. Instead, he spends any free time with his brother: guiding his wheeled chair around the palace grounds.

“Do you know anything about her?”

“I’m afraid only what Father has told me. She is short of stature, but…” Itachi’s nose wrinkles. “...’well-filled’, as he put it. Long, dark hair; fair skin; pale eyes. Quiet, and unobtrusive. I have hopes you will get along.”

“So long as she’s quiet as you say,” Sasuke mumbles. He’s known his fair-share of loud, obnoxious young women.

When a white-painted carriage finds its way to the castle entrance, Sasuke spies from an upper window. Hiashi disembarks first, giving a rather stiff-looking greeting to his host. A few moments later, a second figure emerges. Palms smooth at a lilac-shade dress before folding at her front. A cascade of dark hair, highlighting amethyst in the sun, ripples as she walks.

She’s here.

Sighing and realizing there’s little avoiding it, he makes his way back down to the first floor. Itachi waits inside, turning as he approaches. “It would appear you’re in luck.”

“Am I?” Sasuke asks dryly.

Shooting his brother a look, there’s only a moment before Itachi turns his attentions to the opening doors. Smoothing his face into a welcoming smile, he bows as best he’s able in his chair. “Your majesty,” he greets Hiashi. “And princess Hinata. A pleasure to meet you at last.”

Eyeing the crown prince and his apparatus, Hiashi does little to hide his distaste...something that bristles his brother. “...indeed.”

“My sons,” Fugaku offers. “Itachi, and Sasuke.”

A nod. “It would seem they know already of my daughter, Hinata - her younger sister Hanabi elected to remain at home.”

Beside Hiashi, Hinata gives a small bow, expression somber.

Ever so slightly, Sasuke’s brow furrows. Glancing between father and daughter, it doesn’t take much for his keen eyes to notice their disparity.

“Now, I believe we’ve matters to discuss?” Hiashi addresses Fugaku.

“Yes...yes we do.” A pause - Hinata, apparently, has no other supervision beyond her father. “...shall we have the children join us?”

“I think not. They can remain here.”

Another hesitation - apparently Fugaku wasn’t expecting Hiashi to leave his daughter so unattended. “...very well. This way.” Giving his sons pointed looks, he guides his guest toward his study.

An awkward silence falls.

“...lady Hinata? Would you care to move to the rear gardens?”

Jumping slightly, as though not expecting to be addressed, Hinata blinks. “...I...would like that, yes.”

Nodding, Itachi looks to Sasuke, who takes to guiding his chair without a word. Together the trio leave through a second exit, finding themselves in the gardens. “I always prefer being out of doors,” the older brother muses. “The air is clearer, and the sun far more welcome than dreary halls.”

Another pause, then Hinata answers, “...I agree.”

Smiling at her pleasantly, he makes to speak again, but comes up short as a servant calls. “Your mother wishes to see you, my prince.”

Looking slightly confused, Itachi nonetheless starts back toward the door. “I will return shortly.”

The younger pair watch him go. Giving Sasuke a glance, Hinata can’t help but notice the worry upon his face. “...forgive me if this is...if this is too forward, but…”

“He’s been ill for several years now.”

The girl starts, clearly not expecting a reply.

Sasuke pays her no mind. “...he was fine as a child. But as he got older, he began to slow. Then his legs weakened, and he rarely stands now. There’s a fear he’ll not live much longer.”

Silence.

“...I...I see…”

“...so, as you might guess...he’s not the one Father intends to offer to you.”

“...I admit, I...had a feeling. So, then you…?”

Disquiet reaching a fever pitch, Sasuke takes to moving to alleviate it. He relocates to a bed of flowers, fiddling with a bloom absentmindedly. “...I apologize if it’s not what you intended. I...we didn’t mean to mislead you.”

Stepping up beside him, Hinata gazes at the blossoms. “I don’t feel misled. I’ve known for...a long time that I would be assigned a husband. I suppose then, in the end...it’s not of much difference to me who it is. I’ve no choice to begin with.”

Dark eyes move to their corners to glance at her. As before, a sad aura seems to coat her. She looks so...resigned. He’s seen the same look in his brother’s eyes: tied to a fate they never wanted.

Something clenches in his gut.

“...if it’s any comfort...I didn’t ask for this, either. But…” A pause, and he snaps the stem of the flower he’s been gripping. A hand tucks it behind her ear, feeling her stiffen. The action feels a little silly, but suitable nonetheless. “...I will do my best to make this work. As my brother says...it’s not just us we’ve got to worry about. At first he meant our people but...I suppose that means each other, too.”

Looking up to him in surprise, pale eyes widen, clearly not expecting his reaction. “...I…” Softening, she manages a small smile. “...then I...will give effort in equal measure.”

Giving a small lift of his lips in return, Sasuke can’t help but hope this might not be as bad as he’d feared. “...want to keep walking? There’s a lot more to see out here, and...something tells me we’ll be here a while.”

“I’d like that. My mother kept a large garden before she passed. Flowers are...dear to me that way.”

“...then consider these yours. My first gift to you.”

“But -?”

“I’ve no skill with plants anyway...I’m sure they’ll fare far better under your gentle hand.”

“...thank you.”

     Word count: 1916      Cumulative: 4706      WELP this is a day late, but also about twice as long as usual, so...hopefully that makes up for it ^^; I’ll get to today’s a little later so I don’t burn myself out. Everyone likes a classic kingdoms AU, right? Right! Honestly this plot probably could have used another thousand words or so (or a lot more tbh) to not seem as rushed as it is, but...I’ve gotta save some mojo for the rest of the month, lol - who knows? Maybe I’ll make a proper fic of it later, but for now it’s on its own~

[erickadracula]

The last good-bye

They were in one of the great halls that overlooked the beautiful garden of English roses, which recalled the times when Abraham used to live there. They were just blooming after a long, dark winter. The sun's rays were warmer and the days slightly longer.

"Why have you asked me to meet you here? , it is something unusual of you, grandfather" Willhem adored the frescoes of that room and the harmony in the decoration. High ceilings in cream color with golden motifs and pastel colors with frescoes of deities and gloriously dressed characters enjoying mass parties full of abundance, were magnificently captured. Of all the residences, this was the least somber.

The Van Helsing State was a set of four residences divided, according to their use and time of the year. The main one was where the family members lived and the other three served to guard relics, extensive libraries, art or as offices and chambers to receive ambassadors, politicians, philosophers and nobility and sometimes, royalty.

They were in the spring-summer residence, almost a month before Van Helsing officially began the Easter celebrations.

"There are less people here who can spy on us, most of the servants are in the main residence.”

Abraham had always been a cautious man, but he could not deny that with age he had also become a little paranoid.

He saw his beloved grandson, putting on his three-piece suit and using his distinctive cane as if he were a dandy. He had grown so much, he had become a faithful portrait of his father and sometimes forgets that he is not talking to his son, but to his grandson.

His platinum blonde curls, his mustache perfectly waxed, with harmonious features, he might look like an angel, if he didn’t have a scar on the eyelid of his left eye. He was a stocky man who liked extreme sports and adrenaline in its purest form.

"Grandpa, thank you for entrusting me with this mission of God. You know that I am proud to belong to this institution."

He kissed the hand of the person who had offered him so much wisdom and challenges. Abraham had raised him to be at the same level and likeness of his deceased son and Willhem had a complete devotion.

"You are my pride, I know that you will do a good job and you are willing to run any necessary risk in this mission."

His trip to Africa was not just a diplomatic visit, but a covert mission.

The Dutch ambassador of the Congo had something in his possession that was required for his mission, a map with coordinates that could give the location of the lost city of Atlantis. Inquiring for years, there were only two books that contained what appeared to be a map of that fictional place and Abraham had one of them in his possession but it was incomplete. He had bought it in one of his expeditions in an antique market. Having almost scarce information and hiring secret investigators, he could find the location of the other map several decades later.

"How can we know that we can trust him?”

They were very troubled months, there were many social nonconformities and were difficult times where there was no certainty of anything or anyone. There was also much fear of the monsters, and in some regions, there were rumors that they were causing unfortunate massacres and events.

"We just know, he owes me many favors. And he was the only one who found the person who had this. "

He pointed to the book with worn leather cover that had as its title a series of indecipherable characters.

"When we have this in our power, it is when you say we will embark?" Showing some displeasure at having to depend on others to carry out things, maybe he was not entirely brilliant but he was a man of action.

"Yes, as you know I do not know how many years it will take us, it could be hundreds, but it will be necessary to kill the monsters and especially with Dra ..." Putting his hands together and making faces of displeasure when trying to pronounce that name.

"With Dracula. Are you saying that there is no chance that I would beat him in a close-quarter battle? What are the chances of beating him with this object? "

Abraham loved to see the disposition of his beloved boy.

"If the legends are true, he would perish without any problem. It's something so powerful that it wiped out an entire city. "

That vision was really terrifying and grandiose, Willhem felt like his body was filled with an emotion too difficult to stop.

They heard a few steps and suddenly, the great doors opened wide. It was Dagmar, who entered with her elegant and provocative step, behind her came the butler as well, his face visibly agitated.

"Excuse me, I told the madam that I had to announce her before, but she did not listen.”

Van Helsing,throwing a quick glance of boredom at his grandson, quickly changed his expression to one of joy.

"Oh Daggy, my favorite ornament, how have you been? I'm glad you dignified to say goodbye to me. "

Dagmar made her entrance dressed in a white business suit, with some inspiration in the costumes of the first explorers of Africa, with a matching hat and a cascade of pearls around her stylized neck.

“Don’t come to me with hypocresies dear, but I'm always perfect and you, squeaking as usual?"

The relationship between the two of them had been at first honey on flakes, until she had discovered the true perception that he had about her, and the position that everyone handled in that house, the sun king and the other planets that surrounded him.

"I like this girl, her audacity and her lack of consideration towards elders, I like it" pointing to her while she sat next to her husband.

"Oh don’t start, you look like children. Without further ado grandfather, we will have to retire. The driver is already waiting for us to take us to the hangar. "

"You already told him my conditions, my love, that I want to be active in the missions. I no longer want to be just the companion" Stroking his shoulders as she lay her chin on one of them and watching Abraham laughingly.

“Yes, he already knows sweetheart, I think it's fair that you also take part in this"

Van Helsing hiding his annoyance, swallowed hard. "I'm glad that you're finally taking your role seriously"

"Well, we have to leave" Dagmar felt more than resentment in her heart for that antiquity as she called him in private, and it was difficult for her to contain herself "I hope he takes good care of her.”

That separation was painful, in spite of being a rather cold mother, her little one was the only being in that house to whom she could show love and of whom she felt genuinely concerned.

"You do not have to ask me, you know I would give my life for my great-granddaughter" feeling slightly assaulted by that comment.

Willhem hated being in the middle of that field of fire before two such explosive personalities, he had learned to get all of that out during in his workouts and always kept the composure.

“I did not talk about my daughter" lying to herself made her feel like she was winning some kind of battle against him. “I spoke of my mare, I already left the servants the instructions for her care" Looking at the butler who watched them silently.

Van Helsing was baffled at that clarification while she gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. He hated being approached too much, except by his grandson.

Leaving him a red lipstick mark, she just smiled as she saw the surprised face of her husband. It was her little revenge.

"You already know that I detest these unnecessary expressions of affection" he said while cleaning the place where he had been kissed without realizing that he was getting even more stained.

"At least you did not say it was Judas' kiss. Is it because of the connections my family has with royalty.” She straightened her hat and took her purse, “or because my grandfather was a great friend of yours? Oh yes, thanks to him you could work for the queen, I had forgotten. "

Going to the exit, and stopping just before to make him, with a cynical pose, a farewell signal before disappearing in the hall.

Once again the two alone, returning the sight towards one another, felt that whatever happened in that trip would be the last thing.

"Dear boy, take great care of yourself" somehow he felt a great weight in letting him go and he couldn’t explain it. "I'll wait for your return."

"Please do not take it the wrong way, do not listen to Dagmar, and please take good care of our daughter. If something would happen to us, I know she would not be in better hands" embracing what was left of him.

"Don’t say nonsense boy, the next time we see each other, it will be to embark, and to finally conclude our legacy" he took his hands and shook them tightly.

That was just another mission of the day-to-day life he carried out in the name of Abraham, he was used to being his spokesman and being the public image of the family. Even if there were risks, he would be willing to take them.

Taking his cane and heading for the exit decisively, he stopped short when he heard his ancestor with a loud voice telling him.

"The Van Helsing honor you and you honor them."

[hypothetical-warped-spaceti-blog]

-Written In The Stars, Love Was An Ever-Fixed Mark-

-AO3 Link-

Prologue: Separation March, 2004

Flynn:

8:30am - Croatia

The old bridge at the center of the botanical gardens creaked and groaned under his shuffling feet. He slides the wool of his coat sleeve back and shakes his hand to adjust his wrist watch back down. Lorena would be there in thirty minutes.

“We met here by chance-” Flynn said to himself lowly, his fingers were itching as he continued to fight off the compulsion to check his pocket once again for the velvet box. “Lorena, four years ago-” he begins again, moving out of the way of a jogger and smiling kindly at her as she passed.

Flynn sighs and leans a against the banister of the bridge. There's a firm pressure as the wood pressed against his stomach. He observes a bird that landed and swam toward him; it began to dip it's head and wiggle its body, the water cascading down the feathers of its back.

Ripples expand from the movement causing his reflection to distort and stretch. He watches the moment his face contorts in confusion, the way it mirrored back at him in fragments from the water as heat blossomed deep inside his chest; feeling as if someone was holding a match directly under the edges of where his tattoo was.

Something isn't right... he thinks as sweat immediately gathered along his brow. A profound fear slamming into his gut like a wrecking ball so unexpectedly that he almost stutters backward. Huffing and puffing, his panting filling his ears and muffling out the sounds of the city.

Over the years he's felt his other half. Felt her emotions like the feather light touch of a painter's brush ghosting over the surface of his skin. Brief and fleeting sentiments blooming sporadically. But it was never this debilitating, it was never this potent. It was as if he was experiencing it first hand.

Flynn tries to steady his breathing and recover the control over his body- drawing in a long pull of cold crisp air only to find it wet and impossibly heavy in his lungs. Like drowning on dry land the phantom water began to suffocate him. Shivers running rapid throughout him, knees trembling as he grabbed at the rail of the bridge; squeezing until his knuckles turned white.

Then a wave of desperation hits him, his chest deflating, heart clenching. He pinches his eyes together, trying to keep himself standing when a shadow heartbeat is felt weakly beating beneath his own. It's not until his knees hit the ground with the thud that he realized his legs gave out, or that he was screaming out in agony.

She's dying-

There's a hand on his shoulder. A kind and gentle voice of a concerned citizen speaks to him but he couldn't hear the words.

“I can't breathe-” He manages to whine out, “-I can't see.”

Rocking back and forward, Flynn's freehand comes up to claw at his chest where the words were throbbing. His head turns up to the sky, eyesight was blurred over completely. “Please-” he begs. But not to the gentleman or the sudden group of people surrounding him. To the universe- to God- to whoever was listening out there- and more importantly to her, wherever she was.

He's still gazing upward when the milky vision finally cleared. The blueberry emptiness of the sky taking its place. “Please.” he whispers as the minutes stretched onward, as the heartbeat faltered and faded; as the intense heat under his skin dissipated. He shuddered when it was quickly replaced by a horrendous chill that could have been the breath of death tickling at his spine.

The last thing to leave was the fear. The entire impression of her was gone-

Ebbing and flowing away from him in the way that ships left your view from the horizon. He wanted nothing more for it to return, for something, anything, even if it crippled him once again; to breach and convey that what he just felt wasn't their souls separating. That somewhere in the world whatever she just went through she came out of it safe.

That she was still alive.

“Son, are you alright?” The man asked once more. A look of horror remained prominent in all the faces around him, as they all regarded him on his knees still clutching his chest and holding fast to the railing of the bridge. What a terrible scene they've all just witnessed. What a terrible sight he must be.

“I- yeah.” Flynn mutters. Nodding his head as he attempted to stand, though his legs wobbled and he knew better than to force it, so he released his hold, wincing as the blood returned to his fingers. Flexing the soreness away as he sat with his spine pressed to the banisters. He lulled his head back to catch the stranger's eyes. “I'm okay.”

“Do you need me to call someone?”

“My girlfriend should be here soon.” Flynn reassured.

Seemingly satisfied that Flynn was at the least lucid enough now; the gentleman leaves him. The group of people crossing over his legs and carrying on with their lives.

Once they're all paying less attention to the crazy man on the bridge. He peeled off some of the buttons on his coat, slipping his fingers through the slit between two buttons on his shirt. Ghosting over his skin and touching where he knew the words were etched.

They were still warm, they almost felt like they were pulsing.

“Garcia?” Lorena's voice calls from a distance to his right; he turns his head toward the sound to look at her. She rushes forward once she realizes he's the one sitting on the bridge.

“What happened to you?” concern laced her voice as she fell to her knees beside him, cradling his face between her gloved hands. “God, you look blue-”

“It's-” Flynn swallows thickly, slipping his fingers out of his shirt and pulling at one of her wrists. Laying a kiss at the center of her palm. “it's nothing, I'm fine.” he lies; because how do you tell the woman that you love, that you have all intentions of marrying and spending the rest of his life with- that half of his soul would never belong to her. That half of it just potentially died.

“You know, you're a terrible liar.” Lorena's eyebrows pull together as she falls back from her haunches and shimmies in beside him, pressing her head onto his arm. “And you can talk to me, about whatever it is tha-”

“It was her.” He interrupted quietly, lowering his cheek to the top of her head. “Something happened to her.”

“Who?”

“My soulmate.”

He rubs at his forehead, applying a firm pressure as he pinched his fingers and skin together toward the middle. “I felt her in a way that I've never felt before.” Lorena turns her cheek and kisses his shoulder. “I felt her dying.”

She's silent for a long time before she lifts her head away from his, and he's too afraid to look at her; not sure he wanted to see what might be written on her face.

The leather is smooth as it slides under his jaw, gently coaxing him to turn his face toward her. Sadness darkened the usual brightness in her eyes. The words she speaks are tender and soft in a way that was just naturally her. “Did you look at your tattoo?”

“I can't bring myself to.” He admits.

She nods and then turns back to face forward. Pulling at the fingertips of her glove and slipping her hand out. Flopping it against his thigh and spreading her fingers open, waiting for him to entangle his with hers.

“I'm sorry Garcia.” She said once their hands were locked.

Flynn felt like he failed his soulmate in someway, that him being where he was at prevented destiny; having stopped searching for her the minute Lorena entered his life. And now his entire tattoo was a lie, a burden he'd carry forever.

I'm sorry...

He feels tears string at the backs of his eyes, and words cease in his throat as the reality of it all washes through him. So instead of speaking he presses a kiss to Lorena's temple.

They sit on the bridge unmoving for what could have been hours. It was long enough that the sun was now peaked high in the sky. Long enough that his bottom numbed and his back muscles whined, the tips of their noses tinting a rose color.

It's only when the people started to curse at them for all the inconveniencing that they were causing; and one very vocal woman to say something along the lines of, 'there are dozens of benches made for asses, why don't you two idiots move to one of them'

Flynn apologized before Lorena could snap back at her. Standing up and offering her his hands. They're taking up less space as Lorena hugged herself into his side (and she makes sure to shoot a glare at the woman before turning her attention outward to the pond) rubbing at his back. Offering him her presence as well as her silence as she waited patiently for him to gather himself.

“Do you remember the last time we were here?” Flynn said.

“Of course I remember.” She laughs and a smile tugs at his lips just from the sound. “I literally knocked you off your feet and lost a camera because of it.”

He's still smiling as she pulls out of his embrace and takes a minor step to the right of him. “It fell in somewhere over there.” she points to a spot in the water.

“First of all you bumped into me.” He chuckles coming up to her and caressing her upper arm. “I wasn't suppose to be here that morning, but something compelled me to turn this way instead of my usual path.

The day I met you I was convinced that the universe got it all wrong, that it was finally correcting my real trajectory. That no matter what my tattoo said, you were the person I was meant to spend the rest of my life with. I didn't even get your name that day, your sister pulled you away so quickly-”

“Garcia, you might have just lost your-” She starts but he bites at his lips and shakes his head.

“Just bear with me-” Flynn asked softly, skimming a cold finger over the curve of her cheek.

“Okay.” She turns into his touch. Staring at him with so much adoration.

His pulse quickens, he takes a few minutes to think the words through before continuing. “Imagine me in Afghanistan, years later, when my squad mate... your own brother, received a care package from home... and suddenly there you were again. That picture brought me so much hope. Lorena, how else do you explain that, what are the actual odds of that happening?”

Tears swelled in her eyes, as she shook her head. He views them slip and fall over the curve of her cheeks, his thumb brushing one away. “And today... what just happened.”

He takes a step forward and brings his forehead down to hers. Her hands pulling at the lapel of his coat. Flynn's voice quivers as he ushers in just above a whisper. “I don't care if my soul is only half mine. My heart always knew what it wanted, and it'll always be you.”

“The universe can just readjust itself.” Lorena mumbles before capturing his lips.

Garcia Flynn doesn't propose to Lorena that morning in the gardens. Has to pretend to use the bathroom to call Stiv and tell him to break the news to the family that they wouldn't be coming by for celebration. That he would explain why later.

The moment didn't feel right anymore and it was unfair to Lorena to have her memory of their proposal- of the start of their life together- tainted by the unknown woman tied to him.

(Who may be dead because he wasn't there for her.)

When they return late in the afternoon he watches with a sorrow he couldn't mask as she slowly pried the buttons off his shirt. Eyes searching his in question, nonverbally asking if he perhaps wanted to do this alone.

His hands were resting on her hips, he rubs over the soft patch of exposed skin, forcing a warm smile while ignoring the pang of longing that flushes throughout his soul for something it had felt only briefly before it was ripped away.

“It'll change nothing. If it's in color, if it turned white, I meant every word I said.” He told her with as much confidence and sincerity as he could.

She kisses him as she peels the fabric back, his eyes remaining shut for a while even after she pulled away. When there was relief on her features instead of sadness... He finds the strength to look down. There they were, the burgundy as bright as ever. You Saved Me...

The tips of her fingers traced over the words.“Why is it hot?” she seemed in awe of the sensation.

“I don't know.”

Lucy:

11:30pm – California

“I know what you're going to say- that I worked far too hard to get to where I am and that I am so intelligent.” The blinker clicks as she waits to turn onto the backroad. “I know that chasing a wild dream isn't statistically wise, but what if some of our idols who were told not to pursue their dreams listened and quit? For once in my life I just want to do something I chose to do...”

“You can do this... You can be selfish for once.” She mutters to herself.

Leaning forward, Lucy turns the radio on, letting the soft pop drown out her thoughts. She's humming and tapping against the steering wheel when high beams start flashing from behind her- the car pushing up to her bumper and retreating, getting closer and closer with each threatening push.

“What do you want me to do!” she shouts at the rearview mirror. Pushing her foot on the pedal and increasing her speed as she approached the small bridge in the road.

Too distracted by the aggressive driver behind her to notice the oil slick that ran through the lane.

Her foot slammed hard on the brakes. She tries to jerk the wheel in the opposite direction it wanted to turn, to attempt regain control of the car- but she couldn't do anything but spin out. Spin out and watch with horror as she inched toward the railway that divided her from falling into the river.

Every single thing in her body amplified, she could hear and feel it all. Her breathing. Her heartbeat. The hairs standing up on her arms and the back of her neck. All the blood rushing through her veins. Every muscle in her body tensing and bracing for impact.

And as her car fell toward the dark as ink wall of water the whole world began to move in slow motion. Her head collides with the steering wheel before it all fades into black...

“Lucy,” Amy pushed on her shoulder, “Wake up it's almost midnight.”

Lucy groaned and rolled over toward her sister. “It's really not that big of a deal-”

“-It only happens once in your lifetime! It is a big deal...” Amy pulled back the blanket. “Get up.”

“You're insufferable.” Lucy frowned and pulled her legs over the edge of the bed.

“Ah, but you love me anyway.” Amy smirked. “I'll get the mirror from my room!” she all but squealed in her delight.

She changed into a sports bra and some running shorts before Amy swooped back in, her younger sister cursing under her breath when she accidentally stubbed her toe on the dresser.

Propping the mirror up against it, Amy moved around Lucy and flopped down on the bed behind her. Switching on the bedside lamp. “I'll watch your back, okay?”

Lucy nodded and took in her reflection. Waiting and waiting for her words to appear...

And when the clock hit midnight, it stings only slightly as they emerge, she gazes at her ribs where the point of infliction seemed to be centered. “It's here.” Lucy says in amazement and feels the rush of energy when Amy comes up to her side to see.

“Turn toward the light.” Amy said and Lucy followed.

It's slower than she expected. Like it was contemplating the words as one letter formed followed by nothing at all. Just a lonely C...

“Why's it that-” Lucy began and then toppled over, clutching at her side and groaning.

“Lucy!” Amy shouted, wrapping her arms around her as they both went to the floor in a heap.

“God, it hurts...”

She's squeezing Amy's hand so hard she can feel the bones grinding together; both of them watching with wide eyes as each of the letters carved into her. All thirteen of the letters coming in one after the other, in painfully slow succession.

Three very simple words are what she's left with; when apart they meant little to nothing at all- when combined together as they were, projected a rather threatening message.

Come-on, Breathe.

She's sweating, laying flat against the floor, staring up at Amy, telling her there's no need to wake up their mother or father, that Lucy was fine.

Amy gently pulled Lucy's palm off the words, “I've never seen one that color before. What do you think it means?” she asked.

Her head is pulsating as she blinks disorientation away; touching at her forehead and finding a tacky substance streaming down her temple. She has a moment of confusion, why am I rocking? Why am I bleeding? - and then she turns her eyesight forward at the mouth of water that has already devoured pieces of the car.

Panic rises inside her. Shaking hands fumble with the seatbelt as she unfastens it. Lucy tries to press the horn, to alert someone, anyone of her existence. But the sound was too muted and too gargled to sound like distress.

She pushes at the door, but it wouldn't budge, it was like pushing at a wall and expecting it to move. It was half under, the water quickly coming to the window. Claustrophobia was a terrible thing to have in a situation like this...

In desperation she bangs on the window. Bangs and bangs until her palms tingled and burned bright red. Watching in horror as distant lights glint and fade away; as passersby remained utterly oblivious to her.

“Please! Someone help me!”

Screaming, screaming, and screaming until her lungs gave out, until her vocal cords were raw and hoarse; the pleas begun to sound more like croaks. Her chest rose and fell in a staccato beat as her breaths came and went in labored puffs.

Come-on, Breathe.

The words ricocheted around her brain and she struggled to listen. Struggled to take in a steady inhale to calm the hyperventilating. To still her heart and just-

Think Lucy, think.

“Lucy, they're kind of ominous... why wouldn't you be breathing?” Amy reached over and touched her hand that rested to the left of the tattoo. “In what situation would you meet someone, asking you to breathe?”

Through the years the words brought her an odd sort of comfort, before a debate or speech Come-on, breathe, would steady her; more often than not she'd find herself touching where they were to ground herself. To the point that it became a ritual.

But as the voice of her sister faded- as all the comforting memories eased out of her mind, and as the water slid up her thighs- Lucy knew what situation she'd be in, and it was not even the slightest bit comforting.

Lucy was going to drown.

She's shivering uncontrollably when the water reaches her waist. Her legs had gone numb, the water was like ice. Her teeth were chattering and she reckons her lips might have gone blue. She hikes up onto the seat and climbs toward the back where the air pocket seemed to be moving. The nose of the car falling quicker now that they were submerged completely.

There was nothing she could do but watch as the car floated down to the bottom of the river. The air was dwindling, each minute that ticked by less and less remained.

The fear she was experiencing was the kind she's only been familiar with in nightmares. Of falling, falling, falling and never hitting the ground. All twisted stomaches and weightlessness.

Come-on, Breathe.

He's going to save me...

A voice tells her as the water climbs around her shoulders, wrapping its chilly fingers around her throat. Lucy pushes up to the air pocket until her lips were basically kissing the roof. It's very short after that, happening in mere seconds; she has enough time to take one last inhale and then the next everything is quiet. Everything is gone. The air to sustain her- perished.

Open the door-

Her brain says, but her body wouldn't answer, her lungs were aching already, the breath she took just wasn't enough. It knew that this was the final chapter in Lucy Preston's life; and she's resigned to this feeling of certain death.

Please...

Something wills from inside her, but didn't it know it was all so hopeless? That fate had new plans and she's already lost a whole lot of the air inside her lungs; that there was a long (long) way up to the surface.

Fight-

Her soul seemed to tell her, the pleading becoming more and more persistent, something else forming- no, not something, but someone. A warmth that resembles something akin to life fills her, a gentle heartbeat, completely out of sync with her own, was quickly gaining in pace.

That's when the tattoo ignited, different from the way that it formed, more precise, more concentrated- more like the words were being flayed open as she finally listened and pushed with all the strength that she could muster- the door opening against the water.

She was a strong swimmer, but even as she kicked toward the surface she knew it was unreachable. The already dark water seemed to be vignetting at the edges of her vision. Her head was spinning, her chest in such horrible pain- her heart gave the impression of giving out, and that it could occur at any single moment.

The sound of silence was almost peaceful. Staring up at the fractured pale moonlight reflecting along the surface; appearing miles away from where she was suspended.

She puts more strength into her arms, more purpose into her kicks- (but that feeling) that dreadful aching in her lungs, she wasn't going to make it. I'm sorry... I, I tried... she projected, hoping her soul could just relay the message to him, wherever he was...

She chokes on the water once she couldn't hold it any longer.

“Come-on, Breathe.” He's pumping on her chest, over and over and over. “Come-on! Damn it, breathe!” he yells as he continues chest compressions, “You can't die here, you don't die here...”

Lucy sputters back to life in violent coughs, feeling strong hands push her onto her side as she retches up all the water that she consumed.

“We have to go!” A voice shouts in the distance.

He doesn't leave her, she's still retching, as his hand takes to rubbing along her back. Lucy attempts to open her eyes though the harsh white light of headlights pointing directly at them is a sharp penetration to the back of her brain, and immediately she regrets it.

Lucy releases a groan, pinching her eyes shut as arms slip into the crook of her knees and behind her back, cradling her against a broad chest.

“You saved me...” She whispers against the person's heart, listening to it beat frantically beneath her ear.

Then he halts, a noise coming out of him that could have been mistaken for a sob. Her tattoo was pulsing, the burning and flaying more like yearning. He cooed down to her in a language she didn't understand, words ushered like that of a prayer. Despite almost dying, in his arms she felt oddly comfortable, oddly sedated.

They travel a short distance to a place where she was out of the way from the road and oncoming traffic.

His features were still consumed by the darkness of the night, even the headlights provided some kind of coverage to keep his identity anonymous. The moonlight gave a very brief highlight to the bridge of his nose and the curve of his lips when he turned to gaze back at the person over his shoulder.

“We're running out of time, we have to go.” The voice near the car said before the door shut and the lights moved off her vision.

His soaked clothing of a simple short sleeve shirt and jeans clinging to his tall and lean body. He didn't give off the appearance of someone older- yet even with his hair wet and dripping she could see the streaks of grey, more of it grey than black.

Before the stranger could slip off into the night, disappearing just as quickly as he appeared; she instinctively lunges forward from her sitting position, grabbing at his arm. Stopping him from leaving.

He wouldn't turn to look at her, keeping her at his back, but he quivered under her touch, she could see it ripple down his spine and through his muscles. Though she had no strength to stand and move around him, to try to unveil the face of her savior.

“Thank you.” She offers weakly.

His palm clasped over her fingers on his forearm. Moving his calloused thumb over the back of her knuckles; before his head dipped into a stiff nod.

After she releases him, Lucy stares at the spot he left long after his shadow was gone.

When her family gets to the hospital she doesn't mention the real reason she was traveling home so late, why she was in such a need to speak with her mother.

She'll call Derek in the morning and tell him it's just not written in the stars for her to be a musician.

Let him know that destiny had other plans for her- and that she wasn't going to tempt fate anymore.

She's going to stay the course.

[matchstickforyourmuse]

A fantasy prompt for 'green' plz?

Certainly! What a delightful request!(Only now, going back up to add this little response, do I realize that you asked for ‘a prompt’, and not a million. Oops.)I hope you like these. They’re a bit wordy- I got carried away. But they’re prompts nonetheless! If you would like some shorter, more to-the-point prompts without as much context-content, or whatever you want to call the lengthy bits of writing, pray tell! Or, if you just want more/less of one kind of prompt (more dialogue, less setting, etc.), or if you just want more prompts in general, I’d be happy to write you up a dozen more.

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- - -‘Blood of Tree’, they called it. A swirling mass in a jar that bowed and dipped and swayed to some silent waltz, luminescent with some brilliant, strange force. It gushed about in oozy rivulets one moment, and then kept aloft the next in a foggy murmur of a cloud, and then it would sit on the bottom of the glass in shattered fractals, jagged and wickedly sharp. I always thought the name was silly. It deserved its own name. It didn’t need to be compared to anything. Heck, it couldn’t be compared to anything.

- - -“They aren’t pixies,” the troll whispered. Fear fluttered over his eyes like some maddened moth. “Just keep your trap shut, and we’ll get out of this alive.” And it was then that I saw one of the shrieking creatures. Wee claws curling around the stone corner, a hissing warble, followed by another mind-stabbing scream. Verdant scales and the coiled muscles of an adder, lanced through with voidish black, the intensity matched only by their eyes. Oh, the eyes….

- - -The dull thrum that came from the marsh was deafening for some, but a lullaby to others. I used to tell my kids that it was the tupelo trees singing. That, if they listened closely enough, they could hear the crickets and the frogs harmonizing to try to brighten their sepulchral melody, but to no avail. They mourned for the slow world, the one full of moss and jewelish dragonflies and sweet dreams. The one that had been replaced with smoke and spilled business and the bustle of aching feet. I told them that they just didn’t understand the change. And I told them that that was okay. Because none of us did, really. We just didn’t talk about it quite as often nor quite as loudly as they did.

- - -The elf’s sigh was explanation enough. But he clarified anyways. “Here, they can’t get us.” I looked around at the mismatched tables and chairs. The threadbare rugs mixed with the plush carpets and the faux-fur bathmats that had been shoved under stools so they wouldn’t scratch up the floors. The walls, covered in paintings and claw scores and hand-drawn pictures and toddler scribbles and one or two scorch marks from when they still had stoves. And then I looked at the people. Despite the circumstances, they were smiling. Despite what was out there, they looked…. They looked happy. Even the kids weren’t crying, despite the bandages being wrapped around their wounds, despite the acrid smell of the old candles. These…. These people. They were far from home. And, heck, they were with other species that, on any other given day, they probably would’ve been trying to rip the heads off of. But no. It was calm. And it was…. It was good. “Here,” he continued, with a trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “we can heal.”

- - - “The creature will be the death of me,” the Lady sighed, delicately placing her elbow unto the table so she could properly lean her chin upon it. “He’s a genie, m'Lady,” a servant reminded, her voice choked with giggles. “He can’t kill.”They both turned their heads to the gaudy spirit, festooned in a garb of eye-straining greens and polished emeralds and parrot-feathers, his cape whirling as he turned on his heel to accept yet another noble’s quail-eating challenge. (They both had to duck to avoid being clobbered with his stein of ale.)“I know. I just wish I could kill him.” She cocked an eyebrow as she watched the grease and ginger-sauce in his beard simply whuhff away the moment it drizzled down. “He knows perfectly well what I wished for. But he’s just finding one loophole after another. I have half a mind to dismiss him.”“You wouldn’t…! I mean…. With all due respect, m'Lady! The genie is… an animal, surely. Riddled with crudity and a vile tongue. But what he’s brought to the courts surely outweighs the burden, m'Lady?”

- - -“You’re telling me you’ve never heard of Dragon’s Grog?” The vampire grinned, leaning against the wall as plumes of smoke lazed upwards to meet the haze of the city air. The neon sign above us flicked colorful shadows over his face. “Man, that’s not right. It’s perfect for everything. A night on the town. Weddings. Funerals. Parties. Any day that ends in a Y.” Somewhere in the distance, a Quik-O-Rail buzzed on its tracks. A single vwooiiiiif, and it was gone. He flashed his fangs once more before he slipped his headphones from around his neck up and over his ears. It seemed as though I could hear the blare of his electric, upbeat jam before he even hit ‘play’.

- - -“I’ll always remember the story of when the sea switched places with the moorlands,” my grandmother hummed, wiping her knife on the edge of the tablecloth. “Back when the pheasants and the rabbits slipped through the heather like fingers through hair. The breeze would tussle the grasses, and the flowers would dance reels with the mighty winds.” As she said this, she flipped the fish over and began cleaning the other side. I winced at the stench. “But sometimes, it was still. Absolutely, perfectly still. No rippling, no swaying, no nothing. Just… solace. Butterflies playing their strange little games, and sunbeams embracing the Earth. Birdsong was the only thing that broke the silence.”I smiled, and looked out the window. A chuckle escaped. The fields were roiling again, moving up and down as they swelled with the force of the Earth-tide. Even within the safety of the house, I could hear rocks grinding and turf ripping and mending itself back together, mounds of soil cascading and ebbing away until they were replaced with the dusky emerald of the surface-moor. Rabbits and pheasants running on that? And silence? It was a surreal notion. Now she was probably going to say that fish, somehow, swam on the ocean. I laughed again.

- - - It was more of a slime, now. Probably. She didn’t dare turn on the light, for the fear that it would bear some semblance to the moon… What a silly thought. Was she going mad? It didn’t work like that, it didn’t-…. No. No, there was no risking anything. She dipped the glass stirring-rod in the sludge again. Fizzing. Popping. But no shattering. Good, good. She picked up the flask, and squinted hard- had she used too much silver? It was more metallic than anything. It was supposed to be green. Venom-green. That’s what… That’s what it was supposed to be. Darn it all, she didn’t have the time for this! How late was it? She couldn’t just remake the whole bloody thing! A cure was a cure. It wasn’t art. It wasn’t supposed to be pretty. It was just supposed to work. This was it. This was what she had been waiting for. The consequences of impurity be cursed! Oh, Lycaon almighty! THIS WAS IT! Slamming her fist on the cold table, she threw her head back, and began to drink.

- - - The butterfly was made of pale, thin pieces of interlocked jade. Stiff wings clinked against one another as it fluttered clumsily about the office. But then freaking Steven just had to see it. Without missing a beat, he grabbed his miniature stapler, and lobbed it over his cubicle’s wall, hitting his target dead-on. Upon impact, the insect shattered, and a fine, glittering dust arose, only to be sucked up by the ceiling vents. “You’re a jerk,” someone cried from halfway across the room.

- - -The dinghy lurched upwards again. We could hear the cringe-worthy scrapes of her spines on the bottom of our boat, each moment annunciated by a sharp whump as one ended and the other started. Unbroken scales began rising to one side, and then the other… a terrible, sickening shade of seafoam that reminded me a little bit too much of home. “It’s been too long.” My old voice took a chance to appear before I could catch it.“You heard our call. You heard it thrice. And only now, seven years adrift, do you come to our aid.” Whatever the meaning behind the distorted shrieks that issued from the spray there was, I did not listen. I was far too gone to have cared. “Leave. Your excuses harbor nothing.”

- - - “What part of ‘He’s sleeping’ don’t you understand?” The little dryad looked up at her with a tearful snort. “You can’t… For goodness’ sakes. You can’t wake up a non-magical tree. It’s nothing to cry about. He’s not dead, he’s not ignoring you. He’s just sleeping.” Apparently, the explanation didn’t do much in terms of making things better. The creature rubbed vigorously at her eyes with a downturned wrist before leaping forward to wrap her short arms (the best she could) around the slender trunk of the birch tree. The racking sobs came a moment later. The woman sighed. “For the love of…. Just stop, okay? You’re being ridiculous.”

- - -The air was close here. Stitches of silence had been sewn into his tongue, and he dared not disturb the resting realm. The pines, as vigilant as ever, kissed the clouds with their crowns- or, rather, the other way around. He could not see their end. He could, however, see the clouds. The height of their trunks seemed to rival the length of a giant’s sprint. (The only that kept him from believing that he had fallen to the stature of a dormouse was the trace amount of ferns that crouched about the heaps of root. And even then….) After another mile had passed, the man sat down, swept his cloak about his legs, and slumped against his satchel. The daylight had taken a rather unexpected leave. With a twitch of his lips, he felt agog as he turned his eyes above. The man’s breath came slow and swift all at once. This was what he came for. To see this.The slate clouds had gone, replaced by a great, coarse mass of charcoal brown. It fell and rose in time, before it began away, the Earth trembling as it made for the horizon. Ever-so-slowly, day returned, slipping around the belly of the beast like water over a bowl. Less than ten feet away, the bone-shaking step of an ebony hoof fell. (It had to be twice as large as any inn he’d ever seen.) Of all of his years, this marked only the second time that he had seen one of the elk of the Foraoise Mhór.

~