#bubbles: hey whats he proud of || me: okay well first we gotta unpack this trauma--

[kyberled]

Bird Headcanon Prompts!

@theshaark​ asked:

Falcon- what is your muse's biggest accomplishment? Do they like to show it off, or keep it to themselves?

That’s a tough one, and not just because he doesn’t like gloating about himself. He also just has a completely different metric than I do for a ‘great accomplishment’. So, I’m going to put a couple things (some he considers, and some I do) and talk about each of them a little bit. (Barring various battles he’s proud of, because if we include those, it’d be even longer than it already is.)

First is being chosen as a Jedi to begin with. He doesn’t consider this a  great accomplishment, as he doesn’t think he did anything, but he is proud of what he is. He won’t flaunt it, though. Or - he won’t flaunt it often. He doesn’t think being a Jedi makes him better than others, of above them in any sense. Jedi are servants of the Force, after all. ... That being said, if he needs to pull rank to get something done, it is quite useful.

Second is getting his crystals. This one, he’s pretty proud of. Given that it’s a pretty common thing for Jedi - as in, every Jedi does it - he doesn’t brag about it. ... Not often, at least. He is very proud of his sabers, and will talk about them at length if asked. I’m talking hours upon hours. It’s one of his ‘things’. He is very proud of the colour, but he won’t usually show it off unless it’s in jest. His best friend Hano was the other member of their group who found an unusual crystal during the Gathering. Every now and again, the rest of their group will ask them ‘what makes them so special’, and they’ll light up their sabers and make a show of strutting around. It’s just a joke for them, though, and usually leads to some good-natured sparring and playfighting.

Third is being chosen as Obi-Wan’s padawan. This is huge for him. He thought he wasn’t going to get picked, and there were reasons for this. Some of which Rodi and I recently discussed over Discord and I’m still giggling about, but Braig doesn’t know them. He’s very proud of his status, though, and adores his master whole-heartedly. He does sort of show this off, but in a different way. Obi-Wan is canonically loved by other members of the Order. He’s basically a celebrity. This means, when Braig is on nursery/creche duty, he entertains the kids with stories about his master. Sometimes he embellishes them, just a bit. This is also just because he knows how hard Obi-Wan works. He knows how much his dad suffers for the Order. He also knows Obi-Wan will never ask for acknowledgement; that’s not who he is. Braig just thinks his master ought to be appreciated. So, if the kids start clamoring for tales of Master Kenobi’s latest exploits, well, who is he to say no?

Then learning Vapaad. This is something he’s very proud of, but doesn’t actually employ especially often. @nieithryn​ and I have been talking about it for a while (mostly because we’re both messes about Grandpa Mace and his tiny grandson), but, Vapaad is interesting. It’s not just a fighting style. In the words of Shatterpoint, it’s a mindset. And it can mess you up bad if you’re not careful. Like, really bad. Like, ‘the Force tried to get Mace Windu to kill a child’ bad. He doesn’t, because Mace Windu is a good person, but the Force does tell him ‘he drew a knife on you, stab him’ and Mace almost has to say ‘no, he’s like, ten, we’re not doing that’. The Force also told him, ‘hey, you could kill this entire enemy force, and it wouldn’t even be hard’. That one took a bit more effort for him to be like ‘well, yeah, I could, but I shouldn’t and won’t’.

(Fuck it, this is a Vapaad essay now.)

Now, this is in part because Korun (the planet Mace was on) is naturally steeped in the Dark side, but also because Vapaad involves the user letting themselves tap into the Dark. Now, here’s the thing: I’ve always considered the Force to be alive and sentient. It is ancient and it is hungry, and its morals aren’t our morals. It’ll get in your head and drag you down and tear you apart. It does not care. Additionally, I don’t really think of it as a black and white sort of deal. It’s a gradient, not a light switch. It’s also extremely easy to fall into the Dark and not be let go. Braig, as a Jedi, knows this. That doesn’t make it any easier to handle. The Jedi don’t dabble in the Dark side often. Those that do can struggle to come back. The dark will dig its claws in and rip you apart mentally and physically to serve its purpose. Just look at some of the noteworthy Darksiders, in both Legends and canon; they all end up as warped echoes of who they were before. Braig has heard this enough times to know about it pretty damn well. The dark side is scary. And, as proud of my boy as I am, as hard as he works, he’s not a master. He’s not even a knight. He’s a teenage padawan. There is no possible way for him to have the mental clarity of a Jedi master. Both because he doesn’t have the training or experience, not by half, but also, because teenage brains are still developing. Again, it is literally impossible for him to have the control Mace does. And there are times Mace struggles with the Vapaad mindset.

Liz and I (and Rodi, here and there) have discussed Braig’s Vapaad training a lot. It starts when he’s thirteen - at about the same time he’s chosen as a padawan. Sometimes this is instead of ‘standard’ saber classes, sometimes this is instead of one of the blocks of self-guided practice he’s supposed to have. The training is usually split into two sections: The first is actually  training in Vapaad, the movements and philosophy and applications, and the second is coming down from it. It usually involves things like tea, meditation, naps, gentle conversation, guided breathing, and physical affection (eg hugs), as it’s all things that help ground Braig and help him get into a better mindset. And that’s all well and good in training. It’s fine in the Temple. It doesn’t work so well in battle. The older he gets, the more comfortable he might be with falling into the Vapaad mindset in combat, but - especially as a teenager - he considers it a last-resort option only. It’s too risky for him. The dark side scares him, and for good reason. One of the sifu I regularly train with (sifu Sam, for those who’ve been around a while) once told me that, if you do not fear a weapon, you are not ready to use it. It’s often called a ‘healthy fear’. It’s what keeps you from messing around with a weapon, being irresponsible, and getting hurt. Vapaad is devastating. The movements of someone who falls into Vapaad are described as “not blinding, but invisible” with the italics in-text. It is brutal and ruthless and possibly the deadliest form there is, but, of course, there’s the flip side that most Vapaad users have fallen to the dark, and not many of them are able to come back. Braig might incorporate some of the movements of Vapaad into his average fighting style, but, like I said, he’d only consider actually using it as a last resort, life or death sort of thing. When he’s training with Mace, he can sit down afterwards, have a cup of tea, and take a moment to breathe to get away from the viciousness of the Force. You don’t get that on a battlefield, especially when your adrenaline is rushing, and there’s an army of adrenaline-charged Mandos with you, and you might be hurt, or tired, or someone you love might be hurt or tired or worse, who knows? You don’t necessarily get time to breathe. He’s scared of what might happen if he can’t come down in time, or at all - he doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

That’s not to say he isn’t proud of learning Vapaad. He’s extremely proud, mostly  because of how few people are actually taught the form, but also because he gets to learn it from one of the people who created it. That’s a huge deal to him, he thinks it’s awesome. He just doesn’t think it’s appropriate for him to go bragging about it (especially because of how dangerous he quickly realizes it can be) - might make him seem like an unworthy student, too, which he doesn’t want. It’s similar to his sabers, wherein his friends might teasingly ask when they get to learn Vapaad, and he’d respond with a cheeky ‘uh, never’, but he’d never seriously gloat about it.

The Vapaad talk leads into his next ‘greatest accomplishment’: Killing General Grau Tessk. This is the first time Braig takes a life. It’s not the first time he’s seen anyone die, mind; he’s a medic. It’s a war. He’s seen a lot of men die. A lot of friends die. Either they died in combat, or, almost worse for his emotional wellbeing, they died on the way to or in the med tent. Sometimes they’re civilians. War isn’t pretty, it isn’t merciful. It takes until there’s nothing left to take, or you stop it. Or  both. It’s usually both. So yes, Braig has seen people die. He’s just never killed before.

The Separatist army uses battle droids. Whether or not they’re sentient - that’s an ongoing discussion in the fandom at large - they’re not alive. They’re robots. They don’t generate a presence in the Force. You don’t feel it when they ‘die’. Heck, one of the droids in the Ryloth arc even mentions that some units (older ones) are run from a central computer, so if a droid does have a consciousness, cutting down the body might not even ‘kill’ the consciousness.

It’s different killing a person. You can feel them die. You can feel  their presence sever from the Force (especially when you’re trained as a medic). Braig, like all Jedi, have been taught the value of life since he was old enough to understand. All life is of equal and immeasurable value.

And he just killed someone.

He doesn’t even remember a lot of it, even if it were something to brag about. Part of that is just the physical state he was in at the time: Tired, worn down, sleep deprived, malnourished, and, right, he’d just taken a lightsaber to the face. He wasn’t doing well. He’s been well-trained, but we’ve seen in canon that the styles he uses (the ones Obi-Wan uses) don’t do well with negative emotions. That’s why Maul and Savage beat the hell out of him. Vapaad isn’t like that. Vapaad takes every last drop of anger and fear and everything that you have and turns them not into bullets, but into nuclear armaments. Scorched earth. Additionally, so few people actually study Vapaad that most Separatists - even Grievous, who is trained in being able to learn and copy saber styles - don’t know anything about it, including how to defend. Tessk has fought Jedi before. Tessk hadn’t fought Vapaad before. If it wasn’t for that, there’s a very good chance Braig might have been the one to die instead of our dear general. It wasn’t a clean death in any sense; Tessk ended up in multiple parts. Personally, I think he had it coming, but Braig is a Jedi, and the idea that he killed someone shook him up terribly. It didn’t help that, as I’ve mentioned, it’s hard to get out of the mindset Vapaad requires. Kriss and Boone helped him out of the area, but there was definitely a good few minutes where they were trying to get Braig to talk to them and Vapaad/the Force was going ‘you don’t want to be touched, you want to be safe, you need to kill these people’ and Braig had to take a few breaths to remind himself that, no, Kriss and Boone are friends (or, at the least, he respected Kriss as an ally, but their weird are-they-aren’t-they-friends isn’t the topic here), and he REALLY didn’t want to hurt anyone else, especially not them. It came too close for comfort, though, and definitely spooked him pretty bad. I don’t know if he ever talked about it with the two of them - I’m not sure he could - but it’s definitely something he wants to talk about with Grandpa Mace, so here’s my reminder to bother Liz some time in the future.

If you couldn’t guess, no, he doesn’t brag about this. He feels awful about it. He expects to be punished. Jedi don’t kill. Jedi aren’t executioners. He killed someone. He took a life. He omits a lot of things in the official reports he files - including the real cause of Mal’s death - but doesn’t omit the fact that he cut down Tessk. If asked, he’d say that he accepts whatever punishment the Council deems fit. Of course, all of the grown-ups he’s discussed it with - including those on the Council - tell him, uh, no, you’re not in trouble, that was self-defense, you didn’t have a choice, but. It doesn’t really sink in. Yes, he had a choice, he thinks. He made the wrong one. Tessk should have stood trial. He would’ve been declared guilty easily, sure, but he should have stood trial. Even the notion that there would’ve been no way for them to hold Tessk until the Republic arrived doesn’t sit well for him. It translates into ‘I killed him because it was convenient’. Again, it... It takes him a while. He doesn’t really accept it until at least a good few months, if not a year or more, later.

Then we have surviving Order 66. This is huge. He’s one of the few Jedi who survive. He just... Doesn’t always want to be. Remember, he’s only seventeen when the purge happens. He’s still a child. He can’t even vote yet. And - in the ‘canon’ timeline - he deals with the genocide of his people alone. He has friends he eventually runs into and shacks up with, sure, but the earlier part of his developmental years were spent fighting a war, and the later end of that period was spent escaping a genocide. You can see why he doesn’t feel like celebrating. He doesn’t show this one off, either, because if anyone knew he was a Jedi, he’d be hunted down in the streets and shot. He gets a bit more bold with what he is once he’s situated with the Rebellion, but, before that? It’s best to just be safe.

I would also put his journal among one of his greatest accomplishments, though it’s not quite so grandiose. It’s something he’s kept since he was thirteen years old. He never really ‘finishes’ it until he knows he’s about done in life - his mid 220′s - and just digitized old pages and bought new ones (yes, it’s flimsi, he’s very attached to it). It has notes on everything from missions, to classes, to day to day life, to saber forms; reminders jotted in the margins about assignments or shopping lists, tic-tac-toe games, riddles Obi-Wan wrote in the corners, hangman games, linguistic notes, drawings, blueprints for lightsabers, botanical notes for plants and flowers he’s pressed... He always means to organize them better, and perhaps does later on, but in the end, it’s hard to present it as anything more than it is: Just a journal. It remains one of the only truthful records of the Jedi Order, though, and he will - after the Empire falls, of course - gladly share its content with anyone who asks. (... Maybe not some of the more covert or dangerous information, though.)

In a happier time, he becomes a knight, and he is very proud of that; years and years later, he becomes a master, as well. I’ve had multiple people suggest he sit on the Council, someday, and I think - when he was older and more experienced - he’d be happy to. He’s a terror about it, always scrutinizing everything he can, but what he does, he does out of love for the Order and those who comprise it, and faith in what they can be.

But above all, the thing he is most proud of at the end of his days - regardless of timeline - are his students, his children, his padawans. Whether his lineage continues on first through Tet (also at @nieithryn​) in the ‘canon’ timeline, or he starts first with his puffawan F’lurr ( @strcngered​ ) before the blueberry son in a happier life and continues on with others like them, he’s so proud of them. He firmly believes they’ll be better than he ever was, and is so glad of that. They make him happy, they frustrate him at times and make him laugh when he thought he couldn’t. Things like watching Tet grow in confidence from the scared little one huddling in the corner of an Imperial ship’s holding bay to a capable and strong diplomat, watching F’lurr sprout and find their stride among some of the best swordsmen the Order has ever known, that’s what shows him everything he’s been through was worth it. (Sorry, T’raa, sorry, Tholme, his dandelion, now.) (Not sorry to the ‘Kosu parents, meet him behind Dex’s at dawn for a shebskicking.) They’re his legacy, they’re the legacy of every Jedi in his own lineage, they’re the legacy of the Order as a whole, and he’s so, so proud of them.

He just really fuckin’ loves his kids, guys. (But I’ve written about that before, and a lot here, so I’ll cut this off before I make my own muse cry.)

[laurenwritesfics]

Here it is folks, chapter 5! Again, sorry for the wait but I hope it will have been worth it!

Read the previous chapter HERE / read the full series on AO3

Warning(s): Angst (sorry...again)

CHAPTER FIVE: ADJUSTMENTS

Things had started to feel calmer now. Time had begun to slow down, and Frank was grateful for the chance to breathe again. One Saturday, he returned from the boat yard to change his oil-stained shirt and caught sight of Mary’s journal on the kitchen table – Evelyn had forced her into therapy back in Boston, and though she had hated it, journaling was the one thing she kept on doing – it had been left open on a page filled with tally marks. At the top of the page, she had written ‘number of days without Fred’. Frank pressed his palms against the table and dipped his head. Perhaps Mary would always struggle emotionally in one way or another. He was beginning to feel like a failure. Was his best really good enough? It was impossible to tell.

Sunday was just as quiet. They ate together in silence. Roberta didn’t visit. Their new normal was frustratingly abnormal.

“School tomorrow.” Frank cast a glance at Mary. “Homework done? Books ready?” He knew he didn’t need to ask, but he couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

Mary’s fork danced around her plate. “Obviously.” She huffed.

“Sorry, I was just asking.”

No reply.

Mary scrunched her nose and continued to pick at her plate, retreating back into her bubble.

“Listen,” Frank reached over and put a hand on her cold arm “I know things are hard right now. But if you talk about it, sometimes it makes things easier.”

“You sound like Evelyn.”

Frank’s shoulders dropped. “You don’t have to finish dinner, okay? You’re cold. I’m gonna go get you a sweater or something.”

“I’m fine.”

He ignored her and left the table. Mary pushed him away every time he tried to slip her arms into one of her hoodies. He fought back, not realizing how roughly he was holding her until she winced and slipped off the chair. He immediately swept her into his arms.

“I’m sorry.” He rocked her slightly. “You need to stop being so fucking stubborn, Mary.” His voice cracked a little. Her tiny hands squeezed him as hard as they could and she rested her head on his shoulder. When Mary started to cry, so did Frank. He pulled back, brushed a strand of hair from her face and laid his hands on her shoulders. “I’m trying my best here. You’ve gotta give me something, kiddo.”

Mary nodded, paused and then ruffled Frank’s hair. He returned the gesture and tucked her under his arm, carrying her across the kitchen and into the living room. She was laughing now. They both were. Mary dangled in his grip, arms limp, then tumbled down, grabbing his hands and stepping on his feet.

“Can we watch TV?” She looked up at him, the dewy sheen of tears beginning to fade from her eyes.

“Sure. But only for a little while. You’ve gotta get up early for school.”

Mary threw her head back and groaned. “Why can’t I just skip class tomorrow? Everybody hates me anyway.”

Frank tugged on her wrists. “Hey, nobody hates you, okay? They’re just jealous of how smart and awesome you are.”

“You have to say that, you’re my Uncle.”

“I’m also an adult, which believe it or not, means I actually know more than you do. About people, at least.”

“Yeah, you are kinda dumb…” She nodded.

“That’s it,” Frank picked her up “you just lost your extra hour of TV.”

In spite of his attempt at sternness, he let her fall asleep on the couch.

Monday came, and Frank finally finished his work on the Celestia. One brief phone call later, he had been invited to join the owner for a trip out on the lake. Frank would usually have been cautious about this – especially with wealthy customers - but he accepted the offer simply because it would give him a chance to clear his head. It was better than sneaking onto someone else’s boat with a six-pack of Heineken at two in the morning, at least. As he wiped his hands on a worn rag, he reclined against the workbench in the corner of the garage. A soft ache spread through his chest. Deep into his biceps. Exhaustion snuck up on him without warning. The chaos of the past few months was finally catching up with him.

He waited so long for Mary to come home from school that he started to think maybe she’d gone on another adventure. His worries subsided when she arrived, shoulders pushed forward under the weight of her satchel. As she threw it down and began to unpack a stack of books, Frank realized exactly what had happened.

“Did you walk all the way from Jackson?”

“Yeah.” Mary squinted as she fumbled around for another book. “Lucy’s really nice. She let me take out a bunch of stuff.”

“She did, huh? Am I gonna be serving you dinner in your room tonight?” He half-joked.

Mary had already stopped listening. Frank shook his head and turned back to the stove to finish cooking. This time, eating in silence didn’t feel awkward – Mary brought a book to the table, fork occasionally missing her mouth as she sat absorbed in whatever it was she was reading. Frank pictured her walking down Jackson with her nose in another book and couldn’t help letting out a soft huff of amusement. She was almost happy. And at least for now, almost was enough.

When he checked on Mary, he peered into a room lit only by a small torch light. She was back in her reading tent. Even though the door squeaked slightly, she didn’t stir. Back in his own bedroom, Frank reached into his nightstand for his phone. Lucy would wake the next morning to a short, thankful text message.

Frank and Mary, however, woke to a prolonged, impatient buzzing. The doorbell.

He was tempted to rub his eyes again when he saw the woman standing on the porch.

Evelyn.

Frank was immediately skeptical, but he opened the door to her anyway.

“Well,” she popped a hip and adjusted her sunglasses “are you going to ask me to come in or shall I just stand here on the porch?”

“Mary’s heading to school in a couple minutes.” His jaw tightened a little as he watched her fingers flex against the handle of her travel case. This wasn’t an impromptu visit.

“I’ll say hello quickly, then.” She barged past him, the wheels of her case narrowly missing his toes.

Mary had a piece of toast hanging out of her mouth and a book clutched to her chest. She covered her mouth as she hurriedly chewed and then walked around the kitchen island to meet Evelyn.

“Hello, darling.” Evelyn planted a kiss on the crown of Mary’s head, leaving a glossy pink mark in her hair. “Off to school?”

“Yep.” Mary replied, popping the ‘p’ curtly. “Are you staying with us?”

“Maybe. That depends on your uncle.” She inclined her head towards Frank in a way that she thought was comical, but it just made Mary cringe.

“Why?” She knelt down to shove the book she was holding into her satchel.

“That’s enough, short-stuff.” Frank intervened, steering her away from Evelyn. “Let’s go.”

“Have a good day, darling!” Evelyn called out, pivoting her suitcase so that it would fit flush against the wall.

When Frank returned, he slammed the front door and crossed his arms as he glared down at Evelyn.

“Alright, what’s this about? What little scheme have you come up with now?”

Evelyn smoothed her sundress and shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “You’re so hostile.” She tutted.

“Can you blame me?” He strode over to her and perched on the arm of the couch.

“Not at all.” She clasped her hands in her lap and twisted herself to face him. “I wanted –“she stuttered, blinking “-needed to see my son and granddaughter.”

In that moment, Frank saw himself. The same sunken hopelessness. He noticed raw pink lines beneath her eyes. For the first time in a long time, Evelyn seemed human.

“This is about Diane isn’t it.”

“Yes. I couldn’t face another anniversary alone, Frank.”

“You called me Frank.” He mused. “Where’s the real Evelyn?”

She managed the smallest of smiles and reached out rub his arm. “I lost her a long time ago.” She was holding his hand now, squeezing lightly. “I won’t stay too long. I’m sure you must be busy.”

Frank placed his other hand over hers. “Stay as long as you want.”

“You don’t really mean that.” Her icy tone returned.

“I mean it.” He insisted. “It’ll be good for Mary.”

“How is she?”

“Honestly? She’s struggling. She’s stubborn about it, though.”

“I wonder where she gets that from…” Evelyn chuckled.

“She’s dealing with more than a kid should have to deal with right now. Losing Fred, the car accident…”

Evelyn’s head jerked to the side. “Car accident?”

“Don’t worry, Mary wasn’t in the car. It was just me. I was a little drunk, it was stupid.”

“For God’s sake, Francis!” Evelyn yelled. “You stupid boy!”

Francis. Boy. She was his mother again. Instead of fighting back, the ache he had felt earlier returned and he slumped against the cushions.

“After it happened,” his breaths were shallow, a lump forming in his throat “I just sat there thinking about what would’ve happened if...” both his hands and his voice had begun to shake “I can’t take care of her. Not in the way she needs to be. Diane would be so fucking disappointed.”

Evelyn took Frank’s face in her hands and kissed his forehead. He buried his face in her shoulder and allowed her to be the mother she suddenly wanted to be.

“Diane would be very proud of you.” She glanced up at the ceiling, fighting back tears. “I’m proud of you, darling.” She whispered, brushing her fingers through his hair. “So proud of you.”

“I just want her to be okay.” He sniffled.

“She will be.” Evelyn turned to kiss Frank’s hair and then stood up, brushing a crease from the skirt of her dress. “Why don��t I cook dinner for us tonight? It’ll give you a chance to rest.”

Frank’s defenses were down, so he agreed.

That night, Evelyn made a shepherd’s pie and sat with Mary as she completed her homework. She piled chocolate ice cream into a bowl and made herself a martini. His mother was back, but she was still putting on the airs and graces of the woman she once was. He knew that if she didn’t, she would be more broken than she had been when she arrived. So he played pretend too.

Almost happy. Almost a family. And that would be just fine for now.

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[sanversinsane]

The Tour: Chapter 2

I swear this story will get better after this. 

Waverly had listened to that voice memo over and over again. She convinced herself it was for the interview but deep down she knew she couldn’t stop listening because she loved the sound of Nicole’s rich, beautiful laugh, and her soft, soothing voice.

Even after the article was written and finished, she still listened.

She tried to get her this woman out of her head but she couldn’t. She couldn’t unsee those beautiful eyes and that shiny hair. Everytime she closed her eyes she saw those dimples smiling at her.

And it had been two weeks.

She was doing her usual opening run at Shorties one Tuesday morning, when her cell phone rang. She pulled it from her back pocket and saw a number she hadn’t recognized.

“Hello?” She answered as she sandwiched the phone between her shoulder and her ear and kept cleaning the beer tab she was working on.

“Hi...is this Waverly?” She stopped immediately.

She knew that voice. She had listened to that voice on repeat everyday for two weeks. How did she get her number?

“Yeah it is.” She replied in shock.

“Hi Waverly, this is Nicole….Haught.” Waverly stayed silent. “The singer from the bar the other night.” Nicole thought maybe Waverly hadn’t remembered.

“Yeah hey….” Waverly jumped and quickly took hold of her phone. “Sorry, you caught me at a weird time.”

“Oh, do you want me to call back later.”

“NO. No, now is fine.” Waverly quickly responded.

“Okay good.” Nicole laughed on the other end of the phone and Waverly felt her heartbeat speed up. “Well I'm calling for a few reasons.” Nicole began to explain. “First of all, my manager sent me the article you wrote. You said so many nice things and it was so well written, so I just wanted to say thank you for that.”

“Sure. Yeah of course.” Waverly nodded with a large smile.

“Also the pictures you sent from that night are….they're phenomenal Waverly. Really. You have a natural talent.”

“Thanks!” Waverly blushed. “I'm glad you liked them.”

“I did. I loved them. Actually...so last week I played a show at a bar and I had no idea but a talent agent was there and he saw me playing. Turns out he works with a singer named Andrew Belle.”

“Yeah I know him!” Waverly chimed in. “Pieces is one of my favorite songs.”

“Me too!” Nicole quipped from the other end. “Anyways, to make a long story short, he asked me to be his opening act for his tour starting next month!”

“What? Oh my god, Nicole that's amazing!” Waverly felt so much pride bubble up in her chest, for a woman she didn't even really know.

“Thank you. Yeah I know it is. I'm still in a bit of shock actually.” She laughed. “But uh...that brings me to my next question. So..,one, I was wondering if we could use some of your photos for posters and promotional stuff. Specifically that one from behind with the spotlight on me and the crowd in front, that's my favorite.”

“It's mine too.” Waverly smiled. “But yeah of course! Use whatever you want to!”

“Great, thanks!” Nicole smiled. “Question number two is a little bit bigger though.”

“Try me.”

“Well...my manager thinks that, since this is my first real tour, it needs to be documented….and we need a photographer. You were the first person that came to my mind. I just...I loved your work, but I also felt really comfortable with you. It's a 5 month tour, we’re covering the whole country. We'd pay you, obviously. And you'd travel in the tour bus with me and the band. I wanted to shoot the offer to you before we even considered anyone else, you're my first choice.”

Waverly sat at the bar completely dumbfounded. She tried to form words but every time she did she felt her mouth get dry. “I...me?”

“Yes you.” Nicole laughed again and Waverly felt the warmth travel through her body. “You're insanely talented Waverly Earp.”

“That's...thank you.” She smiled. “Wow that's quite the offer. Um…is it okay if I think about it first?” She asked.

“Oh of course!” Nicole jumped in. “Just let me know by the end of this week, okay?”

“Okay.” Waverly nodded.

“Great. And if you have any questions about it, this is my cell phone numbers...so just feel free to shoot me a text or call me.”

Waverly nodded, her mind racing with the idea of going on tour with Nicole.

“You still there?” Nicole asked with a hint of laughter.

“Oh yeah sorry...I was just...thinking.” Waverly broke her silence.

“So...how have things been back in Purgatory?” Nicole asked, sounding much less business like, and much more casual.

“Uneventful, as always.” Waverly responded with a sigh.

“Not much to do around there huh?”

“Nope. Just drink, eat, and hope you don't die of frostbite or wolves.” Waverly giggled.

“I don't know, sounds pretty fun to me.” Nicole laughed back. “Purgatory’s got you so it can't be that bad right?”

Waverly felt the blood rise in her cheeks. “I'm just as boring as Purgatory.”

Nicole chuckled again “I highly doubt that Waverly Earp. I just think you haven't gotten out of it enough times to know just how exciting you are.”

Waverly bit her bottom lip to stop herself from smiling too wide. “Yeah well, you would know, you've traveled more than I ever will.”

“Not if you come on this tour with me.” Nicole replied and Waverly could hear her smile. If she closed her eyes she could see those dimples in her cheeks. “But no pressure. I mean, I'd love for you to come. I think we'd have fun.”

“I think we would too.”

“WAVES! Help with these boxes, would ya?! They're heavier than Nedley riding an elephant!” Wynonna burst through the door making Waverly jump and nearly knock over the bar stool.

“Hey...sorry I have to get back to work. But I'll think about it and let you know.”

“Yeah, no of course, get back to work. I'll talk to you later.” Nicole’s voice sounded flustered as well, and maybe a bit disappointment. Waverly got that. She would have liked to keep talking forever. Especially with Nicole sounding so casual. Her voice was just so nice. And Waverly wasn't sure but she was pretty sure they were flirting...or flirting with flirting.

“Waverly, before this falls please!”

“Okay bye.” Waverly said quickly hanging up the phone and running to Wynonna’s side to help her lift the box on top of the bar.

Wynonna huffed as she opened the box. “Jesus...what do we need with all this whiskey?!”

“Well you can go through one on your own and we need to make sure we keep stock.” Waverly said as she walked back behind the bar and started unpacking the bottles.

Wynonna sat down at the bar and grabbed a bottle before Waverly could put it away. She poured herself a glass. “So who was on the phone?” She asked as she took a sip.

“Oh um...it was actually Nicole Haught, the singer from the other night.” Waverly tried to say it nonchalantly. She also tried to say it without smiling.

“Hm.” Wynonna nodded. “Wha’d she want?”

“Actually she's about to go on tour…”

“That's great. Good for her.” Wynonna took another skip from her glass.

“Yeah….and she wants me to go with her as their photographer.” Waverly quickly added.

“Whoa whoa whoa, Waves, WHAT?” Wynonna put her glass down on the bar.

“I know it's crazy. I...I don't think I'm gonna do it.”

“Oh no, you're doing this baby girl.” Wynonna stood and walked around the bar. “Waves this is huge!”

“I don't know Wy…” Waverly sighed as she shifted some bottles on top of the bar to make room for one of the bottles of Whiskey. “I mean it's 5 months. I can't leave for 5 months.”

“Like hell you can't!” Wynonna took hold of Waverly’s shoulders and turned her younger sister towards her. “Waverly, you have to do this.”

“But what about this place? Wynonna you know I practically run this bar.” Waverly sighed.

“Yeah I know you do, and it's fucking ridiculous because that's not your job. That's Shorties job, but he doesn't do shit around here and you've been letting him get away with it for too long.” Wynonna lowered her grip from her sister and paced for a second. “Waverly this is a huge opportunity to finally see the world outside of this shitty little Purgatory bubble.”

“It's just the US...not the world.” Waverly shifted her eyes to her nails she was anxiously picking at.

“Listen, when I...leaving here when I did...it was a shitty thing for me to do at the time.” Wynonna sighed and lifted herself to sit on top of the bar. “But it helped me figure out who I was. It helped me realized there was more to me than the crazy psycho bitch everyone from here knew. Out there I got to find out who I really was. I had a totally clean slate. Waves, you have no idea what that's like...to be able to start over like that. To see things from other places, from other points of view. And I get that you don't have as much of a reason to leave as I did, but don't you want more than this?” Wynonna gestured to the bar. “You have to much talent to be wasting it here in this hell-hole of a town.”

Waverly nodded. “I do want more than this.”

“Good. Then you're going.” Wynonna hopped off the bar and landed back on the floor. “I'll take over the bar while you're away. Maybe I'll actually get Champ to help around here...whip his ass into shape. By the time you come back he might go from horrible barbarian, to bearable barbarian.”

“Champs not that bad. He does stuff.” Waverly rolled her eyes as she wiped down the bar.

“Please tell me what he's doing...other than you.” Wynonna leaned her back against the bar and folded her arms over her chest.

Waverly smacked Wynonna with her towel and let out a small laugh. “Actually, I um...I broke things off with Champs last week.”

“What?! Where was my memo!”

“I didn’t want it to be a big deal.” Waverly shrugged. “He just...he is pretty gross.” She laughed. Truthfully Waverly broke things off with Champ because Nicole was taking over her brain. She couldn't focus on Champ for more than a minute without that redhead popping into her brain with her sparkly eyes and her charming laugh.

“I'm glad you see that.” Wynonna said patting Waverly on the back as she passed her. “I gotta get back before Dolls has a conniption.” She turned before leaving the bar “I'm really proud of you Waves.”

“Thanks Wynonna.” She smiled before Wynonna walked out the door.

Waverly sighed and leaned back against the bar. She pulled her phone out from her pocket and jostled it around a bit before swiping it open. She took a deep breath before finding Nicole's number from her recent calls.

She stared at the two words she had typed into her phone, her thumb hovered over the send button. She nervously bit her lip. Still feeling a bit uneasy about her decision she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She tried to picture what it would be like, to leave Purgatory, to go on tour, to be a photographer.

And all she saw was Nicole. Nicole laughing. Nicole smiling. Nicole standing on stage with her guitar like she had the night they met.

Before she could even open her eyes she was pressing send.

“I'm in.” The text read. She smiled and put her phone down on the bar. Waverly dropped her head and ran her fingers through her hair.

Seconds later her phone chimed. She lifted her head and looked at her phone. It was a text from Nicole that said “Oh thank god! I can't imagine doing this with anyone but you.”

Waverly felt a warmth cover her body. She felt a heat start to burn in her chest, and a tingle jolt through her fingertips.

She got another text from Nicole that said. “I'll email you the paperwork tonight and we’ll figure out the rest later. I'm so excited!!!”