#but she’s from deep in the rainforest and this is like outskirts

[whiteeyes-is-a-mad-scientist]

Mudwing of amber scales

Getting from the sand kingdom to the mud kingdom wasn't easy. The war didn't make it any easier. Sunhunter had flown day and night, fueled only by fear. The sight she saw in the vision still haunting her. She couldn't bare to look at the mountains when she had passed them. Finally over the rainforest the outskirts of the mud kingdom were in view. This side of the kingdom remained untouched by war. Once a place regarded for only the low born mudwings was turned into a bustling city. Being the closest to the rain kingdom it made for a good base camp.

The Diamond spray was where battles were often held. A faint burning glow sat on the horizon. Sunhunter wondered where the queen was. Her palace was so close to the war and yet sunhunter hear she refused to leave it.

In her thoughts she missed the rainwing patrol. The slender soldiers shot into the air slamming into her wings. She tumbled downward flailing trying to catch some balance. The rainwings followed and wrapped their tails around her limbs yanking in different directions. It took about six to slow her fall. Seven to full restrain her.

Sunhunter growled as she thrashed "let me go! Please! I must find someone!" Her eyes caught a few of the soldiers faces as they were back down within the camp. Their noses wrinkled as their tails let her go "hybrid…" one grumbled to the others. "We're giving you mercy but dont think trying to sell Queen Gila or Queen DiamondCrusher secrets will give you the same result…" they slithered back to their posts.

Sunhunter knew all too well both queens distaste for hybrids. Just last week her hybrid friend goldtail tried to trade rainwing secrets for immunity…. his head now sits stuffed on Queen Gilas wall. Sunhunter shut her eyes tightly trying to forget the image as well as to quiet her spinning head. After a moment of regaining her footing she looked around. While mudwings and rainwings werent crazy about hybrids they held less murderous urges. Worst sunhunter got was a weird look. It could also be they were too busy fighting the war to care. A few large mudwings with frills and rainwings with heavy plating walked about. They didn't seem to be worried about it. Sunhunter had to shake her head again. She had gone off track thinking. She started into the city. Mudwing of amberscales…. Mudwing of amberscales….

She could only frown finding hickorys, chocolates, umbers, mahogany, russets, chestnuts, and even a few siennas. Out from a large mud den glowing from inside, came two figures. One mudwing of darker browns scales, they waved to mudwing behind them before disappearing into the crowd. The mudwing they waved to….. covered in sparking amber scales. He was large and had a few deep scars on his shoulders. His sides were speckled with amber like stars in the sky. Sunhunter couldnt tell if they were apart of him or if he embedded them himself. She wriggled past the crowd and made it to the den. She didn't pause before entering. The mudwing looked up with a jolt. The inside of his den was cozy with blankets and pillows. The glow was coming from a burning fireplace, warmed the place enough that it felt like the desert to sunhunter. He laid near it was a scroll at his talons. Instead of being angry, shocked, or screaming at sunhunter to get out… he raised a brow. "I wasn't expecting you so soon." "What?" Sunhunter shook her head. "Take a seat you must be exhausted." He motioned a talon to the pile of deep purple pillows.

Sunhunter didn't protest despite her shock. She flopped into the pile and curled her barbed tail in. So soft. She could feel her eyelids growing heavy already. Quickly lifting her head she continued "How do you know me? How did you know I was coming?"

(find the rest in the reblogs)

[writing-n00b]

Chapter 2:

The rainforest canopy stretched over the road like the walls of a cave, leaving only a narrow strip of the morning sky visible between the branches. General Turly and Samson were forging ahead to scout things out, leaving Kiera, Michah, Tabitha, and Annabelle to wait at the top of a hill on the outskirts of town. While the others sat on the edge of the road speculating about what they would find in Kaylu, Kiera drank in the sights and sounds of the jungle.

She didn’t have much time for walks between training sessions at The Academy, and she missed the wilderness greatly. The humid air, the birds calling into the wind and the ancient trees towering high above her head all brought her back to her childhood, when she and Annabelle spent entire days roaming around among the trees. Nowadays, The Academy’s paranoia had rubbed off on Annabelle, and she was afraid of the jungle like everybody else.

An animal huff from behind the bushes startled Kiera startled from her thoughts. She threw a glance over her shoulder, saw that her companions were still deep in conversation, and decided to creep around the bush to investigate without disturbing them.

The sound turned out to be an adolescent hog, lying awkwardly on its side. When Kiera approached, it tried stand up, but its legs faltered and it collapsed in a heap on the ground. The creature let out a little sigh and gave Kiera a wary look. When it turned its head, Kiera could see something odd jutting out from the nape of its neck, and she nudged a little closer to get a better look.

There appeared to be a mass of tangled roots sprouting out of its neck, curling around its body like the legs of a spider. When Kiera pulled out her knife to try and remove it, the creature whimpered and twitched unnaturally, though it was hard to tell if it was because it was frightened of Kiera, or if the mass on its back was causing it pain. At the same time, Kiera noticed a feeling that had been gathering in the peripheral of her mind, a kind of mental pressure that grew more intense as she neared the animal.

Kiera was close enough to touch the hog when an arrow whizzed past her and lodged itself into its chest. A piercing squeal tore out of the animal’s throat. Kiera whipped around to see Tabitha sliding her bow into the harness on her back.

“Good find, Kiera,” Tabitha said, beaming. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to steal your kill, I just figured things would be cleaner with the bow. You can finish it off if you want.”

Blood spurted out of the wound as the hog tried to get on its feet. Kiera found herself dropping the knife and backing away before she realized what she was doing. She shook her head to clear the shock that had flared up within her and reminded herself that hunting was a favorite pasttime for most students at The Academy. It would be weird to admit that she had actually been trying to help the animal.

“It’s- it’s alright, you can do the honors,” Kiera said.

As Tabitha ended the animal’s life, Kiera pointed out the roots sprouting out of its neck. At this, Tabitha mentioned that General Turly and Samson had just come back, and they should show them what they had found.

“You’re lucky all you found was a bloody pig,” General Turly growled when Kiera and Tabitha came back. “I tell you all to stay put, and the jungle freak goes wandering off on her own. You do that during a real mission and you’ll die.”

Kiera glared at him and was met with a look of utter disdain. The General then flicked his mismatched gaze back to the hog and bent over to pick it up, letting a glob of saliva fall onto the grass as he went. It was stained brown with tobacco. He grabbed the hog’s head and lifted it to his chest to display the roots sprouting from its neck.

“This is why we hunt the Tanagiri. Cause if we didn’t, they’d turn nature upside down and twist it. You see something or someone that’s been tainted like this, you don’t think, you kill it. Same thing if you see a Tanagiri. It’s better for everyone that way.”

Kiera fidgeted with the handle of her sword and glanced at the other students. They looked solemn, but they were nodding. Back at The Academy, it was accepted that the only way to bring lasting prosperity to the Claeleth empire was to eliminate the Tanagiri. Most students were ready to kill if they needed to, some even looked forward to it. Kiera couldn’t even look when Tabitha killed the stupid pig.

The General went on to explain that Kaylu had been deserted. He and Samson had charted a pathway through the village, and assigned tasks to each of them to try and figure out what had happened. Tabitha and Samson would search abandoned homes for anything out of the ordinary, Micah and The General would search the perimeter of the town to figure out where everybody went, and Kiera and Annabelle would investigate the rice fields that surrounded the village. With that, they made their way into the town.

Kaylu was little more than a market square, a church that doubled as the town hall, and a number of run-down homes and farms that lay on either side of a jungle creek. It was the last settlement of the Claeleth Empire, sitting at the edge of civilization and the vast rainforest. As they walked through the empty streets, they saw signs that whatever caused everyone to leave had happened suddenly. Fruit and fish were left out to rot. Someone’s front door was left wide open and creaking in the wind. They even passed a horse that was still tied to the cart it had been pulling. Once they reached the center of town, they were about to split up, when they heard footsteps from behind the church. A young boy sprinted out from around the corner, his ragged shirt billowing behind him.

Tabitha seemed to recognize him. “Benji?”

The boy rushed toward her, gasping for air. “I- don’t– know– what’s– happening– to– me.”

Tabitha knelt down onto the gravel street, and the boy stopped an armlength away from her. His dark hair was matted, and there was a patch of blood on his cheek.

“What happened?” Tabitha said.

She glanced to General Turly for guidance, but the man just began to limp to the other side of the boy to watch the scene unfold.

Benji looked over his shoulder like he was terrified something was behind him, then his face screwed up and he began clawing at his sides and back incessantly. “Stop, stop, please just stop. No, no, no, no, please…”

Tabitha tried to lay a hand on the boy’s shoulder, but he recoiled and struck her across the face.

“NO!” He screamed. Then he flung himself at her wildly, clawing and kicking. At the same time, a wave of pressure rushed into Kiera’s mind, like someone was squeezing her head as hard as they could. It was so intense that she fell to her knees. She heard screaming, the sound of a sword cleaving through flesh and an awful gurgling sound. After a few moments, the pressure faded away. When she looked up, Tabitha was trying to throw herself at the General while Annabelle and Michah restrained her.

“What did you do?” Tabitha was saying, trying to fight her way out of their grasp. “What did you do?”

The boy was lying dead on the ground, cut open and bleeding. General Turly’s sword was covered in his blood.

“Look, girl, shut up and look at me,” The General snarled. He lifted Benji’s corpse and shook it in front of Tabitha, revealing a mass of black roots sprouting from the back of the boy’s neck. “He was already gone, get it?”

Tabitha cried out like she’d just been wounded, and The General let the boy’s body fall to the ground. Then Annabelle was helping Kiera to her feet, asking her if she was alright in a soft voice.

Kiera felt herself nodding, though the scene in front of her left her feeling faint. Everyone heard stories about the horrible things the Tanagiri could do, but seeing it in person was worse than Kiera had imagined.

“Their powers are getting more advanced,” The General said, nudging the roots on the boy’s back with his foot. “We need to get out of here. We’ll look for the rest of the village when we come back with a bigger team.”

“That won’t be necessary, sir,” Samson said.

“What are you–?” The General started. Then he followed Samson’s gaze down the street and saw that a horde of villagers was flooding toward them.

* * *

For a long moment, everyone stood stock still, watching the citizens of Kaylu charge. The way they moved was oddly mezmerizing. Each individual was clumsy and uncoordinated, their knees were too straight, or they came up too high, or they bent awkwardly to the side as they ran. But certain movements, twitches and spasms or the bobbing of their heads, passed through the horde like river currents.

“Let’s GO,” Turly shouted, and the troop sprang into action. Annabelle yanked Tabitha to her feet, and they took off the way they had come. But villagers were surging toward them on that side too, emerging from the direction of Kaylu creek.

“Take them out, make a path, and get through fast as you can,” Turly commanded as he ran. The other students shouted in assent, and began to draw their weapons. Kiera felt her hands tremble as she pulled out her own blade. The idea of running her sword through another person sent nervous lightning through her fingers. Beyond that, the pressure in her head was growing stronger with every step. What would happen if she collapsed in the middle of the fight?

“We need your bow, Tabitha, come on,” Turly said. “Don’t you dare choke up on me.”

They were rushing closer, close enough to make out the faces of the cursed villagers. Some looked furious, others terrified, others still were slack-jacked and dazed. Kiera watched a young woman go limp and fall facefirst onto the street, unable to protect herself from a dozen sets of feet thundering over her body.

“Tabitha, start shooting, NOW!”

Turly was shouting something else, but Kiera’s mind was screaming over top of it, the storm in her head swelling until it was unbearable. She was running at full speed when she fell, simply unable to stay on her feet any longer. The villagers’ legs went rushing passed as the road came up to meet her, and she wondered what being trampled to death would feel like.

But somehow not a single foot came down on her. The villagers attacked her companions, but seemed wholly uninterested in Kiera. In fact, they seemed to be taking deliberate measures to avoid stepping on her.

In the odd moment of peace, Kiera closed her eyes and focused on the currents flowing through her head. She could feel them swirling around in the air, blasting through the minds of the villagers like the winds of a hurricane. Was she cursed like them? Was there a mass of roots beginning to grow out of the back of her neck?

She looked around from where she had fallen. Her companions had taken out a few of the villagers, but they were badly outnumbered and more were rushing in every moment. Five of them descended on Annabelle at once, tearing the sword from her hands and pinning her to the ground. Kiera saw a foot slam into her stomach, then she disappeared into the sea of people.

Without thinking, Kiera leapt to her feet and dashed into the crowd. To her bewilderment, the villagers parted for her, even as they continued to fight her companions. Annabelle was thrashing for her freedom against their grasp, and a muscular man with a bristling black beard was kicking her relentlessly.

Kiera rushed forward to try and pull the man off her sister, but he wouldn’t budge. She looked around desperately for someone who could help, and saw that her companions had been brought to the ground the same way. Micah appeared to be unconscious, blood pouring out of his mouth. Even The General was overwhelmed. All the while, the currents were swelling up around her, surging stronger and faster through the mob.

Then the bearded man brought his foot down on her sister’s head, and something inside of Kiera snapped. The energy that had been building up within her head burst outward in every direction. The currents that had been so powerful a moment before were washed away. Kiera caught a glimpse of the bearded man looking totally bewildered, then the world went black.

Chapter 3:

Kiera woke to a faceful of leather armor. Someone’s shoulder was digging into her stomach, and her head was thumping against their back with every step they took. She opened her mouth to ask where she was, then realized with a flash of panic that her hands were bound and dangling. Had the cursed villagers gotten her? Or was she being carried off by a Tanagiri warrior who had swept in after the battle was over?

She decided it would be best to pretend like she was still unconscious until she knew more.

 After a long minute of listening and trying her best to stay limp, she recognized that Tabitha was the one carrying her. At the very least, she was still with her companions. 

“This is good enough,” General Turly said. “Micah, keep a lookout. Tabitha, do I need to show you how to tie someone’s hands, or are you going to do it right this time?”

“Sorry sir,” Tabitha wheezed. The group stopped in a clearing at the top of a large butte, and Tabitha hauled Kiera off her shoulder and onto the ground. Through squinted eyes, she watched Professor Arbor step toward her. 

“Gareth, perhaps we should give the girl a chance to explain herself,” he said. “Would you mind giving me a moment to speak with her once she wakes up?” 

General Turly blocked his path, towering over the professor’s scrawny frame. “Oh, I think she can explain herself fine with her hands tied. You and Annabelle can sit nice and pretty next to Samson.” 

“But don’t you think-”

“That’s an order, professor,” The General growled. “I have my own questions for you. Now, sit. Down.”

After a long moment of hesitation, Professor Arbor began to walk back to Samson.

Annabelle started to follow him, then turned back to Turly. 

“Sir, I swear I didn’t know about any of this, but I do know that my sister is not our enemy,” She said. “Please don’t hurt her.” 

“Go sit down, girl,” General Turly said softly.

[dunyun-rings]

Hynna’s yard (the Cyrodilic Jungle House)

[nostradamus0]

Supercorptober 2022, Day 5: Orange

read on ao3

They meet Connor when he is four years old. He’s a quiet boy with lonely hazel eyes that get brighter every time Kara or Lena smile at him. His father is dead and his mother left him behind, and he latches onto Lena the moment he meets her and never really lets go.

His introverted, quiet nature takes a little more time to warm up to Kara, thrown off kilter by her astronomical friendliness and outgoing love. Once he does, he clings on with the same strength as he clings to Lena.

They hadn’t been planning on kids so soon. It had always been a promise of someday that would come when the world was quieter and Kara could take a step back from superheroing. But they meet Connor when he’s just a lost, grieving orphan who needs them, and they both know what that feels like. 

(Lena looks at him and is reminded of her mother, of being four years old and so, so alone, and she is certain that Connor is meant to be theirs.)

They move out of their small apartment into a house on the outskirts of National City. It has a backyard and a porch swing and a mailbox that says Danvers in bright blue letters that Lena traces with her fingers every morning when she collects the mail. Kara gets paint everywhere trying to paint Connor’s room orange.

(“I told you not to use superspeed for painting,” Lena says, propped against the doorway with amusement in her eyes as she watches her wife scrape paint out of her hair.)

Everything, orange. It’s his favorite color and suddenly everything he owns, he wants in orange. They buy an orange swing to hang from a tree in the backyard and an orange quilt for his bed and a collection of orange stuffed animals, most of which resemble animals that are not orange.

The only clothes he wants to wear that aren’t orange are ones covered in Kara’s family crest—their family crest, and she beams so hard for so long that her cheeks ache even with invulnerability. (Lena suggests teaching Connor ​​Kryptonese and inviting him to celebrate her holidays and telling him all the stories. Kara kisses her wrist where her bracelet rests against her skin and holds her like she’s put the world back together.)

(The press has a field day seeing Lena Danvers née Luthor’s son covered in Supergirl’s crest.)

It’s over the color orange that Connor calls her Mama for the first time. Specifically, an orange crayon.

They’re in the living room halfway through a sleepy, uneventful Sunday. Cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table, Lena’s got a coloring sheet and an explosion of crayons and a four-year-old draped across her lap; her ‘co-artist,’ Kara calls it.

They’re working together on a rainforest scene, bringing to life a pink monkey and a yellow elephant and a blue frog that’s inexplicably the same size as a bright green chimpanzee whom Connor is taking creative license with and adding wings to. She’s working on the orange sunset at the horizon when it happens.

A small finger pokes one of the uncolored trees, pressing against the paper, and Connor tips his head all the way back until he can see her. His forehead bumps her chin and she looks down at him, meets his eyes that glow like dark, liquid honey, and she smiles.

“Hi there,” she says, her voice quiet and warm. He giggles, his toothy smile making hers grow, and he says:

“Can I have the orange crayon, Mama?” 

Mama Mama Mama— 

can I have the orange crayon, Mama? The name spins in Lena’s head and melts straight from his sweet voice into her chest, his happiness a gentle balm against everything that’s ever hurt her. 

A child was not something she ever thought she would have. For most of her life, she never considered she even could, not until she was deep in love with Kara and everywhere she turned brought her closer to their future.

Mama, he called her, his fingers brushing hers where she’s holding the crayon he wants. Mama, he said, and her grip slackens and streaks orange across the sky.

She has a son.

She has a son, a beautiful little boy who’s looking up at her with wide, innocent eyes and a happy smile, the soft skin of his palm against the back of her hand and his pale curls tickling her chin. He smells of kids citrus shampoo and the peanut butter she wiped off his cheeks after his mid-morning snack, and his socked feet with frogs on the toes are tucked in the crook of her bent knee. 

She loves him more than she ever knew she could.

“Of course, baby,” she murmurs, pressing the crayon into his open hand and dropping a warm kiss to his forehead. He giggles again, squirms in her arms and scrunches his nose—but leans into the touch. Even as he reaches out to color the leaves of a jungle tree vibrant orange, he curls his body closer to her chest.

With light fingertips, Lena brushes his hair away from his face and replays the sound of his voice and the sweetness of the word as he said it for the first time. Mama.

She watches him scrawl orange across the page and remembers the tail end of a recent Game Night, when he was half-asleep in her arms and Kara was talking with Alex in the kitchen, their voices low as she carried him toward the stairs.

“Let’s get you to bed, sweet boy,” she’d murmured, close to his ear. “I’m thinking we’ll read Pumpkin Moonshine tonight; does that sound okay?”

He’d nodded, soft and sleepy, against her shoulder.

After rounding the corner, the quiet sound of her name had stopped her before she reached the stairs. Connor had shifted in her arms and his cheek pressed against her collarbone, fingers curled into her shirt. The cotton bunched up in his hands.

“Motherhood looks good on her,” Alex had said, and a strange sort of relief washed through Lena as the words reached her, just around the corner by the staircase, leaned against the wall with a four-year-old boy she’d only known a few months (—and loved for what seemed like longer) content in her arms.

“Yeah, it really does,” Kara had answered, such unfiltered love in her voice that Lena had been nearly overwhelmed by it all. She’d held Connor closer and pressed her forehead against his, closing her eyes and breathing him in. “She’s so amazing with him, Alex.”

Now, as his first Mama still rings in her ears, she recognizes that night as the first time she truly believed that being someone’s mother was something she was capable of getting right.

Connor looks back at her and she smiles on instinct.

“You can have the orange back now, Mama,” he says, handing the crayon to her like he’s bestowing her with something precious. Perhaps he is.

She wants to cry, but instead she takes the crayon, says “thank you, sweetheart,” and puts color to paper. The orange of her sunset meets his trees, and on the other side, the sky and the forest are full of colors scribbled inside and out of the lines by two different hands.

Later, when Kara comes home, Connor will run to the door with the picture in his two hands, calling “Mommy, look what me and Mama did!” as she hangs her coat on the rack, and Lena will watch the world shift in Kara’s eyes. She’ll watch her wife pull their son into her arms and cling to him, fawn over the drawing and compliment the unique color choices and artistic techniques, and hold back tears.

Lena loves them more than she ever knew she could.

[writingwhenimbored]

No Stealing in the Jungle

Summary: As a mortal living in the Peruvian Rainforest, you know the rules. It’s a relatively easy set of rules to follow: don’t leave the compound, don’t hurt the community, and avoid The Man.

Content Warning: 18+ Smut (duh), some implied mind-reading, a lil degrading, idk it’s smut y’all know the drill, smut smut smutty smut

Word Count: 3.8 K

Time moved slowly in camp.

Maybe it was due to the fact that the only trace of music was from the birds and the only food on the table was from the farm, but it was nice. A predictable pattern that lead to a predictable day and thus a predictable life.

You had lived in the jungle for as long as you can remember (and that’s not saying much). The swaying of the myrtle and acacia trees of the Peruvian Rainforest shielded you from any view of planes or the slight twinkle of satellites. Although you didn’t know such things existed you knew that there was something off about you life the moment you heard about The Man.

“He’ll look at your and know your whole life story”

“Make you forget things that you knew”

“Take control of your soul and move you like a puppet”

“He’s the devil”

Though you had never encountered him before (he was gone on expeditions regularly) you hoped to the heavens that you’d never have meet him.

——————

It had been a particularly hellish day. The slivers of sunlight that bore it’s way through the treetops was enough to make your skin hot as you worked around the community. As you moved produced from one side of the village to the other, you were dowsed in sweat and dirt had made its home under your fingernails

Your stomach growled continuously as you rolled a wheelbarrow full of bananas across the little village; temptation to reach in and take one was growing on you. It was your fault in all honesty. You had skipped lunch in order to take a nap and you were facing the consequences.

Stopping your trek you reached your hand in the wheelbarrow, it’s not like anyone would really notice, right? Once the banana was pocketed in your left pocket, you pushed the cargo to the back door of the pantry house where you were met with an unfamiliar face.

His dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes were the first notable thing about him (the second being his intimidating gaze). He walked towards you with a sense of purpose and royalty as you stood frozen in place.

This was The Man.

Coming to your side he leaned in close to where you could feel his breath on your ear.

“I’m don’t like thieves, Y/N. Not here.” He spoke.

His voice had the most lovely of accent you’d never heard and it caused goosebumps to litter your skin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You stammered playing dumb.

He clicked his teeth and shook his head with a sense of disappointment on his face. His body language quickly becoming more menacing as his hand began to rise. Quickly grabbing you by your hair, he leaned your head back; exposing your neck to the sky he spoke again looking you deep in the eyes.

“And I like liars even less”.

——————

She has the most gorgeous frame, he thought. Walking around the outskirts of the compound he watched over his people with a keen eye and you had caught it routinely.

Maybe it was the way that your chest heaved as you worked in the fields and the way your hair was tied up just-so-perfectly when you did the laundry. You were striking and he wanted nothing than to fill your head with thoughts of him.

There was a reason you’d never met him before: you’d never done anything wrong. Never cheated, or sought vengeance, or killed. In his eyes you were perfect and he didn’t want to sully your life with his presence. He wanted to keep your pristine.

Of course that was until you decided to steal food. He was disappointed as he watched you reach into the wheeled crate and steal food meant for the pantry, especially since there was food for you to take back at the kitchen. It’s the principle, he thought. You had been so good for so long that he had hoped he would never have to catch you doing such a thing; but as you stood there lying and stealing from him, he knew what he had to do to snuff out your bad behavior with a punishment.

And as much as he wanted to deny it, he was excited.

——————

You woke up in a cabin not too unlike your own. It was modest with little trinkets scattered about the shelves and furniture in the room. The only difference was the man sitting opposite from you.

“The Man” You whispered. The thought was more to yourself than to him, but you heard a faint chuckle.

“Is that what you all call me now? How ominous” He said. The Man was laid back in his chair as he scanned his eyes up and down your body before making it back up to your face.

“Sir, I am so so about the banana a-and the lying. I know there’s nothing I can do about it now, but I promise to never do anything like that again. I’ve never stolen in my life and I see that it was a mistake — I see that now — so maybe,” You pleased. “just maybe, we can call this a warning?”.

You couldn’t quite read his face as you begged for mercy. You were terrified of his mere presence due to the stories and gossip that had traveled through camp.

“A warning?” He laughed. “You’re so funny sometimes.” Getting up he crossed the room to get a closer look at you.

“That’s why I like you.” He chirped.

You looked up to him at his compliment. His eyes bore down to you and his lips were slightly parted. Although you were still scared of what he had in store for you, an undeniable feeling started to make its way to your core.

You ran your eyes down his body and unintentionally met your eyes with the bulge in his trousers. Unsure of whether you had caused it or not, you tried to shake your thoughts and brought your gaze back up to his eyes.

His eyes were with peppered with lust as you watched him think over his next decision. You saw him shift between looking at your eyes and your lips to the point where you could hear a pin drop as the gears turned behind his head. Finally after a few seconds of consideration he closed his eyes and returned back to his seat with a sigh.

“You’re suspended from kitchen duty for the next two weeks. Now leave.” He said firmly and he fidgeted in his seat; careful not to make eye contact with you again.

The abrupt change from flattery to sternness gave you whiplash. “Pardon?” You asked incredulously.

“Go on. Get out.” He stated even firmer than before.

You were surprised that suspended kitchen duty was all he had in store for you (even though you loved cooking with your friends), but then again you weren’t exactly keen on what he could’ve done. As you scrambled to collect yourself, you began walking towards the door. Taking one glimpse at The Man, you saw that his hands were perched over his erection in a poor attempt to hide it from you watchful eye.

“Don’t let me catch you again or the will be a far greater punishment.” He called out as you left the room.

“Yes, sir.” You said with a slight smirk.

——————

It had been a few days since your run in with The Man and you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

As everyone began to return to their cabins for bed you found yourself laying down and staring at your ceiling. Your thighs rubbed together at the thought of seeing him again. The way he could knock you over with nothing but his voice made your face flush.

Slowly but surely you hand traveled down your abdomen as you tried to alleviate your newfound feelings. Thinking back on the way that he looked at you was enough to make your stomach tighten.

Should you test your luck and try to see him again? You mind racked with ideas that would get you in a bit of trouble just so you could feel his warmth by your side. Perhaps you would even steal again if it meant letting him eyefuck you.

Just as you were about to reach your core you were interrupted by the sound of someone at your room door.

“Come in!” You beckoned as you made yourself presentable.

Prisha, a girl you worked with when you had kitchen duty, poked her head in the room.

“You’ve been asked for” She said with big eyes.

“By who?” You questioned.

“First of all it’s whom and second who else could ask for you at a time this late?” She said with a raised brow. “The Man.”

——————

Your long skirt ruffled and turned in the wind with each step as you approached the illuminated cabin. Stuck in your head, you were filled with mixed emotions. Sure you were scared of what he needed to discuss with you but you were also thrilled at the thought of seeing him again.

The door was cracked open and before you could even announce your presence you heard a voice yell out to you from the inside. “No sense in knocking, Y/N. Enter.” Exhaling a deep sigh you stepped into the room.

The room was illuminated by candles and lanterns that flickered from the slight breeze of the open windows. The Man was sitting on his bed wearing nothing but a towel along his waist. He was dripping and you could feel yourself getting turned on at the sight.

“You called for me, sir?” You asked, trying to take your mind off of such impure thoughts.

“I understand you’re one of the best field-hands on the compound?” He more so stated than asked.

“Yes that’s correct.” You replied as you approached the chair where you had been sitting just days before.

“I have some plans for expanding the farm done by some of the community planners. Let me know what you think, the blueprints are on the desk.” He used another towel and began to dry his hair.

He must of known what he was doing because you were getting turned on by watching him dry off. Swallowing the excess of saliva that had manifested, you turned over to the desk.

For the next few minutes you forced yourself to concentrate and began to actually asses the information on the blueprints. You were noting any comments or questions regarding the plans on a separate pad.

As you looked over the new plot layouts you felt a warm presence at your side. Looking up you saw The Man reading over your notes as he overshadowed you.

“You’re actually pretty good at this.” He praised. “I’ll take these notes to the next meeting.”

As he grabbed the papers off the table he brush your arm and instantly butterflies flew in your stomach. You couldn’t help buy study his hands as he read through your input. They looked strong but so soft and pristine. You wondered how they’d feel holding you, tracing your body, prodding inside you.

Your face was hot and you noticed that he stopped his task and was simply looking down at you. Almost parallel to last time you tried not to notice how close you were to his crotch; the tension preventing you from breaking his gaze.

“I could use your help with something else before you leave.” His voice was rough and sensual but you tried your best not to show it’s effect on you.

“Anything you need, sir.” Your voice was airy and you couldn’t help but notice how we twitched under his towel.

“My books need sorting. I’d do it myself but...” He traced his fingers down the side of your face; only pausing briefly when his thumb met the part of your lips. “it’s a lot for one person to do.”

Turning away from you he walked into a separate room where he had surprisingly stocked library. You followed behind and watched as his hips slightly swung with every step. “Right now they’re done by age and region but I feel like it would be more efficient if it were done by category, don’t you?”

As you approached one of the bookshelves you ran your fingers over the spines of the old texts. Looking over at him you saw that he was no longer looking at you eyes —no— he was fully taking you in.

“Up you go then.” He said motioning towards the library ladder.

“Start with the one’s along this column and then make your way across.” He commanded.

As you stepped further and further up the ladder you tucked your skirt between your legs; careful not to expose yourself to the powerful man. You weren’t wearing underwear at the moment and even though you wanted him to touch you, you weren’t sure how he would react to seeing you in such a compromising position.

———————

The two of you worked for awhile in silence. The sounds of the jungle filling the cabin and the room where you occupied. Having ditched his towel, The Man had changed into an evening robe that left little to the imagination. You on the other hand had discarded the shaw you were wearing as the humidity took it’s toll on you. Though the energy of the room was comfortable, the sensual undertones were still ever present.

All to suddenly, a large gust rushed through the compound causing the window shutter to slap against the cabin. Startled at the sudden noise you felt yourself lose balance on the ladder. Your hands reaching out for anything it could grasp, but still you felt yourself fall backwards.

Just as you were about to brace for impact you felt hands on you back. Your heart racing you looked back to see The Man under you, hoisting you up. “You could grab onto the ladder now.” He grunted.

Embarrassed and slightly excited at the contact, you reached forward and placed yourself flesh against the ladder once more. As you regained your composure you noticed that his hands didn’t leave you back; in fact they were now resting lower than before.

You felt as his strong hands moved down from your back to the swell of your ass. “Sir?” You asked timidly.

He began to massage your body with his strong and tender hands as you began to feel yourself get wet. Continuing with his left, he used his right hand to pick up your skirt, thus exposing your naked cunt to him. “So much prettier than I imagined.” He whispered to himself as up brought up his thumb to play with your hole.

You couldn’t hold back your moans as he defiled you; giving you pleasures that nobody had given to you before. “You like that pretty girl?” He mocked.

“Yes.” You whined.

“Yes, what?” He demanded as he lightly slapped your sex.

You flinched at the contact. “Yes, sir”.

Bringing you a few steps down the ladder he brought your pussy to his face. The feeling of his breath on your most sensitive area made your legs feel like jelly. He pounced on your cunt; fucking your hole with his tongue while one hand held up your skirt and the other wrapped around your body to your breast. You were in utter bliss as you felt him eat you out with such vigor.

Coming up for air he continued to play with your now exposed tits. Pinching and twisting your nipples as you continued to moan out for the world to hear.

“Didn’t take you for such a slut, Y/N. To be honest I was almost looking forward to the chase, but you’re too easy for that.” He sneered. “Thinking such things about me while we’re working? Shame on you. Wanting to get in trouble just so I can make you feel this is way isn’t what good girls do, Y/N. And I know you know that. I don’t think you even deserve my cock to ruin this tight little hole, hm?”

Desperation clouded your mind as you thought about what it would feel like to get properly fucked. You were a virgin but that didn’t stop you from fantasizing about being stuffed with all of him.

“No, please. I need it. I need your cock, sir.” You pleaded.

“Do you?” He asked as his hand left your breast and returned to your pussy. Playing with your entrance once more he began to insert his fingers into your hole.

You winced as you stretched around his fingers but it was a good pain; and you wanted more of it. “I need more. I’ll be so good to you, I just need you to fuck me. Use me, Sir. Use my cunt.”

He sped up the pace of his hand, fucking your roughly with his thick fingers. The sounds of your wetness were ever present in the room. Your body shook as he massaged your insides, turning you into mush.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He grunted. “So ready to take me, yeah? Think you can do it?” He asked.

“I can do it, sir.” You moaned.

“Then get on the ground before I change my mind.” He spat.

Descending the ladder you brought yourself down to the wooden floor; arching your back you pointed your ass to the sky for better access. The floor creaked beneath your arms and legs. After a few seconds you were surprised that you didn’t feel him coming up behind you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You heard him ask with an edge.

You looked back over your shoulder and saw that we was standing over you.

“You thought I was going to fuck you? You haven’t even earned it yet,” He teased. “come over here and suck my dick.”

Dragging yourself up from all fours, you eagerly sat in front of him on your knees.

“I’m sorry sir.” You quipped while you looked up at him.

He looked glorious from this angle especially with the large bulge coming from under his rope. Slowly you untied the piece of clothing and opened the front of it for easy access. Instantaneously his dick sprang free; slapping you in the face as you brought your hand towards his crotch.

“No hands. Sluts don’t use their hands, and that’s what you are right? A dirty fucking slut?”

“I’m not.” You lightly protested.

“Really?” He sneered as he took the back of your head into his hand. You gasped as he pulled roughly on your hair and shoved himself into your new opening.

“Then why do I have my cock in your mouth, already? I can practically smell your cunt from here. I know how desperate and wanting you are. It’s kind of sad how much you need me — need this dick— in your life. You’ve never even had cock before have you? Well just know that I’m going to ruin you from wanting anyone else for the rest of your life.” He taunted.

Tears pricked into the corners of your eyes as he continued to fuck your mouth. ‘He tastes so good’, you thought.

“You like the way I taste? Don’t worry this is all you’re going to be doing from now on. No more farm work or cooking, no. I’m going to make you my personal cockwarmer, how does that sound?” He laughed down at you as thrusted into your mouth once more.

You were too cock-drunk to even notice that he’d read your thoughts; the only think you were focused on was the way he was making you feel. Your pussy was clenching around air underneath your skirt and you had started dripping onto the wooden floors.

“Get on all fours.” He demanded.

Begrudgingly removing him from your mouth, you quickly got into your previous position with your ass high in the air. Ready for the taking.

You felt his body press between yours as his tip lined itself with your entrance. Slowly he pushed in and let the tip of his dick penetrate your tight hole, but didn’t dare go any deeper. He started to fuck you with only the tip of his penis, making your frustration grow and grow.

“Sir, please.” You begged.

Taking his hand and putting it on the back of the throat, he started to squeeze. “You’ll take what I give you and like it.”

As he continued to fuck you with nothing but the tip, you felt yourself moaning at the agonizing tease. The added sensation of him choking you had you going wild.After a few minutes of slow and shallow fucking, he gradually he began to sink deeper and deeper into you. His thrusts were growing harsher than before and you felt him hitting your cervix every time.

“This what you wanted?” He asked as he started fucking into you at a faster pace.

All you could do was nod as you reached out to anything on the floor to stabilize yourself as he penetrated you.

“You can’t even talk? Wow I’ve fucked you dumb.” He chuckled. “You need this, Y/N. Now say it!” He snapped as he slapped your ass.

“I need this. I need you to fuck me like this all the time, please Sir. I can’t live without you inside me.” You moaned.

He snapped his hips into yours at a brutal pace. You ass bounced against him and he felt himself twitching at the sight. The more you cunt clenched around him the the faster he went. Cursing himself, he felt his orgasm coming close and he needed to get you there too.

“M’gonna to cum inside.” He grunted as he brought his chest to your back. “Gonna make you mine and mine only.”

Using his left hand to attack your clit and his right hand to hold himself up, he found a groove that had you tightening around him. “You like that? Like the thought of me pumping you full of my cum? And here I thought you were innocent; never a malicious thought in your brain. I guess I was wrong ‘cause you’re taking me like a proper whore.” He teased.

You felt yourself approaching your peak as he sped up the hand on your clit. “Sir, I’m so close. I’m gonna cum.” You cried.

As you reached your orgasm you’re pussy constricted around him, making him hiss with how tight you had gotten. Behind your shoulder his eyes were glowing a golden tint and you suddenly you felt him twitch. The unfamiliar sensation of warmth coated the inside of you as you felt a level of ecstasy you had never dreamt of achieving before. An unworldly orgasm ripped through you while you milked his cock to oblivion.

The two of you sat there in place in order to catch your breaths. Finally after a few moments, The Man came off of your body and gave one last thrust before pulling out. The mix of both of your juices spilling out of your cunt and onto the floor.

Looking back at him he handed you a towel from a laundry bag on the library desk before grabbing one for himself as well.

“Um.. thank you, sir.” You said lamely at the gesture.

You looked up to find him staring at you. His eyes were softer than before.

“Call me Druig”

——————

A/N: first time writing smut and idk if i like it lol. I’m gonna start working on part 2 of Puppy Dog in a few days, but i’m tired as shit rn. thank you guys for the support and lmk if they’re any typos or anything. also, i’m looking for mutuals if anyone wants to collab.

[tchallasbabymama]

Troubled Waters Prologue

Hey y’all! Some of you may have seen this already, but I took it down and reworked it a little bit. Check out my masterlist to read my other stories, and let me know if you want to be tagged in anything. Enjoy!

Word count: 1,723

Aziza [a-zee-za] noun: A benevolent magical species with moderate stature, pointed ears, colorful wings, and deep brown skin that always has a slight glow. They enjoy music, dancing, and frolicking with human children. They also have a propensity for plant magic and hunting and tend to dwell in or around the rainforest.

Long before humans ever stepped foot in Wakanda, the aziza were appointed guardians of the land by the panther goddess, Bast. Aziza lived in harmony with the other magical beings, with a few exceptions, and the queen of the aziza ruled over all of Wakanda. That is until these strange, magicless creatures stumbled into the forest one day and were immediately accosted by some of the more malevolent beings that inhabited the land. Several aziza sprang into action to protect the newcomers and were able to stop the evil obambo from possessing them and driving them mad. When the heroic team of aziza brought the defenseless humans to the queen, she welcomed them into her kingdom with open arms and gave them their own plot of land that was locked between her forest and a dangerous mountain range.

When left to their own devices, the humans began to fight with each other over resources and the right to rule. Queen Ani grew tired of the fighting and called on Bast to help end the constant wars. The goddess instructed her to find a man named Bashenga and bring him to her garden. Apparently, her favorite flower had a strange effect on humans. To all the other beings under her rule, the flower simply acted as an ointment of sorts, but it made humans powerful. Queen Ani followed Bast’s instructions and ground up the petals for Bashenga to consume. She buried him in the rich soil, and when he emerged minutes later, he was a new man. He was a leader, a champion, a king.

Humans and magical beings lived in harmony in isolation from the outside world for centuries until a strange thing started happening on the continent. People were disappearing from the western coast, and when the queen of the aziza heard about it, she brought it to the human king’s attention. King Amir refused to help out of fear of exposing his kingdom to the world, and Queen Onara became incensed. She couldn’t believe he was turning his back on his own kind. The queen wanted nothing more to do with him and his cowardly people, so she called on Bast again. The goddess made another realm within Wakanda for the magical creatures to live in. Onara assumed it would be difficult to get the other species on board, but, as it turned out, most of them were eager to get away from the humans. It seemed the only ones that actually liked them were the aziza, but that quickly changed upon hearing of their negligence. A few even chose to travel to the new world in disguise to help the humans that had been taken. The aziza operatives did their best to help them, but there were just too many for them to save. Their numbers were few, but they were able to perform small acts of magic to help where they could.

Over the years, magical creatures became a thing of the past to the Wakandans. They became bedtime stories and folk tales, but nobody truly believed in their existence anymore except for the children the aziza would occasionally visit when they felt like being playful.

————

One sunny afternoon, a little aziza was playing down by the river when she sneezed, and her surroundings changed. Everything looked almost the same but slightly less vibrant despite the bold greens and blues around her. She turned around and couldn’t see her village in the distance, but instead, she saw a boy about her age splashing in the water.

She emerged from behind the bushes and called out to him, “Sawubona!”

The boy looked up, and his eyebrows furrowed. He was sure he had been alone.

“Um, mholweni...ungubani?”

“I’m Nia. Who are you?”

“You speak Xhosa?”

“I speak a bunch of languages,” she giggled. “You speak Zulu?”

“Yeah. I bet I speak more languages than you,” he challenged her.

Nia’s face scrunched up as she counted up all the languages she knew.

“I speak thirteen so far, but I’m only eight,” she shrugged.

“Wow, thirteen?! I can only speak five.” He looked dejected, and she hated seeing the look on his face, so she quickly changed the subject.

“Can I swim with you?”

“Sure, but...where did you come from?” the boy asked as he looked around. “You just sort of came out of nowhere.”

Nia was young, but she knew she was in the human realm. She had visited plenty of times with her ubaba and knew it well. She just wasn’t sure how she got there this time. However, she knew not to tell him exactly what she was, so the little aziza tucked her ears under her colorful headband as she stepped closer and tried to think of a good explanation.

“My ubaba says I’m sneaky like that,” she shrugged. “Want to play tag?”

“You’re it!” he yelled as he splashed her and swam away as fast as he could. She cut her eyes at him and wiggled out of her clothes before jumping in after him. She quickly caught up to him, much to his surprise, but he stopped when it was his turn to chase her. The boy noticed something strange on her back as she swam away, and he grew concerned.

“What happened?”

Nia quickly turned around, confused by the tone of his voice, “To what?”

“To you. The scars,” he pointed to her back.

“Oh,” Nia had to think fast again. “It’s just a really big birthmark.”

“Really? That’s so cool! It looks like two wings,” he mused before his eyes lit up and he gasped loudly. “What if you can fly?”

“I wish,” she said with a certain sadness to her voice that confused him. He noticed the heaviness in her eyes and decided to lighten to mood a little by splashing her in her face. It worked, and they were off again.

The two of them spent the afternoon splashing away in the river, laughs echoing loudly as they played until a deep voice called out, and the boy froze.

“T’Challa!”

“Coming, baba!” he yelled back before turning to his new friend, who had just figured out that she had been playing with the Crown Prince of Wakanda this whole time. “I have to go. I’m not supposed to be out here.”

Nia’s face deflated until she looked at the shadows and realized too much time had passed since she left home. She nodded solemnly, and they swam to shore. They begrudgingly got dressed in silence until T’Challa spoke up.

“Can I see you again? I had fun today… I don’t get to have fun often,” he looked at the ground, and she hugged him tight to make him smile.

“I can come back tomorrow,” Nia said, making his face light up.

“Deal!”

The two kids said their goodbyes, and Nia watched as T’Challa ran through the trees towards the disembodied voice. She turned around to leave the same way she came and jumped at the sight of her father.

“Did you have fun?” he asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Nia nodded enthusiastically, “I made a friend!”

“I saw,” he chuckled. “How’d you get over on this side?”

“I sneezed,” Nia shrugged as she grabbed her ubaba’s hand, and they shimmered back over to the magic realm. That night, he began to teach her how to clear her mind and travel between the realms intentionally. Nia took to it quickly, and she was excited to explore the human realm, her mother’s realm, more than ever before.

Amare, an aziza, and Celeste, a human, met and fell in love while he was stationed in New York for his first tour as a secret operative. When Amare heard about what the human Wakandans had allowed to happen to their kin, he jumped at the chance to make a difference. It was a dangerous job, dealing with humans and the occasional fae, but he loved it. Almost immediately, he met and fell in love with Celeste, a vivacious and opinionated brown-skinned beauty from Harlem. They lived together for two blissful years before they found out they were expecting a child. Celeste was over the moon, but Amare couldn’t help but worry. There had been very few half-human, half aziza babies over the years, but they always took a massive toll on human mothers. Amare knew then that he might have to say goodbye to the love of his life. Sadly, he was right. The baby’s higher need for energy to fuel her growing magic drained her mother dry, and Celeste was even too weak to push. She didn’t survive the cesarean.

Amare brought his baby girl back home to Wakanda, and they lived in a small home near the rainforest on the outskirts of the Border province that he had enchanted to straddle both realms. He raised Nia the same as any other aziza child, but they often traveled to the human realm so she could be among her people. Before popping over to the other side, he’d always cast a glamour spell to hide his wings, making them lay flush against his back so that they looked like intricate tattoos. Nia was always jealous of her dad’s bright orange wings since she never got hers, just the giant wing-shaped scars that covered her back. She always felt a little broken, like she wasn’t as good as the other aziza kids, so when she met T’Challa she was excited to have her first human friend. Or so she thought.

Nia went back to the river the next day and waited for T’Challa. She waited and waited, but he was nowhere to be found. She tried again every day for a week, but he never showed. His absence started to weigh on her, and Amare hated to see his little girl look so sad. After day seven, he put a stop to it and Nia eventually gave up on her so-called friend. However, the pain of his abandonment never really went away.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @bribrisback, @impremenior, @ljstraightnochaser

[delaneytveit]

Like the Ocean

its Lance’s birthday!! Here’s a little fic I literally thought of while trying to sleep last night! I hope you guys like it! 

“So these things-” 

“Relics, Lance.” Pidge corrected him again. 

“Yeah, those. What exactly makes them so important? And why do we have to get them now?” 

Allura sighed, obviously annoyed at Lance’s reluctance to join the mission. Why couldn’t he just do as he’s told for once? 

“You were the one that felt so insecure about your place on the team.” She didn’t mean for it come out as harshly as it did, and it caused her to wince though she knew she had to continue. “To obtain these relics, each of you must undergo the Trials of the Paladins. If you succeed, you return with the relic. If you don't...” 

“We don’t return, do we?” Of everyone on the team, it was clear that Lance was to one who most wanted to return home, and it broke her heart to think that she was the one keeping him from that. But she also knew that he had to be strong. Only the strongest may be a paladin, and if a little homesickness was going to keep Lance from being the Blue Paladin, then he shouldn’t have been chosen in the first place. 

Her silence seemed to answer his question, as he didn’t push anymore. 

“I have the utmost confidence that you will all return.” She spoke finally, and though shaken, Lance sat up straight and attentive. He could do this, she thought. 

The next varga was spent in preparation, briefing each of the paladins on where they would be landing to reach their respective trial. She could not give them their actual task, for she didn’t know. It was part of the Trials that only the Paladin participating would be aware of their task. Soon the Paladins were on their way to their respective planets. 

+

To say that Lance was concerned was well, and understatement. He knew the importance of this mission, despite what Pidge and Keith may say, he did take it seriously. But he couldn’t get the idea out of his head that he may not even be the true Blue Paladin. 

He had spent many late nights wondering why Blue had chosen him, wondering why him, out of everyone else, and wondering if he really was just a temp until someone more worthy came around. 

After all, he was only a cargo pilot. 

Despite Blue’s constant reassurances flooding his mind, that he could in fact do this, he wasn’t completely convinced. There was however one thing he knew for certain, he would give his life for his team. He would complete this mission for them. 

The planet he landed on was definitely not what he expected. A lush green planet with rivers and springs that created the most intricate pattern in the ground. It was beautiful. 

He followed the tracker to a clearing on the planet, just past a grove of what looked like orange trees, if it wasn’t for the weird pastel blue of the fruits. In the middle of the clearing sat the only evidence of non flora inhabitants. A large stone building surrounded by a courtyard of mosaic - like marble. It was beautiful really. 

He circled around it and landed Blue just on the outskirts of the clearing. 

“Okay Lance, you got this.” He took a finally steadying breath before standing up from his pilot chair and made his way out of the cockpit and out of Blue. 

The first thing he noticed when he stepped foot on the planet, was the florally scent in the barely their breeze. It smelled of roses and jasmine and honey. He took his time enjoying the scents as he made his way to the building, that as he approached he realized looked more like a temple. 

An alien, with long dark purple hair and bright pink skin met Lance at the steps to the temple. Any other situation, Lance wouldn’t have hesitated a pick up line, or even a suggestive joke towards the being, they were honestly breath taking. Contrary to popular belief, he knew quite well that there was a time and place for such a thing, and this was neither the time, nor place. 

“Blue Paladin, Welcome. We have been expecting you for many Deca-Phobes.” They spoke, their voice soft but he could tell there was a haste to it. “Follow me.” 

He did, he followed the guide deep into the temple before stopping in front of a large stone door. 

He watched as the guide knocked twice on the door before a voice called out from the other side for them to enter. 

When he entered, he was immediately surrounded by a group of aliens that looked almost identical to his guide. He was so caught up in the surprise that he hadn’t had time to fully comprehend that they were stripping him of his armor until he was left in nothing but his underarmor. 

“Wha-” 

“You have no need for that here.” the voice came from behind him, he turned to see a figure dressed in the brightest colours, hair a silver grey, and skin a dark blue. Save for those variations, he could tell that this one was of the same species as the others. “This is a place of peace and reflection, Blue Paladin, Guardian of the Water.” 

He let them lead him to another room, perfumed with incense that reminded him of the jasmine he had smelled outside. He let them undress him before entering the steaming bath that stood before him. He let them dress him in their silks as this was not the place for armor, he must be at his most comfortable for the trials. 

Despite how easy it was to do all of this, how much he enjoyed the pampering and relaxation, he knew that the trials would never be this easy. He was right when the original guide handed him a cup of tea. They had led him into yet another room, this one empty except for a stone slab in the middle of the room.  

“Your trial to to enter Krywon and fill this vial with the water of the Alkori, the most sacred river.” 

“Seems simple enough.” He did as instructed and sat on the slab of stone, a plush blue pillow at the head of it. 

“It would be dangerous to think so. Krywon is in your language, The Land of the Dead. only the dead may enter.” 

Lance felt all the air release from his lungs, so this was it then. He looked towards the tea that was being placed in his hand. 

“So this then, it will...” 

“Kill you? Yes, it will be quick and painless. Almost like falling asleep. However, the properties will only have their desired effect if you drink willingly. If say one were to force it onto you, you would be stripped of any chance of returning to the land of the living.” 

Lance nodded before looking back up at the guide. “And how exactly do I return?” 

The guide gave him a small smile before placing a chaste kiss on his forehead. 

“That you must find for yourself Blue Paladin.” 

They stood back and looked at him expectantly. 

Lance stared at the light Carmel color of the liquid, at the steam coming from it. I can do this. And so, like in the cockpit of the Blue Lion, he took a final steadying breath. Before he could hesitate he emptied the cup into his mouth, and swallowed. The bitter taste of the liquid overpowered the burning sensation on his tongue. 

“See you on the other side.” he gave the guide a small smile, which they returned as they helped guide his already lethargic body down to a laying position. 

His eyes were getting heavy and his breathing slower, he was sure that in any other situation he would have begun panicking, but here he would not. He could not. And so with a smile on his face, he looked to the skylight and let the rays of this foreign sun wash over him. 

“You will do great things, Blue Paladin.” 

The sound of the guide’s encouragement was the last that he heard before he finally closed his eyes. 

+ 

As with everything, Lance was the last to return. The others having already eaten dinner by the time he finally made his way into the Blue Lion’s Hangar. 

“Lance!” Pidge yelled barreling straight for him the second his feet touched the floor of the hangar. “Where were you?” 

Lance laughed hugging her back, Hunk making his way over to the two with tears in his eyes. “We thought something happened to you.” 

Shiro suggested that they move to the lounge so everyone could relax and hear of Lance’s trial. 

Lance listened as the others told their stories first, a bowl of food goo in hand that he shoveled into his mouth. 

He heard of Keith, who was forced to climb to the tallest point on an actively exploding volcano. His quest to retrieve a singular rock, still hot from the magma but cold to the touch, the markings of the Red Paladin engraved by the lava. 

He listened as Hunk told his story of his journey into the deepest cave on his planet to relieve a crystal. He joined in the laughter at Hunk’s description of his fight with the giant insects that inhabited the cave. 

Pidge spoke of her trip through a dense rainforest to retrieve the rarest flower that existed on that planet. Apparently only one blooms every 20 deca-phobes. 

Shiro’s was the scariest tale. The thought of having to travel to the highest peak on a planet and attempt to catch lightning in a bottle shook Lance to his core. 

“So what about you, Lance?” Hunk was all too excited to hear about his friend’s trial. 

Lance sat for a moment, deciding where he should start the story. The beginning is as good of a place as ever. 

“Wait wait wait... you mean to tell me that while the rest of us were hauling ass through dangerous territory, you were getting...pampered?” Pidge was beyond belief, no wonder this guy took so long, he probably took a damn nap and forgot he had places to be. 

Lance chuckled at that. “Yeah I guess, my trial was to retrieve this.” He held up the small vial of the swirling liquid. It still looked the way it did in the river, pastel blue and sparkling with minerals. 

He let the team gape at the liquid, it was beautiful. It took a bit for even Allura to calm down.

“No, but really Lance, how did you get it?” Shiro knew there had to be more to the story than Lance just sitting on his ass. 

“He probably just walked outside, you heard him, there were rivers all over the place.” Keith scoffed, getting over his initial amazement. 

“The water inside, it's from this specific river. I guess it's like their most sacred of whatever.” Lance sighed, there was no way to truly convey the importance of the water without showing them the source. An action he refused to even debate. “Its called the Alkori.” 

“Did you have to go through a dangerous forest?” Pidge asked.

“Or a cave?” Hunk piped up.

Lance laughs, but there’s an unease that can’t be hidden. 

“No, the Alkori...it doesn’t exist in this...world.” 

“What do you mean in this world? Where is it? Did you go to another alternate reality?” Pidge was practically bouncing up and down in her seat as she rambled. She only stopped when she realized the length of silence that came from her friend. 

“Lance?” 

Lance looked up from his hunched shoulders, wiping the tears that threatened to run from his eyes. 

“Lance, where was it?” Shiro placed a comforting hand on Lance’s shoulder, clearly something was bothering him to make him act such a way. And Shiro was way past concerned. 

“...the afterlife.” 

Keith laughed at that, a hearty chuckle before realizing that he was the only one. “The afterlife? Really? And what, you just walked right in there?” he spoke, quick to compose himself. 

He watched as Lance shook his head, “No living being is allowed to cross into Krywon. The land belongs solely to the dead, only the dead may enter.” 

“...so how did you get there? Or did you get a ghost to do your bidding?” Hunk half joked. He didn’t like where this was going. His friend, his very much alive friend was sitting right next to him. Clearly he had something up his sleeve to get the vial. Clearly he couldn’t enter, he was alive. 

“Only the dead may enter.” Lance spoke softly, almost a whisper. “So I had to become one of them.” 

The room was quiet, no one believing what they were hearing. Even the mice had stopped their squeaking, looks of concern pointed towards the Blue Paladin. 

“They gave me this tea,” he continued, “God, it tasted horrible, like microwaved pedialite. But it was effective.” 

The silence was deafening, it reminded him all too much of his time spent among the dead. If the quiet scared him before, now...it was terrifying. 

“20 minutes.” he stopped, taking a shaky breath. “You could say that I was legally gone for 20 minutes. But God, it felt like hours, days even. I wasn’t sure if there would even be anything left for me to return to if I did come back.” 

“...you...you died?” Hunk stared at his best friend through blurry eyes. The man he’s known since they were seven. The kid that even despite his bad days always seemed so alive. 

Lance nods, taking another shaky breath. He refused to lift his head again, refused to let them know that he almost gave up, that he couldn’t even last 20 minutes being dead, when others spent eternity. 

He was alive, now. 

He was here, now. 

He did not let his team down. 

“It was the only way.” 

He kept his eyes on the bottle held in his hands, the swirling hues of blue and grey that he had literally given his life for. 

“When I was there, I met this woman, I guess you could say we kind of have like a cult following now.” He waited for the tell tale laughs or eye rolls from his friends, but received nothing, all of them much too focused to the fact that their friend had entered a world the only way he could. “She made me realize what it actually means to be the Blue Paladin. Why blue chose me in the first place.” He let his voice taper off as he remembered her. The sad girl who saved his life though he couldn’t save hers. 

“That’s right!” Pidge all but yelled, startling the entire room. “We never got to hear about what qualities the Blue Paladin has, because Lance-” 

“couldn’t keep his mouth shut? Yeah. I know it now. At first I thought she was fucking with me, but the more I thought about it, about you guys. It actually made sense.” 

“Blue Paladin, Guardian of water, flexible in both mind and body, adaptable-” 

“calm like the streams, playful like the tides, yet relentless like the waves. With a loyalty that knows no bounds,” Allura rose to her feet and took the few step towards Lance before kneeling in front of him, her hand pushing his face up gently so sea blue eyes met galaxy magenta ones. “This paladin brings balance, and steadiness to Voltron.” 

Lance reciprocated her smile, before bringing his hand up to meet hers and puling it away from his face. He placed the small vial in her hand, “You missed one.” 

Confusion filled her as she tilted her head, “No I don’t think I did, those are-” 

“With a protectiveness that will be the death of him.” Lance spoke carefully. 

Lance was surprised when Allura reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, Hunk and Shiro were quick to follow, and soon, everyone was surrounding Lance in a tight embrace. He almost couldn’t hear Coran over the layers of bodies circling him.

“Protect as you may, Lance, but stay alive. That would be enough for all of us.” 

[jessiebanethedragon]

Scuttle, all chapters in one post

Thought it might be kinda nice to have the full story in one post... idk.  

The mission, simple. The planet, a shit show. But that's hardly unusual for Clone Force  99. The elite team of four clones were used to disasters, in fact, they thrive off of them. Arkanis was no different, a rainy planet located in the outer rim. Currently held under control via the separatists. The republic needed to change that, and so of course when their informant’s identity was leaked, they sent the most capable team they had to extract them. 

Enter - The Bad Batch. 

“Did you know this planet is made up of over 10,000 different species, all localized to it’s rainforest biosphere?” Tech was chattering as usual while the team geared up. Assembling their armour and double checking weapons before dropping out of hyped space. 

“How many of those wanna kill us?” Wrecker asked beyond the metallic thunk of his durasteel clicking into place. 

“Does not say, but given Arkanis’s tropical climate i would estimate that most of the life forms are plants.” Tech said clicking about on his holopad. 

“Vod, in here now.” The Sergeant called from the brig of the Havoc Murdader, having already assembled his armour and stashing away his viroblades. “Here's the info we got from Cody.” Hunter said, pulling up a  map of the planet’s capital. 

“It’s a kriffing death trap.” Crosshair barked out looking at the maze of intervening trees, houses and streets, all covered with various mosses, vines and other plants. 

“We’ll have to go solo on this one.” Hunter added. “We need to cover ground quickly  and quietly, remember this is an active warzone so while blasts will blend in we want minimal casualties.” With a flick of his hand he moved the holo so it showed a different area. 

“This is their last known coordinates, we’ll drop ten clicks from here and fan out. Tech?” Hunter looked to his brother, waiting for him to take over and tell them how to go about searching for the informant. 

“There's no choice but to head in all  directions, checking each house, that's our best bet, without a speeder they wont have been able to leave the city.”

“And if they did have a speeder?” Crosshair piped in, attaching an intricate looking scope to his rifle. 

“Well, then, I hope you like rain because we’re stuck there until we find the snitch.” Hunter added. “Wrecker, Tech, let's get this show going.” Crosshair watched his brother’s jump to the front of the ship, rolling the toothpick in his mouth around.

“Sarge.” He said, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Like usual it was chucking it down on Arkanis, the sky was dark by midday and everyone was wrapped in layers of weather proof fabric. There was no wind today, no sunlight, just buckets and buckets of cooling rain. She watched as the droids started ushering people around, being pushed aside by one herself to make way for the spider droids that were crawling the city. She cursed herself for not noticing it sooner, the anxiety of getting caught was dulling her senses. Focus and precision were not things she could go without right now. 

“Yona!” Your mother called, when you had picked yourself up again. Crossing the uneven street with practiced ease. 

“I’m fine mama.” You assured her. She clutched to your clothing like a madwoman. Peering at the droids through the rain. 

“Return to your homes.” the closest one said, before pointing it’s blaster at the both of you. Causing you to latch onto your mother's arm and take off as  fast as you could down the street. 

You pushed the door to your small home open with your knees, the latch had long broken and the door itself did not slide open properly anymore. The tips and edges of your hair were soaked, eyelashes heavy and hands slightly shaking. 

“Papa?” you called into the emptiness that was your house, cold wooden floors and windows left open  allowing the rain to make its way inside. The seprastist propaganda was playing through the Holopad on the main table. 

“Yona.” he said softly, sitting on the chair in the main room. None of the lights were on, the warm glow of homeliness wasn't there, and a feeling of dread settled in your stomach. “What have you done?” he asked gravely. 

“What are you talking about?” You faked innocence, there was no way he could know, you’d been so careful in hiding the transmissions. Flicking the light switch on the biggest lamp in the room you began to shed your outer clothing. 

“Yona…” he started again, and you turned at his voice, shrieking when you saw the figure standing at the end of the room. 

“I have to say…” General Krexx hissed out, the separatists trandoshan calmly turned towards you. “I’m almost impressed by how long you managed to remain undetected, little republican.” Without thinking you turned to the door and bolted out into the rain, weaving through the rocks and foliage as fast  as you could. 

“Go on, scuttle away little roach. Get a good head start.” Krexx laughed, before reaching to his communicator to hail his trandoshan guard. “You’ll need it.” 

Crosshair quickly decides he likes the rain. It’s got a way of blending in so nicely with the rest of the planet that he thinks it would be bland without it.

“Anything?” Hunter asked into the comms, and various grunts and groans of ‘negative’ filled his ear. They’d landed in what looked like an abandoned house, it was situated in the branches of a very tall, and very old tree. How anyone would have managed to climb it was a mystery. 

“How do we even know what we’re lookin’ for?” Wrecker grumbled as they rapelled down the enormous trunk. 

“All we’ve got is that they answer to the name Wren apparently its some animal on this planet.” Hunter grumbled, looking over a tech, expecting a lengthy explanation of what exactly a ‘Wren’ was. 

“Fairywren are small birds that  live in typical families of small groups, they come in brilliant colours of purple and blue. Very rare in the galaxy, but common to this planet.” Tech immediately replied, as their feet crunched into the ground. 

“Okay, Bad batch, let's make this quick.” The sergeant ordered before taking off into the undergrowth. 

It had been hours and they were no closer to coming across anyone or  anything that looked like a Fairywren. Keeping to the outskirts of a small town crosshair watches as a group of Trandoshian guards (from the look of their intense armour) patrolled the streets. 

“What are they doing?” he thought aloud to himself, toothpick ever present in his mouth. His concentration broke when he heard someone laughing at him. A group of teenagers were sitting under a broken piece of metal. 

“What does it look like, Laserbrain?” one of them sneered. “The trandoshans are only good for one thing. The hunt.” Crosshair doubled his pace. 

You were running faster than you ever had before, and for longer than you thought was physically possible. Your one and only advantage was the extent of your knowledge of the forest paths. The guards would be faster and run longer, they had keener senses than any human, and you knew if they put out a warrant, anyone and everyone would turn you in. But you were so close. So, so close. 

It was called the Night Lake by the locals, the canopy here was so dense no light illuminated the water below, giving the area a terrifying essence. But also ensured much needed privacy, and in this particular case, somewhere to hide. You threw yourself into the waters, letting the slightly chilly water envelop you. At least four of them had been on your tail and you knew more of them were waiting at the edge of the city, should you try and circle back. 

You swam as deep as you could manage, before stilling in the water, suspended in perfect anxiety as you watched its surface for any movement. Flares began to light up the dark sky and the water below as they tried to clear the area for your whereabouts. Closing your eyes you prayed to anything listening for them not to find you. 

Turns out. No one was listening. 

Crosshair was sprinting in the forest, creatures disturbed by his arrival scattered in every direction. The Trandoshians had taken off moments before answering a call that he couldn't interpret. But his experience and intuition told him to follow. 

It was then that he faltered and fell down the edge of a small but very muddy hill, being followed only by more water filled dirt that almost buried him. Cursing he pulled himself up, checking his whereabouts for signs of a trap. 

“So small for such trouble.” Something hissed to his right, clearly unaware of the clone that had just tumbled into their presence. His eyes snapped forward, four trandoshians sat at the edge of what was the largest and darkest lake Crosshair had ever seen. 

“Shall we let her drown or yank her out ourselves?” One asked with a snicker. 

“The general wants her alive, something about having fun while making an example.” The first one spoke again. “Right, enough is enough, Drisk get her out of there.” with a nod towards the water, Crosshair watched as the slimmest trandoshan (who was probably still twice the size of the sniper) dove into the black waters. The ripples dissipated for a moment before the reptile emerged carrying a struggling young girl. She was sopping wet, and struggling and turning so much they had no choice but to dump her in the mud. 

“Now, now little roach, don't run off.” The leader laughed as she started to claw her way through the mud, reaching down he grasped her ankle and yanked her into the arms of the other two reptilians. Crosshair lined up his rifle, he could take out the two grasping the girl and then worry about the leader after. He had the trandoshans in his sight when his comm crackled to life again. 

“Crosshair, you missed your check in time, you still out there?” it was Tech, curse him and his punctuality. Because now the other two huge beings were dragging him out of his hiding place. 

“Well, would you take a look at this. A clone!” Crosshair was forced to his knees in front of the leader as it spat at him.   

“Crosshair! Come in!” Tech shouted into the helmet, thus resulting in it’s not-so gentle removal from Crosshairs head. He watched as Tech’s voice faded away as the bucket rolled into the lake. 

“Now that the rude interruption is gone, you wanna tell us whatcha up to in these parts?” he said kneeling down and meeting his newest captive eye to eye.

“Bird watching.” Crosshair deadpanned. Really not feeling in a chatty mood at that present moment.  

“Really?” The reptile hummed in thought, pretending to actually believe his answer. “Have you seen any birds yet?” 

“No.” Crosshair told  him with a smile, “Saw some Bantha-shit - looking lizards though.” He didn't see the flying fist coming, but he sure as hell felt it. 

You clamp you both of your hands over your mouth. Hard. in the smallest attempt to muffle your screams. You can't tell the difference from lake water, rain water, and tears. But you know you’re wailing at an unforgiving volume. Your mother's blank eyes stare at you. A single blaster to the head. Your father, you got a blaster to the face is now unrecognizable. You don’t know which is worse. Krexx didn't even bother to keep you restrained, knowing that the horror of what he made you witness would be enough to paralyze you into compliance. The sound of conflict falls on deaf ears as you continue to shriek from your converter of what once was the family home. 

The Clone, whose name you either didn't know or couldn't remember, was cuffed to one of the ceiling's support beams by a pair of binders, only just coming to a hit to the head like that will do you in. you watch him lift  his head with a groan, the tattoo on his face covered by layers of mud. He starts pulling at the binders before his eyes meet the figure in the corner. 

You’re curled in a fetal position, still screaming bloody murder into your hands. And barely, Crosshair sees that the fingerless gloves you wear are embroidered with a bird. A bright blue bird. 

“Wren.” He grunted out, the pieces all coming together as his brain shakes the fuzz away. You don't move. “Wren!” he shouts over your tears. And you fall into more of a silent sob, looking over at him. “I need you to get these off of me.” he gestures to the binders with a shake of his hands. You recoil in the corner and shake your head, your cries are picking up volume again. 

“Wren, please” Crosshair all but begs. The sound of battle is getting closer and closer. “I need you to uncuff me.” his voice  barely registers in your brain. You know you have to move but you feel like you physically can't. There’s no fight or flight left in you, and it appears your entire system has short circuited as a result.   

“We are both going to die if you don’t get me out of  these kriffin’ binders!” Crosshair renewed his struggles as he shouts at you. But one look at you says that would be a preferable outcome for your current state. So, he switches tactics and tries to remember everything tech has ever told him about shock and trauma. 

“Wren,” he tries once again, softer this time. “I can help you, I can help you out of this. But i can't do that if you don't get these off of me.” Your eyes meet his. ‘Progress’ he thinks. You don't know how you do it, but you try to stand. 

“Just keep looking at me, okay?” The clone who you don't know speaks again, and your eyes meet his. You stare not into his eyes, more like past them. You're not focusing on anything you're just taking one step after another until you reach where he’s awkwardly strewn up. “There's a release button on the-” He starts to tell you, but you're already reaching up with shaky hands and fumbling around until they drop to the floor with a horrible clank. Immediately Crosshair jumps into action checking by each window and door and gathering all he can in terms of intel. 

“We need to move, before anyone-” he trails off again when he’s seen that you’ve slid down the wall that he was against. Curling back into a ball. Slowly, he approaches you. He knows the protocol for a clone with shock, but what you're going through looks completely different all together. And Crosshair, well, let's just say there was never any training for caring for a civilian girl whose entire life just got destroyed. 

“My name is Crosshair.” He whispers to you, crouching down to our height. You look at him with wide eyes. “Is it okay if I carry you to a safer spot?” You nod in response fumbling with your arms to lock them around his tall frame. His strength surprises you, as he lifts you with relative ease. And slowly the adrenaline wears off and you sink into his arms, vaguely you feel him pull your head into his shoulder the blasts sound deafening now as he runs through the uproar caused by the execution of an innocent family. Your family. Crosshair tells himself he pulls you closer so that you are not recognized. And that he does it so you don't have to see that carnage. But mostly he does it in hopes that you feel just a little more safe, and a little more calm in his arms.   

You don't remember passing out in the troopers arms, waking only when he sets you down, in front of the tree that's all too familiar to you. It’s raining  even more now and Crosshair feels particularly inadequate as he paces in front of you. What do you tell someone who’s just lost everything? 

“Crosshair…” Your voice is quite as you say his name, he whips around at the sound, terrified someone had followed him into the forest. He waits for your next words, and it takes a moment but a small ‘thank you’ leaves your mouth. He nods and goes back to pacing in front of you. 

The crashing sound breaks both of you out of your perspective trances. Something is moving towards you, and quickly. In response, you haul yourself up off of the rainforest floor. Looking to the man in front of you for direction. 

“It’s fine.” He tells you, monotone. “Jus’ Wrecker.” You’re not sure what a Wrecker is, but quickly you discover a Wrecker happens to be Crosshair's older and much bigger brother. 

“Crosshair!” He booms, when he clears the undergrowth, clapping a rather large hand on  his shoulder, and you watch as the trooper takes a step backwards. ‘Not one for touchy-feels’ you think to yourself. 

“Ran into some trouble, bucket got chucked in a lake.” He explains. “Couldn't com in.” this ears him a boisterous laugh from Wrecker. 

“Accident prone as always.” He chuckles, before turning away to, presumably tell his comrades he's found Crosshair. You on the other hand, had backed up into the tree bark whilst watching this interaction. Crosshair is watching you watch Wrecker, and he wishes he could pick you up again, just to feel your heartbeat go from crazy to calm as you relaxed in his arms. It would be so much easier than talking or trying to talk,  to just scoop you up and  hide you from the world.  

“Tech and Hunter are only a few clicks out.” Wrecker says to Crosshair, subtle nudging him as if to say, ‘stop staring bro, you’ll spook her.’  Before moving over to you, and bringing his hand out, watching as you recoil more into the branches. Wrecker takes the hint, and  takes his helmet off before trying to shake your hand again. This time you let him, offering a small ‘hello’ in return. 

“You must be Fairywren.” He says, and you confirm the guess with a nod. “Cool name, much cooler than Crosshair.” He smiles at you, and you immediately decide that his talent, even with all the muscle, is undying kindness and radiating happy energy. Crosshair scoffs at his brother. 

“I hate to disappoint but it's just a nickname.” You’re still smiling a little, your old self shining through for that brief moment. 

“Still” He assures you, “it’s way better than any of ours!” You decide to lose yourself in the moment of happiness. Firing back at him with a:

“Oh I don't know, Crosshair isn’t that bad.” Wrecker laughs again, and you see Crosshair pause as he lifts a toothpick to his mouth, a small smile in the shadow of his tall figure. 

“Wrecker” he draws out that voice, so different to any other clone. He gestures to the forest edge he’d been watching as the leaves and twigs break and moves as Tech and Hunter join the three of you. They exchange words, far enough away from you that you don't hear them. A few glances thrown your way. And Crosshair starts to look more and more unimpressed. Breaking from the group with a grumble, and heading over to you, opting to lean against the tree with you. 

“Tech’s the small one.” He whispers to you. “Sergeant Hunter has the ridiculous hair.” rolling the toothpick in his mouth, you look up at him. 

“Why are you telling me this?” you're not trying so rude, but you're genuinely curious.

“I’m telling you, because you’re going to be putting up with them for the foreseeable future.” He sounds a tad annoyed but you don’t push further.  

“You named after the tattoo?” You ask without thinking. Tracing it with your eyes, giving them something to do other than tear up in panic. 

“Got it after.” He responds, and from that you can gather he’s not very social, but what you need right now is a distracted mind, so you decide to test your luck. 

“Why Crosshair though? Like I get it's your name but like why?”  You want to curse at how stupid you sound, but, the adrenaline has totally warn off now and your brain feels like goo.  

“Sniper.” He says blankly, turning around so you see  the huge rifle strapped to his back. 

“Oh…” you say, finally connecting the dots. “Well i'm called Fairywren after-”

“The birds, I know.” Crosshair  interrupts, before moving away from you as the rest of the group breaks apart from what you're guessing was a debrief? Taking small steps towards them, taking in how different they all are. 

“Sergeant Hunter, at your service.” The one with longer hair says, shaking your hand. You take note of his face tattoo as well and wonder if he got his with Crosshair. 

“Wren, thanks for the save.” You introduce yourself, not pausing to think where you’d be without them.

“No problem,” Hunter says, his voice is deeper than Crosshairs but no less gruff. “Shall we get off this kriffing rock?” Turning around to his group, taking in their nods, before scaling the tree. 

The Havoc Marauder isn't exactly what you expected, but then again you don't know what you expected it to be like.  Maybe a bit more cluttered than it actually is but you like it nevertheless. 

“How many species are on this planet?” The clone named Tech asks you, he's the only one that hasn't introduced himself to you, but you're guessing it's only because his brain is working a million parsecs a second. 

“I'm not actually sure,” You say, feeling guilty as his face drops. “There's a number of overall species and all but the variations are so unique it's hard to classify them.” You quickly add, watching his eyes light up.

“So why the Fairywren then?” He asks after a lengthy (and largely one sided) conversation of evolution in rainforest species. You feel Crosshair's eyes on you, tuning back into the conversation off and on again as he took or lost interest. 

“My grandmother once told me that the Fairywrens kept guard on your heart.” You tell him, and you see Crosshair lean forward on his knees to hear better. “She said that every Fairywren watches over someone, they keep them safe. She said my Fairywren was the brightest one there ever was because of how much she loved me.” Tech stays silent taking in the story, and Crosshair seems to be frozen in place. You don't realize that he’s realizing how stunning you are and kicking himself for not seeing it sooner. Of course you're the Fairywren, bright blue and so beautiful it almost seems fake. 

“How do you know Krexx.” Hunter asks walking into the brig area where you had been sitting. And you freeze at the name, Crosshair glares at his sergeant for bringing him up, he hates the way your face falls at the mention of his name. 

“He took over when the separatists showed up, and he was put in charge of keeping everyone in line.” You snap.

“Hunter, maybe we should-” Crosshair starts but he gets interrupted. 

“How many Trandoshans were on your planet?” Hunter interrupts, and if you didn't think Crosshair could glare any harder than he was, you were very mistaken. 

“At least a hundred.” You tell him. “Less now.” 

“Why less now?” Tech jumps in, and his honest interest makes you smile a little. 

“I used to catalog plants when I was a kid, my dad kept journals, because he was a healer. So it was like a hobby of ours.” You explain, “Trandoshans don’t take too well to plant venom apparently.” 

“Genius” Tech breathes and you can't help but flush. 

“Any chance of a tail?” Hunter asks, and this time Crosshair interrupts. 

“No, checked the whole way back to the ship and then some.” His voice sounds taught, like he's about to snap. 

“Good, either way, I'll take the first watch, I don't want any missteps here. Get some rest.” He nods to you all, and even though it's nowhere near close to nighttime you don't argue. Wrecker passes by and ruffles your hair saying “g’night little bird.” Tech offers you a mock salute that makes you smile, before heading to where you assume the bunks are. 

“Extra bunk is down the hall. Door on the left.” Crosshair tells you standing up, and the air seems to shift, you feel lonely thinking about him leaving. So you follow him, hoping he’ll stay up just a little longer with you. He stops in front of what you guess is his door. And you thank every god  out there that it's across from the empty one. You see that there's no blankets in the empty bunk. 

“Need anything?” he asks, and he almost cringes by how rude it sounds. ‘Sure’ he thinks to himself. ‘Be rude to the sopping wet, traumatized girl in front of you, good one Cross.” You turn back to him. 

“No it's okay, i'll get blankets from Hunter or just snoop around until I find them.” You joke, Rubbing the back of your neck as the man in front of you sighs and rolls the toothpick in his mouth around. 

“Stay here.” He says, a little softer, disappearing into his room. In reality he wants nothing more to let you into his room, to drop that cold exterior he’s created. But he already knows he's no good for you. Crosshair slips out his door again with a blanket. 

“Wrecker will be passed out already, Hunter doesn't use blankets and Tech has what he calls the ‘mathematical epiphany of correct blanket weight, fluffiness and size’ to ensure a proper sleep. So the only extra one around is this.” He states, holding out a black fluffy blanket that looks so cozy you want to cry. You take it from him silently, subtly bury your face in it so you can tell if it feels the same way his shoulder does. It's softer but smells the same, and you can't wait to burrito yourself in it. Crosshair has turned away, going crazy as he sees you snuggle into something that's not him.    

“Crosshair,” you call as his door slides open again. “Thank you.” And before you can embarrass yourself you slide into the extra room. 

“You’re welcome.” He whispers even though he knows you won't hear it. 

You wake to the sound of a very angry sniper. And even though his default setting is angry, he seems more perturbed than usual. Muffled voices can be heard from outside the small bunk area that you’ve already made your personal space. Wet, destroyed clothes sit on the floor in the corner and you’re wrapped only in Crosshairs blanket, save for your undergarments. You swing your legs over and plant them on the cold metal floor.  As you reach the door, the  voices become clearer.

“Absolutely not.”  - That's Crosshair for sure, only he would be so blunt. 

“I wasn't asking for your permission Crosshair, only your opinion.” The other voice is more of a long sigh at this point. The exhaustion and caring sound to it tells you it’s Hunter. For clones they are all remarkably different you think to yourself. 

“Yeah and my opinion is ‘no’.” Crosshair snaps. 

“The seppies will come after her whether you like it or not.” He counters. 

“Which is why we can’t take her into bounty hunter territory!” You freeze as you realize they mean you. Panic settles in when you come to terms with the idea of being ditched on some degenerate planet with non resources whatsoever. You retreat back into the bunk, pulling the blanket closer to your frame. 

“Just get her up.” Hunter finishes and you hear him tread back down the halfway of the ship. Crosshair grumbles something about not being in charge of you before the door slides open. He’s shocked to see you sitting up and awake, and his eyes rest on the pile of clothes on the floor before meeting yours. His blanket looks far better on you than it has in all his years of owning it.

“Food’s up.” He says before turning to leave. Less time spent interacting with you the better. Means less time for him to stare at the one exposed shoulder that the blanket has fallen off of and less time to wonder if you’d ever spare someone like him a second glance. 

“Where are you dumping me?” He hears a small voice ask. And all the warmth leaves  his body. 

“We aren't…” He starts, not turning around. Because if he doesn’t turn around he can claim ignorance if you're crying or not. 

“I heard you and Hunter and i’m not stupid.” You interrupt him, voice void of any emotion. 

“Then you'd know i'm not going to let him do that.” He snaps, almost angry at you for thinking he’d leave you on your own. 

“I’m deadweight, aren't I?” It's a question you know the answer to but have to ask anyways. You want to scream at the republic, for using your intel and then throwing you away. Taking advantage of your selflessness and empathy, just like they take advantage of  the clones caring and giving nature at every opportunity. 

“You’re not deadweight.” Crosshair states, leaving no room for argument, “You just need  to be somewhere off the grid for a while.” He hears you stand, and slowly he turns his head, his blanket bunched awkwardly around your frame. His jaw clenches as his heart pulls at strings he swore weren't there. 

“Crosshair…” You start, but don’t continue, words escape you, the right ones don’t exist in that moment. Or at least you can't bring yourself to use the ones you want to. So instead, you opt to blankly stare at the metal floor. He will leave eventually, turn and head out the door. You’re not his problem, your brain explains this as the floor becomes more and more interesting.  Except he doesn't go. And the very tips of his fingers meet your chin, gently pulling your head to meet his glance.  

God his eyes are stunning, you think, before cursing your brain for being in the totally wrong place at the wrong time. But his eyes might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen. Light brown with hints of ashy tones. 

“I won't leave you on your own.” He tells you, but what you want to hear is that he will stay with you. You're already inexplicably attached to the sniper, it's unbearable. 

“Thank you.” You whisper to him breathless just from being this close to him. 

“Now come on, or Wrecker will have eaten everything before you even get out there.” Crosshair cocks his head towards the door, pulling away from you. 

The members of the hold greet you excitedly, Wrecker seems to have really taken to calling you little bird as well as patting your head affectionately. And you find yourself sat wedge in between him and Tech while they both talk your ear off. Hunter is smiling and eating in contentment of his little family and Crosshair is starring, you fit so nicely in this scene. Wrecker piling more and more food on your plate while you laugh at Techs retelling of one of their ridiculous missions. 

“Tell er’ about Nal Hutta!” Wrecker says with an evil smile.

“Don’t you dare.” Crosshair snaps at his vod, who's already laughing his blacks off. 

“It wasn't that bad Cross.” Hunter admits grabbing some empty dishes and patting his shoulder as he walks by. 

“Yes it was!” Wrecker says between wheezes. And you notice the faint flush in his cheeks. 

“Okay one of you needs to spill the details.” You demand looking from Tech to Wrecker. 

“Well, as you probably know Nal Hutta is run by the infamous Hut cartel…” Tech launches off, waving his hands about as he talks. (you've picked this up as one of his biggest habits.) 

“Tech…” Crosshair groans with his face in one of his hands before giving in and leaning back. Preparing for the worst. 

“I can't tell you all the details, classified and all, but the important part is that Cross was working recon and cover, like usual. So he's up this step mountain that's basically all dirt and sand. Looking for this Hut fellow right, and before we can warn him Wrecker throws this thermal detonator and the whole side of the mountain collapses.” Tech tells you excitedly. And your worried eyes look across the table. Crosshair had moved so he could lean back with his arms behind his head looking just a tad embarrassed. 

“He would've been fine, if he hadn't gone rolling right through the window of the house he was collecting intel on.” Wrecker was killing himself laughing by this point. 

“And then the… the” He tried to get out between gasps of air before waving it off and letting Tech continue. 

“And well, sorry Cross, there's no easy way to say this.” Tech laughed a little himself. “He rolled right in on a Hutt reproducing session.” Your eyes went as wide as they could, and a hand covered your gaping and giggling mouth. 

“Wait, so Crosshair burst in on two Hutts doing it?” You gasped, trying to stifle your growing laughter. 

“Gets worse.” The man in question grit out, looking at the mess of comrades before him. 

“How does that get worse?” you exclaimed, leaning into Wrecker with his contagious laughter. Tech turned to you, smiling wider than ever. 

“Hutts reproduce asexually.” He stated, “scientists don't know too much about it but from the condition we found this one in.” he pointed to a grumpy Crosshair. “It gets real messy.” You closed your mouth into a thin line, blinking as you tried not to laugh. 

“Oh…” giggle “no, Crosshair…” More giggles. “That must’ve been awful.” You tried to emphasize you really did, but the look on the snipers face had you laughing all over again. 

“He was covered head to toe in green Hutt goo!”  Wrecker boomed. 

“Well it’s nice to know yet another finds my torment hilarious.” Crosshair grumbled as he stood up to escape the laughing hyenas before him. 

“No!” you objected, “I promise I am not finding this the least bit funny.” You told him, trying to keep a straight face. Receiving a sarcastic ‘um hum’ reply. 

“I mean it, you could have been seriously injured.” You countered, thinking you had successfully hidden your smile beneath your hand. 

“I can see you smiling.” He said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“You could've drowned in Hutt goo…” You quietly said with another round of giggles. 

“Ahhh yes CT-7733 of Clone Force 99 killed in action on Nal hutta, death caused by drowning in Hutt goo.” Tech snickered from beside you. 

“He will be dearly missed, and as an apology the Hutt has named the child in his honour.”  You added taking note of Crosshairs millionth eye roll of that morning alone. 

“Okay that's enough of that now.” He said. “Wren, you want clothes or are you spending the rest of your life in my blanket?” He teases, watching you blush a tad. 

“I don't take life advice from a man covered in goo.” You shoot back with the biggest smirk on your face. 

“No clothes for you then.” he smiled as your protests began. 

“Okay, okay, calm down, don’t get your goo in a tuffle.” You say maneuvering yourself from with the blanket and over Wrecker who's still chuckling to himself.  

Down back in your makeshift room, Crosshair shows you where the extra clothes are kept, which means you’ll be swimming in extra sets of blacks all meant for clones that are bigger  than yourself. But you think your pants may survive given a good enough wash, so for now you roll the waistband and the legs until you look somewhat presentable. Greeting crosshair on the other side of the door.  

“See,”  He says, “told ya’ it would fit.” Before he turns from you and starts to walk back down the hall. 

“Wait Crosshair!” You call jogging over to him, a look of fau-concentration on your face as you reach up to where his short hair meets his right ear. Carefully running your fingers through it. He knows his heart has either stopped beating or hammering so fast he can’t feel it. 

“There, all good now.” you declare patting his cheek a few times. hoping he inquires as to why you just hand you hand in his hair. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before deciding on: 

“What was that for?” and if there was an inter-galactic clone flirting competition, Crosshair just lost. You grin up at him, pure evil  in your eyes. 

“Oh no reason,”You say walking past. “Just a little leftover Hutt goo.” 

Tech finds your fascination with hyperspace fascinating. You seem to spend hours sitting by whichever window you have chosen for that moment, watching the universe whizz by. Sometimes he sits with you, and you both talk about your theories for explaining the galaxy. He learns that your parents never left your home world once you were born and nicknamed you Yona after the rain that poured down so often. He mentions it offhand to Crosshair and catches him whispering it to himself later that day. Tech himself sticks to calling you Fairywren, while Wrecker has committed to little bird, Hunter goes with Fairywren like Tech but Crosshair has decided on not using your name or any of the many nicknames the bad batch have for you. 

In fact, he’s starting avoiding you all together. 

You flit around the ship like a plague according to him, Hunter and Tech can’t figure out why the sniper has such a disdain for everything you do but it’s getting out of hand.

“When do we drop out of hyperspace?” He asks one day while you’re perched in the cockpit staring out the window, away from the current conversation. 

“Soon.” Hunter states his focus on his holopad, receiving instructions from Cody about laying low. 

“How soon?” Crosshair presses, keeping an eye on the door that separates you from hearing him. 

“Doesn’t matter.” Hunter says, getting slightly annoyed with his brother, not to be dramatic but you’re literally a joy to have around. All the batchers love you to bits and Hunter is frustrated that Crosshair is being a spoilsport. 

“It matters to me.” 

“Yeah we get it. You can't stand Fairywren, because she’s the problem and you can't wait to get rid of her.” Hunter snaps, putting his holopad down.  “Just days ago you were all over  her, what happened to ‘we aren't leaving her’?” He’s staring at Crosshair, enhanced sense burning into his soul.   

“Just a little leftover Hutt goo.”  You’d said to him, not that he’d heard, his face was on fire, burned from where you had touched it. And he is surprised he didn't flinch away from your touch, had he become that accustomed to you already? Was Crosshair so entranced by you in  such a short amount of time that he was already missing your touch? No. He doesn't  know you. You don't know him. He’s memorized every part of your face, but you don’t matter to him. His heart seems to beat for every smile you give him. But you have no effect on the sniper. Every shot he takes is one to protect you from anymore trauma. But he doesn't give a damn about your feelings. Love at first sight doesn't exist, soulmates are fake. And even if they did Crosshair doesn't want it. 

Kamino broke him, being defected, trained and thrown away for your one purpose does that to person. He tells himself to hate you for putting him back together.

“Nothing changed.  But we aint a charity.” He tells his sergeant, who absolutely knows he is lying. But because he doesn't know why he’s lying, Hunter lets the conversation drop, but mostly because he can hear you get up from the co-pilot's seat and head towards the door. 

“Wrecker says we’re dropping out of hyperspace soon.” You report, popping your head out of the door. “Says it'll look cool.” You add with a blush. Hunter chuckles a tad and says something about going to let Tech know. Leaving you to stare at Crosshair. 

“Ram'ser” you say all of a sudden, slow and precise, testing out the word and being very careful of  your pronunciation. 

“What?” Crosshair spits, more surprised than malicious. Since when did you speak mando’a?

“Tech likes to talk to me in phrases of mando’a  and have me guess what they mean.” you explain slowly. “He uses that word when he talks about you.” 

“Yeah? Good for him.” Crosshair is glaring at his reflection in the table. He hates this, he wants to hate you. He can’t stand the way the words come out of his mouth, but his head reminds him that you will be safest far away from the war. And that means he can't catch feelings and any that have slipped through must be thrown away. He hears the door slip closed as you retreat to watch the stars again. Tech and Hunter follow moments later, Hunter looking down at his vod with a sigh. Stupid enhanced hearing. He heard every word. 

You land on a desert planet you already can't remember the name of, but apparently it’s a neutral system and a good place to lay low. The sand dunes make you frown because they go as far as the eye can see, and Tech makes you take a spare pair of goggles and a makeshift hooded cape that was fashioned out of a lightweight tarp from the hold. That combined with your clean (albeit mud stained) pants and an oversized shirt you fit right in with the mess of inhabitants on the planet. 

“You’ll get itchy.” Hunter tells you when he sees that you’ve sat yourself in the sand and are now in the process of burying your legs in the strange stuff. 

“Sorry, I’ve just never really seen this stuff.” you apologize but Hunter waves it off with a smile. 

“It’s okay, just a heads up. Stuff gets everywhere.” You reluctantly pull yourself out of the sand, joining everyone by the edge of the sand dune, looking over at the nearby city in the distance. 

“So what haven't you guys seen?” You ask as you struggle to walk down the intense slope. 

“We don’t see a lot of water usually.” Tech says, “but only because not many species can survive underwater.” 

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?” The bad batch is used to your barrage of questions. It’s one of the things they like most about having you around, from favourite colours to wild would you rather questions, your brain is always humming with things to discover. 

“Somewhere small and quiet.” Hunter says quickly, the light, heat and everything else already giving him a headache. 

“Coruscant.” Tech answers, the complete opposite of his brother. “Libraries and the Jedi temple.” He explains further. 

“Kamino.” Wrecker says, surprising you. You had assumed they all hated it there. “Home is home.” He explains with a smile. Crosshair doesn't say anything, but he can feel the eyes on him. 

“What?” He says to the four faces looking at him. 

“Cross would go to Hoth, because it’s cold.” Wrecker sasses him with a slight push. 

“Shut up Wrecker.” he snaps, in a very bad mood today. 

“Or anywhere his cyare is.” Wrecker adds without thinking. Making Hunter, you and Tech very confused. That's a word you haven't heard from Tech before and both him and hunter are trying to figure out who Wrecker is talking about while Crosshair looks like he’s actually going to explode. 

“What did you just say?” He says each word is its own sentence. 

“Cross has a cyare?” Tech is now thinking out loud (another habit of his) “no way Cross has a cyare we would know if he did. I mean we are with him all the time so it’s not like we wouldn’t know them or have met them…” His rambling fades into the background when Wrecker speaks up again. 

“Wait Tech, Sarge? You two seriously didn't notice?” He asks, shocked that his clever brothers hadn't picked it up. 

“Wrecker, shut your trap.” Crosshair orders, and a very tense silence falls over the group, and you’re only a third of the way to the city. You decide to ask Tech what the word means later.  And the now very awkward walk continues, that is until a speeding starts  to approach you from the town. 

“Bad batch! Defensive positions!” Hunter calls to them, and within seconds they have their helmets on. except for Cross whose helmet is still in the bottom of that lake, but has a new one waiting for him at base. But either way they’re all ready for combat in record time, leaving you to stand awkwardly in the middle of them hand by where you keep the small knife that's always by your side. 

“Civi’s!” Tech calls, having analyzed the people within the speeder, it’s a Twi’lek woman with a young child. She does, however, raise a blaster before addressing  the group.

“Saw the ship land. Thought someone or something might need help.” She says, eying the group suspisously. “Clones eh?” She adds. “Can't be here. Neutral system.”  She lowers the blaster. 

“We just need a few days.” Hunter says, taking his helmet off. 

“Perhaps you didn't hear me.” She’s more aggressive now. “You can’t be here. One day or a hundred, we don't care. Get gone.” You step forward. 

“Hunter we should go.” You whisper, looking at the mother and her young one. 

“Kriff,” The twi’lek sighs when she sees you. “Huxx has already got a bounty on her.” She looks at you with pity. 

“Thought you said this was a neutral planet.” Crosshair snaps. 

“Bounty is a bounty, no matter who’s side it’s for.” She says shaking her head. She pauses thinking for a minute. “All i can offer you is the fact that any planets around here  will  have been given the same information.” 

“What if I had credits?” You ask, it’s dangerous. But you know if one person saw you and more must know by now.  

“You’d need a lot of credits and a really stupid person to let you camp out here. Especially with clones” she says, beginning to bargain. 

“What about credits, a nice person, and no clones?” You counter taking a pouch out of your pants pockets. 

“That might work. For a couple days that is.” She agrees. 

“Absolutely not.” Hunter interrupts. “We aren't leaving you.” ignoring someone with a sniper rifle mumbling ‘hypocrite’ under his breath. 

“The name’s Leeya” she tells you, ignoring Hunter. 

“Yona.” You reply, moving to hop in the speeder, but stopped by Hunter's hand. 

“This isn't happening.” He says firmly. 

“Get in the speeder and tell your very angry friends to find something to wear other than armour.” Leeya smiles softly at you.

“We’ll be back soon.” Tech speaks up, very nervous, just as the rest of his batch. 

“I know,” You tease, “who else is gunna listen to you if i’m not around?” He laughs a little, and you hug him goodbye, before wrapping your arms around Hunter and Wrecker in turn. Crosshair doesn't move. 

“See ya around.” He says, turning away, and there’s a crack forming in your heart. You know he’s been different recently, you know he’s just putting up with you. But you thought there was something there. The present evidence seems to prove you wrong. Wrecker’s looking between you and Crosshair in disbelief. He sees you swallow tears and he snaps. 

“Wrecker!” Crosshair all but screams as he’s lifted into the air by his brother. Of course he heard him stomp up behind him but he definitely wasn't expecting to be snatched from where he stood. 

“She’s your kriffing cyare!” He booms, before unceremoniously shoving Crosshair down into the sand in front of you. It would be funny if you weren't so shocked by Wreckers actions. Crosshair pulls himself up and whips around, arm cocked ready to throw a punch. The hardest glare you’ve ever seen on his face. But it falls when you gently take hold of his arm. 

He’s taken back to the night he kissed you, and you begged him to keep the nightmares at bay.  He blinks and he’s taken back to the morning he woke with you in his arms. All at once  he remembers and forgets why he was pushing you away.

“Crosshair…” You start, but he pulls you into a crushingly tight hug before you finish. Nose to your hair, and your hands around his neck. Like they were made to be there. 

“I-I” he starts what would be an apology that he knows won't be enough. 

“It’s okay,” you interrupt. “Just be back soon.” and in a haze he watches you pull away from him and get into the speeder. 

“But I promised…” He whispers to himself. “I promised not to leave you…” you’re becoming a speck on the horizon, and he should be happy, he doesn't have to torture himself by refusing to love you anymore. 

Except part of him knows, as he feels his heart get torn from his chest, the real torture has just begun. 

You see him in your dreams. His corpse, destroyed in front of you. And when you wake with a start, on the dusty planet, in another woman's home, he isn't there to comfort you. Leeya is usually up and so you find her in the kitchen pottering around. You spend those nights cradling her infant child, trying to stop his incessant crying. And you learn that the day she met you she was looking for her husband. Who apparently has been missing for quite some time.

They’ve been gone seven rotations and the nightmares and shakes are getting worse, wrecker isn't here to make you laugh, tech isn't here to drown your thoughts out with ones of his own. Hunter Isn't here to take notice of the smallest changes in your well being. And Crosshair, well, Crosshair isn't here either. But you miss the eternity of him. 

Mostly you miss his arms, strong enough to hold you tight but soft enough to cradle the tears away. Wrapping around you away from the universe. An addicting drug at its finest and you’ve only had one hit. 

It was late, late enough that you thought no one was awake. Having been travelling through hyperspace with the Batch for 12 regular rotations of 24 hours, you’ve taken to having panic attacks alone in your room, or pacing around the ship when everyone is asleep, pushing away the memories of a family you once had. 

“You should be asleep.” Comes the long drawl from the sniper, toothpick in  his mouth, wearing only his blacks. You jump back, scared of the sudden noise.  

“I’m sorry.” The apology is immediate. 

“Don’t be.” He states, looking at you, wrapped up in his blanket like usual, he wonders if it smells like you.

“You’re shaking.” He notes with concern, standing up from his  spot and crossing over to you. 

“I just do that sometimes.” You admit, trying your hardest not to bring attention  to the problem. 

“Before we met?” You know what he’s insinuating, did you have a habit of shaking before your parents died. 

“Yes.” A lie floods so easily from your lips. 

“Promise?” He doesn't believe you, he’s heard stories about the famous fairywren from regs on corosaunt. You were basically famous for heroics and intel, and he’s pretty sure someone like that doesn't shake. You don’t answer him, staring at a spot on the wall behind his shoulder in the hopes you can fake eye contact. You hear him sigh, before his arms encase you. 

Once they do, you begin to shake in earnest. From head to toe as if now your mind knows it’s safe, it's letting out all the pent up anxiety. Every breath is interrupted halfway by the next, and tears make trails down your face and into his clothing.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him again, and in response he just holds you tighter. His arms pull you as close as physically possible, and for a moment you let go of everything that's holding you up. Everything you’ve been trying to hide from those you travel with surface with one terrible sob.

“Someone as heavenly as you shouldn't cry.” Crosshair says, placing the gentlest of kisses to your hairline.  

“It's my fault they're dead.” You gasp between tears. 

“No, Yona, it’s not. You didn't start this war, you didn't ask for your home planet to be invaded. And you didn’t give the order.” 

“But I-” You start

“But nothing.” He barges in rather softly. “It’s not, and will never be your fault.” 

“He’s going to kill me.” you whisper into the darkness of the havoc marauder. “He would have the day if the neighbours had not heard the screaming. Before he left he promised me, no matter where I hid, he’d find me.” 

“I won't let him lay a finger on you.” Crosshair professes to you and himself.  His arms that had slacked pull you closer yet again. 

“You don’t owe me anything, missions done Cross. I’m just baggage.” You sniffle, lip beginning to tremble. 

“Not to me.” He says firmly. You pull back from him just enough to look into his eyes. And with a look both of you ask ‘why me’ and answer the other in one breath. Your quivering hands make their way to the edges of his face. And very, very slowly they start  pulling his lips to yours. You stop just before they meet. Waiting for him to pull away, or to ask you to stop, but nothing of the sort happens. His mouth connects to yours as softly as possible and just like that the two of you are kissing. 

It’s soft, slow, nurturing and full of feelings neither of you can describe. You never want to leave this embrace and from the way Crosshair is humming against you, he agrees with that statement. 

The air runs out eventually, and breathless, the two of you pull away. It doesn't stop him from chasing your lips and placing haphazard final pecks to your slightly agape mouth. 

“If i asked you to hold me for the rest of the night, would you?” It's A risky question but you ask it anyway. 

“You think i’d say no to someone as stunning as you?”

He wakes to you curled into his frame, arms locked around his stomach where the blacks have ridden up, and he can't tell where his legs start and where yours end because they’re so intertwined. Crosshair looks down at your face, and thinks that he wasn't made to fight in a war. He was made to love you. 

And the second that thought crosses his mind, he’s taken back to Kamino where the creepy longnecks tell a younger version over and over again, that he isn't a real person. That he will never have a real life. He begins and ends with this war, and he knows that this war has taken enough from you. And it cant take him from you if he doesn't give himself  away. 

So he presses one last kiss to your forehead, a tear falling into your hair. He lets himself think about your future, an older happier you, living a free life. It’s just that, in that image, Crosshair isn't there. 

“How did you know?” Tech asks Wrecker the second they make it back to the Havoc Marauder and crosshair is out of earshot. He’s been replaying the events back and it makes so much sense, but how was it that both him and Hunter had not clued in?

“Mostly the way he looked at her.” Wrecker says quietly, afraid of his brother overhearing this conversation. “He wasn’t very subtle.” He adds thoughtfully. Tech scrunches his eyebrows together and thinks about all the small smiles the sniper gave you, and yes this was normal behaviour for him around the other batchers, but thinking about it now, crosshair should've been much more cold to an outsider. Perhaps you just blended in so well into their little family he never stopped to notice.  

“There's a republic planet not too far from here, we restock there.” Hunter calls to the cockpit, usually maybe he’d poke his head in and check on Tech and Wrecker, but right now, he’s got someone else to check on. 

Crosshair is in his room, having collected his blanket from your bunk he sits with it by his bed while wondering how long it’ll smell like you. He’d be angry if he didn’t feel so empty. And because he feels so empty, there's not much he can do but tinker mindlessly with his rifle. 

“Cross?” it's phrased like a question but Hunter isn't exactly asking for permission into Crosshairs room. He strides  right through the door like he owns the place, (which he kind of does.) 

“Sarge!” Crosshair jumps to attention. It’s funny how when your brain does into overdrive it reverts to its base settings and you fall into old habits, and as a clone, habits are kamino training.

“At ease.” Hunter states with a raised eyebrow, when was the last time he asked his crew to stand to attention? He shakes it off. “Cross we gotta talk.” 

“We aren't together, you can’t court marshall me.” He snaps, Crosshair has already had this conversation in his head, and he knows that in clone force 99 is where he needs to be. So he’s got every rebuttal and reason stacked in his mind ready to go. 

“That wasn’t what I was asking…” Hunter states, and he knows he has to be careful, crosshair is a live wire at the best of times and this, well this is something else entirely. 

“What are you asking me then?” Crosshair stands up, coming toe to toe with Hunter, and you don’t need enhanced sense to know cross feels threatened. So Hunter takes a step back, a sign of non-agression. 

“I am asking why you would push something like that away.” Hunter says, choosing his words carefully. Not ‘why push her away’ because he knows the answer to that. It’s not allowed, I have to keep her safe, she doesn't feel the same, ect, ect. But in reality Hunter wants to know why he would push away the unspoken feelings they both have for the other. Why would Crosshair throw away something every clone dreamed about? Crosshair doesn't respond at first, but when he does, he explains everything to simply. 

“You can’t heal trauma on a battlefield.” and for the first time in  his life Hunter sees one of his men shed a tear. It’s gone the second it appears, lost to a face worn down by violence. Gone so quickly Hunter isn't even sure if it’s really there.

“But Crosshair.” He tells him gently “that isn’t your call. It’s hers.” he receives a small nod in return. And Hunter stands in front of him awkwardly, not sure what he is supposed to do next. 

“Well.” he clears his throat. “I’ll leave you to it then, because you best start working on your apology.” Crosshair smiles softly at that, and nods with more confidence this time. 

“You know sarge, if i didn't know better i’d say you’ve gone soft.”  The classic crosshair sarcasm is lacking a tad, but it’s progress. 

“Yeah, that Fairywren’s a bad influence.” He says over his shoulder as he leaves the snipers room. 

Time has no meaning while they're gone. You decide with an over dramatic sigh while you dig up and plant this strange dessert food. Except it’s not really food, it’s just kind of a thick stemmed thing that oozes out goo that the locals use for a variety of things, including a snack.  But you like plants, and you’re more than happy to be left on your own for a bit. Leeya is in the center of town with her son, selling and buying goods for the week. 

“Yona!” You hear her shouting from the house, frantic, and worried. “Yona!” she’s sprinting toward you fast as she can with the baby in her arms. You run to meet her halfway, tripping as you scramble to get up. 

“What, what is it?” You ask as she collides into you, careful not to squish the infant. 

“He’s coming, he’s coming here. Yona he’s coming here.” Leeya pants, terrified. Through the time of your stay you learn her life has also been altered by the trandoshan that hunts you, the kind twi’lek confessed to you one night when you asked why she agreed to help you. And being kind, you didn't press. Her life was her life, and neither of you seemed keen on talking about either of your lives.

“Leeya” You say trying to keep a level head. “Breathe I need you to breathe.”  she takes shallow breaths but nods to your suggestion. 

“They were talking about it at the market, said someone overheard a transmission.” You look up at the sky for a ship, praying to see one you recognize. But  it’s clear skies today and there's nothing in sight. So you can only wrap your arm around Leeya, coo to her son, head inside and pretend not to be scared. 

Krexx lands two rotations later, and your occasional shaking becomes constant. Sleep isn’t an option because you always have to be alert. You assume he doesnt know you’re here or he  would’ve found you already, but that doesn't ease your nerves. So it’s no surprise to anyone in the household, that when Leeya’s son starts to cry in the  middle of th night, you're by  his side in an instant. 

“Hey little slug, what's got your lekku in a twist?” You scoop him up into your arms and he manages to blow a tear induced spit bubble as a reply. 

“See and then you wonder why I call you slug, you slimy thing.” You smile down at him, bouncing slightly, moving your weight from leg to leg trying to stop the crying before his mum wakes. 

But don’t worry, it’s okay to be slimy.” You hope your voice will calm him, his wailing has stopped but you can tell from the sniffles one wrong move and you'll be back to square one. 

“I know someone who’s got a great story about slime, maybe one day he can tell you about it. Except maybe we’d have to get Tech to tell you, He’s so smart, and because Wrecker, well he’s a lot but you’ll love him either way, and Hunter’s kind rough around the edges but all squishy in the middle…” You trail off, and blink back tears that are a physical manifestation of stress. 

“And Crosshair, he’d take such good care of you, he’s kind of intimidating, got this whole pretended beskar exterior, but it’s all an act. He’d get you the softest blankets and he checks on everyone to make sure they eat and sleep and whatnot. I bet you’d really like him little slug.” you let some tears fall and giggle a little. 

“See now you’ve got us both crying now what am I supposed to do?” you say, except when you look down he’s fallen back asleep. So you place him back down, carefully wrapped in blankets. 

“You know, you don't have to help with him.” Leeya says from the door, with a smile that tells you she’s not being totally serious.

“Just earning my keep.” You joke and she sighs and follows you out of the baby’s room to make some kind of beverage. Pulling cups down and heating water to mix with a scoop of the extract from the plants you gathered today. 

“You haven't been sleeping.” She notes as she hands you a cup. You hum in response, not really knowing what to say. So the two of you sit in comfortable silence, until one of the buttons by her door starts to blink. It’s not the lock mechanism, because it's not red or green. 

“What's the blue light?” You ask, taking a sip of the drink that you decide maybe isn't too horrible. 

“Scanners picked something up, out across the dunes.” She mumbles standing and making her way over to the window to peer out of it. You follow her to squint in the darkness. 

“Leeya…” You whisper, “what’s out there?” 

“Something big if the scanners can get it from that far out.” she turns from the window, rushing to place the cup down and back to the babies room. 

“A ship?” You ask chasing after her, as she scoops up her son. 

“Could be, but if it is, that doesn't make us any safer.” She opens her cupboard and hands you her long range rifle. 

“I know you think it’s them, but I’m telling you, whatever it is, it probably isn't friendly.” she tells you, a sad look on her face.   

“I know.”  You tell her, “stay here with baby slug. I’ll check it out.” You tell her heading for the door. 

“How many times have I told you, his name is Galer.” She sighs, “be safe.” She adds as the durasteel door creaks and slides open. You look back with a smile before disappearing out the door. 

The night on this planet is as annoying as the day, the wind picks up so much that even if you could see through the pitch black, the sand in your eyes prevents you from making anything desirable out. But you know your way to the dunes where you landed, having trekked there almost everyday hoping the Batch had returned for you. 

In the distance there’s a hulking shadow, most certainly a large transport of some kid, but if it's a ship (and not some terrifying Jawa contraption) is it the Havoc Marauder? The sand is loose under your feet, and every step is a struggle to unburry the step you took before it. Your heart feels like it’s screaming for Crosshair, while your brain sush’s it with thoughts of untold peril. 

In the darkness you see movement appear over a sand dune, and on instinct you throw yourself into the grainy stuff for cover, shouldering the rifle and looking through the scope. There’s just the crickets and your breathing as you make out one figure, then another, and another until the fourth and final body comes into view. You adjust the scope with a flutter of frantic fingers. One smaller than the rest? Check? Hulking gentle giant? Yeppers. You make out a pack on the back of the one that seems to be leading the group and….

And then you see the shadow of a rifle. 

You scramble for purchase in the soft sand, like some kind of manic beetle running for cover. Your brain has tunnel vision brought from the gap in your heart. 

“Crosshair!” You scream into the darkness, as you start sprinting towards the group, it was a stupid idea, blowing your cover, even stupider to leave your rifle behind. But you don’t care. 

The entire group whips around at the noise, and you hear them calling out into the night.

“Wren!” it’s his voice, and you  know it’s him that's also running towards you. You’ve counted so many kriffing rotations since you last saw, spoke to or heard from him. 

Crosshair can't think straight, there’s so much he needs to apologize for, so much he needs to tell you and maker, if he can’t get you into his arms soon he might implode. 

But then, he doesn't have enhanced senses for nothing, he sees it out of the corner of his eye, his brain checking the area for snipers without him even being conscious it’s doing so until it actually finds one. 

And so he goes barrelling into you at full speed, hunching down and tackling the both of you into the ground, as the rest of the batch scrambles for cover and to return fire. You feel like you’re being dragged into the sand and you can’t breath, hearing, but not seeing blaster shots. 

“Crosshair,” You reach for him as he pushes you further into the ground trying to shield your body.   

“Stay down!” He shouts, already looking through the scope of his rifle. You try to get to him again, but he sees you move and he abandons the shot in favour of pushing you into the sand again. 

“Stay. Down.” he hisses into your ear. And he registers your mumbles, having forgotten, if anyone knew Krexx and his tactics. It was you. 

“They knew. They knew Crosshair! They were waiting for you to come back!” your hands finally find purchase on a part of him and the latch on like magnetic durasteel. “None of you have armour, they knew.” You press, searching his eyes praying he understands. One look up and he sees a group of trandoshans marching to where his brothers are currently defending. He moves for his rifle and starts making shots as you spot your gun, laying useless in the sand a few meters away. Crawling on your tummy over to it, your hand wraps around the butt of the gun as it’s grabbed by a single trandoshan, who must have been scouting on the other side of the city. 

The blaster rifle is ripped from you as your shoulder takes a powerful kick that winds you as your back hits the ground. He pulls a smaller hand held blaster on you, but you’re quick enough to send a fistful of sand into his face, followed by a flailing kick to his knee cap. As he drops, a gun fires  from behind you, and the creature drops dead. You grab your gun from his grasp and twist to see Crosshairs rifle still smoking, as another reptile runs at him, you pull the trigger on your rifle, sending him to the ground. Crosshair looks over his shoulder, then back to you.  

“Never told me you were that good a shot.” he comments as you scurry back over to him. 

“You didn’t ask.” you grit out, laying down more cover fire. 

“Hot.”  He smirks, and you gape at him, yes he looks fantastic in civilian clothes, in fact, given different situations you might take the time to stare at him.

“Really? That. now?” you shout over the desert battle. “You shut yourself off from me, ditch me for weeks on this hell hole, and now you want to flirt in the middle of this sweet hell!” you gesture wildly to the entire situation. 

“I have an apology ready, but I figured it should wait until we aren't getting shot at!” He rolls over onto your body as a human shield as the trandoshan sniper, rains all hell down on the two of you. Crosshair looks up just enough so that he can see your eyes, and he knows if he’s about to die he needs to kiss you one more time. 

So he does. It’s messy and uncoordinated, less soft than the first one you two had shared. It’s frantic, worried, desperately trying to compensate for kisses he now worries you’ll never get the chance to share. 

You respond in kind, pressing open mouth kisses into him as the only way to try and communicate that you know. You know he’s sorry, you know he missed you, you know he’s going to promise to never leave you again. You know him. Maybe better than he was originally okay with, but right now he just doesn't care. 

“The blasts.” You say thorough kisses, causing him to pause and check his surroundings. 

“They stopped…” he supplies, leaning up a tad more onto his forearms, still keeping you encased beneath him. 

“No help from the two of you.” Says Hunter as him, Tech and Wrecker approach the tiny hill you had both been hiding behind. Crosshair stands up brushing himself off before pulling you up and into his arms, glaring at his vod while he places a (slightly angry)  kiss to the top of your head. 

“Can I say hi to everyone else?” The question sounds squished as you mumble it out from your spot against his chest. 

“Fine.” Crosshair relents, letting you go allowing his brothers to crowd you and basically coo over how much they missed you. “So much for my cyare.” he grumbles to himself, only slightly pouting at the attention that isn't his anymore. 

And from within a twi’leks house, just off the edge of the sand dunes, one last trandoshan watches. And waits. 

Crosshair didn't let you get more than a few steps away from him the entire way back to Leeya’s house. It was almost as if the more you walked the more nervous he got that you would disappear in front of his eyes. His hand slipped it’s way into yours, gently dragging you so that Crosshair could feel the warmth of you. 

“Clingy.” You state, leaning into him as you walked through the sand. He hums in response, not bothering to try and deny it. His brothers marvel at how much he’s changed since you came into their lives. 

“It’s very impressive.” Tech admits, “the Fairywren seems to be able to trigger evolutionary change in humans. Who knew such a small creature could cause such a shift in personality?” Crosshair makes a gesture at Tech that you don’t see but assume it was rude either way. 

“Shove off Tech.” He says over his shoulder. You all but coo up at Crosshair, smiling towards him when he meets your gaze. 

“So you’re done pushing me away now?” You ask, teasing a little, but also hesitant, worried that he’ll grow cold again. 

“Yeah, someone talked some sense into me.” He tells you, briefly glancing over to Hunter, who only smiles and gives him a mock salute. 

“Hmm? And which of your vod do I have to thank for that?” You look at the rest of the batch behind you. 

“I guess you’ll never know.” Crosshair says, wrapping his arm around you again, stealing you away from the others. Maker, he really is clingy when he wants to be. 

Peaking your  head around the corner of one of the edge buildings you check for any other trandoshans. There's nothing. The wind whistles through the city as it sleeps, and you hope by the time morning comes, Drexx hasn't found the mess the five of you left his troop in. 

It’s the door to Leeya’s house that makes you stop, Cross feels you go rigid in his arms, and even he doesn't notice the cause at first. 

“The keypad.” You shakily whisper, it looks as if it's been removed and hastily replaced. Something only someone who’s been watching their back for as long as you have would notice. Without pausing to think you break away from Crosshair and dash inside. You hear him call your  name at the same time a blaster clicks beside your head. 

“It’s nice to see you again.”  Drexx hisses from beside you, Leeya is sitting on the floor in her living room, Galer crying in her arms. 

“He’s just a kid,” You immediately start begging. You’ve been here before, the same blaster, a much wetter planet and two adults shaking in front of you instead of one. Body trembling in its entirety. 

“Please.” you try again, “he’s just a baby.” Tears fall of their own accord. Like your body doesn't know what else to do other than tremble from head to toe and poor water from your eyes. 

“Should’ve kept away from them then.” Drexx tells you as he places himself on a chair in the room, twirling his blaster happily. Just as Clone Force 99 barges their way in. 

“Oh, looks like your friends have finally caught up.” He snarls. Pointing his gun at you again. “Seems to me they are short of some armour though. I wonder how resilient clones are when they’re not protected by fancy plastoid.” A choked sob leaves your body, what have you done? How could this be happening, again? 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, come here little Fairywren.” Krexx hushes you and you know you have no choice to listen to him. Crossing the room on shaking legs, hearing a struggle behind you as Hunter tries to hold Crosshair back.

“You.” Krexx says moving his blaster to point at Cross. “You, I recognize. Last we met,  you were passed out in binders. Decided to cuff yourself to some new deadweight I see.” He looks at you and then back to Crosshair. Having a superb time with the power he’s found himself in possession of. 

“Krexx…” you’ve got no option but to try and reason with him again, still focused on the family behind you. “Just let these two go. You know you don’t need them anymore. And you know you can’t kill civilians in a neutral system.” His features curl in anger as he turns to you. 

“Who would report me? You? The clones?” He’s just playing with his food at this point. Enjoying the terror he’s bringing, and thriving off of your trauma. He places his blaster down on the table and places his feet atop it. 

“How about we make a deal Fairywren?” He offers, relaxing into the chair. 

“What kind of deal?” You ask timidly. Brain working overtime to try and figure out how to get out of your situation.  

“Someone gets to walk away from this alive, I don’t care who. Could be them, could be mama and baby over there. Could be you.” Your eyes lock with Crosshair, you both know what's about to happen.

“Your call. Who gets to live? And more importantly who else gets to die because the famous fairywren couldn't keep her trap shut?” 

Everything seems to be put on pause for a second as your brain spirals out of control. Almost like your mind swims away from your physical body, and watches what happens next. 

“Me.” You say firmly. “It was my mistake, I am the snitch. I get to die.”Your voice is confident. So much so that you think Krexx might be impressed. 

“Then which of them gets to die?” He asks you, willing, wanting you to continue. 

“Neither, you get me, that’s it. That's the deal.” You do your best to remain as confident as possible but it’s slipping away quickly. 

“And why would I agree to that?” Krexx questions, wondering what plan you've concocted. 

“Because killing them wasn't a part of your orders. You kill an entire force of Troopers and the republic will demand your head on a pike. Kill civilians of a neutral planet and the republic gains yet another supporter. You have orders. So did I, I followed them, it got me here. You follow yours and this stops today.” You’re hoping the dramatic rhetoric is enough. It seems to be enough to make Krexx pause and think for a moment. 

“You say that like if i shoot you in here, your band of freaks won't tear my head off.” Krexx comments after a long period  of time. And you let out the breath you’d been holding. 

“Outside then.” You fire back. 

“Wren.” Crosshair says, and you can’t even meet his eyes. The crack in his voice is enough. 

“Outside then.” Krexx agrees. Motintiong for you to walk onwards the door as he picks up his blaser. “One more thing.” he adds, pausing as the two of you are almost to the door. 

You scream as the bolt hits Crosshair in the left leg. All plans forgotten as you turn towards him. He hits the ground on his good knee as Tech and Hunter crowd him desperate to save what's left of the burning flesh. Wrecker turns on Krexx who promptly grasps your bicep and points the gun to your head. 

“Just needed a little insurance that we wouldn't be followed. And he seemed to be a trouble maker.” He gives a nod to the scene in front of him, like an artist finally content with their work he pulls you from the house. 

Crosshair feels like his leg is being swallowed by Magma, it’s pain that burns bright all up his body. Tech does his best to get the ruined fabric away from the wound, but other than wrap it in non-ruined shirt material and put pressure on it there's not much that can be done. 

“Roof.” Crosshair gasps out, trying to move for his sniper rifle. 

“Crosshair, you put pressure on a wound like that and you might not be keeping that leg.” Tech tells him, trying to find anything resembling bacta. He feels a hand on his shoulder, the Twi’lek, Leeya he thinks her name is, presses a stim shot into his hand. 

“Stairs lead all the way up, on the right.” She deadpans, turning away from the group clutching onto her child. With a grunt, Crosshair stabs the stim shot into his leg, tying the material as tight as he can before the pain becomes overwhelming.  His hand goes for the gun again, and Hunter’s beats him to it. He opens his mouth to argue. 

“All due respect sarge,” Wrecker interrupts, taking the rifle from Hunter, and hoisting Crosshair to his feet. Wrecker goes to add something, but he doesn't, opting for a curt nod to his sergeant before dragging his half conscious brother towards the stairs. 

Krexx leads you to the open sand, the morning sun now on the rise, beginning to warm the land. 

“At least it’s a nice view.” You breathe as he pushes you to your knees, moving the blaster into position. Your mind goes blank, unsure of where to go from here. 

Your body however, knows exactly what to do. And with one last surge of adrenaline it twists in the sand and you use both hands to get a grasp on Krexx’s wrist, standing and using your momentum to pull him over you and into the sand. From there it’s a scurry as you search for the weapon. Only to be yanked by your hair as the trandoshan regains his footing.  A jab with your elbow, loosens his grip enough so that your second jab crashes into his teeth. You make the mistake of kicking him, with such force that you lose your balance in the sand. This gives him time to wrap hands around your windpipe and begin to crush it. You flail in the sand kicking it up in one last desperate fight. 

Crosshair stumbles onto the roof, his eyes are dropping and he’s fighting to even keep them open. Wrecker drags him over to the ledge and points at two figures in the distance. From his guess they are about 12 clicks away, a fully functioning Crosshair might not even be able to make this shot, let alone a half dead one. Wrecker can only stand next to him and squint into the sunrise as his brother desperately tries to line up the shot. A figure drops as he pulls the trigger, but it’s impossible to tell who it is. 

Krexx falls to the side as the blaster bolt comes into contact with his body. It’s enough to dislodge him but not enough to kill him. Rolling in the sand all you can think about is getting air back into your system, but a death grip on your lower leg reminds you the fight isn't over.  You kick the Trandoshan again to dislodge him and you turn to bring your hands together in a devastating hit to where his neck meets his chest. Something in the sand catches your eye as you search for the blaster and your hand goes out to it. 

It’s not the blaster, it’s a rock. But a rock will do. Positioning yourself above him, Krexx just laughs. 

“Go on then, beat me to a bloody death.” And you gulp, eyes flickering from the rock to him. And you wonder if you have it in you to literally bash a man's head in. He continues to laugh at you. Make you cant viciously kill a man with a jagged stone. But you can certainly knock him out with one. 

So you bring the rock down once and then twice for good measure, until he stops struggling with so much power and you can pull him into a choke hold. Eventually allowing him to become unconscious beneath you. Leeya’s speeder is coming towards you, Hunter and her at the helm. She embraces you as Hunter binds the general, he turns towards you, and he picks the blaster out of the sand a few feet away. Pressing it into your hands, you think about shooting Krexx. But you know what good the republic could do with the information he holds. 

Whether you shoot him is your decision. And yours alone. 

But for now, you have more important matters on your mind.

Crosshair wakes up in a medbay, vaguely remembering your face in the morning sun. someone begging for him to stay awake, and that a republic cruiser was in a nearby system. He remembers feeling your soft hands cradling his face, and thinking dying wouldn't be so bad if he had gotten to say goodbye. 

“Wakey wakey.” He hears you call to him, a clean GAR uniform on, but still his black blanket wrapped around you. He tries to shift up, but Cross is stopped by your hand on his chest. 

“M’ fine.” He grunts out, trying to sit up again. You sit yourself on the side of his bed and refuse to move your hand.  

“Humour me?” You softly ask, Crosshair sighs but lays back down anyways. “Medics say you’ll make a full recovery. Tech says that once Hunter gets a hold of you they’ll say otherwise. Something about disobeying orders?” Your hand moves from his chest and into the hair at the side and back of his neck. Nails running gently over the tense muscle. He hums at the feeling, and subconsciously his hands search for purchase by your waist. Rubbing circles over the material and down into your skin. 

“Technically it was Wrecker that disobeyed orders.” He argues, letting his hands drift to the small of your back. 

“You know I could give you the lecture of your life for being such an idiot. But maybe i'll just be mad at you later instead.” You say fondly, letting him shift enough to make room beside his good leg for you to squish in the cot next to him. 

“You just can’t stay angry at someone this handsome.” He gives you a signature Crosshair smirk and moves his blanket over the two of you. 

“I beg to differ. I certainly can stay angry at someone that handsome.” You tease, snuggling closer to him.  Feeling his chest move as he chuckles. Crosshair stairs down at you, and just like the first time you found yourself in his arms he’s thinking about a time when the war is over and you’re living a life without fear or bloodshed. Except this time that older version of you is joined by an older version of him, pulling him close and kissing his lips for the billionth time. 

“I love you.” He whispers into your hair, breathing away tears. 

“I love you too.” You whisper back, shifting just enough to let your eyes flutter closed and press your lips to his. 

Some months later…

The airstrip is packed, and yet the wind still manages to find its way into the smallest of spaces, sending shivers deep into the skin of anyone present. 

“Experimental unit Clone Force 99. They’re defective clones with, uh… Desirable mutations.” Commander Cody explains to a very hesitant Captain Rex

“99, eh? Nice touch.” He says as the ramp descends.

“They call themselves, The Bad Batch.” Cody states with pride as Wrecker appears in the doorway, slaughtering down shouting something about the cavalry arriving. You stifle a giggle at their dramatics. Pulling your custom helmet, courtesy of Tech, over your head. While the boys had their grey and red plastic armour, yours had been painted with a little extra blue, forming wings that cascaded down the plate covering your back. The helmet however, featured foot prints of the bird ini question, each with a very small crosshair encircling them.  

And yes, you had added a delicately placed fairywren painting to crosshairs inner plating beside his ribcage. 

“Sergeant. Good to see you again.” Cody greets you all, as you stand beside your Cyare, eyeing him carefully.  He doesn't work well with others, especially when others involve regular clones. You jab your elbow into Crosshairs side playfully, reminding him to look a little less like he wants to explode right then and there. 

“I see that Wren fits right in.” The commander adds, giving you a smile and a nod, you finally pull off your helmet, much to the shock of Rex, Jesse and Kix. 

“That's definitely not a clone.” Kix says to Jesse. 

“Long time no see commander.” You say returning his smile, you move for a hug but Cody extends his hand to you. 

“Last time I tried to hug you, your Ram’ser almost killed me.” He reminds you with a side glance to Crosshair who looks even more annoyed with every passing second. 

“He’s harmless.” You wave him off and hug him anyways. Crosshair tries not to visibly stiffen, he’s wildly protective and even more so possessive. But it’s understandable considering you’re the only thing he’s ever known to bring him happiness. 

“Sorry we’re late, Commander. We were putting down an insurrection on Yalbec Prime when your comm came in. Had a few unforeseen… complications.” Hunter cuts in, knowing that this whole debacle needs to get a move on. 

“You ever fought a male Yalbec?” Wrecker asks loudly, enjoying the show you’re all putting on for the regs. 

“Um, Can’t say i have…” Jesse responds carefully, still looking at your with confusion, of course he’d heard of the Fairywren, but meeting a hero in person hits a little different than the stories. 

“You’re lucky! Only way to kill ‘em is with one of these.” Wrecker adds pulling out the biggest vibroblade Jessie has ever seen. 

“That’s right. Wrecker here cut off the queen’s stinger while she was still alive.” Hunter adds, still a little pissed off at his vod for the incident in question. “That’s why all those Yalbec males tried to eat us.” You chuckle at the memory, Crosshair had been understandably angry after all you were able to do was sit and laugh your ass off as they frantically ran around surrounded by Yalbec males. 

 “Ah, technically they were trying to mate with us. And, for your information, the stinger of a Yalbec Queen is a delicacy on some planets.” Tech jumps in causing you to laugh even more, and causing Crosshair to softly tap the side of your hip as if to say ‘cut it out.’ (But with a loving tone of course) 

“They call him Tech.” Cody explains to the other three clones who look petrified at the disaster of a family in front of them. 

“Yeah, he can fill your head with useless info for hours. Crosshair, on the other hand, is not much of a conversationalist, but when you have to hit a precise target from ten klicks, Crosshair’s your man.” Hunter boasts, causing a ghost of a smile form on his lips. 

“Actually sarge,” You cut in. “I believe he’s my man, ten klicks away or otherwise.” Crosshair does smile at that, sending you a look filled with sassy adoration and winding an arm around your middle. Hunter rolls his eyes. Crosshair may be possessive but you’re on a whole other level. He’s all you’ve got, and you’re all he’s got, it’s a recipe for the clingy disaster that is your relationship. 

“Don’t get me started on those two.” He grumbles to Cody, throwing a thumb over his shoulder at the two of you. “So Commander, what kind of suicide mission do you have for us this time?” He asks, heading back to the ship with Cody in tow. 

“After you.” Crosshair slurs at the blonde captain who bristles at the statement, but follows Cody onto the Havoc Marauder with Jessie and Kix. 

“Play nice.” you scold looking up at him with heart eyes, not that you ever look at him without heart eyes. 

“Make me Cyare.” He smirks at you, before pulling you into a bruising kiss, not hesitating to make it far too passionate to be shared in public. That's another thing about Crosshair, he kisses you when he sees fit, no matter the setting or situation. After he finally officially had you in his arms he vowed never to miss a moment to kiss you.  

“Ugh, jus’ get on the ship already, let's go!” Wrecker booms from behind you, so you cup his face and pull away, letting his lip chase yours as they part all too soon. 

“Come on Ram’ser, we’ve got seppie ass to kick.” You tell him, all butt skipping back to the ship. The love of your life right behind you every step of the way. 

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Off on a nautical adventure!

We're sailing the Stone Glass Seas, exploring uncharted territory and enjoying the breeze. Rocky and Chrissie are here with some friends to go on a sailing adventure where they happened to run into Gulliver. So they made a stop at the camp and invited us campers to tag along because the more, the merrier!

It feels like forever since Rocky went sailing, which seems surprising since that's his thing. But with him and Lex busy with Talia and now Kessa, sailing has taken kind of a backseat. Of course, Rocky showed us pics of baby Kessa - who is adorable - and Talia, who's walking and talking now. As for Rocky and Lex's wedding, they're aiming for next year - preferably before baby number three comes along, they joke.

Now that Rocky and Lex are out of the newborn stage and have fully adjusted to two babies, they finally have some time to themselves. Chrissie's been helping out a lot as well as serving as sort of a peacemaker between Rocky and their uncle. It's not that they don't get along, it's just that McMann's the old fashioned type so the fact that his bisexual nephew's in a relationship with an enby and they have two kids while unmarried is kinda hard for him to wrap his head around. He does like Lex though and is actively making an effort not to misgender them and such, so at least there's that.

Joining them is Emma with her nieces and nephew. Emma just made the move to Cityburg about a month ago to move in with her brother and his kids. Despite working her ass off for six years in college, Emma was down on her luck, forced to live off her parents. When they told her that they were gonna kick her out, Danny stepped in, which they weren't too happy about. The kids are all for it as Emma's the favorite (and only) aunt and Danny could really use the help.

Margie, Rusty, and Linda like having Emma around and she likes being with them. Danny's a nightclub entertainer at the Cocktail Cabana who occasionally travels so he's not home all the time. Things haven't been easy since his husband and eldest daughter passed away last year, forcing Margie to take over as caretaker as well as housekeeper. While Emma and Margie have always gotten along like sisters, there has been some undercurrents as to who runs things around the house.

When the twins invited Emma to go sailing, she suggested bringing the kids along since Danny will be traveling that week and the kids are off from school. Emma also hopes to work things out with Margie, who she thinks has forgotten how to be a teenager. Now that we've been out on the sea for a couple days, I can see what she means. We all feel bad for Margie as she was forced to grow up quickly and as a result, she also became protective of her family.

Rusty and Linda are up to their own mischievous ways as usual, always keeping Emma and Margie on their toes. Sherry's presence is sorely missed - she was more than just Margie's partner in crime, she was also the ringleader of the Amos-Thomas siblings. A part of me had hoped that Sherry would make a miraculous recovery, but as time went on, all hopes of that diminished.

On a side note, Sherry would've turned sixteen last week - and the month before would've been Terry's birthday. So that's another reason why Emma decided to take the kids along - to give them a distraction so they won't be at each other's throats. And it's definitely been helping, especially for Rusty and Linda, who are having a great time right now. I think it's working for Emma and Margie too - or at least Emma can talk to her without feeling like she's walking on eggshells. I hope things work out for them.

While on our way to Wavy Shores, we ran into Gulliver, making his round trips as usual. Along with the usual treats he brings back, he also has some passengers tagging along. Through his travels, Gulliver often runs into villagers - most who I've never met before - and sometimes they join him on his voyage, later joining us at the camp. I'm pretty sure Gulliver talks up about the camp but I'm not complaining - the more, the merrier! So not only we got treats and maps, but also new friends to look forward to when we get back.

Wavy Shores definitely lives up to its name. Dixie first came across this place by accident and became mesmerized by the landscape. Given her stories about the shores, Rocky had to see it for himself. In fact, a good number of the places on the itinerary - aside from uncharted territory we plan on exploring - were places Dixie have been to. Rocky's been living the dream spending a lot of time with Dixie as she's basically a role model for him, the one who taught him how to sail. It's cute seeing his eyes light up whenever he talks about Dixie!

Everything in Wavy Shores is, well, wavy. Even the sky looks like a blend of wavy colors, contrasting with the sand dunes, the rocks, and the deep blue sea. It's so fascinating to look at - nature is amazing!

To the southwest is Polka Dot Leaf, a floating island known for its coral castle ruins. The exact location is a bit tricky to pinpoint because the island tends to shift due to the rough waters. We lucked out as around this time of year the seas are much calmer so it's all smooth sailing from there - I'd hate to get stuck in the middle of a storm.

The reason why it's called Polka Dot Leaf is because from above that's what the island looks like. It's one of those places that nature is slowly reclaiming, overgrown with seaweed brambles and seabloom blossoms. Walking into a coral castle ruin feels surreal, like I'm expecting the room to transform into another world.

What happened to the island's inhabitants remain a mystery, which adds to the appeal and mystique. Bedrooms with unmade beds, a kitchen sink full of chipped dishes, a desk full of yellowed papers covered in scribbles, a basket of laundry waiting to be folded - all of that, frozen in time. So many untold stories left behind.

To the east lies Summer Grove, a rainforest that is home to many rare butterflies. I've never seen so many colorful butterflies at once! All those colors and shapes - it's amazing to witness! Not to mention how majestic the butterflies are, fluttering about against a sea of green. We also enjoyed the tropical fruits and swimming at the lagoon. The weather was incredibly warm, but not overly humid or hot - which I'm grateful for or else I wouldn't have been able to appreciate the scenery as much and that would be a huge shame.

Then north we went through the Pearl Breeze Current to the idyllic mountains of Quill. Sailing through the Pearl Breeze is no easy feat as the current can be quite tricky to navigate, especially if you're not an experienced sailor. We were on the edge of our seats in our life jackets, holding our breaths while Rocky braved the waters. It was rough, but we made it!

A couple hours later we made it to the mountains and checked into a hotel for a well deserved rest. It's a good thing we weren't too far from land because I wasn't sure how much longer I could handle being at sea after the ordeal with the Pearl Breeze. Aside from a bad headache, an early rest did the trick along with some aspirin and a cool wet cloth.

The next day we went hiking in the mountains, where we came across a cave full of paintings and little iridescent crystals. Exploring the cave was a lot of fun, especially for the kids. Margie and Chrissie put their Chickadee Scout skills to use by guiding us through the tunnels, leading us to an old fountain covered in gothic roses. At first we thought the fountain was broken, until Rusty noticed that the overgrown foliage had blocked something. After a lot of tugging and pulling, a huge burst of water came out, soaking all of us. It was like the fountain came to life, showering us with crystal clear water and gothic rose petals.

On the way back to the hotel we stopped by a shop to change into some dry clothes. Everything looked so nice that it was hard to choose what to wear! Lately I've been into muted neutrals and florals and the store just happened to cater to my interests. Eventually I settled on a dusky pink floral dress with a maroon cardigan and then splurged on a lacy white blouse paired with a brown floral skirt. And then after that we browsed some other shops before grabbing dinner and heading back to the hotel.

Westward bound we headed to Greenaway, an archipelago known for its rare and unusual gems. At the center of the island is the famous volcano, a marvelous sight to see according to many adventurers. Rocky and Chrissie's uncle visited there about thirty years ago, witnessing an eruption when the village he was staying at was forced to evacuate. Since then that part of the island has been abandoned, though as of last year part of the outskirts is no longer restricted to the public.

Chrissie was hoping to find the house McMann rented along with some stuff he had to leave behind. It was long shot, especially since most of the area's buried in volcanic ash, but we figured that it wouldn't hurt to take a look - as long as it's safe. So we did, and as expected, we couldn't get too far because the entire village's pretty much gone. But we were able to figure out the area where McMann stayed based on the lamppost that served as a landmark - one of the few things that wasn't entirely buried in ash or destroyed in the eruption. It's eerie, looking at the remains of what was once a busy place.

Now we're sailing north, to Sunstone Caves. According to Dixie, the island's a floating desert in the middle of nowhere. It's a long ride - at least three days - so we have to be prepared for anything. While out on sea, especially with no landmarks to spot or keep us on track, time can stretch and bend in unpredictable ways. Luckily we're well stocked with supplies and good company so that'll make the time go by smoothly.

Being out here surrounded by sea and sky, it makes me feel so small. Compared to the sea, I'm a tiny little speck floating about. There's so much of the world around me, so much that I don't know about - it's something that keeps me going. The fact that there's so much to see, to explore, to experience - sometimes you get lucky and suddenly all these far off places you've never dreamed of seeing are within your grasp.

[theforsakenprince]

Frostbitten Chapter 3: Logan

Previous Masterlist Next

Word Count: 1292

Warnings: Death mention (Lemme know if I need to tag anything else!)

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“I’ve never seen an egg that’s such a weird color!”

He could hear the voices outside the walls. They were distant, but they were there nonetheless.

And they were very loud.

“That can’t be normal,”

“Should we take it to the Healers?” 

He wanted nothing more than to stay, safe and sheltered, but some instinct called to him, beckoning him out of the walls and into the world.

He pushed against the walls, and the voices immediately died away. One of his claws broke through, then his tail, then the rest of his body. He flung the shards off his body, watching them bounce until they stopped moving. Movement caught his eye and he glanced upward.

Three dragons towered above him, blocking the sunlight. They stared at him with wide eyes, their scales shifting from green to orange to a gray-blue. One of the dragons reached a claw out to him and he stared at it, cocking his head. 

The RainWing looked at his companions. “What’s the next name on the list?”

One of them opened her mouth to say something, but the third RainWing cut her off. 

“We’ll name this one Logan.”

When Logan first met his tribe when he was one year old, he was excited. Maybe they could tell him why he couldn’t change the color of his scales like other RainWings, or why his venom froze things instead of melting them.

He was very disappointed.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” 

The RainWing Logan was talking to gave him an apologetic look. “We don’t really keep track of parents, you see, so no, we don’t know why you’re so… weird,”

Logan glared at him, but the RainWing had already turned back to his massive pile of fruit.

He clasped his talons together. “There has to be somewhere I can find answers!”

The RainWing glanced at him. “Sorry pal, there’s nothing,”

Logan looked around, not entirely sure what he was looking for. All he could see was the rainforest and the platforms where RainWings lounged lazily.

He sighed. This was going to take a while.

When Logan was five years old, he made a discovery- but not in anything he expected.

He was near the outskirts of the rainforest (he often left the RainWing village when he was frustrated) when he heard crunching leaves, followed by the sound of voices. Logan frowned. It was very rare that he found other dragons near the edge of the rainforest, as most RainWings preferred to stay at the sunlit village.

“Did you hear what Commander Heron did to that MudWing for making us lose that battle the other day? The poor thing was terrified!”

Logan cocked his head. MudWing? Battle? Those words didn’t make sense to him. Curious, he swung from tree to tree, following the voices.

Eventually, he located the source of the voices. The dragons were strange, with scales different shades of brown, huge wings, and flat snouts. 

Fear and curiosity warred inside him. Curiosity won. He dropped down to the ground silently. The strange dragons were talking so loudly they didn’t notice him until he tapped one of them on the shoulder. 

Faster than Logan thought was possible, he was pinned to the nearest tree by the throat, his head banging painfully on the trunk. His eyes widened as he gasped for air. He attempted to pry the talon off him, but it wouldn’t budge.

The dragon’s expression morphed from threatening to disappointment. “Oh. It’s just a stupid RainWing,” he let go of Logan’s throat and he fell to the ground, rubbing it, frowning.

“I’m not stupid,” he said before he could stop himself. “There’s just a lot we don’t know yet, but I’m willing to learn,” he clapped his talons over his mouth to keep from saying anything else. Nobody needed to know that he longed to learn more information than his tribe could provide.

“Well, that’s more words than I have ever heard a RainWing say,” the dragon said after a moment of staring at him.

His companion rolled her eyes. “Come on, you’re wasting our time,”

Logan scrambled to his feet. “Wait! Before you go, what kind of dragon are you? I’ve never seen anything other than a RainWing…”

The brown dragon shared an amused look with his companion. “Well, for starters, we’re MudWings. The red and orange dragons you might see flying overhead are SkyWings. You want to be careful around here, ‘cause IceWings like to hide in the trees and ambush us,”

Logan had never felt more excited in his life. “Why would the IceWings want to attack you?” why anyone would attack anyone confused him. He lived in a place where everyone was overly happy and peaceful. Fights rarely broke out, if ever.

The MudWing gave him a confused look. “You must have heard of the war, surely.”

His eyes widened as he shook his head. War? How much am I missing out on?

“You know, how the SandWing queen died, and her daughters all wanted to be queen, so they started a war and dragged all the other tribes into it,” he looked down at Logan. “Doesn’t ring a bell?”

The other MudWing lashed her tail impatiently. “We’re wasting time. We should have been back at camp by now,”

Logan gave them a guilty look. “I’m sorry for keeping you waiting,” he said. “you should go.”

One of the MudWings flew off without question, though the female paused and looked back at him. “Look kid,” she began, “you should be more careful around here. Most patrols won’t be as friendly as we were.”

He nodded. “I’ll remember that.”

The MudWing flew away without another word.

When Logan was seven years old, he finally made up his mind.

As he made his way to the hut where the queen resided, a small part of him wondered if he was overreacting. When he saw who the queen was for that month, however, he deemed his decision necessary for his sanity. 

After waiting in line for hours, he finally stepped into the hut and greeted the queen with a dip of his head. “Queen Magnificent,”

Magnificent’s scales turned from blue to purple as she stroked the sloth sitting on a vine beside the throne. “Oh, hello, uh…”

“Logan. My name is Logan.”

“I knew that. What’s your question?”

Logan took a deep breath and looked the queen in the eye. “I’m leaving.”

Magnificent almost dropped her sloth. “What do you mean, leave?”

He dug his claws into the wood floor. “I mean, I am leaving the rainforest. Departing. Never coming back. However you wish to phrase it.”

Queen Magnificent picked her jaw up off the floor. “Why would you want to leave?”

“Because none of you want to do anything!” Logan shouted. “Nobody wants to put in the effort to learn. I bet none of you even know what a MudWing is!” 

His gaze found all the dragons in the room- the queen, the advisor, the dragons waiting in line behind him.

“And I don’t think any of you know there is a war going on right outside our doorstep. There are dead dragon corpses on the outskirts of the rainforest, battles going on for days on end outside this safe, ignorant bubble.” he turned his gaze back to the queen. “Hundreds of dragons are dying out there, and the only thing you can worry about is whose scales are the most colorful. That is why I am leaving.”

His chest heaved. His heart threatened to pump out of his chest. He hadn’t meant to burst out like that. The other RainWings stared at him, speechless. He didn’t wait for a reply. 

Logan turned and left without a word.

Taglist: @bangchanthelegend

[travellingwithleoandzoe-blog]

#6 Osa Peninsula, Costa Rica

Osa. For us, the word itself conjures up a sense of mysticism. Not many people call it home, making this enchanted peninsula a rare jewell for wildlife. And while stats tend to differ between various sources, all of them baffle. Take this one for example: it’s estimated that this tiny plot of land, amounting to only 0.0001% of the earth’s surface area, contains a staggering 2.5% of the planet’s bio diversity. The ratio is somewhat explainable when you consider the tropical rain forest in this part of the world embraces a mind-bending thirteen different ecosystems, from freshwater and marine systems, to dense elevated primary forests, sandy beaches, encompassing mangroves, and more. There’s all sorts of magic happening here. We’ll get back to some of the numbers in a short while.

As for the drive down to this Southwestern tip, it was unsurprisingly spectacular. Engulfed by the supercharged flora, we whizzed around the perimeter in a green blur, catching glimmers of the crystal blue Pacific from time to time. Before heading to our base for the upcoming few days, we first needed to pick up some reserves in the largest town in the region, Puerto Jimenez. With the stop off complete, and three days worth of food packed in the boot, we hurried on to a town call Dos Brazos, waving goodbye to phone connection, WiFi, and convenience stores. Dos Brazos was once a bustling gold mining village, however, it now embraces a more ecologically responsible and sustainable vision. As a gateway to Corcovado National Park, growing eco-tourism opportunities have shown this sleepy village how conservation efforts can benefit the community, providing jobs and a healthier environment. It was like stepping back in time on entry. The pace of life is slow and there’s a feeling of balance and harmony that’s clearly been orchestrated by the abundant natural beauty in the area. The rough road through the town didn’t last long, and under instructions from our host we continued off road at what appeared to be a dead end, pushing our car to its limits. 

Within five minutes we’d landed at the idyllic home and gardens of Casa Aire Libre. Perched above Rio Tigre and surrounded by breathtaking greenery, this open aired home would prove to be a once in a lifetime abode for us both. We were finishing Costa Rica in style. 

The home came equipped with an enormous kitchen suitable for any top chef, multiple hammocks and air chairs, a private garden with jungle paths, and a master bedroom up on a third floor up at tree level. We happily pottered about our new surroundings until the sunlight died on us, celebrating our first evening with a glass of vino and huge spread of various different tropical foods.

A booming chorus of bird calls coupled with a deep red backdrop from the sun rise was something to behold the next morning. Alarm clocks are now redundant to us, as we’ve become attune to nature’s cues and wake up calls. Our first full day in Osa was all about acclimatising and taking things slow. The expansive grounds and many amenities of our temporary home meant we had ample amounts of paths to explore, wildlife to admire, and foods to feast on. Maybe it was just the novelty of it, but the removal of walls in an environment like this felt like we could unconsciously absorb even more of Mother Nature while simply sat relaxing in our new home. Sometimes, however, there are more obvious physical encounters that come from having no barriers. As the power of the sun waned we went to grab a layer to put on. Lifting a t-shirt, a sizeable and startled wolf spider (we think) jumped off and perched itself on a nearby shelf. After much commotion, we let the spider be, and observed a plethora of other passers-by that evening, from tree frogs, to oversized clumsy flying beetles and the odd giant moth. We were truly in the thick of it.

Our location in the foothills of the extremely important Corcovado National, which protects over 50% of the forest in the area, meant we were walking distance to a network of incredible jungle trails. However, the park itself is only accessible with a guide, and that was a little out of our price range. Fortunately for us, the nearby Bolita Rainforest Hostel has created some its own alternative self-guided options on the fringes of the park.

Bolita has to be one of the hardest hostels in the country to get to. It required a 30 min strenuous hike from our home through dense, shady forest, and it wasn’t like we were staying in a connected place! The owner, an American naturist and nudist enthusiast, set up the hostel seventeen years ago. During this time span the hostel has forged out approximately fifteen kilometers worth of trails through sixty plus hectares of rainforest. On entry to the hostel we paid a small fee for path maintenance and examined the rough map of routes. We were told to keep our eyes peeled for snakes, of which there are many in this part of the world. The simple rule to abide by; keep your eyes fixed on the ground when moving. Be stationary when looking up.

Briefing complete, we marched on to start the first of many trails. Clothes optional was the message on the entry sign, but we kept our bits covered (mostly). We zigzagged along the various trails for hours, treading carefully along the way. The humidity was heavy, but cloud cover meant we enjoyed cooler temperatures compared to average. We encountered three fleeing snakes during the day. All our serpent friends were small and apparently non venomous. With such abundance of snake life, we also had the fortune of spotting one of their hunters, a laughing falcon. We watched from afar until the beautiful bird silently flew away.

We followed routes to two separate waterfalls, which we’ve become so accustomed to. Eventually, we worked our way upwards to a remarkable viewpoint above the canopy outlooking the national park and spanning out towards the sea. 

Within a moment of sitting down, we were greeted by two yellow throated toucans, who flew in to rest up on the tree directly opposite us. Such timely encounters couldn’t have been better created in our imaginations and the gifts kept occurring as we returned to the shade of the jungle. This time we stumbled across a gang of juvenile spider monkeys playing high up above our heads. One poor fella was missing a tail, but this didn’t seem to be holding him back. They swung between branches with such poise, until forming a small huddle where they proceeded to prune one another. We waved to the smallest in the group who sat alone still playing, and maybe it was a coincidence as it moved a nearby branch at the same time, but it felt like he or she gestured back to us. Their curious gaze in our direction filled our hearts with joy. Our tally for monkeys was now at three out of the four species in the country. Seeing this group of spider monkeys out in their natural environment was by far the most awe inspiring yet. What a day. One that left us wishing we had more time in the region.

We parted ways the next day, fitting in one final nature activity before leaving. Rising at 5 am, we met our bird guide for the morning, Rolando. After a quick cup of coffee we ventured out as light started to fill the sky. The starting point was conveniently on our doorstep. We wandered along our garden paths, the nearby banks of Rio Tigre, and outskirts of the town for three hours. In that time we spotted just short of fifty different bird species. For anyone that cares, we did our best to list those that we jotted down. You can find it at the bottom of the post. A few call outs are required. Ranking number one in our sightings was undoubtedly a pair of Spectacled Owls. Having never seen an owl of any sort in the wild, seeing these two hyper-tuned broad faced characters up close during daylight hours was rare. High fives were in order! Second on the list would have to be a fleeting sighting of the Turquoise Continga. The insane bright colours of this bird are hard to fathom. Third spot goes to go to a group of Scarlet Macaw that flew overhead while letting out their lung busting squawk. It was quite the conclusion to our stay in Osa. The energy of this living, breathing landscape left us gobsmacked. It’s home to between 4,000-5,000 species of vascular plants, more than 700 species of tree, nearly 400 species of birds, 124 different mammals, thousands of insects, and 115 species of reptiles. The list could go on. We knew we’d barely scratched the surface of the place, and departed ways knowing there were many reasons to one day return.

With only a two days left in Costa Rica, we decided to break up the drive back to San Jose with a stopover in the beach town of Uvita. That evening we strolled down Playa Uvita and entered Costa Rica’s youngest national park, Marino Ballena. The park is most coveted for its whale tail feature. This giant rock and sand formation reveals itself at low tide and from overhead looks just like the tail of a whale. It also happens to be a haven for humpbacks at specific times of the year. On the other side of the tail you find Playa Hermosa (where we’d enjoyed a siesta some days before). Sun down from the whales tail will long stick in our memory. The curtains were drawing in our Costa Rica adventure and the final scene was picture perfect. The journey, spanning over 1,800 kilometres, through four of the seven provinces, across volcanic highlands, rainforests, and sublime beaches, was everything we wanted and more.

Common Flycatcher Clay Coloured Thrush Blue Crowned Motmot Costa Rican Swift Red Crowned Woodpecker Rufous-tailed Hummingbird Buff-throated Saltator Turquoise Cotinga Green Honeycreeper (male and female) Streaked Flycatcher Southern Rough-winged Swallow Chestnut-sided Warbler Palm Tanger Slaty-tail Trogen Blue black Grosbeak Eastern Wood Peewee Spectacled Owl Scarlet Tanager Orange-chined Parakeet Scarlet Macaws Swallow-tailed Kite Scaly-breast Hummingbird Golden-hooded Tanager Burial-seed Eater Purple-crowned fairy Northern Bentbill Slate-headed Tody-flycatcher White-tipped Dove Great Currassow Black-cheeked Ant-tanager Tawny-winged Woodcreeper Black-hooded Antshrike River Siren Swansons Thrush Rose-eye Hawk Black-striped Sparrow Turkey Vultures Gartered Trogen Piratic Flycatcher Chachalaka Green Kingfisher Blue-ground Dove

[sinjaangels]

Kekkai Sensen Fan fiction - Merciful Red - Chapter 2

Two months earlier…

 Getting back on her feet (both literally and figuratively) was hard for Leona. It took two full weeks for her limbs to regenerate. Leona had to do some serious rethinking of her life and future. She was a Blood Breed, a vampire. As far she knows about vampires…there wasn’t a cure. But, she had heard from some lame teen-vampire show that if you kill the sire you could be cured. But, who knows if that is true? If it was true…then it was impossible. There was no way she could go head to head with Girika. No way in hell.

 Leona was stuck as a vampire for as long as her very much extended life. 

 Her health was her first concern. Particularly her diet. Leona hadn’t eaten in six months. She was obviously starved, and it was the most unbearable pain now tied to her wounds. Her feeding was more than likely tied to her healing process. The Blood Beast had taken her to his home. From what she could tell it was once the original New York Zoo. The entire zoo had been picked up during the Great Collapse and dropped at the outskirts of the city closer to the sea. She had smelled the salt water. The habitats and buildings were buckled and bent over the earthy upturned earthy foundation. It looked much more natural. Further, into the zoo, it flattened out. Leona saw the sign, “The Savannah” where most of the animals had lived in the flatland habitats. It was eerie quiet. All the animals may have either mostly died or escaped during the collapse. The Beast took her to the rainforest habitat. It had over taken more than half of the zoo now. Getting closer, she heard birds and monkeys. Sudden movement had flickered at the corner of her eye. It was small and white. Still in the crook of the Beast’s arm, another mach monkey popped up into her view, sitting on her stomach. Another pop and there was a mach monkey on her head. The Beast stopped and hoots happily. Tinier and higher hoots replied, and the area is swarmed with mach monkeys. The mach monkeys may have more than likely originated from the zoo and the supernatural event somehow changed them. The Beast approached a tall wooden scaffolding that had old netted hammocks set into it. This was where the monkeys rested and slept. Gently, the Beast placed her in one of the hammocks. He went away and returned with an old blanket. He covered her with it and sat on the ground with an attentive gaze.

 “Thank you.”

 The Beast grinned and hoots. A few curious mach monkeys climbed into her hammock. One of the mach monkeys had her baby clinging to her back. Pairs of amber-green eyes gazed at her curiously. Leona smiled as they pulled on her hair. Two of them even decided that it was comfortable enough to bury themselves into it and fall asleep. Leona sighed and looked up at the protective canopy and was able to close her eyes and rest in peace.

 When Leona had been woken up by the Beast he had picked her up out of the hammock. He laid her down on the ground, before the unconscious body of a man. Leona widens her eyes wide open. The man was still alive. Leona was assured when she used her eyes to see the man’s aura. She gave the Beast a questioning look. The Beast pointed at his mouth, trying to encourage her to eat. Leona shook her head. She didn’t want to kill him! That’s how Blood Breed fed. They killed their victims by draining every last drop of blood…

 Then a thought came to her. She didn’t have to take ALL of the blood. She only needed to take what she needed. A pint of blood. That’s what’s usually given at blood drives, right? It should be enough for her…right? A pint. An ice cream carton pint. She inch-wormed herself to the man, to line herself up close. She listened to the man’s breathing. There was a bruise on his temple. He smelled of alcohol. Past the alcohol, she could smell his blood. She opened her ears and heard his sluggishly-beating heart. She shivered as her fangs slipped out from her gums. The Beast used his paw to nudge her gently with encouragement. Encouraged by the Beast and her thoughts, Leona carefully fitted her fangs over a patch of skin between his neck and his shoulder. She didn’t trust herself at the time to bite directly from the neck like a supposedly normal Blood Breed. A deep breath and her fangs sunk in. Blood rushed out of the punctured wound and streamed into her mouth. Leona’s eyes turned red and she moaned. She felt the blood being absorbed by her body and spread it throughout itself. Her body became warmer and she fell into a near trance. Until the Beast barked and startled her so that she unclamped her fangs! The man had gone pale due to blood loss, but he was still breathing, still alive. Leona rolled away and shivered.

 The Beast moaned in concern and rubbed his knuckles against her back.

 “Hospital…take the man to the hospital…please.”

 The Beast picked up the man and walked out of the habitat. Leona heard the sonic boom from a distance. Leona still trembled on the ground. It wasn’t until the other mach monkeys came forward to comfort her that Leona realized that she had grown part her arms and half her thighs. Leona thought about what had happened. Blood didn’t go into the stomach to be digested and its energy distributed like food did when she was human. The blood flowed through the whole body and it was helping the regenerative process. Also, human blood was more potent than animal blood. If Leona wanted to completely be healed and her energy up, she had to feed. Within minutes, the Beast returned with another sonic boom. He re-entered carrying another man. The man is laid out and pushed towards her. The Beast hoots and seemed happy that Leona was healing. Leona nodded and fed again.

 Two weeks later…

 Leona was back on her feet. She found some old clothes in one of the gifts shops. A large shirt of a lion and a pair of khaki “safari” shorts. Though it was summer, Leona pulled on a lightweight hoodie and zipped it over her shirt because she was bra-less. Completing the outfit, she found a pair of leather sandals. Once she was dressed, Sonic lands on her head. Leona finally gave her familiar a name based on the loud sonic boom he made when he was in Blood Beast mode. Leona had nothing but gift shop clothes and a monkey to her name.

 It was a hot August day when Leona begins her life as a Blood Breed amongst the Hellsalem’s Lot population.

 Her first thought was of her family. It had been six months and two weeks since she had left home. She remembered that she had promised Michel to call him when she had found her apartment. She had an apartment set up… it was absolutely, likely it had been given up to somebody else by now. She goes to the library to borrow a computer. She uses a guest computer giving her ten minutes to look up the missing person database. She wasn’t there. Her family never filed a report. She felt cold and held herself tightly. Didn’t her parents care?!

 Leona and her father had a tense relationship. Especially after Michel lost his ability to walk. Michel was their father’s pride. His only son, the child he wanted. He treasured him more than her. Leona had mentioned to her mother a few weeks after Michel was born that her father didn’t love her anymore. But her mother insisted that Leona was just only being jealous and that her father loved her as well. Yes, he loved her; he loved Michel more. When Michel lost his ability to walk, her father was grief-stricken than Michel and the rest of the family combined. He took Michel from doctor to doctor, hoping one of them had the miracle cure for her brother. Over and over, every doctor told him that Michel would never walk again.

 Leona was sad that her brother couldn’t walk. Over time, Michel didn’t mind. Her dear little brother was strong in heart and mind. He loved to draw. Was amazing at it. He had volumes of sketchbooks from when he was young and as he got older. Sketchbooks filled with drawings of the world around him. He had one small sketchbook that was devoted to sketches of her. Michel told her that she was his muse. Leona had blushed at his declaration and he made it worse when he went on about how beautiful she was. He was proud to have such a beautiful older sister. Leona was proud to have such a handsome brother and she took dozens of pictures of him.

 The Great Collapse had taken over New York City. She and Michel along with the rest of the world were engaged with the developments of the incredible disaster from three years ago. Pictures and video filled the TV and the internet of what was happening. Once everything was settled it was revealed of the amazing technology and medicine the beings, the Beyondians, from the world beyond brought to the human world. Their father decided that there was hope in Hellsalem’s Lot. Leona had been irritated with him. Why couldn’t he accept the way Michel was. Michel wasn’t bothered by his inability to walk! To Leona, it made her brother more powerful than before. He was unstoppable, not even his useless legs could stop him. Michel comforted her and told her to see it as a vacation to what could be the new hottest tourist attraction in the world. Their father got his wish. Leona had the Eyes of the All-Seeing-Gods forced onto her at the price of Michel’s eyes. But, their father put all the blame on her. Blamed her for further ruining her brother…

 Sonic rubs his paw over her cheek, revealing that she had started crying. Leona left the library in a hurry.

 Perhaps it was best that she distances herself from her family. She was a Blood Breed. She wasn’t human, she was a monster. Though just because she had to stay away from her family, she wouldn’t abandon Michel to his fate. She will continue her mission to get her brother’s eyesight back. When she did, then she would go back and give him his sight…and disappear from his life forever after that.

 Leona hits a snag.  Renewing her identification and such would mean she’ll have to have her picture taken! Something told her that her being unable to be seen by a camera would be hard to explain. She curses the vampire that sired her. She thought it couldn’t help to at least check out the ID office. It was rather slow in the office. Only a few people here and there. Leona was assisted by a kind and lovely older woman who much to Leona’s relief understood Leona’s predicament (Leona spun a story that she had her things stolen and that it was her first day in Hellsalem’s Lot). These kinds of things happened all the time and (thank the gods for technology!) was able to pull up her last ID with pictures up on the computer. Being that the image and her current appearance were the same, they were using the old picture and gave her a brand-new ID card. Leona nearly cried with relief and thanked the woman profusely!  

 ID card, check!

 With ID in hand, Leona was able to go to the bank and get a new bank card. She still had a good amount of money in the bank, but she would need a job very soon. Leona entered a diner called Dianne’s. She decides that she didn’t need anything heavy and suddenly had a strong craving for a triple-thick strawberry milkshake. She orders a banana-split for Sonic. There were two people running the diner. A man and his daughter. The daughter appeared to be about Leona’s age. Vivian served Leona the milkshake and ice cream to her and was surprised when a mach monkey climbed out of Leona’s shirt through the collar and attacked the banana split. Leona and Vivian had a good laugh at that and became friends. Leona asked if they were hiring. She explained her “situation” (luggage was stolen, ID, etc. etc.). Vivian took it to her father and the man asks Leona if she could cook. Leona could cook. Her specialties were lasagna, cheesecake, and apple pie. Vivian’s father approved and thought their dessert menu could be expanded a bit. When asked if she had a place to stay…Leona admitted that she didn’t and couldn’t afford a place now. There was a room above the diner that they had a lease on. It was mostly used for dry storage but there was room enough for her to rest in. Leona’s faith in humanity increased greatly and she thanked them profusely as well. Perhaps this was karma trying to make up for the horrible events that befell her! Leona called Vivian’s father Master. He was a good cook…and was able to handle the strange yet familiar food with expertise.

 Job and place to live, check!

 Leona’s first night in her room was tough. Her Blood Breed senses were working overtime. She felt her ears twitch at every sound. Heard conversations that made her very uncomfortable through the walls…which turned out was the building ten-feet away from her window. The people on the streets and the cars thundered in her head. Leona was almost tempted to return to the monkey habitat back at the zoo. It was peaceful there. Just like she did with her eyes, she had to learn to bear it and learned to get it under control. Though, she considered buying earplugs if she was desperate.

 Leona needed to earn as much money as possible. As she worked at Dianne’s she began considering other jobs that were closer to her chosen profession in photography. She gives a moment of silence to her camera that was probably in a pawnshop somewhere and once again curses her sire…careful not to so much as think of her name. She earned enough money to buy a low-budget digital camera. Sonic had tried to be helpful and stolen a camera, but Leona made him return it after she scolded him for stealing. She found two jobs that were interesting. One was a small newspaper and the other was looking for a crime-scene photographer.

 The interview with the newspaper was quick and successful. The newspaper was called Beyond the Times. It was a healthy mix of humans and Beyondians working together to catch the latest gossip and news, trying to point out the weirder than weird and bring the public’s attention to it. They were desperate for a photographer. Their one and only photographer had been eaten. She was hired on the spot and would be called-in when she was needed. She would be paid by the hour and extra per photo.

 Hellsalem’s Lot Police Department (HLPD) was like a crazy funhouse! The police officers and detectives there were rough, tough and didn’t take anything lightly. A fight broke out in the jail cells and police in SWAT uniform stampeded past Leona to get in under control. You had to be hard when you’re usually on the frontlines to the most violent crimes committed by humans and Beyondians on the daily basis. Like the Beyond the Times, HLPD were short-staff due to the most untimely and violent deaths of their photographers. Usually, there were certifications necessary to be a crime-scene photographer, but desperation and need override the red-tape and details. Again, she was hired on the spot and would be called on case-by-case. She would be paid by the hour. Leona thanks the HR clerk as she stepped out of her office right into the path of a man in a trench coat.

 “Hey, pay attention!” he barks.

 “I…I’m sorry!”

 “What are you doing here, little girl?” His eye that wasn’t hidden by a flick of thick, dark hair glares down at her.

 “Calm down, Law,” sighs the HR clerk. “This is Leona Watch, she’s a photographer.”

 “Photographer, huh…come with me,” he grabs her by arm.

 “Wha…? Where are we going?”

 “To a crime scene…let’s see if you can handle it!” he grins fiercely.

 “Dammit, Law!” yells the clerk, “Don’t scare her away…we need photographers!”

 Law, Detective Daniel Law, pushed Leona into a dark car. The interior was tan and was surprisingly clean to Leona. The radio was customized to have a police radio built underneath the station radio. At her feet on the passenger side was a police light that could be placed under the windshield or on top of the car’s roof.

 “What’s your name?” he starts the car.

 “L-Leona Watch.”

 “Leona?...Italian?”

 “Italian, yeah. My…immediate family used to live in the states. The larger family lives in Italy where they moved back to.”

 “Can you speak it?”

 “….Just some basics…and more when I get really, really mad…and that’s rare.”

 “Huh. So, you moved out here…alone?”

 “Yeah.”

 “…That’s dangerous, you know.”

 Leona sighs and puts her hand on her chest where the tattoo laid, “I know. I learned it the hard way, but I survived.”

 Daniel glances at her but doesn’t say any more.

 Leona was taken to her first crime scene. It was at an apartment complex that had a very familiar address. It was the building that she had picked to stay in six months ago. Even more of a coincidence was that the crime occurred in room C28.  It was supposed to be her room. Daniel lifted the police tape to have Leona step in.

 “All I ask is that you be careful! Don’t sneeze, don’t spit, don’t step on any blood and guts…take lots of pictures…if you seem something weird shoot it and make sure that it’s clear.”

 “R-right!”

 Daniel watches Leona begin to work, he loaned her some gloves and forensic booties to place over her shoes. Leona looked upon the body. The victim had been murdered. He was a male human in his 30’s, average height and average build. It was a horrible sight. The man had been stabbed to death, his chest, neck, and face had stab wounds…and the blade was left in his eye. Leona takes pictures of his body. Daniel notes that she didn’t appear to be squeamish. She didn’t lurch, her hand was steady on the camera. She was through as well taking pictures at as many angles she could. She was careful not to knock over piles of clothes and old magazines. Leona had her back to Daniel as she looks over her camera. She decides to use her eyes and activates them. Searching the scene with a new set of eyes, she could see the past aura of the victim and his murderer. Average humans had a thin yellow aura that surrounds their bodies. Her eyes can look even further and find identifying features that make that aura special to that individual. The murderer’s aura was a human female taller than Leona. She could see where the murderess moved before and after the murder. She follows her “footprints” to the bathroom and began snapping pictures of where she had touched. It was a mess with the blood everywhere. Leona doesn’t think the woman cared. This looked like it was an open and shut case. She had moved through the apartment calmly. When she thought it was enough she returns to Daniel.

 “You did okay.” He nods.

 Vivian and the Master were understanding of Leona’s side jobs. All the Master asked was that she would make a few apple pies and cheesecakes. The business had increased slightly with customers coming in just to have a slice of dessert.  Leona works in the kitchen that night baking. When she was done, she takes two slices of cheesecake to her room. Sonic was waiting for her and cheered with delight when she sets a plate before him. After eating cake, Leona cleaned up and got ready for bed. Climbing into bed, Sonic follows her. He takes his spot on the left side of her pillow while Leona rested her head on the right side. Leona strokes Sonic’s fur until he fell asleep. Leona smiles and kisses the top of his head. Thanks to Sonic, she was able to escape and begin her life again.

 Two months and a week later…

 Leona sat at Dianne’s counter on the customer side miserably. She was going through her personal camera looks at pictures of Sonic. There was Sonic looking miserable in a yellow wash bin covered in soap bubbles. Sonic eating a banana. A blurred close-up of Sonic playing camera tag with her.

 “Sonic…where are you?”

 Vivian sets a cup of coffee and a slice of apple pie. She smiles with sympathy.

 “The little guy is still missing, huh?”

 Leona nods her head, still looking at pictures. Vivian looks at the missing pet poster her father allowed Leona to tape on the front window. Vivian had to admit that she couldn’t blame Leona to be so worried about the little monkey. Sonic had been attached to Leona since Vivian had met her. Though while she’s in the kitchen, Sonic would leave her and do whatever he did to entertain himself without Leona. Leona became worried when Sonic didn’t come home one night. Leona looked for him in the kitchen and dining area the very next morning. On the third night and fourth morning, Leona was panicking and made posters. Leona tried using her eyes to find him. She tracked Sonic to his usual haunts, the zoo, the park, and even to his favorite hot dog vendor. The vendor hadn’t seen his favorite furry customer either. She tried calling him for him, summoning him. He never appeared.

 On the seventh day of Sonic being missing, the city went into chaos. A divine entity had been released. Or rather half of it. The creature was released by Hellsalem’s Lot’s most notorious villains, Femt the King of Depravity and one of the Thirteen Kings of the underworld. He was known as a mad scientist that would bi-monthly release one of his experimental monsters upon them. Leona was on the other side of the city watching in horror as the being slaughtered by armored HLPD officers and civilians, not even the cameraman was spared for being near to the being’s blade. It was at that moment when she sensed Sonic. She scrambled to pull on her goggles, used to hide her eyes when she activates them. She had her own police radio scanner, a gift from Daniel on reports of brief appearances of the being’s other half at the park…exactly where she sensed Sonic! Leona pushes her moped at its highest speed to the park!

 People and Beyondians were fleeing the park while the police rushed in. Leona uses her vampiric speed to slip by the police unnoticed. She heads to the area with the most trees that looked like a mini forest. A perfect place for a monkey to hide.

 “Sonic! Sonic! Sonic, please!”

 Eyes wide open she searches for his aura’s signature. She locates him and pushes through the shrubbery and bushes and finds Sonic in a clearing.

 “Sonic…!” she pushes back her goggles.

 Sonic jumps and spins around. Leona was surprised by his panicked expression.

 “Sonic, are you okay?”

 Sonic steps back. Leona pauses, “Sonic? Sonic, what’s wrong?”

 Sonic whimpers and backs further away…

 “Don’t move,” her eyes flash red.

 She hated doing this. Being Sonic’s sire, she was able to have absolute control over him. Sonic whimpers in distress as Leona moves towards him. He begins shaking his head, but Leona’s hold over him kept him.

 Then it appeared! The entity’s other half’s arm slips out of Sonic’s back, blade in hand. Leona’s eyes widen stunned, the blade swung around its surroundings above Sonic’s head. Trees were split into pieces.

 Leona didn’t have time to react…

 Her world spins as something grabs her around her waist and throws her to the ground in the nick of time. She gasps as her back hits the ground. Wind breezes over her. The scent of blood fills the air. It was a delicious scent and Leona felt guilty that her body from the top of her head to the tips of her curling toes reacted to the blood. Turning her head, she finds a tall man lying beside her. His aura was brighter than any normal human’s aura. It was almost like the sun it was so bright and large. He laid on his side, gritting his teeth making her notice his fanged underbite. She bolts upright when she sees him holding his wounded and bloody side. Finally, realizing that the man had gotten hurt when he shielded her from harm.

 “Oh my god! Are you okay!?”

 He grunts and slowly sits up, holding his bleeding side.

 “I am fine, miss. Are you unharmed?” His green eyes search for any injuries.

 “Y-yes, I’m fine.”

 The man’s emerald-green eyes lock onto her face. He opens his mouth to say something when a man in white and a woman in a suit appear.

 “Chief!” the man had tanned skin. He wore a white jacket with a black muscle shirt. He had short, flat white hair that contrasted greatly with his skin. “Dammit, this is getting out of hand!”

 “The other half is coming from the monkey!” the woman narrows her eyes. “We’re going to have to kill it!”

 “NO!” Leona screams. “You can’t kill him!”

 “Huhhh?” the man in white finally notices her.

 He raises his eyebrows and slowly roves his eyes over her body. He whistles low and grins lustfully. The woman in the suit launches herself from where she stood and kicks the man in the face.

 “Letch! Now’s not the time!”

 “Chain, you bitch…!”

 The argument is broken up when Sonic speeds past them…with the other entity in hot pursuit. Leona screams out to Sonic and tries to scramble to her feet, but the man who saved her stopped her by firmly catching her wrist.

 “Wait, miss. You…saw it…didn’t you? You saw that arm of that monster.”

 Leona swallows. “You somehow were able to see it.” the man insists.

 “I…”

 Leona picks up the sirens and police chatter in the air. Minutes later the HPLD armor brigade thundering towards them through the trees. She hears from them that the entity was in pursuit of Sonic and orders were to destroy the monkey, so the two halves wouldn’t reunite. Leona looks to the man desperately.

 “Yes, yes you’re right I did see it! Please, let me save Sonic!”

 “What can you do?” asks Chain.

 “I’m…I’m unsure…but I have to save Sonic! Please, let me!”

 The man rises to his feet and he towers over Leona. Leona was in awe momentarily.

 “It’s not just your Sonic that needs saving…so does the world. We can’t allow that thing to merge and escape the city. Go.”

 “Chief!?” the man in white yells.

 The armored brigade comes towards them. The man straightens himself and approaches the brigade, he clenches a set of brass knuckles in one hand.

 “I’ll keep the police busy…Zapp, Chain! Follow the girl!”

 Zapp and Chain blink and turn to see Leona already a great distance away. They both curse and went in pursuit. They catch up to Leona as she was straddling her moped and shoving her helmet on top of her head. Zapp quickly leaps on behind her and wraps an arm around her waist.

 “Hey, babe…going my way?”

 “Huh, w-what?!”

 Chain suddenly fades away and reappears on top of Zapp’s head. Making his neck bend painfully.

 “C’mon let’s go!”

 Unknown to her two passengers, Leona was tracking Sonic and the entity’s aura through the streets. They were able to catch up, much Zapp and Chain’s surprise. Suddenly, the area splits into pieces, cars, signs, small trees, sides of buildings and people! Leona serves too hard and her moped throws her and the others onto the street. Chain managed to land on the street gracefully while Leona and Zapp tumbled over the road.  Dust and smoke float through the air. Leona coughs as she stood. She calls for Zapp and Chain. She bumps into a Beyondian…who’s head falls off his lower half! Sliced cleanly. Leona stumbles away and tries to gain her bearings. Dread grows within her when she realizes that she was standing at the corner to what was once Dianne’s storefront!

 “Vivian! Vivian! Master!”

 Leona searches through the concrete disaster. She hears a cough and finds Master over Vivian.  He used his body to shield her, blood was streaming down his face. Vivian looked to be unconscious.

 “Oh, thank god!”

 “Leona…you got…to get out of here…before that thing…”

 Leona takes a deep, deep breath and looks to the sky. When she looks down, Master was surprised by her expression. Leona makes her decision as she stood up.

 “I’ll be back, Master.”

 A wild look appeared in Master’s eyes. Leona tenses and turns…she saw the creature above, but also Zapp’s back. She also smelled blood and noticed a red blade in his hand. His arm was around her waist once more as he faced the creature. He lifts his sword to parry against the monster’s own blade. The blow was powerful as it throws Zapp and Leona away from it. Even the monster was thrown backward from the recoil. Away from them, Chain was raining bullets at the monster. She yells at Zapp to get off his ass and help fight.

 “Alright, listen! There’s some sort of gate on that damn monkey of yours! If you don’t want to kill it…you better figure out something! Klaus want you to save the world...and it looks like you decided on what to do,” he winks.

 He turns her around and slaps her bottom. Leona screams and covers it.

 “Get going,” he laughs.

 “P-pervert!” Leona screams.

 She gasps when the monster makes another attack on Zapp. Zapp returns his attention to it, “Blade Form One. Sword of Flame.”

 The monster swings his sword down and Zapp deflects it. Zapp throws the monster off him and slices and swings his sword through the air. The monster is cut up into pieces but it was quick to reform itself.

 “RUN!” Zapp yells at Leona.

 Leona sprints and Zapp is once again impressed by her speed. Leona could run faster, but it was best that she didn’t reveal how inhumanely fast she was in public, especially with people like Chain and Zapp close-by. She was at a good speed fast enough to catch up with Sonic.

 “Sonic! STOP!”

 Sonic freezes instantly. Leona skids to a halt and falls to her knees. She scoops him off the ground and they stare at each other. Blood Breed and Blood Beast. Both dirty, hair and fur in disarray. Sonic whimpers with tears in his eyes. He was scared, he didn’t want his mistress to get hurt because of him! Nor did he want to die either…though he was a Blood Beast and would regenerate, he didn’t like pain. Leona almost drew him in for a hug…but they were running out of time. The goggles on her head are yanked down and she uses her eyes to search Sonic’s body.  Deeper and deeper she goes down till she was able to see every strand of fur at the molecular level! She finds a flea with the gate through its back. Leona reaches out and destroys the flea with the gate. Leona smiles and finally hugs Sonic to her chest. She strokes his back and laughs with relief.

 “It’s over, Sonic! It’s over! I’m so glad! I’m so glad that you’re okay~!”

 Sonic clings to Leona’s chest and rubs his tears against her.

 “Come on…we got to get out of here!”

 Making sure no was looking and using the dust and smoke as cover, Leona disappears into thin air.

 Leona goes back to Dianne’s the next day. It was business as usual when Leona came into work at the diner. She had dressed in overalls and a cropped t-shirt. Vivian smiles widely when she sees Sonic waving at her from the front pocket of the overalls. Dianne’s was still open during construction. Luckily, the monster’s attack only shattered the storefront leaving the kitchen and Leona’s living space untouched. Between cleaning, Leona worked the kitchen and was busy making a fresh order of apple pie. Vivian was in the back taking out the trash. Leona had to serve the pie with a glass of milk to a table along with an order of fries, a burger, spaghetti and a coke and another order that was just a single slice of apple pie with ice cream drizzled in caramel, topped with whip cream. She approached the table with the order and was startled to see Zapp, Chain, and Klaus.

 “Oh!”

 Klaus looks up and his eyes widen slightly behind his glasses in surprise as well.

 “It’s good to see you are safe, miss. I had wished to thank you yesterday for your assistance.”

 “N-no, I…I should be thanking you…you saved my life and allowed me to save Sonic’s…”

 “Heeey, sweet thang,” Zapp grins. “I think I found my new favorite spot to eaAAAAAGHHH!”

 Chain kicks Zapp’s shin under the table. Leona passes out their orders. She was surprised that the burger, spaghetti and coke order belong to the thin man in white and the whole pie was his boss.

 Klaus stood away from the booth and stands in front of Leona. He puts a hand on his chest and tucks the other hand behind his back. He bows slightly at the hip towards Leona. Leona’s heart races and a blush spreads across her nose. It was incredible to see such a man of large stature move with such grace and to be on the receiving end of a gentlemanly gesture.

 “My name is Klaus von Reinherz.” He straightens up. “May I have your name?”

 “Leona. Leona Watch.”

 “Leona Watch, I have a proposition for you.”

[caveartfair]

11 Places to Travel for Creative Inspiration in 2019

A Moroccan city swathed almost completely in blue. A throng of figurative sculptures tucked deep within a Finnish forest. A famous artist’s New Mexico home in the expansive desert she depicted on canvas. These are just a handful of the countless sanctuaries, scattered across the globe, that have offered profound creative inspiration to those seeking it. Below, we take you to 11 of them.

The Noah Purifoy Outdoor Desert Art Museum

Joshua Tree, California

No Contest (bicycles), 1991. Noah Purifoy "Noah Purifoy: Junk Dada" at LACMA, Los Angeles (2015)

Ode to Frank Gehry, 1999. Noah Purifoy "Noah Purifoy: Junk Dada" at LACMA, Los Angeles (2015)

From the Point of View of the Little People, 1994. Noah Purifoy "Noah Purifoy: Junk Dada" at LACMA, Los Angeles (2015)

After being priced out of Los Angeles in the late 1980s, Noah Purifoy moved deep into the Mojave Desert. In Joshua Tree’s stark landscape of spiky plants and endless sand, he created his magnum opus: a 10-acre sculpture park, rising like a mirage from the flat expanse, which became a museum after his 2004 death.

The artworks here are typical of Purifoy’s practice, in which he transformed discarded objects (toilets, tires, old sneakers, scrap wood) into deeply affecting sculptures loaded with references to racial injustice and resilience. In the 1960s, he forged his first works from the ashen remains of the 1965 Watts riots in Los Angeles. Purifoy’s Mojave Desert pieces carry the same weight, but with moments of ecstasy and hope—huts offering shelter, walls embedded with colorful glass, platforms for gazing out over the desert sunsets—that point to art’s healing powers.

Las Pozas

Xilitla, Mexico

Las Pozas, Mexico. Photo by Rod Waddington via Wikimedia Commons.

Las Pozas, Mexico. Photo by Rod Waddington via Wikimedia Commons.

Las Pozas, Mexico. Photo by Rod Waddington via Wikimedia Commons.

Las Pozas, Mexico. Photo by Rod Waddington via Wikimedia Commons.

Take a circuitous, eight-hour drive from Mexico City to find Las Pozas, one of the globe’s most otherworldly, mind-bending art environments. Eccentric millionaire and obsessive collector Edward James chose this lush, remote corner of Mexico’s Sierra Gorda jungle to realize his “Surrealist Shangri-la.” The garden’s labyrinth of 36 stone sculptures indeed resembles a mystical Surrealist composition come to life.

Giant arabesques tangle with the rainforest canopy, thin stone ribbons ripple downward like waterfalls, and vertiginous staircases climb into the sky. For the last 22 years of his life, between 1962 until 1984, James perfected his oasis, which was not only home to his lavish collection of parrots and orchids, but also became a frequent place of refuge for his creative friends, like the great Surrealist painter Leonora Carrington.

The Blue City of Chefchaouen

Chefchaouen, Morocco

Chefchaouen, Morocco, 2016. Steve McCurry Huxley-Parlour

Hilltop View of Chefchaouen, Morocco, 2016. Steve McCurry Etherton Gallery

Photo by Lindsey LaMont.

Photo by Dimitrie Stanescu.

For centuries, the small mountain town of Chefchaouen has been legendary for its largely monochromatic streets, blanketed in vibrant blue paint. A bird’s-eye view shows a cluster of cobalt buildings crawling up the mountainside, many seeming to match the sky above. Walking through one of its completely blue streets, on the other hand, gives the impression of entering a Color Field canvas.

Legend has it that the women of Chefchaouen have banded together, in the dark of night, to maintain their hometown’s chosen hue. Scholars aren’t exactly sure of the 500-year-old tradition’s origins, but some trace it back to a group of Jewish people who were expelled from Spain in the 15th century. The story goes that after settling in Chefchaouen, they expressed their commitment to God by covering their homes in blue, the color of divinity in Judaism.

Palais Idéal

Hauterives, France

Photo of Palais Idéal by Jean-Michel Bernard via Flickr.

Photo of Palais Idéal by Emmett Anderson via Flickr.

Photo of Palais Idéal by Alexandre Piron via Flickr.

French mailman Ferdinand Cheval hadn’t thought about making art until 1879, when he stubbed his toe on a pebble. The event sparked a 34-year-long obsession in which Cheval assiduously collected rocks around his small hometown of Hauterives, and stacked them to create the spellbinding monument known today as Palais Idéal (“Ideal Palace”).

Cheval’s undertaking resembles a fortress, with ornamentation likely inspired by fairytales and far-flung travels. Serpentine spires and columns resembling stacks of puff pastries lead to stone palms, gnarling gargoyles, and pebble-encrusted figures towering three stories tall. The ambitious, fantastical confection has been a site of pilgrimage for countless artists through the years, from André Breton and Brassaï to Max Ernst and Niki de Saint Phalle.

Georgia O’Keeffe’s Former Home

Abiquiú, New Mexico

Georgia O’Keeffe’s Abiquiu Home and Ghost Ranch, Abiquiu, New Mexico. Courtesy of Georgia O'Keeffe Museum.

Georgia O’Keeffe’s Abiquiu Home and Ghost Ranch, Abiquiu, New Mexico. Courtesy of Georgia O'Keeffe Museum.

Georgia O’Keeffe’s Abiquiu Home and Ghost Ranch, Abiquiu, New Mexico. Courtesy of Georgia O'Keeffe Museum.

Georgia O’Keeffe’s Abiquiu Home and Ghost Ranch, Abiquiu, New Mexico. Courtesy of Georgia O'Keeffe Museum.

Though Georgia O’Keeffe passed away in 1986, her presence is palpable on a visit to Abiquiú, where she lived and worked for the last 40 years of her life. Her home there—as well as her summer cottage at Ghost Ranch, located just 15 miles north—remains mesmerizingly intact. (Visitors can book tours of the Abiquiú home and studio through the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum.)

At Abiquiú, O’Keeffe’s studio looks out over the Chama River Valley’s spellbinding desert landscape, a view resembling a number of the painter’s late canvases. Potted plants tended by O’Keeffe during her life dot the property, while the garden where she cultivated her own vegetables still grows (the artist was an early adopter of slow food and green smoothies). Desert paths where she walked her beloved Chow Chows and cleared her head between painting sessions survive, too. “I would rather come here than any place I know,” O’Keeffe wrote to her husband Alfred Stieglitz in 1940, the same year she purchased Ghost Ranch. “It is a way of life for me to live very comfortably at the tail end of the earth.”

Nek Chand’s Rock Garden

Chandigarh, India

Photo of Nek Chand’s Rock Garden by Manuel Menal via Flickr.

Photo of Nek Chand’s Rock Garden by Richard Weil via Flickr.

Photo of Nek Chand’s Rock Garden by Cristina via Flickr.

In the early 1950s, self-taught artist Nek Chand was a road inspector helping to oversee the transformation of Chandigarh, an Indian city being remodeled by famed French architect Le Corbusier as an urban utopia. Construction was pervasive—and so was the rubble left in its wake (27 towns were razed to make room for the new city). Chand began carting the debris to a dense patch of forest on the city’s outskirts. There, he spent almost 20 years transforming discarded concrete, shards of pottery, and broken bangles into sculptures resembling all manner of mystical beings and beasts.

“I began creating a city of gods and goddesses,” he recalled of the now-renowned sculpture garden. “You could see life in the rocks.” Indeed, Chand’s figures live in an expansive landscape of waterfalls, meandering paths, and towering, temple-like structures—all forged by the self-taught artist.

Seagrove Potteries

Seagrove, North Carolina

David Fernandez working at Seagrove Stoneware Inn & Pottery. Photo by Richard Shoenberger.

Seagrove, North Carolina, has 500-million-year-old tectonic shifts to thank for its prized possession: a bountiful reserve of rich local clay. Situated not far from the Uwharrie National Forest and Mountains, the small town has long been a refuge for potters attracted to the area’s natural resources, extensive history of ceramics, and vibrant network of contemporary artists.

The region’s pottery tradition can be traced back to its Saponi, Keyauwee, and Siouan indigenous people, who forged utilitarian and ceremonial vessels from redware clay as many as 3,000 years ago. European colonists arrived in the late 18th century, establishing Seagrove’s first cluster of commercial studios. Today, you’ll find Owens Pottery—North Carolina’s oldest ceramics operation, founded back in 1895—as well as some 85 individual pottery studios within the mere 25-mile radius.

La Maison Picassiette

Chartres, France

Photo of La Maison Picassiette by Aidan McMichael via Flickr.

Photo of La Maison Picassiette by Aidan McMichael via Flickr.

When cemetery caretaker Raymond Isidore bought a humble cottage in Chartres, France, he didn’t know it’d become his canvas. Starting in the 1940s, Isidore spent the majority of his free time transforming his home into a shimmering, immersive mosaic.

Nicknamed Picassiette—a portmanteau combining pique (steal) and assiette (plate)—the environment is almost completely encrusted with broken bits of pottery and glass, scavenged lovingly by Isidore. “I picked them up without any specific intention, for their colors and their flicker,” he later recalled. Inside, surfaces as wide-ranging as sewing machines, bed frames, and kitchen floors boast kaleidoscopic patterns, occasionally arranged into flower garlands and flocks of birds. The home’s exterior and gardens, though, are even more ornate. Façades, pathways, flower pots, and thrones are covered in an imaginative mélange of flora, fauna, and faraway places. One wall boasts the Leaning Tower of Pisa; on another, a shepherd gazes at a spray of stars.

Second Home Peru

Lima, Peru

View of the garden atSecond Home Peru. Courtesy of Second Home Peru.

On a cliff high above Lima, Peruvian painter and sculptor Victor Delfin transformed an elegant Tudor mansion into a cabinet of curiosities. Delfin, now in his nineties, purchased the estate after a successful 1978 solo show at New York’s Bayard Gallery. Since then, he has filled its spacious rooms and lush gardens with an ever-growing trove of paintings and sculptures.

His canvases—depicting flamboyant peacocks, ecstatic bouquets, and colorful South American mountain villages—blanket interior walls. Outside, a group of bronze stallions look out over the bay, while a roaring puma’s head serves as a fountain, water cascading from its mouth into a pool in the courtyard. In recent years, Delfin’s daughter has opened a portion of the home—including Delfin’s charmingly chaotic, high-ceilinged former studio—as a whimsical guest house that doubles as a window into the artist’s mind.

Veijo Rönkkönen Sculpture Garden

Parikkala, Finland

Photo of Veijo Rönkkönen Sculpture Garden by Mikko Muinonen via Flickr.

Photo of Veijo Rönkkönen Sculpture Garden by Ilkka Jukarainen via Flickr.

Photo of Veijo Rönkkönen SculptureGarden by Mikko Muinonen via Flickr.

Self-taught Finnish sculptor Veijo Rönkkönen preferred not to engage with the outside world, and didn’t have many friends. Instead, he spent his free time creating around 550 sculptures, most of them depicting people. They were his company—and means of connection with others.

Scattered throughout a tract of Finnish woodland, on the border of Russia, the figures range from playful to rapturous to vividly malevolent. A group of scantily clad men bend into seemingly impossible yoga poses, a circle of women dance ecstatically, and a hooded figure resembling the grim reaper grins, his mouth filled with real human teeth. Rönkkönen spent over 50 years (until his death in 2010) adding to his eerie menagerie. Despite his reclusiveness, he happily invited visitors to see the world he’d created, which remains intact as a museum today.

Quinta da Regaleira

Sintra, Portugal

Photo of Quinta da Regaleira by Zoltan Tasi.

Photo of Quinta da Regaleira by Susanne Nilsson via Flickr.

Photo of Quinta da Regaleira by Kotomi via Flickr.

In the late 1800s, wealthy Portuguese businessman António Augusto Carvalho Monteiro erected a strange, opulent estate devoted to his infatuation with butterflies, mysticism, and the occult. He’d long been fascinated by nature and the universe’s mysteries, and he sought a place to contemplate them.

Across the lush property, covered in bougainvillea, paths lead to castles and chapels encrusted with symbolism evoking alchemy, Hermeticism, and Freemasonry. Quinta da Regaleira’s crown jewel, though, is its matrix of mossy pathways, grottoes, and wells that represent Carvalho Monteiro’s path to enlightenment. Enter a cave in the mountainside and find your way to the dark, ominous base of the “Initiation Well.” Climb its thin spiral stairway, though, and you’ll eventually reach the light.

from Artsy News

[underuroobasumbrella]

Colores, Calores y Caleños: Colombia 2016-2017

This is an account of my recent trip to Colombia, from Dec. 27, 2016 - Jan. 2, 2017.

“You’re a Scorpio, right?”, he asked. “Yes, how did you know!?” I exclaimed. “Because Scorpios do everything with great passion. I should know, I am one too”, he smiled.

We had met just hours earlier, a chance encounter facilitated by technology — he was my first Tinder match in Colombia, when I arrived to the new country at the stroke of midnight by myself.

As I lay in my hotel bed, teeming with nervous excitement for the days that awaited me on my first solo trip, Anthony sent me a message, “What a beautiful smile you have.”

When we met outside my hostel the next day, as I scanned the streets for the “guy with glasses and a blue shirt”, I knew instantly we were not soulmates. We would not have a passion-filled romance, or even a casual vacation fling.

But meeting Anthony aligned so well with my recent resolution of not wasting my time by having meaningless, unfulfilling and temporal encounters with men, it set the best precedent for the rest of my trip.

We climbed some nearby hills to catch the best view of Cali, sipping Colombian Pokers. Later when the sun set, we walked along the riverside boulevard adorned with holiday lights and a rush of people, eating alitas rellenos, salchipapas and churros, and discussing Colombian literature.

Well, I only offered my insights on Gabriel Garcia Marquez, while he pointed out the significance of each lesser-known Colombian poet, as we stood next to their statues in the Parque de Los Poetas.

Not a bad date locale.

My resolution was off to a profoundly good start: Anthony liked me for my personality and my work, a welcome first.

While I could not reciprocate his feelings, proven as I stealthily thwarted his attempt to kiss me at the end of the night, I was grateful for that evening. It was a reminder that I didn’t have to stand at the fulcrum between the purely platonic and purely physical in my relations with men, and served as a hopeful omen for the coming year.

With my appetite for risky spontaneity satiated, along with my belly full from the food tour I took earlier in the day, it was time to experience Cali for what it was: the salsa capital of the world.

The market we went to during our food tour.

The best ceviche!

Feria de Cali was in full swing when I happened to be there, the city’s most anticipated event of the year. Swathes of people filled the streets at night, swaying to salsa — and its edgier cousin, salsa choke, my favourite. Snack vendors dotted the outskirts of the crowds, that were all of young and old, working class and otherwise.

After a few hours of sashaying my hips, it was time for me to tuck into bed: a 5:30 am wakeup call awaited me, as I’d be heading on a three-hour journey to San Cipriano — for a full day of hiking, trekking and swimming, deep in a Colombian tropical rainforest.

As our bus halted to a step the next morning, we tumbled out, rubbing the last of sleep from our eyes, and found ourselves in front of train tracks. No train ran on them, but instead a bruja, a wooden tram run by a dude on a motorcycle that would course through the lush landscape to bring us even deeper into the tropical rainforest.

Our bruja.

Coursing through the Colombian rainforest.

With our adrenaline pumping from the ride, we embarked on a full day of hiking, waterfall jumping and river tubing.

Later that evening, as I sat on my 45-minute flight to Bogota, the woman next to me struck up a conversation.

“You didn’t get a seat with your friends, did you?” she asked.

“No, I’m travelling by myself!” I told her.

Her eyes widened and she scrunched her nose.

“Ok, honey, I love Bogota, but you have to be careful. Here, write my number down, if you need anything call me,” she said hurriedly, as she typed her number into my phone.

I chuckled to myself, as I glanced into my screen to see she had written “Marcela Plane Friend”.

Marcela was a glamourous woman, manicured nails, blow-dried hair and all. She was Colombian, but had spent most of her life in Atlanta, in the United States. Although most of her family no longer lived in Colombia, she still visited every year during the holidays, with her son.

She told me she was going to be meeting her new lover on this trip — a man she had met decades ago as a teenager, before she had gotten married. Now single after years, they had been in touch again.

I listened in awe, amazed that Bollywood plot lines could actually manifest for people in real life.

After she finished her story, she looked at me quizzically, then said, “You know, I have a son around your age, sitting up there,” she motioned to the front of the plane.

“Oh cool,” I replied, slightly nubbed that she had known me for all of 20 minutes but could already tell I was single as fuck.

That “oh cool” would later change to “oh damnnnn” when she introduced me to this son of hers in the airport. As I awkwardly mumbled “hi”, I cursed myself in my brain for wearing my coveted “travel shirt”, an actual maternity shirt with boats and palm trees imprinted all over — quite possibly the least sexy shirt I own.

In expected Urooba fashion, I said goodbye to them, too awkward to function in the presence of this hot dude and started to walk away in the opposite direction.

It turned out the exit was only one way, so I turned around, catching up to them and chuckled, “Guess we’re going the same way.”

Needless to say, I did not sweep Marcela’s son off his feet.

***

Have you ever travelled to a city and could see yourself living there? I’ve been from Bali to Bellingham, but it was in Bogota that I first felt this.

My hostel was in the La Candelaria area, amidst some of the best graffiti and street art in the world.

The infamous Bogota graffitti tour.

I walked through the city with a carefree ease, treating myself to a fancy meal in a nearby restaurant and arriving at the conclusion that food in Colombia was much better than in Ecuador, as much as I love Ecuador for other reasons.

My first day there was New Year’s Eve — I had no definitive plans, or expectations.

But the night I rang in 2017 was by far the best way I have rung in a new year in my 24 short years.

After a Colombian buffet meal at my hostel, I was itching to get away from all the shallow, privileged people there and their terrible opinions on Cuba, the working class, Palestine and….pretty much everything else.

Luckily, a friend of a friend from Quito, Ellinor, happened to be in town, and was staying at a hostel one street over. I decided to meet up with her and her new friends there.

What happened next is nothing short of a spooky miracle.

I met Ellinor and the others in one of the rooms they were staying in. After a few drinks, we decided to head over to the city’s main square to ring in the new year with locals.

As most of the group left to walk over there, Ellinor and I got left behind because we took one too many selfies. As we scrambled out into the night, we decided to walk on our own, hoping to catch up with the others later.

Trouble was, we had no idea where we were going.

So we decided to ask the next people that walked by for help. They were a suave pair, the two people we stopped. They were musicians, young, and carrying through the world with a carefree ease, muy tranquil.

They joined us, and we decided to cab to the square all together.

Shortly after we arrived, we ran into the others. Their faces were panic-stricken, and two were missing from the group.

“Hey guys! Wow, we found you! ...What happened?” Ellinor and I blurted at once.

“Shit, guys,” one of the guys began. And then he told us how they had walked through a deserted, quiet alleyway on their way over, and were approached by a man acting deranged — and who wielded a knife at them. The two not there had been so terrified, they had run back to the hostel.

Ellinor and I listened in wide-eyed disbelief. And then we noticed — our new friends, the couple — were gone.

“Were they our guardian angels?” we asked each other when we were away from the group. Like literal angels that had dropped down to earth, they had gotten us where we needed to go that night, without harm.

We smiled and laughed in both disbelief and joy, citing the incident as another good omen for the year to come, and then we heard the crowd chanting.

“Diez, nueve, ocho, siete, seis, cinco, cuatro, tres, dos...uno! Feliz ano nuevo!” we screamed.

This was it — and just the beginning of the night.

New Year’s Eve crew.

We scurried in ubers and taxis to head to our next stop — an EDM club that I would dance the night away into, only realizing that we should head back, when we saw the first sun rays of 2017 enter the glass ceiling of one of the club’s rooms.

It was on that ride home that morning that I found myself smiling to myself. While 2016 had its tough moments, that challenged me beyond belief, it also gave me some of the most adventuresome, euphoric experiences of my life, mainly because I had moved to Latin America.

My trip to Colombia instilled in me the confidence to travel solo, and I would encourage all women and femmes out there to do the same at least once in their life.

I’m already dreaming about my next trip to Colombia.

Te amo, Latinoamerica.

[wheremustwego]

Joan and Oliver

              “God, I feel like I’m sixteen.”

Joan snickers, taking the proffered blunt and leaning back. The smoke curls up, thick and blue, before a gust of wind takes it away. She glances at Oliver as she takes a long inhale, imagining the ghost of her lips pressing into the paper just before her own make contact. The thought comes and goes as a wisp; Oliver’s eyes are closed, lashes a heavy smudge on her reddened cheeks. She always flushed in the summer, Joan thinks, unable to ever trick her mom into thinking she hadn’t been sneaking out when they were younger.

“What, Oli? Didn’t think you’d be sitting here getting stoned with a college dropout?” Joan titters.

It’s Oliver’s turn to snicker, then, and she takes another small hit. “Yeah. Not when I’m on that nine-to-five shit. You’re lucky I have PTO. We can’t all be unemployed, fuckin’…freeloader.” Her grin is bright, the light casting pink to her. Joan has to look away; there’s no way she won’t be burnt from the intensity of it.

“Dunno, it’s pretty cool. Besides, I’ve only been back for what, a month?”

Oliver purses her lips, eyes widening as she rolls them away dismissively. Joan laughs, loud, and they can’t help but grin at one another.

“I know you’re mooching off Willow and your mom,” Oliver states, matter-of-fact. Joan raises her eyebrows, encouraging her to go on. “They talk to me about it all the time. Slip me little letters in my mailbox, slide me napkins they’ve written on when I’m at work…It’s very elaborate, I have to say,” she finishes, giggling. Her hands gesture wildly as she talks, red nails pinched on the end of the blunt. She holds it to Joan’s lips as she tilts her face up, dark eyes glittering in the dying light.

“Mm. Maybe I’ll have to have a talk with them later,” Joan contemplates, effect slightly dampened by the smoke she’s holding in. She exhales in a cough, laughing as Oliver drops the blunt with a curse between them. She starts to paw at the earth, red nails like rubies in the dirt, giggling as Joan attempts to stop her.

“No, no, dude, I’m sorry, I know those are so hard to roll—” Oliver apologizes.

“They’re not, you’re just a clumsy dumbass,” Joan laughs, grabbing at her wrists.

“No, I’m just an adult, asshole. Slacker…slacker mother fucker.”

This sets the two of them off in full, giggling as the blunt is forgotten and Joan’s grip slackens but her fingertips stay on Oliver’s pulse; Joan’s own fingers are strong and sure, feeling the gentle thump, thump, thump beneath. Their giggles continue, gleeful in a way that Joan cannot remember feeling since she had left.

This close, Joan can see the layers in Oliver’s hair, remembers feeling the thickness of it during clumsy attempts at childhood French braids. It’s lightened with the sun, dark strands turning golden in the summer, and has been cut to chin-length since she had last seen her; the sight is fresh, new.

Thump, thump, thump.

Joan could swear her own heart was beating in tune to the other’s, Oliver’s dark, round eyes turned up towards her. The giggles have stopped, though their grins have remained, softening at the corners.

Oliver has an easier time, as always, turning her hand over and into Joan’s hand. She had always been better at leading, as far as Joan was concerned. Their fingers slot together easily, complementary. Joan is aware, absently, that her own hand is sweating, but it receives a gentle squeeze from Oliver nonetheless. They quiet down and the moment stretches, stretches, stretches as Joan takes in her friend’s features, strong and sharp; freckles under her eyes, across her nose, now with a little gold hoop through the nostril. She wonders, absently, how long it’s been there—did she go alone to the only piercer within forty minutes of town, or was it done in the dim light of a coworker’s bathroom, haphazard and half-drunk?

Their hands are clumsily joined together in the dirt, and Joan feels caught. Snagged. How could she have left?

How could she ever leave again?

Oliver seems to find something similarly interesting in Joan’s face, dark eyes openly searching along her friend’s features. She seems to find something satisfactory, because a small smile pulls at a corner of her full lips.

Joan cannot look away.

The moment stretches.

Oliver looks back.

She’s scared for a moment that it will break, but knows better.

Despite her best friend’s earlier words, they weren’t sixteen anymore. They weren’t perched under a bridge at midnight, ducking down to avoid the police cruiser as they hid in the weeds, knees knocking together; they weren’t at one of Sam’s parties, bodies pressed together in a swell of music, pretending there were other people in the room. They were here, twenty-two, aimless. They were back home; Oliver with her front desk job, Joan with her half-formed friendships and forgotten Maine acquaintances. There was a rough tree trunk pressed to their backs, and the summer air was a warm balm that felt sweltering compared to the ice in Joan’s veins, the clamminess in her hand.

Oliver looks away, slips her hand out of Joan’s grasp, and finds the blunt with surprising accuracy. Joan is left reeling, blinking at the loss. She watches her friend gently blow the dirt from the blunt, using the flame from the lighter to assist.

Joan looks away, swallowing harshly and taking a deep breath.

She misses this place, she realizes. The smell of the blueberries, summer sun ripened in the woods behind her house and the sound of the train thundering through the outskirts of town. She misses her mom’s warm house, windows eternally opened in the summer, and misses her sister’s bright laugh. She misses the familiar turns and grips of the road by her house that leads to Oliver’s street—misses Oliver. She misses their shared looks, the easy beat of their conversations, the smell of her shampoo, the smudge of cherry lip balm on the lip of a glass.

When she was younger, she had thought she knew everything about Oliver, much like the worn pages of her favorite childhood book. Surely, surely she had catalogued every miniscule thing about her, as the scientists in the rainforest did the frogs—her clever eyes, sharp and bright in the sun; the full bow of her lips; the small depression in her proud chin; the strong line of her nose; the brush of freckles along the lines of her tanned shoulders. Like Galileo studied the stars, surely Joan had spent long enough cataloguing the constellations in her freckles to plan a map of them by heart and knew where to find the shortcut from the one behind her ear to the one beneath her eye. She could go from freckle to freckle until she got to the delicate curve of her neck and where it meets the sharp bite of her collarbone, like sailors used the North Star to navigate.

Surely, surely, surely, Joan had itemized everything about her, but as the time had passed several states away, she realized she was wrong.

Her frame had filled out more in the years Joan had been gone, muscle developing on her sun-pinked skin from lifting trays at the cafe. Her hair had changed only in length—Joan had always been more adventurous, anyway—and now was chopped short around her face, dark curls lightened at the tips in a show of summer fashion.

And this—this, their carefully crafted intimacy, a quiet sequestering from the world humming around them—this had always stayed the same.

Even with their years and states apart, Joan had felt pulled towards Oliver like a magnet pulls north. Even adrift, coming back to Oliver felt like gulping water after recess in school. 1, 2, 3… The counting of the other children ring in her head. She didn’t want to pull back after reaching 10, like they did in school; she could not, anymore. The feelings had dulled only slightly in the time apart, flaring back to life in a hot furl in her chest when their gazes had locked again in the café. Had that really only been a month ago?

“I thought of you, you know,” Oliver murmurs, voice a sweet pitch against the whispering of the trees. Joan waits as she always does, still attempting to quiet her heartbeat. “I was so mad at you for so long for leaving. Then, as…as I got older, and I saw you post with all your friends, I realized I was just,” she pauses, considering. “Envious.”

Joan’s throat clicks around a swallow as she shakes her head minutely. “I just had to leave, Ol. You know that. It didn’t have anything to do with anyone.”

“No, I know. I’m glad you went, Joan. You…you look so happy now.”

Oliver’s cheek turns as she lifts her gaze to Joan’s, head resting on her friend’s shoulder. Joan meets them, swallows dryly again, jaw clenching. The world suddenly feels too pressing, too small. The weed is making her heart swell like a balloon, and if it weren’t for Oliver’s steady, firm grip on her hand, she’d float away. Joan had been prepared for anger, had been prepared for coldness for her (abandoned) childhood friend. She had been expecting to make apologies and to spend the majority of the summer attempting to mend their bond; she had been expecting to delicately sew it back together, each prick of the sharp needle against her finger a smarting reminder.

She hadn’t been prepared for this.

Oliver’s gaze is open and searching, and though Joan had always been content to take the lead, she was merely the instrument for Oliver’s quick mind. Oliver had always known what to do, had always been prepared with a plan, even when Joan felt as if she were about to tumble into a precipice. Now, she realizes, Oliver had been following her lead just as much. It was a dance only the two of them knew; it had been learned in hours, months, years spent with their heads pressed together in conspiracy.

Oliver feels just as lost and small as she does, just as displaced and aimless as her. The thought tugs something in Joan’s guts and she has to look away from Oliver again, brows knitting together.

“I think freedom and happiness may be getting a little confused here. I’m not happy, I’m just…roaming. I’m just waiting for what’s next.”