#duo fiber collection

[thecursedprince]

Anna and Elsa 10th Anniversary Limited Edition Doll Set, Frozen

£ 300.00

Anna and Elsa 10th Anniversary Limited Edition Doll Set, Frozen | shopDisney

Anna and Elsa 10th Anniversary Limited Edition Doll Set, Frozen

SHOPDISNEY.CO.UK

Unleash an icy flurry of pure fantasy with this stunning Anna and Elsa doll set, part of our royal celebration. Designed by Disney artists, this pair of limited edition dolls commemorate the 10th Anniversary of Disney's Frozen. The dazzling duo radiate power and bravery in original costume designs from the now-classic film. Their compelling personalities shine in the craftsmanship of these beautiful dolls and gowns, exquisite keepsakes to cherish through many years to come.Magic in the details

Celebrating the 10th Anniversary of Disney's Frozen (2013)

Limited Edition of 3,000

Includes Certificate of Authenticity

Elegantly crafted gowns, capes and detailing

Anna features cape with satin lining and embroidered details, embroidered satin corset, felt skirt with embroidered filigree, woven shirt with embroidered finishing, faceted rhinestones, metallic cape clasp, golden cuff buttons and moulded boots with golden filigree

Elsa features shimmering organza cape with embroidered snowflakes, sheer sleeves and neckline with embroidered accents, blue metallic sequined corset, satin skirt with ombre dye effect, golden hair fixtures with faceted rhinestones and iridescent slippers

Finely styled, braided hair

Rooted eyelashes

Fully poseable

Display stands included

Comes in elegant window display packaging with gatefold cover, foil decoration, and magnetic closure

Created for Disney Store

Part of the Frozen 10th Anniversary Collection

The bare necessities

Dolls: H40.5cm approx.

Packaging: H47.5 x W43 x D18cm approx.

Made from PVC, ABS, nylon fiber, POM and PP

Safety

Warning: Not a toy - keep away from children

Item No. 416147519075

[crystal-grotto]

For how long this blog has been around I've never actually sat down and typed out how my collection of muses see eachother. Each arrow below breaks everything down and most of these have years of characterization and Discord plotting behind them.

-> Kanjigar

Draal is his only son. Kanjigar loves him with every fiber of his being, even though he did have to distance himself for so long while doing his duty as Hunter. He harbours many regrets for his actions but has been given a second chance, so he's working towards making any amends possible so they both can have a chance to heal.

Jim is new - but full of promise. Even though there have been hiccups here and there, Kanjigar likes and respects the youth enough to offer what wisdom he has to make sure Jim can survive, and be a more elder voice of logic in rough times.

Hagel is one of his closest friends out of the entirety of the OC crew. She was one of his first and only Gumm-Gumm Reformers, and throughout the years he grew to trust her through repeated contact. Their physical interactions are always in amicable light, sharing tea and food as well as stories even though Hagel is not required any longer to see him regularly.

Renjai is a troll of reputation. She's someone that he's not had a lot of interactions with - yet he has seen plenty of her work ethic as well as heard enough tales of her exploits from Draal to hold her in high esteem. In his opinion any Kiltar is a good thing to have in defense of Trollmarket; but it's even better to have one as decorated as Razorback there.

When it comes to Alex and Sturm, Kanjigar knows they are local as he has seen them around. He is also aware they interact with his son, but he's had little experience with them both himself so far, thus he has formed no defined opinions. That being said he is certainly more wary of Sturm compared to Alex as he suspects the electromancer is another Gumm-Gumm underneath those traveler robes; as neither cause issues in the Market, however, the old hunter has had no official reason to confront or persecute them.

-> Draal

Draal is very much his father's child. His love and devotion to Kanjigar runs deep - even though many wounds have been given throughout the years with his sire being distant. Now that the Fates gave him back, and offered a second chance, and the duo are making amends whenever their schedules align.

Jim may be tiny, but he is mighty and determined. Everything he's done so far has defied odds, making Draal all the prouder to be associated with him both as an ally and in family. Wherever the human Hunter decides to go, Draal will most likely be someplace nearby to keep a protective eye on him.

Renjai is a troll that Draal is a huge fan of when it comes to her professional life. He's attended a lot of her fights, and cheered her on many times both in the Kiltarheim and Trollmarket. He's even more delighted that he managed to achieve friendship with the pit fighter. She's a rarity in trolls that outmatch him - and he hopes maybe one day he can match her in combat capabilities. (Dependent on verse, he's crushing on her - ship tag: renjaal).

Alex, to Draal, is an odd one - in a good way. A changeling, but one that defies it's nature, is unheard of in the troll world. After causing him and her many levels of conflict after the female's status discovery, he's still somewhat surprised that she weathered it all and is a loyal friend. Shes a voice of calm compared to most of his circle; while Draal is not exactly sure what brings so many creatures of her ilk into his life, she's the only shapeshifter that has earned (and kept) his protective axe.

Sturm is a little bit of an enigma Draal is trying to unravel. After temporary butting of heads in Market encounters, tensions were smoothed away and tolerance allowed - and now the tinkertroll bull is a source of curiosity for the fighter. He's never known any troll to have magic like the hybrid does, nor such a understanding of machinery like him; and through much conversation Draal has managed to pry back a bit of the shell to secure a friendship with the other. He very much likes socializing with the other and listening to them talk about whatever topic is on hand - unlike Blinky. (Dependent on verse, he's crushing on him - ship tag: Sturaal).

-> Jim

He's had very little interactions with anyone aside from Kanjigar and Draal, as well as Alex.

He's in awe of the skill Kanjigar possesses, so he holds him up on a somewhat 'superhero'-ensue pedestal that he can learn from in his tenure of Trollhunter; he's not yet come to learn this version of Kanjigar is a Revenant. Draal on the other hand he loves to pieces as a elder (troll) sibling and takes everything he does with thoughtfulness and care - and subjects him/is subjected to his fair share of shenanigans.

When it comes to Alex, the young Hunter is clueless to her nature. He simply thinks she's a cool library/teacher's assistant that has an interest in the sciences and arts. He appreciates that she's relaxed and approachable, and that holds true as well in the rare instances he finds her in Trollmarket selling her hunts or herbs in her true form.

Renjai he admires at an arm's length. She's terrifying and powerful in the same way Draal was when he first saw him; Jim has not worked the nerve to talk to her yet.

He's only recently gotten wind of Hagel, so soon they may become good friends.

Jim has no idea that Sturm exists yet.

-> Renjai

Everyone has head the stories of the great Kanjigar the Courageous. To meet him in the flesh was not something Renjai expected to do, and yet she has maintained her composure and given the Revenant high esteem and wonder even if they have not spoken too much aside from the pub. He's earned it.

Draal, in her eyes, is everything a honourable Kiltar should be. Proud, skilled in the art of combatives, and mighty. The admiration is something that is a wayside bonus from her popularity and a source for amusement sometimes - but she much prefers the brawler as a friend and drinking companion over a fan as he's one of the few who can keep up with her, and one of the few of her species that she can allow herself to put faith in. (Dependent on verse, she crushes on him. Ship tag: Renjaal)

Renjai watches Jim's progress from afar, and marvels at how quickly he adapts and grows. At the same time she pities him - as he is but a child wearing the responsibilities of adults to kill and defend. In the near future, she's decided, she will approach him and offer her trainings just like Draal and Kanjigar have already done.

Much like Draal, after Renjai learned what Alex was, she gave her much grief. Renjai fully wanted her dead, once upon a time, before the small shapeshifter proved herself worthy of not finding her demise at the end of a spear. Now there has been gained respect and friendship to the point of forgiveness and defense if ever necessary. If anyone ever asks: yes, even Renjai is baffled in her turn of emotions.

Hagel is a good troll. Even if she was a Gumm-Gumm once, she Reformed at the hands of Kanjigar. Renjai deals with her from time to time, and shares a polite word and a meal. It's almost like being around one of the kinder Kiltar smith elders back home.

She's not very sure about Sturm. Renjai has seen him lurking about once or twice, but has never actually seen his face from the traveler's garb he chooses to wear each time he is in Market. She's got her eye on him if anything ever goes sour though.

-> Alex

Alex is the one who is somehow on good terms with nearly every muse.

The only person she's not managed to befriend in any way is Kanjigar - and that is mainly due to the fact that she's wary of his previous status of Trollhunter and his life experiences. She keeps her head down around him and minds her business; yet she also respects everything he's achieved and held together in the world of trolls by himself. He's a mighty individual, even without amulet.

With both Draal and Renjai it took some time to earn their friendship as the taught prejudice of changelings runs deep. She was scared of them at first, for they could kill her without effort; yet with enough time, proximity, and trials, she eventually proved herself as on the side of good to the warriors and developed an amicable bond with them. She appreciates their companionship more that she'll admit out loud and counts them in her small circle of true friends

Jim is a good kid. She likes talking to him whenever she can, and just relaxing whenever the youth can take a moment to himself and breathe. He's genuinely curious and she's happy to teach and has befriended him to an extent in the human world - but is internally fearful of the day he figures her out. She does not know how he'd respond to even more of her kind in his life.

Alex adores the things Hagel can do, and how nice she is. Such a friendly troll is a rarity - and she loves to trade with the giant Gadag whenever there's the chance. She's got the sneaking suspicion Hagel has probably adopted her at this point, but she doesn't overly care.

Sturm is... Like her, in many aspects. They both came from the same place, knew similar horrors, and knew similar pains for not being 'normal'. After working through a jagged start of simple trades, suspicion, and polite words into something more amicable the two quickly became good friends. She's more than grateful that he became another of her circle instead of an enemy.

-> Sturm

His default is cautious when it comes to others. Sturm is well aware of the threat he can be perceived as, and as such, has had very limited contact with the collective muse group; the only two he's had sustained interaction with is Alex and Draal.

Kanjigar is suspicious of him, and Sturm knows it. He actively avoids being in the older bull's line of sight to mitigate the risk of conflict, and the same goes for most other muses.

As he's heard the whisperings of Renjai's exploits the electromancer does not trust that she will not target a Gumm-Gumm in the Market in the name of it's defense. He keeps a wide berth from the she-troll whenever she roams.

Now that Jim is present, Sturm tries to keep to himself as he has no idea how a human would react to someone such as himself. So far it's been going well enough - coupled with the fact he only goes to Trollmarket once or twice a year.

Alex is what would be considered his best friend. They both suffered in the Darklands, but prevailed against all odds - and happen to be tinkertrolls in different veins. She trades many things with him and spends a decent chunk of her free time in his presence. In turn the bull has done similar, and has crafted gifts from time to time in gratitude for being someone he feels he can put his confidence and comfort in.

Draal... Dependent on verse that's a pile of complicated feelings that Sturm is still working on sifting through. Both of them are on agreeable terms, friends even though the Kiltar is the son of the previous Trollhunter. Sturm admires many of the fighter's traits - and hopes eventually he can be just as confident as Draal is in certain aspects of his own self. (Dependent on verse, Sturm is crushing on him - ship tag: Sturaal).

Hagel is only known to him as a chef troll. He's never walked that far into Market to see her, or figure out who she is in relation to him.

-> Hagel

This troll is on friendly terms to almost everyone, just like Alex.

Kanjigar is held in high esteem - mainly as he gave her a chance to change her life and make a place for herself someplace where she could actually do some good rather than harm. Even though her Reformer trials are over, the she-troll is happy to continue the tradition of visiting whenever time permits.

The son of the Trollhunter might be a touch gruff still, but neither of them bear ill will towards eachother and are rather friendly at this point in time.

Renjai is another that Hagel on good terms with - but so far the duo do not visit too much aside from business in association with a good cooked meal. Hagel understands and is simply happy that she is trusted.

Alex trades good supplies to Hagel and is very polite! Hagel suspects the Leodarin is not a true troll, and yet finds that she does not care terribly about that. Anyone who is on agreeable terms, makes an effort to be a friend, and sometimes even cooks alongside her, is more than welcome in her home.

So far the Gadag has only seen Jim in passing. As soon as Hagel learns he is a cook though then the she-troll is going to be delighted that he's not just a fighter. Overjoyed, even, and she'll want to share recipes with the youth and learn if human methods compare to the Gadag way.

Her and Sturm have not been reunited yet. She holds constant guilt about the series of events that happened, and thinks he is still lost to the Darklands. Hagel fails to notice the other Gadag in the instances he does make trips to Market as he never comes close enough to her dwell.

[hrodvitnon]

Battra and Ozymandias-further idea

A thought.

Maybe it’s not the sexual aspect of Ozymandias having many partners that Battra criticizes: rather, he thinks that Ozymandias having multiple partners is a sign of indecisiveness and lack of commitment. (Maybe even of weak moral fiber.)

I’m thinking this is after Shimo disappeared, when Ozymandias’s feelings for Tiamat have grown and the duo have become matrs-but Battra is still stuck, in a probably unhealthy way, in his grief. So he finds Ozymandias’s feelings for Tiamat, as well as having many partners, to be a betrayal of Shimo. (Instead of the slutshaming, it’s more questioning Ozymandias’s character and right to be King-as well as claiming that the indecisiveness is why Shimo disappeared.) 

Battra’s ultimately still grieving, and has hit the “Anger” stage of grief. So he takes it out on Ozymandias-only to feel extremely guilty a few hours later and starts trying to find the King so that he can apologzie.

Unfortunately, he stumbles upon Gigan abducting Ozymandias-and is powerless to save him.

—

Ooh, that would make more sense given the “collective becoming individual” characterization…

[mdmotalebhossainraju]

Tonic Greens and Gut Health: A Superfood Blend for Better Digestion

In recent years, the importance of gut health has become a significant focus in the wellness world. Your digestive system is more than just a pathway for food; it’s the powerhouse of your immune system, the key to nutrient absorption, and even plays a role in mood regulation. Enter Tonic Greens, a powerful superfood blend that’s gaining popularity as a supplement for improved gut health. Let’s delve into why Tonic Greens is making waves and how it can support your digestive system.

Understanding Gut Health

Gut health refers to the balance of microorganisms living in your digestive tract. These bacteria, viruses, fungi, and other tiny organisms are collectively known as the Tonic Greens gut microbiome. A healthy gut microbiome supports digestion, enhances immune function, and influences mental health through the gut-brain connection.

An imbalance in gut bacteria, often caused by poor diet, stress, antibiotics, and environmental factors, can lead to digestive issues like bloating, constipation, and irritable bowel syndrome (IBS). Moreover, gut dysbiosis (an imbalance in the gut microbiome) is linked to more severe health problems, including autoimmune disorders, depression, and obesity.

This is where Tonic Greens comes into play. It’s a blend of nutrient-dense superfoods designed to nourish your gut, promote healthy digestion, and restore the balance of your gut microbiome.

What is Tonic Greens?

Tonic Greens is a comprehensive Tonic Greens formulated with a variety of natural ingredients. These ingredients are carefully selected to provide a range of vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants that support overall health. However, the unique selling point of Tonic Greens is its focus on gut health. The formulation includes components specifically chosen to enhance digestion, promote the growth of beneficial bacteria, and reduce inflammation in the gut.

Tonic Greens typically contains a mix of:

Leafy Greens: Spinach, kale, and chlorella provide chlorophyll, vitamins A and C, and fiber.

Antioxidant-Rich Fruits: Blueberries, acai berries, and goji berries are packed with antioxidants that help combat oxidative stress in the body.

Probiotics: These are beneficial bacteria that help repopulate the gut microbiome and enhance digestion.

Prebiotics: Ingredients like chicory root and Jerusalem artichoke provide food for probiotics, helping them thrive.

Digestive Enzymes: These enzymes break down food more effectively, reducing symptoms of indigestion.

How Tonic Greens Supports Gut Health

1. Rich in Fiber

Fiber is a key component of gut health. It acts as a prebiotic, feeding the good bacteria in your gut and helping them to multiply. Many of the leafy greens and fruits in Tonic Greens are high in both soluble and insoluble fiber. Soluble fiber absorbs water and forms a gel-like substance in the gut, aiding in smoother digestion. Insoluble fiber, on the other hand, adds bulk to the stool and helps prevent constipation.

Consuming a high-fiber diet can also aid in weight management, reduce blood sugar spikes, and lower the risk of heart disease. Tonic Greens offers an easy way to increase your daily fiber intake, especially for those who struggle to get enough from their diet alone.

2. Probiotics and Prebiotics: A Powerful Duo

The gut is home to trillions of bacteria that play a vital role in your health. Probiotics are live bacteria that can be ingested through certain foods and supplements. They help restore the natural balance of gut bacteria, which can be disrupted by various factors like antibiotics, poor diet, and stress.

Tonic Greens often includes a blend of probiotic strains like Lactobacillus and Bifidobacterium, which are known for their digestive benefits. These strains help to:

Reduce symptoms of IBS and inflammatory bowel diseases.

Enhance the absorption of nutrients like calcium, magnesium, and B vitamins.

Boost immune function by outcompeting harmful bacteria.

In addition to probiotics, Tonic Greens contains prebiotics, which are non-digestible fibers that serve as food for these beneficial bacteria. This combination ensures that the probiotics thrive and work more effectively in your gut.

3. Digestive Enzymes for Optimal Digestion

Digestive enzymes are proteins that help break down food into nutrients that your body can absorb. As we age, the production of these enzymes can decline, leading to symptoms like bloating, gas, and indigestion. Tonic Greens includes enzymes like bromelain (from pineapple) and papain (from papaya), which help break down proteins, carbohydrates, and fats more efficiently.

By enhancing the digestive process, these enzymes can reduce common digestive issues and improve nutrient absorption, making your gut healthier and more effective at its job.

4. Anti-Inflammatory and Antioxidant Benefits

Chronic inflammation in the gut can lead to issues like leaky gut syndrome, where the intestinal lining becomes permeable and allows toxins to enter the bloodstream. This can trigger an immune response and lead to widespread inflammation, which is linked to various chronic conditions.

Tonic Greens contains ingredients like turmeric, ginger, and green tea extract, all of which have powerful anti-inflammatory and antioxidant properties. These superfoods help to:

Reduce inflammation in the gut.

Protect the gut lining from damage.

Combat oxidative stress, which can damage cells and contribute to chronic diseases.

5. Boosts Immune System

Approximately 70% of your immune system resides in your gut. A healthy gut microbiome can help to strengthen your immune response, protecting you against pathogens and infections. The diverse range of superfoods in Tonic Greens, including berries, leafy greens, and citrus fruits, are rich in vitamin C, zinc, and other immune-boosting nutrients.

Probiotics in Tonic Greens also play a role in modulating the immune system. By promoting the growth of beneficial bacteria, they help to prevent the overgrowth of harmful bacteria, reducing the risk of infections and improving overall immunity.

How to Incorporate Tonic Greens into Your Diet

Adding Tonic Greens to your daily routine is simple. It typically comes in a powdered form that can be easily mixed with water, smoothies, or juice. Here are some tips on how to make the most of this supplement:

Morning Boost: Start your day with a glass of Tonic Greens mixed in water or a smoothie for a nutrient-dense kick.

Post-Workout Recovery: The blend of antioxidants and anti-inflammatory ingredients can aid in recovery after exercise.

Meal Replacement: Add it to your protein shake for a quick and healthy meal replacement option.

Snack Time: Mix Tonic Greens into yogurt or sprinkle it over a fruit bowl for an added nutritional boost.

Conclusion

Incorporating Tonic Greens into your diet can be a game-changer for your gut health. Its blend of superfoods, probiotics, prebiotics, and digestive enzymes work together to support a healthy microbiome, reduce inflammation, and promote better digestion. As the gut is closely linked to many aspects of your overall well-being, improving its health can lead to numerous benefits, from enhanced nutrient absorption to a stronger immune system and improved mood.

Whether you’re dealing with digestive issues or simply want to give your gut a boost, Tonic Greens offers a convenient, nutrient-rich solution that can fit into any lifestyle. By investing in your gut health with a superfood blend like Tonic Greens, you’re taking a significant step towards overall wellness and a healthier, happier life.

[rajukumar8926]

Different Types of Makeup Brushes and Their Uses 

We usually really feel daunted by cosmetic artists' collections when they display lots of brushes in their set in make-up tutorials or videos! Though they appear the exact same, the brushes have unique features. We can comprehend exactly how challenging makeup is for newbies. Our utmost makeup brush overview streamlines everything.  

This 'beginner makeup brushes overview' will address all your concerns regarding aesthetic brushes which ones to purchase and exactly how to utilize them. Recognizing some brushes and their objectives can be tough; so, begin with the ones listed below. 

This collection of face brushes and eyebrow brushes will make your makeup procedure much easier and faster. 

Makeup Brush Types 

A variety of make brushes are listed here: 

Foundation Brush 

A flat foundation brush with dense hair is suitable for remarkable makeup application. Massage the material right into the skin, dot it on the temple, cheeks, nose and chin, and select from numerous sizes.    

Stippling Brush 

These brushes offer high-def, airbrushed bases for foundation, flush, bronzer, powder, as well as highlighters. They include duo-fiber bristles for mild application and can be used to get rid of rough lines and offer uniform coverage. 

Concealer Brush 

A concealer is a small foundation brush to conceal imperfections and lighten shadows. It's applied using a small amount to the targeted area, mixing with the foundation for a flawless finish. 

Powder Brush 

Loose powder foundation is applied after base application, keeping makeup on all day. The powder eyebrow brush set has brushes that are large, fluffy, and domed for uniform application, ensuring soft application and removing excess product. 

Blush Brush 

A fluffy, smaller brush is essential for applying powder blush naturally. Start on the cheeks and slowly slide towards the temples. Use stippling for cream blush for a natural look and mix a small amount for a natural look. 

Contour Brush 

An angled contour brush, like a blush brush, is ideal for contouring your face. An angled contour brush, like a blush brush, is ideal for contouring your face. The brush works well with cream and powder makeup and can be stippled. 

Bronzer Brush 

Angled blush and powder brushes resemble bronzers but are applied evenly to create a natural look. Avoid over-applying or unevenly blended bronzer, especially on pale skin. 

Highlighter Brush 

This fan-shaped beauty eyebrow makeup brush features ultrafine synthetic bristles and uniformly applies highlighters to cheekbone peaks. It is a popular addition to makeup routines, particularly for Cupid's bow and nose tip highlights. 

Lip Brush 

Lip brushes, small, paintbrush-like bristles, simplify lipstick application by starting with a lipstick-colored pencil and applying multiple times for pigmentation or combining two colors for an ombre effect. 

Mascara Brush 

Spoolie brushes are essential for mascara application due to their tiny, firm bristles that work like a hairbrush, simplifying the process. They can also apply eyebrow gel or brush hairs in one direction. 

Eyeshadow Brush 

One variety of eyeshadow brushes is the flat one, available at a decent eyebrow brush price. As the name says, this applies eyeshadow on the upper lids. This foundation brush-like eye makeup brush features firmer bristles despite its compact size. For optimal effects, massage the shadow onto your lids with the brush, adding layers as desired. 

There are numerous more brush kinds. These basic brushes can mix makeup simply and provide a beautiful appearance. 

Conclusion 

Professional makeup application requires makeup brushes. Choosing the right brush for each cosmetic process will help you seem professional and easygoing. Foundation, powder, blush, eyeshadow, and eyeliner brushes are all available to help you achieve your desired appearance. Knowing the different brush types and how to use them will improve your makeup application.     

This guide explains makeup brushes and their functions to assist newcomers in navigating the cosmetics industry. It emphasizes picking the proper brush for each cosmetic stage by highlighting crucial brushes for the face, eyebrows, lips, and eyes. 

Viseart offers high-quality eyebrow brushes for precise and sculpted brows. 

[thegallivantersart]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Ace & Jig Black Shadow/Metallic Silver Party Frock Sleeveless Knee Length Dress.

[timelinesofhistory]

Interior Accessory Showdown Of 2023: Range Rover Vogue vs. Velar Accessories

Welcome to the ultimate interior accessory showdown of 2023, where we pit the iconic Range Rover Vogue against the sleek Range Rover Velar. Both these luxurious vehicles are known for their style, performance, and cutting-edge technology.

In this blog post, we dive into the world of Range Rover Vogue and Range Rover Velar Interior Accessories, exploring the unique features and enhancements that set them apart. From the innovative Deployable Side Steps to the exclusive seat covers and music systems, get ready to discover the ultimate upgrades for your Range Rover.

Range Rover Vogue Interior Accessories: Elevating Luxury To New Heights

Range Rover Vogue, the epitome of refined elegance, offers a range of interior accessories that enhance comfort, convenience, and style. From luxurious seat covers and floor mats to personalized illuminated treadplates, Range Rover Vogue Accessories add a touch of opulence to your driving experience.

The exclusive Range Rover Sport Deployable Side Steps make entry and exit effortless, combining practicality with sophisticated design. These motorized steps automatically deploy upon opening the door, providing a seamless and graceful entry for you and your passengers.

Range Rover Velar Interior Accessories: Embracing Contemporary Sophistication

The Range Rover Velar, with its sleek and modern design, boasts a collection of interior accessories that perfectly complement its contemporary appeal. Velar Accessories allow you to personalize your vehicle, reflecting your unique sense of style.

From premium seat covers and carbon fiber trim to ambient interior lighting, the Velar interior accessories offer a seamless blend of elegance and modernity. Experience cutting-edge technology with the Touch Pro Duo infotainment system, which seamlessly integrates with the vehicle's interior, providing a sleek and intuitive user interface.

The Battle Of Upgrades: Choosing The Perfect Accessories

When it comes to selecting the ideal accessories for your Range Rover, it ultimately depends on your personal preferences and desired enhancements. Vouge interior accessories cater to those seeking a classic and luxurious experience, combining comfort and style with features like the Range Rover Sport Deployable Side Steps for added convenience.

On the other hand, Range Rover Velar Interior Accessories cater to those drawn to contemporary sophistication, offering sleek and modern upgrades that perfectly complement the vehicle’s design. Upgrade your Range Rover with the finest interior accessories, whether you choose the classic luxury of Range Rover Vogue or the contemporary sophistication of Range Rover Velar.

The key is to find the perfect balance between functionality, style, and personalization. Range Rover Vogue Interior Accessories bring classic opulence and convenience with features like the deployable side steps, while Velar interior accessories embrace contemporary sophistication with sleek design elements and cutting-edge technology.

Conclusion

In the battle of interior accessories, Range Rover Vogue and Velar each offer a unique range of upgrades that enhance the luxury and style of these iconic vehicles. Whether you opt for Range Rover Vogue or Velar Accessories, both options provide an opportunity to elevate your driving experience and make a statement on the road.

Whether you prefer the timeless elegance of Vogue or the modern appeal of Velar, both options allow you to personalize your driving experience and make a statement on the road. Embrace the interior accessory showdown of 2023 and unleash the full potential of your Range Rover.

For more details visit our website www.victorious.shop.

[shimmerjjang]

Sephora PH: Real Techniques Brushes Haul + Review (Duo Fiber Collection, Collector’s Edition Eyelining Set, Bold Metals 301 Flat Contour)

I have to admit - I’m not a huge fan of makeup brushes in general. I used to have so much in my collection before and I do splurge on makeup brushes back when I was just getting into this whole beauty madness. There’s just one thing that drew me away from acquiring so much makeup brushes - CLEANING. Oh mama how I hate cleaning brushes one by one!! If only I could toss them in the washing machine all at once, I would.

So since then, I stopped hoarding too many makeup brushes since I’m not very good at cleaning them. I only keep a few (maybe a set or two) that I really need. My basic makeup brush kit is comprised of an eyeliner brush, buffing brush, angled brush for brows, highlighting brush and blending brush - that’s it! But since Sephora PH asked me to add more Real Techniques brushes in my kit, I said YES in a heartbeat. 

Real Techniques has a special space in my heart. Prior to receiving these brushes from Sephora PH, I already own brushes from the brand and I have been immensely obsessed ever since. Let me drag you back to my past by pointing you to this cringeworthy blog post I wrote back in 2011 entitled People I Watch on YouTube. This is one proof that I’ve always been a huge HUGE fan of Pixiwoo. 2011 to 2012 was the peak of my beauty addiction so I would buy things that the Chapman sisters recommend no matter how broke it can get me! So imagine the intense explosion my heart and soul experienced when they finally launched Real Techniques back in 2011! Whew.

However, Real Techniques weren’t very accessible here in PH back then. Now, I thank all the makeup fairies for Sephora PH! With just a few clicks, you’ll receive Real Techniques brushes on your doorstep in just a week! Mine got shipped on the 7th of April and it came on the 15th. I must say that’s pretty fast considering that the products are from overseas! 

Here’s what I decided to get:

Duo Fiber Collection

Bold Metals Collection 301 Flat Contour Brush

Collector’s Edition Eyelining Set

Duo Fiber Collection

This collection is specifically designed for lighter makeup application. I already own face brushes that have very dense bristles since I am always for full coverage. However, the heat is getting a lot more intense lately which sorta hinders me from applying full coverage makeup. As a result, I settled for this brush set despite not really knowing what to expect.

As usual, the bristles are extremely soft and gentle. As it is designed to pick up lighter amount of product, the bristles aren’t very dense. I won’t recommend using this for liquid foundation because it will obviously leave streaks. I personally use these for powder-type and cream-type makeup products. The contour brush (pink) is my favorite! I swear, it makes cream blush application easy and flawless. It allows me to create a natural-looking flush without worrying of moving my foundation and concealer underneath!

Bold Metals - 301 Flat Contour Brush

I have always wanted to buy something from the Bold Metals Collection but I have always battled with my inner conscience with regards to it. I just feel like it’s too expensive! I have got my eyes on the flat contour brush since day 1 but for me who’s such a contour noob, I felt like I’m not in the right place to splurge on a contour brush. But hey, now that I finally have it, I knew I had to work harder on my contour game.

Without a doubt, this brush from the Bold Metals Collection is a luxurious makeup tool. It feels heavy and it gleams gorgeously against the light. In addition to this, it has very dense bristles that are superbly soft! 

At first, I find it difficult to work with it since my biggest makeup weakness is contouring. I just don’t know how it works but after watching a couple of pixiwoo tutorials using this contour brush, I began to get a hold of its wonders. Turns out, it’s much easier to contour using a flat brush like this rather than the conventional contouring brush! The 301 Flat Contour Brush works well on liquid, cream and powder-type products.

Collector’s Edition Eyelining Set

THIS SET IS MADE FOR ME. If you guys have been following my beauty adventures for a while now, you would know how important eyeliner is to me. Eyeliner for me is like water, rice and G-Dragon. So when I saw this set on Sephora PH’s website, I immediately gave it a go!

Applying gel liner became much easier for me with the pointed liner brush and precision line brush! It gives me better control on the thickness of the line I wanna draw. The angled eyeliner brush is meant for applying eyeliner along the lashline but I use it as a brow brush instead. The shape makes it so easy to draw my brows so I just had to break the rules right there. kkkk~ Also, the smudge brush is such a huge help in maximizing the use of my creamy pencil liners.  

Not only that, this set also comes with a silver brush pouch! How cool is that!

Sephora PH offers a vast variety of beauty products from the best beauty brands. Check out more Real Techniques brushes on their website.

[thecursedprince]

Japan Stock Photos Anna and Elsa 10th Anniversary Limited Edition Doll Set, Frozen

Photos enhanced by The.Cursed.Prince

https://shopdisney.disney.co.jp/goods/4550586700130.html?isProductSearch=1&plpPosition=1&searchType=regular

Unleash an icy flurry of pure fantasy with this stunning Anna and Elsa doll set, part of our royal celebration. Designed by Disney artists, this pair of limited edition dolls commemorate the 10th Anniversary of Disney's Frozen. The dazzling duo radiate power and bravery in original costume designs from the now-classic film. Their compelling personalities shine in the craftsmanship of these beautiful dolls and gowns, exquisite keepsakes to cherish through many years to come.Magic in the details

Celebrating the 10th Anniversary of Disney's Frozen (2013)

Limited Edition of 3,000

Includes Certificate of Authenticity

Elegantly crafted gowns, capes and detailing

Anna features cape with satin lining and embroidered details, embroidered satin corset, felt skirt with embroidered filigree, woven shirt with embroidered finishing, faceted rhinestones, metallic cape clasp, golden cuff buttons and moulded boots with golden filigree

Elsa features shimmering organza cape with embroidered snowflakes, sheer sleeves and neckline with embroidered accents, blue metallic sequined corset, satin skirt with ombre dye effect, golden hair fixtures with faceted rhinestones and iridescent slippers

Finely styled, braided hair

Rooted eyelashes

Fully poseable

Display stands included

Comes in elegant window display packaging with gatefold cover, foil decoration, and magnetic closure

Created for Disney Store

Part of the Frozen 10th Anniversary Collection

The bare necessities

Dolls: H40.5cm approx.

Packaging: H47.5 x W43 x D18cm approx.

Made from PVC, ABS, nylon fiber, POM and PP

Safety

Warning: Not a toy - keep away from children

Item No. 416147519075

[pinky-the-elephant-room]

Forever yours

☛ AN: This prompt has taken me forever to post so if it doesn't post now I will scream. Hurray 2022!

☛ Warning: Mentions of graphic sexual content, oral sex, cheating, toxic & manipulative reader, and AM x Sir Nighteye.

☛ All Might x Gender Neutral Reader

☛ Summary: He was yours from the moment you saw him. He just didn't know yet. And now after this, he can't ignore it.

☛☛☛☛☛☛

Sounds pulsated through the room. Gasps and slurps were so generously slipping from your mouth. He buried his fingers into your hair and twisted.

“Ha!” you called out as a tug forced you in deeper.

“Y/N!” All Might forced out. He gritted his teeth as he desperately fought to keep the noise inside. “Your mouth is warm and taking me in so well.” A harsh thrust, and you feel yourself choke as his cock hits the back of your throat. “You deserve this. You wanted this. Waiting around for me to notice you.”

You did want this. You wanted it so desperately. Flirting with All Might was easy; getting him to blush and become flustered just by a few words and innocent touches was easy. Getting him to stay and getting him to slip was harder.

All Might thought he was in love with his sidekick. He was wrong, of course. You and him belonged. You knew everything there was to know about Yagi Toshinori. You would do everything and anything to make him happy. He just didn’t know it.

Even if it meant separating the legendary duo. Because All Might was yours, and no quirk would be able to foresay otherwise.

Saliva dripped messily as his member pushed in and out; teardrops clung to your eyelashes. A debauched sight that you could tell he enjoyed.

He always held himself back. Those flashes of guilt, the more tempting he found you.

You sucked in your cheeks and closed around his cock’s mushroom-like head. All Might’s breath hitched, and you felt his grip become harsher. You delighted in the pain as he pulled harshly on your hair.

In return, you dug in his muscular thighs with your nails. All Might’s chest heaved as he found to control himself. You pulled back from his cock to see beads of precum collect, and you used the flat of your tongue to swipe across his cock’s fathead.

“Y/N, suck,” he demanded and gently nudged your head with the hand that was entangled in your hair. “Stop being a tease. I’m tired of it.”

Of course, he was. There was only so much a man could take before he lost it. You twisted All Might around so much he couldn’t think of anyone but you.

Maybe that was why Sir Nighteye could hardly stand the sight of you nowadays. It had to be killing him inside, knowing All Might called out your name out while in bed with him.

But if you could deal with watching All Might and Sir Nighteye be obvious about their sickening affections in front of everyone, then Sir Nighteye could deal with the fact that All Might didn’t want him anymore.

You hated that man every fiber of your being. He made you feel lesser. Like your quirk wasn’t good enough. Like you weren’t good enough for All Might. Like you weren’t enough.

But now, everything that was his was becoming yours. First, you started with Might Tower, then All Might’s trust. And now you had the man himself.

You smiled as you sucked as All Might commanded, enjoying this in more ways than one.

You felt him shudder and let out a groan. His head lulled back, and he started languidly thrusting into your mouth.

You removed your hands that tightly gripped his thighs and started rubbing up and down his length. That got an even louder reaction from the buff hero, and he bit down on his fist to contain his noises.

“Fuck, that’s hot!” All Might mumbled against his knuckles.

Then right on time your ears picked up the sounds of footsteps, and All Might was too busy raptured by his pleasure to notice.

The door clicked when it slid open a few inches, and you see from the corner of your eye Sir Nighteye standing there, aghast.

You make eye contact and smirked as his eyes flashed with pain and anguish.

With a loud slurping sound, you enthusiastically resumed bopping up and down before reaching to caress All Might’s balls.

Maybe that was all he needed because he exploded, cuming hard and squirting in your mouth. You gagged and released him, which caused the rest of the cum to splash on your hair and face. You were forced to swallow the sudden onslaught, and you blinked, trying to prevent the cum from getting into your eyes as it dripped down your face and onto your shirt.

All Might let out a sigh and looked down at you happily.

“That was great -” he began but stopped when he noticed the door was open. “Nighteye…”

Sir Nighteye’s face twisted with betrayal but then became blank when he regained composure.

“I came in here to see if you wanted to go out tonight,” the bespectacled man said and then looked hatefully at you, still sitting down on your knees, debauched. “But I see you’re busy.”

Sir Nighteye then moved so quickly that you’d only see him move that fast in combat, leaving you two alone in the office.

“Wait!” All Might moved to follow as he fastened his pants, but you stood up and grabbed him before he could.

“Where are you going? Don’t leave. It’s not fair to leave me unsatisfied.”

“But Y/N! Did you see his face?”

You could see the poor man was upset. He hadn't meant to hurt anyone. He was too good for that. Still, you were not about to let them be alone even for a second.

Instead, you pulled All Might down by his collar and kissed him eagerly, showing him the desires that were still bubbling inside of you.

“I need you,” your voice begged. “Please.”

You smiled as All Might’s apprehension left little by little as you drew him close to you. You stood on your toes and left small kisses and nibbles on his neck, causing his stiff body to relax.

You clutched him close because you had him exactly where you wanted—all those months filled with agony craving for someone that wasn’t yours yet. But now you had won. He was finally yours.

[arc852]

An Unlikely Duo Ch. 3

Warnings: Fear, panic and mention of treating a person like a pet

Word Count: 2426

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Read on AO3

________________________________________________________________

 Wilbur spent the hours leading up to dinner looking through his laptop trying to figure out what song he should play for Tommy. He hadn’t meant for it to take that long and had actually wanted to play before dinner was ready but picking a song Tommy might like was a lot harder than he thought. Not to mention, the more he stared at his own sheets of music, the more he hated every single one.

 He let out a sigh and shut his laptop, rubbing a hand down his face. He’d figure it out after he got back, he supposed.

 He headed down to dinner, only to see that they were serving spaghetti tonight. Wilbur smiled a little at the chance to bring Tommy some warm food. He could even give Tommy some bread with it as well. A full meal instead of just some deli meats he found in the fridge.

 He ate his portion of dinner, putting a forkful in a napkin and hiding it away in his pocket when the adults weren’t looking. He grinned to himself when they didn’t notice and then did the same thing with a whole roll of bread. The adults were none the wiser and when he asked to be excused, they let him go with no suspicions. Perfect.

 He closed the door to his room and kneeled down so he could place the food underneath his bed. He bit his lip as he stayed there for a moment, looking at the wall that Tommy was probably still behind. He cleared his throat. “Hey, uh, I brought you some dinner. Some bread and spaghetti. It was really good so I hope you like it. If not, I can always bring you something else.”

 He waited a moment, to see if Tommy might come out or answer him but when all he was met with was silence, Wilbur crawled out from the bed and stood up. That was fine, the little guy was probably still scared and Wilbur couldn’t blame him for that. So maybe some music would ease him.

 Wilbur grabbed his guitar and sat on his bed where he propped open his laptop once again. He frowned when he realized he was right back where he was. Unable to choose a song to play for Tommy.

 He strummed absentmindedly on his guitar as he thought over his choices. He could try the song he was playing when he first saw Tommy...but the problem with that was that it wasn't actually a song Wilbur had written. He had just been messing around on his guitar at that point. He can’t even remember what he was playing.

 A thought suddenly struck Wilbur. Maybe that was it. Maybe the song didn’t really matter. Tommy seemed to like it when he was simply playing around with chords. Maybe that would be enough.

 Biting his lip, Wilbur pulled up a blank music sheet. Maybe messing around and writing a new song was exactly what he needed. 

 And hopefully it would be enough to ease Tommy’s mind and pique his interest.

***

 Tommy had been in the middle of bending his newly acquired paperclip into a hook shape when he heard the door to the human’s room open again. He had felt a lot more comfortable when Wilbur hadn’t been in the room. But of course, the human had to return eventually. Tommy expected that.

 What he didn’t expect was for Wilbur to actually try and talk to him.

 Tommy froze as soon as he processed Wilbur was speaking. Despite being muffled through the walls, Tommy had no trouble picking up on the words being said. He had been brought food, again. Part of Tommy, which he was pretty sure was his stomach, was happy at the chance to eat more food. The other part, the more rational part, was livid that the human would try it again.

 He knew he shouldn’t have taken the food. Because now Wilbur had taken it as an incentive to keep doing it. To keep pitying him. 

 Well, Tommy wasn’t having it.

 Overcome with anger and a sense of wanting to prove himself, Tommy marched out of the wall. He grabbed the piece of bread, ignoring the way the heat came off in fumes and the smell wafted around, making his mouth water. He ignored it all in favor of taking the piece of bread and coming out from underneath the bed.

 The music had just barely started when Tommy decided to interrupt. Cupping his hand over his mouth in order to make sure he was heard. “Hey b****!”

 Wilbur’s hand paused on the strings, his body tensing. A voice, Tommy’s voice, seemed to come from the floor. But that would mean…

 Oh so slowly, as if anything faster would make Tommy leave, Wilbur put down his guitar beside him on the bed and then leaned over said bed, glancing down toward the floor. And there was Tommy, small as ever, with a familiar glare pointed right at Wilbur. Wilbur swallowed thickly, wondering what Tommy was doing out of the walls. “Tommy, what-?”

 “I don’t need your f****** food, you giant prick! And I don’t want your f****** pity either!” Tommy yelled, all his anger put into the words. Wilbur, meanwhile, sat frozen, shocked at Tommy’s words. “I can do things just fine on my own! I don’t need you or anyone and I don’t need this f****** bread either!” And with that last yell, Tommy mustered up all the strength he had and threw the bread square at Wilbur’s face.

 To the surprise of both the borrower and human, the bread hit its mark and hit Wilbur right beneath his eye.

 The piece of bread fell onto the bed and Wilbur stared at it, not knowing what to do or say. He glanced towards Tommy, who was breathing heavily from anger.

 But, as the anger slowly pulled out of his body, Tommy realized what he had just done. The anger quickly turned into an overwhelming sense of fear as the borrower realized how much he just messed up. He talked back to a human, not even that, he yelled and cursed and threw something at someone who was so much larger than himself. A being who would have no problem getting back at him tenfold.

 Tommy wasted no time in scurrying back under the bed and towards the wall.

 As soon as Tommy moved, Wilbur snapped out of his frozen state. “Wait, Tommy!” He got down from his bed and did his best to follow the borrower under the bed. He got under there in just enough time to see the tiny entrance to the walls close, with Tommy already in them.

 Tommy pressed his back against the door, heart pounding and trying to keep his breathing steady. Seeing Wilbur follow after him had been terrifying. And even now, knowing Wilbur was right there, waiting outside his door made Tommy panic. There was no way the human could get him out of the walls...right?

 Oh god but he totally could. All it would take is a hammer to the wall and Tommy would be exposed. Caught like the stupid borrower he was, why did he have to go out and do that-

 “Tommy?” A voice cut through his panicked thoughts and Tommy tensed. The voice sounded close. Too close. “Hey, I’m not...mad or anything. I’m just a little confused. I gave you the food because I just want to help. Not because of any pity or anything. I don’t pity you, Tommy.” Wilbur’s words were gentle and calm but Tommy still felt his hands become fists at his sides.

 “Why else would you give me the food? It’s because you don’t think I can get any myself.” Tommy spoke, proud that he managed without stuttering.

 “That’s not true. I’m sure you’re plenty capable.” Wilbur said back and Tommy faltered a bit. “I just thought it would be nice for you not to have to go through the trouble of finding something. Besides, it’s cold. I figured maybe you’d want something warm.”

 “You don’t know what I want.” Tommy spit out but it held less fire in it than before.

 “You’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t have assumed but I couldn’t help it. And maybe part of it is because I...I feel bad for before. For grabbing you.” Wilbur admitted, looking down at the fibers in the carpet. Tommy blinked.

 “It was incredibly rude of you.” Tommy said, the fire from his anger all but gone at this point. A laugh escaped Wilbur, causing Tommy to flinch but he soon relaxed when he realized what it was.

 “That’s fair.” Wilbur said inbetween laughs. Tommy couldn’t help but smile a little but it quickly left his face when a question popped into his head. A question he had been itching to ask since it had happened, really. He supposed now was as good of a time as any. With the wall between them, Tommy felt a lot more comfortable talking to the human.

 “What was the deal with the whole three questions thing anyway? You could have just...kept me and forced me to answer all that you wanted to ask.” Tommy didn’t know why he was bringing up the fact that Wilbur could have kept him. Could very much still catch him and keep him. But the question was already out in the open.

 Wilbur was silent for a long time, to the point where Tommy was starting to get nervous. Did he just make the human realize his mistake? Was this where the hammer to the walls came in?

 “Tommy, I...I wouldn’t…” Wilbur was having a hard time collecting his thoughts. “I was never going to keep you. I was curious, yeah, and I definitely reacted wrong but you’re clearly a person and that’s...no, yeah, I was always going to let you go. The questions...I did that so I could get something out of our meeting before you left.”

 Tommy blinked, mind running with this new information. Part of him wanted to say that Wilbur was lying but at the same time...he did let him go. Was that enough to support what Wilbur claimed?

 “I...I didn’t think it mattered, if I was a person or not. Cause yeah, that s*** is obvious but other humans don’t seem to care too much about that. They see something small and ‘helpless’ and think, mine.” He remembered the stories his parents would tell him, of borrowers being caught and kept as pets even after they revealed they could think and speak for themselves. It was awful and did the trick for little Tommy to stay far away from outside the walls for the longest time.

 “...Well those people are right pricks then.” Wilbur spoke and the bluntness of the statement made Tommy laugh. Despite the underlying anger in Wilbur’s tone, he was pretty sure the anger wasn’t directed at him.

 “Couldn’t agree with you more, big man.” The nickname slipped out without him meaning to but if Wilbur noticed he didn’t say anything. Just let out a quiet snort. They sat in silence for a few moments and in that time Tommy realized his heart wasn’t beating as fast as it had been. He was still terrified but somehow...less, now.

 Wilbur stared at the little door, the one that blended into the walls so well he could barely even see it. Half of him hoped Tommy would come out and they could speak face to face but he knew that wouldn’t happen. And he couldn’t really blame him either. Not with Tommy’s line of thinking. It truly was awful though, especially since Wilbur knew full well that some humans were just that bad. It made Wilbur sick just thinking about it.

 He stared at the small piece of bread that he had taken with him, the one that Tommy had thrown and gently placed it back with the small pile of spaghetti. “I’ll leave you alone now. I know it was probably a bit...much, with me chasing you underneath the bed. Sorry, about that by the way. Um, but yeah. I’ll leave the food here, just in case you want it. Not out of pity or anything.” Wilbur felt the need to reassure further. “But just because.”

 Tommy didn’t say anything at that. But Wilbur smiled anyway. “And if you ever need anything, I’d be more than happy to help you out.” He let his words hang there for a bit, letting Tommy soak them up. “Goodnight, Tommy.” And with that, Wilbur crawled out from underneath the bed and climbed back on top of it.

 He stared at his guitar for a moment before picking it up to put away. It was getting late anyway. He should probably get some sleep.

 As Tommy heard Wilbur shuffling around, he couldn’t help but think about what had just happened. It had gone...better, than Tommy would have ever expected. He still wasn’t sure if he believed Wilbur or not but some part of him really wanted to. It was dangerous to listen to that part of him though. 

 As the noises out in the room died down, Tommy took a deep breath and opened the door. He half-expected to see Wilbur still under the bed, waiting for him. But of course, he wasn’t. Judging by the silence and how dark the room was, Tommy could only assume he had gone to bed.

 His eyes drifted over towards the small pile of food, still steaming. Hesitantly, Tommy made his way over to it and picked up the piece of bread he had thrown at Wilbur. It wasn’t as hot as before but it still held some of its warmth. It was soft in his hands with a spongy sort of texture. Tommy had had bread before but that bread had always been kind of old and stale. It was never like this.

 He took a bite out of it and tears immediately welled up in his eyes.

 Tommy had never eaten anything warm before. It was an unfamiliar but welcome feeling all the same. The dull cold he always felt was, for once, warmed by the food. It was amazing and that was just the bread.

 He wiped his tears away as he continued to eat.

 And later that night, as he laid on the ground with his thin blanket and a full, warm, stomach, he couldn’t help but think about Wilbur.

[fandomvariousness]

him & i - eren jaeger x reader blurb

pairing: eren jaeger x reader

summary: relationship study based on him & i by G-Eazy & Halsey

listen to the song: spotify | youtube

warnings: mentions of smut, god complex, drug use, swear words

a/n: i changed Gemini to Aries, cause that's eren's zodiac sign. Also, ik this one's a bit longer than a regular blurb, but half of it is song lyrics so im not counting that as actual words

Cross my heart, hope to die To my lover, I'd never lie He said "be true, " I swear I'll try In the end, it's him and I

Dynamic duo, that's what you and Eren are. You're devoted to him with every fiber of your soul, never keeping anything from him and following his every command, what feeds his god complex. In the end, it's just you and him against the world.

He's out his head, I'm out my mind We got that love, the crazy kind I am his, and he is mine In the end, it's him and I, him and I

You both are equally crazy, loving each other to bits and not caring about the consequences, here and now is the only thing that matters. You belong to him, and he belongs to you.

My '65 speeding up the PCH, a hell of a ride They don't wanna see us make it, they just wanna divide 2017 Bonnie and Clyde Wouldn't see the point of living on if one of us died, yeah

You'd look like a pair of gods descended straight from the Olympus while driving around in Eren's car, or a more likely comparison, like Bonnie and Clyde, followed by jealous glances, trampling right on them with no care whatsoever. You two are like one, single being, not being able to function without the other.

Got that kind of style everybody try to rip off YSL dress under when she takes the mink off Silk on her body, pull it down and watch it slip off Ever catch me cheating, she would try to cut my ...

You weren't exactly matching in style, but definitely completed each other: leather, spikes, dark red lipstick, black nail polish, fishnets, cigarettes, a few piercings, all paired with your skimpy silk dresses that Eren saw only as a piece of clothing for him to rip off of you. Sure, he sometimes admires other girls with short dresses, but he knows better than to stare too long.

Crazy, but I love her, I could never run from her Hit it, no rubber never would let no one touch her Swear we drive each other, mad, she be so stubborn But, what the fuck is love with no pain, no suffer

Even though Eren sometimes acts like you're just a bimbo, he'd do anything for you. Anything. He doesn't let any other guy to stare at you for too long, not to mention touch (god forbid). He always plunges into you raw, wanting to have the most of being able to feel you. And even though you're so stubborn and he's so hot-headed, it's absolutely worth it. You wouldn't want it any other way.

Intense, this shit, it gets dense She knows when I'm out of it like she could just sense If I had a million dollars or was down to ten cents She'd be down for whatever, never gotta convince (you know?)

Sometimes everything gets so intense or sometimes one of you gets into trouble, but you're able to feel that about each other: if one bumps his head, the other feels it, you're connected. No matter what state one of you would be in, the other would never leave, always going down with whatever the plan is.

It's her and I, mobbin' 'til the end of time Only one who gets me, I'm a crazy fuckin' Aries Remember this for when I die Everybody dressed in all black, suits and a tie

Eren needs no one, but you. You're the only one who understands him and the only one who would go to the very end with him, until death does you part.

My funeral will be lit if I- Ever go down or get caught, or they identify My bitch was the most solid, nothing to solidify She would never cheat, you'd never see her with a different guy Ever tell you different, then it's a lie

Sometimes Eren gets down to some pretty questionable stuff, but you'de never rat him out, never. Not even if they'd torture you with all the elements of the Earth. You're as hard as rock and would never do anything to compromise your lover. Everyone else seem as bland as dust compared to Eren.

See, that's my down bitch, see that's my soldier She keeps that thang-thang if anyone goes there Calm and collected, she keeps her composure And she gon' ride for me until this thing over

Even though you two bicker pretty often, you'll always stand by him, no matter what he does and no matter what everyone else try to do to you. Till the end of time.

We do drugs together (together), fuck up clubs together (together) And we'd both go crazy (crazy) if we was to sever You know? We keep mobbin', it's just me and my bitch Fuck the world, we just gon' keep getting rich, you know?

You two get lost together in drugs, wandering in the plains of shared, unexplored psyches, hand in hand, moving along to the soft, tantric rhythms of the clubs you frequent. It's just you and him, against the whole universe. Just you and him.

[captainkurosolaire]

Prompt #6 ~ Black Miracle

♫Shattered♫

During an oppressive era when the imperial yoke held its foot on the throat of the peaceful Nation of Doma. Hopelessness became wide-spread as freedom was being rampantly overtaken. When cries were met in a desist void, left without reply, absent. What brought defeat to dozens of soul's. Eventually, in the space of nothing, things may find a beginning. A resistance for the grievers was being made within the shadow being collected in a pot of fortune wishes to see fulfilled. A singular trench-coat figure emerged before a daring Base of imperialism. Old Hingan parchment gave a contracted mission to rescue captives being torn up between a split hand, it meant now would be successful, or his death. He stood over peaks as the moon descended to be his accomplice. Applying a blindfold over his eyelids, then a mask following. His emotions were slain, zero attachment could sway what came. Enhanced Miqo'te other senses would carry. A voice of muffled companion and Fae served to be his windowed eyesight who's vision could see through with aetherical lens registering fluxes. He backwardly free-fell from his ledge, fused firecrackers went off startling an influx of outdoor bonfire imperialists. He grappled-hooked below and hid within a blend of trees his composure became the environment. As their footsteps heard checking out. One of them remained.

From afar. He slunk down and followed their masking steps with his own remaining concealed. A mildly-drunken imperial looking through binocular lens modified to see and read aetheric signatures. Zooming in at the ledge and seeing his comrades before the unexpected shadow rose up. Before his throat made a sound it was expertly exorcised with a jabbing puncture to his vital. Slinking and falling. The contractor caught him and slunk him in a hunched over position and strung up a trap. Quickly using nearly invisible fiber wires to create a ventriloquism that would see the fallen be clutching a bowl of the soup they were eating under the bonfire. He sprinkled a vial of special spice to mix with before leaping off. They returned barely in a distant room as small-party. A trick to fighting overwhelming odds and numbers was competing with patience. The masked assassin wore them out as they returned still a bit alert and suspicious. One of them returned to their famish as they were met consuming the new spice. At the same time one was questionably alarmed by their companion who seemed asleep. As they attempted to grab their soldier's shoulder, a response was moved by the puppeteer shoving the spoon's tip end to the throat with brutal force. A sword lightly unsheathed from the assassin's scabbard as he cleaved through the string attachment's and as the last duo who watched horrifying simultaneously three death's occur before them in counting while the one who ate through up their organs. From a deadly plant they often liked to trample over during their uncaring of Othard and the East, they were being massacred by choices. Before one hoisted their gun arm's it was severed with a clean cut. As the other drew and was able to go for the shot, he grab the back of the imperial head of their companion and used them as a shield and quickly kneed him spine-forward, the dismembered of blood sprayed, painting over his mask, no emotions were given for their pleas, after-all they showed no courtesy to those who employed him. Abducting, experimenting, doing whatever they wanted because they possessed numbers. He dashingly charged with the meat-shield and brought his sword through two hearts in one, lunging puncture. As effortless as breathing in fluidly. They mass murdered in hope, destroying or making the will to live be questioned. Didn't even come close to the amount of kills he racked up through their forces. His sword carried no self-emotion, it struck on its own from multiple benefactors. He was a conduit, avatar of their self dismay; a death dealer. As he silenced them and swiped the messy splat of sanguine ichor from his katana's steel. The resistance was only starting. Voice's once left gone, would be revitalized and scream this invasion to cease. All within due. Nothing's shadow begins light's everything.

[dirty-holy-things]

The Space Between (your heart & mine)

Chapter 20 has been posted to Ao3, and below to Tumblr.

Catch up on chapters 1-19 on Ao3.

Notes: This fic is exclusively 18+ and explicit. This chapter includes references to, and descriptions of, abuse from a parent. It is no more extreme or explicit than any other chapters, but please exercise caution.

Words: 5.2k update, 98.1k total.

If you would like to be added to my taglist for updates on this project and / or others, please fill out this form!

You pushed yourself up from the bunk, feeling the woolen blanket scratching against you as your body shifted. Your legs wobbled unsteadily at your weight, having grown accustomed to the comfort of the bed; but you straightened your spine as you crossed the cabin of the ship to the man you loved, the man who was still avoiding your gaze. The floor was freezing cold against your bare feet, but the chill only made you more alert and aware of your body and the space around you. Each step felt progressively more confident than the last, until you were standing mere inches away from him. He continued to gaze above and away from you, not affording you the illusion of eye contact through the blackness of his visor, but you were undeterred. You loved him, and you had hurt him, and you wanted to make things right.

You extended your arms slowly, just as you had many nights ago, on your first night in the ship. You thought back to how you had once moved with such trepidation, such nervousness, wondering if he would allow you to show him kindness. He had chosen to let you hold him then, and you hoped that he would make that choice again; you hoped he would make that choice every day.

Your hands landed on his waist, and he didn’t retreat or push you away. You drew closer to him, your breaths staying focused and steady; and he allowed you to wrap your arms around him, moving underneath the beskar, as you needed to feel closer to him. You pulled his body into yours with a bit of force, and you could feel the exhale of his chest as he pressed into you. He didn’t pull away, just as he hadn’t pulled away that first night, and you were just as grateful now as you had been then.

"I think I could stand anything, any suffering, only to be able to say and to repeat to myself every moment, 'I exist.' In thousands of agonies - I exist. I'm tormented on the rack - but I exist! Though I sit alone in a pillar - I  exist! I see the sun, and if I don't see the sun, I know it's there. And there's a whole life in that, in knowing that the sun is there." - Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

You blinked your eyes, and as they opened to the sights around you, you came to the realization that you were sitting on a beach; coarse sand shifting against your body, a whipping breeze moving through your hair, and navy blue waves crashing against the shores, setting off a cascade of ivory foam that exploded around you like fireworks. Yes, you were unmistakably by an ocean. You weren’t sure how you had gotten here — wherever here was — so you looked around for any clues that you could find.

You were in the same clothes you had been in on Nevarro. They were dirty — was that sand, or dust? What were those dark stains?

Dragging your palms through the coarse grey sands beneath you, you discovered there was nothing within your immediate grasp that would offer any clues; but you could feel stinging pinpricks across your body as the salty air blew against you. Looking around, your head swiveling, there was a sharp ache in your neck — but you pushed that pain away, needing focus on finding something that would give you some insight about where you were and what was happening.

Looking onwards, you saw that there were fearsome navy storm clouds rapidly approaching the shoreline you were seated at, and your eyes scanned the horizon nervously; you anxiously listened as the waves roared, almost like you had heard Din roar many times before.

Din.

Where was Din?

Your curiosity and worry was momentarily diminished as you felt something unexpected and wet fall against your warm cheek. Looking up, you understood that you were not crying, that the wetness on your face was not of your own doing. The roiling, dark clouds above you had now unleashed their freezing torrent, and the raindrops fell onto you with a steadily growing frequency that threatened to soak you through to the core within minutes.

You pushed yourself up from the sandy beach, brushing your stinging palm onto your pants to try and clean them off, before turning to try and find something in this unfamiliar landscape around you that may offer shelter. You had weathered many a storm, and knew of the aching cold that it would bring to those who were left exposed.

The landscape turned out to be not entirely unfamiliar — there were certainly many things out of place, but simultaneously recognizable in an irrefutable way. In the distance, through the fog of the rain, you could see what appeared to be your childhood home. The stone house was nothing spectacular or impressive, and it was quite small, but you would’ve recognized the pattern of those dark, moss-covered stones anywhere. You had spent many hours being forced to stare at the stone wall, after making the cat levitate, or talking to the pretty stranger woman in the marketplace who spoke a language that nobody else could understand. Somehow, you had come back to this place, to a home that was never really home.

As you shivered, the freezing rain running in rivulets down your body, you understood that you were being forced to make a choice. Sit here in the torrential downpour of rain, endure nature’s impersonal barrage; or seek shelter in the one place that had never truly been a shelter as it should have been.

You felt your heartbeat pick up speed with every fat raindrop that landed against you, their impact becoming steadily more and more forceful. Your thin jacket wasn’t holding up against the power of the storm, and with a shaking breath, you took a step towards the stone house. After all of these years, surely it was empty. Surely the inhabitants had changed, despite the resilience and timelessness of stone. This wasn’t really even your home planet — it was some amalgamation of memories and dreams from Eadu and Chandrila; it simply had to be.

The path to the house was a familiar one, although you knew that the home had never been close to an ocean — this absolutely must be some sort of dream, to bring together this combination of gorgeously torturous imagery — and as you drew closer towards the door with every step, you said a quiet prayer to whatever gods or Force that may accompany you, that the house from your memories would be empty. Your hand connected with the weathered and damp grey wood of the door, and you pushed your whole body weight against it, recalling how the door always stuck against the frame whenever it rained — which was often.

The door gave way as a particularly strong gust of wind blew against you, and you tumbled into an achingly familiar scene. The hearth across the room held a dying fire and red-black coals; the cots positioned around it were covered in the same green and grey blankets you had once wrapped yourself in; and the chest full of family valuables and heirlooms was tucked away in the corner, protecting the assorted quilts, books, and ceramic items that had been collected and protected throughout the years.

A sense of unease and comfort settled upon you simultaneously, almost as if the weight of a still-damp blanket had beed draped across your shoulders. Heavy, possibly well intentioned, and yet still unwanted.

It seemed to be blessedly empty, this memory of the house you had once known, and you were exceptionally grateful for that. The thought of a reunion with anyone from your past life, whether you were dreaming or awake, made your stomach clench in fear. Stepping through the entryway of the small house, you saw your father’s coat hanging by the door; it was weatherproof, as he worked endless hours on this rainy, desolate planet, and you were certain that if you were to pick it up it would still smell like him. Strong soap, a hint of tobacco, and an earthiness that could never be scrubbed out of the fibers, or the soul.

This isn’t real, you reminded yourself. This scene wasn’t really real, but the sensations felt as though they were, so you forced yourself to reach out for the jacket that would offer you warmth and protection from the storm. You felt tears prick your eyes as you shrugged the oversized coat onto your small frame; it was exactly as you had remembered it; and somehow it almost felt as though it were still warm. Retreating further into its protection and coverage, you stepped back out into the storm that was bettering the coast; your previous worlds of Eadu and Chandrila merging into one.

As you surveyed this unnatural scene, continually trying to rationalize and remind yourself it was a dream, you saw a familiar glint of silver — a glint of beskar. A scream tore itself from your throat as you bounced on your tiptoes, trying desperately to catch Din’s attention through the swirling debris that the powerful winds had whipped up. You could just barely see the thin line of the visor turn in your direction before your attention then turned to the small green toddler that was clambering across the sand dunes, the duo making their way towards you through the ceaseless rain.

You felt your heart leap at the sight of these two, the odd duo that you had come to love more than anything in this galaxy. You tried to run towards them, but as your muscles strained you felt as if there were an impossibly heavy weight cemented to you, holding you back from reconnecting with your true family. You fought harder and harder against the weights that held you down — and as your body fought back against this unseen power, you watched as Din and Grogu somehow begin to move even further away from you.

Arms reaching out desperately, you cried and clambered your way towards them, but for every step you took, you were dragged back threefold. Your muscles screamed in agony and exhaustion, your throat was raw from screaming their names — and yet they were still receding into the horizon, bodies eventually disappearing entirely behind the grey dunes and their grasses. This was a dream, but watching your family disappear could only be described as a nightmare.

And then out of nowhere, as you cried out for your companions, a wrinkled hand came swinging towards you at full force, landing across your face with a startlingly familiar impact that stung and smarted in a way that you hadn’t experienced in years. And yet, despite the respite from violence that Din had given you, you would’ve recognized those hateful hands anywhere.

You looked up into the aging face of your mother, hateful and wild, terror in her eyes — it held the same look that you had seen on the day you had run away; and your heart seized up in a paralyzing mix of fear and sadness, the same way it had the last time that you had seen her. All these years later, and you would still run from your mother. For all the growth, all the talents, all the forgiveness, all the skills you had developed — the instinct that had been beaten into you won out, and you felt adrenaline course through your bloodstream like gasoline to a fire, telling you to run like hell as you had once before.

As the fear and grief churned within you, the storm around you began to worsen as well. The crests of the waves grew taller, crashing with increasing ferocity; the stinging rain was now mixed with hail that threatened to break skin; and the winds that whipped around you threatened to knock you clear off of your feet.

“Well would you look at that,” your mother hissed, stepping away from you. “Ever the disaster, even now. All you bring is destruction!”

You shook your head, knowing this was a dream, knowing that what she said wasn’t true. This wasn’t real, this wasn’t right. You were only dreaming — you were really at home in the ship, wrapped securely in Din’s arms. This too will pass, you reminded yourself.

Though you knew it was only a dream, you wondered why did the sands and her words still sting, as the wind blew them into you? How could it still burn, knowing that no true pain was inflicted upon you?

Your mother looked towards the same horizon that Din and Grogu had disappeared behind, and you followed her gaze. “And of course, you’ve run off with whatever man gives you the slightest bit of attention — you clearly haven’t learned your lesson, stupid girl — wonder how long it’ll be before he has to start beating you like Orron did. Like I did.”

Her impossibly cruel and hateful words hit you with a breathtaking force, and you felt a concerningly familiar hatred and anger boiling within you, just as it had when you killed Bragant. Yes, you had killed Bragant — that truth could not be denied. You panicked at this sudden surge in emotions — you needed to control this, you needed to be in control, you didn’t want to lose yourself to that terrifying, encompassing darkness ever again —

And the very world around you began to violently shake as you fought back against the darkness, as you fought back against that thick, black, boiling hatred — you threw every ounce of yourself into pushing it away, wrenching your eyes shut in concentration, shutting out the painful image of your mother and her stinging, cruel hands. This evil, choking darkness felt as heavy and overwhelming as it had on Nevarro, but this time you fought it just as hard as you had fought for Din’s life on Bardotta. You were not going to let it win, you were not going to let it overtake you and drown out the humanity and love that you had so carefully cultivated. You could feel yourself screaming though the unyielding pressure and weight of the darkness, but as you clung to the smallest thread of light, you felt the vitriol and violence slowly begin to recede.

And then you saw Din and Grogu, reappearing on the storming horizon, fighting to cross over the shifting grey dunes to you.

They had fought to come back to you, despite the hurricane that you had created here.

Somewhere deep down inside, you had truly come to believe in their love and their dedication to you; and you had let go of the ideas of your mother, that you were nothing more than a source of pain and destruction. These two were living proof that you were capable of good things, that you were worthy of being loved, that you were capable of creating love and light, and growing something worth fighting for.

The thunder and crashing waves began to quiet, as the hint of a smile quirked your lips upwards. Your mother continued to stare in horror and disgust; you saw her mouth moving with hateful words, but you could no longer hear her voice. The torrential rain slowed around you, until it was barely a mist that settled across the landscape before you, and you felt the weight that had held you frozen in place slowly begin to lift. You stepped forward tentatively, your gaze moving past your still-screaming mother, to rest on the two that were now climbing down the last grey, rain-spattered dune.

You continued to step forward with rapidly growing confidence, until you were running at a breakneck pace, leaving your old cobblestone home behind — your heart was moving at lightspeed as you approached Din and Grogu, and as you came closer, you practically launched yourself into Din’s arms, colliding with the ice cold beskar with no regard for the bruises it would inadvertently press into your skin. As you wrapped your body around his, tears streaming down your face, the two of you somehow slipped — bodies tumbling, you landed on top of him in the sand, a laugh coming up from your chest to join the tears that had been brought to the surface.

You pressed your face into the cool beskar breastplate, your chest heaving with emotion; something was pressing into your arm, and you looked up to see that Grogu had climbed up onto the tangled pile of limbs, coming to rest between you, and he was making happy gurgling sounds that warmed your heart. This was your true family, these were the ones that you loved unconditionally, the ones that loved you back just the same.

The sound of the waves eventually disappeared, a silence settling around you; the winds slowly ceased to blow, and the sand that the three of you laid on disappeared beneath you, as the scene around you was wiped away and replaced with the scene of your true home — the Razor Crest.

***

You felt two strong and familiar hands on your shoulders, their grip insistent as they shook you from your sleep, as they shook off the dream that you had found yourself in just moments ago. Your eyes opened slowly, working to focus on the thin black visor that was in front of you — but something prevented you from focusing fully, and as you continued to blink you felt tears escaping from your eyes, rolling hotly down your cheeks. Your eyes flitted back and forth across the visor, as if you could see anything behind it, and you touched a shaking hand to your warm and swollen face that was covered with the dampness of tears. You must’ve been crying.

Din pulled you in close to him, sitting you up in the small bunk as your frame rested against his chest; he ran his hands through your hair, breathing deeply as he held onto you. “Are you alright? You were — you were crying, in your sleep. I couldn’t get you to wake up from it.” He sounded breathless, worried, nervous.

You nodded, your cheek brushing against the side of his freezing helmet as you worked to quiet the whimpering that was coming forth from you, and steady your shaking breaths. “It was just a dream,” you whispered, distantly recalling the storm that you had fought back against.

Din remained quiet as he continued to hold onto you; after all of the turmoil and upheaval of the past ... however many days, the two of you clung to each other even tighter, having experienced a taste of the devastation and terror that would accompany any separation.

Your breaths and heart rate slowed and became more steady; the ship was just as it had been before you and Din had fallen asleep against one another. You were safe, you were home. You pulled away from him slightly, wanting to reassure him that everything was alright. Your hand rose from your side to rest against the sharply angled beskar helmet. “I’m okay, Din, I promise. It was just a...”

Your voice faded off as you saw the utility jacket that dwarfed you. Your eyes widened in incredulity as you slowly extended your arms in front of you, seeing the sturdy weatherproof material move as your body moved within it.

“Just a dream,” you whispered, not wanting to scare Din, or have to try and explain something that you had no explanation for. You would address this new mystery at another time. You pushed this newfound mystery and worry to the side, focusing on the man in front of you who had remained by your side through all of the chaos.

Chaos, that could not remain unspoken. “Din,” you started, shifting to face him better. “I know what happened... with Bragant.”

His sigh crackled through the modulator as he moved to bring you back into his chest, but you resisted. The truth of this couldn’t be denied any longer, and you would have to confront this reality and assess how it would affect your future.

“Bragant was a bounty. He was a criminal. You won’t be in any... trouble, for what happened. Karga offered to... pay. If you want.”

You inhaled deeply, trying to wrap your mind around this information, trying to wrap your mind around everything that felt both insurmountable and invisible at the same time. “I hadn’t — hadn’t even thought about any legal consequences.”

“The Marshall assured me that you wouldn’t face any.”

You nodded, feeling grateful that this piece had been resolved before you even had time to worry about it. “It’s not only that, Din — when I was there, in that alley — he said things to me, awful things,” you paused, as you noticed your voice was shaking, and you fought back against the tears that rushed to your eyes and the heat that was rising in your throat. “When he said those things, I got... I got so angry. Angrier than I had ever been, angrier than I ever knew I could get. And I... I lost control.”

“You defended yourself against a violent criminal.” Din’s voice droned through the modulator. He was stating a fact, but this fact didn’t cover the whole truth of the matter. There was more to it than he wanted to acknowledge, but you had to.

“Din,” you spoke up, your voice holding an insistent edge that quieted the protests of the historically stubborn man. “Din, I killed someone. When I didn’t mean to. I lost control, back there, in that alley — I understand that killing may not seem significant to you, but it does to me, that was a lifethat I took —“

Din pulled away from you abruptly, a bit harshly. “You think that killing others doesn’t affect me? Is that what you really think of me?” His voice was louder than you had ever heard it before, and it cracked with strain and frustration; you could hear the hurt through the modulator. “Do you think that I enjoy it, like some sadistic bastard? Do you think that I don’t carry the weight of every single life I’ve ended?”

You cowed at his brazen display of pain and frustration, and an instinctual part of yourself pulled away from him, your legs and arms retracting inwards to protect yourself. You felt a hot wave of tears crashing into you, and you buried your head in the crook of your elbow, not wanting to upset him, not wanting to make this worse than it had to be.

“No, Din, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” You whispered, your voice breaking; you weren’t sure if he even heard you as your face was hidden from view, buried within your arms. You screwed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for whatever fury may follow.

It stayed silent for several moments, the tension and emotion rolling thickly off of the both of you; the air felt heavier, and each breath required more effort to draw the weighted air into your lungs. As you slowly came to the realization that nothing horrible was going to happen, came to the realization that Din was nothing like the ones who had come before, you lifted your head up from your arms to confront this emotional scene... but without violence. You had never experienced conflict without violence before; you didn’t know how to handle it, but you knew that you loved Din and trusted him.

He was now standing in the cabin rather than seated directly next to you; his body was facing yours, and yet his head was turned away. This was an intentional choice on his part; his body language spoke volumes, and he knew that every inch of positioning was intentional. And despite all of the beskar, despite all of the weapons, and despite all of the mental walls that he threw up against you — you could still feel how your careless words had cut him deeply. You had hurt Din, and you had to confront that. You had to acknowledge that, and work towards repairing this.

You pushed yourself up from the bunk, feeling the woolen blanket scratching against you as your body shifted. Your legs wobbled unsteadily at your weight, having grown accustomed to the comfort of the bed; but you straightened your spine as you crossed the cabin of the ship to the man you loved, the man who was still avoiding your gaze. The floor was freezing cold against your bare feet, but the chill only made you more alert and aware of your body and the space around you. Each step felt progressively more confident than the last, until you were standing mere inches away from him. He continued to gaze above and away from you, not affording you the illusion of eye contact through the blackness of his visor, but you were undeterred. You loved him, and you had hurt him, and you wanted to make things right.

You extended your arms slowly, just as you had many nights ago, on your first night in the ship. You thought back to how you had once moved with such trepidation, such nervousness, wondering if he would allow you to show him kindness. He had chosen to let you hold him then, and you hoped that he would make that choice again; you hoped he would make that choice every day.

Your hands landed on his waist, and he didn’t retreat or push you away. You drew closer to him, your breaths staying focused and steady; and he allowed you to wrap your arms around him, moving underneath the beskar, as you needed to feel closer to him. You pulled his body into yours with a bit of force, and you could feel the exhale of his chest as he pressed into you. He didn’t pull away, just as he hadn’t pulled away that first night, and you were just as grateful now as you had been then.

As you rested your head against the unyielding, cold steel of his breastplate, you pressed your hands even deeper into him, trying to convey all of your love and sorrow through touch alone; you hated that you hurt him, that you ever caused him a single moment of doubt. “Din, I’m so sorry,” you sighed. “I was — I wasn’t thinking, when I said what I said before. It was crass, and careless, and completely untrue. You’re a good man, Din Djarin. The best man I’ve ever known, and I’ve never even for a moment thought you were anything less than that.”

“Your measure for good men is concerning.”

You couldn’t tell through the warping of the modulator if he was being sarcastic, and making a joke; or if he was still smarting from your earlier words.

You pursed your lips, nodding against him. “You’re right. My gauge for a moral compass is a bit broken, a bit biased. But you have been the brightest spot in my life, the brightest star in my sky, and I want you to know that I think you are a better man than you give yourself credit for.”

You could sense a change in the beat of his heart, could hear it echoing against the beskar you were resting against. His posture shifted as his arms came to wrap themselves around you, drawing you into the familiar lines and curves of his body. You sighed in relief, melting into him, trusting that he had accepted your apology and forgiven you.

“I love you,” he whispered, so quietly that the modulator only barely altered the true sound of his voice. “I know that... what happened, was hard for you. You’re sweet, and kind, and that’s... one of the many things I love about you.” He was quiet for a moment as he pulled you in tighter, nearly lifting your now-freezing feet off of the ground. “I want to do whatever I can to help you.”

You nodded against him, a few tears escaping as you knew that you had his understanding and his support; and that was all you needed to trust that you would be able to navigate this uncharted territory together. You weren’t alone in this; you had Din and Grogu, and the three of you would find your way through this new challenge, as you had found your way through many before. You pulled away from his strong grasp, trying to gaze into the black and blank visor, needing at least some illusion of contact and connection. “I just... Din, I don’t know where to go from here. I’ve read books from at least 10 different planets, from 100 different cultures, and I haven’t got a single clue about how to manage this or what I can do to be better.”

Din stayed silent, as he often did, but you could feel the way that his fingers pressed more deeply into your body, imparting a sort of comfort that only he could give. You could feel his concentration as he contemplated what to say next; he had never been rash or rushed with his words, and it was one of the many things that you loved and appreciated about him.

“When I was traveling with Grogu, we crossed paths with a… Jedi. Ahsoka Tano.” Din paused, understanding the weight of the information that he was sharing with you. “She... said she couldn’t train Grogu, because he was too attached to me.”

Your lips quirked up in a smile, a small laugh coming from your chest. “She wouldn’t want anything to do with me, then.”

You heard Din chuckle quietly, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you as you knew he was not holding any grudges. “No, she wouldn’t train you either. But she told me that there is a planet, that has a... rock, that is important to the Force. Or to the Jedi. She said that by sitting on it, Grogu may be able to connect with other Jedi in the galaxy.”

An eyebrow raised up in suspicion at the story he shared. “Sitting on a rock will help us find another Jedi?”

Din shrugged, and you could imagine a clueless and befuddled look existed behind the beskar. “I don’t know. All of that magic — sorry, Force — stuff seems impossible to me. And yet I’ve seen it.” He gently tucked away the strands of hair that had fallen into your face, his hand coming to rest at your chin, lifting your gaze back to his anonymous one. “It seems too simple, just going to this rock — but it may be the best option we have.”

You nodded, resting your head in his large hand, enjoying the warmth of the contact. “I want to talk to Grogu first, though. I want to make sure this is something he wants too.”

Din nodded in understanding. “I’ll give you some space to clean up, and then we can meet Karga and the Marshall in town. They’ve been looking after the kid. We can talk about the bounty pay, and then set a course for Tython.”

You reached up to squeeze his gloved hand gently before turning to retreat to the fresher, to try and wash away some of the stress and the pain of the past several days. Your head felt as though it was swimming, or spinning, or both, with all of the upheaval that you had experienced; and as you shrugged yourself out of the weathered, industrial jacket that had somehow made its way onto your frame, you felt even more disoriented. You gripped the edge of the steel sink tightly, taking deep and slow breaths until you felt steady enough on your feet to turn on the water of the shower. You shrugged out of the rest of your clothes, your muscles still aching with exhaustion.

The blistering hot water rolled down your skin, and you worked to clear your mind and return to the meditative state that Ixxith had once taught you. Your body went through the motions of cleaning, your mind going peacefully blank and quiet. You couldn’t solve any of your problems or overcome the complexities while in the shower; so you saved that stress for another, more appropriate time.

When you had finally scrubbed away the last of the grit and grime that clung to you, feeling like a new and whole person, you dressed yourself and met Din outside of the ship that you had been encapsulated and recovering in for days. The sunlight felt harsh on your skin, but you welcomed the sensation that you had gone so long without. Stretching your limbs out into the open air, you smiled confidently over at Din, hoping that the confidence and bravado that you projected would eventually sink in and become more real.

He placed his gloved hand onto the small of your back, and you could feel the pads of his fingers pressing into the vertebrae of your spine, holding you up and encouraging you forward, just as he had so many times before. It was a quiet kind of support, but the weighted silence and intentional touches spoke more than any texts or volumes could, and his love and confidence made you stronger and more empowered than any Force training could.

Whatever happened next, on Nevarro, on Tython, on any other far-fetched planet in this galaxy, you knew without a doubt that you would face it together. You would face it with the kind of love that could only have grown in the quiet places of the ship, in the cold of hyperspace, between those who had been denied love and yet held an extraordinary capacity for it.

Taglist: @knivesareout @tanzthompson @stageleftlauren @greatcircle79 @bdavishiddlesbatch

[lassluna]

CS January Joy Day 31: A Happy Ending (well, that depends on where you stop the story)

Emma Swan was a criminal. A thief. A forger sentenced to four years for bond forgery. Killian Jones was the agent sent to catch her. And catch her he did, but after an escape attempt, an exploded PO Box and a deal an unusual partnership is formed, one that will give them both all that they ever wanted or lead to mutual destruction. White Collar AU

Ao3 FFN

AN:I am very thankful to @csjanuaryjoy​ for finally getting me to write this. It's been a wild year and hopefully this next one will bring a bit more joy. Thank you @teamhook​ and @ultraluckycatnd​ for beta reading for me. 

“How did it start?”

It started like most stories if she’s being honest, which she rarely is. 

 It started with a stolen car, stolen watches, so much stealing, so much theft, so many lies that she had forgotten where Emma, the lost orphan girl, ended and where ‘The Swan’, grifter, forger, liar, thief began. Her reputation grew, as did her steady collection of wealth.

It started with a boy and a girl, lost and alone and unwanted in the world and turned into some wannabe Bonnie and Clyde duo who just wanted to be seen, to be heard, and to take back what the world took for them.

They lied, cheated, and stole for the sake of it. And they were good at it. There’s something about being alone and unwanted that just made it easier to pretend. Sometimes a lawyer, other times a high profile gambler rubbing elbows with mobsters and politicians alike. One time she pretended to be Leila Lucas, princess of a far off land in order to get close to some crown jewels. They pretended that these lives, these rich, luxurious important lives were theirs. They pretended that they deserved these things because they could take them. 

And take them they did. The car, the watches, the bonds, the jewels, the paintings, they took them all. 

Emma loved the paintings, the art, the beauty. She loved looking at things that gave people feelings. It made her feel a little less alone.

Neal loved the money, the thrill, the ways the world bent to their will, the way it rushed through their veins. 

It started with young love. It started good, and they were happy.

//

“How did it end?”

It ended like most stories, or at least it seemed like that to him. 

He was a simple FBI agent, chasing her, tracking her, trying to prove to the world the crimes she commited. Part of him always thought that was what she’d wanted. She wanted her crimes to be seen, noticed. She wanted to be known, not disappear into the shadows.

He understood that, he was trying to prove himself too. Killian was a good FBI agent with a shitty childhood and an even worse family history. But he wanted to be great. He wanted to escape the shadows and prove that he was better than those who came before.

He just wanted to do his job. He wanted to catch her. He wanted to catch 'The Swan'. He spent years hunting her. He was supposed to be just one more FBI agent who tried to catch a break and then went on to the easier, flasher cases. 

But not Killian. He had no intention of giving up. Because The Swan was special. She was as elusive as they come, never staying in one place too long, always running, running, running.

There were two of them he knew, but it was always her. She was the one planning things out, making the big moves, making the forgeries, being seen. Never him. He knew that once they got her, his crime spree would end. She was the one that they had proof for. She was the brains and the brawns behind their every operation.  

But the problem was that as the years went by, as he got closer to catching her, he learned a lot about Swan. He learned how she likes her hot chocolate: with cinnamon. He learned she also had a shitty childhood; an orphan at birth, bounced around to one foster home after another. He learned she hated violence. Her jobs were smart and with little to no chance of anyone ever getting hurt. 

And she got to know him too, if the gifts and the birthday cards proved anything. ‘Know thy enemy’ as they say. But no one ever said to send your enemy flirty postcards, uber eat deliveries of your favorite take out places on stake outs, or gifts to your younger sister on her birthday.

He doesn’t remember when it happened, but they had an appreciation for each other. 

Smart, his little sister said once when he was home for a few days before he had to go back out to chase her. You always liked smart. 

It ended like most stories, a betrayal and a trap. He knew it was a trap and let her fall right into it. Neal Cassidy, her partner in crime traded away ‘The Swan’ like she was nothing. Honor among thieves seemed to have skipped him in that lesson.

The look on her face when she was caught, trapped, was painful to him. Her eyes were green fury as the truth became obvious to her. Her eyes looked at Neal who was leaving out the back, and then on him.

"It's about time we met properly," he told her as the uniform officer arrested her. “Agent Jones of the New York FBI White Collar division.” She didn't respond to him. He never expected her to. 

It ended with a defeated bird who flew too close to the sun. 

// 

“Then what happened?”

Then began nearly four years later with Killian Jones, being pulled away from his current case for a jailbreak. ‘The Swan’ had escaped 3 weeks short of her 4 year sentence. It had been years since he even heard her name. Her capture had been his shining moment, it had made his career.

 Her escape had been flawless. Her long hair, chopped off, a guard uniform ordered with the warden’s own credit card. 

She was in the wind with no hope of being found.

“Road blocks, wanted posters, people posted at the train stations and airports,” the marshals told him, but Killian knew her, knew Emma. 

They wouldn’t catch her with the traditional methods. 

She didn’t escape for the traditional reasons. 

She had been a model prisoner, kept her head down and out of trouble, so why leave now? It had taken months of planning. So he went back, when did she start planning her escape? When did things change? 

She got visits from him, from Neal. The vile excuse of a man who got her caught in the first place. He knew better than to judge someone for going back to familiar patterns. Especially trapped in prison. 

But his visits stopped nearly a month ago. The man went from visiting weekly with a smile and a magazine to nothing.

So Killian looked at that tape, the final visit from the conman who got away with it. He wasn't surprised by what he saw. His last visit was final. He had all the body language of it. A pained smile, looking shifty and nervous. Emma had stood, slamming her fist on the glass; he'd seen tears on her cheeks when the guards dragged her back, back towards her cell. She’d screamed and pleaded.

But Neal left anyway.

“Ariel,” he said to the younger agent. She was a bright new recruit, his favorite of the probies. “Get me anything you have on Neal Cassidy and all his known aliases.” Ariel was very good at finding exactly what he needed in moments like this. A cold blooded shark in a sea of misinformation.  

 They find her in an empty apartment, cradling a dreamcatcher in her hand. She looks the same as the last time he’d seen her. Heartbroken. They were in Neal's apartment. The one he rented a few weeks after her trial. 

(Killian remembered seeing him there, full of sorries and excuses. Word on the street was that no one wanted to work with him after that. Honor among thieves was apparently much more important than the man thought.)

“How many are here?” she asks as he enters. Her back towards a pillar in the middle of the room.

“Between the FBI, the Marshals, NYPD...everyone,” he chuckled. He’d told them they hadn’t needed to corner off the streets like this. Emma had never been violent. “They’re going to give you another four years for this, you know that right?”

Emma laughed a humorless laugh. “I was two days late,” she admits, obviously not caring one bit about what he said.

“And that’s all he left you?”

“It means goodbye,” Emma admitted. He gave her a small smile, knowing nothing he can say will help. “I can’t believe they dragged you here for this after all this time.” He wasn’t that surprised. Catching her the first time had been his defining moment; if he failed the second time, they could write it off as a fluke. 

“It’s been a long time, Swan.” She smirked at the name. “But can’t blame them. I was the only one who caught you, none of the others even got close.” She looked at him quizzically. 

He was dusty, fresh from an exploded PO box that his latest case--nicknamed The Dutchman-- had left specifically for him. There were strange threads left on his clothing that none of the Harvard grad FBI agents could tell him anything about. It was something that had agitated him greatly before he’d been pulled here, to find her. 

“This guy’s good,” he told her, watching her look him over. “Maybe even better than you. I’ve been hunting him for a few months now and-” She moved quickly, standing and plucking one of the threads off his jacket blazer. It shined strangely as it caught the light. Killian could hear the marshals, or maybe S.W.A.T. pounding through the doors a few floors beneath them.

“What’s it worth if I can tell you what this is?” she asked, handing it to him. 

“What-”

“I can tell you what these are right now in exchange,” she said quickly. He could practically see the thoughts and plans race in her mind. Time was running out.  “In exchange for a meeting,” she concluded.

“A meeting?” he asked.

“A meeting in one week. Deal?” she asked. They were coming. Killian nodded. Despite his misgivings, it was only a meeting.

“That’s the new security fiber to the Canadian $100 bill,” she said, just in time for the other agents to drag her away. Her smile is bright and mischievous as she refuses to break their gaze until the last possible moment. “I’ll see you in a week!” 

//

“And I was right. It was. According to Agent Jones, it nearly created an international incident.” 

“Did you catch him?”

“We did.” 

It hadn’t been easy, not for Emma now wearing an ankle monitor to keep her in check--a fact that made her insides squirm at the thought of being tethered-- where anything going bad meant she had to go back to prison with no hope of finding Neal.

It made her heart race in that familiar way of when she was a child and got placed. When one wrong move meant they'd send her back. 

“He did a good job disappearing,” Ruby told her in the shadows of Granny’s guest house. Because her friend knew that her first priority was finding Neal.

(She’d run into the old woman at a thrift store looking for some new clothes to wear after seeing the seedy motel Killian had tried to put her in. 

She’d met a kindred spirit in the older woman, a thief after her own heart so to speak. Emma would never forget the look on Killian’s face when he saw her new view. He’d turned to the older woman, “You know she has a criminal record right?” he’d asked her.

Granny had taken it in stride, leaning forward with a smirk. “So did my wife.” she said with a wink.)

"Keep looking, Ruby. I need to find him," she told her friend, her oldest friend. She’d been her partner in crime once, when working with Neal had come with extra stress and baggage. With Ruby things were simpler, easier. Ruby was in the information business. She knew what was being run and where. She knew all the local fences, all the local forgers. If Neal was in the city, Ruby would be able to find him. 

Ruby nodded, but she looked worried. She glanced at the anklet in apprehension. Then back at her. All the tell tale signs that Ruby wanted to say something but worried for her reaction. 

“You know you don’t need him right?” she blurted out. “You’re so much better than him Emma, more talent for this stuff in your pinky then he has in his whole body. He was nothing without you and everyone knew it,” she said, practically bristling with every word. “He betrayed you, why go through so much to find him?” Emma felt her fists clench, along with anger, fury, loss. 

Neal Cassidy was a loaded question where she didn’t have an answer. 

But she pushed it down. She pushed it down deep. A smile appeared on her face. There was so much. So much she didn’t know, so much no one knew. 

Emma couldn’t risk it.

“It’s complicated Ruby,” she said finally. “But in the meantime, what do you know about The Dutchman?”

It had been difficult, Emma had noticed a particular signature in some forged Canadian bond. It was one that Emma recognized. Lilly Prescott. She was a well known forger that was very good at staying well under the radar. The FBI had never even heard of her which was a testament to her ability. 

Emma had tried to work with her once. Her work was good and her planning was even better. But the woman couldn’t help but take things that didn’t belong to her, couldn’t help but press Emma’s buttons in all the worse ways.

It had taken seeing her tongue down Neal’s throat to learn two things: that they couldn’t work together and that it was time to grow up.

And grow up she did when they walked into a church Lilly had been restoring. The little wench had leered at her and Killian. “Emma Swan,” she’d said with a cheeky grin when she caught them comparing her work with that of the signature. “I don’t exactly feel comfortable having a known art thief around my work.” 

“Allegedly,” Emma corrected her. She’d never been caught for her art theft. A point of pride if she’s being honest. Just a few forged bonds.

She says glancing at Killian. “Who’s your friend.”

“Just a friend,” Killian assured Lilly as they shook hands.

“Emma doesn’t have any friends,” Lilly pointed out. “Unless you count Neal of course. But with friends like that, who needs enemies?” she laughed.

The name turned in her stomach, like something good that turned rotten, like a vice grip on her that she still couldn’t shake.

Not until she found him.

“Of course,” Killian agreed, glancing her way. I know she’s trying to get under your skin, his gaze told her as she pushed her walls firmer in place. If Killian could see that this woman could affect her, it worried her what else he could see.

“You wouldn’t know anything about a thief known as The Dutchman would you?” Emma asked innocently. Because if there was one thing Emma knew, it was that Lilly hated being outdone. “I hear his work is second only to...oh you know.” She smirked at her. “Allegedly of course.” 

“Of course,” Lilly said, an edge to her words. It’s all Emma needed to hear. Because she knows she did it. That’s what she tells Killian after they’re asked to leave the church.

“I know she did it Killian.” his hand on her arm halted her pacing. “Did you see the look on her face?”

He did, she knew he did. “I believe you Swan, but we need proof,” Killian insisted. “That’s how this works.”

Proof came with Emma breaking into Lily’s warehouse and Killian coming and arresting them both. She’d cut her anklet after all, seizing all Lily’s things that were in plain sight.

It turned out reading all those law books in prison counted for something. 

//

“And then your partnership was born.”

And it was good, if Killian was honest, it was better than he ever expected when Emma had proposed this deal. She showed up every day for work. She often showed up in ridiculously expensive suits with a fedora on her head. He’d groaned when he first saw it, earning an elbow in his side and a “You just don’t understand fashion.”

(Trouble, like the woman who occasionally gave Emma tips about the criminals they were hunting, the woman who introduced herself rather reluctantly as a Missy Wolfe when Killian had showed up unannounced, who looked him over with a predatory glare and called him a ‘suit’. 

“She doesn’t trust cops.” Emma had explained later. “She’s harmless, I promise.”

But she sure did know how to drink all Killian’s beer that’s for sure.)

Every day they would use her knowledge of the criminal underworld to find white collar criminals. After several weeks, they had a 92% closure rate and an even higher recovery rate.

But there was still this thing hanging above them. Between them. A secret they both knew about but refused to talk about.  

And his name was Neal Cassidy. 

Killian could tell she was looking for him no matter how many times he told her not to. Neal was her weakness, the one thing that caused the normally level headed woman to lose her bloody mind. This was a good thing for her. Emma Swan would rot behind bars and this way at least she was doing good. 

Emma Swan liked doing good. He could tell, even when she refused to admit it.

She brought him his picture one day while they’re on their way to speak to a witness, the picture was from an atm in Tallahassee. “Please.” She begged. “I need to find him, to see him. Come with me please, send an agent, the marshals, send me in full shackles and prison oranges I don’t care.” 

He had never seen her so desperate, not when he caught her, not when she asked him for this...arrangement. “Swan...what we have here...it’s good. It’s a second chance for you, why risk it for him? He put you here. Why risk it all for him?”

She didn’t respond, hands tightened into fists as she looked down. Killian swore he saw something in her expression something that would explain how this intelligent woman being so infatuated with-

“You’re right.” She says, her voice level. Eyes hard like steel. “There is no reason for me to be chasing Neal Cassidy.” She hissed the words.

Killian doesn’t have her super power, but he knows there’s more to the story than she’s letting on. “If there’s something you’re not telling me-” But she shook her head. 

“You said it’s not happening, and what does it matter what I want.” She says shifting on her feet, shifting the anklet like she always does when she feels particularly trapped. “I’m just your CI. A convict without a choice in any of this.” 

He stops her right there. “Swan, when have I ever treated you like you don’t have a choice in this? If you don’t like what we ask of you, if you think it’s too riky all you have to do is say the word and-”

“-And I go to prison.” She snapped. “I go back there and rot.” Her temper was flaring and Killian stepped back, fearing getting burned. 

“When have I ever threatened you with that?” He asked sincerely. “When have I ever told you that unless you go undercover with this mobster, or that corporate trader that you’d be shipped back?” He says. 

Emma doesn’t respond, head dipping slightly. “What about the other agents? That’s what they said would happen.” She admitted in a small voice. “And really, the jobs we do, they’re fine. I don’t feel endangered.” She assured him simply. 

“Emma, I swear to you, your safety and happiness is just as important as these jobs. You are not just a criminal.” He says sternly. He steps closer to her, wanting her to look at him and hear him. Seeing her cowed and unnerved unsettled him. “Try something new darling, it’s called trust.”

“Trust doesn’t exactly come easy to me.” Emma admitted. “There’s really no way I can get to Tallahassee?” She asked once more.

Killian sighed.

The moment they finished the job, he sent a message to Ariel. 

 “Get me anything you can on Neal Cassidy’s recent activity and do it discreetly.” He says. 

“Why?” She asked. It was why he valued the younger agent as much as he does, she knows when to put her head down and do as he asks, but she also knows when to press him for details.

“Emma’s not going to stop pursuing Neal.” He told her. “I want to know what she finds out, finding Neal ourselves is the best way to know what she’s up to.”  

She handed him a file on the man the next morning, a file Killian took back home with him at the end of the night. He couldn’t risk Emma catching him snooping on her ex. He felt silly hiding it, but the thought of her knowing he was doing so filled him with dread.

“Maybe you should tell her you’re jealous.” Belle informed him as she came home from class, seeing him consumed with the file at their kitchen table. His little sister always seemed to come home from her classes at just the right moment to see him when he’s consumed with a case. 

“I’m not jealous Belle.” He says quickly, closing the file. “I’m being thorough.”

He is. There was something there, his gut feels it. There’s something about this man that Emma was hiding from him. 

“After all the cat and mouse you’ve done with her, I bet she’d tell you if you asked.” Belle informs him. But Killian disagreed, he knows she won't be truthful with him if he asked. It’ll be an evasive answer framed to have him pointed in the opposite direction. It was how she worked while on the run. This is the only way. 

“How do you know?” Killian asked. “You’ve never even met her.” He reminded her. 

“And who’s fault is that?”

//

“Then the Diamond heist.”

“Then the Diamond heist”

It had happened quickly. A diamond heist that had been done with such perfection Emma was generally impressed. They had video surveillance in the vault and nowhere else. It was as if they just vanished, and considering that New York had extensive video surveillance it was impressive. 

It was a job she would do once upon a time. Just the kind of take that was exciting enough to catch her attention. But that was in the past. 

Emma was determined to keep her head down when it came to jobs. She had a bigger problem on her hands. Someone had Neal, or at least was putting pressure on him. He’d signaled her from an ATM camera in Tallahassee. 

Their plan had always been Tallahassee, a city in the middle of Florida of all places. No one would expect anyone who had stolen millions of dollars of artifacts to retire there of all places. It was perfect. They were going to have the life they always wanted growing up.

(It just so happened that Emma had told him that’s where she had her stash at. 

A lie. A trap. Bait he had fallen for now after all this time. Never once did he leave his apartment in New York, only now did that stone come loose. It had to mean something.)

But not everyone knew that Emma was done with that life. Not even her most trusted confidant --and partner in more than one crime--Ruby believed her.

“Of course I didn’t do it.” She’d hissed into the phone when the brunette asked her excitedly. “But do you know who did?”

“None of my contacts know anything, sorry Em. I’ll keep an ear out.” She answered. Emma can hear the sounds of birds on the other end. She knew better than to ask. “That’s why I thought it was you.”

It wasn’t long after that that the forged diamond is shown to have a small swan etched into it. One that matched the ones she left in her forged bonds. It became very clear very fast that she was being framed. 

“Killian, you need to know I didn’t do this.” She insisted, backing away from them in the parking lot after having been confronted. “You have to believe me.” Her eyes looked for him. She needed to know he believed her. 

It didn’t matter who else did, just him. Because if Killian didn’t have her back then who would?

“Killian?” She asked when he didn't meet her gaze. He did eventually. He looked saddened. “You know I was set up right?” 

Killian didn’t respond. It made her furious. It reminded her of the real situation here. She was just the criminal and he was just her handler. Any semblance of a partnership was just a figment of her imagination.

“Swan...” He said softly. “If what you’re saying is true, I swear to you I will get to the bottom of it.” I believe you. “But until then...Emma Swan you are under arrest...”

Back to prison. Back to the cell. Back to being helpless while Neal is off with-

She couldn’t go back. Not yet. Not when someone was trying to frame her. The same person who was holding Neal, she was sure of it.

So Emma did what she did best. She ran. 

She ran and ran and ran. She’d spent every day on her walks to the office coming up with escape routes through a city she knows too well. The agents depend too much on the anklet to catch her. 

The tracker is tamper proof but no one ever said it was foolproof. All it takes is a sharp knife and a toss over the edge of one of the many footbridges in Manhattan for it to be a useless blinking distraction. 

Every bone in her body tells her to run as fast and as far as she can. It wouldn’t take much to get out of the city, some cash from one of Ruby’s stashes and a visit to some supplies for a new ID. All she would have to do is say the word and Ruby would run with her. She was good like that, always ready to get into all sorts of trouble for her. 

But if she did, if she ran then she would be as good as guilty of this crime. She would never get a chance to prove her innocence. She would never get her chance to find Neal.

She had to find Neal. 

I believe you. Killian had tried to tell her that. Maybe it was time to try that thing called trust...

It’s how she meets Belle because while Killian is off coordinating with the Marshals, she’s drinking tea with the sweet brunette she had sent an 18th birthday gift to a few years back. 

Killian Jones’s little sister was as fierce as her brother. Belle asked her if she’d done the crime she’d been accused of.

No.

And she had leveled her with a steel glare. “Then Killian will prove it.” She’d said with such certainty, such conviction that she understood a bit about Killian’s stubbornness. It was genetic. “You just need to trust him.”

Emma did. Emma really did, more than she trusted anyone. He was honest, a good man. He was fierce keeping her out of the line of danger when at all possible and he cared for her. Moments like this reminded Emma of why everything had gone so wrong.

I’m tired of running.

“I’m going to call him.” Belle says, not a question. “If you don’t think you can, if you really think Killian won’t have your back after everything, you have until then to leave.” Emma doesn’t move. Not when Belle is talking to Killian about her classes, about having found a stray bird in their patio. (Code for her she assumes)

That’s when she sees the blinking in the cable box and she knows. She knows that this is all a lot bigger than the two of them.

Killian was positively furious when he arrived, all red faced and fuming. “Bloody hell Swan!” Killian hisses when he storms in. “Why did you come here?” Emma didn’t know, not really. Just an instinct and her instinct was telling her to come here. That he would know what to do. “If you were going to run, why come here?! You involved my sister!”

Emma swallows back her words, fear taking a hold in her chest.

“Killian. Give her a chance.” Belle said, taking a place inbetween. “Just listen.” He did.

“I’ve been tracking Neal.” Emma admitted. “Someone...someone has him.“ she takes out the photo she’d shown him. The whole photo, she had been too afraid to show it to him earlier, the hand on his arm, the shine of something pressed against his ribs. Something that looked very similar to a revolver. “They want something I stole but I can’t-I don’t know what it is. I had a friend of mine poke around and I think I got too close.” She explains. “Because they framed me. It has to be connected, Killian.” 

There was no other explanation, stirring this fight or flight instinct in her bones. But she has to hold firm, she has to trust in Killian. Because here she was, all her cards on the table. 

“Maybe, but this is not how to do things.” He says sternly. “Running isn’t going to get you anywhere but caught or-” Killian swallows back his words. “That marshal really has it in for you Swan.”

(The marshall in question was one Walshe Greene, appearing the moment they returned to the office wanting to speak to her about the fact that some of her anklet’s tracking data had gotten corrupted. 

Data that just so happened to coincide with the robbery. He’d been dickish and entitled, coming into her space when she didn’t crumble under his thinly veiled threats.

Threats she didn’t tell Killian about.) 

She pointed over to his deconstructed cable box. “Not just me.” She hissed his way. A bug was in his house, in his home. The home he shared with his sister. “Both of us.”

  She sees his barely concealed furry, the shock and fear on Belle’s face. “Whatever is coming, it’s coming for both of us.”

//

“She was cleared of that.”

“She was. Then you seemed to find her rather quickly, despite telling Marshal Greene that he would catch her with wanted posters and roadblocks.”

“I have exceptional luck.”

Things shifted from there. Instead of working this case on one end and Emma from another, Killian felt her walls fracture ever so slightly, and perhaps the guard he put up around her also came down ever so slightly. Perhaps too much. 

(Once they found one bug in his home, Belle was insistent that someone come over and deep clean their place of any form of listening devices. It wasn’t long after the case got wrapped up that Emma called over an ‘exterminator’. 

“Missy Wolfe.” She introduced herself to Belle, a smirk on her face. “But you sweetie can call me Red.” Belle had raised an eyebrow at her. 

“When Emma mentioned she knew someone, I expected you to be...”

“Less gorgeous?” She’d said with a grin. “And when our mutual friend had said the suit had a cute sister I definitely imagined someone like you.” A surge of protectiveness surged within him at the way that Red was looking at his sister.

“I think you’re here to do a job” He reminded her. 

“I am quite a skilled multitasker.” )

 She showed him her lead to whoever was after them. A message in the video surveillance, of their breakup and Neal messaging her in morse code by tapping at his side. Dream It meant the dream catcher which led her to a meeting in Grand Central Terminal at the end of the week.

Killian had been there when he called her. Seen her panicked face when she heard his voice. “Give him what he wants.” Neal had said. 

“What is it he wants?” She’d asked.

“Give him everything. It’s the only way I can come home, the only way for us to be together.” He said. Killian could feel her heart break when she said the words.

“I can’t Neal. It’s the only leverage I have.”  She looked up and Emma ran. She ran because she saw him. She saw her lover that she can’t reach, can’t catch, can’t have. Killian makes him out for a moment but he’s gone. He’s gone by the time they get to where he was, a roof of a building looking down at them. 

Emma collapsed in a sob and he was barely in time to catch her. Barely in time for him to hold her. She cried into his chest, something rare and primal and aching. 

“I just want him back.” she sobbed and his heart ached for her. He understood the feeling of losing someone you love, of not being able to be with them. He holds her, hand running through her hair, her blonde locks that are growing in from the cut she’d done months before. His head finds a place on the top of her head as he tries his best to comfort her. 

Emma came back to herself after a moment, pulling away, rubbing her sadness from her face as easily as putting on a mask.

“We are late for a case aren’t we?”

They are. But there’s something about the vulnerability of Emma in that moment that conflicted with the flirty beautiful woman in front of him that distressed him. Perhaps it’s the ease that her walls come back up. 

Or maybe, they aren’t walls, maybe it’s a loosely fitted cork, because their next case involves a kidnapped child and a pair of parents so obsessed with the reading of their dead aunt’s will to even know when the little girl had been taken. 

Questions like if the will had been forged, or if the inheritance was filled with counterfeits had become meaningless without the child. A fact that exploded out of Emma at the father who was planning on leaving the country with ‘his’ inheritance before the FBI could interfere. The man had crumbled before her blunt display of emotions, her fury and her grief.

“She deserves better than to be just another pawn in whatever game the two of you are playing.” She hissed. “It’s not about money, take it for someone who’s had a hell of a lot. There’s more to life than numbers on a check and if anything happens to that kid you’re going to learn that the hard way too.”

He understood. He understood then, and he understood later. 

“Case hit home for you didn’t it?” He asked afterwards over a beer once the child was reunited with  parents that may have learned a thing about family from Emma. An old bookie of the husband had tried to pressure him into complying. 

“Little kids are cute, what can I say.” She said evasively while taking the offered beer. That was another sign Emma was still hurting, she hated beer. “She deserves better.” That she did. “You did too.” He smirks, knowing that she knew him better than most. Yet he wondered exactly how much she did know.

“And how much exactly do you know about my childhood?”

“I know that you loved your father, you idolized him. You had his knack for numbers.” She said. “I know he used you as a diversion when the feds came in and busted down your door. He left you and your mom with nothing.” She swallowed and he could see her picking her words carefully. That meant she knew more than most. “I know you learned that he had at least two other families, an elder brother in DC. and a younger sister in Georgia who appeared at your door when you had just lost your mom. You took her in no questions asked.” Killian remembers the day he met his elder brother. The man had been older and took one look at him and wanted nothing to do with him. Killian was just another reminder of what Brennan Jones had done. He also remembers the day several years later when a teenaged Belle had knocked on his door. He took one look at her and remembered what Brennan had done, but he swore to accept her no matter how much the reminder hurt. 

“So you know quite a bit, Swan.” He responded. “I also know a bit myself.” He countered. 

“Of course you do.” She laughed, “I bet you even know my shoe size.”

“8.5 or sometimes 9 if the shoe runs small.” He said with a smirk. “You left a pair in that hotel in Rio.” A pair of bright red pumps that matched a bright red dress. “Why do you care so much?” Or maybe it’s the beer talking, talking too much if he’s honest. “Neal betrayed you, he left you, why do you care so much about saving him?”

The laughter dies from her face, something heavy takes its place. “Seeing my position a little too similar to your own?” She deflected. “Someone who got left behind just like you?”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you deserve so much better Swan.”

“What exactly do I deserve Agent Jones.” She said, leaning forward. “I’m a criminal.” That she is. But he doesn’t think about that when he leans forward and cups her cheek. He doesn’t think about that when he brushes strands of blonde hair out of her face, nor when he smiles and-

//

"Has Agent Jones ever behaved unprofessionally?"

Killian Jones was the embodiment of professional. 

He had to be, with a family history like his. Even Emma’s heard of it through her underground contacts. She’s heard of the legendary Brennan Jones who masterminded a theft like no other, millions of dollars gone in a blink of an eye.

She’d heard through the office gossip about him. About how no one trusted him when he was recruited right out of college, his superiors always made things difficult. Never trusting that he wasn’t just like his father. 

Killian Jones was the embodiment of professional, that’s what made Emma enjoy the chase so much. Because she knew it was a true battle of wits, not like the muscle head marshals. Killian was smart and honorable. If he was going to catch her, it would be done the right way.He was just like her.

 But the way he looks at her sometimes is so not professional in all of the best ways. 

Sometimes he looks fuming, mostly when she’s pushed the limits a bit too far, gets in over her head, and just makes it out by the skin of her teeth. But always looks relieved when she makes it out.

Sometimes he looks like she holds the sun and the moon because she’s figured out some con or trick someone pulls. It always comes with a “You’re brilliant Swan.” when no one else is listening. She always shoots back a knowing smirk, tucks a loose strand of blonde behind her ear and replies with “I know.” It always makes him roll his eyes but his expression never wavers. 

And that one time, after a particularly draining case, after that little girl with parents who didn’t give a damn about her had been rescued and she thought...she thought he was going to kiss her and...

And Emma may have to admit to herself that she wanted him to. 

But with Neal, and the FBI frowning upon CI handler relationships, not that a kiss meant a relationship...God Emma was confused. They hadn’t kissed and perhaps she had misread the situation completely. Because he’d practically scrambled away when it happened.

He’d ran out the door with some made up excuse on his lips, a deep blush on his face. 

Maybe it was all in her head, maybe she was the one being unprofessional. But she can’t help the way he makes her feel more than her past, more than what she can do. 

With Neal it had always felt like it was them against the world.

With Killian she thinks maybe they can just exist in the world, maye make it a little better in the process.

What makes it worse was a conversation she hears between Ariel and Killian days after their almost kiss. Days after she spends a night dreaming of what could be. 

Emma hadn’t meant to be eavesdropping, but she had a lead on their new case and was heading into his open office when she heard them talking in tense low voices.

“What was your talk with Neal like?” The younger agent asked him. It makes her stop in her tracks, makes her heartbeat wildly.

He shot Ariel a glare and told her to keep her voice down. But he hadn’t refuted her claim. 

He doesn’t tell her about it later when she finds a more convenient time to talk to her about the case. 

“Why wouldn’t he tell me?” Emma asked Ruby later in her apartment over a tall glass of wine. Because she desperately needs the alcohol to calm down her racing thoughts.

“Emma...Does it ever occur to you that maybe...maybe Killian is involved?” She contemplated, sitting across from Emma with her own equally tall glass of wine.

“Involved?” 

“Killian is in the prime position if you think about it.” She muses. “You under his thumb, maybe Neal in his back pocket. Maybe it was him all along.” Emma shook her head because no. It couldn’t be.

Killian Jones was the embodiment of professional.

“Then why is he keeping his meeting with Neal a secret when you’ve been upfront with him? After all, his own father is a master of crime, maybe the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?”

//

“So she trusted you?”

“Yes.”

Emma Swan does trust him. 

Killian remembered that case they had a few months back, Emma had gone and broken into a shady hospital without backup or a warrant. The case had involved Granny’s granddaughter not getting a kidney and she’d gone rouge. 

Something he warned her against a half dozen times by this point. 

She’d broken in and gotten caught and drugged up to the gills. Killian had had to get in and break her out without anyone realizing. He’d even stolen the security tapes.

“I trust you Killian...out of everyone in my life, Neal, Ruby...you are the only one I truly trust.”

Emma did trust him. She trusted him with her free smile when she was feeling particularly excited out on a job. She trusted him with her fury when things were hard and she felt truly trapped by their arrangement. She trusted him with her tears when she thought about Neal. She didn’t often say much but he just knows. 

He knows her.

Emma trusted him to know her and Killian knew it’s not something freely given. 

But then out of nowhere that guarded expression on her face returns. Any move he made seems to be met with passive aggressive responses and half truths. She had her barely contained fury back beneath her eyes. 

It reminded him of a young agent who was furious when he learned that all the older agents were laughing behind his back. When he learned that they would never take him seriously because he was damaged. He was a joke. 

Emma Swan was no joke.

It unsettled him, he can’t figure out what changed. 

Or perhaps he was reading too much into her responses, after all, he was keeping a rather large secret from her. Because despite not wanting to hurt her, not wanting to break her trust, he feared this new information would be too much for her. Too much temptation. 

Because there was nothing more tempting to Emma than information about Neal Cassidy. 

It had taken some favors and a considerable amount of FBI weight throwing to secure the meeting, but he’d had it. Killian had had a meeting with Neal Cassidy. 

He knew what they wanted from Emma.  

(“A music box, she stole it in Germany just before...about a year before you caught her. They won’t let me go...they won’t let us be together without it.” He’d assured him.

“How do we know any of this is real?” He asked him. “How do we know this isn’t some game to get in her head?”

Neal gave him a disbelieving smirk. “I guess you don’t know. But considering you don’t know the whole story, I have to say that I have the advantage.”

“I find that whenever the supposed hostage talks about having the advantage they are rarely telling the truth.” He replies firmly.

“Ask Emma about the job we ran in October. If she tells you the truth then you’ll know exactly why Emma has to hand over the music box”)

He knew what they wanted from Emma, but he wasn’t sure if telling her would be smart. He honestly wasn’t sure if she could handle it.

That is, until in the middle of a job, a sting operation Emma had snapped. She’d nearly turned him in, her eyes had turned steely and she hissed that she knew. 

“I know you have Neal, that this whole thing is a game, a trap, a trick.” she seethed. It had completely caught him off guard. 

“What?!” He’d demanded, but the mark was listening, hell all his agents were listening. They couldn’t do this here. “If you have ever trusted me, you’ll give me a chance to explain myself otherwise get back to the case.” He’d said sharply. He met her steely glare with her own and nodded once.

I trust you.

She’d proven it later that day when their mark had locked in an airlock and they only had one canister of air. She’d shoved it into his grasp. “I trust you.” She’d whispered out loud this time. Please don’t play me for a fool.

He hadn’t, of course. They’d found their way out and sitting there in front of a multimillion dollar mansion swarmed with agents and bundled in shock blankets, he’d told her.

“I met Neal.” He admitted her. Her eyes are wide, but she’s not surprised. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t think you could handle it.” But he was wrong, so wrong. 

“You had no right to keep that from me.” She replied sharply. “But I understand why you did.” her expression softened. “I know how I must look to you: a love sick fool chasing after a man who hurt me. Risking everything for him...”She trailed off before fixing him a firm gaze. “What did he tell you?”

“He told me what he wanted. A music box.”

“A music box.” Emma repeated. She laughed at her words. Laughed like he’d told her the most ridiculous joke in the world. “Then let’s go get the music box.”

//

“And where was the music box?” 

“Under our noses the whole time.”

 “Bloody hell Swan!” He’d cursed. “How?” 

It had been one of her most daring moves. She’s not sure why she decided to do it, but after she thought of it...the idea was just too intoxicating. It was a challenge, a dare and perfect. So perfect.

Getting the music box had been difficult, a job that didn’t really interest Neal. It was a little too flashy without enough reward. Thankfully a fence of hers had been able to take his place on the job.

 (A fact that Neal was not happy about.) 

Graham had been good, and it had gone off nearly flawlessly. She’d given him a cut of the profit she would make when she sold the music box--and a slap for a stolen kiss that Neal still doesn’t know about--except she never did get around to selling the damn thing.

She’d meant to, really. But this was right in the beginning of Agent Jones pursuit of her and she’d thought he was cute and enjoyed teasing him with her gifts. 

So Emma had set to work. A good forger can make something worthless look real, but only a great forger could make a priceless artifact seem like a fake knock off.

So that’s what she did. No one ever knew, they didn’t even suspect it. 

“My sister!” Killian exclaims again. “What did I tell you about involving her?” Emma shrugs. 

“To be fair I had already long sent it to her by the time you gave me that warning.” She told him simply, picking up the item. “I assume it came back clean when you sent it to the lab?” It was smaller than she remembered, a fake gloss painted on to mask it’s trace components.

“They traced it to a manufacturer in China and Belle liked how it sounded. Bloody hell, what would we have done if she had tossed it like I wanted to do?” She’d found a similar looking one and stole the packaging. Emma shrugged. 

“I didn’t exactly anticipate for some rogue agent to kidnap Neal for this thing. I didn’t even steal it for anything other than morbid curiosity.” She admitted. “Now that we have it, when can we get the meeting?” She asks.

Killian sighs. “I’ve put word out, hopefully Neal will contact me and we can set a time.”

“Or.” Emma adds. “We can contact the person pulling the strings behind this, behind everything.” She snaps. 

“We don’t know for sure.” Killian says with a calming gesture.

“You really think Walshe has nothing to do with this?” Emma snaps. “After coming into town just in time to frame me for the diamond heist?”

Killian doesn’t respond. Emma takes the music box tightly in her hands. “This has to end. It has to end now.” 

“Swan-” But she steps out of his grip. “We need to do this the right way, catch him red handed, not just hand him what he wants, when will it end?”

Oh it’ll end. The stakes were too high for Emma not to see to it that this cat and mouse game end now.

Plans circulated in her head, how to get out with the music box, how to make the exchange before Killian could talk her into a more by the book plan. Sometimes things couldn’t go by the book. Sometimes the ugly gritty way was the only way.

Killian’s phone rang loudly at his side. He picks it up, giving Emma a look. We’ll figure this out, you just need to trust me.

But something on the other end was clearly very wrong. His eyes narrowed and she could see something darker and fiercer just below the surface. “Stay there Belle.”

He could hear the younger girl talking quickly on the phone, Killian’s hand clenched. She was clearly very upset.“I’ll be right there. Do not say a single word until I get there.” He glanced at her. “We need to go now. Belle’s just been arrested.”

//

“She was arrested because the Marshalls believed a phone call she received from an unfamiliar number was our father.”

“Was it?”

“Just a spam caller”

The marshalls had wanted him out of the way, and they got it. It hadn’t taken much. They had Belle in handcuffs, her eyes were red as her classmates looked on, Walshe’s grip on her was rough and his words had been rude and vial and then he’d had the balls to mention Emma. So he’d swung and decked Walshe Green in the face. 

It felt good. But it ended with him in cuffs besides Belle. He’d watched a wide eyed Emma leave with Ariel, considering her handler was about to be put on suspension he was glad she wasn’t being taken into custody next. She’d been strangely silent through the whole ordeal.

 Emma had tried to deescalate the situation at first, but a comment Walshe had made left her frozen. Emma Swan never froze up.

“You never know, a parent’s greatest desire is to see their kid, wouldn’t you agree Emma?”

It wasn’t until afterwards. After he was back home missing his badge and gun, he realized two things. 

The Music box was gone.

This had never been about Neal.

//

“When we were originally tackling The Swan, Emma took a year gap where we couldn’t find a single hint of a job she was running. The working theory was that she was waiting for the heat of her last job to die down.”

“And now?”

“Now I realize that she went underground for a different reason.”

They met at the drop point. 

Emma felt bad for having Ruby steal the music box from Killian’s house, but it was the only way. No one was supposed to know about him. No one was ever supposed to connect her to the little boy that was born in New York Hospital in October of that year.

They were supposed to disappear and start a new life together, Tallahassee. 

Neal and her called it Tallahassee. It was the end game plan, retire and move to Florida or some island in the tropics. But Neal had never wanted to go clean, so Emma took her son and ran. 

So Neal set a trap for her. She set a trap so she couldn’t disappear with their kid. 

“When you get out.” He said, holding one of his toys, one of her son’s toys “We can be a family. It was only four years.”

Emma had hated him for four years, for robbing her of that time together, of wanting to be a father and changing his mind and then changing his mind again. 

It wasn’t until now, until Neal was faced with losing their kid, of him being abducted and held above their heads that he truly cared. Maybe, maybe it’s not too late for them.  

They met at the drop point, except there was no Neal, only Walshe. But she doesn't let that shake her resolve.

“Where is he?” She demanded. 

“Neal is around.” Walshe said cryptically. “I hear you have my box.” She didn’t deny it. 

“I’m not talking about Neal.” She said. “You’re not getting a damn thing unless I can see my son.” The man smirked wider than he had any reason to. 

“Don’t trust me?”

Emma didn’t dignify his words with a response. He gave a large sigh and opened his car door. There in the backseat, passed out in his car seat is Henry. She hadn’t seen him since he was an infant, but she knew. It was her son. Her four year old little boy looked positively exhausted but in good health. It made her gasp in relief, tears gathering in her eyes. 

He’s gotten so big.

“Where’s my music box?”

She gave it to him without a moment’s hesitation. Her only focus was pulling that boy into her arms and never letting go. She was never letting him go again. “Neal said to give you these.” Walshe added after the box is placed securely in his car. It was an envelope. She takes it with the hand not around the boy. 

Papers...She realized a whole new identity and not just for her. Neal, Emma and Henry Nolan. A normal happy little family. It was good, extensive. 

A happy ending after all. Four years ago this is all she’d ever wanted. 

“There’s a jet waiting for you, it’ll take you wherever you want. The three of you can disappear.” Walshe explained. 

“Why?” Emma asks. “Why go through all of this? Kidnapping my son, using him to get to Neal to get to me? Just for that.” Because it wasn’t worth that much, not enough for all this.

“Because my employer wants it.” Walshe said cryptically. But he doesn’t elaborate, he doesn’t need to. It says all she needs to know.

There’s someone behind the curtain. 

“You better get going. Neal is waiting for you.” The address was written in the envelope, so she settled Henry in his car seat in her car and then she headed out. 

But not before she sent Belle the most expensive collection of sketch books and paints money can buy, art school wasn’t cheap and she had talent. Real talent.

Not before she called Granny and thanked her for everything.  

Not before she called Ruby and told her about Henry. The papers...

(“I don’t know why you didn’t trust me to tell me the truth Emma.” She’d said. “But for what it’s worth I’m glad you are finally getting the life that you want. But you know what I always say-”

“A happy ending.” Emma breathed. “Is all about where you stop the story.”

She could feel Ruby’s grin through the phone. “From the moment we met, I knew your story was going to be exciting, but my question is, is this where you want to stop the story?” ) 

But Emma didn’t have time to contemplate her words. She needed to go. They had to get out, they needed to run. This is what she always wanted.

She was 50 feet from the plane when she heard her name being called out in the terminal. 

“Swan!” It makes her stop in her tracks. She can’t help but feel her chest tighten at the sound of her name. She turned to see him. His suit is rumpled, tie missing. He looks like he ran all the way here. “Swan wait.” She did. She had to.  

“You can’t stop me Killian.” She said. “You can’t.”

He nodded. “I know, all of this was sanctioned. It’s all an op as far as anyone can tell.” He agreed. “Legally I can’t interfere.” 

Legally.

“Why are you here Killian?” Sha asked. 

“I’m here to remind you of what you’re walking away from if you get on that plane. I know what you want Swan, I’ve always known. You want to be a part of something. You are here.” She bit her lip, he was smiling at her, something delicate and desperate. He wanted her to stay so badly. 

“Neal once said that we run. We run until when we run from something we just miss it.” She recalled. 

“You don’t need to run anymore Emma. You can stay. You and your son. You can stay.” He promised. “You don’t have to look over your shoulder anymore.” 

“Why are you here Killian?” She asked again. Because it can’t be for her. It didn’t make sense. She’s a criminal, a convict, a fraud. She didn’t deserve for him to look at her like that.

“Because you sent Belle art supplies. You called Ruby and Granny. You said goodbye to everyone except for me.” He reminded her “Why?”

Why hadn’t she? 

“Because...” she trailed off. “You’re the only person who could change my mind.”

He smiled at her, close enough to cup her cheek. “Did I?” She doesn't speak. She can’t. She leans in and kisses him. Something she never dared to want. Never dared to even consider. 

It was better than she ever imagined. It was something that she would surely miss if she got on that plane. 

But is it enough? Is it enough to turn away from a definite happy ending? Or is she walking away from it?  “Killian...

Emma didn’t get a chance to contemplate the issue further.

 Because when she looks back at the plane, at Neal’s face in the window of the plane, before she has a chance the plane explodes.

//

“And you know the rest.” Killian says. “They immediately took Emma into custody. Investigators descended on the terminal, Walshe went underground and you’re here to determine if my actions warrant you taking my badge.” 

The investigators glare at him, clearly not believing some of what he’s saying. But they’ve been glaring at him since he stepped into the room. It was probably a side effect of having just interviewed Emma. 

But it doesn’t matter what they believe. All that matters is what they choose to do. They can choose to give him back his badge and gun and let him do his job. Or they won’t.

“Do you believe Ms.Swan set the bomb that killed Mr. Cassidy?”

He looks them dead in the eye. “No.” He says pointedly. “She would never do that.” Not just because she was supposed to be on that plane, not just because her son was supposed to be on that plane but because Emma wasn’t a killer.

They don’t ask him any more questions. 

He walks out the door with his badge, his gun and a warning. But there’s time to worry about that later. Right now all Killian wants to do is see her. He wants to see if she’s there. If she had left before he was done or if she was waiting for him.

And she is. She’s leaning against his door of his car a smile on her face and a-

“Another hat Swan?” He asks. Emma smirks, removing the hat and placing it on his head. 

“I think it looks pretty good.” Emma says with a smirk and a subtle bite of her lip. “What do you think?” Now it’s Killian’s turn to smirk. She looks brilliant with that hat, so he places it back on her blonde head of hair. It does little to distract from the brand new tracker on her ankle, but he appreciated the attempt. Its slimmer chases less according to the memo Emma had emailed him..

“How’s Henry?” He asks. It had been a few weeks since she met the boy, since he’d caught him and his mother from the explosive blast of the plane that killed his father.

“Adjusting.” She says, her grin fading. 

Emma wasn’t allowed to keep him, social workers didn’t feel comfortable given that she was a current convict with an unusual situation. Thankfully Ariel was a registered foster parent with a spare bedroom. Henry had immediately taken a shine to Ariel and her husband and their current foster, a six year old girl named Melody. 

It wasn’t perfect, but Emma could see him as often as she wanted while she applied to earn back rights she never should have lost. 

“What now?” Emma asks. Her hand drifts to his. Her hands are softer than he’d thought. He leans in close, not too close but closer than he should. Closer than a handler should be with his charge. But he was close enough to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s smiling. 

“Now? We have another case.” He tells her. 

“And later?” She adds. “What do you plan to do about Walshe, and Neal and-”

“I don’t know.” He says honestly. “But whatever we do, know that we’ll figure it out together.”

[chrysalispen]

i: absolution

i hope none of you thought i was starting with the cart scene ;;

AO3 link HERE, fic chapter below the cut.

====

The anguish of the earth absolves our eyes

Till beauty shines in all that we can see.

War is our scourge; yet war has made us wise,

And, fighting for our freedom, we are free.

---Siegfried Sassoon, 1886-1967

-----o-----

Old Gridania, 14th Sun, Fourth Astral Moon, Year 5 of the Seventh Umbral Era

It was a hot midsummer morning and the forest belonged to the cicadas. The dry and hollow whickering buzzed between the leaves, cutting through the oppressive wet weight of the air as if to assert the insects’ supremacy. From her perch upon the rough-hewn bench near the entrance to the Archers’ Guild, Aurelia Laskaris found that even remaining perfectly still was no respite. Not from the heat nor the weather, and certainly not the clouds of midges that seemed to swarm over everything and everyone. More than once, she had watched an Adder or a Wailer stroll past their cramped bench in the hastily repurposed waiting area while muttering curses and swatting at the clouds of insects so thick the air looked gray in places.

With a heavy and somewhat disconsolate sigh, she turned her attention back to the threadbare rug that lay upon the wooden planks a scant few ilms below her sandaled feet. Across the room, near the lectern by the door, she espied a strangely shaped brownish stain of unknowable origin- something that had at some point sunk deep into the fibers. The longer she sat with naught else to occupy her, the more it usurped her attention, until all she could do was stare at it and nibble on the end of the forelock she had twisted around her index finger.

“Are you really that nervous?” her minder’s voice murmured at her shoulder.

Keveh’to looked as bored and miserable as she felt. Dressed in his bright yellow Grand Company overcoat and matching uniform, the man who had been her minder and friend for nigh on five summers now watched her with a knowing light in his grey eyes. Like her, his face was dewy with a thin sheen of sweat, and his ears flickered every time one of the insects attempted to make a landing upon them.

“I’m only about to discover whether or not the Hearers deem me sufficiently reformed.” Aurelia’s gaze lingered upon the outline of that stain. Her brow itched with collected sweat, most maddeningly so about her third eye, but she didn’t dare lift the kerchief she wore. Not even to scratch. “My former enemies hold my very life in their hands. Naught about that could be nerve-wracking, surely.”

Was it blood? Wine? The Garlean couldn’t take her eyes off it. It was inexplicably vexing.

“You aren’t too nervous to be cheeky,” he said dryly, blocking the elbow she sent his way with a nimble swat of his palm. “Watch it! This coat is new.”

“What? One little jab to the ribs isn’t going to muss your uniform, Sergeant-”

“Lieutenant.”

“Right, Lieutenant Epocan now. My mistake.” He scoffed, but her attention was already back upon the stained rug. “...What if they change their minds?”

“About what?”

“You’ve got a perfectly good set of working ears, Keveh’to. Sentiment is turning strongly against-” The soft fall of golden waves upon her shoulders shifted side to side with the swivel of her chin as she tilted it towards one of the nearby guardsmen. “...against people like me.”

“I don’t take your meaning.”

“The hells you don’t.” Her voice dropped to a murmur, though her words were no less vehement for her discretion. “I’m sorry to sound so cross, but you know very well why I worry. What should become of me should they decide to send me packing back to the gaol?”

“They won’t,” he said, but she thought she detected enough uncertainty in the man’s voice that the butterflies in the pit of her belly began to flutter once more. “...Well, they’d be fools if they did.”

“That isn’t a comfort, you know.”

“And if you're that worried about appearances," he reached for the hand that hovered at her chin and tapped the back of her wrist, "walking into an arbitration chamber with a mouthful of your own hair isn't exactly what I would call a solid first impression.”

Scowling at the rebuke, she let out a soft and petulant huff but tugged the end of her forelock out from between her lips and settled her fidgeting hands back into her lap.

She wasn’t convinced, of course. Judges were as fallible as any other soul upon the star in her experience, and no less swayed by popular sentiment or personal grudge- although, she conceded in silence, it wasn’t as if she could control the outcome.

Logic wasn’t enough to assuage her concerns. Four years ago, when she had helped to save a small outlying settlement and dismantle an imperial cohort that had threatened it- that should have been the end of them. In truth, she and Keveh’to had both been lauded as heroes at the time. But four summers was more than enough time to forget, reports or not, and from the rumors Keveh’to had heard, the XIVth Imperial Legion looked to be steadily applying pressure against the still-fragile and rebuilding city-state.

It wasn’t just that. She’d overheard anxious whispers of her own in Hyrstmill. An ominous gloom settling back into Larkscall, the eastern edge of the Shroud that bordered Ala Mhigo. Machina and steel-clad imperial patrols spotted in an ailing and slow to recover Twelveswood. Wailers and adventurers alike, gone missing.

She cast another sidewise glance at the man by the door, but other than a vaguely disinterested nod in her direction he made no comment or gesture.

Hells, this interminable waiting. I’m going to go mad if I have to sit here for another-

“Conjurer Aurelia Laskaris and Lieutenant Keveh’to Epocan,” the bland voice from the desk startled her enough that she felt an unpleasant twist in her stomach. She sat suddenly ramrod straight, eyes wide. “The adjudicators will see you now.”

“It’s about bleeding time,” the Miqo’te muttered, tail smacking against the flat of the bench. He gave his charge a curious glance. “Are you alright?”

“Just a touch of nerves.” Posture ramrod straight, expression displaying a calm she most certainly did not feel, she set her pattened feet upon the rug and stood. “Do I look presentable?”

“...You look soaked in sweat and uncomfortable.”

“Reassuring,” Aurelia said testily, “thank you.”

Keveh’to shrugged. “Just like everyone else here.” He swept one arm towards the closed door, a grandiose gesture that fell somewhat flat. “Ladies first.”

For a moment she felt as unsteady on her feet as she had been that fateful day five years past, bedraggled and dirty and ill, limping alone into a rain-dampened keep for a tribunal to decide what should become of her. She exhaled, quickly wiping her sweaty palms against the hempen weave, and righted her posture once more. Keveh’to was correct, of course; surely this was naught save a formality. They’d either extend her sentence on the work program or they would shorten the leash, and she had only to find out which they had chosen.

And at least this time she wouldn’t be alone.

Squaring her shoulders, she made her way through the door and past the open training area, up a brief staircase, and into the short hallway. The two masked men bracing the door stared at the approaching duo, their lips set in a bland and unreadable line. Other than a curt nod in the Keeper’s direction, the guards seemed to pay neither of them any particular mind. Keveh’to paused, shrugged, then lifted a fist to rap on the oak panels.

“Enter,” called a mild baritone voice.

The heavy doors swung open with a ponderous creak upon brass hinges, and the Keeper and his imperial charge crossed the threshold into a room that to Aurelia’s critical eye was clearly a repurposed private office. Three people sat at a long desk: one Hyuran woman in the ash half-mask of a Wood Wailer, two men, one of whom she recognized. His gaze caught hers, and he acknowledged her with a polite inclination of his angular chin.

“Mistress Laskaris,” Vorsaile Heuloix said, and if the man’s voice was not precisely warm, it lacked the painstaking effort at civility she remembered from her first journey to Gridania five years ago.

Aurelia allowed herself a small smile. “Commander Heuloix.”

“It has been some time. I trust you are well.”

Somewhere behind her she heard the door click shut. “As well as one might expect.”

“Excellent.” His lips quirked, and with that twitch of his mouth his sharp features softened somewhat. “Let it be known that the Grand Company appreciates your timely response to this summons. I surmise we also have the Lieutenant to thank for that.”

“She was in Hyrstmill on behalf of the Conjurers’ Guild,” Keveh’to spoke up at her side, smiling wryly, “so it took a fair bit of time, but yes.”

“Well, we’re all present now.” Vorsaile gestured to the two masked strangers. "Swethyna Brookstone and Lewin Hunte. The commanders of the Wood Wailers and the Gods’ Quiver, two divisions of Gridania’s defense force, whom I have asked to be present today.”

Aurelia nodded to each in their turn, but her brow remained furrowed. “If I might beg your pardon, Commander, I admit to some curiosity as to why there is not a representative of the Council of Hearers present. Will they not also be needed to preside over this hearing? I was given to understand that theirs is the final say.”

Behind the table, the three exchanged meaningful glances. Vorsaile shook his head.

“I’m afraid that either you or Lieutenant Epocan have misunderstood,” he said. “This is not a hearing. The Council and the Elder Seedseer have already made a decision regarding your case- or rather, the Elder Seedseer has exercised her authority to do so.”

Her heart took a sudden and sickening drop into her stomach. Keveh’to seemed to sense her distress; his hand pressed into the center of her spine, whether to keep her upright or keep her from bolting out of the room it was unclear. She found herself feeling suddenly quite appreciative of his presence in either case.

“Well,” she swallowed with difficulty past the tight sensation in her throat, “one hopes that you would not keep a lady in suspense. Go on.”

The commander of the Yellow Serpents did not frown or glare or smile, only inclined his chin gravely. “I quite agree,” he said. “Swethyna, may I have the papers, please?”

Papers?

Lips still set in that neutral line, the masked woman flipped through a sheaf of documents on the table’s varnished surface until she found what she sought, plucked them from the stack, and passed them to the Elezen. He reached for the inkpot at his left elbow with one hand, collected the papers with the other, and placed them on the far side facing Aurelia and her minder.

“Mistress Laskaris,” Vorsaile Heuloix said, “after careful review of the particulars - including your actions while a novice of the Conjurers’ Guild assigned to the village of Willowsbend - it is the consensus that you have proven yourself a friend and ally to the people of the Twelveswood. Furthermore, you have comported yourself in a manner befitting the realm’s most stalwart defenders. It is remarkable enough to witness such conduct from any one individual, let alone a woman who once served under the White Raven's banner. You have the thanks of the Grand Company and the Council of Hearers alike, and of course Kan-E-Senna herself.”

“I… thank you.” It felt utterly inadequate but it was all the response she could manage, unsure as she was what this speech presaged. “I did only what anyone else would have done.”

“I beg to differ- but that is beside the point.” Vorsaile cleared his throat and reached for a small box that sat on the lip of the table. “The Elder Seedseer wished to offer you a place in the ranks of her honor guard, but the Council of Hearers made it clear they would not countenance your appointment to such a sensitive position.”

That did not surprise her. Gridanians were a hidebound people, more so even than her own countrymen, and she had seen over the years how people like Keveh’to were shoved to the fringes of their society. If they wouldn’t trust a Keeper of the Moon even when he wore the colors of their Grand Company, she knew there was precious little chance they would extend that trust to her.

“However,” he continued, “there are conditions to which they have agreed- which brings us to the reason for your summons today. In light of your valorous and compassionate actions in defense of the realm and its people, the Eorzean Alliance and its Grand Companies have decided to grant you a full pardon, and consider your time served.”

Aurelia faltered, staring at the assembled commanders in open astonishment. She was… she wasn’t going to a gaol? Or being reassigned?

“As such,” the small wooden box opened with a click; within it lay a small, plain brass signet ring engraved with a pair of serpents twined about a staff, “it is hereby decreed that you are to be created a citizen of the city-state of Gridania, with all rights and privileges included therein.”

She couldn’t speak. Her eyes stung. It’s sweat, she told herself. Bloody stifling in here.

“Aurelia,” Keveh’to had drawn alongside her while she stood frozen in place. The Keeper’s tail wrapped carefully around her leg, twitching with a slow and soothing rhythm against her knee. “You’re looking unwell. Are you all right?”

“I’m… no. No, I’m- I’m fine. Better than fine, in fact.” Her lips twitched in a semblance of a smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to seem ungrateful; it’s simply that this wasn’t what I had expected to hear today. It’s a bit of a shock, I suppose.”

“A good shock, one would hope.”

The commander of the Grand Company interrupted their hushed conversation with a soft hum to clear his throat, then gestured to the inkpot with polite emphasis. “For our city’s records,” Vorsaile said, “we must ask that you append your signature to your citizenship papers. If you would, please…”

“Oh,” she said. “Yes, of course.”

She took the quill in hand, musing as she skimmed the text, the tip hovering at the edge of the inkpot. Five years ago she had been in just such a position- only then it was to formally cast aside her title, defecting from the Garlean Empire under terms of unconditional surrender as a prisoner of the Eorzean Alliance. She would never again be Aurelia jen Laskaris, VIIth Imperial Legion medicus. The vagaries of time and circumstance had forever placed her past beyond any tangible reach.

She was Aurelia Laskaris now, initiate of the Conjurers' Guild and - as of today - a citizen of Gridania. An Eorzean.

Forcing herself back to some semblance of composure, she bent over the documents. The quill scratch and the crispness of turning pages were the only sounds in the room other than the ticking of the wall chronometer. Her vision was so blurred she could barely see the writing on the paper, the loops and arcane curves of her own Eorzean script, but in moments it was done and she was setting the quill neatly back in its pot.

Vorsaile scattered salt across the wet ink, tapped them onto a small groove in his desk, then folded the paper and pressed a nub of half-melted wax against the seam. All of this, followed with the press of a heavy-looking brass seal, and the deed was done.

Aurelia was free.

“Thank you, Mistress Laskaris. That will be all.” Vorsaile held out the ring box. Aurelia took it and stared at its contents for a long moment, feeling strangely numb. “If you have any questions…”

“I have one,” Keveh’to said wryly. “What’s with the ring?”

“Hm? Ah… well. That signet ring is one normally granted to Serpentbearers upon their initiation into the guard - a small act of defiance on the Elder Seedseer's part, one suspects. In any case, it is a tangible reminder that your service has been recognized.”

She traced the engraving on the ring’s surface with one fingertip. Its brass curve gleamed in the late morning sunlight slanting through the nearby window.

“She asked me to inform you that this bauble is not entirely ceremonial. There is a small enchantment upon it which enhances the wearer’s focus in combat- should such a boon be needful.” Vorsaile paused for a beat; at that moment, his polite smile became something closer to a sly grin. “...That said, this is not to be considered tacit permission for you to go about picking fights with imperial soldiers. Even if you do catch them starting forest fires.”

“I shall endeavor to be on my very best behavior, Commander Heuloix. You have my word,” a small laugh escaped her lips. The sound of it brought back a semblance of equilibrium; she felt her nerves begin to calm. “Please give the Elder Seedseer my regards. I owe her a great deal.”

“She would no doubt return the sentiment.” Vorsaile reached forth a hand. “Allow me to offer my congratulations, Mistress Laskaris.”

She took it in bemused silence, unaware of Keveh’to’s eyes upon her.

~*~

“You don’t seem well pleased,” he said. It was the first either of them had spoken on the short walk back to the Canopy. Aurelia kept fidgeting with the writ she had signed, opening the broken wax seal on the parchment and reading its contents with a deep frown knitting her brow, as if she still couldn’t quite believe what had transpired.

“I am,” she insisted, somewhat weakly. “Very much so.”

“Most people in your position would be overjoyed. A full pardon- and citizenship? There are people who have been here twice as long that haven’t enjoyed such favor.”

“Some would think it ill-deserved.”

“Does it matter what other people think?”

“It might, if they feel preferential treatment is being shown to an imperial-”

“Former imperial.”

“It all seems rather too simple.”

“Mayhap. But sometimes matters really are that simple.” The Miqo’te shrugged. A small throng of giggling children sprinted past them on their way to the amphitheater, shouting at each other. Engrossed in some manner of diversion they had spun between themselves, no doubt. Perhaps it was also a sign of the changing times that they paid the Keeper of the Moon and his companion no notice whatsoever. “Seems to me you’re overthinking things. As usual.”

Aurelia dabbed her sleeve against her damp face and said nothing. Keveh’to didn’t understand what she was getting at, and she didn’t feel the wherewithal for another argument-- but his gaze upon her was equal parts sympathetic and concerned.

“All right, spit it out,” he said. “What’s really bothering you? It isn’t actually what happened in there, is it?”

“What? No, it’s-”

“Well, what then?”

“I don’t… I don’t know if this is really where I want to stay,” she said. “And citizenship makes me feel… I don’t know. Bound to the land, somehow.”

“What? Why? People come and go from Gridania all the time.”

She offered no reply save a helpless shrug.

They were passing the rebuilt aetheryte plaza. In the space of those five short years after the disaster which Eorzeans now called the Calamity, it had become a bustling and lively place. The throng milling about the glowing crystal included townspeople and merchants as well as the much rougher-looking adventurers in their motley collection of gear. Just as with the children, few even glanced at Aurelia as she and Keveh’to crossed the shallow bridge in the direction of the Carline Canopy. It had been a long time since she had felt like a local curiosity, for which she was silently grateful.

She paused upon the slope and its moss and stone path leading to the inn’s entrance, looking out over the placid and glassy surface of the river. The great waterwheel creaked in its slow and unhurried way upon each turn, and on the far bank, the warm wind rustled the leaves of young saplings.

“I don’t understand why you think leaving the Empire means all your plans have to change.” Keveh’to shrugged. “You can still be a chirurgeon in Eorzea, you know.”

“I know.”

“If anything, there’s more of a need for people with healing skills now than before. ‘Sides, you’ve got that kit of yours, don’t you? The big one with all the tools and such?”

“Many of the medicines in it cannot be replenished. I would need tools and reagents that simply don’t exist outside the Empire.” At his grimace, she added, “I think given time and closer study I could duplicate certain of them, but Eorzean methods of alchemy are quite different from ours. I suspect that in order to do what needs must, I would need to become quite proficient indeed, and I’ve not the first inkling where to start.”

“It can’t be that different.”

“You’d be surprised. I would explain it but we’d be here the rest of the day.”

“And I’d not understand the first bleeding thing about it even if you did.” His lips split into a wide grin. “Nor care, I’m afraid.”

Aurelia scoffed. “At least you’re honest.”

“Just saving you the trouble. Anyroad, you don’t have to make a decision now, do you?” He began to descend the gentle slope of the hill towards the Canopy, ears forward and tail twitching. “Sleep on it. Take some of Miounne's jobs while you give it some thought.”

The conversation ended as they reached the stone-laden path and passed through the ornately carved doors to the Carline Canopy’s main entrance. Aurelia paused mid-step to linger upon the threshold, her gaze sweeping across the restored common room. The stairwell entrance to the recently rebuilt airship dock was now open, and nearly every table in the establishment seated bustling throngs of adventurers, merchants, and other assorted travelers. The buzz of their conversation filled the room with a low hum, broken with the occasional shout or guffaw from one party or another.

"Assuming Miounne has any work available," she chuckled. Some few of the hopeful newcomers had formed a queue that appeared to be growing by the moment. Even from this short distance, she could see the bright flash of leve cards clasped in gloved and gauntleted hands. “I haven’t seen the Adventurers’ Guild this busy in ages.”

“Aye, not since the Twin Adder opened recruitment five years ago. Mostly new faces too; look at that. She must have her hands full.”

He was right, she realized, upon closer inspection. Most of the would-be adventurers were clearly new to the business, fresh-faced and quite young. There were a few hard-bitten veterans among the lot, but not as many as one might expect. “I wager that trend shall only continue. What with all the displacement from-- oh, she’s seen us,” Aurelia pointed at the hand waving from the desk. “Come with me and say hello?”

“Might as well,” he sighed with mock resignation. “She’s already seen me. There’s no escaping her.”

“Don’t be cheeky. Come on.”

She began to weave her way through the crowd with Keveh’to close behind. A handful of the adventurers watching from the queue glowered at the pair, clearly assuming they intended to jump the line, but Aurelia ignored the hostile stares and kept pushing her way past until the pair had reached the desk. Miounne’s smile was radiant at the sight of them, if rather fatigued.

“Aurelia! And Sergeant Epocan-”

“Lieutenant.”

“Yes, yes, of course! I remember now, Lieutenant. So sorry. My mind is in half a dozen places at the minute.” The Canopy’s proprietress made a vague motion with one hand. “I hate to be so abrupt, Aurelia, but I’ve been looking for you. E-Sumi-Yan asked me to send you on to the Fane - your ‘earliest convenience,’ he said.”

“Why? Is aught amiss?”

Miounne shook her head. “He didn’t elaborate. Shall I ring him and let him know you’ll be along?”

“Oh, no, please don’t trouble yourself,” she glanced at the growing line of visibly impatient adventurers, “Lieutenant Epocan can call him.”

The Miqo’te protested, “Wait, why am I - hey!”

She all but dragged him away from the counter and towards the concierge, out of earshot of most of the crowd. The man at the desk offered a polite and noncommittal smile as they passed and made for the staircase leading up to her room. Keveh’to was still bristling, his tail lashing the air.

“I’ll not be a moment,” she said. “We can go our separate ways at the plaza.”

“I’m not even your minder anymore, let alone your personal secretary,” he grumbled, even though he was already reaching for the small device clipped to his ear. “...Right, well. Just remember you owe me one.”

Aurelia flashed him a quick grin before she opened the door and slipped inside.

The small room was as austere as it had been when Miounne had first let it to her five years ago. She had not acquired much in the way of personal possessions since; there had hardly seemed a point while serving a sentence, after all. There was the field kit she had been allowed to keep along with its contents - what little remained now - and her own small traveling pack with its botany log and change of clothes and her mother’s locket. Next to this sat the small wand she had been gifted by the guild before setting off to Willowsbend. All that she truly owned in the world sat in this one small corner.

She reached into the pouch on her plain leather belt and drew forth the ring box and the neatly folded parchment: both symbols of the changes to come, for weal or woe. In the meantime, she thought, official proof of her new legal status was not something she felt it would be wise to risk losing. The papers she tucked securely into her botany book before replacing it, pulling the drawstring of her bag taut, and buckling the clasp again.

Once that was finished she opened the ring box and after a moment’s hesitation removed its contents. The brass winked at her from the center of her half-open palm. It was not the sort of thing she would have normally worn, and it was a touch too wide for her ring finger. She removed it to slip onto her index finger instead, and there it remained secure.

Satisfied with the fit, she set the box on the side table, grabbed her wand to hook onto her belt, and made for the door. The ring was warm and weighted on its perch. A reminder of the new start she had been granted.

A rap on the door: “Aurelia?”

“One moment!”

Her feelings were no less mixed than they had been before she had quit the Archer’s Guild an hour past, but they were also not something she had time to consider right now. After she had returned from the Fane, perhaps.

She made her way to the door. E-Sumi-Yan would be waiting.