#hubble will always hold a space in my heart

[astellarrion]

The Hubble Telescope ran so that The James Webb Telescope could sprint.

[solarsmith49]

First Entry

So I figured I should have a preface/background post before I jump into sharing my writing lol, be warned this is kinda sappy but necessary haha.  I’m going to focus on writing for Creatus Annus; I got back into watching Mark’s channel during the initial March lockdowns after being away for a couple years, and from there into Ethan’s channel and Unus Annus.  I relate so much to Ethan in the brutally honest video talking about how he’s felt aimless and drifting the last few years, because that’s exactly how I felt for a long time- I started 2020 unemployed, no money, no direction, with seemingly no passion or drive to really get out and /live/ instead of just existing.  In April I had a breakdown, and I realized I had to get myself and my life together while I still could because it really did seem like the world was burning down (thanks covid!) and if I didn’t do it now then there wouldn’t be another chance.  I was able to mentally get myself together, and I did find another job in May (which has been a godsend).  And at about the same time as I got hired, I found Mark’s vlog talking about his surgeries and the post-op pain medicine screwup that almost killed him.   I closed my laptop and cried after that, because it was exactly what I needed to hear, when I needed to hear it, by the right person I needed to hear it from.  Because I realized it described me perfectly, not acting on my potential and (even worse) not feeling the /need/ to do so.  So I took a long look at myself, and this essay below is the first thing I wrote after watching the video, exploring my complete love of space and /why/ it drives me in the way it does.  I think it fits the whole message of Unus Annus, and what we’re trying to do here with Creatus Annus, trying to give our own answers to why our lives and our art matters.  Space colors all of my poems (as you’ll see later haha), as well as the creative tension I have from my religious and spiritual background (I was raised Catholic, and still am to a degree, but my personal beliefs range all over the place and the relationship and dialogue I have with God/the Divine and what it means to Create Things is a major theme with space).  So, here’s my first entry for the project; I’m going to write my general ideas for specifically what I want to do in the ideas thread later, but enjoy the essay - I think you guys will like it.

Even until just a few days ago, I didn’t think I had any life passions, or at least, any passions that mattered.  I have hobbies, sure - gaming, crafting, reading, general learning - but I never thought much of them because I didn’t see how I could use them or even if I should bother trying to make anything of them.  Certainly I didn’t think I had any interest that moved me enough to devote a life’s pursuit ot it - but that was another self life, perhaps the greatest, one born from a mix of complacency, lack of faith in myself, and a fear of really facing what truly honestly drives me and the action that that would demand.  The change that that would demand.  Because I do have a passion, and I love it in a general sense, learning about it and following it casually.  But it's also something I turn to in dark hours, something that resparks me when I’m tired, that keeps me going and holds my faith and sustains me when everything else fails - family, friends, my job prospects, failing health, chaos in the larger world, evil in the larger world, even when my belief in the Church burns down and God as seen through the “Catholic” lens seems distant and irrelevant.  Something that I adore with every fiber of my being and in the core of my very soul.  That something is space: the stars and galaxies and their natural functions and processes, but also in particular the space program and what it says about human nature and our relation to the wider universe and ultimately to God himself.

I believe the human endeavour to get to space and the various space programs throughout the world showcase the pinnacle of what our species can do, the best of humanity in terms of technology and cooperation and curiosity, and one of the most fundamental drives we have as humans - the drive to be remembered.  Every single human being, from the greatest to the worst of us, is the end product of 13.6 billion years of cosmic cycles, stars being formed, exploding, sending out dust that forms new stars.  Every single atom and primal element in our bodies, our carbon, iron, calcium, magnesium, everything was forged in the nuclear fusion reactor in the core of a star, untold eons ago and untold millions of lightyears away.  Probably more than once as the dust clouds combine, are forged, and then scattered by the shockwaves of supernovas across time and space.  Over and over and over again, until 4.6 billion years ago when our Sun grew from dust and the planets grew from the leftovers.  And the Earth - the Earth! - undergoing the same process in microcosm, plates shifting and rock melting and gas expanding and water sifting until the Earth was made solid, and then!  In the process, as a by-product, a side effect!  The right combination of star forged elements and electricity and chemical reactions was struck and gave the collections of dust atoms Life and Breath!  Living, self sustaining action on its own accord, independent of outside forces, movement greater than the stars because it happens on its own!  And THEN - a more focused microcosm of the star forge, as 4.5 billion years of evolution refine Life, uncounted species live and die and refine their genes and physical makeup and brain processes and living interactions with the inert world around them; the decay of their bodies feeding plants which feed animals which lets them reproduce and keep the cycle going, echoing the ancient and unaware supernovas, until at last! 100,000 years ago the human species was fully evolved, and, miraculously, became self aware.

Think about that for a minute.  As wonderful as Life is, we could have been just another species of animal, but for the greatest innovation and combination of stardust the universe has ever seen.  We were cavemen, we knew next to nothing about the stars or the wide earth or about our potential, but for the first time Life had gained the capacity to know.  For the first time in 13.6 billion years, dust atoms had gained the capability to learn their origins and how they were made and ultimately to define why they were made.  So, what is almost the very first thing we do with this capacity of thought as an infant species, newly self aware?  We make art.  We make, preserved by some quirk of fate in a French cave, handprints on a rock wall.  We - living stardust - take inert ochre and pigment and stamp an outline on the wall, and those outlines survive intact for 50,000 years.  In this scribbling of an infant species we can already recognize the drive still present in ourselves - the need to say “we were here once, and our existence mattered”.  Humanity for the first time, living relics of ancient stars, giving voice for the first time to those stars, saying in art and words what stars declared in the mute atoms and elements and light they left behind: “we existed once, and that existence mattered.”

Humanity is the universe made self aware.  And just as galaxies are made of millions of individual stars, so too do we as individuals make up Humanity as a collective.  Every single one of us is the universe learning about and defining itself.  And the impulse behind our earliest achievements of cave art is present in everything throughout our history, our collective achievements, our art, our architecture, literature, science, theology, our empires, our struggles, our failures, our compassion for each other.  It's present in all of us as individuals, for which of us doesn’t want our life, our memory to be remembered when we are gone?  We as a species are capable of such great things, great destruction and great good.  And throughout our entire history as a species, we’ve never stopped looking up at the moon and the stars, admiring them, fascinated by them, studying them, unaware at times of our origin among them but always drawn to their light, their unspoken promise.  Until finally in the 20th century, the culmination of thousands of years of research and science and engineering, the best efforts of the best we humans have to offer - we unlock the sky we’ve dreamed of for so long and we build machines to take us to the Moon.  We build the Saturn V, the Apollo capsules, we push ourselves from the cradle and beyond our ancient limits and we - fragile, living mortals - walk upon the Moon itself.  We leave our handprints, after all this time, in the purest form of star dust we will likely ever physically encounter, the living imprinting its shape into the inert, like a brother finally coming home.

But we don’t stop there.  We build satellites and the Hubble Telescope, the International Space Station and satellites and rovers and probes to pave the way for us, our reunion with the stars.  We take more stardust and primal elements and fashion them in our image, to go to other worlds and scout the cosmos for us.  We name them after the best of ourselves: Pioneer, Perseverance, Curiosity, Sojourner, Spirit, that they may represent us well to the cosmos and whatever it may contain.  We build Voyager 1 and Voyager 2, currently the furthest of our creations from the Earth in the cold vastness of interstellar space, and in Voyager 2 we place the Golden Record.  A disk of pure gold upon which we recorded the sounds and voice of Earth - water running, leaves falling in the wind, ocean waves, volcanoes bursting, birds singing, and us - human voices, human laughter, human crying, greetings in every language, our music, a baby crying, a heart beating.  We took inert stardust and imprinted ourselves, living dust, upon it, and sent it out into interstellar space to be our witness and our message.  That we, the universe living and self ware, see the stars we came from and that we understand; we say through the pinnacle of our innovation and with the same depth of expression as those first handprints, “We, the living dust, give this record back to you and for ourselves, that we existed once, and that it mattered.”  We sent it as a testimony, as an offering, as a prayer, and as a vow: that we aren’t done yet, that as long as Humanity lives we will never be done, and if we do eventually end that there will have been a time, if only briefly, that the stars knew and understood themselves, and that despite or even because of its brevity, it will have mattered.

[yuzhousky]

[HINT][200523] XIII Weibo update - Universe

1) Trans:

"20200520

Universe

Baby you know,

The seemingly dark and void horizon,

Conceal billions of galaxies.

If you are patient enough,

Borrow the telescope of Hubble,

See the first generation of stars,

That was the first light to illuminate the dark universe.

Remember the first time you said to me,

I love you,

Like a passionate surprise coming to my heart,

The universe was set up for you in an instant.

Gather your laughters,

Into the Orion Nebula;

Every time (I) hold you tight,

Like a supernova passing through,

My light in chaos;

Tears you can't hide,

Turn into the Leo meteor,

Your wishes, I listen always listen carefully.

Baby, you are like a shining star,

Miss you in the clouded night,

You change the clear night sky,

Even see you for a long time, I won't get tired

One day I will take you,

Travel around the world while humming songs

Settle in where you are tired,

In your favorite city.

You are the sun, I am the moon,

Do not appear on the same day,

Only being interminable in the universe.

Not obsessed with time,

Baby,

Loving me every day,

Is Valentine's Day.

Pic. CR. Hubble Space Telescope --The Hubble eXtreme Deep Field"

2) About the photo from Hubble Space Telescope

Trans info on Baidu :"All of this comes from the deepest touch of the universe! You guys need to know, these photons carry ancient messages, travel through the universe for tens of billions of years, and finally come to us. What is even more amazing is that all of our vision is nothing more than just the cone of light inside the Icy Cape, and countless messages are flying towards us at the speed of light, but we are still outside the light dimension of these events. Finally, I wish Hubble a happy 26th birthday! Thank you for capturing this inexplicably moving for me!"

>> Okay I don't know much about astronomy but in conclusion, the photo XIII posted was taken by Hubble Telescope in 2016 on its 26th birthday !

[bonnissance]

if y’all thought I was over having feelings about cottages and witches and baking, y’all were wrong. on the plus side, I think I’ve gotten it all out of my system now :3

part ii of cottage feels (i) (iii) Hecate ‘a bundle of brainweasles in a tightly tailored dress’ Hardbroom/Pippa ‘she/they non-binary high femme’ Pentangle, 3.3k+, teen, CW: Hecate is a anxious bean + a few references to Hecate’s attitude towards food which could be interpreted as disordered eating, Pippa is v dramatic.  

~*~

Hecate has a cottage, more than a few hours away from Pentangle’s. She hadn’t realised when she inherited it, not till Pippa came back into her life and she started wondering when she could visit her friend, how best for the two of them to spend time together now they were speaking again (that’s a lie, she always knew; but she spent so long convincing herself it didn’t matter that Pippa was just out of reach from a simple transference spell that she truly started to believe it. But now that Pippa is back it’s a hard fact to ignore).

It seems right, to invite Pippa here, instead of Cackle’s, where no matter how hard either of them try, the always fall into their roles as teachers: always worrying about the students around them and whatever mischief they might be up to, so they can never just be. 

At least not around one another. Not the way they need to, in order to make any future for their friendship actually tenable, solid, possible, after so long apart.

Going to Pentangle’s before the beginning of the school year hadn’t worked: it had been marvellous to see Pippa at first, then the awkwardness of sharing a meal had set in and small talk has grown sparse and both had soon realised they had more separating them than connecting. As quickly as they're rekindled they'd fractured apart again, scattered under the tension of things not being right. 

So Hecate had taken her leave, citing a problem with the school. And oh, how right she had been, with the way their first term had begun, and stayed, with nothing but chaos all around.

Then Pippa coming to Cackle’s had been a disaster, the second time, when they’d been sent according the Great Wizard’s agenda with their own hopes in mind—to work beside Hecate, to show her what Pippa could do with magic, what she’d been learning to do all this time, to prove to Hecate that they really was a witch worth her respect, no matter the methods they use—all of which Hecate had only realised after Pippa has left, when she could breathe easy again knowing that Ada’s position at the school was safe and that her own life wouldn’t be uprooted by spirillaus accusations.

Heaven help the next time Ursula Hallow rears her bleach-blonde head; if it weren’t for Ada’s pleading to go easy on the woman for the sake of her daughters, Hecate would have gotten rather Crafty in her further interactions with Mrs Hallow in ways that definitely, oh so certainly do not contravene the Code in any way shape or form. 

Because it’s not like a few stray dead rats are technically harmful to others, and none of it really benefits Hecate. So she’ll freely admit, if only to herself, that she rather likes Julie Hubble’s very precise summation of witchery’s most significant rules for the new outlooks on permissible interaction between witches it’s given her.

She really should thank that woman, now she thinks of it. If she’s anything like her daughter, she’d probably appreciate a chocolate cake. Hecate makes a note to spent an afternoon reviving some old recipes.

But, now, things are settled between her and Pippa. Now they’ve found the time to talk, albeit only over the mirror, and gotten a chance to air out old grievances. Since they promised each other they only wish to move forward.

So, she thinks it’s time she offered something to Pippa, now Hecate has realised she’s been spurning Pippa’s attempts all this time, too busy worrying about the school and all the shenanigans that have been happening to see the glimpses of her old friend reaching out to her.

She thinks it’s time she reached out too.

So she invites Pippa, to her cottage, just outside the limits of their ability to transfer, for afternoon tea. 

She wants to make something they’ll like, something special the two of them can share; she remembers Pippa used to like croquembouche, how she’d cooed and squeed over one in a shop-window one weekend they’d been given time away from campus. 

She still remembered how delighted Pippa had been by the display, and rosy cheeks and bright smiles. A happy Pippa always was a sight to behold.

A lot has happened since then, but Hecate is certain Pippa’s delight in all things flashing and complicated hasn’t changed. And if they have, Hecate hopes Pippa will appreciated the effort all the same.

Because she wakes up to see a red ring around that day shining bring on her calendar. Gets up of bed. Spends the day pouring herself into constructing. It gives her something to think while she worried about Pippa’s imminent arrival, something else to focus on except about their coming presence in Hecate’s house.

It helps, passes the day quickly in a blur of intricate details in between empty out a room she’s never thought to use for anything expect storage. She hasn’t said anything, but it’s a long enough flight that is seems only polite to offer Pippa somewhere to sleep for the night, though they want to avoid two flights in one day. So she turns it into a bedroom she thinks Pippa might like, red velvet and crushed pink, candles by the bedside and an open window for the breeze, and closes the door when she’s done.

Hecate has never had a guest sleep in the cottage. She’s not sure if she wants it to stay that way, or if she’s just scared of knowing just how long Pippa can stand to be around her.

She retreats to the kitchen to avoid thinking about it.

The tower forms before her till she forgets to count down the minutes to Pippa’s arrival. She puts the final twist of spun sugar on the tower and transfers it over to the table; give herself a chance to marvel at her handiwork, almost forgetting why she made it in the first place. Almost.

Then a glimmer of movement outside the kitchen window catches her eyes. She looks outside to see a rapidly nearing glitter of pink drawing near the house. She swallows her nerves as best she can, keeps them trapped to her stomach as she walk outside to watch Pippa land between the farthest flowerbeds, pink clogs touching down lightly onto lush emerald grass.

‘Well met, Hecate,’ Pippa says, smiling brightly as she dips their head slightly.

‘Well met,’ Hecate replies, forever grateful that witchy customs give her something to do with her hands during otherwise awkward greetings.

Her fingertips itch as Pippa draws near, to stand beside Hecate with just a hint of a knowing smile on her lips. A part of her is relieved when Pippa ignores her in favour of staring at the cottage; most of her is heartbroken.

‘I know it isn’t much,’ she starts when Pippa stares for far too long, as a strange sort of weight growing in the space between their shoulders—not quite brushing.  

‘It’s perfect,’ Pippa whispers, finally turning towards Hecate, and Hecate could swear there are tears in their eyes. ‘It’s more you than I’d imagined.’

Hecate blushes; she cant remember the last time someone looked at her quite like that, as if they can see all of Hecate, right into the heart of her, instead of staring through like she isn’t even there.

It’s a strange feeling, to be truly seen. Hecate can never tell if she likes it or not.

She ushers Pippa inside without a word, into the warmth of the living room with the dining room table just beside. The croquembouche stands tall in the middle of the table, caramel gleaming in the firelight while the rest of the table sits bare, just waiting to be filled with teapot and saucers and conversation.

Pippa stops short of the table with a soft gasp. ‘Oh, Hiccup! You shouldn’t have.’

Hecate flaps her hand. ‘It was nothing—’

‘You know it’s not.’ Pippa voice is firm, heavy, knowing, and Hecate inhales sharply.

She flicks her forefinger. ‘It was your favourite.’

‘Still is,’ Pippa assures her, eyes misted ever so slightly and wide with delight. Their hand twitches, but stays by their side. ‘It looks wonderful, Hecate. Thank you.’

Hecate ruffles under the gratitude in Pippa voice, for all it was what she hoped for, and mumbles something about making tea to excuse herself to the kitchen. She can feel Pippa’s eyes on her back as she works, hairs on the back of her neck tingling until a soft mieow echoes up from the table legs; she looks up to find Pippa sitting comfortably at the table, carries the tea over as they coo at Morgana, half sitting in Pippa’s lap and demanding pats.

Pippa fingers scratch at cat fur; Hecate shivers, sits down.

She tries her best to sit at ease, to ease herself in the feel of Pippa’s company, pouring for the both of them while Pippa begins devouring the tower. Hecate nibbles at a petite four, tries not to stare that the crumbs sitting at the corner of Pippa’s mouth.

Conversation is light, pleasant, polite, but there’s a undercurrent of tension vibrating beneath as move past pleasantries and being to trade horror stories from their respective schools. In that, they find common ground, and the kinks in Hecate’s back being to work themselves lose as the tower slowly disintegrates: a sacrifice to Pippa’s sweet tooth, between spars and barbs and anecdote about their students.

Soon enough, they’re in the middle of a heated debate, and it feels so much like they used to Hecate can’t help smiling; helps herself to a third ball of puff pastry as they launch into a healthy if overly vigorous back and forward on the benefits of infusing ingredient from seed rather than folding magic into a final product, and forgets to be self conscious.

The teapot is stone cold when Pippa finally holds her hands up in surrender as Hecate delivers her final point arguing for the importance of personalised potion-fodder.

‘Alright, you’ve convinced me!’ they say with a smile, and Hecate nods her head in satisfaction, breathing slightly heavier than normal as she settles back into her chair.

She was too caught up in the argument to realise she’s shuffled to the edge of her seat: close enough to brush against Pippa’s knee.  

Something tickles at her forehead: a stray piece of flyaway hair hangs down in front of her face, dangling just in front of her nose. Hecate huffs, infuriated, wondering how it could have worked it way free of her bun.

Pippa giggles. Hecate glares, at her friend and her unruly hair; freezes as Pippa reaches forward to tuck the hair behind Hecate’s ear.

She shivers as fingertips trace over the shell of her ear; blinking furiously as Pippa sits back in their chair, hands curled in her lap with their eyes shining, her lips twitching as if they want to speak.

Hecate coughs, ruffling under Pippa’s gaze; looks up to see their eyes clouded, now slid over Hecate’s shoulder to stare at the clock on the mantlepiece.

Pippa pouts. ‘Oh, bother, is that the time?’ they wonder, a little put out but already gathering their coat over their shoulders. ‘I’d best be getting back,’ she adds with a lopsided smile. Looking like they really don’t want to leave, not really.

Hecate resists the urge to cling. ‘You can stay, you know,’ she offers lightly, fingers twitching to reach out and draw Pippa back to the table. She keeps her hands to herself, where they’re supposed to be. ‘I’ve a spare room—it’s not much, but…you only just got here, you needn’t fly away so soon.’

Pippa eyes her, a little relieved but still not convinced. ‘You wouldn’t mind?’

Hecate frowns. ‘No, not at all.’ She wouldn’t have offered if she did.

Pippa still hesitates, only half way out of their chair. As if she’s waiting for something.

For me, Hecate realises after a few moments. Breathes in deep, and admits, ‘I’d like you to stay.’

So Pippa does: sets herself up in the spare room Hecate has never had use for beside storage, settles into the cottage for the afternoon, insists Hecate go about her business like they aren’t even here.

‘At least until dinner is ready,’ Pippa adds, twinkle in her eye, before burying her nose in an ancient, browning spell book they found on Hecate’s shelf.

Hecate closes the door in something of a panic, ever so slightly: she’d forgotten they’d have to sit with one another at the dinner table, forgotten they’d be forced to talk, again, or eat in silence.

She’s never been very good at either of those.

Pippa emerges an hour later, swapping one book for three before joining Hecate beside the fire: walks in with a soft smile, without a word, settling themselves in the second chair within the warmth of the cottage. 

Hecate tries to keep reading like normal, but there’s nothing normal about having Pippa sitting close enough for her to touch—not now, not after all this time. 

She tries not to scurry away, instead busies herself in with dinner: a slow roast stew with pomegranate jewelled rice.

It’s far richer than she’d ever make for herself, but she’d never had the excuse before, so she readily takes it now.

She can feel Pippa’s eyes on her, as she peels and chops and dices, gaze lingering as they stay on the sofa where Hecate insisted they remain when Pippa offered to help. Shivers run up her spine and she flusters slightly, unused to the attention: hands shaking ever so slightly as she scraped carrots and set them aside.

She pointedly ignores her guest, only looking up when she heard the front door open and close; looks up to find the cottage empty again, the way it should be, but can’t help thinking it feels wrong, somehow.

She frowns, leaves the stew to simmer, and goes to find her friend.  

The sky gleams pink and purples and deep, dark blue as she draws near Pippa, sitting on a picnic blanket and looking up at the evening sky.

Pippa’s silhouette is lovely and bright, even in the ever-growing dim, and Hecate mumbles a greeting as she stops to stand beside.

‘Dinner will be ready soon,’ she murmers, toes brushing the edges of the blanket Hecate knows should be lain across that second chair she owns but never sits in. 

Pippa nods, but doesn’t respond; Hecate kneels, craning her neck to look right above her, at the stars just starting to twinkle.

Pippa notices her looking, and does the same.  

’Do you remember when we used to sneak out after curfew to stargaze?’ they ask, breaking the silence, a few minutes later. Their voice is soft, almost wistful, and Hecate bites back a snort.

‘I do.’ She hums, remembering the nights Pippa would creep into her room and lead them both into the dark of night to spend hours lying side by side, staring up the sky.

She’s still bitter about the one and only detention she received during their time at school, for getting caught in the corridors after hours, trying to sneak back into their room: their form-mistress has assumed they’d been heading for the kitchen, refused to believe they’d been studying for their upcoming astronomy exams. It was all Pippa’s fault, of course; if they’d headed back to their rooms when Hecate has said, they’d never have been caught.

‘You always did have a way of getting to me to do whatever you wanted.’

Pippa sniffs, stiffens beside her. ‘Actually, I remember you saying that view from you room was terrible and you wanted to see the sky better.’

Hecate frowns, rebuttal dying on the tip of her tongue: recalling a long buried memory of her lamenting the atrocious view through the tiny sliver of a window in her tower bedroom, a confession about how much she missed being able to see the stars before she slept.

That is how it had started: Pippa knowing what Hecate wanted, and finds a way to make it happen.

‘Oh, I...’ she stammers, looking down at her knees. ‘I’d forgotten that.’

Pippa nods slowly, turning towards Hecate. They wait patiently until Hecate looks back at them.

‘I think we’ve forgotten a lot of things, Hiccup,’ she says, like it holds more weight than it simply being how memories work after all this time.

Their eyes shine in the dark, and though Pippa’s shoulders do not move, Hecate could swear she feels fingertips brush over her knuckles

And just like that, the wide, opening clearing in front of her cottage in the middle of a secluded forrest feels much, much too small.

Hecate closes her eyes, trying desperately to stave off what she knows comes next, if only for a new more seconds.

‘You still haven’t told me why you left,’ Pippa points out, their voice resigned, almost unfeeling. Almost.

Hecate shakes her head, trying to work her way up to explaining without actually saying. She’s not ready, not yet; but then again, she doubts she’ll ever be ready.

Pippa has waited this long, she deserves Hecate at least try.

But Pippa doesn’t stop, doesn’t wait for Hecate to speak, just keeps talking.

‘I haven’t told you why I didn’t follow, though I suspect you know. It’s not like I’ve been very subtle about it,’ they add, and it’s all Hecate can do to keep up. ‘You broke my heart, Hecate. I thought I could get past it, and focus on just being friends—and I can, once I’ve gotten all this out in the open and just moved on like I should have done decades ago.’

She can’t be hearing right, surely? She didn’t just hear Pippa say…

‘But after seeing you here, this house, I can’t pretend that I still don’t want more. That I don’t want to share things like this with you. It’s not fair to hide it from you, for me to keep pretending there isn’t something more on my part.’

But that means—

‘So, there it is, out in the open at last,’ Pippa says with a self-deprecating laugh. She looks over at Hecate, to find her open mouth and staring. The silence drags on too long. ‘Hiccup?’

Hecate can’t response, her tongue too tied under so many words she wants to say.

‘Right, okay then,’ Pippa says, cleaning their throat as they get to their feet, as far from Hecate as they can manage. ‘I understand, I’ve just got to—’

Hecate’s hand shot out in the dark but stops before she can grasp Pippa’s hand; desperate to touch but still hanging back.

‘Stay,’ she says, begs, finally letting her fingers rest on the warmth of Pippa’s forearm.

Pippa huffs, pulling her hand from Hecate’s. ‘Don’t worry, I wasn’t thinking of flying home in the dark. I know I’ve been dramatic about things in the past, but I’ve no intention of storming off in a huff and poleaxing myself on a tree, Hecate. You don’t have to worry about me, I’ll be fine.’

It’s wrong, this is all wrong; thats not what she means at all.

‘No, I mean, stay. Here, now. With me.’

‘I’d rather lick my wounds in private, if you don’t mind,’ they says, walking towards the cottage. ‘I’ll be here in the morning if you need to talk.’

Talking is the last thing on Hecate’s mind, now that Pippa is leaving; she doesn’t want that, never wanted that. Never wants Pippa leaving, ever again.

Hecate surges to her feet, tripping on the creased in the rug and stumbling slightly as she races towards Pippa’s retreating form. Slips her hand into Pippa’s and tugs, turning her around to pull her close; muffling a tiny cry of surprise with her mouth as she kisses Pippa, soft and sweet, shaking and trembling as Pippa melts against her.

She breaks away, long moments later, to see heavy lidded eyes flutter open and bright, dark eyes sparkle back at her.

‘But—’

‘Stay with me, please?’ Hecate says, knowing she’s prepared to beg to the person in arms if that what’s it takes to make sure Pippa never leaves again, and does not let go.

Pippa smiles, beams, tears in their eyes gleaming in the last rays of sun, and leans forward to catch Hecate’s lips with their own.

‘Always.’   

[strangesmallbard]

fic | but the sun is still in the sky

Fandom: The Worst Witch (2017) Rating: T Pairing: Hecate Hardbroom/Julie Hubble Summary:

Julie slams a drawer shut. “We already tried summoning them, didn’t we? I don’t suppose you have an X-Ray Vision Potion on hand.”

She hears a scoff. “Those could not exist less.”

Julie turns with an all-around lazy glare. She crosses her arms, to emphasize how mad she is. “You could help, darling.”

| read on ao3 |

Are all Witches simply allergic to keeping easily accessible medical records?

Julie may be decent with a spreadsheet for someone who’s only had Google half their life, but there is only so much she can do when the Infirmary check-in records for the years 2016 through 2017 simply disappear from the office. In front of her eyes.

“Oh dear,” Ada had said, adjusting her specs. “Yes, that can happen. The castle has a mind of its own sometimes. Ah well!”

“Ah. Well!” Julie said, and gave a smile that desperately tried not to explode into a frustrated rage.

She is not going to fight a castle.

Ada patted her arm. “You might check the cellar. We tend to vanish copies there at the end of each term. We do really mean to go through them too, but other...events tend to take precedence.”

Julie grimaced, sympathetically. “Of course.”

The cellar. The cellar of a castle with a mind of its own. Where all the odds and ends of magic itself just sort of end up in one chaotic cluster. Now, she can do chaos. She works emergency on Friday nights. She is personally responsible for the survival of at least eighteen Uni students back from when she used to engage in a little bit of chaos herself.

Still. Asking Hecate to join her has made the ordeal terribly comfortable.

“There are much less tedious ways to find these...forms.”

And there’s that.

Julie slams a drawer shut. “We already tried summoning them, didn’t we? I don’t suppose you have an X-Ray Vision Potion on hand.”

She hears a scoff. “Those could not exist less .”

Julie turns with an all-around lazy glare. She crosses her arms, to emphasize how mad she is. “You could help, darling.”

Hecate, still standing in the center of the room, twists one hand over the other. She clears her throat. “Well, I am certainly trying.”

Julie points across the room, where she hasn’t begun looking yet. “Is searching the cabinets yourself against the Code?”

Hecate’s brow startles up. “You know very well that it’s not.”

“Very well, huh?” Julie says, hands on her hips. Her glare careens up into a decidedly impish smile. “Then get to work, Miss Hardbroom, and we can still have our lunch date.”

Hecate tries to keep the lines on her face harsh and stalwart, but a small smile pulls upwards the longer they look each other, like the sun coming out in well. A cellar. She has no right looking that attractive in a cellar , surrounded by dust and cobwebs and ancient storage containers that don’t have her missing forms. A sharp figure standing proud in the dark, delicate wisps of fallen hair tucked behind her ears. That thing her mouth does when she’s trying not to smile.

(If Julie ever gets her hands on the person who told her not to smile when she wants to, made her so wary of any given affection–)

Hecate tilts her head to the side, the rest of her to follow. She sighs, smile dropping. “If you’re not absolutely opposed to magic, I can move this process along by summoning every drawer containing paper.”

Julie only barely withholds an eye roll. She takes a step towards her. “Magic is the reason why we’re here instead of having a cuddle on my couch.”

Hecate flushes again, and seems to be warring with herself; to flirt with your girlfriend in a musty cellar or to defend the virtues of Witchcraft? That is the question. “How presumptuous,” she says, cool and smooth as a skipping stone. “That we’d forgo one of Miss Tapioca’s delightful meals.”

Julie steps close enough that she has to look up to meet her eyes. How irritating. She reaches up to smooth out her dress collar and watches her eyes go warm, warm. Knows her own must be going the same. How not so irritating. She hums. “You’re right. I don’t know how I could possibly live without some chicken stew, or…”

Hecate feigns an expert false disinterest. “...Or?”

She reaches up to needlessly tuck hair behind her ear. Her palm brushes Hecate’s jaw, and she tilts her head imperceptibly closer.  “Those infirmary check-in records,” she says, voice low. Hecate blinks a few times, owlish, and gives Julie probably the closest Hecate Hardbroom will ever come to a true, bonafide pout.

“Hmm,” she says, extricating her hand. She continues to hold it. Just for a moment. Her hands are cool, not cold. “I actually prefer the boiled potatoes.”

“And I prefer you.” Julie says, and pecks her cheek. “Preferably away from the cobwebs, even though they do match your outfit.”

Hecate clears her throat no less than three times. Her hand comes up to straighten out the collar Julie already fixed, brush invisible dust off her shoulder. “I do,” she begins, and shakes her head. “It has been a while since...we’ve,” she flicks a hand around the room. “The cobwebs certainly add a certain ambiance.”

Julie nudges her head over to the cabinets. “They’re certainly making me sneeze. Come on, there’s only a few more drawers to get through. Let’s work our way from opposite ends.”

Hecate stares at her hands for a moment before giving a slightly pained nod. She walks to the other end of the cabinet and pulls out a drawer, pulling out a few orange crystals. She blows on them, and dust flies off. She stares at them, affronted. “I lost these an entire decade ago.”

Julie opens her own drawer to reveal a whole lot of blank parchment. She doesn’t need parchment, but takes it out anyway. It’s rather fancy. “See! Not a pointless endeavor after all.”

“I never said it was pointless,” Hecate says, the edges of warm. “I only…”

She falls quiet.

When she doesn’t speak again, Julie puts the parchment back. She watches her consider the crystals, the low yellow light in the cellar making the old things look rather pretty. Mildred brought home a set of crystals last summer, a gift from Enid. She set them all about the house and chattered away about each of their properties, about the spells they were to meant to enhance. She put one in Julie’s room too. For protection, Mum . She smiled. I put a Heating Spell on them too. I know it gets really drafty in here.

That’s because your mum is silly and leaves the window open all night.

The crystals sent yellow and pink all across Julie’s floor. Now you can have both, Mum. You can be warm and chilly at the same time! Cool, right?

And oh, magic isn’t always a destructive, nebulous force of chaos. Sometimes. Sometimes it’s–

“You’re right, by the way,” Julie says, quietly.

Hecate looks up. “About what?”

She leans against the cabinet. “It has been far too long since we’ve seen each other.”

Hecate opens her mouth and closes it immediately, and Julie really didn’t used to believe that the eyes say all nonsense. Now eyes speak a hesitant affection, like saying anything at all could unravel the whole conversation into something unmanageable. Julie lets her go with a nod and a smile, and returns to her work. The next drawer over has a rather incredible array of candles and decidedly no papers. Wait! There are papers right underneath– No, no, more blank parchment.

She takes out a candle and frowns at it. “By the way, Millie’s been asking when you’ll come over for dinner again.”

Hecate pushes a drawer back in. Julie can’t tell if she looks amused or surprised. “I would have thought she’d be enjoying a term break free of me.”

Julie laughs, warmly. “Hardly, Miss Hardbroom. She’s excited to show you her summer project, but that’s not all. I believe we haven’t watched the Star Wars prequels yet?”

Fondness overwhelms amusement, but not surprise, and she considers the orange crystals again. “No...I don’t believe we have. Do those involve…” Her forehead scrunches up. “ Leia’s mother?”

“The very ones!” Julie sighs at yet more parchment paper. “You know, the first time she came home from school, she practiced Levitation Spells on her old toy lightsaber. Successfully, I might add.” She eyes Hecate and tucks the parchment paper back under the candles. “Weren’t you two having a debate on whether magic and the Force are similar?”

Hecate sighs. “I...acquiesce to their similarity in discipline, but one is still incredibly…fictional.” She vanishes away the crystal. “And in outer space,” she adds, wryly.

Julie watches her again. There’s very little tension in her shoulders. “She’s very happy that you enjoy the films too,” she says, softly.

The surprise vanishes, and Hecate opens the next drawer. “Her Levitation Spells have gotten very strong as of late. I’m certain she’d be able to add a Sounding Charm for that,” she waves her hand, “ridiculous sound those things have. Tell her,” she looks back at Julie with a smile. “Tell Mildred I’d be very glad to join you both for dinner again. Star… Wars as well.”

And there’s that.

“Next Friday,” she says, quiet and a bit scratchy. “We have that Staff Meeting in the morning, and Millie comes home from Maud’s house the day before.”

Hecate stares at her, bewildered in ways Julie is starting to know, and she nods, once.

Julie reaches for another drawer. “You know, I just bought a new box of popcorn. I know that’s your favo–” The drawer catches on something, halfway out. She reaches a hand in to see if it’s a strange crystal, and it’s strangely, incredibly empty. “Hey!” she mutters, and tugs again.

She hears a mild, half-hearted scoff. “Popped corn is merely– Are you alright?”

Julie tugs again, and reaches along the crevices between the drawers on the right and then the left, and still, absolutely nothing. She looks behind her and Hecate has gone from teasing to incredibly concerned. “It’s just–Ugh! It’s stuck! For no good reason!” She glares at the cabinet. “Blasted old thing. Give me my records!”

Hecate carefully steps away, and vanishes the crystals. She lifts a hand, a question. “I believe I spoke earlier of a faster... process?”

(Sometimes, magic, sometimes it’s–)

Julie raises a brow. “Alright, alright,” she says. She steps back, and gestures. “Try it out.”

Hecate nods with a ghost of a smile, and re-tenses her shoulders. She twists her hand, and all of the drawers shoot forward simultaneously. The stuck one stops halfway out, straining against whatever has deemed itself stronger than magic. She scowls and curls her hand into a fist. The drawer strains again, twisting upwards and downwards and it even starts to glow green with the effort.

Julie has to stifle a laugh. “Hecate, it’s–”

“This is impossible," Hecate near growls. “This Spell is able to move stone.” She stalks towards the drawer, hands hovering and curling inward. The green glows stronger and brighter and the drawer doesn’t move another inch. She looks incredulously at her own hands and hovers them again, almost touching the drawer. This time, it scoots backwards, like it’s hiding from them. Really growling, Hecate shakes her head, grabs the handle herself, and tugs.

Before Julie can warn her about dislocating a shoulder, the drawer shoots forward and tumbles Hecate right into her arms. They both stumble back, Hecate haphazardly reaching for Julie’s waist and shoulder to stay upright. The drawer, perhaps angry at being disturbed–Julie won’t underestimate magic for a moment–shoots right out of the cabinet, aimed directly for their heads.

Julie tugs them away, but Hecate regains her footing in time to lift a firm hand and stop the drawer right in its tracks. It hovers, and Julie may be losing it, but the ends of the handle are starting to look like eyes and they’re starting to glare back.

“Shoo,” Hecate says, slow and dangerous.

The drawer juts forward again, clipping Hecate in the nose and crashing her back against Julie once more. This time, she catches her around the waist and doesn’t let go.

Hecate holds her nose and glares back. She tries to be menacing again, and it all just comes out nasally. “I have survived the destruction of this school far too many times to be done in by a piece of mangled furniture.”

A giggle threatens to break free, which won’t do at all. She covers with a stern glare of her own, and raises a finger at the offending drawer. “Go on! Get! You have a job to do, and so do we!”

The drawer definitely cannot be looking at her, but it turns the handle towards the new voice regardless. Julie gives in to the madness and maintains er, eye contact. She feels Hecate take a deep, frustrating breath, and she twists her hand up again, sending a silver spark towards the drawer. It doesn’t budge.

It gives Julie one more glance (God), and seems to nod. Then, finally, it flies backwards and tucks itself back into the cabinet.

Hecate sags against her, just for a moment. Julie lets her arms sag too, so Hecate can leave if she wants. She stays put, just looking at the cabinet, reaching up to lightly rest a hand over Julie’s arm. “I have long suggested to Ada that we take the time to clear out any lingering spellwork in this room.”

Julie tucks her chin on Hecate’s shoulder. “Don’t blame the room because you couldn’t properly scare a cabinet drawer,” she murmurs.

Hecate sighs, sharply. “I could have smashed the entire things into smithereens if I cared to.”

Julie places a hand on Hecate’s arm. “Let me see your nose.”

Hecate turns around, and Julie catches her chin, gently turning her head right and left to check for any swelling or bruising. It looks a little bit red, and she smiles. “Oh, it got you bad.”

Her lips twitch up. “Is that your medical opinion, Nurse Hubble?”

She nods. “Yep! And since you’ve been so terribly injured, I’m afraid those missing records will just have to wait another day.”

Hecate’s face settles into something soft, something a bit wry. “Are you certain? I know that– I know that you need to...You simply want to perform your duties well. We will find them, I promise.” She frowns. “I can certainly enhance the Summoning Spell.”

“You’re very sweet,” Julie says, and reaches up to gently tuck actual escaped hair behind her ear. Her hand settles at the base of Hecate’s neck. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

Hecate’s lips twitch up again, brow furrowing. “That is...not quite a favored adjective, no.”

Julie tilts her head. Her own uncertainties seem to catch. It's new, she knows, all of this. For both of them. There's a life they both more than accepted a long time ago, and there's this spark of something warm and lovely and not easy, no, but that was never Julie’s trouble before, and is far from trouble now. Quite the opposite.

If the Julie Hubble from Parent’s Night several years ago could see her–well, it’s not that she’s ever been wary of change either, and this is the expected and unexpected all whirling together into something almost delicate.

Oddly enough. Just like those cobwebs.

“You are,” she says, smiling. “When you want to be.”

She watches her brow smooth out and there go her eyes again. Like a very cozy fire on a very cold day. Or, well, a very cold cellar.

She starts to reach for Julie, and then hesitates, tucks the arm back against her side, curls a hand. “We should most likely leave.” She lets out an odd snort that no one would ever believe, and looks back at the cabinet. “Before the furniture retaliates and doubles their efforts.”

Julie gives a mock grimace. “Oh, darn. We gave it right back to its friends, and now they're going to steal all of my medical records this time.”

Hecate looks at her a moment, face full of considering, and then offers a hand, unfurled. Julie takes it, smiling again, and Hecate gently folds their hands together. “Before the first strike,” she near murmurs, and lifts her other hand. “Are you settled?”

Julie nods, steeling herself against a transfer. As they leap through a void, Hecate runs a thumb across her palm.

When they reappear in the Infirmary, just beside her desk, she doesn't let go either. Not right away. Not before Julie notices that her Infirmary check-in records have reappeared exactly where she last saw them. Right down to a page corner sticking out of the pile.

Magic. Castles.

She picks them up, inspecting them for any damage, and of course there’s none, of course they’re absolutely fine and not in a cellar. She shakes the first paper at the stone walls, the high stained glass windows. “Are you kidding me!”

Beside her, Hecate smiles, the one that changes her whole face and leaves Julie more than a little breathless and she laughs , shoulders curving with the effort. No, cackles.

Julie grumbles, warm, warm. She points a finger. “I'm taking the last serving of chicken stew, and you can't stop me.”

Hecate reaches for her other hand, brings it up to her lips. Drops a kiss. Genuinely stunned, Julie can only watch her smirk and say, “How about a...oh, what's the word I'm looking for...a race?”

She disappears.

Julie blinks. She stares at the spot Hecate vacated. She shakes the papers again, and grins, despite herself. “You're on!”

[fanchonmoreau]

Hicsqueak, "where does the good go?" by tegan and sara. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't find me attractive/ Look me in the heart and tell me you won't go / Look me in the eye and promise no love's like our love / Look me in the heart and un-break broken, it won't happen It's love that breaks the seal of always thinking you would be / Real happy and healthy, strong and calm / Where does the good go"

It’s taken her six months to gather her courage, but she’s going to talk to Hecate today.

It is, she thinks, the only way to salvage anything resembling friendship between them. Since the Bee, there have been a few mirror calls, and even fewer visits, where they exchange ideas about pedagogy, discuss research, and relay short classroom anecdotes if Hecate is up for it, but nothing more. Hecate has been quite well, thank you, and that’s all she’ll say about herself. 

It’s driving Pippa nearly to madness.

There was a time when Hecate would tell her everything. All of their classmates got Hecate’s sharp tongue or her pointed silence, and she got whispered jokes and sly laughter, long study sessions by the lake and stolen evenings on the school’s roof. And then, late at night, safe in Hecate’s room, new spells that Hecate was inventing, cast just for her.

She knows what was happening to them, now that she has the benefits of time and hindsight. She knows they were falling in love. She thinks that’s why Hecate ran from her, all those years ago. 

And if they don’t face the truth of that, they’ll never be close again.

So Pippa arranges to meet Hecate for tea at Cackle’s late one Friday afternoon, and she promises herself that this is it, today will be the day that she will bring it up. She will be gentle, non-confrontational–she will give Hecate as much time and space as she needs to process. It will be such a difficult conversation to have, but she will do it.

She still has to steel herself before she approaches the door to Hecate’s office. It’s closed, which she is not expecting, but then again she’s here early. She’s about to knock when she hears a loud voice from inside.

“She came here knowing nothing about your world, nothing at all. As I understand it, she’s got most of what she’s learned from her friend Maud, who’s all of twelve years old. You’ve done nothing but insult her and try to kick her out and do you know what that does a girl’s–” 

“That’s quite enough,” Hecate tries to cut in.

“Don’t interrupt me,” the woman snaps, and there’s so much force in it that Pippa nearly jumps back. “You’re supposed to be her teacher, You’re the one I entrust her to when I’m not there, so take some responsibility for that, why don’t you?”

Pippa can feel Hecate’s anger, even from behind the door. “Ms. Hubble,” Hecate seethes. Pippa tuts to herself. Of course Mildred is still the only child from a nonmagical family there. “If you are accusing me of neglecting my duties,” Hecate continues, “then I can assure you that nothing can be further–” 

“You know what, I don’t have time to listen to this,” Mildred’s mother says with a sigh. “I can tell I’m not going to change your mind, and I have a shift in a few hours. Just, try to teach her without looking down on her. Can you do that much?” 

There’s a long, tense silence. Eventually, there’s some muttering that Pippa can’t quite pick up and the quiet whoosh of a transportation spell, presumably Hecate transferring Mildred’s mother home. 

Pippa holds her breath, counts to ten, and then knocks on the door.

There’s shuffling, the sound of something falling over. Hecate takes her time opening the door, and when she does, she looks pale and is holding her hands in tight fists.

“You’re early,” she remarks.

Pippa bites her lip, She can, of course, pretend she never heard the argument. But the implication Mildred’s mother made, that Hecate was mistreating Mildred in some way, weighs heavily on her. She wants to think that Hecate would never do such a thing, at least not maliciously, but how much does she know, truly, about the person Hecate is now? 

“I am,” Pippa says slowly, “Do you mind telling me what that was about?” 

Hecate stills and goes wide-eyed for a moment, like a child, before she recovers herself. “A parent,” she says, clipped and dismissive. “You know how they get.” 

Pippa nods. “I do know how some parents get,” she clarifies gently, “but I also know the difference between an overreaction and an actual problem.” 

Hecate’s mouth tightens into a scowl. One of her hands has clenched back into a fist, and the space between them seems to ache with whatever it is that Hecate is holding back. Pippa almost laughs, if only because the atmosphere is so familiar. “I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job, Pippa,” Hecate says, with anger burrowed in the quiet of her voice. “I can manage parents quite well on my own, thank you.” 

Pippa can hear that Hecate’s hurting; it’s as clear to her as a chant sung in perfect unison by a coven of sisters. But a child wouldn’t know that. A girl would think that all of that frustration, all of that rage was directed at her, and not at– 

Quite suddenly, she understands what is happening with Mildred Hubble. 

“No, Hecate, not this parent.” It comes out harsher than she intends, but perhaps that’s not a bad thing. “And not this student. And I have to ask, have you been doing anything at all to accommodate Mildred and her background?”

Hecate turns away, grips the edge of her desk. She sucks in a breath through her teeth, and Pippa can feel her trying to weather all of the strong emotions she must be feeling. 

“It’s not a matter of background,” Hecate hisses, coming back to herself. She turns and faces Pippa, and the dark resolve in her eyes is enough to make Pippa’s heart break. “It’s laziness. Absent-mindedness. A complete disregard of the craft–” 

“She can’t respect the craft if she doesn’t know what it is, Hecate,” Pippa retorts with an impatient sigh. She wills herself not to get angry, to keep her voice level. “She is overwhelmed. She doesn’t know where to begin sometimes, I’d imagine. From what I could see, with the right guidance, she could be a very powerful and creative magician.”

“With the right guidance,” Hecate repeats slowly, and then laughs. It’s a terrible, empty sound that Pippa hates immediately. “You think you can do it, Pippa, but you have no idea what it’s like. The constant fear that she’ll hurt herself, or her classmates. That the next mistake will be one that can’t be fixed, that you’ll be the one telling Mildred’s mother that–” 

Pippa raises her hand to stop Hecate from finishing her sentence. “You can’t keep them safe. Not completely. Not with all the enchantments in the world. Not even with no magic all. You don’t have that kind of control.” 

Hecate lowers her gaze, trying to hide how her eyes have become wet and glassy. “You can keep them safer,” she says, mostly to the floor. “I told Ada from the beginning, I said she’s not safe here.” 

Pippa takes a single step closer to her. She smothers the impulse to reach for her hand. “Is that better, then?” she starts softly. “To know something’s real but to never touch it, because you’re too afraid?” 

Hecate’s eyes snap up. She understands that Pippa’s no longer talking just about Mildred, and she stares her down. Dares her to keep going. 

“You want what you think is best for her,” Pippa says, “and I understand. But you can’t burden a child with that regret. And I know… I know you know what that feels like. The broomstick competition–” 

She’s not sure when she started crying, but she’s certain Hecate can see it now. Hecate’s expression is now unreadable, carefully made blank. 

There was a time that Hecate never kept her out like this, and Goddess be damned, Pippa wants it back. 

“I didn’t know that I was in love you, not then.” she says. Hecate’s eyes widen, but there’s no other visible reaction. Pippa buries her disappointment and keeps going. “But if you had told me what you were feeling, it would have become so clear to me that it was what I was feeling, too.” 

For a moment, Hecate is perfectly still, fists clenched at her sides, eyes fixed somewhere near Pippa’s shoulder. And then, quite without warning, she crumbles. She collapses into her chair, and her whole body heaves and trembles with silent sobs.

Pippa drops to her knees in front of Hecate, takes both of her hands. “Shhh. It’s all right. It’s all right. Hiccup, darling, it’s all going to be all right.” 

Hecate flinches at the nickname, and then squeezes Pippa’s hands. For several minutes, she lets Hecate cry it all out. Watches the shame and the anger start to ebb out of her, little by little.  

Eventually, the sobs subside. Hecate wipes at her eyes and gives a low, watery chuckle. “Do you know,” she begins tentatively, “what the worst part is?” 

Pippa shakes her head. “I don’t know, what?” 

Hecate looks at their joined hands. Smiles so wide that Pippa is helpless to do anything but smile back. “Is that it’s happening all over again. I’m…well.” Hecate can’t bring herself to say the words, but Pippa says them to herself, like a chant, like an incantation: falling in love. “All over again,” Hecate finishes, and she laces her fingers with Pippa’s.

Pippa reaches up and smoothes her knuckles over Hecate’s cheek. All of the affection she has for this woman, untouched for so many years without her, and so many weeks fearing that she was somehow still lost to her, wells up inside her. “Thank Goddess for that,” Pippa says, and then she kisses her. 

[advocatewrites-blog]

Simple/Clean Chapter 12

Simple/Clean: An Original Character’s Story

Fandom: Kingdom Hearts (1, with mentions of other installments)

Synopsis: There are many worlds, but they share the same sky. One Sky, one Destiny. And when that destiny is threatened, the universe calls on one hero to save the day. Or, more like, five. When the Earth is consumed into Darkness, Danielle Scott and her friends are given the Keys between light and darkness. If they are going to save the worlds and find her brother, they are going to have to go on a multiverse-wide road trip to find the Door to Light. If only they had a better weapon than keys.

Rated: +K for violence and occasional language

Disclaimer: The Kingdom Hearts series was created by Tetsuya Nomura and owned by Square Enix. The Final Fantasy series was created by Hironobu Sakaguchi and owned by Square Enix. The films depicted were created by the Walt Disney Animation Studios and owned by the Walt Disney Company. Any other work mentioned or homaged are property of their respective owners. This is a non-profit fan-based work that only seeks to entertain. Please support the official releases.

Chapter 12 of 12

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Chapter 12: And I Feel Fine

The Gummi Ship, already as small as it was, had never been this crowded before. Most everyone had to take up standing room in the space between the driver’s seat and the passenger’s seat that served for storage and kitchen space. Those that managed to secure seats usually had another person on their lap or at their feet. Space had been made by the fact that the Heartless that was Dim was more than comfortable clawing his way onto the ceiling. Space had been lost because of the Beast.

Of course, nobody really cared about the size of the ship at the moment. There was too much going on that they had to care about. The joy that Sora was back to life. The adrenaline of escaping the ending planet. The end of the planet.

Hanna had found some TS Eliot to read in her English textbook, but that didn’t seem to do much good. Katie had tried to play Taps by literally tapping on the English text book, but that seemed to do less.

“Where do we go now?” Sora asked.

For just a moment, Donald looked as lost as he sounded and she felt. “I suppose…we should head back to Traverse Town. At the very least, we need to drop these ladies off somewhere safe.”

“And after everything we’ve been through, why should I leave Sora?” Kairi asked.

“We still need to fight Ansem, and restore all the worlds.” Sora said. “It’s not safe for you out there.”

“Besides,” Dani spoke up. “Maybe it’ll help if we talk to Squall. He might know something about that guy who called himself Ansem.”

“I literally have no idea what’s going on anymore.” Leon said.

“We had always thought that Ansem passed away with our world.” Aerith said. “I had hoped that was the case. Ansem’s heart and body was eaten by the Heartless a long time ago.”

“Not that it matters. That place hasn’t been Radiant Gardens for a long time.” Leon sighed. His eyes looked upwards, not wanting to meet anyone else’s. “Why is it that you four have singlehandedly disproved everything we have ever known for sure?”

“It’s not our fault.” Katie shrugged. “None of us are pretending to be Ansem. By the way, apparently only Sora has the Keyblade and we’re just borrowing it.”

Leon looked like he was about to have a conniption.

Yuffie jumped in. “So what do we do now? Hollow Bastion was supposed to be the last Keyhole you had to seal to save the universe.”

“Well, there are other worlds, right?” Nadine asked. “The Princesses all came from somewhere. Maybe one of those worlds has the answer.”

Leon shook his head. “They aren’t connected to the other worlds the way Hollow Bastion was. Besides, you’re assuming they haven’t fallen into Darkness as well.”

“What made Hollow Bastion so special?” Hanna asked.

“How do you think it was destroyed in the first place?” Leon looked like he didn’t want to answer. “That Keyhole…Ansem tinkered with it. He wanted to link every world together, create a bridge that could connect the whole universe. It was practically gift-wrapped for the Heartless.”

“Is that a particularly bad thing?” Alice asked from the sidelines.

Aerith started to explain, but all of a sudden, Katie didn’t care anymore. There it was. That was so obvious. Why hadn’t she thought of that before?

“We are all idiots.” She breathed.

Everyone turned to her.

“Sorry, but think about it! This entire trip, the entire time, we’ve been complaining about one thing. Alice, where are you from?”

“W—Westminster, but—”

“And we don’t know where the Darling family lived, but it wasn’t Neverland and they have the same accent!” Katie continued. “Olympus Coliseum was Greece. The Deep Jungle was an unspecified African rainforest. Agrabah was fantasy-land Persia; Genis said as much! All of these things were familiar to us, as citizens of Earth, but not to Sora, a citizen of Destiny Islands, or to Donald and Goofy, citizens of Disney Castle. And if Hollow Bastion really was the Keyhole that connected every world to itself, how were we able to get back here once it went kabloowey?”

“It did what?” Leon snapped.

“Nevermind that, I’m being a genius right now! It’s not Hollow Bastion we’re looking for. It’s Earth.” Katie said. “A bridge between the worlds.”

“Assuming we believe that, how do we get there anyway?” Nadine asked. “It was destroyed with the Heartless just like Hollow Bastion.”

“We’re gonna need a telescope.”

“Do you ever think it’ll be the same between us?” Kairi asked. “I mean, Riku’s lost his—”

Without turning to her, Sora put his hand on hers. He didn’t look at her, trying too hard to think of what to say. “You helped me find my Heart. I was so lost in the Darkness. But I knew that you would come to help me.”

“I didn’t want to just forget about you, Sora.” Kairi said, almost defensively.

He interlocked his fingers into hers. “Our Hearts are connected. Yours, mine…Riku. We’ll bring him back. I promise.”

Kairi’s grip loosened. Sora, afraid he did something wrong, let go completely and turned to her. He barely had time to spit out an apology before he felt something forced into his hand. Thalassa charms, bound together to look like a star. A smiley face and a crude approximation of his hair had been carved on the top shell.

“That’s my lucky charm.” Kairi said. “Be sure to bring it back to me, okay?”

“Promise.”

Sora turned back ahead. Ahead was something that wasn’t there before. A figure cloaked entirely in black. Exactly like Dani had said the other Ansem had been.

Sora jumped to his feet and summoned his Keyblade. The figure lazily looked over towards him. It stared, as much as a being without a face can. Finally, it moved to lower its hood.

You make a good other.

Then the figure was gone, leaving nothing but raw sewage in its wake.

There were two telescopes in Traverse Town. One was Gepetto’s, a basic thing that was really only able to see that other worlds existed. The other was more in line to the needs of Traverse Town. Designed by the great Ludwig von Drake, its image could reach planets as far back as Hollow Bastion. It could give perfect vision to the surfaces of other worlds.  If it were able to move about and weren’t mounted to the rooftop of Huey, Dewey and Louie’s shop, then it might as effective as the Hubble.

It could find Earth, no problem.

“That’s your world?” Leon asked. “That’s a world for whales.”

“Actually, whales freely roam through the depths of space.” Katie said. “But we did have whales once.”

Earth was surprisingly intact considering the last time they had seen it, it was exploding. However, it was clear to see the glue that held the world together. The streaks of white clouds were now Dark. Oceans churned. Orbs of Darkness sat on the landmasses, occasionally letting out a ripple of energy.

Leon pulled away from the telescope. He didn’t notice the red circle that lined his eye now, or Huey, Dewey, and Louie’s laughter. “Where do you even start to search on a planet that big?”

“That one’s easy.” Katie said. “Home.”

“Why home?”

“Because when our world was destroyed, we were attacked by a big scary Heartless. Why would that Heartless be in some nowhere’s-ville resort town if it didn’t have something it wanted?”

“I hate to say it, but you have a point.” Nadine said. She leaned into the telescope herself and focused on where her hometown would be. The town was…fine. The buildings were intact and no mass pandemonium hadn’t taken over the streets. Actually, the streets were empty. That’s what made Nadine nervous.

Out of curiosity, she focused the view to Italy. The telescope panned through Darkness for a while, before finally settling on a coliseum where a blonde superhero was talking to a short minotaur. She panned over again.

“They’re all there. Why are they there?” Nadine asked aloud. “It looks like Agrabah and England are dealing with some big scary Heartless, but they’re there.”

“The worlds have been connected.” Cloud said. “And tied to the Darkness. Your Earth is now holding every world it can in place.”

“Maybe once we defeat Ansem, the Heartless will go away.” Sora said.

“We will lend you our strength.” One of the Princesses, Aurora, she thinks, spoke up.

“Save it for yourselves. You might need it considering how things might go.” Hanna said. “Maybe you could do something about my brother.”

“You better.” Cid scoffed. “He’s been playing with my Gummis like they’re tinker-toys. I’d complain more, but he’s the best assistant I’ve ever had.”

“Then let’s head off!” Sora said. “The sooner we get all of this fixed, the sooner we can all celebrate together.”

And all of a sudden, the rooftop fell silent. The members of Traverse Town looked at each other, trying to search for the person with the best people skills.

“The worlds were never meant to be connected.” Aerith spoke up. “Once you seal the Final Keyhole, and restore all the worlds, they will become separate again.”

“Even the Gummi Ship won’t do the trick.” Leon said.

The group fell silent for a minute. Leon seemed to think to himself for a minute, before walking over and putting a hand on Sora’s shoulder. It was a grossly kind action, and it looked like it pained him a lot to even do that, but he continued.

“We may never meet again, but we’ll never forget each other. Our Hearts will always be connected, even when we’re apart.”

That one, surprisingly, was sincerely kind.

It was ruined slightly as Cid started to cry. “You damn kids are startin’ to grow up!”

“—ck?”

Light enveloped the room, and where the Heartless was Dmitri now stood.

He was very confused.

“What?”

One of the women tried to approach him, but Dim couldn’t care right now. His mind reeled with his last memories. Dani and Hanna, and Riku…what happened? Where were his sisters?

He hadn’t realized he said that aloud until one of the younger girls spoke up. “I’m sorry, but they already left.”

“Where to? Take me to them!”

The woman in front of him, a brunette woman with a yellow ballgown, made a face. “I’m sorry, but it’s far too dangerous—”

“Then give me a ship and I’ll find them myself!”

“Like hell you will!” A new voice, obviously male and gritted, spoke up. “MOG! HIDE THE SHIPS THE KID MADE!”

“Kupo!”

Dim sighed and tried to clear his head. Panicking was going to get him nowhere. “You don’t understand. I have to help them.”

He would do it for his sisters.

Earth was, surprisingly, exactly the way they had left it. Yet there was stillness in the air. No cars roamed the streets, no people played outside, and no signs of activity could be seen through the windows to buildings. Aside from the seven of them, the town was empty. Earth was empty.

That worried Dani a lot more than what happened next.

Before anyone could think to ask what was going on, the ground shook violently under them. In seconds, the peaceful town was under fire. Dani felt herself fall, and fall even further into the Earth.

Sora caught her by the hand. He hovered above her, pixie dust flaking off of him. “Got any happy thoughts left in you?”

Christmas, Dani decided. Think Christmas.

Sora pulled, and she flew.

Once she got her bearings, she looked towards the source. The town crumbled. The mountains parted. And in her way, there was this…thing. Two enormous wings unfolded, and revealed the beast underneath. Two golden eyes lit up and focused on her, and it smiled.

“Okay, so I think that’s the devil—” Dani started.

The beast known as Chernabog attacked.

No one in Traverse Town really knew what to do next. The next few moments would decide the future: either return it to Light, or damn it to Darkness. The more common citizens returned to their homes. The Princesses continued to pray within Cid’s shop. The others stayed on top of the ducks’ shop, and watched.

Cloud resumed his brooding. He had never gotten a chance to see Traverse Town for very long. It had always passed in a blur of emotions. Grief. Defeat. Fear. Guilt. Rage. Foolhardiness. A sense of determination that he could change things that was clouded by the hindsight that he just made it worse.

Mostly rage.

But that did not make it a bad town. And now perhaps because the possibility that his old one could be returned, he decided to see it for the first time. It was a pleasant world. They had probably had to work to keep it that way, but the work shone through. Aerith would like it here.

Tifa would like it here too.

Somebody joined him. He was prepared to glare them away, but stopped as he saw who it was.

“It’s peaceful out here, isn’t it?” Aerith asked lazily.

His wing twitched. He gave a noncommittal grunt. Aerith sat down next to him, and he panicked.

“We’ve all missed you.” She said. “We thought you had passed away along with Radiant Gardens.”

Oh whatever god or lifeforce decided to take him, this was not the conversation he wanted to have oh no no no

He shrugged. “Got a bit lost along the way.”

“Oh?”

She fortunately decided not to press any further. That was the one saving grace in this entire conversation.

“I wonder if anyone else was able to make it.” She thought aloud.

Cloud didn’t answer.  Did she know? Aerith always had a way of knowing things nobody told her. If she knew, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

“Miss Katie said that when they found you, you were looking for something. Have you found it yet?”

Cloud hesitated. “I don’t want you involved.”

“You don’t want our help?”

Memories of what could have been flashed before his eyes. “I don’t want you hurt.”

“I’m stronger than you think.”

“I know. And that’s why I don’t want you hurt.”

Silence fell over them. Just faintly, he could hear the sounds of crashing from within the building. Considering it was run by ducklings, he didn’t pay it too much mind.

“Alright. I’ll trust you. But make sure to come back to us, alright?”

And Cloud, take care of yourself. So you don’t have a breakdown, okay?

He had seen her die too many times, in worlds that were real and worlds that weren’t.

“Yeah.”

Something caught his attention on the town below. The boy, the one the others had been so worried about. He scrambled out of the shop and into a Corridor of Darkness. Cloud jumped to his feet, prepared to do something, but it happened too fast. He was gone before Cloud could even turn around.

“Where did he go?” Aerith asked. That was good, at least; she had never seen a Corridor of Darkness.

“At this rate, he could be anywhere.” Cloud turned his gaze to the stars above. “Let’s hope those kids fix this before he gets too far.”

“I thought only the light of God could destroy the Devil.” Hanna said.

“Hanna, have we ever stepped foot in a church?” Dani asked.

Neither of them really noticed Sora approach the portal that stood in Chernabog’s place.

“Sora?” Goofy asked.

“I know this place…” Sora said. He put one foot inside.

“What are you doing?” Dani asked. “You don’t know where that place leads!”

“Yes I do!” Sora said. “Just trust me, alright?”

Hanna didn’t exactly have a choice. She jumped in quickly after him.

This was not Earth. It looked a lot like Earth, or at least what Earth had become. Yet the skies were purple, not blue, and clouds hovered around like they were trying to block something. The ocean beside them stayed still. No sun hovered above, even though it looked to be in the middle of the day. There was no breeze to feel, nor salt water or sand to smell, and she really didn’t want to try tasting anything here. Only what she could see, and hear.

“This is my home!” Sora said. “This is Destiny Islands!”

“…kinda a dump.” Nadine said.

“Hey, I don’t make fun of you for your homeworld, so—”

“Look at this tiny place.”

They turned to the source. Ansem stood by the water, looking positively bored.

“To a Heart seeking freedom, this is nothing but a prison. No wonder the boy decided to embrace the Darkness within.”

“You give Riku back!” Sora said.

Ansem glanced over his shoulder just to give them a condescending look. What a jerk. “Even if I desired to, it’s no use. His Heart has returned to Darkness, as will all Hearts in the end. That is the nature of the universe you decide to explore. That is the Heart’z true essence.”

“That’s not true!” Sora said. “Yes, the Heart may be weak. And sometimes, it may even give in. But I know that there’s a Light that never goes out!”

“You still understand so little.”

The ground shattered under them. It was actually an improvement, considering they were walking on sand.

“EVERY LIGHT MUST FADE! EVERY HEART RETURN TO DARKNESS!”

The rest of Destiny Islands shattered. In its place…

Darkness.

Darkness.

Darkness as far as the eye couldn’t see. No thing to interact with. No path he could travel. No person he could talk to.

At first, Riku thought he was in some kind of afterlife. He then decided that if he were, he wasn’t there for a good reason.

He wanted to apologize. Take everything back. Start all over. Even if he could, there was no way to escape this abyss. For the first time in a long time, Riku was actually alone.

And just as he realized it, he wasn’t alone anymore.

“Riku!”

Dmitri? Save for light signs of exhaustion, he looked the same as the last time Riku had seen him…whole again. Still, he wanted to make sure…

“Hey! Cut that out!” Dmitri swatted his hand away from his face.

“Why are you here?” Riku asked. “You were never a real Heartless, you should’ve been fine!”

“I wanted to find you.” Dmitri said.

“Why?”

“Because you’re my friend, and you’re hurting right now, and I don’t think you should be left alone.”

“I don’t have a Heart anymore! Or a body, for that matter! There’s no way I’m going to just escape with you!”

The revelation hit Riku. He struggled to maintain composure.

“You’re better off just forgetting about me.” He finished.

Dmitri was silent for a minute. Riku thought he had given up until he felt the weight of Dmitri’s hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not going to leave my friend behind.” He said. His eyes sparked with light and hope and determination.

Riku? Can you hear me?

“That is the silliest disembodied voice I’ve ever heard.” Dmitri muttered to himself.

“Who are you?” Riku asked instead. “Where are you?”

You were right when you said you lost your body. But you recovered your Heart. Because of that, it became trapped on this side of the Darkness.

But this isn’t quite as bad as it sounds! Two Hearts were always needed to close the Door, on both sides.

Two Hearts, and Two Keyblades.

Maybe you were destined to come here, just like me.

The world was ending.

Every world was ending.

The Darkness grew. Yet Light still shined in Dani’s Heart. They could still fight.

Oh, this is going to get so metaphysical! Dani thought as she summoned her Keyblade.

The real fight began.

From the Darkness, Ansem conjured Heartless. Legions of Shadows, Soldiers, Large Bodies, and a bunch of other funny names she didn’t quite remember to protect him with, and a larger one that hovered around him. The smaller ones were sliced through by Goofy’s shield and Donald’s magic. Bits of earth of worlds that were formed around them, making a path Dani could run on. She dashed along the platforms, and whatever Heartless she didn’t slice through was taken care of by Hanna.

Katie and Nadine made quick work of the familiar Heartless. Dani’s Keyblade slashed through him.

Ansem shifted again. He grew, to the size of worlds themselves (though most worlds were still rather tiny). Darkness engulfed him, in crude caricatures of muscles and body structure. The still human figure stood on the body, nearly consumed by his structure.

“Gross.” Nadine said.

“Can we shapeshift with the powers of Darkness too?” Katie asked.

“Let’s figure that out later!” Dani said as comets were fired towards them.

She flew through the comets, through the Darkness, through everything Ansem had to throw at her. When she landed, she landed on the writhing mass of visceral. She wasn’t going to stay there for very long. She launched towards Ansem, Keyblade at the ready.

He was a better swordsman than her, probably due to having actual training. Yet he could not stop three Keyblades. Or four. Or more.

“You’re wrong.” Sora said. “I know now, without a doubt, Kingdom Hearts is light!”

And the world turned to Light.

Ansem could not stand the Light. He burned. His body, both real and constructed, his Heartless, his Heart. In an instant, there was nothing left.

Except a door.

There was ground underneath them now so Dani allowed herself to stop flying and drop. In that time, she saw what lied on the other side of the door.

Darkness. More Darkness then there was now. And if it stayed open any longer—

Nobody wasted any time. They rushed towards it, and pushed. Even with all of the power of their teamwork, the Doors were massive. Not even Hercules could have closed these easily.

“This thing’s gonna have to be locked from the inside!” Nadine shouted. “Any ideas?”

“If we can get it closed, I’ll let you in on something!” Dani shouted back.

“Don’t give up!”

That was Riku’s voice. Something moved on the other side of the door.

Something tugged on the door Dani was pushing, and she could catch just a fragment of brown hair.

“We’ll close it together!” Dim’s voice.

“Don’t worry! There will always be another door to the light! Now let’s close this one for good!”

Not a voice Dani recognized. But judging by Donald and Goofy’s expression, they did.

“Your Majesty!”

“That’s your King?” Dani tried to poke her head in what remained of the open doors, but thought better of it. She could see a small figure, silhouetted in the Darkness, and gold Keyblade.

The three tugged at the opposite end of the door, and the seven resumed their pushing.

“Take care of her.”

The doors latched.

Sora jumped away from the group to pull out his Keyblade. The tip ignited in light and magic. A clicking sound echoed through the void as the Keyhole was sealed, then another as the one on the other-side followed. The Door faded.

And then there was nothing.

The adrenaline faded rather quickly when Dani realized there was nothing but they were still there. She glanced around in search of a path or something they could follow.

“Oh hey Sora your girlfriend’s here.” Nadine said nonchalantly.

“What!”

That seemed to startle Sora more than anything that had happened. He ran to her, jumping across the bits of world that remained and were reforming themselves.

“Kairi!”

“Sora!”

The ocean of Destiny Islands formed around Kairi’s feet and the ground shook. Sora grabbed her arm before she could fall all the way down.

“Remember what you said to me! I’ll always be with you too!” Sora said.

The worlds were repairing themselves. Destiny Islands was whole again, yet that was not where Sora was going. Sora’s grip on her arm loosened down to her hand as the worlds drifted apart.

“I’ll come back to you! I promise!”

Fingers clasped onto fingers. Kairi’s feet dug into the ground, desperate to hold on.

“I know you will!”

They let go.

For a while, Dani watched the stars form in the sky. She watched life be replaced on the other worlds as they flew past her, palm trees spring into life and people resume their ordinary lives unimpeded by the end of all things. She watched as they drifted away from her, into the unknown.

She didn’t know what happened after that.

“So…where are we?”

“Who knows?” Donald grumbled. “Probably some backwater planet that won’t have a town for miles!”

That looked to be the case, although Sora probably would have phrased it differently. They had walked the path for some time, and Sora no longer realized if they had walked that path as soon as the worlds had been restored or if he just woke up there. He no longer knew what happened to the other members of his group.

“Where do you think Riku and the King are?” Sora asked.

“Well, they’re probably still on the other side of that door.” Goofy said.

“But what about Dani and the others?”

Nobody quite had an answer for him. He sighed.

“We’ll just have to keep looking, then.” He said.

“Where do you suppose we’ll find them?” Donald asked.

The road had changed from Darkness to the absence of anything to rock and earth to dirt and grass. Yet up until now, there wasn’t anything on it except for the three of them. Now, a yellow dog crossed the road.

“Pluto?” Donald asked.

“Hey, Pluto, where’ve you been?” Goofy asked.

The dog froze, and turned to them. Something had been put into his mouth, but Sora could’t quite make it out. It looked like an envelope, sealed with a figure of three circles. The same figure on the back of his Keyblade, and Dani and Hanna’s for that matter. And it kinda looked like the King’s head…

“That’s the King’s seal!” Donald exclaimed.

“Hey, have you seen King Mickey?” Sora asked.

Pluto turned and ran.

Sora started after him. “Guys, let’s go!”

They ran towards their next adventure.

Dani woke up, and had no idea where she was.

That was becoming very common, recently, and she wasn’t sure if she liked it.

Forest surrounded her. Damp earth, thick trees, cool grass, yet nothing that she could identify for sure. Actually, it really looked like—

She stopped as she realized the cutest thing she had ever seen in her life sat in front of her.  It looked like a fox, yet it was small enough to be a housecat. Its ear were nearly as big as it was, and from its head, a small horn protruded.

It dropped whatever was in its mouth, and Dani was surprised to hear it land to the ground with a thud. Hesitantly, she reached out for it. It vibrated in her hand. An icon told her she had one unread message.

CARBUNCLE: Hello? Can you read this?

CARBUNCLE: In front of you!

Dani’s gaze lowered to the fox.

CARBUNCLE: This is the land of your Dreams.

The story will continue in… Flights of Fantasy: An Original Character’s Story

Author’s Note: And we are done! This is it! If you have read all the way to the end, thank you so much. I am very proud of this project and I am so glad that it is out there now. Flights of Fantasy will start next summer around this time, but there will be more from the Original Character's Series in the meantime on here and on my blog.

Yes this is the end. Totally.

[jaydcstories]

THE RETREAT Chapter 12

Read this and previous chapters of THE RETREAT on my blog: JOHN DEE COOPER'S ALL-MALE SLAVERY STORIES

THE RETREAT by John Dee Cooper © 2019

12.

It was a pleasant walk to the Barn.

After helping to set things up, Charles had popped back to collect Paul who’d been sleeping off his “heavy” lunch. He could usually hold his drink along with the best of men, but the excitement of all that had happened over the last few days had got the better of him. He had been tired more than drunk and a nice long nap was all he had needed. The rainstorm had caught them unawares on the way back from the pub, but it had quickly passed, leaving the evening air fresh and invigorating as the two men strode along in high spirits.

“So, Uncle, tell me about this Barn.”

“Oh, it's something quite special. The Colonel might be an old fusspot but he’s full of surprises and he knows just how to spoil us. He spends a lot of time and money on these weekend extravaganzas and there's always some new angle.  Tonight it's a sort of Arabian fantasy. I think it comes off quite well. I’m sure you’re going to love it.”

They turned off the main road, passed through an old wooden gateway and followed a footpath through trees and thick shrubbery until the shadow of the black Barn loomed up in front of  them. It was an imposing wooden structure, about the size of a small aircraft hangar, with a heavy thatched roof and apparently no windows. The only visible entrance was in front of them as they entered the courtyard, a simple wooden door with gigantic hinges. But what lifted it out of the ordinary, and gave the whole shadowy space around it a touch of the exotic, was the sentinel standing guard over it.

He was massive, with the thick set body of a wrestler, naked except for a heavy leather belt and a loincloth the flap of which hung low between his gigantic thighs. He wore leather wristbands and a red scarf tied around his head with the tasselled end trailing loose against his shoulder. He stood to attention as they approached, tightening the muscles in his massive chest and letting his left hand fall on the handle of a large bull whip coiled up in his belt.

“ I see what you mean about ‘fantasy’! ” gasped Paul.

“Magnificent isn’t he? Wait till you see inside.”

The door opened into a small curtained vestibule. As it closed behind them, so the curtain in front lifted revealing the Colonel dressed in what Paul initially thought to be some kind of fancy dressing gown.

“Welcome, dear friends,” he chanted as he shook both their hands vigorously. “May I invite you to change into something a little more comfortable and in keeping with our theme tonight?”

He indicated a small cloakroom to their left — but for several minutes Paul could do nothing but stand and stare at the scene that lay before him.

The interior of the barn had been transformed into a sumptuous make-believe Bedouin tent, with a canopy of drapes hanging from the ceiling to form the tent roof, oriental carpets scattered everywhere, several leather sofas and two cushioned divans. The soft glimmer of light from numerous oil lamps and two enormous candelabras spread an atmosphere of intimate and sensual luxury and an aroma of exotic herbs spiced the air.  

Some dozen guests, all wearing colourful robes and kaftans that probably had more to do with fancy dress than the genuine article, had already assembled and were littered about the place, reclining on sofas or sitting cross-legged on the floor puffing at hubble-bubble pipes, and in the far corner, on a raised platform, six or seven naked boys were chained together in a line, looking extremely uneasy and vulnerable. Paul wondered if “his” boy might be among them , but before he had a chance to look closer, he was hauled off to the changing room.

A few minutes later, suitably adorned in flowing robes and sandals that were surprisingly comfortable, Paul and his uncle re-emerged ready to mingle with the other guests. It was an interesting mixture. Not all of them were guests from the lodge, some had travelled down especially for the event, such was the Colonel's reputation.

While he carried on mingling, pretending to join in the small talk, Paul kept glancing at the boys on the platform. He wondered what their fate would be and why “his” boy wasn’t among them. Maybe they’d worked him too hard. That drive back from the pub in torrential rain must have crippled the boy. He wasn’t really cut out to pull carriages. They’d probably locked him up in a cage somewhere, or what ever it is they do with damaged slaves. It’s my own fault, thought Paul. I shouldn’t have let Uncle Charles take the reins. He probably beat the life out of the poor boy. Pity. What a waste. Still, no point in getting worked up over one slave. There’d always be plenty more.

It was then that he noticed a guest jump up onto the platform and begin to scrutinise the boys carefully. When he found one to his liking he freed him from the chain and dragged him through a small door at the side. Whatever was behind that door was enough to scare the boy so much that he had to be beaten into compliance.

This little drama provoked no surprise whatsoever from the other guests, so Paul assumed it was all part of the evening's entertainment. And he could see there were several empty links in the chain, so other boys must have been picked out already. Perhaps “his” boy was among them. Paul was beginning to feel a little possessive of the boy and wasn’t sure what he thought of other people laying their hands on him, especially when he could hear screams coming from behind the hidden door. He was thinking about investigating further, when Charles took hold of his arm.

“There’s someone I want you to meet. He’s something of an expert. You said you were interested in learning more about the slave business, well there’s not much this man doesn’t know. You see these extraordinary specimens walking around with trays of food, well they’re his. He brought them with him.”

Extraordinary was the right word. Paul had never seen slaves quite like them. There were three of them, all with beautifully sculpted bodies, completely naked except for small chains of silver and gold looped across their arms and chests and strings of coloured beads dangling from their hips. One was a Negro, with skin as black as polished ebony, one was a dusky oriental and the third was a smoothly tanned Caucasian. But what they all had in common, apart from their stature and their stunning physical presence, was impressively thick, long and meaty genitalia.

“Baron, I’d like you to meet my nephew Paul.”

Paul shook hands with Baron Albert von Eichendorff, known to friends and acquaintances as the “Connoisseur” on account of his passion for collecting slaves as objets d'art rather than for any practical purposes. Paul immediately fell under his spell. He was in his early sixties but still very handsome with a neatly trimmed beard and soft blue eyes and, in contrast to the colourful costumes that surrounded him, was wearing a plain black kaftan.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said, reverently bowing his head in keeping with the oriental theme. “Your uncle has mentioned you often and sings your praises. You are clearly very dear to him.”

Paul wasn’t quite sure how true that was, but he was happy to accept the compliment, and after Charles had wandered off leaving the two of them together, they fell into a friendly conversation.

The Baron quickly sensed the young man’s curiosity about the three slaves, and called them over so that they could be examined more closely. Paul was impressed how he did this merely by clicking his fingers and how they responded without hesitation even though they were quite a distance away.

As they made their way over, the Baron explained that his current interest was in the aesthetic appeal of slave genitalia. These three slaves were particularly fine specimens and he was glad to have the opportunity to show them off at events such as this.

Paul was a little overwhelmed when the three of them came and stood a few feet away from him while the Baron cooly demonstrated the properties of their massive cocks. These slaves were built of pure muscle and were obviously in peak condition. Neither he nor the Baron could match them in size or physical strength, and yet they stood there, quiet and submissive, with their hands behind their backs and their legs apart while the Baron lifted and stroked each of their cocks in turn till all three were thick and hard.  

After the Baron had given his aesthetic assessment of each cock — the angle of the erection, the colouration and pattern of the veins, the balance between the fully extended shaft and the hang of the ball sac, etc — he invited Paul to judge for himself which had the most appealing display.

Paul hardly knew what he was doing, this was all so way out of line for him. His heart was thumping as he looked down at the extended cocks, each one standing prouder than the next, holding its erection without support or stimulation, nodding and jerking as though it were hungry to be stroked. In the end he went for the Caucasian, which was the only one without any foreskin. He said something about the smooth moulding of the tip and the way the shaft kept a straight angle as it got bigger.

“Excellent choice,” said the Baron, inviting him to sit down.

Paul made towards a nearby sofa, but the Baron stopped him.

“We can use these,” he said and with a slight nod of his head, the black and oriental slaves fell onto their hands and knees and presented their backs as stools for them to sit on. Paul took the Negro. There was no question in Paul’s mind that this was the most outrageously weird experience of his life — dressed in Arab costume, perched on the back of a naked slave while discussing the merits of another slave’s sex organs with someone he’d only known for five minutes — and no one else in the crowded room taking a blind bit of notice. But he had to admit it felt good. The slave’s back was firm and strong and gave him excellent support. He could lean with one hand on its neck while stroking its butt with the other. It was really quite empowering. And the Baron’s conversation was rivetting. He talked about extraordinary things — where the slaves came from, how they’d been trained, how his agents were always out searching for new specimens and how he had a special gallery built next to his country house where he held regular exhibitions for invited guests.

“I’d love for you to come down and visit me,” he said. “Here is my card. I sense we have a lot in common. Now, let me show you something amusing,” he said, pointing a small device about the size of a key ring at the Caucasian who was still standing alert and fully exposed in front of them.

A beam of red light landed on the slave’s stomach and he immediately went rigid, threw his head back and groaned. Then, holding his hands behind his back, he started to rotate his hips, tightening his ample buttocks and squeezing his abdomen till it was nothing but a solid ridge of muscle and his giant cock was jerking upwards in short  spasms, getting harder and thicker until dribbles of pre-cum had gathered at the tip of it. And then, when another beam of light landed, and still keeping his hands out of the way, he shifted up a gear,  jabbing his engorged cock wildly into thin air, the veins along the shaft throbbing, the tip straining and glistening until, after reaching and clutching at nothing, it fisted up and spat out six or seven violent ejaculations of thick white cum that narrowly missed a number of guests who had gathered to watch.  

“He has a small chip inserted in his stomach,” the Baron explained. “He’s trained to respond to certain frequencies when I activate it with this control. That’s one of his pet tricks. A free standing ejaculation.”

The Baron snapped his fingers and the slave immediately dropped on to his knees in search of the spilt cum which he licked up meticulously then returned to his display position in front of Paul a little out of breath but otherwise as focussed and as attentive as ever. Paul was understandably astonished at this performance but he was impressed even more by the way in which a mild mannered soul like the Baron could inspire such total obedience from these big brawny slaves — and without any spoken command, just the snap of a finger or the tilt of the head. The thought of having that power of control over their hot muscled bodies excited Paul. He began to imagine them bound and gagged — like the boy had been last night — stretched out on a bed, or maybe on a rack — tortured and beaten into submission...

“Has the Baron been keeping you entertained?” said Charles, suddenly reappearing, dragging a young boy in a collar and chain  behind him . The boy was naked but Paul recognised him as the servant boy his Uncle had been berating yesterday afternoon out on the terrace.

“Look what the Colonel has given me,” said Charles, roughly pulling the boy into view.

“Didn’t you have the boy beaten for spilling milk or something?” said Paul, rather taken aback at the sight of the youngster, who was cowering on the floor in front of him, visibly shaken and with eyes  red with tears.

“No, It was coffee — wasn’t it.” Charles kicked the boy as if to remind him. “And what a delight it was to watch his tender little backside getting its just deserts. In fact it was so enjoyable that we packed him away in a wooden box where he’s been kept crouched up till just now when the Colonel took him out and presented him to me as a little gift, for all my troubles. So now I can take him home and thrash him to my heart’s content!”

Charles and the Baron thought this was very funny, but Paul, who could never get used to this cruel streak in his uncle's nature, felt for the boy who, just because of one clumsy mistake, was destined to become the plaything of an unpredictable and sadistic Master.

The Baron sensed that Paul was not sharing his uncle's enthusiasm and tried to persuade him that a slave could only learn obedience through harsh discipline and he was sure that Charles would value the boy all the more for the effort it would take to tame him.

“Oh don’t talk to him,” said Charles. “He’s a hopeless romantic where slaves are concerned.”

“That's not true,” answered Paul abashed at what the Baron might think of him.

“He’s developed an attachment to some little item we picked out of the Colonel’s cellar yesterday.”

“Again, not true.”

“Oh, so you’re not interested in the fact that we’ve got him downstairs, all ready for you to have some fun with?”

And the two men laughed as Paul leapt to his feet with a mixture of embarrassment and delight, almost knocking over the black slave he’d been sitting on.

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Dust to dust: How Earth’s most advanced observatory is unraveling our origins

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Dust to dust: How Earth’s most advanced observatory is unraveling our origins

SAN PEDRO DE ATACAMA Visiting the Atacama Large Millimeter/Sub-millimeter Array (ALMA) is not for the faint of heart. After driving up the barren plateau to meet my guide Danilo Vidal, ALMA’s visit coordinator, the first stop was a health check. Just to hang out for a few hours at the Operations Support Facility where ALMA’s staff lives and works to solve the mysteries of the cosmos, I had to prove that my heart beat not too fast and not to slow, and that oxygen saturated at least 80 percent of my blood (at a recent sea-level physical I scored 96 percent).

But the extreme environment hasn’t stopped nearly two dozen countries from coming together to build the most ambitious astronomical tool on the planet. Getting 66 state-of-the-art antennas to operate in sync at a facility nearly as high as Everest’s base camp takes hundreds of engineers and other staff operating with military precision. Now fully functional after decades of construction and six years of upgrades, the institution is finally devoting much of its power to one of its main goals: watching for the heat glow of dust as it swirls around young stars. Already ALMA observations are rewriting the story of how those systems go from clouds of sand to families of planets, which is also the story of how Earth became the third rock from our sun.

A blood oxygen saturation of 91 percent won me clearance to carry on, although Vidal handed me a single-use canister of oxygen just in case. Then we climbed into his SUV and he hooked up his own nasal hose leading to two heavy duty oxygen tanks. “Regulations,” he said, as we started the drive up to the top of the Chajnantor Plateau, cactuses and vicuñas rolling past at the mandated 20 miles per hour.

Our eyes bias us toward the rainbow hues we can see, but many other types of light permeate the universe. Stars burn across and beyond the visible spectrum, black holes emit x-rays and radio waves, and stellar explosions shoot out rays of many varieties. Only by looking at all these different “colors” can we get a complete picture of the cosmos.

ALMA, which looks at light waves about a millimeter in length, functions as the world’s greatest set of night vision goggles. Objects emit different types of light depending on their temperature, and the observatory’s antennas let it pick out objects that aren’t hot enough to shine like stars. To its eyes, cool dust glows brightly against the frigid background of space, similar to how warm bodies shine to infrared cameras. In fact, ALMA is blind to visible light altogether, which lets it watch the skies both day and night.

The story of dust is really the story of everything we can see, which is why the astronomical communities of North America, Asia, and Europe banded together with the Chilean government and spent 1.5 billion dollars to build an observatory on top of the world’s driest mountain. Clouds of hydrogen in space collapse into stars, spinning up disks of leftover dust that eventually swirl into the planets, asteroids, and comets that make up solar systems. We can study our own cosmic neighborhood up close, but researchers ache for more diverse, younger examples to sort patterns from coincidences.

Computer models go a long way toward that goal, but there’s no substitute for images catching the planet-birthing process in action. Previous millimeter instruments lacked the necessary power, but on this front ALMA has been a game changer. “It’s rare that you get this big of a leap,” says Sean Andrews, a researcher at the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics. “This is like going from a little handheld telescope to the Hubble space telescope.”

At the top of the plateau I could immediately see how ALMA gets those money shots. Even without as much as a blade of grass in sight to help your brain calibrate size, the sprawling Array Operations Site looks huge. But before I could see the antennas up close, it was time for another health check. We entered what Vidal says now counts as the highest technical building in the world after a Nepalese train station stopped working last year, and I narrowly received clearance to continue the tour with 3% oxygen saturation to spare.

ALMA is an interferometer rather than a telescope, splitting its operations among 66 large dishes that span an area impossible for any single instrument—more than a mile across. That was the size when I visited, anyway—each of the 100-ton antennas is portable. Two monstrous forklifts, nicknamed Otto and Lore, lug a couple of antennas per day in an unceasing dance that, over the course of months, blows up the array to an unparalleled ten miles across. By expanding and contracting, astronomers can prioritize either detail or scope in a cosmological version of the smartphone’s pinch to zoom function. They just have to make sure the dishes stay plugged in the whole time (the forklifts have a battery system that supplies electricity). If the power fails and the internal machinery warms much beyond its operating temperature of 450 degrees F below zero, the driver will be left holding a multi-million dollar brick.

Fortunately that hasn’t happened yet. Finally at full power, the array creates images ten times sharper than it did during its 2011 debut, a resolution that increasingly allows astronomers to grasp the finer details of planetary formation.

The first step in a dust grain’s journey from “fluffy sand” to a proper world depends as much on how it communes with its neighbors as it does on the disk at large, according to Karin Öberg, the leader of Harvard’s astrochemistry group and one of five North American representatives on ALMA’s board. Laboratory work suggests that planetary seeds start by becoming sticky, gaining an ice coating through collisions with hydrogen and oxygen. Picking out specific elements from hundreds of light years away is tough, but ALMA has spotted extraterrestrial sugar and alcohol.

Growing larger than icy dust bunnies seemed theoretically impossible for years, empirical evidence beneath our feet notwithstanding. The spinning forces inside a disk should tear dust clumps apart before they can swell beyond the size of a rice grain, models predicted, unless somehow particles were gathering in special, denser areas.

A team led by astrophysicist Nienke van der Marel of the NRC Herzberg Institute for Astrophysics in Victoria, Canada snapped the first direct images of just such a “dust trap” while at Leiden University in the Netherlands in 2013, confirming decades of modeling. “People doing simulations of processes in a disk were working almost independently of observers,” she recalls. “Theory had drifted from observations and ALMA really brought that back together.”

Now the observatory’s new data has the simulators playing defense. When ALMA trained its dishes on HL Tau, a young star ringed by a dusty cloud 450 light years from Earth, it should have seen a smooth disk. Planets take millions of years to coalesce, the thinking went, and this system was barely a tenth that old. Yet the images came back in 2014 showing an incandescent red disk split by a half dozen crisp grooves—likely signs of baby planets hoovering up dust as they orbit. Now, a soon-to-be-published survey of 20 such disks led by Sean Andrews confirms that HL Tau is more rule than exception. However planets form, ALMA’s night vision is revealing, they’re doing it everywhere— and fast.

Returning to the Operations Support Facility halfway down the plateau, Vidal and I ran into two Italian filmmakers wandering the halls after failing their health check. They had two hours to wait for their second—and final—chance to pass. Vidal speculated that they’d ignored instructions to resist the temptation of coffee at breakfast.

Now safe to drink caffeine, we sat down for tea with Matias Radiszcz, a bearded data analyst from Santiago and unsung hero of this kind of operation. Radiszcz does battle with the facility’s main enemy: humidity. Even in a desert so dry that parts haven’t seen rain since the days of Isaac Newton, traces of water vapor always hang in the air. Radiszcz adjusts antennas to adapt to the humidity in real time. He also takes shifts as the Astronomer on Duty, deciding which observations to run out of the hundreds in the queue.

Between the altitude and the often nocturnal schedule, ALMA engineers have to get used to leading groggy lives, but participating in the unraveling of the Earth’s origin story makes the week-long shifts away from his family and the sleepless nights worthwhile. “The motivating thing is to be in the place where it’s happening,” Radiszcz says. “The Earth is like an oasis in the universe, and you can understand the value of humanity and the fragility that is life.”

By the time Vidal sent me on my way back to the town of San Pedro, the Atacama desert’s local oasis, the sun was just starting to edge below the horizon as the Earth spun Chile away from its rays. I hopped in the rental car and slowly drove back down the mountainside, a thin cloud of dust swirling behind me.

The reporting for this article was partially supported by a grant from the National Science Foundation.

Written By Charlie Wood