#in another life me and lacy were neighbors who stayed at each others place for hours

[qjaiden]

i love getting to know people because i always feel like in another universe we were something else, you know? in another universe you were my best friend and i was your best man at your wedding, in another universe you weren't just my friend but maybe a lover, in another universe we were two cats of the same litter, in another universe you were the sun and i was a flower

[tiffdawg]

Your Heart is My Home | A Javier Peña x Reader Oneshot

Gif: @javier-pena​

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 3.4k

Rated: E  | Warnings: NSFW – explicit sexual content, masturbation (f), use of a vibrator/sex toy, breathplay, dirty talk, aftercare. Rough sex with a soft, tired Javi. 18+ only.

A/N: Look, I don’t even like Valentine’s day, but I love all of you so here’s a little sweet treat. Everyone say thank you to the lovely anon who requested HCs for Javi (consensually) walking in on you. Safe to say, this one got away from me. 

Read on AO3 | My Masterlist

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Your Heart is My Home

It wasn’t his original plan, but as Javier left the embassy well past midnight — again — he steered right out of the employee parking lot toward your place instead of heading to his own empty apartment. He was dead on his feet but after the day he had, he realized that all he wanted to do was crawl into bed next to you. Just as he had practically every night since he met you. In the past he might’ve sought out a bottle or a brothel, but lately the warmth and comfort of your embrace was all he craved.

With the spare key to your apartment that hung next to his own, Javier opened your front door as quietly as possible, mindful of the old hinges that creaked past a certain point. He kept telling himself he’d fix that for you on his next day off from work, but those were few and far in between. With light footsteps he toed off his boots and nestled them next to yours on the shoe rack and his leather jacket found its usual hook just above yours. The more he thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent the night at his own apartment. Like his things, Javier seemed to have a home there with you.

He didn’t even startle at that thought. It was just… true. 

Instead, the tension in his shoulders seemed to dissipate the more the notion settled within him. As he exhaled the stress of another bad day, the sweet, vanilla scent of home replaced it with something much more comforting.

Until a quiet buzzing noise drifted to his ears and disrupted the peace. “What the fuck is that?” he mumbled to himself, brows pinching in confusion. Socked feet padded across the old hardwood floors as he moved toward your bedroom. Only then did he notice the dim light seeping out from under the door. He pushed it open gently on the off chance you were asleep.

Javier’s eyes shot open when he realized you were wide awake.

With the silky sheets thrown back, you were a sight to behold in the flickering candlelight, sprawled out on the bed wearing nothing but lacy pink lingerie dotted with red hearts. Mind overcome by a lusty haze, he moved to the edge of the bed without thinking and gazed down at your angelic form. His mouth went dry when he noticed your panties pushed to the side as you fucked yourself with a vibrator. It was small and discreet and got the job done when you needed it. He’d seen it before but swore you wouldn’t need it as long as he was around.

“You’re finally home,” you said, acknowledging his presence. 

“You should be asleep.” He’d aimed for chastising, but his amusement was evident in his tone.

“I tried to wait for you,” you cooed, staring up at him with glossy, half-lidded eyes. “I’ve hardly seen you all week and I needed you.”

“My poor baby,” he consoled, squeezing your thigh with a firm hand. “Was this pussy aching for me?” With pouty lips you nodded. He smirked when he realized you were still pumping the vibrator into you. In that moment, you were a desperate, unashamed little thing and he was the luckiest man alive. “Is that little toy satisfying you, cariño?”

You whined as you shook your head against the pillow, but he was already unbuckling his belt, the leather strap snapping as he pulled it out of the loops. “You need something bigger?”

“Yes, Javi,” you simpered.

“You need my big dick to stretch out that tight little cunt?” he teased, suddenly feeling much more awake and inclined to play with you than he was when he’d first walked through the front door. You moaned as your back arched off the bed. He stripped off his pants, leaving him in just a half-buttoned up pink shirt. He knelt on the bed in between your parted thighs and leaned over you, wrapping a hand around your neck. His fingers pressed against your pulse points in warning. “Answer me.”

“Oh, fuck yes!” you wailed. Your own hand circled his wrist, holding him in place. He squeezed and felt your ragged breath against his palm. His other hand slipped between your bodies to steal the toy from you. Without so much as a glance, he increased the speed as he expertly pumped it into you and rubbed that sweet spot he loved so much. The one that brought tears to your eyes and made a mess of the bedsheets.

Needing to taste you, he trailed hot, wet kisses across your flushed skin, slightly salty and shimmering, until he reached your breasts. Your tits looked so pretty covered in pink lace with the darker skin of your nipples just visible, teasing him. Mouthing you through the flimsy material, he sucked and bit at each one until both pebbled beneath the fabric. He reveled in the way your body responded to him. Only him.

As he took one nipple between his teeth and fucked you with the vibrator even faster, you cried out. “Right there, don’t stop!”

That was his cue to remove the vibrator from your core.

You groaned in frustration but he grinned when he saw your cum already dripping out of your fluttering hole. At least in the time he’d been there, you hadn’t even orgasmed yet. But his filthy girl was close for him. “What the hell?” you gasped. Your pleading eyes searched his for an answer he gave readily.

“You’re only allowed to cum on my cock tonight, cariño.”

You beamed at him, and his chest filled with a familiar mix of pride and admiration. “Then give it to me, Javi.” 

With a devilish smirk, he turned the speed up again before he wrapped your hand around the toy and placed the rounded head right on your clit. You hummed pleasantly at the vibrations. “Hold that right there for me. Can you do that?” You nodded eagerly. “Good girl,” Javier praised with a slap to the inside of your thigh and he parted your legs further.

Settling between your thighs, he gathered up your slick and stroked his hard cock to its full length, nearly there just from watching you. Grasping his base, he entered you in one slow push. He usually had to spend more time working you open, but you’d made sure you were wet and ready for him that night. He stilled when he was fully seated inside you and tried to steady his breathing. He could feel the vibrations from your toy and the new sensation threatened to overwhelm him.

“Oh, god,” you panted. Your hand slipped beneath his open collar and your nails dug into his shoulder and you held on for dear life. Javier hadn’t even started moving inside you yet. “It’s too much. I’m gonna cum.”

“Already?” he teased.

“Shut up,” you laughed even as you squeezed your eyes shut. “I feel so full. Fuck– I’m right there.”

“I can tell.” His voice strained as he struggled to hold on to his composure. The feel of your pussy pulsing around him as you neared your orgasm was nearly enough to send him over the edge. “Hold on, baby. Let me take care of you”

Without warning, he pulled out and snapped his hips against yours. Again. And again. You made breathy little moans and yelps that matched his every forward thrust that spurred him on. It wouldn’t take either of you long before you fell apart for the other. 

Javier glanced up at the sound of a sharp rapt on your shared wall. He cursed to himself when he realized it was your damn neighbors again. He was well aware of how they felt about him.

Annoyed, he changed his angle so every time his hips snapped against yours, the metal headboard hit the wall. You covered your mouth as you let out an uncharacteristically girlish giggle. But you grinned for him when you said, “fuck me harder, mi corazón.”

He covered your body with his, caging you in, and pounded into you. You cried out, a mix of his name, every curse you knew, and a string of desperate oh gods tied together with mewls of pleasure. It drove him fucking wild. Suddenly the only word you seemed to know was yes, yes, yes and he felt you clench down around him, felt you soaking his cock as you neared your peak.

You came hard and loud, reduced to a writhing mess beneath him and he smiled as he fucked you through it all. Javier was never far behind you. He pulled out at the last minute, groaning as he painted you with him cum. Coating your soft stomach and pretty tits with hot, sticky white ropes.

He was a sweaty mess, shirt sticking to his skin, hair damp on his forehead. He could hardly keep his eyes open. Could barely hold himself upright. But he knew you. He knew you didn’t want to wake up in a few hours like this. He’d promised — promised you and himself — that he’d always take care of you. So, he drug himself out of bed.

“Cariño, stay with me.” Your eyes blinked open and he helped you up and into the bathroom on shaky legs. He switched on the shower, testing the temperature of the water with an open palm before turning his attention to you.

“This is new.” Javier observed as he flicked open the hook holding your pink bra in place. He guided the straps down your arms and grimaced when he saw the mess he made on the pretty fabric. He tossed it aside with your panties to wash later.

“I brought it just for you, mi corazón. I wanted tonight to be special.” Confused, he tried to catch your eye, but you were half asleep on your feet. “And it was,” you said as you pressed a kiss to his cheek and ran your fingers through his damp hair. “It’s always special with you.”

With a quick peck on his lips, you hopped into the shower. After switching the sheets, Javier threw his shirt into the basket as well to worry about in the morning. He figured he’d start the laundry as soon as he woke up and have it in the dryer before he left for work. It’d make your life a little easier. 

He joined you in the shower, carefully washing both of your bodies with your sudsy lavender soap. Washing away the aftermath of your evening. Washing away the stress of his day. He was sated and relaxed and... as he looked at the dreamy smile on your face, he was happy. So fucking happy it felt unreal. He’d never expected to come home and find you like that, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Somehow, you were always just what he needed.

After toweling you off and earning a lilting laugh from you, Javier offered you the red satin nightgown that hung off a knob on your dresser drawer. The thought crossed his mind that if he’d left work at a decent hour, he would’ve come home to you wearing the slip of fabric for him. Like a perfect present to unwrap after a long day. Pushing down his frustration at himself, he led you back to bed with your hand in his, wanting to hold you through the night with the time he did have to give you. He blew out the candles you'd lit before slipping between the fresh sheets and pulling you toward him.

“There’s something I want to ask you.” You looked awake and alert now, eyes boring into his. He shifted so the two of you laid side by side facing each other. “What do you think about moving in here?” You let the question settle between you before you continued, ready to state your case. “You spend most nights here already and I­– I think we could make a home together.”

“I like that idea.” He twined your hands before kissing the tops of your knuckles, smiling against your skin. “Not sure your neighbors will.”

The two of you touched foreheads as you laughed until your shared mirth turned into a collective sigh. He felt the same relief you exhaled. Logically, living together made sense. But there was also something inside his chest, something well beyond logic, that had wanted that all along. Throwing an arm across his middle, you snuggled closer, seeking his warmth like you always did.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Javi,” you murmured into his neck just as you drifted off.

He huffed out a laugh and shook his head at himself. He’d completely overlooked the date, but you weren’t angry with him. That wasn’t how your relationship worked. He doubted you cared about the holiday any more than he did. And you always understood that his life revolved around his job. You accepted that. Accepted him. He’d never understand how he got so lucky.

“I love you,” he whispered against your temple, testing out those three little words he’d felt for so long for the first time.

“I know,” you sighed. “I love you too. Now rest, mi corazón. You earned it.”

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Thank you for reading! 

... . ...

Forever Tags: @leo-moon @readsalot73​ @frietiemeloen @huliabitch @jerusomeeno @benedrylcumbersnatch @b0n-chann @scapricciatello @liadamerondjarin @pedropasscals @paintballkid711 @mistermiraclee @honeyand-roses @mxsamwilson @themilkface @mylifeliterally @mskitty79 @rosiefridayrogersunday @perropascal @giselatropicana @roxypeanut @sarahjkl82-blog @kylerr @aerolanya @artsymaddie @linkpk88​ @antisocialshipper @ennuiandthebourgeoisie @toastytaurus @321-lets-go @stackedpaperbacks @kesskirata @gredandfeorgesgirl @lou-la-lou @1800-fight-me @helga1031 @ktmadden86 @lesbianlena @sxndythinkstoomuch @mtjoi @pedropascaldice @swimmingsloths @lovelyasfcuk​ @technicallykawaiisoul​ 

Javier Peña Tags: @thewayofthemandalorian @frogllady @nothernpunk @coni-martina @wander-lustbabe @triggerhappyflygirl @linsaybluthforlife @michaelgaryscottismydad @witchqraft @harrys-stan @valeecruz16 @hufflepuff-ophelia​ @captainjaspenor @bees-fart-too @nyasiaaaaa @kesskirata @lazybeeches @aleishabeck @leonieb @fvriosa @the-horny-virgin @fireproofmarta @radiowallet @januaryonlakestreet​ @callitdreamland​

[iwajima]

i love you both. (daichi x f. reader)

summary: your boyfriend iwaizumi is distraught when he loses agaisnt karasuno, but you also want to congratulate your best friend daichi

warnings: fem!reader, smut, deep throating, vaginal penetration, infidelity.

status/word count: unedited / 2.4k

A/N: hi this is my first smut fic uhm.... yeah <3333 my requests are open btw!

No one would’ve thought that Seijoh would lose to Karasuno, the forgotten powerhouse. It was a surprise when mere first years displayed incredible skill, that even shocked Oikawa. The matches were toe-curling, for certain. When you felt lady luck slowly to turn to Karasuno, your immediate thought was to observe Iwaizumi and how you were going to be there for him if Seijoh were to lose.

And they did.

You feel his shaking form that sent chills up your back as you hear his constant sobbing and whimpering. You’ve never seen Iwaizumi like this, he’s always been a comforting and funny boyfriend to you, who keeps up a hard demeanour whenever he’s out in public. Seeing him curled up and huddled against you, pierced your heart. It was like he’d been broken to a million pieces. Of course to you, it didn’t make sense why he’d be so upset over not going to nationals, because he could easily get into a v-league team in the future and play bigger name tournaments. But to Iwaizumi, it wasn’t about winning. He wanted to make his last year a year he didn’t want to regret. He wanted to see his friends enjoying what they enjoyed together and being happy.

“Hajime… I won’t be here when you wake up. I’m sorry I can’t stay with you.” You whispered ever so softly, that made his heart churn even more.

Eventually, the crying stopped and his breathing evened out. He was inconsolable for two or more hours, you were glad he finally got some rest. After giving him a kiss on the forehead, you get up to head home. Looking back at his tear stained cheeks and red nose made you want to stay by his side forever, and cradle him back to his previous emotional state. However, a text from Daichi made your mind conflicted.

Sawamura-kun

11:23pm

Coming over?

Daichi had been your childhood friend. You’d been neighbors since you were in diapers and pretty much had your firsts together. From your first bike ride without training wheels to your first cigarette you both stole from your parents. Even your first time having sex.

You contemplated hard before your mind said, you’ve been best friends for eighteen years, surely a simple congratulations wouldn’t hurt.

The lights at his house were all off except for the porch light and the light in his room that you could spot through the curtains.

You

11:45pm

Open up Captain

A few seconds go by before you hear the padding of feet on wood flooring. Soon after the door opens. Before you could even say hello, he’d crashed his lips onto yours, hands cupping your cheeks. When he finally lets you go, your eyes widen in surprise as you let out a quiet laugh.

“Sawa-“

“I missed you.” He wasted no time in encasing you into a warm embrace. You could tell he had just taken a shower as the smell of his faint body wash invaded your senses.

You smiled and ran your fingers through his slightly damp hair. Guilt sometimes curses you for your infidelity and lack of self restraint, but what Iwaizumi doesn’t know can’t hurt him right? It was impossible for you to choose between them. You loved them both so dearly. Even though Daichi was aware of your relationship with Iwaizumi, you both somehow silently agreed that your friends with benefits situation was not going to end. Daichi certainly didn’t want to lose you, more or less even see you less due to you spending a lot of time with Iwaizumi.

You step into Daichi’s familiar bedroom, it hasn't changed much over the decades. Your sense of guilt and pride went out the window, when you saw his arm flex when he closed and locked his bedroom door. It doesn't take much for Daichi to turn you on. He’d always been your kryptonite.

“Sit on the bed, and take off your pants.” Your seductive voice was soft but loud enough for Daichi to hear. You slowly removed your shirt to reveal the pink lacy bra you always wear. Despite him seeing it many times before, the pink material still turned him on.

“Fuck...y/n,” He sighed when you grasped his pretty cock in your soft hands.

Your hesitation evaporate from your body when you feel him tremble under your fingers. The soft pecks along his cock made his mind be clouded with immense pleasure, that released all the stress he endured today. It was when you encased his tip in your warm and wet mouth, he let out a loud moan he didn’t want to release as his parents were down the hall.

Your taste buds have grown to love his bitter taste, swallowing that shit up whenever his cock would leak precum. The feeling of your tongue and cheeks dragging along his skin was so fucking addicting, it made his head feel dizzy. This was probably his twentieth time seeing you on your knees, sucking on his cock like a lollipop, and each time always felt like the first.

Sounds of wet skin echoed throughout his room. The sound was so lewd, it made him blush at the thought of your determination to make him cum. His sighs and moans drove you insane and made your ego even bigger. You loved the fact that he was putty between your fingers, making him feel like this was what made you feel powerful.

“My dirty girl- suckin on my cock like it’s candy…” He rasped, fingers stroking your hair before coaxing you to go deeper. You’ve taught your mouth to lose it’s gag reflex just to satisfy Daichi. After all, you were his good little girl friend.

“Good girl… Good fucking girl.” His praises made your pink panties be moistened by your arousal. Rubbing your thighs together, you desperately search for some sort of relief. If your hands hadn’t been on Daichi’s thick meaty thighs, you would have played with your throbbing clit. It was unbearable to see him like this and not touch yourself, but today is his day and the attention is on him.

You feel his cock twitch as his moans and whimpers go a little out of control. He tried his best not to shove your head down onto his leaking cock, you looked so innocent and cute trying desperately to ignore your aching jaw, all for him. The vibrations of your throat sent waves of butterflies in Daichi’s stomach when his tip registered your moans. He can feel the heat start to build up as he feels his release coming. You went deeper and faster when you see his abs flex, moaning even more to stimulate vibrations that made him tremble.

“Y/n s-stop I’m going to-” He didn’t want to ruin your throat even more, but his pleas went unheard when you only continued your ministrations, hands stroking his hard thighs.

He bit onto his hand to prevent him releasing a loud moan. He could feel his seed hit the back of your throat as you kept yourself deep-throated, nose hitting his pelvis. You eagerly swallowed what he had to offer like your life depended on it. The sight was sinful, he kept his eyes fixated on you as he came hard into your poor little throat. His cock was beyond wet, it was soaked from the mix of saliva and precum. A sore throat was an understatement, you were unsure how you were going to speak tomorrow but right now you didn’t care.

When you released his cock with a pop, you rubbed your cheek on his left thigh, looking up at his blissed out face through your lashes in adoration. His pants filled ears as you reached for his hand and inserted two fingers into your mouth. His cock was still not enough.

“Daichi-san you’re so pretty, can I please ride you?” You purr after wetting his fingers with your tongue.

You rise and settle yourself on his thighs. His arms instinctively wrapped themselves around your waist before he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. However, there was another one that made his jealousy bubble. You kind of smelt like your boyfriend.

“Of course pretty girl. Look at you, you’re so fucking wet for me.” A hand had slid into your panties before running the two wet fingers up and down your slit.

Your face turned into pleasure at his actions, grinding your hips to meet his finger’s rhythm. It was now you that was a whimpering mess. Daichi left soft kisses from your mouth to your neck, making your face heat up by the intent they had behind them. He always wanted you to know that you were loved whenever you two were doing intimate activities. You let out a silent scream when he circled your sensitive clit, arms tightening around his neck. Quiet whimpers filled Daichi’s ear when he added a finger before a second. Even though you were already drenching, you know better than to bottom out on Daichi without proper prep. He bit onto your bra strap and pulled it off your shoulders before doing it to the other, as his free hand went behind you to unclasp your bra.

His fingers immediately found themselves onto your perked nipples, tugging and rubbing them with his forefinger and thumb. This drew out rasped moans from you due to the three simulations he was giving you.

“Dai-chi-san… I need you, please-” You manage to say with your fuzzled mind.

He chuckles, “Anything for my baby.”

The phantom feeling of fingers pumping inside your cunt made you clench around nothing. Daichi placed himself flat on his back, his hand guiding your trembling body above him before securing them on your waist. You were shaking from him abusing your pussy with his fingers, to which he put those same ones into his mouth, tongue licking your arousal clean.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this, giving your Captain a congratulations.” He praised, running his tip along your slit over your panties, occasionally nudging your clit making your jaw fall and let out moans that were music to Daichi’s ears.

“P-please Daichi-san- I need your cock inside me…” Tears started to form in your eyes by your frustration.

“Be patient, baby. I’ll give you a nice, good fuck.” He moved your panties to the side, fighting the urge to rip it off.

As soon as his tip entered your tight cunt, you let out a loud moan to which Daichi shoved three fingers into your mouth in response. You were being such a good girl, immediately sucking on the fingers he gave you, your hands holding onto his wrist as you slowly bottomed out. The feeling of his tip nudging your cervix made your heart do summersaults. You slowly bounced yourself on his cock with his help, as he set the pace for you both. When he was sure you’d be quiet, he removed his fingers and placed his hands on your hips with a bruising grip. Your hands fall onto his toned chest as you lose yourself in euphoria.

“Shit, how are you still fucking tight. Doesn’t Iwaizumi fuck you?” A lewd thought of being penetrated by both your boyfriend and Daichi crossed your mind, making you whimper. No guilt or shame came when he said his name, instead it made you even more hornier.

The stretch felt so fucking good. The feeling of being fucked open made your brain short-circuit. His pace increased as he bounced you on his cock at a mouth-watering speed. The sound of skin slapping was not discreet at all, you both didn’t care if the whole neighbourhood heard or not. Each time you bottomed-out, your clit hit his pubes, the pain was pleasure for you. The way your tits bounced was a sight that was engraved into Daichi’s mind.

“D-daichi! I’m gonna’ c-come!” You whimpered.

“Let go pretty girl.” He tiredly smirked as a hand attached itself onto your breast, kneading it to give you more pleasure.

A few more thrusts and you’re gone. You swore your vision went white. Your cunt clamped down desperately around his cock, making him grunt. Your whole body was in ecstasy, cunt milking his cock to get it to release his warm cum. The way your face looked was so pretty. The way you cream around his cock made his dick throb even more.

His thrusts grow more sloppy as he feels his second release building inside him. The idea of his cum invading your womb made him go crazy, but he can’t do that just yet. You lick your fingers before rubbing them against his nipples in hopes to increase his pleasure. He grunted even louder at the stimulations.

“Ah- fuck..!” Just before he could release into your tight little cunt, he took his cock out, releasing white all over your stomach.

You were being painted with his cum and you loved it. You took a finger and swiped some onto it, before popping it into your mouth and moaning at the taste. Daichi was panting hard as he looked up at you with hazed and tired eyes. The scene almost made him want to cum again.

“Y/n you’re so good to me, I don’t deserve an obedient girl like you.” He pulled you down for a longing kiss before getting up to get a damp towel to clean you both.

As much as he wanted to keep fucking you and praising how good you are, he felt slumber beginning to creep up onton him. When he saw you get up to get dressed he grabbed your arm, face full of confusion.

“Hey, where are you going?” He said, raising a brow.

“Home.” If you left Iwaizumi, you had to leave him too. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be fair.

“No, you’re staying with me” He pulled you towards him, making you drop your clothing.

“But-”

“No buts, I know you’re tired, come get some rest.” You didn’t even put up a fight because of your fatigue. You let him win as he pulled you into his bed, covering your naked body with his blanket. The warm feeling of skin on skin made you content.

You hadn’t been with him like this ever since you dated Iwaizumi a few months ago. You always made sure it was a quickie before leaving hastily after, so you forget and the guilt doesn’t have enough time to grow. The feeling of being this close to him again made your heart warm, it was wrong but it also felt right.

“Y/n, I’m sorry for making you do this.” He said, placing a kiss on your forehead as his hand stroked your hair. “I understand if you wanna stop, I see how upset and conflicted you get when we go behind his back. But just know that I’ll always be here.”

He whispered sweet nothings until you fell asleep. He missed how your eyes started to water because of how much you loved both Daichi and Iwaizumi and how you didn’t want to hurt either of them. But it’s far too late, that damage has already been done.

[dcbbw]

(last one, I promise!) Rachel prompt 28 - I'm alone and I just bought $15 in candy bars. What do you think?

Thanks so much for the ask, @zaffrenotes! I am using the DC Crew for this full-blown fic;  in the first chapter of Aftermath of a Breakup, the gang did not see each other over the Christmas Break. This is what they were doing instead of hanging out……

Prompt is in bold. Please excuse any typos and/or grammatical errors.

All characters belong to Pixelberry except Alyssa Devereaux; she belongs to @burnsoslow and is used with permission.

Song Inspiration: January, Millie Lee: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l3pIWpdzs2A

December 23

Riley

Riley stood in the feminine care aisle of her neighborhood CVS, braless under a tank top. Her sweatpants were loose around her waist and baggy everywhere else. She wore flip flops on her feet. Her hair was bushy and uncombed.

It was 12 degrees outside. She wore no coat.

Riley was not having a joyous holiday season. Ever since Drake Walker broke up with Riley at Target…her Target….life had not been good.

At work, her raise request had been turned down, and the Christmas bonus she received instead had been miniscule; while Maxwell used his bonus to pay off his credit cards, Riley was calculating how she could squeeze a dinner out and a tube of the new Bobbi Brown lipstick out of hers.

She wasn’t sleeping and was stress eating; her cart so far was filled with king sized chocolate bars, bags of some off-brand Cajun trail mix, and pints of ice cream.

If dealing with heartbreak and being broke wasn’t enough, Riley had a yeast infection, which is why she was now indifferently perusing her options for treatment. She tossed a box in the cart, and after a moment of thought, tossed in a box of Summer’s Eve as well.

As she dragged her feet up the aisle towards the cashier, she saw her Nosy Neighbor, Zack, headed her way. Inwardly, Riley rolled her eyes. The last person she wanted to see was anyfuckingbody. She mustered a tired smile and greeted her neighbor quickly.

“Riley, Riley, Riley! All set for Christmas?” Zack asked cheerfully.

Riley looked at him through slit eyes. Do I look ready for Christmas? Her tone, however, was neither sullen nor depressed, so she patted herself on the back for that.

“Just gonna be a quiet day for me”.

She eased past Zack towards the front of the store, hoping that was the end of the conversation. However, her neighbor followed behind her, still chatting. Riley tuned him out.

At the register, Riley pulled her items out of her cart, setting them on the counter. Zack reviewed her purchases, his eyes growing wide.

“Are you okay, Riley? That’s a lot of sugar!”

Riley kept her eyes on the counter, watching as the cashier swiped each item. “I don’t know, Zack. My boyfriend broke up with me less than three weeks ago. I’m alone and just bought $15 in candy bars. What do you think?”

Another candy bar was swiped. “Oh, my bad. $18 worth of candy bars.”

“I’m sorry, Riley”, Zack said softly. “You know, the church is having a dinner. You’re welcome to come.”

A sad smile crossed Riley’s lips. “Thanks, Zack. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

The cashier gave Riley her total; she dug in her pocket for her credit card.

Her card declined.

With a confused look, Riley ran the card two more times. Each time, it declined. The line behind her grew longer and a bit more impatient.

Riley couldn’t believe that on top of EVERYTHING ELSE, her card was freaking declining. To add insult to injury, it was the one with the highest credit limit.

Zack took out his card. “I got it, Riley. You can pay me back whenever.”

With tears in her eyes, Riley gathered her purchases and ran out the door.

“Merry Christmas, Zack!” she called over her shoulder in a broken voice.

Olivia x Max

Maxwell was stretched out on his couch, wearing nothing but his pajama pants. He was firing up the blunt he had just rolled. He inhaled deeply, feeling the acrid smoke fill his lungs. He exhaled with a deep sigh and smiled up at Olivia, who was straddling his lap.

Her hair was loose and fell in soft waves to her shoulders. She was wearing Maxwell’s pajama top and a lacy thong.

“Do you think we smoke too much weed?” he asked with a frown.

“It’s CHRISTMAS! Green is the color of the Christmas”, Olivia responded.

“So is red”, Maxwell countered.

Olivia clutched the bottle of merlot in her hand and held it aloft. “Which is why we have this baby!” she giggled.

The couple exchanged kisses between tokes and pulls at the wine bottle.

“You’re a Queen, you know”, Maxwell murmured against her skin.

Olivia shook her head. “No, I’m not.”

“You are!”, Maxwell insisted. He motioned for Olivia to get off him; when she did, he sat up, his gaze fixed on the scenery outside their living room window.

“We could live in this place far away. Cordonia! That’s its name! We could all live there! Be royals and nobles and shit.”

Olivia exhaled. “And what would we do there?”

“Noble shit! The guys would walk around with ivory tipped canes and wear monocles. And the ladies would wear fancy dresses and sip tea all day.”

“What roles would we have?”

Maxwell thought as he swigged wine. “Drake would definitely be a Duke. Of a real masculine sounding place…like Ramsford!

Madeleine would be noble but barely…. she’d be like a Baroness or a Countess or something. Her place would have a weird name.”

“Valtoria!” Olivia proclaimed.

“Riley…. she’s a Duchess for sure. Of Fydelia!”

“She could change the name to Rydelia!”

“Liam…. he’s like a Lord or something. Of Krona.”

Olivia frowned. “Krona sounds too masculine. You should make Drake Duke of Krona, and Liam the Lord of Ramsford.”

Her green eyes took in Maxwell. “And what about you?”

Maxwell thought. He reached for the blunt. “I don’t think I’m Duke material. I would probably be a Lord or something. Of Lythikos! There would be mountains and snow and stuff so I could ski and sled year-round.”

“And what about me?” Olivia demanded as she reached for the wine bottle.

Maxwell’s arm went around her shoulder as he pulled her closer. “You’re the Queen, my dear.”

“Who’s my King?”

“Bertrand. He’s the King.”

“Over my dead fucking body!” Olivia swatted Maxwell’s thigh.

“You two could have an arrangement or something. A Cordonian arrangement! And I, the Lord of Lythikos, would be your most loyal servant.”

Olivia stood, stretching her lithe body. “Well, come along, loyal servant; we have gifts to wrap before the munchies overtake us.”

Leo x Madeleine

“What can we take that won’t trigger Mother?” Madeleine asked as she and Leo wandered Whole Foods.

They were spending Christmas Eve with her mother, who was a newly recovering alcoholic. Adelaide had been sober a little over thirty days. Madeleine picked up a carton of egg nog; it had alcohol in it. She searched for a non-alcoholic version.

“Your mother drank anything that had liquor in it and made sure it did have alcohol when it didn’t. For over twenty years. At this point, liquids period is a trigger”, Leo said. “We should stick with tea, water, and soda.”

“I want to support my mother, Leo! She’s making strides to get better, to be better!”

Leo pulled Madeleine closer to him; one arm went around her waist, his hand splayed against her back. The other hand took the carton of egg nog from her hand and tossed it back into the dairy case.

“I know you do, Mads. I want to support her as well. But you can’t be her babysitter. If she didn’t think she could handle a dinner party, she wouldn’t be throwing one.”

“But Father will be there……” Madeleine’s voice drifted off as Christmas carols blared from speakers.

Leo’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed a little. “Did she invite him?”

Madeleine shook her head. “I don’t know. All she said was we were invited, and Father was coming.”

“That bastard has some nerve! Okay, change of plans. Your mom is coming to our place!”

Madeleine looked up at Leo, her green eyes hopeful and uncertain at the same time. “Are you sure?”

“Addy has thirty days under her belt. I want to see her get thirty-one. Godfrey being anywhere near her guarantees she goes back to Day Zero. She’ll stay with us through the New Year. She can sleep in our room and we’ll take the sleeper sofa.”

“But you just said we can’t babysit her”, Madeleine reminded him.

“She’s about to step out in front of a bus traveling at high speed down a narrow road. We’re protecting her.”

“I love you so much!!” Madeleine was near tears as she hugged Leo tightly.

Leo kissed her hair. “Same here. Now, you call your mom while I see if they have any cookbooks in this bitch.”

Drake x Alyssa

Drake’s eyes were fixed on the road as he drove Alyssa to the airport. Alyssa was singing along with a 90s song on the radio. Her hand rested lightly on top of Drake’s as DCA loomed in the distance.

“I wish you didn’t have to go”, Drake muttered as he changed lanes.

“Shhhhhh…I’m serenading you”, Alyssa scolded.

Drake grinned as he shook his head. How did this little tornado bowl him over so quickly? She made him smile, she made him tingle, she made him feel complete in a way no one had before.

Not even Brooks.

Guilt and sadness filled him at the thought of Riley. He needed to talk to her, but he had no idea what to say. Sorry wasn’t going to cut it, and Drake wasn’t good with words. He was shaken from his thoughts by Alyssa asking him if he enjoyed her singing to him.

“Of course, Devereaux. You should stay and give me an encore.”

“When I get back! And if we’re still together this time next year, I’ll bring you with me. Daniel and my friends will be thrilled to meet you!” Alyssa promised, her blue eyes meeting his brown ones.

“If we’re still together next Christmas, I’m taking you to Texas.”

“Christmas needs cold and snow, not swimming pools and shorts!”

Drake took the exit to enter the airport. “When you come back, if you’re up for it, I want to introduce you to my friends. We get together about once a month or so and hang out. Dinner, movies, bowling……that kind of stuff.”

“I’d like that”, Alyssa said softly.

Her eyes grew anxious. “What will you be doing on Christmas Day? I don’t want you to be alone.”

Drake shrugged. “Sleep. Watch basketball. Dinner with my sister, her fiancé, and my nephew.” He leaned over and snatched a quick kiss. “Missing you.”

“Stop making me fall for you!” Alyssa giggled as she pushed his arm lightly.

“I’ve already fallen. Join me, won’t you?” Drake said softly.

“I might take you up on that offer.” Alyssa tightened her hold on his hand.

Drake pulled up to the doors to the airline; he shut his truck off and rushed around to open Alyssa’s door. He lifted her from the seat and helped her out. She grinned up at Drake, her eyes shiny with tears. She stood on her toes, throwing her arms around his neck.

“I’m going to miss you so much!” She pressed her pink lips against his.

“You’re back on the 28th, right?

Alyssa nodded. “Late flight, though.”

Drake kissed her again. “I don’t care if it lands at 2am. Let me know when your flight is due back. I’ll be here.”

After a lingering kiss and a tight hug, Drake pulled Alyssa’s suitcase from the back of the vehicle and walked her to the doors.

As a bitter cold wind blew through his wool coat as if it were a cotton shirt, Drake waved to Alyssa until he couldn’t see her anymore.

Liam

Liam pulled underwear and socks from his dresser drawer to toss into his suitcase. He had his Santa socks, his Christmas tree socks, his jingle bell socks, his reindeer socks. He frowned as he looked for his socks with the gift boxes; ahhhh, there they were!

He was going to Boston for Christmas. It wasn’t his original plan.

Liam had wanted to stay in DC, come into the office while everyone else was on vacation, get some work done.  Spend time with his friends, maybe go out for Chinese food and a movie on Christmas Day with Riley B. Or maybe Riley B. would cook Christmas dinner, and he could go to her place. Liam wouldn’t even have minded the fact that Drake would’ve been there.

Anything to take his mind off the fact that he was alone at Christmas when he wasn’t ready to be.

But when he met up with the gang last week, neither Riley nor Drake were there. Madeleine and Leo were going to her mother’s for a Christmas Eve dinner party and staying overnight. Maxwell and Olivia were going to Bertrand’s for the day and staying for dinner.

Liam figured Riley and Drake had plans as well, probably visiting Riley’s family in North Carolina. So Liam would be alone this Christmas, and the thought of going to an empty office drained him of his motivation to prove that he was worthy of the promotion.

After dinner with the gang, Liam had called his mom and told her he wanted to come home for Christmas. Eleanor had been ecstatic; she missed her sons.

“Is your brother coming?” she asked excitedly. Leo was not her biological child, but Eleanor considered him her own.

“Not this time. He’s going with Madeleine to see her mother. And he has to work the day after Christmas.”

“Well, we’ll see him next time! And we can Skypetime him or something! Now, I’m making a turkey and a leg of lamb. And my oyster dressing. And corn. And mashed potatoes with sour cream and giblet gravy.”

“Mom, you know I hate oyster dressing!” Liam protested.

“Your father loves it! I’ll make two dressings, but yours is coming out of a box.”

“Why can’t you just scoop mine out before you add the oysters?” Liam frowned.

“Stop frowning! Maybe I can do that…. we’ll see. You eat your weight in dressing, Mister!”

“How did you even know I was frowning?” Liam asked curiously.

“You’re my son. I know what you do!”

Liam smirked thinking that if his mom knew all he did……

“I know you do that too! So when will you be here?”

“Looking up flights now.”

“Let us know so I can have your father pick you up.”

“I can Uber, mom. You guys don’t need to come pick me up!”

“Nonsense. Your father will be there. Okay, gotta go……600 Pound Life is coming on, and I need inspiration to stick to my diet!”

Liam tossed in pants and sweaters; after some internal debate, he tossed in his work laptop. He had reached out to some old friends still in Boston, so hopefully he wouldn’t be working, but just in case. His packing done, he glanced at the clock. He had an early flight out in the morning, but he wasn’t sleepy.

He was thinking about Riley B. and what she was doing. He wondered what Drake bought her for Christmas. He hadn’t asked anyone for suggestions as he usually did. Liam wondered if it was a ring.

His eyes fell on the wrapped present he had bought for Riley B. They hadn’t done Secret Santa this year, but Liam knew Riley B. would love the bottle of Coco Chanel Mademoiselle. It was one of her favorite scents.

Liam decided to wait to see what Drake got her; it was five years now for them. Time to put a ring on it or let her go. If Drake did give her a ring, it could be an engagement present.

Liam hoped it wouldn’t be.

With a sigh, he climbed into bed and turned off the lamp. He grabbed his phone and texted Riley, wishing her a Merry Christmas.

She responded back almost immediately. Merry Christmas, bestie.

Liam stared at his screen before sending his response. You’re my best friend, too.

He rolled over, closing his eyes, phone clasped in his hand. I love you.

  Tagging: @sirbeepsalot @wannabemc2 @topsyturvy-dream @jared2612 @katedrakeohd @hopefulmoonobject @custaroonie @i-am-liam-rhys @jovialyouthmusic @thequeenofcronuts @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @amomentofsinclairity @bobasheebaby @ao719 @sashatrr @marietrinmimi @ladyangel70 @gardeningourmet @umccall71 @angi15h @romanticatheart-posts @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @blznbaby @tabithacarlisle @emceesynonymroll @bbrandy2002 @ab1901 @janezillow @debramcg1106 @radlovedreamer @jessiembruno @lodberg @thecordoniandiaries @ramseyandrys @caroldxnvxrs @princess-geek @burnsoslow @annekebbphotography @merridithsmiscellany-blog @emichelle @indiacater @loveellamae @forthebrokenheartedthings-blog @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @bebepac @zaffrenotes @queenjilian @princessleac1

[authordanaelsamms]

Chapter One

           Every woman longs for an uninterrupted stretch of peace. That’s what makes death so inviting. Most of her life, Persephone felt the call of eternal sleep. It lingered in a secret corner of her heart like an itch she couldn’t scratch.

           As she stood on the front steps, a silent call echoed to her over the pasture. Any other warm afternoon, she might find herself walking to the cemetery and sitting under the lone oak tree there. She might slip her hands from her mitts and pull her skirts up over her knees while she sat between familiar tombstones. On these visits, the itch gnawed harder.

           Envy flowed in her blood for each of them.

           Perseus, Helen, Missy, Mother.

           The names carved into flat stone waited that day for her flowers and visit. Someday eternal visit. Until then, her best relief came in the time she spent quietly beside them.

           Persephone relished her moments alone. Picturing the narrow path down the hill, over the pasture gate, between the trees, and across the meadow. Her mind carried her to the patchwork graveyard. The only other presence was the wind shaking the limbs of the trees and washing over her skin. For a brief moment that day, she’d found complete tranquility.

           Pleasure broke.

           A clatter reminded her that she still stood on the front steps. Behind the house, someone had dropped a pan on the stone floor of the kitchen. Frustrated shouts echoed with the rising heat and hurry. There was too much work left and too little time for error.

           There would be no walk that afternoon. Her grassy throne of tangled tree roots would have to wait. Guests were coming, and she needed to find Abigail.

           Like any other sunny afternoon, Abigail would be working in the herb garden. The midsummer warmth offered too many blooms, leaves, and roots that required plucking. No doubt most of Abigail’s night would go to laying out a collection of gathered herbs to dry before grinding what she’d gathered the day before.

           Near her garden, Father once built a private shed for Abigail’s work. In past years, it was filled to the brim with requests from family and neighbors for pain relievers or any sort of wild remedy. Any spare jar from the kitchen and pantry were toted into the little room to be filled with blackberry leaves or geranium oil. When Persephone was small, Abigail teased her about being a witch, but even then she knew it was a joke.

           “That’s how I got my eyes. I stole them from a lady who didn’t believe in my powers.”

           When she was four, Persephone’s head only just reached the windowsill. The shade of the one room shed offered a breeze and relief from hot afternoons, and the sweet scent from Abigail’s work was too inviting to ignore.

           “Then why do you travel so often with Dr. Abbott?” she’d ask from the doorway.

           “Who do you think taught him to be a doctor?”

           Even as the demand for her work had declined, sweet aromas still drifted from Abigail’s shed. A garden that once saw vines and flowers spilling over its white fence lay half empty in recent years. Tonics and teas that used filled shelves were confined to a single chest.

           Occasionally, a neighbor might send word for black cohosh or white snakeroot. Yet the current requests for remedies did not match what was requested ten years before. Not after the work of God was blamed on a house slave.

           With the bone poking through her worn stays and into her back, Persephone rounded the opposite side of the house. Out of sight of the herb garden, she made her way to the barn. She told herself a couple minutes could be spared inside it. After resting his leg away from the heat, Cerberus would be ready to join the others in the pasture. Persephone was duty bound to tend to him herself.

           In the late afternoon, all was quiet. A soft breeze flowed through the stable’s open doors. Extra trees encircled the building, blocking out some of the heat. Between the soft wind and the shade, it was one of the coolest places on Oakwood during the summer. In the winter, with trees breaking the wind and livestock filling every stall, it was one of the warmest.

           An old mare was the only horse inside besides Cerberus. His chestnut head ducked over the stall when Persephone entered. He let out a soft nicker when she approached. If one being was ever permitted to join her solitude, it was the gelding.

           Loneliness shared by the two of them was heaven. That afternoon, the heaven was being rocked by a loud and persistent pest. The shaded stable was usually clear of flies, but one large, black annoyance kept passing Persephone’s cheek and narrowly missing her hair.

           She shouted in frustration and swooped to miss the horsefly. The commotion drew the attention of one of Father’s recent hires. Persephone collected herself and pretended not to notice him.

           Run down frontiersmen and those looking to avoid the law often found work from Mr. Nicholas. Usually three or four of them appeared in a year on Oakwood. A few returned more than once if they needed the work. Not only did they guard the biggest loads sent to market, but on occasion they could be rather convincing to anyone who might pose a problem.

           All of them knew to stay out of the way of the plantation’s routine. And each was smart enough to stay clear of Persephone. The money from Mr. Nicholas was too good to make him angry by approaching his daughter. For any reason. The man near the barn was a regular of the odd hires, and Persephone always pretended not to notice him. Yet his language was not lost on her.

           The fly swooped again. She swatted the air, but it took no interest in leaving her for the horses. Finally, it made the mistake of landing. In a loud crack of wood against wood, Persephone’s riding crop smashed the horsefly in a blundering heap against the stall.

           “Deserving shit,” she whispered to the splattered body as she strode by.

           Abigail’s salve had done its work. The nick to Cerberus’ fur had been small, most likely a scruff with another horse in the pasture, but it still drew the attention of his lady. For two days she shooed away help from the stable hands and leaned over his long legs to wash and tend the wound.

           His leg was healed and coat in no need of grooming. Out of ideas for delays, and the bone still poking her back, Persephone gave in. The horses were put out, and she turned back to the house.

           Abigail was almost hidden in her garden. A week before, she’d brought a sprout from the woods and replanted it. Only her straw hat was visible over the short fence as she crouched to examine the patch's newest addition.

           Her dedication to wearing the hat sealed the youth on her face. Long walks to gather plants and hours with her mortar and pestle kept her body slim and strong. Persephone remembered running to Abigail’s side and seeing the same, youthful face since she could walk. Any time not spent with her plants and salves was devoted to caring for Persephone. As Persephone passed into adulthood, she still lingered at Abigail’s side and followed her direction.

           “It’s still set on poking me to death,” she said from the gate. Beneath her dress, her old stays were wearing thin. In the center of her back, a pointed piece of whalebone poked through the fabric and irritated her skin.

           “I told you it would,” Abigail kept her eyes on the lacy white flowers.

           Manure and dust kissed the edges of Persephone’s dress. Yet in the garden she took care not to run her hem in the dirt. At least not in front of Abigail.

           “You also said you’d fix it.”

           “I mentioned attempting to fix your stays were there time.”

           “Is there?”

           “Probably not.” At last she turned to Persephone, blue eyes shining from the shade of her hat. “Not since you’ve checked every corner of the house for dirt and been to the barn twice.”

           Persephone smiled back at her.

           “My other stays don’t fit properly under the blue dress,” Persephone lingered at the gate, aimlessly brushing dirt from her mitts, “and Father told me to wear that one.”

           “It brings out your eyes.”

           “I’d rather wear the purple. That one fits better and matches the other stays.”

           In her opinion, none of the colors matched her raven black hair, but that was her curse for bearing the last name Nicholas. Almost daily she found herself longing for soft blonde curls like her cousins. At twenty, the hopeless wish remained.

           Abigail’s fingerings brushed the soft yellow petals of a flower, “Tell me what this is.”

           “You call it a piss daisy,” Persephone replied.

           “I’m the only one who does.”

           Quizzing Persephone on plants and their uses was routine. For the life of her, none of the information stayed in her head very long. None of the information Abigail asked, that is. She examined the clipping and noted the purple coneflower, for colds, and the common chamomile, but that was not the bloom in question.

           “It’s poisonous,” she said after a moment.

           “Anything can be a poison if you use it right.”

           That basic answer was usually adequate. Another tediously long stretch of seconds passed as she focused hard on the yellow flower.

           “Father takes it for the pain in his hand.”

           “Arnica,” Abigail explained as she collected her basket. “For some pains, and yes, like almost any herb taken in excess, it can be lethal.”

           “I was half right.”

           “For anything,” she chuckled. “Salt might kill a man if he had enough.”

           Persephone blanched at the thought and turned toward the house.

           “Will you please help me now?”

           “The Tanners will be here soon,” Abigail led them through the back door. “I doubt that’s enough time to fix those stays and see you dressed. You’ll just have to wear the purple one.”

           John Nicholas had been too old to fight the French, and in his own opinion, too young to call himself old. Two years after the war ended, he still refused to be considered old. Yet anyone else would certainly use the word old to describe him.

           His hair had peppered quickly. Though wiry, it remained thick and tamed. Crow’s feet were rooted in the corners of his eyes and echoed across his face to the beginnings of other wrinkles. Permanent frown lines met them. Despite the weathered evidence of time, most could only see his eyes. They were bright blue, like Persephone’s, like all his children once had.

           Those shining eyes were never happy. Disgust and frustration were his chief emotions. Both fought for first when Persephone arrived downstairs in crisp, lace mitts and her purple gown.

           A plain looking carriage rolled to a stop by the open door, giving Father only enough time for a sigh of exasperation. Persephone turned to greet their guests with a warm smile.

           She began the night ahead in their unspoken game and planned to stay there. Starting the evening in a dress of her choice and not her father’s was a perfectly executed move. Enough smartly accomplished moves in a night would bring a victory enjoyed only in the quiet recesses of her mind.

           Samuel Tanner emerged from the carriage and offered a hand to his wife. While neither of them were as advanced as her father, both were old enough to pass as a parental figure. A simple glance to Margaret Tanner would prove they were only friends and not family. The dissimilar appearance to Mr. Tanner confirmed it.

           In his successful years of breeding and training horses, Samuel was not a poor man. His wardrobe didn’t show it. While he did not dress plainly, he still did not see that night as an excuse to dress well. Persephone didn’t recall a single occasion when Mr. Tanner dressed as finely as her father. Mr. Tanner’s clothes were clean, but a wealthy man would consider them only for barn use. Most often, they were.

           Mrs. Tanner more than made up for both of them with her extravagance. More than a fair share of allowance had been spent on ribbons and wigs and fine silks. It was rumored one gown came from Paris, but the gossips had no proof. Mrs. Tanner never rebuked them. Jealous whispers of her fine clothes were better than hushed judgements of her heritage.

           Only Father had been silent about their marriage. Eyes still turned at Sam Tanner’s choice of wife. Neighbors whispered, “wild savage” when the fuss of her ribbons died down. But Mrs. Tanner had grown up in petticoats and buckled shoes just like the rest of them.

           Whenever whispers turned from jealousy of her dresses or trimmings back to her skin and dark hair, a new piece of finery made an appearance. New rumors of her wealth quickly took front stage, and Margaret silently reveled in them.

           To the neighbors scattered across the Virginia frontier, Mrs. Tanner dressed and held herself like royalty. Most of them claimed an entire bedroom was devoted to her petticoats and stockings, though no one who said it had ever set foot in her house. Whether they saw her as a friend or kept a secret hatred for her, she saw herself above them. Even on the Oakwood plantation, her ascension from the carriage was that of a queen.

           “John,” Samuel nodded at the door. “Thank you for having us again.”

           “Always a pleasure,” Father gave a polite bow. “Mrs. Tanner. You’ve both met Persephone.”

           Persephone curtsied, letting her skirts shimmer for Mrs. Tanner to see. She gave a nod of approval.

           “It’s been a while, but it’s always wonderful to see you.”

           “You as well, Mrs. Tanner.”

           “Please, call me Margaret.” She gave Persephone a genuine smile and bounced her plucked eyebrows. With another man joining the party shortly, they both knew they were outnumbered. The thought of friendly conversation between ladies promised for a more enjoyable evening.

           Having no children, Margaret had kept her figure. Father noticed it, and Persephone noticed him. Once their guests had passed them into the house, she shot him a look of displeasure. He glared back.

           Persephone pulled further ahead.

           They moved inside to the only painted room in the house. Soft blue paint made the walls more presentable for guests, while reminding them they were in a Nicholas home. The large, square table was set. Porcelain and candlesticks were precisely aligned for the rare use of the room.

           Most evenings, Persephone and her father didn’t even eat together. If he was working, or pretending to work, a tray was brought to Mr. Nicholas in his study. With no one else around, Persephone ate with Abigail in the kitchen. Even on a warm day she preferred the hot kitchen to any meal with her father.

           Through the window, another carriage could be seen rolling in. Mr. Savidge had arrived.

           Persephone sighed in annoyance. The old man spoke so loud and so often, any other conversation was difficult to be had. To her relief, Margaret took a seat across the table from her. The evening would be much more agreeable with Mrs. Tanner close enough to speak to. Father took his place to Persephone’s right at the head of the table, making conversation harder.

           A loud thud announced Abe Savidge had entered the front door. The end of the cane pounded against the wooden floor until he and his companion entered the room.

           Like Father, Mr. Savidge had greying hair. Unlike Father, it could not be tamed. That evening it forced its way out from under his messy wig in several places. A simple look in a mirror would tell a gentleman to fix it. Unfortunately for Abe, his eyesight meant every mirror he passed was a blur. Unfortunately for everyone else, age left his standards for gentlemanly behavior quite lax.

           “Gentlemen. Ladies.” His voice was rough and matched his unbalanced pace. Every few words were muffled by the thud of his cane as he walked to an empty chair opposite Father. “This is my nephew, Warren. He’s been staying with me lately, learning about the business. I thought he might profit from supping with us tonight.”

           The chair beside Persephone was suddenly occupied by a young man just a few years older than her. While some ladies might have called him handsome, she did not. His association with his uncle was enough to give Persephone disinterest. His jackassish airs completely shut him out of any significance to her, formal or otherwise.

           “How do you do, Miss Nicholas,” his eyes took in her figure as he sat down. Her spine stiffened at the sight.

           “Well, thank you,” Persephone looked across the table for conversation, but Margaret was occupied by her husband. Persephone skimmed over her father; Margaret held his attention as well.

           Even with the table leaves extending it to a fuller size, Persephone thought everyone was uncomfortably close. Especially when the young Mr. Savidge glanced her way again. The quick look was anything but proper, and stealthily laid out before anyone else noticed. She imagined stabbing one of those murky eyes with her fork.

           To Persephone’s relief, Abigail appeared in the doorway with a bottle of wine in one hand and cider in the other. She cast her a look, begging to be saved. Abigail returned it with a silent nod of sympathy and understanding. Tomorrow Persephone would have the chance to relay the events of the evening, and Abigail’s comments would make them both laugh. She could make it to tomorrow.

           “You,” Father interrupted, glaring at Abigail, and pointing to his empty wine glass.

           Persephone sighed as Abigail made the rounds. Her evening was not looking much better. Especially not with Warren Savidge as a guest.

           “No,” Warren’s hand covered his glass before Abigail could fill it, “Do you have any port?”

           “Yes sir, one moment.” She filled the rest of the glasses around the table, saving the cider for Persephone, before slipping back out the door.

           “It has been too long since we’ve come by,” Mr. Tanner glanced Persephone’s way. “Miss Nicholas, you have grown into a fine young woman.”

           She smiled. The last time the Tanners and Mr. Savidge came to Oakwood, Persephone had been only fifteen. That was just as Father was beginning to walk the rest of the house instead of spending dawn to dusk locked inside of his study. Persephone tried to thank Mr. Tanner, but was cut off.

           “Obviously, we need to discuss the Floruitwood estate,” Father’s voice, though gentle at the moment, demanded attention.

           “I doubt Parker left you anything, John, it all belongs to his son now,” Mr. Savidge smiled from his end of the table.

           Father glared back at him. If his daughter was not making the retort, there was little he could do to stop it. Persephone kept her head down but relished the moment.

           “That is exactly the issue,” Father continued, undeterred. “The Parker boy has no understanding of running a trade. He’s hardly a year older than my daughter. If we plan this season well, I think we could drive him out within a year. Maybe two.”

           “I’m not sure John. My father left everything to me when I was seventeen.” Mr. Tanner took more interest to his fork than the others. “I hardly had an issue.”

           “Weren’t you twenty when Grandfather Nicholas died?”

           Persephone knew the answer to her question, but still asked it. Father’s look told her she would pay for the remark, but she encouraged herself it was worth it. Especially with his business partners at the table. He was not catching up in her private game. She felt like a mouse dancing on a rafter in the barn while the cat watched from the hay below.

           If they heard her question, none of them showed it.

           “The boy is lucky to be handed such a venture, but I doubt he is clueless,” Tanner sighed.

           Persephone was curious how losing your parents was considered lucky. Not everyone had a father like hers.

           “He might know his plantation,” Father reminded them, “but trade is another matter.”

           “Stop badgering, John. Tell us your thoughts.” Gravy landed on Mr. Savidge’s front as he spoke.

           “I think we should look to Kingston.”

           Suddenly Father was more interesting than Tanner’s fork or Savidge’s food.

           “The Parkers have had a monopoly in Kingston since they started planting,” Tanner said. “His grandfather made better trades there than we could match.”

           “Since when do you skip a gamble?”

           The words left Mr. Tanner silent. Father held his gaze, not regretting his honesty.

           “You plan to scare him out of it with your men?” Mr. Savidge smiled from his end of the table. “They cost you too much.”

           “Our wagons have always been safe.” Father’s glance told his friend not to mention it again.

           Having consumed half her plate, Persephone’s eyes floated about the room for something else to keep her interest. Unfortunately, they met Warren Savidge’s own gaze. Her attention returned promptly to her plate, but she felt his lingering look on her and struggled not to shiver.

           “How much of your stock can we count on for transport, Sam?” Mr. Savidge cut a large piece of potato and stuffed it into his mouth. Some of it remained on his chin, but he didn’t seem to notice.

           “That’s hard to say,” Mr. Tanner sat up straight. “I’ve kept the usual number aside, but I doubt I can take out more this year.”

           “Why is that?” Father said curtly.

           “You recommended me to your brother,” Tanner replied. “His crop did well last year and is looking even better this summer. Heavier wagons need a stronger team.”

           “He needs that many horses?”

           “He does.”

           “My brother took an easy route,” Father sawed hard at his meet. “He married into a ridiculous apple fortune. Now he has a mad wife and wild children.”

           “The only thing I can image that’s easier is inheriting a tobacco fortune,” Persephone took a sip of her cider.    She could hear Father give a sigh. The rest of the table had not seemed to notice. Except for young Mr. Savidge.

           He caught Persephone’s gaze with a smirk, pleased with her retort. She scowled back and returned her eyes to her plate.

           “His land is worth less than half of mine,” Father grunted. “Even if he’s doing as well as he tells you, Sam, he can’t be making much. There isn’t a point to it. I doubt there’s anything more ridiculous than an apple orchard, except an apple orchard on bad land that hardly brings in a profit. I doubt he paid you what those horses were worth.”

           “He paid well enough,” Mr. Tanner replied. “We’ll still have teams we need to transport what we bring in. We’re lucky our guests didn’t make off with them after all else they took.”

           “How long did they stay?” Father’s voice changed to a different irritation.

           “Only a night. We were lucky. A little farm down the road kept twelve men for the better part of the week. Ours left after breakfast the next day, and only took a few chickens off our hands.”

           Quartering soldiers was still new in the area. Thanks to Oakwood’s position on its little hill and distance from the main roads, they had been free of uninvited guests. Yet even at Mr. Tanner and her father’s obvious disdain for the act, her heart skipped at the excitement of strange men wandering into their home for a night.

           Any guest, including the Tanners and Savidges, was rare. Persephone longed for the company of a few men even if they were strangers and a bit rough and tumble. Having them arrive after Father’s hatred for them would be a delicious treat.

           “I’d hide most of your grain before winter,” Father advised. “That’s when they’ll come through to stay, and only a week of them would be heaven.”

           The turn of conversation appeared lost on the aged Mr. Savidge, who chose that moment to ask, “What mighty steeds have you in store for our bounty, Sam?

           “Only the best, Abe,” Mr. Tanner smiled in return. “It’s the distance you’re aspiring and the speed that we might not make. Can we get a load cured fast enough?”

           “We can,” Father gave a cheeky grin. The others remained on a string of curiosity, and he enjoyed it.

           “Do you share your father’s interest in agriculture, Miss Nicholas?” Warren asked undeterred.

           “No,” Persephone’s answer was sharp. She had shifted into a daydream of handsome soldiers clad in red and irritating her father while they all drank cider in the same room. The young Mr. Savidge proved quite the opposite, and his disruption in her fantasy only further poked the bear.

           “Well,” Tanner broke the short silence, “I doubt your harvest will be ready early enough.”

           “How early?” Bits of potato still clung onto Abe Savidge’s chin.

           “We won’t need to worry if we use our stores from last year,” Father said. “There’s enough there for at least one load to Kingston. Perhaps two. And that’s enough.”

           Persephone watched a trail of wax roll down the side of the candle. Once again, she noticed Margaret. The candle had held most of her attention as well. She smiled at Persephone, sharing in her boredom.

           “The quality might be gone after sitting around all these months.” Even with food staining his breast and chin, Mr. Savidge’s mind stayed on alert. “You know better than any of us the art to curing a crop, John.”

           “I know a lot more than Parker ever did. Anything his boy offers won’t be nearly as good as ours- whether it’s three years old or fifty.” Father withdrew two vials from the pocket of his waistcoat and passed them to Mr. Tanner. “I sent a boy to Kingston last year for an ounce of Parker tobacco. The other is some of my own crop from the harvest before last.”

           The men held the two samples against the light to examine them. They were impressed by the difference. Words were shared of color and scent, all of them passing unnoticed to Persephone as she pushed an unwanted bite of meat across her plate.

           A second line of wax made its way down the candlestick. Supper had lasted longer than Persephone liked, and the candle showed it.

           “Why don’t we just harvest early? I doubt the buying man would care for the difference between these crops.” Warren Savidge spoke up from his end of the table. Both of the vials had arrived in his hands, and he clearly knew less about them than Persephone.

           Dissatisfaction bubbled to Father’s surface. Persephone knew to keep quiet in that moment, and he was left looking for someone to unleash his frustration on. Abe seemed to hardly notice his nephew’s suggestion. Mr. Tanner seemed annoyed, but not nearly as much as his partner.

           “Yes, we could,” Mr. Nicholas scolded. “And while we’re at it lose half our profit from not letting the crop grow. Abe, I don’t think your nephew’s retained anything you’ve told him.”

           The remark left the young Savidge frowning. As much as Persephone loathed her father’s retorts, she loved hearing them poured onto someone else. Especially someone deserving.

           “I see,” Warren muttered. The napkin on his lap became his new focus.

           “Yes, thankfully you do. Until you take over your uncle’s affairs completely, you should stay quiet and learn a few things.”

           Persephone stifled her giggle with a yawn. Thanks to Abe’s age, he had not heard Father’s agricultural lesson. “Undercutting him at Kingston is an excellent plan.” The last of the potato finally fell from his chin. “We could always delay a trip north a few weeks.”

           “Indeed,” Mr. Tanner returned to the conversation. “By the time Parker learns of his loss in Kingston, your next round from harvest would be nearly cured and ready to ship. With our geographical advantage…”

           Persephone slipped a pinch of sugar off the table and into her pocket. The conversation kept the others distracted from her subtle movements. She enjoyed planning another walk to the pasture more than listening to plans of tobacco and sales.

           Candles were half gone and the food had vanished, most of it to Mr. Savidge’s chin and waistcoat. Usually at this point in the evening gentlemen would disperse to the study, but they remained. The conversation faded in Persephone’s ears as her attention remained on the three peas lingering on her plate. Every so often she heard something about a horse or fields. It reminded her of Cerberus’ leg. Perhaps Margaret would like to see it. Of course, Persephone was perfectly capable of caring for him herself; she hardly needed approval from the Tanners. Still, discussing a horse’s leg outside in the pasture was far pleasurable to tuning out plantation owners in the stuffy blue room.

           “Mr. Savidge, I hope you know you’ve been in my prayers these recent months,” Mrs. Tanner’s voice pulled Persephone back in.

           “Hmm?” Abe seemed as lost as Persephone had been.

           “I wanted to offer my condolences,” Mrs. Tanner’s words hardly phased him, “On your wife.”

           “Oh yes,” he mumbled. “It was a pity. Becky was very young.”

           Becky Smith; now Savidge. Persephone had met her once before. The Smiths often threw large parties at their home just outside of town. On one occasion, Father had let her attend without much fuss.

           Becky had only been a few years older than Persephone and looked healthy enough. She wondered if marriage to Mr. Savidge had taken its toll. Why had she married him?

           One glance his way was unsettling. Five minutes in his presence made anyone forget how well off he was. Based on how well Becky conversed on the evening they met, becoming an old maid might have been her only other option. Yet Persephone was certain she would prefer spinsterhood over accepting a proposal from the aged Mr. Savidge.

           She realized she had been staring at a stain on the front of Mr. Savidge’s coat for quite a while. The conversation had moved past Becky and her lack of children and back to tobacco. Persephone looked toward her father without hearing his words.

           Her mind lingered on Becky. As if passing so young was not enough of a sorry tale, less than a year after she was in the ground her husband hardly seemed to care anymore. Indeed, the spinster’s life was looking more and more favorable.

           The sun was growing smaller. At this point in the evening the warm, summer air had faded. Cerberus would be happy. The sugar waiting in Persephone’s pocket would make him even happier.

           After what felt like an eternity, Mr. Nicholas finally offered that they move the conversation to his study where the supply of whiskey waited. Together, Persephone and Mrs. Tanner slipped outside and around the side of the house.

           Most ladies would not leave a clean path in such finery as Mrs. Tanner wore. Yet without any prodding, she pulled up her skirts and took broad strides across the lawn.

           Dusk was settling in, leaving a flattering light on the house, grounds, and individuals. Evening strolls were always preferable to afternoon walks. The heat was diminished, and the pasture was the brightest shade of green.

           Final glimmers of sunlight highlighted Cerberus’ red coat making him shine. Behind the dark wood fence, between a few bay and black mares, he stood out as the most handsome. Persephone reminded herself she would always be biased, but in truth she knew her horse was the best of the Oakwood heard. Perhaps even of any horse she might come across in the colonies.

           At her arrival, red ears tilted forward, and a smooth trot brought him close. He stretched his neck over the top rail. Wide eyed, his flared nose pushed against Persephone’s side. One pinch at a time, she withdrew the mound of sugar from her pocket and let him lick it off her fingers. Immediately he nuzzled her hand for more.

           Persephone offered some of the mess to Mrs. Tanner. With a smile, she politely turned her down.

           “It’s impressive to see a young woman so interested in horses.”

           “There’s not much else to do all the way out here,” Persephone admitted. “Even if there were, Cerberus would still get most of my time.”

           As soon as the sugar was gone, his attention returned to the grass. Clean steps showed his leg was healthy. Maybe not tomorrow, but the following day he would be ready to be ridden again. Persephone felt herself counting the hours.

           “I expected a fine lady like you to busy yourself with parties and suitors.”

           Persephone smiled, careful not to roll her eyes.

           “Invitations aren’t too common all the way out here. When they do come, it’s not easy to convince Father to let me go.”

           “No suitors either? I was juggling two at your age.”

           Time had not been easy on Mrs. Tanner. Yet Persephone could tell she must have been lovely when she was young. Far prettier than Persephone. That would make finding and keeping the attention of any man a much simpler task.

           “In my experience, men don’t seem to take to me,” Persephone focused on Cerberus’ walk. “Honestly, I’d rather be an old maid than fall into a fate like the late Mrs. Savidge.”

           “We all would.”

           Both of them leaned against the fence with their eyes on the heard. Each horse took single steps as they grazed. While each moved in its own direction, as a whole they stayed together as the ventured further into the pasture.

           “Some men are tolerable,” Mrs. Tanner said. “Don’t judge every meal by the spoonful of sawdust you unfortunately swallowed.”

           Persephone’s mind returned to the room. The frequent looks from young Warren Savidge leached into her memory. His hard gaze had seemed to slip under her dress. As she relived the memory, she could see herself grasping one of the lead candlesticks and applying it firmly to his skull.

           “A few must be tolerable if you managed two.”

           “More than tolerable,” she smiled. “One was Mr. Tanner. The other was almost as satisfactory.”

           The herd was merging into the trees. Shadows grew darker as the sun slipped further away. Cerberus had disappeared.

           “Is it too much to hope for more than satisfactory?”

           “Of course not. Just make sure your choice matches your father’s opinion.”

           “I think he’d be fine with anyone who’d take me off his hands.”

           Fireflies began to emerge above the dark grass. They had become the pasture’s only visible inhabitants; their glow steadily getting brighter. Still, Persephone and Margaret lingered by the fence.

           Without any horses in sight, Persephone’s mind remained on the topic of men. In nearly twenty years she had little time around men that were not brothers or cousins. Occasionally she found herself meeting others and discovering the brief pleasure of infatuation. Nothing ever felt long lasting. She knew she liked young men, but love and marriage always seemed like a far-off possibility. Lack of candidates pushed it even further away from probable.

           The idea of being a wife was at least appealing. Bordering on desirable. Discussing it with an experienced lady was somehow fun and unpleasant at the same time. After that evening, a suitable man seemed rather unlikely. The more time Persephone spent alone, the more impossible it seemed. Besides, no man could love her as much as Cerberus.

           “Perhaps I do find someone,” she said at last, “Then I move to his home and spend the rest of my life having his children.”

           Persephone let out a heavy sigh. Mrs. Tanner laughed.

           “Maybe, or not. Such is a woman’s life, but motherhood is not always so terrible.”

           Darkness was very near. More fireflies were lighting up the evening as the grounds faded around them. Persephone stroked the pattern on the back of her mitt.

           “Life is heaven for men and hell for women,” she muttered to herself.

           At the house, goodbyes were exchanged from Mr. and Mrs. Tanner. Knowing Mr. Savidge would hang back perhaps another hour, Persephone excused herself for the night. She had no interest in hearing more of their clatter about harvesting tobacco or Father’s rebuttal for her tongue at the table.

            Slipping out early meant he might forget. So, she daintily made her way out of the room after a moment of pleasant farewells.

           Passing through the narrow space in the front door, she turned carefully to avoid bumping Mr. Warren Savidge. A gentleman might have stepped back so she could pass freely. A gentleman also would not have found her thigh and backside over her skirts as she passed.

           Hell indeed.

[musing-collection]

Guests

M. STRAUSS I

We moved with grace to our positions in the tight space. The gravity was gone throughout the entire ship now: everyone was floating and we were floating always. There was a terrible chill among the twenty-eight of us crammed between the shoddy walls of the poorly lit communications room. Our dumbfounded faces stared ahead, mouths drawled silently open. Around us, Lacey’s horrified screams echoed through the baron passage ways. It was the backdrop to our silence.

           Strauss was the first to move freely. She pushed her foot gently off the corner of the once proud throne, now reduced to bent metal and loose fabrics. The inertia drifted her body forward towards the enormous screen. It struggled through its darkness like the visual embodiment of radio waves turning in to place.

           Here in the midst of our decent into hell - or some kind of place beyond it, worse and of less hope - we held our hands, not with each other but within our own palms. Our torment of tumbling onward, aimlessly, and especially hopelessly into the deeper cavernous depths of the universe where we could no longer see back behind us even if we wanted to was as fruitless as we anticipated. But we lied when the dust settled. We lied even once the bodies were disposed of somewhere just beyond our own galaxy.

HOME I

What we know of our demise is little. They came in the night, the entire population of our neighboring little town in Mississippi. The sudden rolling blackouts had been happening for days and it nearly pushed the project to the brink of delay. Yet in our preparations we had built the facility with enough back up power so that the enormous prize of the American space race would see its lift off through should the power have failed us mid launch. It was standard precaution of course and it served us well to the end. Without communication on the base for nearly an hour, we could never have seen them coming in the darkness until the thousands of headlights flickered at us in the distance.

           They warned us of the end and Jean laughed then, awakening from her slumber.

           “Daniel, the whole town is not out there,” she said, sauntering her way out of her quarters and past the string-beaned man at her doorway. Somehow Jean had always been the most beautiful on the base and more than a gifted scientist she was a brave leader then.

           “I assure you, Jean, they are,” Daniel replied meekly.

           Jean’s brow furrowed, “Nonsense,” she simply shot down, but as Daniel pressed the big golden bar and opened the massive door to the third floor balcony overlooking the compound, he could hear her breath escape. The collective cries of more than twelve-thousand voices argued and pleaded at the gates. He desperation was thick in the air and the tension was troublesome on the ground.

           “Jesus fucking Christ,” she exclaimed loudly, her jaw slightly dropping as she leaned over the balcony, “Why the hell are they here?”

           “Well,” Daniel started apprehensively, “They say the world is about to die.”

JEAN I

Jean’s blood floated like deep red pearls against moonlight. They bounced and as though it seemed that time slowed itself, they smeared sloppily against the metals that made up the ship’s interior. Some danced beautifully in circles around one another as they met and floated by. Lacey grasped and choked on her own air, coughing violently and then struggled to not do it but her resistance was met with the desperate wretch as she pressed her fingertips against her cracked and dried lips and vomited at the sight of the awkward hole in Jean’s head.

           Jean had not been a hero. Not then and never had she proclaimed to have ever been anything of the sort, but she decided the things that most of us never had the heart to understand. That was why when her own heart finally gave out it was apparent to all of us. Perhaps we were too constrained by the convictions of our own spiraling hopelessness to do anything about it but all of us, watching her fall to her knees and cry for the first time was more than a little disheartening. For a long time, we wondered if the bodies on the ground like a sanctuary of their own Jonestown were luckier than we were. It seemed hard to understand how our own men and women could have felt so strongly lost amongst themselves like the civilians had but it only seemed hard for a very short time.

           Her ghastly sobs haunted me more than the face down bodies of the remaining children held lovingly against their mother’s breasts. The remaining thirty of us were all that remained of a civilization so proud and powerful against extinction that we fought five wars entirely amongst ourselves and avoided complete natural holocaust in order to thrive. That day they died up in the hollow darkness of space was the only thing more unbearable than the demise of the human race itself.

           “I don’t understand,” Jean would finally say to me then, rubbing gently with her thumb the hand of her fallen Daniel Escaposz, the only man whom she ever had in her life as long as she had him, “Why wouldn’t he ask me to go with him?”

           He lived for thirty-six years and never felt the warmth of a woman. His heartbeat never thrived further than to stand behind her as a valiant man of loyalty to Jean herself. That loyalty was betrayed then and I think that was exactly when she began to change.

HOME II

           There was a crowd now marching down the main level hall from the grand entrance to the Base’s central headquarters. Few moths followed behind into the brightly laminated extraordinaire achievement of science to flap aimlessly towards lights of wasted energy. Lacey gripped the phone tightly in her palm, trying desperately to keep up with Jean’s gazelle legs as she lead the group into the massive conference room. It was there that she was met by Doctor Strauss and her tem. There was an hour long bout of confusion amongst the scientists and military personnel. After about another few minutes, Jean silenced us all and smashed that child’s phone I had given her with the video claiming our demise was at hand from the local news station.    “This is far too out of hand,” she said firmly, as though some marvelous explanation of what we should be doing and how to do it was to come, but her words were not comfort to our silence. It was then that the ground shook. It trembled in intervals of ten to twenty minutes for another hour before the static lifted on our radios and we were met with an unnerving conversation that I will live forever trying to forget.

           “This is Base forty-two eighty-seven, launch base of the-“ Jean was always calm, especially where others were not.

           “Launch base!” exclaimed the man at the other end, “Launch base why the hell haven’t you left yet?”

           “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to-“

           “Captain- General- Lieutenant- Whoever the hell you are signaling from that damn base, get your ship loaded and launched immediately, you hear?”

           Jean was perplexed, I could see it in her face. “Sir, what is your-” And that was when we heard the explosion. At least we figured it had to be an explosion. Less than two minutes later the ground shook more violently than it had yet.

           As big as the world was, it seemed so mall then. Everything seemed to close in around us and that was when Strauss interrupted our own thoughts and we made our move.

           “How do we chose who gets in those hundred and seventy suits?” she asked, a reserved look staring back into Jean’s eyes.

M. STRAUSS II

They grey curls of Strauss’s hair somehow matched our tale. We had come a long way and we had seen nothing; not our demise, not our enemy, not even the world cracking and splitting into pieces - nothing, not even Jean’s blood spilling into the makeshift quarters among Lacey’s terrible screams. Yet we were full of exhaustion and running swiftly out of time.

           Everything seemed to flutter as Strauss reached the screen. She touched its cold edge with a tired hand and the power drained only for a moment. A violent rumble erupted and then reinitialized all power among the ship. The screen stayed the same fuzzy static it had been struggling against. And that was when she saw it, the moment Strauss’s eyes fluttered and the moistness swelled. Her heart raced and the pain was sharp through her arm. Her heavy heart weakened.

           It must have been when Lacy saw it too. For her, it must have been blinding - the light piercing through the tiny hole of a window looking out to the once dark homelessness surrounding us. None of the billion dying stars must have matched it. I imagine that was when the horrified screams stopped and that she was able to forget just for a moment that Jean had not perished just then. No, not then of all times after everything.

           For Strauss, as the existence she must have come accustomed to faded, she bit back her pain and suffered silently as we watched beyond her to the magnificent screen which we could not comprehend. Lines blurred and began to change in different directions. Even until the end of our journey, we could not see what was to come. We could only hear it spoken to us.

“You have been… liberated”