#leap off and grab the lever on his way down to start it cooking

[theradicalscrivener]

How tiny does Caleb want to get? Smaller than Trevor?

Nah. I don't think Caleb would want to get that small. I figured if he'd love to be action figure size which would put him at around 5-6 inches. Small enough to be hand held. Not too small to have any meaningful interaction with the world around him.

[darkelfshadow]

Session Summary - 110

AKA “Escape From Phlan”

Adventures in Taggriell

Session 110  (Date: 28th May 2021)

Players Present:

- Bob (Known as “Sir Krondor) Dwarf Male.

- Paul (Known as “Labarett”) Elf Male.

- Travis (Known as “Trenchant”) Human Male.

- Arthur (Known as “Gim”) Dwarf Male.

Absent Players

- John (Known as “Ragnar”) Dwarf Male.  <Played by Bob>

- Rob (Known as “Varis”) Elf Male. <Played by Paul>

NPC

- (Known as “Naillae”) Elf Female. <Controlled by Travis>

Summary

- Moonday, 8th Sarenith in the year 815 (Second Era). Late Summer.

- The party begin this session, still underground the captured city of Phlan.

- Captain Greycastle shows the party the secret exit to the Valhingen Graveyards and then goes back to retrieve the refugees to get ready for their evacuation, hoping the party can make a clear way ahead before Vorgansharax destroys the city. 

- The party enter one of the secret doors and follow a long passageway that goes under the river to eventually exit out via a set of stone steps into the Valhingen Graveyard; the muddy footsteps of the Black Knight visible the whole way. Exiting to the outside and sneaking through the Graveyard, the party ignore the set of muddy footprints left by the Black Knight and instead proceed towards a pair of metal gates in the tall metal fence that the party will need to breach for the refugees to escape.

- As they are sneaking through the silent graveyard, a creature appears from an open mausoleum. Its grey skin barely conceals bones as an ancient faded robe drapes over it. The red intelligent eyes lock onto the party with malice, “More intruders I shall have to deal with.”

- Before the Crypt Thing can do more, Ragnar raises his holy symbol of Truesilver and commands the undead creature back. Rays of light shine forth from the symbol and the Crypt Thing is forced back.

- The party push their advantage against the now cowering Crypt Thing but their situation becomes dire when hordes of undead Cursed Skeletons start running towards them from two entrances on a nearby Funeral Building.

- The party are forcing their way their through to one of the closed fence gates but the appearance of a group of Mummies from a cluster of small mausoleums throw the party’s plans into chaos. The gaze of Mummies is strong and eventually Varis is paralysed by Mummy Fear.

- The Crypt Thing, unable to overcome the power of Ragnar’s Turning is brought down and dispatched by the party.

- The Skeleton horde does not relent and the party are becoming desperate for what to do. Sir Krondor yells at Sir Zern to follow him and protect his back, whilst the Dwarf Knight runs towards a pair of Crypt Buildings that the muddy footprints of the Black Knight lead to.

- Trenchant yells at the Knight to come back and hold the line, but Sir Krondor is intent on getting to those buildings and finding out why the Black Knight went there. He knocks aside a pair of Skeletons in his way, as Sir Zern batters away a Skeleton coming from the side.

- The party are in peril. Varis is unable to move, paralysed with fear. Gim is wounded badly and fighting single handedly against a group of Skeletons and Mummies intent on bringing him down. Trenchant is firing arrows into the Horde from afar, perched a top one of the mausoleums. Ragnar is firing spells and cleaving with his Sun Blade whilst he calls down upon his God for assistance, turning some of the Mummies away. Naillae is sneaking into the battle, ducking in and out of buildings, trying to pick off foes one by one. Labarett is slowly striking down enemies but his longsword “Anarchic” is unable to deliver its full potential, the undead foes resisting the necrotic damage.

- Sir Krondor and Sir Zern leave the sounds of the frantic battle behind them as they enter into one Crypt Buildings trying to figure out how to block off the entrances the Skeletons are using. Sir Zern looks inside an open coffin, where the muddy footprints lead up to, and sees a glowing Pendant of Sarenrae, Goddess of The Eternal Light and the Healing Flame. The Half-Orc Knight picks up the pendant and a voice like clear crystal fills his head, “Strike forth my champion, bring forth the light!”

- This must have been what the Black Knight used to get through the Graveyard.

- Sir Zern places the pendant around his neck and then moves over to an adjacent room with a similar but closed coffin and begins to open it. After Sir Krondor fails to close a metal portcullis with a rusty and broken lever, the Dwarf Knight runs and leaps up to the portcullis and forces it downward with a slam as a group of Skeletons runs towards the now closed gate, bony fingers clawing at the metal bars. One of the ways for the Skeletal Horde is now closed. 

- Sir Zern shouts to Sir Krondor, “My Banner Lord, catch, I found another pendant!”

- Sir Krondor grabs hold of the pendant of Sarenrae in the air and also hears the same voice, “Strike forth my champion, bring forth the light!”

- The two Knights start running back towards the party, now each glowing with a radiant light. The undead all shy away from the pair, unable to stand the light. The Knights begin carving down foes with ease. Sir Krondor yells out, “Someone needs to close the other door or else all is lost!”

- As Gim begins to falter, surrounded by a mass of Undead, he yells out to Naillae, “Get to the other door now!”

- Naillae bolts out from her hiding spot, tumbles past a pair of Skeletons and dives into the entrance of the front of the other Crypt Building. She looks at an inner open archway and can hear Skeletons running her way. She pulls the lever next to the archway but it breaks off. She can see the Skeletons now, running towards her. She pulls out her Thieves tools with deft and skilled hands, and begins to pry and cut behind the lever, manipulating the mechanism. Just before the Skeletons reach her, with a click, she activates the portcullis on this archway and it falls down hard with a loud bang. 

- Both entries are now closed and no further Skeletons can arrive. With no further undead reinforcements coming, and the two Knights now wielding glowing weapons blessed by Sarenrae, the battle is finally won.

- The party see the city behind them begin to collapse as the magic thicket around it starts to crush it. Vorgansharax is flying above the city in circles howling in anger. The Black Knight must have succeeded in killing her two foes. Captain Greycastle runs out from the stone stairs, a mass of scared people behind her, shouting “We need to get these people out now!”

- Naillae runs up to one of the external fence gates and prepares to pick a rusty lock, when Sir Krondor walks past her and strikes the padlock with his climbing hook, smashing it apart. The gate swings open as the refugees of Phlan begin to run out to the open grasslands outside of the city.

- The magic thicket is ripping buildings apart and the weight of the rubble is starting to collapse down into some areas underneath the city.

- Eventually Vorgansharax turns and flies to the west, and as the Dragon does so, the thicket dissolves into dust. Phlan is badly damaged, most of the buildings are destroyed, except for the larger ones that are somewhat in tact.

- The two thousand refugees are glad to have survived and plan to restart and rebuild Phlan, as has happened before. The people of Phlan are a resilient and capable lot, and used to tragedy.

- The party leave with Madame Freona, Captain Greycastle and the Lord Sage and three days later arrive at the Frostskimmr where it is anchored further south down the coast. 

- After reuniting with the relived crew, Captain Lerustah orders the ship to set sail back to Crescent Moon. 

- The six day voyage is uneventful except for Madame Freona taking over the ship’s galley. She now insists on cooking all the meals for the heroes that saved her and she joins the ship’s crew. After eating her meals, no one complains.

- Wealday, 17th Sarenith in the year 815 (Second Era). Late Summer.

- The party arrive back at Crescent Moon, unloading the Lord Sage and Captain Greycastle. Not wishing to waste any time, the party head directly to the Royal Palace and speak to one of the Council members, Marshall Ulder Ravengard, of the Halfling Golden Regiment Army of Singbury. 

- The Marshall advises the party a force of about one hundred Cultists comprising Enforcers, Red Wizards and mercenaries, was spotted headed towards the Halfling village of Xonthal nearly two months ago. The Marshall was organising sending his soldiers to liberate the village, until a letter was received that changed things. The message is written by someone called Iskander and claims that he is with the Cult but has now had a change of heart. A group of Cultists and Wizards has the Blue Dragon Mask and is examining it at Xonthal’s Tower, an ancient Wizard’s tower hidden and protected by an arcane hedge maze near the village of Xonthal. Iskander claims he wants to defect and give the mask over to the Alliance. Along with the letter was a half pendant, that Iskander stated the party would know it is him, as he holds the other half. The Marshall believes an incursion by a small well skilled force, such as the party, will have the best chance of obtaining the Mask before the Cult can fly it away.

- The party speak to another Council member, the Archmage Tallous, to learn what they can about Xonthal Tower and the hedge maze. The Wizard Xonthal has not been seen for many centuries and no one knows what happened to him. He was researching and exploring conjuration and elemental evocation, so he had many elementals and genies around for company. The arcane hedge maze is very powerful, designed to keep people away from Xonthal’s Tower.

- The party immediately leave Crescent Moon, transported as passengers on the Wyverns of the Royal Scouts of Crescent Moon, lead by Captain Zahes who saved the party after they crashed Skyreach Castle into the ground. The start their eight day flight towards the Hafling Kingdom of Sinbury and the village of Tealeaf, the nearest settlement to Xonthal.

- Oathday, 4th Erastus in the year 815 (Second Era). Late Summer.

- The party arrive at the heavily defended Halfling village of Tealeaf. With a population of around a thousand, and with a Golden Regiment Military Post here of around two hundred soldiers, the village has many services.

- Captain Ricric Longbarrel, the Officer In Charge that the party were advised to contact, is not here but out on remote inspections of the forward boundary Watch Towers in the region and is not due back for five or six days. When the party complain about his absence they are reminded that the message was sent to the Council two months ago.

- Instead the party speak to Sergeant Tarwan, the Second In Charge. Whilst speaking to him, the party notice the Halfling soldiers on the defence walls and towers watching intently with spy glasses towards the north east. Sergeant Tarwan will not reveal what they are looking for, except two important people they have been requested to assist in anyway with their travels. When the Sergeant won’t speak further of the matter, as he insists it has nothing to do with the party’s current mission, Trenchant uses a Detect Thoughts spell to read the Sergeant’s mind, to learn that he does not know who these two people are either, as he is only following the orders given to him by the Captain, to pay very high respect to two well dressed Human strangers, and give them any assistance with gear or transport to help them on their way to the Halfling Capital.

- The party also speak to the local Cleric, Samia Lightwater Cleric of Yondalla, and purchase some magic scrolls from her.

- Gim drinks in the local, the Wayfarer’s Inn, and learns some information from the female Halfling Innkeeper, Paeni Havenbluff. She overheard the Captain say something about two special people will be coming through Tealeaf, royalty or something.

- The party commission some riding ponies and small carts, and a young Halfling stable boy, Esme, to look after feeding and caring for the ponies.  

<And as the party prepare their gear and themselves for the two day journey to Xonthal village, unsure of what dire fate has befallen the people of Xonthal, that is the end of the session.>

XP Allocation

Group - Combined (This is equally divided by the number of players who were involved)

Quests (Only quests that are completed or rendered undoable, during this session, are shown here)

- “From The Ashes” - Free The Refugees Of Phlan = 5000 XP

- Quest Milestone - Commence Quest Capture The Blue Dragon Mask = 500 XP 

Creatures Overcome

> XP Allocated (Note: Sir Zern now as a Follower does not count towards XP)

- Crypt Thing = 700 XP

- Mummies = 4200 XP

- Cursed Skeletons = 3400 XP

Individual (This is only given to that person and is not divided amongst all players)

Special Bonus (Outstanding Role Playing)

Nil

XP Levels and Player Allocations

Player : Start +  Received = Total  (Notes)

Rob : 155883 + 1478 = 157361

Arthur : 125846 +1971 = 127817

John : 120086 + 1478 = 121564

Travis : 142689 + 1971 = 144660

Paul : 132172 + 2464 = 134636

Bob : 145707 + 2464 = 148171

NPC (Naillae) : + (986)

[elialys]

Ten x Rose - A Leap of Faith

Dear @lastbluetardis​​, let’s try this again, shall we? ^^’ As I’ve told you last weekend, I had a much bigger story cooking for you as part of the @dwsecretsanta​​ exchange. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it, but it’s done now, so I hope you’ll enjoy it!

This takes place right at the end of The Satan Pit. It’s almost 6,000 words long, and it’s also sliiiiightly smutty :p

[READ IT ON AO3]

A Leap of Faith

“Oh, the stuff of legend.”

Any other day and Rose might have rolled her eyes at this melodramatic description of their duo, far from thinking so highly of herself. She smiles back at the Doctor instead and lets him have this moment; it is clear from the way he looks at her that he believes her to be exactly as he says.

As soon as he pulls the right lever between them, the Time rotor comes to life.

“Where d’you send her?” Rose can’t help but ask, glancing away from the rotor to look up at him, expecting to find him staring at the screen, the way he usually is when standing by the console.

When she meets his gaze dead on, a shiver runs down her spine.

“Home,” he says simply, his voice lower than usual.

Rose makes a face at these words. She hasn’t showered in what feels like days, although no more than twenty-four hours can have gone by since they landed on Krop Tor; she supposes spending a good portion of that time running away from murderous Oods or crawling through maintenance tunnels would make anyone feel grimy. Not to mention the exhaustion settling down upon her.

That’s one of the many feelings she’s become rather familiar with since she started traveling with the Doctor, that ‘I almost died and now I’m a bit tired’ heaviness in every one of her muscles and bones.

“D’you really feel up for an evening with Mum?” she asks him with a bit of a frown, because she sure isn’t. As much as she’d worried about never seeing her Mum again only hours ago, simply being back on the TARDIS has put those fears to rest.

Quieting down her fears about nearly losing the Doctor is not as easy, even with him standing right there next to her, their bodies so close, their arms are almost touching.

“Blimey, no,” the Doctor answers with a glower, a tad too emphatically – although she can’t blame him. Jackie hadn’t been at her friendliest during their last visit, which had involved consoling her daughter about Mickey’s decision to stay in the parallel universe. “We’re merely orbiting around good old planet Earth,” he adds. “After the day we’ve had, I figured a quiet night away from anything resembling a black hole would be rather nice.”

There was a time when Rose would have dashed from the console to pull the door open and take a look outside, never tiring from seeing the Earth from this point of view – and that time might have been as recently as yesterday.

She’s reluctant to move at the moment, just as reluctant as the Doctor is to look away from her, apparently. They rarely do ‘still’ and ‘quiet’ to this degree, and whenever these moments present themselves, as they ought to on occasions, he’s always been keen to put an end to them as quickly as possible.

As Rose stares back at him and more seconds pass slowly, almost sluggishly, the potent energy that comes with their most recent ‘I’ve almost lost you’ scare pulses between them, embedding them both with a pull that feels almost magnetic.

Rose blames that pull for soon finding herself in his arms again, her forehead pressed to his shoulder, his embrace as strong as it’s been every other time he’s hugged her today.

She doesn’t mind this mutual clinginess, all too happy to reciprocate, even if her feet don’t leave the ground, this time; there is no laughter either, only the tight hold of his arms around her, her fingers clenching the fabric of his jacket, revelling in that tangible proof that he is here.

He puts an end to the moment by making a…peculiar noise, causing her to frown against him.

“Did you just…sniff me?”

“Well,” he says, not yet moving away. “You’re giving off some very strong smells. As anyone would after running for their life while trapped in close quarters.”

In another words, she reeks.

“Yeah?” she asks with a scoff, before sniffing him even more obnoxiously in retaliation. “You smell just like my grandpa used to, and I don’t mean it as a compliment either.”

“Sulphur does give out quite a pungent odour, doesn’t it?” he notes, unfazed. “It was bad, all the way down that Pit. I don’t think you would have been able to keep that blue purée down for very long if you’d been there.”

They both tense at these words. Somehow, this involuntary stiffness sets him into motion again, finally pulling away to peer at her, his hands on her upper arms. “You should shower. And sleep.”

She gives a short shake of her head. “There’s no way ’m gonna be able to sleep.”

“You look tired,” he counters.

“I feel it, too,” she admits. “Still won’t make that sleeping thing any easier.” When he simply carries on looking at her, she shrugs a little. “I just…I know we’re safe, orbiting the Earth and all that, but it’s like my brain’s not completely caught up with that yet, and…it still thinks there’s a black hole above us, you know?”

He stares at her for another long, stretching second, and she can almost see the wheels turning in his head.

“I may be able to help with that,” he tells her, his chipper tone contrasting with the grave look on his face. “Give me…thirty minutes to do some tinkering, then meet me in the media room, eh? I’ll even let you put me through another one of those twentieth-century romantic movies you enjoy so much.”

Rose’s curiosity is piqued, but she’s long ago learnt it would be pointless to ask. “Okay,” she agrees with another small frown and a shrug.

“Brilliant!” the Doctor beams at her, before springing out of the room.

Rose does take a shower, washing away the layers of grime and fear still clinging to her skin. As much as she tries not to think back on the events of the day, her brain refuses to comply, a mixture of anxiety and guilt twisting at her gut whenever she recalls those twenty minutes spent on that rocket, forcefully strapped to a seat while the planet the Doctor was trapped on got sucked into the black hole.

In her rush to get back to him as quickly as possible, she doesn’t even dry her hair, not doing anything beyond swiftly putting on some pyjamas. After nearly two years of companionship, this is far from being the first time they do this.

Her heart’s never beaten quite as fast as it does as she enters the room, though, finding him sitting on the couch, one of his long arms draped over the back of it, fingers drumming at it; whatever thoughts he’s lost into, they can’t be any better than hers, his expression even more solemn than it’d been in the control room, his specs giving him a particularly stern look.

He’s changed since they were last together, and she supposes he must have showered, too. He’s not bothered with a suit jacket, only wearing a white shirt and a blue tie, the light colour contrasting with the dark fabric of the couch, making his limbs look impossibly long.

There is no logic to the rush of anticipation and relief that sweeps through her as she takes him in. She’d known he’d be right there, waiting for her, and yet, she cannot help the small sigh that escapes her at the sight of him, the sound enough to pull him out of his thoughts, turning his head to look at her.

Or stare, really.

The way her insides dip at the intensity of his gaze is far from being unpleasant, nor is it entirely  new.

“What do you want?” he asks her quietly, and her brain must be very tired, because he cannot possibly mean what she thinks he means.

“What?” she hears herself asking, sounding oddly breathless.

He frowns the smallest of frowns, before tilting his head toward the large screen on the other side of the room. “Film selection,” he says. “What would you like to watch?”

Rose looks away as she scolds herself for letting her mind go anywhere near there. She forces herself to move, too, hoping it will help put an end to the heavy statics crackling between them, well aware that the tingles at the back of her neck are caused by his relentless staring.

“Dunno,” she answers at last, grabbing one of the blankets she likes to wraps herself in when she watches the telly. “Anything with Hugh Grant in it will do, I guess.”

He scowls as she pops down onto the other end of the couch. “Is he that British bloke with the puppy eyes and the ridiculous head of hair?”

She gives him a look, unable not to stare pointedly at his lush head of hair.

He doesn’t see it, too busy staring at the uncharacteristically large space between them, frowning as he meets her eyes again. Rose scoots closer to him before he can ask what is up with her – because in all honesty, she’s not entirely sure what is up with her at all.

They have done this many times before, snuggling on the couch watching a film, and while she’s always been very much aware of his body in situations like this one (how could she not?), it just feels…different, this time, as if the events of the day have made her even more responsive to his proximity.

Like she just cannot get enough proofs that he is here.

Obviously, that excessive need to touch him translates into her trying to stay as far away from him as possible, not entirely sure how much she can trust herself around him tonight.

She’s always liked him more than as a friend, even back when he was gruffier and less prone to hugging, but lately, she’s been finding it hard not to cross that line between friendship and more. He’s been sending her mixed signals, too, and she has no idea how he would react to her doing as much as putting a toe on that line – although she suspects ‘bolting’ would be a probable outcome.

He’s not bolting tonight, quite happy to let her snuggle up against his side. While he would typically keep his arm above the blanket, said arm actually disappears under the blanket this time, getting a much more secured hold on her waist.

This need for proximity obviously isn’t one sided.

With her nose once again pressed to his shoulder, she breathes in the clean scents from his shirt. There is no trace of sulphur left, just laundry detergent and…him, feeling herself relaxing at these familiar smells, just as comforted by the feel of his body against hers.

“Look up,” he eventually tells her, his voice still lower than usual.

She does, lifting her head to look at him, meeting his slightly-augmented eyes through his lenses. A small smile tugs at his lips as he tilts his head, indicating the ceiling. “Up up,” he clarifies.

She’s tempted to ignore his directive for a moment, more than happy to carry on drinking in his features instead, as always a bit too affected by things like the dash of freckles across his cheekbones.

Rose does look up, eventually, seeing nothing but the smooth expanse of coral overhead; there is a characteristic noise beside her, the Doctor’s free hand now pointing toward the ceiling, his sonic flaring.

“Made a couple of modifications, hold on.” He changes the setting on his device, then tries again.

Overhead, the coral begins to change, shimmering brightly, before it seems to disappear altogether, until Rose finds herself staring at planet Earth, suspended into space.

“It’s not a window, not like it was on their base,” he says. “It’s just a projection, but I suppose it will do, considering I came up with this in seven and a half minutes. Looks real enough.”

‘Real enough’ doesn’t cover it.

Rose watches, as mesmerized as ever by the many nuances of colours that make up her home planet, from the various shades of its oceans and landscapes, to its amalgam of shifting white clouds.

“See,” he speaks again. “No more black hole.”

His voice is low as he says those words, his tone dragging Rose’s eyes back to him, not entirely surprised to find him staring at her, oblivious to the beauty above. He looks so confident about their safety…she wishes she could tell him how she feels – which is not entirely soothed, at the moment.

She can fend for herself well enough, as proven today, and she knows he’ll always do his best to get her out of harm’s way, but this is beyond the point.

The valiant child, who will die in battle so very soon.

Rose shudders at the memory of that…voice. Close as they are, the tremors echo through him, and the Doctor frowns in concern, his brow creasing in question. She shakes her head, unable to share her fears with him, remembering the way he’d dismissed those words less than an hour ago.

She lowers her head instead, back to pressing her nose to his shoulder. “What…was it?” she cannot help but ask in a half-whisper.

He’s quiet for a long moment.

“I don’t know,” he admits, and there is no more false-bravado in his voice, no quick dismissal either.

Rose swallows hard, seeing herself as she’d been in that rocket, faced with that…thing possessing Toby, using the bolt gun to shatter the front screen before unfastening Toby’s belt, watching him getting sucked into space.

“I killed him,” she says against his shoulder, her voice thick. “Toby,” she adds. “When he…changed again. I didn’t even hesitate, I just…killed him.”

The Doctor moves slightly, and she looks up, meeting his eyes. “Whatever took possession of him on that planet…that’s what killed him,” he tells her, quietly. “He probably died the moment his body became a vessel for that creature’s mind. What you did was prevent that mind from escaping and hurting a lot more people. Just as I knew you would.”

She stares up at him. “And what if I hadn’t?”

“Nonsensical,” he replies at once with a small glower. “Rose Tyler, not saving the day? What a ludicrous concept.”

She finds herself smiling softly against his shoulder, even as she shakes her head. “You’ve got way too much faith in me.”

His own smile fades at her words, replaced by an expression that is once again too solemn, back to staring at her with an intensity and stillness she’s not quite used to, causing her toes to curl under her.

Her breath actually gets caught in her throat when he brings a hand up to her face, his thumb slowly tracing the line of her jaw.

“You’ve heard me praise humans before,” he speaks quietly. “For their resilience, and their curiosity, for their insatiable urge to go further. Yet humans are inexorably flawed. That resilience of theirs often turns into recklessness, and their curiosity leads them to open doors that should never be opened in the first place, until they find themselves scrambling for their lives. And it’s not that you don’t get reckless, we both know that’s a silly notion. But you’ve never been big on the scrambling.”

Rose lets out a small scoff into the fabric of his shirt. “Should’ve seen me in those maintenance tunnels, trying to escape the Oods. ‘Scrambling’ was definitely a big part of my day.”

He’s stopped the tracing of her jaw, all five of his fingertips now pressed lightly upon the side of her face, his skin cool in contrast with hers. “So maybe you do scramble from time to time,” he concedes. “But I don’t think I’m wrong in assuming you’re the one who got the crew to focus long enough so you could all escape?”

She’s quiet for a moment, her lips grazing his shoulder. “Maybe I helped a bit,” she admits, rather meekly.

“And from everything I’ve gathered, when I realised the creature’s mind was on that rocket with you and I destroyed the energy field that kept the planet from getting sucked into that black hole, you’re the one who figured it out and took action.”

Rose doesn’t say anything at all this time, simply looking back at him. His fingers have moved to cup her face, and her skin burns under the coolness of his palm.

He leans forward, then, until his lips are brushing her forehead. “Sounds to me like I’ve got just the right amount of faith in you,” he tells her quietly.

Most of the tension she still held in her body seems to leave her, and she finds herself slumping against him, her eyes closing. He responds to her movements, shifting just enough so that she rests more comfortably against his side and part of his chest, her head tucked under his chin while he buries his nose in her hair.

Under her ear, his heartbeats are slow and even; strong, and alive.

“Go to sleep,” he whispers in her hair, obviously aware that she’s already halfway there.

“You gonna get bored…” she breathes out sleepily.

“Naaah,” he says in a whispered version of his familiar, chipper tone. “I’ll have Hugh to keep me company.”

She lets out a small, rumbly chuckle as he uses his free hand to point the remote at the telly.

“Doctor?” she murmurs.

“Mm?”

But she’s already gone.

…

When she emerges, the telly is still playing, although the volume is too low for her to be able to decipher any dialogue. Even with her eyes closed, it doesn’t take her long to realise the Doctor is asleep against her, his breathing deep, his heartbeat even slower than before; there is an unmistakable heaviness to the arm wrapped around her waist, too, his hand resting limply upon her thigh.

While this is definitely not the first time she’s fallen asleep against him, he’s never actually slept with her before.

She’s tempted to move to take a better look at him in this unusual, vulnerable state, but from the feel of it, his face appears to be mostly buried in her hair, and she has no doubt any excessive movement will instantly wake up him up.

Still, she cannot quite resist the urge to touch him.

Her hand finds his under the blanket, her fingertips grazing the top of it, lightly tracing his knuckles, before following the sinuous path of the veins beneath his skin.

She hears the change in his heartbeats before anything else, speeding up slightly. A couple seconds later, he sighs deeply into her hair, before his arm actually moves, slowly tightening his hold to pin her more firmly to him. That does not stop her from carrying on with the slow exploration of his hand.

“Didn’t think you did naps,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

He lets out another gust of air in her hair, like a scoff. “Attenuating circumstances,” he replies, his voice low and rumbly. “Body’s still recuperating. Those are more like bouts of regenerative coma than naps, to be honest. Not my first one today either.”

Her hand has stopped moving upon his. “Regenerative coma?”

“Ah,” he says, his face moving a little, soon feeling his breath upon her forehead. “Took a bit of a fall down that Pit. There was some kind of air cushion in place to absorb most of the shock, but I suspect I fell at least a good hundred meters.”

“That’s…insane, even for you,” she speaks quietly, her throat closing up.

She feels him shrug.

“You were up on the planet’s surface, I was down in that Pit,” he says simply. “Had no way of getting back to you, or even communicating with you. The only way onward was…downward. Way, way down, as it turned out.”

“How did you know, though?” she asks. “That you’d find what you were looking for?”

“I didn’t,” he admits. “Call it…a leap of faith, I suppose.”

Sounds to me like I’ve got just the right amount of faith in you.

She hears his words, even as her hand leaves the warmth that has gathered under the blanket, coming up to splay her fingers over the side of his neck, the heat of her skin slowly seeping into his, soon feeling the echoes of the beats still thumping under her ear. Inside her chest, her own heart squeezes at this added realisation of just how close she’d come to losing him today.

The fact that they both made it out alive is nothing short of a miracle.

This is far from being their first embrace today – she’s honestly losing count, not to mention the unknown amount of time she’s just spent sleeping against him. And yet, the slow, almost rhythmic feel of his breath upon her forehead soon causes shivers to run down her spine, the small tremors spreading through her entire body, another reaction he’s close enough to feel.

Any other day, and this would have been his cue to release her and put some much needed distance between them.

He doesn’t.

When her fingers begin to move again, slowly going up around his neck to curl into the hair at the back of his head, he lets her, feeling the shivers she’s creating under his skin. Not only is he letting her do this, he’s also joining in.

Cool fingers are slipping under the fabric of her top, his palm running slowly over her stomach, causing her muscles to twitch as her whole body shudders again, her heart speeding up inside her chest. His pinkie finger is trailing the hem of her pyjamas bottoms, now, not quite daring to pass that threshold, but the simple fact that his hand is right there, touching her, is enough to cause her insides to clench.

She tilts her head back, needing to look at him, meeting his eyes behind his lenses. Although he appears calm, that intensity in his gaze is stronger than it’s been at any point tonight.

“Doctor…” she says quietly, almost breathing out his name.

She wants to tell him…how terrified she was through it all. How the only reason why she took charge the way she did out there is because she kept hearing his voice in her head, telling her she knew what to do. How ultimately, she’d had to survive, because how would she help him if she died?

She wants to tell him how heartsick she felt when she realised she’d been drugged and forced away from Krop Tor, forced to leave him on his own, all the way down that Pit.

“I know,” he tells her thickly, his eyes full with the same fears and relief.

He’s leaning forward, then, his shortened breath following the bridge of her nose, until his forehead is resting against hers, his subsequent exhales pooling upon her lips, which tingle in anticipation. As seconds pass, she wonders if he’s fighting that urge to go on again, that urge to just give in, and take another leap of faith.

Rose encourages him, giving his hair the slightest of tugs, taking that leap with him.

When he kisses her, he does it slowly…so slowly…yet every brush of his lips, each small shift of his body, is bursting with barely contained longing, his fingers getting entangled in her hair to try bringing her closer. Shivering in bemusement, relief and swelling desire, Rose follows his cues, unwilling to do anything that might make him change his mind.

She cannot keep herself from aching for more, though, her conscious self not exactly in charge anymore as more seconds tick on and he carries on kissing her almost in reverence; the next time their mouths part for air, she keeps hers open as she pulls his face back to hers, gliding the tip of her tongue over his lower lip.

His response is immediate and eager, not opposed to this at all, judging by the way he shifts his entire hold on her to pull her onto his lap with a low noise. She finds herself straddling him almost clumsily, wrapping her arms around his neck while he circles her waist tightly, the blanket crumpled against her lower back. There is nothing chaste in the way they seek one another, then, Rose using the entire length of her body to press him firmly to the back of the couch, their faces so close that the frame of his glasses digs into her flesh.

She doesn’t really care if they damage the bloody things, or if she ends up with a black eye, too engrossed in the sturdy, shivering feel of him, pressed so tightly to her, intoxicated by the languid meeting of their tongues. When she begins rolling her hips into him, slowly yet steadily, he gasps into her mouth, before completely shifting their positions again.

Her stomach drops as she falls backward, the Doctor following along, entrapped between her limbs, until her back hits the couch. Her entire body flushes with heat as he mirrors her previous moves, all rolling hips and growing pressure; trapped as he is between her legs, his movements are rather limited, but he makes do, creating a kind of friction that is a little too pleasant, soon drawing a hoarse sound out of her, her body caring very little about how many layers of clothes still separate them.

Her rational mind chooses this moment to resurface, something nudging at it. Her curiosity quickly getting the best of her, she forces her lips away from his, reopening her eyes to look at their surroundings.

Technically, they still are on the couch they were on moments ago. It doesn’t look anything like it did when they first sat on it, though, its surface area having somehow tripled, if not quadrupled, so that it now resembles a king-size bed.

“What the hell happened to the couch?” she finds herself asking, her voice breathless and low.

There is a pause, his brain apparently needing a moment to refocus and form words. His hair is a tousled mess, his glasses adorably askew, his eyes glazed over.

“You know the TARDIS,” he eventually replies, his respiratory bypass system obviously operational; despite his dazed tone, he doesn’t sound nearly as affected as she does – although she’s feeling how affected he is getting alright. “She likes making things bigger.”

This could have been awkward, the two of them back to talking for the first time since they started snogging rather intensely; it could have put an end to the moment, broken the mood, reminded him that this should absolutely, definitely not be happening.

It doesn’t feel awkward.

Different, for sure, but ultimately, it’s all still very…chummy.

(Except for the dry humping, maybe)

Rose reaches up to pull the specs off his face, tossing them aside without much care. “Looks like your TARDIS got some competition,” she points out as she lifts her hips off the couch, purposefully pressing herself to that hardening bulge.

He lets out a small groan as he buries his face in the crook of her neck, and she cannot decide if that sound is caused by what she just did, or if he’s lamenting her terrible attempt at salacious humour.

That thought fizzles away as her breath gets caught in her throat. With his head out of the way, the projection overhead has come into full view again, having somehow forgotten about that window into space he created above them.

This glimpse into such a familiar part of their cosmos makes her head spins, even as it tethers her, comforted in her awareness that they are as far from Krop Tor as they can be right now.

Nothing tethers her quite as successfully as his lips upon her throat, though…his lips, and his tongue, and the graze of his teeth, one of his hands back under her top, travelling upward with one clear destination in mind, unable to focus on anything but the feel of him and the jolts of pleasure he’s sparking in her.

Despite the heat nothing short of radiating from her, his fingers remain cooler than any human’s, causing her nipple to harden the instant his hand starts trailing the sensitive skin of her breast. Her pleasure stirs low as he cups it fully, caressing, massaging, teasing…his tongue having discovered a particularly erogenous zone below her ear, and she cannot do anything but cling to him, her nails raking at his scalp and clothes.

The next time he lifts himself up and meets her gaze, it doesn’t feel that chummy anymore, his pupils dilated, his cheeks slightly flushed from having been pinned to her warm skin, the look in his eyes enough to cause another tug, deep within her.

She wants to reciprocate some of the attention, but the moment she tries getting a hand between them, he grabs at it gently yet firmly, pulling it back out with a small shake of his head. As soon as he releases her wrist, he begins undoing the buttons of her pyjama top.

He takes his time, too, well aware of what this is doing to her. When the last one comes undone, he’s just as slow in revealing her heaving breasts, pulling the fabric aside, one half at a time.

The darkening look on his face is not what she expected.

Rose’s confusion only worsens when his fingers begin tracing something upon her sternum.

“What is it?” she asks quietly, the angle making it impossible for her to see what he’s seeing.

“You’re bruising,” he says, before raising his eyes to look at her. “Looks like a belt mark.”

Rose swallows hard. “Oh, yeah,” she breathes out. “Shot off the front screen of that rocket with a bolt gun, created a vacuum to suck…whatever that was out. I guess that belt saved my life.”

When the Doctor lowers his head, Rose buries her fingers in his hair, his lips grazing her bruised skin, his gestures even slower than they were moments ago. Her caress becomes a twist when wet heat entraps one of her nipples, and pleasure trickles down the length of her, pooling between her legs, where she aches to be touched, her hips rising off the bed as she seeks friction.

He soon recaptures her lips in a languid kiss, one of her legs having slipped between his to pin him  more firmly to her. He doesn’t indulge in that friction she’s encouraging, one of his hands moving instead, disappearing inside her pyjama bottoms.

Although he remains slow, there is no hesitation in the way he touches her, his fingers gliding through her folds, and the feel of how much she’s responded to him is enough to cause him to groan into her mouth. She echoes that sound when he uses his slick fingers to work on her, and that contrast between cool skin and heat is a sensation she cannot get enough of, adding to the tendrils of pleasure spreading all the way from her core to her toes.

The way he touches her goes beyond longing, beyond yearning.

He’s…worshiping her, drawing out her pleasure, swallowing each of her gasps and moans as they rise out of her, and when she becomes unable to kiss him, too wrapped up in her swelling pleasure, he simply brings his face back to the crook of her neck, his tongue easily finding that spot again.

Pinned as she is beneath him, both of them still nearly fully dressed, Rose is burning up, beads of perspiration beginning to leather her skin, most of it immediately absorbed by the fabric of her pyjamas. She craves for the cool feel of him, getting rather fed up with all these clothes on him, as everywhere she tries clinging to him, she’s met with fabric instead of skin.

She slips a hand between them to grab at his wrist in a halting gesture, and he stops almost at once, her other hand back in his hair, tugging to bring his face back to hers. She cups his cheek as he does, finding his skin uncharacteristically warm under her fingertips, having absorbed some of her heat.

“Please…” she whispers against his lips, her insides pulsing and clenching with need, blood rushing in her ears and where his fingers remain. “I want to feel you…” She releases his wrist to press her hand against the length of him through his trousers, causing him to let out his loudest moan yet.

He doesn’t stop her this time when she begins to unfasten his belt and unbutton his trousers, helping her along instead, his boxers just as swiftly discarded. Within moments, her pyjamas are pulled down her legs. When he begins to fumble with the buttons of his shirt, Rose pulls on his tie and brings him back down, their foreheads once more pressed together, and she shakes her head, loosely encasing his hips, with just enough pressure to initiate contact.

The feel of her seems to break any kind of control he had left, one of his arms supporting his weight while the other one slips beneath her to pull her flush against him, his hips rolling, causing him to slide upon her, both shuddering at the sensation.

“Doctor…” she gasps almost in supplication, twisting his hair in her fist.

There’s no more hesitation, the next shifts of his body all directed towards one goal, and her nails dig into his scalp when he enters her in one long thrust. Whatever discomfort she feels is small compared to having him inside of her, filling her so completely, and the way he keeps his face pressed to hers makes her feel like he’s attempting to fuse himself to her.

He doesn’t remain still for long, quite unable to; judging by the uneven way he begins to move upon her, she doubts he will last long, his body trembling against hers. It doesn’t matter, her pleasure already building back up with every thrust of his hips, one of her hands having disappeared under his shirt, relishing the feel of his cool skin, while the other one clutches at his backside, encouraging him all the while driving him deeper inside of her, his breath anything but cold against her face.

As her climax nears, Rose reopens her eyes, and gets lost into space, the stars and the Earth expending high above, certain that gravity will find her, and send her both soaring and plummeting towards the ground.

His fingers in her hair tether her back to him, dragging her heavy gaze away from this piece of universe he’s created just for her, meeting his eyes as she refocuses on him, pressing her fingertips upon the stars on his cheeks.

And as her name falls from his lips like a prayer, Rose lets herself be pulled into his infinite.

[pkg4mumtown]

Waiting for Love (Ch. 3)

A/N: This chapter got away from me and I never got to write what I originally was going to write, so that’ll be in Ch. 4. 

Warnings: None unless you count spicy food, alcohol, and fluff.

Summary: You and Keanu have a couple more dates after the first encounter.

CH. 1 / CH. 2

Taglist: @cuttlefishcatfish @anita-e-taylor @beyond-antares @futuristic-imbecile @samanthagraceg @gwenebear @derangedcupcake @cumberbatchbaps @celestiaelisia @lunaticgurly @onebatch--twobatch @shatter-me-now @fanficsrusz @thecraziestcrayon

After our impromptu first date, Keanu had come back to the art show and bought Freedom for far more than was listed. I scolded him for it and complained endlessly but he laughed it off every time.

Our second date was planned a week or so later when he called me during the week and invited me to dinner. We had talked a few times before the date, which only served to leave me more excited to see him again. He paid for dinner, making me want to scold him yet again but he insisted. His hand held mine gently, with an exploratory touch throughout the night while we were open and honest with one another. He dropped me off back at my apartment complex and had walked me upstairs. We had shuffled our feet and twiddled our thumbs before he made the first move and took my hand. He coaxed me closer to him and I gladly stepped into his warm embrace. I wrapped my arms around him, breathing in his scent before we bid our goodbyes.

I offered to cook him dinner for our third date after he confessed to me that he didn’t cook for himself very much. I was determined to “wow” him and chose dishes I was confident I was exceptional at. I picked up two of the best filets I could find, as well as ingredients for a marinade, a special mac n’ cheese, and a haphazardly snatched bundle of green beans to cut through the food coma I was about to prepare.

I paused with my hand on a can of chilies, wracking my brain through every conversation I had with him to determine if we had talked about spicy food or not. After standing in a lady's way for the better part of a few minutes, I pulled my phone from my pocket.

“Hey, are you okay with spicy?” I asked him in a quick text.

“Food? Absolutely,” Keanu responded surprisingly fast.

“I mean, what else would I have been talking about?”

“No comment…”

My eyes widened as a blush crept up to my cheeks. I swear, this man. I shook my head while biting my lip, feeling the agitation radiating off the lady next to me.

“I just want you to know, you’re contributing to this lady hating me for being in her way.”

“A burden I’m willing to bear.”

I finished up my shopping and headed straight home to prepare for dinner. I set the steaks to marinade while I cleaned my apartment nervously. I decided to work out some of my nervous energy by throwing on music and sketching for a while to clear my head, making sure to set an alarm so I could shower and start cooking.

I shower and change, hoping that the shirt and jeans I throw on are good enough considering it’s my apartment. I’m just about to start cooking when my phone buzzes on the counter. I grab it, thankful that I hadn’t touched any of the food yet.

“Finished my errands early. Is it alright to head over now?”

In all fairness, Keanu would only be a half hour early and who was I to deprive myself of an extra half hour with him. I responded and got back to work. I was nearly finished with cooking when I noticed Sage trotting over to the front door. There was a knock, causing me to frantically move my pot of cheese to a cool burner and wash my hands. I jogged to the front door and opened it with a breathless huff and a wide grin as my eyes landed on Keanu’s face. My eyes travelled down, seeing a leather jacket adorning his shoulders and dark jeans.

“Hey! Come in, come in,” I waved him in and shut the door behind him. “I’m almost done, I just have to do one more thing.”

Keanu smiled at my nervous energy, grabbing my hand before I could take off, “Two more things,” he corrected.

I bit my lip, feeling my face heat up when I realized what he meant. I wrapped my arms around him, taking a leap and gently pressing my lips to his cheek, “Sorry.”

“Just relax,” he chuckled and kissed my cheek with his scruffy face. He shrugged his jacket off and hung it on the hooks next to my front door, revealing a well-fitting V-neck. He set his helmet and backpack next to mine on the entryway table before turning back to me.

“Come on,” I led him to the kitchen.

Sage weaved in between his legs as he walked, causing him to stop and pick the needy cat up. Keanu gave Sage love for a little while before putting him back down and peering over my shoulder as I mixed the noodles in the cheese sauce.

“Wow, this smells amazing,” he claimed, while his eyes travelled over the stove. “I’ve never seen red mac n' cheese before.”

“Well, it’s awesome, spicy, and a little Mexican,” I smirked over my shoulder as I finished. “Pick a drink,” I nodded toward the refrigerator, “I’ll have whatever you have.”

He pursed his lips while looking between the food and the contents of the fridge. His face perked up as he spotted a bottle of red wine, his voice dropping into a low purr as he reached for it, “Ooh, come to daddy.”

I nearly choked as I heard the words leave his mouth, stifling a giggle with the back of my hand.

“What?” he asked, seemingly oblivious but with a small smirk pulling at his lips.  He closed the fridge, clutching the bottle in one hand while looking for the wine opener with his free hand.

“Nothing,” I shook my head, still laughing to myself. I pointed to the drawer that contained the opener while grabbing two plates from the cupboard. I pulled out two wine glasses and set them down in front of him, before busying myself with serving the plates.

I set the plates on the counter next to a pile of chopped cilantro and limes. “I wasn’t sure how you felt about these, so I’ll let you decide what you want,” I gestured toward the garnishes while grabbing a generous amount for myself.

I snagged the bottle on my way to the table, seeing Keanu follow with the glasses in his free hand. I was almost relieved when we started eating and he made sounds of praise toward the food. He caught me staring at his reactions a few times and would hide his smile by taking a sip of wine.

“Man, that was good,” he sighed happily, sitting back in the chair and patting his stomach.

“There’s plenty more,” I waved to the kitchen.

“No, no I can’t even breathe,” he chuckled, finishing the last of the wine.

I watched his tongue gather the remnants of the wine off his lips, making it my turn to blush when I noticed he was watching. As expected, he stood to gather the empty plates and utensils.

“Stop,” I whined, drawing the “o” out, “I’ve got working limbs.” I held the plate firmly between my fingers.

“Mine are longer,” he responded with a hint if mirth in his voice, tugging on the plate.

“I can see that,” I let my gaze drop down his form for a minute. I stood and pried the plate from his fingers, following him back to the kitchen.

“At least let me help wash some of this,” he pleaded.

“I can do it later,” I waved at the sink.

“That milk-crusted pot says otherwise,” he smirked.

“Fine,” I shook my head at him. “Scoot over,” I murmured while bumping my hip purposely against his. He chuckled, responding by bumping his arm against mine.

Keanu was down to the last pot, while I dried off the one before it. He sloshed the soapy water a little too roughly, causing it to splash over onto where our shirts met the counter.

“Keanu!” I shrieked and jumped back slightly at the feeling of the warm water seeping through my shirt.

“I’m sorry!” he laughed.

I scowled playfully at him, wetting my hand under the faucet and splashing droplets at his face with a flick of my fingers. He reciprocated the childish action, his droplets being significantly bigger than the ones I produced.

“No!” I whined before a laugh ripped from my throat. I let the pot clatter on the counter while I backed away from him and wiped my face.

Keanu let the pot in his hands rest in the sink before slapping the lever of the faucet into the “off” position. He stalked over to me with his wet hands curled like claws and playful growls emitting from his throat. He flicked water at me again, causing me to attempt to turn and run while yelping. Wet fingers circled around my forearm before I could go anywhere and suddenly, I was flush against his chest. By now, my body was infected with laughter and I couldn’t stop. His considerably deeper laughter was music to my ears, and I wanted to listen to it forever. I felt the vibrations of his laughter in my chest, which soon died off and prompted me to open my eyes and peer at him.

Keanu's eyes were warm and soft while his grin was replaced by parted lips. My arms were trapped in between our bodies, so I removed them and wound them hesitantly around his lowered neck. One of his hands splayed across my mid back while the damp skin of his other hand met my jaw. I licked my lips, watching his eyes flash down to the movement. As if we were magnets, our mouths gravitated toward each other until I could feel his lips skim mine. I pressed my mouth more firmly against his, relishing the way his fingers pressed into my skin. I let my hands drop to his jaw, sighing contently as his lips closed over my bottom lip. I felt the pressure of his lips dissipate as he pulled his head back. My eyes fluttered open while my lips formed a smile to mirror his.

“More?” I asked.

“Please,” he nodded before my lips were back on his.

Keanu pressed his body flush against me and softly backed me into the counter. His lips were gentle as we took our time getting acquainted with the feeling of one another. I dropped my hands to his waist, fisting the wet material of his shirt as his tongue ran across the seam of my lips. I parted my lips and allowed my tongue to meet his, feeling myself grow giddy at the touch. I let out a whisper of a moan at the slide of his tongue against mine, mixed with the feeling of him pressed against me.

Keanu’s lips separated from mine, letting his forehead rest against my own as we panted. He flashed me an embarrassed smile, “We should probably stop.”

“Probably,” I nodded and waited for him to step back.

We waited out Keanu's diminishing buzz from the wine by throwing on a movie and sinking into the couch. We spoke over the majority of the movie, too interested in one another to truly pay attention to the television. I try to stifle a yawn, making me wonder how late it even was.

“I should let you get some sleep,” Keanu announced, slapping his thighs in emphasis. He removed his arm from the back of the couch, where his fingertips had played with the top of my shoulder. “I’ve kind of been sober for a while, now,” he confessed.

“I wasn’t going to kick you out the second you became sober!” I shook my head, shoving his shoulder playfully.

Keanu just shrugged and threw his hands up with a huge grin, “I was having fun, I didn’t want to chance it!”

“I was having fun, too,” I laughed, taking in the way his eyes brightened when he was enjoying himself.

We eventually got up, nearly bypassing the kitchen before I stopped him, “Do you want to take leftovers? That pot by itself can last me for two weeks and I don’t think it’s meant to last that long.”

“Really?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course! I wouldn’t force you to come back just for me to make more,” I laughed, grabbing a Tupperware small enough to fit in his backpack comfortably.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he murmured, grabbing the handle of the pot and helping me.

My face heated up from his words and the warm cheese being exposed. I sealed the container and handed it to him as we exited the kitchen.

“I really appreciate it,” Keanu held the container up as a reference before securing it in his bag.

“Any time,” I shrugged lightly, wringing my fingers together.

He moved to grab his belongings before glancing at me and thinking twice. He strode back over to me, my arms opening automatically to accept him. I pressed my face into his chest, completely relaxing into his arms.

“Can I ask you something?” I felt him murmur against the top of my head.

“What’s up?” I wondered, pulling my head back and looking up at him.

“How, um,” he took a deep breath, mustering up any courage that disappeared the second I looked at him, “how would you feel about this moving forward?”

“Like a relationship?”

“Yea,” he nodded, letting his fingers press anxiously against my back. He chuckled softly, “You’re turning me into a nervous twenty-year-old again.”

I let a nervous smile adorn my lips, “I’d like that.”

“Really?” his tone of voice switched to a more hopeful one.

“Yes,” I laughed softly, “Are you sure?”

Keanu's hand came up to the side of my neck, letting his thumb brush across my jaw, “I’m positive.”

I raised myself on my toes, meeting him halfway in a sweet kiss. I didn’t immediately pull away, instead diving back into the taste of his lips. The hand he had planted on the side of my neck curled around the back of my neck, his thumb dropping to caress the front side of my throat. His lips took their time separating from mine, not wanting to let go but knowing it would be for the best.

“Text me when you get home,” I requested and tilted my head while staring up at his warm gaze.

“I will,” he grinned, pressing another gentle kiss to my lips before reluctantly separating himself.

He gathered his things while I opened the door, stopping briefly to pet Sage, who had jumped on the entry table. He stopped in front of me before exiting, bidding me goodnight and sealing it with another stolen kiss.

[thdorkmagnet]

Mother Knows Best (Star is Rapunzel AU)

A/N: Next up is Tangled!!

Summary: A series of one-shots and multi-chapters proving why Star Butterfly should be considered a Disney Princess, as Star and company take over the roles of all your favorite Disney Princess characters! (Starco inevitable)

Check out my other stuff on Fanfiction! 

Disclaimer: Star vs and all its characters are owned by Daron Nefcy and Disney. Tangled belongs to Disney. All rights go to their respective owners.

This is the story of how I died.... oh wow, sorry, that was way more intense then I thought it was going to be. D-Don't stop reading! This is actually a really fun story, I swear!

Marrrrcoooo, hurry up!! Get to the part about me already!

Umm, right, sorry Star. Okay, let's see, where was I? *ahem* Once upon a time....

Ugh, boring! Do you want to put the readers to sleep? Start off by telling them something really cool, something that's gonna draw them in. Like a... a monster fight!

Hey, who's telling this story here?

Sorry.

Okay anyways, this is the story of a beautiful young princess with magic golden hair that had the power to heal the sick and wounded-

That's me!

Star, shhh! For years, she lived locked away in a tower, hidden deep in the woods, kept there by an evil and controlling woman, who wanted nothing more than to horde the girl's gift for herself.

Yeah, cause she's a meanie!!

That and so she could live forever. 

And also cause she's a meanie. 

And the name of this princess was Rapunzel... I mean, Starunzel! Ugh, I mean Star.

Geez, Marco. You really don't know what you're doing, do you?

No, I'm sorry.

Aw, that's okay. How about we just start by showing what happened the day we first met so we don't confuse the readers anymore than we already have.

Yeah okay, that sounds good.

Great!

Soooo, how do we do that exactly? 

Simple. We use the mystic and magical page break.

Page wha-

…

Star was excited, practically racing through her chores that morning, cleaning every inch of the well-kept tower she called home. What would normally take her fifteen minutes to complete, today only took her a mere ten, which was quite the accomplishment for her dragging around seventy feet of long, blond, and sometimes unruly hair wherever she went. Though the downside of this was of course, that she now had the rest of the day to herself with literally nothing to do forcing her to find some other way to fight off the horrible enemy she was in almost constant battle with...boredom, but today she didn't really mind too much, her excitement over the special day helping to keep her mind occupied.

Once she was finished with the last of the cleaning, she looked around at the neat and tidy room in satisfaction, grinning with pride as every last inch of the tower seemed to be sparkling. “There, perfect, if I do say so myself,” she said boastfully, adding, “which I do.” She giggled at her own joke, while putting away her broom.

“Hey Janna!” she called to the ceiling of the tower, which was dark and not very well-lit. “Jan! Come on Janna, wake up,” she tried again, with still no reply. She frowned, before grabbing a strand of blond hair, flinging it out like some sort of lasso, where it wrapped around a lever that was normally just out of reach for her. She gave her hair a yank, pulling the lever down and opening up one of the windows above, lighting up the scaffolding of the tower, as well as the small purple bat currently snoozing up there.

Janna flinched as her small, fluffy body was encased in the hideous light, keeping her eyes glued shut, as she wrapping her wings tightly around herself to shield her from the intense beams, before going back to sleep. Star blinked, before groaning as her only friend ignored her, her cheeks puffing up cutely in anger. She wasted no time as she grabbed a bigger strand of hair and threw it up toward the beam the small bat was sleeping under. It flew over the beam before wrapping around the beam next to it, Star now able to use her hair as a rope as she climbed her own blond locks up to where Janna slept.

Once she was next to her animal friend, she gently poked her with her finger over and over again waiting for a reaction, a wide smile spread across her face. “Come on, sleepyhead,” she said softly, as she tried to gently awaken her bat friend.. “Wakey-wakey.”

Finally, Janna sighed, unfolding her wings and giving her a blank and tired stare, clearly wanting to know why she was being woken up so early in the morning. “Now don't give me that look, Janna,” Star defended herself, seeing the intent behind her friend's piercing green eyes. “It's not my fault you stayed up all night.” She crossed one arm across her chest, while the other still had to be dedicated to holding onto her hair to keep from falling, turning away from the bat with a pout, closing her eyes and refusing to look at her.

But after a few seconds, she slowly peeked open an eye and could see out of the corner of her eye that the look on the bat's face persisted, a small scowl on her fuzzy features. Star groaned in exasperation, before angrily stating, “Okay fine! I know you sleep during the day and everything, but c'mon, tomorrow is my birthday and I don't want to spend it all alone.” She gave the bat a pouting look, her lip quivering cutely knowing Janna couldn't resist the stare she had spent the last fourteen years perfecting.

Janna gave a small huff, rolling her green eyes before flying off of her perch and to the floor with a look of annoyance.

“Yay!” Star cheered, pumping a fist into the air, as she slid down her hair to the ground, excited her friend would be with her on the very big day. Once she was on the ground, she asked her friend, “So what should we do first?” She didn't even bother to wait for a reply as she began listing off potential activities to fill time in a nearly sing-song voice. “Playing guitar, knitting, cooking, puzzles, darts, baking, oh I guess that's probably the same as cooking, huh? Haha, umm, well we could also try some pottery or ventriloquy or candle making, I could try painting if I could find a spot that I haven't already painted on. Hmm? Oh, oh, oh, or we could re-re-reread those books I have, what do you think?”

Once she was done, Janna just gave her a one of her bored looks that said, 'I-don't-really-care'.

“Huh, you're right,” Star said thoughtfully. “We'll do them all!” she declared at the top of her lungs, pointing a finger in the air, dramatically.

Janna just sighed again, thinking it was way too early to be doing anything right now.

…

Meanwhile, in the nearby kingdom of Corona, the whole town was teeming with excitement and lively chatter on that lovely morning. Townsfolk were already going about their daily work with more vigor than usual and the streets were filled with the sound of children's laughter and general merriment. Everyone was in high spirit, the air itself practically electrified with jubilant energy, as all were happily anticipating the festival that would be the following day. Preparations had been underway for weeks, streamers and decorations hung up all over the busy streets, fluttering freely in the breeze and proudly showing off the beautiful logo of the kingdom: a purple flag with a bright, golden sun. This served as a constant reminder to the townsfolk of what was to come and the anticipation many were feeling was close to bursting at this point.

But one such individual was free of any feelings of merriment that plagued the rest of the kingdom, as he looked down on the people below with an impassive look. He was more focused on the work that had to be done to care about some silly festival and besides he would be long gone by that point.

He stood high on the roof of the large castle in the center of town, keeping a close eye on the guards that patrolled the perimeter, none the wiser to the teen's presence and he smiled to himself. Idiots. He took a moment from his precarious position to stretch, mentally and physically preparing himself for what was about to happen, letting out a calming breath. The boy had tanned skin and brown, spiked hairs (which he kept styled at all times) brown eyes and a mole just under his left cheek. He wore a white long-sleeved shirt with a red vest over on top of it and a brown belt hugging his mid-section firmly. The sleeves were rolled up to above his elbows on his shirt and a satchel hung loosely over his shoulder. He had on light brown pants, which were tucked into black, hunting boots.

A gentle breeze blew up against him, causing a shiver to crawl up his spine which he ignored. It was bound to happen being this high up. All he had to say was thank goodness he didn't have a fear of heights. Behind him, he heard a strangled squeak and he turned to see his two accomplices behind him, one tall and thin and the other short and fat. The thin one was tightly hugging his partner in a death grip, shaking as he looked at the ground below. “Do we have to be this high up?” the teen asked in a nasally voice.

“Can't be helped, Alfonso,” the boy in red shrugged. “This is the easiest way in. The higher up we are the less the guards look.”

“Marco's right, Al,” the third boy, Ferguson, agreed, pushing his friend off of him, causing him to shriek in fear and Marco cringed, glad they were too high up to be heard by the passing guards. “The last thing we need is to get caught stealing from royalty,” the chubby one added.

“Yeah and with that in mind we better hurry, just in case someone does happen to look up and see us,” the thief in red, Marco Diaz, said, before he recklessly jumped off the side of the roof, sliding down its tiled side and landing on the side of one of the towers with a barely audible thud. Ferguson followed quickly after, with an anxious and fear stricken Alfonso following hesitantly after, trying to ignore the long, fatal fall beneath him.

The three boys began making their way slowly and carefully around the side of the tower, leaping from tower to tower, Marco in the lead of his friends, jumping and maneuvering his way around expertly. This wasn't his first time stealing from another person, but his was the biggest and most satisfying job of his criminal career. If he pulled this job off right he would be set for life, even after splitting it three ways with his cohorts.

He did question bringing these two along, their skills as thieves not anything too impressive, but he couldn't pull this job off on his own and they were the only ones he trusted enough to help him, knowing anyone else would stab him in the back and take off with the goods in a heartbeat. He was the one who had gotten them into this life after all, asking them to tag along with him on jobs when he had been just getting his start as a thief. He could tell that they weren't too interested in it in the same way he was, going along with his schemes more out of obligation from being his friends than actual want to engage in criminal acts. Still, they never turned down any of his offers and this job was no different, so he was fine with cutting the share with his two long-time partners.

The three finally reached their desired destination, Alfonso at this point panting and shuddering all over with fear. Marco and Ferguson quickly opened a small hatch in the roof, revealing the throne room, where about a dozen guards stood around a small pedestal. On it lay the object the three thieves had been seeking, the lost princess's crown, lying preserved and safe on a soft, purple pillow. It was made of pure gold, intricately crafted with white diamond's embedded into its top, as well as several rubies that made up the bottom half of the priceless prize.

Marco took a moment to marvel at the beautiful crown, while his two companions began tying a long, thick rope down beside him. He released a slow, breathy sigh, still unable to look away from the golden headpiece. But he was quickly pulled back into the moment as he felt Ferguson and Alfonso now tying the other end of the rope around his waist. He lifted up his arms allowing them to do their job much easier and waited patiently for them to finish. The two took their time making sure that the rope would be secure but also cause no discomfort to their friend, tying it as tight as they dared without hurting him.

Once the rope was properly in place, Ferguson and Alfonso began lowering Marco down into the throne room, making sure to keep a firm and steady hold on the rope as the thief was inched closer and closer to his prize. Marco took slow, even breaths, trying to stay as quiet as possible, not wanting to alert any of the guards to his presence. The large chamber was so unnervingly silent that if a pin were to suddenly drop Marco was sure it would startle every guard in the room. He honestly wondered how someone could tolerate being in the room all day, every day, as their source of earning. It seemed awfully boring. And to the adventurous, thrill-seeking Marco that was like a fate worse than death.

The young thief quickly pushed aside his racing thoughts, focusing instead on the guards themselves, his highly trained eye on alert for any notable or abnormal movements from the bunch that would indicate that they had been discovered. But the guards around him were none the wiser to his presence, their backs to the young thief as their eyes alertly scanned only directly in front of them.  

Finally, the boy in red came to a sudden and jerky stop, the pedestal and crown now only a few inches below him and easily within arms reach. He smiled to himself, but made sure to keep a weary eye on the guards as he quickly snatched up the crown, before tucking it safely away in his satchel. So far so good, he thought to himself, giving the rope a tug to let them know to pull him up. We might actually pull this off without a hitch.

But it seemed the boy had spoken (or rather 'thought') too soon, as he heard a small yell of none other than Alfonso, which sounded like a bombshell going off in the once deafening silence of the throne room, every guard jumping at the echoing noise. Before Marco could react, the boy felt the rope go slack and he was suddenly sent catapulting downward, as they boys above him, for whatever reason, lost their hold. Marco felt his stomach drop and he let out a small yell himself, as his body rushed toward the ground. He crashed into the pedestal on the way down, knocking to over, where it hit the floor with a loud bang.

Somehow, Marco was saved from the same happening to him, as Ferguson and Alfonso must have gotten a hold of the rope again, as he was yanked to a stop, his face near centimeters from the ground, the tips of his bangs touching the tiled floor. But all the commotion, of course, attracted a lot of attention, every guard swerving on their heels to see the young criminal suspended precariously from the rope, all of them in shock and disgust at the illegal action that was clearly taking place.

“Hey, stop thief!” one of them shouted angrily, as he and the others gritted their teeth and held out their spears, the sharp tips pointed directly at Marco.

“Pull me up!” Marco shouted above him in a panic, trying to somehow maneuver out of the way of the deadly weapons that now surrounded him on all sides. But the two thieves didn't have to be told twice as they began frantically pulling Marco back up, the dangling thief in just seconds out of the guards (and more importantly their spears) reach and he let a sigh of relief. The guards watched helpless as the intruder was hauled back onto the roof, their anger growing as they shouted up at him, while several ran to go get reinforcements.

Once Marco's was safely back on the roof with his two friends and his feet were once again planted on solid ground, he shot a glare at the two, demanding in a breathless and nerve-wracked tone, “What the heck was that?! Why'd you drop me, now the whole castle knows we're here?!” He began working on untying the thick and intricate knots, tugging relentlessly at the coarse rope in frustration.

“Sorry, Marco, something landed on my shoulder and it scared me,” Alfonso apologized sheepishly. “But it was totally a spider or something that was about to bite me,” he quickly added in his defense.

“It was a pigeon and no it wasn't,” Ferguson corrected, rolling his eyes at his friend.

Marco's eyes narrowed at the nasally teen. “So you just jeopardized one of the most important jobs of our career over a stupid bird,” Marco said irritably, the annoyance in his stony gaze unmistakable.

“Uh, apparently,” Alfonso muttered guiltily.

The boy in red face-palmed, letting out a infuriated growl as he dragged his hand slowly down his face. But he recovered quickly, as he said to the two in a much calmer tone, “Okay, then, time for 'Plan B'. We need to get out of here and fast. Let's go.”

He left no room for arguing as he began making his way down the castletop with no regard for his safety, more focused on getting away quickly than bothering to take things slow. He hopped from tower to tower and ran across perilous scaffolds without even looking to make sure his feet were in a good position to do so. Ferguson and Alfonso, to their credit, kept up with his quick and reckless pace, though the latter looked terrified the whole time, fighting off the panic attack that was slowly building up inside him.

Eventually the three were able to make it off of the castle, jumping from one of the balcony's onto the roof of one of the nearby houses, Alfonso stumbling slightly and looking paler than a ghost from the long drop. Marco wasted no time though, as he slid down the roof, landing on a nearby awning, doing a flip in the air, before tucking himself into a roll as he hit the stony sidewalk. Ferguson and Alfonso, on the other hand, carefully made their way over to the side of the building, dropping down onto the awning, before sliding down the poles using them to hold the thing up.

Marco rose to his feet, waiting until his companions were both down before leading them into a race through town, several guards already racing out of the gates of the castle and chasing after them, spears in hand. Marco dodged his way around the traffic on the streets, civilians screaming and frantically moving out of the way to avoid being knocked over, in total confusion and disarray over what was happening around them.

Soon the gates to the city were in sight, the bridge that would lead them into the forest and their freedom within reach. Marco smiled, before slowing his pace enough to allow Ferguson and Alfonso to run past him, knocking a cart of apples over, ignoring the shout of alarm from the seller, causing fruit to tumble into the road behind them. He hoped this would stall the guards long enough to give them enough time to escape.

He was rewarded with the sound of a scream and a crash behind him and the boy picked up his pace even more. As he and his companions ran out of the gates to town and across the long bridge, they all began laughing in victory, all quite overjoyed with their success.

“We did it, guys!” Marco shouted at the top of his lungs. He let out a loud chuckle, before adding, “Today is a very good day!”

…

“Today is a very good day, Janna!” Star stated to her bat friend, one musical montage and several dozen time-wasting activities later, still just as giddy and hyper as earlier. Nothing seemed to be able to deter Star's enthusiasm that day, not even the dreaded clutches of boredom, but unfortunately Star's peppiness was not shared as Janna just lay on the girl's shoulder looking utterly dissatisfied with life. But the young blond didn't notice this either, as she looked up at her newly constructed masterpiece with increased satisfaction. “I mean just look at that beautiful painting, I'm a true artist,” Star bragged proudly, puffing out her chest and striking a dramatic pose. “When mom sees this she'll be sure to let me go see the floating lights.”

Janna's gaze slowly shifted to the picture, not sure if she quite agreed. It was a terrible looking stick version of Star with goofily large eyes looking up at small white dots that Janna assumed were supposed to be the floating lights. And, because it was Star, she had also needlessly added in a lopsided skull and a smudged picture of a spider wearing a top hat floating in the air around her. All in all the pitiful excuse for art looked like it had been drawn by a four year old kid, not a soon to be fifteen year old teenager.

It was almost unbelievable that even after all these years living alone inside a tower with nothing but time to practice Star still hadn't gained even a speck of talent in painting whatsoever and the bat would have bet a fortune that the only thing Star's mother was sure to be when she saw it, was confused. Janna barely understood what she was looking at, there was no way her human friend's mother would know what it was supposed to be, as well.

“Well, what do you think?” Star asked, looking to her only friend in anticipation. This was when she finally took notice of her bat friend's clear difference of opinion, adding shamefacedly, “Uhh, sorry I didn't put you in the picture, too. But I kinda ran out of room.” The nocturnal mammal would have been offended she hadn't been added onto the picture (terrible as it was), if she actually cared. All she wanted was just to go back to sleep, unable to stop thinking of all the precious daylight that was being wasted. So Janna didn't say a word about how awful it looked and what a crime against true artists and art it was, instead she just shrugged and gave her a look that said, We-done-now?

Star sighed dramatically. “Fine, you can go back to napping,” Star said rolling her eyes, unable to believe Janna's lack of enthusiasm in all of this. How could she even consider napping on such a monumental occasion? Didn't she realize how amazing and life-changing this was?

But apparently she didn't, as the purple bat just flew up to the ceiling, hanging upside down from one of the pillars that was still in shadow, tucking her wings around her as she drifted off to sleep. Star tried to contain her disappointment as she muttered more to herself than Janna, “Mom will be back soon anyway. Don't want her to know I've been hiding a pet from her all these years.”

As if on cue, Star heard a call from outside the window, a familiar voice that the blond instantly knew had to be her mother's. “Star! Are you there, dear? Let down your hair, please?”

“Coming mom!” Star yelled, as she raced over to the window, opening the shutters, before looking down at her mother, waiting patiently below. Lady Eclipsa as she was known to be, had poofy teal hair and a flowing purple dress with small black dress shoes.

“Star, you know I don't like being kept waiting,” her mother called up in a warning tone. Star tried not to let this get to her as she hung her hair on a small hook that hung down from the top of the windowsill, before gathering up the rest and quickly flinging it over the side. Her long, blond locks fell gracefully down the entire length of the tower, nearly touching the ground when she was done. Eclipsa moved out of the way to avoid getting hit by the make-shift rope made of her daughter's own incredibly long hair.  

Once in reach, Star's mother quickly grabbed the end of the blond locks that were now nearly glowing in the sunlight, and raising it up to be used it as a little foothold for herself. She stepped onto this, before waiting for her daughter to begin pulling her up. And Star wasted no time in doing this, heaving back on her hair and the heavy form that now weighed it down immensely. But Star had had plenty of practice at this and was able to slowly but surely began pulling Eclipsa up the side of the tower, with little to no problem whatsoever, her experience in pulling things up by her hair alone a much more accomplished skill than her artistic ability.

She grunted as she pulled the last bit of distance needed for her mother to step onto the window frame and then safely inside the tower. Star panted heavily as moved to hug her mother, saying in a tired but cheerful voice, “Welcome back, mom.”

Eclipsa though just handed her the basket she had brought back, before stepping past her, not even noticing her daughter's show of affection. “Excellent work, Star. Though I think you could have done that a bit faster, hmm?” her mother commented, as she began gazing at herself in the mirror, messing with her hair to make sure it was still the way she wanted it.

Star looked hurtfully down at the basket for a moment before setting it down on the nearest table, racing over to her mother, hopping up and down on the balls of her feet to try and contain her excitement. She quickly asked in a hinting tone, “So mom, do you know what tomorrow is?”

“I believe it's Saturday,” her mother replied flatly, still examining herself closely in the mirror. Star shook her head saying, “No, no that's not what I meant.”

But her mother once again wasn't really listening, her eyes widening as she spotted a gray hair hidden in with the mess of blue locks around it. “Star, dear, we can talk in a moment, first I would love it if you would sing for your mother,” Eclipsa said, turning to her daughter with a small smile.

“Oh right, of course,” Star said, quickly jumping at the task, rushing over to get everything ready, running and grabbing the chair and stepstool needed, setting them in front of each other. Eclipsa just watched all of this with a blank stare, following her daughter's movements as she sat herself down in the chair Star had brought her. The blond grabbed the hairbrush before running back over to her mom, handing her the brush and laying a thick portion of her hair on her lap, as she plopped down onto her own small seat.

She cleared her throat before singing as quickly as she could the song her mother had taught her. “Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine. Make the clock reverse bring back what once was mine. Heal what has been hurt, change the fates design. Save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine.”

As Star did this, her hair lit up golden, trailing all the way down the entire length of her mane. Eclipsa hummed along with the fast pace of the song, seemingly unaffected by how quickly her daughter was going, as she just ran the brush a few times through the glowing locks. The woman felt a deep powerful magic coursing through her veins, a wonderful feeling overcoming her as all at once all her ailments and aches were reversed and healed.

Once Star was done, she quickly jumped up from the chair, grabbing her mother's arm in a tight hug, as she quickly began talking a mile a minute, “So now that that's done, I was going to tell you that tomorrow is kind of a big day and since I know you won't be able to guess, I'm just gonna go ahead and tell you that's its my birthday!!”

She smiled widely at her mom as she finished, but her mother didn't seem to react much at all, as she merely said, “Really, so soon?”

“Well, it has been a whole year,” Star mumbled under her breath, to her it had felt like she had been waiting forever for this day to come.

“Star, you know what we talked about with the mumbling,” her mother scolded, giving her a look, and Star remembered immediately all the previous lectures she had been given about how it was undignified for a young lady to whisper things under her breath and not speak loudly and clearly enough to be heard.

“Sorry, mom,” Star hastily apologized, making sure her voice was now loud enough her mother could easily hear it.

“It's alright dear,” her mother said, giving her a small hug, before walking toward the kitchen and pawing through the bowl of fruit, looking for something to eat. “So is there anything you wanted for your birthday?” she casually mentioned.

Star sucked in a breath. This would be the hard part, convincing her mom, but she decided to just go for it. “Well, I was thinking,” Star said as casually and innocently as possible. “Since I'm turning fifteen tomorrow I thought that it would be a good idea... to maybe go outside.”

Star had a wide, awkward smile on her face as she waited for her mother's reaction. Eclipsa stilled, dropping the apple she had chosen back into the bowl, as she turned to her daughter in surprise. “What?” she asked, shocked.

“Not for forever, of course,” Star quickly added, seeing her mother's concern. She chuckled nervously saying, “I mean that would be... crazy. But just long enough for you to take me to go see the floating lights.”

Now Eclipsa looked even more startled, asking hesitantly, “Floating... lights?”

Star could tell her mom was starting to think she  had gone insane so she quickly clarified, “Yeah, y'know the big glowing lights that fill the sky, every year, on my birthday.”

“You mean... the stars?” Eclipsa said slowly and Star let out a sharp, frustrated sigh.

“No, not the stars, mom. These are different. Here, let me show you,” Star quickly used a length of her hair to pull open a lever on the wall, opening a hatch which sent a flood of light cascading on her drawing, highlighting against the rest of the musty tower. “See,” Star said, pointing at the painting. “These things. The big bright things that always appear out of nowhere on my birthday.”

Eclipsa looked at the painting in silence for a few moments, her face completely unreadable. “I... see,” was all she managed to reply, trying to keep her face calm. She turned to her daughter asking, “And your sure you didn't just dream them? “No, I didn't,” Star said defensively. “Have you seriously never noticed them before?” When she received no reply she quickly waved this off. “Whatever, it doesn't matter. I see them every year, mom, and I just... really want to know what they are. I want to see them, up close, in person.”

“Why do you care so much about these stars, darling?” Eclipsa asked, sounding amused at her daughter's bizarre interest in something seemingly ordinary.

Star's cheeks puffed up some in anger. “First of all, they're not stars. And second of all, I don't know. I just feel like they're meant for me somehow, y'know.” Star shrugged not sure how quite to put it into words.

Eclipsa grew very quiet after that, watching her daughter closely as her eyes glazed over in thought. This was very bad. Very, very bad and she knew it. She had to do something. She couldn't let her flower discover the truth. She had to find some way to get her to stay. But how.

“Now, now, darling you know the rules about going outside,” she began, stepping closer to her daughter.

Star began to fiddle with a strand of her hair, nervously. “Yes, I know but, I thought maybe we could break the rules, just this once.” She gave her mom a sheepish smile, hoping that this would somehow convince her to let her go, though her optimism was beginning to fade.

And to Star's dismay, Eclipsa shook her head, before saying, “The rules exist for a reason, Star. To keep you safe. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out there?”

“Well no,” Star admitted, but quickly tried to argue, saying, “But I-”

“Exactly, dear, you don't know,” Eclipsa continued, as she walked over to her, placing her hands softly on her shoulders. “But I do. The world outside if full of dangers you couldn't even begin to imagine and you are just not ready to face them yet. You're too naive and the people out there would take advantage of that.”

Star looked sadly at her bare feet. “Not to mention what they would do if they discovered the power your hair holds,” Eclipsa continued softly, running a hand through Star's hair once.

The blond felt her heart thumping a bit out of control, fear filling her being. Her mother had told her stories of what had happened when she was just a baby. How everyone had wanted to cut her hair and have the power all for themselves, even trying to take her away from her mom and she shuddered at the thought.

Eclipsa pulled Star close in a comforting embrace, as she said worriedly, “I couldn't bare to see you get hurt. It would hurt me if that happened, you know that right?”

“Yes,” Star said sadly, feeling all the fight and hope drain from her, leaving her feeling empty.

“Then you are going to listen to your mother and stay put?” Eclipsa asked, waiting to hear the answer.

Star hesitated, but finally sighing saying again, “Yes.”

“That's my girl,” Eclipsa said, pulling out of the hug to cup her daughter's face in her hands. She gave her gentle kiss on the forehead. But as she pulled away, she saw the pitiful look on her daughter's face and added, “Trust me, Star. I always knows what's best for you.”

Star just gave her a half-hearted smile, as her mom gave her cheek a soft pat. “Well I must be going again,” Eclipsa said, as she quickly retrieved her basket and then climbed back up onto the window, before taking hold of the still hanging hair. She turned back to her daughter one last time before saying, “I will see you in a bit, my dear. I love you.”

With that, Eclipsa quickly began descending her daughter's hair. Star stood perfectly still, waiting until she couldn't feel the tug against her scalp anymore, letting her know her mother was now on the ground and probably heading out of the clearing and into the big, bright world Star was forbidden to see. Once she was sure her mother was out of ear shot, she loudly huffed, flopping herself down on the ground and crossing her arms in front of her, childishly.

She just fumed angrily to herself for a few moments, muttering comments about being trapped there forever, bored out of her mind, and calling her mom a poophead. Finally, Janna flew down and landed on her shoulder, giving her a look with her wide, brown eyes.

Star sighed, rubbing at her eyes as she agreed, “Yeah, that definitely could have gone better.”

…

“Hurry their gaining!” Marco shouted over to his two comrades, looking back to make sure they were still with him. To his relief, they were, Ferguson and Alfonso just barely managing to keep up, both panting immensely. But none of them had time to stop as, not a short distance away, the roar of approaching horses could be heard, growing louder by the second.

Marco did his best to evade their pursuers, going between trees that would be too narrow for horses to follow, jumping over fallen trunks, and sliding down steep inclines, but nothing seemed to work. Nothing seemed to be slowing any of them down any and Marco was quickly running out of ideas. If something didn't change soon, they would definitely be captured.

Suddenly, the three thieves all came to an abrupt stop as they reached a dead end. Marco looked up at the rocky cliff in front of them, quickly judging the distance, before turning back to Ferguson and Alfonso. “Okay quick, boost me up!”

The two shared a look with one another, looking unsure. “What?” Marco asked, seeing their hesitation.

“You sure you'll remember to pull us up when you're done?” Ferguson asked, in a half-accusing manner.

Marco looked hurt at the comment. “What? Of course I will. You two are my best friends.” The two still looked hesitant and Marco sighed, adding, “Look we don't have time to argue about this, the whole royal army is right on our tail.”

As if on cue, they heard a shout followed by the thundering roar of horses racing at full-speed toward them as it grew steadily louder. This finally seemed to convince the two thieves as they quickly formed a human ladder for Marco to climb up, the young man taking care not to step on their hands or faces as he scaled the cliff off of his friends.

Once Marco reached the top and had hauled himself over the ledge, he quickly checked his satchel, before giving a quick glance below, making sure no guards were there yet.

But he heard more guards riding up from around the clifftops and knew they had no time to waste. “Come on, guys! Let's get going!” he shouted before running away at full speed, forgetting the predicament he had left his two friends in.

The two just stared up at the cliff blankly for a moment. “D-Did he just leave us behind... again?” Ferguson asked.

“Yep,” Alfonso replied.

They both sighed dejectedly, as they waited to be arrested... again.

…

Marco continued at full sprint though the forest looking back occasionally to check and see if his pursuers were gone or not. Unfortunately for him, they weren't.

There were about four horeses following him, all carrying armed guards dressed in Mewni's traditional golden armor, the lead guard being none other than the captain herself, Kelly, her recognizable blue hair tied up in a bun, most of it covered by her helmet. “Great not her, that's just what I needed,” Marco muttered to himself, focusing on the impossible task of outrunning the riders on foot. “Does the universe just hate me or something?” he pondered to himself, as his eyes scanned the area around him, trying to think of a plan.

Finally, an idea came to him, as he grabbed onto a nearby vine, using the momentum to swing himself around the tree before kicking the unsuspecting Kelly off of her horse and instead taking her place. He situated himself better into the fancy saddle, checking back once to make sure the girl was okay. He breathed a mental sigh of relief as he saw she had landed in some bushes, her usually well-kept hair now coated in leaves and sticks, rubbing at her head and glaring daggers of death at him but not looking too injured. Once he knew she was fine, he allowed himself a small laugh of victory as he rode triumphantly away from his honest-working rival.

Kelly gritted her teeth as she watched helplessly as the thief rode away on her own horse and she stood up with a huff. After a few moments the other guards caught up to her, stopping to see if she was hurt, one of them worriedly asking, “Are you okay, Kelly?”

“That's Captain Kelly! And yes I'm fine, Tad,” she angrily snapped at her ex-boyfriend. “Just follow after that guy before he gets away!” The others all obeyed, returning to their chase as they hunted after their target, one of them stopping long enough to lift the girl captain up into the saddle behind him before galloping after the criminal, as well.

While that was going on, Marco was putting more and more distance between himself and his pursuers, confident he would easily allude them at this speed. He still took a few seconds to double-check and make sure he really was in the clear, though, listening to the now near-silent trotting of horse hooves, and smiled with satisfaction. Perfect. They were nowhere near him and at this rate he would be long gone before they had time to track him down. He was pretty much in the clear now.

The young thief allowed himself to relax a bit in his seat, loosening his tight grip on the reins. He absentmindedly patted the horse, saying, “Good job, girl. I think we lost them.”

The horse he was riding, who was names Pony Head (Kelly wasn't very clever with the names, her mind on more important things like hunting down criminals), hadn't been paying attention to the whole thing, finding all these stupid chases boring. She would much rather be hanging back at the castle with the other horses, maybe even flirting with a few of the better looking stallions there, not going on some annoying chase through the dumb woods looking for some turd.

But the second the boy spoke, the horse snapped to attention, the unfamiliar voice from her current rider setting off red flags in Pony's mind. What the heck?! Pony thought, as she turned her head to see some dumb boy sitting comfortably on her back, looking behind him rather than even paying attention to what was in front of him. Oh no! Pony thought in anger. No boy is gonna sit on by back!

She dug her hooves into the ground, bringing them to an abrupt halt and Marco, who had been distracted checking behind them to make sure they were free and clear, was nearly sent flying. The thief screamed, squeezing the reign's clenched in his hands with a death grip, somehow managing to stay on Pony Head, much to her anger and dismay.

“Hey what's the big idea?!” Marco screamed down to the horse, his heart still in his throat, causing him to pant harshly. When he got no reply from the animal, he repositioned himself back in the saddle, taking slow, steady breaths to try and calm his frazzled nerves. He did a quick look around for anything that might have spooked the mare. “Did you see a snake or something?”

Only the one on my back, Pony quipped back in her head.

The boy sighed, letting the scare go for now. “Never mind, let's get going,” he said, snapping her reigns to try and get her moving again. But to his surprise the horse didn't move an inch. “Uh, hello?” Marco said with slight annoyance, flicking the reigns again, a little harder this time. “Move.”

Still nothing. The boy was starting to lose his patience, the longer they lingered there the greater the chance the guards would catch up to them, Captain Kelly surely not giving up the chase so easily. This was exactly what Pony Head was thinking, as well, mentally smirking to herself at the idea of getting the annoying boy caught. Yeah keep yellin', turd. I ain't movin' a muscle.

“Come on fleebag, forward!” he yelled, kicking the stubborn horse in the side.

Oh he did not just call me that!! Pony mentally screamed, letting out a loud huff through her nostrils. The red thief heard this and opened his mouth to comment, but it quickly turned to a scream as the horse's hind legs bucked up over and over again, trying to knock the annoying pest off her back. It was a quite to see, as the horse aggressively kicked and stomped her way around the clearing, the poor young man holding onto her back for dear life as he was flung around like a rag doll, shouting out his complaints at the top of his lungs, “Whoa! Wait, stop!!” The thief felt his stomach churn in protest and he quickly exclaimed in a panic, “I think I'm gonna be sick!”

Oh you better not puke on me, you little turd, Pony angrily thought, before giving the hardest buck yet, this time finally managing to throw the boy off of her, Marco releasing a high pitched scream as he was sent flying through the air and right toward a cliff. Luckily for him, he was able to grab onto a tree branch, now suspended over the steep incline, hanging on for dear life as his feet dangled helplessly. Marco swallowed down the panicked lump in his throat and tried to ignore the fact that he was currently hanging over a hundred foot cliff, focusing instead of pulling himself up onto the branch. He just prayed it would support his weight. He managed to wrap his legs around the thick back, meaning he didn't have to worry about his arms giving out just yet, but he still understandably held onto the limb with a death grip.

Just as he was about to begin trying to get back on solid ground, he heard the familiar clip-clop of horse hooves, followed by shifting from the branch, alerting him that he was not alone on the limb. The young thief craned his neck to see the same stupid horse that had gotten him into this situation now try to walk onto the unstable branch. He gasped in horror, terrified that the clearly brain-dead mare was about to get them both killed, Marco not sure if the limb could support their combined weight.

He wondered what on earth could be causing the four-legged creature to act so recklessly. That was until he noticed the satchel handing on the far end of the tree, hanging precariously on one of the small limbs that had luckily stopped its descent. And do despite his fear, he began inching his way across the trunk, trying to move as fast as possible, ignoring his safety instincts screaming at him to stop. Pony, though, quickly caught on to what Marco was trying to do and began trying to step on Marco's hands with her hooves, also seeming to completely disregard the dangerous drop directly below them.

Marco, now with a new motivation to beat the stupid horse and keeps his hands from being crushed, took the risk and jumped toward the branch. He just barely managed to grab the satchel, as well as grip the branch it had been loosely hanging off of, the bag nearly slipping off from all the jerky movements and sent plummeting off the cliff. Marco let out a victorious yell, as he turned to the stupid horse with a smug grin, showing off his claimed prize. “Ha, take that you stupid-”

But Marco didn't get a chance to finish his insult, as suddenly there was a loud snapping sound, Marco and Pony Head both looking over to see the large crack in the trunk, which had been made weak by the two's overwhelming weight and constant abuse on the fragile limb. The didn't have any time to react as it gave altogether breaking free of its hold in the cliff side with another loud snap, now sent falling to the unforgiving earth below.

Marco screamed at the top of his lungs, giving out a very undignified yell, while beside him Pony neighed loudly in terror. He felt his body go weightless, his stomach twisting uncomfortably, as he continued to cling to the plummeting branch. A wave of nausea rose up, both from his unbridled terror and his well-known case of motion sickness, which was choosing to come back at the worst possible time. But suddenly his lifeline was gone, snapping in half when it bumped against the cliff side, sending Marco and Pony spiraling away from one another on their fast track to becoming acquainted with the ground.  

Next, Marco reached the treetops, thick vines wrapping around his body and slowing his descent immensely. Finally, the vines went taunt stopping the young thief mere inches from hitting the hard ground. His body went limp, allowing the ropes to hold him there, swaying unevenly above the ground. Marco just stayed like that for a few moments, panting as the stress of the ordeal slowly wore off and his heart rate slowed to a more normal pulse.

Until finally he said in a remarkably calm voice, “Well that was scarring for life.”

The young thief managed to untangle himself from the thick, knotted vines and get himself settle back down on the soft ground, nearly tempted to get down on hands and knees and kiss it. He would have to, if it weren't for the fact that the ground would have been what would have ultimately caused his death and he really didn't want to go around praising his almost killer. So instead, he just put his satchel back over his shoulder and began walking deeper into the woods.

He wasn't sure where he was headed but literally anywhere was better than here at the moment, just in case that dumb horse had survived too and was now looking for him. Right on que, Marco heard an angry neigh in the distance, not that far away. Marco panicked, looking around for somewhere for somewhere to hide, slowly backing up toward a large hill covered in ivy. But as his back brushed against the vegetation, he found no resistance there, stumbling back and into the hidden entrance and cave within.

The red thief had no time to ponder this as he quickly hid behind a nearby rock, just as the distinct shadow of a horse appeared on the vegetated wall. Pony stopped, as if sensing his presence, looking around her, her ears twitching as they tried to pick up any sound from the boy. Marco pushed himself a little further behind the rock, making sure to make no noise whatsoever, holding his breath and trying to keep himself as still as possible.

For a few tense seconds, Marco watched the silhouette of the mare, unmoving and stock still. Then, at last, the annoying pony seemed to give up on the chase, trotting away from the area and allowing Marco to finally release his held breath. But he kept an eye on the entrance as he backed slowly into the cave, taking slow, cautious steps just in case she was still within hearing distance. Once he could no longer see the entrance, he allowed himself to drop his guard and turn.

The boy's mouth dropped open at the unexpected sight before him. Instead of a dingy, dirty cave like he had been suspecting he had found himself in some sort of secluded clearing, though it was hardly empty. For in the middle of the green and vibrant clearing was an abandoned tower, standing tall and majestic as the sunlight gleamed off of it. Its color was faded from years of neglect and thick, green vines clung around its base and crawled up its sides. But despite this, it still looked remarkable, seeming like it had just been ripped from the side of a castle before being dropped into the hidden clearing. That or it had been taken right out of a fairytale book, but that one was just silly, this was real life, not some fairytale... right? Behind it was a rushing waterfall, which also gleamed brightly in the sunshine, running into a gentle stream.

“Huh, a tower? How'd it end up here?” Marco wondered aloud. But he quickly dismissed his wonderment with a shrug. “Oh well, better not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

The young thief cringed at the phrase, before releasing a violent shudder as he was reminded of his brief encounter with that stupid horse. “Okay note to self, never use that phrase again,” he told himself.

“Still this is a good place to lay low for awhile,” he muttered, his eyes scanning the tower carefully, searching for any form of entrance along its crumbling exterior. “Now if I could just find a way inside...”

Marco's gaze froze on a small window near the top and luckily for him, it was open.

“Bingo!” the boy said with a satisfied smile. He made his way over to the tower, looking up its side, trying to plan out a way up. He pulled out two arrows using those to climb slowly up. He got into a stead rhythm, sticking an arrow in the wall with a loud thunk, before pulling out the next one and sticking it into the wall a bit higher than the last, careful to make sure his feet had a proper resting place as he did. Clop. Thunk. Clop. Thunk. The sound repeated itself over and over again, until at last Marco reached the window, grabbing onto its frame and lifting himself inside. He tucked the arrows into his satchel along with the crown, as he looked around the dark room.

It was impossible to tell what anything looked like inside until his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, but he didn't really care of the condition of his temporary hiding place at the moment. He was more interested in checking on his valued prize. He looked into the open satchel with a content grin, staring pleasingly at the golden crown shimmering inside.

So distracted, in fact, that he didn't see a small form making its way over to him in the darkness. He let out a satisfied sigh, saying softly to himself, “Looks like I'm finally out of danger.”

A loud bong sounded, echoing around the dark enclosure, as the young thief fell over unconscious, his body going limp as a heavy frying pan smacked him hard in the back of the head. Star, for a moment, just stood over the sleeping man on the floor in front of her, her eyes wide in shock of what she had just done. She continued to hold the frying pan up, ready to strike once again, just in case he did manage to remain conscious after the hit.

“Um, hello?” Star hesitantly called down to him. “A-Are you awake?”

She poked him a couple of times with the pan, but when he didn't react she relaxed some, letting her guard drop a little. Though she was anything but calm, as she began pacing around the room, saying to herself. “Okay so I just knocked out some guy and now he's unconscious in my living room. What do I do? What should I tell mom? No, I cannot tell mom about this. Then again,” Star stopped pacing, putting a finger to her chin as she looked thoughtfully over at the boy. “If she saw that I was capable of taking out this intruder then maybe she would see that I'm strong enough to be able to go outside! I'm a genius!”

Star patted herself on the back for the idea, a wide, hopeful grin on her face, as she approached the boy again. She looked down at him smugly, saying with a laugh, “Ha, thought you could just sneak in and try and steal my hair, didn't you? Well you are no match for my incredible talents, mister.”

Once, she finished bragging, she just grinned proudly down at the unconscious boy. But her smile vanished as she finally got a good look at the intruder. He was actually quite handsome, his soft brown locks laying across his face, which looked so peaceful and warm as he slept. She could see the slightest hint of toned muscles though his shirt, which caused a lump to form in her throat for some reason. And to top it all off, he had the absolute cutest mole on his left cheek.

For a moment, all Star could do was just stare, love-struck at the handsome boy laying on the floor in front of her, a blush beginning to light up her cheeks. That was until she felt a small tug on her hair and she jumped turning to see Janna flapping her wings behind her, a frown clearly discernible on her fuzzy features. “W-What?” Star said, quickly hiding her blushing cheeks from the bat. “I've just never seen another human before is all,” she said defensively.

Star didn't have to be looking at her bat friend to know that she was raising a skeptical eyebrow right now. “L-Let's just find a place to put this guy, before mom gets back,” Star said, trying way too hard to change the subject.

She scanned the room in search of a good hiding spot, finally landing on the large closest. “Ah ha! Perfect!” She looked to Janna for agreement, but the bat was still just giving her a skeptical look, not convinced the boy could fit in there. Star frowned, before demanding, “Just help me get him in there.”

[tisfan]

But Not to Me

Chapter One and Two

Chapter Three

Ahch-to - midnight

Tony Stark, the last of the Jedi order, shook himself awake. Even now, decades from his long-ago and wasted youth, the habit remained. He rose every day, across the galaxy, when the first of Tattooine’s binary suns would rise, shedding crimson light over the sands of the desert wastes.

I do not like Tatooine, but I do like saying Tatooine.

Oh, Rhodey, old friend, how I do miss you, Tony thought. He opened the door to the small village hut that he’d chosen for himself. Rocks and stone, the door built from timber the likes of which his limited childhood imagination would never have believed.

He stepped over the boy -- well, man, really, but as guileless as a boy -- who was sleeping, curled up, near the sheltered side of the door. He was shivering, even in his sleep, and Tony viciously suppressed a twinge of sympathy. Hadn’t he, too, been cold, when he first left the sands of home.

And what was it, he wondered, about desert wastelands that they seemed to produce Jedi? Was it a lack of living things, so far between them that the natural habits of man to reach out, to connect, led to firmer, and stronger connections. So used to a lack of water, a lack of life, that once in the larger universe where such things were plentiful, they were powerful?

Bah. Power was useless.

Power was worse than useless. It was dangerous.

He pressed one hand against his arc-reactor.

He’s more machine now than man, twisted and evil.

“Yeah, and what does that make me?” Tony demanded of the empty air around him. Only the loth-cats were interested in the question, but they didn’t know the answer.

He trudged all the way down the stairs to the Falcon. Couldn’t Rogers from Nowhere have found a better place to land?

The ship was beautiful, lithe and streamlined and filthy and falling apart, the way it always was. Tony wondered if it had ever been new. He boarded. Nothing, seemingly, had changed. It had fallen into greater disrepair. Even the old Dejarik board was broken. The little monsters that had once had their reign of the concentric circles that made up the gameplay space, were gone.

Tony sat at the bench, feeling the old memories seeped in the duriplas and carbosteel. Little snippets of conversation.

How he had loved this ship.

How he had lived for this ship.

Once. Before he’d come to Ahch-to to die.

There was a faint scrape, wheel against metal.

DUM-E clattered into the lounge, a very old blender in his claw, the fire extinguisher resting against the base of his arm-platform. He made an inquisitive noise and sat the blender down in front of Tony.

“Old friend,” Tony said, running one hand down DUM-E’s support strut. “You’re holding up well.”

DUM-E clawed for the extinguisher.

“Aaaah, uh-uh-uh, yeah, no, buddy,” Tony said. “Nothing’s on fire, here.” There was no fire. There was no spark left in Tony. Nothing remained of that boy, the one who thought hope could fix anything.

DUM-E nudged the blender at him.

“Wish I could make you understand,” Tony said. “It’s all worthless. Good, evil, light, dark. Eventually, entropy takes over, and nothing orderly and good comes out of it. It’s over. The Jedi Order, the Republic, the Rebellion, it’s all just--”

DUM-E knocked the smoothie over into Tony’s lap.

“Cheap move, buddy,” Tony sighed. “It doesn’t matter what you do, or say. I’m staying here. There’s no hope left in the galaxy. There’s no point.” He knew that he was actively trying not to care, that he was forcing everything down in him that wanted to rise up, to help the galaxy. Innocent people would die by the billions with Pierce’s Hydra in charge.

But it was hard to know who to trust, it was hard to extend that hope again, just to watch it all crumble to ash.

DUM-E nudged him again. In his claw -- and the Force only knew where he’d gotten it from -- was the old arc-reactor. The one that Pepper had sealed in clear duriplas. Proof that Tony Stark has a heart.

Steve woke with a start. He was cold, he was damp, and the ground was hard as stone under him. The ground was stone, under him. He really should have gone back down to the Falcon to sleep.

“Get up. At dawn, you’ll get the first of three lessons and I’ll tell you why the Jedi Order should end. You deserve that much. Fury deserves that much.”

Tony stalked away, his robes swirling around him.

Steve scrambled to his feet, looking this way and that in the pre-light, silver grey and merciless. What had changed his mind?

“What… what about breakfast?”

“Do you cook?”

Steve shrugged. “A little,” he admitted. “I can make coffee.”

“You brought coffee with you?”

Steve nodded. “It’s back on the Falcon,” he said. “Do you--”

“Yes.” Tony slammed the door again, leaving Steve talking to the ancient wood. The loth-cat nearby made a purring, inquisitive noise, and yow’ed a few times, like it was laughing at Steve.

“Oh, shut up,” Steve told it. It didn’t listen. It also didn’t go away. The cat followed Steve all the way down the stairs (dear suns and moons, why why why were there so many stairs?) and into the Falcon, where Steve rummaged through the pods he’d brought.

DUM-E was cleaning the floor, a mop in his claw.

“Are you doing something useful?” Steve asked him. “Did you see him? Did Master Stark come down in the middle of the night to talk to you?”

DUM-E turned, whapped Steve over the head with the broom. Beeped.

Stop asking stupid questions and get what you came for.

“Sacred island, bot,” Steve told him, rubbing his head. That stung. “Watch the language.”

If a bot could look condescending, DUM-E had managed it.

Steve packed the bag and headed back up the stairs. His asthma seemed to leap out of the mist and grass to see how he’d been doing without it, and he had to stop to dig through the bag for the medication the FX-7 had given him before he’d left the fleet. It worked, but like everything, left him dizzy and floaty feeling. And with the inevitable dread that this would not be the last time.

Climb finished, fire started, coffee made. Tony sipped from the mug with no evident delight, but the way his hands curled around the ceramics made Steve smile. Bucky had been like that, too. Hostile to daylight, until the rich liquid worked its way into his system. The smile faded as he remembered that there might be a reason for that. Bucky had been Tony’s student, once.

Before Pierce. Before Hydra.

“Tell me, Steve Rogers from nowhere,” Tony said, when his cup was empty. “What is it you know about the force?”

“Um,” Steve scrambled to get to his feet, to look competent, and eager. A worthy student. “It’s a power the Jedi have that… they can use to control people. And… make rocks float.”

“Wow,” Tony said, eyes widening as if he was impressed. “Every word you just said was wrong.”

Steve scowled. The sarcasm really wasn’t necessary.

“Okay, up here, sit down, close your eyes,” Tony said, patting an old and crumbling stone, covered with moss and bits of broken rock.

Steve obeyed with alacrity. At last! Someone to teach him… something. Anything. He hated being so confused and lost all the time, with everyone looking at him like they expected great things. He was just a kid from Brooklyn.

“Reach out--”

There was nothing, but Steve pushed his hand out into the air. Something tickled against the edge of his fingers. “Do you feel it?”

“Yes, yes, I feel--”

“That’s the Force, right there--”

“Really--”

Something sharp and thin slapped the back of his hand, like an angry teacher at school, scolding him for holding his pencil wrong. “No. Idiot.” There was Tony, hold a green reed and Steve, like the greenest of fools, had…

“Oh,” Steve said, embarrassed. “You mean reach other the other way.”

“With your feelings,” Tony said, eyes rolling.

“I’ll try again,” Steve said. Tony grabbed the hand that was still outstretched, pushed it onto the rock, fingers tented out.

“With your feelings, reach out. What do you see?”

Steve strained. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, right up until it wasn’t.

“The island.”

“And beyond the island?”

“The planet, the galaxy. Green and growing things. Life. Below it, death and decay. That in turn gives way for new life. Me. Bucky… light. Darkness.”

“And between those things?”

“A… balance. An energy. A… a force.” Steve reached. The blackness that was Bucky, standing proud and tall, his hand outstretched to take everything-- “Darkness.”

“Fight it, Steve.”

“It’s calling me,” Steve protested. “Bucky’s calling me. He needs help--”

“The Winter Soldier is beyond help,” Tony said, bitterness cracking his tone. “He’s--”

“He needs me,” Steve insisted. He reached for Bucky, reached--

Darkness grabbed him with cold hands, pulling him down in the planet, promising him answers, ease to his pain, comfort. Home.

“STEVE!”

Steve opened his eyes with a gasp. The ground under him cracked with the strain, a sharp report like a blaster going off.

“The darkness in you,” Tony said, “calls to him. And you don’t even try to fight it.” Disgusted. “The Force isn’t a power the Jedi have. It’s arrogance to think the end of the Jedi would do anything to the Force. It’s just… there. Like gravity and light and inertia and entropy. It no more lifts the rock than a lever does. It’s a tool. And you’re a fool.”

Tony stormed off again and Steve didn’t even have the strength to chase after him.

Chapter Four

Ahch-to - mid-afternoon

Steve wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, now. Master Stark wasn’t speaking to him again, and he was bored and restless.

He took up his weapon and did some practice. If nothing else, he needed to be better. He’d barely beaten back the Winter Soldier last time they’d squared off. While Master Stark might be unwilling to teach him the ways of the Force, Steve knew enough, felt it in his bones, that he would face the Winter Soldier again.

There were many places on the island that seemed designed for Force practice. Each was seeped with lore, deep in the soil and the rocks. Steve placed his feet just so, and seemed to hear voices telling him to move, just a bit, swing from the hips. A flash of children, learning there. The shape of the rock spoke of blows landed on the target.

The lightsaber called to him, and Steve didn’t bother to resist that call either. If Master Stark wanted him to learn control, he’d control the things around him.

He swung, listening to the high pitched buzz, the deep and deadly thrum of the weapon in his hand.

Steve loved it.

He wasn’t sure why, or how. The thing that had frightened him so much the first time he’d ever seen it seemed to become one with the end of his arm, seemed to be his. He practiced as the sun set over the water.

Finally, sweaty and exhausted, he turned to see Master Stark walking away. Had the Jedi been there the whole time? Steve couldn’t feel him with the Force, not the way he could feel everything else. Somehow, Master Stark had cut himself off from the Force, had sealed himself away.

Steve sighed and followed Master Stark up the hill.  (Honestly, what Steve wouldn’t give for a damn hoverbike around here?)

“Lesson two,” Master Stark said, as Steve approached, without even looking around. Stark’s cutting himself off from the Force hadn’t seemed to affect his ability to use it. “Now that they’re almost extinct, they’re romanticized, deified. If you strip away the legend, the few good deeds, and a really good catch-phrase, the legacy of the Jedi is failure, hubris. Hypocrisy.”

“That’s ridiculous, it’s not true,” Steve protested, but he was already doubting. What did he know of the Jedi? What did anyone know of the Jedi.

“It’s absolutely true,” Master Stark said. “At the height of their power, the Jedi allowed the Red Skull to rise, allowed Hydra to be formed, and everything resulted in the extreme sanction of the Jedi and most of their allies. They failed.”

“And you turned the tide,” Steve burst out. “Rebuilding, the futurist. Learning from our mistakes and moving on. Isn’t that the whole point?”

“Maybe,” Master Stark admitted. “The Avengers initiative, a handful of extraordinary people, to fight the battles that the rest of the galaxy never could. A grand idea, and like all grand ideas, doomed to failure as soon as real people got involved. As soon as the Winter Soldier got involved.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, my mistakes, I could count them for a decade and still never run out,” Master Stark said. “The Winter Soldier… he was… well, in those days, he was just Bucky Barnes. Earnest and strong, good arm, good eye. Good heart. I made the worst mistake. I fell in love.”

“What?” Steve’s voice went high and tight on him.

“Legendary Force Master,” Master Stark sneered, but it seemed he was sneering at himself more than Steve. “Too old to begin the training. The Jedi aren’t supposed to love, not individually. Not… not like I loved Bucky. He was beautiful, he was talented. He was funny, and sweet, and dedicated. I didn’t see the harm in it. We were in love. And because we were in love, I couldn’t kill him. And because I couldn’t do that… all of this. This happened. Because I was a fool. Because I didn’t know what I was doing and I thought I did. Because… because I didn’t try hard enough to be what the galaxy needed. Tony Stark, billionaire, genius, Jedi, playboy. Idiot. The whole galaxy is suffering because I had to play god.”

“What happened?”

Master Stark shook his head. “Pierce got to him, somehow. I don’t know. Tempted him. I sensed darkness in him, sometimes, while we were training. Anger. I thought it could be tempered. I was wrong. I went to confront him, had a vision. Terrible things, terrible things that he would do. By the time I said something, it was too late. He was already the Winter Soldier. My Bucky, my love, my life, he was gone. I didn’t know how to save him. He turned on me. Pulled the Temple down around my head. I guess he thought I was dead. Took a handful of my students, slaughtered the rest. Went to join Hydra.”

Stark sighed, sat down on the meditation platform. “I blamed Pierce, at first. Hydra. Everyone, except the one person who was at fault. Me. I failed him. I failed to protect him. I didn’t do enough, and he was vulnerable, and I let it go, because I loved him, and in the end, all I did was drive him away, let someone else turn him into a nightmare. The last time I saw him, he hated me. Hated everything that I was, everything I stood for. Everything we’d been together. The galaxy is where it is because I couldn’t do enough. I couldn’t love him enough to give him a reason to hold on.”

“He failed you,” Steve said, very gently. “But it’s not over. I can feel conflict in him. He wants to come home. He’s drawn to me, to you, to the Light.”

“That’s dangerously arrogant,” Master Stark said. “You think you can bring him back and all he’s doing is pulling you toward him. You see the closeness, how you’re standing near each other, and you fail to realize -- he’s the one with the knife.”

The Winter Soldier stepped out of the bath and wrapped a towel around his hips. “Is privacy not a thing for you?”

The boy, Steve, was there. “Believe me, I’d rather do this at another time.”

The Winter Soldier rolled his eyes and went on with his routine. He had wounds to think of, care to take. His arm vented a few times, letting water drain out onto the floor. The servos whined and twitched as the systems came back online.

“You’re not doing this,” the Winter Soldier said. “You’re not trained well enough, the effort would kill you. It would stop your heart to try to reach halfway across the galaxy, to what? Spy on me when I’m in the bath?” His mouth twitched, a little. Vaguely, he remembered. Gentle hands that cradled his skull, that sifted through his hair. There you are, snowflake. A fond voice. The Winter Soldier thrust it away, he wasn’t that man anymore. If he’d ever been that man to start with.

“I thought you were doing it,” Steve said. He held out one hand. “Why won’t you just come home and let us help you?”

“Us? Who is us?” the Winter Soldier demanded, gnashing his teeth together. Jealousy filled him; Steve was there, with Tony. They were us? “Did he tell you what happened? What he tried to do-- he tried to kill me. He doesn’t care about you, Steve. You should… you should go, before something happens to you.”

“No, no, Bucky. We’re trying to help you, we just--”

“Did he tell you what happened, that night?”

“Yes.”

The Winter Soldier reached, pulled at the connection between them. “No, he didn’t,” he said, finally. “He lied. Trying to protect himself, even now. The truth… depends on our point of view? Is that what he said? That we cling to ideas, reframed and represented… from a certain point of view?”

“He told me enough, he told me you tried to kill him, that you slaughtered your fellows at the Temple. He had a vision, he told me. Of what you would do.”

The Winter Soldier shook his head, let himself laugh. It wasn’t funny, it had never been funny.

“Of what he would drive me to do!” The Winter Soldier burst out. “He didn’t trust me! He came to me, full of rage, full of anger, full of fear! He saw that I would kill his parents, and he tried to stop it. He came to me, his lover, his friend, his beloved… with a weapon in hand, intent on murdering me in my sleep? What was I supposed to do? I fought back, because that’s what you do. You don’t ask why, when someone comes to kill you. You fight back.”

“You’re a liar.”

“And you’re clinging to ideals from the past,” the Winter Soldier said. “Let the past die. It’s over, it’s done. Kill it and put it out of its misery.”

Steve was weeping, and the Winter Soldier wanted to reach for him, to curl himself around that warm body, to find solace in love. He’d missed that, so much. Missed holding another person, caring about them. Having someone else who loved him.

“Let it go,” the Winter Soldier said, “and become what you are meant to be.”

Mine.    

[dyxnestrs]

Yellow Submarine

This is a short story I wrote a year or two ago, very loosely inspired by the song Yellow Submarine. I don't know how submarines work so that part is obviously not accurate. But... creative license, right?

Warning: this story is about a cult, and includes su!c!de

The old thing in the water was the color of the sun in mid-afternoon. It bobbed up and down, sending the little people inside tumbling into the cold metal sides. The waves tilted it to and fro, but people kept climbing in.

Dale Aron, the longshoreman, watched as the line of people shrunk and the number inside the submarine grew. As far as he could tell, they were smiling. He didn’t know why. It was a piece of junk.

“Dale! Quit staring and get yerself over here,” his supervisor shouted from a few ships down.

Dale nodded and blinked away the yellow.

As Dale unloaded a crate, the twenty-eighth person stepped off the dock and into the sub. It was 2:47 pm, the waves were calm, and everything was going according to plan for Earl Baldwin, the captain of the submarine.

“Well, people, we’ve finally done it. We’ve built this beautiful creature with our bare hands and sweat, and she’s gonna take us out to sea. This is everything we’ve ever wanted.”

Murmurs of approval circulated around the passengers, and Earl paced back and forth through the submarine with his hands behind his back. It had a quite peculiar interior, really. There were no beds, no seats, no tables or compartments. Each person sat against the sides, leaning into the dull grey steel. The controls were unmanned.

“Is everyone ready to set sail?” Earl asked.

The passengers nodded in unison and clasped hands with the people next to them. All but Ron Harrison, who stood up alone.

Ron Harrison was the only one who knew how to control what he called the “Yellow Beast.” He knew the buttons and knobs and wheels by heart, as he’d built them. The passengers on the sub looked up to Ron, perhaps more than they looked up to Captain Earl. They knew him, he was one of them. Earl was a god in their eyes. But Ronnie? Ronnie was their friend. He was their brother, their comrade, their teacher. They loved him like he was family.

And Earl… Earl had to treat Ron like family; Ron was the only one who knew how to steer the ship.

“Ronnie,” Daisy Bluth, age 22, began, “How long will it take to get there?”

“Couple hours, maybe more,” Ron smiled in her direction.

Daisy blushed and smoothed down her long white skirt.

“Daisy, it doesn’t matter how long it takes to get to our destination. Because once we do, our dreams will be realized, and our attainments and sins in the Earthly world won’t matter anymore. We will be happy,” Earl said.

Daisy let a grin push her cheekbones up. She liked when the captain said we.

There was a whirring and clanking, Earl closed the grey hatch and flicked on the lights, and the submarine descended into the depths.

Daisy gripped the hand of the boy next to her.

The boy next to Daisy was named Gabriel Adame, and he was starting to get sweaty palms. Daisy was the prettiest girl he’d ever held hands with.

“Do you think we’ll be able to see any cute fish?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” he said under his breath. “I think there might be sharks.”

Daisy’s hand clenched his harder.

Gabriel felt his heart thump a little faster. He didn’t like sharks.

“It’s okay. I’ll protect you.”

But he didn’t speak loud enough, and Daisy was looking at Ronnie anyway.

“Okay, people. Listen up. We’re really getting there now. Ron’s about to take us to our destination, and we’re not going any deeper.” Earl looked pointedly at the passengers looking around nervously. From inside the sub, one could see out through the thick circular windows around the sides. Gabriel anxiously searched for sharks.

Mary-Ann Greene was looking out the windows too, but not for sharks. She was searching for the beauty that her father saw in the sea. She couldn’t find it; she only saw blue and green and fish as far as she could see. She didn’t particularly like blue. She much preferred yellow. And the only time she enjoyed seeing fish was when it was dead and cooked on a plate. There wasn’t anything worth noticing in the sea, she decided. Mary-Ann sat next to her sister, Jude. Jude was a little older, 27. Jude had said once that she thought the ocean was majestic. Mary-Ann flicked a piece of dirt off her skirt, turning away from the window. The submarine began to rumble and she noticed Jakey Albertson draw his knees into his chest.

Jakey Albertson was beginning to regret his decision. He missed his mom and his brother- he wouldn’t even mind seeing his father’s constant scowl again. His mother used to make him cornbread whenever he was sad; flour would spatter the skin on her face. Their apartment was small, but every so often Jakey would be grateful for that; the smell of his mother baking in the kitchen would waft throughout every room. He wished his brother were here to talk him out of his fear. He leaned further into his knees and pretended it was his brother’s hand he was holding. Then the rumbling ceased suddenly and his head snapped up to see Captain Earl grinning toothily a few feet away from his face.

Earl was ready: he had never been more ready in his life. He was ready to exit the Earthly plane and rise into the heaven above, he was ready to be cleansed of his wrongdoings. But most of all, he was ready to be rid of Ron. Because he knew Ron was not worthy of heaven.

“Bring it to the surface, Ron.”

And Ron did as he was told, pulling levers and holding down ominous red buttons. Earl was ready. He was ready. The sub surfaced and the hatch creaked open, flooding the grey interior with sunlight.

Ron looked nervously at the black lever. He couldn’t tell if it was begging him to pull it or to leave it; it was anyone’s guess. His hand trembled, his eyesight blurred. One sentence played on repeat in his head: this is a bad idea. But he peered over his shoulder and saw Daisy staring at him with bright eyes. He couldn’t let her down. He just couldn’t. He yanked the lever towards his chest.

Saltwater. That was all there was. Emotion, ambition, possessions, they all dissolved in the sea, which was rapidly entering the submarine. The blood drained from Earl’s face; Gabriel released his grip on Daisy’s hand; Jakey screamed with every ounce of air he had left; Daisy looked at the sky one final time, eyes pleading for some deity to save her. Ronnie knew he had to atone. He’d committed a deadly sin; he’d allowed the death of the girl he loved just so she would continue to love him, too.

He leaped for her as water poured over their heads, grabbed her wrist as if it were the only thing keeping him from death. He pulled and pulled as she struggled, unaware that her flailing only brought her further from life. Ronnie dragged her to the surface, he pushed past the thick saltwater. With each stroke, the liquid felt more and more like clay. He felt Daisy writhe and turned back for only a moment to look at her; bubbles erupting from her mouth. The image only encouraged him- he swam past Earl as he tried to grab Ron’s arm and pushed his way through the open hatch. He exploded up to the surface, whipping Daisy up to let her breathe. She sputtered and shivered and clung to him as he desperately kicked his feet in an attempt to stay above the waves. Deep below him, as the Yellow Beast sank into the depths, Mary-Ann let go of the last bit of air in her lungs and saw beauty in the sea.

[ragwitch]

Halloween prompt: 14. Darcy/Daniel Sousa (from Agent Carter) Phone calls from the past.

This got longish and this got saaaaaaad which I apologize for and hope is okay

14. ‘The phone keeps ringing but no one’s there when I answer.’

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Daniel Sousa

Rating: T to low M

Warnings for feels.

The landline had come with the apartment. It was even advertised in the listing. Phone line included, long-distance billed. Darcy found this sort of whimsical and charming. Who used a landline these days? She toyed briefly with the idea of canceling her cell service, hooking up an answering machine, and going back to a simpler existence where she only took calls at home. And then she quickly tossed the idea out because that was crazy.

Either way it worked out fine because for a year, five months, and sixteen days the phone never rang and everyone that came over thought it was hilarious and listened to the dial tone for the sake of nostalgia. No big deal.

_

The first time the phone rang it was October 1st, Daniel was in her shower, and Darcy was considering joining him because he gave the best head rubs while he washed her hair. Also, because Darcy pretty much couldn’t keep her hands off him.

She jumped at the sound of bells jarring out of the wall in her living room.

Brrrrrrrrrring!

Brrrrrrrrrring!

Brrrrrrrrrring!

She stared at the old fashioned black rotary phone on it’s little wooden shelf and then shrugged. If it was a telemarketer, she would hang up. She might as well enjoy the novelty of the experience.

“Hello?” she said.

There was quiet, and soft static.

“Helloooo?” she repeated. Still nothing. Maybe her free phone line didn’t really work after all. It wasn’t like she was about to complain to the super about it.

She hung up the phone and went to find Daniel.

_

She met him that summer in the hallway. He was leaning onto his crutch, green canvas army bag over his shoulder, squinting up at the number on her door.

“Hey, you lost?” she asked, and shifted the bags of groceries off her shoulder where they were digging bruise lines into her skin.

“I…I think so,” he said, and then he turned to look at her and Darcy tried not to think about that fact that she probably had sweat stains in weird places ‘cause it was steamy hot out and she’d just lugged a week’s worth of food five blocks. And that this new guy had a jaw that could cut glass and short dark curls she wanted to dig her fingers into.

“My key says one-eighteen,” he said, and he held the tag out for her to look. “But it’s not working.”

“Oh yeah,” she said, nodding. “This happens a lot. You came for the pre-furnished apartment? It’s eleven-eight actually. Kind of a bonkers system if you ask me.”

“Uh…yeah. You got an elevator?” he asked, glancing down at his leg.

“Oh yeah,” she said. “It’s also bonkers. Lemme put these inside and I’ll show you.”

He didn’t have trouble with the old Otis manual elevator at all actually. Pulled the gate back and forth without blinking an eye, counted the floors up and knew just when to pull the lever. That probably could have been her first clue if she’d known what to look for.

_

She wondered. Of course she wondered. Was it the army? Was it the battle of New York? Prosthetic and crutch aside, Daniel was obviously carrying something on his shoulders. Some days he just seemed so…elsewhere.

They’d been in Central Park together, their first unofficial date, eating ice cream and holding hands and suddenly he had just…stopped, and stared at the skyline. She’d joined him because sometimes she forgot that she was living in New York City and just plowed through the neighborhoods like she didn’t have the time to be amazed by it all.

But then after the time stretched out she looked at him. There were lines in his forehead and something in his eyes like…like he was trying to memorize the buildings or trying to correct the view in front of him.

“Are you alright?” she asked. She was carrying things too and she didn’t want to press at places that she didn’t want pressed at either.

He looked at her, searched her face, studied her lips, and then blinked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

_

The second time the phone rang was a few days after the first. Daniel had her squeezed to his side in bed and he was patting her shoulder softly with his hand.

“Mmph.”

“Darce. Phone.”

“S’not real.”

“Phone. Phone ringing,” Daniel said, nudging her shoulder. Darcy ignored him even as the phone blared for the fifth time. “I’ll get it,” he said, and started to shift.

“Ugh,” Darcy said, and rolled out from under the covers. She wasn’t going to say so cause he wouldn’t want her thinking it, but she didn’t want him to have to limp out to the living room with his crutch while he was half-asleep.

“Darce, you’re naked,” he hissed as she shuffled out into the hall.

“Well I’m not turning the lights on,” she grumbled. She doubted anyone had the lucky timing to be looking in her living room windows at all of three o’clock in the morning.

“Hello?” she snarled into the receiver.

This time it wasn’t static. There was an intake of breath at the other end of the line.

“Hello? Who is this?”

It was quiet and Darcy wasn’t even sure if she was imagining the faint exhale. All she knew was that she was naked and there was someone breathing over her phone line and in any 1990’s teen movie that meant someone was looking in her window. So she slammed down the phone and ran back to bed where Daniel was barely managing to keep his eyes open.

“Whossit?” he asked.

“No one,” Darcy whispered and then she burrowed close against his skin.

_

Before they slept together Darcy had the sense to ask, “Hey…you’re sticking around for awhile, right?”

After all, he’d shown up at the apartment building with a duffle bag, and while he kept the little studio clean, it wasn’t super…lived in. After she’d invited him down for dinner the first time they’d just sort of…fallen in together. He was friendly, he had a dimple on his chin, and he managed the careful balance of being a gentleman without being patronizing.

The question seemed to puzzle him, or maybe it was just taking him a minute to gather his thoughts since she asked it after kissing him back into the arm of her couch and sliding his hands up inside of her t-shirt.

“As far as I know I’ve got nowhere else to be,” he said, and then he grinned and the smile reached his eyes and she was gone for him.

It was just so easy not to hear what was missing in those words.

_

Sometimes at night he would wake up from a dream, and sit up in bed, and run his hand up and down her back, big palm covering her spine.

“Nightmares?” she asked once.

“Weird dreams,” he said. “Like…like some other place. Other people. Just remembering where I am.”

So she rolled over and tugged him down to lay against her, and helped remind him.

_

The calls came, and came, and came, all month. Sometimes in the morning while Daniel was running across the street to grab them breakfast and she would ask ‘Hello?’ over and over again as she watched him from her window. Sometimes while she was cooking, and she would pick up the receiver and hang it back up again, heart pounding. Sometimes at night, while Daniel was inside her, kissing at her neck, and she would hold on tight to him and squeeze her eyes shut and they would ignore the insistent sound until it stopped again.

_

On Halloween the phone wouldn’t stop ringing. It rang all morning before she left for work. A neighbor texted at lunch threatening to break her door down and unplug it. And as she and Daniel was walked into the building together after stopping the grocery store together, they could both hear the clanging from the first floor hallway.

Darcy spun in step. “Let’s make pasta at your place tonight.”

Daniel was squinting at her door, and then back at her. “I don’t have pots. What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. Change of scenery,” Darcy said, trying to step back down the hall to the old elevator that she invariably ignored unless Daniel was there to tame it for her.

He plucked her keys off her fingers where she’d had them ready and passed her with quick steps.

“I’m just so sick of the sound!” Darcy said.

Daniel paused, key in the lock and frowned back at her and she felt a sudden burst of exhaustion as tears welled up in her eyes.

“It keeps ringing and ringing,” Darcy said, breath hiccuping. “And I swear to god, there’s someone on the line but they won’t say anything and I’m so sick of it!”

The phone was still going, blaring loudly as Daniel opened the door and hurried into the apartment, Darcy rushing to catch up with him.

“Hello?” he snapped into the receiver. “Who’s calling?”

“Daniel? Is that you?”

The voice was tinny but everything else in the apartment was silent and still and Darcy almost dropped the groceries to the floor. Daniel’s face went white and he stared straight ahead at the cream and mint striped wallpaper.

“Daniel? It’s Peggy. Is that you?”

Darcy felt her stomach turn over as he answered, “Yes. Yes it’s me. I…I’d forgotten.”

“Howard got it all wrong, Daniel,” the voice on the line said and Daniel wiped a hand down his face.

Darcy excused herself to the kitchen, heart crashing down to her toes, and even further.

_

He didn’t leave right away. They had a few more days together. Days where Darcy learned everything about who Daniel Sousa really was and where it became painfully clear all the questions she had failed to ask him while they were together. Days saying goodbye.

Darcy was joining Tony in the Howard Stark Is To Blame For My Emotional Injury club. It wasn’t Daniel’s fault his memory was scrambled in the time leap. Darcy never thought she’d say this but…Tony really was a good scientist. He found the flaw in Howard’s work right away and it had taken Jane all of two days to sort out how to send Daniel back. And the two days might have been generous stalling, a gift from a friend.

But on the third day he kissed her goodbye in the center of the lab and pulled away, lips parted, at the edge of saying something- asking to stay maybe, or asking her to come. But then his mouth shut and she stepped back and Jane set the machines whirring. And less than a minute later Daniel Sousa was gone.

That night the phone in the apartment rang.

She was out of bed and running down the hall before she’d even really finished waking up, eyes sore and puffy from crying.

“Hello?” She was catching her breath, the sound echoing over the line. “Hello?”

She waited, held her breath until her chest burned, and heard a quiet puff of air, a sigh. She tried to swallow and couldn’t manage.

“I miss you too,” she whispered. There was a long quiet, another shaky breath, harder this time, and then the line clicked dead.

[bootsandpup]

Sometimes they come with instructions

The dark side of Libit holds many secrets. One of these secrets is the AACME Haunted Toaster Factory. Once Pup bought the toaster on dBay, a mysterious fulfillment process began.

Inside the Haunted Toaster Factory, bizarre combustion engines began churning. Billowing plumes of thick, green sulfurous clouds rose into the night sky.

Thunder booms and lightning flashes illuminated the dark sky over the factory. Machines of strange design switched into high gear, working to build Pup's new toaster.

Following the booms and lightning flashes, a small robot emerged from the factory's front gate. The dBay delivery bot rolled down the path to the street. Slung over his shoulder was a mailbag filled with devices of unspeakable uses.

Actually, it was only one device and printed on the product packaging was “toasts bread, bagels, and muffins only!”

Seven to ten business days later on the sunny side of Libit, the delivery bot wheeled it’s way up to a mailbox and stopped.

“1313 Whippleword street. This looks like the place,” the bot said in a mechanical voice.

The delivery bot shoved the package in the mailbox, completing its mission.

He backed away from the mailbox, shuddered for a bit and exploded into a thousand little bits. Alien technology sure is weird.

The explosion alerted Boots that the mail was here.

Mail call for Boots began with a dance down the path avoiding the Pinchari crabgrass. Once in front of the mailbox, he prescreened the daily deliveries. First class mail on top, bulk mail to the bottom and wrong addresses back in the box with a "return to sender" label. It made Boots happy to sort through the day's mail as if it were a puzzle. He took comfort in solving the small riddles life gave him.

Something wasn't right about today's mail. Sitting among the bills and sales flyers was a package labeled “For Pup.”

The package was about the size of a breadbox, or to be more specific; a toaster.

This confused Boots. Why would Pup receive a package from the dark side of Libit? "Is Pup ordering more useless items to disturb my well-organized world?" he pondered.

Boots is quite unremarkable. He stands about 5 feet tall with a light blue complexion, small pink nose and two antennae on the top of his head. His personality was usually annoyed with a dash of high-strung thrown in for good measure.

He grew up in an average household with loving parents and an overbearing older brother. Boots dad was an accountant with a large sweater vest collection and mom a homemaker/part-time rugby coach. He spent most of his childhood and adult life living in his brother Randall's shadow.

Boots' fondest memories were of family vacations. These trips went to some of the safest and most well-traveled destinations in the galaxy.

Pup, on the other hand, grew up with traveling circus hoboes. Adopted by Unca Crusty, King of Hoboworld, Pup learned the ways of the vagabond. He discovered that a life without adventure was for chumps and beans always had a way of finding a path to your belly.

In light of these different paths growing up, Boots and Pup found a strong and lasting friendship.

Still, none of this explained the mystery package which Boots had now begun to fixate on.

Boots brought the mail into the house and began his inquisition. “Pup, you had a package delivered today,” Boots called out. There was silence. “Pup! Are you here?” Boots raised the level of his voice.

“Calm your jets, blue-boy,” Sniffles called out from the kitchen. “Pup isn’t here. He had somewhere to go. It made sense when he told me, though I forgot what he said.”

Sniffles forgets essential details about conversations he's had. Being deprived of oxygen may contribute to this memory loss.

One day Boots and Pup found Sniffles swimming alone in their pool. He didn't have any recollection of how he got there. They let him stay and pay rent, although he doesn't remember what it was he did for work.

While Boots, Pup, and Sniffles call Libit home, they weren't born here. An indigenous group of multi-colored, tentacle slinging, myopic cyclopes inhabits Libit.

“I’ll take that,” Sniffles replied as he extended his fins to grab the toaster-sized box.

“Do you know what's in there?” Boots asked, even more curious about the package's origin.

The room became dark as ominous clouds filled the outside sky.

“It toasts,” Sniffles said in a trance-like state.

The lights in the house flickered, and the sound of thunder cracked in the distance.

“What was that?” Boots asked.

“Did I say something?” Sniffles exclaimed, unaware he had spoken.

The clouds disappeared as fast as they came and the sun was shining brightly again.

Sniffles took the package to the kitchen, ignoring the rest of the conversation.

Boots would need to continue his investigation later when Pup was back.

Later that night Sniffles found himself craving a snack.

“Dinner was pretty lame tonight,” Sniffles muttered as he hopped onto the counter to look through the cupboards.

As he made his way through the stockpile of processed food, he found a can of Spiggly-O Spaghetti. For a brief moment, he thought about it.

"Ugh. Boots and his diet food," he thought as he tossed the can off to the side.

“Nothing to eat," Sniffles declared as he rummaged through the stockpiles of food.

What Sniffles didn't realize is that he was sitting on the counter next to the new toaster.

"Hey, I forgot we had this!” Sniffles said.

He began to rummage around for bread. “Here’s a loaf!” he exclaimed.

Sniffles removed the twist tie and reached into the bag. He avoided the heels and targeted the biggest slices in the bag's center.

The device wasn’t much to see. It was a shiny metallic two-slice toaster with a control knob and lever. Written on the side were the words “Ghost-o-Matic-Toast-o-Matic.”

Sniffles noticed the following settings:

1. Boring Toast

2. Forbidden Toast

Sniffles was careless and chose option 2.

Placing the slices of bread into the toaster, Sniffles began the countdown. He started to fixate on the taste of hot, crispy toast! “I hope this contraption cooks fast," he said aloud.

A strange red glow began emanating from the toaster.

The smell of searing bread began to fill the kitchen. The aroma danced about Sniffles’ nostrils like a nimble finger diving in for a good pick.

Tik-Tik-Tik-POP! The toast was ready.

“Ah, sweet toast! Where have you been all my… wait, what’s this?” Sniffles said with surprise. Burned into one side of the toast, was a message:

“BEWARE THE DOORBELL.”

“Beware the doorbell?” Sniffle read.

As if on cue; DING-DONG, the doorbell chimed.

“I’ll get it!” Sniffles exclaimed, never questioning who would be at the door this late at night.

Sniffles dropped the toast on a plate and leaped off the counter to answer the door.

DING-DONG, the doorbell rang a second time.

“Hold your horses!” Sniffles chirped as he plopped himself onto the doormat next to the umbrella holder. “I’m moving as fast as I can.” Since Sniffles is a fish he can only flop in a general direction.

As Sniffles reached for the door, it burst open! A hideous creature with many rows of fangs and flailing slimy tentacles sat at the doorway of the house. The monster thrashed and snarled, soaking Sniffles' face with hot spittles of saliva.

With all the strength Sniffles could muster, he slammed the door shut. Exhausted, he dropped against the wall breathing a heavy sigh.

“Stupid toaster," he thought. "You said beware of the doorbell, not the monster on the other side,” Sniffles muttered.

Sniffles forgot about the toast.

[band-of-bros]

Just 4 short snippets based on four different types of “I love you” as described by this post

1. Baberoe

“Gene, go back to sleep,” Babe says as he comes out of the bathroom, rubbing his hands on his pants to dry them because he was too lazy to grab a hand towel out of the cabinet and running late again, as usual.

“I wanted to see you off,” Gene says into his coffee.  Babe lights up, and Gene feels a warmth from something besides the beverage.  Babe hates his morning class, but Gene told him when it first got scheduled that he’d be awake to say goodbye each morning.  He hasn’t missed a day yet.

“But you just got off your shift like, 5 hours ago, and that doesn’t count commuting time,” Babe protests, putting a bagel into the toaster and cranking the setting up high.  Gene knows that he’ll force it to pop up halfway through, because he thinks it cooks faster this way, then burn his fingers taking it out.

“Yes, and you stayed up for me, so we got equal amounts of sleep,” Gene replies.  Then, he looks at the clock.  “You’re going to be late.”

“Oh well,” Babe says cheerfully.  “If they wanted me on time, they shouldn’t have given me an early morning class.”  True to form, he forces the lever of the toaster up to get his bagel early, then messily smears cream cheese on both halves and smashes them together.  He then rushes around the counter to kiss Gene’s cheek.

“Love you, see you later!”

Babe has always handed out his love freely and generously.  He is constantly telling his friends and family that he loves them, and since the first time he told Eugene while they were dating and made clear that it was in a romantic way, not just platonic, he keeps saying it at every opportunity.  Gene loves it.  It feels natural, and always causes him to smile.

“Love you, too, Babe.”

2. Speirton

“I love you,” Ron says softly.  The words still feel odd in his mouth, although the feeling behind them has been there since the beginning.  Carwood catches his eyes in the bathroom mirror he’s standing in front of to brush his teeth and smiles.  Ron loves this smile.  It’s unbelievably soft and genuine in a way that only appears in quiet moments like this, when the stars have been hung in the sky and Ron is the only one around.  Carwood shares his smiles with everyone, so it makes Ron feel warm all over when he gets one meant just for him.

He’s so lucky to have moments like this.

They’re calm and relaxed in a way that he used to think impossible for him, but somehow, Carwood manages to make everything quiet.  It’s an unexpected effect for a person to have on him.  But, of course, falling in love was unexpected, too.

Ron never quite thought he would fall in love, and find someone to love him back.  He’s always been feared and respected, and while he never minded that, it never paved the way for close personal relationships either.  Carwood is the first person who ever bothered to look beyond his preconceived notions of Ron and decide he wanted to give his heart to what he saw, and somehow, Ron found himself giving his heart right back.

He’s not sure how it happened, but that fact doesn’t even bother him anymore.  Carwood is easy to love.  The man gives comfort and contentment wherever he goes.  If there was anyone Ron was going to fall for, it would be Carwood.

That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t still surprise him when he utters that phrase.

Sometimes it seems to leap out of his mouth unbidden, like when Carwood is wearing something particularly beautiful and the sunlight makes his golden hair look like a halo.  Then, Carwood blushes, and Ron knows that even though the phrase might still feel unfamiliar, he’s never meant anything more.

Carwood finishes brushing his teeth and slips under the covers of their bed.  He leans over and kisses Ron softly.  It’s sweet and perfect.  A balloon of happiness fills Ron’s chest, and he’s worried it’s going to grow too big and burst.

“I love you, too,” Carwood says against his lips before turning off the lamp on the bedside table and lying down.  Ron moves closer and Carwood immediately opens his arms.  They both act as space heaters while sleeping, so they’ll move to opposite sides of the bed by the middle of the night, but for now Ron is content with the feeling of love in his chest and Carwood’s arms around him.

3. Webgott

“Web?” Joe asks, glancing over at the man lying next to him.  There’s no reply save for deep breathing, but Joe hadn’t expected there to be.  The clock reads 3 am.  Web had seemed decently sleepy earlier, and that was before the sex.

That used to be all there was to them.  Webster is insanely attractive, and their arguing creates enough sexual tension that it really was no surprise the first time they hooked up.  Since then, though, something has changed.  

It started with Web staying over, looking at home sitting at Joe’s kitchen counter in the mornings, wearing Joe’s clothes when he leaves and claiming a toothbrush as his own in the bathroom.  It continued with Joe picking Webster up from class to go get something to eat and maybe catch a movie, late night drives that end with Web passed out in the passenger seat with one of his Spotify playlists hooked up in Joe’s car, biting comments that sound more flirtatious than malicious now.  They spend time just sitting together on the couch, Webster with his feet in Joe’s lap reading while the other flips through channels on the TV until they both get bored or tired and move to the bedroom.

Sometimes, Joe looks at Webster and his breath gets caught in his throat.  It’ll happen at the most random of times: while the other is falling asleep while trying to cook eggs early in the morning, laughing at something clever Joe has said, staring enraptured at a shark documentary on TV, or ranting about the finer points of a novel Joe probably had to read for school but never actually bothered to.  It’s weird, that little hiccup in his heartbeat.  He can’t remember it happening with anyone else before.

Joe doesn’t know what this feeling is, but he knows that it’s more than what this started as.

Joe doesn’t know what love is, but he thinks this might be it.

“David?”

Again, no response but breathing.  And then, because he wonders what it sounds like, he whispers

“I love you.”

Web stirs slightly, but remains firmly asleep.  Joe doesn’t know if he’s glad or disappointed.

The night has put a heavy blanket of fog over his thoughts, but he’s aware enough to know that the words seem right.  He turns towards Webster and reaches out a hand, lacing their fingers together.  Web shifts slightly again, but only to get a better grip.  Joe squeezes his fingers once, then lets sleep overcome him.

4. Winnix

One of Dick’s favorite times of day is the evening walk with Lew and Ralph.  Lew is the kind of person who forgets that he likes being outdoors until he actually is, and one of the only ways Dick can coax him out for a walk or to the park is by using the dog as persuasion.  That’s the main reason Dick agreed to get one.  It had nothing to do with the look of pure joy on Lew’s face when Dick finally told him they were going to the shelter to see who they could take home.

Lew got attached to Ralph the moment he saw the huge St. Bernard, and he would do anything for that dog.  Hence their evening walks: Ralph needs the exercise, and it’s the perfect time to unwind, breathe the fresh air, and just spend time together.  Dick loves nothing better than to give Lewis the leash and lace their fingers together, walking past their neighbors and up through the park to a hill with a good view of the sunset.  Sometimes they stop to talk to neighbors, and sometimes they just engage in small talk or comfortable silence with each other until they reach their destination.

When they arrive at their usual spot on the hill, Lew plops down with a huff, and Ralph immediately starts to lick his face.

“Okay, buddy, I love you too,” he laughs.  Dick can’t help his lips quirking up.  Lew sees this and smiles.

“I think we should get another dog, so you can get doggie kisses, too,” he says.

“I think you would just take all of those doggie kisses for yourself,” Dick laughs, sitting down next to him.

“You’re not wrong,” Lew says.  “But don’t worry, Dick.  You get all of my human kisses.”

“Well that’s a relief.”  Dick takes a moment to steal one before reaching over to run his fingers in Ralph’s fur.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to eventually getting another dog if you really wanted one,” he says after a moment.  “But I think we need to take things one step at a time.”

“What’s the next step, if it’s not getting another dog?  We should probably get married before we start prepping for kids,” Lewis laughs, massaging Ralph’s ears.

“Well, now that you mention it…”

Dick can pinpoint the exact moment Lew processes what he said and goes still.  When he turns to look at him, Dick has the ring he’s been carrying around in his pocket for the past few days in his hand.

“I love you, Lew.  By now it’s clear that we’re both in this for the long run, so why not make it official?” he asks.  “Half of our neighbors already think we’re married.  I’d like to take that next step, if you’ll have me.”

Lewis stares at his face, then at the ring, then back at his face.

“You’re proposing.  You’re actually proposing right now.”

“I am,” he says.  He’s starting to sweat, and he hopes Lew doesn’t notice.

He hopes Lew says yes.  What if it’s not the right time?  What if Lew swore off marriage forever after his divorce from Kathy?  Lewis had insisted that Dick also be named as an owner of Ralph, so he had taken that as an indication that Lew also pictured them being together until the end, but what if he was wrong?

“To me?” Lew squeaks.

“Of course.” he answers.  There’s another moment where Lew just stares at him, before a huge grin splits his face.

“Yes!” he laughs.  “Yes, yes, yes, of course!”  Then he literally tackles Dick in a hug.  Dick doesn’t mind, though.  He’s laughing, too, and feels as if he’s going to burst from the joy filling him.  Ralph starts barking, adding to the noise.

“We’re engaged,” Lewis says when he finally lifts his head out of the crook of Dick’s neck.  “We’re actually engaged.  I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my entire life.”

“Me neither,” Dick says, and he means it.

“I love you,” Lew says, and his eyes are shining.

“I love you, too,” Dick says.  When they finally get off the ground and Dick gets the ring on Lew’s finger, they both say it a few more times, until Dick feels like they’re shouting it to the whole world and everyone must know if they didn’t already.  He squeezes Lew’s hand and says it one more time, just to be sure.

[solomonara]

@thatgirlonstage mentioned they wouldn’t mind reading some bits I cut out of Ends, Means, and In-Betweens so I’ll just leave it here, under a cut because it’s long (really, you’ll see why I cut it out of the fic...) Keep in mind that this part didn’t even make it to beta-reading!

A glint of red and a flash of yellow and it was gone, but it was enough. Teekl had been watching him sleep. Nightwing felt a little shiver go down his spine as he slowly stood, his back against the trunk of the tree, senses straining for any hint of the cat's presence. There was no doubt he'd been caught with his guard down, but Teekl hadn't attacked, and somehow that made him even more nervous.

At the same time, though, he felt relieved. Wherever he was, time was clearly moving again. He was hungry and thirsty and had no idea what was safe and what wasn't on this island. And not the first hint of how to get home. If Klarion had simply planned to leave him here, that could very well have been it for his illustrious career as Nightwing. But if Teekl was here, then he had something to work with.

Something deadly, magical, and demonic to work with.

A rustle to his left and Nightwing let a few of his precious supply of batarangs fly. Teekl leapt into view, dodging them neatly to land on a tree limb above Nightwing. She licked a paw delicately, then turned her tail up at him and vanished into the foliage. Nightwing went after her, barely pausing to think about it. If he could land a hit on her, Klarion would show himself. Or, on the off chance that this whole island was some fever dream cooked up by a spell, damaging the cat might dis-spell it. Yes, there was the possibility that Teekl might suddenly turn tiger sized and swallow him whole or something, but— there!

Nightwing changed direction abruptly to cut Teekl off mid-leap, making an ill-advised grab for the cat. She evaded his grasp – whether through magic or general cattishness, Nightwing would never know – and skittered down a tree trunk. Nightwing anchored a line and unreeled it faster than was strictly advisable to meet her on the roiling ground, but she was already several yards away, hopping from earth-wave to earth-wave with more grace than Nightwing could manage in his present state. He lurched after her.

What followed was a merry chase for Teekl and a frustrating one for Nightwing. She wove between trees, dove behind boulders on the beach, squeezed through crevasses she shouldn't have fit through, and darted around blind corners that left Nightwing teetering on the edge of some abrupt ravine more times than could be called coincidence. His skill saved him from any serious injury, but not from the embarrassment of being repeatedly bested by a cat.

Eventually he lost her. Given his injuries and exhaustion, he suspected it hadn't happened sooner only because Teekl was enjoying herself. He leaned against a tree to catch his breath, placing his feet carefully on the knobbly roots so that he'd rise with it when the land rippled. The light was taking on a distinctly blue cast, which was as close to dark as it ever got around here. His nap felt like it had happened days ago. Nightwing was just wondering if he dared sleep with Teekl potentially on the prowl when the cat dropped straight out of the tree above him and landed on his shoulder.

"AH!" Nightwing couldn't help shouting as he threw himself to the side. Teekl dug her claws in and thrust her head against Nightwing's, purring loudly. Nightwing froze. Her claws weren't hurting him; they seemed to be normal cat claws at the moment and his uniform was tough enough for that. But he had a demon cat in close proximity to his head and he wasn't exactly sure how to handle that.

Teekl licked his hair.

"Okaaaaay," Nightwing said softly. He raised his hands slowly. "Nice kitty. Nice demon kitty. Let me just…" He levered his hands under Teekl's belly and lifted cautiously. Her legs stretched as her claws refused to unhook and she purred louder. Nightwing moved one hand to each of her paws, gently unhooking them in turn while still lifting with the other hand. As soon as the last paw was free, Teekl contorted herself and then was, somehow, in the crook of Nightwing's arm, rubbing her head into his armpit. He looked down at her with wide eyes, free hand sliding ever so slowly toward his utility belt. She looked up at him, blinked once, and said "Mow."

Nightwing sighed. The hand that had been edging for rope or a batarang stopped and came back up to scratch her ears instead. "Yeah, I can't hurt you like this. You win, cat."

Teekl squeezed her eyes at him and made herself more comfortable. Nightwing rolled his eyes. Just because he wasn't going to hurt the creature didn't mean he was going to carry her around. Still moving gingerly in case she suddenly remembered he was an enemy, Nightwing bent and deposited Teekl on the ground. She immediately twined around and through his ankles, throwing her bulk against his legs. That combined with a groundswell almost tipped him and he scowled at her before leaping to a low-hanging branch to get away from the strange sensation of constantly-moving earth.

Teekl followed him with an easy jump, then proceeded to tail him, mewling piteously all the way as he levered himself up through the trees to the steadier upper branches. He finally rolled his eyes and stopped, turning back to her on one of the wider branches.

"Fine!" he said, bending to pick her back up. She promptly slinked out of his grasp, marched three paces away, and graced him with a contemptuous stare and a haughty sniff. Nightwing threw his hands up and continued on his way. Seconds later he heard her behind him again, a constant feline murmur tickling his ears. Cats.

Not that he had anywhere in particular to go or anything important to do. He glanced down at the long rent down the forearm of his suit. The cut Klarion had given him was still an angry red but the liquid bandage he'd applied had held even through his ill-advised acrobatic romp through the forest. His shoulder was not so forgiving, but it only felt deeply bruised so he wasn't concerned.

What really bothered him was the fact that the distress beacon in his suit had been thoroughly disabled by Klarion's knife. The beacon's trigger was housed in the palm of the gauntlet for easy access: he could activate it even if his hands were tied. It was powered by a kinetic battery that charged with motion, but the power circuit wound around the wrist of the gauntlet and had been neatly severed. Nightwing was definitely including redundancies in his next iteration of the costume. He wasn't sure the beacon would be any sort of useful right now, but for all he knew he was on a planet in his home dimension and there were any number of intergalactic peacekeepers who might pick up a distress beacon even if they didn't know specifically whose it was. He would have been thrilled to see a Lantern of any color right about now.

Nightwing's stomach gave him a loud reminder that rescue or escape would soon be a secondary concern next to survival and he stopped abruptly. What was he doing? He should be conserving energy. He moved to the trunk of the tree he was currently wandering and sat. Then, because he might as well, he slid all the way down to lie flat on the branch, staring up at the leaves with his arms dangling over the sides of the branch.

"What the hell am I gonna do?" he wondered aloud. Teekl took the opportunity to step directly on his diaphragm with one paw that somehow concentrated all of her weight (plus a few tons) into one point. "Ack! Get off, you stupid cat," Nightwing said, sitting up to bat her away. She ended up in his lap. His stomach growled at her and she gave it an astonished look. "I don't suppose you could make yourself useful and go fetch me a cheeseburger from Earth or something?" Nightwing asked hopelessly. "Or hey, show me how to get home. You have to have a way on and off this island, right? Klarion wouldn't trap you here with me." Heck, Klarion himself showing up would be something, though after what he'd said last time Nightwing had seen him, he seriously doubted that anything he could say would make Klarion take him back to Earth. "Man, why'd the Joker have to go and piss him off that badly," Nightwing muttered. Teekl swiveled one ear, then the other.

Then she bolted, launching herself from Nightwing in a sudden burst of claws and coiled energy. "Hey!" Nightwing protested, scrambling forward to chase her. Was she actually going to show him a way off the island? But he didn't make it four steps before realizing that he'd already lost her. She was just gone; not a rustle of foliage or a glimpse of fur to point the way. Nightwing sat back down. Back to square negative one.

--

Hunger woke Nightwing when the sky was grass green, making the forest canopy seem extra verdant, like a champagne bottle with a candle inside.

"I know, I know," he told his stomach. It was getting on toward the point where he was going to have to start sampling foliage and hope it didn't poison him. "Not a lot I can… what's this?" Lined up in front of him on the branch was a row of fist-sized somethings. They looked kind of like pale white potatoes with a bad case of boils. Nightwing stared at them in consternation, eyebrows lowering as his brain tried to figure out what these were and where they had come from while his stomach argued strongly for licking them to see if they killed him.

"Mrr," said Teekl from behind him and Nightwing almost fell off the branch. The demon cat didn't seem to notice. She rubbed against his back, then slithered under his arm and into his lap, where she sat and looked up at him expectantly.

"What?" Nightwing asked.

Teekl looked at the potato-things, then back up at Nightwing. "Mow." When Nightwing didn't seem to understand, she lashed her tail, stepped daintly off of his legs, took one of the knobbly things in her mouth and deposited it where she had just been sitting. "Mow."

Nightwing picked it up. It fit neatly in his palm and weighed far less than it looked. "I don't understand what you want me to do with this."

Teekl's tail whipped around again and she let out a slightly distressed yowl, reaching up to bat the not-potato in Nighwing's hand. Then she turned and picked up the next one in the line in her mouth. She flopped over on her side, curling around the mystery thing and gnawing on it while hugging it with her front paws and kicking it with her hind paws. She gave it a few vicious bites, strange pink juice welling up where her teeth punctured it. She twisted back to her feet, licked up the juice, then nudged the whatever-it-was toward Nightwing with her nose.

"Are you… feeding me?"

"Mow-oh-wao," Teekl said, and this time it was obvious that she meant "You are a large, dumb kitten who has never been taught to hunt properly so it falls to me to feed you."

Well… she had licked the juice herself. And if Klarion was planning on killing him, this would be a very strange way of doing it. More likely this was some sort of hallucinogenic or cursed potato, and Nightwing would probably survive that. It beat starving to death.

He bit into the cryptic tuber. It tasted like a cross between a water chestnut and an apple, with a hint of ginger. Teekl crawled back into his lap and began rumbling happily while he waited to see if he'd been poisoned. He started to pet her idly while he waited, but his gloves were sticky with juice. Teekl shook her head rapidly when he tried, then turned over on her back and grabbed his wrist with her paws. Her tongue flicked out and she methodically cleaned his fingers. Nightwing blinked. It was possible he was hallucinating, but he wasn't sure.

Half an hour went by, and Nightwing felt fine. So did Teekl. She was napping. He decided he had not been poisoned and ate the rest of the… apple-tato, he decided… and likewise devoured the others within reach. Teekl opened her eyes when he finished the last one and leapt to her feet with a happy mrow and darted off into the trees again. Nightwing frowned after her, not sure what to make of it but knowing he couldn't keep up with her if she didn't want to be followed.

Except, it seemed, she did want to be followed. After a few moments she reappeared, ran at him, then just as quickly changed direction and ran off. She had to do that twice more before he got the idea and chased after her.

At first, he thought she wanted to show him something. But it rapidly became clear that she was… playing. She'd let him draw close, then vanish and pounce on him from behind, nearly giving him a heart attack the first few times she did it since Nightwing still wasn't convinced she wasn't planning to eat him. But eventually he gave in and decided to look at it as a training exercise. And, well, it wouldn't hurt if Klarion's demon cat decided she liked him.

They scrambled around the forest for a while, and Nightwing became better at keeping his eyes on her, making it more difficult for her to slip away from him. When she did, he was also getting better at holding still and waiting for the last second before dodging out of the way so that she went sailing past his shoulder when she pounced. She seemed delighted. Eventually, though, she decided that she'd had enough of being chased and turned around mid-bound to dart at his ankles.

Nightwing somersaulted out of the way and landed on a higher branch in a crouch. "What's that about?" he asked her. She looked up at him, backed up slightly, raised her butt in the air and wiggled it as she coiled all her muscle into her hind legs, then launched herself at him. He moved out of the way easily. "Oh, my turn, huh?" he asked. He considered not playing along. His shoulder was aching and he was tiring. But on the other hand… he kind of wanted to see how he did against her. "All right, you're on." And he dropped straight off the branch, eliciting a startled meow from Teekl.