#like how when the moon crosses over the sun you can’t see its craters << /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[nyatem]

Why is bro starin at me dawg

Sorry I drew him AGAIN it doesn’t even look like bim but ., just pretend ok it’s like he becomes a supernatural creacher when he “ascends” or something 😭😭

(Also this was inspired by today’s solar eclipse :3)

[ladynightmare913]

Red Rose, Blood Moon

Welcome to Chapter 10! This is an Original Story inspired by the tale of Red Riding Hood. I would like to say a special thank to my best friend and co-author Olivia ( @asunshinepuff​​ ) for joining me on writing this world onto paper. 

This story contains only original characters created by Olivia and myself. For those of you who want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask to me or Olivia on her blog. If you have any questions, theories, or curiosities about any of our characters or how the story will progress, send them to the ask box! 

I wrote this chapter while listening to this song, hope you enjoy!

Now without Further Adieu!

Chapter 10: The Lady of the Woods

800

Red walked slowly through the winter woods. The sun was high in the sky. For some strange reason, it always snowed here. Not that he minded. The cold kept people out. 

He paused in his tracks, catching the scent of distress in the winter air. Frowning, he followed the scent. It led him to a tree where a beautiful gold doe was caught in a trap. The Golden Doe, he realized. His eyes fell to its hind leg, tied by a rope. 

The doe grew frantic, which didn’t surprise Red. Most animals ran away in fear of him. He stared at the doe for a moment. If he ate her meat, perhaps it would cure him from his pain when he transforms every full moon. The doe’s eyes locked onto his. They were a deep brown, almost pleading to let her go. 

Luara’s voice filled his thoughts. Nothing on earth can break this spell. Even if her meat could cure him of pain, he would still be cursed. With a sigh, he slowly approached the doe.  

“Please don’t kick me in the face.” He pleaded. 

The doe’s head tilted, her eyes blinking curiously at him. Red untied the rope as slowly as he could. He really didn’t want to get kicked in the face. With the last knot untied, he backed away slowly. 

“There, you’re free.” 

The doe stared at him for a few moments, before she sprinted to the trees. Red glared at the trap. He thought of destroying it. But thought of something better. Maybe it would even discourage the hunters from hunting the Golden Doe. He smirked. 

When the sounds of bewildered and outraged hunters echoed through the woods, Red only laughed in mirth. 

Red saw the doe again after a particularly harsh full moon. He was chased by hunters, which he eventually escaped. She approached him, with two spotted fawns at her side. He blinked in surprise. Animals stood clear from Red, not walking right up to him, with their offspring no less. 

“Are they your fawns?” He spoke softly, he sat on the snow, his legs crossed, the two fawns were sniffing his air. 

The golden doe shook her head, Red raised a quizzical brow, she understood him, she looked behind her, towards the village. Ah, their mother must’ve been hunted. 

“Their mother… ” 

The doe’s ears perked up, she watched the fawns nuzzling him. The doe and fawns stayed for a long time, and when the sun began to set, the group of deer left. Red rose to his feet and returned to his trek up the mountain. 

The trees began to thin out the higher he went, the air grew colder, and the peak of the mountain was covered by snowfall. Red walked into a cave that he found years ago when he wandered the snowy woods. The mouth of the cave was large enough for Red’s monstrous form to fit through easily. 

The cave echoed with the sound of dripping water, the ground going a slight downward slope. At the exit, the stone ground gave way to the snow fall that fell through the gaping hole at the back of the mountain. There were few trees near the edges of the crater of the mountain, a small creak trickled down the crater walls into a slow stream that would eventually make its way down to the forest. 

Near the center of the crater, was what looked like a cottage being constructed. Lumbar laid across the snow, tools littered the beams and a dagger sticking out from the trunk of a nearby tree. And there the wolf stayed. 

A century passed, Red continued to tamper with the traps that hunters would for the Golden Doe. It was the night of the full moon, Red had shifted into his beastly form. He walked leisurely through the tree of the forest. Ears perking up, his head turning towards the sound. There the Golden Doe stood, sniffing the air as the two immortal creatures locked eyes. The black wolf with glowing gold eyes huffed before it continued on with its walk.

The doe trotted after the wolf, before eventually walking beside Red. The wolf didn’t mind the company. So they walked together in silence, and if a few hunters returned to the village screaming in terror, the doe pranced around the wolf happily. 

When dawn arrived, the doe watched in nervousness as she watched the wolf laying on its side as it whimpered in pain. Her ears perked, her brown eyes wide as she looked at the man before her where the wolf once was. He was completely still. Tilting her head, she nuzzled his face, giving a few licks. Red groaned as he opened an icey blue eye. The doe bucked happily. 

Red looked over the newest trap laid out for the doe, only shaking his head as he disarmed it. A twig snapped, Red turned. The golden doe froze, ears perked up. Red relaxed.  

“Come to say hello?” 

The doe didn’t nod her head as usual, choosing to walk towards him. Red crouched down to see if perhaps she had been wounded. The doe backed a few steps away, he looked at her in wonder. The doe simply lowered her head, as if in a bow. A soft gold light began to emanate from her, steadily growing brighter, He had to shield his eyes. 

He looked once the light had faded, eyes widened as he gazed upon a young woman who stood where the doe did. She had curled rich chocolate brown hair with shimmering gold streaks. Her hair was long, nearly reaching her knees, she had fair skin and chocolate eyes. Her lips were gold, she wore a long slim form fitting golden gown with flowy sleeves at the end, the hem of her dress and sleeves turned from gold to a pearl white, a train trailing behind, the dress sparkled gently in sunlight. On her shoulders was a transparent white cloak with shimmering golden tree branches with leaves at the top, as if stitched with gold silk. Her feet were bare, and on her neck was a necklace with two golden antlers and a ruby at the center. She smiled at him.

Red gave a dazed smile in return, he slowly walked around her, studying her new form, very much like how an animal would circle it’s prey. But Red had no intention of causing harm, he was pleasantly surprised. He paused, giving a soft chuckle. 

“I take it this isn’t new?”  

The doe, now a woman, shook her head gently. She opened her arms wide, the sleeves hanging, twirling slowly, when she faced him again, her smile was beaming. Red starred in perplexity. She only gave a silent laugh, quickly walking up to him. Giving him a hug. Red tensed. 

The woman’s eyes widen, quickly pulling away, looking over in concern. Red gave a meek smile. “It’s alright, I just wasn’t expecting it.” 

The woman gave a silent huff. Red tilted his head in wonder. The woman tilted her head, mirroring him. A playful smile on her lips.  

“What do I call you?” He asked, straightening his head. 

The woman hmm silently, putting a finger to her lips as she gathered her thoughts. Her eyes darting side to side, she pouted, shrugging her shoulders with a smile. Red huffed a laugh. 

“Very, well. How about I call you Milady for now?” 

The woman made an ‘oh’ expression, her hands clasped together, nodding her head. Red shook his head in amusement at her infectious joy. The woman joined him on his walk through the snowy woods. And they continued to walk together through the centuries.

It was a sunny day, the birds sang their songs, the bears were waking for the upcoming spring, it was the beginning of Red’s second century as a cursed wolf. But no matter if it was spring or summer, it always snowed. Red suspected the Golden Doe had something to do with it. 

It was a rough moon, his muscles protested whenever he tried to get up. Ever since the Golden Doe had taken to him, shifting into his monstrous form, her presence always calmed the beast. Keeping him company and steering him clear of wandering travelers. He hadn’t had another ‘accident’ since Bardolph, but he didn’t trust himself around other humans. 

She was in her human form now, tending to his aching bones. She frowned whenever she saw the black wolf mark on his chest. Red never met her knowing gaze. She knew what it was. She pointed at it, always giving him a questioning gaze. He would only sigh before he left her with no answer. This time, she only glared at it. 

“I deserved it.” He spoke at last. 

She didn’t look at him, only continued to gently place crushed herbs to dress his wound. Which he had noticed his wounds were beginning to heal faster each time. Her brows only raised in skepticism. As if she didn’t believe it for a second. 

“It’s true. I killed an innocent creature and now I pay the price.” In response, she gave him an unimpressed glare. Shaking her head, she finished her task. She stood up, looking over to him expectantly. She wanted him to stand. He did. 

Her hands pressed against her chest, then to his. She backed away, the same gold light from before emanated from her, and she was a doe once more. She walked around him, then reverted back to her human appearance. She smiled as she pointed at him. He frowned. 

“I can’t shift outside of the moon.” 

She promptly rolled her eyes, as if the details of the curse were irrelevant to her. Again she pointed at him. Rolling his eyes, he decided to indulge her. He closed his eyes, the mark on his chest snarled, his heart began to feel as if it was being crushed, his eyes snapped open. “I can’t.” 

She frowned. She walked closer to him, poking at the mark on his chest. Glaring up at him. He glared back. “It hurts.” 

Her gaze softened, but she poked him again. The wolf mark moved, as if to bite her finger, she only glared at it. Red tried again. He pushed himself farther, he screamed in pain. He unknowingly growled, blood dripping from his mouth. The Golden Doe pulled him into an embrace, begging him to stop, she was crying. Red was crying too. 

She never brought it up again. But Red felt, something. So continued to try to shift outside of the moon. The Golden Doe was there every time, stopping him before she felt his heart would burst. 

Years passed, the creatures of the Snowy Woods no longer feared him, not with the Golden Doe’s influence. Always bringing injured animals to him, and newborns. Red didn’t understand at first, but soon the animals would come to him on their own. As if they knew he belonged in their forest. 

It was dark, it was always dark in the woods at night. Red didn’t mind, he could see just fine. He was returning to his cave when the Golden Doe approached him. She looked distressed, so wordlessly he followed her. She led him into the thickest part of the woods, and there, a young boy was alone. He was crying. Red frowned, the boy was clearly lost. He looked to the doe beside him. 

The doe’s ears perked up, nuzzling his face. Stay. Watch. She walked out of the brush, startling the boy. He gasped at the sight of the beautiful doe. Red silently chuckled as he watched from a distance. The doe gently nuzzled the boy’s face, bringing out a smile. She pranced around the child in a circle, the boy’s tears dried as he laughed. 

She walked ahead of the boy, turning her head to look at the child. Ears perking up, her tail wagged gently. The child giggled quickly chasing after the doe. Red followed them at a distance. The child’s laughter echoed throughout the forest the entire way back to his village. The boy ran off when he saw the village lanterns on, his name being called. 

The doe only returned into the forest once the boy was in his mother’s arms. She shifted back into her human form as she approached Red. A fond smile on her lips as she looked out to the reunited mother and son. It was the same fond smile his own mother used to give him.

“Do you have children?” He found himself asking. Curious, she was clearly older than he was, and she was always so nurturing to animals of the forest. If she did, it wouldn’t surprise him. 

Her eyes widened as she turned to look at him, she quickly shook her, then paused. Her lips formed a thin line as she seemed to rethink her answer. She perked up, forming an answer. She turned back to the forest, her hand motioning inside it, then bringing to her chest, over her heart. A radiant smile. Ah.

“The entire woods are your children?” He chuckled, amused.

Her eyes closed as she bowed her head. That was a yes. Red bowed his in return. “Well my lady, let’s return home.” She only smiled brighter, walking ahead. Red wondered if she ever stopped smiling. 

Another century passed, people began to have sightings of a beautiful maiden living within the Snowy Woods, ruling over the forest. Dressed in regal white and gold, a gold antler necklace with a ruby at the center. Some say they saw her helping lost travelers find their way out of the mysterious snowy woods. Others say she appeared out of thin air near Norwich, and was kept prisoner by the beast that lived on the mountain. Keeping the villagers safe with her sacrifice. They named her the Lady of the Woods. Red would always burst into satirical laughter. 

“I supposed calling you Milady was quite fitting.” He said one sunny winter’s day. They sat on a large boulder looking over the new village that was being built beside her forest. They were right after all, the other humans, this was her forest. She simply allowed Red to live within her domain. She smacked his arm reproachfully. 

“They call you Lady of the Woods and yet they still hunt for your head.” Red stated as he looked at her. “They don’t even know you and the Golden Doe are one and the same.” 

She simply sighed, she couldn’t deny that it was indeed exhausting always running away from the very people who wished for her protection, and still hunted her. But she never held a grudge towards the humans. She stilled, a wide grin forming. Red internally groaned. Not again, not another idea. 

“No, no, get that look off your face. Remember the last time you had one of your crazed ideas?” He raised a brow. She pouted but otherwise ignored him. She grabbed onto his arm, pulling him along as she walked towards the edge of the forest. Stopping to point at the village all while looking at him with a smile. Red looked between her and the village.  

“You want to go to the village?” 

She shook her, poking at his chest, then back to the village. 

“You want me to go to the village?” He raised a skeptical brow. 

She rolled her eyes as she nodded, her hands mentioned in a circular fashion, as if to say, and further. Red looked annoyed. 

“You want me to go to the village, and further?” He received an excited nod. He frowned in irritation. “Why? You go, this was your idea.” 

She sighed with a pout. Both her hands land to her chest, then point to the ground. She puffed out a breath of air, blowing the hair from her face. She repeated her action when he didn’t speak. Finally he understood when she moved her hands to form a tree. I can’t leave the forest.

“You may not be able to leave, what makes you think I would want to. I know humans, and we are not the best creatures out there. Trust me, I know.” 

She raised her hands to face and grunted. Glaring at him, she lifted his shirt and poked the wolf mark on his chest. 

“Wolf.” He supplied the words for her. She nodded, then pointed to the village. 

“I am not going to the village on a full moon.” 

He knew that wasn’t what she meant, but it was too easy to rile his friend up. Her hand landed on her forehead, a deep sigh leaving her. Her eyes peaked through her fingers. She repeated her actions. 

“Village.” She nodded, and pointed again. “House?” She shook her head, motioning between them, their arms and legs. “People?” She nodded. Twirling her wrist for him to continue. “Human?” 

She snapped her fingers. She repeated her hand expressions once more, to the wolf on his chest,  the village, and back to him. Shaking her head. 

“You don’t want me to go because I am a human?” 

She shook her head again. She pointed again to the wolf. Finally, Red understood. 

“You want me to go because I am not human?” He spoke lowly. 

She nodded, tapped her head. She had used that hand motion before. Forgotten. 

“I am human.” He received a gentle shake of her head. Red’s shoulders fell. He knew Luara had cursed him, and that he could no longer die, or age. But he still slept, and ate. Had the curse turned him from a human into a complete monster? 

She shook her head again, her arms crossed, as if to hold something, then pointed to the village, then nodded her head. Then she pointed to the wolf on his chest, pointed to the village, and shook her head. She touched her chest, over her heart and to her head, then back to him. Red understood. He wasn’t human more, but in a way he still was. Just not physically anymore. 

He didn’t say anything more, and she didn’t press further. They returned back to the forest. Two days later, she sent Red off with a radiant smile as he left the forest. Where he was going or when he would return, neither of them knew. Only it was beyond Norwich. The Golden Doe waited for her friend, days turning into weeks, weeks to months, months, into years. Time was different for the two of them. They were immortals in an ever changing world. And Red always returned. 

Two centuries passed, Red traveled to many different lands, learned different cultures and learned many different things. Traveling brought him peace. Reminding him how to be human. At least in how to act like one, given that he was no longer human, but more animal.

The Golden Doe raced across the path up the snowy mountain, a group of hunters on horses and dogs chasing after her. The doe stopped in her tracks as a group of hunters blocked her way to the snowy woods. Her ears flatten as she runs in another direction. 

She knew they were herding her to a trap. It was only moments later that she was a stone wall in her path. The doe looked to the hunters gathering behind her, her back to the wall. 

The dogs barked as they got closer. The hunters dismounted. The doe only watched as they made their way closer. And stopped. The doe’s ears perked up at the sound of  running hoofbeats. Looking up from the wall above, a herd of red deer jumped from the ledge, pushing the bewildered hunters back. If the doe could chuckle in her form, she would be. The dogs chased after the many deer, the hunters tried calling for them. The Golden Doe pranced her way from the hunters before they noticed. 

Once safely inside the woods, she shifted to her human appearance, laughing silently at the dazed hunters. 

“That never gets old.” 

Her eyes widened, turning her head she smiled brightly. There Red stood, in his familiar cloak that now dorned black fur and smirk on his face. She embraced him. Now she knew who sent that herd of terrified deer her way. She pulled away. The years had flown by so quickly. They walked through the forest, as they usually did whenever he returned. She would ask him questions in her silent way. He would always do his best to give her the answers she desired. Telling her of what he had seen, learned, tasted, and experienced. And the years melted away.

Tag List: Let me know if you wish to be added!

@spookypotato​ @purple-amaranthe​ @violetatapiamills​ 

[thecassadilla]

In Search of the Stars

Word Count: 1,352/AO3

Pairing: New Dream/Rapunzel x Eugene

Summary: Rapunzel and Eugene set off in search of the stars, but they find themselves talking more about the sky’s other inhabitants.

Author’s Note: Hi! My name is Cass (I know, I know) and this is my contribution for Day 1 of New Dream Appreciation Week - Sun and Moon! Fair warning, I (dumbly) haven’t watched seasons 2 and 3 of Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure, so while I have the gist of what happens, I haven’t actually seen it. Most of my contributions will be based on the movie or a Modern!AU. This is a Modern!AU. It’s more of a drabble than an actual fic. I hope you like it!

It was a chilly evening in September - a night they had been planning for weeks. Bundled up in sweaters and blankets in tow, they’d set off in search of the stars. And it was hard to disagree that lying in the middle of a field in Montana was one of the best decisions they’d ever made. 

They were clouded by darkness; the only light source was from the illumination of the moon, glowing above them. For the longest time, they were silent; appreciating the beauty of the night sky. The only noises that could be heard were their contented sighs, and the ambient sound of crickets chirping in the distance. They laid side by side, shoulders touching and hands entangled together. 

“Eugene?” Rapunzel finally whispered, shifting onto her side so she could look at him.

“Hmm?” He hummed in response.

“This was one of the best ideas we’ve ever had.”

“I agree,” he chuckled, turning towards her. “We should’ve done this sooner.”

“The sky is just so pretty. Look at the all stars! And it’s so easy to see the constellations.”

“I wish the sky looked like this at home,” he added.

“Me too,” she agreed. “I wish we could just look out the window and see this all the time.”

“I guess that’s the consequence of living in a city. Light pollution.” 

Unfazed by what he just said, she continued to gush about the sky. “And isn’t the moon so amazing?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah it is. You know, when I was a kid, I thought it was made of cheese.”

“Really?” She giggled, springing up. 

“Well, look at it,” he said pointing at it. Her eyes eagerly followed his finger. “It’s white and it has craters in it - it kind of looks like it could be a wheel of swiss cheese.”

She nodded. “I can see it now that you say that. When I was a kid, I used to talk to the man in the moon.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I always hoped that one day he would answer,” she replied sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Well it must’ve been hard for him to hear you - the moon is like a billion miles away, after all.”

She playfully shoved his shoulder and he laughed in response. “Actually, it’s only 238,900 miles away,” she responded smugly, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

He threw his hands up in surrender. “I forgot I was talking to an astronomy expert.”

“I’m not an expert,” she grinned. “I just read a lot of books about astronomy as a kid. And an adult.”

“The only thing I read as a kid were comic books. Not very educational. Well, I guess there was one book I liked to read, but it was fiction, so it’s kind of a moot point.”

She laid back down and rested her head on his shoulder. “I used to have a copy of Goodnight Moon. So I guess I just figured if I was saying goodnight to the moon, it was for a reason.”

“I didn’t have that book, but one of my favorite things to do when I was a kid was sneak out on summer nights and just look up at the sky - kind of like what we’re doing now.”

“I wish I knew you when you were a kid,” she murmured, snuggling closer to him. “I think we would’ve gotten along.”

“I could’ve used a friend like you, but I was a much different person then.”

“You know what always made me sad?”

“What?”

“That we can’t just look up at the sun.”

He furrowed his eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”

“I’m sure the sun is equally as beautiful as the moon, but we can’t look directly at it. If we look directly at the sun, it hurts our eyes and makes it so we can’t see - which is ironic, because we need light to see in the first place.”

“Huh, I never thought of it that way.”

“It’s always there, but we never actually look for it, you know? Like, imagine if the sun was as appreciated as the moon and the stars - if we could just lay around looking at it and appreciating its beauty.”

“I suppose that would be called sunbathing,” he quipped.

“Eugene,” she smirked.

“I’m teasing,” he chuckled. “But you’re right. No one sits around talking about going sun-gazing.”

She sighed. “Because it’s impossible. Unless there’s an eclipse or something, it seems like no one pays attention to everything the sun does. Could you imagine living life without the sun?”

“You’ve got me there, babe. I guess it would be dark all the time?”

“Dark. And cold. We wouldn’t have any plants, which means that we wouldn’t have any food.”

“So the sun is the ultimate source of life.”

“Exactly! We wouldn’t be alive without the sun.”

“So, tell me then, what’s the deal with the moon? Nighttime light source?”

“Well, for one, it controls the ocean’s tides. But the moon helps to stabilize the earth’s rotation; without it, we wouldn’t have seasons or day and night.”

He smirked, impressed by her knowledge. “And here I was thinking it was a big, pointless ball of cheese. How do you remember all this stuff?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I retain a lot of pointless information.”

“Hey now, I wouldn’t call that pointless information. You know a hell of a lot more than I do,” he said, squeezing her hand.

She gave him a small smile and they laid quietly for a few moments.

“You know what I just realized?” He wondered aloud, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“You said you were sad because we couldn’t just look up at the sun like how we look at the moon. But, I may have thought of a loophole.”

Her eyebrows furrowed together. “Sunglasses?”

He laughed. “No, no. We can’t look directly at the sun, but we can watch it rise and set.” 

“Eugene! You’re a genius!”

“I wouldn’t call myself a genius,” he chuckled. “But, well, they can be a little overlooked. Who wants to wake up early just to watch the sunrise when you can watch it any day? Who wants to stop what they’re doing just to watch it set, you know? But then we get busy or lazy or forgetful, and the beautiful thing just...slips away.”

“You are quite the philosopher, Eugene Fitzherbert,” she grinned. “I didn’t even think about the sun rising or setting, which literally proves your entire point.”

“You flatter me too much, sunshine,” he chuckled. 

“It’s true though! I wonder if you were a philosopher and I was an astronomer in another life,” she giggled.

“That would explain an awful lot about us then, huh?”

She nodded, shivering slightly. “Definitely.”

“You getting cold?”

“A little,” she admitted. “But I’m not ready to leave yet.”

“Not ready to say ‘goodnight’ to the moon?”

“Nope,” she smiled, cuddling closer to him.

“Well, if we get back to the hotel at a reasonable hour, maybe we can get up early enough to say ‘good morning’ to the sun,” he pointed out.

She narrowed her eyes, smirking. “I hate when you do that.”

“Do what?” He asked, feigning innocence.

“Try to entice me with something you know I’ll want to do in order to get me away from something else that I’m enjoying,” she said. “Because you worry that I’ll overdo it and not speak up if I’m uncomfortable because I just want to keep doing the thing that I like.” 

“Rapunzel, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shrugged.

“Mhmm, I’m onto you” she mused, a smirk still plastered across her face. “I also know that you value your sleep and hate waking up early for anything.”

He chuckled. “You got me there. But, I did say that the sunrise gets overlooked because no one wants to wake up just to watch it - including myself. But one day won’t kill me, right?”

“Nope,” she smiled, shifting slightly. “Race you to the car?”

“You’re on!” He yelled, scrambling to his feet.

[mleighlikes]

M’L Instants Collection #37 :)

Hello Interworld Lovelies, I hope you enjoy this months collection of Instant poems that appear on my main blog @mleighsquickspot​ if you’d like to check them out. Stay safe and well my friends and have a blessed day :) . I really think this set of short poems sum up my feelings thus far of this year and maybe some of yours.

WashedAwayBridge...

As water rushes by taking with it the planks

Feet grow wet and unsure, hang on for stability

Why... Why were you even out there to begin with

The waters rushing grows stronger

Slip, feet loose traction; the current takes you

Not only you, the bridge is no more

Time took it a way drop by drop

Left behind are only ruins, drowned remains once in a glorious spot

CrumblingTowers...

Look there in the distance, the horizon falls

Pillars to the sky a testament of greatness toppled as a child's toy knocked over carelessly

Can't be restored, just isn't the same as before

What was once a tower has fallen back to earth

Only a memory of what once was before

Made from ivory and gold, taken away in ash

Those who partook of its walls now see beyond them

Look again, now you see what's real

Welcome to the ground, we saw your tower leaning and watched as it fell

ForestBurn...

Feel the coals still smoldering as you step upon them

Needles of pine, bristles of thorns pierce the souls of your feet

Walk amongst the devastation, claims of the mind to not understand how this can to be

Like that of a match flame, flames took all leaving behind nothing but ash

Is this what dreams of your world could be if you continue down this current path...

Breathe in smoke of burnt sky as it floats down from on high

Each step grey, each motion slow and wondering

Could have kept this from happening, no it will happen whether you wish it or not

DamsBurst...

Watch the water rush by, no longer held back buy an unnatural structure.

Even those made by the beaver leak, nothing meant to ever last forever against a force stronger than what it tries and fails to hold back.

Watch the mass crumble under pressure, rubble left behind only due to the design of what the water is unwilling to take.

LampsFlicker...

There is a short out among the wires

Light in darkness begins to fade then reappear brightly

Stand in place afraid to move further the light no longer leads the way

One flickers they all flicker then a black out leaving you alone in darkness

In the distance you still see one light still string shining

It calls to you, yet you know this trek will be at your own risk

Mad is your dash, you make it to the post

A lie all a lie as the light flickers out before you

AbandonedCity...

Lost to space and time

Frozen in place, relic of a moment in human history

Evidence of everything and yet nothing at the same time

Humans once lived here how when where what

Humans now gone from this place answer this why...

Frozen in space and time, time capsule of life yet where did this life go, how did it end...

StreetsCrumble...

Walk not in a straight line for only craters laid as pitfalls await

Each step is a crack upon the brittle ground, your weight it can't hope to handle in it's weakened condition

Tried to be fixed, patched, re-pathed and nothing kept hold

Solid was once the ground upon which we stepped, now there is only danger under foot for us all…

BlowingTrash...

Look at their decayed state

Once pristine, as if to walk a path of a new world

Now littered with the remains of truth that those who are uncaring walk the line

Sift through the clutter, watch our children and animals play in disarray

Truth lines the streets of an uncertain present along the path of yet another challenging day…

ScaredSky...

To look at the Sun hurts now

Days are touch, Nights are rougher

The Moons pale light haunts my mind

Can't we go back to times of seeing hope on the horizon

Breaking is the dawn, Broken is Dusk

The Sun and Moon no longer depict passage of time...

Only marching of storms through troubled lifetimes

ClothsInTheWind...

Lines of life feel the wind blow

Hanging in mid air each group a story

Criss cross from home to home

Seen from window to window

A life shown in cloth

A story woven in fabric

WindowFaces...

Looking around they watch as you pass by

Eyes of every color and shape peering out

Glass stricken with prints of hands

Wiping away the frost that blocks their view

Looking back you see them

Your eyes transfixed upon questions in the mind

Why are we like this doing this now

What do you see in me

What do I witness in you...

TangledStairs...

Walk inside start to climb

After a while feels as if you've been climbing forever

Look up to the top of the twisted maze

Can you see the end at all

Zig zag spirals twist and turn bending every which way

Just keep climbing you feel that you must continue

Something has to be waiting for you at the end...

Let me know what you think and pass the thought along my friends :)

[nathanfryerwoods]

Lucky Stars (Chapters 1-14) - by Nathan Fryer-Woods

                     1    It was a dark, cold night. Which was kind of fitting for the beginning of any story. But in south east Asia, when you start feeling the cold, you know you've been there too long. And as a ginger kid from the north of England, he should have been in his element.

   He was so far from the place he had once called home. And it had been years since he'd felt the long, scalding hug of the hallway radiator, on his return home from whatever trouble he'd been causing, beyond the icy front door.

   He had never really, truly missed home, that was until now. He longed for that familiar smell of the old underlay carpet in the council flat he once had. The flat he received after he was crippled by a speeding police car, whilst trying to cross the road years before. There was no compensation. But, as a result, he became the king of his own castle. A place for him to lick his wounds. It was dark and dingy, and located in the back of beyond where the undesirables of town were kept, but he didn't care. He was happy, and it was his. The only place he's ever really been able to call his own. But now, those days, seemed like a lifetime away.

   Today, he's found himself trapped in a different kind of paradise, one he thought he'd never want to leave. He had always believed humans to be of a semi-nomadic nature, but he had found happiness here, and at one time, for the first time since childhood, he had felt settled.

   That was until, that 'thing' happened. He didn't like talking about it, and when he did, would get so frustrated. No one understood it like he did, not many people at least.

   It had been 3 months since he last saw another foreigner, 3 months since he had seen anything of the world outside of their village. And he was an explorer at heart. Though he never strayed too far off the beaten track, and he'd never discovered anything new, he was always looking, it was just a matter of time... it was in his blood. His itch for exploration, grew stronger by the day.

   His wife was the only one in their village who could speak any English, (although he sometimes felt he got a better conversation from their eight and a half month old son), she was the only one who had even half a chance of vaguely understanding him at a deeper level. They had met 3 years previous in the capital city. A place with a pace he was used to, and found comfort in. But now, thanks to certain 'things', and the changing world around them, he found himself in the place his wife found the most comforting, her parents cashew nut farm. Up a hill, in the middle of nowhere. He felt like an elephant, with sore thumbs, in a pond, full of fish. Sticking out... misunderstood.

                       2    It was the 21st of December, not only the day of the winter solstice, but in the year of the 'Great Conjunction', between Saturn and Jupiter. Tonight the world would see these astral giants, seemingly merge into one, forming what is known as the 'Christmas Star'. It had been 397 years since this alignment last took place, just 13 years before Galileo built his first telescope to marvel at the heavens above.

   This event had to signify something, he knew it would, but he was far too apprehensive to look so deeply into it. He convinced himself it was a positive, auspicious event, but at the same time made a mental note to his brain's list of 'things to do', to see what the ancients made of it. After all, when the God of Thunder and his mighty Son do a high-five in the night sky, one should be prepared, or so he believed. But, that list in his head seemed to never end, it would only ever get longer. He knew, and readily admitted to himself, he would probably never get round to it. And in time, as soon as it was far too late, that entry like many before it would drop off the list, as just another faded memory.

   The day before, he had tried to explain to his wife, the solstice, the tilt of the Earth, and the reason for it being so cold this time of year. But soon realising that the battle for her attention against her best friend - the phone, was a battle he always lost, he promptly gave up.

   The previous week, her two youngest siblings (the brothers, aged 11 and 14), had asked him if they had shooting stars back in England. After 7 years of practice, his level of the local language was good enough to articulate most of the things he wanted to say (although this particular part of the country was the last of the true tribal areas, with 13 different clans each with their own dialect, making understanding them more of a challenge). He explained to the brothers, in as simple of terms as possible, the physics of the phenomenon. How more often than not, a shooting star was nothing more than a small pebble from outer space, travelling at unimaginable speed towards the Earth. And how it's magnificent trail was made as it burnt up in the atmosphere before it was able to reach us.

   Seeing the mystery and magic in their faces fade before his very eyes, he quickly moved on to let them know how it was customary back home, after seeing a shooting star, to make a little wish to yourself. And that this, was not to be wasted. He imagined, how even the most hardened criminals themselves probably couldn't resist this, and even they would make one. Maybe it's quite  likely that wish would be for guns, drugs or money. But you never know, the inner child in all of us, where that belief is instilled, only wants one of two things; love and happiness. And with that, comes security. The magic we're raised with as children, if at all, dies hard. And even with years of learning from science, logic and reason, some magic we just can't let go of. No matter how many times it's failed us.

   After seeing at least some of the mystery return to their faces, he moved back - with faith, to cold, hard, facts. He explained how if these space pebbles were any bigger, and hadn't completely burnt up on their descent to Earth, even a rock the size of a toy car (available to hand at the time), could devastate the planet. At the very least, make a real mess around the site of impact. He used the 3000 year old crater lake, situated down the road as an example. This, would be the last thing he'd say on the matter. The brothers went on to let him know, how their hole in the Earth was different. Through the unique use of their local, hillbilly twang, they managed to get the point across that in fact, their crater was made by a great, angry, pig-like God from the skies... obviously, and he should have seen it coming.

   The shattered pain that was once on the boy's faces, had transferred onto his own. He retreated back into his own mind, to his own thoughts. A place he understood, and needed no explanations. With no brick walls that he could waste his time with, by banging his head against.

                       3    The Sun had set, another day was done. The candy floss pink and tangerine orange that had painted the sky was gone, but the clouds remained, blanketing the Earth. Tonight was noticeably warmer, though he was still cold. And no matter how the clouds littered the sky, he still had hope that he would be able to see the events in the sky unfold. He'd poke his head out of their bedroom every twenty minutes or so and peer upwards. And around. Every direction, as he was a little unsure as to which way was west. The cloudy blanket persisted in its existence. All that was visible was a near half Moon and Polaris, the north star, slowly but surely running in circles, chasing its tail. He headed back inside, his hopes unscathed, there was still time.

   'Just one more hour', he thought to himself, 'and the great high-five of the Gods would set sail over the horizon'. The anxiety got the better of him, he zipped his jacket back up, and ventured out again.

   The Moon had become but a faint shimmer in a dirty pool, and Polaris was nowhere to be seen. In 5 brief minutes, the sky-scape had taken an unfortunate turn for the worse. The magic, once again, was passing him by. His wife came out with their Son in arm, to see what they'd been missing. She had been listening. It was a trade off that he was more than happy to make. 'I can wait sixty years for the next alignment', he thought to himself, 'I'll catch it in the next life'. His new little family meant the world to him, and nothing much else mattered.

                       4    It was 8am when he rose up out of bed. Not so early, but not too late either, in his opinion at least. He could have done with an extra hour, but the rooster that had been howling since 4am, couldn't be ignored any longer. He threw on his jacket and headed outside.

   The Sun was glaring down on him, the clouds had dispersed.    "Thanks clouds", he grumbled under his breath. "Any other day this month, and last nights weather would've..." and then, that thought vanished. He'd caught a glimpse of his Son's peaceful face, sleeping, swinging in the cammo hammock. His mind instantly emptied itself with ease, and in the same moment, filled the vacuum with a calming peace. His Son's happiness was contagious to him, a contagious cure to all his frustrations.

   His extended family had been up for a few hours already, as was normal. 6am usually, to start the day with the important things in life. Sewing tapestries, playing on phones, picking their faces, more sleep. They looked down on him for not being awake so early, but he was unsure of what they expected him to be doing at 6am. He never saw them doing anything important at that time of day, and very little changed as the day went on.

   Another thing that didn't help, was their inability to grasp the concept of sleeping disorders. His diagnosis came far too late for him, at the age of 25, just a few years before leaving England. It had already shaped his life by then, and in some way or another, had made him who he was. He now knew, that what had forever plagued his sleep was a combination of apnea, delayed sleep phase disorder, and the slight hint towards a long standing, yet self-coping problem called narcolepsy. A diagnosis the doctor didn't want to make. He learnt to never go with a self diagnosis of a problem again. A well paid opinion, is obviously worth so much more than anyone else's. Even when blood tests showed he had the gene needed to predispose a person to this condition, they were reluctant to admit he might be right. He was prescribed with the search of a night job.

   His father in-law was a good man. He'd worked hard all his life to provide for his wife and five children, and then their children too, of which little Finlay, was number four. He loved them all like they were his own.

   The farm was around half a hectare in size, with around sixty large cashew trees, five mango trees, and banana and papaya also being dotted about. The land fairly rugged and unkempt, as cashew season didn't start for another month or so. Soon, the whirring of the weed-whacker would fill the air, making the search for nuts and the spotting of snakes much easier.

   The family tractor was being rented by an owner of a sweet potato farm, 100km away, southwest of them. This way good news, it was old, and it stunk. And now, it was someone else's problem to fix every other day, and they were paying for that privilege. The last time Lawrie was here was when Finlay was born (sorry, I've never been good at introductions, but baby is Finlay, or Finn, and Dad is Lawrie. Well, Lawrie's his surname... Dan, Daniel, Danny never appealed to him, and even his parents stuck to calling him Lawrie). Ok, where was I..?

   ...yeah, so the last time he was at the in-laws farm, was when his beautiful baby boy was born. Early April, a healthy 3.6kg. And as sure as anything, without fail - every other night, Pa would be half submerged in the belly of this beast, covered in oil as it spluttered away. Not such a soothing sound to send your Son to sleep.

   These days, Pa would spend his time making furniture at his sister's house just beyond the back of the farm. Each evening, a new chair, stool or table would appear, and the huge piles of illegally logged wood, dotted around the plot would slowly, bit by bit disappear. As did the jungle that surrounded them.

                       5    Their village was located 10km outside of the nearest town, and the closest city was another 30km beyond that. That was the city of Lombang, the province capital (though the spelling of this, as did many other place tended to vary, wildly). The city was big, whilst at the same time, all being nicely spaced out. Apart from the market area, nowhere seemed to get so busy. The city itself wasn't over commercialised, the way a western city would be, mainly made up of independent, family owned businesses, it had a very local feel to it. That's what Lawrie liked most of all about this country... the people, the locals. For all the differences in culture, and the difficulties they created (of which there'd been many over the years), only added another layer of excitement and adventure to his whole experience. No matter how different other people saw him as being, he seldom cared. He had spent his entire life back home as the ginger sheep, and that had prepared him well, for life out here.

   He missed the city. He'd only managed to explore it for one day the last time they were here, when Finn was around two months old. He lost the plot one morning, waking to find his wife, Nib, sat feeding the baby, downwind of a roaring fire made entirely of plastic. He was sick of telling her, and she was tired of hearing it. He turned his back and walked away, away from the stench of burning straws, and the feeling of absolute futility. He gathered the essentials, made the small trip to the road at the top of the plot and flagged-down the first van he saw. Finally, it was adventure time. It all happened so fast. He loved being on the road, but all the way there, couldn't stop thinking about his new born bundle.

                                               6    The driver and the passengers all seemed friendly enough. Very inquisitive, as once was normal, but on this occasion, a nice surprise. Especially with how the world was turning these days. He wore his face mask, no matter how useless he knew it was to him. It was unfortunately, an essential item.

   Forty kilometers and two and a half bucks later, they arrived. He found the journey so refreshing, though Finn was constantly in the back of his mind, with not much to see along the way to steal his thoughts completely. Just miles upon miles of lush, jungle-covered hills, beyond the back to back farms that were broken up every so often by a roadside shack of a shop. So many farms.. cashew, pepper, mango, rubber, you name it, he saw it. And every so often, the odd little spot of deforestation in the distance, clearing space for a few more.

   He spent the day exploring, and enjoying his first taste of freedom in what felt like years. You see, his wife's hometown is so rural, and that trapped in their tribal mentality, even they have a hard time getting out. And generally, unless they have to, they just don't bother. Nib had told him how a while back, one of her uncles had an infection in his leg, a drunken mishap from a motorbike fall, from which he burnt himself on the exhaust pipe. He had to do the three kilometer journey on foot, through the next village to the one beyond it where the nearest thing to a hospital was. About half way there in the next hometown, you pass by the the village chief's house, who on this particular occasion, for once was awake. He imagined him stumbling out of some grand, overly ornate, heavy wooden chair, on the orders from ten or so yelping, mangy dogs. One well worn flip-flop on, while failing miserably to secure the other, not giving it the slightest bit of thought, as he starred intently at the intruding stranger, hobbling by. The chief had demanded from him, one buffalo, in order to let him pass. You're welcome to go back and read over that line again, but you got it right first time. Yes, a buffalo. A few minutes of talking by the roadside, and they'd worked out a deal, two chickens would seal it. Her uncle shuffled back home, dragging his manky leg, and after snagging two of his most sickly looking birds, started the journey again. All in the hope, of paying someone to gouge out a huge chunk of his inner thigh.

   The relative bustle of the city was a much welcomed change for Lawrie. He criss-crossed his way  down the main roads and through side streets to reach the city limits, and then double-back on himself in a slightly different direction, stopping here and there at the sight of an esky cooler to pick up a fifty cent beer.

   He arrived rather early by his standards, maybe 8.30. But with no watch, phone, or any idea of what time he woke up, he could only guess. Over the years, he had gotten pretty good at working out the time, between the Sun and the shadows. He was usually only off by about 15 minutes or so.  But who cared what time it was? It's his day off.  And this called for another fifty cent-er.

   The day went on and his heart was glad. He knew that fresh emptiness he felt in the background wouldn't be there for long, and that soon enough he'd be back with his boy. He missed Nib too, but pushed that thought out, whenever she crossed his mind.

   He wandered through the rest of the day. No plans, no direction, and not so much to worry about. He ate, drank, bought a dummy and a rabbit teddy bear which he called Barney and headed back to the edge of town that he'd arrived at, making his way home before sunset. Nib was waiting on the front, waiting with a hug.

                       7    It was Christmas Eve, and this year looked like it was set to be Lawrie's best and worst to date. But considering the problems that the people of Earth were facing, it was likely, this year was to be a historically bad one worldwide... with maybe only the 'black death', and world wars outdoing it. These were strange days to be living in.

   His lack of cash, and no real friends or family to share what little he did have, made the whole occasion rather pointless. He'd been asking Nin for the last nine days to help him find a pair of wooden chopsticks. He'd tried, but with no luck. He also hadn't mastered the pronunciation of 'chopsticks', it was a tricky one.

He wanted to fashion them into baby sized drumsticks, the first part of a home made drum kit he planned to make. As money was scarce, and Finn was too young to understand the concept of Christmas, he decided that this was ok. Especially, as no one for miles around, gave this holiday even a single thought.

   Chop-drumsticks were kind of perfect as a Christmas present out here. Lawrie had been tapping away rhythms and singing to his Son, ever since he found out he was in Nib's belly. He'd play him songs too on his guitar, and old song recordings online. Classics from the golden era of the 60's, as his parents had done for him, when he was young.

   Apart from being cheap and cheerful, chopsticks were also importantly, disposable, bio-degradable, and readily available everywhere in Asia (everywhere but, apparently, this village). He'd come to learn that while living on the farm, nothing here was actually his. Nothing belonged to anyone it seemed. At any moment, someone's grubby little mits could appear, and 'borrow', anything they wanted, not return it, and leave it half buried in the dirt to be found a week later. Just days before, the younger brother, Rutt, had taken Lawrie's lighter and Finn's favourite toy. A small, yellow, rubber pig. As Finn was teething, it was more of a chew-toy for him (the dummy by this point, had been savaged by dogs). He loved that little pig, and upon spotting it, would shuffle over, pop it in his mouth and gnaw away. Who knows where it ended up. Apparently, not even Rutt knew.

   'Give it a week', he thought. 'It'll turn up.' Probably as a charred, molten puddle, next to a broken lighter, but he'd find it eventually.

   The day was surprisingly calm and quiet. Pa had left early, sometime before sunrise, making the eighty kilometer journey to the city of Somtang. Life on the farm was always a little more relaxed when Pa was out of town. Lawrie couldn't work out why, as he was the most placid of the whole family, making him Lawrie's favourite. Even so, Pa's brief departures were always good news, a little more peace and quiet on the farm was much needed. He'd be back in a week or so, and he'd be bringing the rasping roar of the tractor with him.

                       8    Between the hours of midday and 3pm, were Lawrie's best time of day, as he usually had the house to himself. The screaming match that accompanied lunch, would cease around 12pm. Not completely or instantly, but it would get quieter and more distant, as they each skulked off in their various directions, with their own, distinct rackets.

   Ma and Nib would go to one of three places. The shop over the road, the one around the corner, or Pa's sister's house out the back. Basically, wherever the card game is happening that day, where Ma can loose the money someone else has given her, and then spend the rest of the day spreading bitterness because of it. Lawrie didn't know where the rest of them went, and never cared to ask. But he knew where Pa was, Pa was always working.

   He sat alone in the bedroom, enjoying the silence. His only disturbance coming from a faint yet piercing buzz in his ear, from a rouge mosquito that had managed to sneak in through the gaps between the concrete walls and wooden ceiling. A clap, or a self-slap to the side of his face would usually sort that out, or half of the time at least.

   He had, ever since the age of nineteen and had he left home for the last time, been some sort of vegetarian. For as long as his memory went back, he had always hated the thought of things dying for his food. To him, it just seemed so unnecessary. But out here, with the snakes, spiders, scorpions and mosquitos, his long standing beliefs were set aside. Some things were asking to be killed. He'd always say sorry, and wish them better luck in their next life... all except the mosquitos, he took pleasure in wasting them.

   He had been surprised upon first arriving in the country, by many things. During the three days it took him to get here, he felt excitement at the thought of visiting a Buddhist country for the first time. He imagined all the food and flavours he'd discover there, and how it must be much easier getting a decent meal that was death-free, and involved fewer funny looks, as the majority of people there were Buddhist.

   But he was wrong. Totally, fucking wrong. It wasn't long after arriving, when he saw a sight he'd never forget, and that would help him on his way to understanding the madness of the place he found himself...

A monk, driving a car, drinking a coke, smoking a cigarette.

'Wow', he thought to himself, visibly gawping, his jaw on the floor, catching flies. 'Wow'.

                       9    With an almighty, thunderous CLAP!..  another pesky bloodsucker was eliminated from existence. Silence resumed. Only the static like sounds of the insects outside remained, and the faint background hum from the rare moto or truck, that was making use of the empty roads as the others ate, slept, and played cards.

   He eventually managed to get a good enough data connection and logged into his messaging app. He'd always been terrible at keeping in touch, but at this time of year, there was no excuses. You can miss all the birthdays you want, and it's all forgotten by Christmas. And that's why you can't skip it.

   He scrolled through the pictures that he and Nib took with Finn the week before. They were all dressed head to toe in various shades of red, the closest thing to being Christmassy, that they could manage. He selected three pictures, tagged his family and the extendeds, and wrote a short message which he cringed at within seconds of clicking 'post'.

   He hated talking online. He hated talking on the phone as a kid, but these days preferred it to SMS and instant messages. It all felt so impersonal. To many people, he'd quite often come across as self-centered, and uncaring. But to him, his problem was he cared too much in other ways. He cared about wasted the moment he was in, and ignoring the people around him, whilst staring at screens. The past and future are pointless without a present, and the present, was drumsticks. He shot out of his chair, and with determination set off, on a final hunt.

                       10    He woke the next morning, and was glad to find that the visiting calm hadn't skipped town in the night. The only sounds to be heard were the distant chugging of heavy machinery, the here and there hum of the main road, and his wife rigorously brushing away at the laundry, by the stream that ran down the side of the farm.

   She would always wait until everything was dirty, which usually took around a week, and then spend half a day literally attacking it. Lawrie's clothes were thin, frayed and full of holes because of this, and something would always come back worse off for the abuse, but he didn't complain. It wasn't a job he was fond of, and it would ruin the callouses he'd built over the years, making playing guitar a pain. And because he'd rush through it, she wouldn't let him wash any of her clothes, and he couldn't blame her.

   He dusted the sleep off, and made his way outside. Ma was sat at the front on one of the two big, heavy, wooden bed frames facing the road, doing her sewing. He never got to the bottom of it, but most ot the houses out here had beds outside, while everyone would sleep on mats on the floor inside, but he never asked and it remained a mystery to him. Too many more important questions still had no answers.

   Finn was asleep in the hammock. It was coming to the end of its swing. Lawrie kissed his forehead, and gave him a little push.

   Suli, was the Son of Nib's youngest sister, and was the second of Finn's three cousins. For once, he was keeping himself to himself and being nice and quiet. It wasn't his fault he didn't know how to behave, and Lawrie knew that. And with Pa being away today, he probably hadn't drank half an energy drink, like he normally would have by 8am. Lawrie took the string-bound, straw brush, and swept the tiled floor, as he did every morning.

   His wife was the eldest of five. The two brothers, and the youngest of her sisters all living on the family farm. The middle sister (the most well-rounded of them all), had the right idea earlier in year, and got the hell out of there. The middle sister's two children, still spent a lot of their time at the family farm, and Suli had lived there all his life. His mum, had done what was expected of her, and left him there while she went back to work, leaving Ma to raise him. At three years old, he was understandably, a handful. But Lawrie couldn't help but worry about him, and feared he had a lifetime of problems ahead. Problems not only for Suli himself, but for the family doing the half a job of raising him. A half job they weren't doing so well.

   His top row of front teeth were nothing but black stumps, half decayed, causing him great discomfort. He was almost always covered in dirt. And usually, by the end of the day, had the remains of every meal he'd eaten, still round his mouth. Flip-flops were uncommon, and he rarely wore pants, maybe 3 times in the past few months.

   Unfortunately for him, for his first two years of life he was Ma's responsibility. And his problems, Lawrie saw as her fault. The middle sister being back to work, was expected to send money home, while it was Ma's job to play cards and sew whilst raising her grandchild. The same Ma who had done a shocking job with her own children, and it was time to do it again for theirs.

   Suli, was toilet trained. But Larwie, expected this lesson was probably taught by the dogs. He would piss anywhere, whenever he needed to go. That was usually from the tiled floor outside the house, and onto the dirt a step below. But if he was upstairs, he'd do it from there. And no one had the slightest of problems with this.

   Lawrie quite often, when going around the back of the house where there actually was a toilet, would find someone there. Usually Ma, but sometimes Nib, ten feet away from the toilet, squatting.

   Ma was so lazy, in every aspect of life. And she'd passed that on to most of her children. And by the standards that Lawrie had been raised with, she was a truly terrible mother, and in general, a mean spirited person with very little compassion. Lawrie found her unbearable. But at the same time, he just had to deal with it, and knew she didn't know any better. She was never going to learn, and it wasn't really her that he could blame.

   The civil war, decades before, that had torn this country apart, had given her parents generation a living hell to endure. An event so disastrous, it's effects still rippled through life to this day.

   Her first three children, the sisters, were all left at Grandma's house as soon as they were able to eat mashed up rice soup. This was and is, pretty much 'the norm', for kids over here. Never really knowing their parents as the grow up. Children are seen as laborers, and in a way, sort of like a pension. Breaking your child's heart isn't really an issue, if it means you've been out working.

   Now today, the third generation of children are making their way through life, and thanks to this practice, are doing so with their own broken hearts. With a level of distrust only their people know, and with the job one day, of passing this on to their own children.

   At the age of fourteen, Nib and her sisters started living with their parents who had got together enough money to by their farm, which was five-hundred kilometers away, up north. Pa built a simple wooden hut, and they called it home. There they would spend the following years learning who their children were, and catching up on all they had missed. And Ma got bigger, as they waited on the birth of their first baby boy. It was time to learn how to be parents.

   Soon after baby number four was born, Nib, with a modestly sized bag packed to the brim, was put on a plane bound for Malaysia to work in a factory making mobile phones. She did so with the help of her auntie's passport and was greeted at the airport by another aunt, who also worked there. Over the next two years, she managed to send enough money back to build the beautiful house they live in today.

   It was the nicest house in all the village, and probably the neighboring ones too, and it stayed that way for years. Pa was so proud of it, he was so grateful to Nib, and she became his favourite, and he had no worries letting the others knowing it.

   When she returned home with her final salary, the house was pretty much complete. Ma was pregnant with Son number two, and with the spare cash, Nib enrolled at school.

                       11    Lawrie had finished sweeping. The dog had been shooed off from laying on the dinner table, and he was now finishing the picking up and bagging of all the plastic crap his in-laws had tossed on the floor the day before. As he looked around searching for any last stragglers, he noticed that Finn needed another push. But his stealthy dash towards the hammock, turned out to be a mistake.

   ''Boo Ree!" (Uncle Lawrie) Suli screamed at the top of his highly pitched voice... he'd been spotted, and after doing so well. In the same instance, Finn's eyes pinged open, beaming, to find his father stood over him, startled as Suli's screech was still ringing in his ear. He smiled and raised his arms, and Lawrie followed suit. "Merry Christmas Son".

   Suli loved Lawrie, and this was mutual. He hardly ever saw his father, who was even more useless than his mum. Lawrie saw it as his responsibility to look out for him, as no one else seemed to be a positive influence. This wasn't just for Suli's own good, but Finn's too. Raising a child here was a constant worry for him. These bad habits and behaviors, were not for his Son to learn. He desperately needed a plan to get his family out, safely away. And this would need to be a plan even Nib would be happy to go along with, and before he inevitably snapped again.

   He placed his bundle into the 8 wheeled, brightly coloured walker thing, and gave him his tambourine, one of the few toys he still had. He didn't like the tambourine so much, but it kept him occupied for a few minutes. Just enough time to build a barricade around the edge of the floor using ten heavy, tree trunk stools. Suli was rolling round on the floor next to him, pant-less and screaming to himself. He made sure all the stools were placed in such a way that Finn couldn't kamikaze off the edge, and headed back to the bedroom to take stock of all he could consume that day. He loved his coffee, and cigarettes too, but was annoyed with himself. He'd practically quit before coming back here. He had promised himself that he would pack them in by the time Finn was born. He failed, and promised again by the time he was six months old. And not far off that time, had got them down to three a day... that was when they moved back, to the madness of the farm. Straight out the window.

   $1.10, thirteen cigarettes and a dollars worth of data that yet to be put on the phone. 'It's going to be a good day', a sarcastic joke to himself. He didn't laugh. It wasn't funny. He took 50 cents, and made for the shop, to treat himself.

   ''Four 3in1 coffees please,'' it was Christmas after all.

   Half way through his double strong coffee (it was actually 6 in 2), the clouds in his mind started to clear, and he was ready to take on another jam-packed day of next to nothing.

   Finn, still in the walker, had now been let loose on the dusty, red dirt at the front of the house. Lawrie was uneasy with this as the walker was light and flimsy, and flaws in its design made it that going in a forward direction was practically impossible. Almost all the plastic products sold out here, were only ever things that hadn't passed the stringent watch of Chinese quality controls. Finn spent most of his time in that thing, going round in circles, or at very best, doing his famous crab impression, scooting sideways.

   Suli was dragging around the frame of an old, crusty pram, that had seen much better days. It was full of rust, had no seat and only one of the three wheel it had left, actually turned. Suli had no toys, the ones he did have, had disintegrated in his hands shortly after being given them... their remains scattered in the dirt.

   Outside the front of the house was a huge 30 by 30 meter steel roof, hanging around 20 feet above. Suli and his pram, had made their way beyond the roof's reach, and over to where the overgrown, straggly vegetation had been thriving since that year's rainy season.

   Lawrie, had been the only one watching. He put down his coffee, and started walking over, seeing the potential for disaster as Finn chased after. He got as far as calling out Suli's name, with the hope of reeling them back in, when Finn hit a divot in the ground. The walker was sent over sideways, Finn's face smashing into the ground. Lawrie, with a heavy heart picked up speed, blurting out some frankly useless words of comfort as he made his way, to pick him up.

   Fountains of tears rolled down little Finn's cheeks, his left one being covered in small stones and dirt, with a few grazes on his chin. His wailing cut through to Lawrie's core, and he felt responsible for not getting there sooner, as he saw it coming.

   By this point Ma was screaming too. Lawrie tried to explain to Nib how it wasn't Suli's fault, in a vain attempt the message might get passed on, and Ma would shut her trap. Suli wasn't to blame, he was a child and didn't know any better, and Lawrie knew what was likely to happen next.

   Ma, still shrieking had gotten down to Suli's level and was now yelling in his face, slapping his legs, his bare backside.

   ''Viscous mutt'', Lawrie said audibly, without a care who heard. 'Silly bitch', just wouldn't have cut it, and his choice of words went straight over Nib's head. With his years of being out there, Lawrie had learnt how to best disguise his words of anger and frustration. He sometimes surprised himself with the off-the-cuff, creative expressions his mind would muster up out of the ether.

   Ma had now stood up, but was still barking. Suli was in tears and had been almost as long as Finn, who was now in Nib's arms, but still in distress as he watched the animalistic behavior unfold. Ma, taking a thin branch from the sapling of a fruit tree, was snapping off all that once grew from it. Because obviously, providing fruit for your grandchildren, and one day their children, isn't nearly half as important, as whipping a child that's done nothing wrong.

   Suli cried in this way, at least four or five times a day. A few months before, Lawrie had counted eight times in one day. He'd seen enough, and headed back to the bedroom with his mixed feeling of anger and helplessness.

   If he'd have still had his guitar, he would have been unzipping it's case as soon as he got inside. But he had no guitar these days, and upon spotting a pen on the desk, found a scrap piece of paper, sat down and started writing. And this would be the case over the coming months, a daily compulsion. He couldn't help it, he physically couldn't stop.

                       12    Maybe an hour had passed and Lawrie was still writing, when he heard the not so distant cry of his boy. Nothing like the sounds he had made earlier, but just him letting the world know he was still upset, in the only way he could. Lawrie looked out of the window to see Finn and Ma on their way back from over the road. 'No surprise he's upset', he thought to himself. He hated seeing Ma walk away with his Son, and was glad he hadn't seen this time, as it would only have played on his mind.

   He sat back down to his writing, knowing that Nib was out there and Finn would soon be at ease, filling his not so little belly.

   He could overhear a conversation between Nib and her mother. It wasn't difficult, as they only really have two levels of communicating out here, Nib's family especially. Those levels are shouting and screaming, making everything far too easy too hear, and whether you want to or not.

   Apparently, Pa was already on his way back, and was four hours away by tractor. He tore open his fresh pack of cigarettes, and threw one in his mouth biting down on the end.

   His cigs came in packs on thirteen, cost 12.5 cents, and had a very well know cartoon rabbit eating a carrot, printed on the cellophane bag they came in. ''Maybe it's this one that finally kills me'', he wondered out loud. He stepped outside, and just in time to see the younger sister making off on the moto, Finn under her arm. ''For fuck's sake...''

                       13    Lawrie was crouched down at the corner edge of the tilled floor, intensely staring down the road as far as he could, in the direction Finn had gone. He was on his second cigarette. As he rolled it between his fingers, the end fell to the dirt below. He put it out with a small piece of chipped concrete and placed the dimp in an empty discarded bottle that was laying next to him.

   Looking up, he saw Finn and the sister, with a thick cloud of red dust following after them as they made their return. A huge sigh of relief spilled out from him, he thought it would never end. Any bigger or longer, it might have been worth contacting the people who compile the world record books.

   Lawrie hated it. Too much of what they thought of as normal, he saw as an unnecessary risk. He'd had his concerns shouted down already, the first time he saw it happen, and this was just another thing he had to begrudgingly accept. But he promised himself, if she ever caused his Son any harm, he would slap her so silly, it would take them a week to find where she landed.

   When the Sun had set, he'd gotten down three full pages of writing. Not a massive achievement, and you wouldn't have mistaken it for Hemmingway (who he knew nothing about, though quite sure he's the Maradonna of writing), but he was proud of the fact that he had achieved a little something.

   He'd always enjoyed writing, mainly just songs, the first of which he wrote at the age of eleven after watching an Adam Sandler film. He'd also, always written down the strange thoughts, or scenarios that came into his head. He had no real use for them unless they were to be used in a song, but while growing up, had a few drawers full of scrappy bits of paper with random ramblings of madness scribbled down. He would sort through them one day, but they were all boxed up in his mum's garage back home.

   His first song was terrible, and unfortunately, he had come across the only physical reminder of it's existence years later, the lyric sheet. He'd written it on the keyboard he had before he had a guitar. After finding the sheet, the melody came rushing back, regaining it's place and taking up space in his memory. He realised his interest in song writing early on in life, back in primary school when they would sing in assembly. He enjoyed singing, as it was usually better than the rest of their day, and after hearing some bright spark from a few years above, singing 'toilet painted green', during the chorus of Yellow Submarine, he spent his remaining years there trying to out do it.

   The Sun was about an hour off setting, and he couldn't delay calling his family any longer. No one that he needed to call, had dependent children, and they were all likely sleeping-in. Their days of cursing Baby Jesus at 5am, covered in wrapping paper, had already been and gone.

   He called his Dad who was stuck in Bali, his Mum stuck in the UK, his Grandma stuck in hospital, and his Uncle David who yes, was also stuck. Everyone, everywhere was, trapped wherever they were when the world stopped turning.

   David, one of his Dad's half brothers, was in London. His business of delivering butchered meat was doing quiet well through all of the craziness. A good business to be in during times like these, apparently.

   His Dad had let him know that his Uncle had sent some money electronically, and that it was waiting to be collected. His Uncle was a good man, as was most of his family, but Uncle David knew Lawrie's situation quite well, as he's come out to visit him not long before the troubles started in the world. Out of most of his family, David had a much better idea of the problems Lawrie was facing.

   He knew just how lucky he was for having the family he did, but felt such guilt for not showing his appreciation as much he should. He rarely contacted them, and spent years wishing he had done so more often.

   He went with the elder brother, Ren, to collect his lifeline Christmas gift.

   Ren was only fourteen, but he rode the motorbike as he did every time, with Lawrie on the back. The in-laws, Pa in particular, were scared of what might happen whenever Lawrie left their hometown. Mainly of the police, who in all fairness were pretty corrupt. But Lawrie, who had left home the first time at the age of fifteen, was pretty savvy, and hadn't ever been in trouble with the law out here. There had been many times, after being stopped by traffic police, that he'd ride away with a new friend he'd just drank a beer with. One time, a police man gave him his fine money back, after seeing how little he had with him. Even though this was, here was tribal land, and he just had to get on with it.

   The Sun was half way over the hill when they got back to the farm. Lawrie dished the money out... a little to Ren for the trip, a little more to his wife, and way too much to Ma. She would probably be playing cards tomorrow, but as Pa was still out of town he had no choice.  Choices weren't such a big thing here.

                       14    It was around eight-thirty when Pa arrived home. Dinner had been sat there a couple of hours, waiting on the roar of the tractor, and on his arrival, the younger ones erupted with screams of happiness. Everyone loved Pa, not just the family, but those outside as well.    

   Lawrie skipped to the shop and bought four cans. They all ate rice, him and Pa drank, and then everyone went to bed. Everyone that was, except for Lawrie. He stayed up researching online, looking at maps of Lombang City. There was a few places that last time, he hadn't managed to get to. He had more than a few things to pick up, and there was a couple of people he was hoping to meet. This time, knowing how long it might be till the next, he had to get as much done as possible. Most importantly, was getting an ID photo... the next step of the only half-decent, long-shot of a plan he had. And thanks to Uncle David, all this was possible, and Finn's first Christmas was back on. And although being a day late, Lawrie couldn't be happier.

                       15        ...to continue reading, and become one of the hero’s in this story, please donate. All the kind souls that help me out of the situation will receive a full copy once completed, a name-drop on the dedications page, and the knowledge that they’ve helped this story on its way to a happy ending.

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Or to continue reading for free, periodically check back here for updates, and hope for the best disaster ending possible…

Thank you, much love.

Nathan Fryer-Woods

nathanfryerwoods@protonmail.com

[notesfromthemetro]

"SECURITY: WE WOULD LIKE TO INFORM YOU TO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON TONIGHT, 10TH JUNE. STAY INDOORS UNTIL 6 AM. POLICE DEPARTMENT"

Confused, still not entirely awake, Serena stared at the alert on her phone. The silence at 3 am made her apartment come alive, every sound--the humming of the air conditioning, the growing pains of the building as it moved with the temperature, a child wailing downstairs somewhere-- amplified by the stillness.

The alert drowned under the deluge of messages from friends and strangers alike.

"I can't wait to see the photos you'll take of the moon," one of her friends wrote.

"You awake? Don't miss the moon tonight, it's never been more beautiful," wrote a stranger.

How she wished Michael, her boyfriend, was lying next to her that night and not away on business in another city. Just the muted sound of his breath was enough to fend off her fear of darkness, of silence and whatever her mind thought was creeping underneath.

She sat on her bed, her legs still under the blankets, and as she leaned to turn on the light on her nightstand she noticed that the light trickling from outside through her cream-coloured curtains was too bright and warm for 3 am. Turning to her phone again, she wrote a quick message to Michael, hoping he, for some reason, was awake, too.

"Are you getting the messages?"

He replied quickly. "Yeah, they woke me up. I don't see anything strange here, though. It's really cloudy so I can't see the moon."

"But isn't it very bright and warm outside, as if it was 7 pm?"

"No, Serena. It's 3 am. It's pitch dark outside. What's going on there?"

"I'll find out. Call you in the morning, OK? Love you."

The hole in her chest grew bigger with every minute she spent in silence, so she got up and turned on the television hoping a human voice in the apartment would take the fear away. Nothing was going to happen, she told herself, breathing heavily. It was just a strange night and it'd be over in a few hours.

Carefully, looking down to avoid catching a glimpse of the moon, she approached her balcony and opened the sliding glass door ever so slightly, but the streets below were dead quiet, not unlike any other Wednesday so late at night.

Before she had the chance to turn her phone off and return to bed, one last message caught her eye.

"So, did you have look? Maybe having a look outside will give you some peace of mind. Send me a photo, will you? Can't wait for the weekend to see you again," wrote Michael.

"Can't wait to see you, too. I may have a few photos to show you."

Maybe he had a point. Maybe there was a reasonable explanation for the warnings, the dozens of messages on her phone, the warm light outside like a second sunset. She'd never know until she went outside and had a look. Quickly, she grabbed her camera from her desk and set it up on a tripod on her balcony. Only a few of her neighbours were outside--she did notice an old man with a child pointing at the moon in the building across the street.

The moon was huge and bright orange, almost like a sun, so large she could see the details of the craters. Stunned, she forgot about the camera for a few seconds. She couldn't explain what she was seeing, but she knew she wasn't afraid. The warm light around her and the cool March breeze comforted her. In her mind, the moon had been reborn, larger and brighter than before, to keep them company if only for that night.

Slowly, she took the first photos and moved the tripod to get different angles. She knew Michael would love one of the moon falling over two apartment buildings like a fireball ready to explode above them.

Satisfied with her photos, Serena returned inside, finally ready to go back to bed. The silence in her apartment was no longer a cold hand running its fingers down her back; it was a soothing company for the night ahead. For the first time in years, she was not afraid anymore.

She put the camera next to its bag on the couch and returned to her bedroom and to her dreams.

***

A loud knock on the door pulled Serena out of her dream. It was 7 am and the morning light looked soft and fresh, as usual. The upstairs neighbour paced frantically in what sounded like high heels, perhaps already late for work. Confused, Serena rushed to the door putting a robe on.

At the other side, two men stood large as shadows, arms crossed, black clothes impeccable. They said nothing. One of them grabbed her by the wrist while the other put a dark hood over her head before she had the chance to scream.

***

The apartment was unusually quiet for a Thursday night when Micheal arrived after cutting his trip short. He hadn't heard about Serena in a couple of days, and his concern was the perfect excuse to leave the exhausting marathon of meetings and brainstorm sessions. When he arrived the door was unlocked, the bed unmade, and her things still lying on the bed as she did every day to get ready for work quickly.

Suffocated with anguish, he sat on the couch, next to the empty camera bag without noticing the camera was not there, and checked his phone again, reading over and over the last message she sent him: "I'll find out. Call you in the morning, ok? Love you."

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[melodiesofblueroses]

Star Boy (Yoosung x Reader) Pt.2

★ ━ 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 3.2k

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Bonus: Alternate ending

        It was a rather cloudy night on this particular evening, and Yoosung was engaging in entertaining himself by reading human literature. He had apparently picked up some “shoujo manga,” whatever that was. The young star boy hated to admit it, but amongst the cliche and cheesy romance tropes within these illustrated books, Yoosung found some joy when reading them. Whether it was the sickeningly sweet romance that drove wild fantasies or his imaginations running amok, Yoosung knew for certain that he desperately sought out a relationship. Maybe it stemmed from the many years of lonely nights he had spent putting up stars in the night sky, wondering whether his whole life would be just the same tiring action. It was quite sad in a sense, being so desperate to seek out a relationship. He just wanted any form of affection really. It was embarrassing and brought a bit of shame upon the blonde. Another thing that did embarrass the star boy was the fact that he thought of (MC) whenever the idea of a romantic relationship crossed his mind. Gosh, why couldn’t he get her off of his mind? Was he that into her? Maybe hormones? He was a celestial body for goodness sake, what hormones could he possibly have? Ugh, he had been reading too many human books, hadn’t he?

        There she sat though, in the same spot as always, atop the bright white of the moon. His heart beat a bit faster, remembering the other night where she had told him her name. (MC). Ah, such a sweet name. It flowed easily and was quite comfortable to say. 

        “(MC),” he whispered to himself, a small smile present after. Oh how much he longed to talk to her again. God, snap out of it Yoosung! She’s only talked to you once, and you get butterflies in your stomach from such a tiny interaction! Besides, she probably doesn’t think of you that way! You’re such a tiny celestial being in the grand scheme of things, easily replaceable and unnoticed by everyone. All the other beings talk about the sun, the galaxies, and the planets, the most beloved of them all. A lone star boy doesn’t make a big difference for they just dot the skies in order to allow the other celestial bodies to shine as bright as these stars. 

        Yet, (MC)’s words from that night stuck to him. Did he really have an important role? Did the humans down below really enjoy his work? Do they really kiss and share intimate moments with one another under these stars? For a few moments in his entire career, Yoosung felt important. He felt needed in these vast skies. Why, Yoosung was the one that created the backdrop of the sky, even if it allowed the other beings to shine even brighter. Yoosung was needed in this universe! That (MC) sure had a way with words, making Yoosung feel proud of his job. 

        “Yoosung, is that you?” It was that sickly sweet voice again. To others, it might’ve been a bit too much. Maybe it was quite a bit squeaky, or maybe it was just a tinge too irritating, but that voice was a melody to Yoosung’s ears. Why, it’s (MC) of course, the one Yoosung didn’t want to admit that he had fallen for. 

        “(MC)!” He called out in excitement. “Why aren’t you atop of the moon? You know you can’t abandon your position, or else you’ll get shunned by society!” How adorable of Yoosung to look after (MC). “I’ve finished my duty for tonight, but you are just getting started. The night is still young, and the moon needs its maiden to watch over it.” The last part was a bit embarrassing for inexperienced little Yoosung to say, but it was quite worth it as he saw the cutest little blush on (MC).

        “Don’t worry, I just set out on a little walk. Besides, my job is to care for and look after the moon. The moon will keep on shining brightly even without me.” Her eyes glistened when she spoke about her job, which she was quite proud of; to have the honor of guarding the moon at night, when all of its beauty was cast onto the land below, it was quite a respectable position. Yoosung could only dream of that respect for star boys went unnoticed in the society of the celestial beings. “But, thank you for caring. I admit, not many have really looked my way, instead dismissing my job as too easy and unworthy of being a celestial being.”

        “But that’s far from the truth!” Yoosung proclaimed a bit too loudly. “The moon is so important to both the Earth and humans. Why, don’t you control the waves of the four oceans? You also create spectacular eclipses for the humans down below. How could anyone think of saying that your job isn’t important!”

        “Ah, Yoosung,” she giggled. “Thank you so much for your words. They really do mean a lot to me. As I said before, no one really cares for me.” Yoosung blushed a bit from her words. He didn’t really think that he did all that much, but if (MC) was happy, then so was he. “But, since I’ve stumbled onto you here,” she continued, “why don’t you come with me to the moon and continue chatting there?”

                                                               ~

        It was the first time Yoosung had step foot onto the moon, and honestly, it was nothing like what he had expected. From what he had picked up, the moon was a rather rocky and dull surface. Everything was rather monotonous and filled with craters. It wasn’t the ideal place to be. But, God, all those excerpts were completely off. The moon was one of the most spectacular things Yoosung had seen. Of course, the physical descriptions he had heard were correct, but the experience was something else entirely. 

        The stars surrounding the moon shone with such brilliance and almost acted like a spotlight that it put the moon in. The moon was visible from every surface on the Earth, even behind the clouds that tried to cover up the moon. The light prevailed, and it brought a whole new perspective to Yoosung. God, it was his stars that gave a spotlight to the moon. It was his stars that allowed the moon to shine in all its glory. Yes, his stars may have been the backdrops, but it created a gorgeous scenery that perfectly paired with the moon. 

        Atop the moon, where (MC) usually sat to gaze down below, was a dainty table, decorated with bits of stardust that Yoosung suspected was gifted to (MC) by another being. On the white table sat two cups of tea. (MC) had invited him for some tea! What a dream come true this was for him. He would have the honor to chat the night away with his crush while drinking a beverage the humans so highly valued. 

        “How long have you been a star boy?” (MC) started off the conversation, eyes fixated on the figure that lay before her. This was a first for Yoosung. Someone was truly interested in his work, captivated by his presence. Of course, their last encounter wasn’t taken into account. Yoosung had cried in front of this darling, and he tried to forget that. The first time they had actually spoken was when Yoosung was having a bit of a crisis. Perfect. However, second impressions can just be as important as the first, right? 

        “Twenty or so years, I’m quite new at this as you can tell.” Yoosung tried his hardest to avoid her gazing eyes. He could get lost in them, and quite frankly, it was a bit intimidating. Were people really like this when they listened intently to one another? 

        “Really? I couldn’t tell since your work is impeccable. The orientation of these stars and the way they dot the skies; I’ve seen many star boys, but no one comes close to this level. Your depictions of the constellations and the timing of them are also perfect. I can tell you’ve studied up quite a bit on these stars.” God, why did she have to compliment him like that? Did she like to see Yoosung as a blushing mess? Maybe it was to boost his confidence since she knew he wasn’t as proud of his job as he could be. 

        “T-Thank you,” he replied. This was already off to a cringy start. Wonderful. Was this story going in the direction of a cliché romance story where every interaction led to blushing messes? Well, hopefully, the author knows what she’s doing. “What about you? How long have you been a moon girl?”

        “Hmm, well, it’s been around a decade or so I believe. I’m still quite new you see. I’ve been a stardust collector for most of my time out in these vast skies.” She paused to take a sip of her tea. “I’ve always been in such a low-class position, just trailing behind those of importance. It was what I was best at, I believe. I never really uttered a word and just followed those beings that made ‘shooting stars’ and meteors, gathering the stardust that was left behind.” (MC) then made a sweeping motion to the table they were seated at. “This is where I got these starbits and stardust. I couldn’t bear to throw such beauties away, so I always collected and stored them somewhere in my room where I spent the sunny days in. I believed that such beauty would be a shame to be discarded.

        “Thus, I was mocked a lot of the time, by subordinates and those who I thought cared for me. ‘What a silly girl to collect such trash and debris’ they all said, sneering and looking down with such shame and disgust.”

        “But aren’t the starbits and stardust the ones that help decorate the night sky?” Yoosung interrupted, quite taken aback at her story. “If they weren’t so beautiful, then what would their purpose in the night sky be? Didn’t the universe put them there in order to decorate the empty sky? How could they say such a thing?”

        (MC) giggled at his innocence. It was a nice change of pace, always being supported no matter what your opinions on certain topics were. Yoosung was a ball of light in her world full of ridicule. “For a moment, I fell for their lies and deception. I truly thought that I was a naive and stupid little girl who didn’t know a thing about the night sky. After all, I was just a lowly servant to those who created masterpieces in the night sky, such as star showers and meteors. I couldn’t begin to understand the true nature of the night sky.

        “That was until I met Hyun. Oh! I don’t think you know him.” Yoosung thought that name sounded familiar, then remembered it was that fellow who was a bit too praising of his own looks. And he had the nerve to call Yoosung naive! Yoosung scrunched up his face a bit at the remembrance of such a fellow, and (MC) caught on to that. 

        “I see you’ve met Hyun. Yes, he can be a bit overbearing at times, but he was the only one that truly believed in me at the time. I remember when I was assigned to pick up the stardust and bits he left in his path. In our first meeting, he flirted with me. God, how tasteless he could be.” She stopped to giggle at the thought. “But he was always kind to me and treated me as if I was his equal. He never once looked down at me. 

        “One night, I decided to confide in him, reveal to him all of these negative thoughts that were swarming me. He was quite the listener, which took me by surprise. But he gave me such good advice, and bit by bit, he began to help me build my confidence. ‘Don’t listen to those who put you down,’ he once said. ‘You love to collect the stardust, and that’s beyond adorable. If you enjoy it, then why care what anyone else thinks? You live your life the way you want to.’”

        “Besides that, there was this one quote that stuck with me ever since, and I always look back on it. ‘What other people think only lasts a second...but how you consider yourself lasts forever.’”

        Yoosung was quite taken aback by (MC)’s past. He always thought that everyone loved such a sweet angel like her. And that jerk Hyun helped build her confidence? That was certainly uncalled for, at least in Yoosung’s eyes. He didn’t really know Hyun all too well, but his first impression was something else. To be fair, Yoosung’s first impression to (MC) was him crying about how humans didn’t appreciate his work (which is quite alright. Our dear Yoosung just doesn’t know how to be too confident just yet). He wasn’t really one to say anything. 

        “So it was Hyun that helped you out? I always thought that you were so confident and proud of your job! You were so helpful to me last time, and I truly do appreciate you! I can’t believe that there were people who tried to belittle you. That’s so awful!” Yoosung pouted after his little rant. He couldn’t really think of anyone in his life who tried to belittle him. Sure Yoosung wasn’t confident in his work, but no one tried to bring him down. Everyone around him was so supportive of him getting a job as a star boy. He couldn’t imagine a situation such as that of (MC). “But, how did you end up as a moon girl if you started out collecting stardust?” 

        “Apparently, Jihyun, the sun of our solar system, really liked my dedication to my job and basically promoted me to moon girl. Of course, all that hate and negativity came back, and I almost faltered once again, but Hyun was with me this time. He always supported me and basically applauded me for getting a promotion. To be honest, as corny as it sounds, I don’t know where I would be without him. He was one of the first people to ever support me, and I’m so happy to know a guy like him.”

                                                             ~

        The nightly moon chats became a routine for our star boy and moon girl. Every night, once Yoosung finished his duties as quickly as possible, he would make his way over to the moon, chatting the rest of the night away with (MC). Yoosung would like to think that the two of them grew closer due to this ordeal, often sharing intimate secrets and childhood stories. It was quite peculiar, two strangers bonding over similar experiences. Maybe it was due to the fact that (MC) had first seen Yoosung in quite a vulnerable state. Maybe (MC) just felt comfortable around Yoosung. Whatever it was, Yoosung was pleased to finally have someone by his side. The passing nights were continually growing lonelier, and (MC) was an escape from his duties and the society in which they were apart. 

        One night, when the sun was just over the horizon, about to give the spotlight over to the sun in order for it to shine, Yoosung came up with an idea. It was directly after one of his nightly chats with (MC), one where Yoosung finally realized his true feelings. He loved (MC). Now, he always knew that he had a crush on her, ever since he first saw her elegant form, but that was different. He thought that it was just a tiny crush, a fleeting feeling. Perhaps he was just a bit too lonely and started imagining what a relationship would be like. 

        But after endless nights of talking to her, Yoosung realized what his feelings meant. He realized why his heartbeat just a bit faster whenever she was around, what those butterflies in his stomach were, and why he could imagine a future with her. Yoosung truly loved and cared for (MC). She was his escape from reality, from his duties as a star boy, from his frustrations and struggles. (MC) was always there for Yoosung, ready to listen to any vents and give advice. What an angel she truly was. And now, Yoosung wants to do the same for her. He wants to be there for her, similar to how Hyun was always there for (MC). You could say that it was a tinge of jealousy, but Yoosung would rather believe that it was because he truly loved (MC) and wanted her to live a comfortable life. 

        Therefore, he came up with an idea. Yoosung would give (MC) a gift, maybe confess his love for her in the process. Whatever it was, Yoosung wanted to get across to her that he cared for her and would always be there for her. But the problem was, what would a good gift be? He knew that it had to signify his intentions, but he couldn’t quite think of anything. Mm, maybe a piece of a meteor? Nah, what if that reminded her of her past job. Stardust? She already had plenty. Ugh, this was quite difficult. 

He spent the entirety of the next night thinking of a suitable gift for (MC), sitting atop a fluffy cloud that floated throughout the sky. Yoosung had a good idea of what (MC) enjoyed. Maybe he could find a way to harvest some dried flowers from the humans down below. The problem with that, however, is that it was forbidden to go near the human surface. Everything known about humans had been recorded by the ancestors of the celestial beings, those daring enough to go and blend within human society, thus providing many forms of human literature that any celestial being may choose to read. And Yoosung didn’t know of any rebels that could sneak into the human world. Well, that idea was crossed out.

        Maybe he could gift her a book from his shoujo manga collection. But did she like shoujo manga? Ugh, another idea crossed off. He should’ve asked her beforehand. Mm, what else would (MC) possibly like. Maybe he could draw her something. After all, don’t handmade gifts signify that one cares for an individual. The only problem with that is Yoosung wasn’t much of an artist, and he didn’t really know anyone that would willingly draw him a portrait or something. 

        After dwelling on many ideas, Yoosung came up with the perfect gift. Yes, this gift would get across his message to (MC), plus, it would also signify that Yoosung would always be by her side. It was perfect. Now, he just had to start on it. Alright, his plan had gone into action. Yoosung was feeling a bit jittery. Would she even like this gift? Well, he hoped so because that was the only thing he could think of right now. 

        However, there was a bigger problem dwelling on the surface that Yoosung had completely forgotten about. Yoosung had neglected his duties that night, instead using his time to think of a gift for (MC). That cloudy night, Yoosung had forgotten to put up the stars in the sky.

[alandofhoneyedfruits]

peeling out [Steak & Master Attendant]

summary: it turns out that you’re a menace on the delivery bike.

a/n: i 100% almost called this 2fast 2furious but chickened out. as a result, any other title feels wrong for me.  this is definitely brought to you by a rewatch of tokyo drift.  the stunts mentioned are real but exaggerated for fiction purposes lol.  this also got away from me idk how i turned this dumb idea into something this long.

“Oh~!”

Steak scoffs quietly.  “You sound like a child, idiot.  Calm down.”

“Absolutely not,” you say, prodding him in the side to get him to shut up.  He catches your hand before you can make contact.  His grip is gentle but you whine anyway, the sound close enough to real that alarm flashes across the hard-headed Food Soul’s face.  It only takes him a few seconds to realize that you’re being dramatic, and his worry melts into irritation.  He lets go of your wrist, his calloused fingertips brushing against your skin, and turns away with a sour expression.  You can’t quite catch what he mutters, but you assume it isn’t particularly favorable.

Still, even Steak’s grumpiness is easily shrugged off; you’re bouncing on your toes rapidly, waiting for the bike to stop near you.  “Steak, look!  It’s a pretty nice bike!”

The redhead shoves one of his swords into the ground -- you really need to get him to stop doing that, the paths leading to the restaurants are starting to look like the moon’s surface, they’re so cratered with holes -- and grabs the handlebars of the delivery bike as it grinds to halt in front of you.  You wave to the delivery person in thanks.  He doesn’t stick around for long after you pay him, likely due to the glower Steak is directing towards him.  

You circle the bike as Steak lowers the kickstand.  Your cheeks hurt from smiling so widely.  

“You look deranged,” Steak tells you flatly.  You shift on your feet as he steps back towards his sword, pulling it up with an easy ripple of muscle that never fails to impress you.  

“You look like an old man.”  You point towards his furrowed brow and mimic it, scrunching your face up tight.  

“What did you fucking s-”  Steak’s cut off by the creak of the restaurant door.

“Attendant, don’t tease.”  You wilt, just slightly, as Plum Juice steps out of the restaurant, one brow raised in quiet reprimand.  He’s been adamant about manners since the moment you summoned him, your signature uncertain and messy as you sealed your first contract with a Food Soul. You rarely meet his standards, but you do try, knowing that it pleases him and that you perhaps sometimes need to be curbed.

Steak snorts, knowing that you’ll be less willing to snipe at him with Plum present. “They would have to say something clever for it to be teasing.”

Plum turns his gaze towards the knight; you take the chance to stick your tongue out in Steak’s direction.  Steak’s face drops into a thunderous scowl.

“Attendant,” Plum says, not even turning to look at you.  “Please desist.”

Steak’s scowl drops into a smug little smirk as you wilt again.

“Sorry, Plum.”

The white-haired Food Soul hums, his skepticism thrumming along your bond.  You struggle to keep the repentant smile on your face.  Plum sighs.  “Is the delivery vehicle in working order?”

“Dunno yet,” you say, perking back up and reaching for the handlebars to swing yourself into the seat of bike.

“Oi, absolutely not, your clumsy ass is not getting on that bike,” Steak says, already moving towards you.  “You’ll hurt yourself.”  You ignore him and swing your leg over.  It’s more like clambering, your movements inelegant.  Steak clicks his tongue and reaches out for you with one large hand.  You tighten your grip on the handlebar, knowing that he will absolutely pull you off if you don’t dismount.  

“Let them have their fun,” Peking Duck calls from the doorway, framed by the soft floral garlands that you’ve recently added to the entrance.  There’s a delighted shine in his golden eyes, and you suspect he absolutely knows how exaggerated your clumsy movements on the bike have been.   “It is not every day that a restaurant is able to expand to deliveries in several kingdoms. Let them at least test the bike while we are here, so we know they won’t get hurt.”

Peking’s smile has a mischievous tilt to it, but Plum agrees. Steak grumbles for a moment, his hand still on your shoulder.  You turn to him with a jutting lower lip.

“Stop that.” He gives you a little push before letting go of you.  You beam.  “Be careful, at least,” he says gruffly.

“Sure,” you chirp.

Steak rolls his eyes.  He stays close as you start the bike up.  The engine rumbles to life underneath you, louder than you expected.  Steak looks even less pleased that before.  His scowl has deepened and both swords are thrust into the ground, likely so he’ll be able to catch up with you faster.  

You rev the engine twice, just to listen to it purr.  Out of the corner of your eye, you see the tight clench of Steak’s fists.  “Hey,” you say, leaning back, your voice softer now.  The knight looks at you with the same scowl as before, but it slips just enough.  Sometimes you forget how deeply his urge to protect goes.  Steak wants to shield you from everything, and you know it frustrates him that he cannot.  Brash or not, the Food Soul cares.  It’s too easy for you to forget that at times.

“You’re here to take care of me, so I know that I’ll be okay.”

He grumbles again, looking away.  When he turns, the angle is just right for you to see the slight pink flush working its way across his cheeks.  “You’d better be, idiot.”

“Softy,” you sing-song.

Steak nudges the kickstand up harder than he needs to.  The pressure almost makes you stumble, bike caught between your legs, but he’s already got you steadied.  He lets go of you just as quickly as he caught you.  “Don’t go far,” he warns.  Still, he moves back to give you room.

You huff, hands tightening on the handlebar.  “I’m not a child.”  You wave at Plum Juice, who has moved back to stand by Peking.  Plum raises a hand in return; Peking inclines his head with a genial smile.  That spark of mischief is still in his golden eyes.

The engine roars under your hands as you rev it.  “Let’s see how fast this can go!” you cheer.

“What-” Steak barks, but you’ve already rotated the twist throttle and pulled your feet off the ground.  He doesn’t manage to react in time to keep you from going anywhere.  You throw him a grin as the bike takes off.

You shift into first with a fast press of your left foot.  Another twist of the throttle and you’re moving fast enough that you can feel the air streaming across your face.  You think you can hear Peking chuckling as you whip by the restaurant.  You’re well into second by then, and you are practically purring along with the engine.

You lean to your right to see how responsive the bike is; the counter steer works beautifully, the bike sliding into a gentle turn.  You click up another gear.  Distantly, you’re aware that Steak is yelling.  It’s almost impressive that he’s loud enough to be heard over the growl of the engine and the whistle of the wind.

The road in front of your restaurant is long and straight until a slightly distant cross road.  It’s everything you don’t want at this moment.  “I’m going a bit further,” you yell to your Food Souls -- from the cursing, Steak absolutely hears you -- and you gun it for a decent distance before practically throwing yourself into a turn.  The adrenaline is starting to kick through you, breath caught tight in your chest as you lean close enough to the ground that you have to work every muscle in your core to keep the bike from going fully over.  The stretch and pull of your muscles is glorious in that way that edges right on pain; after a moment, it’s too much and you pull up.

You go for a few more minutes (the part of you not concentrating can hear that Steak is still losing his mind, even though it should be quite obvious at this point that you’re a skilled rider).   You use the straightaways to pick up speed before turning, each one sharper than the last and requiring you to lean closer and closer to the ground.  Still, you know it can’t last. The bike, though it rumbles nicely underneath you, isn’t meant for how much you’re pushing it.  The top speeds barely make your adrenaline spike further, and you resign yourself to ending your ride as you come up on the sign marking the cross road.

Part of you knows that you’re about to be meaner than usual with your next move, but the galloping of your heart feels more important.  You tighten your hands and whoop, leaning forward and hitting the throttle hard.  The jerk of the bike is sharper than you expected (delivery bike, you remind yourself, god, you hope you aren’t destroying it) but you feel the rear tire break traction.  The drift works perfectly.  You use it to angle yourself back towards your restaurant, pushing up into a higher speed once you’ve completed the turn.  

You come up on the restaurant fast, the bike still thrumming beneath you.  You give it one last push - the engine whines just a bit - and then lean forward and hit the front brakes.  It’s a careful and controlled maneuver.  You feel the rear tire rising and you rise with it. It feels like flying in the best of ways, your heart soaring as the adrenaline pumps through you.  Your front tire stays down, sliding along the road until you come to a full stop.  The rear wheel drops with a thud and you move fast to brace yourself, a wild smile on your lips.

Once your feet are on the ground, you glance up at your Food Souls with a smile.  Steak is gaping at you, his fingers twitching.  Plum Juice isn’t much better, but he somehow makes even aghast shock look refined.  Mostly, you’re surprised to see that even Peking looks a bit shaken, but then there’s that little smile rising like the sun across his lips, so fast that you think perhaps you imagined his surprise.

Knowing you don’t have long, you flash them an even bigger smile and throw up a peace sign.

“Bike works great!” you chirp, swinging off of it with a small grimace as your muscles pull.  “Can’t wait to really start deliveries!”

Steak makes a choked off noise.

“Ah, Attendant,” Plum says cautiously.

“Hmm?

“Perhaps it would be best...if we took care of the deliveries.”

“Oh?  How come?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Peking raising his arm to cover his smirk with one of his long, draping sleeves.  You bite down on your laugh.

“Well,” Plum says, glancing to the other Food Souls for assistance.  When it doesn’t come, he shifts his gaze back to you.  “It’s usually best if you’re at the restaurant; the customers love you so much.”

“Huh,” you say, starting into the restaurant.  Peking lets you brush past him.  “Well, I’ll just do the deliveries a few times a week, then, I guess.”

A hand winds around your bicep and pulls you back.  “Absolutely not,” Steak grits.  He spins you to face him.   “You are not getting on that contraption again while I’m around.”

You blink.  “Okay.”

“There’s no way in hell you can -- wait, what?”

You reach up and pat him on the cheek.  “Okay.”

Steak’s hands fall away from you.  The scrunch of his brow is actually cute.

“Okay,” he repeats.

“Okay,” you say amiably.  The sound is soft and low, but Peking is absolutely chuckling behind you.  When you flick your gaze back towards him, he inclines his head and disappears into the restaurant.  As you return your attention to Steak, you see movement from the corner of your eye that indicates Plum has followed him.

Steak eyes you warily.  You blink at him and offer up a soft, fond smile.  “Dumbass,” he grumbles, but his scowl is softening.  

You pat his cheek once more.  “Same to you,” you say cheerfully.  “I think I’m going to go exploring, we need a few restocks.  Wanna come?”

“...Fine.  Someone has to make sure you don’t get killed.”  

You hum in agreement and turn to head back into the restaurant once more.  Steak falls into step beside you.

You wave to some of your regular customers as you enter before turning down one of the private hallways.  Steak keeps pace by your side, pulling you to the side as one of your servers goes running past and almost knocks you over.  “Slow down, dammit,” he calls after them.  You laugh.

Another turn takes you down a quieter hallway.  

“Hey Steak?”

“What.”

You brush the back of your hand against his with a smile.  “I’m glad you’re around to keep me safe.”

“A-Attendant!” For a second, you think he’s going to say more, but he subsides into a quiet muttering that you can’t quite make out.  He looks away from you, cheeks flushed, and you revel in his rare softness.  

You let the moment linger for a few breaths more and then, making sure he isn’t looking, you slip the delivery bike’s spare key into your pocket.

[broccolianddandelion]

13 Todobaku Fic Recs

I’ve been following the BNHA fandom for approximately two seconds, but within this time Todobaku has become my indisputable OTP. (The evil soul who introduced me to the fandom via her divine artwork (@anatchie) favors Bakudeku, and I feel a little disloyal now, but what can you do?) Over the past months I’ve read a lot of Todobaku. My gift to you is a baker’s dozen of my (admittedly idiosyncratic) favorites, the ones I return to time and again. As always, check out the author’s tags before reading. They’re there for a reason.

The indelicacies of nitroglycerin (T, 50.2K) by yeetin. - “Don’t you think Bakugou is pretty?”

Todoroki looked up, after having apparently caused the untimely deaths of his three friends. Uraraka was doubled over, clutching her throat as bits of food sprayed from her wheezing mouth, Iida had somehow mini-Recipro Bursted his way through the floorboards and was struggling to get back out of the crater, and Midoriya… Midoriya looked like he needed an ambulance. Or an immediate blood transfusion at least, his face was so white.

This fic has one of the most indelible scenes of drunk Todoroki I’ve ever read. A little angsty, a lot funny.

I want to reconcile the violence in my heart (T, 28.1K) by @callalilalma - You had one job, you piece of shit! his brain yells at it. Just pump fucking blood in my veins, don’t fucking give yourself to half and half!

This fic got me fascinated with the idea of Bakugou as an unreliable narrator. I may be halfway done with a remix from Todoroki’s point of view. I’ve probably listened to the Muse song thousands of time by now. (I’m a slow writer.)

i want you (to want me) (T, 18.5K) by shaekspeares - “You know what,” Bakugou exhales angrily, more to himself, and then suddenly is leaning over Todoroki where he sits, arms by his sides and face close to his. “It doesn’t fucking matter. I can think whatever the fuck I want of you. I’m gonna beat you no matter how much better than me you think you are.”

“When you’re not having a tantrum, I actually respect you a lot,” Todoroki corrects. Mainly because he means it, but also because he’s starting to know how to get Bakugou to pull the face he’s pulling now. “You’re an admirable person in some ways.”

“Fucking hell,” Bakugou says, his shoulders sagging and his expression comically disheartened. “I- what’s next? You gonna declare your love for me mid-battle?”

“I don’t think so, no,” Todoroki replies, instinctively, then freezes, thinking about it.

“I’m fucking- going,” Bakugou continues, undeterred and jittery. “Fucking weirdo.”

He hastily grabs his bag and stomps off, and Todoroki sits very still.

Oh, dear.

He thinks he may have missed a few things while redefining his feelings.

One of my favorite characterizations of Todoroki. Hilarious and sweet getting together fic.

Lock and Key (E, WIP) by @autochorystalize - Bakugou made a choked, gravelly noise before croaking out a low, “You can’t be serious.” His fingers ached to blow up everything in the room.

“I’m sorry, young man, but you can’t change reality! This sometimes happens.” Recovery Girl clicked through his file, adding a new symbol in a previously empty slot. - - - A pair of eyes discreetly locked on to an explosive blond plowing his way forward, parting people in his path. He recognized the kid, of course. Anyone in the underbelly of society would recognize him, after the publicity of both UA’s Sports Festival and the events leading up to All Might’s fall. The uniform he was wearing cast away any doubts about the young man’s identity. It was a bit of a surprise that the little firecracker presented as an omega. - - - - - - - - - Or: there are certain types of evil that seemed too distant, archaic violations and perversions that would never actually threaten bright-eyed heroes-in-training in the clean, modern world...but sometimes those evils aren't as distant as one might think.

The fic that changed my mind about abo. The world building is mind blowing. Delves deep into social issues that are all too real. This can be a hard read at times (check the tags) but is absolutely worth it. Also I’m dying for Bakugou and Todoroki to get together.

nothing lingers passively. (E, WIP) by @ii-mo - A faint tickling sensation under the bridge of his nose was all the warning he received before Bakugou gripped the lapels of his uniform and hauled him in. The scent of the Alpha's peaking rut shot through him like a bullet, ricocheting off his insides and settling to quiver at the bottom of his gut, still warm.

Cross- eyed, Todoroki wrinkled his nose where it nearly met his classmate’s. He should have expected that reaction, honestly.

Alpha Bakugou Katsuki is allergic to suppressants, and Todoroki Shouto is a Beta with a grudge. Together they strike a deal that swiftly becomes more than either of them had bargained for.            

As of this writing there is one more chapter left in this story, and I can’t wait to read it. Fascinating take on the biology of alphas and betas.

Proximate Cause (T, 5.3K) by @daddyissuesandgrenadehands - “It seems our dear Bakugou has punched a teacher.” Shockingly, there’s no sarcasm in Nedzu's voice. “Midoriya was involved somehow too, but we aren’t sure how just yet. This is quite serious, as you can imagine.”

Aizawa wouldn’t be opposed to a Nomu slamming his head into the ground a few more times. Maybe one could just come and finish the job for good this time. All he wanted was one freaking day of peace. Goddamit Bakugou.

A serious catalyzing event, yet some of the best wry humor I’ve encountered.

rule 02: stay (M, 23.6K) by @altinsky - The vampire leans in close, expression utterly business-like in its seriousness.

And the last thing Katsuki remembers is the feeling of a tongue touching the bleeding wound at the juncture of his throat, the feeling of inexplicable anger, the fleeting thought of — this guy is so fucking dead — and then, nothing.

(or: katsuki is a vampire hunter who, thanks to a series of misfortunate circumstances and his potent werewolf's blood, somehow ends up striking a deal with the most aggravating vampire in existence)

As I rule I don’t particularly like creature!fics, but this fic, perhaps inspired by the BNHA Halloween art, captivated me. Great use of canonical elements in an AU.

Starting Over From Ground Zero (E, 38.5K) by @xenophonspeaking and HyacinthAtropa - What would their relationship have been like, if Bakugou’s pride hadn’t stood in the way? Would they have been friends, or would things have mostly stayed the same? Would Bakugou have been happier, more open and honest about his feelings and wants and needs as a person? Would he have accepted and even appreciated the comfort others offered him, rather than always keeping people at arm’s-length in an effort to maintain an image of independence and strength?

Todoroki didn’t know.

He didn’t know. But he wanted to.

Abruptly, like a bolt of lightning, he realized he actually had the chance to find out.

(Or: that one where Bakugou has temporary amnesia and Todoroki is tasked with caring for him until his memory returns, but ends up falling in love with the part of Bakugou that Bakugou has always kept hidden away instead.)

For obvious reasons XenophonSpeaks was one of the first Todobaku writers I discovered, and this is one of my two favorite fics from a talented writer. I’ve been pleased, though not surprised, to see its kudos steadily rising over the months. A sweet getting together story, great use of the amnesia trope, hot lovemaking.

then, be mine. (M, 32.5K) by TDRKBKGO - The way things always trucked onwards despite the ruthlessness of it was a constant fucking boulder in Katsuki’s smooth machinery because he had no time. One thing happened after another and he was content, of course - he didn't want to stand still. In fact, that was probably the one thing he couldn't stand the thought of doing. But it meant leaving things behind.

This fic should have hundreds more kudos. I want to write a love letter to this writer, if it wouldn’t be super creepy. One of my favorite tropes — getting back together — angsty, some of the best-written (though not necessarily the smuttiest) smut I’ve read in BNHA.

Tracing the Sharp Edge of You (T, 4.7K) by hellsinki - “Why do you hate Midoriya so much?”

“Why do you fucking ask? Why not just assume?”

Why not just assume? He had tried that, but something just didn’t add up.

“Because it doesn’t fit your profile.”

This is my take on the reason behind Bakugou’s rocky relationship with Deku based on their canonical interactions, set in a soft todobaku narrative. It’s not what you have been reading up in the fandom, but this is what I think could be a very plausible reason. Fair warning: Not exactly Deku-friendly.            

This is a Todobaku fic, but it is actually a fascinating take on Bakugou’s relationship with Midoriya. If you read the comments you can see that a lot of readers didn’t understand (or appreciate) what the writer was doing. A refreshing read that I return to when I want something different.

Without Hesitation (T, 8.2K) by @xenophonspeaking - The first time Bakugou told Todoroki he was in love with him, he thought he’d die.

My other candidate for favorite fic from XenophonSpeaks. This fic makes my angst-loving heart sing, and there are some great ensemble comedic moments.

Yellow Umbrella (G, WIP) by veemon - When Todoroki’s interest finally catches Bakugous attention it may be too late for them to make up.

I adore this fic, and it launched my obsession with manipulative!Midoriya. I eat that shit up now. A rare G-rated abo story. I can’t wait until it updates.

you are my sun. (T, WIP) by TDRKBKGO -  “‘Why’d he have to go and become the Moon’, he said"  Shouto leans forward where he sits in a cherry tree on the verge of springing into full blossom, rubbing his temples.  

“Because he went and became the Sun.”

This fic blew my mind, and it’s breaking my heart that it hasn’t been updated in months. I was speechless when I finished the first chapter. Bakugou’s the sun, and Todoroki’s the moon, and the way the story maps onto canon is extraordinary.

[thehorrcr]

SHOOTING STARS by @thehorrcr

[It’s a warm June night. The air is heavy with cicada songs. Silver moonlight is streaming down from the heavens, like musical notes in the night’s grand symphony. Two figures are sitting on a rooftop of a large, victorian-style house. While warm orange light spills from the first floor windows. The soft sound of music and laughter, drifting from an open door. The two figures on the rooftop though, sit away from the chatter, like a pair of boats far away from shore. Their lilting conversations, echoing through the night.]

DANTE: (laying back on the tiled roof) Do you think SOLI is really going to leave us, for Chicago?

ROSEMARY: (Gives him a funny look) That is the point of a ‘Goodbye Party’, right? Can’t really take it back once its done, can you?

DANTE: (Frowns deeply) It’s a lousy trade if you ask me.

ROSEMARY: What do you mean?

DANTE: Soli, leaving us for college. That’s like trading Messi for -

ROSEMARY: (Gives Dante a light, playful shove) Don’t bring your silly soccer teams into this, Dante Amezcua.

DANTE: (smiles up at Rosemary lazily. There’s something caught in his eye, that Rosemary can’t quite place her finger on. It resembles starlight, and makes her heart hiccup.)  I am going to miss her.

ROSEMARY: Me too.

DANTE (a dark expression crosses his soft features) Rosey, does it ever bother you how fast people can leave?

ROSEMARY: (contemplative)  Not really, but I guess I never really expect people to stay, either.

DANTE: (Runs a hand through his hair) It scares the hell out of me.

[A moment of heavy silence passes between the two. The air has gotten colder now, the sun’s warmth draining itself from the evening, like watercolors. The stars have grown brighter, so that ROSEMARY can almost see the Milky Way. Somewhere below them, there is the sound of laughter, echoing like windchimes through the quiet night. Although the noise is joyful, there’s a deep sort of sadness attached to everything. Purple and bruised, like the sky that stretches above them.]

DANTE: (his voice comes out evenly, but his words sound like mud) Do you remember when they took my dad?

ROSEMARY: (Her eyes don’t meet Dante’s, but she nods slowly) Dante…

DANTE: (shakes his head quickly) There are days where I feel like I was born just to miss everything. Like, my whole life exists just as a reminder of everything that I can’t keep.

ROSEMARY: (shifts so that she’s leaning over Dante’s head. She runs her fingers through his hair, gently)  That’s not true -

DANTE: (voice breaks) But that’s how I feel, Rosemary. It’s so lonely.

ROSEMARY: But you’re not alone, Dante. You have me. I am not going anywhere.

DANTE: (laughs a little, the noise is bitter) You can’t promise me that. Everyone says they’ll never leave and then… (voice trails off, Dante gets a faraway look on his face) And then, life happens.

[A shooting star falls from the sky like a teardrop. DANTE gasps and points up at it. They both remark at the phenomenon for a few moments.]

ROSEMARY: … maybe some people are meant to be our shooting stars.

DANTE: (frowns) What do you mean?

ROSEMARY: I mean, I think some people are supposed to come into our lives. I think we’re all on a crash course towards one another, like how the andromeda galaxy is supposed to collide with our own… and I think we’re meant to change each other. Like how gravity rips some things from deep space, or how asteroids scar the face of the moon. But… just like asteroids and shooting stars, people and things are made to change us, and then disappear.

DANTE: (grumbling)  That doesn’t make me feel much better, Rose.

ROSEMARY: But don’t you get it? That’s the wonderful part. (ROSEMARY points up at the moon) we marvel at the moon and her craters every night. People are supposed to walk in and out of our lives, and they’re supposed to hurt us, or heal us, or whatever. Just because they leave, doesn’t make the scars they gave us, any less beautiful. Do you look at shooting stars and think they’re useless because they’re gone all too quickly?

DANTE: (smiling softly) ...no.

ROSEMARY: Then, why do the same for anything else? You can’t spend your whole life mourning shooting stars, Dante. You can’t avert your eyes to all the ugly parts in life, or else you’ll miss the really beautiful ones, too.

[There’s the sound of a hatch opening. Orange light pours itself like spilled honey onto the blue rooftop. DANTE and ROSEMARY turn to see their friend, SOLI hoisting herself up onto the roof, and then walking towards them.]

SOLI: (Takes a seat next to her friends)  I didn’t know I was missing the Antisocial Party-Goer Club up here.

DANTE: (scowls, but a grin tugs at the side of his mouth)  We just wanted to look at the moon.

SOLI: (tilts her head up towards the sky, moonlight reflecting off of her dark hair, like coins in a fountain) She is beautiful.

[Another shooting star arcs itself across the sky. Like a painter swiping stardust across the night’s canvas]

ROSEMARY: (gasps)  Did you see that! There was another one!

DANTE: There must be a meteor shower or something.

[A voice from the hatch calls for SOLI to come back down.]

ROSEMARY: (raising an eyebrow)  Looks like your company is in high demand.

SOLI: (shrugs slightly)  Let them wait. I’d rather be here with you guys, anyways.

DANTE and ROSEMARY: (both murmur in agreement)  Me too.

[The three sit together like sets of cats on a windowsill. All of them, gazing up at the moon, enjoying each other’s presence. Soaking up starlight, until late in the night. When the last star, disappears from the sky and gives way to dawn. The gold light of morning, cracking open the night like an eggshell, giving way, to yet another tomorrow.]

[e8luhs]

WOKE UP NEW.

LISTEN ON SPOTIFY

TRACKLIST & ANNOTATIONS UNDER THE CUT! (last edited 03.16.19)

I. ARE YOU SATISFIED? / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

cause it’s my problem if i want to pack up and run away it’s my business if i feel the need to smoke and drink and swear it’s my problem, it’s my problem if i feel the need to hide and it’s my problem if i have no friends and feel i want to die

II. LIFESPAN / VAULTS

oh, you took what you wanted to take and yet you never wanted nothing from me oh, you took what you wanted to take and yet you never wanted nothing from me

III. RAIN IN SOHO / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

no promise sweeter than a blood pact nothing harder to go through than a vanishing act no morning colder than the first frost no friends close than the ones we've lost

IV. LEMON GLOW / BEACH HOUSE

read my fortune too, tell me what you see cross it like a t it's all the same to me this game i play, i do it every day i promise I'll be fine, bear it every time

V. SATELLITE MIND / METRIC

i’m not suicidal i just can't get out of bed i drift into a deep fog lost where i forgot to hold it i can feel you most when i'm alone i can feel your ghost when i'm alone

VI. PEDESTRIAN AT BEST / COURTNEY BARNETT

my internal monologue is saturated analog it's scratched and drifting, i've become attached to the idea it's all a shifting dream, bittersweet philosophy i've got no idea how I even got here i'm resentful, I'm having an existential time crisis want bliss, daylight savings won't fix this mess under-worked and over-sexed, i must express my disinterest the rats are back inside my head, what would freud have said?

VII. BORN TO LOSE / SLEIGH BELLS

took a shot to the head in the back near the crib such a legend now, you were born to lose ‘cause i know that the pain keeps you close to the flame you know everything, you were born to lose

VIII. STICKS AND STONES / THE PIERCES

sticks and stones will break your bones and leave you lying in the mud but you get scared when we're alone, like i might suck your blood and i could tell you a witch's spell but it just might blow your top and you start to run just as I'm having fun and it's awfully hard to stop, it's awfully hard to stop

IX. BLACK OUT DAYS / PHANTOGRAM   

speak in tongues i don't even recognize your face mirror on the wall tell me all the ways to stay away

X. THE OUTSIDER / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

i look myself in the face and whisper "i'm in the wrong place" is there more to lose than gain if i go on my own again? (on my own again)

XI. SPELLBOUND / SIOUXSIE AND THE BANSHEES

following the footsteps of a rag doll dance we are entranced spellbound

XII. ARTIFICIAL NOCTURNE / METRIC

i’m just as fucked up as they say i can't fake the daytime i found an entrance to escape into the dark got false lights for the sun it's an artificial nocturne an outsider's escape for a broken heart

XIII. AUTOCLAVE / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

i am this great, unstable mass of blood and foam and no emotion that's worth having could call my heart its home my heart's an autoclave my heart's an autoclave

XIV. BAD DREAMS / PHANTOGRAM

bad things never neglect me i'm just a scene in a movie bad thoughts never arrest me i'm just a flash in a memory

XV. BEAT (HEALTH, LIFE, AND FIRE) / THAO & THE GET DOWN STAY DOWN

and oh my gunpowder and with emergency i must battle without her she is surely killing me

XVI. EVERY TEAR DISAPPEARS / ST. VINCENT

oh, the more that i struggle i'm deeper in the pit if i can show a hand then i can show a fist call the twenty-first century, tell her “give us a break”

XVII. FIREWORKS / MITSKI

one morning this sadness will fossilize and i will forget how to cry i'll keep going to work and you won't see a change save, perhaps, a slight gray in my eye

XVIII. UNICORN TOLERANCE / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

and when the clouds do clear away get a momentary chance to see the thing i've been trying to beat to death the soft creature that i used to be the better animal i used to be

XIX. GROW UP AND BLOW AWAY / METRIC

if this is the life why does it feel so good to die today? blue to gray grow up and blow away

XX. NUMB / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

i feel numb most of the time lower i get, the higher i'll climb and i will wonder why i got dark only to shine looking for the golden life oh, it's a reasonable sacrifice

XXI. AMERICAN DREAM / EMILY HAINES & THE SOFT SKELETON

grab your clothes and head to the doorway if you dance out, no one complains find the place where you can be boring where you won't need to explain that you're sick in the head, and you wish you were dead or at least instead of sleeping here you prefer your own bed, come on you just suck at self-preservation versus someone else's pain

XXII. WEAR BLACK / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

wear black when it's light outside wear black when there's no light wear black following the left hand path wear black but i get right

XXIII. SPAT OUT SPIT / LADY LAMB

was i born wild? have i been asleep this whole damn time, dreaming up a life? will i awake to find that I'm deep in the woods? and i'm snarling on all fours

XXIV. MEDULLA OBLONGATA / BUKE & GASE

since i left you with these broken fingers broken tongue broken ears from not listening false hopes and happiness in the barrel of my god

XXV. PARIS IS BURNING / ST. VINCENT

they say, “i’m on your side when nobody is, 'cause nobody is come sit right here and sleep while i slip poison in your ear”

XXVI. IN THE CRATERS ON THE MOON / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

if the strain proves too much give up right away if the light hurts your eyes stay in your room all day

XXVII. GETAWAY / MOTHER MOTHER

we gotta get away from it all we gotta get away from everything we've grown to know we gotta get gone like on a holiday, but for longer away from all the silly things that haunt us

XXVIII. YOUR FACE LEFT BEFORE YOU / BUKE & GASE

breaking down my brick wall brain nothing worse than everything to gain too bad it's not my turn you've got witches to burn

XXIX. FUNERAL PYRE / PHANTOGRAM

my funeral pyre my ship of fire as it sinks, i rise all i see is your eyes

XXX. HOLLY / SLEIGH BELLS

wasted all day killing all the capulets!

XXXI. GUILTY / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

oh i’m a guilty one, and know what i have done yeah, i'm a troubled one, and i won't be forgiven

XXXII. KILLER / PHOEBE BRIDGERS

can the killer in me tame the fire in you? is there nothing left to do for us? i am sick of the chase, but i'm hungry for blood and there's nothing i can do

XXXIII. TIPTOE / THE ANTLERS

[instrumental]

XXXIV. GOODBYE, MY DANISH SWEETHEART / MITSKI

now i lay as i study a blank wall would you spare me your voice if i call? ‘cause you waited and watered my heart till it grew you just grew a little smarter too

XXXV. HERMIT THE FROG / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

yeah i feel i’m watered down whenever he's around i put on the crown of clowns and melt slowly to the ground

XXXVI. LAST WORDS OF A SHOOTING STAR / MITSKI

you wouldn't leave till we loved in the morning you'd learned from movies how love ought to be and you'd say you love me and look in my eyes but i know through mine you were looking in yours

XXXVII. 9TH PAWN / OHO

i'm the 9th pawn of the chessboard take it apart, take it along, dark and light squares i'm the thirteenth labor of Hercules give it a try or give it up give it up to me

XXXVIII. HUMPTY / MITSKI

i'll live in the bathtub surrounded by tiles all so square and so steady i will die in their cool, cool arms

XXXIX. I FIRE MYSELF / MARY TIMONY

a demon lured me to his bed where i fell into a poison sleep i dreamed of a river of ants inside me and they were sad and started to bleed

XL. THE POINT OF IT ALL / AMANDA PALMER

“but no one can stare at the wall as good as you, my baby-doll and you're aces for coming along you're almost human, after all and you're learning that just 'cause they call themselves friends doesn't mean they'll call...” they made the comment in jest but you've got the needle i guess that's the point of it all

XLI. SQUARE / MITSKI

your room was square i once noticed from there in your bed, as you slept and i held my breath everything had its own place and i wondered; what space would i take, in the order you kept?

XLII. SAVIOR / ST VINCENT

adore you to the grave and farther honey, i can't be your martyr maybe it's just human nature but honey, i can't be your savior

XLIII. VALLEY OF THE DOLLS / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

in the valley of the dolls, we sleep got a hole inside of me living with identities that do not belong to me in my life, i got this far now i’m ready for the last hoorah dying like a shooting star in the valley

XLIV. STATUETTE / EMILY HAINES & THE SOFT SKELETON

with a feather in your cap another jewel in your crown another notch in your belt you’re the captain at the helm the statuette on your shelf says you’re better than me better than me

XLV. HAVE TO EXPLODE / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

the stage is set, someone's going to do something someone else will regret i speak in smoke signals and you answer in code the fuse will have to run out sometime something here will eventually have to explode, have to explode

XLVI. THE BOX SONG / AMANDA PALMER

and you were sure that you could keep it all off in a tower where there’d always be space and you were sure that if you read it all you would eventually come across your own name

XLVII. I DON’T SMOKE / MITSKI

if you need to be mean, be mean to me i can take it and put it inside of me if your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room you can lean on my arm as you break my heart

XLVIII. ICICLES / THE SCARY JOKES

but as for me, i can only be forgiven if im givin myself up to you on a silver serving tray must i bare myself to the stabbing of your knife and gnashing teeth, while our lovely company appears so entertained? ah yes, good etiquette demands i remain soft and accessible in the face of my own ending so i will try to be discreet; through my full-blown implosion, i’ll stay golden and retreat into my sweetest fantasy 

XLIX. CODES AND KEYS / DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE

when you scream, “love you, see”,   like a child throwing stones at the sky when they fall back to earth as minor chords of major works separate rooms of single life we are one we are alive

L. WASHING MACHINE HEART / MITSKI

baby, though i've closed my eyes i know who you pretend i am i know who you pretend i am

LI. THE KILLING TYPE / AMANDA PALMER

i couldn't kill to get you back and i've officially been asked i couldn't kill to save a life i'd rather a die a peaceful piece of shit-bait shame-filled coward, thanks

LII. HAVE IT OUT / MOTHER MOTHER

i have it out, i have it out, with myself, with myself, i have it out it's gonna get ugly it's gonna get messy it's gonna be world war iii of myself

LIII. CATABOLIC SEED / THE SCARY JOKES

oh i made a silly mistake (what'd you do?) i've given up more than i can take (uh oh!) and left hollows in my wake my structure's compromised but you still batter at all my fault lines i can't run, i can't hide, but you can't say i didn't try

LIV. DOPPELGANGER / THE ANTLERS

and now's he howling, but i'm muted by the horror how he's everywhere and waiting now he's just around the corner

LV. LEFT ALONE / FIONA APPLE

and now i'm hard, too hard to know i don't cry when i'm sad anymore, no no tears calcify in my tummy, fears coincide with the tow how can i ask anyone to love me when all i do is beg to be left alone?

LVI. HEEL TURN 2 / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

spend too much of my life now trying to play fair throw my better self overboard shoot at him when he comes up for air come unhinged get revenge i don't want to die in here i don't want to die in here

LVII. NOT ABOUT LOVE / FIONA APPLE

conversation once colored by esteem became dialogue as a diagram of a play for blood took a vacation, my palate got clean now i could taste your agenda while you're spitting your cud

LVIII. SEVENTEEN / MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS

oh, you were embarrassed of me 'cause i used my tongue freely bet you wish i couldn't speak 'cause when i do, you know i tell you why you appear weak

LIX. YOUR WOMAN / WHITE TOWN

now i know your heart, i know your mind, you don't even know you're being unkind, so much for all your high brow marxist ways, just use me up and then you walk away boy, you can't play me that way

LX. DEADBODY / MIYA FOLICK

i need you to know i'm not powerless my strength lies within my gentleness and i'm already hurt so now i don't have to hide and i hold all the heads of my brothers and my sisters high

LXI. YOUR DOG / SOCCER MOMMY

i'm not a prop for you to use when you're lonely or confused i want a love that lets me breathe i've been choking on your leash

LXII. RIPE / SCREAMING FEMALES

i built this game to play and to pretend you are a dark machine and i'm a cog when engines crack, when fuel lines break off i'll save your bits and let your motor rot

LXIII. WINDOW / FIONA APPLE

i was staring out the window the whole time he was talking to me it was a filthy pane of glass i couldn't get a clear view and as he went on and on it wasn't the outside world i could see just the filthy pane that i was looking through

LXIV. BLUE TRASH MATTRESS FIRE / SLEIGH BELLS

i'll do it, i'll jump not for kicks, not for fun but because this shit is too much it's fucking me up enough is enough, enough is enough!

LXV. BITE THE HAND / BOYGENIUS

who do you think you are? who do you think i am? what do you wanna say? what do you think will change? maybe i'm afraid of you maybe i'm afraid of you

LXVI. VENGEANCE / HOT SUGAR

[instrumental]

LXVII. EYES ON FIRE / BLUE FOUNDATION

i'm taking it slow feeding my flame shuffling the cards of your game and just in time, in the right place suddenly i will play my ace

LXVIII. NO CHILDREN / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

and i hope when you think of me years down the line you can't find one good thing to say and i'd hope that if i found the strength to walk out you'd stay the hell out of my way

LXIX. FUCK WAS I / JENNY OWEN YOUNGS

love grows in me like a tumor parasite bent on devouring its host i’m developing my sense of humor till i can laugh at my heart between your teeth till i can laugh at my face beneath your feet

LXX. SERPENTS / SHARON VAN ETTEN

serpents in my mind, i am searching for your crimes everything changes in time you'll stay frozen in time collaging girls, controlling minds you hold the mirror well to everybody else

LXXI. IF YOU FEEL BETTER / EMILY AUTUMN

if you feel better telling me i'm cruel saying i'm unfeeling i don't mind if it's necessary, if it helps you out crying that i'm heartless it's alright

LXXII. THE GOOD THAT WON’T COME OUT / RILO KILEY

i do this thing where i think i'm real sick but i won't go to the doctor to find out about it 'cause they make you stand real still in a real small place as they chartup your insides and put them on display they'd see all of it, all of me, all of it

LXXIII. THE BODY IS A BLADE / JAPANESE BREAKFAST

try your best to slowly withdraw from the darkest impulses of your heart try your best to feel and receive your body is blade that cuts a path from day to day

LXXIV. GET LONELY / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

and i will go downtown, stand in the shadows of the buildings and button up my coat, trying to stay strong, spirit willing and i will come back home, maybe call some friends maybe paint some pictures it all depends and i will get lonely, and gasp for air and look up at the high windows, and see your face up there

LXXV. MOTION SICKNESS / PHOEBE BRIDGERS

i hate you for what you did and i miss you like a little kid i faked it every time but that's alright i can hardly feel anything i hardly feel anything at all

LXXVI. EMPTY / METRIC

sickness was fixing me some coughed out my heart in the last stall now that the damage is done i never miss it at all

LXXVII. TINDER / ORIGAMIBRO

[instrumental]

LXXVIII. REMEMBER MY NAME / MITSKI

'cause i need somebody to remember my name after all that i can do for them is done i need someone to remember me

LXXIX. THE EXECUTION OF ALL THINGS / RILO KILEY

soldiers come quickly, i feel the earth beneath my feet i'm feeling badly, but it's not an attempt at decency and if you're well off, well then i'm happy some for you but i'd rather not celebrate my defeat and humiliation here with you

LXXX. THE THUNDER ANSWERED BACK / Ó

i screamed out, “how'd it get this bad?” and the thunder answered back “if you know not what you lack then you must unturn your back your inside is overcast and you are tethered to your past and it must feel like fucking hell to be a patchwork of yourself a bunch of scraps thrown and sewn around your bones and though you're alone it's holding you too tightly but who are you? from where do you come? what do you believe in? and whom do you love?"

LXXXI. DIE HAPPY / METRIC

this city is thick with common thieves still passing around the same disease who's running this town and why are we? still drinking that kool-aid like it's free

LXXXII. ALL MY PRIDE / BLACK HONEY

all my scars will heal in time now he's gone with all my pride everybody's saying what i need to do but i haven't got a thing to prove, prove to you

LXXXIII. HEADS WILL ROLL / YEAH YEAH YEAHS

glitter on the west streets silver over everything the rivers all wet you're all chrome

LXXXIV. ART OF DOUBT / METRIC

you said "don't let your heart give out" no, i won't let my heart give out you said "don't let your breath run out" no, i won't let my breath run out

LXXXV. BLACK EYE/BURNT THUMB / METRONOMY

[instrumental]

LXXXVI. KLAPP KLAPP / LITTLE DRAGON

somebody from my heart sang i could turn off and never wake up and everything's clear, my breath made like-steam fake feel better fallin' apart, apart, apart, apart, apart

LXXXVII. VANISHING ACT / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

[instrumental]

LXXXVIII. AUBERGINE / LADY LAMB

i was unborn when i was younger i was unborn when i was younger but i was rebuilt when you spoke i awoke when you spoke

LXXXIX. PSYCHIC READER / BAD BAD HATS

when i look at you, i get a good vibration stay on the line until i hit your station i was meant for you so i can be patient, yeah

XC. BETS AGAINST THE VOID / THE SCARY JOKES

the sun is just a copper coin i flip in bets against the void imitating choice 'til i feel good again, i'll keep them in a tin can then i'll have copper coins to spare

XCI. GIRL / THE INTERNET

passion burning, causing rapture of laughter pressure building, falling faster and faster if i told you that you rock my world, i want you around me would you let me call you my girl? (my girlfriend, my girlfriend) i can give you the life you deserve, just say the word and i got you, baby i got you

XCII. BUZZCUT SEASON / LORDE

i remember when your head caught flame it kissed your scalp and caressed your brain well you laughed, baby it's okay it's buzz cut season anyway

XCIII. GEYSER / MITSKI

you're my number one you're the one i want and i've turned down every hand that has beckoned me to come

XCIV. A KISS / THE BLOW

those dances that I did, they really weren't all that fun to do i only did them 'cause they were the only ones i knew they called me player, i just played who i thought i should be i'd still be her if you hadn't come and interrupted me from the kiss

XCV. CRANE YOUR NECK / LADY LAMB

and i placed my palm upon your collarbone and i wished to fall asleep deep in your marrow as gently as a mouse curled up in a ball as gently as a mouse until tomorrow

XCVI. DANCE YRSELF CLEAN (COVER) / MS MR

walking up to me expecting walking up to me expecting words, it happens all the time present company accepted present company, except the worst it happens every night

XCVII. SOFT SOUNDS FROM ANOTHER PLANET / JAPANESE BREAKFAST

in search of a soft sound from another planet in search of a quiet place to lay this to rest striving for goodness while the cruel men win there's no part of me left that can feel or hear it

XCVIII. A BETTER SON/DAUGHTER / RILO KILEY

and sometimes when you're on, you're really fucking on and your friends, they sing along and they love you but the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap and it teases you for weeks in its absence but you'll fight and you'll make it through, you'll fake it if you have to and you'll show up for work with a smile and you'll be better and you'll be smarter and more grown up and a better daughter or son, and a real good friend

XCIX. TRAUMA / HOT SUGAR

[instrumental]

C. WOKE UP NEW / THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

the first time i made coffee for just myself, i made too much of it but i drank it all, just 'cause you hate it when i let things go to waste and i wandered through the house like a little boy, lost at the mall and an astronaut could've seen the hunger in my eyes from space

[firewritten]

Knock Three Times

Rusty Jenkins sat in a rocking chair on the porch of the general store. The chair was almost as old as he was, and he was getting on up there. Nigh about eighty now.

He rocked back and forth, listening to the floorboards creak. A man could sit out here all day, chewing tobacco and rocking.

Shame about that Sutphin boy. He’d been sweet on that pretty young thing, that Thomas girl. Well, weren’t gonna be no wedding now.

The screen door flew open and Farmer Brown stepped out onto the porch. The door, worn out by all this activity and excitement, slammed shut behind him.

Rusty spoke. “What you think ‘bout this weather?”

Farmer Brown looked up. Rusty followed his gaze. The sky burned a bright hard blue. The air smelled of smoke and dead leaves.

“Killin’ frost comin’. Reckon I oughta go down to Tate’s, help him cover his pumpkins.”

Rusty reached down and picked up his Dixie cup, spat a stream of sticky brown tobacco juice into it.

“You be careful out there. Boy got his head tore plumb off out that a way t’other week. They found his body on Ol’ Knocky’s grave. Ain’t found his head yet.”

Farmer Brown nodded and stepped off the porch. Rusty watched him get in his brown pickup truck and pull out of the gravel parking lot, headed down to Tate’s.

Sure was a shame about that Sutphin boy.

–

Farmer Brown turned left on Redbrush Church Road. The Pleasant Rest cemetery came up on his right.

The spikes on the cemetery’s wrought iron fence leered at him as he drove by.

They found his body on Ol’ Knocky’s grave.

The grave was in the far southern end of the cemetery, down by the edge of Tate’s land. Folks said that if you knocked on the gravestone three times at midnight on Halloween, Ol’ Knocky would knock back.

He’d been down there a few times on Halloween with his friends as a boy. None of them had ever had the gumption to knock more than once. He’d gone back when he was older. He and Mae had left Ol’ Knocky in peace, but they’d sure had some fun.

He drove past the end of the fence. The sun tipped the trees with gold.

–

He parked his truck in Tate’s driveway and jumped out. The house was small, only two bedrooms. Tate had built it himself thirty some years ago.

He walked up the path of square stone blocks to the concrete porch. Leaves crunched under his shoes. When he reached the door he stopped for a moment, inhaling the smell that clung to the house. It was musty, closed-in, the smell of dust motes in a slanted sun beam.

The doorbell was dead. The wires hung loose where the button used to be.

He knocked once on the door.

He stood for a while and waited. A breeze sprang up.

He knocked again, louder.

The breeze shook the branches of the trees surrounding the house. Leaves spiralled to the ground.

Farmer Brown knocked a third time, as hard as he could.

He heard movement inside. Something squeaked, a door closed, and heavy footsteps came from the back of the house. The front door swung open. Tate stood there, silent. Farmer Brown spoke.

“Good afternoon. How are you?”

“I’m doing all right. Can’t complain. How about yourself?”

“Fine, fine,” Farmer Brown answered.

Tate was lying. He was not doing all right. His eyes were bloodshot, the skin under them bagged.

“I’d invite you in, but the house ain’t quite to rights. I ain’t felt too good lately.”

Farmer Brown looked down at Tate’s hands. The thick brown fingers slid across each other, like snakes crawling all over each other in a pit.

Tate noticed him looking. The hands went still, limp.

“You want something to drink? Water, tea? I might have some pop.”

“No thank you, I’m fine. Listen, there’s gonna be a killin’ frost tonight. You got anything to cover your pumpkins? I got a tarp in the back of the truck.”

No answer. Tate deflated, drew back into himself. A crow cawed in the distance. The breeze came again. Leaves skittered across the porch.

Inside the house, something squeaked.

Tate lifted his head. He stepped back into the house, started to close the door. Farmer Brown tried again.

“You got any old blankets in there?”

The door closed. The lock turned. The heavy footsteps receded, a door closed inside the house, and something squeaked.

–

Farmer Brown walked down to the pumpkin field, carrying his tarp. Wasn’t like Tate to just shut the door on him like that.

The crow cawed again.

He stopped at the edge of the field. The pumpkins were ripe, just days away from harvesting. Normally, this time of year, Tate was crazy about his pumpkins. He’d set up a sign on the side of the road, Tate’s Pumpkin Patch, and sell ‘em for Halloween. Some years he got all up into it, with hayrides and carving contests. Didn’t seem like he had a mind to do any of that this year.

Well, wasn’t his place to tell Tate what to do. He’d just cover up what he could and go on back home. It was getting on towards sunset. Mae’d be wondering where he was before too long.

He put the tarp down on the ground, found a rock nearby to hold it. He set off down the field, looking for more rocks.

–

He was at the end of the field, close to the cemetery, when he saw a good-sized heavy rock. He bent down to pick it up.

When he stood up, the scarecrow was there.

It had not been there before. He was sure of it. He saw the field in his mind. Rows of pumpkins, grass, dirt, the shadows of the trees stretched long across the ground. Not a straw man to be seen.

Tate had never had a scarecrow, not that Farmer Brown knew of.

He remembered the bloodshot eyes, the coiling hands. Might be a lot about Tate he didn’t know.

The scarecrow was a good six foot. The pole looked weathered, like it’d been standing there in the rain and the snow and the sun for years. A pair of jeans swung in the wind, stuffed with straw. A red plaid shirt was tucked into the jeans, the arms stretched out across the cross pole. Bits of straw clung to the ends of the sleeves.

A fly landed on his hand. He shook it off.

He looked up, past the jeans and red plaid. Saw the white scarf.

It was a fine scarf. He wondered how much it must have cost. Must have been a pretty penny. Too bad about the stains. He stared at them. Listened to the flies buzzing.

In the distance, the crow cawed.

A snatch of song from childhood came back to him.

knock three times three times dead knock three times and lose your head

The scarf uncoiled itself, reared, struck.

It wrapped around his neck and yanked him forward. Dragged him face to face with the scarecrow’s head.

The smell hit him full in the gut. Bile rose in his throat.

Bulging eyes stared at him. Blood dripped from the nose. The half rotted mouth hung open like a tomb on Judgement Day. The swollen tongue twitched.

The scarecrow squeaked.

He pulled hard against the scarf. In response, it tightened around his neck. Cut off his windpipe.

He was going to die and they would find him here in the pumpkin field, stinking to high heaven, and Mae would be alone and he would never see her again.

The scarecrow squeaked again and again, the squeaks rising in volume until the thing was shrieking. Its screams stabbed into his brain.

The scarf cut into his skin and he couldn’t breathe and he felt something hard and rough in his hand.

He was still holding the rock.

He brought his right arm up. Swung it around. Drove the rock right into the scarecrow’s nose.

The thing let out a single high pitched squeak that reached into his bones and turned them to water.

He lifted his arm again, brought it down with the force of a tidal wave. The rock slammed into the scarecrow’s cheek. The scarf went limp.

He could breathe now. He took a deep breath, filled his lungs with the odor of decay and putrefaction. Raised his arm.

Blood flooded through his veins. His muscles burned.

Unable to squeak, its tongue stilled, the scarecrow moaned out a dirge.

His arm whistled through the air and came down like a scythe. The rock smashed into the side of the scarecrow’s head and kept going. Bones crunched. Skin tore and fell away.

The head came off the pole and thudded to the ground. The rest of the scarecrow followed, taking Farmer Brown with it.

The moaning stopped.

–

All of Farmer Brown’s bits ached. He could feel bruises forming on top of bruises. He was bleeding. But he was alive.

His hand was empty. The rock had fallen and disappeared.

He rolled off the scarecrow and looked up. It was nearly dark now. The moon was already in the sky. He could see every crater, every valley.

He could hear the footsteps when they came. Heavy and slow.

“I didn’t ask you for no help.”

Tate was coming down the field.

“You shouldn’t have come out here. I didn’t ask you to come out here.”

The footsteps stopped. Tate stood over him. Farmer Brown took a breath, a deep sweet breath, and spoke.

“I didn’t know you had a scarecrow.”

Tate’s face twisted with rage.

“I don’t.”

Tate held something in his hand. Something long and thin. And sharp. The knife glowed in the twilight.

Farmer Brown pulled his knees up, braced himself against the ground. Before he could get up, Tate’s boot came down hard on his chest and knocked the breath out of him.

He watched Tate raise his arm and thought Mae. The knife plunged.

–

Tate put his arms under Farmer Brown’s shoulders and lifted.

He hadn’t asked the man to come down here. He hadn’t done anything.

He walked backward. Farmer Brown’s boots scraped over the dirt.

Tate hadn’t done anything. It was the voice. The voice that screamed and screamed and never gave him any peace.

He hadn’t done anything. It was Ol’ Knocky. It was all Ol’ Knocky’s fault.

Farmer Brown’s head bumped against his chest.

The wind rustled through the trees. Leaves rose and fell in little gusts.

He came to the cemetery fence. Dragged the body through the gap he’d made three weeks ago.

Ol’ Knocky’s grave was in the row nearest his land. He laid Farmer Brown’s body down on it. Knocked on the tombstone.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He sat on the grass in the dark and waited.

–

Rusty Jenkins sat in the rocking chair on the porch of the general store. It’d turned cold. Winter was coming on. His daughter didn’t much like him being out in the cold air. He’d have to give up the general store and spend his time at home soon.

The door slammed. Mae Brown stood next to him, shaking and breathing fire.

“They said you was the last person to talk to him. What did he say?”

“Said he was going down to Tate’s. I told him. I said a boy got his head tore off down there t’other week.”

Mae stared at him, wild fear in her eyes.

“He didn’t pay no account. Went down there anyway.”

She didn’t wait to hear more. She ran down the porch steps and out to her Bonneville. She slammed the car door, gunned the motor, and peeled out of the parking lot in a shower of gravel. Headed down to Tate’s, he’d reckon. No one ever paid any account to what old folks said.

Rusty settled back in the chair. Rocked back and forth. Listened to the creak of the floorboards. Maybe he could get his daughter to buy him a rocking chair like this one.

He picked up his Dixie cup and spat a stream of tobacco juice into it.

Sure was a shame about that Farmer Brown.

[betweensceneswriter]

Jimjeran-Chapter 14 : Consolation

"Come see the miracle!"

Click Here to Hop to the Table of Contents

    Sunday was a down day.  I did my laundry, re-read my letter to Frank, and cried a little bit more.  Then I put on my big girl pants, cleaned the clinic, and set out a home visit plan for post-natal care, writing out the questions to ask in Marshallese with possible answers and a few other helpful phrases.  I wanted not to feel helpless, and if inadequate post-natal care was a cause of increased infant mortality, then I would do something about it.

    The day was less breezy than it had been a couple of weeks back when Jamie had helped me, which meant my clothes were slightly crunchy when I took them off the line.  I crossed my doorstep carrying my laundry basket, picturing a soaking wet girl, curls drooping with water weight, being hugged by her affectionate red-haired friend.  I missed Jamie; and for that matter I missed Rupert and Angus too.

     The world looked brighter on Monday.  I got up early, took my shower, and went out to the beach with a mat to sit on as I watched the sun rise.  I wanted to try to fall back in love with Frank again, and I thought journaling about him would help.  I started writing a list of things I appreciated about him and memories I had of him.

I love it when Frank reads to me and plays with my hair.

I love it when we go on historical jaunts, stay in little hotels, and visit obscure places. Frank is a treasure hunter when it comes to hidden gems.

Frank is such a generous lover. He cares about my enjoyment when we are together.

It’s amazing to be with such an intelligent conversationalist. When we discuss current events or politics, he always knows the background, the lead-up to the events.  He has a breadth of understanding that is amazing.

I feel like I’m an explorer when I’m with him sometimes, when we try new restaurants, new ethnic foods and experiences.

I remember how much I admired him, this handsome history major, so intelligent, and so enamored and adoring of me.

Yes, we’ve gotten stuck in ruts, and we’ve become a little complacent, but that’s how long relationships go, isn’t it? It can’t be everlasting passion, can it?

     When Rupert knocked on my door Monday evening and handed me a plastic grocery bag filled with mail, I could not have been more excited.  Each week as mail arrived, it would be collected in the main Peace Corps office in Majuro.  On Mondays, they would send it out on the once-weekly flights out to Arno.  We always had our outgoing mail ready to send back to Majuro and on from there, and they made the mail exchange at the plane.  I sighed happily with the thought that my letter to Frank was on its way.

     There were notes from my mom and dad, a letter from my older sister Amy which had been scrawled on with crayon (probably one of my nephews).  There was also a postcard from my college roommate.  And at the bottom of the stack, there was a letter from Frank.  I pressed it to my chest, but decided to save it for the last.

     For some reason I felt a little nervous to open it.  There were so many things I needed it to say.  “Have reasonable expectations, Beauchamp,” I told myself as I finally used my letter opener to tear open the flap and bring out the letter from Frank.

     I was about to start reading, when a rapid knock on my door startled me.  For a second I felt a sinking sense of déjà vu.  What was happening now?  It was a female voice, calling out, "Miss Peachay!  Miss Peachay!"

     I opened the door, and there was Maria.  "Itok!" She said.  "Come see the miracle!"

     "What?" I was confused.

     "Come!  Come!  Put your shoes on!  We run!  Come see the miracle!"

     I wasn't going to run in sandals, so I pulled on a pair of tennis shoes, Maria continuing to urge me to hurry.  Finally ready, I shut the door and followed Maria at a swift trot.

     "Come see the miracle!" she shouted, heading toward the village of Ine, away from the Peace Corps school.  We kept running, Maria calling out, "Come see the miracle," every minute or two.  Eventually I realized we were heading toward the fishing dock on the ocean side of the atoll.  A boat?  Visitors?  A big fish?  A shark?  A whale?  I had no idea what she was taking me to see.

     We stopped, panting, on the edge of the dock.

     "Look!"  said Maria, "The miracle!"  She gestured, and then I saw it.  High in the dark, star-lit sky, was a full moon.

     I stood in silence.  I could hear the pounding of my own heart in my ears and the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore.  My nose pricked at the distinct, slightly fishy scent of the ocean.  And I took in the stars, so bright without the light pollution of the city.  You never really saw the stars in Boston.  Tonight I could actually distinguish the Milky Way, the brighter white stripe of stars showing the galaxy radiating out from our solar system.

     And the moon, perfect and round, gray shadows of the craters so recognizable as the man in the moon I'd grown up seeing.  He looked the same as always, just clearer.

     It was a miracle.  A miracle to be alive, a miracle to be here.  I smiled at Maria.  "How do you say 'Thank you?'" I asked. "

     "'Kommol,'" she said.  "Is mean thanks.  And 'kommol tata' is mean thank you very much."

     I turned my face and gazed up at the bright moon.  "Kommol tata," I whispered.

     I walked back to my apartment with Maria, smiling.  The world was good, and beautiful, and I had a letter from Frank waiting for me back at my house.  I had a sense of well-being and peace.

     When I got back inside, I changed into my shorts and tank top for bed (in the dark, of course), and then turned on my lamp, cuddled up in bed, and pulled out the letter, ready to hear from Frank.

Dear Claire—

    I won’t waste time beating around the bush.  I don’t want to be engaged any more.  I would like the freedom to live my life, and I don’t feel it knowing my ring is on your finger halfway around the world.  I haven’t slept with anyone yet, but I don’t like living my life with you as a shadow over it. 

��    You have been special to me.  I could have seen myself spending the rest of my life with you, but your choice to leave me has helped me see you don’t value me in the same way.  I can’t commit to someone who won’t commit to me.

     You can try to blame this on me, make me out to be the bad guy.  Don’t.  You’re the one who left.  I am still in the same house, at the same job, with the same life.  You are the one who wasn’t satisfied with what we had, so you don’t get to blame me if you suffer the consequences of your actions.

     I think you did this on purpose.  I think you wanted to break up with me but didn’t have the strength of character to do it.  So instead, you put me in an untenable situation and forced me to break up with you, so that I look like the bad guy. 

     Goodbye, Claire.  I will see you when you return to Boston.  Who knows who we will be then.  Right now I won’t rule out getting back together, but I truly don’t foresee it happening, either.

Frank

      I stared blankly at the page in front of me.  I recognized the handwriting, but it couldn’t really be from Frank.  It was so cold, so unloving.  As if he felt nothing.  As if the years we spent together meant nothing.

     Then I remembered my letter.  Heading to Frank, probably somewhere over the ocean between here and Hawaii, was a hopeful, loving, committed letter, and it would get to him in a week.  He had sent this letter a week ago.  So when I had determined that I was going to be faithful to Frank and end my friendship with Jamie, Frank had already broken up with me. 

     There was only one person I wanted to see, that I needed to see.  And I didn’t care what time it was.  I pulled my tennis shoes on again, and jogged down the road in the light of the bright full moon.

      His window faced the iar.  I tapped quietly on it, hoping I wouldn’t disturb the others.  He came to the window, and even in the shadows I could see he was just wearing boxer briefs.  His hair was messy, sticking up in several places.

      “Claire, what are you doing here?” he asked.

     I couldn’t talk.  I just held out the letter in my hand and burst into tears.

      “I’ll be right out, Ripālle,” he said, fading into the darkness of his room.  I heard his toe hit something, and he swore, but in a minute he was outside.

     He eyed the backyard, and then took me by the hand and led me to the swing.  He sat down in it, and then invited me onto his lap.  He’d pulled on a tee shirt and shorts, and he’d brought out a blanket, as well as a dish towel, for some strange reason.  Jamie pulled the blanket over us, tucking me in under his arm with my cheek on his chest, and then he handed me the dish towel.

      “Handkerchief,” he said.  And then he held me.  I couldn’t talk yet.  I couldn’t explain.  But wrapped in Jamie’s arms with his hand stroking my hair, I knew the world was not going to shatter around me.

     Frank wasn’t good with tears.  He viewed them as manipulative and it made him uncomfortable if I cried.  Unfortunately, I’d always been an emotional person, so he often viewed me as trying to make him give me my way.  He would listen, certainly, but he wouldn’t move toward me, and as much as I would wish to be held when I cried, it was unlikely. 

     I could feel Jamie pressing his lips to my hair.  I could so easily have turned my face up to him, but I didn’t.

      “You’re okay?” I finally asked. “I’m not putting your legs to sleep?”

     A chuckle rumbled through Jamie’s chest.  “Maybe a wee bit,” he said, adjusting our bodies so that I was more beside than on him.  “But I dinna care.  I will hold you as long as you need to be held, Ripālle.”  He squeezed me with his arm, as if to convince my body as well as my mind.

      “That may be a while,” I warned him; he responded with a laugh, and a kiss on my scalp. 

     Finally I could speak.  “Frank.  Broke our engagement.  You were right, Jamie.  He couldn’t stand to have me gone.  He thinks I’ve been selfish and he doesn’t want to wait for me.”

     Jamie didn’t say anything, just sighed, and stroked my shoulder.

     I was cried out and exhausted, but I didn’t want to be alone.

      “Jamie,” I said quietly, “Can I just sleep with you in your bed tonight?  I can’t be alone.”  He was quiet for a moment.

      “Sleep with me?” he said; I could hear the humor in his voice.  “Do ye think that’s a good idea?  Ye just broke up wi’ me, like two days ago.  Do ye think I can be trusted, all night, wi’ you dressed in this—whatever it is.”  He pointed down at my shorts and tank top.

      “I trust you more than anyone else, James….Fraser,” I said.  “Hey, what’s your middle name?”

      “Which one?” he asked dryly. 

      “Well, all of them, of course,” I said.

      “James…Alexander…Malcolm…MacKenzie…Fraser,” he intoned slowly.

      “Wow, your mom must have had a hard time yelling at you when you were growing up,” I said.  He laughed.

      “And you?” he said.

      “All my mom had to yell out was Claire…Elizabeth…Beauchamp!”

     I climbed off of Jamie’s lap. 

      “So…” he said, standing up slowly.  “In my bed?  Wi' me?  All night?”

      “Just to sleep,” I said tiredly.  “I just can’t be alone right now.” 

      With a little shake of his head, Jamie led me inside by the hand.

     I didn't sleep very well.  Besides waking up with the horrible memory of Frank's letter, and the embarrassing thought of my hopeful missive heading his direction, I was extremely aware of Jamie in bed with me, his warm bulk behind me, close enough to touch.  I think he was trying not to touch me, but whenever he was sleeping, indicated by deeper breathing, he would flop his arm over me and pull me close, and his body announced quite clearly how he felt about having me in bed with him. After a while he would startle awake and retreat back to his side of the twin bed with a muffled "Sorry!" into my hair.

      As I was creeping out of Jamie’s room early the next morning, I tip-toed past the couch.  From the darkness I heard a voice.  “I told ye, Claire, and I was serious.  If ye willna listen to me, perhaps ye will listen to Dougal MacKenzie.”  Angus stepped into the light.  “You continue to risk Jamie’s future every time you use him.”

      “I’m not. . .I didn’t,” I protested.  Angus sternly turned away and walked back into his bedroom.

     I didn’t understand what he meant until a well-dressed man came to the door of the clinic and handed me a chunky black phone with a thick antenna.  I held the satellite phone to my ear, and heard a gruff Scottish voice say, “Miss Beauchamp, pack a bag.  You’re coming to Majuro on the Jolok boat today.”

 On to Chapter 15 : The Proposal Claire is in trouble! Chapter Notes:

"Come see the miracle" is probably one of my favorite memories from Arno. Our next-door neighbor Maria (pronounced Mar-ya) did indeed knock on our door, take us jogging down the road in the darkness to the ocean side fishing dock, and proceeded to show us the miracle was the moon. 

I'll still say, "Come see the miracle!" when I've done something good and I want my husband or kids to come see--usually as benign as cleaning out a drawer, but still as miraculous. ;)

[ironbite4]

Normally I wouldn’t post anything personal on here but I figured what the hell.  Time for a fanfic of mine.  I give you Rage of the Shadows, a Dragon Riders of Pern fic.  Also my AoO link too.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/12221886

When Man first came to Pern, they took little notice of the strange planet that shown red in the night skies.  For two generations, they lived in peace until the planet's orbit brought it close enough to Pern to rain down an indigenous life form known as Thread.  The first Threadfall was devastating to the young colony but in time, human ingenuity won out and though the settlers had to move north to shield, they had developed a powerful protector.  Dragons would fly when Thread was in the sky and men called Dragonriders would guide these awesome beasts in battle.  For 2000 turns the world of Pern would watch the ebb and flow of Threadfall in the many Passes of Red Star.  But now, on the eve of the 9th Pass of Red Star, Pern's Dragonriders have been brought to it's lowest ebb.  Only one Weyr exists when there should be six.  And in the range of mountains near Benden Hold, something strange is happening.

The night was clear, so clear you could reach out and pluck the stars from the night sky.  The twin moons of Pern, Belior had set an hour ago and Timor had been rising late of night.  And Joker was drunk.  Just like always.  The holdless man, thrown out of his rightful hold by his own father 3 Turns ago, lurched out of the wineshop, steady on his feet despite the three skins of good Benden white he had drunk not 30 minutes ago.  The winekeeper had told him, like he always did, to get himself some more marks if he wanted to keep drinking that way.  And by the First Egg, Joker would do just that.  Just like he always did.  Smiling to himself as he made his way to his cot, the drunkard whistled an old sailing tune his father had once tried to taught him.  A chance glance at Benden Peak though stopped Joker in his tracks.  

'Where the bloody hells are the stars?', was the thought that came to the man's mind.  The only one.  For beyond Benden's peak, where the stars should be, was nothing but inky blackness.  They were gone.  And as Joker stared, Timor started to rise up towards it's customary midnight position.  Only as it reached the place where the stars were gone, it too vanished.

'Must be the drink', Joker mused to himself as he wobbled on down the road, a little bit more sober then he was before.

As the drunkard wandered down the road, the strange blackness started to swirl.  The light of the moon started to shine on the dark patch of nothing and it began to rotate faster and faster.  Suddenly, the patch of darkness erupted into a circle of darkness, interspersed with white lighting crackles that defined the now open wormhole.  From the center of it, a single man shaped object was ejected from the tunnel, the object appearing to be on fire as it slammed into the side of the mountain.  Immediately the portal closed, leaving no trace it had ever been.  Within the fiery crater the moon shined down imperviously, rocks and debris still smoking from the impact.  A hand grabbed the side of the hole followed by an arm, a shoulder, then a person, dressed in tattered black clothing.  He leavered himself out of his hole, crawling out of the hole and turning over onto his back with a groan.  Minutes passed as the figure in black simply rested from his labors, the only sign he was alive was his chest rising and falling.  The man opened his eyes, blue eyes that shined in the moonlight for a second before fading.  Hauling himself up he looked around, blinking as understanding began to fill his eyes.  Then rage began building, a rage that had nothing to do where he had landed. His head shot up and he let loose a howl of longing and grief that split the night with it's pain.  Then just as swiftly as it began, it was cut off, leaving only silence in it's wake for miles around.

“This way Masterfarmer,” Manora's voice echoed up from the stone stair case leading to the council room where F'lar and Lessa, Weyrleaders of Benden Wyer spent most of their time now going over the moldy Record skins searching for a way to predict when Thread would fall upon their world to sear it into nothing.  Lessa looked up at the sound of the Headwoman's voice, brushing a lock hair that had escaped from it's usual braid away from her face.  A glance at her weyrmate showed he was too involved in his readings to even pay attention to the intruders.  With a sigh, Lessa pushed away the skin she was attempting to decypher and awaited their visitors.  

Manora was the first to appear, the same calm, cool expression on her face which seemed the same as it was when Lessa arrived on Search 3 Turns ago. She stopped in the door way and bowed her head slightly, Lessa nodding in answer and stepped through with the Masterfarmer, his rough clothing indicating that he had just come from his farmhold. Lessa blinked as she recognized the face of the man, one Owen by name.  He worked the nearest farmhold to Benden Wyr and wouldn't have come from field if it weren't urgant.  As the man came into the chamber, he quickly snatched his hat off his head and bowed his head, the very nervousness of his movements betraying his reason for being here.

“Excuse me Weyrwoman, Weyrleader,” Manora began with no preamble, “a matter of some urgancy has come up and it is something you two should both hear.”  She bowed again and urged the farmer to come forward. F'lar, finally noticing the pair, put aside his Record skin and looked properly attentive.

“Well it's like this,” the Masterfarmer began, “now normally I'd be going to Lord Raid with this but seeing as how this is Weyr business, I came straight here.  See, I'm raising wherries for the dragons down yonder and as of late, something has been killing and eating the birds.  Now I'm no fool, I know there's all sorts of beasts that could do the deed but so far, we can't find anything.  We've tried for the past sevenday to catch the critter but he's smart, to smart.  Can we have some Weyr help?  I'd not be coming here if I didn't think Lord Raid could help.  Sides,” the man's face split in a wide grin, “ain't to often a man can say he's been to the Weyr.”

Lessa smiled back as F'lar out right laughed.  “Masterfarmer Owen,” Lessa said, “I'd like to think that this is something you could probably handle on your own.  But, if I recall, your farmhold is the one nearest to Benden Weyr so I think it'd behoove us to look into this.  Give the weyrlings something to do now that their dragons aren't eating us out of Weyr and Hold.”  Lessa looked over at F'lar who had leaned back in his chair and crossed his long legs.  “In fact I think we could possibly do with a flyover, don't you think Weyrleader?”

F'lar scowled at Lessa then turned his attention to the Masterfarm.  “Certainly we could help out.  But if this creature is attacking at night, not sure what use we could be.  Dragons aren't exactly known for their night sight.  That's why we have watch-whers.”

From deep within the Weyr bowl, a chorus of roars punctuated that statement.

The Masterfarmer sighed.  “It's not just during the night this thing attacks.  Its any time!”  The man raised his hands up then brought them down in fists, clearly upset and frustrated at his failure to protect tithe beasts.  “Honestly Weyrleaders, I'm about at my wits ends.”

F'lar made soothing motions at the man.  “Don't fret yourself Masterfarmer, we'll find your beast.”  The Weyrleader flashed a quick grin.  “If it's attacking during the day, I doubt it'll be able to hide from a dragon.  We'll probably catch it, kill it, then have it for dinner before too long.”

The three then exchanged more pleasentries before Manora took the man out.  As they left, F'lar looked over at Lessa.  “Fancy a quick hop over to the farmhold?  I think we've been cooped up here for long enough.”

Lessa grimaced as she got to her feet, stiff from the extended hours they had spent this day.  Looking over at the Record skins on the table she stretched, feeling each and every vertebra pop as she did so.

“I think that'd be an excellent idea.  And I suppose we can bring some lunch. Breakfast was a long time ago,” she eyed F'lar as he got to his feet.  “Just us two or should we bring anyone else?”

“I think F'nor's not doing anything right now,” F'lar replied as he headed to the ledge where his great bronze dragon, Mnementh awaited him.  “The three of us can have a picnic,” was his parting sally.

Lessa merely rolled her eyes and went to collect her flying gear from their chambers.

Three great dragons, one bronze, one brown, and one gold popped out from between just over the farmhold.  A quick landing and consultation provided the info that the wherries were being attacked in the most northern field.  The 3 dragons were quick to get back in the air, effortlessly gliding towards the area.

'A most splended day I think,' Lessa thought to her dragon Ramoth.  A grunt from the great queen was her only answer.  Lessa laughed and patted the great neck over which she rode.  'I take it you're still grumpy?'

'I am not grumpy,' came Ramoth's reply.  'I just don't like the cold.'

'Take heart love of my life,' Lessa grinned as she spied the field that was their destination. 'We're about there then you can lounge in the sun until we're ready to leave.'

As the three dragons glided towards a hill marking the boundry, the entire flock of wherries suddenly burst over it, some taking to the air for a brief  second before coming back down to the ground to engage in the stampede.  So frightened they were they didn't even notice the dragon shadows passing overhead as they headed south towards presumed safety.  The three riders exchanged looks as they came over the hill and all three recoiled in horror.

Upon the field lay the corpses of 5 wherries, 3 of which looked to be partially consumed.  It looked to their eyes like a dragon had been there.  But feasting on the corpse of one of the wherries wasn't a dragon.  The three riders circled over what appeared to be a man, a man who's hair was shaggy and unkempt and he was saved from nakedness by some tattered black clothing.  F'nor and F'lar exchanged glances then F'lar motioned for them to land some distance from this apparent madman who continued his grisly feast.  

As they landed, F'lar and F'nor dismounted, F'lar glaring at Lessa to stay put on Ramoth.  The two brothers exchanged looks with one another.

“Well,” F'nor begain, nervously looking over at the mad man.  “Do you want to go ask him if he'd like to join in our picnic or do we wait for him to invite us to the feast?”

F'lar looked at the blood stained man and rubbed his chin.  “I think it'd be better if we subdued him and brought him to Healer Hall.  I don't think he's sane.”

F'nor looked over and nodded.  “Yes I doubt he is.  Odd though.  He looks vaguely familiar to me.”

F'lar also looked over and cocked his head to the side.  Something was nagging at his conscious but it refused to come to the surface.  “Well whoever he is, we'll ask him after we've got him away from the wherries.  Got a club or something?”

F'nor produced a short club from his belt.  “Thought we might run into trouble so I came prepared.”  He looked up at his big brown dragon and nooded. “Canth says he'll back me up.”

“Luck,” F'lar said and the two brothers started towards the man in black, F'lar lagging behind F'nor as the younger half-brother approached the feasting madman.

“Hey!” F'nor shouted at the man in black once he got in position, trying to get his attention.  “Hey you there!”  There was no response.  F'nor edged closer, holding his short club low to the ground.  “Hey I want to talk to you.”  The man kept eating, tearing out large chunks of meat with hands that looked to be more like claws then anything else.  “I'm warning you, I'm armed.”  The man continued to eat as F'nor approached him from behind.  “Don't say I didn't warn you,” was F'nor's last words as he brought the club down hard on the man's head.

Or he would have had the man in black's hand not appeared grabbing hold of the club, preventing it's downward velocity from impacting.  Quicker then anything, F'nor found himself flying through the air, landing on his head with an audible thunk, being knocked out.  F'lar scrambled back as Canth roared a challenge.  The man spun around, crouching on all fours and glaring at the brown dragon charging at him.  If Lessa hadn't been watching what happened, she would've surely chalked up what happened next to some sort of wine-sickness.  As Canth got to the man, he sprung, twisting upwards and uppercutting Canth in the jaw, snapping the great brown's head back and lifting him off the ground.  And by some trick of the light, the man's entire body was, for a moment encircled by some sort of fire that traced the path of his punch.  As he landed and Canth's unconscious body landed behind him, he turned and looked at his fallen foe.  A growl escaped his lips and he turned his attention towards Less and F'lar.  F'lar had scrambled back to Mnementh and had mounted his bronze.  Turning to Lessa, he shouted at her to get back to the Weyr.  The man's eyes narrowed and he threw his head back in a scream, momentarily stopping Mnementh from lifting off himself and pausing Ramoth's height gaining flight.  Quicker then either of them could react, the man started running towards Mnementh, scabbering on all fours at time but moving quickly.  As Mnementh got a dragonlength from the ground, the man in black jumped, reaching the level of Mnementh's head with a single bound.  He landed on Mnementh's nose and used it as a springboard, sending the great bronze's head towards the ground as he ascended upwards.  He reached the level where Lessa stared at this madman who looked back her, eyes wide with madness.  Then, just to further confuse the issue, he floated over and landed lightly between Ramoth's neck ridges, staring into Lessa's eyes with something akin to an accusation in them.

There they stayed for what seemed like forever.  Then, to Lessa's astonishment, the man reached out and gently cupped the back of her head.  Leaning forward, he touch his bloody forehead to her's, closing his eyes as he did.  They stayed like that for a second before his eyes snapped open, the madness and rage that had been in them streaking out, to be replaced by tears and a great sadness.  The man lifted his head up and howled, a howl of pain and longing and suffering that drove all thought from Lessa's mind, bringing tears to her eyes as her pain, though long gone, fresh to the surface as if it had just happened.  Ramoth and Mnementh's necks reached to the sky above as they let loose a soul rendering keen of their own.  As Ramoth keened, the man in black fell from his preach, falling from between the neck ridges towards the ground below.  Lessa leaned forward, trying to catch the man before he'd be out of reach when, as he entered the shadow cast by Ramoth's wing, he vanished, leaving only confusion, the bloody wrecks, and questions as he did.

F'lar and the Benden Wingleaders appeared in the skies from between arranged smartly over northern Ruatha.  Above them, arranged smartly and professionally, were the wings of Fort Weyr.  F'lar couldn't stop the grin from spreading on his face as he observed the mass dragon wings.  Though not participating in this fight against their ancient enemy as they did at Telgar, F'lar and the other wingleaders had deemed it prudent to at least observe.  After all one couldn't have too much experience when it came to fighting Thread.

'I'd rather be fighting Thread' grumbled the great bronze Mnementh from beneath him.

F'lar simply laughed and reached out to pet the great neck. 'Next time my heart.  Next time we'll be in the thick of things just like at Nerat and Telgar.'

F'lar's wings positioned themselves in observation altitude.  Far enough away so that they wouldn't be scoured by Thread but close enough to observe the patterns being woven.  At Telgar, only 3 of the Benden dragon riders had been hurt by Thread and only one was out of action for longer then a few days.  Which wasn't bad for one under strength Weyr but that would improve as the Turns passed.  F'lar looked over his shoulder to see F'nor's Canth in proper position but his rider wasn't observing the ascending wings of dragons heading east.  His head was turned firmly to the west, at some distant star that seemed to refuse to vanish from the sky.

'Mnementh ask Canth what's got F'nor so fascinated,' F'lar asked his dragon.

Mnementh's head swivled towards his brown wingmate and he rumbled back, 'F'nor sees a star that doesn't seem to want to go away.  It also looks like it's getting closer.'

'Probably just a shooting star that's late.  It'll go away in a sec-' F'lar's thought was cut off by a cry from his half-brother.

“LOOK OUT!” came F'nor's cry as F'lar turned to look.  Mnementh was quicker in reaction as he wing slipped to the right as the supposed shooting star suddenly streaked in out of nowhere right in the space F'lar and Mnementh were.  The streak was green in color and blazed faster then any dragon could ever go.  F'lar stared at it as it ascended towards the incoming Thread, beating out the fastest dragons.  As it got to what seemed to be the thickest portion of Thread it stopped.  There it floated for a second, a spark in the middle of the gray dark thread

“AURA CRASH!” came a shout like thunder that caused some dragons to instantly drop several lengths in the air before catching themselves. Instantly the spark grew and spread wings made of what appeared to fire in the middle of thread.  Instantly the sky lit itself on fire, as if the entire firebird was dragon fire and seared the Thread from the sky.  Then it started to move, dancing in the sky, leaving a trail of fire and ash where ever it went.  The dragons and riders hung motionless in the sky as by itself, the firebird charred Thread. Mnementh suddenly went between and appeared next to T'ron's Fidranth, the Fort Weyrleader's mouth hanging open.  He looked over at F'lar in disbelief and cupped his hands over his mouth.

“WHERE WAS THIS HIDING?” T'ron shouted.

“I DON'T KNOW!” F'lar called back, the pyrotechnic show continuing.  

As the dragon riders watched, the firebird suddenly reversed direction, heading, it seemed, directly towards where F'lar and T'ron hung in the sky.  It stopped mere lengths from the two men and dragons, seemingly contemplating them.  Then the firebird extinguished itself, revealing an armor clad form in it's center.  The armor clad form was black in color, seemingly like a bit of midnight made almost flesh. Twin blades the length of an arm sprouted from each wrist, not impeding the motion of the arms at all.  Three gems were on the chest in an upside down triangle, two green and one blue, each glowing brightly in the air.  From the head, a trio of what looked like fins crowned it, over a visor that looked to be made of green glass.  As they watched, twin jets of steam escaped from vents in the helm's cheeks, almost as if whatever was inside was venting some exhaustion. The figure's visored visage bore down into the two Weyrleaders as if searching for something.  The figure then turned around in mid air, gazing up at what was left of Thread.  Moving his head around his neck, F'lar and T'ron heard audible popping, like the figure was preparing for some great physical labor. It lifted up his arms, the twin blades on both wrists switching forward to face what the hands were pointed at.  Two more blades popped from what F'lar took for decorative spikes at the elbows, lengthening to the length of a man's forearm.  The shoulder pauldrons opened up as well, revealing that they too were another double set of blades.  What was taken to be fins atop the figure's head were in fact more blades, two the length of the back of the skull but the third the entire length of the spine, snapping forward and facing the incoming Thread.  Then the points began to glow, swiftly gathering dark colored energy and increasing in size.  The armor never gave any indication of stress or fatigue as it gathered more and more power, power that raised the hair on the back of F'lar's neck.  

“SHADOW OMNI BEAM!” came the same shout as from before, only this time it was apparent that the figure in the armor was the source.  With a blast of sound, the seven energy beams exploded from the tips of the blades of the armor, shattering again and again as they raced to meet Thread.  Each second the energy beams continued their journey they split exponentially,  racing higher and higher and multiplying and multiplying.  Each beam then sought out a Thread filament, capturing each spore and stopping it in it's tracks.  The beams continued in this manner, only stopping when it was apparent that each Thread had been captured.  The figure then tensed up and sent a surge of even more energy from the tips of the blades, exploding each Thread that made the previous pyrotechnic show look mundane in compassion.  As ash rained down on the valley below, the armor's blades snapped back to their previous configuration.  The figure turned back around and stared down at F'lar.  Suddenly from behind the visor, two blue orbs flashed into existence and another jet of steam issued forth.  This steam was different as it billowed around the figure, cloaking it in white.  Suddenly, the steam was blown away as the figure surrounded itself in a ball of energy.  It then flew up, disappearing into the sky, leaving nothing but blue morning behind.

F'lar and Lessa popped from between above Fort Weyr, the mid afternoon sun gilding the great Star Stones of the ancient Weyr.  Ramoth and Mementh glided wing tip to wing tip down towards the great queens ledge.  Perching only long enough to discharge their riders, the two dragons arced away towards the sunning ledges, as the two riders made their way to council chamber.

“And it just, vanished?” Lessa asked F'lar again as they unbuckled riding helmates and shucked gloves.  “Like it didn't even want to explain itself?”

“Yes Lessa,” F'lar said for what had to have been the millionth time, “just flew up into the sky faster then even the fastest green could ever hope to fly and vanished.  I'm having a hard time even processing what happened.  I really hope T'ron doesn't expect much from us.  I didn't even know that thing existed.”

Lessa frowned. “Whatever it is, I just hope it doesn't make another appearance. Thinking that something with that much power exists on our world is mind boggling.”

F'lar nodded as they entered the council chamber, a nod to T'ron who held curtain open for them before letting it drop on F'lar's heels.  He nodded the Benden Weyrleaders to a pair of chairs next to another empty one and crossed the chamber to his own seat, Marada coming around behind them and placing a goblet each of wine and a pitcher of klah between them.  A quick squeeze of Lessa's shoulders and the Fort Weyrwoman went to take her place beside her weyrmate.  F'lar glanced around and sighed, this was probably going to be a long meeting.

“So,” T'ron began after a short moment, “what happened over Ruatha happened there's no doubt about it.  Whatever that thing was it certainly charred Thread well enough.  What I want to know is what was it?”

“I'd love to know that too T'ron,” F'lar began, rubbing the back of his head with one hand as Lessa clutched his other.  “We've never even heard a rumor that it existed nor do we have any songs about it.  But yes, it charred Thread today, that I will give you.”

“But certainly,” D'ram said, “certainly you'd know of something that could help spell out this mystery.  If something of this much power existed in your time, we wouldn't have had to come forward.”

A murmur of consent answered that that from T'kul and R'mart.

“Yes but-” F'lar attempted to answer when suddenly the entire chamber went dark.  Not dark as if the glowbaskets had suddenly all failed, but dark as if night itself had descended and replaced day.  There was a moment of frightened shouting and conflicting commands when light was returned to the chamber and where there were twelve people, there where now thirteen.

The newcomer was dressed in tight black clothing with an odd black and white symbol on the left breast.  Inside that symbol was the sign of infinity.  His hair was brown and his skin, where not crossed with old scars including a rather impressive one that began over his left eye and ended below it, was a pale white beneath a tan.  A trimmed beard and mustache completed his look, marking him for at least 25 turns old. His eyes were what F'lar would remember most besides the fact that he lounged very casually in his chair, black boots up on the table as if he was master here.  His eyes were a startlingly vivid and clear shade of blue.  And they looked old.  As if the staranger had seen more life then his appearance suggested.

T'kul rose from his chair, his hand going to his belt to draw his knife and the stranger laughed.

“Yeah that would be a bright idea if you were armed,” he said in a voice rich with amusement but still sounding young.  He causally brought up a hand, revealing that he held T'kul's belt knife in it.  “You might be needing this if you're planning on killing me.”

With a negligant toss, the knife was returned the knife to T'kul, who stared at it as if he'd never seen it before.  With another laugh, the man in black revealed his other hand, this one holding five more knives in it. “In fact y'all might be needing these back just in case.” Another causal toss followed, skittering the rest of the blades to rest, hilts pointing at their owners.

T'ron stared first at the knife then at the stranger causally lounging at his council chamber.  “Who,” T'ron began after swallowing visibly, “what are you?”

The stranger chuckled and reached over, grabbing F'lar's wine cup and taking a drink.  He wiped his lips and set the cup down before looking at the Fort Weyr leaders.

“Ahh now that,” he began, his voice losing all traces of the accent he had put on before, “that is a story worthy of one of your Songs.  Who I am and what I am are so intertwined at this point that I can't even separate them.  But I'll try my very best.”

He flexed, merely flexed his knees and assumed a cross legged position a visible foot off the chair.  “What I am wouldn't have any meaning to you people but I'll try and explain.  I am a 5000 yea-,” he paused and shook his head, “sorry 5000 Turn old time traveler.  I am a man without a home.  I am a man who's history includes tragedy and triumph worthy of one of your Songs.  That is what I am.”  He paused, roatating slowly in the air as he eyed each of them in turn.  When he got to T'kul he paused more then the rest, looking at T'kul for a second then glacing again at T'ron.  “Give it seven then.  As for who I am that's a question that I've asked myself for the past 2000 Turns. The simple answer is a name.  My name.  My name is Nick Saber and I am known throughout the cosmos as the Shadow of Time.  I just thought I'd say hello in the best way possible.”

T'ron's eyes seemed to start out of his head.  “What in shards are you talking about?”

“That pyrotechnic display over Ruatha of course,” replied Nick.  “Surely you don't think I run around at 100% of my total power for fun?  Uusually I just run around like this or at 25% but I figured I'd get your attention better in my Shadow Star Armor then in this ninja gi.”

“Ninja....what?” D'ram asked.

Nick rolled his eyes which made him flip in place.  “Oh lord you people have no idea. Forgot what I was dealing with for a second.  I'm a warrior D'ram.  A ninja is a type of warrior and where I'm from they ran around in stuff like this.  Or in orange.  Not to sure why.  The bottom line is ladies and gentlemen, I'm not here as a threat.  I'm here to help you out in times when you can't deal with everything.  Cause the way I see it...or rather,” and he chuckled again, “Foresee it, you and your people are in for some massive upheavals and changes and I always find those the most interesting.”

T'kul muttered something and gave the stranger floating above the chair a dark look. Fanna looked at the man fearfully.  “How are you doing that?” she asked, almost seeming to shrink from even addressing this stranger.

“What floating?” Nick asked back, “oh it's nothing to special.  I usually just like to walk around or lounge upside down but figured this would be a better demonstration of my powers.  I can also fly, something that was demonstrated a couple months back.”

“A couple months back?” T'ron asked, his glare going to F'lar and Lessa.

“I can assure you T'ron,” F'lar begain again, his hands raised to ward off the Fort Weyrleader's glare, “we have never seen this man before in our lives.”

“Yeah you have,” Nick said, countering F'lar as he stretched out in mid air, “I just wasn't as well groomed at the time.  And I had a chunk of wherry between my teeth.  That was a fun time in my life.”

“YOU!” Lessa shouted explosively, rising to her feat and casting one hand out to point at the floating man.  “You were the one in the field that day!  The one who threw F'nor for dragon lengths.”

“Also Shoruykened Canth if memory serves,” Nick shook his head and laughed.  “Glad to see the big brown is ok.  Didn't think I hurt him but I was quite mad you see.”

“But why?” Lessa asked, “why attack us?”

Nick rubbed the back of his head, his eyes going up as he thought.

“Well, “ he began, “I was quite mad at the time.  Not the mad you see right now though, proper mad.  Insane really.  With rage at being alive, grief at what I've lost and just found comfort in insanity.  Really I was kinda operating at instinct if I had to be honest.  Just reacting at everything.  But you pulled me out Weyrwoman and for that I am eternally grateful.”  Nick bowed his head to Lessa.

“But I didn't do anything,” Lessa protested.

“You learned your Ballads letter perfect is what you did,” Nick replied, his eyes filled with honesty for a brief second, “you learned your Ballads letter perfect and within you is a core of strength that shall never fail you.  I needed that at the time and for that, I am so grateful.”

Nick turned his head and rose to his feet, stretching his arms and shaking his shoulders. “Well I can see you need some time to process this so I'm going to leave.  But before I do, I'm going to give you all a gift.  After all, what sort of guest would I be if I didn't leave a gift?”

He reached into his shirt and drew out a shiny disk of metal about the size of a mark. Holding it up, there was some strange symbol on one side of the disk and on the other side was the sign of infinity.

“This,” he explained, “ is a Shadow Coin.  There'll be one in each of your weyrs don't ask me how I put them there you don't want to know. You'll see me out and about Pern but if you need me, really need me, take the coin and flip it.  I'll catch it before it hits the ground no matter where.  Consider this a sign of my trust in you as this is a very powerful artifact I'm trusting you with.”  He set it down on the table in the center and rose towards the ceiling.  “Until we meet again my friends, safe skies.”  As he entered an area of deeper shadow, he faded away like a ghost, leaving the council chamber, for the moment, in silence.

At the highest peak of Benden mountains, the ice and snow swirled as a spring storm moves into the region to deliver some much needed rain.  Standing on a small cliff on the south face of the mountain, Nick Saber stood, ignoring the cold and wet as he looked out over Pern.

'Such a fragile world to have been bombarded by so much cosmic stuff,' he thought, his eyes scanning the horizon.

'Ahh,' a new voice, one that echoed with the weight of centuries behind it came to his mind, 'that is their burden is it not?'

“Hello Guardian,” Nick said out loud, knowing the entity who's shadow he was could hear him, “been a long time.”

A swirl of ice and snow suddenly took shape, becoming a vaguely hooded creature standing seven feet tall.  It was a suggestion of a shape but Nick could feel the immense psychic power that was maintaining the creature's brief hold on this plane of existence.

“I do believe,” Guardian replied, “it's been about 2000 years since we last spoke.”

“Turns Guardian,” Nick replied.  “The locals call their years Turns.”

“Ahh and I guess we must respect the locals terms of time must we not?”

Nick smiled and looked out once more at the land spread before him.  Briefly, his view shifted from the mundane to the quantum, revealing the yellow stain of particles that blanketed every inch of this planet.  His viewpoint shifted back to the physical plane.

“Hard to believe,” he began, “that a particle fountain not 21 light years away from this system has been perfectly bombarding this place with chronotons for its entire existence.  Useful too when you know this planet's been attacked by some spore for a good chunk of that existence necessitating the evolution of it's native species.”

The figure turned and looked out to where Nick said and nodded.  “Yes it is a nice coincidence.  But I'm not manifesting to talk about the weather Nick. I'm here to talk about you.  You're not thinking about anything anymore.  Why?”

Nick's eyes briefly watered and the echo of ages old pain was once again seen.  He quickly dashed the tears from them and glared at his companion.

“What's there to talk about Guardian?” he accused, “I killed her.  I killed her for power.  That's that.  She's gone forever and I'm left with half a soul, half a heart, and half a mind.  What do you want to talk about my feelings?”

The figure simply stared at Nick.

“Or how about the twenty thousand souls I condemned to hell?  You want to talk about that?  Do you Guardian of Time?  Do you really want me to bear my heart and soul to you?  Do you you son of a bitch!?”

At the last, screamed from atop the highest peak in Benden Range, the ledge the Shadow stood exploded into powder.  The figure simply floated on as Nick breathed heavily in and out, floating on the space that just a second ago was solid rock.

“You've gone through so much Nick,” Guardian began, it's voice echoing through time and space, “so much pain and heartbreak.  And yet, even after that nap in the darkness, you're here.  Here and ready to do what you do best, help people.  I know it's hard, I loved her too.  But you have to find a way to live.  It's what she would've wanted.”

Nick turned back to his contemplation of the landscape, his mind going through memories of the past.  Sighing, he reached into his shirt and pulled out two gems.  One, emerald in color was the size of his fist and perfectly circular.  The other was the bluest shade of blue, a teardrop shaped sapphire.  Both shined in the moonlight though the green one occasionally had lightning dance across it's surface.

“Stars and magic. That's what I got for my wish Guardian.  And you know what?” he looked up at the wraith, “I'm trying to decide if it's worth it.  I didn't come here because of choice.  I heard a call across the universe.  That's all.  A call I had to respond to.  Damn it Guardian why did I have to kill her?  Why?”

“For that I have no answer to,” Guardian replied.  “All I can say is she used the rules of magic to give you a fighting chance at a demon lord.  And it worked.  You sent that bastard back to hell.”

“Along with twenty thousand souls.”

“That I can't say. I'm the Guardian of Time Nick, not death.  That's your job.”

Nick waved that off.

“Through out all the time I've known you, all the time you've cast yourself as my shadow, you've always proven that you've got a good heart.  Might be a bit jaded at times and a bit scared, but a good heart.  Maybe that's why she did what she did.  You're strong Nick, strong enough to endure Celestia's passing and moving on.  No matter what you do on this planet, I'm sure she'll be proud of you.”

Nick looked down at the blue gem for a moment and let his memory drift to the woman it had been.  How warm her laugh was, how sunlight brought gold highlights to her white hair, how her eyes, as blue as the gem in his hand right now, had been pools to fall in to repeatably.  More erotic memories swam to the surface and he grinned, realizing how much she had teased him.  Shaking his head he put the gems back in his shirt and fished out another one, staring at the red gem in his hand.  This one pulsed over and over, one of it's facets pulsing brighter then the rest of it.  Looking out he saw that the facet was pointed towards the southwest and he grinned.  He looked over at the wraith as he put the gem back in it's place.

“Welp,” he quipped, drawing a hood over his head and pulling up a mask to cover his face, “guess the vacation's over.  Time to get to work.”   Nick then produced a pair of red rimmed sunglasses, putting them on to complete his look.

“I suppose so.  Be well Nick.  Make your enemies fall.”

“Oh I plan on doing just that.  Cause it's time for this Shadow to rise.”

Nick surrounded himself with his ki aura and blasted off into the night, the ice wraith falling apart behind him.  As he flew towards the south, there was but one thought on his mind.

'Let's see what trouble we can make.'

And the Shadow of Time vanished into the night.

[photonconductor]

i dont have an ao3 but shout out to my homeboys

once upon there was a gay on th e moon bc of a really lovng alternate au idea where elc turened BAD and klaus had a 1000 year nap and it'd take too long to fucking explain this so just roll with it ok. this gay--its elcrest btw hes also a Bad Boy now; he rly likes hot topic and thinks those t shirts with sarcastic sayings are actually rly funny but we all know they aren't--was feleing emo bc he couldn't see his bf xen o bc he betrayed him. so he stayed in his room whining abt how fgay he was until eve showed up

"hey whats wrong elc mother is here for u" even tho shes like 5000 years old and looks like shes 2 and also a rock (but im not rockist guys i promise). elc looked at her with his optics shining in the pale argentate light. good thing hes the seme here bc otherwise he'd start crying. in reality he rly wanted to fucking bone xeno bc obviously they had a lot of gay sex b4 they tried to kkill his mom once nad staring at rocks all day kinda sucks.

a;so burnign alive but hes kind of over that phase.

"im sad my bf left me for 1000 years can i pls go back to earth my raging hard on can't be satisfied bc rocks. my dicks not a jack hammer even tho im jacking it all the time (thats what guys do right bitch i dont know)" eve was so offended she put her hands on her giant rock self thats not just herself. its rly fucking complicated shut up u came here for the gay sex not instructibles on how physical forms manifest.

"we dont say ROCKS in this household young man!!!!"

"ＢＵＴ ＭＯＯＯＭＭＭＭＭ sorry i forgot to turn off my seme voice lemme adjust my mic it happens when my dick is hard" elcrest coughed twice "ok sounds good, BUT MOM I RLY NEED TO NUT. YOU KNOW NUT I'M SAYING... ITS ALL OR NUTTING BUT MOSTLY NUTTING IN XENO'S SWEET HOT BUNS"

"stop talking abt nuts u disgusting boy fine, god, if u leave me alone u gaylord"

and then eve punched him so hard in the dick that elcrest landed on earth in a giatn crater. how hes still alive is bc he still had some continues left like in mario even though this is a srpg game. once elc recovered he struck a pose and laughed evilly while twirling his mustache.

"finally...... I have RETURNED for xeno's hot man breasts! the world cannot stop me now!!" he cackly cackkled and quickly ripped off the fake mustache he put on just for this one scene. then elc went on a quest to find where klaus was and bc the author is too lazy to write any tansitional scenes.

elc found him chilling in his bed reading a book that was called Sweets and You: Do sweets make u inherantly Gay? elcrest made the PFFT noise. ofc they make u gay, fuckiing idiot book. he could write better than that author. in fact, elcrest was gonna do that when he got home bc obviously if this trash is published any shit elc wrote would be good.

NO! he had to focus! but he couldnt stop staring at xenos man boobs and felt his dick get hard again. elc got a nose bleed too bc thats what happens in anime right. i played persona 4 i know what im about

"damn u xeno." elc said thru his nosebleed and klaus looked up bc the author cant fucking rmemeber who is klaus and who is xeno and was surprised i remmebred his name but could not remember remember the 5th of novemember

"what"

"XENO IT IS I" since h e was caught red handed he just kickflipped through the window anyway. he did a sick flip then stood in the middle of klauses room. klaus made a gay gaspp

"alto! what are u doing hre!?" klaus said, bc in this AU that was his codename. elc wanted to be currently doing that but eve said no. fuck his mom. except please dont bc i know you sick fucks are thinking abt it.

"I HAVE COME TO BRING YOU BACK TO THE GAY SIDE, XENO WE HAVE COOKIES. bc i really miss that bammin slammin bootilicious sex we used 2 have and you are in fact bammin slammin bootilicious. also have u heard the word and gospel of our savior mother" elc said gayly

"dude no please stop preaching in my house im a changed man now" xeno pirouetted out of bed

"cmon man im ur seme u cant refuse we made like a yaoi blood oath u cant go back on ur word" elc pushed him back on thebed bc he'd have his ass yet anyway so no real use getting up. bc what is consent anyway hes Bad

"o shit really huh" klaus paused in thougt and bad elc laughed evilly. his plan was working!! all he had 2 do was the final touches! i mean besides touching xenos dick or whatever we're not yet. sorry u have to suffer for ten more paragraphs for sweat boy on boy. elc then turned around an produced a kitty keyboard from the recesses of his coat tails. xeno made the :O face and elc sat down bc playing while standing rly fuckin g sucks

"i wrote this for u on the moon so you'll be hypnotized by my sick beats" then he pulled the mic out of the keyboard and made a sick beatbox noise. No i dont know what the fuck it sounds like just google it. klaus blushued and made another gay gasp and elc made the >:3 face

then be started to play the piano keyboard. he was playing cruel angel thesis, their theme song that they had decided at 1am while xeno was drunk af.  it was their theme song despite none of them speaking fucking japanese but they just felt it in their SOULS. it was rly gay. elc was going so fucking hARD that his hard on was getting 40 hard ons. and thats four tens the hard ons. and its rad.

except the ebst part was it was all in meows so it spoke 2 klaus' furry soul.

klaus nyaed softly in surprise and suddenly all his memories of being xneo were restored!!! he gave into the desire that he craved in his soul and opened his big man arms bc for some reaon everyone thinks dudes are thirsty af. dont ask me why

"elc1!1 pls take me!! but be gentle my ass hasnt been ravaged in 1000 years (sick reference to hilda and altos magical wedding night by sorunort like, comment, subscribe for more sick referneces like this one)" xeno mewled like afucking furry and elc nodded once. xeno walked up to elc an touched his man boob sensually even tho xeno is like 60 feet taller than elc just imagine it ok

elc now has sunglasses just bc i think its a funny image

"xeno...... lets do it" elc said softly

"o h elc senpai......." xeno meowed

"and i'll keep my sunglasses on bc i hate the sun #moonlifeforever" and xeno gayzed into his emotion shields sensuallyier. then elc kissed him passionately and their tongues battled for dominance but we all know klaus is a fucking bottom bitch as stated in hilda and altos magical wedding night by sorunort paragraph 17 and 18 bc it was a dialogue.

then elc ripped off his clothes bc hes fucking JACKED and jACKED OFF and xeno gay gasped forlike the third time in this fic. elc was fuckign shredded. legends told of his abs but this time it was real. almost like the fact that shaved ice flavors dont actually exists the syrup is just food coloring.  his dong dangled in the breeze and xeno was turned tf on so he took off his clothes too bc hes not a god damn animal god whats wrong with u elc.

except elc didnt take off the sunglasses like he promised so those were still on dont worry readers i got you covered.

"get on ur knees dude and give me a wet willy but like on my dick" elc demanded

"wtf no"

"dude u cant say no its a smutfic"

"ok yeah i guess i kinda do like sucking dick or somethign"

"PREPARE TO EAT YOUR LAST DICK, XENO" elc cackcled and then xeno succed his dick like no tomorrow. elc practically creamed right there bc he couldnt get his rocks off on the moon for 1000 years (hahaha no im not gonna stop makign rock jokes). also xeno has no gagreflex bc he succed dick like a thousand times. once that was over elc just punched his dick in xenos hot cross buns and xeno meowed again

"why are u still a furry after 1000 years" elc asked but continued to Ravage The Promised Ass

"do u nyat like it erucu-kun???" xeno purred and elc shook his head

"no ur still banging its ok"

NUT THEN (i wanted to write but but i typoed and decided to keep it its funnier this way) xenos ass started 2 glow with a new holy light

"WHAT tHE FUCK" elc yelled

"my ass was actually the only way we could turn u good again! the more u fuck me the gooder u are!" and elc gasped gayily! no! his plan was working against him! he could alredy feel the goodness (haha get it bc fucking is hot i guess) turning him good! he had 2 pull out but found he couldnt. xeno was just too bammin slammin bootlicious

"HOW DARE YOU TRICK, I, ELCREST THE CONDICKTOR" he roared and xeno was tuned on again bc roaring is prolly a furry thign im not a furry im sorry

"it was for ur own good elc bc i love you!" xeno dokied so hard there were shoujo sparkles and even elc got shoujo sparkles. his azure optics glew like stella glow and u could almost see constellations in them. except there were sunglasses so u couldnt actually see it but the reader can. xneo was right. he was his tru  love..... not the Mother..... his mom was lame anyway all she did was talk to rocks

"xeno.............." elc said wiwstfully before bangin xeno harder. their bangin was so intense everyone could hear it in the kngihts barraks. it was so loud that even ana in her coma woke up for like a second to be like The Gays are At It Again. soon enough the banging was sucessful. elc glew in a beautiful magical girl ligtht and he was become good again. xeno shed a single tear but licked it away

"im cured! xeno ur ass did it! plus that was hot" elc smiled and im pretty sure xeno cried bc look at that man. hes so beautiful. please take the $2 from my purse. they embraced in a gay way. it was cute and xeno did a thumbs up and ana's face appeared at 20% opacity in the bg and she was also winking

"elc i am so glad u are back and i love u" then they made out. for a rly long time too bc theyre so fucking GAY good lord how could stella glow keep this under wraps. then they decidd they had to punch eve in the rock bc she was a dickw hile elc was being emo and stuff. BUT FIRST, xeno got porked lke 80 more times b4 then bc 1000 years does a lot do u.

the end remember to like, comment, subscribe for more fics like this one, seeya

[artificialqueens]

UFO (Katlaska)- Squeaky

The year is 1921. Katya is sent to a farm in Kansas for a year of independent witch study, but she finds more than cows there.

OR: The love story of a witch, an alien princess, and a pink milkshake.

CRASH LANDING

Katya is sixteen, the year in which a witch comes of age, when they send her to Fame’s Farm. She thought the term to be a euphemism and fully expected to arrive at the gates of a mansion. Instead, Katya finds herself, broom in one hand and suitcase in the other, at a wooden doorstep.

“You must be Katya,” Miss. Fame beams. She’s got a chicken perched on her hip, but she looks a lot more like a graying glamour model than a farmer.

“Uh, yes. And you must be…Miss. Fame?”

“Come in. Come in,” Miss. Fame clucks as she takes her luggage and carries it to a small bedroom. The room is so dusty that it makes Katya’s eyes water. A sullen cat slinks out from under the bed. It might have been black a long time ago but now it’s been stained white.

“Fuck off, buddy,” the cat hisses as Katya goes to pet her.

She pulls back her hand: “Is that your familiar?”

“Betty? Goddess, no! She’s a human trapped in cat form. One of those 100 year punishment or whatnot for upsetting a powerful warlock…or maybe for stealing a goblin’s painting. I don’t remember.”

“Oh,” is all Katya says as she uses her broom for it’s intended purpose of cleaning. Sweeping swiftly, she manages to get it spotless before dinnertime. She’s brought nothing but her dresses, tarot cards, and gems, so it doesn’t take long to unpack.

By now the house smells like sizzling bacon and eggs. Fame has loaded the table up with so much food, it sags under the weight. After her long and often disastrous flight here from New York, Katya’s ready to eat.

“Wait! We have to thank the old witcher goddesses,” Fame interrupts. Katya pulls at her collar as the woman starts to babble in Latin. She stares out the window and holds her breath, trying not to inhale any of the mouth-watering food. There are miles and miles of dark fields that extend past what her eye can see. In New York, she lived in a bustling neighborhood of witches. Why did her mother send her here? Nowhere land?

By the time Miss. Fame has finished babbling, the food is cold. Katya digs in anyways.

“So you flew all the way? Very impressive,” Fame compliments.

“I guess,” Katya says even though most girls can mount a broom by age ten and fly across the state by thirteen. The hardest part was keeping on course, but she stopped at a couple of small towns for directions.

“So are we going to start lessons tomorrow, Miss. Fame?”

“Of course.”

“Yes! My friends have come back from their year knowing how to turn mice into teacups. I thought we could start by learning how to brew love potions-”

“Well, we’re not going to focus on parlor tricks like that. Your education will consist of practical house cleaning magic, Latin, and chores.”

“Chores?” Katya repeats. The word sits heavy on her tongue. Latin? Cleaning magic? That sounds like such a waste of time. Katya wants to become a powerful witch not some rich Wizard’s housewife! It would be rude to say any of that, but Katya’s tight lips and crossed arms say it all.

Fame turns on the radio and happily hums along to the tune of a slow country song. Katya grimaces. If she had the freedom, she’d turn the channel to listen to some jazzy Louis Armstrong. Instead, she closes her door, throws herself onto her bed, and screams into a pillow.

“Anger management, sweetie,” Betty chuckles as Katya sharply turns and throws the pillow at her.

She crawls deeper into her bed, tries to slow her breathing, and wishes she was back in New York. Katya misses the hustle and bustle of the automobiles. She misses the sweet swing of the streets. Most of all she misses her witch sisters- Violet, Ginger, and Trixie. Katya hopes that they’re off to more exciting adventures than she is.

Katya dreams that they’re holding a seance on the rooftop of their building. All the girls’ hands are linked, and they’re rising up higher and higher…until Katya’s drifting alone among the stars. She opens her mouth to scream, clinging to the silver moon, but all the oxygen is gone.

She wakes up to Miss. Fame ringing the bell. The sun isn’t up, and Katya isn’t up either. She tries to go back to sleep but Betty jumps on her face and pulls at her earrings. Katya hisses back at her.

Finally, she pulls on a baggy, shapeless dress. She doesn’t care if it gets dirty. Fame shows her how to milk a cow so as not to get kicked, how to collect the chicken’s eggs, and how to brush all the animals. Katya yawns and tugs down the brim of her floppy hat.

“Pay attention,” Fame warns. “You’re going to have to do this all by yourself tomorrow.”

Katya fantasizes about grabbing her broom and launching herself into the sky, flying up, up and away from this dull, old farm. Instead, she sweeps the doorstep. Then come the Latin reciations, goddess prayers, and peeling potatoes 101.

“What’s the point of this?” Katya asks on day three as she brings in the eggs and milk. Her dress is scuffed with dirt and her hands are calloused. She can babble now in Latin, but she still hasn’t learned a single, useful spell. She’s cooked chicken soup, but she hasn’t learned to make a witches brew.

“Building character,” Fame tells her. “You have to be tough. You hear about the stories of girls turning themselves into frogs? Blowing up barns?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Katya whines, sounding more petulant than she intended. What she meant was- can I please learn some magic now?

“I know I don’t look it, but I’m a hundred years old, Katya. I know what young witches are capable of when they don’t control their powers. There’s a method to my madness, and you’ll understand soon enough.”

“Can’t I at least send a letter to my mother?”

“You know the rules, Kat. No contact.”

“Yeah…I know I’m just…” lonely. “Never mind.”

Her whining earns her a long trip to the brick well.  At least she’s allowed to ride her broom there. Still, after a day of hard labor, Katya can barely grip the handle.

“I hate this,” Katya whispers into the well and then kicks the side of it. “I hate this. I hate this! I. Hate. This.”

The sun is setting, and her stomach growls. Instead of riding back, Katya sits on the side of the stones and buries her face into her hands. She cries as she thinks of all the spells that Ginger must be learning in New Orleans or Violet in Ireland. Why Kansas?

The last of the sun slips down as Katya’s heart sinks. Her cheeks are covered in tears. Katya’s not religious but she folds up her hands anyways-

“Hey, goddess, I know this isn’t Latin or whatever, but if you can hear a girl out in English, that’d be great. I need a friend. I mean, Fame is great, but she can’t keep a conversation going without praising the universe. The universe is also great, but I really need somebody here. And not Bitter fucking Betty. How about an enchanted crow? A possessed log? A tinkering fairy? Please, any friend is a good friend. Amen.”

Katya finishes her prayer, and, when she looks up, sees a shooting star. It doesn’t take an astrologist to tell her that’s a good sign. Maybe someone has been listening to her prayer after all.

Then the shooting star gets closer and closer and- crash! Katya leaps to her feet.

She glances over to Fame’s Farm, where the bell is ringing, and then jumps up onto her broom. It’s a rush to be back up in the sky, racing forward. Katya spots the large crater.

“Hello?” Katya calls as she hovers above it. The hole is big enough to fit three automobiles lying side by side. If only Katya knew a practical fire spell, she might be able to see into it.

Instead, she hovers down to the ground, picks up a stone, and tosses it into the darkness.

Silence…silence…clink!

Katya turns to go when she sees something rising up. It looks like a glowing, white angel, with blonde hair covering her bare breasts, and a sheet fluttering around her midriff.

“Hiiiiiiiiiee,” the white creature shrills. She extends out her hand, fingernails longer than Katya’s hand. Katya takes a step back, trips, and falls.

“W-wow, thanks universe,” Katya sputters. Maybe there is something to all that praying Fame does. The creature is hovering a foot off the ground, and while Katya has read about it, she’s never seen levitation before.

“My name is Princess Alaska Thunder from the planet Glamatron. I’ve come here on a covert mission to observe earth’s finest delicacies. Take me to your holy beasts.”

“Princess?” Katya exclaims. “Aw geez, I’ve never met royalty before. Let alone space royalty. Wow. None of the gals are gonna believe this. Oh, right, my name’s Katya from the planet Earth, and I’m a witch-in-training.”

“Take me to your bovine gods, witch,” Alaska commands as her golden sandals touch the ground.

“Bovine…? I don’t know what that is, but there’s nothing on Fame’s farm except for weeds and chickens and cows.”

“You speak English, no? I can switch to Russian, Spanish, German, or Chinese. My translator is limited.”

“N-no, English is fine. I mean know a little Latin and some conversational Russian, but English is cool. I just don’t know what you’re looking for.”

“I want lactating lactose.”

“Uh, milk?”

“Yes! The Earth is alone in the galaxy with its production of white gold. The only source of sweet, sweet nectar in the vast universe is this primitive planet, and I’d rather not travel to an alternative universe.”

“Primitive? We invented jazz and refrigerators and, uh, missiles, you know! But come on- I think I can get you some milk,” Katya babbles as she throws her foot over the side of her broom and pats the back seat.

Alaska’s hands wrap around her waist, and Katya blushes when she feels her naked breasts. There’s a foreign bulge pressed up to the curve of her backside, and Katya’s known a lot of girls…but never one like this before. Wow, space babes are the best!

The sky is studded with stars, extending over the endless fields, and Katya feels like they’re the only two beings in the universe right now. The wind embraces them, and, showing off, Katya does a trick in the air. Alaska shrieks and hugs her tighter. Katya’s heart is fast and loud in her chest, and Alaska’s breathe is hot against her neck. She feels alive, beautifully alive.

“You’re out of this world,” Katya calls out.

Alaska giggles, and, for an alien princess, she’s surprisingly human. The vibrations of the broom make Kaya bite her lip, especially with the rub of Alaska against her backside. All they need is some slow jazz.

She zooms inside the barn and crash lands in the hayloft. Alaska blows a piece of straw out of her hair and giggles again. Katya presses a finger to her lip and slides down the ladder to approach the ‘bovine god.’ Three days have taught her how to fill a bucket like a pro.

Alaska, for a princess, dribbles the milk down her chin. She throws her blonde head back in pleasure and moans as she drinks. Katya licks her lips, watching the drops trickle down Alaska’s naked chest. She recognizes the wetness between her thighs from riding her broom too long, but Katya’s not sure why she gets that same tightness from watching Alaska.

“Do all aliens not wear clothes?” Katya asks, breathless.

“Some do. I should have changed into traditional Earthling clothing, but I didn’t have time…”

“Oh,” Katya flushes. “It’s ok with me if you dress like that…but I don’t think Miss. Fame will be ok. She’s my instructor and a bit of a traditionalist, which is strange for a witch. Usually, we’re more of a liberal type of people, but Miss.Fame does live all alone on this farm with her chickens so…oops, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“It’s cute,” Alaska hiccups, wiping the white from her mouth.

“Wait here.”

Katya sneaks inside the house and picks out her prettiest dress- a french blue number. It reminds her of the dresses that the flapper girls wear down at the club. Her mother wouldn’t let her buy something this short, but Violet gave it to her as a goodbye gift. She slips out her window to the barn loft. Alaska strips naked in front of her, and Katya blinks at the sight of…

“So are you a, uh, boy or girl?”

“I don’t understand the question,” Alaska says as she slips on a pair of panties, which push up her cock. Katya knows it’s not polite to stare, but she’s never seen anything like it. The combination of Alaska’s slight breasts with the bulge between her legs makes Katya bite her lip and pull at her own gown.

“So can you get pregnant?”

“Of course.”

“Can you…impregnate?”

“Of course,” Alaska confirms as she smooths down the dress. “I don’t really understand this line of questioning. On Glamatron, gender is a preference not a rigid requirement.”

“Oh,” Katya says, confused. Either way Alaska looks like a dream in the flapper gown. She does a twirl, and Katya momentarily forgets how to breathe.

It’s sweltering, but Katya still brought along a blanket for Alaska to sleep under. She wants to stay here with the alien girl, but Katya knows Miss.Fame will worry.

“How long are you staying?”

“Just a week or so until I can get my space ship repaired. Plus, I have yet to taste the full range of Earth’s lactate products. I hope you don’t mind.”

Katya shakes her head and stares at the unearthly beauty.

Then she leans forward and pecks Alaska softly on the lips: “That’s, uh, how we say goodbye here.”

Alaska smiles, cups her face, and kisses her harder. Katya’s stomach twists as she squeezes her thighs together. Alaska pulls back-

“How funny. It’s the same way on my planet.”

——-

REPAIRING

Katya wakes up to glowing eyes. Fuck, why is Betty the creepiest, cursed cat? It’s like all the stars aligned to create the most hateful creature in all of Kansas.

“Girls in the attic? Tut tut, that’s not something you should be hiding from our dear, old Fame. Secrets are hard to keep on such a small farm. Makes me think your friend…is a little more than friendly.”

“I’m just waiting for a good time to introduce her,” Katya grumbles as she threw off the covers and shoves Betty away.

“Ay, there’s no better time than now, Kat.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow, cat,” she snaps and then yawns. It’s hard getting up at five am when you went to sleep past midnight. Only her secret keeps Katya from falling face first back into bed. She ditches the brown muslin for a meadow-green dress. It’s down to her ankles, but at least it’s cinched at the waist. Katya ties her hair into braids and dons a bonnet.

Fame compliments her fashion as she goes out the door. Katya only waves, stomach flipping as Betty slinks out past her.

Alaska, dangling her legs from the hayloft, is already awake when Katya enters the cool barn. She jumps down, way too effortless to be human, and greets Katya by rubbing their foreheads together. Katya leans in for a kiss (“It’s, uh, how you say ‘hello’ too.”)

Alaska drinks the milk straight from the bucket, carefully now so as not to stain her new gown. Katya tells her to wait as she goes to eat breakfast. She shoves it down quick and does her recitations so quickly that Miss.Fame raises an arched brow.

“I, uh, want to go out to play in the fields,” Katya says in one breath.

“Aren’t you a little too old for that?”

“Too old for fresh air? I’ll take my Latin there and practice,” Katya promises as she grabs the old, musty book and kisses Miss.Fame on the cheek. The older witch is so taken back by her change in attitude that she doesn’t try to stop her.

“Pssst, Lasky! Hop on quick, princess.”

Alaska is plastered to her back, like she’s ridden a broom all her life. Katya can feel her, uh, bulge, through the sheer fabric of the dress. In the morning light, Alaska’s nails are bright pink. They click together as she wraps them around Katya’s stomach.

Then they’re up, up, and off into the golden sky. The world is new, like it reinvented itself over night. Everything is a shining, glittering dew. Katya breathes in the morning breeze. A blue jay races them back to Alaska’s crater.

There, Katya spends the rest of the morning gathering up flowers to make crowns. They’re queens of this golden universe. The butterflies land on the green of her dress, mistaking her for a flower.

“Bluebirds singin’ a song. Nothin’ but bluebirds all day long,” Katya trills. “Blue skies, smilin’ at me. Nothin’ but blues skies do I see.”

“What’s that?” Alaska asks as she floats up, and Katya places the flower crown on her head.

“Louis Armstrong.”

“Who is he? Do you know him?

“A famous singer. I don’t know him, but I wish I did- I love all his music so much.”

Alaska just stares at her and tilts her head: “You have a nice voice…for an Earthling.”

“And you’re rude…for an alien-ling. Can I see your spaceship?”

Alaska just grabs her smoothly by the waist and floats them down. It’s all metal, like nothing that Katya has ever seen before. It looks like a silver plate. She curls her toes inside her boots as they enter.

Katya doesn’t know anything about spaceships, but she doesn’t see any dents or bumps. All of the controls inside are intact. But maybe the damage is invisible? Hidden beneath all the circuits and wires?

She feels out of place with her flower crown, green dress, and broom. Like she’s collided into a world that she doesn’t belong to. For some reason, it wouldn’t be hard to picture Miss. Fame with her silver hair and knowing eyes running her hands along these flashing panels.

“It’s beautiful,” Katya finally says. “Never seen anything like it before.”

“My dad gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday. All my friends got the new chrome pods, but he told me this model was safer…”

“I like it?”

Alaska snorts: “Because you’ve never seen any of the others.”

Katya crosses her arms and says, “Well, when my mom got me a broom, I didn’t complain because I wanted a golden one. Maybe you should be a little more thankful?”

“You’re…right. I guess I’m just mad because he-” Alaska cuts herself off. “You want to go get more lactose? I’ve seen pictures of pink shakes on the galactic net.”

“A…what? You do know we’re in the middle of nowhere Kansas? It’s an hour ride by broom to the nearest diner.”

“But a minute by spaceship,” Alaska says with a wink as she flips her blonde hair over her shoulders and sits down at the controls. She looks like pale moonlight in that blue gown. A dream come to life.

Katya straps herself into the passenger’s side even as she wonders how Alaska fixed it so quickly. Didn’t she say it would take a week?

But all her doubts are gone when Alaska pulls the lever, and they’re rising up into the golden world. The birds below sadly chirp as they zoom away. Katya’s ridden in an automobile but never a spaceship! Her eyes are wide. Breath gone. Pulse racing.

“Hang on, witch-y,” Alaska yells.

Katya looks down to see the ship, but it has disappeared. Wow, she’s only ever read stories about invisibility spells.

“H-how do you know where we’re going?”

“Intergalactic GPS.”

“What?”

“I got a map!”

They pull up to a diner. It’s full of cute girls with bob cuts and boys in smart suits. Alaska takes her by the hand and helps her out. Katya’s never been swept off her feet, but Alaska has thoroughly swept her inhibitions away. She bets neither Violet nor Ginger have ever ridden a spaceship before.

They get a pink smoothie to share, and Katya doesn’t have any money, but Alaska pulls a 20 dollar bill right out! Katya’s not sure if her or the waiter’s eyes are wider.  

“Paper money is easy to print,” Alaska whispers as the man goes to get them change. Katya, drunk off of sugar and adrenaline, can only nod.

“Can you tell me about your home?” Katya asks like this is a regular date.

“The sky is always black and never changes. Our people have to live underground to avoid the toxic air. Most of our kind spend their time travelling the galaxy, serving our military or trading, but my father doesn’t let me leave.”

“I’m sorry,” Katya says. “My mother’s protective too.”

“It’s not even protection. He’s suffocating me. As if our planet’s air wouldn’t do that job for him.”

Katya doesn’t know what to say, so she takes a long sip.

“With all the places on Earth, why did you crash land here?”

“There were high populations of bovine gods,” Alaska answers, but she looks away as she says it. Katya isn’t sure how truthful Alaska’s being.

By the time they get back, the sun is high in the sky. Katya fans herself with her hat as she closes the barn doors behind them. She creeps up into Alaska’s hayloft, and, like two regular girls at a sleepover, they make plans for the rest of the week.

“How long do you think it would take to get to Paris? We could leave at midnight and be back before Miss. Fame wakes up in the morning. Or- no, let’s go down to New Orleans. That’s where all the real witches go to listen to jazz and learn voodoo magic. My bosom sister, Ginger, is down there learning the craft,” Katya rambles, twirling her finger around Alaska’s hair, and then sighs wistfully at the thought.

“Why is my- I mean why is Miss. Fame not teaching you magic?”

“Thinks I’m a loose, irresponsible witch…” Katya rolls her eyes. “Which I am. But that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to learn. Like, how does she expect me to become anything more if all I do is clean up chicken poop all day? Is the universe just gonna tell me the answers?”

“My daddy seems to think the same thing. He’d rather I’d stay locked up in the palace all day than go see the galaxy. I-” Alaska flushes a deep red. “I stole the ship. He wasn’t going to give it to me until my eighteenth birthday, so I just took it and fled.”

“Wow.”

Now Katya knew that Alaska was not a traveler but a run away. Alaska also lied about the ship being broken. Why? And what else has she lied to Katya about? Instead of saying all that, Katya launches into a story about the first time she snuck into a speakeasy and tasted moonshine. Alaska is entranced, eyes wide, desperate to ‘taste the moon’ for herself.

By the time Katya comes inside it’s past lunchtime, and Miss. Fame lightly scolds her and makes her peel potatoes for the rest of the day. It’s dull work, but the milkshake and illicit plans to Paris and New Orleans have given her a boost of energy. Plus, the kiss that Alaska left Katya with makes her lips tingle.

Katya peels and sings: “All the days are hurryin’ by. When you’re in love, my how they fly.”

“In love with who?”

“It’s just a song, Miss. Fame.”

“I don’t trust love songs. Slippery slopes. But you keep up all this good work, sweetie, and we’ll have you doing spells in no time.”

Betty slips into the kitchen, leaps up onto the countertop, and gives Katya a dirty look. When Miss. Fame’s back is turned, Katya sticks out her tongue. It’s a bad idea to taunt a cursed cat, but has Katya been making great decisions lately?

“If you keep playing with fire, you’re going to get burned,” Betty promises and licks her paw. Katya rolls her eyes, unaware that later that night the barn would burst into flames.

———

RE-ROUTING

Katya wakes up to screams. The whole world is glowing sickly yellow, like Betty’s eyes. Her skin is covered in a thick sheen of sweat as she watches the leaping flames devour the barn.

She runs outside, barefoot, and stares up at the destruction. Ash, like burning snowflakes, falls down. Katya feels sixteen and helpless as the whole world burns.

“Stand back, Katya,” Miss. Fame screams as she rushes past her. She’s reciting a spell, and, when she raises her hands up, water bursts out from the ground to cover the barn. Katya is screaming, but the words are lost at the back of her throat.

“Alaska,” Katya hears herself screaming. “Alaska is inside the barn. She’s in there! Help her. Please, help her.”

Most of the animals are spooked but unharmed. When Katya runs up to the loft, she finds it’s empty. Her heart stops.

“What’s going on? Who’s there?”

“M-m-my friend,” Katya cries.

“From where?”

“Space!”

Miss. Fame has gone pale: “Dear goddess, I thought I’d never see the day when…ALASKA! COME OUT RIGHT HERE OR SO HELP ME I’LL CONTACT YOUR FATHER.”

Katya has never heard Miss. Fame raise her voice before. It’s so out of character that she stops crying immediately. From behind the barn, Alaska creeps out. Her blue gown is scorched so badly that Katya can see the pale of her thighs. She’s clearly shaken.

Miss. Fame pulls her into a tight hug and smooths out her hair. She’s whispering something in her ear, in a language that Katya’s never heard, and Alaska is nodding. What’s going on? How does Miss. Fame know Alaska?

“I’m sorry…Mom,” Alaska sniffles.

What the…?

Katya crosses her arms, feeling lost. Clearly, Alaska has been lying to her this whole time. She didn’t come here to see the ‘bovine gods.’ Her spaceship didn’t crash. She’s been lying, lying and now she set the barn on fire.

“Katya,” Miss. Fame turns on her. “She must have been here for a couple nights? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I…I mean I was going to but…I…”

Betty comes outside and, judging by her little smirk, she knows a whole lot more than she’d let on. Betty licks her paw and, though cats don’t have eyebrows, seems to quirk hers up at Katya. Told you not to play with fire. Smug little shit.

“Come inside, come inside,” Miss. Fame sighs.

Alaska follows her, golden hair falling over her face, and doesn’t look over. Katya’s stomach twists and tears burn at her eyes. Weren’t they friends? Queens of their own golden universe? But Alaska has done nothing except lie to her. She coughs as she inhales soot.

Miss. Fame makes them hot chocolate, which Alaska drinks immediately, even though it’s burning hot. Katya just stares at her folded hands.

“So?” Miss. Fame begins. “What happened, Alaska?”

“Daddy just doesn't let me do anything, you know.”

“So you run away?”

“I had to! He was suffocating me underground, and I wanted to see the universe. I wanted…to see you. But I didn’t know what to say.”

“You know he’s going to send an army soon! Alaska, the people on earth aren’t strong enough to fight off an invasion.”

Alaska wipes her wet cheeks: “I know but I was just going to stay for a couple of days. I just wanted to see a holy bovine and…and talk to you.”

Miss. Fame’s face softens, and she wraps her hands around Alaska. Katya’s still kind of upset and worried at all this talk about an alien invasion, but her heart melts at the sight of Alaska curled up in Miss.Fame’s arms. It makes her tear up as she thinks of how much her own mother worries about her.

“You can stay,” Miss. Fame sighs. “But just for a couple days, ok? No more wandering the milky way for cows, though. You’re going straight home after this, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

Miss. Fame brings another pair of sheets to Katya’s bed while Katya lends Alaska a white nightie to sleep in. When she hands it to her, Katya stares at the ground. It’s childish, but she’s still mad.

They curl in bed, and when Katya closes her eyes, she can see the red of the flames, as if they’ve been seared into her lids. Besides her, Alaska sniffles.

“I’m sorry, Katya. You’ve been nothing but a kind, Earthling witch, and I haven’t repaid your kindness with the truth. I just…please understand that I didn’t know what to say to her. I still don’t. My mom left my planet right after I was born, so all I had was one hologram of her inside my bedroom. That’s it. My father wouldn’t tell me why she left to earth or how she got to Glamatron in the first place. My kind all have blue skin, but because of her I’ve got pale skin, like yours. That’s all I had. One hologram. Light skin. And the knowledge of Earth.”

Katya turns around, so she’s face to face with Alaska, and she hates that she can’t stay mad at her. Alaska is a lonely girl, like her, looking for her place in the universe. She’s sad, confused, and hurting.

She reaches up and tenderly wipes the tears from Alaska’s face. She’s journeyed all the way across the universe to see her mother, only to be told that she has to leave. Katya can’t even imagine what that rejection feels like.

Katya sighs and says, “I’m sorry that your Mom left you. My dad did too, and I know it’s not the same because he only moved a couple of blocks down in Brooklyn and not to a whole other planet…but I never knew what to say to him either. Sometimes people leave you…”

“I wish I knew why. If I have skin just like hers, why didn’t she…?”

Want me, Katya fills in the silence.

“I don’t know. Humans are just…shitty.”

Alaska shifts closer to her: “No, all beings in this universe are equally shitty. Humans might have a monopoly on milk but not on the quality of ‘shitty’-ness.”

Katya giggles and inches closer. Her naked toes brush against Alaska’s, and she shivers at the sudden contact.

“I guess I’m a liar too. Humans don’t kiss each other on the lips to say ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye,’” Katya confesses. “I just wanted to kiss you.”

Alaska shifts forward on the bed, eyes glinting in the dim moonlight, and presses her lips to Katya’s- “They don’t on my planet either.”

She falls asleep in Alaska’s arms.

———

START THE IGNITION

Katya wakes up in the morning to find Alaska’s pink nails resting around the curve of her stomach. The sun is yawning awake and beams of light slip through the curtains. It seems the world has shaken off the ash from the dark night and left a shining, yellow kingdom.

Katya flushes, sweat trickling down her neck, as she feels Alaska’s bulge pressed up to her backside. The light makes her squint as she twists around in Alaska’s arms-

“That feels nice,” Katya whispers and scoots back.

Alaska, still asleep, just nuzzles deeper into Katya. Her breath is hot against the curve of her neck. Katya wriggles against the tight grip and pushes further back into Alaska. Even through the fabric, she can feel Alaska’s cock growing harder and harder.

“Alaska,” Katya whimpers, a little louder.

Her eyes flutter, and she feels the wetness spreading between her thighs. It’s just like the first night on the broom. Kaya squeezes her legs together as she remembers the vibrating sensation and then rolls her hips up into Alaska’s cock.

Since Alaska’s growing harder against her, Katya decides to continue. Oh god, this feels so fucking good. After the night of confusion, it’s nice to be held so tightly in Alaska’s grip. For the first time, there’s no where in the world Katya would rather be. Not Paris. Not New Orleans.

“Katya,” Alaska moans, and when she pushes her cock against Katya’s white nightie this time, it’s intentional. Katya let’s out an involuntary whimper. The insides of her thighs are slick. Her eyes are half hooded. Her toes curl.

“I don’t know what this is,” Katya confesses. “But I don’t want to stop. F-feels so nice.”

“What? Humans don’t have sex for pleasure?”

“Is this what sex is?” Katya wonders out loud as Alaska’s long nails pull up her nightie. She flushes as she looks down and sees how her panties are wet and stained. Her nipples are painfully erect, and she gasps as they brush against her soft nightie.

“At least this is what my people consider sex? Should we ask my Mom?”

“No,” Katya says quickly because she might not know the name for this, but she knows Miss. Fame would not approve of such wanton behavior. Still, the thought of the older woman’s disapproval doesn’t stop her from rolling over, so they’re chest to chest.

She cups Alaska’s flushed face and kisses her, all tongue and desire. Now, Alaska’s cock is pressed up against the softness of her belly. Katya reaches down to touch it, loving how thick and real it feels in her hand. Katya strokes her through her panties.

When she slips her hand down, lower, Katya gasps at the wetness. She hadn’t realized it before but Alaska is…

“A hermaphrodite?”

“Hm?” Alaska murmurs against her lips.

“It’s strange you have both,” Katya giggles, nervous. She’s read about it before, as an insult, but she’s never met anyone before with both. She cautiously moves her hand down and bits her lips as she slides down inside Alaska. Oh.

“Well, I find it strange you only get one,” Alaska shoots back.

“I don’t care which parts you got. Long as you know what to do with ‘em,” Katya says as she pulls back to squeeze her hand around Alaska’s cock. What she lacks in experience, Katya makes up with enthusiasm. Alaska’s eyes are half lidded and she twitches in her grip.

Alaska’s cock, long and hard, is so nice in the palm of her hand. It’s so dirty too, knowing that Fame is only a couple of rooms away. Katya buries her face into Alaska’s shoulder and inhales her slightly smoky scent. Alaska’s nails are too long to touch her directly, but her leg is pressed up between Katya’s thighs. Katya bites back a whimper as she gets herself off against Alaska’s hard leg. Back and forth. Breathe. Back and forth.

Katya’s never gone this far before, but, with Alaska’s soft reassurances in her ear, she lets herself go. Her panties are getting wetter. Her heavy breasts are pressed up to Alaska’s as they rut off against each other, like animals in heat.

“I want to be inside you,” Alaska whispers in her ear, and Katya can’t hold back a whimper. It’s embarrassingly loud. She feels as though she doesn’t have control over her body anymore. Alaska’s mouth is all she can taste. Alaska’s knee pressed against her wetness is all she can feel. Her own heart pounding is all that she can hear.

“I- I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Katya pants. The last thing she wants is to get pregnant. If that’s how it works?

“My semen is only fertile once a moon cycle. Don’t worry, it’s safe,” Alaska reassures her, and, fuck, it’s a good thing alien sex is different than human sex. Not that Katya knows that much about how either works.

She responds by pushing Alaska back and climbing on top of her. She can see herself coming apart in Alaska’s dilated pupils. She pushes down her panties all the way as Alaska does the same. The tip of Alaska, just pressed up inside her, makes Katya’s eyes flutter. She sinks down, taking Alaska all the way inside of her warmth, and blinks away the tears. Oh, wow, this is amazing.

Alaska’s nails sink into her hips to steady her. She throws her head back as she rides Alaska. It’s nothing like having her broomstick pressed up between her legs. No, Alaska is real and squirms under her. Riding Alaska is everything that Katya never knew she wanted.

“So beautiful,” Alaska gasps.

“Beyond this planet beautiful?” Katya teases as she pushes up and down, breasts bouncing.

Her nightie hides the obscene sight, so she lifts it up to watch Alaska’s cock sliding in and out of her. It’s so pink and full, and she loves how it fills her up. Katya, moaning pitifully, speeds up her pace.

“You’re the best thing in this Milky Way,” Alaska promises as she flips them over, so she’s between Katya’s thighs. She wraps her legs around Alaska, loving how she pushes inside of her so easily. It’s like they were meant to come together like this. They fit so perfectly.

“Better than milk?”

Alaska giggle turns into a moan as she fucks her into the mattress, so hard that the bed squeaks. Katya has to bite her shoulder to stop herself from screaming Alaska’s name.

“Better,” Alaska promises with a grunt, and then she’s coming inside Katya. But Katya doesn’t want her stop. She squeezes her thighs around Alaska’s back, holding her there, and then she’s coming herself. She comes with a silent gasp, Alaska’s name on her tongue.

“I can’t believe you think I’m better than milk,” Katya giggles as Alaska rolls off of her. The cum is dripping out of her, and Katya doesn’t want to move, wants to keep it inside of her.

“You’ve changed me,” Alaska says, and, though she smiles, she sounds serious.

Katya pulls Alaska down by her long hair to steal another kiss. She feels so greedy. How has Katya just had her, but, still, she wants her? Buried deep, deep inside of her? Maybe Katya just loves the idea of being so close to her.

“Tell me you don’t have to leave,” Katya pleads.

Alaska looks down at her and just kisses her instead of saying the words. She doesn’t want to lie to me again, Katya realizes.

They get cleaned up and change into real clothes. When they go out to do the chores, Katya feels Betty’s glowing orange eyes following her.

If Katya were a Christian, she might have sunk down to her knees for the Lord. Instead, as she throws out feed to the chickens, she says a small prayer to the goddesses. Please, let Alaska stay here with me. Please.

Katya might be sixteen years old, but this is the closest thing to love she’s ever felt. Why did she have to fall for the princess of daddy issues?

When she comes back in, Katya sees that Miss. Fame has been talking to Betty. Shit, that pussy cat ratted her out.

“Katya…” Miss. Fame clears her throat. “Alaska, she has to go back. You know that right? She can’t stay here-”

“I know that,” she snaps.

“So, uh, it might be wise for you two to sleep in separate beds…don’t you think, Alaska?”

Alaska walks in and Katya watches as her face heats up. The blood rises to her face too as Katya protectively steps in front of her.

“You’re not even her mom and you never will be,” Katya yells before she even realizes what she’s saying. “You left her, alone. On a planet full of toxic air. So what gives you the right to boss her around? You don’t do anything but babble in Latin and pray to goddesses that don’t listen, y-you crazy chicken lady!” Katya yells and slams the door to her room.

It’s horrible, and she realizes how ungrateful that she must sound.

But Katya’s glad she said it anyway. This is the only friend she’s had in Kansas, and now Miss. Fame is trying to split them up before Alaska even has to leave. Maybe it might have been better if they never met. Never kissed. Never held each other so tenderly.

She starts to gather her things from the drawers and stuff them into her suitcase. All she wants is to go home. Away from nowhere land. Away from the farm. Away from the pain.

“Katya,” Alaska says softly as she opens the door.

Her tarot card tumble to the floor, and she bursts into tears.

“I just…I don’t want you to leave,” Katya cries. “You just came. You just came and now you have to go.”

“I’ll be back,” Alaska promises.

“When?”

“As soon as I’m eighteen, I’ll be legal. I’ll come back for you, Kat, and we’ll hitch hike across the galaxy together.”

“How will you find me?” She sniffles.

“Wait for me in Paris,” Alaska whispers and kisses her.

Katya knows it’s ridiculous, but she believes her anyways. She’s horribly in love, and there’s no potion known to witch kind that can cure her. This is a language that transcends cultures. They both know what it means when Katya pulls Alaska down and kisses her, cheeks wet with tears.

“Can you read our future?” Alaska asks and gestures to the tarot cards.

Katya closes her eyes and hovers her hands over the cards. She flips it over.

“Simulacyum fidei- latin for conjugal faith. Better known as…The Lovers,” Katya explains as she strokes the rainbow at the center, above the conjoined couple. She looks up and meets Alaska’s heated gaze. The cards have never lied to her, although she’s sometimes misread them, but this time it’s clear.

“What does it mean?”

“It means we’re going to be okay, Lasky. We’ll meet again.”

———

DEPARTURE

After Katya’s outburst, Miss. Fame comes to her with a potions book- a white flag. They continue their Latin lessons, but, now, Miss. Fame shows her how the ancient words link to the spells. Katya’s glad she finally spoke up, even though she’s sorry for how it came out.

“I’m sorry for calling you a ‘crazy chicken lady,’” Katya says as she accepts the potions book. “And saying that you aren’t Alaska’s mom. That’s none of my business. I really am grateful for everything that you’ve done for me.”

“No, I am a crazy chicken lady,” Miss. Fame laughs and then her face changes. “Katya, Alaska’s father he…abducted me. Do you understand? He took me, and I didn’t have a choice. So when he gave me the option to leave, so long as I left Alaska, I…”

She sags, and, for once, Miss. Fame looks her age. All one hundred years. Katya gives her a side hug. For all of her faults, Miss. Fame is a good woman.

“Did you tell Alaska?”

“No, I don’t want her to think less of her father. I’d rather she hated me.”

“You have to tell her, though!”

Miss. Fame shakes her head: “I can’t. I know that I lose myself in my Latin recitations and prayers, but it’s because…”

“You’re scared?”

“Because I’m trying to forget, Kat. Forget how they- what he- no, I can never tell Alaska what really happened to me.”

Katya buries her face into Miss. Fame’s shoulder and rubs her back as she cries. There’s so much pain and history that she’ll never understand.

“Forgive her,” she whispers to Alaska that night, as she collapses besides her.

“Why should I?” Alaska grumbles, burying her face between Katya’s breasts. This is their last night together for who knows how long. Katya wants to just fall into blissful sleep, but she has to speak up.

“I…I think she had her reasons,” Katya says truthfully. “She didn’t want to leave you, Alaska, but she had to go back home. Just like you had to come here.”

“Who was she running from?”

Katya bites her lip.

“Was it my dad?”

She doesn’t nod, but she blinks. Alaska rolls over, to stare up at the expanding moon, and sighs. Katya wants to kiss away all the pain on that moonlight soaked face.

They’ve spent this last week together, and Katya’s basking in the glow of Alaska’s touch. Their bodies and minds fit so effortlessly together. How is that she found her soulmate in the middle of Kansas? After the tarot cards, Katya is no longer as afraid for their future. They found each other once. They’ll do it again.

“I have to go,” Alaska says, softly, as she rises to get dressed, and Katya understands that it’s time. They’ve put it off long enough.

Katya presses a golden flask into Alaska’s hands. Alaska’s pink nails curl around the neck of the bottle.

“What’s this?”

“A luck potion- for strength.”

“Is this how witches say ‘I love you?’” Alaska teases as she pulls her in for a kiss.

“No, it’s how I say ‘don’t forget about me.’”

“How could I forget about the best thing in the Milky Way galaxy?”

“Better than milk?” Katya whispers as she hides her face into the curve of Alaska’s neck.

“Of course.”

Katya watches as the spaceship zooms into the darkness of the night. The universe is vast and infinite, stretching before her like the fields, but Katya has faith that the stars will bring them together again.

“Bluebirds singin’ a song. Nothin’ but bluebirds all day long,” Katya sings into the darkness as she cries. “Blue skies, smilin’ at me. Nothin’ but blues skies do I see…wondering when my love will come back to me.”

Katya falls asleep there in the cornfields, and, when she awakens, a blue bird has landed on her broomstick.