#once the roll of burlap almost as big as me arrives I have to get it home and then sew 100 scarecrow heads from it. yaaay yippee

[cantankerouscatfish]

being (partially) in charge of work events means getting clearance to charge Many Dollars to the bossman's credit card, and him going 'yeah it's fine do it.' o_o

[snelbz]

Lost Time {17}

A/N: Shit’s about to hit the fan. :) Another chapter written with @tacmc​.

Azriel was waiting in the kitchen, trying to distract himself to pass the time. He wasn’t dressed in anything fancy, and he knew Elain wouldn't be either, but she still made him wait. He’d only been waiting for twenty minutes or so, and he was already on his second cup of coffee.

It was a big day.

He needed the energy.

Miryam had just come to pick Novan up, excited to spend the afternoon with him. She’d tried to give Azriel a comforting talk, sensing his nerves, but he hadn’t heard a word she had said.

He checked the time.

“Elain!” He called, standing at the bottom of the stairs. “It’s almost noon!”

“Be right down!” Her voice floated down the hall and he shook his head, laughing quietly.

Of course Elain, the most punctual woman in all of Velaris, would be late to her own wedding.

Neither of them felt that a traditional wedding ceremony was necessary after all that they’d been through. They didn’t want to send out the invitations and wait for replies and pick out linens and dessert menus. After four years, they wanted to pick up right back where they’d left off.

So that’s exactly what they did.

Azriel heard heels clicking down the stairs and he walked that way from the living room. When he met Elain at the bottom, he was speechless.

The ivory dress she wore was elegant, but its simplicity allowed the beauty of the woman wearing it to shine through. And not only did she shine, Elain glowed.

Azriel took her hand as she reached the main floor and he kissed her lips softly. “You are stunning.”

She blushed and pushed him away. “Hush.”

“No,” he breathed, smiling down at her. She leaned up on her toes, kissing him one more time, and he asked, “Are you ready?”

She nodded, beaming. “Do you have the rings?”

Smiling, he patted his pocket. “Yep, and a surprise from Mom in the kitchen.”

Elain’s eyebrows rose, but she headed that direction.

Azriel followed closely behind and when she saw the handmade bouquet, her reaction was everything he hoped it would be.

Elain came to a slow stop as she neared the table, her hand coming up to cover her parted lips as she beheld the pink and white roses, the eucalyptus leaves and baby's breath, tied together with a strip of burlap, straight from Miryam’s garden.

“She wanted you to have something to make it seem more…” Azriel’s words trailed off as he searched for the right word. “Like a wedding,” he finished, at last.

“I love it,” she breathed.

Azriel cleared his throat as she turned back around, her eyes misty and bright. He took her hands. “I know this is what you said you wanted, El, but if you want an actual wedding-.”

“No,” she interrupted him, softly. “I want to be your wife, and I want to be your wife, right now. It’s already long overdue.” When she reached up to press her palm against his clean-shaven cheek, he leaned into her touch. “And our appointment is in twenty minutes, so you better get me there quickly, Mr. Draeven.”

He snorted, laying his hand over her own and turning his face to kiss her palm. “I’m not the one who took two hours to get ready.”

She leaned up and kissed him one last time before saying, “A girl only gets ready for her wedding day once.”

With a barked laugh from Azriel, they were out the door and on the way to the little chapel on the Sidra.

The ceremony was sweet, simple, and, most importantly, quick. Not even an hour later, Elain and Azriel were on their way back to the house, matching silver bands on their left hands.

“So, Mrs. Draeven,” he mused, his hand on her thigh as he drove. She sat in the middle of the truck bench, the beautiful bouquet buckled into the passenger seat. “What now?”

The smile on his face was infectious, but the smirk on Elain’s lips had his eyebrows raising. “Well, you already knocked me up,” she chuckled.

He winked. “Twice.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “We’re horrible at this whole birth control thing.”

“The first time we were eighteen,” he said with a shrug. “It happens.”

“And surprise baby number two?” She asked, shaking her head. “What’s our excuse this time?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it and shook his head. “I’m really bad at pulling out?”

Her laughter was louder as she nudged him in the shoulder. “Obviously, but I’m not complaining.”

His grin was wide, radiant, as he took her hand and squeezed her fingers. “I’m not either.” He looked over at her, his eyes going soft as he pulled up to a red light. “I’m so happy, Lainy.”

“I am, too,” she breathed, her eyes lining with silver as the light turned green, and they were moving, once more.

“We have three hours before we have to be at mom’s,” he said, quietly, turning onto their street.

“What are you implying?” she whispered, eyes lit up.

“It’s not official until I take you to bed,” he said, his small smile full of amusement.

“It that so?” she asked, keeping her eyes on him as he pulled into their driveway.

“Mhmm,” he crooned. “So, we better make it official before we do anything else.”

He put the car in park before getting out and rounding the truck to open Elain’s door. After she took his hand and hopped down, Azriel was scooping her up into his arms and carrying her up the front porch steps.

“I’m a sucker for tradition,” he chuckled when she looked up at him, delight in her eyes.

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him lightly. “Okay, tradition. I’d like to reiterate that I’m almost four months pregnant.”

“Yeah,” he smiled and opened the front door without even jostling her. He carried her across the threshold and without pausing to put her down, he was heading right up the stairs. “It’s tradition that I knock you up before our wedding. Now I’ve traditionally carried you across the threshold of our home and I’m going to traditionally go upstairs and make love to my wife, for- how long until we have to be at my mom’s?”

She chuckled and said, “We told everyone we’d be there at four.”

“Then about three hours,” he said, letting his lips drag across her skin.

As if on cue, Elain’s stomach growled as they were entering their bedroom and he added, “Right after I go get her a snack.”

She blushed as he set her down on the bed. “It’s the baby, not me.”

He chuckled and shook his head, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Whatever you say, my love.”

Azriel hurried downstairs, stopping at the truck to get Elain’s bouquet and return it to the water it had been in earlier. He then grabbed her standard The baby is hungry snack from the past few weeks - a string cheese and three mini powdered donuts - and was heading back up the stairs, when he heard the quiet moan and froze. He heard it again and picked up the pace.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but finding Elain naked on their bed, her fingers already inside of her, was not it.

Her snack was quickly forgotten.

—————

Just after four, they were pulling up to Miryam’s house, the rest of their family having already arrived. After Azriel put the car in park, he was looking over at his wife, his eyes soft and full of adoration.

“How mad do you think mom would be if I just took you back home so we could keep doing what we were doing?” Azriel whispered.

Elain laughed, rolling her eyes as she got out of the car. “Come on, hubby, let’s celebrate.”

With a chuckle, and a hefty yawn, Azriel followed her lead, taking her hand as they made their way up to the backdoor. Over the last three hours, Elain had completely worn Azriel out. Not that he was complaining, but he had no idea how he was exhausted and she, the one carrying a child, was wide-eyed and cheery.

He didn’t care, though.

It was completely worth it.

When they opened the backdoor, everyone was in the kitchen, and all eyes swiftly swiveled toward them. Congratulations! were shouted, and then everyone was rushing toward them, wrapping them in hugs. Miryam was in tears, whispering “Finally,” as she took her youngest son’s face in her hands and kissed his cheek.

There was food passed around and smiles shared and after about twenty minutes, Elain blinked and looked around the room. “Where is my child?”

“He refused his nap at one,” Miryam said, shrugging her shoulders. “I told him if he stayed up, he’d be sleepy when mama and daddy came over. He told me that he was a big boy and big boys don’t need naps.”

Elain sighed, rubbing her bump, “He fell asleep right before we walked in, didn’t he?”

“Literally crashed on the couch minutes after we got your text,” Cassian chuckled, his arm wrapped around Nesta’s shoulders.

After seven months, she was finally over the sick part of her pregnancy, but now she was constantly, constantly horny. Miryam had been joking about making a rule that her grown children couldn’t disappear to have sex in her house, specifically while Donovan was over, until she’d actually had to enforce it.

Az let his head fall back against the couch cushion. “Great,” he chuckled. “Getting him to go down for bed in three hours should be a piece of cake.”

The sarcasm lacing his tone had Elain chuckling, until Feyre mused, “Az, you’re acting like such a daddy.”

Elain’s laughter quieted and she looked up at him, cheeks heating. He smirked and pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she snuggled closer into him. “It happens,” he muttered.

Rhys cleared his throat. “Speaking of kids and daddies and all that, we, uh.” He looked at Feyre and took her hand. “We are officially adopting. We signed all the paperwork yesterday. Someone will be coming to inspect the house and interview us next week, but aside from that…”

Feyre said, “We didn’t want to steal your thunder, but we couldn’t keep this from y’all.”

For a moment, everyone was silent, staring, then they were all rushing at Rhysand and Feyre, giving them the same congratulatory greeting as they gave Azriel and Elain.

“That’s so exciting!” Elain cried, one hand over her heart, the other over her abdomen. “Stealing our thunder, are you kidding me? Oh, I’m so happy for you two, congrats.”

Feyre’s eyes were lined with tears as she leaned into Rhysand’s chest. “It may be a long journey...but, I can’t wait.”

“Me either,” Rhysand breathed, kissing her nose.

Cassian cleared his throat. “Okay,” he began, choked up, “before I start sobbing like a baby, let’s get some wine out and make a toast for all the good news, yeah?”

Elain and Nesta rolled their eyes, but nodded nonetheless, chuckling and doing just that.

At some point, the photo albums had been unearthed, even the ones that had come with Azriel and Rhys when they’d started their new lives with Miryam and Drakon. Cassian, having nothing but the clothes on his back, had no physical copies of his memories before they became a family.

“Nothing worth remembering happened before you found me,” he said, pressing a kiss to Miryam’s forehead as she and Elain looked through the baby book Azriel’s birth mother had put together and hidden from the world.

She smiled up at him as Elain flipped the page and froze, saying, “Okay, but you can’t convince me that’s not just a picture of Donovan.”

Getting up from where they sat on the floor, Azriel, Rhys and Feyre looked at the picture.

“Forget the blood test,” Rhys muttered. “I should have just had you bring this picture to the paternity test that day.”

Azriel snorted, but he said nothing. He was amazed, looking at the picture his wife was pointing to. He couldn’t have been older than four, couldn’t have been older than Novan was now.

He started to find himself wondering about the new baby, not for the first time, whether it would be a boy or a girl, what the baby would look like. Would this baby look just like him, too, or would the baby take after Elain? What if what she said before was to be true, and there would be twins?

If they were twins, would he get them confused?

The thought suddenly felt like a weight in the pit of his stomach.

Elain blinked, looking up at him. “You okay?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, no, yeah. I just...got thinking about what’s going on in there.” His hand tenderly rubbed her little bump, and she laughed, quietly.

“In a bad way?” she asked.

His smile was genuine when he said, “No, not in a bad way.”

A small creak at the top of the stairs had everyone glancing up. Elain’s smile grew as she said, “Hello, sleepyhead.”

He slowly made his way down the stairs and climbed onto the couch before climbing on top of Elain and and flopping on top of her. She grunted quietly.

Everyone tensed, but then she carefully resituated him, moving the bulk of his body off her abdomen and scratched at his back. Azriel’s eyes were worried as he extended his arms to take him, but she shook her head, nestling Donovan’s head in the crook is her neck. “Did you have a good nap?”

He nodded, but asked, “Is that me, mama?”

Elain turned her head, looking over at the photo album she’d set off to the side. She smiled and picked it up, turning it where Novan could see the picture and Az. “No, baby, that’s daddy when he was your age.”

“Oh,” he said, with a yawn.

“What do you think?” Azriel asked, quietly. “Do we look alike?”

He nodded, starting to smile the more he woke up. “Yeah, a little bit.”

Azriel chuckled. “Just a little bit?”

Novan nodded. “What about when I was a little baby? Did I look like you then?”

Azriel hesitated, but Miryam was quick to say, “Just like daddy, buddy.”

Novan’s smile widened. “I like little babies. Aunt Nesta has a little baby in her tummy.”

Nesta nodded in agreement as Elain said, “Sure does.”

“How do babies get in mommies’ tummies?” he asked, those questions continuing.

For a moment, no one said a word, but then Cassian started laughing and Nesta rolled her eyes.

“Well,” Azriel began, a thousand different approaches flew through his mind. “Mommies and daddies….they….it just….happens.”

Novan’s brows scrunched together, but Elain only shook her head, laughing quietly. “Don’t worry about it now, bud, ask us again when you’re older.”

Novan groaned and rolled his eyes. “I don’t like that answer, mama.”

“I know,” she laughed, kissing his head. “All you need to know is that soon Aunt Nesta’s little baby is going to be here, and you’re going to be able to hold it. And you know what?”

“What?” Novan asked, kicking his feet from the side of the couch.

They hadn’t planned on telling Novan that he was going to be a big brother until later, didn’t plan on telling Nesta and Cassian until they were alone, but when Elain looked up at Azriel with a question in her eye, they knew it was the right moment.

“See how big Aunt Nesta’s belly is getting?” Elain asked.

With a raised eyebrow, Nesta quietly scoffed, “Bitch.”

Miryam scolded her quietly, but her own eyes were filling with tears as she realized what was happening. Novan nodded.

With one last glance up to Az, seeing the silver lining his eyes, she said, “Soon, mommy’s tummy is going to get that big, too.”

Donovan’s big, hazel eyes lit up. “You got a baby in your tummy?”

She bit her lip to keep from crying and tucked the loose fabric of her dress around her small, defined belly.

The biggest grin spread across Novan’s mouth. His voice got significantly louder as he asked, “I’m gonna be a brother?!”

Nesta was looking between Elain and Azriel, her mouth hanging open, and Cassian’s tears had returned.

“Yeah,” Elain breathed, holding Novan’s hand in one of her own, Azriel’s in the other. “You’re gonna be a big brother, buddy.”

“When?” He asked, clapping his hands together.

“It’ll be a little bit,” she laughed, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“I can’t wait.” His grin was infectious and everyone else couldn’t stop the smiles on their own faces. Elain wrapped him up in her arms, holding him tightly to her chest. His little arms snaked around her neck. He asked, “Is it a brother or a sister?”

“We don’t know yet, buddy,” she said, pulling back to look at him. “We’ll find out next time we go to the doctor. But in the meantime, you have to be really careful around mommy’s tummy, okay?”

Nodding excitedly, he crawled off of her and asked, “Can I give the baby a kiss?”

Elain’s eyes were filling with tears as she said, “Of course.”

Donovan carefully leaned down and pressed the softer of kisses to her stomach. “Hello, I’m Novan. I’m your big brother and I’m always gonna take care of you, okay?”

The footsteps as Azriel stepped out onto the porch got everyone’s attention and Elain was about to stand up, when Nesta said, “Let me.”

Cassian and Elain glanced at each other warily, but nodded.

Nesta was careful not to let the door slam behind her as she followed Azriel. She was expecting the pacing, she was expecting some tears from him, but she wasn’t expecting the full body sobs she found when she stepped outside.

Her voice was surprisingly quiet when she asked, “You okay?”

He spun around, his cheeks red as he wiped at his face, but when he tried to speak, he only cried harder. Nesta, around her bump, took Azriel into her arms and patted his back as he cried into her shoulder.

“Sorry,” he said, through his tears, but she just whispered, “It’s okay.”

“I just…” he began, leaning back and wiping at his face. “I never thought I’d have this life, you know? I’d always dreamed…” He shook his head and took a shuddering breath. “I feel like I’m living in a dream, the life I always wanted, and I’m so fucking happy, Nesta, I’ve never been this happy...but, I’m almost not used to being happy, you know? I’m just...so overwhelmed.”

She ran a protective hand over her stomach. “I know the feeling, trust me.”

He wiped at his face again, and nodded. “I’m just…” He sighed and shook his head. “I’m waiting for someone to rip the rug out from under me. Like I’m not supposed to get this much happiness. And I’m-.”

“You can’t think that way,” she interrupted. “No matter what happens and what life throws at you now, you’ve got the most amazing wife, the sweetest son, a supportive family and a baby on the way. Whatever it is, Az, we’ll get you through it.”

He nodded and hugged her once more, awed by how far their relationship had come since he’d come back to Velaris.

“Now come on,” she said. “Donovan hasn’t realized that weddings mean cake yet.”

Azriel laughed, quietly. “That is the best part of weddings as a kid, isn’t it?”

“The only good part when you’re four,” she said, winking.

Azriel nodded, hesitating as he wiped at his damp face, yet again, not wanting Elain to know that he was crying. She had enough to worry about it, and didn’t want her having to worry about him, too.

Nesta, a spark of understanding in her eyes, pulled a tissue out of her dress pocket.

Azriel blinked.

“What?” she shrugged. “I’m pregnant, I always have tissues.”

He chuckled, thanked her, and took it to clean himself up before he followed Nesta in through the backdoor. Laughter floated in from the living room, and that feeling settled into Azriel’s chest, once again, that there was so much happiness, so much joy, and he was so grateful, so blessed, but he just couldn’t believe it. Especially as he rounded the corner and caught Elain’s bright eyes, the perfect smile plastered on her face.

She was so unbelievable stunning that it took his breath away.

Nesta said loudly, “Az, why don’t you take your son into the kitchen for some cake so I can use adult language while I talk to your wife.”

Novan’s head popped up from where he’d been trying to fly, thanks to his Uncle Rhys. “We have cake?!”

Donovan was launching himself into Az’s arms and he caught him with a grunt as his mini-me said, “I asked Meme if there was cake! There’s always cake in movies.”

He chuckled, as once again, the words out of his brilliant son’s mouth surprised him. “You’re too smart for your own good, kid.”

He just wrapped his little arms around his daddy’s neck and beamed up at him.

Nesta was right, he realized, smiling down at his son. Hard times might come, there could always be some kind of trouble on the horizon, but as long as he leaned on his family, as long as he had someone who looked at him the way Donovan did, Azriel knew that he’d be fine.

—————

“Daddy?” Novan began, yawning as Azriel tucked him into his bed.

“Hmm?” He sat down on the edge of the little twin mattress, cocking his head to the side as he looked at his son.

“I’m excited to be a brother,” he said, sleepily. “Are you excited?”

Azriel chuckled. “I’m very excited, and I’d love to talk to you more about it tomorrow, but it’s way past bedtime and you need to get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” he said, the lie perfectly obvious when he yawned, again.

Azriel tried not to laugh as he said, “Well, I’m tired, so you have to go to sleep so I can go to sleep. And mommy needs her sleep, because the baby in her tummy needs the most sleep.”

It was quiet for a moment before Novan gave in. “Okay, okay, fine. Goodnight, daddy.”

“Goodnight, buddy,” he said, quietly, kissing Novan’s head before he got up to turn off the light, his nightlight still glowing brightly in the corner.

He cracked the door as he left, shutting the light off in the hallway and made his way into their room. Before falling face first onto the bed, he noticed the little plate of donuts on Elain’s night stand, and when he looked up from his pillow, she was peeling her string cheese apart, bit by bit. Her eyes were on the television across the room, but when Azriel’s hand covered her bare belly, one of his old t-shirts raised to expose it, she began to smile.

“It’s a bit late for the baby to be hungry,” he smirked.

“Oh, I know,” she smiled and looked down at him. She brushed his hair back off of her head. “That’s cause mama was hungry this time.”

He snorted and leaned up and kissed her, sneakily grabbing a donut from the plate and eating it in one bite.

Elain raised an eyebrow. “Did you just steal food from a pregnant woman?”

Azriel quickly swallowed, powdered sugar still on his lips and said, “No?”

She rolled her eyes and settled into the pillows. “It’s a good thing I love you.”

Pressing a kiss to her head, he said, “I love you, too. My wife.”

The smile was back and she said, “Say it again.”

He kissed her once and said, “Wife.” Kiss. “Wife.” Kiss. “My-.” Kiss. “-beautiful-.” Kiss. “-wife.”

Her smile was breathtaking and she opened her mouth to say something when they heard vibrating.

Elain glanced to her nightstand, where her phone was lying face up, no notifications lighting the screen up. “It’s not mine.”

Quickly, Azriel was up, grabbing the dark jeans he’s discarded on the chair in the corner and fishing his phone from the pocket.

He froze and stared at the screen, silencing it and lying it face down on his nightstand.

“Who is it, baby?” Elain asked, looking at the clock on the wall. It was only nine, but that was late for either of them to get a call that wasn’t from their family.

He crossed the room shut off the light before crawling in bed and pulling her tightly against him. “Someone I used to work with in New York.”

She traced the lines of his tattoo across his chest and asked, “Should you get it?”

With a shake of his head, he said, “No, I’ve spoken to them about it once before. Any other info they can get from my voicemail.”

Elain yawned and nodded, almost immediately falling into a deep, peaceful sleep. Azriel kept one arm around her as he grabbed his phone and unlocked it.

Not only was there a missed call from her, but there was also a text message, which had come in seconds after the phone call ended.

His eyes flicked to the contact at the top of the screen and he cursed himself for not getting a new number. As much as he didn’t want to see Ianthe, he sure as hell didn’t want her anywhere near his family.

I’m in Velaris for a shoot and would love to see you. Call me and we can get together. Like old times.

[motleymoose]

Homecoming Pt 4: Nevarro Ch 3

Chapter 3

Getting to Know One Another

Fandom: The Mandalorian, Star Wars Characters: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin), Gender Neutral Reader, Various Unnamed Mandos, Paz Viszla, Drys Reyn (OC) - mention Words: 2.1k+ Warnings: Mostly friendly joshing, some angst (dang them emotions!)

Summary:

It would just be easier if I could punch all the things instead of dealing with emotions.

Notes:

The chapters for this part are short (I am just.... too tired to put out much more), but there are TWO MORE than the previous parts, so yay!

I mashed some Mando'a again, but THIS TIME I lurked on the mandoa dot org forums and gleaned a few noncanon words and learned a tiny bit about sentence structure (still not perfect, but it'll work for now, I hope???)

Thanks as always for reading, and stay tuned for more unwarranted anger and awkward fights!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Homecoming Masterlist

We left the Armorer’s sanctum and turned left out the door down a long, dimly lit hallway. A scattering of warriors, encased in beskar armor, lounged on the floor and leaned against the walls. The chattering between them stopped when we approached.

A mountain of a Mandalorian stepped in front of the rest, his blue-gray armor worn but well-maintained. The bounty hunter stopped two paces from the other. The crown of his head barely reached the lip of the blue warrior’s helmet.

“All debts are paid,” the bounty hunter growled, all the while staring straight into the larger Mandalorian’s chest plate.

The blue warrior gave a full-belly laugh, leaning away from the hunter as he slapped his solid thigh and shook his mighty helmet. “Oh, verd’ika. You never cease to amaze me.” His impossibly deep voice seemed bright and cheerful, something I had yet to experience with the bounty hunter.

The shorter Mandalorian stood rooted to the spot, fists clenched at his sides. “Then what do you want.”

Straightening up to his imposing height, the blue-gray Mandalorian nodded towards me. “Tion’tuur haar jatekara’la solus?”

Blushing in embarrassment but increasingly becoming bolder, I stepped closer until I was shoulder-to-shoulder with the bounty hunter. “You’re funny, guy��� I cooed sarcastically. “But I’d much rather spend my nights in a cold bunk, thank you very much.”

All of the Mandalorians turned their attention to me. I scowled back at them.

“I like this one!” the giant chuckled, laying a heavy gauntlet on the bounty hunter’s pauldron and pulling him in for a side hug. “Keeps you on your toes.” The other warriors laughed in unison. They returned to their tasks as the blue-gray Mandalorian half-drug, half-marched the hunter down the hallway. Wearily, I followed close behind, the child’s protective crib humming along beside me.

With the low lighting and almost no landmarks, I soon lost all sense of direction in the underground covert as I lagged wearily behind. Every few yards, a doorway would appear cut into the tunnel wall, looking exactly like the last. From the briefest of glances, I noted several storage rooms (weapons, food, medical) and family areas. The long hall tapered, funneling us into a boxy lobby. The nearest door led into something akin to a school.

Children of all ages and species darted in and out of the last one, squealing and giggling as they chased one another up and down the chamber. Adults working within the family rooms and in the widened tunnel itself could be heard admonishing, teasing and teaching the young rabble. How were they able to learn anything in all the ruckus? I could barely understand my own thoughts let alone what anyone else was saying. It would’ve been impossible to hold any sort of conversation with all of the shrill whistles and high shrieks bouncing off the walls.

As soon as we were past the school, a short Mandalorian in pale green beskar stepped out of the room and yelled. “Gev, verdike!” Her clear, commanding voice cut through the hubbub, and the children obediently stopped their revelry, returning reluctantly to the classroom.

The larger Mandalorian had let go of the bounty hunter by then, picking his way thoughtfully through the stream of little ones, handing out fist bumps and hair ruffles to many of them. Smiles brightened their round little faces, and I spotted several gap-toothed grins. A thought, both terrible and validating, gripped my brain, and I hastened to catch up to him, puffing with the effort of dodging around distracted children.

“Are-are all of these kids foundlings?” I asked breathlessly when I reached the gray-blue giant.

Turning his helmet a fraction, the big warrior studied me for a moment. “No, not all of them.” We stopped momentarily, letting a frazzled-looking man with an armload of burlap sacks unload his cargo onto an awaiting wooden trolley. Once he had secured his sacks and steered the cart out of the way, we continued on. “Some are born into the Clan. But most come to us because the galaxy can be a cruel, unforgiving place.”

“Ah.” I was relieved to hear that my circumstances weren’t out of the norm, but really I had nothing more to say on the subject.

Once we left the echoing lobby, the larger Mando led us to a small room down a seemingly deserted corridor. Opening the simple door, he gestured for me and the bounty hunter to enter. The child, still snoring in his cradle, tagged immediately behind.

The room was sparsely decorated, with a low table, much like the one in the Armorer’s sanctuary, a boxy wardrobe against the far wall, and a pull-out bunk, already extended and ready for use, near the door. The only other things in the room were two days worth of rations stacked neatly on the table and a bedroll with several thick blankets set beside the bunk.

I turned to the blue-gray Mandalorian. “What’s going on?”

The giant looked from me to the hunter. I could almost picture his kind, bright eyes in behind his darkened visor. “Do you still not know how to communicate?” he laughed, slapping the bounty hunter roughly on the back. “You need to work on that, vod, lest it comes back to bite you in the ass!”

Smothering a grin, I turned away from the pair and surveyed my surroundings once more. Nothing unusual, nothing dangerous, just a snug and tidy room all to myself. “Thank you for your hospitality, but I think I’m going to turn in for the day…” I stepped closer, hoping to crowd the warriors out of the room.

“Oh, erm-” the bounty hunter started.

The blue-gray Mando snorted. “Oh, brother, you really haven’t changed at all, have you?” He silently backed into the hallway, a huge feat for someone so large and covered in heavy metal plates. “You should definitely be the one to explain that!” he said pointedly to the bounty hunter before shoving the door closed with a sharp click.

Bewildered, I bit my lip and furrowed my brow as I tried to piece together what he had been getting at.

The bounty hunter, meanwhile, shifted nervously from foot to foot, his cloak gently brushing against the beskar. It would have been comforting if I hadn’t found him so frustratingly aggravating.

“Will you stop that?” I finally snapped, tossing my bag at the foot of the bunk and collapsing on the stiff mattress. “No one is telling me anything, and I like it about as much as I like you.” I tugged off my boots and kicked them under the bed. “So spill. Why the heck are we here, and what was that all about?”

The bounty hunter hummed tunelessly, tapping his cuisses with a nervous finger. After a moment of internal debate, he strode across the room and slouched onto the table. The neat stacks of ration packets skittered lightly over the smooth surface, sliding over the edge and landing on a cushion with a muffled plisskff. Ignoring the food, the Mandalorian unfastened and stripped off his gloves, one finger at a time. Once removed, he laid them one at a time across each knee, smoothing the soft leather over and over again with his long, blunt fingers.

“W-what do you know about Reyn?” he asked, staring at the ground, his elbows resting heavily upon his thighs.

“I already told you everything I know,” I mumbled. Falling back onto the body-sized cushion at the head of the bunk, I wriggled deeper into the rough mattress, sighing as my muscles slowly relaxed. “I only know what he taught me, and as you can tell, it wasn’t much.”

Making a noncommittal sound, the bounty hunter continued to rub the gloves on his knees. He didn’t say anything for a long while.

I was dozing when he spoke next, and I had to fight myself awake in order to understand what he was telling me.

“-that was all before the Empire collapsed.”

I rolled to my side and squinted at him, suddenly very, very interested. “What’s this about the Empire?”

Huffing in frustration, the Mandalorian twisted both gloves between his fists and looked up at me. “Drys Reyn? He’s aruetii. He sold out his Clan, a Rebel-aligned faction of the Death Watch, to the Empire. When the Imperials arrived, instead of arresting the leaders of the rebellion, making examples of them, the troopers slaughtered all of them. Right down to the smallest foundling. Reyn took the credits the Moff paid him and ran.” The hitch in his voice was barely noticeable, the tremble in his fingers practically nonexistent, but the emotion was there and I saw it. “Rumor was he’d been killed in a firefight by a smuggler. And that’s what the covert believed until…” He swallowed audibly, the grip on his gloves tightening dangerously.

“Until what?” I whispered, unwilling to believe that my caretaker had done anything so heinous as getting his kindred murdered by the Imps. He had been a stern but kindly old man, blunt to the point of offense yet overly forgiving for any and all trouble I caused. There was still a little part of me that even loved my buir, no matter how much he had hurt me when he’d left.

The bounty hunter angled his helmet towards me, shoulders sagging as his hands drooped between his thighs. “You,” he replied. “Without you, the covert would’ve gone on believing he was dead. You are the key to finding him. To make him pay for his crimes against the Clans.”

“But he could still very well be dead!” I exclaimed. Dread and fear bloomed joyfully in my chest, the growing tension in my body sprouting painfully through my tired muscles. Piecing together what he was possibly getting at, I shot straight up in the bunk, clenching the cushion to my chest. “Last time I saw him was years ago, when he left me on my homeplanet to rot.” Exhaling fiercely, I let go of the pillow and struggled to the edge of the bed. I had to get out of the tunnels, away from the covert. It was all becoming too claustrophobic for my liking. “I haven’t heard anything of him since then,” I said, shoving my feet back into my boots. “And trust me, I looked.” With that statement, I jumped to my feet, grabbed my pack and swung it over my shoulders. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta go… somewhere that isn’t here.” Discretion went out the window when I had leapt out of bed, so I opted for the quickest and least stealthy solution and lunged for the door.

As usual, the Mandalorian had seen my actions before I could even think them all the way through.

Hands like iron clamped onto my biceps from behind, spinning me in mid-air. I landed on my feet, somewhat wobbly but altogether upright. With a gentle shove, he directed me back to the bunk. Snarling, I tried to duck under his arm. He dragged me back to the bunk by the straps of my bag.

“Touch me again, chakaar, and I will punch you so hard that -”

“K’uur, vod’ika. Udesii! I don’t want to fight you,” he said when I whirled on him, fists raised. He raised his hands, palms out to show that he meant no harm.

I was wary in believing him.

“Then why can’t I leave? And what do you mean ‘vod’ika?’” I lowered my fists a fraction and glared at him. “You and me ain’t on friendly terms, bub.”

Stepping backwards slowly, the bounty hunter came to a stop when he was parallel to the door. “There’s no easy way to say this.”

“Okay?” I snorted derisively. “When has anything ever been easy between us?”

He flinched slightly, and I almost felt guilty about my words. Almost.

“The thing you have to understand is that when Mandalorians adopt a foundling, that child is a part of the Clan until it is reunited with its people or comes of age and chooses to leave. Some warriors take on many foundlings, and some can only care for one,” he explained patiently, his gaze somewhere at my knees. “D-Drys Reyn was one with many, from everywhere. Most he was able to return to their kind. But others like-” He stopped, swallowing once more. “Others like you and… and me. We would’ve had no family to be returned to.”

Stunned, my hands dropped heavily to my sides. I shuffled tentatively forward, unsure whether I was going to cry or hit something. “Are-are you saying that…?”

Clearing his throat, the Mandalorian looked directly into my eyes. “My name is Din Djarin,” he said softly. “And I am part of your Clan.”

__________________________________________

Notes:

verd’ika - private (rank) Can be used affectionately, often to a child; *little soldier* - context is critical. Tion’tuur haar jatekara’la solus? - (*furiously mashes Mando’a together*) When’s the lucky day? (lit. “Which day is the lucky one?”) Tion’tuur (which day); haar (the - definite article - rare and emphatic); jatekara’la (jate’kara - luck, ‘la - [-ly] adj. [ whole word from Taljair te Mir'ad on mandoa.org forums]) Gev, verdike! Pack it in, little soldiers! aruetii - traitor, foreigner, outsider chakaar - corpse robber, thief, petty criminal - general term of abuse K’uur, vod’ika. Udesii! - Hush, little sibling. Calm down! (Take it easy!)

[doublenuzlocke]

Entry #3: Explosions in the Desert

((aka does this even count as an AU I just moved them to a different Pokemon game ;;;;;

but also I am a sucker for adding Colosseum onto everything can you tell that I really, REALLY want to rewrite the whole game ;;;; ))

  “We’ve been stranded here for days and it’s your fault!”

  “How is it my fault that you got bored and decided to gamble all our travel funds away and then get banned from the casino?”

  Gold rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. But you’re the one who wanted to visit Pyrite in the first place.”

  “We couldn’t go straight from Phenac to Agate, it’s too far!”

  Kotone huffed at him and he could see that he wasn’t about to win this argument. He let out an aggravated breath and stepped down. “Fine. I’m gonna go see if we can find some help.”

  “Don’t go out by yourself, this place is dangerous!”

  Kotone still looked angry, but her concern shone through. Gold pulled the two Poke Balls off his belt and held them up for her to see. For emphasis. “I’m not alone, Kotone.”

  She looked torn for a moment, debating whether or not to allow him to leave. In the end, she flipped open her ‘gear and turned away. “Don’t go too far, I’m calling up Norman so he can come get us.”

  “Not that asshole.” Gold shuddered at the thought of his dad arriving to scold him for his inconsiderate recklessness. Not to mention how angry his mom was gonna be when she found out. He cringed and left their hotel room. “Ugh, this really sucks.”

  Even if he pulled out Chocobo or Mom to complain to, they’d just agree with Kotone that he’d been the one being an ass here. Well, that Casino was the one who’d cheated him, first! He’d noticed their underhanded tactics and lying, telling him he’d lost when he’d clearly won, but they seemed to have the city’s police in the palm of their hands and had him thrown out for his troubles.

  Sulking, Gold wandered the dirty city’s battle square, ready for a fight to release some steam. He caught sight of a duo with a Whismur and a Lotad battling a Chaser girl with a Dustox and an Oddish. That didn’t seem entirely fair. Still, the Chaser managed to take out the duo’s Lotad and one of them sent out a Makuhita next.

  The moment the Makuhita came into sight, Gold froze. It seemed wrong somehow, surrounded by a dark aura and drained of colour. Without any issues, it beat both the opponent Pokemon, then turned on its partner.

  The duo quickly withdrew their Pokemon (the Whismur and the Makuhita), then collected their prize money. And Gold should’ve known better. He should’ve listened to Kotone and returned right back to her. But the warning bells in his head were going off too loudly for his common sense to kick in and he approached the duo, determination in his steps.

  “Hey, nice battle.” He grinned and waved, greeting them with his best faux friendliness act. The two warily turned their attention to him and he continued, going directly for the kill. “Must be easy to beat up some unsuspecting chumps with an illegal Pokemon like that.”

  The two of them hesitated before the one with the orange Mohawk spoke up. “What’re you talking about, ‘illegal Pokemon’? How could such a thing exist?”

  “I dunno.” Gold shrugged, keeping up his act of friendly innocence. “You tell me why your Makuhita there was weirdly dark and powerful enough to take down a Pokemon it should be ineffective against.”

  The two shared a look, then brandished their Poke Balls at him. “Those are fighting words if I ever heard any. Don’t you agree, Trudly?”

  “I’d say you’re right there, Folly.” The other sneered and they sent out their Pokemon, the Whismur and dark Makuhita. “Let’s demonstrate why you don’t come 'round here asking too many questions.”

  Gold smirked, confident that Chocobo and Mom could handle these losers. The Makuhita, though, charged right towards him. He didn’t get a chance to even send his team out. It punched him right in the gut and the shock, along with the impact, knocked him out immediately.

//

  Crys hated sand.

  She hated sand, the heat, and the general lawlessness of the land.

  But complaining about Orre wasn’t about to help her get a plane ticket outta there, so she had to keep fighting and living in spite of all that she hated.

  If she just continued playing along with Snagem, then she could make enough for the gas to get to Agate. As long as they believed she was a loyal scientist, then she could plan out her betrayal without any of them being the wiser.

  Maybe in another life she could’ve studied Shadow Pokemon more, researched into why Orre had no wild Pokemon when other regions’ deserts could support their wildlife, done something useful with her life. As it was, she could only bide her time until she could make her escape.

  Luckily, she wasn’t the only voice of discontent amongst the ranks. Another grunt, Silver, was also itching to blow the joint (though he was a fantastic actor, keeping his stony expression as he discussed a plan to bomb the place with her) and agreed to work with her to cause a ruckus in exchange for getting out. It’d taken zero convincing on her part, which was fine and dandy since he was a valuable addition to her plan with his knowledge on explosives.

  They blew the place up, stole the snag machine, and never looked back. If they hadn’t needed to stop for gas at the old train pit stop, they might’ve gone straight to Unova. Maybe further. Crys was just so glad to finally be out.

//

  While Crys handled filling up the bike, Silver decided to check out the small establishment. The news was all ready reporting on their coup of the blown Snagem base, but Silver ignored it in favour of ordering some waters for him and Crys. Two of the patrons, however, stood and rushed out after the report ended. Might’ve been two lowly grunts, who cared? Silver paid the nice bartender, then left to rejoin Crys.

  “That was Trudly and Folly.” She remarked as soon as he was within speaking distance. He grimaced, prompting her to continue and please explain why that should’ve mattered to him at all. “They had a sack in the back of their vehicle. I thought maybe they’d stolen some Pokemon, but it was too big to be just a stash of Poke Balls.”

  Again, Silver regarded her with his very unamused stare. “And why would that be our concern?”

  “Silver, they might’ve kidnapped someone.” She frowned at him. “We should really try to stop them.”

  She had such a lawful mentality. He often wondered how Snagem had managed to keep her for so long. He also wasn’t willing to try to talk her out of this. It was her bike, after all. With a heavy sigh, he hopped into the sidecar. “They’ll be heading to Phenac.”

  She relaxed in relief, then climbed onto the bike proper to start it up. “Right. Let’s see if we can stop them before they reach the 'mayor’.”

  The bike’s engine roared to life and they took off, out into the open desert. Silver pulled his goggles on as she flicked her visor down over her eyes. He’d heard from a terrified scientist that she’d been the one closest to the explosion when they’d been trying to create the first snagging device prototype, but it never seemed to stop her. Now she wore the fruits of that experiment, the smaller and portable model, on her arm.

  Learning about her had been useful at the time, but they’d soon go on their separate ways. Silver needn’t worry over any potential weaknesses her scar might cause her. He didn’t have to worry over her figuring out his own weaknesses, either.

  They arrived at Phenac after a couple of hours and found Trudly and Folly, the two inept idiots, attempting to carry the burlap sack that clearly held a human body inside through the main plaza. Silver almost didn’t want to intervene, curious as to how far they’d make it before they were captured by the authorities. However, Crys had all ready leapt up to confront them, so Silver begrudgingly followed suit.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Crys shouted at them.

  They jumped, fumbling and dropping their body in a sack as a consequence. A muffled groan of pain came from it and Silver was almost impressed. How two failures like them could’ve managed to actually kidnap a human being was a fortuitous amount of bullshit he couldn’t even begin to imagine. Trudly held up his hands, pleading. “What? Whaddaya want with us? We’re busy, that’s what.”

  “Yeah, we’re busy.” Folly added in, crouching to attempt to gather the sack back up. “We’ve got a real catch here and the Mayor asked us to–”

  “Shut up!”

  Trudly hissed and Folly did, in fact, shut up. Unfortunately for them, that’s when the sack started shouting. “Help! Get me outta here! Murderers!”

  Folly shook the sack roughly. “We ain’t murderers, we’re kidnappers! Get it right!”

  Trudly smacked the back of Folly’s head. “You idiot!” He glanced up at Crys and Silver, then around the plaza. The noise was drawing a crowd. Trudly growled and yanked Folly to his feet. “We gotta ditch, else Mirror B’s gonna make us sit through another punishment concert. He’ll be hearing about you from us, Crys!”

  After hurling a last (and laughably ineffective) threat, Trudly dragged Folly off, out of the city’s entrance. Crys went to give chase, then stopped herself. She let out a tired exhale and approached the sack, motioning for Silver to follow her. “You all right in there?”

  “Unless a bruised gut and some probably cracked ribs count as 'fine’, then nope, not at all, thanks.”

  Both Crys and Silver were taken aback by the response, having not expected one. Crys tugged at the knot keeping the sack tied shut and, reluctantly, Silver knelt down to help. She spoke with conviction, if a bit distracted by the task at hand. “Once we get you out of there, we’ll take you to the Centre here so you can get more help. That sound good?”

  “Sure, yeah, as long as it’s not here, I’m sure it’ll be great.”

  They got the knot untied and carefully removed the bag to reveal a guy, probably around their age, with black hair and dried blood around his mouth. Crys winced at the sight. “They got you good. Need some help or are you okay to stand on your own?”

  “I think I can do it myself.” The guy tested his legs, gritting his teeth with every movement. They really needed to get this guy to a Centre. He managed to stand, holding an arm to his stomach, and grinned half-heartedly at them. “Thanks, by the way. I’m Gold, nice to meet'cha.”

  Crys softened and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “Crys. And this is Silver. Careful, now.”

  She directed Gold towards the PokeCentre, which was thankfully not too far away. It was also nice that she’d introduced Silver for him, as if she’d known he wasn’t about to do it himself. This seemed dangerous, but it wasn’t like they had much of a choice. If they’d simply left, they’d draw even more attention, after all. Silver rolled his eyes, but followed after them. It’d at least be interesting to hear this Gold’s explanation on how this even happened.

[swanqueeneverafter]

After The Sunset, Pt.1

Enchanted Forest. Past. Night. (A wagon pulled by two horses travels through the night through a thunderstorm. Coming to a stop outside a walled garden, the unwell husband calls from inside the wagon.) Marcus: “Why'd you stop, Rapunzel?” Rapunzel: (Lowers her hood and turns into the wagon:) “Because I found our family something to eat.” Marcus: (Coughing:) “I'm sorry the burden falls to you to look after us all.” Rapunzel: “You're a brilliant tailor, Marcus. Once I mend you, you'll stitch together the life we've always dreamed of for our family.” Anastasia: “Are you sure it's safe to go in there, Mama?” Rapunzel: (Holding up her lantern:) “The lanterns will connect us. You'll see mine in there, and yours will guide me back to you here. (Thunder continues to rumble outside:) Remember, for my family, I'll always find a way.” (Rapunzel jumps down from the wagon and, holding her lantern, enters the walled garden through the partially opened gate.) Walled Garden. (Rapunzel makes her way through the garden and begins to gather food into a sack for her family. A flash of lightning lights the sky, revealing a cloaked figure standing above Rapunzel, causing her to yelp in surprise.) Gothel: (Magically taking the sack from Rapunzel:) “Who dares trespass in Gothel's garden?” Rapunzel: (Stands:) “I'll apologize for taking some food, but I won't apologize for trying to help my family. My husband is sick. My kids have gone two days without a bite.” Gothel: “Many people come here in an attempt to steal my magic. (Looks through the sack:) And yet, here you are selflessly risking my ire for radishes? It's rare to find a flower that can grow amongst the weeds of human nature.” Rapunzel: “I meant no disrespect. I can work as payment, if that pleases you.” Gothel: “If your family is your be all and end all, what would you sacrifice to give them a better life?” Rapunzel: “I would do anything.” Gothel: “Anything is something I can work with. We have a deal.” (Gothel drops the sack on the ground and pulls a small bottle from her pocket. Pouring some of the contents into her hand, Gothel looks to Rapunzel before throwing the contents at her. Immediately, vines begin to bind Rapunzel’s wrists as a cloud of dust surrounds her.)

Tower. Interior. (Looking down at her wrists, Rapunzel is slow to realise her surroundings have changed. When the vines release her, she finally notices that she is now inside a candlelit room. Rushing to the window, Rapunzel opens the shutters and sees that she is now at the top of a very tall tower in the middle of the forest.) Gothel: (Appearing from behind:) “There is no way out of this tower.” Rapunzel: (Stalking towards her:) “I never agreed to this.” Gothel: “Oh, but you did. (Circling Rapunzel:) You swore to pay any price for your family's happiness. And there's a distinct difference between theirs and yours.” Rapunzel: “They'll come for me.” Gothel: “But they'll never find you.” Rapunzel: (Runs to the window once more and screams:) “Marcus! Help! Anastasia! Drizella! Help me!”

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. Present. (Waking with a start, Regina sits up in bed, an anxious look upon her face. Taking a few calming breaths, Regina flips open the bed covers and walks over to her closet. Staying with the bed, we see another body slowly stirring. Raising one eyelid and then the other, Emma lifts her head to check the bedside clock. Her suspicions confirmed, the sheriff groans as her wife has once again awoken far too early.) Emma: "Gina, come on, it's Saturday. No one should be up at this hour." Regina: (Distractedly looking through her clothes:) "I'm not asking you to be." Emma: (Slumping back on her pillows:) "You can't seriously still be looking for something to wear to Henry's graduation?" Regina: (From the closet:) "Oh, hush. It's a big day and I have to look the part." Emma: "Regina, you could wear a burlap sack and still look the part." Regina: (Reentering the room:) "Well we're fresh out of burlap. (Walking to the full length mirror, holding a black dress to herself:) What do you think of this one?" Emma: (Looking up at the ceiling:) "Without looking I can guess it's probably black, fits you like a glove and makes your ass look amazing. (Finally looking over to her:) Am I right?" Regina: "Very funny, dear." Emma: (Sitting up:) "Gina, seriously, you've tried on everything in your closet at least twice by now. Henry won't care what you wear, he'll just be happy if you don't weep openly in front of the whole school." Regina: (No longer listening. To herself:) "Perhaps the royal blue dress. Oh and those black heels..." (Regina continues talking to herself as she heads back inside her closet while Emma rolls over, attempting to go back to sleep.)

Storybrooke Docks. (Henry and Hook sword fight aboard the Jolly Roger. Henry gains the upper hand, causing Hook to retreat to higher ground. Henry gives chase but the pirate manages to force him backwards. Emma arrives just in time to see Henry pin Hook against the ship's rigging.) Henry: (His sword pointed at Hook, confidently:) "Always watch the blade. I got it." Emma: “Wow. I'm impressed. You fight like your grandfather.” Henry: (Annoyed, turns to face her:) “Mom, we're practicing.” Hook: (Disarms Henry:) “Actually, we just finished. (Knocks Henry to the deck:) Like I told you, always keep your eye on the blade.” Henry: “What's the point? I'm never gonna be good enough.” (Ignoring Hook’s proffered hand, Henry stands and walks away.) Hook: “What's going on with him lately?” Emma: “Oh, teenagers. He's almost an adult.” Hook: “Ah, he's about to leave home, isn't he?” Emma: (Shrugs:) “I don’t know what he wants to do. He still hasn’t chosen a college yet.” Hook: “I'll go talk to him.” Emma: “What, and to convince him to go on rum runs with you?” Hook: “No, to try and understand what he’s going through. (Quietly:) If I can understand one moody teenager perhaps-” Emma: (Scoffs:) “Perhaps you’ll understand your own? Well, Lily is my age and far from a teenager. Whatever her problem is, you won’t learn anything from Henry about it. I thought you two were getting on great these days?” Hook: “We were. We are. (At Emma’s look, sighs:) It’s not just her, it’s Mal, too. Every time I try being affectionate with her lately there just seems to be this barrier between us.” Emma: “There’s a lot of that going around.” Hook: “Oh really? Things not all as they seem at the Mayor’s mansion? Tell you what, Swan. Why don’t we do each other a favor: You speak to Lily and Maleficent and I’ll talk with Henry and your missus?” Emma: (Smiles:) “Thanks but no thanks. Regina still hasn’t forgiven you for what happened during the Black Fairy’s curse.” Hook: “That wasn’t even me!” Emma: (Laughs:) “I don’t think it matters. She only has to hear your name and she tenses up. (Sighs:) Besides, I think I know what the problem is.” Hook: “Aye? And what’s that?” Emma: (Turns to look over at Henry:) “Same as what’s troubling Henry. For the longest time it was just Regina and Henry, and now with the graduation coming up, things are gonna change.” Hook: “Henry leaving home isn't an ending, Emma. There's more to come. And Regina isn’t going to be alone because she has you.” Emma: “I know that. But I think it’s gonna be hard for them when the time comes.” Hook: (Thinks:) “It's gonna be okay. What if I told you I have something to make things a little less terrifying?” Emma: (As Hook pulls a bottle from his pocket:) “A little bottle of rum? Because I wouldn't say no...” Hook: “No, it's a little bottle of magic. You speak your message in here, add the name of your favorite pirate, drop it in the water, and before you can say ‘Yo-ho-ho,’ it'll find the person you seek.” Emma: “A message in a bottle.” Hook: “Mm-hmm.” Emma: “Thank you.” Hook: “Look, he's grown into a fine young lad, and he is lucky to have a pair of mothers like you and Regina.” Emma: “He's lucky to have a friend who’s a pirate like you. He's gonna be fine. And so will things with Maleficent and Lily. These things just take a bit of work. You’ll see.”

Enchanted Forest. Past. The Tower. (Rapunzel sits etching a mark into the stone fireplace to record yet another day of her captivity. Stepping over her own extremely long hair, she takes a seat, staring into the fire. After a moment, her gaze is caught by hundreds of lanterns floating outside the window. Getting to her feet, Rapunzel looks down at the foot of the tower and decides she's stayed long enough. Gathering up her hair, she cuts most of it off and uses it as a rope. Gathering her belongings, she takes a step out onto the ledge.) Rapunzel: (To herself, holding the ‘rope’ tightly:) “Remember your family. Be brave.” (With a deep breath, Rapunzel steps off the ledge and escapes the tower.)

(Running towards the source of the lanterns, Rapunzel comes upon her two daughters who are talking amongst themselves.) Drizella: “They're serving dessert in the parlor. We should go in.” Anastasia: “I can't give up on our mother, Drizella. One of these lanterns could help guide her back to us.” Drizella: “It's been six years, Anastasia.” Anastasia: “I know it's silly to believe, but something feels different about tonight.” Rapunzel: (Approaching:) “My girls.” Anastasia: (Turns toward her:) “Mother?” (Anastasia runs into her mother’s arms.) Rapunzel: “You're so grown up. I saw the lanterns, and I knew it was you.” Marcus: (Stepping out of the house:) “Rapunzel? (They embrace:) I thought you were dead. I searched for weeks. All I found was your tattered cloak.” Rapunzel: “It was a trick. A witch promised me you'd all thrive, but my side of the bargain required me to be locked away in a tower. But the love of my family helped me survive all this time. I'm so happy I'm finally back to share it with you.” Cecilia: (Exiting the house:) “Marcus?” Rapunzel: “Marcus?” Marcus: “I had no idea that - (Turns, introduces the woman:) This is my wife, Cecilia.” Cecilia: (Smiling at Rapunzel:) “Now who might you be?”

[ittookthelightforever]

Fire and the Thud - Chapter 1

Hi, 

I got this idea to write Alex as a Prince and here it is, by popular demand (Hi Sarah *waves like a grade school kid at a school play*) my new chaptered fic. Bare in mind that I am a person who binge reads Sarah J. Maas novels, sooooo… I hope y’all like it! 

Love, Lina.

Alex wakes up much too early for his liking and tries to roll over in an attempt to fall back to sleep, but he is met with a warm, solid body, “Hmmmm… Mi…” Miles moans and pulls Alex into his arms, “Go back to sleep, love, it’s too earleh.” Alex places a kiss to the soft skin of his chest, “Babeh, if me mum gets wind that you slept in me room again she’ll put yeh in the next ship to the continent, and I just can’t bare the thought.” To emphasize his point Alex lays a trail of kisses up Miles’ neck and scruffy jaw.

“Well, tha’s no way to get me out of ‘ere. Plus, I bet the Queen has more important things to worry about.” Alex scoffs, burying his face on the pillow beneath Miles’ head, “Oh love, ‘m sorreh, I-I forgot.” Miles runs his fingers through Alex’s soft hair, coaxing the boy to look at him, “She’s out there, practically rounding up every girl in the kingdom trying to find a solution to this goddamned curse, Mi.”

Miles wraps his arms around him, drawing soothing patterns on his naked back, “I’m sorreh you ‘ave to go through this, love. I’d take your place if I could.” Alex nods, sighing, even if he could he’d never let anyone take his place.

--//--//--//--//--//--//--

On the other side of the island Charlotte had been working non-stop for hours, churning out breakfast for all the guests at the inn and some stragglers from the nearby port. Charlotte is as ordinary as it gets, she has spent most of her life working at the kitchen at the uncle’s inn after her mother had put her in a ship to Balaclava and disappeared. The 20 year old woman had been saving to move back to the continent on her 21st birthday, in search of her mother or a greater purpose, dreaming of a life where she’d have control of her own fate.

The influx of people from the continent had gotten higher and higher as they neared Prince Alexander’s birthday and with only a few weeks to the big ball her uncle had been talking of extending kitchen hours to serve those who arrived between midnight, when they closed, and the next morning. The prospect brought chills down Charlotte’s spine as she was already worn thin as it was working from 6am to midnight.

“Charlotte?! Charlotte, come here!” The young girl wipes her hands on a rag and walks out of the kitchen, towards the dining hall from where her aunt’s booming voice was coming, “Yes aunty?” Standing next to her aunt was a member of the royal guard, high-ranking from the looks of his uniform, “What can I help you with, sir?” Charlotte notices her aunt is practically shaking with giddiness from having such an important person in their midst, “Miss, your royal highness, her majesty Queen Penelope has requested that you be taken to the castle to aid in the preparations of his royal highness, his majesty Prince Alexander’s 21st birthday.”

Charlotte wrings her dry hands nervously, while her aunt frowned slightly, “May I inquire why, sir?” The guard seems to be getting impatient, “His majesty Prince Alexander recalled a meal he has had brought to him from here once, some sort of sweet bun, and desires to have it served at his ball.” Charlotte can immediately recall what bun he is talking about, it’s an specialty of hers, but she has to hold back a scoff at the fact that the prince is so entitled that he’d send someone to get her just for that, “I see sir, but you’ll understand that lending my head cook to her majesty will bring me great misfortune.”

The guard grunts, pulling a bag from his pocket, “This should more than make up for your losses, m’am. Shall we, miss?” Charlotte looks back and forth between her aunt and the guard a couple of times, “Uh, c-can I get my things?” The guard gives a curt nod, clearly annoyed by how long this was taking. Charlotte quickly makes her way downstairs to her room in the basement.

Ever since she’d arrived to live with her aunt and uncle in the island Charlotte had occupied the dank basement room, where it got much too warm and stuffy during the summer, and freezing and drafty in the winter. As fast as she could Charlotte gathered her few possessions in a burlap sack, - a woolen dress, identical to the one she was wearing; her winter cape, nightgown and a few hygiene items; and the book her mother had given her before she boarded the ship that brought her to the island, the last gift she’d ever received.

Holding the sack close to her Charlotte bids her aunt and uncle goodbye and follows the guard outside, he leads them to two tied up horses, “Can yeh ride?” Charlotte regards the large brown horse in front of her, patting her dense fur, “Yes…” Her voice trails off and he doesn’t wait for further confirmation, mounting his own mare. Charlotte follows suit, reminiscing about a time when riding had been pleasurable nearly daily activity to her.

It was a two days trip to High Green, the capital, and the guard set out a quick and steady pace to their journey, “Will you tell me your name or shall I just refer to you as guard until we arrive to the capital?” He gives her a sideways glance, truly regarding her for the first time that morning, “I am Captain Matthew J. Helders, the third.” Charlotte holds back a laugh at his seriousness, “Nice to meet you, Capt. Helders. I am Charlotte Sirius.” He grunts in response and she readies herself for a very long and quiet two days. “Your uncle and aunt, they seemed quite…” She is surprised by his willingness to talk about this particular subject, but doesn’t back down.

“Greedy? Selfish? Very pleased by the amount of coin her majesty was willing to pay for my services, of which I won’t see a penny? Well, yeah, that pretty much sums them up.” Charlotte looks ahead at the horizon to keep any emotion away, “If they are so awful why didn’t you leave?” She can’t hold back a bark of laughter this time, “No disrespect, sir. I don’t know how it is in the capital, but in the hellhole we just left the sight of a penniless girl wondering about gathers more trouble than it’s worth.” Matthew isquiet for a few moments, “Maybeh this is yehr chance then.” He glances at her, the ghost of a smile on his lips and she lets a small smile through.

--//--

They ride until the sun sets, stopping at a side forrest as Matthew deems it better to stop to rest and resume their journey the next day. Matthew leads them to a shrouded area, unpacking a couple of small tents and a dry meal of hard cheese, cured meat and bread. The pair sits around a small fire, “Weh’ll reach a town tomorrow where weh should be able to ‘ave a ‘ot meal.” Charlotte is barely paying any attention to him as she regards the skies, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the stars.

Because of her heavy hours and windowless room it had been years since Charlotte had had the opportunity to lay back and stargaze, as she used to do almost every night with her mother. “Miss Sirius?” She is brought back to reality by Matthew calling her name, “Oh, I’m sorry. Please, do call me Charlotte.” He nods offering his waterskien, “Would yeh like sum more water?” She gives him small smile and takes the skien from him, gingerly sipping the water, “You seem very young to be a captain.” Matthew ponders her question, throwing more wood into the fire.

“My father is one of the King’s counselors and he thought I needed some… Direction, so he had me join the royal guard at 15 and… I guess I was very good at it.” She raises her eyebrows mocking him, “Impressive.” He grins, showing off his dimples, “I fink we’ll get along vereh well, Charlotte.” She takes another sip of water and hands the skien back to him, “I have to agree, Matthew.” Charlotte stops mid-laughter, feeling something tug at her heart, “T-There’s something wrong.” Matthew gets up, reaching for his sword. “Did yeh ‘ear anyfing?” Charlotte instinctively reached out for her sack before also getting up, “I-I, I don’t know. I just felt something weird.”

Matthew brings her behind his large frame and Charlotte can’t help but grip the back of his uniform. They hear some leaves rustling and soon after something jumps out of the trees, grabbing Charlotte from behind. She screams, trying to get away from the person’s strong grip, “Who are yeh?!” The man just hisses at Matthew, trying to hold onto Charlotte. A second man appears with a sword, but he is no match for Matthew’s agile moves and is soon on the ground, “What do yeh want?”

Instead of answering the man pulls a dagger from his pocket and presses it to Charlotte’s throat, “Charlotte, duck right!” The young woman doesn’t hesitate, bowing right and away from the dagger, leaving room for Matthew to strike and kill the man holding him. Charlotte falls to the ground under the weight of the man and Matthew quickly pulls the two apart, holding a Charlotte as she trembled, “W-Who were them?” He analyses the man’s clothes for a moment, “They… They were men from the Continent’s armeh… But tha’ doesn’t make sense.”

Charlotte doesn’t want to sit in that place for a second longer, getting up and brushing the dirt from her dress, “We have to go, it isn’t safe here.” Matthew gets up, sheathing his sword, “I agree, but it’s too dark to ride.” She shakes her head, gathering their things, “No, it isn’t. The Moon shall be our guide.” Charlotte looks up, her eyes locked on the bright full moon, and Matthew is convinced by the certainty in her voice, helping her pack and in minutes they are back on their horses, headed for the capital.

[necromantic13]

The Light of the Moon

A character sketch about Hypatia, more atmosphere and exploration than story, but I learned a lot about her while writing it.

Probably NSFW.

Ships crashed against the rocks of the Stormedge Isles regularly, littering the seas and shore with all manner of treasures from their holds. Hypatia was no stranger to debris and the housing of injured or displaced sailors, but this night’s arrival was different. She watched the ship appear upon the horizon as it by magic, carried along by the rough waves, not careening so much as gliding with purpose toward the rocks until it crashed with an audible crack of wood against the hard stone. It stuck in place, only wobbling ever so slightly.

Hypatia, sitting by a dying fire and digesting the night’s meal, put her chin in her hands and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, waiting to see what might fall out.

A moment after the ship made landfall, a woman vaulted over the edge. She completely avoided the water, throwing herself gracefully over the bow of the ship and landing easily on the ground. She smiled, shook a bit of seawater from her sleeves, and turned toward the fire.

She was human - that much Hypatia could tell from where she sat idly by the fire, the glow of the flames and the light of the moon casting enough illumination to give her a decent enough view of the woman’s features. She had long black hair trailing down past her shoulders, braided and decorated with gold rings and baubles she had no words to describe, but the fire played with them like kittens with shiny toys. Hypatia narrowed her eyes in curiosity, tilting her head as the sailor walked across the dock and down toward the fire. Few ships of legitimacy docked at night, even fewer elegantly crashed, and while the pirates that hid their ships from the Empire against the craggy shores of the Stormedge Isles were not unfamiliar to her, it was rare she came across one so immediately compelling.

There were few others around, most having retired for the night or gone off to perform private rituals, so Hypatia rose to meet her. Her long legs bridged the distance from the flames to the base of the dock in moments, intercepting the pirate before she could step off the wooden planks and onto the mossy ground.

“Trading?” she asked, her voice lilting with a hint of danger held within. She was no great Elder, but she’d been raised by one, and had learned to use her voice and wiles to command respect regardless of her station.

“Hiding, mostly,” came the sailor’s crystal clear reply. She spoke in an accent Hypatia had never heard, smooth like blue water on calm seas, and for the first time her own down home drawl felt clunky and dim in comparison. “You wouldn’t happen to have accommodations available?”

“You the only one on your ship?” she asked clumsily, eyes flicking to the boat she’d arrived in. It was small enough to be piloted by one, albeit with difficulty, and not for long.

“I am now,” she replied with a smile, a spark of mystery in her eye.

“I suppose I shouldn’t ask.”

“You can, if you’d like. I’m certainly not immune to curiosity, and can’t fault it in others.”

Hypatia swallowed, eyes trailing involuntarily from the pirate’s sharp blue eyes, down her laced white blouse to the tips of her black boots. She didn’t look like she’d just stepped off a boat, sailed alone along the edge of the Maelstrom, and crashed onto the lonely rock Hypatia called home. It was not an easy trip, and few made it alive, let alone untarnished. This woman, however, was both of these things, and it made Hypatia equal parts uncomfortable and intrigued.

“Name’s Hypatia,” she said, extending a net-gloved hand. “Hypatia Vasko.”

“Stellara Aurelia,” she replied, grasping her hand firmly in her own.

“You’re named for the stars,” Hypatia said, her words escaping her lips before she could assess them for quality or intelligence.

“You could say that.” Her voice was amused behind the impish smile, and Hypatia could feel a flush creep into her cheeks.

“We have lodging if you don’t mind the damp. Hard keeping much dry here.” Hypatia’s pulse thrummed in her veins, and she wondered if the stranger could tell.

“I don’t mind the damp,” Stellara replied, tucking a braid behind her ear to join the others. “I’m hard to disappoint.”

Hypatia watched the flames play with shadows over Stellara’s face, and wondered if this was what Mags had meant when she said her heart had rattled her ribcage upon meeting Sullivan for the first time. It hurt, she couldn’t breathe, and she didn’t want it to stop.

“Come with me,” she said, her words feeling lifeless compared to how she felt. The pirate grinned, tipped her head, and followed Hypatia into the swamp.

The next morning, Hypatia’s mother appeared at their hut with fresh eggs, goat’s milk, and Stellara holding a loaf of fresh bread. The pirate looked the same as she had last night; bright, awake, and with a smile on her face that Hypatia found difficult to look away from.

“Our guest wanted to help earn her room and board,” Marta said, setting the eggs and milk on the table. Zachariah had already left to get started on chores, so it was just the three of them partaking in breakfast. Hypatia set the table with the sparse flatware they possessed, only enough for guests because her brother was not there.

“I have nothing to pay you with,” Stellara affirmed, nodding as she held out the bread. Hypatia found her eyes wandering again, over the pirate’s richly adorned garb. Stellara caught her eye, smirking in response.

“Nothing?” she blurted in response, deeply distracted from her manners, chastising herself internally for how rude she must have sounded.

“Nothing you could use,” Stellara replied, and Hypatia thought she sounded almost sad about it.

“It’s no bother. We appreciate the help.” Marta pulled out a chair for Stellara and sat down herself. Her strict, staunch mother seemed uncharacteristically unperturbed by the lack of payment, and Hypatia was not one to argue. If Elder Marta was okay with the arrangement, then she had no reason to argue. They were not well off, but they had enough to share with a well-meaning guest.

After breakfast, she sent them both out to wash up.

“Where are you from?” Hypatia asked, draping a wet cloth over a clothesline and holding it in place with a clip.

“Far from here,” Stellara replied, mischief in her eyes again. She washed a plate and set it to dry on the small wooden table beside her.

“The mainland?” Hypatia pushed.

Stellara simply smiled and washed another dish.

“Hypatia?” a voice issued from the direction of the house. It was her brother ambling down the path, hatchet over one shoulder, burlap bag in the over hand.

“Culling time?” she asked. Zachariah nodded at her, and then at Stellara.

“Guest want to join us?” he asked, and Hypatia could hear the jest in his voice.

“Certainly,” Stellara replied, surprising them both.

“There’ll be blood,” Zachariah explained unnecessarily.

Stellara canted her head and smiled. “I have seen men bathe in it.”

“All right, then.”

Zachariah hoisted the axe a bit higher and walked past them, headed for the pens, Hypatia and Stellara on his heels.

After a brief walk, they reached a small pen with about two dozen chickens, three roosters, and two goats milling about. The goats were heavy-horned and shaggy, chewing on the soft moss that grew all over the swamp.

“Your goats seem unphased by the palatability of their roughage,” Stellara noted, crouching by the edge of the fence and laughing as one of the chickens pecked at the fingers she poked through.

“Good thing,” Zachariah replied, kicking an old log into an upright position. “Ain’t good for much else.”

“The goats or the moss?”

“Yes.” He swung the hatchet off his shoulder, slinging it blade-first into a log, the wood already split and stained brown from previous deaths. “Sis?”

“I’ll get your damn rooster,” Hypatia sighed, rolling her sleeves up as well as she could. They were frayed and not particularly conducive to properly folding, bits of net trailing from her elbows. Stepping up to the fence, she vaulted herself over the thin mesh and made her way toward the nearest rooster, boots kicking up big clods of dirt as she went. The rooster had no interest in capture, and evaded her quite expertly until she cornered him between the chicken coop and the fence.

“Come here, you bastard,” she said, hand striking out and snagging him by the neck. Once lifted, she flipped him upside down and grabbed his feet as his huge wings battered back and forth in protest. Eventually he gave up, hanging dumbly with his eyes staring into space, wings outstretched and not moving.

“Gotcha,” she smirked, handing him over the fence to Zachariah and climbing back over herself.

“That was some expert rooster wrangling,” Stellara said, and Hypatia wasn’t sure whether it was in jest or authentic, but she blushed nonetheless.

“Sorry, fella,” Zachariah said, tossing the rooster down on the log and securing his head between the two nails jammed into the wood. He raised the axe and was about to swing when the rooster slipped from his restraints, twisting free from Zachariah’s grasp and knocking him unceremoniously to the ground.

The rooster crowed at its sudden freedom and renewed vigor for survival, making a break for it as Zachariah cursed from his prone position on the ground. Hypatia jumped over him, hot in pursuit. She dodged a low tree branch, nearly slipping on some moss as she turned to keep pace. Raising a hand to the sky, she felt the power of the stars course through her, and a jolt of jagged lightning shot from her fingertips, hitting the rooster square in the back. It squawked loudly before tipping onto its side, convulsing and splashing in the mud.

Hypatia slid to a stop beside it, hands on her thighs as she panted from the pursuit, rooster sizzling in the moss before her.

“Got it!” she shouted, grabbing it by the back legs and jogging back to her frustrated brother and laughing Stellara.

“Pre-fried and everything,” the pirate said.

“Nice work,” Zachariah said begrudgingly, taking the rooster and setting it on the wooden table beside the chopping block.

The rest of the slaughter was less eventful, Hypatia and Stellara handing Zachariah chicken after chicken as he beheaded them for them to gut and skin. Hypatia was elbow deep in blood, her arms slick and warm as she yanked out a handful of guts and threw them on the ground. The rest of the chickens, dumb and hungry, cleaned up her mess as she made it.

They culled the flock to six hens and a single rooster, leaving the survivors alone to cluck and peck in peace, utterly unaware that half their population was headed for the store room. The goats were unperturbed, chewing away as though nothing had happened.

They gave Marta one of the chickens and stored the rest in the small icebox they kept for their family. They packed the bodies in tightly alongside jugs of milk and cheese, and threw the feet at the two dogs eagerly awaiting their part of the day’s prize.

“I’ll go clean up,” Hypatia said, looking at the blood cold and crusted under her fingernails with a sharp sense of pride. “There’s a water pump by your cabin.” Stellara nodded, her own clothing meticulous, despite her assistance with the day’s work. “Thank you for letting me help,” she said.

“Thank you for helping,” Hypatia replied, smiling as the pirate turned and walked away into the swamp, stepping as expertly as though she’d been navigating the bogs her entire life.

Hypatia returned home and washed up, satisfying herself with the distraction of magical study and stringing the bones of past dinners into decorations for her room. It was morbid, and she was the first to admit it, but there were few supplies to spare in the swamps and bones aplenty, so it seemed as good a pastime as any. Waste not, want not.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and gave way to the moon’s dominance, she put aside her projects and went to visit their guest.

“We’re lighting a fire tonight,” Hypatia said, standing uncomfortably by Stellara’s door as the pirate was unclipping an earring from her ear and laying it down on the dresser in the sparsely-furnished room.

She turned to look at the young Selunari, and Hypatia could have sworn for a moment that Stellara’s eyes were solid black.

It must have been the light, she thought for herself, because as the woman stepped into the light spilling into the room from the moon outside she could see the emerald green eyes she’d expected.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” she said, brushing at the folds of her blouse.

“I think you look beautiful,” Hypatia said, choking on the words as they passed her lips.

Stellara stepped out of the small cabin and stood in front of Hypatia, closer than she needed to, but not as close as Hypatia would have liked.

“Show me your world, Hypatia.”

Hypatia led her through the swamp.

The flames danced as furiously as her kin, twisting and flashing in the ecstasy of the night. The drums beat and the voices sang, and the day’s catch was fried and seasoned and handed out as soon as the flesh had cooled from the coals. There was no deep cleansing to be done, but there was always maintenance to keep, and if you did not fill yourself periodically with the light of the stars, the swamp would devour you whole.

“Your people truly come alive at night,” Stellara mused, accepting a speared haddock when it was offered.

“In the darkness, we burn,” Hypatia replied, speaking the tenets of her family’s ways. “The light means nothing if there is no shadow to illuminate it.���

“And vice versa,” Stellara added.

“Of course.”

Stellara took her fish and walked around the flames, slowly taking in the smell of smoke and sweat. Hypatia’s family was small in comparison with some, numbering only a few dozen Selunari calling that slice of island home, and even those coming and going as the tides and wanderlust carried them away. Still, they lived with the abandon of the descendants of slaves, acutely aware of the fleeting nature of life and intent on savoring it. A couple was being intimate in the shadows, sharing themselves without worry of prying eyes. There was nothing spectacular to witness - just the melding of two bodies on a night made for laughter and love.

“And when do you come alive?” Stellara asked, startling Hypatia from her contemplation.

“When do I come alive?” she replied, her answer locked somewhere under surprise and uncertainty.

“Your powers of imitation are sound,” Stellara teased, and Hypatia rolled her eyes, feeling the first sense of camaraderie not born of novelty bloom between them.

“I’ve never thought of it, I guess. Not specific to myself, I mean. The night sky is a collection of celestial faces shining at once.”

Stellara raised an eyebrow. “And yet each star lives its own life, winking in and out of existence despite the others. Some even fly.” She grinned; Hypatia furrowed her brow, less in concern and more in wonder at this stranger’s grasp on her own metaphors.

“You sound as though you’ve considered this before,” she said after a moment of thought.

“What if I have?” She passed her fish off to another twirling body eager to revive itself with food. “Show me who you are.”

Hypatia hesitated for a moment, letting her thoughts wend as they wished. Show who she was? This was, perhaps, not as difficult a request as it seemed.

“Come,” she said, taking the pirate’s hand.

Hypatia led Stellara to a group of individuals seated within the reach of the fire’s light, but out of the range of its stinging warmth. They huddled together around a woman and a man kneeling on the ground, foreheads pressed together as they chanted in unison.

“What is this?” Stellara asked, studying the crowd.

“Sullivan’s daughter was caught in a pirate raid, murdered by an errant crossbow bolt, and he’s been on the precipice of the void ever since.” The woman held his head to hers as the man sobbed, spitting vitriol toward his daughter’s killers and swearing vengeance for her death.

“Should he not seek vengeance?” Stellara asked, watching them together. “It seems a catharsis might do him well, and that it might be deserved.”

“Sometimes that is the way,” Hypatia replied. “But Sullivan is a craftsman. He’s never lifted a sword in his life save to slit a pig’s throat for supper. Killing his daughter’s murderers would only deepen the rage inside him, not release it.” She shook her head. “The method for purging is as varied as the people that need to do it, and for most it’s a journey to discover what that is.” “How does someone like Sullivan heal?” Stellara asked softly, her interest seeming genuine. She watched the man’s sobs wane to stilted breathing as the woman beside him sang softly to him.

“Cry. Rage. Grow. His passion lies in creating, and so does his catharsis.” She watched the woman hug him, and a small, exhausted smile began to show itself. The darkness receded a bit - not permanently and not for good, but that brief glimpse of light in his eyes assured Hypatia that he would be ok.

“Where does yours lie?” Stellara asked her.

“I don’t know,” she said, turning from the group back to the fire. “Honestly, I’ve yet to figure that out completely.”

“Well, I am far from an expert in chasing away the void, but I do have some experience in escapism.” She clasped her hands behind her back and smiled in a way that sent adrenaline tingling to every point of Hypatia’s body.

“Only one way to learn, right?”

“Who are you?” Hypatia asked, breath still racing against the pulse of her blood. They lay together behind a crop of trees, the moss soft beneath them, clothing left in small piles on a rock beside the clearing.

“I am the Daughter of the Moon,” Stellara replied, her grin reaching her eyes. The moon seemed to agree with her assessment, shining its silver light along her lean body and dark skin.

“Well, good, because I’m the Daughter of the Void,” Hypatia teased in kind, despite a part of her strongly considering the veracity of Stellara’s jest. She ran a finger along the side of the pirate’s hip. “Must be why we get along so famously, shadows and light and all.”

“There’s an absolutely filthy metaphor in there somewhere,” Stellara laughed.

“Care to elaborate?” Hypatia asked, shifting herself so that she was straddling the woman, her knees pressed into the soft, damp ground.

“Well, I’m never one to break a good narrative.” The pirate laughed and pushed herself up, meeting Hypatia’s lips to continue the story properly.

The days floated by like waking dreams, Hypatia feeling almost as though she was suspended in time. Life continued as usual, and yet felt different in a way she couldn’t discern. If anyone else felt similarly, they weren’t talking about it.

Late one night, once she was done with her chores around the house and farm, Hypatia went to bring food to Stellara. The pirate had been there for nearing on two weeks now, and during that time she’d never asked for anything. She ate when offered, but it always seemed to be more out of courtesy than necessity.

When she arrived, she saw Stellara sitting cross-legged in the light of the quarter moon, naked as the day she was born. The light played over her skin, shining as though she were made of some unearthly metal. Her braided hair fell over her back, the golden rings bright against the whole of her. She was like a shadow in the bright pool of moonlight.

“Trying to pull me in?” Hypatia said, giving her ample notice of her arrival in case she wanted to be left alone.

“It’s my nature,” she replied, turning her head. Again, Hypatia swore her eyes had changed, this time to a sharp purple, but walking closer turned them back to green. “Care to join me?”

“What are you doing?”

“Starbathing.”

Hypatia sat on a log beside her, gazing with her up at the moon. “You seem as enamored of the stars as I do. Are you certain you haven’t hidden any gems?”

“You would have found them by now, I dare say,” Stellara replied, grinning up at her from the ground.

Hypatia smirked. Stellara stood and joined her on the log.

“Have you heard the story of the moon’s daughter?” she asked, tilting her head back and looking above them.

“I don’t think so,” she replied.

“The moon once had a daughter, kept sheltered against the side of her that remained in shadow. Her daughter never knew there was anything else to the world but the crags and ice of the dark side of the moon.” Stellara lifted her hand as a small beetle crawled across her finger. Gently, she lowered it to the ground. “One day a comet flew by and she watched it, enraptured at the light and fire it cast. It came close, and with caprice born of ignorance, she leaped for it, grabbing onto its tail as it careened through space. Eventually, the comet crashed into our land, and the moon’s daughter was adopted by fae. They loved her dearly and with them she grew and learned about the world and all the riches she had never known existed.”

“What did her mother think of that?” Hypatia asked, knowing her own would have torn open the sky to reclaim her.

“Well, the moon was none too pleased at the disappearance of her daughter, and when she realized what had happened, turned her face from the planet until her daughter was returned. The fae were reluctant, but without the moon they lived in constant night, and with constant night there was no place for happiness. The moon’s daughter realized this, and one night while none were with her, she returned.”

“And gave up all she’d grown to love?” Hypatia asked, surprised at how frustrated she was by the story’s culmination.

Stellara smiled, “Well, she made a compromise with her mother, you see. One month, once a year, she would leave and return to the place she’d grown to love. Her mother begrudgingly approved, so long as her daughter agreed to leave and return when the moon was full so that she could guard her departure and return. Now she gets one month to explore new lands and people, experiencing what she otherwise was never able to.”

“I suppose it could have ended worse,” Hypatia said, still unsatisfied. “Although I might have driven a harder bargain.”

“It’s good you’re a child of the void, then, and not the moon. She’s a harsh mistress to appeal to.” Stellara tucked one of Hypatia’s curls behind her ear, replacing it with the softness of her lips. Hypatia smiled as Stellara left trails of kisses from her neck to her hips, slowly peeling back layers of the artful rags the Selunari wore as clothing as she went.

“I’ve told you about the moon. Now I want you to tell me about the Void,” she said, lips lingering on the inside of Hypatia’s hip, fingers tracing the skin of her inner thigh. “In detail.” Her eyes, cast away though they were, danced with mischief. Her braids twisted in the darkness.

“What more do you want to know?” Hypatia asked, not willing to give up her secrets so quickly. The woman’s whims were no longer strange to her, and she took no small pleasure in denying Stellara hers. “I’ve talked your ear off the past few days.”

“I’d hear more, if you’d be so kind.” Her voice purred and her breath was hot between Hypatia’s thighs. For a moment she forgot what the question was.

“Always happy to indulge.”

She spoke her poetry into the stars above them until her words became screams and she felt her body empty itself completely to the space between the stars.

The moon was bright and round in the sky when Stellara pulled Hypatia to the dock.

“You could come with me, you know,” she said, not for the first time, but assuredly for the last.

“I know,” Hypatia replied, for the hundredth time stopping at the precipice of saying yes. She’d had an inkling, just about since they’d met, that Stellara was not the mortal pirate she so claimed. Looking at the boat, miraculously intact under the full moon and crawling with deck hands as well-dressed and perfect as Stellara herself, she reckoned she was probably right.

Saying yes would not result in a journey across the sea. She suspected she might end up somewhere altogether different.

Stellara smiled, acknowledging her decision. She stepped forward and took the Selunari’s hands in her own, placing a kiss upon her lips that was equal parts sweetness and despair. “I’ve never met someone quite like you before, Hypatia Vasko.”

“And I you,” she replied in kind, half-surprised she had found her voice.

“You likely won’t ever again,” Stellara grinned, her impish smile burned into Hypatia’s mind. “Think of me fondly, would you, when you bid goodnight to the moon?”

“I will,” Hypatia nodded. Stellara dropped her hands and turned toward the boat, swaggering down the dock the same way she’d appeared a month before. She boarded the gangplank set by one of the sailors, and as soon as she’d set foot on the deck, a shout of joy went up from her crew. It was a shout of homecoming and relief, and Hypatia was glad to see her leave in a better state than she had arrived.

She ship set forth, making nearly no sound in the uncharacteristically calm waters. She watched it depart, a foreign vessel flying swiftly out to sea until it blinked out of sight against the horizon.

Hypatia looked up at the moon shining full down upon her. She turned her face to the light, an impish grin upon her lips as she blew it a kiss and returned the way she’d come.

[darksinisterman-blog]

When James awoke, he thought surely he had joined most of the crew and his captain in death. But he looked around and saw he was in the belly of a ship. A ship full of mismatched crates, barrels and burlap sacks. As he let his eyes adjust to the dim light of a ship’s hold he realized that he was in a cage, or rather a cell. He sat up and looked closer at the surroundings. All the mismatched cargo was thrown half-hazardly around the hold, none of it was secured, and the company stamps had all been burned or scratched off. James gulped for he knew what all those signs together would mean. Pirates. He had been captured by the pirates. Forget the fact that they had probably rescued him from a cruel death by drowning, they had stolen him away from his fellow crew. He stood and paced back and forth trying to think of a way out of this. When he stopped moving for a moment he felt something weighty in his pocket. He pulled it out: the spyglass. Had it really just been since that morning that all of this had transpired? It seemed like an age.

 James walked up to the heavy iron bars that surrounded him and rattled the door a bit. To his surprise, it swung open easily. Not the best security for blood thirsty pirates. He strolled out the door and carefully made his way towards a narrow ladder that looked like it was towards the bow, just based on the curve of the hull. He steeled himself, knowing that his break out would probably not be a welcome event to the pirates above.

James popped up on the deck above him and he was still not on the main deck. He could hear feet slapping the boards above and the hustle and bustle of a working ship. He stopped at the next ladder, his heart beating violently in his chest. As much as he hated these men for killing his captain, and likely all the crew he had known for the past year, he felt himself being filled with excitement. He loved the sea, and loved being on a ship, and he was having a hard time finding a difference between this ship and the Nomad.

He climbed up the ladder quickly and pushed open the hatch covering the ladder and felt the sun on his skin and smelled the salt air. He pulled himself out of the hatch opening and looked around him. He saw a ship, very similar on deck to the Nomad if you take away the fact that it had several guns on deck. There were three masts, tons of sails, and lines everywhere just waiting to be handled. There were men running around in various different states of urgency, cleaning, tarring, painting, and working sails. None of them seemed to notice James as he padded across the deck to the railing. He looked down at the waves below and saw the black muzzles of many cannons bristling out along the side of the hull, and was rather in awe of the sight of that much force.

“Ah, the boy has awoken.” He heard a voice from behind him. He spun quickly and saw a man standing on the quarter deck in front of the Captain’s cabin door. With black hair hanging in rings around his face, and blue sparkling eyes, the man seemed almost angelic, until James saw the smoking embers of lit fuses that were twisted into his beard. This was Blackbeard. The pirate James had heard of only in legend and quite frankly the legends did not do justice to just how terrifying the man himself was. James gulped and lightly touched the spyglass in his pocket, hoping it would give him the courage to speak.

“Why am I here? Why didn’t you let me die with honor with my crewmates?” He managed to spit out, looking lamely up at the dark man before him. He saw a smile flicker across the pirate’s eyes, but it never crossed his mouth. It appeared as though Blackbeard had no intention of dropping his masquerade for James. James could feel his feet moving under him, but did not recall giving them any order to walk, but he soon found himself standing on the quarter deck, toe to toe with the large man with the flaming beard. “Answer me, pirate.” He spat the last word through gritted teeth. This time, Blackbeard did smile. He laughed at James and slammed a hand down on his shoulder.

“Well I needed a cabin boy, you see. My last one grew far too big for the job and you are just young enough to do the job. Besides, I make a point of not killing a man before his 15th year and you can’t be more than 12.” He turned his back and gestured for James to follow. James was, to his chagrin, intrigued by this man and by his offer so he did follow. “You’re welcome by the way.” Blackbeard threw the phrase over his shoulder like a discarded note, and the words hit James in the face as he realized his bad form.

“Thank you. Sir.” He muttered, more out of formality than actual gratitude. Blackbeard threw open the door to his cabin and showed James around, pointing out what things were to be his daily duties, the small bunk that would be his own just inside the door, and telling him to not let the crew be too mean to him. James didn’t really understand why the captain was being so nice to him, it was as if he felt sorry for him. Blackbeard made to leave the cabin and James went to sit down on his small bed, accepting that this was now his lot in life. The captain stopped before he reached the door and spun on his heal. “I forgot, you’ll be needing this.” Blackbeard pulled a short saber from the wall and handed it to James. It was beautiful and sharp and perfectly weighted for James’s young arm. James looked at it, awestruck, and gently ran his hand across the flat of the blade. “Thank you sir!” He said this time meaning it entirely. Maybe these pirates aren’t as bad as I thought.

Blackbeard once again made to leave and as he pulled the door open he looked back and asked, “How old are you boy? And what’s your name? I can’t just keep calling you boy.” James looked down at his sword and at the lump in his pocket from his spyglass. “James Matthew Cartwright sir. And eleven. Eleven years old today.” 

“Alright Jim, welcome to Blackbeard’s crew.” The door closed behind the captain and James pulled his spyglass out of his pocket. He rose and set it and his new saber both on the thin mattress that was to be his home for the foreseeable future and let a small whistle of approval escape his lips. “Jim Cartwright. Pirate. I never…”

And thus James became known as Jim on board and he was the cabin boy for Blackbeard on board the Queen Anne’s Revenge. Shortly into his first year on board, they made their way to and island the crew all called Neverland. When they arrived, James was allowed shore leave where he met loads of boys all his age and it was very exciting for him to get to play again. He hadn’t been able to play in years. He befriended James Matthew Barrie (who he particularly liked as they shared not only a first name but a middle name as well,) John and Michael Darling, and a group of boys who call themselves the Lost Boys. They all have curious names and even curiouser behavior, and James enjoys spending some of his shore time with them, exploring the island. Blackbeard does not find what he is looking for on the island and when James boards again before their departure he hears the captain grumbling about a boy king and about a heart. He takes no real note of it and enjoys the trip back to the mainland.

The Queen Anne’s Revenge made its way back to America, the coast of the Carolinas to be specific and spent a time there. Blackbeard confided in James that he had every intention of retiring to these waters someday. Building a house and living on the coast rather than pillaging it. James didn’t believe him for one minute, he knew Blackbeard intended to die at sea, brave and honorable. James had grown to love this captain as he had loved his last, sort of as a surrogate father. James like the Carolina coastline, it was rocky and covered in tall islands that were perfect for all sorts of strategic hideouts. He thought if he didn’t die an honorable death at sea, he would move here rather than go back to England. They stayed in America for a few years and on the event of James’s 14th birthday Blackbeard decided to make his way back to Neverland for the second time.

Once back on the island, James found that his captain had far more sinister intentions as he planned to steal what was called the Heart of Neverland. It seemed this heart was the source of all Neverland's magic and Blackbeard wanted it for himself for more nefarious things. James was torn. He loved the magical realm of Neverland, and he loved his captain like a father. He didn’t want to betray him, and he didn’t want to destroy Neverland either. In the middle of the first night on the island, James was stolen away by a shadow: the shadow of the boy king.  He was taken to the campgrounds and became Pan’s prisoner of war. James was furious. No one took him away from his ship and from his family, he cared not if this boy called himself king, he was not in charge of James. When Peter finally showed his face to James, he was ready to tear Peter to pieces for keeping him tied up when there was a war on. Peter, however, pulled James to his feet with his hands still bound. Peter dragged James back to the ship and threw him on the deck. Blackbeard came out of his cabin at the noise of a body hitting his quarter deck. He saw James lying there with his hands bound, completely helpless.

“You have no quarrel with him, boy. It’s me. It’s my crewmen you want.” Blackbeard drew his sword on the boy in front of him and there was now mercy in his sparkling blue eyes. James watched as a group of new Lost children made their way out of the woods onto the ship. Boys and girls with weapons and bloodlust in their eyes, and they turned the crew into ribbons in front of James’s eyes. Blood pooled on the deck the way the water would in a rain storm, and body parts rolled passively across the curve of the deck when the wind rocked her slightly. James watched as these savages made their way through the crew as though they were nothing more than paper, rather than the human men he had grown up with the past few years. He felt hot tears on his face as he watched his family slaughtered, but he could not look away. When the last man was mere pieces of himself on the scarlet washed deck, the savages made their way back into the woods. No remorse. No emotion. They were just gone. It was only Pan, Blackbeard, and a weeping James left on board the Queen Anne’s Revenge.

Deftly, Pan knocked the sword out of Blackbeard’s hand, and closed the gap between them. The devil boy and the demon captain stood toe to toe glowering at each other. Pan placed his hand on Blackbeard’s chest, over the man’s heart. James thought this was an odd play, but then he saw the boy’s fingers ripping into his captain’s chest. The still beating heart of Blackbeard was in Pan’s hand as Blackbeard slumped to the deck clutching his chest for a moment as he took a few beats to die. He looked up at James, blood covering his hands, and fell back on the deck. James let out a guttural howl at the sight, which turned Pan’s attention to him. Pan made his way to James and lifted him off the deck with his blood stained hands. Pan picked up the sword that he had knocked out of the pirate’s hand and used it to sever the bonds that tied James’s hands. He grabbed James by the right wrist and sliced his hand off without a thought or a flinch. Pan threw his hand over the railing into the waves below where it sank to the depths.

Pan looked James in the eyes, James’s were the firey red they became when he experienced any negative emotion, Peter’s a calm green. “Leave.” The word fell like a stone between them. “Leave Neverland, and let this,” Pan gestured at the bleeding stump where James’s right hand used to be, “serve as a warning to anyone else dares to test me again.”

Pan vanished off the deck of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, and James wrapped his shirt around the mangled stump that used to be his wrist, trying to stop the bleeding. He passed out partly from shock, partly from blood loss, but mostly because his body was weary with grief. When he awoke, he was no longer in Neverland. When he awoke, he was on the sandy shores of South Carolina. Okracoke to be specific. Blackbeard’s dream retirement spot. James looked at his disgusting wound and remembered the events of the previous night. He sobbed and sobbed before dragging himself to his feet. He looked around him and saw that he had clearly been a victim of the famous Neverland time warps, as it was no longer his time. Massive metal ships steamed past him, and there were things speeding past him on four wheels just above the beach. Where – no – when had the island dropped him?