#our place in the middle of nowhere chap 1

[the-kr8tor]

In The Badlands

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW guns, TW death mention, CW blood, CW food mentions, CW violence mention.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 1 >>> CHAPTER 2

Amidst the tar blackened smoke, a tall stranger appears, puffs of smoke parting way for his leather clad form. His spurs clinks as he moves past the doorway of the homestead, ashes floating by, coating his long coat and steel toed boots. The leather vest is perfectly tapered on his waist, pierced lips curled around a slim cigarette, as if the heated smoke entering his lungs wasn't enough. The dark hat he wears obscures half of his face, shadows dancing on his jade eyes. Fire light flickers on his skin that glistened with sweat. Flames lick at his feet, the roof collapses just behind him.

As he leaves the ashes of the former home, blood coating his thick leather gloves, crimson mixing in with the gray ashes. Knuckles hurting and jaw aching, the still warm barrel of his gun weighs heavy on his waist. His horse, Buckeye, neighs, as if he was calling him over.

Shifting his weight on the last step of the burning porch, he spots someone waiting for him, clad in leather, an armour perfectly tailored for his broad shoulders. Golden gun strapped to his waist, rifle on his back, the man's hazel eyes reflect the flaming chaos that the stranger left. The dappled horse huffs behind him, hooves trotting in fear, ready to leave his owner in the dust.

Death is visited by an old friend.

The hazel eyed man dips the brim of his hat in greeting, it's enough for the flame kissed stranger to scoff. “Fine evening ain't it, Hobie?”

“It was, then you came along.” He says gruffly, voice hoarse from the smoke clinging to his throat. “What do you want, Miguel?” Through narrowed eyes, thumb pressed closely to his gun belt, Hobie's body says it all, ‘not in a good mood for a conversation.’

Yet, Miguel still stays on the now ashen field, nose itching at the stench. “I have a proposition—”

“‘m retired,” Hobie interrupts, now standing beside his horse, he calms Bucky down with a pat on his snout. His loyal steed knows Miguel well, and Miguel has the right idea to steer clear of his behind lest he gets kicked to an early grave.

“This doesn't look like retirement to me. I keep telling you you're too young for retirement.”

“This was just a favour, prick deserved it.” His eyes grow darker at the mere mention of the newly departed soul that is now having an impromptu cremation.

“This one is also a favor,” Hobie narrows his eyes further, he taps impatiently on the scorpion etched on his belt buckle. Miguel can tell that he's close to shooting him right on the spot. “from me.”

Hobie groans, “can't, busy.”

“Tending to your dirt farm ain't being busy.” Miguel tethers on the gallows at his pointed words. Still, he pokes and prods at the reaper in front of him. “Told you that the land you bought was a dud.”

Hobie gets on his horse swiftly, more than ready to leave his former associate behind. “Can you get on with it, Miguel?”

“Just like I said, I've got a proposition, the reward could really help out your farm. ‘sides, early retirement doesn't suit a man of your talents.” Miguel flicks his eyes over to the house when a large cracking sound almost startles him. Proving his point. The porch collapses, embers and ashes floating away like snowflakes.

“I don't do bounties anymore.” Hobie doesn't spare the destruction a glance, green eyes staring intensely at the man before him.

“This isn't a bounty, it's a find and transport.”

“Since when do you accept those kinds of jobs?” Hobie raises a pierced brow, sweat coating the back of his neck irritably. “Sounds like the gang have fallen on hard times.”

“Since they offered me five k.” Hobie's intrigued, just like how Miguel predicted. “Also, I heard from the informant that your target seems to be sailing from your old country. I'm sure you'll get along well, with your teas and shit. But knowing you, you won't.”

Hobie ghosts his hand over the large scar on his neck, like it still bleeds, like the blood he shed still drips on his calloused hands. “‘m listenin’” Sounds like an easy job, he thought. He's not exactly a novice, so he already considers it done.

Miguel gets on his horse with a groan, he can tell that Hobie is biting his tongue from making an old man joke. “You have to do it alone though, I'd take it but I've got another job lined up.”

“You already had me at five k, stop tryin’ to convince me. But ‘m guessing you have a cut in that five k?”

Miguel chortles, “’course I do, why don't we have a drink and we'll negotiate. I'm sure Riri would appreciate my patronage.” Hobie nods curtly. “First of all you need to take care of your wounds, you're covered in blood.”

Hobie rides ahead. “Not my blood.”

Almost two years of being ‘retired’, Hobie hasn't changed one bit. Miguel smirks victoriously, this'll be an easy job for a man like Hobie and an easy fifteen percent for him.

—

You're hungry, incredibly hungry. Stomach growling angrily, you feel like you're about to pass out from starvation. Two days of not being able to eat a single crumb, and almost a day of not having a sip of water, you're ready to dig your own grave. But you refuse to fall without reaching your goals.

You can't fail.

You already hate it here, the air stinks of horse shit, the roads are covered in mud and horse shit, and now the smell of horse shit has made a home in your nostrils. A week in the west and you're already at your lowest, money gone from a quick handed street child, clothes all ratty because you traded off your silk dress and remaining jewels except for the simple gold band around your middle finger. Hair greasy, and skin sweaty and from the sweltering sun, you're more than ready to leave. But you can't let her win, you cannot let her have the last laugh or your life would end before you could actually live it.

Licking your dried lips, eyes glued to the window of the general store, you take your bandana and wrap it around your face, making it a makeshift mask just like how bandits do. Armed with a six shooter that has no bullets left in its chamber, you find courage to rob the place when no one else is inside, or at least get some canned peaches.

Storming the shop, shouldering the door, the bells chimes as you enter. The man behind the counter yelps at the intrusion, wide eyes staring at you in fear. His hands raise next to his head in surrender, mouth stuttering to stitch together a sentence.

“T-take anythin’ from the register! P-please just spare me! I have children to feed!” The man shakes, mustache damp with sweat.

You're equally terrified. “I–I just need food and water. Please,” you almost chuckle at yourself. “I don't want to hurt you—!”

The bells chime again, heavy boots thud against the wooden floorboards, a breeze entering as the slim stranger wanders through the store. The air in your lungs is sapped away, something in the stranger makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

You and the shop owner stare at the masked man curiously, blinking, you watch as he casually takes two cans of peas. Taking the cans to the counter, he doesn't even spare you a look or cower in fear at the sight of your gun.

“How much do I owe you?” He asks the terrified man. His accent reminds you of the land you ran from, the familiar tone would bring you calm but his mere presence exudes danger.

“W-what?” The mustachioed man trembles. You just stare, arm aching from how you hold the heavy gun.

“Y’know, sweetheart,” your breath stops when he finally acknowledges you. “When you rob a place, you don't tell ‘em that you have no intention of hurtin’ ‘em. You just lost your advantage, fear is your main weapon, not your gun.” His jade eyes bore into your skull, you swear you feel the heat of it like you're stranded in the desert. “Which doesn't have any bullets by the way.”

The moment he says it, the shopkeeper cranes his neck quickly to a fumbling you. Quickly taking his rifle behind him, you run before he could even aim at you. A shot rings out in the small building, the bullet lodged in the back doorway where you fled.

“Grab her and I'll reward you!” The man yells at the stranger.

“How much?” He stays in place, casually leaning on the counter, watching your form get smaller and smaller as you run with all your might.

“Ten bucks!”

The stranger cracks his neck, groaning at the relief. “Fine.” Running after you, with his longer strides and full stomach, he's already behind you. “Stop runnin’!” It doesn't sound like a warning but he intended it to be. The sun bares at his back, quick drawing his gun out, the silver barrel shines as he aims at the ground.

The bullet whizzes past you, nicking your ankle, warm blood soaking your shoes. Yet, you still do your best to run. You can't be caught, you can't go back. You cannot go back to the life she planned for you. Limping, trailing crimson on the dusty ground, you feel his heavy presence right behind you.

“You gonna make this harder for me?”

“Yes! Leave me the fuck alone!” You continue to bolt away, but the man casually catches up to you with only a few strides. You smelled him before you felt his hand on your shoulder. Sweat, leather, and tobacco, a scent you've gotten all too familiar with in this new world you've fallen into. But there's a whiff of something you're familiar with. Something you've almost forgotten.

He grabs your shoulder back, but you're still too fast, taking advantage of your adrenaline. Bolting away, he takes his lasso from his belt, with a practiced hand, he swings it and the rope hits its mark, your legs, hemp wrapping around your knees with a slap.

You hit the ground face first, dust on your face, and sand in your eyes. The stinging pain on your chin and nose makes you groan, tears welling up, and blood trickling down from your nose.

The almost silent footsteps getting nearer has you scrambling away. The stranger takes your shoulder, trying and failing to bind you.

Fighting back with a swift kick on his chest that doesn't even faze him, you slap him away in futile. “Stop–! Fuckin-!” You two wrestle on the ground, dust flying all over, nose itching at the particles. You bite his arm, he flinches before he wraps his gloved hand around your wrist, pinning you down. The rough leather is hot against your skin. “Ow! You– stop! ‘m not gonna hurt you!”

“You fucking stop!” Your free hand grip the bandana hiding his face. His legs trap you in between them in retaliation. “What did you say back at the store? Fear is your main weapon, not your gun?!”

“You're bloody butchering it—!” With one strong tug, you take his black bandana off, revealing a familiar face.

You gasp breathlessly, frozen in place. His name falls on your lips, a name you've only whispered before you fall asleep like a prayer murmured to whoever was listening.

“Hobie?”

Hobie's heart stops, now he notices your eyes, those eyes he once loved to stare at endlessly. Eyes that he's fond of, eyes that still hold his promise. With trepidation in his chest, and the ghost of pain around his scar, he gingerly takes your bandana off. Your face greets him, he imagines a scowl on your pretty lips, but instead of hate, he sees relief. A beaming smile on the lips he's all too familiar with, the same lips he'd kiss everyday for two years.

Death's carefully plastered façade falls.

You're his target, the same person he told those three words to a thousand times before when everyone told him it's not meant to be. You proved them all otherwise. The same person he once loved all those years ago, before he faced death himself.

“Y/N?” His voice breaks with the mere utterance of your name. A name that has been tattooed in his mind ever since everything came crashing down. Ever since you two tempted fate too much, and he alone faced the consequences. The scar around his neck proves it all.

Your grin gets wider, and you feel like the luckiest girl alive. Hobie feels like he lost a thousand dollars in poker.

“Hi.” You could only muster, the hands that slapped him away now hold his face carefully, fingers tracing all the new scars and marks on his skin. “I finally found you.”

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

[ohdearlingwhathappened]

A Pair Made in the Pits chapter 2

Falling Behind Part 2

Chp 1, Chap 3

A/n: Here's Chapter 2 of this series. I have started my current semester, so chapters are going to be quite slow. Apologies in advance! This has primarily not been beta read, so let me know if you find any discrepancies. And most important, enjoy the chapter!

Having two robots kill them all by driving into the side of a cliff after quasi kidnapping them was not how Y/n thought this would go down, but with a shriek, she closed her eyes and silently asked any deity that may exist to please rain vengeance down on her kidnappers. That is, until she realized there were no sounds or feelings of the crash and the light beyond her eyelids dimmed from the harsh Nevada sun; opening her eyes, she realized that they somehow were now in a grey corridor that eventually lead to a rather large open room in which two more robots stood, probably having been alerted to their arrival considering their already apprehensive looks. At Bee’s stopping, the younger boy Y/n now knows as Raphael, or Raf as he prefers, gets out and she slowly follows him out and takes her place standing in front of the children. She knows, logically, that if anything were to happen, she likely wouldn’t be able to stop anything, but she might be able to buy them time, at the very least.

“I thought there were two.” The red and white robot questions the blue and pink bot. He was the first one Y/n had seen once they had entered the clearing, of sorts. He had been standing over by what looked to be a large computer, though she supposes it’s quite normal sized, or possibly even small, for them.

Ever snarky, the effeminate bot responds, “Haven’t you heard- humans multiply.” before walking more over towards the middle of the room.

Y/n snorts, unbelieving of the situation she and these kids are in, and looks around before hearing human-sized steps moving past her and toward the hulking figure of the green robot, “Miko! Don’t-”

“I’m Miko! Who are you?”

“Bulkhead?” The larger, green robot seemed tense, obviously not used to talking to many other humans, especially teenage girls, most likely. Oblivious to the apparent nerves, Miko gives an excited gasp and begins her questioning.

“Are you a car? I bet you’re a truck. A monster truck! Do you like heavy metal? How much do you weigh?! Have you ever used a wrecking ball for a punching bag?” The questions were an absolute onslaught that, despite not being the one having the questions shot at them, were making even Y/n’s head spin. 

“Miko, hon, give um- Bulkhead- some space to breathe. Besides, I think there are more pressing matters at hand here.” Putting a hand on Miko’s shoulder, Y/n pulls the young girl away. Receding into her thoughts she tries to determine who exactly is in charge, so she can begin ripping into them, and no offense to any of the present company, but they don’t exactly seem like the leading type. “I’m sure one of these robots will have an explanation as to why we had to be dragged out to the middle of nowhere, instead of just letting us go back to our lives.”

“Puh-lease.” The red and white bot scoffs out, leading to Y/n glaring up at him. 

This is the second time one of these indicated that they aren’t all that meets the eye, and the lack of explanation is beginning to make Y/n’s blood boil. However, before she is able to snap back some witty remark, heavy footsteps draw her attention back to another tunnel that weirdly appears to have an almost immediate dead end, but looks to have metal arches and wiring throughout the skeletal infrastructure, to see the largest one of these robots yet. 

“We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron, also known as autobots.” His deep voice rumbles throughout the room, making Y/n feel as if she could feel the vibrations in her very bones. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Jack take a few steps forward and doesn’t stop him. For some reason she can’t explain, the alien before her has eased some of her worries and fears, making her trust that the kids were in safe hands. Just by answering a question.

“Why are you here?”

“To protect your planet from the Decepticons. We came here after our home became inhabitable after years of civil war.”

“I take it those are the guys who attacked you and Rafael last night? My turn for a question- why are we here?” No matter how much some of the explanation put Y/n at ease, there was still a lot to go over, hence why she dons the defensive and accusatory tone and crosses her arms. “No offense, but your war has nothing to do with these children. Why bring them here and further risk their endangerment?”

“Ms. Y/n-” Miko tries to interrupt, but the woman is quick to give her a pointed look.

“No, Miko.” She looks back up to Optimus Prime, and keeps her pointed look on her face, “Don’t you think yesterday was stressful enough for these kids? They are teenagers- Raf is only 12! They should be worrying about their grades, what new video game is coming out, who their soulmate is and what their quote says- not some intergalactic war.” Y/n huffs, annoyed with the situation in front of her. She may not be these kids’ parent, but she does feel responsible for them. “If it was a few other adults or even just myself, that would be different. We’ve gotten our quotes,” her words begin to fade, and she hangs her head, “even if they might be fucked.”

Miko flinches at the misted mention of her teacher’s quote. Having been a host student partially under the care of Y/n for nearly a year now, knows of the woman’s quote circumstances. When the teen came to the states, she had been ecstatic to get away from her overly controlling parents, but she didn’t exactly trust anyone in Nevada either. In a way to get her to open up, Y/n sat her down in one of the offices of the school and played a sort of 20 questions with the girl, to help her loosen up. The questions could be as impersonal as what’s the best place to get food in Jasper, or as personal as questions regarding her quote. 

“So I can ask anything?”

“Yep. Anything you want.”

“And you aren’t going to back out if I hit some sore spot?”

“I promise I won’t. You have my word, Miko.”

“Okaaaay. How old are you?”

“Oooo starting off on the hard-hitting questions, huh?” Y/n smiled and pretended to think about it, “I know I must sound ancient, but I’m 26 years old.”

“Meh, you aren’t as old as my parents, so you aren’t that old.” Miko leans back in her chair, thinking about what to ask.”What’s your relationship like with your mom and dad?

“Well… my mother died when I was 12. It was a car crash- she was a lovely woman, from what I can remember. My father, on the other hand, changed after her death, and once I got my quote, he kicked me out.” She shrugged, smiling faintly. It wasn’t a fond memory, but it was nearly 10 years ago, so the pain had faded, but some scars still remained- metaphorically and physically.

“Your quote is that bad? What is it?”

“I do not know.”

“Well, what language is it?”

“If I knew that, I would know what my quote says, wouldn’t I?” 

“Can I see it?”

“No.” The smile evaporates from Y/n’s face, not a trace of it remaining.

“But you said-”

“I said I would answer your questions, Miko, and I have. This is the one limit I have, and I request that you respect that… Ok?” Miko’s eyes flicker between Y/n’s and nods. Noticing the tension, Y/n smiles gently and clears her throat, motioning for the girl to continue- “Now back to your questions- I can’t imagine you’ve gotten them all out.”

“I understand your worries… Ms. Y/n,-” The giant in front of her snaps her out of her reminiscing; it had only been a year and yet the girl had become a trusted and dear person, to Y/n. “-but Decepticon activity has spiked, and with some of their warfront having seen the human children, I fear they may not be safe. Our war has been ongoing for a long time, and while we have not seen nor heard of their leader, Megatron, if his return is as imminent as I believe it is, it would be best to keep the children, and you, in our care whenever we are able.” Optimus looks down at the woman before him, the worry obvious on her face, and kneels down to better look her in the eye. “I assure you. These children will be safer nowhere else.”

“You understand this is a lot to take in, right? I am going to have to not only have the burden of these kids’ safety on my shoulders, but I am going to have to lie to both pairs of Miko’s parents and if I see Jack or Rafael’s I’ll have to lie to them as well. If anything goes wrong, I will never be able to forgive myself.” Y/n’s arms wrap around herself, hands gripping onto the fabric of her blouse. She breaks eye contact with Optimus and looks Jack, Raf, and Miko over, trying to confirm what she was thinking.

The truth is, the woman had already made up her mind, but she was hoping for a slip up, a wrong comment, anything for her to be able to deny the mechanical giant before her. But looking into his eyes, there was nothing but determination and truth glowing from his steady gaze. She drops her shoulders and brings a hand to rub her face, regretting the action slightly when she feels some of her mascara come off in small grains- today had been long.

“I understand your concerns-”

Y/n lowers her hand and looks back at Optimus with determination of her own.

“But I believe you will keep them safe.”

The base is quiet until Miko lets out a cheer of excitement and throws her arms around Y/n’s neck, thanking her for choosing the right choice, before going back over to the boys and speaking rapid fire- likely about how cool this situation was and how much fun they were going to have. 

Miko always had the ability to look at the brighter side of situations- apparently even when being taken under the supervision of giant, alien robots who call themselves Autobots. Raf, despite the little time she has spent with the young boy, Y/n can see that he is a more positive person, with a somewhat more logical spin on things. Finally, there was Jack Darby- a boy who she had seen throughout the halls of the high school and of which Y/n was able to make acquaintance with his mother- a nice woman, a little older than Y/n, who liked to drop off things like a lunch or Jack’s work uniform to the office whenever she got a moment away from the hospital; Jack was more of a mystery to the woman- only knowing he became embarrassed when his mother came to the school and that he was doing just fine in his academics. 

“Optimus, with all due respect, the humans are in as much danger here as anywhere. They have no protective shell!” The grumpier mech of the bunch brings up his own counter argument, waving his hand to refer to the four humans before continuing, “If they get underfoot, they will go… squa-iish.” 

“Hey!-”

“Then for the time being, Ratchet, we must watch where we step.” Optimus ends the argument before it can truly begin, cutting off Y/n and inadvertently telling the other bot that the humans will be staying for the foreseeable future. 

But before anyone else can get another word in edgewise, a green light begins flashing while an alarm blares throughout the compound, making the bots turn to the giant computer screens and the humans stiffen.

“What’s that?” Jack calls out over the alarm, bringing Bee’s attention back to the group, the beeps and chirps from earlier is the only response he gives.

“Proximity sensor. Someone’s up top.” Raf pipes up from behind Y/n, making her quirk an eyebrow at the fact that he can understand the yellow bot, but it is quickly overshadowed by the fact that another human is aware of the Autobot’s existence. 

“That would be Special Agent Fowler- he is our liaison to the outside world. As he tends to visit only when there are issues, it may be best if you do not meet him at this time.” Optimus turns back to the four smaller individual in the room, once he was aware of who was dropping in to visit, and at his explanation, Y/n reluctantly ushered the children to go hide around the corner of the platform, positive it would keep them out of sight, just as long as this Agent Fowler didn’t walk too far forward or do a survey of the base’s condition. As the leader of this group spoke to the agent, Y/n turned to the children and pinned them with narrowed eyes.

“While the boys are talking, I’m setting up ground rules,” Y/n whispers, her hands finding their place on her hips as she begins her little TED talk about spending time with giant robots. These children would listen to her whether they wanted to or not, “First of all, and quite possibly the most obvious- no talking about this with anyone, not your parents- host, biological, or otherwise; no one at school; work; band; clubs- nobody. Second, they are in a war- this is not an intergalactic daycare program- this is not fun, happy times-” As if on schedule, Bulkhead ripped a piece of equipment out of the electrical socket it was welded into and crushed it while speaking to Fowler, “-so treat it like the warzone that it is. Third, none of you are to go on any kind of mission. I don’t care if they need a human sized partner for some easy peasy scouting mission, if one of you are able to fit in a small area, or whatever the hell they do- they have the help of the government, so they can ask them for any help. The fourth, and hopefully the last rule, be careful and rely on me. Jack and Raf, I know you two don’t know me very well, but I promise you can come to me for anything.” She looks at Miko and grins, “You already come to me instead of your host parents- that still applies here. You kids are my responsibility and priority- if something happens at any point, you get the fuck out of danger. I don’t care what you lose- your phones, a school book- it doesn’t matter. Am I understood?”

All three of the kids nod, each murmuring some form of affirmation of hearing her.

“Great! Sounds like the agent has left, so let’s rejoin the lot of them and figure out where to go from here.” Y/n, dropping the serious- and downright intimidating- stance she held, smiles and walks around the corner not waiting for any more of a response from the three. 

“What do you mean Cliffjumper’s life signal came back online?” Arcee, who had previously been leaning against the elevated platform that leads to the elevator which Agent Fowler had left through, straightens and approaches Ratchet and his computer systems. The kids, following Arcee’s interest, had made their way up onto a railing-lined platform to get a better look at the computer themselves, leaving Y/n at the base of the main structure’s stairs. “Is that possible?”

“It shouldn’t be. It’s probably this primitive earth tech that we’re stuck with.” Ratchet slams his fist against the base of the computer, hoping it would possibly make the computer 

“If there’s any chance Cliff’s alive-” Arcee looks up to Optimus, hope for their previously thought-to-be dead comrade easily seen throughout her body.

“Ratchet, prepare the sick bay- we may need it.” The stoic bot nods to the others and they all begin to walk towards the stunted tunnel Optimus had come from earlier, leaving Y/n to wonder if there was some other sort of trap door like there had apparently been when she and the kids entered the base with Bumblebee and Arcee. Miko, as if already forgetting what she was just told, leans over the railing,

“What can we do?!” The girl was thrilled at the prospect of seeing some giant robot action, only to be brought quickly back to reality.

“Absolutely nothing! Did you not remember a single thing we just went over, young lady?!” Y/n snaps, making the girl visibly droop and glance at Optimus, hoping for another reaction.

“Miss Y/n is correct, you will stay here- with Ratchet.” His words ring with finality, making both Miko and Ratchet give a whine and groan respectively, and before anyone knows it, a portal appears composed of all sorts of shades of blues and greens. It would have been gorgeous, if it’s appearance wasn’t so sudden and startling. “Autobots, roll out!”

And just as fast as it appeared, almost as soon as the autobots disappeared into it, so did the swirling mass.

“What just happened?!” It was now Jack’s turn to nearly fall over the railing, leaning as far out as he could- as if he didn’t believe his eyes. To be fair, Y/n herself was still trying to believe hers. 

“I transported them to the designated coordinates via the groundbridge.” Ratchet explained nonchalantly, as if whatever he just said was common knowledge. 

“Oh, yes, because that explains everything.” Y/n grumbles to herself, tired of all the new information she’s been receiving today. She already had to deal with one attitudinal robot after dealing with attitudinal children and coworkers all day, she was not going to listen to another one for whatever condescending and blatantly bothered comments he may throw at her and the kids’ way.

As he gives the kids a rundown of the “groundbridge”, Y/n half listens as she looks around the base, trying to get some stable understanding of where she is; with everything changing and new information being thrown at her every five minutes, the need for something to be relatively unchanging was almost necessary, unless Y/n wanted to pass out from information overload.

The base itself is older- it had to have been abandoned by the government far before the Autobots arrived. And upon further inspection, there are three tunnels, not two. There’s the tunnel they arrived through, the stunted tunnel that holds the technology for the groundbridge, and then there’s the third tunnel that Y/n could only assume went further throughout the silo’s infrastructure. Walking towards the new area, she begins to wonder about the bots’ living quarters. 

I wonder if they have their own rooms here. I can’t imagine them all spending every second of every day with each other- they’d go mad. I wonder if their suites would be suited to their vehicle forms… like a kind of habitat. Pfft they could call it a habsuite. Though, that sounds as if I’m likening them to animals so perhaps not. Having a short giggle to herself at the random word, Y/n’s thoughts are abruptly cut off by Optimus’ voice coming through the computer system ordering Ratchet to open the bridge-thing. Heading back over towards the ambulatory mech and the kids, she notices a lack of a new body among them.

“Cliffjumper?” Ratchet inquires, bringing everyone’s heads to hang, confirming the worst news- he was gone. The air is solemn, the loss of anyone- mechanized or organic- is always a hard blow to be dealt to one’s psyche, and Y/n’s heart goes out to them for the loss of their friend. 

“What was that explosion?! Was there a fight?! Can I come with, next time?!” Miko once again taking her place at the railing, misses the que that now is not the time to be asking about their next adventure. Y/n knew the girl was just excited, but she was coming across as insensitive.

“Miko-”

“Hey hey, Miko, let’s go see what the bots hide in their sock drawers.” Thankfully, Jack had a better grasp on the situation and led Miko away so that what happened could be discussed, despite her aired grievances.

Optimus approached Arcee gently, it being obvious that she was the most shaken up over what had happened on the other side of that portal, “Arcee, what did you see?”

The bot in question wrapped her arms around herself. Any trace of the spunky bot who Y/n met earlier that day was gone, leaving behind a shaken, hurt woman who was still in shock after seeing her friend gone.

“Not Cliff. At least, not anymore. He was mutated. Butchered. Like… something from those con experiments during the war.” And before anyone could catch her, her knees hit the ground and her arms caught one of the cases to keep herself up. Bee whirred in what could easily be understood as concern for his friend, but she waved him off, “I’m fine… just dizzy.” 

Ratchet, the obvious medic of the group, immediately begins running diagnostics and scans, finding what Y/n could only see a glimpse of some kind of purple goo.

“Cliff was covered in this stuff- leaking it.” Upon hearing this, Ratchet scrapes some off of her and tells her to take a decontamination bath at once. She nods and accepts Bee’s help to the makeshift shower. 

“Optimus?” Jack calls the attention of the giant mech who leans down slightly and waves his phone a little, “I hate to bug but no bars?”

Not having even thought about the time, Y/n looks down at her own and startles at the time blinking back at her- 10:32. While it might not be a big deal for her, she can only imagine the panic the kids’ parents might be going through. Miko might have the excuse of going over certain study materials with Y/n, but the two boys had nothing to protect them from their parents’ wrath. 

“I didn’t even think of curfew!” Y/n yelps. “Miko, I don’t normally encourage you to lie to your parents, but this is kind of a special case. Just let them know I was helping you with some of your studies and wanted to speak with you about possible extracurriculars. I’m sorry, boys, but I don’t know if I can help you come up with any excuses as to why you’ll be getting home so late. I suppose you can partially blame me, Jack. Your mother has my number, so she might call me, and I can cover for you.”

“Earth customs… I hadn’t considered.” Optimus hums stands upright. “The issue of your safety remains. Bulkhead, accompany Miko home and maintain covert surveillance in vehicle form.”

“Curbside duty, got it.” He nods in response to his orders.

“Bumblebee, watch over Raf. And Ratchet-”

The mech doesn’t even turn around, “Busy!”

“Arcee, you’ll accompany Jack.”

After a moment’s pause, she brings a hand to her forehead and heaves a sigh, “Oh, still dizzy.”

“You’re fine, says your physician.” Ratchet deadpans, foiling Arcee’s attempt to get out of babysitting, leading her to hunch her shoulders and groan.

“And I will join you to your home, Ms. Y/n.”

“Oh! Um alright.” A sort of awkward smile is shot up at him and with everyone’s positions set, the humans get situated in their guardians and they all ‘roll out’.

*       *       *        *       *       *

The drive back to Y/n’s home was quiet. Staring out into the desert seemed to be the only option she could come to; today was… something. One second she’s hearing yet another rambling session from Mrs. Albert and now, she’s riding home in a sentient semi-truck that can transform into a metal man from outer space. A metal man who seems to have the worlds on his shoulders and on top of it all, he’s lost another soldier- another friend just hours ago. There is nothing Y/n could possibly say to begin expressing how sorry she is for his loss and for adding to his already-present, heavy workload. Not that she had the time- even though she could have sworn she had just been looking at the wide expanse of the desert, Optimus was rolling up to the front of her house. 

After a moment of neither of them speaking, a sound that would normally be the noise of a semi stopping rings out, and the air coming from his vents could easily be understood as a kind of exhale in attempt to gain Y/n’s attention, “Ms. Y/n, we have arrived.”

“Just Y/n is fine. Unless you’d like me to start calling you Mr. Optimus or Mr. Prime.” The woman snorts and the seats vibrate slightly as a low chuckle runs through Optimus’ alt-mode.

“Understood.”

“...I-... I’m sorry. About your friend, I mean.” Fiddling with the ends of her right-hand sleeve and noticing it had started to bunch up at some point in the day, she pulls it as far down as possible. 

“Cliff Jumper was a brave soldier and good friend. I will see him and our other lost friends when I eventually rejoin the Allspark.”

“The Allspark?”

“A well of power and energon from which all life on Cybertron came from and will return to- until all are one…” There’s a wistfullness to the mech’s voice, as if there are more meanings to the what he’s just said, ones in which he yearns for. Jolting himself out of whatever thoughts were whipping around in his head, Optimus continues, “...but that is a story for another day. For now, you must recharge. I will see early tomorrow morning, Y/n.”

The door to Y/n’s right pops open, and she hops out- albeit a tad awkwardly- and looks back at the semi, “Thank you, Optimus. For promising me to keep us, but most importantly the children, safe. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

Stepping into her house and into her bedroom, she didn’t even get the chance to change out of her work clothes. Looking at the bed, she decided it would just be best to just pass out and deal with anything that needed to be done in the morning. Before long, her eyes were fluttering shut and sleep finally had her within its grasp. That is until one particular realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

Her car was still parked in the school’s parking lot.

What a day.

Taglist: @the-unhinged-raccoon, @hystericalanarchy

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

A Recipe for Disaster (Chap. 2)

Pt. 1 | On AO3 here

“Alrighty, Good Morning your highness!” Murray greets him (loudly) the next morning.

“Good morning Murray,” Steve grins at him and mutes the morning talk show that he’d lazily clicked on once Robin fully kicked him awake that morning.

“Her majesty will meet you in the throne room in an hour. She’s in with Parliament.” He reads from his schedule “And I’m sorry your suite isn’t ready yet, but you’re welcome to stay here until it is.” He gestured around to Robin’s suite (“I get my own suite?? You’re kidding me right??” Robin had directed at Joyce when they’d first arrived), Steve having been staying with Robin in the meantime.

“No worries, I was planning on just exploring the palace a bit today; Robin is all partied out and won’t be up for another,” Steve looks at his wrist, devoid of his normal watch, “half a day or so.”

Murray grins at him, “Sounds good to me, be careful, and if you need anything just let Hopper know alright?” Murray turns and heads back out of the suite, “The throne room in an hour!” He yells back over his shoulder as he makes his escape.

Once he was gone, Steve pulled on his collegiate “Beserkely” hoodie (this one being the one that matches the one he’d had made and given Robin after the college denied both their applications), grabbed his phone, and headed out down the hall.

-

He didn’t have a path in mind, but he ended up in the kitchens first.

‘Nice, I’ll have to remember how to get down here for later.’ He thought to himself.

Rounding a bank of industrial size refrigerators, he found a young girl with fiery red hair standing at the prep table in the middle of the floor, chopping and mincing the vegetables in front of her with alarming speed.

His shoe squeaking on the tile alerted her to his presence and she looked up at him with a scowl before schooling her face back to neutral/confused once she realized who he was.

“Your highness? What are you doing down here? Did you need something?” She sounded concerned, setting down her knife and turning to face him with her hands clasped in front of her, a sign of respect.

“No! No, please, it’s just Steve.” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I was just wandering around, you know? Trying to find all the nooks and crannies of this place.” He smiled at the girl, hoping to placate her to his presence.

“Oh. Okay, well your hi_Steve_” the girl corrected herself with an eye roll at the raised brow he threw her way “We are kind of empty at the moment since we just got done with breakfast, but if you ever need anything, let myself or our head chef Argyle know.” She picked the knife back up and started back on demolishing a concerningly large pile of onions.

“Sure, thanks…..?” Steve trailed off, hoping his tone would come across as him asking for her name.

Another eye roll, and then “Max. You can call me Max.”

“Thanks, Max, I’ll be down here a lot I think.” He smiled warmly at her and stuck out his hand for her to shake.

She looked at it for a split second and said “I probably shouldn’t, you don’t really want your hand to smell like onion all day do you?”

“Ah, right, nope, definitely don’t.” He again looked at the pile of onions in front of her and wiped his (still clean) hand on his sweater as if he could feel the onion residue coating it. "How about an air-five?” He asked instead, grinning cheesily, and lifting his hand like he was going to high five her from where he was about 6ft away.

He was rewarded with another eye roll, a small smile, and a crisp air-five for his troubles before he headed back out the way he’d come.

 A couple corners later, Steve found himself walking down a large corridor that seemed to be leading to nowhere. About to turn back, he just happened to have stopped to turn around right where there was a tiny sliver of an offshoot to the hall.

Curious, he stepped forward into the corridor and through the old wooden door at the end of the short hall, deciding he was going to follow wherever it’d take him. Where that ended was on the other side of the door. Turns out it was a hidden…prayer room? It was all stucco and warm light, a couple skinny stained glass windows and a cross between the two. One wall depicted a group of what looked to be priests.

Curiously, he tipped a small bust of some bald guy with a beard (that if he had some glasses, could be taken for a pretty good representation of Murray) and when he did, he heard a click and the squeaking of hinges. There was a hidden mechanism under it that caused a section of the wall next to him to open.

“Nice!” Steve said aloud to no one.

He replaced the bust and immediately went through the wall-door.

“Hello?” he called

The door lead into a damp, dingy, cobweb filled path and up a short set of low steps before switching back and starting up the complete opposite way.

“The hell..?”

The path before him ended suddenly in a small room, the wall in front of him had nothing but a small hinged flap with a handle at just about eye level. Lifting it, and looking through, he found himself looking through a brass grate and into parliament’s chambers? He could see the backs of some powdered wigs, and the faces of the members on the opposite side of the room, then Aunt Joyce sitting beside Prime Minister Henderson to the right.

“So yes, as of the 31st of October last year, on the occasion of his 21st birthday, another Genovian of the royal bloodline became eligible to assume the throne.”

“What?” Steve was flabbergasted.

“My son, Lord Muñoz.”

“I beg your pardon?” Aunt Joyce says, her voice is strained with disbelief “I want you to explain to me exactly what Lord Muñoz has that my nephew does not.” Steve could feel the color draining from his own face at Joyce’s tone, even though he was not at the receiving end of it (this time); he could exactly imagine how this man was feeling at the moment.

“Forgive me Your Majesty, this council does not believe that Stephan is the most suitable choice to govern our great nation. My son has grown up here, has learned all his life how to be a ruler and is more than ready to take his place as Genovia’s rightful King.” the man pauses for a moment before continuing “And how do we know Prince Stephan will run this country properly if he ends up marrying someone…not quite right for Genovia?”

“I’m going to need you to clarify that, Viscount Muñoz.”

“We all saw what happened at that beach party back in America.” he says firmly. “You know how it is, he needs a Queen to rule at his side, not another King and_”

“Oh shut up.” Steve can hear Aunt Joyce mutter under her breath.

“I beg your pardon??” He sounds pissed

“I said ‘Shut. Up.’.” Joyce sets her face and stands to face the Viscount. “I don’t want to hear your nonsense about my nephew’s love life. He is willing and able to take the throne on his own, he doesn’t need someone on his arm to be a great ruler, woman or otherwise.”

“Fuck yeah!” Steve yells, tears in his eyes, before slapping his hands over his mouth as he watches the various members of parliament search for the source of the voice.

“..With ALL due respect, your majesty, we are looking out for what is best for Genovia; and what is best for our country is for our current male heir to assume the throne, a queen on his arm, or for a more capable heir to take his place. It is the will of these members of parliament.”

There are additional murmurs of approval to his statement, though subdued as if they didn’t want to go against her majesty.

“Will all… due. Respect, Viscount Muñoz, that is an outdated and arbitrary argument. Like I said, Steve is more than capable of ruling on his own, I have every faith in him; These same members had already agreed once before that Steve’s 21st birthday would be largely ignored and he was to rule at my side until he was deemed ready to take the throne.

There is a long beat of silence before another member speaks up. “We did, majesty, but when Viscount Muñoz voiced his concerns and rightfully pointed out that Genovia already had another potential ruler, we could not ignore it.”

“We are already in agreement, your majesty.” an older member interjects. “He must marry an eligible woman and take the throne post-haste, otherwise we will allow for Lord Muñoz to take the throne in his stead.”

“What?? No!” Steve says to himself disbelievingly.

Joyce turns to Wayne, concern present in her features and in her stance.

“May I suggest a reasonable timeframe for his highness? A year perhaps; For him to find a suitable spouse? If he does not, he forfeits the throne to young Lord Muñoz.” Wayne directed to the room as a whole.

Steve found himself surprised hearing the older gentleman use the term ‘spouse’, then thankful to Dustin suddenly, knowing that it had to have been the young man who planted the vocabulary into his step-father’s vernacular. Then confused in the next at the sharp gaze directed at Viscount Muñoz from the Prime Minister’s normally open and friendly face.

Joyce looks back to the members, somewhat hopeful that she could give Steve time, but the members of parliament all start arguing over one another about this and again, that oldest geezer pipes up, louder over the rest: “30 days.”

Steve can’t listen to this any longer; he flips the vent cover back down and storms off to the throne room. Fully intending to pace a rut into the floor there until Aunt Joyce comes to meet him with the news he now already knows.

–

“How can parliament expect me to fall in love in 30 days? It’s like it’s just some trick to get me to marry who they want and_wait. That’s it isn’t it. They want to funnel me into an arranged marriage. Who would even agree to tha_” Steve cuts himself off and glances at Joyce, “...uh.. You. Would agree to that..wouldn’t you..”

“I would, and I did.” Joyce smiled at him, “At that time, I wasn’t next in line for the throne but parliament had the same idea as they have for you now, and set me up with Robert to make sure all their bases are covered.  Bob was very kind and we grew very fond of each other…He was my best friend.” She gazed at their portrait in the throne room, the most recent in the line.

She had ruled the last 12 years as Queen, with Robert at her side as Prince consort until he died unexpectedly about six years previously. The portrait did very well to convey the warmth and kindness he’d been told Bob had. The friendly, round-faced man smiled back at Steve and Joyce from his seat in front of the painted Joyce.

“That’s great Aunt Joyce, but when I do get married, I want it to be for love not for fond-ness.” Steve shrugged dejectedly. “Last resort being marrying Robin just to get them off my back, but she’s definitely not what they are looking for either.”

“But you don’t have to do this Steve, you don’t have to become King”

Steve stops and leans against one of the grand pillars, looking around at all the faces of his ancestors that adorn the walls.

His eyes burn when he stops at his grandfather’s portrait. He sees his own eyes looking back at him and he knows his decision.

“There are 550 years of Renaldis on these walls, and I will be up there next to you, and next to my Grandfather. I want my chance to make a difference.” He finishes. Looking determinedly back at Joyce.

“Spoken like a true King.” Joyce smiles at him softly, pride on her face.

–

“You, my boy, a true-born Genovian. You should be our King.”

Eddie smiles at the image of his dad in front of the dart board. His head is circled by the board making it look both like a halo, and as if the spot between his eyes is now the bullseye. ‘Ironic.’ He thinks.

“I agree.” Eddie steps forward and plucks his last dart from behind his father’s head. “But how do we make it happen?

“Let me have one of your darts.” he says, placing down his whiskey and taking the dart Eddie holds out to him “I’m going to show you a trick I learned from an old Italian philosopher. Niccolo Machiavelli."

The Viscount stands back a good ways from the board “I can make this arrow hit the bullseye every time.”

‘Well, now I know for sure where I get my dramatics from’ Eddie thinks to himself as he watches his dad barrel forward with a yell and place the dart directly into the center of the board.

“Yes, but that is cheating.”

“You’ve got it.”

–

Now, only one whole day after Parliament met on Steve’s fate, he was waiting for their new guest to make his grand arrival for his stay at the palace. Steve was still adjusting his appearance in the entrance hall’s mirror (a pull on his collar here, a flick of the swoop in his hair there), when Joyce entered with Hopper and Dustin(??) flanking her.

‘What is Dustin doing here? And why is he dressed like Hopper’s mini-me?’ Steve thinks.

“The Viscount is not staying, only the son. Hopper, I want you to protect him and keep an eye on him at all times.”

“Of course madam. Dustin?” Hopper gives a wave and Dustin marches off towards the palace doors.

“So is this appropriate to welcome Viscount Muñoz and his son?” Steve gave a turn in front of Joyce, his simple dark wash slacks and a white button-up with its collar poking out the top of a Mustard-yellow cable knit sweater.

“Very appropriate, and handsome.”

“I can’t believe Parliament invited the guy who’s trying to steal the throne to stay with us at the palace.” Steve complained, turning back to adjust his appearance yet again, which at this point is just his nervousness manifesting itself.

“Parliament didn’t,” Joyce started, now also checking her appearance in the mirror beside Steve.

“Oh?” Another tug on his shirt collar.

“I did.” she stated matter-of-factly, then turned away from the mirror where Steve was now doing a very astute impression of a goldfish at her retreating reflection.

“I offered to have him strung up by his toes in our courtyard. Excuse me, madam.” Hopper interjected before turning to head to his place at the entrance.

“Yeah, what about Hop’s suggestion?”

“If there’s any mischief going on, I’d rather it be right under my nose.” She took a seat in one of the ornate chairs next to the mirror.

Steve was pacing now “I just don’t want to be nice to this guy, y’know? I mean he’s rude, his arrogant, self-centered–”

“Have you even met him??”

“No…”

“Neither have I.”

“But he probably is Joyce, and like, where is this even coming from? All of a sudden he wants to be King of Genovia??” Steve huffs and puts both hands on his hips. Robin would make fun of him for his “mom pose”. Ugh he wishes she were here, but Joyce had (honestly, kinda smartly,) sent her on an errand this morning, knowing she’d be there to help Hopper string up Lord Muñoz.

“Oh stop. Whatever he is, we will be welcoming, pleasant, and we will conduct ourselves with grace and poise.”

“Presenting, Viscount and Lord Muñoz” The palace announcer pounds his staff twice.

Steve stands just behind Joyce, flopping his arms down off his hips in a huff and getting in one more eye roll for good measure before he puts on his Prince Stephan face.

The mask shatters immediately after Viscount Muñoz’ entrance however, as the second person to enter the hall is none other than “Just Eddie”.

Steve feels his jaw drop open and the smoldering smirk he recognizes on Eddie’s face from their time at the ball,  is now conniving and evil-looking.

Steve feels his heart breaking.

“Your Majesty, may I present my son, Lord Edmund Muñoz.”

“We are delighted to make your acquaintance, Edmund.” Joyce has her hand extended.

Steve turns his face from their guests all together. Willing the burning threat of tears away while Joyce greets them. He can hear Eddie’s smooth voice tell her “The pleasure is all mine, your majesty. And thank you for inviting me to stay at the palace.”

It’s quiet for a moment and Steve can guess what’s coming next.

“May I present my nephew Steve.”

Steve can just barely make out her voice over the ringing in his ears. He’s still not looking at Edmund.

“Your Highness.”

More ringing.

“Steve, would you care to welcome our guest?”

Steve takes a deep breath and makes a decision.

Turning to face Edmund, meeting his smile with the patented King Steve smirk, and extends his hand in greeting. “Lord Edmund.” He emphasizes with a grin and grasps Edmund's warm, calloused hand as if to shake it.

Then he twists and stomps on Edmund’s foot. Hard.

Steve wrenches his hand from Edmund’s and storms off down the hall. Fully ignoring everyone else in the room. Someone laughs, Steve can vaguely hear Joyce is saying something to Edmund in a panicked tone, can register that Hopper and Murray are doing exactly nothing, and knows he is being a big baby about this but he can’t bring himself to care.

–

He ends up in the kitchens, a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream in one hand, and his other is armed with a spoon, angrily shoveling the sweet treat into his mouth.

‘Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stu_ ’ his brain repeated on a loop. He’d feel his eyes burning and his throat clenching with emotion, then they’d both disperse in anger and ‘Who does he think he is getting off on pulling this shit on me??’ and back to heartbreak..then back to ‘Fucking stop feeling sorry for yourself, why are you even feeling so sad about a nothing encounter that literally only consisted of him being stupid hot??’

It was because he’d really felt a connection and now it was fully trampled on (not unlike Lord Edmund’s foot).

Steve looked up when he caught some movement to his right and was met with the sight of Max extending a tissue towards him. Sticking his spoon back into the pint of ice cream hurriedly, he reached up to take it and wipe away the totallynon-existanttearsthankyou.

“Thanks.” Steve said in a small voice, looking down at his melting ice cream

There was a long pause, then “Do you want me to fight them?”

A hysterical laugh bubbled its way out of Steve’s chest. He looked up and nodded to Max “Maybe later, Mad Max, I’ll keep in touch, okay?”

She smiled and went back to the dishes she was washing in the ridiculously oversized sink.

He had just barely gone back to his ice cream when Aunt Joyce came down the stairs into the kitchen.

“Care to explain what just happened up there??”

“Sorry..” Steve says around a mouthful of ice cream. He swallowed and continued “So turns out I HAVE met Lord Muñoz . Yeah, I met him at the ball; didn’t know who he was…but we danced and I…flirted and..” here comes the throat clench again “I feel so stupid.” He pinched the bridge of his nose to try and hold back the tears this time.

“Well as your Queen I absolutely cannot condone it.”

Steve nodded sullenly, plopping his spoon into his ice cream again.

“But as your Aunt, I say ‘Fuck yeah’.” Joyce smiled that mischievous smile at him. “Now, if you’ll come with me, I have something to show you.” She starts toward the stairs from the kitchen.

“Oh, uh, okay.” He stands and moves to follow her.

“Ah, I think you can leave your ice cream here.” She points back to where he was sitting and heads up the stairs.

“Damn..” Steve looked over to where Max had been earlier and found her trying very hard to make it look like she hadn’t been listening this whole time.

He gave her a short whistle and when she looked up he pointed his pointer and middle fingers to his eyes then pointed them at Max who was looking at him like he was a complete doofus. He pointed down at his soupy pint, and mouthed “I’ll be back.” before following Joyce out of the kitchen.

Part 3 will be here!

Again, tagging those that seemed interested!! @henderdads, @totallybitchin , @potentialheartofdarkness , @steddieasitgoes , @princessstevemunson @livewondrousss,  @mightbeasleep

[the-silentium]

Trial by Fire

Masterlist - Chapter 1

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 4020 words

Warnings: Blood, gore, monsters (yay).

A/N: Woohoo, action chap! From this point on, the will be blood on almost every chap. Be warned.

Taglist:  @haloangel391​ /  @lightning-wolffe​​ / @cherrydemon5​​ / @and-claudia​​

_____________________

"Something happened." One of the members spoke up, addressing the problem from his position at the end of the long table. "The planet is angry again." 

"Why would they come back now?" Another asked, finger nervously tapping at his tight. 

The man leading the council took a second, to release the armchair from his deadly grip, allowing blood to return to his white fingertips. 

"We all know how it started." He didn't know why they were back, but he certainly knew who was the cause. 

Whispers erupted from the dozen of people sitting at the table, accusations, hateful exclamations, worried questions, they all blended in a cacophony that beat at the leader's growing headache. 

"Enough." He barked, effectively bringing silence back into the closed room. 

"She's back and we need to find her. Send half of our available hunters into the jungle for a retrieval mission. No one is allowed back in until she's here."

"But Arlan," the head of the scouts paused, unsure of his own next words, "she's dead." 

No one dared to breathe, in fear that they may be chosen to venture the darkness away from the village's protection if they dared to make a sound to disturb the stillness of the room. 

"Apparently not." Arlan growled, frustrated that the thorn in his side was back. 

____________________

You took a deep breath in to calm your buzzing nerves, they couldn't control you right now, not when everyone's lives, your family, was in danger. They needed you strong and in control, something you hoped you could be long enough to get the whole group to safety. It was your only chance. You had your instincts, they were sharp and trustworthy so you had to rely on them and not let panic overflow again. 

You exhaled slowly, wiggling your fingers and toes to relax every inch of yourself. You could do it. You were an experienced hunter in these jungles and they were highly trained commandos with a flawless success rate. Let's not forget the fact that they had blasters. You were good with your knife, but it clearly wasn't the best weapon out there. Maybe the odds were in your favor. 

But they were used to droids, not unpredictable monsters that loved to tear beings apart limb by limb. Tonight would be your trial by fire. For all of you. 

"We need to be ready to meet them." You cracked your knuckles unconsciously, already picturing yourself in front of one of your nightmares. 

You acknowledged Hunter's comment with a nod, already walking to the nearest tree to stab it with your knife and insert your loyal tap into the hole.

"We all drink before it's no longer possible. It's gonna be a long night and this is our last chance to do it." You pointed to Wrecker. "You first." 

He obeyed in a beat, trusting your survival skills. You knew you'd need all the energy available and the sugary water would provide you just that. Also, you needed to be as hydrated as possible. 

"Okay." You turned towards the rest of them, all their visors fixated on you. "So, I don't know much about them. There are different species that are common beliefs in my village and other species that are proper to other villages. But they all have in common to eat whatever cross their path and to roam solely at night." 

Wrecker moved away from the tree, wiping his mouth with his wrist to make place for Tech who removed his helmet to drink. 

"This planet is a trap." The grey-haired clone grumbled at your unhelpful lack of information. 

"I know, I've lived here my whole life." You glared at him before concentrating again. "No one in my village ever came back from a night outside, so I don't know for sure what species are around. All I know is that there are Algax roaming around."

You signaled to Cross to take Tech's place. 

"They are taaaall creature, with dark blue-ish skin and really long arms and legs. They are shy," you gesticulated your hands around to find the right word, but couldn't find it so you went with the first word that came to your mind, "things that tend to hide along the trees and grab their prey when they don't look. They don't eat the prey, just crush it to death and let it there for the other things." 

You were losing time fast, the jungle was darkening with each passing minute and you were far from ready. There was too much to cover and so little time. Plus, there was the fact that what you knew wasn't 100% reliable. Beliefs change from people to people, from village to village, who knows what version of the stories these beasts really came from?

"And they're super sneaky and silent. Hunter your turn." You announced a tad too dryly, but no one called you out on it, maybe because they were as on edge as you were, mentally preparing themselves for what was to come as best as they could considering they didn't really know what was to come. 

"I'll do this quick so listen. And Tech, listen really really carefully. Rule number one, if you see a light, something cute, something scary, hear a sound or hear your name being called, you. Do. Not. Follow it." 

"They know our names?" Tech's hands stopped mid-air, his helmet almost back on his head, eyes wide in surprise. 

"The planet hears us talk. Of course they know." You almost rolled your eyes at the stupid question coming from the team's genius. Ears everywhere duuh. 

"Rule number two, don't eat or drink anything from now on. Can't have one of us puke their guts or get poisoned or paralyzed." Out of the corner of your eyes, you clearly saw a shiver shake the sniper's body. Lesson learned. 

"Number three, if I say run, you all run. In the same direction would be best, but if it comes down to it, you run and don't stop. We'll regroup afterward. You have trackers on us, right?" 

"If you keep your comlink on you, yes." You patted your pockets in reflex, hand closing around the small object to confirm its presence and alleviate your concerns. 

"Last rule, if I do this," the index, middle and ring finger of your free-hand closed to let only your thumb and pinky pointing to the ground, "you have to hide, absolutely don't run. Hide. Some of them are guided by movements and you'll only attract them." 

"Hide? But we can blast 'em!" Wrecker's enthusiasm didn't affect you this time around. It was a first. 

" 'm just no sure they'll stop moving if you do. Best to make our way around unnoticed." 

He grumbled his disappointment at having to be silent, it never has been his forte. Plus, he had the added difficulty to hide his imposing stature, so this would be a challenge. Thankfully their armors were almost entirely black, would they have been the usual white with color stripes, it certainly would have been even more difficult to blend in with the vegetation. 

It felt weird giving them orders, like you were totally out of place. And in a sense you were. The newbie wasn't supposed to command the trained soldiers. The newbie followed behind and shut its mouth. 

Well, at least that's what you've always been told and that's what you've always done. It was no use to fight with the other hunters. They were a group of dickheads that deserved hell, but they had more muscles than you. And they were outnumbering. Aaand they were watching each other's back, whereas you were alone without any backup. All that being said, it didn't stop you from making them pay for their hurtful words, harsh treatments, condescending tones and constant bullying, one way or the other. 

For the first time, people let you lead them and it was unsettling. A part of your mind waited for the inevitable low blow to hit you square in the face. You knew the commandos weren't like that, but you couldn't help it. It was a defensive reflex you developed over the years of trying to fit in a world that you were too different to live in. It was totally foreign to be listened to and not berated down, it felt good and terrifying at the same time. 

"Understood?" Your voice softened into an unsure tone, its once imperativeness melted under the weight of your anxiety of being listened to. 

One after the other, they all nodded, gazes full of determination and something else that almost made you sweat. They all showed their trust in you, even Crosshair who you thought didn't like you much, offered you his trust. It meant way too much and stressed you beyond measure. You couldn't let them down and have them killed. Any single one of them. 

Nodding in return, you walked to the tap beside Hunter and forced yourself to swallow the water, pushing down the lump that formed in your throat. You could do it. You could survive the night if you played your cards right. With your knowledge and their excellent combat skills surely you could defend yourselves. Right?

"Blasters ready gentlemen. We have to find a shelter as quickly as possible." You removed the tap from the tree and hid it back into a pocket. 

"A den should be alright or a small cave." 

With one last look at the four of them, you noded to yourself. 

"Good night, good luck." You told them as per habit and hope that the saying would somehow protect you all. Your usual joking self was nowhere to be seen, letting you wear a mask of complete seriousness.

They tensed, apparently getting on the fact that this was an important custom on this planet. 

"Good night, good luck." They repeated, one after the other, causing you to smile tightly at the gesture. 

You took North, continuing away from the ship and into unknown territory. You knew that after a while you'd eventually fall into Forsians hunting territories and then you'd have a better knowledge of the terrain, but those parts of the jungle were still hours away. Hopefully, you'll be able to climb up and make your way back to the ship before getting there. 

"Will you be alright to walk in the dark?" Crosshair's voice erupted from your pocket and you knew this wouldn't work. Each time they'd speak the whole jungle would hear. 

"I'll be fine. Like I said, the best mutate to survive." You winked at the white crosshair on the sniper's helmet. "I can see in the dark. Not full 10/10 on the chart, but enough so I won't ram into a tree."

You fished the comlink out of your pocket and showed it to Tech who was rummaging around in his utility belt pockets.

"Can't have it screaming my position every time someone spea-" 

"I know." He cut you off, presenting you an earpiece.

"This will do." He took your device to connect them together, or so you think. "There. You'll hear us through the earpiece but you still need the comlink to talk." 

He gave you back the electronics and you quickly put the earbud on, comlink returning to your satisfyingly deep pocket. 

"Thanks. We should continue to follow the ravine and hope that we can climb it at some point and return to the ship." 

Agreements resonated in your right ear and you got on your way. It got darker and darker until the only colors you could see were different shades of blue and black. 

The silence around was nerve-wracking, every tree seemed like it would turn around and jump at you at each and every step you took. 

It was nice to quickly fall back in your old habits, feet barely making a sound, eyes recognizing every scratches and marks on the trees let by multiple species marking their territories; Dire bears, Lacergans, Fu-

You almost jumped at the low rumbling whisper right in your ear. Thankfully, your scream stayed in your mind and the only thing jumping was your heartbeat. 

"Movement ahead." You couldn't hear shit, but you trusted Hunter's heightened senses. 

You stopped, the boys getting into their shooting positions at your sides. You could do it. 

"Smell like death." Hunter added with a grunt of displeasure. 

The new information registered like a cold bath, freezing every muscle in your body. The ice-cold bath that just fell over your head paralyzed any transfer of information between the neurons in your brain, leaving you totally helpless for a whole second. Your brain was still out of service when your body just moved on its own, already knowing what to do despite the lack of orders from above. 

The three middle fingers of your free hand closed, letting only your thumb and pinky pointing to the ground, clearly informing the clones of the course of action. Thankfully, all their gazes got attracted by your moving hand, immediately changing the formation. 

Twiggs broke a bit to the right, still far enough for you to dodge behind a tree undetected, soon joined by Tech who as opposed to you, faced the tree. His chest plate pushed on your torso to get closer to the tree, one of his blasters raised right next to your head, the other grazing your upper arm, caging you in a position that would be extremely hot in totally different circumstances and with a totally different clone. 

At the corner of your eyes, you thankfully noticed Wrecker's imposing form hiding as best as he could behind a particularly thick bush, Hunter standing behind a tree next to him, weapon pointed towards the sky above. Crosshair was nowhere to be seen, so you hoped it meant he found a good spot. 

Rustling leaves and moving grass made you freeze completely. No one moved as the footsteps got nearer and nearer. Of course, this was the first creature you'd encounter. Kribats were the worst creature one could run into. 

They were told to feast on human flesh like there was no tomorrow. They were starved, walking the jungle every night in hope of biting down on some stupidly brave human who ventured the night, but these times were rare nowadays. Almost no one got out at night, reinforcing their desperation for human blood.

It was told that they could paralyze you in fear at simply one glance to their wicked red eyes, allowing the beast to pound on its victims and take their life. It wasn't clear how it killed its preys, but all the versions were unanimous, it was a bloodbath. 

Fors really seemed to hate the Bad Batch. 

If it wasn't enough that the most dangerous monster was hot on your asses, Tech's recording light flashed to life, illuminating your position and burning your retina like a mighty beacon. With a fast but careful movement, you reached around his arm encasing your body into the tree to cover the red traitorous light. 

Blinking the tears away, you really hoped your glare got the message perfectly clear to the engineer. Forget about your hobby for one night, you dumbass!

The rustling grass behind Hunter's tree stopped your breathing, all senses focussed on the beast's movements to know if it detected your group or not. 

Tech's eyes visibly widen behind his visor at the ungodly sight of the creature's emaciated body, the skull of a cervid posed atop a male human body rivaling Wrecker's height was disturbing, but not as disturbing as the sight of all the blood covering its dark skin. There was so much blood that it pooled at its feet, leaving behind a river-like path in the grass. 

The low ragged rumble of the monster passed your tree, surprising you that he hadn't bounced on it to grab you from behind. You glanced at its retreating form and oh this is new. Your version of a Kribat didn't have a feathery tail trailing behind. Now, what could this be useful for? They couldn't fly, could they? 

The Kribat wandered deeper into the depth of the jungle, leaving its imprint on everyone's mind as well as on the jungle floor and all your noses and mouths. 

You waited for a little longer, just to be sure that it was far enough to not catch its attention before nodding to Tech. 

"Clear." He whispered through the comm. 

The first breath you took in almost pulled you to your knees. The smell was atrocious, grabbing you at your throat. Decomposition, blood, acids, they all mixed to form a rancid smell that you could almost taste. 

"What in the Nine Corellian Hells is that?" Crosshair stood from behind a dead trunk on the ground to join everyone at the dark trail. 

"Human blood, flesh and organs." The shredded pieces of meat here and there turned your stomach upside down. 

You were used to flesh and blood. Heck. You were a hunter and often butched your meals yourself. But this flesh was human and the state of it only left you to imagine was it must have felt like to be ripped apart. You didn't want to speculate if the victim was alive or not when it happened. 

"Kribats are craving human flesh but they don't have a digestive system. It gets in and gets out, so they're never satiated." 

"So this one just ate?" Wrecker approached behind you. Now faced with what these beasts were capable of, his enthusiasm disappeared somewhere, letting him wary and if only a little bit scared. 

"It looks like it." You fixed the blood, deep in thoughts. Why were there humans out tonight? 

"I thought no one was supposed to be out at night." Tech inquired while disconnecting the red light on his helmet. 

"They're not supposed to be. It means that something's wrong." You sighed. Tonight couldn't get any better. The planet was throwing a tantrum. 

There was nothing you could do about it, so you focussed back on the present. You swallowed to keep yourself from puking as you dropped to your knees before the red river. 

"And what are you doing?" Crosshair asked, not daring to approach the thing himself. 

"Camouflaging my smell of a juicy living being." With shaky hands, you plunged your fingers through the sticky mixture. You gaged at the feeling but covered your sleeves nonetheless. 

"You guys should cover your armor too. Lucky bastards." At least it wouldn't touch their skin. 

"No way." Crosshair groaned as Tech walked over asking "Why?" 

"Because I want us to survive the night." You deadpanned. There was no time to explain the how and why. 

You stopped breathing for a second to cover your torso and pants, cringing at the warm wetness soaking the fabric. You allowed yourself a second to mourn your once perfect clothes that you loved so much. You'd have to burn them after only one day wearing them. 

At your sides the boys reluctantly followed your lead, grunting in disgust every two seconds. 

You decided to forget your face, this would end badly for your stomach. 

Turning around as you wiped your hands on a clean spot on your pants, you noticed Hunter's clean body leaning on a tree for support, head tilted down with a hand over his heart. You didn't need to be a Jedi to feel his distress at the overwhelmingly nauseating smell. 

"You okay?" His visor lifted to meet your eyes at your worry. You controlled yourself and refrained from pulling him in a hug, you'd only make it worse. 

"Yeah." But he sounded far from okay. 

"We have to continue, but if you stay close, we all should be able to hide your smell without rolling you into the stuff." He grunted in agreement. 

Tech, Crosshair and Wrecker joined your sides, covered in the mixture. 

"Okay. We continue." 

Hoping that your sergeant would get used to the smell, you took the lead once more. You didn't know if his mutation would allow his brain to stop registering the smell after a couple of minutes like everyone else. You mentally crossed your fingers for him. 

The trees seemed taller into the dead of night. The occasional moon rays passing through the leaves made the heavy ambiance slightly more bearable. 

You wondered what a night outside looked like on another planet where no monsters crept their way around. Where you could lay down and watch the stars, not through a tiny crack in the rock like you used to in your village and fully admire the high sky, illuminated by a sea of sparkling orbs. You deeply wanted to experience it with your team who would definitely think you stupidly simple. 

But they would understand. After tonight, they would. 

Your progression was steady for a while, every ears and eyes were focussed around to detect any unwanted creature lurking in the shadows. 

Back to his collected usual self, Hunter finally seemed used to the smell plaguing his nose. To add to the good news, you spotted a mature tree, particularly large. At first glance, it looked like it reached the top of the ravine.

Excitement flooded your veins, a hand lifting to stop the group who tensed in alert. 

"I think this one could get us up." You whispered to them, pointing at the tree.

"It definitely could." Tech scanned the tree, the others still watching the surroundings. 

"I'll go check." You broke away from the formation to get to the closest branch. 

"Wait-" A hand caught your upper arm. 

"Hunter, I'm the best climber here. Plus, you guys will make too much sound for a recon with your armor. I'll make it quick." Your determined eyes met his visor, not willing to get back on your position.  

"Be careful." He released you to position his team around the tree. 

You send him a quick salute before pulling yourself up the tree. You kept your knife in one hand and climbed up several branches. The next one was pretty high, too high for you to reach it without jumping. Your knife found its home at the side of your boot and you focussed on your jump. Crouching slightly, you suddenly extended your legs and pushed with considerable force. Both hands grabbed the top of the desired branch before letting your biceps do the rest of the work. 

"Are you okay?" Hunter called through the comm. 

Leaning on the trunk, you reached in your pocket to retrieve the communication device. 

"Yeah, had to jump to continue. Think I'm almost at the top. I'll be down soon." You answered, looking up to the thinning branches where more moonlight pierced the darkness. 

"Copy that." 

Your comm returned to your pocket to free your hands. Up. Up. Up. In the same minute, you made it to the top. The moon was still low, not fully visible above the line of trees obstructing your vision. 

Now, you noticed that the edge of the damn ravine seemed barely close enough for you to jump there. Maybe Wrecker could throw you there. But how would he reach the top? Checking under the edge, the lack of roots keeping the ground stable was highly disappointing. Even if you were to jump all the way there, the chance of the dirt crumbling under your fingers was too high. 

Quickly, you grabbed your comm to let the boys know that you were coming back. 

With a grumble, you started to descend, moving gracefully from branch to branch without making a sound. The gap you jumped looked pretty big from above, causing you to hesitate for the shortest of seconds. The need to get down was more pressing than your unease so you braced yourself and pushed yourself off your perch to the one below. 

You landed perfectly, both feet on the hard surface, hands wrapped around it tightly to not move further. 

For a second, you were perfectly stable. The next you were falling through the air, propelled by the body hitting you full force. Wood painfully came in contact with your shoulders, arms and back, emptying your lungs before a scream could escape your lips.

[theymakemegayer]

Reputation: Chapter 6

a/n: this was somehow long whew. I just kept on writing haha Please enjoy today’s update!

Reputation Chapter List (Chap 1-5)

======

 I was in my mass communication class - a class I had together with Poppy. I kept on re-reading the text Poppy sent me this morning.

  Enemy

 Don't think you're off the hook. I'll still ruin you.

  I don't know if I want to laugh or get annoyed. I glanced towards Poppy. Amusingly she was focused on Professor Roberta.

 "Bea!" I jerked when my name was mentioned. I looked at Professor Roberta. "Hello? I assume you heard the details of the assignment."

 I plastered a smile, "Of course Professor."

 She frowned before going back to the lecture. Yikes. I try not to let my mind wander again after that. Unfortunately my mind started to wander off. How did she even find my number? I hate how butterflies fluttered in my stomach because of that thought.

 "Earth to Bea!" 

 Ah Crap. I looked around and realized my classmates were starting to stand up and arrange themselves. 

 I looked at Professor Roberta, "Oh. I'm sorry."

 "Find you community service project partner please."  She said.

 I gathered my things and walked up on the aisle, gazing around the room. It seemed like everyone had a partner, except for that certain blonde who had been messing in my mind since morning. Our eyes met, and Poppy frowned at me. I stifled a laugh.

 "Perfect." I mumbled to myself. I smirked as I stride towards her seat. As I sat beside her she didn't look at me and kept using her phone.

 "Fancy meeting you again, enemy."

 Poppy looked up glaring at me. I smiled sweetly at her, "Sooo... we need to plan out this project."

 She groaned, "This is seriously criminal. The last thing I need right now is you tanking my GPA."

 I gasped, "Hey I'm offended." my hand clutched my chest, "I'm an excellent student Poppy. As excellent as my personality to be exact," I smirked.

 "Seriously Hughes?"

 I stifled my laugh, but nonetheless a chuckle escape my lips. She glared at me, "God I can't risk people thinking I'm being chummy with you."

 I smiled warmly at her, "Okay got it, less teasing slash flirting and more planning for the project."

 I bit my lips trying hard to suppress my laugh at her comical reaction. 

 "I... I told you, your mind games won't work on me." She stuttered, eyes avoiding mine and a blush creeping on her cheeks. 

 "Sure Pops." I smiled cheekily.

 She groaned, "Shut up."

 So I did, eyes glued at her -just appreciating her beauty this close. I noticed how the blush in her cheeks deepened as time passed. She started to get fidgety. 

 Tucking her hair behind her ear she started to speak, "I've already figured out what we'll do. We're doing an animal shelter commercial for our project."

 "A commercial? Is that even--"

 "It will be good for the shelter. Commercials are the definition of mass communication. Besides I can talk to daddy to lend us some crew and equipment."

 Resting my elbow on the table with my face on my palm, I smiled at her softly, "I knew you were brilliant before, but nothing beats seeing you in action."

 She crinkled her nose, "Why are you much more annoying today Farmsville?"

 I chuckled, "You secretly like this."

 "Oh my God!" She exclaimed startling me. She stared at her phone open-mouthed. Her grip on it tightened.

 "Hey are you o--"

 "I have to go. We can talk about this later. I'll text you." She snatched her belongings, shoving it on her quilted leather tote and made a beeline for the door.

 "Bye.... I guess?"

 On her way out, Poppy walked passed Zoey, making sure to bump her on the  shoulder. Zoey rolled her eyes, then grinned when she spot me.

 "Zoey Wade! I can't believe it! I was hoping to see you around campus, and here you are practically fallen into my lap." Professor Roberta suddenly spoke, a grin painting her lips.

 "Oh...? I was just here to grab Bea for lunch."

 The conversation flowed. Surprisingly it looked like Professor Roberta had a soft spot for Zoey which led for us to invite her during lunch. I almost want to hug Zoey inviting Professor Roberta meant I might also make a new and good impression towards her. 

 ***

 Later that afternoon Poppy had sent me a direction where we're supposed to meet. It led me to the middle of a forest somewhere still inside of the campus. 

 "Oh God. She won't kill me... won't she?" I can't help not to overthink as I continued to follow the direction. I push through a few more and once I push past the tress and into the clearing a clubhouse stood. 

 Once I slipped inside I spot Luis who welcomed me, "Yoooo Farmsville! Glad you can finally join us."

 My eyes scanned my surrounding - a stunning indoor pool built in the center caught my attention. "I wouldn't even know about this place if Poppy hadn't invited me for this project we're currently partners with. What is this place anyway?"

 Michael answered me, "This was built by the Alphas and the Zetas. A place we can study, hang out, party and hook up. Only a few people knows this place--"

 "People I only invited are welcome here." Poppy suddenly popped out of nowhere and interrupted Michael. She held my gaze then smirked, "This is my new boyfriend by the way. Isn't he gorgeous? Bea meet my new boyfriend--"

 "Bradley Denbrough? From the show Young Wulfe? My sister have a poster of you hanging around her room." I stared at him in shock, but an unusual feeling surfaced in my chest as I looked at him and Poppy. 

 "Nice to meet you." He smiled at me.

 Like something sunk at the pit of my stomach I watched as Poppy boasted about him. "Yes, Bradley's TV Heartthrob days are almost over. He's currently working on a film. Don't you, honey?"

 I swear I felt the corner of my lips twitched as I tried to keep myself smiling as I listened to them. "Yes. I'm actually really stoked to prove myself as a serious act--"

 Before Bradley can even finish, Poppy interrupted him, a frown already on her face, "Hold on. What is she doing here?"

 I turned and spot Chloe at the front door that seemed to be frozen on the spot when Poppy glared at her.

 "Oh, boys! If you would please?" Poppy spoke.

 Two of the Alpha boys walked on the front door blocking Chloe's path.

 Chloe frowned, "Hey! You just can't-- I have the right to be here!" Chloe exclaimed in frustration.

 Chloe tried to walk passed the two boys, but after some tries she failed. She huffed in frustration, "Fine I'll leave. I just want to talk to you Poppy." 

 Poppy scoffed, "There is nothing to talk about." 

 I saw the sad look in Chloe's eyes before she turned her back and leave.

 I looked at Poppy. Our eyes met and she raised an eyebrow. I began to talk, "What was that Poppy? I thought you two are supposed to be best friends?"

 "Surprisingly you're behind the news huh. Walk with me?" She said those in a neutral voice and face expression, but I saw her lips twitched a little - a sign of  a smile she was holding back.

 She shooed the boys away as we walk slowly around the perimeter of the pool our shoulders almost touching. The only sound was her heels clicking. 

 After a few a seconds she finally spoke, "Have you checked the student ranking today?"

 Puzzled, I took out my phone to look for it. A gasp escaped my lips, "Oh my God! Chloe is..."

 "Don't say it." She said curtly. She slipped off her heels and sat at the edge of the pool. I sat beside her.

 "I don't know what she did or who she slept with, but this won't last long. It was utter betrayal. That girl is dead to me." A frown was etched to her face, eyes looking at a distant.

 I pouted looking at her, "Have you tried to talk to her?"

 She turned at me so fast, her glare like daggers that shoot at me, "There is nothing to talk about with her."

 "Poppy," I said her name softly.

 Her gaze never left mine, "What?" 

 "Is Chloe your best friend?" 

 She clenched her jaws and started to avoid my eyes, trying to focus her gaze in front of her. I heard her sigh, "It doesn't matter now. She betrayed me."

 "I'll assume that was a yes then." 

 She looked at me then glared, "You're being annoying again."

 I chuckled, "Then try answering my question for real." 

 "Fine." She said curtly. A moment passed by of silence. I let her. My eyes started to drift with the remaining distance between us. A few inches apart, and her hand - one move from mine and I can hold her hand. I felt the urged to hold her hand. How would it feel to hold her hand? I gulped hard, burying the hundreds of emotions that surged on my chest. 

  "Indeed she is."  She finally spoke. I looked up watching her side profile once again. I started to wonder - how many people had the chance to be this close to her? How many of them even appreciated how beautiful she was. Suddenly with all my thoughts swarming in my mind I wasn't fast enough to look away when she looked at me catching me off guard. A million of emotions flashed in her eyes as she locked gaze with mine. I noticed the smile blooming on her lips.

 "Were you checking me out?" There was an undeniable amusement in her voice.

 Ignoring the warmth creeping on my cheeks, I grinned at her, "Can't help not to get caught with that beauty of yours."

 She huffed before chuckling. She really laugh...? Like a real genuine laugh? I felt a million butterflies fluttered in my stomach. It sounded soft almost angelic in my ears. 

 She shook her head as her laugh died down, but the smile in her lips never faltered. "We're definitely getting out of topic Hughes."

 I looked at her eyes hoping I can convey the genuine care blooming in my chest right now, "Will you consider talking to Chloe?"

 She sighed softly, "Why do you keep on insisting that? In fact I already have a plan to wreck her reputation. And I'm about to offer you a truce for the mean time you know."

 "Do you want to know what I think of you Poppy?" I suddenly asked her.

 "Okay that was completely out of nowhere, but alright. Tell me." She said her eyes on mine.

 "I think you're someone who is more than who meets the eye." 

 "That... is something new." She paused digesting the words I said, "Never heard of anyone telling me that." Her soft smile after she spoke tugged at my heartstrings.

 I sighed, propping my hands behind me and looking up at the ceiling, "I can't believe you're offering me a truce. I don't even treat you like an enemy."

 "Whatever. At least I am informing you." 

 I shook my head laughing, "I'm still hoping you'll talk to Chloe instead of doing something rush and wreck her reputation." 

 She glared at me, "Are you like a follower of her or something? Why do you kept on insisting I talk to her?"

 "Because Poppy I am only looking out for you. I think deep inside you were hurt by what happened. I also think Chloe treats you as her best friend, so before you regret anything try to talk to her first."

 Poppy groaned, "Why am I even talking to you." With that Poppy finally stood up and slipped her heels back. "Let's just meet this Saturday for the commercial. Noon time, in front of Animal Rescue on East 45th?"

 I grumbled, "Fine."

 She smirked, "Bye Hughes." She turned her back and started to sashay her way out. She was probably aware how my eyes were glued at her retrieving figure with the way she was swaying her hips. I internally groaned. What a tease.

 ***

 It was Saturday noon finally. I walked inside the Animal rescue shelter and cooed once in a while as my eyes darted from fur animal to another. One particular Puppy caught my eye making me cooed, "Oh my god. Look at this cutie."

 My loud musings were interrupted when I heard Poppy's voice. "...nice to see many additions. I guess that means a lot of these little guys are being adopted?"

 The shelter stuff guy answered her, "Yes Ms. Min-Sinclair. We have a ten percent higher adoption rate since last year."

 Poppy laughed. That laugh I heard from her a few days ago. My heart lurched at the softness of it. I rounded a corner and saw her talking with a shelter employee. She was carrying a bichon frise puppy in her arms and stroking its stomach softly.

 "I'm happy to hear that, Julian. Hopefully this commercial we'll be doing will get some good press for you, and we'll get that rate up to 20 percent rate this year?" Poppy said smiling. Julian spotted me over Poppy's shoulder before he can reply. That caught her attention. She turned around. She frowned once she spotted me.

 She marched towards me, frown still on her face. Once she was in front of me she spoke, "You're late." 

 "Sorry about that." A soft smile tugged on my lips, "But that scene... I knew there was something about you than what meets the eye, but witnessing that soft side of yours." I grinned. "Didn't know you can be more beautiful."

 I saw a blush crept on her cheeks as she stuttered next, "F-First, who doesn't like puppies?" She glared at me, but her eyes failed to hide the depth and softness in her right now. "And second, don't you dare mention this to anyone." She started walking towards the kennels. I tried matching her pace, but her stride was crazy long despite her height.

 "One thing I'm curios though. You sound close with the employees here." I spoke while we walked.

 "If you must know my parents bought me this animal shelter when I was eight."

 I gaped at her, "What?"

 She looked at me nonchalantly and raising her eyebrow, "I wanted a puppy, but my parents didn't want pets in the house, so decided to buy me this shelter instead. I guess they thought it was better to have many than one pet alone." She paused her eyes traveling towards the fur animals on our right, "Guess they didn't realize that the purpose of this shelter meant these animals won't stay here forever." A faint sadness flickered on those brown eyes. It was a cracked on her mask, a glimpse of who really was Poppy. My heart ached with her. I itched to shelter her in my embrace for a second before she spoke again willing me back to reality.

 "But whatever." She shrugged her shoulders. When she looked back at me her mask was there once again. Like an avalanche I felt my emotions crashing in my chest. My memories and emotions colliding, and fighting their way through me. I giggled a funny realization dawning on me. 

 "What are you laughing at?" She glared at me. 

 "I forgot sometimes that you're still a human." I smiled softly.

 "So?" She crossed her arms in front of her.

 "I want to tell you something Poppy." I exhaled my nerves were starting to act up. 

 The giggles and the pitter-patter echoed as two kids rounded up where we are. We both got distracted specially Poppy, our past conversation hanged in the air and forgotten. If I thought I was up for more surprises, well I wasn't prepared for this one. Poppy's eyes soften as one of the boys directly bumped into her legs.

 "Oof." The little boy tumbled on the floor, butt first.

 Poppy reached down and help the boy stood up. Her voice was gentle as she spoke," Are you alright?" A gentle smile painted in her lips.

 The little boy nodded, "Sorry."

 Poppy smiled, "It's alright. Be careful next time alright?" 

 The little boy nodded a sheepish smile on his lips. His playmate which I realized was his twin brother walked towards us. 

 "I'm sorry my brother can be real clumsy sometimes." He giggled as he wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulders.

 "Are you guys here to adopt one of these fur animals?" Poppy crouched as she looked at them both. I felt like my heart was about to melt as the scene unfold in front of me.

 The one who bumped into Poppy nodded enthusiastically, "Yes! Our parents are just talking in their with that guy."

 "I'm sure your new pet is already happy to have a new home with you both" Poppy continued to talk with them the softness in her eyes never faltered.

 Their mother called out to them cutting the conversation between the three.

 "Mason! Mickey!"

 "Coming mom!" They both answered and run towards their mother. However, they halted and turned around smiling at Poppy.

 "Bye!" 

 "Bye pretty lady." They giggled before running towards their mother again.

 I chuckled, "I don't know what or who was more adorable those kids or you?"

 She looked at me. I'm almost surprised to see amusement dancing in her brown eyes, "I shall let those kids win then."

 I gasped, "Who are you and what have you done to Poppy?"

 She laughed. I swear I am still not used to hearing her laugh. "Maybe this is one of my secret Hughes." She winked, "You just got lucky to find it today." She turned around and was about to walk away, but I held her wrist stopping her.

 "I-" I still haven't forgotten what I was about to tell her before the boys interrupted us.

 She raised an eyebrow, "Spit it out Hughes."

 I let myself get lost on her brown eyes. My heart started drumming wildly in my chest. Warmth creeping fast on my cheeks as I tried to to voice out the words my heart was screaming,"I guess I just want you to know that I care for you." 

 Her breath hitched, "Bea..." 

 She finally said my name. She said it so softly. I wasn't prepared for it - the buzzing of my heart almost deafening me. My limbs were starting to turn into jelly. She was close enough to intoxicate my senses with her perfume. The urge to get a lot much closer to her surged my body. 

 I was still lost in her brown eyes, her perfume and the warmth of her in my grasp when someone called her, "Ms. Min-Sinclair?"

 It was Julian, if I remember correctly. Gently I let her wrist go. She looked at me for one final second before averting her eyes from mine and looked at Julian, "Yes."

 "Are you guys ready? The crew and producer are waiting for you both." He smiled.

 I stifled a sigh. Guess commercial first then feelings later? 

 During the commercial shoot I wasn't even surprise that Poppy only gave me a one sentence line - to say that line was something not pleasant at all. The shoot continued. I tried to not get distracted and think about it too much. I observed her. Despite that little moment we had earlier, Poppy remained professional and very her during the shoot. Once the commercial shoot was finished I scooped Beppy - the dog I decided to adopt on the spot while we were filming.

 Poppy walked towards me, "So you decided to call him Beppy?"

 I smiled mischievously, "Yeah something to commemorate this day too."

 "Huh?" She said clueless. "Does his name meant something?"

 I smirked, "I'll keep it simple. It's a result of our combined names." I laughed when she gaped at me.

 "You're kidding right?"

 "I guess you can also treat Beppy as yours you know, so even if you can't visit the shelter you'll have Beppy in Belvoire." I shrugged my shoulders.

 "Oh my God. I think you've just gone crazy or something." 

 I rolled my eyes, "Over dramatic are we?"

 "I am not. This is just shocking." She stared at me wide eyed.

 "Like what I said earlier inside, I still stand by it. This is partly my way of showing you that those words are sincere." I smiled gently.

 She smiled too, mischief flashed in her eyes, "Hmm. Fine. I guess I'll just focus on the fact that I'll get to bond with Beppy again."

 "And me!" I grinned enthusiastically.

 "Hush Hughes. Not your lucky day... yet," She smirked at me. "See you around at school Bea. Come on Champ." She turned and walked away with Champ following her.

 I stood there in awe, in shock, in stunned silence feeling my heart beating so loud and my mind attacked by whirlwind of thoughts with Poppy's name on it.

 ***

 Later that night I was helping Professor Kingsley grading papers - well I was definitely staring on this paper and not grading it because my mind was somewhere else. 

 "Bea focus! We need three more classes to grade." She suddenly spoke waking me up from spacing out.

 "Yes professor." I said as I willed myself to start again on grading these papers.

 A few minutes past, but eventually my mind slowly got lost again. I knew there was something more about Poppy and what I witness today just... proved that. I felt the flutter of my heart as my mind wandered on the memories of Poppy's laugh and smile.

 "Okay we're definitely not achieving anything productive right now." She slipped off her eyeglasses and folded her hands on the table as she looked across at me, "Tell me what's bothering you."

 I sighed as I put down the papers on the table, "I'm sorry if I can't focus Ina, but are you really sure you want to know?"

 She chuckled as she leaned back in her chair, "I know I'm your professor, but that doesn't mean I can't also be your friend."

 I frowned as I try to put into words all that was messing my mind, "Have you ever met someone where they were labelled as a bad person by people, but you tried to give them a benefit of the doubt? Then that benefit of the doubt you gave just pay through cause you had glimpses of the good side of this person?"

 "Hmm..." Ina tapped her fingers on the table as she think through my words. She crossed the room and opened a globe compartment which revealed a miniature bar. 

 I laughed in amusement, "Really? Drinking on a school night?"

 Ina grinned, "Don't act innocent you probably partied hard a night before your exam."

 I guffawed, "Guilty as charged Professor."

 She smirked handling me a shot glass, "Besides the situation seems to call for it."

 I groaned," I couldn't agree more." I gulped down the alcohol in one shot.

 She leaned at her table and faced me, "It seems like there is more to the story that you're not sharing Bea."

 I sighed heavily, "This bad person... I kinda had a crush on them since the start. My friend warned me about that person, to the point I promised my friend that I'll avoid catching feeling for this person." I chuckled dryly, "But well shit happened and now I think I'm really starting to like this person."

 "Why not just tell your friend the truth?"

 "I am not sure how my friend will react. And I'm starting to feel torn if I should try to erase these feelings or go for it." 

 "In the first place why would you try to move on if you haven't even tried to make a move on this person? I thought you see something good in them? Heck, Bea you saw this person's bad side and you still gave them a benefit of the doubt. So why will you let go now?"

 I bit my lips. Something about moving on and forgetting about my feelings for Poppy made my heart ache, "Because maybe I'm scared that this can be one sided."

 Ina sighed, "Look, I know in the end it will still be your decision, but if your friend is really a true friend then they'll eventually understand and accept the fact that you're having feelings for this person. And for that crush of yours, if you want to live a life having unanswered what ifs then fine let them go."

 I groaned, "I don't know if you're helping me or only messing with my mind more."

 Ina shook her head, "Bea you're being stubborn. That's what's happening. Now if you want to call it a night and go home it's alright."

 I sighed, "I'll stay and help you Ina. I need a distraction, plus I know you really need a helping hand right now."

 Ina smiled, "Thanks even though you're still stubborn."

 "Hey!" I exclaimed making her laugh.

 ***

 It was almost 2 am. I was still working on my Anthropology essay. My mind too energized to think of other thoughts like Poppy. Okay, nope. We're not thinking about her right now. Just then Beppy was being his usual self and bit my slippers.

 "Grrr," Beppy growled as he wriggled my slipper in his mouth.

 "Beppy, that's not a toy." 

 He put my slipper down and looked at me with those innocent and soft eyes. 

 I sighed and cooed, "How can I remain mad at you huh? Come here little rascal."

 He walked towards me and lay down as I scratch his belly. Not even a minute had passed when my phone lit up with a new notification.

 "Poppy texting me?" The rapid beating of my heart wasn't helping at all. "What does your other mom wants?" I gasped and lightly slapped my lips, "Ugh! Beppy why did I named you that again? This is torture."

 Beppy just looked at me with his gentle eyes which brought me comfort for some reason.

 I looked at my phone to read her text.

 Enemy

 Hey. You still awake? What do you say? Would you like to go with me when I talk to Chloe? 

You know I need someone to stop me from attacking that girl on the spot.

[immortalbarnes]

A Cabin For Two | Chapter 2: Space Oddity

Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: Sam visits for training, then Bucky retells a mission you went on under Hydra

warnings: some swearing and mentions of torture and violence

A/N: sorry this took so long! I had some writers block :/ also I'd love to hear what y’all think so far!

bold italicized dialogue indicates flashback

Chapter 1

You woke up alone this morning. Rolling to your side, you’re greeted with cold sheets instead of the warm embrace of your partner. Sighing, you sleepily slip into some running shorts and a t-shirt and make your way to the kitchen, greeted to the smell of coffee and an omelette made just for you… but no Bucky. You prepare your coffee, thinking that he probably went for a run or something.

Suddenly, you hear a crashing sound coming from behind the house. Drawing up the blinds to the kitchen window, you find Bucky, alongside Sam and the infamous red, white, and blue shield stuck in the side of a tree.

“Sam! You gotta AIM!” Bucky scolds, but you can tell he’s trying not to laugh.

“Don’t make fun of me! This shit is tough.” Sam huffs as he tries to pull it out of the dense bark. Bucky walks over and gets it out with one tug, “Oh fuck off!” Sam yells.

Laughing you watch them toss the weapon back and forth like a frisbee, laughing like they are children. You pull out your phone and call Steve.

“Ground Control to Major Tom.” You say when he picks up.

“You’ve been listening to the Bowie record I gave you!” Steve merrily replies.

“Sure have. Anyways, I just wanted to call and see how you’re doing. I’m currently watching Sam and Bucky toss your shield around like a frisbee.”

“Sam’s shield,” He corrects, “I gave it to him. I’m glad to hear he’s working with it.”

“He’s getting better, but doesn’t have the toss down yet.”

“Tell him it’s all in the wrist. Maybe go show him how it’s done.”

“Will do.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Steve.”

Taking your steaming mug, you open the back door and greet the two men outside.

“Mornin’ boys!”

“Y/N!” Sam stops right before he’s about to throw the shield once again, “My favorite soldier!”

“Hey!” Bucky interjects.

“Shut up, show off,” Sam pouts,  “she doesn’t throw the shield like a damn boomerang around me to flex.”

“Oh… like this?” You take the disc from his hand, and with grace toss it to the air, just for it to fly off and perfectly return in your hand.

“What the FUCK.” Sam nearly screams.

“It’s all in the wrist.” You wink.

Bucky comes from behind and wraps his arms around your waist. “That’s my girl,” he brags and plants a kiss on your right cheek, “How’d ya sleep doll?” His voice isn’t gravelly, so they must’ve started working early this morning.

“Great until I woke up alone.” You pout, so he peppers you with more kisses.

“Sorry, sugar, but Sam needs the practice.”

“Fuck you!” Sam yells, “Either you two get a room, or help me out.”

“I’ll let y’all get back to it,” you say, “Sam, want to join us for lunch? I can make brisket sandwiches.”

“And this is why you’re my favorite.”

…

The two of them had been training all day, and while you watched for a while, you eventually resided on the living room couch with a book and Alpine curled next to you. Your record player spinning the David Bowie record Steve gifted you. Around lunch, Bucky and Sam finally joined you inside, but you were so wrapped in the story you were reading to notice them, until Bucky started singing along to the song playing.

“This is Ground Control to Major Tom…”

Your ears perk up and you spin around, forearms resting on the back of your leather couch, watching him serenade Sam in the kitchen. Sam giving him a funny look as he sways towards the refrigerator to take out the leftover brisket,

“You’ve really made the grade…”

Smiling you hop over the couch and join the men in the tiled room and join Bucky in the song, and eventually Sam follows along.

“Though I'm past one hundred thousand miles

I'm feeling very still

And I think my spaceship knows which way to go”

Bucky places the tupperware of meat on the counter, spins to you, and cupping your face in his hands, he sings,

“Tell my wife I love her very much she knows

Ground Control to Major Tom”

The cool metal and warm flesh contrast on your cheeks, and you smile and hold them in place with your own. His face becomes everything that matters before he tilts his head and leans in for a kiss. His lips are slightly chapped, probably from all the laughing and talking he did with Sam that morning, and you still taste the coffee from that morning. You melt into his touch and move your hands into his sweaty hair. Eventually, you both pull away for air and press your foreheads together.

“Okay, that was cute, so I’m gonna let it slide, but where are those damn sandwiches!” Sam finally pipes up. You giggle as Bucky groans and turns back to the counter, opening the plastic container.

The three of you enjoy sloppy brisket on wheat bread with a beer for each, even though regular alcohol had no effect on you two, the taste brought a little bit of normalcy to your isolated life. (You had some Asgardian mead you saved for special nights.)

…

Sam left after lunch, claiming to have had enough of Bucky’s “bullshit.”

“Not my fault he doesn’t know how to throw a damn shield.” Bucky chuckles after The Falcon’s departure.

The afternoon was warm, so you decided to go swimming. There was a small pond on your property, which makes the best swimming pool. You change into a navy blue one piece, while Bucky is adorned in his red swim shorts which might just be a little too short. You had gotten them for him as a joke, you just wanted him to wear them once and show off his thighs, but he ended up loving them.

The two of you pack up a small bag of snacks and beer and make your way to your little middle-of-nowhere-New-York oasis. Bucky instantly runs off the small, rotting fishing dock from before you owned the property, and cannonballs into the blue-green water. Laughing, you set the bag down, slip off your sandals, and chase after him.

Wading the water in peace, Bucky finally raises his voice.

“Do you remember that mission in the Laptev Sea?”

“No.”

You and Bucky were on countless missions together under Hydra, so many that some Bucky remembered, but you couldn’t and vice versa. You don’t talk about missions under Hydra much, as they’re usually traumatic, but sometimes a memory that’s not too bitter arises in one of your minds.

“I don’t remember what we were doing, I think someone on the coast had threatened to leak intel, so we were there to take them out. We were on jet skis, but someone shot yours out and you fell into the water. I must’ve turned around to get you because I remember your hair looking wet and tousled, like now, and it snapped me out of Hydra mode for a second, and I kissed you,” He chuckles to himself, “Our overseers were so pissed. I got one hell of a beating after that.”

That’s the part of the memories you don’t like. The beatings. Bucky was easier to get snapped out of Winter Soldier mode and sometimes would risk the worst sessions of torture just to hold your hand during missions. Occasionally, he got away with it, but usually it ended in shocks, or waterboarding. The worst times is when they made you, your head still goop from Hydra brainwashing, beat and torture him yourself. Sometimes you get visions of his beaten form below you, bleeding and broken as you hold a baton. The faint words leaving his bleeding lips before he gets dragged back to the chair to get wiped once more,

“This is all worth it, doll, one day we’ll be safe.”

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice him swim over to you until his pruned flesh and metal hands are on your cheeks once more,

“And that kiss was worth it. No matter how much they could beat me, I would kiss you again and again.”

“But it wouldn’t be just them who beat you.”

Instead of answering, he puts his wet lips on yours. Your legs wrap around his waist as he keeps kicking underwater to keep the both of you afloat. You wrap your arms around his neck and close the extra space between your bodies.

The two of you swim and splash until sundown. After dinner and much needed showers, you cuddle in bed. He easily drifts asleep, but you have some trouble as you think of your past with Hydra. You did so many terrible things to him. How could he still love you?

Eventually you get a reassuring squeeze on your hips, it’s Bucky’s way of saying, “I can feel you’re not asleep, and you need to relax. You’re safe.”

You’re safe. And with that thought, you drift into unconsciousness.

[emily-strange]

Growing Pains...

Chapter 4! Emmy has some confessions to make…

Summary: Emmy has been with the gang since she was a little girl. Her mother moved on, leaving her to be raised by Dutch, Hosea and Susan. Arthur and John are her brothers (argue and she will fight you). Becoming a woman is hard when everyone still sees you as a child. Since the Blackwater mess she’s trying to find her feet while dealing with her new feelings for the gangs resident douchebag.

Pairing: None yet, eventual Micah x female OC.

Warnings: Swearing, One Excitable Irishman

Chapter 4

 I make my way through the trees and spot Sean sat lazily at the campfire. He sees me instantly and gives me a signal to stay where I am. I crouch down as he stands up and dramatically stretches to look around for Dutch. He makes eye contact with me and beckons me over. I put my head down and walk briskly to Sean. We give each other a small, quick low-five and I continue my walk to the horses. I grab hay from a bale and start feeding some to my horse, Jett. She’s a beautiful, white roan Nokota that Arthur helped me break when I was 13. That was my favourite birthday.

I start to brush her as Dutch comes to stand in front of me.

“Emmeline” he greets with clear annoyance in his voice. He stands with his hands on his hips and I glance to the campfire to see that Sean is watching. I glare at him and all he does is laugh.

“I was callin’ you” Dutch comments. I just continue to brush Jett while I speak and try to keep my voice light. “Oh, was you? Sorry” I reply.

“Yes. Yes, I was. Where were you?” I look at Dutch then and shrug, “Oh, around. Dozed off a bit after cleanin’”. All he does is hum and nod.

“Emmeline. I know you’re bored…” Dutch begins but I’m so tired of hearing his excuses!

“I’m not just bored Dutch. I’m useless here. You need to let me get back to what I do best.” I plead. I know to others it probably sounds like I’m whining. Like Molly does all the time. But Dutch knows me. He knows I’m not one to complain unless I feel it necessary. “I know we’re still in…dangerous terrain…but we need money to get outta it. You know I can help.”

Dutch looks to the ground and nods.

“Little miss, you’re the closest thing to a daughter I will ever have. I will protect you till the day I die. And if that means keeping you in camp while you curse ma name? Then that, miss, is what I will do.” He finishes his little speech with a kiss on my forehead. God I want to scream at him so badly but I just can’t bring myself to do it. Instead I clutch Jett’s brush tightly and when Dutch turns to walk away I throw it to the group with a thump.

I place my forehead against Jett’s but pull back when I see Bill and Lenny approach with Micah in tow. “Miss Grace” Bill greets as he and Lenny start to saddle their horses. As Micah gets closer, I can see that he’s changed into a black shirt and a waistcoat. I smile but he remains emotionless and even bumps my shoulder slightly as he passes. “Hey watch it!” Lenny shouts as he mounts his horse and gives me an apologetic smile.

“Thanks Lenny” I say trying to keep the hurt I’m feeling out of my voice, “You going to the homestead?” I ask and as Lenny starts to detail the plan, I chance a look behind him at Micah who’s saddling Baylock. Once he’s done, he gives him a treat from his saddlebag and places his forehead against his for a moment. Just like I do with Jett. The act is so, gentle.

I zone back in for the end of Lenny’s explanation and wish him luck. Telling him and Bill to be careful.

“Always am!” he replies happily and I watch them trot out of camp, followed closely by Micah who doesn’t even look back. I shake my head and will the tears I feel to just go away.

“Don’t be so stupid” I mumble to myself and close my eyes. I tilt my head up to the sky and do as Bessie taught me. I take a deep breath and start to count to 10. I make it to 7 before an overly excitable Irishman claps me on the shoulder and shakes.

“And how’t it go with Dutch ‘little miss’?” Sean laughs. I give a humourless scoff and just whisper “perfect” while I look at the ground. I can’t bring myself to explain how frustrated and upset I now am.

Sean seems to consider me and the camp for a few short moments before holding out his hand.

“Walk wid me?” he asks and after a moment I smack my hand into his. He tugs me through the camp towards the water and then along the shoreline. So that if anyone really wanted to, they could see where I am but still giving us privacy.

We walk for a good 5 minutes or so, talking about nothing in particular, until we reach a dry area far enough away from nosey ears. Sean plonks himself down on the ground and gets out his pipe. I sit next to him and lean back on my hands, enjoying the sun and quiet. For a few seconds.

“So. Super-secret circle. Talk.” he mumbles while fiddling with the pipe. I’ve been telling him for years that a circle definitely needs more than 2 people. I love how much he cares though and like Arthur, I won’t get away with pretending I’m fine.

“Okay. But super-secret. Swear on your da.” I say sternly. He holds up his hand, clutching the pipe to his heart. “I swear on me da and any other MacGuire folk out there.” he says.

We’ve been doing this forever. Finding a quiet place and swearing our oaths. It’d always be his da and for me, whichever brother I liked more at the time. It changed daily. I don’t even remember how it all started, just that since I met Sean, I felt like I had a real friend. He never judged me. Not that he really has a leg to stand on if he tried! But he’s never tried.

I’ve told Sean my deepest, darkest secrets and he’s told me his. Like when I was pouring medicine from different bottles into the fire one night as a child, just to see what would happen, and I caused a mini forest fire….not my finest moment. No one but Sean knows it was me and no matter how drunk that boy gets, he’s never told anyone.

“I don’t really know where to start,” I say “I feel like I want to scream at Dutch. He…”

“Nah nah, not Dutch” Sean interrupts and I quickly snap my gaze to his. He can’t mean? “I saw the way you lookt just then by da horses. Positively….forlorn” he teases, “that ain’t about old Dutch.”

I take a moment to breathe. I can feel my face heating up and I actually think I might be sick. When Sean sees my obvious distress, he softens and squeezes my knee reassuringly. “You can tell me Em.” He says quietly.

I nod. Of course I can tell him. He’s Sean. This is our circle. Or whatever a group of two is. A pair? Yeah, a pair. A secret pair. That sounds dumb.

“Em?” Sean’s voice breaks me from my inner monologue.

“Okay” I say quietly and close my eyes. Maybe this would be easier if I wasn’t looking at him. “I think I might…like someone.” After a couple seconds of silence, I open my eyes. Sean looks…relieved? He begins to chuckle.

“Is dat it? Jesus Christ Em, I thought you were pregnant or summit” he laughs. I find myself feeling quite alarmed at his admission. “What? Why!?” I ask while glancing down at my stomach and feeling it, “Do I look pregnant?!” Surely I can’t look pregnant, we hardly ate in Colter and since then its hardly been a banquet every night!

Sean’s laugher subsides and he shakes his head. “No no, course not. But I��ve never seen you look so…so upset and…and confused?” he explains with some difficulty. It’s almost as if his thoughts are as jumbled as mine are. “You like someone though dats good. Right? Oooh is it our young Lenny? He’s a fine chap.”

I smile at his excitement. “No, unfortunately it’s not Lenny. It’d be nice if it were actually. You’re right, he’s lovely.” I admit.

“It um, it ain’t Bill?” Sean asks tentatively. I can already see where his mind is going. He must have been watching me when they were getting ready to ride out. “No” I laugh “It’s not Bill Williamson”.

Sean dramatically performs the sign of the cross. Wrongly I should mention. And thanks God. I brace myself for the next question. If he thought it was Lenny and then we’ve ruled out Bill, I know where he’ll go next…

“Okay” he regains his composure, “So, Javier?”

For a moment all I can do is blink at him. Javier? Where did Javier come from?

“Um…no. Not Javier.” I say slowly. Almost like I’m confused by my own words.

“Why not? He’s a sexy man!” Sean shouts and I burst out laughing. I also feel the need to look around as knowing our luck Javier would be standing nearby and he’d be very confused. But also, probably very flattered. That man likes to know he’s fanciable.

“Yes, yes he is. Shush!” I giggle and Sean takes a big puff of his pipe. He blows out the smoke and pokes the top of it while scrunching his forehead like he’s in deep thought.

“Okay, so not Lenny or sexy Javier. Or Bill, phew by the way….hold up, I will fookin’ end him if it’s that O’Driscoll sod!” he shouts equally as loud. “Hey!” I shout back “1 he is NOT an O’Driscoll and 2 NO it’s not him”. I smack Sean on the arm for being so mean about Kieran, poor guy.

“Well then I am fookin’ stumped.” he mumbles, throwing his arms in the air theatrically while holding his pipe in his mouth. He then seems to have a moment of clarity and I feel myself wanting to vomit again. He takes the pipe out of his mouth slowly and quietens down. “It” he clears his throat “It isn’t…me?” and this time it’s my turn to laugh.

“Alright!” he says mock defensively and I will myself to calm down. “No” I say through the deep breaths, “It’s not you Sean. I love you but….no” I finish with a kiss on his cheek. He smiles “Well thank goodness for dat. We’d make a great baby though if we were dat way inclined!” he states and we both laugh.

“Can you imagine? My brains, your hair! The kid would be unstoppable!” I wheeze and we take a moment to calm ourselves down.

Sean coughs and empties his pipe.

“Alright I’m done with the guessing game. Em, who do you like? But just know if you say Arthur or John, yes you are sick and yes I will dump you in the middle of nowhere to be eaten alive by wolves.” He smirks and at his statement I want to vomit but for a very different reason.

“Ew Sean, why?” I cringe before taking a deep breath.

“It’s um, it’s….Micah.” I whisper and look out at the water. I can’t imagine Sean’s face right now and I don’t want to look. His silence says everything.

“Right. Okay.” He says slowly and all of a sudden, he gets up and throws me over his shoulder.

“What the fuck Sean!!!” I shout as loudly as my position allows. He starts to walk further down the shoreline, away from camp.

“Well you’re clearly beyond hope so I’m gonna find some wolves.” Sean replies and I can only groan and hit him on the back. “Oh put me down you prick!” and with that he plonks me unceremoniously onto my feet. My hair is everywhere and I take a moment to pull my skirt down. Once I’ve gathered myself and the bloods rushed back to my brain, I see he’s laughing and I punch him in the arm as hard as I can.

“Ow! Violent little ting aren’t ya? Dat why Micah likes ya?” he laughs and I feel like I’ve been hit in the gut. All the wind has been completely knocked from my lungs and my eyes go blurry with tears.

It’s in that moment I realise, I like someone for the very first time.

And they don’t like me back.

[roaminginspiration]

The Empty Space Next to Me

Thank you for all your kind comments. Hope chapter 2 will live up to your expectations.

chap 1 (x) /  chap 3 (x) / chap 4 (x) / chap 5 (x) / chap 6 (x) / chap 7 (x) / chap 8 (x) / chap 9 (x) / chap 10 (x)

____________________________________

Chapter 2

Lying on the grass still damp from the dew and staring back quizzically at the familiar pair of gorgeous emerald eyes above him, Steve finds himself at a loss for words or explanations.

A warm tongue appears out of nowhere and sluggishly runs across his face. He looks sideways at the dog leaning over the side of his face.

Her features relax and she smiles.

“Looks like you got your kiss after all,” she jokes then motions to the dog to move away. “Come on, Riley.”

He doesn’t know what to think right now but he can see Natasha genuinely doesn’t recognize him. Or is it really Natasha? His emotions might have made him jump the gun. But before he allows disappointment to take hold of him and brushes hope away, he needs to investigate and find out who that woman is.

“I’m sorry,” he shakes his head vehemently and gets on his feet. “I thought —”

“No harm done,” she brushes it off with a wave of the hand. “Are you here to have a room?”

He pats his hands over the back of his arms and looks up at her with a slightly surprised expression. Then he remembers…the guesthouse.

“Yes,” he trails off. “I haven’t made any reservation, though.”

It makes her smile. “We don’t do this, here. It’s not like we need to, anyway. It’s pretty quiet around here, you’ll get to see.”

A bird endorses it by singing loudly across the quiet meadow.

“Follow me?” she asks.

For her? Anywhere across the entire universe. He opens the door of the car and reaches for his bag. They head towards the porch where the paint on the fence is crackled all over; the wooden floor moans loudly as he steps on it. There is a wicker bench with a small round side table next to it. A few plant pots are lying at the end of the fence and along the floor against it.

She opens the door in a creaking sound and he is not surprised when he catches sight of the paper pinned on it which reads a handyman is wanted.

The atmosphere is inside is slightly different: old but in a quaint and cozy way. She goes straight up the stairs, down a long hall.

“This is Mrs. Miller’s room,” she points casually a door as she walks past it. “Lovely lady, although a little too outspoken for my sanity. Don’t worry about making noise, she’s a heavy sleeper.”

She finally stops to the last door and opens it. A bright room with light blue wallpaper, a King Size bed with a predominant navy-blue handmade quilt lying across the end of it — “quite fitting”, he thinks ironically.

“Breakfast is at 8. Dinner is at 7,” she recites with natural easiness as he steps inside and looks around. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything,” she adds.

He spins his head around with a mildly disconcerted expression. Part of him is afraid of losing her again; the other half is anxious to keep her in his sight, always.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

He gazes her intently. The scene feels bittersweet.

“Steve,” he answers. Steve will be enough for now.

“I hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us, Steve.”

“Thank you…,” he pauses.

Natasha smiles at him. “Katherine,” she says.

He nods to himself and watches her close the door of his room before disappearing.

He’s missing her again ten minutes later but represses the urge to go downstairs as he fears she will definitely label him a creep if he does.

He paces around the room instead of trying to make sense of the whole situation.

His patience comes to an end two hours later and he goes down to the living room. He finds an elderly woman sitting on the sofa in the patio, drinking herbal tea.

The woman, with elegant and soft features, witnesses of her beauty in her youth, and grey hair styled in a pixie haircut, takes her eyes off her book and probes him with a smile in the corner of her mouth.

“Hello, handsome,” she says assertively.

He pauses behind the armchair across from her.

“Pretty sure he has a name, Eliza,” her approaching voice echoes from another room. Natasha —Katherine— walks in, carrying a tray with a teapot. She pours him a cup as he sits down in the armchair.

The elderly woman shrugs nonchalantly. “I doubt it’ll be as spot-on.”

“My name is Steve,” he says quickly as Katherine pours more tea into the woman’s mug.

Eliza raises an eyebrow and shoots a winning look at her. “Didn’t I tell you so?”

He laughs nervously. Two pairs of eyes look in his direction.

The woman stretches her hand out to him.

“You’ll have to excuse me, we don’t get many people around here, and those who have preceded you weren’t such a riveting sight. My name’s Eliza Miller, as you might have guessed by now, I’m a blunt, grumpy retired woman, too old for societal manners imposed by our rigorous Republican government, itself born from the English Empire.”

Eliza eyes him intently. He blinks then reaches over to shake her hand.

Katherine rolls her eyes and quickly fills in the awkward silence. “She’s kidding.”

“I presume the tea is in sign of protest?” he comments with a smile.

“Well,” Eliza says as she holds her mug. “The English did leave some good things behind.”

She then turns to look up at Katherine still standing beside her. “I like him. Can we keep him?”

__________________________________

“You’ve lived here for long?” he asks Eliza over dinner.

The three of them are gathered around the large rectangle table. He is sitting across from Katherine, while Eliza is at the head next to them.

“I grew up here,” Eliza answers. “When I married Robert, I made him move here with me. He left the city for me, and I’m sure he was grateful to me for it although he was too stubborn to admit it.”

He and Katherine smile. “I’m not one of those delusional, blind to the truth, sentimental people, though. This poor house is slowly falling apart and there’s too much that needs to be done. I’m thankful to have Katherine to help.”

Katherine smiles sheepishly. “Anyone would like more pasta?” she asks.

“Katherine doesn’t like to be praised.”

“That’s because I would rather have a pay raise,” she teases.

“And I told you sweetie that I can only pay you with compliments. So please do accept them gracefully.”

Steve and Katherine chuckle.

“After the second Snap, I was all alone here, and Katherine’s arrival was like a blessing for the business. And in my life.”

He takes mental notes of this valuable piece of information. He wants to ask more but he somewhat feels Katherine is keeping an eye on him.

After dinner, he gets up and thanks the ladies for their company. While Katherine goes to tidy up the kitchen, he purloins her butter knife and hides it behind his back before rushing upstairs.

Back in his room, he uses his phone to scan the object for fingerprints and sends it to Friday. Now it is only a matter of hours before he gets the results. He sits on the edge of the bed and breathes out heavily.

He dreads the outcome of the situation.

He does not find sleep that night.

The next morning, he is down for breakfast slightly before 8. He sits at the kitchen and watches Katherine as she is turning off the coffee machine. She is wearing black jeans with a white top and an open checked shirt on top of it.

She flips around at the sound of the stool, grabs the jug of coffee, puts a mug in front of him before pouring the hot liquid in it.

“Good morning, Mr. Intense.” She says with a smile.

“Steve,” he answers.

Katherine props her shoulder on the counter and leans on her chin. He almost burns his tongue sipping the coffee.

“I know, but I like Mr. Intense better.” She eyes him intently. “So what did you come here for? I take it it’s not to discover the area.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Why not?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know…a hunch. Also your car and your shiny shoes. You don’t look like the type of person who’s come for a budget break.”

“I came here to find someone,” he says.

She looks intrigued and her eyes seem to light up. “Friend? Family?”

“Both. It’s complicated,” he pauses. “Perhaps you can help?”

Katherine smiles earnestly and stands back up straight. “I won’t be of much help. I’m not the best-suited person.”

“Because you’re new in the area?”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” she laughs nervously. “It’s a long and weird story.”

“I’ve got time,” he says with an earnest gaze.

“I…,” she begins, scratching the inside of her lower arm. “I woke up in the middle of the woods without any memory. Since it was after the Second Snap, it was assumed that I was one of the dusted. A few bills were put around but nobody came forward. I needed a job and I was told about this place. And voilà.”

She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She is so anxious to avoid eye contact she doesn’t notice his eyes are gleaming.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs softly. “It mustn’t have been easy.”

He knows he has been right to believe it is her all along. His eyes can recognize her anywhere, even when hers don’t recognize him back.

“It happens. The sheriff said my relatives probably moved elsewhere during the five-year gap but I doubt it. I think I’ve always been alone.”

He furrows his brows.

“Why?”

She diligently wipes the sink with the sponge. “Because they would have come back for me right after the Second Snap. They would have tried everything in their power to find me.”

He wants to reach for her hand and hold it. He wants to pull her in and kiss her ardently for every second he has missed her. He wants her to feel loved and wanted.

“That’s why I was a Jane Doe,” she finishes, turning back to him with a perfectly crafted smile. “Except Jane was boring, so I went for Katherine instead. Katherine Doe.”

“How do you feel about not knowing who you were? You didn’t try to go and look for answers yourself?”

She turns her attention back on the pancake pan.

“I don’t consider myself unlucky. There are sadder stories — we are all dealing with it in our own ways. I like it here. Maybe I was not much of a traveler in my former life. Maybe I am just where I belong.”

She smiles and serves the hot pancakes with syrup and Eliza calls her name upstairs. He watches her leave the kitchen and hers her footsteps on the creaking staircase.

His phone beeps inside his pocket. He takes it out and freezes as he looks at the screen. His eyes fill up with tears and he buries his chin into his palm, as the dripping faucet fills in the silence in the kitchen.

FINGERPRINT SCAN: 100% MATCH

“It has been cleansed and made anew before departing,” Red Skulls said and he misunderstood the meaning of the words. Her soul has not departed to another dimension, it had already left Vormir when he got there.

Katherine uses the old red Chevy to go and run some errands. Riley barking outside a couple of hours later informs him that she has returned.

When she steps in with her grocery bag, she seems to shine brighter. He has no doubt that the woman standing here is his teammate, his loyal friend, and the girl he loves.

He clears his throat nervously. “Can we talk?”

She looks at him with a candid smile — he can see how Katherine’s smiles are different from Natasha. He can see how her eyes no longer carry the sorrow that haunted Nat’s. Her soul is lighter indeed. Relieved. Released from a heavy burden.

“Sure. Do you mind accompanying as I take Riley for a walk?”

He nods. They walk in silence for many minutes until they reach a large lake whose surface glitters under the sunlight. Finding the right words turn out to be more difficult than he thought, regardless of the two hours he had to get prepared.

She is patiently waiting, watching Riley run ahead then back with the same enthusiasm and energy.

“I said before that I came here to find someone,” he begins. “And I have found that person. It’s you.”

He pauses and turns to face her. She eyes him with a puzzled look.

“I know who you are. And I know how you got here.”

She probes him for a while and her eyes fill up with tears.

“Your name is Natasha Romanoff and you’re an Avenger,” he breathes out. “And you are my friend.”

Her red hair shines under the warm sunlight.

“Maybe there is confusion. I doubt I’m an Avenger.”

He looks at her with an unwavering expression. “You are. And you saved us all. We won because of you. You were never one of the dusted and I’m sorry it took me so long to find you. We were sure we had lost you forever.”

She puts her hand over her stomach. “Ok. That is a lot to take in.” She looks at her surroundings as if she’s feeling it fade away in front of her.

“Why did I wake up here, then?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

She insists to know how everything happened. Steve goes through the painful events of Vormir and her noble sacrifice. She listens with great attention and heightened emotions which, he notices, wane shortly after. It seems to him she is bottling up everything and storing it as far away from her as possible.

She says she wants to go back to the house. The whole walk back, she doesn’t a word and he watches her with muffled concern out of the corner of his eye. When they make it back inside, she rushes to her room upstairs and stays in there for hours.

When he goes to the dining room for dinner, the meal is ready but she is absent. Eliza says she went to bed early — she seems unaware of the whole situation.

After dinner, he walks past her room and stands there for a minute, hesitant to knock. He respects her decision and goes to his bed with a sullen heart.

The next morning, he finds her playing with Riley outside. She seems to be her lively and carefree self again. He comes out to speak to her.

“How are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m ok, I guess.”

He nods.

“The arrangements can be made in a matter of hours to go back to the compound.”

She stops playing with the dog. “I don’t want to go to the compound.”

“Of course, I understand. I can book you a hotel if you’re not comfortable to—”

“I don’t want to go back there,” she corrects in a decisive voice.

“But it’s your home. I think it will do you good to see everyone and Clint. It will help you remember.”

“Well that’s the ting,” she says. “I don’t think I’ll remember, and I’m saying this beyond the whole outer space Soul Stone magic involved. I don’t want to remember.”

He walks down the stairs of the porch. “What? Why?”

She sighs and looks at him. “Look at me. Look at my life. I am nothing like the super spy the world knows. I’m a completely different person. Romanoff…she scares me.”

“You’re a hero. You died to save half the Universe. We never would have won without you.”  

“And I some googling and read the files. She has done terrible things,” she pauses, “I have done terrible things.”

“And you have done everything to make up for it,” he defends her. He has witnessed Natasha buy her redemption on too many occasions to let it be overlooked by anyone — even herself. “You worked hard to become a better person.”

“Exactly,” she retorts. “From what you’ve told me all I ever wanted was to wipe off the red on my ledger and I paid the price for it to happen. And now it seems the Universe has given me a second chance, a clean slate. So tell me, Rogers, why would I want to go back to battling my old demons? I paid my due and was offered a new start. This is why I woke up here —not in New York— so far away from the avenging world. I’m sure you can see it, too, how it cannot be a coincidence.”

It’s true — he’s been wondering the same thing since he got here.

“We don’t know how the Soul stone works,” he attempts with a noticeable lack of certainty.

“I deserve peace, now. Call it my retirement,” she finishes.

Honking echoes from the path and a tall, dark man with lean figure steps out of the car and beams at her.

“Kate,” the man calls her with a wave.

She heads off towards him.

“Natasha,” Steve whispers.

She shoots him a hard look. “It’s Katherine, now.”

She turns around with a flipped expression. She walks up to the man with a serene smile. As she comes up to him, he leans in and plants a kiss on her lips with she receives in a routine way.

Both depart, leaving Steve as his world shatters around him.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Cruel, Cruel Summer Chap 8

Read chapters 1-7 here.

He was going to die out here. The world had begun to swim before his eyes and breathing had become a painful challenge. Deeks staggered through the trees aware that despite the fact he was sweating from the humidity, he felt cold. He’d lost too much blood.

He hadn’t heard SM1 or SM2 behind him in a long time, which was both a relief and terrifying. If they’d left him then it meant they might have gone after Kensi and Katrina. Kensi on her own might be able to evade them, but with Katrina in tow she was at a significant disadvantage.

He tripped over a rock and went sprawling to the ground. He felt his shoulder tear and had to stifle an agonized cry. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky.

He couldn’t get up even if he tried, but he was too exposed lying out here. He pushed himself up and began dragging his body toward the protection of a rotting tree that had fallen on its side. He leaned against it and tried to catch his breath, but it refused to come out as anything other than agonized gasps. His body had become one, giant, throbbing heartbeat.

Vacation sucked.

“Deeks!”

He started. He must have blacked out because he could swear he’d just heard someone call his name. Someone who sounded a lot like Sam. But that was crazy. Sam wasn’t here. No one was. Just him, dying alone in the woods on what was supposed to be a relaxing beach vacation. He was going to miss the beach. And Kensi. And being at the beach with Kensi.

“Deeks!”

There it was again. He was hallucinating, definitely hallucinating because now Sam was running toward him and that was completely impossible. “Hey, hey, Deeks look at me!” Sam commanded.

Deeks blinked. This was real. Sam was really there. “We didn’t invite you,” he said.

“Yeah that was an oversight on your part. Maybe if you had you wouldn’t have a new hole in your chest. From now on we vacation together,” Sam said as he pulled out his radio. “Callen I’ve got him.”

“Not going on vacation anymore,” Deeks said. “Too dangerous.”

“I don’t blame you. Somebody get me a pressure bandage!” he yelled as he ripped open Deeks’ shirt.

“Hey, hey,” Deeks said. “I have a fiancée.”

“Now’s not the time for your funny shit Deeks,” Sam growled. “How bad is the pain?”

“Not…” he started to answer but the world went grey.

Sam barked his name, “Deeks! Wake up!”

Sam’s face looked hazy and Deeks struggled to bring him into focus. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Stay awake,” he commanded. “This is going to hurt.”

He wasn’t kidding. Deeks moaned out a stream of obscenities as Sam put an immense amount of pressure on his wound. “Breathe man, just breathe,” Sam said as he worked.

The pain made his brain click back into gear. “Sam, Sam they’re after Kensi,” he gasped.

“Callen’s got her Deeks. They’re coming. Hang in there. What’s the ETA on that helicopter?” he yelled to someone behind him.

“They want--” he moaned as Sam taped the bandage into place, “they want the Overwatch passcodes. And Sebastian. You have to find Sebastian.”

“Deeks, I’m telling you, we’re on it. Just focus on not dying all right?”

He must have blacked out for a while after that because the next time he opened his eyes he was flat out on the ground on a stretcher with no idea how he’d gotten there. His mouth was dry and it took him a long moment to figure out where he was at all. “Sam,” he rasped.

“Chopper’s almost here Deeks,” Sam said.

“Deeks!”

He tried to raise his head, searching for the face that went with the voice that had called his name. “Kensi!” he croaked.

She dropped to her knees beside him, grabbing his face in her hands and kissing him as hard as she could. “Are you all right? Are you good?” she asked, brushing hair from his face.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Is Katrina?”

“Katrina’s fine. We’re all fine.”

“Good. Okay. Is it okay if I skip all those mai tai’s and just mainline some morphine instead?”

She laughed. “Yeah, I think you’ve earned it.”

Kensi sat next to Deeks’ bed, waiting for him to wake up. They’d been choppered out of the woods and Deeks had been taken immediately into surgery to remove the bullet that had indeed lodged against his collarbone. It had gone well, but they were concerned about infection considering what he’d been up to for the last twelve hours.

She herself had a bit of a concussion and they’d bandaged up the gash on her head. Sam and Callen were still out, searching for their captors and for Sebastian, although Kensi didn’t hold out much hope for the man at this point.

She rubbed a hand over her face. She’d have given anything for a shower but she didn’t want to leave until Deeks woke up.

“Did you bring me a mai tai?” His voice was full of gravel.

“Sorry, no mai tais in the hospital. I can get you the finest jello in all of Hawaii though.”

He opened his eyes and squinted up at her. “If mai tais are out I’m guessing the beach is too?”

“For today at least,” she said.

“So, I guess that just leaves really amazing sex then.”

She rolled her eyes. “How about you focus on healing the new hole in your shoulder and then we’ll talk.”

He looked down at the white bandages covering a good portion of his torso. “That looks like it’s going to take too long. Let’s just try it now. Live dangerously.”

“I think we’ve had enough danger for one vacation.”

His cheeky smile faded. “Sebastian?”

She shook her head. “No word yet. Katrina’s here somewhere. They looked her over and she’ll be fine. Aside from the many, many years of therapy she’s going to need to deal with all of this.”

“It’s going to extra suck if something’s happened to Sebastian. I feel really bad they got caught up in all of this,” Deeks said.

“It’s not our fault,” Kensi said, trying to believe it. “We didn’t start this. We did our best and we got Katrina out.”

“I guess we did.”

“Hey, you pulled off a pretty amazing escape back there,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “Now you see me, now you don’t.”

“Yeah I’m thinking of calling it a Harry Houdini with a Hawaiian Sunset. You caught on pretty quickly.”

“Well I’m used to your crazy plans at this point,” she said fondly.

“Knock, knock.”

They looked up to see Sam and Callen entering the room, still in field clothes. “Hey,” Kensi said, getting to her feet. “Did you find Sebastian?”

They looked at one another and Kensi felt her heart sink. “Actually we did,” Callen said.

“He managed to escape and has been wandering around in the wilderness for even longer than you two. He’s dehydrated but with a little time, he should be perfectly fine,” Sam said.

Deeks snorted in disbelief. “All right then. Go Sebastian.”

“Apparently he finally figured out they’d made a mistake and when he told them they left him while they tried to work out a plan B. They didn’t lock the door and he got out. He’s a tough guy for an IT worker,” Callen told them.

Deeks shifted, trying to get more comfortable. “What about the assholes who started this in the first place?”

“In HPD custody,” Sam said.

“What did they even want the Overwatch codes for?” Kensi asked.

“Apparently their boss is pissed off at Keenan Tambor,” Callen said.

“He’s on NCIS’s watch list,” Deeks said immediately.

“Exactly. Somehow they got word he’d been tagged for Overwatch and their boss decided it would be a great way to get what he wanted. Tambor’s a slippery guy and this was their chance to get ahold of him.”

“Well, glad we were able to save his sorry ass,” Kensi said.

“Yeah I hope he’s grateful,” Deeks grumbled.

“Unlikely, but Sebastian and Katrina are extremely grateful for your help,” Sam said. “They’re coming by to visit as soon as Sebastian’s been rehydrated.”

“How are you two doing?” Callen asked.

“Don’t we look well rested and tan? We are on vacation after all,” Deeks said.

“Well you definitely look better than when we found you,” Sam said. “Although that’s not saying much.”

“How did you find us anyway?” Deeks asked, furrowing his brow. “We were literally in the middle of nowhere.”

Kensi glared at them. “They put trackers in our watches.”

“And aren’t you glad we did? Be sure to tell Eric and Nell thank you when you get home,” Callen told them.

“You people are getting Hetty level crazy. I’m not sure we can be friends anymore,” Deeks grumbled.

“Well maybe next time you go on vacation we won’t jump on a plane and fly across the ocean to save your ass’ from whatever mess you find yourselves in,” Callen said.

“We are definitely grateful,” Kensi said.

“We’re just glad you’re okay,” Sam said. “Really.”

“We are too,” Kensi told him sincerely.

He pulled her into a hug. “We’ll see you guys at home.”

“For sure.”

They walked out and Kensi sank down next to her partner again. “So how long until they let us out of here?” Deeks asked.

“Well I’m free to go at any time. You’re a hostage until they’re convinced you’re not going to develop an infection.”

“Any chance of you breaking me out of here since I basically saved our lives today with my David Blaine act?”

She smiled at him and shook her head. “Not a chance.”

[banashee]

Me: Has a billion WIPs and plans for stories

Also me:

100 ways to say “I Love You”

  Chapter 1: "It's okay, I couldn't sleep anyway."

 Careful not to make any noise, Clint sneaks past the other doors in the hallway. It’s late at night, or early in the morning, depending on how you look at it, and he spent the better part of the night tossing and turning in bed, wide awake and unable to rest even a little bit.

 The safehouse is cramped and freezing, despite the heat running all the time, but the cold wind just keeps creeping inside through every single crack it can find. Clint is not a fan of cold weather - not at all. He’s got his reasons, but this isn’t the only issue that keeps him from sleeping.

 The mission might have been successful, but they have to lay low for now. No coming home yet, and so, instead of flying straight back to the tower in Manhattan, Clint and the other Avengers are stuck in a SHIELD safehouse in the middle of nowhere. It is tiny, and far from ideal, but at least there is a bed for everyone. Thank fuck. None of the couches is long enough to actually stretch out on. Only Natasha manages to do so - one of the advantages of being a tiny ball of competence. In this case, the “tiny” part actually serves her well. If anyone else tries to stretch out on these things, their feet are hanging off of the other side, even Tony’s.

 On the other hand, seeing both Thor and Steve try out the living room furniture had been hysterical, and only partially to their widely sceptical faces when they’d carefully settled down.

 At least, the beds are bigger, even though the mattresses are lumpy and the sheets scratchy.

 Clint is used to these circumstances, but that doesn’t make them any less uncomfortable. His main-problem, however, is his constantly running, anxious brain that just won’t shut up, no matter what he does. So, instead of staying in bed, which gets increasingly frustrating, Clint makes his way into the kitchen, hoping he doesn’t wake anyone up.

 Or maybe, he hopes that someone else is already awake. He doesn’t want to be alone right now, he doesn’t know how to ask for company.

 Company happens sometimes. Asking for help doesn’t.

 Clint’s hand finds the light switch in pitch black darkness, and when the dim light bulb is flickering to life, it still almost blinds him and he  curses under his breath.

 “Fuck! Piece of shit light…” grumbling, he shuffles around the room, tiles ice cold under his bare feet. Clint faintly remembers, which cabinet the mugs are in and which holds the coffee, so he starts a whole pot. There is really no point in trying to sleep right now, so he might as well get some caffeine in while he waits for the night to be over. The first night of… Who even knows.

 Clint sighs, and although he can’t make out the sounds of the howling wind outside, he can feel the chilly air on his skin, creeping under his clothes. The cold makes him shiver, and he faintly wishes he took a blanket with him.

 Maybe he is lucky and there is one by the couch - he really doesn’t want to go back through the hallway, past the rooms of his no doubt either keyed up, paranoid or physically enchanted teammates - at least Steve would probably wake up. The poor guy knows exactly whenever someone sneezes several rooms over, even when the walls are technically sound proof.

 Lost in thoughts, Clint watches the coffee drip down into the glass pot. It is a steady stream, but it is still too slow for his taste. The room starts to fill with the scent of coffee, and Clint breathes it in, hopeful and longing for something warm that might help.

 God, who is he kidding, he really hates being cold. Damn safehouse, damn mission and generally, fuck everything.

 Too many thoughts, too many bad memories - being left behind, being alone -

     ‘Don’t.’      Clint scolds himself in his thoughts,       ‘You are not alone, there are 5 other people here. Get it together.’    

 Unfortunately, his insomniac brain isn’t having any of his logic. By the time the coffee is through, Clint has worked himself up into yet another spiral of thoughts, and he almost jumps out of his skin when he can feel the sudden presence of another person behind him.

 Thankfully, they don’t touch him, but Clint is long used to being able to feel a presence. Especially when he doesn’t have his ears in, he can feel the vibrations of footsteps on the floor, sense the breathing.

 Right now, he is ridiculously proud that he doesn’t scream or throw punches, but he does flinch a bit, turning around on his heel only to be met with the apologetic face of a very rumpled looking Tony. He holds up both hands in front of him, the universal gesture for,

 “Just me, I won’t hurt you.”

 “Uh, hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you…” Clint says, scratching the back of his head.

 “It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep, anyway. The beds are shit in here.” Tony replies, slowly as he keeps facing Clint so he can read his lips to understand better. This is true, but only half the reason he is out here in the first place - he, too, doesn’t want to be alone right now.

 “They are. Coffee?” Clint asks then, with a slight smile as he pulls out another mug from the cupboard. He gets a grateful smile and a nod in response. So he pours pitch black coffee for both of them, and in silent agreement, they make their way to the battered couch. Due to its size, they’re pressed close together, but they don’t mind that. In fact, they certainly ended up just as close to one another back home on a couch that is big enough for the whole team to sprawl out on.

 Meeting in the middle of the night, drinking coffee together - it’s a thing by now. Their thing.

 Minds that keep racing, anxious restlessness and the need to feel some human warmth keep them awake, and they venture out into the common areas in search of relief. There, they find each other, again and again and again.

 They could talk about these things, but they don’t. Talking is hard, while company is easy.

 The pot of coffee is empty by the time the sun is starting to rise, and the wind is picking up outside. Silence is stretching out in the dark room while the cold air is fighting it’s way in, and Clint is shivering once again.

 Without thinking, Tony puts an arm around him and pulls him closer. Clint willingly goes, wrapping his own arms around the other man’s waist. Tony is warm, comfortable to lean against and rest for a bit.

 His other hand, restless as always, finds its way into messy blond hair and starts to play and stroke through it while Clint grows almost boneless under the touch.

 The familiar scent of coffee and expensive aftershave is filling his nose, and he thinks, not for the first time, that he really would like for this to be a constant thing. But again, that would involve taking, which neither of them is especially great at, at least not when it's about their own feelings.

 This though, spending the sleepless nights together drinking coffee and sharing some warmth - it works. It has for a while now, so maybe they can figure out the rest as well.

 The following night, they meet in a similar way, again in the kitchen, again with the coffee.

 “It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway.” - it’s like their mantra by now, and they could just as well say something else. They don’t - not yet.

 Clint and Tony curl up on the cramped couch, sharing a blanket with hands that travel gently, heads that rest on shoulders or against each other.

 This time, however, while the house is dark and quiet, with the wind howling outside, their hands find one another and squeeze, gentle and reassuring. Not long after this, they scoot closer together. They’re close enough to share little bits of breath in the chilly air, until chapped but warm lips meet one another. While they kiss, a warm, giddy feeling spreads throughout Clint’s chest, and he holds on as tightly as he can, searching for as much physical contact as he possibly can. And Tony lets him. He seems to be just as desperate for touch, for warmth and - well. It certainly looks like they’re on the same page here.

 When they pull apart for a bit, to catch their breath, Tony looks at Clint with a quiet happiness in his beautiful brown eyes that not a lot of people get to see. It’s private, and it’s      for him    , Clint realizes, and his heart is beating fast enough to be almost painful.

 He is at a loss for words, but just as happy - thankfully, as ironic as it might be for the two of them, they don’t always need words to communicate.

 It might be this realisation that made Clint fall in love in the first place.

 When they wake up in the morning, they do so on the tiny couch - surprised that they fell asleep in the first place, and with backs that protest for sleeping out here on this ratty thing.

 The two men are curled up into one another, and it is a miracle that neither of them fell off of the couch at night.

 And yet, they don’t find it in themselves to be grumpy, especially not when they start their day together, wrapped around each other, hands traveling over each other’s sleep-warm skin.

 Fingers creep under the hem of shirts, stroking gently and resting against the small of Clints back, feeling the scars there. Fingers are resting against the light fuzz next to Tony’s ARC reactor, tracing the raised lines around it, The ARC reactor is tinting them into its faint blue light, and Clint finds that, luckily, he doesn’t mind this particular shade of blue. It is a soft, warm comfort, unlike the other blue light that, once upon a time, took his free will away.

 Right now, he doesn’t think of this - he is too happy and too warm for this.

 Tony tilts his head up to press a light kiss against his scruffy jaw, and Clint pulls him closer in response, nose buried in messy dark hair. His fingers keep tracing the scars on Tony’s chest, and the hand on his back is rubbing small, gentle circles.

 The couch is really not that comfortable, but neither of them wants to get up yet.

[the-whumpy-fangirl]

Lost In Translation

For Winter Whumperland. And, more specifically, @that-hurts. Here’s your fic! Note: My grandma had a stroke on Christmas Day, and I wasn’t finished. So these 2 awesome people, @arlothia and @bromanceandships, took my idea and changed it a bit and made it better than I ever could have. I can’t thank them enough. On with the story!

A rough kick to the ribs had Daniel’s eyes flying open and gasping for breath as he curled in on himself. He was lying on the sand in the open desert, hands bound in front of him, and five men standing around him with various cruel looking weapons in their hands. He couldn’t make out any details with his eyes squinting and watering from the brightness of the sun, but he could feel the dry roughness of his throat that told him he’d been out in the elements longer than was good for him. He instinctively tried to swallow, wincing at the pain that brought, only for a slight tugging by his left eye to bring a trail of dried blood and a correlating sharp headache to his attention.

This visit to Abydos, Daniel mused, was definitely not going according to plan. He had been in the market after dark, enjoying the late night excursion before they left in the morning - no team, no uniform; just a relaxing evening where he could pretend it was years ago before his life had been flipped on its head. He’d been cutting through an alley, intending to find the shortest way back to where Jack and the rest of the team had made camp for the night, when he’d heard a sound behind him and...well, and then he’d woken up in this situation.

One of the men squatted down in front of him, blocking out the sun enough for Daniel to make out rough features and an angrily determined glint in his eyes. His captor roughly grabbed his jaw to bring Daniel’s face closer to his own.

“You are going to cooperate with us,” he said in Abydonian. “If you do not, then you answer to the sun.” He moved his head slightly so Daniel was once again blinded by the light, no doubt giving him a preview of the punishment to come should he prove to be difficult. Once the Abydonian had returned Daniel to his shadow, he spoke again.

“You have friends on this planet, friends with weapons we want.” He pulled something from out of the folds of his clothes and held it up in front of Daniel’s face. His radio. “We have seen you talking on this. You will inform your friends that they have a choice: either they give us their weapons in exchange for you...or you die. Do you understand?” He squeezed Daniel’s jaw tightly before roughly tossing it aside.

Daniel struggled to prop himself up on an elbow in the loose sand so he could look his captor in the eye.

“Yeah,” he replied in the same language, “that’s really not going to happen.”

He was expecting the hand flying towards his face, but it didn’t make the contact any more pleasant, especially when it reopened the wound by his left eye and blood started trickling down his face again. He shook his head, clearing the stars dancing in front of his eyes, before turning his gaze back to the man above him.

“Your stubbornness will only cause your more pain. If you do not help us, that pain will only increase. Perhaps you will take this more seriously once you’ve had some time to think.”

One more punch to the head had Daniel sprawling on the sand, all shade from his captors gone as they moved away, leaving him to the uncaring and burning rays of the sun.

He watched them huddle together in a group a short distance away, gesturing angrily and passing the radio back and forth between them, twisting the dials and pressing the buttons. Daniel knew they would eventually figure it out, but he also knew that even when they did, they wouldn’t be able to communicate with his team as none of them spoke Abydonian, and he was pretty sure none of his captors spoke English.

He sighed, resigned to the fact that if he had any hope of being rescued, he’d have to cooperate with his captors afterall.

“Sir, we lost Daniel...somewhere.”

The rest of SG-1 was gathered around the MALP, General Hammond’s stern face on the monitor softening with worry at the revelation that one of their teammates was missing.

“What happened, Colonel?” he asked.

“He wasn’t at camp when we woke in the morning, sir,” Jack replied, gaze shifting out over the rolling sands as if half expecting to see Daniel walking towards them any minute.

“His uniform and weapons were left behind, though,” Sam mentioned.

“Perhaps he left during the night and did not want to bring attention to himself,” Teal’c theorized.

“Well whatever happened, I’m delaying your return until you find him,” Hammond finalized. “Go get our man back.”

“Yes, General,” Jack said before cutting the connection to their link, the Stargate powering down. He turned and started walking towards the town where they had been staying, the other two falling into step beside him.

“So what’s the plan, Colonel?” Sam asked.

But before he could answer, static sounded over his radio, followed by a bout of angry shouting in what sounded like Abydonian. Jack reached to his shoulder and took out the radio, holding it out so the others could hear. Once it sounded like the person on the other end was done, Jack pressed the button on the side.

“Um, hello? Who’s this?” Releasing the button only brought more shouting and still none of it in English. “Well this is going nowhere fast,” he murmured. Then, pressing the button again: “No habla Abynodian,” which elicited an eye roll from Sam. Jack sighed, finger still on the button. “Where’s Daniel when you need him?” He released the button in frustration, intending to listen to another string of ranting, but instead heard a familiar voice.

“I’m right here, Jack,” came Daniel’s voice.

“Daniel?” asked Jack, surprised. “What’s going on? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, hi. Listen, I’ve gotten into a little bit of trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” Sam asked.

“Oh, you know, just your standard hostage situation. These five guys saw us in the market yesterday and sneak-attacked me when I went out last night. They say they’ll release me in exchange for our weapons.”

The three of them traded glances. They all knew they couldn’t do that.

Jack pressed the button. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Daniel, but you know that’s never going to happen.” He released the button but didn’t hear a response right away. “Daniel?”

“Don’t worry Jack, I know. They’re getting impatient and want me to tell you to meet us at the abandoned house near the edge of town with the caved in roof. They say ‘no tricks’ or else they’ll kill me.”

“We won’t let that happen, Daniel. Don’t worry. We’ll get you out of there.”

“I know. Just don’t take too long. I don’t think these guys are professional kidnappers. They seem kinda edgy and I don’t trust them to-Ack!”

“Daniel?!” Jack yelled, worry flashing in his eyes. He stared at the radio as if willing Daniel to answer. But instead he got another string of angry Abydonian that he didn’t need to speak to understand. If you don’t cooperate, your friend dies.

Jack looked back up at the two pairs of eyes staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“What do we do, Colonel?” Sam asked.

Jack thought for a minute, putting the radio back in his shoulder pocket. Then, “Just what the General said: we’re going to get him back.”

It was easy to find the house where Daniel was being held as it was one of the few structures separated from the main town. They cautiously entered through the flap of cloth used as a front door and was met with the sight of Daniel, hands bound before him, lips chapped, face red with sunburn, and blood trailing down from a wound on his temple. He was kneeling on the sand in the middle of the room where the sun was shining down through the hole in the roof. The sunlight also glinted off of the blade held against his throat and Daniel looked so exhausted that if it weren’t for the man holding him in place by his hair he would surely have collapsed.

The three of them immediately were put on edge, wanting desperately to raise their weapons, but they knew they had to remain calm lest they escalate the situation and risk Daniel getting any more injured than he already was.

“Daniel, are you alright?” asked Sam, itching to rush over with the med kit they had brought to see to his wound.

One of the Abydonian captors standing besides Daniel barked something at them they couldn’t understand. The following silence didn’t seem to please the man, so he kicked Daniel in the side, eliciting a grunt of pain from the injured man and three concerned stares from his rescuers.

Daniel straightened as best he could, breathing shallowly around his undoubtedly bruised ribs.

“He says ‘No talking to each other. You talk to me, not him’,” Daniel interpreted. Another round of Abydonian. “‘Give us your weapons or he dies’.” The knife was pulled a little closer against his throat for emphasis.

“Do they speak English at all?” asked Jack.

Daniel said something in the captors’ language and they replied.

“No they don’t, and they just said ‘No funny business or…’ well, you get the picture.”

“So then they won’t know that I’m telling you to dodge out of the way so Carter can get a clean shot of the guy with the knife.” Jack kept his eyes on the five men standing in front of him as if he were talking to them.

A short back and forth in Abydonian, and then, “Jack, we can’t just kill them. We have to find a peaceful way to solve this. Maybe give them something else instead of our weapons.”

“Daniel, they kidnapped you. We aren’t just going to let them waltz out of here with any of our gear. And what are you saying to them anyway?”

“You know, just the normal hostage negotiation stuff they’re probably expecting you to say,” Daniel replied after “interpreting” for his captors. “Now, what do we have to offer them that wouldn’t get them or anyone else blown up or shot?”

“No, Daniel, we’re not doing this,” Jack said with a calm he certainly didn’t feel but knowing he had to keep up the ruse. “Now, when I give the signal, get out of the way and-”

“Jack, no!”

Many things happened at once.

The blade dug into Daniel’s neck, drawing blood; Jack, Sam and Teal’c brought up their weapons; everyone started shouting; gunfire split the air and four of the five men went down; the remaining man, the one holding Daniel, dragged him up to standing, using him effectively as a human shield against the team’s AK-47s. There was more shouting, the team calling for the man to calm down and release Daniel, and the captor, fear shining in his eyes, shouting, probably for them to put down their weapons. Daniel seemed to agree with the man behind him, even as they backed up, reaching the rear door.

“Guys, just put your weapons down before this guy does anything stupid! You’re just making him nervous!”

“That’s not going to happen, Daniel,” Jack responded. He saw a shift in the kidnapper’s eyes and he knew what would happen a split second before it did. “Daniel!”

The knife moved from Daniel’s neck and was driven into his side. The captor pulled out the knife, rushing through the back door, leaving Daniel to sink to the floor.

Daniel felt the man shift behind him and the knife release from his neck. Before he could register what that meant, he felt a sharp, searing pain in his side. The air left his lungs, not even a sound escaping as that pain turned to numbness seeping into his core, strength sapped, his legs no longer able to support him.

He fell to the ground, the world around him muted and blurry. He heard the muffled sound of gunfire and the shape of someone large leaping past him and chasing out the door. Daniel brought his bound hands to his side, feeling warm blood trickling past his fingers, the pain starting to bloom out of the numbness.

Suddenly a face was hovering above him, at first too blurry to make out, the voice too distant to identify. But then his vision cleared a bit and Jack’s worried face swam into view, his hands covering his own over Daniel’s wound. He groaned, eyes tight with pain.

“Hang on, Daniel.” Jack’s voice sounded like it was echoing through a long corridor. “Just hang on. Sam!”

“Jack…” The words were barely a whisper.

“I’m right here, buddy. I’m here. Sam! Where’s that med kit!”

“Jack…” Daniel felt himself fading as he saw another form, Sam, come into view. His face grew lax, his hands losing their strength, slipping from his side. The pain was still there, but not as intense, not as debilitating. Distant. He welcomed that, embraced the darkness spreading over his vision, the frantic shouts of his team mates fading as he fell into oblivion.

The first thing Daniel noticed was the lack of pain. He had been in pain before, hadn’t he? And there were bad guys, where were the bad guys? Was the team okay? He slowly opened his eyes.

It was dark, the only light a soft glow from somewhere to his left, the undulation of the light and faint crackling indicating a small fire. After spending so long in the sun, first out in the desert, baking in the heat, and then kneeling in the spotlight in the abandoned house while waiting for his team to arrive, the dark was a pleasant change of pace. He blinked and his surroundings became clearer. He was still in that house, but the hole in the roof showed stars now, not sunlight.

Turning his head slightly, he saw Jack sitting next to him, asleep. He couldn’t see where Sam was, but Teal’c was by the door, looking outside, keeping watch. Daniel shifted his head again, spying a canteen to his right. He went to reach for it, throat still scratchy and dry, but a sharp tugging at his side had him grunt slightly. He saw movement by the door and then Teal’c was approaching him, kneeling by his side.

“Daniel Jackson,” he said, reaching for the canteen and bringing it to Daniel’s lips, a hand going under his head to lift it up slightly, making it easier to drink.

“Ah,” Daniel sighed when he was finished. “Thanks, Teal’c.”

“You are most welcome, Daniel Jackson,” he replied, lowering his head onto the rolled up jacket serving as his pillow. “It is good to see awake.”

“Yeah. What...what happened? I don’t remember much after, um…” He gestured vaguely at his side.

“Your captor fled, but I pursued him. He did not escape.”

Daniel nodded. He had figured as much. If Jack hadn’t been so stubborn then maybe no one would have had to die, or get stabbed, today. But he couldn’t say he wasn’t sad that those men would never get the chance to kidnap or hurt anyone else.

“Captain Carter and Colonel O’Neill proceeded to tend to your wound.”

“Where is Sam,” he asked, still puzzled about her absence.

As if on cue to assuage his worry, she appeared at the door, a bag in one hand, her gun, with the flashlight on, in the other.

“Daniel!” she called, prompting Jack to suddenly stirr from his sleep, hands clutching his weapon in case there was a threat. He looked first at Sam and then, as she moved quickly into the room, his gaze shifted to Daniel.

The relief on his face was palpable, his posture instantly slacking as he set aside his weapon and turned to face Daniel fully.

“You got us a bit worried there for a second, Daniel,” he said, voice teasing, but he could still see the concern in his eyes. “Now, why couldn’t you have just agreed with my plan in the first place so we could have avoided all of this?”

“Sorry to inconvenience you so much, Jack,” came his snarky reply, but when his slight chuckle ignited a brief flash of pain, he winced and Jack’s face immediately became serious.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better than I expected to feel, but the hole in my side kinda stings if I move wrong.”

“Just so long as you don’t pull out your stitches you should be fine,” Sam said, having come to kneel on the other side of him, taking items out of the bag she had been carrying that looked like bandages and jars of some kind.

“How bad is it?” Daniel asked as she moved aside the blanket that was covering the lower half of his body, exposing a bandage wrapped around his middle and a pile of gauze taped on his right side. Some blood had seeped through but it wasn’t fresh.

“Well, it could have been worse,” she replied, gently prying up the gauze to expose a wound about an inch wide and sutured closed. “It missed all of your vital organs, thankfully, but it was deep and you lost a lot of blood. Once we had that under control, it was only a matter of making sure infection didn’t set in. Luckily,” she opened one of the jars she had produced from the bag, exposing what looked to be a natural salve, “the Abydonians have some really good medicine we were able to use after we exhausted our supply.” She looked up from where she had scooped up some of the salve onto her fingers, glancing at Daniel with an apologetic look in her eyes. “This might hurt a bit.”

At first the coolness of the paste was almost refreshing, but as Sam continued to rub it onto his wound and it started to do its work, a burning sensation permeated through his side, making him recoil and tense up in pain. His teeth clenched, head digging into the jacket beneath him, a prolonged groan, almost a growl, escaped his lips and he suddenly found his hand being squeezed by Jack’s. He squeezed it in return, grateful for the small outlet for his pain.

Sam winced sympathetically. “Sorry,” she offered, changing out the gauze for the new bandages she had brought.

“It’s...it’s alright,” he said after catching his breath, panting slightly. “Yeah, these people really know their stuff.”

“You get some rest now,” Jack ordered, still holding onto his hand. “SG-7 is coming in the morning to help transport you home. I want you well rested when they get here.”

Daniel nodded, already feeling the tug of sleep. “Yes, sir.”

[spoke-nword]

‘Full’ Wales in a Day

As a cyclist, Wales holds a sense of untouched ‘mystery’ that I’ve rarely felt in other areas of the country. It’s not that it’s a far-flung oasis, or a wildly foreign land - far from it in fact; I live approximately 20 miles from the Welsh border in Shropshire, and some of my family are from or live there.

For me, it’s the quiet emptiness, a sense of untouched country, that I feel when I’m cycling through lanes empty apart from branches and leaves, farm gates and occasional carrion.

On the 16th of July I set out on one of my longest rides of the year, to get the full experience of ‘Wales in a Day’.

The start, South Stack Lighthouse, was chosen purely as it was the furthest North-westerly point in Wales, with a finish set in the grounds of Chepstow Castle; one of the most South-easterly points I could find with decent links back to Shropshire.

Part 1 - 7am - South Stack Lighthouse

My parents had given me a lift to the start, and were picking me up from Chepstow at the finish. The car had been packed late the night before, and we’d set off at 4am to get to South Stack as early as possible. In my rush to pack the car, I’d forgot one thing - my small mini-pump. My 28mm Continental tyres are too big to drop out of the frame without uninflating them by half, so when I placed the wheel back into the frame after arriving at the start and reached for my non-existent pump, I was a bit concerned.

It was OK however; I’d brought a Co2 inflater and 3 cartridges to use. So, I screwed a cartridge into the spring-loaded inflator and in turn the inflator onto the tyre and.. nothing. The valve in the inflator wouldn’t open. I tried with all the force my puny fingers would muster, but still nothing. Fuck. We’ve driven 165 miles to the start and I can’t inflate my fucking tyre. I took the inflator off, unscrewed the canister slightly and lost all air out of it. One canister down, two left. I did the only thing I could do to try and rectify the situation; I literally took a big rock and smashed it again the side of the inflater. It budged, slightly, so I hit it again. This time, whatever force was holding the valve closed abated and I could rotate the head and open the valve! Canister in, onto the tyre valve and thankfully a fully inflated tyre! Right, I’m only 35 minutes late, time to get a move on.

I left South Stack and headed for the first milestone, the Menai Bridge. Within 5 miles the drizzle that had accompanied our drive to the start turned into rain, and I had to unpack my waterproof. I really don’t mind cycling in the rain - it’s not pleasant, but once you get going and your body warms I find I forget about it. This was definitely the case approaching Menai Bridge, with fantastic scenery and the backdrop of the bridge across The Swellies. I stopped for a quick obligatory photo and pushed on towards Beddgelert, my first planned food stop of the day.

The road to Beddgelert started to undulate, with the approach to Llyn Cwellyn on some of the smoothest and flowing roads in North Wales a highlight. It was at this time I started to see the peak of Snowdon through the dissipating cloud cover.

The descent into Beddgelert was awesome, and I met a few other cyclists out on a morning run into town for coffee. From the look on their faces when I told them of my plan, they thought I was mad, but could still appreciate the desire to see Wales in its entirety.

Parting ways just after Beddgelert, I picked my way via a series of B roads towards Harlech on the coast. Passing Fford Pen Llech and not turning left to tackle the 35-40% grade brute drove a pang of guilt inside, but I resisted and instead focused on the bigger picture. It may have been small, but with many mountains to come and only around 50 miles in the legs, I needed to stay as fresh as possible.

On my way to Barmouth I stopped at my Grandads house near Tal-y-bont. It was a great place for my second break, and a decent cup of coffee and a jam filled bagel sorted me out for the next stretch to Machynlleth. It was also a great opportunity to lose the arm and knee warmers, as the temperature had risen nicely, with no rain or clouds around.

The descent into Barmouth was fantastic, and arriving into the town during a water festival was even better. I pushed on through the town, and chose to ride over Barmouth Bridge to the other side of the estuary. The wooden slats of the bridge made the ride akin to riding over cobbles; I’m glad I run 28mm tyres on the bike at this point!

Leaving the bridge and turning right, I start a very pleasant ascent of the coastal road that heads toward Aberdyfi. The gradient is very steady, never rising above 6 or so %, and despite a slight headwind, the weather affords a great view back to Barmouth and the bridge.

I continue upwards and around the coast for a few miles before a steady descent past a cafe serving ice cream, and have my first low point of the day. With a combination of only covering 80 miles so far, and another 130 or so to go, I felt more than a bit behind schedule. Also, out of Machynlleth I knew the climbing would become serious, and progress slow even more. Still, moaning about it gets you nowhere so I pushed on.

Aberdyfi in the sunshine is beautiful. Seriously. I arrived there just after midday and I could have been in the Bahamas. The sea was crystal clear, blue and it was warm! My mood lifted somewhat, I stopped to take a picture on the way out of town, and pressed on Eastward.

Approaching Mach, I decided to make it my first main stop of the day and have some lunch. Mountains and steep climbs ahead, I fuelled up on another bagel and an energy bar, and took 10 minutes to rest. Whilst difficult, this was the part I was most looking forward to; mountains and climbing.

Part 2 - 14:00 - Machynlleth Mountain Road

I set off from Mach, and headed straight onto the mountain road signposted Dylife. The climb started quickly, and I was soon settled into a comfortable power I knew I could sustain. Slowly lanes gave way to more open areas of the mountainside, and with the sun shining brightly, made for a very warm climb. Approaching what I thought was the summit, the climb grows fairly steep; my Garmin’s elevation profile had been playing up a bit so when I rounded a corner and realised I was nowhere near the top, I wasn’t surprised. What did surprise me however, was how steep the climb was getting. I’m sure when I planned the route I looked at this climb and thought it would be fairly steady; I was wrong!

I pushed on, slightly over-power and overheating, trying to concentrate on my breathing and the magnificent view that was opening out in every direction. Heading over the top and on to Staylittle, I slowed right down and appreciated my surroundings; once again, Wales had delivered. The reservoirs at Staylittle are magnificent!

I stopped at a layby, and spoke to a couple of chaps riding motorbikes; I overheard one talking about my bike and saying something along the lines of “but with those tyres and a light bike cycling is pretty easy”. I laughed and couldn’t help myself, and so struck up a conversation about where they were going. Turns out they had just ridden their bikes down from Bangor, and were too heading for Chepstow. When I told them I was doing the same, but had cycled from South Stack, they were very confused. A non-cyclists view of long-distance cycling always makes me laugh; some don’t understand how, or what 125, 150 or 200 miles means to us, but most just look confused as to why we would do it. “Because I can” is usually my answer.

After Staylittle, the mountain road doesn’t really ease that much; the lumps and bumps continue, some fairly steep and a bit of a grind running a 28t cassette. Still, the surface was great, and the going fairly quick most of the way to Llanidloes, and further to Rhayader.

I stopped once more at Rhayader for food and a coffee, and found myself in the middle of a local 'treasure hunt’ style event. I have no idea what they were looking for, but they all seemed very interested in a notice board next to a disabled toilet, with many people pulling their cars up to the board, making notes and then driving off. Weirdos.

Fed and refuelled, I set off from Rhayader for the next part of the journey. I knew it would be pretty flat from Rhayader to Talgarth, as to save some time I’d routed along a couple of main roads in favour of an even longer trip. At this point I was glad of the clip on aero bars for another position!

Part 3 - 17:30 - A Time-trial of Sorts

I left Rhayader and directly turned South for Builth Wells on the A470. I wanted to try and make up a bit of time as I’d been a bit lazy so far, and had more quick breaks than I would have liked. It’s not that I was precious about time (other than the lift back from Chepstow), but I was worried about my legs starting to feel heavy if I rested too much. Dead legs = not much fun considering the climbs of Hay Bluff and beyond.

Despite the time, the road was fairly quiet of traffic and a great surface - I tucked in on the aero bars and managed to maintain a decent power and speed, arriving into Builth Wells quickly. I think I managed the 13 miles between the two towns in around 35 minutes, which I didn’t think was too bad of a pace after 155 miles in the legs!

There’s a lot to be said about using comfortable aero bars in this kind of long-distance discipline. I’d seen plenty of pictures and read accounts of other long distance cyclists using them to great effect in events (just take a look at the riders competing in the TCR for the number using aero bars!), but didn’t appreciate the comfort of having another position for long days in the saddle.

The road out of Builth Wells again started to get a bit lumpy, but fairly fast flowing. I chose to use the B-road that runs along side the A470 to keep the route as quiet as possible - I’m glad I did, as the scenery was once again amazing. The albeit smaller valleys, and plenty of them, carved by the many rivers and streams made for an awesome backdrop to the fading afternoon light.

On the way into Talgarth, I was greeted with a very familiar view; Hay Bluff.

Having recently completed an Everesting on the Northern (main) road up the Gospel Pass, I knew this area well. I’d spent nearly 20 hours climbing and descending the pass in June, over what was to be the hottest day of the year, and actually loved every minute of it. The prospect of climbing up Hay Bluff from the Talgarth side was energising, despite the fatigue building in my legs.

Turning South out of Talgarth onto the A479, the climb starts immediately. At a very pleasant average gradient of around 4%, this turned out to be one of my favourite climbs of the day. I’m not averse to steeper climbs, but the A479 climb let me measure my effort comfortably, and leave plenty in the tank towards the top to push on. It was cool seeing Hay Bluff from the West side too - the A479 climb winds it’s way through the ‘cut’ in the bluff before dropping down the other side towards Crickhowell, again with magnificent views of the Brecons off to the right and straight ahead.

On the descent, I started to notice the drop in temperature for the first time, and so pulled over to throw on my knee warmers and arm warmers. It was around 8:30pm and I’d been blessed with most of the day being warm, so couldn’t complain.

Part 4 - 8:30pm - The Home Stretch

Descending out of the Brecons towards Crickhowell, I was again able to make some time up on the fast-flowing A roads. It was at this point, after around 175 miles, I realised I’d made my first route error. I’d planned on dropping South below Crickhowell, using the quieter A4077 to get to Abergavenny, and then again using a quiet B-road out of Aber towards Usk. What actually happened, is my Garmin decided to take me on part of the incredibly busy A40 dual-carriageway for a mile or so. It wouldn’t have been a problem usually, but given it was around the time that many people were travelling back from South Wales to the rest of the country made it incredibly busy, not helped by my fatigue.

I quickly pulled over, re-routed the Garmin somehow (those that use Garmins know how fucking difficult this is!), and managed to find my way back to the road I had intended to be on in the first place. Not a disaster by any means, but still unwelcome after a day in the saddle and a place to be.

I took a quick break in Abergavenny, and used some of the time to check the route of the final 20 miles or so to Chepstow. Happy I’d not cocked up again, I pushed out of Aber on the B-road to Usk. It was dark, the road quiet and surprisingly the temperature started to climb again. Feeling refreshed after my stop in Aber I really enjoyed this section. I’d pretty much ran out of food, but didn’t feel too bad, so knew barring disaster this ride was in the bag.

Out of Usk, I hit what was to be the last climb of the day; the climb from Llangwm to Gaer-Fawr. It was only after cycling up and over this fairly brutish climb, I realised it had been used in the Ras de Cymru in 2014, and I can see why. Whilst not overly long, the climb has some steeper pitches that made it ‘interesting’ after just clocking 200 miles, and not much fuel in my body! At 4.5 miles and around 800ft elevation gain, at any other time I would have enjoyed it. But at that moment, I just wanted it done with. Reaching the top, I felt some relief that it was over and I just had the descent to Chepstow to go.

Rolling down the long descent into Chepstow, I reflected on the day’s ride; it had been a great day weather-wise, apart from one mishap, a decent route with a nice mix of quiet B-roads and faster A-roads, but above all, Wales hadn’t disappointed in the scenery. North Wales with it’s large mountains, Mid Wales and the steep valleys and many reservoirs, and finally South Wales and the pleasant steady-grade climbs that allow you to take in your surroundings whilst keeping a decent pace. 

I’d thoroughly recommend the route to anyone looking to experience a sample of what Wales has to offer; the ride wasn’t overly taxing, but enough of a challenge to make some of the tougher parts worthwhile.

Finally, arriving into Chepstow, I met up with my parents and attempted to get a picture of the castle. It was dark, I was getting cold, my first picture was very blurry and so I couldn’t be bothered to take another. So I took a picture of a signpost and that had to do.

[singingwordwright]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Shadowhunters (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Characters: Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood Additional Tags: 2x07, Episode: s02e07 How Are Thou Fallen, Extended Scene, POV Magnus Bane

Summary:

Another "extended cut" of the Malec sex scene in 2x07.

Alec’s kisses are frenetic, hard and open-mouthed and wild. Magnus’s back hits the mattress and Alexander is crawling over him before he even has a chance to bounce. His lips are damp from flicks of Alec’s tongue and already beginning to tingle and swell from the urgent nipping and sucking. Sensitized, he can feel the rasp of stubble and the slight roughness where Alec’s lips are a little chapped.

It’s delicious. He feels like he’s being devoured and oh, it would be so very easy to let himself be consumed. There’s little sense in denying that he’s more than half gone already. He has been since this guarded-yet-guileless Nephilim boy stammered his first awkward greeting.

But this seems to have come out of nowhere. One moment they’re making their first tentative forays into heavy necking and light petting and suddenly Alec is talking about “the next step.”

I think we’re pole-vaulting over a few steps here, my dear.

The sudden leap shows. The energy in these kisses is all wrong. Thoroughly pleasant and full of potential, yes. Absolutely. Without a doubt. But still wrong. Not since he charged the wrong way down the aisle at his own wedding has Alec kissed Magnus like this, as though afraid that if he doesn’t keep plunging ahead, he’ll falter and turn back.

Maybe that was necessary at the wedding. For Alec to stop his life mid-course and veer off in an entirely new direction took tremendous courage and one hell of a leap of faith. Magnus knows that. He’ll be eternally grateful that the leap carried Alexander in his direction.

But sex between them shouldn’t be something Alec needs to psyche himself up for.

This feels...inorganic. Forced, rather than evolving in its own proper time.

Furthermore, if Alexander keeps going at the pace he’s going, the whole thing will be over in a hot minute once the clothes come off. Possibly even before it ever reaches that point. And then it’ll be awkward apologies and embarrassment and a week of Alec chastising himself for not being as adept a lover as, say, Casanova.

He doesn’t want that for Alec. Alec has waited too long, denied himself too much, for this moment to turn out to be a disappointment. Magnus wants it to be--for lack of a better term--magical.

He slides his hands over the long fingers tangled in his shirt front. Alec’s managed his collar but doesn’t quite seem to have worked up the will to stop kissing Magnus long enough to pull it over his head. He grasps Alec’s wrists and pushes. Just a little. A little is enough; heedless as Alexander’s need is, there’s still a gentleness to him that would never fail to respond to an obvious cue to back off.

Alec’s eyes slowly blink open, but at first his gaze stalls at Magnus’s mouth. His tongue darts out to stroke his lips as if to sample whatever flavor Magnus may have left behind there. Magnus waits, trying to slow his breathing because a pause to catch their breath and savor things is exactly what he wanted to propose in the first place.

Then Alec’s heavy-lidded gaze crawls up Magnus’s face to and Alec gasps quietly.

Oh. Damn.

Very much not what Magnus intended, but this sight of his unglamored eyes has the desired effect. Alec doesn’t come charging back in for another desperate kiss.

He blinks. Once...Twice...

....Gently extracts his wrist from Magnus’s hold.

...Touches the bow-string calloused tip of his index finger to the corner of Magnus’s eye.

Time stands still, hanging in that moment of uncertainty, waiting on the next crucial reaction. Magnus refuses to let himself blink or look away. He wasn’t ready for this, but he won’t shy away from it. Sooner or later, it had to happen.

Thus far, the only interaction Alec has had with Magnus’s true nature has been abstract. He wouldn’t be the first person to draw strange, self-deluding lines of compartmentalization between Magnus’s magic and immortality, and the demonic birthright which enables them.

If Alexander can’t cope with the reality, best they know it now.

Alec doesn’t speak. His stare lingers, but the initial surprise doesn’t warp into alarm or worse, revulsion. His mouth curves just the smallest bit, his dark eyes full of tenderness. He draws a slow breath and then closes in again, his lips sweeping Magnus’s.

Bless this brave, angel-begotten boy.

This kiss is slower, softer. Whatever fire fueled Alec’s focused charge toward Magnus’s bed has been banked. This is the Alexander he’s been coming to know, gently exploring, moving ahead at a cautious yet comfortable pace, finding his feet as he goes. However, now there’s a very specific underlying intent, one that hasn’t been there before. And that’s perfect. That’s far, far better than plunging recklessly forward on nothing more than breathless bravado.

Once again Magnus nudges Alexander back, giving himself some room to maneuver, which he uses to drag the shirt Alec stalled on over his head. He feels the puff of Alec’s sharp exhalation on his overheated skin, and then those calloused fingertips, sliding down his shoulder.

When his head emerges from the cloth and the shirt is banished to the other side of the room, Alec’s eyes are full of wonder and worry. Aside from his flushed cheeks, he’s gone a little pale.

“It’s so much easier when I don’t slow down to think,” he rasps, and his fingertips tremble against Magnus’s skin. “I don’t know--”

“I’m quite sensitive here.” Magnus takes Alec’s hand and guides the fingers to the tendon curving from his neck to his shoulder. Alec’s compliant caress is instinctively delicate and Magnus draws in a shivering breath, his skin pebbling as his eyes drift closed.

When he opens them again, Alec looks charmingly pleased with himself at the reaction he managed to elicit.

“Come here,” Magnus murmurs, pulling Alec up and rolling them, so that he looms over Alec as he reclines on the pillows. Alec’s eyes widen a little with alarm. The advantage is now Magnus’s, and from this position Alec can’t drive things forward with sheer determination.

He drapes himself over Alec like a blanket, taking in the tension that ripples through Alec at the new sensation of full-body contact. Nevertheless, Alec’s long fingers splay across the skin of Magnus’s back above his waist and Magnus has to draw a slow, centering breath.

He leans in and nips Alec’s chin. “What were you up to that got you worked up enough you had to rush over here tonight?”

“I don’t really know.” Alec gives him a small, wry smile. “I was clearing out some shax demons. Grand Central.”

“You were thinking of me while killing demons?” Magnus asks archly. “I’m flattered.”

“No! That’s not--I didn’t mean--” Alec blushes and some of the tension flees his body, sinking him deeper into the bedding. He narrows his eyes at Magnus, huffing softly. “You did that on purpose.”

Magnus smiles and gives him a long, slow kiss. Alec’s lips part and allow Magnus’s tongue to slide inside and they groan together. It’s a long moment before Magnus draws back.

“You should know there are a few rules that govern my bed, Alexander.” He beams, tracing the rune on Alec’s neck with his fingertip and relishing Alec’s responsive shudder. “The first of which is that you absolutely must be able to laugh at yourself.”

“Is that so?” Alec’s smile is small, the shy, familiar curve of his lips that creeps in at times when he doesn’t feel secure enough to truly smile. It flickers, though, uncertainty peeking through. “I’m--not really good at that.”

“It’s a learning process.” Magnus shrugs and kisses him again, and soon Alec is boneless beneath him. Well, mostly. All remaining tension is concentrated exactly where it should be, in the hips that arch unconsciously to rub against Magnus’s own and in the fingers that knead the muscles of his back.

The urgency in Alec’s kisses now has nothing to do with resolutely pushing himself out of his comfort zone. It takes an effort to break off again, to take a step back and let them both catch their breath.

“So what exactly about this nest of shax demons brought me to mind?” Magnus teases, letting his lips brush the shell of Alec’s ear. Alec’s hands tighten on his waist.

This time Alec chuckles, though his breath is rapid and shallow and Magnus can feel him almost quivering with the need to drag him in for another kiss.

“It’s not--It wasn’t--” Alec’s head tips back and suddenly there’s something very naked in his eyes. “I’ve been thinking about you all the time. All the time.”

In an instant, the moment shifts. Magnus’s difficulty with breathing has nothing to do with lust. Any thought of teasing is gone. All he can do is stare, glib rejoinders fleeing before the unexpected torrent of honesty.

“I was fighting alone,” Alec explains. “Izzy was working on something else, Clary was out looking into something, Jace is--I don’t know, whatever. So it was just me, and I found myself making smartass remarks to the demons. Which, okay, Izzy and Jace do that all the time. But I don’t. I can’t remember the last time I felt relaxed and happy enough to just start cracking jokes in the middle of a fight.”

Alec’s rush of words is as heedless and determined as that first kiss when he came through the door had been. Committed to his course, he charges onward. His hands abandon Magnus’s naked back to cup his face, and his brow furrows with an almost bewildered sincerity.

“It’s you,” Alec breathes, staring up at Magnus as though seeing something wondrous and revelatory. “It’s because of you. I mean, maybe some of it’s me, because I can be honest about who I am now and I’m not living to please my parents and the Clave anymore. I guess that’s part of it. But still--it’s you.”

“Alexander--” Magnus begins, but he has no idea what to say. His chest aches as though Alec just cracked open his rib cage and made a nest for himself inside.

He’s spent centuries on this earth and no one has managed to consistently astonish him like Alec Lightwood can.

Alec’s gaze darts sideways, a hint of self-consciousness trying to rob that moment of its power. “Anyway, I’m trying--not to overthink things. Just go for it.”

“Hmm,” Magnus nods slowly, tracing one of Alec’s eyebrows. “If what you just told me is a sample of where your thinking has been, I’d say you’re perfectly on track. What gave you the idea putting some thought into this is a bad thing?”

Alec blushed. “Overthinking. Izzy told me not to overthink. Which I guess I tend to do?”

“Ah.” A dip of his head brings their lips together again, the kiss light and gentle. Magnus brushes kisses along Alec’s jaw, and Alec’s head falls back, exposing his throat. Flicking his tongue against the fluttering pulse there wins Magnus a heartfelt moan. “Isabelle is as wise as she is charming, without a doubt. But I think in this case her well-intentioned advice may be just slightly off the mark.”

“How so?” Alec’s gravelly rasp suggests that his attention isn’t really on the answer to his question, so Magnus leaves off his attentions to Alec’s throat and waits for him to meet his eyes.

“I’m just saying, my dear, that it’s sex, not lima beans. Closing your eyes and holding your nose and forcing yourself to get through it is perhaps not the most auspicious way to begin.”

Alec’s eyes fly wide with horror and he sits up so suddenly Magnus is unceremoniously dumped to the side. “No, no! That isn’t how I--That’s not what I was trying to--!”

Magnus props himself up on an elbow, smirking, until Alec’s spluttering protests break off on a stunned guffaw. “Oh, my God. It is. That’s totally what I was doing.” He draws his knees up to his chest, pressing his forehead to them as he dissolves into helpless giggles. “Lima beans!”

The beaming smile Alec turns on him when he’s finally collected himself is better than a hundred orgasms.

With one sharp movement, suddenly Magnus is trapped beneath Alec’s body, Alec’s hands planted on the mattress on either side of his shoulders.

“Maybe I should try this again,” Alec murmurs, pushing himself up to strip his shirt over his head. “Now that I’m in a much better frame of mind.”

“You won’t hear me objecting.” Magnus has seen Alec shirtless before but not this close and certainly not with this sort of intent. It steals the breath from his lungs, all that pale skin and crisp, dark hair and those bold runes. His hands are greedy, reaching out to grasp and explore even before Alec settles his weight back atop him.

The first contact of their bare chests against one another is electric, and they gasp into each other’s mouths. Magnus feels like he’s been utterly dismantled by Alec’s confession, in a way he’s never felt before, but there will be time to delve into that later. There’s nothing inorganic about these kisses, and it would take an act of divinity to pry him away from them.

Alec gasps and jerks. In an instant, that humiliating premature finish Magnus had dreaded earlier becomes a reality, not just for Alec, but for them both. There’s a flash of light; not the sparkling flashes behind one’s eyelids that accompanies climax, but something else. Something not so much seen as felt, suffusing every molecule of their bodies and grating uncomfortably against the parts of Magnus that are demon-bred.

They’re left staring at each other in shock.

Alec’s hand presses against his parabatai rune as though it aches. “That wasn’t us,” he says, his chest heaving.

Magnus wants to remark on Jace’s capacity for disturbing them at inopportune times, except this isn’t a laughing matter. Something monumental has just happened, even if they have no idea what. Whatever it was, it was huge. He can sense ripples of it spreading through the city, the magic of other warlocks disrupted, the hackles of the entire shadow world prickling for no reason anyone can name.

Alec pushes himself off the bed and reaches for his shirt. “We need to find Jace.” He blinks, his alarmed focus melting away into tenderness as he meets Magnus’s eyes. “I’m sorry. So much for the next step.”

“It’s all right, Alexander.” With a snap of his fingers, Magnus takes care of any uncomfortable residue inside their pants. He accepts Alec’s outstretched hand and lets himself be pulled to his feet. “I’d say we’ve taken that and then some, tonight. Now, let’s go find out what your bothersome brother has gotten himself into his time.”

BUY ME A CUP OF COFFEE!!

[ianfaulkner1-blog]

​By Roxanne Reid Imagine the foresight it must take to see a bare patch of veld and dream up a fully fledged village and health spa in the middle of nowhere. This is what happened when Scottish railwayman James Logan founded in South Africa back in 1884. Discover why to visit Lord Milner Hotel and in the .

​Imagine too the tenacity of Logan going ahead with his plans to build The Lord Milner Hotel in 1899, in the early stages of the Anglo Boer War of 1899-1902. Before long some 10 000 British troops were camping around the village and the hotel was taken over as a military hospital, the turret as a lookout. 

The facade of the Lord Milner Hotel

Once the war was over, the town and hotel were restored to their intended purpose as hotel and health spa while the concession at the station did a roaring trade supplying steam trains with water and passengers with refreshments. People who flocked to for its curative clean air in those early days included the likes of writer and feminist Olive Schreiner, Winston Churchill’s father Randolph, colonial empire builder Cecil John Rhodes and writer Rudyard Kipling. That today is a time capsule of the Victorian era is thanks to another visionary who came along almost a century later. Hotelier David Rawdon did such a good job of restoring the hotel and town to their former glory that was declared a National Monument in 1975.

Old fashioned fuel pumps and broekie lace on the main road

​There’s an ageless tranquillity here that’s hard to find in the fast-paced modern world. There’s little traffic so you can wander the streets in peace, admire old buildings and outdated petrol pumps on the side of the road, follow a puff of dust and see where it takes you.

The Laird's Arms pub

When the Blue Train or Rovos Rail stops at the Victorian station, visitors pour out like ants to visit the museum and the hotel, to admire the buildings in a time warp. It’s a frenetic time with lots of foot traffic and clicking of cameras, but things settle down when the whistle blows and the train moves away again on its trans- journey. ​​Then it’s time for those left behind to take tea in one of the hotel’s lounges or order a drink in the pub, to go for a walk across the veld or, later in the afternoon, to watch the sunset and the first glimmerings of what will be a spectacular night sky here in the dry . Relax. Breathe in the clean air. Surrender yourself to be restored and revitalised so you can face a return to city life with equanimity.

train on its trans- journey

Things to do in 1. Download the free VoiceMap app (Apple and Android) as a guide to walk you around the village, point out some of the old buildings and fill you in on the little village’s intriguing history. 2. Take a trip on the old London double-decker red bus. At 18:00 each day except Sunday it takes visitors on a short tour of the village, picking out some of the landmarks like the house where Olive Schreiner stayed and the field where England and South Africa played the first friendly cricket match (James Logan was a great cricket fan). Finish your whistle-stop tour at the Laird’s Arms (see point 5) next to the hotel in time for a drink before dinner.

Old carts and a London red bus outside the station

3. Delve into the past in the museum – all three of them. The Transport Museum has a collection of vintage cars from the 1930s to 1960s, old bikes and train carriages. The Railway Museum on the station platform has a station master’s office dating back to the 1890s and the original signal room. 

Wouldn't you love these see these gents out on the road in ?

Victorian furniture in one of the small, cold rooms beneath the station

​By far my favourite place to get lost for an hour or two is the Marie Rawdon Museum under the station. There are vast collections of everything from kitchen utensils, old cameras and typewriters, to bedpans, dolls and war souvenirs, even a full-on pharmacy. The rooms under the station used to be a jail during the Anglo Boer War; feel the cold and damp and imagine what it must have been like for the prisoners during a winter. 

Collection of bedpans and basins in the museum

Museum collections include cobbler's equipment and woodworking tools

The apothecary, or pharmacy, in museum

4. Walk around the village with your camera to capture memories of the restored old buildings. See the house where Olive Schreiner stayed in attempt to cure her asthma in the dry air, the old post office (now a gift shop) where she used to post her letters. Admire the bank building with its original teller’s counter and banking equipment intact, the pink church that used to be a concert hall and school until the 1960s. 

The old post office

​The yellow courthouse and jail would have been known to Boer hero Gideon Scheepers who spent time in the jail before he was tried for treason in Graaff-Reinet and executed by firing squad in 1902. 

court house and jail

​Visit Logan’s General Store (now a coffee shop) and see the flourmill and mineral waterworks where Logan produced lemonade and ginger beer to sell to travellers. A windmill harnessed the winds to generate electricity – a South African first – and power the mill. There’s a rather nice collection of succulents in the garden today.

General Store, now a coffee shop

5. Spend some time in the Laird’s Arms to soak up its saloon-like ambience. A local character, Johnny, plays rousing honky-tonk tunes in the evenings while you order a drink at the polished wooden bar with its shiny brass taps. It’s a wonderful place to imagine what the atmosphere in must have been like more than a hundred years ago. If you’re here at lunch time, order a pub lunch.

Johnny at the piano in the Laird's Arms

Atmospheric dark wood and brass in the Laird's Arms pub

6. Explore the hotel, its grand staircase and reception rooms for a feel of what those who came here for their health at the turn of the 20th century would have experienced. Take a seat here or there to fully appreciate the moment. 

The grand staircase in the hotel's lobby

One of the sitting rooms at the Lord Milner Hotel

I love the sitting room at the back where the piano is; last time we visited a young couple was enjoying a cup of tea, retreating into the coolness from a stinking hot day outside.

The music room, with its piano and harp

7. Ask the staff about the ghosts that are said to haunt the hotel. On our very first visit we heard about a woman in white who is sometimes seen near the tower. On our most recent visit, we commented on the strange eyes of the blonde-haired child in a painting in the Marie Rawdon Museum. The chap in the museum told us that a visitor had recently taken a photo of it with her cell phone, another with her daughter’s camera. Then she screamed and came scuttling out as if the hounds of hell were at her heels. Turned out the cell phone pic was fine, but in the other there was a shadow over the child’s shoulder as if someone was standing behind her. A ghost? Who can tell?

Painting of the girl who may have a ghost over her shoulder

8. Explore the gardens behind the hotel to appreciate how they survive in the extremes of really hot summers and really cold winters. If you go far enough you’ll discover the swimming pool, where residents can relax on a lounger with a good book.

Rooms set in green gardens

9. Duck into the tiny traveller’s chapel along the river behind the hotel to imagine how perfect it would be for an intimate wedding. Take a moment to appreciate the serenity and listen to the sounds of the tinkling fountain outside. The building’s original use was far less unruffled; it used to house gas-generating equipment to light the town.

Traveller's chapel,

10. See David Rawdon’s house where he died in 2010. It’s the last cottage down the side road where the pink church is. Someone told us he ordered champagne the night he died and the bottle and glass have been left untouched. Someone else told us it was whisky so – as with all good legends – the stories are already getting jumbled. 11. Enjoy dinner in the Victorian-style dining room with its dark antique furniture and heavy drapes. The food is of the traditional variety, with bobotie, lamb shank and malva pudding making an appearance. Service is friendly but slow when the dining room is full, so try to relax and downshift to time.

Things to do in : take a walk on the veld

12. Go for a walk in the veld, to feel the ‘sense of wild exhilaration and freedom’ that Olive Schreiner so loved. There used to be a British encampment with 10 000 men and 20 000 horses here in about 1900, so you might even pick up a relic from those days. ​

The hotel at night

accommodation When it comes to your accommodation, you get a choice between suites or rooms in the hotel, historic cottages in the village, or the lower priced Matjies Motel for more budget conscious travellers. I’ve stayed in a cottage in the village, the main hotel (which I love for its classic style) and the Riverbank Rooms at the motel. The latter aren’t as posh as the hotel but still perfectly comfortable at a lower price, with the bonus of a parking spot close to your door. Like it? Pin this image! 

You may also enjoy Spend a night in jail at Willowmore in the National Park: the ultimate guide Copyright © Roxanne Reid - No words or photographs on this site may be used without permission from roxannereid.co.za

[eurosong]

Eurosong's ESC '17 ranking and commentary

Good afternoon, folks! The clock is ticking down to the final and it's now about that time of the year where I unleash my commentary on all the songs. I tried to limit myself to a few sentences per song, but since there´s 42, this will doubtless be considered by some as a big read. Tongue in cheek in part but very candid about my views on some of the songs - don't proceed if you don't want to see a few songs savaged. As the ancient Romans said, de gustibus non est disputandum, and these are just my views and tastes.

1 Portugal From which planet did this extraterrestrial talent come and why do his people want to break our hearts so exquisitely? I cannot speak highly enough of these three perfect minutes of melancholy, longing, and yet, at the same time, love and hope. This performance speaks to the soul so intimately. It is a pure and timeless composition that I feel like I've known all my life, but have been waiting all this time to hear. Extraördinary and twelve cuts above everything else in the contest in my eyes. 2. Hungary How I love the fearless Magyars and their tendency to dance to the beat of their own drums, sending things that sound like nothing else in the contest. This is one of the most emotional performances in the contest and certainly one of the most meaningful lyrics - talking about the prejudice he faced as a Romani and the salvation he found in songwriting. The music is a sui generis blend of rap, traditional folk and other elements - and the pure passion invested into the lyrics and their delivery gives me goosebumps. 3 Belarus This is what three minutes of unshackled, care-free joy sounds like. Naviband are adorable, their chemistry pure, and their song is so full of joie de vivre. I feel like I’m out in the primordial forests of Belarus hearing the call of the ancients. 4 Armenia Another nation keen to exhibit its traditional music in curious new blends is Armenia, who this year bring us something that sounds at once distinctly Caucasian and East Asian. A curious mélange of genres and influences make this almost as far as you can get from the tired "Melfest reject" mould. I love the non-linearity of this song, and the æthereal feel that makes the song feel like a forgotten psalm to the gods. Great effort. 5 Iceland If you combine dark but infectious electro beats with some of the most subtly meaningful lyrics of the contest, you get this, in my book, one of Iceland's best contributions to the contest in some time. Svala's song is very personal to her and, through an extended metaphor, talks about struggling with accepting yourself for who you are. A very underrated track in my eyes.

6 Czechia Speaking of underrated, we have the perennially undervalued Czechs sending us one of the most understated and sincere offerings this ESC. Czechia's is a very subtle song about strength in adversity and human connection. The music is very pleasant, and the lyrics are sung with heart. 7 Belgium No matter the disastrous reaction to the rehearsals, City Lights remains for me one of the most unique and meaningful pieces in the contest this year. Whilst last year they sounded like a 90s girl group trying to emulate the 70s, this is year 3000, futuristic cool. There is a powerful minimalism in the lyrics that lets their many nuances sink in. "Are we going to lose it all?" 8 Romania You get instant ESC-snob credit by disavowing this Romanian effort, which on paper - a yodel-rap about breaking away from the 9 to 5 - sounds like it should be a ludicrous mess. But you won't see me doing anything but praising it as it is an instant ray of sunshine in a song. I love how much Alex and Ilinca, an incredibly cute pair, love their song and how they put their heart into each performance. I feel lifted up to the Alpine heights by each listen. 9 Azerbaijan For the first time ever, Azerbaijan stand to get into my top 10. They’re still raising my hackles by importing music from Sweden, but this time they’ve picked a credible and glacially cool artist with a mystifying and dark composition about obsessive love. A step in the right direction. 10 Italy The bookies’ favourite by far, and I can understand why - Francesco exudes cheeky chappie charisma and his song is one that can appeal across generations. Why only 10th then from this bonafide Italophile? I always found the chorus of the song to be very dated, sounding like the theme tune of an early 90s quiz show, whilst the verse and bridge has a much more monumental, anthemic air. I was more able to overlook the repeats of the chorus before they made disastrous cuts and excised most of the first verse and all of the second verse, leaving a song that is still fun, but a lot more repetitive. 11 Netherlands I’m honestly amazed that O’G3ne, a band with such a ridiculous name and a dubious pedigree, are on the cusp of my top 10 this year. They sing songs that are so dated that they wouldn’t have counted as fresh even in the early 90s. And yet, their song has a certain child-like naïveté in its lyrics about their ailing mother that it makes it unbelievably moving. 12 France A nice enough song from France this year, but nowhere near as good as Amir last year in my eyes. What really took the song down a notch was the clunky addition of unneeded, comparatively cacophonous English lyrics, which replaced the existentialist French chorus of the original with some throwaway clichés. 13 Macedonia Some fans consider the Macedonian entry fresh despite its reminding me of 3-4 different 80s’ songs blended together. What it is though is catchy and kitschy in a fun way. I have doubts about the live performance given her scandalous playback in London, though. 14 Finland As Holly Brewer  sang, “I wish I loved you more.” I should love a song like this, but instead I don’t enjoy it as much as I might because I feel they put a distance between themselves and the audience not fitting for such an emotional song. 15 Ukraine It’s no secret that I’m a rocker, but unfortunately, a lot of the rock at the contest has been sub-par in recent years - or has been “rock” in inverted commas. This is not a bad effort from Ukraine, but nowhere near the britrock-inspired heights of Georgia last year. It’s a bit too repetitive for my likes. 16 Latvia Something less to my typical tastes is this unexpected piece of 90s rave revival, a step away from the cool Aminata-penned electronica Latvia has sent in the past two years. It’s a welcome stylistical oasis in a desert of identikit pop ballads, but qualitatively isn’t great, and her nasal, oddly pronounced vocals are an acquired taste which I am yet to acquire. 17 Bulgaria Very nice, relaxing background music but I don’t think of it as much more than that. 18 Ireland This starts out so promisingly with a gloomy and mysterious beginning, but soon degenerates into an early 2000s B-side that was not only rejected by Westlife but also by an assortment of C-list bands imitating Westlife. It’s even complete with the obligatory key change that launches young Brendan into a register so high that it could shatter contact lenses while they're still on your eyes. Yet, I do find some charm in it, and this would be a contender for places 11-15 for me were it not for the god awful last minute. 19 Albania For once, Albania don’t completely destroy a song in its revamp - they maintain most of the rock-ish edges of the original, instead of neutering them like they did with Përallë. As is typical, though, they lumbered Lindita with a bewildering and clunky English translation that takes a lot of my enjoyment away from the song. 20 Germany This couldn’t be more middle of the road if it tried - so it’s apt, I guess, that it has a position almost precisely in the middle of my ranking. Levina was the best of a bad lot in Germany’s insane format of a national final and she soldiers through a song even she seemed like she preferred not to sing. The riff ripped from Titanium is so blatant - and the song is brought down too by some ridiculous lyrics. “Almost a sinner, nearly a saint.” So you’re almost exceptionally holy and almost someone who frequently sins at the same time? *Head explodes* 21 Switzerland An innocuously bland mid-tempo pop ballad. Not much to say about this one.   22 Croatia A man singing a duët with himself, giving a motivational message - to himself. One half in the quivery, syrupy upper ranges of an R&B tenor, the other half in a booming operatic baritone. It’s as ridic as it sounds and yet this Jeckyll and Hyde act is saved from the very bottom by its endearing barminess. 23 Denmark Disposable pop with a shout-sung chorus, albeit by a performer with some charm and connection to the audience. 24 Australia Musically, not so bad at all, but there’s something offputting about a chap young enough to almost be fœtal putting on a drippy voice and ridiculous puppy dog eyes, singing a song of a life of broken hearts and lost love more befitting of an old man. 25 Serbia Serbia used to be one of my favourite countries in the contest. They stuck to their own language and sang songs imbued with Balkan rhythm and tradition... now they send someone sending a poor rip-off of Katy Perry’s Firework. Каква срамота. 26 Moldova Evidently, meme status can open doors and can gift you a return ticket to the ESC. It’s a shame, as even in Moldova, there were better options than this rather misogynistic effort that seems to have been Bing translated, not even Google translated, and which sounds like it was based off a MIDI ringtone. Apparently bound for the final just because it’s upbeat. 27 Austria This exudes that relentless forced cheeriness that makes my blood run cold. It’s such a plim-plom song that bounces along whilst saying nothing. Most songs aim for the top and I can admire that, even if they have no chance - this aims for mid-table mediocrity in the final. 28 Israel Generic dance track with words plucked at random and thrown onto the paper. 29 Norway Robotically cold. Most songs make me feel something, even if it’s annoyance. This just leaves me numb. 30 Poland An oppressive dirge with lyrics that rely on a rhyming dictionary a little too much (rhyming fire, desire, wire and higher in the space of ten words!) and a bizarre song structure with an anti-chorus and no real progression, which make these 3 minutes feel very long indeed. 31 Sweden Predictable, repetitive pop with one of the most laughable performance routines (blokes trying to act “smooth” by doing very silly gestures) and lyrics that read as though written by Jay in the Inbetweeners. Let’s not romanticise uncontrollable lust. 32 Cyprus A rip-off of Rag and Bone Man’s “Human”, but without a message. Instead, some incredibly daft lyrics written by someone who failed physics even in primary school. Hovig likens himself to gravity because he will catch his paramour when she falls - when it is in fact gravity that pulls her down to her grizzly death. 33 United Kingdom Turgid rent-a-ballad delivered in a hammy style with not a whisker of sincerity - compare that with the virtuoso performance of her rival in the final, Holly, who sang like she felt the pain. I’ve been saying since the contest that it will do well, though, but I’m not sold one bit. 34 Spain Many of us Eurovision fans in Spain wasted money voting for other songs in the national final, only to find that the jury - 2/3 comprised of people with vested interest in one of the candidates - was able to override thousands of televoters when it came to a draw. They put the televote’s 3rd place, Manel, first, leaving a considerable bad taste behind. And what for? One of the most inane songs the contest has ever seen, in which either “do it for your lover” (do what?) or “just do it” are repeated on average less than every 4 seconds. It sounds like a homebrand Lazy Song and the songwriters sure were lazy. Playing this on a loop for just 15 minutes could make even the toughest commandos cry for their mammies. 35 Estonia Part of me wants to put this at the very bottom of the pile, but sadly, there are worse horrors yet to come. It’s really disappointing when your favourite ESC country in recent years throws aside a bunch of daring possibilities to represent them in 2017, in favour of something so aggressively bland, a cynical Eurosong by numbers with hackneyed, ultra-repetitive lyrics that mostly consist of entoning “á-a-a-a-à-a-a-a-á-a”, performed by a duo who have as much chemistry as two inert gases and spent most of the time hammishly gurning. 36 Montenegro How does one interpret it when one of the European countries with the biggest problems of homophobia - with 71% of the populace thinking homosexuality is a sickness and where a number of hate crimes have been registered just against people who support LGBT rights - sends such an OTT act with lyrics that are packed to the brim with single entendres? For me, it seems a cynical move. Slavko himself seems a cool guy but the song itself is a hot mess. 37 Lithuania And this is a hot mess, frozen then microwaved, then frozen then set on fire with a flamethrower. Be careful of watching this with pets or small children or they may well end up traumatised for life. Whilst unbelievably sweet in interviews, the lead singer of this act seems like a banshee possessed by demons whilst singing. Her bandmate seems like her creepy “keeper.” They sing a song with about 180 instances of the words “yeah, yeah” and some trumpets that sound like they were taken from Windows 95 sound effects. 38 Slovenia This has to be one of the most overblown and pompous entries in many a year. Omar claims he was waiting to unleash this on the unsuspecting public for over a decade - even back then, this grandiose attempt at a Broadway-style number would have sounded dated. 39 Greece I will never forgive the genius lyrics “rain falls from abooove!” Neither can I forgive the fact that such a completely generic track with lyrics written on the back of a Cornflakes box is probably destined for the final with the help of some gimmicky staging. 40 Malta This song fills me with all the energy of someone who’s been in a coma for 15 years. 41 San Marino Some folk are happy to see Valentina Monetta back for the fourth year. I’m sad to see a talented performer come back for scraps of infamy no matter how bad the song she’s offered. And my god, is this disco rehash fever dream bad. 42 Georgia Georgia is typically one of my favourite nations in the contest, because of their willingness to break away from the mould, to enter things that are very atypical of the contest and often do well with them - like the exhilerating psychadelic-Britrock of last year or the trippy folk of a few years before that. This year, they couldn’t have gone more off into the other direction, into the methane-scented hinterlands of mediocrity.  I find this song disasteful in so many ways. The overt and ham-fisted political nature of it. The creepy music, like the soundtrack to a cheap straight-to-VCR horror movie, which creates an oppressive atmosphere that makes me feel like the music is holding my head down under the ghoul-infested waters of a frigid lake in a winter forest. The ghastly, cliché-ridden lyrics, where “keep the faith” is repeated so many times that by one minute, my faith that the song will ever end is already shaken. Ugly composition.

[poemsbypresmei]

WD #1: She and I, in the end

Stardust spilling out of her fingers, one after the other, blown by the wind.

Insignificant- that’s how I feel.

I do not tell her this. Not out loud, at the very least. But still, she hears. Perhaps this is why I love her. She smiles knowingly, looks up and breathes, her lungs taking in the salty air, the morning breeze. Her eyes are lakes in winter- translucent blue, cold, frozen in the moment. Still, they sparkle beneath the sunlight. Some think they’re fragile and delicate. But I know those eyes. They are strong. Now, they are looking at me, and into my soul.

“Look at them, dear,” she says, and she stretches her hand to the vast expanse where we stand, the little sand dunes, the open sea. Her voice is barely a whisper but still the wind dutifully carries it from where I am, a few steps away. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

“Where?” My mouth moves in response but still, it feels dry. “They’re gone.” I might be thirsty, but for what? I lick my chapped lips. I could still taste the hints of lemon we drank earlier, the juice a bit too sour, and her ringing laugh after seeing my crunched, gagging face. Perhaps, I long for the truth, but in that, I shall never be satisfied, I think. I look at her familiar face, hoping to understand.

“They’re not gone, not exactly.”

Here she moves and we meet in the middle. She takes my hand, the slightly calloused and burned one, and she places it above her chest, next to her beating heart. Once, it raced like the heavy rain’s drums falling down the waiting shed, the place where we first kissed. Now, her heart beats steadily, a constant and sure ta-thump, ta-thump. I remember asking her once why our hearts beat in such a way. She didn’t respond, that time, but her gaze was thoughtful. We bask ourselves in silence, that night.

But I think I know the answer right now, with her hand on my hand, and my hand on her chest. We are an odd couple, she and I, and if one were to see us from the distance their sight could confirm this so. They would see a tall woman, golden braid hanging neatly on her shoulders, the white almost translucent dress framing her delicate shape. Then they’d see me, the other woman, heavy stock, brown sun-kissed skin, curls uncontrollably flapping to and fro, her back turned away from them because her eyes look nowhere else but the ones in front of her.

We may be princesses, she of the heavens and sky, and I of my childhood dreams long past. But here, with her hand on my hand, and my hand on her chest, she is she and I am simply me.

“Do you understand?”

I nod. I do not know why of all the beings in the universe, she chose me, even after all these years. But I think I’m beginning to understand why she did all those things, why she thought turning down the throne and leaving everything behind was worth it.

I think it’s because I feel my own heart beating next to hers as she feels hers beating next to mine. Once, her heart was screaming and barely moving, and once, my heart was a heavy weight I thought I couldn’t bear, not any longer, after aching so much. But here, now, together, they are in symphony.

“You’re not alone,” I say out loud, simply, because I can. “Not any longer.”

The stardust may disappear and we shall too, one day. That I truly understand. We may be nothing compared to everything, but what we have is something and to have something, even so little, makes life worth living every single day.

“Take my hand,” I say. She does. Together we run away laughing, our hearts singing but no longer chasing the greater unknown.

I look at her and she looks back at me, in return. We smile.

The wind continues to blow.

Author’s Note: Yes, it’s not a poem! I had a lot of free time today in school and surprisingly, I was in the mood to write about nobody in particular. WD stands for word doodles, which is a fancy term on something that is basically passing time by writing whatever comes to mind, non stop. I did some editing for this though, but I like how it turns out. I hope you like it. Should I make some more? Thanks and have a nice day! ~ Presmei