#so they’re either too dark or too orangey or both

[bsotted]

Y’all for real please share your sunscreen recommendations I have been looking for years for a sunscreen that just works and won’t break me out and I can not find one for the life of me

I have body sunscreens that are great that just work and that smell good that don’t apply greasy that are moisturizing but the MINUTE i put it on my face I will be breaking out by the next day y’all please help

[skyward-floored]

..... does Warriors successfully arrest his family? (Downfall IAU)

fearfully, - hero-of-the-wolf

@hero-of-the-wolf BUCKLE UP MY FRIEND!!!

Comes after the Ravio fic and the Warriors fic :) the first one definitely helps for context.

...

It wasn’t until dawn that anything happened.

Legend and Wind both stayed up all night watching for any threats, keeping a largely silent vigil. They camped out on the roof, watching all corners of the yard and street, and Wind didn’t sleep a wink, anxious and full of a shaky worry for everyone. Sky hadn't responded to any of their messages, which wasn't too unusual since it had only been a few hours, but Wind was worried anyway.

Malon and Four stayed inside and prepared for the worst, readying supplies in case a quick escape was needed, and still occasionally trying to contact Sky. Ravio pretty much just slept, mumbling hazily about low prices and pretty birds.

But when the first rays of sunshine poked over the horizon and Wind and Legend had still seen nothing suspicious, everyone relaxed a little. Malon brought out some food for them to eat, and the two of them took it gratefully.

Wind was still worried, but things seemed less scary with the glimmer of dawn on the horizon, orangey light warming his face. Legend looked a little more relaxed as well, and they began to eat, both feeling lighter.

Wind took exactly three bites of his bagel before he froze, staring out across the street.

A man stood in plain view from his and Legend’s standpoint, one who hadn’t been there before. The sun shone off his white and blue outfit like sunlight on a frozen lake, and a mask covered part of his face, but Wind knew immediately who he was and why he was here.

He just didn’t want to believe it.

“Legend,” he whispered, and Legend immediately turned and looked, the color draining from his face.

“Wind, go warn them,” he whispered, but Wind remained frozen in place, staring at Warriors. “Wind.”

Wind couldn’t make himself move, gaze locked on Warriors. His uncle didn’t move either, silently watching him and Legend, and even though the distance was pretty far, Wind almost thought he could make out regret on his face.

Legend’s elbow to his side snapped him out of his daze, and Wind scrambled down the roof and inside a window, almost wiping out on a rug as he ran.

“Malon they’re coming!” he cried, and he heard a sharp intake of breath.

Malon appeared around the corner as a harsh knock came from their front door, and Wind gave her a panicked look. The knocks quickly turned into pounding, and Wind heard a thud on the roof, along with a shout.

“Go wake Ravio,” Malon said, and Wind ran off into the living room. He was worried about Legend, but he knew he could handle himself. Hopefully.

The pounding on the door seemed to have already woken Ravio up, and his green eyes were looking fearfully at the door as Wind ran in.

“They found me,” he said in a panic, and Wind nodded.

“Yeah. You and us. But they'll have to fight to catch us, c’mon.”

“I can’t run very well like this,” Ravio said nervously, and Wind pulled his arm up around his shoulders, helping him stand.

“No problem, we’ll help you,” he replied, and winced as another shout came from outside. “Where’s Four?”

“He said he needed to do something,” Ravio said as they hurried out of the living room.

“He what?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t explain!”

Both of them yelped as something shook the building, and Malon suddenly went flying back from the front door, hitting the wall beside them with a grunt.

Wind shouted in alarm, but Malon was unhurt, quickly standing up with her fists raised. Wind looked at where she’d come from, and saw the door broken with a group of people gathered in the doorway, all dressed in dark colors and protective gear. He didn’t see Warriors anywhere.

“Malon Forester, you and all the occupants of this house are under arrest,” the one at the front said, and Malon’s face creased determinedly.

“I don’t think so. Get Ravio out of here,” Malon directed towards Wind, but before he could move, he heard a wild yell.

Four suddenly burst from the hallway, dressed in his super suit that he’d been wearing when he and Wind first landed here. It was bright blue though, and Wind wasn’t surprised when three other Fours ran out behind the blue one, all looking determined.

Blue threw himself at the group in the doorway, and the others followed, all yelling as they lit up their powers. Chaos reigned as the colors swept through the squad, and Malon pushed Wind to get going.

“I’ll help Four, go,” she urged, and Wind and Ravio hurried off towards the back door, trying not to listen to the yelling from behind them.

They made it to the door quickly, but Wind could see even more of the scary soldier-people rushing towards the house, and he quickly locked the door and shoved a couple heavy chairs in front of it for good measure. They... weren't making it out that way.

“Now what?” Ravio asked a little hysterically, and Wind suddenly remembered Malon mentioning something about an emergency hatch in the basement room he and Four had been sleeping in. She’d only brought it up briefly, and he’d forgotten about it in the rush.

“Downstairs, c’mon,” he urged, gathering some winds around them just in case. They were on the opposite side of the house from the basement stairs, but the shouting had died down a little, so he was hopeful.

They hurried back the way they came, Wind eternally grateful that the house had tough windows and good locks. It didn’t seem like any of the scary-looking soldiers had gotten in yet, except for the ones at the front door, but it sounded like Malon and Four were handling them.

Wind and Ravio rushed past the front door, and saw Malon and all four colors braced against it, Malon having replaced the door and now struggling to secure a lock on it. Wind set Ravio down for a moment, and shoved a heavy-looking table over to help block the door. Malon realized what he was doing, and briefly abandoned Four in order to help him shove the table, as well as several other heavy pieces of furniture.

“Will that hold them?” Green asked in an out of breath voice.

“Hopefully long enough for us to get away,” Malon replied as they finished, rubbing her shoulder a bit. Wind squinted at her, but he couldn’t tell if she was truly hurt or not.

“How are we getting out?” Red said in a somewhat panicked voice as the men on the other side of the door began to bang at it again.

“Basement,” Malon replied, then shooed them along. “Hurry.”

The Colors finally moved away from the door, and though the banging began to increase, the door didn’t budge, locked and barricaded as it was.

They rushed down the hallway, Wind almost dropping Ravio when he heard a window shatter somewhere. He cast a glance at Malon, and saw that her face was surprisingly calm.

Though maybe that wasn't too surprising. It seemed to Wind that she'd been expecting something like this to happen for ages.

“I gotta grab my bag,” Vio said suddenly, stopping in his tracks. The other colors stopped as well, and Wind looked back at the different colors of his brother. “All our bags, we left them in the kitchen, there's important stuff in there.”

“Go fast,” Wind said worriedly, and the Colors nodded and bolted away.

Wind heard another window shatter somewhere, and drew some wind tighter around himself, wiping his sweaty palms on his shirt. He really wished he'd at least had a nap last night. The lack of sleep only made his nerves feel even more shot.

“Where’s Legend?” Ravio huffed as they continued to work their way across the house. He was looking paler again, probably from the strain on his leg as well as the situation at hand. Wind couldn’t blame him.

“He was on the roof, I don’t know whe—”

“Right here.”

Legend flickered into view beside them, and Wind was glad he was used to it and didn’t shriek like Ravio did.

His alternate-brother looked a little ruffled, but unhurt as far as Wind could tell. Legend opened his mouth to say more, but Malon abruptly grabbed him away from the stairwell, some kind of energy blast hitting the wall where his head had been.

More of the armored men were coming from upstairs, and Wind blasted a gust at their feet, making them all trip and fall into a pile. Their group rapidly turned the corner towards the basement, and Wind started to believe they’d maybe make it out.

Then he saw Warriors standing in the hallway, blocking their path.

Wind stopped short, and Malon and Legend bumped into him, all three of them staring at the super in front of them.

“Warriors,” Malon began, firm, but soft regardless. “Let us through.”

Warriors looked at them, but his expression stayed the same, smooth and emotionless. “I can’t do that. All of you are under arrest. If you come quietly, this’ll be easier for all of us.”

“Easier for all of us? Or just for you?” Legend snapped, and Wind thought he saw hurt flash in his uncle’s eyes.

“Legend, Malon, I don’t want to do this,” he said in a quieter voice. “Please. Come quietly.”

“You know we can’t do that,” Malon said firmly.

“Dad wouldn’t want us to,” Legend spat.

Warriors flinched, but didn’t say anything in reply. He simply lifted his hands, frost forming threateningly on his gloves.

Nobody moved for several tense seconds. Legend glared silently at his uncle, Ravio looked nervously towards the door, Malon kept a steady eye on her husband’s brother, all while Wind watched and wondered what to do.

Warriors couldn’t be serious... could he?

Wind had only spoken to this version of Warriors once, but... he loved his family. Wind could tell that beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Why was he doing this?

Why was he working for the bad guys?

Footsteps came up behind Wind, and he turned to see Four run up, looking winded and shaky. He’d reformed into one for some reason, holding several bags in his arms, and Wind caught his shoulder. Four stumbled to a halt as he looked around at the situation, and frowned.

And then Warriors locked eyes with Four, and his face went white.

That moment of distraction was what they’d been waiting for, and Malon threw herself at her brother-in-law, successfully knocking him to the ground.

“Go boys!” she shouted, and they scrambled to obey, Legend and Wind grabbing Ravio, while Four ran behind. Legend ran ahead of them and flung open the door to the basement, hurriedly gesturing them inside.

Wind couldn’t help watch Malon grapple with Warriors, her eyes alight with protectiveness. He winced as she punched him, the two rolling around as they fought, and Wind gasped when Warriors’s hands glowed with ice and he tried to freeze her arms.

The soldiers Wind had tripped came around the corner as well, and began shooting more of the energy beams that Legend had narrowly avoided. Wind was a little surprised they didn't have bullets, but he supposed he shouldn't complain. At least being shocked wasn't as instantly life-threatening.

Four suddenly stumbled against Wind, having trouble with the ice rapidly coating the area. Wind grabbed his arm and ended up supporting him almost more than Ravio, Four still shaky from being split and struggling to hold onto the bags all while avoiding any blasts.

“Guys come on, we— Mom?” Legend said, his commanding tone suddenly slipping. Wind turned back to look again, and saw Malon with one arm pinned to the ground with ice.

Warriors was panting, blood dripping from his nose, and despite Malon getting her lasso around one of his legs, she hadn’t been able to pull it tight. Warriors stood and turned towards the basement door, his hands glowing again, and Wind hated the closed-off look on his face.

He raised his hands, but then Malon shouted, wrenching her arm free of the ice and yanking the lasso around Warriors’s leg.

He lost his balance with a cry, and Malon kicked him backwards, sending him sliding down the hall a bit.

“Boys, go now,” she said, making no move to join them as she tried to get the rope around Warriors’s other leg. He shot some ice at her again, and it froze some of her hair as she dodged.

“But Mom—!”

“I said go! That’s an order!” she shouted, cutting Legend off.

“We’re not leaving you here!” Wind said, wanting to rush to her side, but still supporting both Four and Ravio. He couldn’t even use his powers to help, the hallway too narrow and Malon and Warriors moving too fast for him to do anything.

Malon gave Wind and Four a complicated look, then threw open a closet door that opened into the hallway, blocking a shot from Warriors. The ice froze it in place, and Wind could hear Warriors trying to break through as energy shots rattled it, but Malon didn’t press the sudden advantage. Rather she used the brief break to look back at the four of them.

Her expression softened, and she locked eyes with Legend, his face pale and frantic.

“I’ll keep him busy, you four go ahead. The hatch downstairs opens with the triforce tap combination, you know it Legend.”

Legend’s expression looked like pure agony. “Mama I can’t—”

A loud crack came from the closet door, and Malon swept forward and grabbed all of them into a hug, even Ravio, and she quickly kissed Legend’s hair.

“It’ll be okay, honey. Go!”

She gave them all a pointed shove through the doorway as Warriors broke through the ice, and Legend shouted a warning. Wind caught a brief glimpse of Warriors standing behind her, his hands raised with grief on his face, and Malon slammed the door shut behind them.

Then the tell-tale sound of Warriors shooting his ice rang out, sealing the door shut.

“No!” Legend screamed, slamming his shoulder into the door.

Wind stared at it in horror, but he could already tell the ice was too thick for them to break through. The door was totally sealed off, thick ice sealing all around the edges, and even the sound from the other side was muffled.

Nobody would be getting through that door for hours.

“Legend we have to go,” Wind said in a shaking voice, hating that he had to be the one to say it, and Legend banged a fist against the door, breathing heavily.

“Mom!” he yelled, but there was no reply, only muffled shouts.

Four gave Wind a frightened look, Ravio’s expression pure shock, and Wind took in a deep breath as Legend slammed his fist against the door again.

“Legend,” Wind repeated quietly, and Legend gripped the door handle so hard his knuckles turned white.

Wind managed to brush a slight breeze over Legend’s head, meant to be comforting, and Legend stilled, only his shaking shoulders belaying his emotions.

“I can’t lose her too,” Legend finally whispered in a terrified voice.

“You’re not losing her. This isn’t over,” Wind said, choking back the knot in his throat. He had to focus, he could cry later. “We’ll get her back Legend, I swear, but we can’t let what she did be in vain. We have to go.”

Legend pressed his forehead to the door, and didn’t move.

Then he harshly breathed out, and leaned back, a murderous expression on his face.

“We’re going for Sky’s place. It'll be safe there. And then we’re getting her back,” he said in a harsh whisper.

Wind and Four both nodded determinedly, and Ravio gave Legend a light nudge, looking like he didn’t know what else to do. It was telling that Ravio had stayed quiet almost this whole time— Wind knew his version of him could be a bit of a chatterbox sometimes— but now it was like he just didn’t know what to say.

It could’ve been the pain he was in, but Wind had a feeling it was more due to shock.

“Come on,” Legend muttered, nudging Wind forward, and they all hurried down the stairs, nobody speaking as Legend opened the secret hatch, then closed and locked it behind them.

Nobody spoke as they crawled through the tunnel, Legend leading the way and helping Ravio with his leg. Wind glimpsed tears on Legend's face from the light of the flashlight, but he didn't say anything about them, knowing it wasn't the time. They needed to get away from here first.

Four finally distributed the packs so he didn't have to carry them all, though Wind took two because Malon...

Wind swallowed, and shook his dark thoughts away. They'd just wanted to arrest them, not kill them. Malon would be captured, but he had to hope she would be fine. Especially with Warriors there, he wouldn't let them do anything bad to her...

...Right?

An image of Warriors shooting ice at them with an emotionless look in his eyes shot through Wind's brain, and he held back a shudder, Four brushing his side.

Malon had to be okay.

She would be okay.

Wind swallowed again, and focused all of his energy on crawling through the dusty tunnel, not thinking about Warriors, not thinking about Malon, and trying his best not to listen to the quiet sound of Legend's tears.

(...)

Malon was silent as she was surrounded and handcuffed, though she still struggled and kicked like the horses she spent so much of her time with. Finally she was restrained though, and the man who was technically Warriors's superior grinned as he proudly announced she was under arrest for treason, participating in illegal ventures, aiding and abetting known criminals... the list went on.

Warriors held her silently while the man prattled on, and glanced at the basement door, still frozen solid. He tried not to let the hope show on his face, but he was overwhelmingly relieved inside.

He'd given Legend and the others some time. His nephew may hate him now, but it was worth it.

Malon stumbled suddenly on some of the ice, and Warriors automatically caught her, her head ending up rather close to his.

"Thank you," she whispered, so soft Warriors thought he'd imagined it. She gave him the smallest of nods when he looked at her though, and Warriors returned it, his throat tight.

She knew he'd helped Legend get away.

The man finally finished his list of alleged crimes, and Warriors prodded Malon to her feet as gently as he could manage while still putting on a show. She didn't resist, and they marched out of the house, Malon with her head high and undefeated.

I'm sorry Time.

[samcatcher]

When in London.

chapter 4. masterpost

“Do you have any siblings?” Sam asked me as we walked out of the house and onto the quiet street.

“Yeah, just one. I have an older brother called Michael. He lives in central Paris.” I replied.

“That’s cool. Your house must have been quiet growing up. I have 3 siblings who are all musically inclined. You probably remember.” Sam added and laughed a little.

“I remember your brother who used to work at the market, that’s all. I thought he was your only sibling. I thought it weird how some days he would be kinda quiet and some days he would be loud. It was like he was two different people.” I said.

Sam started laughing.

“He was two people. My brother jake. They’re identical twins.” He said through laughter.

“What? No way. So is the twin in the band? Is that the brothers you were referring to sharing a hotel room with?” I asked fast, shocked.

“Yes. Now I hope you see why I wanted to avoid that at all costs.” Sam smirked.

“I do see that now. Who’s the other sibling then?” I laughed and then phrased my question.

“My older sister Ronnie. She’s cool but she’s not too interested in the band.” Sam stated.

“So you’re the baby?” I asked, trying not to tease because I knew I was too.

“Just like you.” Sam added in the same tone.

A bus later, we ended up at the nearest hardware store. Sam pushed the cart and I followed him to the wall of paint samples and build your own buckets.

He seemed uninterested at first but once I stared at him despairing, his poker face dropped and he turned into his passionate decorator mode. Immediately scanning the wall and picking out samples I can narrow down to one color.

He eventually held about ten samples of different colors. All giving off a different vibe from each other. My eyes were set on this beautiful orangey peach color. 

“See the greens are good if you want some sort of nature themed room. Living in London probably isn’t as naturistic as Michigan so you might wanna get back to home. Although these pink colors work really well with plants. So either way I guess you're turning your room into somewhat of a forest. If that’s what you were going for anyway.” Sam explained passionately. I made sure I took in every word.

“I do have a lot of plants.” I said smiling, I picked up the peachy sample from his hand and looked at it one more time.

“What do you think?” I added.

“I think it’s absolutely perfect.” Sam answered.

Somewhat impulsively, I decided to get two cans of the peachy color my eyes were set on from the get go. I found it immensely summery and perfect compared to the dark green leaves on all of my house plants.

We got various paintbrushes and rollers too. I also got a small can of plain white because all of my furniture was that color and Sam told me he had a trick to patch up white furniture that's been stained or chipped. 

We called a cab back to the house, Sam insisted on paying for it, I let him. 

We struggled to take everything up the stairs, Danny and Amelia weren't there so we just assumed they had gone to do something in London together as a family.

Sam helped me put a giant tarp down onto the hardwood floor, we taped it extra carefully to the floor and baseboard, so that we were sure not to get any paint on the ground. We put tape on the top of the white baseboard also, and over the plugs and light switches. Taking extra precautions.

Once everything was protected, Sam brought in all of the supplies and opened the first can of paint. We stared in awe at the beautiful orangey pink color. And I imagined how it would look on my currently white walls. I was filled with excitement, a massive smile crept on both of our faces.

I lent Sam an oversized white t-shirt. He didn’t have any spear shorts but he didn’t mind. He said he had better pairs at home anyway. He went to the bathroom to change.

Suddenly my phone started to ring, obviously it was Jean.

I was quick and blunt with the conversation, I didn't feel bad because I had the excuse that I was about to paint, I didn't tell him that I was painting with Sam though because it would just cause problems. Jean has always been jealous, so I knew that if I was talking to another guy while he was in an entirely different country, it wouldn't sit well with him.

After a quick 'I love you bye' I put the phone down and put it on to not disturb it. I didn't need any more distractions from him.

Sam came in about 3 minutes later. His hair was pulled into a tight messy bun, the shirt I lent him was oversized on him just as much as me, you could barely see the shorts. He noticed this and tucked one corner of the shirt into his shorts to make it look less large.

“let's get to work then, are you sure about this?” he asked and raised an eyebrow. 

Then he smiled suddenly as I nodded. He started on the wall with the window on it. Carefully dragging his paintbrush along the seam of the window, so that it didn't graze the windowsills and window frame. Watching him do it was mesmerizing, he was so precise with his hands.

I chose the wall which held my own door to the balcony, I did what Sam did and carefully made my way along the edge of the doorframe. About five minutes of painting went on, and suddenly Sam stopped, looked at me and shook his head. Then he walked out of my room.

Then 2 minutes later he walked in with a Bluetooth speaker he must have brought with him.

“There's no way we can paint without music, Lyla.”

It tingled in my lips as he said my name.

I laughed and let him choose what to play, he didn't even ask for my opinion on what he should put on, he said he wanted to play something he knew I would like.

Joni Mitchell's Blue.

I loved that album, I pretended that I just liked it, he seemed like the 'I told you so' type so I didn't want him to get too cocky on his assumption.

The songs played and we sang along while we covered my walls in the peachy shade. The more the walls were covered the brighter and more me the room felt. Sam's wall was halfway done after the album finished, and mine was about a quarter.

As soon as it finished he went back over to his phone, and without 10 seconds to spare he hit play on Don McLean's American Pie, god Sam had taste.

Halfway through the first and iconic song on the album he stopped painting and started to sing and approach me. Then he took my hand in his and spun me around, we shitty danced for about a minute. Finally, I giggled and said;

“Come on, we have to finish painting! You have a show soon.”

He grunted and looked up at the ceiling.

“As soon as that show is over, I'm coming right back up here. We're finishing this tonight!”

I laughed and shot him a 'sure we will' look. Then he smirked and went back to painting his section of the wall.

About 2 hours had gone by, Sam's wall was completely finished and he had approached the wall next to it, the wall in which my bed would be against.  My wall was just about finished too, so I moved onto the wall that housed my bedroom door.

After American Pie he chose the classic Hunky Dory by David Bowie. This one was one of my all time favorites. Especially when I had just got to France, I listened on repeat. I vocalized how much I loved this album, and he smiled so genuinely, then wiggled his eyebrows.

“You seem the type.” He said as he focused on his wall.

I smiled.

This time I initiated the dancing, and he didn't resist, he grabbed my hands immediately and spun us around, while we sang to the chorus of 'Oh! You pretty things.' And in a fit of laughter, I collapsed against the wall behind me, which was covered in wet paint.

“Oh shit!” I said, trying to get a good look at my back, Sam laughing next to me.

“It looks quite cool actually, I don't think you should keep wearing that though, you might spread that peachy infection around the house.” He laughed.

I groaned and looked through my suitcase that I had moved into the kitchen. I found a shirt that I had taken from Jean's closet and put it on, leaving the messed up shirt in a carrier bag next to my suitcase.

I walked back into my room to find Sam still painting, and I felt bad because he needed to be at the pub in half an hour.

“Hey Sam…” I leaned against the doorframe, he turned around quickly

“Didn't you say you needed to be at the pub by 4?”

Immediately he checked his watch and saw it was 3:31, then he began to frown. He took a step back and took in what we had done already, then he said

“I'll be back... tonight. Don't you dare go to sleep before I come back.”

I laughed and shook my head, then he grazed my arm lightly and looked at me to tell me he genuinely meant it. Then he trailed out of my room and I heard him go downstairs.

I decided to paint for about 20 minutes longer, but without Sam in the room with me it was just boring. There was only a quarter left to do. 2 walls were completed and the other two walls were halfway done. So I decided I'd do what Sam said and not paint anymore until he's back from his show.

I made sure the paint in the paint tray was used, and then I cleaned the paintbrushes and rollers in the bathtub with paint thinner, making sure that it didn't dry on the brushes and deem them unusable.

Sam left at 3:45, stressing he wouldn't get there in time. He had been gone for about an hour so I assumed everything was fine. I didn't get his number or anything so there wasn't a way for me to ask right now.

I decided to order myself some food, as a celebration for the day and for the work Sam and I had gotten done. I got him a carbonara but I didn't know if he'd want it, so I put it in the fridge for anyone to eat. Amelia didn't come back, so I assumed she went to watch her brother play.

I was hoping Sam would invite me to come and watch, but I think he was hoping I'd ask, so the subject just got dropped.

I spoke to Jean for a while and changed into some pajamas. I went down into the living room because my room smelled strongly of paint.

At around 10:30 I started getting tired, but Sam's words were circling in my mind. I watched a few movies I had loved since I was a teenager, the sofa was still in its bed form, so I decided to get cozy in there. Since Sam and Danny were gonna come home late and probably wouldn't want to have to set up the sofa bed.

It was funny, we only had one sofa bed but two sofas, so Amelia and I heard Danny and Sam arguing about who gets the bed and who gets the sofa. Eventually, Sam told me, they settled on taking turns, and it was Sam's turn for the bed tonight.

I felt myself drifting off but tried my best to stay awake so I could finish painting my room with him, but I just couldn't fight the sleep that was bubbling up inside. Eventually I gave in. Not realizing where I was falling asleep.

-

I woke up to the blinding sun. I was confused about where I was, all I could smell was the aroma of deodorant and paint, and I could feel a warmth against my back.

I sat up and looked down at a sleeping Sam next to me. Facing away from me, but he was taking up almost all of the bed. Paint was on his hands and arms, and a small bit on his face. He was completely out of it. The gig must have made him so tired. Danny wasn't there on the other sofa, the only people in the room were me and Sam.

Suddenly, the tiredness in my mind changed to everlasting guilt.

I reached to find my phone but it wasn't anywhere near me. I needed to see if Jean had texted me, and I needed to act normal. He doesn't know I just shared a bed with a man I met 2 nights ago.

I realized it was upstairs in my unfinished room still, so I gently crawled out of bed. I didn't need to be gentle though, Sam was so out of it.

I walked up the stairs and into my room. Which wasn't unfinished at all.

The tape was removed, the tarp was gone, and every wall was painted. It wasn't patchy or rushed, it was perfect, it looked like a second or possibly third coat had been applied to the walls as well. Sam wasn't lying when he said that it needed to be done tonight.

I snapped out of the trance that the walls had put me into, and grabbed my phone from the middle of the room. I quickly unlocked it and rang Jean straight away.

I made my way to the balcony, because my room still smells like paint, and the walls were still wet. It was 11 am though, so I wondered why the paint was so fresh smelling.

Jean and I spoke for a while about how we slept. We planned what we were going to do when he got to London. After about 15 minutes we ran out of things to talk about, so I put the phone down and just appreciated the morning breeze.

About 5 minutes of staring into the sky, Amelia texted me

“Hey Lyla, I completely forgot to tell you, Danny and I are at our cousin's, we went there straight after the gig, we should be home by dinner time!”

That explains why the house was so empty.

I pondered for what felt like hours about sharing the bed with Sam. I knew I shouldn't be guilty because I didn't feel him getting in the bed with me, and I didn't intend for him to. But I realized it was kind of my fault for falling asleep in the place that I knew he would end up sleeping in. He literally told me it was his turn on the sofa bed that night.

I then wondered, why did he? He could have woken me up?

Then it hit me. He could have slept on the other sofa. He chose to get in that bed with me.

I put my hands over my face and then ran my fingers through my hair. Wondering why he would do this.

About 30 seconds after my realization that there was absolutely no reason for him to have gotten into bed with me willingly, my thoughts were interrupted by my stomach.

I walked into the kitchen and decided to make a full English fry up for me and Sam. Especially for Sam, to say thank you to him for finishing my room while I was sound asleep. In his bed.

I guess the smell woke him up. Because when I was just about to plate up the breakfasts, I saw him sheepishly walking up the stairs, rubbing his eyes and yawning, he went into the bathroom without acknowledging me, then came out 5 minutes later, face washed, hair up, but still in paint stained pajamas.

He came up behind me and looked at the breakfasts on the plate. Mouth wide open.

“Oh my god, what is this?” He was shocked, someone had never seen a fry up before.

“It's about the only thing I can cook.- I laughed -Here, the plates, we can eat it on the balcony it's warm out there.”

We both walked out to the balcony, Sam holding the plates and me holding two glasses of orange juice. Then Sam went back inside and came out with a chair from the kitchen.

We both sleepily ate our food in our pajamas. Sam kept closing his eyes and shaking his head to tell me it was good.

I decided not to bring up the bed thing. He was probably just tired and would rather have slept on a bed than on a couch, and he probably didn't even notice I was there. I was under the covers to the far left, and he was on the right.

We both finished at almost exactly the same time.

“Thank you by the way, I didn't expect you to finish my room without me there, it was shocking going up there this morning and seeing it so perfect.” I laughed and tilted my head to smile. Like I was posing for a photo.

Sam blushed slightly and shook his head. “It was nothing really... I wanted it to be finished for you when your furniture comes.”

I nodded and put my legs up on the small table in front of me, Sam did the same, our feet were touching slightly.

“Do you wanna come to the pub we're playing at tonight?” Sam said after some moments. He looked at me nervously.

“Yes of course I would.” I said affirmatively, smirking at him.

We sat in a comfortable silence for 20 minutes after that. I was happy that he had invited me. I would never have invited myself.

Then he excused himself to go and get dressed.

Eventually he came back out onto the balcony wearing a thin white sweatshirt and a pair of black cotton shorts. And we started the day staring at the sky together.

chapter 5

[dex-xe]

if you’re still taking requests i’d love to see “Hey, look at me. Focus on me alright?” with alison and thomas cause u know that lil bitch gets panic attacks/meltdowns and i feel like alison’d be hella good at talking him thru em

Thomas, Alison, Pat & the Captain General #23: “Hey, look at me. Focus on me alright?”

(So this is a fic for these three, I couldn’t decide who to write so here’s all three of them trying to deal with an upset Thomas. Also,, for some reason these are getting no interaction on ao3, yes they’re on there as well, so if anyone wants to go check out some of my stuff on there pls do @/littlemouseinapartyhat :))) Also I know all the fics so far have focussed on a select few characters but the next one will be the Button House women on a sleepover,, spoiler alert Fanny joins in and has fun :P)

Prompt list

Inbox

Far too many times, Pat and the Captain had discovered Thomas buried to his eyes in the murky green water of the lake. It was hardly a surprise to either when Thomas had bolted from the house and dove into the water with the arrival of a new Lord Byron with film crew in tow. As soon as his overwhelming emotional meltdown had begun, Pat and the Captain had shared one single glance across the film set, a knowing glance of full understanding of what they must do later. Their usual nightly patrol was punctuated by a detour to the lake where they, like usual, would sit on the grassy bank beside the water for two hours persuading Thomas to come inside. They’d eventually peacefully appease him and watch as Thomas took the long and silent walk back to the house where he’d dramatically flop into his bed - and remain there for days on end. Pat waited until the Captain had finished gawking after Adam to catch his arm and drag him swiftly towards the lake. They stood on the shoreline watching Thomas huff and puff in the dark water, running his fingers repeatedly through his soft curly hair. “So what do we do exactly?” Someone asked. Unaware they had been followed, both men spun around to find Alison behind them, hands on hips gazing out at Thomas. Pat turned back to face the lake, stepping up the algae ridden waterline. “Thomas!” He called. “Thomas! Are you alright?” Thomas didn’t respond. Instead ducking further below the surface to drop his nose under the water too. “Listen, Thorne!” The Captain shouted out to him. “It’s getting dark, you must come inside at once.” “Does he listen?” Alison asked. “Eventually,” the Captain sighed. “You might care to take a seat, Alison. He can take a little while, whiny child.” Alison perched on the edge of the bank, picking at the grass as she rested her chin on her knees, ready to watch whatever Pat and the Captain had planned for the poet. “Thomas, do you want to talk about it?” Pat shouted. “I get you’re upset, mate. But come out and we can have a chat, yeah? What’s wrong?” Thomas stayed silent, staring blankly back as if not a single thought was running through his mind. “I know you don’t feel well, and I won’t pretend to know what’s happening in that little brain of yours but talking it out will make you feel a thousand times better, I promise,” Pat told him. “Now listen here, Thomas. I demand you listen to Patrick and vacate the water with haste,” the Captain yelled towards him. “The film crew’s left, Tom, nothing left here to worry about,” Pat said. “You can come inside and calm down a touch, yeah? Letting it all out will do you the world of good.” “The sun is setting, Thorne. Whatever this silliness is, you had better push it down deep and come inside!” “Captain, that’s not exactly the best advice at the moment,” Pat told the Captain covering his frustration with a small chuckle. “We’re here to fetch him from the water, not provide a therapy session.” Pat turned fully towards the Captain and held his hands out to try and placate him, hoping he wouldn’t resort to his idea of talking never helping - as he had insisted with Fanny only weeks earlier. “If we find out what is troubling him, we can get him out.” “But-“ Alison stood up abruptly and stepped between the two of them. “Okay, well you guys aren’t helping him in the slightest,” she said. “What? I’m helping?” They said simultaneously, snapping to face each other and shoot incredulous looks. “You’re not doing anything!” “Okay, my turn,” Alison returned to watching Thomas’ morose face above the water. She took her phone from her back pocket and dropped it onto the bank before pulling off her heavy green jumper. She stepped into the lake, muddy water splashing about her ankles and coating the cuffs of her jeans. She sighed at the thought of slaving over laundry the next morning to recover her best jeans. “What the bally hell are you doing?” The Captain questioned. “You can’t seriously be going out there?” Pat said. “Fetch Mike if I start to drown, hey?” She said before wading deeper into the water. She was pleasantly surprised that she could keep her feet planted firmly on the silty bottom of the lake as the freezing winter water pooled around her legs, then hips, all the way up to her shoulders, and to the point where she had to push up onto her tiptoes to keep her head above the surface. Reaching Thomas within a matter of moments, Alison stopped in front of him and dropped ever so slightly so she was eye to eye with him. “Thomas,” she said quietly. “Hey, look at me. Focus on me, alright?” She reached a dripping hand from out of the water and reached as if to cup his cheek, hovering millimetres away. “Can you hear me, Thomas?” Thomas nodded jerkily, trying not to break his eye contact with Alison. “Good, you don’t need people shouting advice at you from the shoreline. You need someone to bring you back down, don’t you?” He nodded again. “You’re floating, aren’t you? Well above the lake and you feel like you can’t come down because everything that’s happening in that head is keeping you up. I’m right, aren’t I?” “Yes,” his voice cracked. “I’ve been there, Thomas,” Alison confessed quietly. “I’ve felt that: where you desperately need someone to catch hold of your leg and just pull you back down. It’s a panic attack, Thomas, or something similar; I’m not sure but it’s nothing to be afraid of. I just need you to focus on me, yeah? And the water. The water? The water! It makes you feel sick, doesn’t it? Can you feel it, can you feel that nauseous feeling like when you touch someone living? It’s there, isn’t it?” A thought overtook Alison, a simple but risky idea. It could bring Thomas straight back to reality, or it could make him feel a thousand times worse. Her hand stayed in position close to Thomas’ face, as she flicked her attention to it slightly. Leaning forward, her hand pressed into his cold form fading through his skin momentarily. Thomas took a deep breath, he had no need to but the overwhelming emotion had stopped his breaths for so very long. “Can you feel it? Does it make you feel, Thomas?” She whispered, trying hard to keep her balance on the lake bed and not fall straight through Thomas. “Fair Alison,” Thomas whispered. “I- I feel sick.” “Good, it’s called ‘grounding’. Using the things around you to bring you back to reality. I’m right here with you, so use my touch, my voice,” Alison said calmly. She couldn’t help but think about the first anxiety attack she’d ever experienced. Year eleven, minutes before a presentation on igneous rocks - Mike had been the one to sit on the corridor floor with her and coach her through it, using the very same techniques she was employing for Thomas. “When there are people in the house, people who work to mock me, it is as if every noise, every colour, every person is simply too vibrant,” he whispered, barely audible to Alison. “It is as if every bone in my body is being accosted by the senses, too many senses.” “I know, I know,” Alison muttered. “I know, Thomas. But you mustn’t drown yourself in the lake! This doesn’t feel particularly pleasant for me, let alone the undead. So, don’t drown yourself, please. One of the best things about my near-death and questionable spiritual abilities is that I can help you.” “None of the others understand this horrific feeling,” Thomas said. “Patrick and the Captain, they do their best. But Captain is rather harsh and Pat insists on talking nonsense and then trying to hug me. I do not feel I need that.” “Then come to me, Thomas,” Alison urged. “Don’t drown yourself, what kind of a solution is that? Find me and we’ll talk.” “I do not wish to disturb when you are-,” Thomas started. “No, you’re not a disturbance. If you need me, I’ll be there.” Thomas nodded gently, trying not to put pressure on the cold spot where Alison was touching his face. “Now, I’m freezing to death out here, and I’m fairly sure there’s a fish in my jeans. Let’s go inside, you can choose a film, yeah?” “Yes please.” The light had dropped quickly, the orangey grey light of the evening had been replaced by darkness. They began the trudge back to the shore where Pat and the Captain were sat side by side on the bank, trying slightly too hard to seem nonchalant a hide their eavesdropping. Pat jumped up as he realised they were coming back, and the Captain uncrossed his legs to stand beside him. “Fantastic work, Alison!” Pat said, reaching out to take Thomas by the arm. He cowered away slightly, only to be guided slowly forward by Alison; more herding him than actually touching his waistcoat. Pat retreated holding his hands up in surrender. “That’s probably a record!” “Whatever did you say to get him away so quickly?” The Captain asked. “Stop being so nosy,” Alison chuckled, ringing the water out of her dark hair. “Thank you for your help, Pat, Cap. But just leave him be for a little while, okay? Come on, back in with you,” she said turning to Thomas. “I could do with a hot shower and some clothes that don’t contain ten gallons of pond water and an aquarium of creatures. Will you be okay sitting with the others for a bit while I get changed, Thomas?” Thomas contemplated and then nodded once at her beginning the long walk to the safety of the house. He was still away with the fairies, still flying high above the lake waiting for his feet to return to solid ground. But concentrating very hard, focusing on Alison in front of him - her voice and her touch, he could almost feel the very tips of his toes skimming the waterline. 

[gideongrace]

OOO! I love your prompts! How about harringrove, 61 and/or 63 please?? :D

Finally, after a million years, here you go.

//

It's late. They're watching some dumb rom-com on Steve's laptop at his and Dustin's ugly, messy little apartment. And Steve is asleep curled up on Billy's lap like he's a goddamn cat and it makes Billy feel about eighteen different kinds of warm and soft and safe that all swirl and combine into this one entirely calming sort of feeling that's like nothing he's ever known. He reaches forward, fingers brushing the plastic-but-pretending-to-be-wood veneer of the coffee table and pauses the movie to just sort of… soak in the moment. 

It's quiet. Dustin is out with Robin and Heather. The lights are off so the only light in the room is coming from the dim and far off orangey glow of the streetlights through the big window on the side wall, the room's one nice feature, and the laptop screen. The glow from which should be ugly, it's all blue and gross and cold but… 

Still, somehow, it manages to light Steve's skin up like he's an angel. And Billy doesn't wanna break the moment but he also can't help himself, he has to touch that skin, has to touch Steve. He skates the tips of his fingers delicately along the edge of Steve's jaw and savors the softness of that skin but also the firmness of his jaw. His fingers trail up the side of his cheek, just along his ear...

"Mmm…" Steve groans and Billy freezes, dead and still like a statue, not even breathing until Steve says, "Stupid, perfect, idiot… and his… stupid, perfect face… such an ass…" making Billy burst out in laughter he tries but doesn't at all manage to contain. With all this noise he expects Steve to wake up, but he doesn't, he just grunts and turns his head away from the laptop screen and its bright blue glare. 

Billy is just debating risking touching him again when his phone screen lights up, letting him know he's got a new text or a new tweet or a new message on snapchat or a new something that either needs his urgent attention or that could easily be ignored completely. After a couple of seconds of debate, he decides to grab it anyway, knowing it's probably nothing important but too overcome by curiosity to really ignore it either way.

It turns out to be a text from Heather saying, "You up or did you take that pretty boy of yours to bed already?" causing Billy to snort. One of his favorite things about Heather? She is and has always been completely lacking in tact. And proud of it, too.

So he texts back, "No," and debates taking a pic of Steve sprawled out across his lap to send to Heather. He almost doesn't, but… then he does. He can't help it. He has to brag about his boyfriend to someone and Heather literally (basically) just asked about him, so he sends the pic along with the text, "But he did fall asleep on me halfway through the movie he picked so sort of?"

He can all but hear the way Heather snort laughs as she quickly fires back with, "Awww, you love him." 

Billy smiles and types back, "Yeah, so?"

She responds with, "I knew back at that party when you said, "I love this giant dork," that you really meant him. You've got it BAD, my friend." 

He looks down at the sleeping man in his lap and nods, even though she can't see him doing it and comes back with, "Since day one," to which she replies a huge string of smiley face emojis. 

They then trail off into talking about her and Robin and Heather's work and the baseball game they'd watched last week that had been such a disappointment before Steve yawns and wakes himself up. 

The first thing Billy says to him the second his eyes are good and properly open is, "You're adorable when you're sleepy," and ruffles his hair. 

Steve yawns again and leans in to the touch before replying, "Yeah, yeah," and the words could signal annoyance or irritation, but they don't. They're just as soft and as fond and as happy as Steve himself looks right now. 

So the next thing Billy says is, "Did you know you were talking in your sleep? Why don't you tell me more about my 'stupid, perfect face'?" and it's dark but Billy can still see the blush that creeps up onto Steve's cheeks over it. 

Billy's about to tease him more, though he isn't sure about what when Steve surprises him by sitting up and moving himself so he's straddling Billy's lap. "Okay," Steve says. "Your eyes are ridiculously gorgeous." He pauses to kiss Billy softly, chastely, quickly before backing up and speaking again. 

"Your eyelashes are long enough to make most girls jealous." 

And again he backs up to give him another quick, sweet kiss. 

"Your cheekbones are divine." 

Another kiss. 

"Your lips are downright sinful." 

Another kiss. 

"And don't get me started on the rest of your body or we'll else be here all night and I am much too tired for all of that." This time Steve yawns again and while it starts out being all for show it ends up being very real and sets off a matching yawn ripping through Billy that gets him feeling a little sleep fuzzy himself. 

He's pretty sure he manages to get out something like, "Let's go to bed then," before getting to his feet, Steve still clinging to him like an octopus, and somehow managing to drag the both of them to bed. 

//

This is part of the "Upside Down Cupcakes" bakery au fic series on a03.

And I included prompt #62 "You were talking in your sleep. Why don't you tell me more about my 'stupid, perfect face'?" from @wrecked-fuse and @harringrovetrashh. 💜

[saiilorstars]

Metamorphosis

Ch. 2: The Doctor and the Vortex Butterfly

Current Masterlist // Previous Story //

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: 11th Doctor x Female OC

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel​

[If you would like to be added to this specific OC’s taglist, let me know!]

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Chapter summary: Renata and the Doctor have 20 minutes to save the world with absolutely no equipment. It's a time where they each have to show the world who they are, although Renata is surprised that the world may already know her. In the end, when they're alone, they finally get to speak the words on their mind.

Twelve years.

Twelve years had passed by for Amelia Pond. The more Renata thought about it, the more terrible she felt. She made a promise to that little girl that it would only take them 5 minutes to come back to her.

"O...kay…" Amelia pushed her orangey hair behind her shoulders. "You don't...you don't have to cry or anything…"

"It's been 12 years," Renata bit her lower lip, her eyes shining with genuine tears. "I have never been that late."

"It's true, she's never been late for anything in her life," the Doctor agreed. Of course Renata would feel a massive amount of guilt for something that was truly an accident. He felt guilty too but he wouldn't beat himself up over it, not when it hadn't been in his control. "And you know what? You hit me with a cricket bat."

Amelia rolled her eyes and continued to walk away. "12 years!"

The Doctor grabbed Renata's hand and followed after Amelia. "A cricket bat!"

Amelia scoffed. He thought that was bad? He only got a blip of the anger she had simmered for 12 years. "12 years and four psychiatrists."

"Four?" Renata gave her a strange look, making Amelia feel somewhat conscious about the reason behind the number.

"...I kept biting them."

"Why?"

"They said you weren't real!"

"And you thought biting them was the appropriate solution!?"

"Hey!" Amelia only stopped to point at Renata, though the abruptness nearly made her poke an eye out. "Twelve years!"

'Prisoner Zero will vacate the human residence or the human residence will be incinerated.'

They had made it to a small park in the town and now the message was blaring at them through an ice cream truck.

"No, no, no, come on…what? We're being staked out by an ice-cream van?" Amelia frowned at the perfectly normal ice cream van she visited all the time. They could not be related to anything alien.

"What's that!?" the Doctor marched over to the van where the vendor was hitting the radio the message was coming out from. "Why are you playing that?"

"It's supposed to be Claire De Lune!"

"Stop hitting it," Renata made a face as she took the radio from him, though not a second later the Doctor had snatched it out of her hands. He missed her brief glare as he listened to the message closer.

'Prisoner Zero will vacate the human residence or the human residence will be incinerated. Repeat, Prisoner Zero will vacate the human residence or the human residence will be incinerated.'

He would then notice the same message broadcasting in a jogger's mp3 player and then from a few cellphones. Little by little, the message had reached everyone via technology.

"Doctor, what's happening?" Amelia saw everyone's confused faces as they tried making sense about why their technology had stopped working. Instead of answering, the Doctor raced towards the nearest house.

"Doctor!" Renata called for him as she followed, though when he leaped over a white fence she refused to do the same. "Honestly — there's a door!"

Amelia zipped by and took Renata by the arm towards the front of the house. When they reached the house, they found the Doctor had already made himself comfortable by surfing through the television channels.

An elderly woman sat on the couch and was watching him go through every channel. "I was just about to phone. It's on every channel." She smiled upon seeing Amelia. "Hello, Amy, dear. Are you a policewoman now?"

Amelia unconsciously tugged on her skirt. "Well, sometimes."

"I thought you were a nurse."

"I can be a nurse."

"Or, actually, a nun."

"People like to kiss nuns? At parties? Why are humans so weird?" Renata crinkled her nose at the last bit. Amelia jabbed her elbow into Renata's side, making it clear that she didn't want to hear anymore of those questions.

"Amy, who are your friends?" the elder woman asked after studying the Doctor and Renata. She was sure she'd never seen them before.

"Who's Amy?" the Doctor looked away from the TV screen to see the elder woman looking at Amelia. "You were Amelia."

"Yeah, and now I'm Amy." Amy Pond was a huge step up from the little girl who'd been picked on nonstop because of who she believed in.

"Amelia Pond—that was a great name," Renata was gazing at Amy sadly, wondering if the name change had also been a result from their tardiness.

Amy brushed them both off with a roll of her eyes. "Bit fairy tale."

The elder woman had slightly pulled the Doctor back to see his face. "I know you, don't I? I've seen you somewhere before."

The Doctor shook his head. "Not me. Brand-new face…" He moved his face just to make a point. "First time on."

"You look like a child, stop that," Renata said, though she was smiling from amusement.

He smirked. "Yeah? Make me."

Renata froze for a mere second before a blush overtook her face. Oh, this him was going to be a huge flirt and far bolder. She didn't know that was possible. How she would get used to it, she had no idea.

"Why is that on the TV too?" Amy unknowingly pulled Renata out of her thoughts. She had moved around the living room to see the television. The same message was broadcasting from there too.

The Doctor left the television and went for a radio on a window table. With the sonic's help, he heard the same message there too but in different languages. "OK, so it's everywhere, in every language. They're broadcasting to the whole world." He put the radio down and opened up the window, sticking his head out to look up at the sky.

"What's up there?" Amy stepped towards him but at the last moment decided against it. What if there was some alien about to shoot them? "What are you looking for?"

The Doctor hadn't heard her questions as he was making his own calculations. Eventually, he shut the window and turned back to the room. "Okay, planet this size, two poles, your basic molten core...they're going to need a 40% fission blast."

A young man with a computer bag around his shoulders walked into the house and was of course confused to find to strangers in his home. The Doctor barely paid him attention but did acknowledge him in a rather odd manner.

"But they'll have to power up first, won't they?" He had walked up to the man who was far taller than him. Despite this, the man only blinked at the Doctor while he rambled on. "So assuming a medium-sized starship, that's 20 minutes. What do you think, 20 minutes?" the Doctor had to stand on his very tippy toes just to see the man eye to eye. "Yeah, 20 minutes. We've got 20 minutes."

"20 minutes to what?" Amy had done her best to follow everything the Doctor had said but she felt like it hadn't even been said in proper English!

Realization struck the young man suddenly. "Are you the Doctor?"

At that question, the elder woman finally got it as well. "Oh, he is, isn't he? He's the Doctor!"

Renata ignored the hullabaloo as she crossed the room to take the Doctor's arm and turn him to her. "We've got 20 minutes and zero contacts right now."

"Well, it's like you said, hasn't ever stopped us before," he smiled at her.

"Yes, but I meant you!" He was the one who always did the big, unexpected things that would solve everything. She was just along for the ride.

"I can't believe it, Amy, you were telling the truth," the elder woman was still laughing away on the couch, much to Amy's embarrassment. "It's the Raggedy Doctor. All those cartoons you did when you were little. The Raggedy Doctor, it's him."

"And that's the Butterfly Mother!" the young man pointed at Renata, now getting Renata's attention. "Never mind the Mother of Dragons - you're the Mother of Butterflies!"

"The what?" Renata unconsciously gripped the Doctor's arm. She flipped her head back to him. "He called me the what?"

"Fitting name," the Doctor said in bemusement. He took a few strands of her dark hair out of her face then bopped her nose. He headed back for the television that now had the same huge eye Amy once saw in her bedroom. "They're not talking about your house, they're talking about the planet. Somewhere up there, there's a spaceship and it's going to incinerate the planet. 20 minutes to the end of the world."

Amy nearly keeled over.

~0~

The Doctor led the way back to the town's park hopes of finding something a bit more useful than a normal house. Renata was right, they had no contacts right now and they didn't have time to waste!

"What is this place? Where are we?" he asked after making it back to the rather boring, quiet park.

"Leadworth," Any said, but she doubted either of them would recognize such a quaint town. She wouldn't blame them.

"Where's the rest of it?"

Yup, there it was. Any rolled her eyes. "This is it!"

"I like it," Renata said but Amy wasn't sure if she was saying it to be nice or if she actually meant it. Renata wasn't lying, though. She looked around the small town with a smile. It seemed so peaceful and it seemed like everyone would know everyone. She could see little shops lining the streets around the park and she had no doubt that most of them were owned by the very residents of the town. "Very homey."

"That's a word for it," Amy let her eyebrows raise upwards. She'd almost forgotten how Renata was, and even then she wasn't that sure because she'd only met Renata for like 2 hours! But at first glance, the Time Lady had seemed like a woman who could fit perfectly with one of those family shows from the olden days. Somebody very proper.

"Is there an airport?" the Doctor asked after making his own conclusions of the town.

"No."

"A nuclear power station?"

"Uh, no."

"Even a little one?"

Amy's expression asked him why they would have something like that in a small town. "No!"

"Nearest city?"

"Gloucester, half an hour by car."

"That's too long even if we called in UNIT," Renata sighed. "20 minutes!"

"Do we have a car?" the Doctor expended his last try, but once again Amy told him no. "Well, that's good! Fantastic, that is. 20 minutes to save the world and I've got a post office. And it's shut! What is that?" He had found a small pond to the left of the park and for some reason stormed towards it.

Amy couldn't understand why that would suddenly be so interesting and after checking for Renata's reaction, Amy concluded she wasn't alone. "It's a duck pond."

The Doctor had leaned very close to the pond that Renata had to grab his arm in case he lost his balance. "Why aren't there any ducks?"

"I don't know. There's never any ducks."

"Then how do you know it's a duck pond?" Renata was the one to ask this time. That bit was curious. Why name something a specific way if it didn't make sense?

Amy didn't see it that way. She folded her arms with exasperation. "It just is. Is it important, the duck pond?"

The Doctor yelped and nearly fell into the pond had Renata been holding onto his arm. She used his grip on his arm to help him sit on the ground. "I'm not ready, I'm not done yet," he groaned and clutched his chest. Like last time, he needed some time to calm his body through the regeneration process, but he was on the clock!

Renata wanted to do something to help him stand but a process like this truly was individual. She could only stand by him. She scooted closer to him, putting her hand over his hand that clutched his chest. "I'm here," she said what she thought would be useless for him but he leaned on her side for comfort. Renata was surprised but she welcomed it fast.

Suddenly, the sky started darkening up and Amy knew that it couldn't be night time already. "What's happening? Why's the sky getting dark?"

Renata and the Doctor looked up at the sky, not even having to shield their eyes from the sky. There was no sun anymore, it was behind a grey shade. It only lasted for a few seconds before the day returned to normal.

"So what's wrong with the sun?" Amy frowned and looked down at the pair on the ground.

"Nothing. You're looking at it through a force-field," the Doctor said. Renata was helping him stand up. "They've sealed off your upper atmosphere, now they're getting ready to boil the planet."

Renata sighed loudly when she noticed all the humans in the park were taking pictures and videos of the sky instead of doing the sensible thing and running home. "Oh, why are humans so…" she was about to finish the sentence with the word 'stupid' but she caught herself in time after glancing at Amy staring at the sky. "They should be home instead of going crazy on their phones."

"This isn't real, is it? This is some kind of big wind-up," Amy decided it was the only option that didn't make her feel scared out of her mind. She wouldn't give the sky another glance.

"Why would we wind you up?" the Doctor gave her a strange, almost offended glance.

"You told me you had a time machine."

"And you believed us."

"Then I grew up."

"Oh, you never want to do that," the Doctor gave a shake of his head and if he was going to add on then Renata didn't allow him. She had covered his mouth and took over in the conversation.

"It's nice to grow up but it doesn't mean you have to stop believing," Renata said. "Plus, I don't lie—" she winced at herself. That wasn't true and she knew it. "Well, I try not to lie anymore."

The Doctor pushed Renata's hand off his mouth. "Wait, hang on!" He abruptly flapped his arms so that he almost smacked Renata's head. She threw him a glare for such a messy movement but he was none the wiser. "I missed it!" He smacked his forehead enough to make Renata wonder if it would leave a mark on his skin. "I saw it and I missed it." And another smack!

Renata seized his hand and forced it to his side. "Stop that! Seriously, cricket bat and two smacks? Should I just help along and hit you too!?"

"I saw something!" he insisted and because he did, Renata grabbed his other hand in case he got the same idea.

"Then just tell us before you put yourself into a coma!"

The Doctor shut his eyes and stayed silent. There was something he knew that he missed and he just needed to think about it again. Humans were everywhere in the park, taking pictures…

There was a woman near the phone box looking up. Parents by the swing-set snapping pictures of the sky. And one nurse who following Amy's steps. His phone was on another person, never the sky.

Renata slowly let go of his hands when she was sure that he wasn't in danger of himself. She checked the clock on a nearby building and saw their time was getting shorter. Uh, Doctor, our 20 minutes?"

"20 minutes, the planet burns," the Doctor opened his eyes and looked at Amy. "Run to your loved ones and say goodbye, or stay and help me."

Amy held his stare with an expression that easily switched from stoic to anger. "No!"

That wasn't the answer that he was expecting. "I'm sorry?"

"No!" Amy grabbed him by the tie, ignoring his and Renata's cries, as she dragged the Doctor to a nearby car.

"Amy, are you out of your mind!?" Renata shouted in vain at the ginger.

Amy had slammed the Doctor's tie into the car door and made sure it stayed locked with the remote.

"Amy, I am going to need my car back," the driver of the car told her rather nervously since she looked angry as hell.

"Yes, in a bit. Now go and have coffee," Amy's response came out sharply but she was always looking at the Doctor.

"Amy, this is ridiculous!" the Doctor yelled at her but she wasn't budging.

"Who are you?" Amy yelled right back at him.

"You know who I am!"

"No, really, who are you?" Amy threw the question out for him and Renata as well.

"Oh for God's sake," Renata shook her head. "Amy, the world's about to end in 20 minutes and there are some people we are especially interested in saving!" She was sure that somewhere her best friend, Martha Jones, was going crazy trying to figure out a way to help UNIT. Captain Jack, if he was back on Earth, would surely be doing the same. And Donna? Renata's heart ached for their lost friend. She must be terrified out of her mind.

"Amy, catch!" the Doctor tossed an apple to Amy. She barely caught it but when she did, she was mighty confused to find the apple in her palm. "I'm the Doctor, that's Renata. We're time travelers. Everything we told you 12 years ago is true. We're real. What's happening in the sky is real, and if you don't let me go now, everything you've ever known is over."

Amy wouldn't look at the apple yet. She leveled the Doctor's gaze. "I don't believe you."

"Amy, please," Renata sighed as she moved beside the woman. "We didn't lie. We got it wrong, yes, but we didn't lie. Check the apple." Amy gazed at the apple briefly then back to Renata. The Time Lady sighed again. "I meant turn it over."

With eyebrows slightly furrowed, Amy brought the apple back to her eyes. She turned it over and found the butterfly carving she first saw on it when she was seven. It was still fresh as the day Renata gave it to her.

"We try to get it right," Renata insisted in a low whisper. "Please?"

Amy's eyes flickered to the Doctor who seemed just as hopeful as Renata that she would believe them. Renata's gaze was more intense than the Doctor's but at the same time, it compelled Amy to feel like everything would be okay. She didn't know why Renata had such a look but it made Amy shift.

"Fine, what do we do?" Amy unlocked the car door and the Doctor quickly scrambled away from it.

"Stop that nurse!" He ran straight towards the nurse in the park. "The sun's going out, and you're photographing a man and a dog. Why?"

The nurse was stunned to have his phone snatched, even more so when he saw Amy behind the strange man and beside a woman he didn't know. "Amy?"

"Hi! Oh, this is Rory, he's a... friend," Amy nervously looked between the aliens and completely missed Rory's indignant huff.

"Boyfriend!"

"Kind of boyfriend!"

"Amy!"

"I'm confused, how do you have a 'kind of' boyfriend?" Renata genuinely wanted to know the answer because up until now she had never heard the term. Amy, however, didn't seem interested in explaining.

The Doctor gave Rory a not-so-gentle shake from the shoulders. "Man and dog, why?"

It was then that Rory realized why Amy was around these strangers. He looked the Doctor over, especially the ruggedness of his clothes. "Oh, my God, it's him! The doctor. The Raggedy Doctor!" His eyes flickered to Renata and the flower dress on her. "You're the Mother of Butterflies!"

"Yeah, they came back," Amy sighed, trying her best not to look so embarrassed.

"But they were a story. It was a game!"

The Doctor grabbed Rory by the shirt, pulling him face to face. "Man and dog—why? Tell me now!"

Rory blinked with the harsh pull but he answered nonetheless. "Sorry. Because he can't be there. Because he's…"

"...in a hospital, in a coma," they ended up speaking in unison.

Rory wasn't sure if he should be relieved that somebody finally believed him on the matter, or if he should be afraid.

"Knew it. Multi-form, you see?" the Doctor let go of Rory and turned to the women. "Disguise itself as anything, but it needs a live feed, a psychic link with a living but dormant mind."

And at that moment, the creature - the man and dog - snarled at them.

"Prisoner Zero," Renata sucked in a breath.

Rory's eyes might as well have been dinner plates. He kept changing gazes between the man and dog then to Renata and Amy and finally to the Doctor. "What, there's a Prisoner Zero too?"

"Yes," Amy answered just before they heard an electrical buzzing in the sky.

Everyone looked up as a huge spaceship flew across the sky. It stopped right above the park and showcased its famous one eye that would swivel back and forth.

"What's it doing?" Rory asked, terrified.

The Doctor whipped out his sonic to point at the sky. "See, that ship up there is scanning this area for non-terrestrial technology. And nothing says non-terrestrial like a sonic screwdriver." He made a show of activating the sonic at the right moment and scared everyone even more when the street lights shattered, car alarms blared and sirens wailed.

Renata closed her eyes with a small sigh. That was one way to get everyone's attention. She did open her eyes when she heard a fire truck and the angry yells from firemen. They were chasing the truck that was running on its own.

"Oh, that was just going too far!" Renata turned to the Doctor, madly gesturing at the fire truck running down the street.

"I didn't mean to do that," the Doctor made a face and winced - as did everyone else - when they heard the truck crash.

Prisoner Zero barked at them but before it could move a step towards them, the Doctor redirected the sonic at a phone box nearby and made it explode. A few seconds later, the sonic itself sparked and fizzled between his fingers. The Doctor yelped and threw the sonic to the ground.

"No, no, no, don't do that!"

"Oh no," Renata watched the ship take leave without even eyeing Prisoner Zero.

"No, come back, he's here! Come back!" the Doctor called after the ship in vain. "He's here, Prisoner Zero is here. Come back, he's here! Prisoner Zero is…"

"Not so much anymore," Renata lowered his flapping arms and pointed at Prisoner Zero who was turning into pure mist.

"It just went down the drain…" Amy made a face as they all watched the remnants of the creature disappear through the ground.

"Well, of course it did," the Doctor groaned. They'd been so close and like always...so far.

"Well, what do we do now?"

"It's hiding in human form. We need to drive it into the open. No TARDIS, no screwdriver, 17 minutes! Come on, think. Think!"

"Stop!" Renata grabbed his hand just inches from his forehead. "Seriously," she lowered it between them. "Please don't hit yourself." They needed his mind completely unharmed for what was to come.

"So that thing, that hid in my house for 12 years?" Amy finally tore her gaze from the drain.

"Multi-forms can live for millennia. 12 years is a pit-stop," the Doctor explained as he took his hand back from Renata, though he had to tug twice for her to let him go.

"So how come you two show up again on the same day that lot does? The same minute?"

"Well, it's not our fault," Renata argued weakly as she brought her arms over her chest. "Yes, they followed us to get to him but...I mean...one of these days they were bound to come anyways."

"What?" Rory blinked at her.

"Now, sport, give me your phone," the Doctor held his hand out for Rory's cellphone, but Rory was too out of it to notice on the first try.

"How can they be real?" Rory was looking specifically at Amy, wondering how the hell she was so calm with everything that was going on. "They were never real."

The Doctor grew impatient and waved his hand in front of Rory's face. "Phone, now, give me!"

Rory had no idea what he wanted from it but he handed his phone over and continued going off. "They were just a game. We were kids. You made me dress up as him!"

Renata looked between the two humans with bemusement. "Really?"

Amy felt her face reddened and before Rory could say what she dressed up as, she asked the Doctor what he was looking for.

"These aren't coma patients; they're all the multi-form. Eight comas, eight disguises for Prisoner Zero!"

"But he had a dog, though. There's a dog in a coma?"

"The coma patient dreams he's walking a dog, Prisoner Zero gets a dog. Laptop! Your friend, what was his name? Not him—" the Doctor jerked a thumb at Rory, missing Rory's indignant huff, "—the good-looking one!"

"He doesn't mean that," Renata tried stepping in but Amy made it worse.

"Jeff?" she asked right on the spot.

"Oh, thanks!" Rory exclaimed.

"Doesn't mean it," Renata tried again with a nervous smile.

"He had a laptop in his bag, a laptop. Big bag, big laptop, I need Jeff's laptop!" the Doctor went on without ever noticing his rudeness. "You two—" he said for Amy and Rory, "—get to the hospital, get everyone out, clear the whole floor. Phone me when you're done." He promptly reached over for Renata's hand and yanked her away.

They returned to Jeff's home, barging inside without so much of a knock. Renata couldn't stand for that, no matter how much she tried. She skidded to a stop in the living room where Jeff's grandmother sat. "Really sorry about that."

"Hey!" Jeff cried from his room.

Renata jumped and nervously smiled at the grandmother again. "Sorry!" She ran into the room and saw the Doctor basically fighting Jeff for the laptop. "Oh Doctor, this is too much even for you!"

The Doctor won the fight and took a seat at the edge of the bed, patting the empty spot beside him. "C'mon—blimey!" He motioned Renata to stay right where she was. "Get a girlfriend, Jeff."

The door behind Renata opened up to let the grandmother in. "What are you doing?" she curiously asked the trio.

"The sun's gone wibbly, so right now, somewhere out there, there's going to be a big video conference call!" the Doctor explained in a rush while he madly typed on the laptop. "All the experts in the world panicking at once, and do you know what they need? Me."

"Being so modest, aren't we?" Renata smiled and got a smirk in return. She walked over to the bed and sat next to him just as his callers answered.

"Ah, and here they all are. All the big boys. NASA, Jodrell Bank, Tokyo Space Centre, Patrick Moore!"

"Ooh, I like Patrick Moore," Jeff's grandmother might have inched a few steps towards them.

Renata chuckled while the Doctor promised to get her his number.

"You can't just hack in on a call like that!" Jeff exclaimed as he got off his bed.

"Oh trust me, this isn't even a quarter of what he can do," Renata shook her head. She had stories beyond his dreams about the things the Doctor could do.

The Doctor was more than ready with his psychic paper to answer the initial questions of who he was and what he wanted. He had about fifteen minutes left!

"Hello. I know, you should switch me off. But before you do, watch this!" he dropped his psychic paper on Renata's lap then started to type again. "Fermat's Theorem, the proof, and I mean the real one, never seen before. Poor old Fermat, got killed in a duel before he could write it down. My fault, I slept in. Oh, and here's an oldie but a goodie - why electrons have mass. And a personal favorite of mine, faster-than-light travel with two diagrams and a joke. Look at your screens. Whoever I am, I'm a genius. Look at the sun. You need all the help you can get. Fellas, pay attention!" The Doctor knew he had them on his hook. He glanced at Renata just to make sure they were on the same page and found her staring at him instead. Initially, he was confused why she was smiling like...that. It was familiar but it took him a few seconds to remember when she smiled like that. In his defense, the last time she had a smile like that was in her first incarnation and she had a face that went red incredibly easily, even easier than this current one.

She was enthralled with him. She leaned close to him, widening her smile. She'd forgotten what it felt like to be so close to him while he did that. Whenever the Doctor got into his 'I'm a genius' mode, Renata was unashamedly attracted to him. He was just so incredibly intelligent. Renata honestly thought he was the smartest man alive. It wasn't news for her, not since the first time she saw it back on Gallifrey, but it was one thing knowing it and seeing it. She loved seeing it.

There was a tingle that started down her spine that was soon followed by the dozens of butterflies in her stomach (ironically). It made her puddy in his arms. Her last incarnation had been too worried about the Doctor finding out who she was that she barely had moments to really let herself feel things for him again. The little she allowed was always pushed away to the deepest end of her mind and hearts. And when the Doctor had found out who she was, she'd fallen ill. She was dying and she couldn't think about anything else other than saying goodbye. She didn't exactly know what they were right now, but she wouldn't fight it this time. There was a warmth in her body that brought her closer to the Doctor and she would finally let it be.

"I forgot you could do that," she said breathlessly, saving something else she wanted to do for later.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow at her but she didn't say anymore. His gaze lowered to her lips since she was biting her lower lip pretty hard. "Interesting…" He took notes for later when they weren't in the middle of saving the world. From now on, he would be using anything at his advantage.

~ 0 ~

Within five minutes, the Doctor had concocted a whole plan for the humans to follow. He'd gone back and forth between the laptop and Rory's cellphone whilst talking at light-speed to the humans on video call.

"Sir, what are you doing?" one of the men from the computer screen asked after the Doctor spent a significant amount of time on the cellphone.

"I'm writing a computer virus. Very clever, super-fast, and a tiny bit alive, but don't let on. Why am I writing it on a phone?" the Doctor raised a finger for a few seconds. "Never mind, you'll find out. OK, I'm sending this to all your computers. Get everyone who works for you sending this everywhere. Email, text, Facebook, Bebo, Twitter, radar dish - whatever you've got. Any questions?"

"Who was your lady friend?"

The Doctor deadpanned the man on the screen. "Patrick, behave!"

Renata laughed softly beside him while Jeff's grandmother beamed.

"What does this virus do?" another man inquired.

"It's a reset command, that's all. It resets counters, it gets in the wifi and resets every counter it can find. Clocks, calendars, anything with a chip will default at zero at exactly the same time. But, yeah, I could be lying, why should you trust me? I'll let my best man explain." The Doctor waited for Jeff to cut in but for some reason the human stayed silent and away from them.

Renata raised an eyebrow at Jeff. "Uh, Jeff, that would be you."

Jeff genuinely looked confused to learn that. "What?"

The Doctor had closed the laptop but Renata made a motion for him to stay put. She got up from the bed and moved over to Jeff. "Listen I know you're scared and I honestly would be a little concerned if you weren't but this is your your moment. It's sort of like, uh, this is a moment where you're trying to get investors. Right?"

"Uh...not...sure if that's the way I'd put it," Jeff said slowly, glancing at the Doctor and his grandmother for some clarification.

The Doctor seemed to be smiling but not at him. He was nodding at Renata, encouraging her to keep going. It was a sight watching her try to relate to humans. At least now she was trying. Her last incarnation, while helpful, didn't seem very interested in that. She'd wanted to fix the problem and then move on without making much of an attempt to get to know humans. The only time she expressed interest was the day she met Gabby. Though she was a bit rocky...she'd get it with time.

Renata was aware that her comparison didn't entirely fit with the current situation so she tried re-wording it. "I used to be somebody who would have to persuade people to invest in my foundation, so I'd have to put myself out there and give one hell of a show. That's what you need to do right now and afterwards those guys—" she made a nod at the laptop, "—will be offering you any job you want."

"How do I get them to do that?" Jeff turned another glance on the laptop, now more interested in the idea.

Renata put her hands on his shoulders and fixated a smile on the man. "You have to be magnificent. You have to make them trust you and get them working. Old news to me."

"But I've never done that…"

"Put yourself out there!" she exclaimed and turned him for the Doctor and the laptop. "This is when you fly. Today's the day you save the world."

"But why me?" Jeff asked as the Doctor sat him down on the bed and handed him his laptop.

"It's your bedroom!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Now go, go, go!" He grabbed Renata's arm and headed out the room, though stopped abruptly and turned back. "Oh, and delete your internet history!"

Renata raised an eyebrow at him when he came out of the room again. "What?"

"Nothing. Oh, and great job back there!" he pulled down the living room and out the door.

"For what? All I did was just talk!" Renata laughed out of confusion.

"Words mean everything!" the Doctor turned abruptly once they were out on the street again, making Renata bump into him.

"You certainly did that as well back there," Renata said and suddenly found her lower lip was a chewing gum. "I just...helped a bit in the end."

"You were amazing," the Doctor stepped closer to her. He couldn't help but let his gaze linger on her lips.

"Uuh...Amelia - I mean Amy, she-she's probably waiting…" Renata nervously moved around him and studied the street for any way to get around. Alright, maybe her body needed a bit more time to adjust her...feelings. She couldn't possibly revert back to her school-girl ways from her first incarnation. "We need to find a way to get to the hospital."

The Doctor rejoined her and studied the nearly empty sidewalk. "I...may have an idea…"

Renata turned her head at him to see the wide smirk on his face. "Ah, so that'll be your mischievous face. Duly noted."

The Doctor once again yanked her down the street.

~ 0 ~

When Amy called them, they were nearly to the hospital. Renata refused to accept that stealing the fire truck had been a good idea.

"It was irresponsible!"

The Doctor didn't seem to agree as he happily drove down the road. "Oh, c'mon, Gabby would have loved this!"

"Oh sure, teach her to steal why don't you!?"

"I'm not stealing, I'm borrowing! Plus, look!" he reached for a specific button beside the wheel and turned on the fire engine. "Yeah!"

Renata rolled her eyes and looked out the window, but she found it was hard not to crack a smile. She knew he was right: Gabby would love this bit.

A short moment later, Amy called them again only this time she was more distressed. Prisoner Zero had found them in the building and had chased her and Rory into a coma ward.

"Listen, which window are you?" the Doctor asked but because of the fire engine, Amy hadn't heard.

"Oh for God's sake!" Renata reached over to turn them off. "Amy, which window are you!?"

"First floor on the left, fourth from the end!" Amy managed to answer before screaming.

"Amy!?" the two aliens simultaneously called but they only heard warbled voices, one belonging to neither her nor Rory.

"It must be Prisoner Zero," Renata ended the call. "Now what?"

"We do what every human does: we text!"

"Text?" Renata crinkled her nose. "A Time Lady does not...text."

The Doctor laughed. "Just tell her to duck!"

Renata wasn't even sure how to do such a thing. She never actually paid attention to Gabby when she tried giving her lessons back on Zhe's gallery. It'd been one of the many things Gabby would try to distract her with while she battled her illness. Since Martha liked to call every now and then, Gabby thought it was a good idea to learn to text. Plus, she thought it was fairly ridiculous that such an intelligent Time Lady didn't know how to do such a basic task.

The Doctor had successfully crashed the right hospital window so that its ladder shattered the glass of it. "Out! Out! Go!" he tried ushering Renata to the ladder first but she wasn't having it.

"I'm wearing a dress!" she argued, motioning him to take the lead.

"Oi! I'm not like that!"

"Just go!"

The Doctor groaned but went ahead first. He wouldn't ever be like that but she was overly shy anyways. Why argue over something so petty? When the two climbed into the coma ward, they found Amy and Rory standing in the middle of the room while a woman with two little girls stood at the entrance.

"Right! Hello! Are we late?" the Doctor didn't exactly wait for the answer as he went on. "No, three minutes to go. So still time!"

"Time for what, Time Lord?" the woman titled her head.

"Oh, so you know things," Renata snapped. "Doesn't mean it'll get you out of this. Take your disguise off and save these humans from further despair."

"Not happening," Prisoner Zero smiled sarcastically. "The Atraxi will kill me this time. If I am to die, let there be fire."

"OK. You came to this world by opening a crack in space and time. Do it again - just leave!" the Doctor exclaimed. At this point, he would take anything because time was now running on 2 minutes.

"I did not open the crack."

"Well somebody did and I'm willing to bet we know who it was," Renata mumbled so that only the Doctor could hear. "The Master and Rassilon."

Fair guess, the Doctor thought.

But Prisoner Zero seemed to know more than what they thought. "The cracks in the skin of the universe - don't you know where they came from?" A great big smirk spread across the woman's face, teasing the pair for their lack of knowledge. "You don't, do you?"

The little girls started laughing as they chanted, "The Doctor in the TARDIS doesn't know. The Vortex Butterfly doesn't even know!"

Renata's eyebrows furrowed together at the name once used at her 'rebirth' on the Crucible. She thought after the Daleks and the Reality Bomb, she'd never hear that name again. "Hold on—"

"Doesn't know, doesn't know!" the girls laughed for another minute before the woman spoke again, much more serious.

"The universe is cracked. The Pandorica will open. Silence will fall."

The Doctor lost interest when they heard a clicking noise. His eyes flickered to the clock on the wall flashing '0:00' at them. "And we're off! Look at that. Look at that! Yeah, I know, just a clock, whatever. But do you know what's happening right now? In one little bedroom, my team is working. Jeff and the world. And do you know what they're doing? They're spreading the word all over the world, quantum fast. The word is out. And do you know what the word is? The word is zero. Now, me, if I was up in the sky in a battleship, monitoring all Earth communications, I'd take that as a hint. And if I had a whole battle fleet surrounding the planet, I'd be able track a simple old computer virus to its source in, what, under a minute?" the Doctor pulled out Rory's cell phone from his pocket, giving it a triumphant wave in the air. "The source, by the way, is right here. Oh! And I think they just found us!"

"The Atraxi are limited," Prisoner Zero said, remaining totally calm. "While I'm in this form, they'll still be unable to detect me. They've tracked a phone, not me."

"Sorry, do you think we're stupid?" Renata made a face, almost offended. "Of course we planned for that - rather Rory planned for that." She glanced back at the man in question who even pointing at himself to confirm she meant him. Renata chuckled. "Well done Rory."

The Doctor once again waved the phone in the air. "Do you know what this phone is full of? Pictures of you. Every form you've learned to take, right here. Oh, and being uploaded about now. And the final score is - no TARDIS, no screwdriver - two minutes to spare!" He cheered with his arms out, spinning around. "Who da man?"

Renata made a face at him, not even needing to say it for him to know she begged him never to do that again. She reached over to lower his arms to his sides. "Gabriella would've laughed at you."

"Yeah, she would've," he mumbled and thanked the Gods that Gabby wasn't around right now.

"Then I shall take a new form," Prisoner Zero said smugly.

"Please," Renata scoffed. "It takes months to form that kind of psychic link."

"And I've had years."

A bright light took over the woman's body at the same time Amy collapsed to the floor.

"Amy?" the Doctor called as he and Renata rushed to the woman. "You've got to hold on. Amy! Don't sleep! You've got to stay awake, please!"

"You need to let her go!" Renata glanced back at Prisoner Zero only to see a much more different disguise. "Oh dear."

"Doctor?" Rory blinked fast once he saw the new disguise.

The Doctor followed their gaze to see Prisoner Zero had turned into a young man. "Well, that's rubbish. Who's that supposed to be?"

Rory threw him an incredulous look."It's you!"

"Me?" the Doctor made a face and quickly glanced at Renata."Is that what I look like?" She gave him the confirming nod.

"You mean you don't know!?" Rory almost shouted with exasperation. How could he not know what he looked like!? What kind of crazy was that!?

"It's been a busy day," Renata supplied with the briefest explanation.

"Why me, though?" the Doctor asked with genuine confusion. "You're linked with her. Why are you copying me?"

"I'm not," Prisoner Zero answered but it hadn't been through the Doctor's mouth. Amy's seven year old self moved from behind him. "Poor Amy Pond. Still such a child inside. Dreaming of the magic Doctor she knows will return to save her. What a disappointment you've been."

"Oh hey that's not fair!: Renata scowled. "And you're one to talk considering you're a convict!"

"No, no," the Doctor gazed down at Amy. There was something else he was missing again. She could have dreamed of anything right now, probably something happier than what the situation was, but she chose him. "Oh! She's dreaming about me cos she can hear me!" he carefully cupped her face and called to her. "Amy, don't just hear me, listen. Remember the room, the room in your house you couldn't see? Remember you went inside. We tried to stop, but you did. You went in the room. You went inside. Amy…dream about what you saw."

"No! No!" Prisoner Zero started to cry out as the shifting began once again. "No!"

"Well done Amy," Renata smiled proudly of the unconscious girl. "Bet you didn't see that coming, huh?"

Prisoner Zero was immediately captured with the shining light from the window.

'Prisoner Zero is located. Prisoner Zero is restrained.'

"Silence, Doctor. Silence will fall," Prisoner Zero said his last words before disappearing.

"Oh no," Renata gritted her teeth with anger. "They are not going to pull that on us! I don't think so!" She swiped the cellphone from the Doctor's hand - he'd been about to use it again - and put her fingers to work. "You and Gabriella might just be proud of me right now!" She flashed the Doctor a quick little smile before returning her focus on the phone.

"The sun - it's back to normal, right?" Rory was relieved to the sky returning to normal through the window. And even better that Amy was waking up. "Amy? Are you OK? Are you with us?"

"What happened?" Amy asked slowly, still a bit hazed.

"They did it," Rory nodded to the pair who were suddenly very close to each other. Renata was still working the phone. "The Doctor and Renata did it!"

"Not quite yet," Renata called before asking the Doctor something in a hushed manner.

Amy and Rory both heard a 'Write in...make sure those numbers…'

"What are you doing?" Amy raised an eyebrow at them once she sat up.

"Tracking the signal back! And the Doctor's sort of filling in the gaps for me," Renata sent another quick smile at the Doctor. She knew her way around things as well but there was always a little something she hadn't come across yet. "And sorry in advance, Rory."

"For what?"

"The phone bill! Promise UNIT will reimburse you for that!" Renata winked at him before putting the phone against her ear. She cleared her throat and the next time she spoke her voice was no longer sweet and kind. It was hard and sharp. "This is Renata and you may not know me but that's okay because I know the Shadow Proclamation pretty well. Article 57, ring a bell?" She paused but of course there would be no response. "This is a fully established, level 5 planet, and you were going to burn it? The idea that you could get away with it is laughable! Get your sorry behinds back here now or so help me…" There was another pause she took, a brief one as she considered if she really wanted to say her next words. And she decided: Why the hell not? It didn't mean anything wrong because she wasn't bad. She wouldn't hurt people like other versions of her in parallel universes had. "You lot, back here now or you'll have the Vortex Butterfly on you. See you in 30 seconds and not a second more!" She promptly ended the call and tossed the phone to Rory. "Seriously, though, UNIT will reimburse you for that." She then faced the Doctor who was looking more or less fascinated with her.

He had never been more attracted to her than right now. She had just ordered an entire prison ward to come back - under a specific deadline - and she had a new authoritative voice that made him shudder. If things weren't such a crunch time, he might have kissed her there and then.

"You going to stand there or come help me put these people back in their spots?" Renata smirked. She wanted to believe she had made him feel exactly the way he had done to her earlier. "We gotta get to the roof!" She laughed and dragged him out of the room with her, leaving a mighty confused Rory and Amy behind.

"No, no, wait! We can't!" the Doctor stopped them down the hallway. Amy had scurried after them, leading Rory to do the same.

"Where are you going?" she asked the pair.

"To change!" the Doctor made a quick turn into a different hallway.

"What? Doctor!" Renata went after him with a groan. "I said 30 seconds! That went for all of you!"

"I'm quick, don't worry," he had found a changing room and was already searching through one rack. "If we're saving the world I'm going to need a decent shirt! Not fair you got your quick change!"

Renata looked down at her flower dress that, truthfully, could use a good wash now. It still smelled like chlorine water from the swimming pool mishap. Still, it would do just fine until she could get into the TARDIS. "Well, fine! Just hurry!"

"To hell with the raggedy. Time to put on a show!" he spun around trying to find something else in another rack.

"Sorry, I am so confused here," Rory rushed into the room with Amy. "You just summoned aliens back to Earth!"

"Yeah, never really done that before - quite a rush really!" Renata's face definitely said so. She giggled even, making the Doctor pause for a moment just as he was about to change shirts.

Rory didn't seem that happy about it. "But they're actual aliens! Deadly aliens, aliens of death and - now he's taking his clothes off!"

"Turn your back if it embarrasses you!"

"A door, Doctor! Seriously! Nothing bad happens if you use a door!"" Renata groaned as she turned away from him, ignoring the warmth in her face. She might have seen a bit of his back and that was enough to make her wonder what it might be like to press her hands against his skin.

"Amy, you're not going to turn around!?" Rory's incredulous question brought Renata out of her thoughts.

She blushed even more for realizing what she'd been thinking about and decided to put her attention on Amy. "Yeah, you are!" She turned the young woman around, shooting her a little look for trying that. What was Amy thinking!?

The group arrived on the rooftop in 27 seconds, but it was only because Renata forced the Doctor out before he could finalize his outfit. She compromised by letting him bring along a mess of ties around his neck. He'd choose on the way.

"On time, perfect," Renata spat at the waiting Atraxi ship at the end of the rooftop. Soon as she and the Doctor were in its vicinity, it scanned them.

"You are not of this world."

"What was your first clue?" Renata cocked her head to the side. "And the fact that we're not from Earth shouldn't be the reason you came back. You should come back because you did something wrong. You broke the law. Count your lucky stars I haven't phoned the Shadow Proclamation to shut you down."

"We took necessary measures," the Atraxi argued but only angered Renata more.

"No, you really didn't!"

"Why don't we think about it in this way?" the Doctor tossed a few ties over his shoulders, letting them hit Amy and Rory behind. "Is this world a threat to the Atraxi?" The Atraxi delayed the answer. "Well, come on. You're monitoring the whole planet. IS this world a threat?"

After projecting a series of holograms showing the Earth's history, the Atraxi finally answered. "No."

"Second question, are the peoples of this world guilty of any crime by the laws of the Atraxi?" Renata decided to add since she knew the answer would further prove their point.

"No."

"One more. Just one. Is this world protected? Because you're not the first lot to come here." The Doctor once more threw a few more ties behind him. He found one color that suited his fancy, all in the meanwhile the Atraxi went through the course of his enemies landing on Earth. "Oh, there have been so many! And what you've got to ask is...what happened to them?"

The Atraxi went through every incarnation of the Doctor as it found that he was responsible for ending every single battle.

Just as the Doctor finished putting on his new tie - a bow tie! - he noticed that at the end of the hologram, it showed Renata's previous incarnation but it had been no ordinary moment in her life. Her spectacle as the Vortex Butterfly on the Crucible had certainly gotten around because that's the moment the Atraxi chose to show.

Renata was astonished that they would include her. She'd only meant to call them back and scold them. It was what she did best. She suddenly felt the Doctor's hand slip into hers. He gave her an encouraging nod to speak out, say what she wanted to finally end all this.

Renata took in a breath as she looked at the Atraxi again. "You've seen what we can do and don't think that I would hesitate to bring the wings out if you ever try to do something like this to Earth again. I suggest run. You wouldn't want the Doctor and the Vortex Butterfly after you."

There was no need to go on, for the Atraxi ship had taken off in a second. Amy and Rory broke into laughter to see their world completely safe again!

Renata ended up laughing as well after it truly donned on her what she'd done. She turned to the Doctor, pointed at herself. "Did I just—"

"Yes, you did, and you were amazing!" the Doctor leaned closer to her but suddenly felt something burning in his pocket. He hissed and pulled away from Renata. He dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out the TARDIS key that was glowing.

"Oh, she's done," Renata gasped. She gave the Doctor a nod and the two were off on a chase for the TARDIS. Renata laughed as they hurried down the street and even across several lawns. She would never do that but she was too gleeful to stop.

They returned to Amy's backyard where the TARDIS stood. Straightaway, they could see the box had even given herself a new shade of dark blue.

"OK! What have you got for us this time?" the Doctor stopped in front of the doors, exchanging curious eyes with Renata. She was anxious to see what the TARDIS would look like now. "Ready?" he asked her.

"Mhm!"

He opened the doors for them and walked in at the same time. They were immediately blinded by the bright orange and gold exterior. It seemed more spacious than the last one since now they could see the bright staircase leading up to the second floor. The console was on a raised dais with a glass floor that allowed them to look below to the wires.

"Oh, you sexy thing! Look at you!" the Doctor laughed and wondered what Renata thought about it.

Her dark eyes were still widened but there was a grin marking her face. "I've never seen such a more...elegant console room!" The TARDIS hummed as if she was thanking Renata for the compliment. Renata laughed and made her way up to the console, because now there were even small glass steps leading up to it. "Seriously, well done!"

"Trip to the moon to stabilize her!" the Doctor reminded her as he started moving around the console, pressing the new buttons.

"And I don't see a mallet anywhere nearby," Renata genuinely went around the console searching its lower drawers for any mallet. "Guess she finally got rid of that!"

The Doctor rolled his eyes and stopped by the new lever. "So funny. Would you like to hang on?"

"I wouldn't have to if you drove correctly. You can't drive a TARDIS nor a fire truck, what am I going to do with you?"

"I can think of a few ideas," he flashed a smirk then pulled the lever.

The TARDIS rumbled as it took off.

"We should go get Gabriella," Renata said as soon as the TARDIS went still. "I think it's about time she came back permanently in the TARDIS...if that's okay with you, of course. Your TARDIS and all."

"Renée, it's ours," the Doctor said. "I've said this countless times before but I suppose we weren't really in sync in our last bodies."

Renata thought that was an understatement. "It's not like we made it easy on each other, especially me. I'm sorry."

"Stop," he said suddenly, startling her with the quickness he had said it too. "No more apologizing. You've done that over and over, as have I. I forgive you. I really do. I forgive you for keeping your identity a secret. And most importantly, that night on Gallifrey? The night that's been a nightmare for us...I understand why you said no to me."

Renata's arms couldn't seem to find the right way to move as he went on with their past mistakes. "If I could go back to that night where you asked me to run away with you...I would have."

There was a certainty that the Doctor heard and it made his hearts swell. She hadn't been sure about that in her last body. He asked her to run away with him on the eve of his wedding to another woman and when she said no, it shattered him. Even when he learned that she said no because of her blackmailing sister...it still broke him. It was single-handedly the most painful moment of his lives. Now to hear her say that she would choose him over everyone...that brought a closure that he didn't know he needed.

"You...are you sure?" He moved around the console until he stood in front of her. "I get that I asked too much of you. You had to leave your family...your foundation...your people…"

"You were my everything back then. I-I should have trusted that you could take care of yourself, that my sister couldn't actually hurt you. And I should have been braver. But you...you have never stopped being the love of my life. I am 758 years old and in all that time I never really learned to love anyone else like I loved you. And it's not like I didn't try. Elek was sweet and I did love him but our marriage never gave me the same rush I had when I was with you."

"That's exactly how I felt," the Doctor told her with a small smile. "It's funny how that works. Centuries can pass but the feelings are still there, raw as if it was still the first day I realized I loved you."

Renata matched his smile with her own. She looked down out of shyness and embarrassment. "So...so what happens now?"

"Well...I think...if you'd like...we're both at a place where we can start again?" the Doctor was thinking about it himself. There were no more lies, no more anger, no more illnesses and no more need of saving the world. Everything was good and calm. It was exactly what his last incarnation told her on the day that he had to leave her with Zhe. He wanted to be with her but at that time he was still too angry with her for lying to him. There were too many things between them that needed to be solved. But that was in the past. He didn't hold onto that anger now; all he wanted was her.

Renata raised her head at him, revealing a nervous tint in her eyes. "You think we can do that? It's been so much time, so many things happening. Do you think we could work this time?" It seemed so surreal to even think about them actually working after centuries of their first attempt.

"I will definitely put my best efforts," he chuckled, though that wouldn't distract her from his own nervousness.

"It's just...I don't really know how to do that anymore," she admitted. "I never thought that I would make it here. I didn't think I would regenerate. Plus, I thought that I wanted to die. I guess I'm just trying to say that I'm sort of rusty at this 'being in a relationship thing'."

"Darling, so am I."

Renata's scoff was hard enough to make the Doctor wince. "Please! You've snogged more people than I can count! And that was just in your last body!"

"Oi! It's not like I planned it!"

"No but you certainly didn't seem to mind!"

"Well none of that matters because the only one I want to kiss from here on out is you."

Renata blinked at him and smiled pretty fast. There was that warmth in her face again. "Really?"

"Yes. I've been wanting to kiss you all day today, especially when you made that call to the Atraxi. Talk about sexy!"

Renata's eyes widened all over again. "Doctor!" She playfully hit him on the chest while he laughed. He could see her reddened face which made it all the more funny.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, keeping her steady in front of him. "So what do you say? Shall we try again?"

Renata met his gaze slowly. The redness in her face had died down and all that was left now was a softened expression. After centuries of lies and denial, she was really getting a second chance with him? He must be mad if he truly wanted to her of all people, but then again she was just as mad for wanting him. They were polar opposites from the start! She was seen as a law abiding Time Lady and he had no idea what a law was. On the other hand, he loved travelling and he practically knew everything about the galaxies and she was still learning. Plus, he always had a way of doing things that she just didn't agree with. But that also drove her madly in love with him.

It was the same for the Doctor. He saw her as the pinnacle of what a Time Lady should be, everyone who knew her on Gallifrey thought the same. She was always elegant and graceful and so proper. She was always kind to whoever she met; she literally could not be rude to anyone. How could he not fall in love with her? Yes sometimes her law abiding trait irritated him and sometimes they did bicker over their different views on the rules, but he couldn't think of another person he'd want to bicker with. She was it for him.

"I would like to start over," Renata whispered. "I would definitely like to try again."

A huge grin took over the Doctor's face. "Run away with me?"

Renata laughed. The same question that once began their centuries-long torture was now the start of what could be their genuine happiness together. "Anywhere you want," she leaned on him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. That was the answer they should have had centuries ago. They should have been free. Better late than never.

"Our first stop is to Gabby but...there's one thing I'd like to do first," the Doctor lowered his head so that they were mere inches from each other's faces.

Renata had half an idea of what he was going to say but she was too enthralled with their closeness. I actually get to have this now, she made the realization seconds later. "What?"

"I said I've been wanting to kiss you all day today and now we're alone...in a TARDIS where interruptions are not possible…"

"Mm, that's not quite true. We have been interrupted before even when we were inside—"

The Doctor playfully rolled his eyes at her and went ahead to kiss her. She could possibly ramble on for hours about everything that could go wrong, or everything that had gone wrong before.

Renata now welcomed being cut off. She would much rather kiss him too. She'd been wanting to do that all day just like him. She brought her hands to his arms, gripping them while he pressed his hands against her back. It was like an endless loop, whenever he pressed against her back, she would grip his arms. It was impossible to be any closer but they continued to search for ways.

Renata pulled away for a moment - it really would be just for a moment because she was not done - and looked the Doctor over. She hadn't really looked at him with everything that happened.

His style had drastically changed. Suits were abandoned for something a bit more classic, at least in her opinion. She could appreciate the dark brown tweed jacket - though she knew for a fact Gabby would have a few comments about that - but she would have some questions on the bow tie.

"What is it?" the Doctor asked her after a while of watching her study him.

She raised her gaze off his clothes and met his new green eyes. "I like this you."

The Doctor laughed. "Well, that's good to know. I like you too, darling."

Renata smiled along with him. She slid her arms up and around his neck. "Did we have a midlife crisis?" She referred to the fact that now both of them wore far younger faces than their last bodies. "I've never had one before."

"I think we just wanted to start fresh," the Doctor's answer was a viable one. She would take it. "Do you want to go pick up Gabby now?"

Renata titled her head and hummed. "Yes…" the Doctor made a move towards the console but she tightened her grip around him. "But after we do more of…" She brushed her lips over his, giving him a tantalizing smile.

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Oh...right, right...I'd like that. I'd definitely like—"

Renata pressed her lips against his. She wouldn't let him get away so quick, not after all that they dealt with. Look at me being so bold, she commended herself.

The Doctor's hands once against found her back and pressed against it. The fabric of her dress was far too thin as he first noticed when they climbed out of the TARDIS in Amy's backyard. Now he had the full proof and he loved it. Eventually, one of his hands traveled up to the back of Renata's neck to keep her right against him. They were moving their lips in a sweet sync in the first minutes but after getting over it - because it had been centuries of longing - they started moving into a more rough type of kiss. They needed each other. They wouldn't realize to want extent that might be just yet but the seed was still there and it was being planted right now.

Renata gasped when the Doctor hoisted her up on the edge of the console. She laughed out of surprise, making a face that told him she'd never done anything like that, which only made him smirk. With him, she'd be able to do anything she wanted. There would be no more rules binding her.

They resumed their kiss, quickly finding their level of heat again. If they were more aware, they would've realized how easy it had been to reconnect; to re-establish the same intensity they once had centuries ago. One new thing Renata found truly pleasant was the fact she could hold onto the Doctor's hair. It was longer. She would love doing that from now on, she just hoped that the Doctor could find something about her that he liked too.

He had.

But he would keep that with him for a bit longer.

[icarus-suraki]

fabric asks: cotton, eyelet, lace :)

This got so long, ha ha ha ha fuck....

cotton: what’s your favorite time of the day? This is sort of ironic because I really, really like to sleep, but I actually like early mornings. If I have to be up, if I'm already up, if I miraculously get up, I really like early mornings.

Maybe it comes from having to get to school basically before dawn in middle school and high school--I mean, when your first class starts at 7:30, you're up pretty early. So I remember riding the bus in or being driven in and the sky was almost always interesting in one way or another.

We had a major, major hurricane here in 1996. I was in high school and my dad was driving me to school (it was on the way to work for him) and it was the morning before the hurricane made landfall. And he and I were both decidedly distracted by the sky. It was already humid (I mean, they are tropical storms, hurricanes), but it wasn't cloudy or raining. In fact, it was surprisingly clear, but the wind was up and coming out of the east instead of the west. So the wind was already coming in over all the miles between us and the Atlantic ocean. There were only a few shreds of clouds, but dense clouds, that were blowing along and they were all golden in the light. I saw a lot of sunrises and early mornings in my school years and I really remember some of them.

Honestly, I see a lot of early mornings now, but it's harder to admire them when I'm the one driving, lol.

eyelet: what’s your favorite place? My bed? Mmm, yeah... 

Actually, it's the house I grew up in during the time we lived there. It's all changed now, so it's not really the same place, but it's probably my favorite place. It's nothing to speak of, just a 1-story 1970s ranch house in a neighborhood of more ranches and occasional split-levels. But, I don't know, I like it.

Like, it faced fully east, so remember how I said I liked early mornings? The morning sun would just flood my room. And it was up on a hill that flattened out into the cul-de-sac, then sloped down again on the other side of the street, down to a little creek. So we had the best view out over the trees on that far slope. In late winter, late in the day, if it was clear, the sun would set with the light at this almost horizontal angle and in this dark golden-orange color. But half the light would be blocked by the hillsides, so only part of the trees across the cul-de-sac would be lighted. It was like the sun was already low enough that the tops of the trees were dark, and the bottoms of the trees were in the shadow of our hill, but the trunks and the rising land behind them were all orangey-rosy-gold.

And our hill was ideal for sledding when we got some big snowstorms (and we did, too). You could start at our carport (later a garage) and launch yourself down the whole hill, slide across the road, and then if you aimed right you could slide all the way down the clear side of our neighbors' house all the way to the creek. I can literally taste that sour-cold snow smell right now lol.

And all the grass and trees--we had this huge old oak tree that snapped off in the 1996 hurricane I mentioned up there earlier, which was a shame, but we had so many big trees. And this one random white oak that grew in the middle of the backyard but it had moss on its trunk and violets and little white starflowers (I don't know their real name) grew around it. All the moss along the side of our yard, too. And the apple tree that was at the back of our house, trained up along the chimney. And my dad's radio antennas strung up in the trees too. And the people behind us and their elaborate landscaping (which was forbidden territory, which made it sort of magic?). And the forest of feral bamboo. And the walking trails and the little pocket parks. And the patch of pine trees in those two or three yards (and no other kinds of trees). All the dogwoods in spring and all the leaves in fall (and we had a tarp that was made to cover a 1970s Buick, so it was Not Small, that we used to haul leaves out of our yard and we'd measure leaf collections in Buicks, but that made some amazing leaf piles for jumping in). And the various pets in the neighborhood. And the neighborhood pool in the summer, which is where I got to hear a lot of music for the first time.

If I keep going like this, I might cry, because I really do miss it so much.

It got harder and harder to enjoy as we all got older because, after a certain point, the parents would start looking at you funny when you were walking around in the woods. They all came of age in the 60s and 70s, so they probably thought I was looking for a good spot to smoke weed, drink, make-out, whatever. But, no, I just wanted to pretend to be an elf for a while longer--and not a refined, Tolkien, High-Elf elf either; this was a much more earthy, muddy kind of elf. It sucks that there was this unspoken cutoff point and you were supposed to be more interested in dating and college and jobs and "going out" with friends. My folks enforced that cutoff in a major way, but only in regards to college and jobs. No more fooling around outside unless it has a purpose.

I still want to just go play around in the woods like I used to. And there are woods around here--plenty of them, too. But when you're in your late 30s, you do get stared at. When I go on a walk in one of parks around here in my ordinary clothes, I'm almost weird for it. Like, there's lots of people walking, but they're all in workout clothes and they're just powerwalking around this lake, talking on their phones or with their two or three powerwalking friends. And I'm just slouching along in my flipflops, looking at leaves. I get some odd looks and I don't like it. I really wish I could just play elf again (inb4LARPing, though I might yet cosplay Deedlit before I get too old).

I don't know, does an era, does a time count as a place? Because these places at that time are my favorite time and place.

I could literally talk for years about that whole neighborhood.

lace: what is your favorite constellation? I have a special place in my heart for the Pleiades. This is not unusual, and you might even call it basic, I know--but I'm allowed.

First, my zodiac sign is Taurus and the Pleiades sit in the constellation of Taurus.

Second, in my New Age-tinged teen years, the Pleiades were always held in high regard for everyone into alien contact or close encounters. It was like the Good Aliens came from the Pleiades.

Around that time, there was this quiz going around via email, like a chain letter--remember, this was about 1995 or 1996, so these forwarded emails were like proto-memes or ur-memes--that had about 100 questions or so to determine if you were a "lightworker" or a "starseed" or if your soul was from Atlantis or if you were somehow connected to aliens and psychic powers and all that (what it really tested was how much your tastes aligned to what would now be called the "aesthetic" of "new-agecore"). It's kind of classic now, and a bit cringé. Anyway, that had two or three questions about the Pleiades, so of course that made them a bit more "my thing." (I grew out of that phase, but I do kind of miss it. It was probably more good for me than bad back then because it gave me something to hang on to: school may suck and I have no friends, but I'm ~special~ and maybe the aliens will let me come visit them.)

Third, I loved wearing my mother's old leather gloves in the winter when I was very young. She mostly wore them to drive and then would take them off, so I'd put them on. I was 4, 5, 6 years old, so even though my mother is tiny, these gloves were still huge on me. And she'd always say I looked like Maia in Mary Poppins.

Not the movie, the books. In one of the stories, Maia, one of the Seven Sisters, comes down to London to do Christmas shopping for her six sisters and asks Jane and Michael (I think it's just the two of them in this part?) for advice. It's very cold and Maia doesn't have any gloves and is usually illustrated all dressed in gauze and she's cold. So Mary Poppins gives Maia her gloves, which are entirely too large for her hands, but they keep Maia warm as she goes back up to the stars again.

So this is me, evidently...

And last, but not least, I have really bad vision. Like, really bad. Like, completely horrible. Like, I cannot function without corrective lenses at all. So I could kind of sort of see some constellations but the stars were always a bit fuzzy (thanks, astigmatism) and not, like, the points of light poets like to say they are. Twinkle? Nah, they're just fuzzballs, but I digress.

Except that one night, sometime in the fall (I remember it was cold), I was looking up at the sky and I saw something like a star in the corner of my eye. So I looked at it but I didn't see it. Looked away, saw it; looked at it, didn't see it. So I messed around a little and finally saw this kind of cloud of stars that I could only see if I didn't look directly at it. And that's kind of magic. So I learned that was the Pleiades, which is actually a place where stars are being born right now.

So, for me, it's the Seven Sisters. And reading that stories about the Pleiades might go back to when all of humanity was still in Africa really moves something in me.

[bet-your-ash]

Sandy Ass

Cherry Tree: Chapter Three: Sandy Ass ~1,500 words masterlist | extras | << chap. 2 | chap. 4 >>

“Lila, I see spiders,” Ashley whined, clinging to Lilac’s arm as they walked under the boardwalk. Lilac rolled her eyes, not exactly annoyed by Ashley’s touchy feely habits that arose when she was scared, and said, “You’re so dramatic. They won’t hurt you. You know that out of forty thousand species of spiders, less than one tenth of one percent have been responsible for human deaths?” 

Ashley just stared at her, and Lilac sighed. “What?” 

“Numbers,” Ashley said with a grimace. 

“Jesus,” Lilac muttered, smiling despite herself.  “My point is, they’re not gonna hurt you. Besides, they’re smaller than you.” Ashley pursed her lips, eyeing a dark corner warily as they walked by. “Grenades are smaller than I am too,” she said. “Wanna tell me they can’t hurt me either?” 

Lilac laughed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.” 

“Impossibly correct,” Ashley said back, and Lilac just smiled and didn’t dignify her with a reply. A few seconds of silence passed before Ashley asked, “When’re we stopping, again? My feet hurt…” 

Lilac raised an eyebrow, glancing down at Ashley’s flip flops. “Told you to wear sneakers.” Ashley huffed. “They’re new,” she said. “I don’t wanna get them dirty.” Lilac sighed. “You’ll never wear them anywhere with that mindset.” 

“Lilaaaaaa,” Ashley dragged dramatically. “I’m so bored! What’re we even gonna do? There’s nothing to do under here besides twiddle our thumbs!” Lilac rolled her eyes. “Think. Sometimes we just need a second of silence.” She frowned, feigning curiosity. “Do you know what that word means? Silence?” 

“Fuck off,” Ashley grumbled, crossing her arms across her chest petulantly. 

Much to Ashley’s relief, Lilac stopped a few seconds later under a section uncovered by shrubs or people and gestured to the sea, open and blue, stretching out before them. “Here we go,” Lilac said. She sat down in the sand, leaned up against a wooden support for the boardwalk, and closed her eyes as she took a deep breath. 

She peeked one eye open when a few too many seconds passed without a complaint from Ashley, and then closed it again when she saw her expression. Ashley was standing above her, her face contorted in an expression combining severe disgust and mild incredulousness. 

“What’s wrong?” Lilac sighed. 

“You want me to sit in the sand?” 

“You do it all the time, Ash.” 

“With a towel! In a swimsuit!” 

Lilac opened her eyes. “Ashley,” she said firmly, “sit down.” 

“I’m blaming you if people stare at my ass on the way back ‘cause it’s covered in sand.” 

Lilac snickered. “People stare at your ass anyway,” she muttered under her breath, and Ashley scoffed a laugh and flipped her off. “Impossible!” she exclaimed, and Lilac grinned. “Impossibly correct,” she mimicked, raising her voice a bit. 

Ashley rolled her eyes. “What were you saying about a second of silence?” 

Lilac let her jaw drop dramatically, mocking disbelief. “Ashley Maxwell, asking for peace and quiet - never thought I’d see the day.” Ashley put her head in her hands and groaned, “Shut up,” as she finally sat down across from Lilac. 

Lilac just let the silence linger, watching the waves crash against the shore and the moon sparkle against the inky night sky. Ashley looked up a moment later, glancing at Lilac before following her gaze to the sea. She opened her mouth to say something, but then looked back at Lilac’s happy expression and decided against it. 

They sat like that for only a few minutes before Ashley moved to sit next to Lilac, who scooched over a bit to let her lean against the wood. “We’re graduates,” Ashley whispered, and Lilac nodded, keeping her gaze on the water. “Sure are.” 

There was a beat of silence, and then Ashley bit her lip. 

“Have you ever been to the drive in?” she asked softly. 

“Nope.” 

“Wanna go?” 

Lilac finally met her eyes, an eyebrow raised, and said, “Why? Thought you had a traumatizing date with the idiot from your calc class there…” Ashley shook her head. “Nope. That was the diner behind school. But I’ve never been to that theater, and… Shouldn’t we go before… I dunno, before we’re adults?” 

Ashley felt a flash of panic at getting rejected as Lilac paused, but then it was washed away when a smile curved Lilac’s lips and she nodded. “Yeah. Sounds fun.” Ashley grinned. “Bet your ass it does. More fun than this mess, anyway.” 

“Bar’s not too high,” Lilac sighed, and Ashley’s grin widened. “Ha!” she exclaimed. “Agree with me, then, do you? This isn’t as, uh… exhilarating as you thought it’d be, huh?” Lilac smiled as she rolled her eyes, shaking her head, and began to get up. 

But Ashley stopped her, putting a hand on her arm and sending an electric shock through her body, and said, “Wait, wait - I’ve never seen the sunrise on the beach, either. Let’s stay? For the bucket list?” 

Lilac scoffed. “Oh, so now you wanna stay?” 

“Shut up and sit down, sandy ass.” 

“Sandy ass,” Lilac echoed with a grin. “That’s a new one.” 

“A new, impossibly correct one.” 

“Oh, shush,” Lilac murmured, settling back down beside her. 

There, they sat for hours. They bickered back and forth, remembering various high school shenanigans and watching the waves, until Lilac heard Ashley’s breaths slow and felt her head rest on her shoulder as she fell asleep. 

Lilac smiled at the sea, and closed her eyes, and fell asleep happy. 

***

Lilac woke up first. It must have been fate, because the sun was just peeking up from the horizon as her eyes fluttered open, and, resisting the urge to kiss her awake, Lilac gently nudged Ashley’s arm to wake her. 

“Hey,” Lilac said softly. “Hey, your bucket list’s calling.” 

“Tell it to fuck off,” Ashley mumbled. 

Lilac grinned and shook her shoulder. “Wake up, Ash. My back feels like shit - I’m not spending another night under the boardwalk for you.” Ashley groaned but opened her eyes, stretching her arms above her head before waiting two seconds and promptly falling back on the sand. 

“Ashley,” Lilac said. “The sun’s coming up.” 

“Can it wait?” 

“You’re missing it…” 

Finally, Ashley sighed and sat up, rubbing at her eyes, and Lilac turned to watch the sun. 

It really was quite the sight. Wisps of clouds tugged at the sun’s rays, pulling hues of magenta and orangey gold as the sun made its way to the sky. Seagulls flew above them, looking almost majestic, silhouetted against the sun. 

“Hey, Li?” Ashley said softly. 

Lilac glanced at her, not one bit sorry to miss the beautiful scene in front of her in exchange for Ashley’s morning glow, and Ashley gave a little smile that warmed Lilac’s heart more than the sun ever could. 

“Thanks for doing this,” Ashley murmured. 

Lilac grinned. “It’s my pleasure. I was the one who wanted to come down here, remember?” Ashley gave a half laugh, but Lilac frowned when she saw that the laugh didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Lilac asked. 

Ashley cleared her throat. “Thanks for, uh… thanks for dealing with me,” she said. 

Lilac smiled, nudging her foot with her own. “Thanks for dealing with me.” 

“No, seriously,” Ashley said. “I know I can be annoying, and you’ve… You’ve really stuck by me, huh? After all these years?” She bit her lip, looking down as she played with a loose thread on the sweatshirt Lilac had given her the night before when she’d complained about being cold. “Just… thanks for that.” She looked back up, giving a small smile. “You’re a really good friend, Li.” 

Ignoring the twinge that really good friend sent through her heart, Lilac smiled back and said, “So’re you, Ash. I never would have made it through school without you.” Ashley finally gave a real smile and gave Lilac’s shoulder a gentle push. “Bet your ass you wouldn’t have!” 

Lilac grinned as she rolled her eyes. “Stupid of me to think the second of sincerity would last more than a second.” Ashley blinked. “That was way too haughty a sentence to use casually, dude,” she said after a second, standing up. 

Taking Ashley’s hand as she offered it, Lilac stood up too. “Haughty itself is a haughty word, hypocrite,” she told Ashley, and Ashley grinned. “I think the conclusion here is that we’re both haughty.” 

“I’ll agree to that,” Lilac said, nodding as they walked back towards home. Ashley frowned, biting her lip a bit, and went on, “I mean, obviously you’re just a little more haughty since you started it, but -”

Lilac scoffed. “You’re haughtier just ‘cause you said that!” 

“We could do this all day,” Ashley sighed. 

“You’re the one who brought it back up!” 

“You’re the one who started it!” 

They bickered all the way back home, and fell asleep together in the tree house like they’d done many times before. 

***

🍒 la fin 🍒

aaaand another very cheesy one!!! this was super fun to write hehe so we hope you enjoyed!!!! if you did, and wanna be a gem, you can reblog and give us some feedback here! 

***

<< chap. 2 | chap. 4 >>

[drun-in-a-million]

[ @little-justice And introducing @egan-first-of-his-name ]

Mefnan didn’t look anything like Drun had expected.

Then again, he wasn’t sure *what* he’d been expecting.

The planet was brilliant green, almost emerald, glowing brilliant against the dark backdrop of space. It was also very small, not looking much bigger than Earth’s moon. It almost seemed to glimmer and shine as they got closer. Drun felt his sydark pound. The voice was louder than it had ever been

Ah ahh ah ahhh~

“Mmm I can’t wait until we figure this out,” Ada said sleepily as she woke from her nap. She stretched, her back cracking a bit. “Just to get the voice to shut up and I can finally fucking sleep.”

Drun rolled his eyes. “Like you slept before- Ow!” He narrowed his eyes at his sister and rubbed his arm where she’d hit him. “I am driving you know?”

Ada scoffed. “Don’t be such a baby. You’ve had way worse than that.”

Drun couldn’t argue with that. He was Denivar, after all. Getting kidnapped frequently by various assholes came with the territory.

As they began to approach the atmosphere, the ship suddenly jolted sideways. The lights on the console began to flash repeatedly and a loud buzzing sound was coming from the dash.

“Um?! What is happening?!” Ada demanded, sitting back up in her seat.

Drun clutched onto the helm with a death grip, trying to steer the ship to no avail. It felt like something was literally trying to keep him from completely getting through the atmosphere of the planet. He growled. The voice was so loud. Desperate, even.

Ah ahh ah ahhh~

“DO SOMETHING, DRUN!” Ada shouted.

“I’m working on it!” Drun yelled back.He gave the helm a quick, violent jerk, forcing it forward and to the side. Finally the clouds of the atmosphere cleared, showing a large clearing in the middle of a forest. However, the ship continued to jostle and jump with turbulance, and he couldn’t seem to get it to come back up.

Shit.

“Hold on to something!” He told Ada, pressing a button to ensure they were fastened into their seats tightly.

Ada didn’t bother to argue, closing her eyes and bracing herself.

00000000000000

When Drun came to, he was still in his seat surrounded by rubble.

His antennae were ringing, not helping his aching head at all. He blinked a few times to try and shake the feeling off, grunting. There was something cold dripping down his face.

It was a struggle, but he managed to find his consciousness once more, especially when he began to hear a loud whimpering next to him. “Ada?” He blinked a few more times, trying to focus. Blood. There was blood. And… “Oh shit, Ada!”

For the most part his sister seemed fine, until you got down to her left ankle. It look almost twisted out of place, obviously broken. Something was sticking out of it, and it was covered in purple blood. Ada let out a painful cry followed by another whimper.

Drun sprung into action, ignoring the pain in his head as he quickly unfastened himself from his seat. “It’s okay. You’re okay we’ll find you some help.” He carefully unfastened her seat belt before gingerly scooping her up.

“Yeah, from where, genius?!” Ada snapped, only to cry out and sob when her ankle was jostled a bit from being picked up.

“There’s still people on this planet,” Drun told her. “I’m sure they have to have doctors or some-”

“Stop!”

Drun did as he was told, stopping at what remained of the door to his ship. He found himself surrounded by several people, all with deep blue skin and one eye. All of their eyes seemed to be the same shade of green, while their hair colors varied as much as humans’ did. He swallowed. “Hey, listen...we’re...we’re not here to cause an trouble we just-,”

Ah ahh ah ahhh~

At that moment Ada’s hands began to crackle and spark. Nothing shot out, just a bright glow of electricity around her fingers. A small flurry suddenly appeared above Drun’s head. He looked at the crowd nervously. A few of them had their elements on display, but none of them fluctuated like his and Ada’s suddenly did.

One of the older members of the crowd stepped forward, looking them up and down. He didn’t look quite as suspicious anymore, his gaze holding more of a cautious curiosity.

“Ozynite or Zehara?”

Drun’s brow furrowed. In all his research, he hadn’t heard those names. “I’m...I’m sorry?’

“The Call. You can hear it right?” the man asked. “It happens every so many years, but it can only be heard by the members of two families. So which one are you from?”

Drun shook his head. “I...I don’t know. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” He heard Ada whimper again. She looked like she was about to pass out. “Listen...we just recently found out we were part Mefni. My sister is injured really bad. Can you please help her?”

The group exchanged looks for a moment before the leader gave a nod. “Okay. But not without answering some questions.”

Drun nodded. “Yeah, of course. Thank you.”

0000000000000

“Lazuroth, huh? You must be from the Zehara clan then,” the man (who was names Brix) told them after Drun told him about what had lead them here. “The head of it, Viggo, was captured for some time back by the queen.” He seemed to notice the horrified look on Drun’s face. “Don’t worry. We know there’s been a new queen in charge for years. We may look primitive, but we just like being more one with nature is all.”

Drun nodded as they entered the village. It was strange, towers of lit up dwellings spinning around the trees around them. The lights were of recent technology but for the homes themselves seemed to almost blend in with the wood of the large, tall trees. Brix led them to one of the bigger ones of the ground, which upon entry looked very much like the med bays Drun had become accustomed to. 

He carefully laid his currently unconscious sister on the nearest bed, where she was immediately surrounded by staff. One of the, a girl who looked to be around Ada’s age, tilted her head. “She’s cute.” 

“Rejika,” One of the older staff members scolded.

“I’m just saying!” Rejika replied. She looked back at Drun with a smile. “Your sister’s in good hands. Don’t worry.”

Drun nodded. “Thank you.” He turned back to Brix. “Could you like...explain what’s going on? You obviously know what this...Call is. But I...I don’t understand why it’s calling us or...anything else you just asked about.”

“Oh so that’s why you’re here,” Rejika said as she began placing an I.V catheter in Ada’s arm. “I was wondering why some strange aliens would be on our planet. We barely get people here for trades, let alone for some kind of vacation.”

Brix sighed, giving Rejika a look. Drun, however, was curious. “So you know about the Call, too?”

“Pfft. Everyone knows about the Call,” Rejika explained. “It’s just that only a few of us can hear it. Ooh! Which clan are you from, then?”

“Um…” Drun turned back to Brix. He had already forgotten.

“Zehara,” Brix replied.

“Really? Sweet!” Rejika replied. “My friend Lumi is from that clan. So I guess she’d be like...your cousin or something?”

Drun’s eyes widened and his antennae perked up. “Really? Do..do you know where I could find them?”

“Oh yeah they-”

Brix suddenly cleared his throat, silencing Rejika. He turned to Drun. “You have to keep in mind that...they may not want much to do with you considering...well considering who your grandmother is. Not to mention the Call comes they tend to haul up somewhere where they can muffle it. The Ozynites are the same way.”

Drun’s antennae drooped. “Well...can’t blame them for that. But...can you at least tell me what this is about. I just...why is my family being called at all.”

Brix sighed. “You sure you wanna know?”

“I’m positive. I...I’m supposed to be here. I just don’t know why.”

Brix looked up at Rejika, as if to tell her to get back to work. She sighed but went to completely focusing on Ada. Brix waved his hands and Drun watched with fascination as water flowed from them in different shapes around them. The began to form that of settings, buildings, people, moving around to Brix’s words.

“Several generations back, our planet was ruled by two clans. The Zeharas and the Ozynites. For years these clans were rivals, constantly finding any excuse to fight with one another. Until one day, a couple of new heads of the family came into power, deciding perhaps it was time to bury the hatchet.

They decided to arrange a marriage between the oldest Ozynite daughter and the second oldest Zehara son. A few people showed concerned, because the bride possessed the most unpredictable and rare element of our kind.” His water turned orangey red and rippled around. “Fire.”

Drun blinked. “Is it really?” He suddenly thought of Addie, and her ability to change flame into different colors.

Brix nodded. “Yes. However, the Ozynites assured the Zeharas that the bride had impeccable control of her powers, and that any offspring the two had would most definitely be strong and powerful.

“At first, it seemed the match was prepared well. The bride and groom got along swimmingly, and it seemed there would be finally be peace between these warring clans. However, it was not to be.

“The day before the wedding, the groom was found burnt to death at the feet of the would be bride.”

Drun actually gasped. Yes, it sounded like some old tale that probably had some kind of meaning to it or whatnot, but that actually had shocked him. He never thought of his sister’s powers as any more or less dangerous than his own. “Did...did she lose control.”

Brix shrugged. “Some say yes. Some say it was intentional. Either way it sparked a battle that lasted for days. The bride herself nearly killed so many people during before finally being subdued.

“Ever since then, even after both clans lost the power they had to time, they have never tried to reconcile again. Not that they fight in the street, persay. But they’re not inviting each other over for dinner or anything.”

“Heck, during this time we don’t see members of either family,” Rejika said, finally done getting Ada hooked up to her pain meds, nanites, and antibiotics. “The Call can be pretty overwhelming. At least that’s what Lumi tells me.”

“That story doesn’t explain why there’s a Call in the first place. Why is it calling? Who is it?”

“No one knows,” Brix replied. “Some say that ever since that great battle that because so many Mefni were slain that day, it created an imbalance and the Call is sort of a punishing reminder of what the families caused.”

Drun frowned. That...didn’t seem right. This couldn’t be just some..punishment of sorts caused by his ancestors. At least...it certainly didn’t feel like it. No...something was calling him to action. He could feel it in his bones.

Ah ahh ah ahhh~

His antennae perked back up and he found himself looking over his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes. “What’s in that direction?” Drun asked.

Brix and Rejika exchanged glances before the girl answered. “It’s where the town of Madej once stood-”

‘Rejika!” Brix scolded.

“Look. I know you old folk like to pretend that any inconvenience will just pass on it’s own, but you can’t deny the way the erratic the weather has been! The rivers running backwards? How it will snow in one place but not five feet away it’ll dry up and catch fire.” She narrowed her eye. “The planet has been out of balance for years because two families decided to just kill one another! And honestly, if he thinks he can stop then, hell, let him!”

“There is nothing to stop. This isn’t some curse to be broken! We simply all just need to be more devout in our offerings and-,”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. You clearly haven’t been around someone when they’re hearing the Call. You ever have to stay up all night with someone while they cry and beg and pray and wish it would stop? Hmm? Didn’t think so.”

Drun couldn’t help but look over back at his sister. She seemed so peaceful right now, asleep and resting. He was glad they’d found people to help her. He was not like his mother. He had no idea how to deal with a splinter let alone a broken ankle. He was suddenly reminded of how she was acting when they’d finally decided to come here. “Make it stop. How do we make it stop?”

Ah ahh ah ahhh~

Drun took a deep breath, rising to his feet. “Do you mind keeping an eye on my sister while I’m gone? She’ll probably be mad I left her, but she can’t come with, obviously.”

“You can’t possibly be serious-,”

“I have to know why I’m here. Why the Call crossed over galaxies and star systems to make sure my family heard it, too.” He looked to Rejika. She seemed like she’d be more help. “I could use a map or something to help me get to Madej. Or where it used to be, I guess.”

Rejika pulled out her phone. “I can give you the coordinates Will that be enough?”

Drun beamed. “That’s perfect. Thank you.”

“No problem!” She shot a quick look at Ada before giving Drun a grin. “So...is your sister single?”

0000000000000000

Meanwhile, on the other side of the ash ridden valley that was once the town of Madej, a young half-Mefni found himself sneaking around the small town he’d found himself in, scouring for supplies and information. He’d heard how feared and mistreated fire users are, so he knows if he’s caught, it could spell his doom.

He had to find the town of Madej. That was where the voice was coming. That was where the answers would be.

He could only hope that his mother and father didn’t become too angry at him for taking off...

Ah ahh ah ahhh~

[starbuck]

Mid-Atlantic Gulls in Winter!

gonna put species info and field marks under the cut so feel free to take a look if you wanna learn more about gull identification!

(starting from upper left and moving left to right)

1: Black-headed Gull (adult nonbreeding)

These guys are a European species and are becoming newly regular on the East Coast in wintertime! This particular bird is hanging out (with two of his friends) at a wastewater treatment plant in Delaware which is, thankfully for me, open to the public!

The main identification hurdle with Black-headed Gulls is that they look a lot like Bonaparte’s Gulls (8) and tend to associate with them when roosting or feeding, making differentiation difficult at times. The easiest way to know for sure is to look at the bill color - Black-headed Gulls have blood red bills while Bonaparte’s Gulls have thinner black bills. Black-headed Gulls are also slightly larger than Bonaparte’s Gulls and have more extensive black coloration on their underwings.

If you’re curious, the name ‘Black-headed Gull’ comes from their breeding plumage in which they (and Bonies as well) have fully black heads rather than just the spot they have in winter. The rest of their plumage remains largely unchanged from winter to summer. 

2: Great Black-backed Gull (adult nonbreeding)

This is the largest gull species in the world! You can tell this one is extra fierce because he is defending a cache of cheesy pretzels that someone dropped on the beach.

There’s very little that one might confuse with these certified Big Boys except for Lesser Black-backed Gulls (6) which essentially look identical to them in all cycles and plumages. As their name would suggest, however, Lesser Black-backs are smaller and, in adult plumage, are easily told from their larger counterparts by their bright yellow legs - Great Black-backs have pink legs their entire lives. 

I’ve also been told that a way to differentiate adult-plumaged birds is that Great Black-backs have slightly darker black mantles/backs than Lessers and... *throws hands up in the air* I GUESS!

3: Iceland Gull (2nd winter)

These guys are pretty easy since they are one of only two gulls on the East Coast to be known as the “white-winged gulls,” meaning that they have white primaries/wingtips regardless of age rather than black ones like every other species.

The other species of “white-winged gull” is the Glaucous Gull (which I helpfully do not have a photo of) and the main way to tell them apart is that Glaucs are really chunky while Icelands are less-so. That’s literally it. 

Icelands also tend to be less pale than Glaucs but this particular bird I photographed on my pelagic was quite pale so that’s not always a great field mark in practice. Just focus on the chonk. 

When they reach adulthood, both Iceland and Glaucous Gulls settle into the typical “white body, light gray mantle” plumage and superficially look a lot like Herring Gulls except for the color of the primaries which are still white.

4: adult nonbreeding Black-legged Kittiwake (center), 3rd winter Herring Gull (upper right), and 1st winter Lesser Black-backed Gull (bottom right)

okay one at a time here!

Kittiwake: 

I’ll hold off on going in-depth on this guy since I have two solo photos of him later in this set but they’re very cute! Look at him!

Herring Gull:

Like I said above, this guy is in 3rd winter plumage. This means that he is unusually ugly. Herring Gulls are just sort of ugly all the time regardless of plumage and they look very different from year to year until they reach adulthood. Oftentimes, I’ve seen people staring at a gull flock saying “I don’t know how to tell these apart!” when they’re really just looking at a group of differently-aged Herring Gulls.

Personally, I just consider them the generic “medium-sized gull” (since they’re the most common at the shore) and judge everything off of them. I don’t really have a lot of good ID tips for them... They look a little like Ring-billed Gulls (5) in adult plumage but they’re larger, have pale pink legs rather than yellow, and lack the prominent black bill ring that Ring-bills are named for (although they may have black or red splotches on their bills so don’t let that trip you up).

Lesser Black-backed Gull:

As I mentioned earlier, Great and Lesser Black-backed Gulls are almost impossible to tell apart, particularly in 1st winter plumage but the way I’m ID’ing this guy is by the thickness of the brown streaks on his chest and the way his head looks smaller than I would expect a Great Black-back’s head to look.

It’s a tough call though honestly, and I’d welcome a second opinion on this one.

5: Ring-billed Gull (adult nonbreeding)

The typical “parking lot gull” of the Mid-Atlantic! Sometimes spots near the beach get Laughing Gulls in the summer as well but, where I live, it’s all Ring-bills, babey! Who needs the ocean when you have concrete, amirite?

These guys are pretty distinctive. Relatively small with bright yellow legs and bill, and of course the black ring around the bill. As I said, they’re smaller than Herring Gulls (4) and they’re bigger than Laughing Gulls, Black-headed Gulls (1), and Bonaparte’s Gulls (8) - the latter two of which they associate with at that same wastewater treatment plant although I took this particular photo at the inlet!

6: Lesser Black-backed Gull (2nd winter)

I already discussed these guys vs Great Black-backs so I’ll try not to repeat myself too much!

Mostly including this one to point out that the 2nd winter plumage is much more patchy than 1st winter, with extensive white on the front and also because this photo shows the small head really well.

(Also, peep the Ring-billed Gull partially in frame there lol)

Fun fact: Lesser Black-backed Gulls used to only show up as vagrants from Europe but are now common here, particularly in winter. Maybe this is what the future looks like for Black-headed Gulls as well?

7: Black-legged Kittiwake (adult nonbreeding)

If you’ve never been far offshore, there’s a good chance you’ve never seen one of these cuties before (unless you live in Europe where they’re just all over the place for some reason. Y’all get Northern Fulmars from land too - what is wrong with your seabirds??) but they’re SO COOL! I’ve been lucky enough to see them breeding on sea cliffs on St. Paul Island, Alaska but seeing them at sea is unparalleled! The way they fly is so unique among gulls and has to be seen to be believed!

Identification-wise, they really don’t look like anything else in the Mid-Atlantic. One distinctive field mark is that their wingtips sort of look like they’ve been dipped in ink, forming almost perfect black triangles at the primaries. They’re also exceptionally small in comparison to Herring Gulls (4) and either species of Black-backed Gull (4), however, they’re only slightly smaller than Ring-billed Gulls (5) overall (but are pointier than Ring-bills if you compared them in flight).

If you go to St. Paul Island and have to tell them apart from Red-legged Kittiwakes, a good tip (other than the leg color, obviously) is that their mantles/backs are paler than those of Red-legged Kittiwakes and they’re slightly bigger.

8: Bonaparte’s Gull (adult nonbreeding)

This is an incredibly cropped photo but I didn’t want to leave the Bonies out! They’re just too cute!

They’re the smallest gull that normally occurs here (rarely we get vagrant Little Gulls which are REALLY small and make me cry because of their smallness) and, as I already compared them to Black-headed Gulls (1) in detail, I won’t do so again. The black line trailing along the edge of their primaries is pretty unique to them and, as I said before, their thin black bills are distinctive. The redness of their legs also tends to be more orangey-pink than that of Black-headed Gulls (1) but the legs look pretty dark in this particular photo so this is a good example of the fact that you should often throw individual field marks out the window and just view the bird as whole, comparing its look to those around it. 

As a small tangent based on that idea: oftentimes I’ll start to convince myself that one of the gross-looking Herring Gulls in those mixed-cycle flocks I mentioned earlier is actually something different and rare but then I stop and ask myself “is there anything about this bird’s build and structure that looks different from the Herring Gulls around it?” and, if the answer is no, then it’s just a Herring Gull that I was overthinking. Never a bad thing to step back, especially when looking at a type of bird as confusing as gulls can be!

9: Black-legged Kittiwake (adult nonbreeding)

Nothing new to say here but ain’t he cute?? He’s got a lil piece of chum in his beak!

[the-magnus-archives-archiver]

Taken Ill

Case: 0121911

Name: Nicole Baxter Subject: Visits culminating in the fire that consumed Ivy Meadows Care Home in Woodley, Greater Manchester Date: November 19th, 2012 Recorded by: Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London

Fear is a strange thing, isn’t it? What you’re afraid of. For most people, a corpse is at the least unnerving and, for some, outright terrifying. Or maybe it’s disgust. They are two very different feelings, aren’t they? Though they often bleed into each other, if you’ll pardon the pun. I work as a funeral director, so as you can imagine, how I feel about death and the body is a bit more... complicated and more immediately relevant than it is for most people. Dealing with cadavers day in, day out forces you to confront all manner of things about yourself.

Simply put, I have found that I do not believe in any sort of afterlife. I have seen people cold and lifeless upon the mortician’s table who I knew, who I remembered as vibrant and lively. There was no soul that had departed, no special spark that passed on to something else. Simply a body that no longer moved or spoke or thought. It feels odd to consider the fact that you will no longer exist some day, but you didn’t exist for billions of years before your birth, so, it doesn’t seem unreasonable to conclude that you will not exist afterwards in much the same way. I try to see life as a pleasant holiday from non-existence. It provides some comfort when the truth of my own mortality stares me in the face every day.

There is one thing about dead bodies that does bother me, though. One thing that... eats at me, as it were, and does give me that sick tightness of fear deep in my gut. It is rot. I don’t know why it gets to me so; perhaps it’s precisely because I don’t think there is anything beyond the body, and even dead and unaware, seeing a person’s form begin to putrefy and fester – becoming just a home for the crawling, feasting things – is too much for me. Perhaps it’s just an unaccountable phobia. Regardless of the reason, the fact is that to see the corpses decaying, to see their flesh corrupted, it is... the one part of this job that I find uncomfortable. So much so that I would describe reconstruction and preservation as my favourite part of the process. Making sure the cadaver looks as peaceful and lifelike as possible. Make them the person they were, or as close as they can be while cold and senseless. Fighting off the rot. The insects. The disease. 

I don’t know why I wrote disease just then. They’re dead, so they can’t be diseased in the normal sense, can they? I suppose it’s just thinking about what happened at the Ivy Meadows Care Home links them in my head. But it’s not just that, is it? That... the fear, the feeling. That tingling, squirming fear at the back of my mind – it feels the same when thinking of the germs that corrupt and twist our bodies, lurking invisibly on any table or surface, or when I saw those swarming flies. How many more moved and buzzed just out of sight? I’ve never had any mental health issues before, but perhaps after my experience I should consult someone. I read once that OCD can come on later in life, if a severe experience sets it off.

I’m rambling. Disregard this first page, I’ll start again.

I work as a mortician at Baxter and Gordon Funeral Directors in Woodley. By rights it should now just be Baxter Funeral Directors, as William Gordon passed away himself about 5 years ago, leaving my uncle George running the place on his own. He kept the name though, as he always said it was one of the most respected in all of Manchester. God knows there was no sentimental reason to keep it. From the way he talked, he and William Gordon hated each other by the end, to the point where the will expressly stated that the body of William Gordon was to be handled and prepared by Fenchurch and Sons, one of my uncle’s great rivals. Maybe that’s why Uncle George is so keen to keep it in the family. He hired me and my cousin Josh to help, and now Baxter and Gordon Funeral Directors is entirely run by Baxters.

I’ve been there for almost four years now and have taken over most of the client-side arrangements of the business. My uncle has gotten somewhat brusque in his old age and is now more suited to organising things with churches and crematoria, rather than handling the recently bereaved. As such, I’ve gotten to know the various nursing and care homes around Woodley rather well. We generally get a few removals from any given one each year. Maybe as many as a half dozen if the winter is bad. It’s certainly our most reliable source of business. 

Of them all, Ivy Meadows was my favourite. For a funeral director to say she has a favourite nursing home probably sounds a bit like the Grim Reaper talking about his favourite hospital, but it’s true. Ivy Meadows Care Home was on the outskirts of Woodley, where the suburbs gave way to pockets of green countryside. It wasn’t remote, exactly, but it was removed enough from main road that it stood alone, surrounded by rather lovely gardens on three sides, and a long, open field behind it. It had been a country house once, I believe, but not much of the original structure remains, having been modified and expanded to provide accessible accommodation for about thirty residents. It was an odd building, with modern glass and concrete sections sprouting from old turreted brickwork, like blocky stone tumours.

The look of the place wasn’t why I liked it, though. No, that was the residents. Ivy Meadows was almost entirely populated by those elderly who were entirely supported by the state. Most pensioners have some savings or property or family to support them, which means if they’re unable to live alone they can at least afford to pay for their own care or some of it. It’s rare for a person to reach that age and have literally nothing to pay for their care, but it does happen. In these cases, the state pays for them, but they have little choice in where they end up. Ivy Meadows was almost entirely populated by these. Old people without money or family, sent to be looked after by strangers. You’d have expected the atmosphere to be unpleasant, some morbid combination of prison and hospice, but it was quite the opposite. Something about the mutual loneliness seemed to lead them to create a real sense of community. It was the only place I ever went where the residents still gave me a smile. Hannah Ramirez, who ran the place, would always tell me a bit about the deceased and their time there, and I was inevitably shocked by tales of drugs, sexual escapades and other gossip that sounded more like a high school than a nursing home. I think Hannah enjoyed trying to get a reaction out of me when I was trying to be solemn. It was just a happy place, even if I was only there to do a sad duty.

It all started to change about three months ago, after Hannah left. I don’t know exactly when she left her post or why; we hadn’t had a call from Ivy Meadows for a couple of months, so it must have happened during that period. I don’t know where she moved to, either. It certainly wasn’t any of the other care homes around Woodley, and it wasn’t like I knew her personally. I’d gotten a call from one of the nurses, Alenka Kozel, who said that one of their residents had taken ill and passed away, a man by the name of Bertrand Miller. I asked her for a few more details; she started to say something else, but the call was cut off almost abruptly. I didn’t really think too much about it, most of the details could be worked out when we arrived, so I called Josh and loaded up the car for a removal.

It was a hot mid-August day, and the air was thick and humid, making everything feel sticky, like the whole world was running a fever. The sky was overcast, though, an orangey-grey that cast muted shadows and seemed to muffle the world. It was about a ten minute drive to Ivy Meadows, and neither of us said a word. I don’t know why, at that point we had no idea that there was anything wrong, but looking back it seems like we both felt there was something off about it. Or maybe we were just too hot for conversation and hindsight is colouring my memories.

When we arrived the place was silent. There were no cars in the parking area, which was not unusual, but I couldn’t see a soul anywhere on the grounds. Maybe they were simply staying out of the heat. Josh and I got out of the car and approached the door. I pressed the buzzer, as I had done so many times before, expecting the cheery voice of one of the receptionists. Instead there was just dead air, followed by the clunk of the door being remotely unlocked. I looked at Josh, who shrugged, and we went inside.

Ivy Meadows Care Home was usually much as you would find any other – air conditioned, and smelling faintly of cleaning products and cheap potpourri. This time it was different. The smell now was just as faint, but seemed... rancid, while the air itself was close and damp. The beige walls seemed dirtier than before, with dark marks at roughly hand-height. There was a faint buzzing, like a fly, but I couldn’t see any source for it.

None of it was so bad as to make us turn back, however, and we headed towards the reception desk. There was nobody behind it, and I rang the bell. I always wore gloves when on a removal, and was glad of that fact now, as I noticed a greasy residue on top of the small brass bell. The door to the reception opened, and a tall man stepped out. He was rail thin and wore a faded brown suit that seemed to have been cut for a much fatter man. His eyes were a watery blue and his dark hair stood on top of his head in an unruly mess. He must have been around forty, but had a nervous sort of energy to him. He was quite a surprise, to say the least.

Josh recovered faster than I did and asked the man, a bit rudely, who he was, where we could find Hannah. The man shook his head at this and said that Ms. Ramirez had left the position, and he was now Director of Ivy Meadows. He introduced himself as John Amherst, and held a hand out for Josh to shake. My cousin stood there for some time, staring at the thick, sweaty hand of this strange man, clearly not wanting to shake it. Mr Amherst just stood there, arm outstretched, apparently unconcerned. A fly landed on his face, and if he noticed, he didn’t give any sign of it, not even when it walked across his eye. Eventually, the now clearly shaken Josh stuttered out some semi-polite excuse and backed away.

At this John Amherst lowered his hand and turned to me. He asked why we were here. This took me rather by surprise, as there’s generally only one reason undertakers show up in such a place. We told him we had received a call and been told Mr. Miller had passed away. Amherst asked who had called us, but with such a sharpness in his voice that I lied and said the caller hadn’t given their name. He paused, clearly considering what to say next very carefully. Finally, he nodded, and said that yes, Bertrand Miller was dead. And we could have him. Then he gestured for us to follow and began to walk back into the main building.

As we walked, he began listing the details for Mr. Miller’s funeral, such as they were. No family or friends, no savings or insurance, simple cremation, as soon as possible. No service to be held at the crematorium. Ashes to be returned to Ivy Meadows in whatever the cheapest option was for an urn made of brass. At this I asked what he wanted the ashes for, and he simply waved his hand in a vague dismissal and said they’d be wanting to have a “private remembrance service”.

By now, we’d been walking for a few minutes, and I hadn’t seen another soul in the corridors. I thought I spotted one of the nurses at one point, but they had turned and walked away as soon as they saw us. We arrived at a room bearing a small plaque. It read ‘Bertrand Miller’. John Amherst opened it without hesitation and went inside. 

The smell was what hit me first. I’ve smelled plenty of corpses in my time. I’d almost say I’m used to the smell. This was different, there was some deeper taint there than simply putrefying flesh, and it made me gag. By the look on his face, Josh smelled it as well. Then I got a good look at the body on the bed, and almost turned and ran.

Based on the colour of those sections of skin still whole and unblemished, Mr. Miller couldn’t have been dead for more than a few hours, half a day at most. You wouldn’t have known, though. Large sections of his body were covered in a wet, creamy yellow rash, which... I’m not a doctor, so describing exactly what it did to the flesh it touched would serve no purpose except to start me having the nightmares again. Let us just say that it gave a plentiful home for the flies that swarmed around his body.

We looked at John Amherst, utterly appalled. He said not to worry, that the disease that had claimed poor Mr. Miller wasn’t contagious. Even produced the recently signed death certificate, though it was stained with some dark grey fluid, so I did not examine it too closely. He then apologised that their air conditioning had broken. “I’m sure you know all about what heat does to cadavers,” he said. I just wanted to get out of there, and have never been more grateful to whoever designed care home beds so that we could remove the body with as little contact as possible. Even then, on the way out I felt a sudden tickling pain on the back of my left hand, and looked down to see the thick leather glove in contact with one of the patches of yellow. I nearly screamed and dropped the body, but did neither. Ivy Meadows did not feel then like a safe place to do either of those things. In fact, I kept my composure through the whole of the drive home. 

As soon as we arrived, I ran into the bathroom, throwing my gloves into the medical waste bin. I scrubbed the patch of skin that still felt like it was crawling. I could see nothing wrong with it, but I kept scrubbing until it was bloody, then poured disinfectant over it until it went numb.

When I finally left the bathroom, I found Josh arguing loudly with his father. Apparently Uncle George was not satisfied with the explanation given for the state of Mr. Miller’s body. He turned to me, and asked what had happened. I told him the same thing Josh had, the same thing I’ve told you. We went over it slowly, point by point until finally he stood there silently, looking worried, but determined. He had us tell it to him one more time, before he nodded, told us to stay away from the corpse of Bertrand Miller, and left, telling us he had to make a few calls. I have never seen a cremation done with such a quick turnaround, and he was burned before the end of the day. I asked Uncle George about returning the ashes in a brass urn, but he shook his head, and said he’d already had them disposed of.

I knew my uncle wasn’t one to share his thoughts when he didn’t want to, and that seemed to be the end of it, save for those times throughout the day I would feel that tickling in my hand and run to scrub it away. I went on a couple of other jobs, and it seemed like we were expected to forget it. Josh didn’t talk about what happened, and I got the impression he was trying to ignore what he had seen. He always was a practical soul.

I... couldn’t let it go, though. It just kept playing in my mind. So when the phone rang two weeks later and I heard Alenka’s voice on the other end, my heart skipped several beats. What she said did nothing to allay my fears. The line was bad, very bad, but I could have sworn she said, “Come quickly. We’ve taken ill. We’ve passed away.” The words repeated, as though on a recorded loop, though they were no easier to make out than the first time. Finally, I put the phone down. I was technically off duty at that point, having just finished my shift, so I could have ignored it. I could have walked away. Instead, I put on my normal clothes, grabbed three pairs of gloves and got in my car.

The drive there was dreadful. Still hot, I kept looking at turnings and junctions, and imagining where I would go if I turned away from Ivy Meadows and just drove off. But I didn’t. I kept taking those old familiar turnings, moving inevitably towards that sick, old building.

When I arrived, it was quiet. The whole building looked filthy now, even from the outside, and the plants that bordered it had started to take on an unhealthy whitish colour. There was one other car in the parking area, a faded white Transit van I didn’t recognise. I got out and started to walk towards the front door. The smell was noticeable even from out here, and by the time I got close enough to reach the buzzer, it had become so strong as to be unbearable. I tried to bring myself to press the button. But instead I turned and half-sprinted back to my car, desperate to breath clean air again.

I stood there, torn between wanting to flee and needing to know. Then in the silence, I heard it. Tap, tap, tap. Someone banging rhythmically on a window. I scanned all the ones I could see, but they were dark.

Tap, tap, tap.

It showed no sign of stopping. I began to make a wide circuit of the building. It was on the other side that I saw it. A large, ground floor window showed what I think would once have been the lounge. The walls were dark, stained and smeared to almost black, but the windows were clear. Stood the other side of the glass, weakly banging her fist against it, was Alenka Kozel. Her skin was mottled, covered with that leaking yellow rash. She saw me, and as her eyes locked with mine she opened her mouth, and the buzzing of the flies that spewed out was almost as loud as her scream.

I turned and began to sprint back towards my car. I had to get away, to get out. Then, without warning, I felt something heavy hit me in the side and I lost my footing, falling to the ground. I looked up to see an old man pinning me to the ground, his long, white beard matted and filthy. I screamed and tried to escape, but his age seemed to have done nothing to diminish his strength, and he kept his grip easily. 

Then he spoke in a thick Mancunian accent and told me to keep my voice down. I noticed that his skin was unblemished pink, and behind him stood a young woman, tall and lean with close-cropped hair and a deep scar over her right eye. She carried a large canvas bag, and was shaking her head, telling the old man to leave me alone. After a few suspicious glances, he got up. I could swear I recognised him from somewhere, but when I asked the two of them who they were, they just shook their heads and told me to leave. I asked them what was going on, and the old man looked at his companion, as if asking permission, said something about knowledge being a good defence here. She shook her head and said that leaving quickly was a better one. I didn’t need to be told a third time.

I got in my car, and I left them to their work. I didn’t turn around even when I saw the smoke start to rise behind me. And that was the last time I went there. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go wash my hands.

Archivist Notes:

The Ivy Meadows Care Home in Woodley was officially decommissioned in July 2011, a month before the first of these alleged calls came in. It burned down on the 4th of September that same year after a leaking gas main caught fire. If the gas was already leaking, this might have resulted in hallucinations or other problems during their initial visit. There is no record of the body of Bertrand Miller being processed, or cremated, by Baxter and Gordon Funeral Directors, but based on this statement that’s not necessarily a point of incredulity. Bertrand Miller was a resident at Ivy Meadows, but according to his death certificate he passed away on 19th July, a week before the home was decommissioned. There’s no record of any funeral arrangements or disposal of the body.

In fact, it seems the records from the closure of Ivy Meadows are... well, according to Sasha, calling them ‘patchy’ would be very generous. There are only transfer records for seven residents, whereas at last official count the home held twenty-nine. The others seem to have been lost in the system somewhere. The majority of the workforce also appears to be undocumented, and I can find no record of any ‘Alenka Kozel’ on the system. Martin’s research would seem to indicate the place employed a reasonable number of international staff they preferred to keep off the books, but it doesn’t explain why none of the officially-listed staff can be located for follow- up, except for Hannah Ramirez, whose brief interview simply established she moved to Brighton shortly before the closure of Ivy Meadows and hadn’t heard anything about it since. John Amherst, as best we can tell, doesn’t exist. We’re unable to locate anyone fitting that description anywhere within the care or medical sector, and he certainly never ran any nursing homes.

Another tale full of dead ends. We did contact the Baxters. Joshua Baxter repeated the first part of the above statement. George Baxter told us not to listen to tall tales. Nicole Baxter said she stands by her account, but aside from losing her left hand in what she calls “a workplace accident”, there have been no further developments.

Still, there’s a lot here the puts me in mind of other statements. Something in the way Ms. Baxter talks about fear. I can’t help but be reminded of statement 0142302, how Jane Prentiss talks about her own fears. And the old man and his companion... who does that remind me of? If he wasn’t dead I’d think it might have been Trevor—

[ [DOOR OPENS] Oh, er, yes?

Tim: Are you free?

Archivist: Yes... Yes, I’m just about finished here, what is it?

Tim: Oh, ah, nothing urgent, um, it’s just Elias was asking a couple questions about the delivery.

Archivist: Delivery? What delivery?

Tim: Ah well, that’s actually what he was asking, huh! Um, apparently Martin, uh, took delivery of a couple of items last week addressed to you. Did he not mention it?

Archivist: No, he... Oh, yes, actually. I completely forgot. He said he put it in my desk draw, hold on.

[SOUND OF PACKAGE BEING RETRIEVED AND OPENED]

Tim: Er, what is it?

Archivist: A lighter. An old Zippo.

Tim: You smoke?

Archivist: No. And I don’t allow ignition sources in my archive! Tim: Okay. Is there anything unusual about it?

Archivist: Not really. Just a sort of spider web design on the front. Doesn’t mean anything to me. You?

Tim: Ah no. No.

Archivist: Well... show it to the others, see what they think. You said there was something else as well?

Tim: Oh, ah yes, yeah, it was sent straight to the Artefact Storage, a table of some sort. Ah, looks old. Quite pretty, though. Fascinating design on it.

Archivist: Tim... Tim, it doesn’t have a hole in it, does it? About six inches square?

Tim: Ah... I don’t know. Maybe? Um, I’ll be honest I didn’t really notice. It was quite—

Archivist: Hypnotic, yes. Do you know who made the delivery? Did they sign in?

Tim: Um... ah no, ah sorry no I don’t know.

Archivist: I need to talk to Martin. Uh, end recording.]

[forestwater87]

Odd question. If you were doing a wing fic (shorthand: everyone has some kind of wings on their back; up to you if they're always out or if they can be banished and summoned at will) for Camp Camp, what kind of wings would the cast have?

Oooh I love wing fics! Hmmm, let’s see . . . 

David’s would be a little small for his age/size, and he’d probably be kind of embarrassed about that. He can still fly just fine with them -- which he’d say, defensively, if anyone pointed them out -- and they’re very fluffy, white, with little speckles of green flecked throughout.

Now I know most wing fics stick with feathered wings, but it did occur to me that some sort of insectlike wings -- all delicate-looking and iridescent like the surface of a bubble -- would also suit him very well. They’d be a bit more natural and forest-y, but would still have that element of embarrassment and shyness (he was probably called “fairy” a lot growing up, and it’d be a sore spot for him).

That being said, the idea of David having massive wings was suggested by @ciphernetics​, and I must admit that the idea of him either wrapping them around people to protect or comfort them is super cute. Also in a protective moment he could like fwoosh, out they come to shield the campers and it’d be badass. It’s not my preferred hc for him, but there are some lovely ways to play with it.

Gwen’s would be . . . serviceable. Dull, easily overlooked, probably some shade of gray or that kind of dun mousy brown that looks greyish in the right light, bigger than David’s but neither unusually large or small, not especially fluffy but not kind of molted the way some sick people’s are . . . they’re just sort of there. (She was probably nicknamed Pigeon by a lot of people, both as an affectionate term and a derogatory one. And like pigeons’ wings, there are little patches of color among her wings that are hard to see unless you’re looking for them it’s a metaphor get it? aren’t I clever ohoho)

Campbell’s are humongous. The biggest wings ever. He is a mountain of a man, with massive pure-white wings. Some people are convinced he genetically modified them somehow, and they do have this uncanny radioactive glow in the dark but don’t worry about that, it’s perfectly natural and not at all suspicious!

The fun thing about this is that they can get increasingly bedraggled as Season 3 progresses, until they’re drooping and muddy.

Quartermaster has bat wings. I don’t give a fuck if literally every other character has angel wings, QM’s are bats and that’s just the way it has to be.

I like the idea of the campers having small wings that can fit under their clothes, because they haven’t really grown in yet. I imagine maybe Nurf might be an exception, since he seems to be either older or just bigger than the other campers, but for the most part those kiddos look just like their normal selves. That being said, a few ideas of what they might look like grown up:

Max -- black, maybe a little big for his age, like a crow or raven’s wings. When he gets annoyed they puff up and slip out of his hoodie, and it’s a pain to put them back in which annoys him even more and gets them more puffy and hard to stuff back . . . it’s a constant struggle. Pity the poor kid.

Neil -- I’m torn between going with his hair color and giving him some hawklike brown-and-white wings, which I think would look nice with his coloring, and just going hog-wild and giving him wings like a bluebird because of his eyes. I think the latter would be too showy and embarrass him, but there’s something kinda cute about that too. His wings would be like his dad: impossible to ignore and much louder and more obnoxious (in his POV) than they need to be.

Nikki -- big and flecked with golden-orange. Of all the characters I think hers would have the most modifications, because as a kid/young adult she wasn’t careful with them and got them all torn up -- maybe to the point where she can’t even fly with them. But she has Neil and he’s a smart cookie, so I like to think of her wings having a vaguely-steampunk element of mechanisms and patches keeping them together.

Harrison -- white or a very light gray, like a dove’s. He paints the tips gold when he’s older as part of his illusionist costume.

Nerris -- I’m just thinking pure eastern bluebird, orange at the base and then exploding into brilliant blue. I think she’d love how flashy they are.

Ered -- Somehow I want her to have dragon wings. I have no idea why, or how, but I think it’d be extremely cool, and Ered is nothing if not cool. Especially if they’re really rare, almost unheard of, and she’s put a lot of work into transforming herself from the tomboyish freak with the demon wings and gay dads into something to be envious of. Besides, it’s easier to do sick stunts without having to worry about your feathers getting caught on stuff.

Nurf -- All right, I wanna get emo for a moment and say that his wings have been hacked either partly or entirely off by the time he’s an adult. We know he’s been abused in canon, and I think that people like that would go for the easiest target to hurt you, and that target is probably the delicate feathered things sticking out of your back. Bonus points if they’re somehow kind of girly, which coincides with his more sensitive nature and how he initially wanted to do ballet as a kid (especially since I don’t think that was well-received by his family). So, like . . . what remains are very fluffy and sweet-looking, maybe pink or pale yellow and orange or something, but they’re either little stubs he covers up all the time or they’ve got big chunks missing out of them but who’s gonna point that out to the huge guy with a pissed-off expression?

Preston -- Rainbow, like the most extravagant bird of paradise. Does he paint them himself, or are they as natural as he claims? 

Dolph -- Probably something very average and serviceable, in the brown/gray/white family, but they’re always speckled with paint because he’s not very careful with them and especially the long feathers at the bottom trail along the ground while he’s painting, or get stuck to his art if he turns around too suddenly.

Space Kid -- I’m thinking of a duck, for some reason. Partly because they’re aquatic and I just connect the ocean and space for some reason, partly because they’re very ordinary and that’s kind of how SK rolls, and partly because ducks can just flap for insane distances without getting tired (thank you Animorphs!). Space Kid is like that, I think -- very diligent, keeps his head down and gets things done, not very bright but he works so hard it makes up for a lot, and that’s why he’s going to be an astronaut someday. Mallards have those pretty green feathers, too, and I think those would look nice with Space Kid’s eyes.

Jasper -- Peacock. Obviously. He is the most garishly-dressed person in the show and his wings would match. Not that you’ll ever know, because he never gets to grow up and have real wings :( 

So those are the mains! As for some of the less-important characters, I don’t really have too many interesting ideas, but a few throwaway ones:

The Flower Scouts all have pink wings, either feathers or bug/fairy ones. I think maybe Tabii has a chunk missing from one of hers, from a fight or something, and the other girls made a patch so no one can tell and she can fly properly. Erin’s might be just slightly different colors -- one with an orangey tint, one with a blue.

A fun thing about bug wings is they could buzz when the girls are angry. So Sasha’s are basically always going, poor thing.

The Woodscouts probably have their wings bound, clipped, and constantly ready for combat flying. I’m thinking, like, the military-haircut version of wings.

Daniel’s . . . I mean, I don’t care about Daniel because he’s trash, but I do love the idea that they’re not naturally white and he dyes them. It’s my favorite Daniel hc and I need it to appear in every AU.

So that about covers it!

EXCEPT

Then I was talking with Ciphernetics about wing AUs, and I mentioned that in some wing fics (namely the awesome one by setepenre-set, though there are probably others) the wings’ size are based on how loved someone is. Which led to the below cuteness. Warning: shameless Gwenvid and Makkiel ahead, along with me insisting that Cameron Campbell isn’t the worst person in the entire world because I’m love him

Ciphernetics: Max’s wings growing during camp!Max voice: who the FUCK is loving me I specifically requested the opposite of thisDavid: You can even fit them in your hoodie anymore awwwwMax, struggling to pull it on over his wings: the hell I can't

Forestwater:(what if they come in the color of the person who loves you's hair)(so at first it's just this line of red that he knows is fucking David, goddamnit and then all of a sudden start sprouting these mint green and brown ones and my ship takes off)

Ciphernetics: Max, disgusted, throwing an auburn feather at David: get LOSTMax, looking over his shoulder in the mirror at the brown ones gathering at the tips and the mint ones scattered chaotically throughout: huh

Forestwater:Oh no what about when Nikki and Neil's start getting flecked with black, small and easily tugged out like they're ashamed of being there

Ciphernetics: The small really curly little feathery down that like to hide under other feathers(Gwen's had auburn in her wings since almost the first summer but lately it's started to overpower the rest of the colours. Not completely, it's just... Noticeable how much of it is the same colour now.)(She knew David loved people quickly and easily, it's just suddenly a lot more)(or she just wasn't paying attention)

Forestwater:What on earth would David's reaction be to suddenly finding some of Gwen's?I like the idea of her feathers being two-toned

Ciphernetics: I'd love if he's had a very small, slowly growing patch since they met (just a handful more each summer) but some event happens and suddenly there's a lotOh absolutely two tonedHey how about some angst;David's been waiting his whole life for Campbell's hair colourToday at 9:32 AMHe'd never say it but Campbell makes so many throwaway jokes about David being the son he never wanted but it rings a little hollow when there's not when one little brown/grey feather

Forestwater:until the end of season 3 when there's like . . . twoLISTEN I NEED MY TRASH GRANDPA

So that’s just a little bit of extra silliness for added angst/romance/fluff.

Hope this answer isn’t too long, but I was having fun.

[angeleyesmalek]

Late Night Blackout

Pairing: Elliot Alderson x Reader

Summary: When the lights go out, you don’t want to be home alone in a bad neighborhood. 

Warnings: So. Many. Run. On. Sentences. Also, just really bad syntax & diction. This is just a hot mess. Probably cursing too. Please forgive me for this atrocity. 

Word Count: 2,235

One nineteen in the morning was quiet, well, as quiet as it got in New York City. You were alone in your apartment, the only sound throughout the tiny space was the slicing of your fan through the humid air and the loud buzzing and grumbling of the shitty air conditioning unit in your home. It must’ve been a hundred degrees outside, and it was at least eighty in your tiny little shoebox.

Kicking off your covers didn’t help much, so you laid in bed. The ceiling wasn’t interesting, but you found yourself staring at the off-white wall, zoning out and projecting the movie in your mind on the blank space. You made up stories in your head, imagining what life would be like if all your dreams came true, playing out conversations that would never happen.

A sudden jerk of silence yanked you from your meditation. You shot up in bed, noticing that your surroundings were so dark you couldn’t see much. Usually, the city lights would illuminate the space enough to outline everything, but this was darker than that. Plus, all the lights in your apartment were out. The clock on the stove, your computer’s lights, the night light in the bathroom that helped you when you got up in the night. They were all off. It was a blackout.

You flopped back onto your mattress with a huff, dreading the heat that would undoubtedly begin creeping into your home. It took a few hours for the temperature to rise to unbearable heights. You felt the beads of sweat dripping down your body everywhere. You couldn’t take it anymore.

After lugging your body up, you clambered over to your window, ripping your curtains apart to open it. The slight breeze, although stale from blowing through the city, was at least slightly cooling. A sigh escaped your nose before you retreated to your bed.

This was as good as it was going to get, and you knew it.

Living in a bad neighborhood put you on edge. Living alone in a bad neighborhood, well, looking over your shoulder was second nature by now. That’s why you didn’t close your eyes at first. Your window lead to the fire escape, so if someone wanted to, they could technically climb in. You’d taken all the appropriate precautions against it, but you rarely opened your window when the power was on. Now, the power was off.

Blackouts were a free for all for robberies, burglaries, and breaking and enterings. You’d seen the aftermath many times, and you’d heard so many stories. You didn’t want to be one of those stories. So, you kept an eye on your window and your ears peeled.

At two fifty-six, you wished you hadn’t opened your window. A loud crash echoed through the streets, and your blood ran cold. When you sprung out of bed to lock your window, you caught a glimpse of a gang of robbers entering the bodega across the street while you drew your curtains. Chances are, the grate wouldn’t lock without electricity, so the robbers had probably picked manual the lock easily.

Four masked figures got to work. The one who broke the glass on the door opened the door and entered the store followed by another. Two stayed outside. One held a baseball bat and continued working on the windows. The other stood watch.

You watched the scene from between your curtains for less than ten seconds before you retreated from the window, grabbing your phone to text the only other person who might be awake this late. You hoped he hadn’t fallen asleep already. When you found Elliot in your messages, you began to type, “Hey. Can I come down & stay the night? I know it’s late, but I don’t really want to be alone in this blackout.”

You stared at the message for a minute before you returned to your home screen and locked your phone. Just when you let it fall to your side, the device vibrated.

Elliot’s name lit up the screen with his response. “Sure.”

A little bit of fear evaporated from inside you. You mentally thanked the kind man who you lived above while you grabbed a blanket. Before you headed out, you also grabbed a cd sitting on your desk. It was by an artist he’d mentioned the last time you talked. When you saw it at the store, you bought it without thinking. Only after did you regret it. You wondered if he already had the album, or if it was an album he didn’t like. You almost returned it, but you never got the opportunity. Now, you were going to see him, so you figured you’d at least offer it to him.

Then, you approached your door, checking if the coast was clear through your peephole. You didn’t expect to see a candlelit Elliot approaching your door. After you quickly unlocked the deadbolt, you slid the door open just as he was lifting his fist to knock.

Elliot looked warm in the orangey candlelight. He looked like he came out of a dream, his eyes sparkling more than usual with the reflection of the flickering flame.

“I was just about to head down,” you mumbled.

“Wanted to come get you,” Elliot explained, “Figured you were kind of…” His words trailed off. He knew you were scared, but he also knew you were reluctant to admit it. Elliot didn’t know why you were ashamed, but he didn’t want to push it. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable. You were already frightened, and he knew you’d get defensive if he said anything that would make you run off.

Your gaze fixed on the floor. You were well aware that he knew. However, in a monotonous tone, you muttered, “Thanks.”

“We can stay here if you want,” Elliot offered. He thought it might make you feel better if you were in your own safe space, as opposed to his.

“Nah,” you disagreed, “I don’t want to drag you out of your place just because I want company.” In reality, you knew being in your place would set you on edge. At Elliot’s, you’d feel completely surrounded by him, protected in a bubble of Elliot. You wanted to feel protected, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

Elliot didn’t press you further. Instead, he nodded at you. You locked your door and began the stroll down the stairs. He was wearing his usual black hoodie and a pair of black sweat pants. It made you wonder if he was burning up with the heat. After all, you were in shorts and a baggy top, and you were still sweating.

The thought was quickly forgotten when you both approached Elliot’s door. When he pushed it open, you snuck inside behind him only to notice Flipper slowly dragging her tired little body over to you so she could sniff you and give you a few sleepy licks. You scratched her ear before you encouraged her to go back to sleep. Elliot’s voice caught your attention.

“Why do you have a blanket?”

He noticed the fabric tucked under your arm while you had been stroking Flipper. You explained, “Wasn’t sure if you’d want me to sleep on the floor, so I came prepared.”

Something flashed in his eyes, hurt perhaps. Elliot’s expression was almost guilty. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

The only light inside radiated from the candle Elliot held in his hand and his laptop screen that was resting on his bed. Even his computer setup was dark. You’d never seen it like that.

“Do you have any more candles,” you inquired, “It’s kind of hard to see.”

Elliot nodded in understanding before he pointed to a cupboard under his kitchen’s counter. “Yeah. I didn’t light them because it was so hot. They’re in the far cabinet.”

You quietly padded over to the counter where you set your blanket and cd before kneeling and grabbing a candle and a lighter. Once it was lit, you rose back to your feet before speaking again, “Thanks again… I wasn’t sure if you’d be awake. I thought you might just go to sleep early if you couldn’t work on your desktop.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Elliot revealed to you.

You confessed, “Me either.”

Your breath caught in your throat when you turned to face him again. He was shrugging off his hoodie, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath. You’d never admit you had a thing for him, but it was hard to deny it at the moment. All you wanted to do was stare at him and drink in every inch of exposed skin. However, you turned your focus to the candle in your hand. The flame flickered, but you brain was replaying the image of Elliot in your head.

In your peripheral vision, you noticed him shuffle back over to his mattress. Elliot made himself comfortable after lying down, and he grabbed his laptop to continue typing at the keyboard.

A moment past where you stood awkwardly in your place, but you got ahold of yourself and strolled beside Elliot’s bed. You sat down on the floor with your legs crossed like you were in kindergarten. It only took a few seconds for Flipper to stand from her spot and lazily drape herself in your lap. She quickly returned to her slumber, and you took comfort in her steady breathing while you soothingly stroked her little head.

You didn’t notice Elliot stealing glances at you in the soft candlelight. However, he couldn’t help himself. He was grateful you’d texted him. He liked spending time with you. You didn’t force him to talk in times like these. You didn’t mind the silence. He liked that.

Your leg began to fall asleep about fifteen minutes later, so you scooped up Flipper as gently as you could before you stood. “Where should I set up shop,” you asked Elliot.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged, “The couch is brutal, though.”

“Well, it’s probably better than the floor, and I don’t want to intrude by staying in your bed.”

“I don’t mind.” Elliot’s voice was soft, but you met his eyes to see that he was serious.

Still, you asked, “You don’t?”

Elliot shook his head, but you still weren’t convinced.

“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want you to feel like you have to. The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable or overstep any boundaries.”

“You’re not,” he assured you, “I promise… I don’t mind.”

Your voice was timid when you repliedd, gazing at the floor with a nod, “Okay. Thank you.”

It was quiet for a second before Elliot resumed his typing on his laptop. Taking that as a sign to continue preparing for bed, you placed Flipper on the empty side of Elliot’s bed as gently as your body would allow. She didn’t appear to be bothered, so you shuffled back over to retrieve your blanket. You also picked up the CD before you stalked over to the mattress and blew out the candles. Once it was dark again, you set your blanket down and held the CD out towards Elliot.

“By the way, I got this for you.” you announced, “I don’t know if you already have it, but I know you mentioned the album last time we talked. I can always take it back if you don’t want it, though. I don’t mind.”

Elliot stared at the plastic case, but after a moment, he accepted it and looked it over.

“I don’t have this one,” he mumbled, flipping it to the back, “Thank you.”

You only replied with a quiet, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Elliot echoed.

Then, you climbed into bed, trying your best to shift your weight in ways that wouldn’t disturb Elliot and Flipper. Once you were comfortable, and as close to the edge as physically possible, you felt your body beginning to drift off.

Just before you embraced sleep, you slurred, “Elliot?”

He hummed to indicate that you had his attention.

“You won’t let anything happen tonight, right?”

“Promise.”

“Thank you. Goodnight.”

You were surprised when he tells you, “Sweet dreams.”

It made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, but not in a bad way like the heat. It prompted you to advise him, “Get some rest soon, okay?”

“I will.”  

You knew Elliot was lying, but you couldn’t resist suggesting it. You cared about him, and you wanted to do whatever you could to help him. To your surprise, you felt a dip in the mattress from Elliot’s side after he powered down his laptop.

Barely cracking your eyes open, you glanced over your shoulder to find him lying on his back in the dark. Your eyes fell closed again and you returned to your previous position. It took you even more off guard when Elliot wrapped his arm around you, gently pulling your form away from the edge before his touch retreated.

“You looked like you were gonna roll onto the floor,” he explained, “Goodnight.” He punctuated his statement with a tender kiss to your cheek. It probably would have been longer than a peck if it wasn’t so hot, but you weren’t complaining.

“Goodnight” you beamed back at him in the dark. You would be giddy if you weren’t so exhausted, and gradually, sleep embraced the both of you.

Tagging: ask to be tagged here

[miafic]

here’s a little bonus scene. it takes place after the next chapter (not the one you just read but the one after that). 

this is under a read more, but if you’re on your phone, i know it won’t show up, and i am SO sorry for that!! this is almost 1700 words :/

~~~

Lucas sat silently in the small car, only the quiet whispers of the heater running for company.  He’d had KSBJ on, but even that didn’t feel right. Not after…

Lucas sighed and reached up to free his hair from the bun he’d spent nearly four minutes neatly arranging. “Ugh,” he muttered, resting his head on the steering wheel. Almost immediately, though, he straightened again and looked up through the rain-spattered windshield. Hoarsely, he demanded, “Why are you doing this? I’m trying to be patient, but I don’t understand. Why are you…”

He fell silent, shaking his head at himself. “I’m sorry. I know you know what’s best. But please. They’re good kids. They’re my kids.” He wasn’t supposed to feel like that, was supposed to keep things professional and distant, and sure, he may have acted like it on the outside, but on the inside, those boys were his weakness. And God knew that, had known before Lucas was even born that sets of four teenagers would destroy him over and over. It was Lucas’ duty to be absolutely torn apart. 

“Please.”

He was about to beg some more when the thought of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane popped into Lucas’ head and he was humbled even further. Lucas knew his own sweat would never emerge as blood, not a day in his life. He exhaled slowly.

“If this is your will, then please be with me,” he whispered. “Be with them. Do what you have to, but please let us know you’re with us. That’s all I ask, especially if you’re pulling everything apart. Just give me a sign.”

Rain continued streaming down from the sky. Lucas remained silent.

Ten minutes passed. Twenty. Thirty.

He turned the heater down two notches and, when the clock read 9:38, finally pulled out of the empty parking lot and began driving home.

~

When Lucas entered the house, it was dark save for the warm, orangey glow of the lights over the sink. He shed his wet jacket, leaving it on a peg by the laundry room, and began the trek up the stairs. The boys would hopefully be asleep, but he could never be sure, especially with Awsten, who it seemed hardly slept at all.

When he made it up the stairs, he drifted over to Jawn and Awsten’s room, stopping and leaning against the doorjamb and waiting until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. After a few seconds, he could see Jawn sleeping and Awsten’s eyes open, looking evenly back at him.

Lucas lifted a hand. Awsten mimicked him. Lucas was about to speak, but Awsten beat him to it.

“You were gone,” he whispered.

Lucas nodded.

“Zakk said you’d be back. He said you were gonna make us talk some more.”

“I got tied up,” Lucas said softly. A lie, but… it was what Awsten needed to hear.

“It’s okay. I didn’t want to talk to Jawn any more anyway.”

“Tomorrow,” Lucas noted in a murmur.

“Kay.”

“Get some sleep.”

“I’ll have a nightmare,” Awsten protested, shaking his head.

The words surprised Lucas; Awsten was usually so secretive about his fears. He entered the room, brushing his long hair back behind his ear as he crossed the room to crouch in front of Peace and Purpose’s newest child. “You might,” Lucas nodded knowingly, “but you need the rest.”

“I don’t want it.”

“I know.” He waited several seconds while Awsten tried to decide what to say next.

Lucas could hear the rain steadily coming down outside. 

“Otto’s really not coming?” Awsten finally whispered.

Lucas shook his head and braced himself for the angry tirade to come… but there was none. Awsten just looked weary and heartbroken.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Lucas echoed.

“I keep being mad at you and then not mad,” Awsten confessed quietly, forcing a laugh. “I know it’s my fault. But you picked the punishment.”

Lucas nodded attentively.

Awsten stared at him, a strange look in his eyes.

A long moment passed, and although the pause was slightly uncomfortable, Lucas didn’t feel threatened. Awsten was exhausted, and that was allowing him to open up. While it wasn’t always the best idea to have the kids spilling secrets when they were so tired, Lucas was anxious to get his hands on any information Awsten was willing to share. He���d been there for over a week, and it still felt like Lucas hardly knew anything about him. Of course, kids had been at the house that stayed for months and still shared barely anything at all, but after their conversation on the day Awsten arrived, Lucas wanted more from Awsten. He wasn’t one of those shut-down kids.

“I want to tell you something,” Awsten whispered.

Lucas promised, “I’m listening.”

Awsten swallowed and pulled the covers up to his chin. Lucas could hear him slowly dragging his feet around between the sheets - back and forth... back and forth... back and forth... He wondered if Awsten was trying to self-soothe.

“The, um. The last time I saw my real mom, she told my dad to hit me.”

Lucas nodded.

Awsten stared back at him, clearly trying to read his face.

Lucas had been expecting another sentence - another several sentences, actually - but he quickly realized that was the entire thought that Awsten had wanted to share.

“I’m really sorry that that happened to you,” he said sincerely.

Awsten nodded. “Me, too.”

Lucas hesitated, hoping that Awsten would share more, but no words came.

“Good night,” Awsten said, turning over in bed.

Lucas, of course, got the hint and stood up. “Good night, Awsten. Sleep well.” He paused again in the doorway, spent a moment watching over both Awsten and Jawn, and then drifted over to Ashton and Travis’ room.

“Lucas!” Travis stage-whispered happily.

“Shh,” Lucas replied, raising a finger to his lips, but he couldn’t help but smile. It was always nice to know someone was glad to see him.

“You didn’t come to the night meeting,” Travis stated.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You can tell me all about it in the morning.”

“Okay. Where’d you go?”

“I,” Lucas invented, thinking quickly, “had to go to a different night meeting. But I’ll-”

“What kind of night meeting?”

“A very boring one,” Lucas replied with a dramatic wrinkle of his nose.

Travis mirrored the expression. “I’m real glad you’re back now.”

“Me, too.”

“I missed you lots.”

He smiled again. “I missed you, too.”

Travis looked pleased.

“Get some sleep, Travis. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay. Good night!”

“Good night.”

With a glance over at Ashton’s sleeping form, Lucas headed away from the room and went into his own, where he took a moment to bury his face in his hands and breathe. Then he changed out of his nicest clothes and into his Dodgers pajama pants. He was just about to head to Zakk’s room when there was a gentle knock at the door.

“It’s me,” Zakk murmured.

“Come in,” Lucas replied easily.

“How’d it go?” Zakk asked, slipping in and closing the door behind himself.

“You want to see the video?” Lucas asked in lieu of responding directly.

“Yeah, definitely.” He plopped down at the foot of Lucas’ small bed. “I wanted to watch it live, but like you said, I couldn’t leave Jawn and Awsten there with JB like that.”

“Did they…?”

“Nah, they were fine. Got into it a little before bed, but it was just verbal. Nothing too terrible.”

“Does Ash still seem worried about it?”

“A little, yeah. But Travis is fine.”

“He’s awake,” Lucas supplied as he sat down beside Zakk and unlocked his phone. “Awsten, too. He just talked to me, actually.”

“Whoa, what?”

“Yeah. Said the last time he saw his-” He held up air quotes. “-‘real mom’, she told his dad to hit him.”

“We already knew that from his file,” Zakk pointed out.

“Yeah. But he doesn’t know we know.”

“I’m glad he told you, then,” Zakk decided. He shook his head. “God, I hope he never has to see her again.”

“He’ll be here til he turns eighteen, I’m sure,” Lucas sighed. “The ball’s in his court then.”

“Yeah.”

“Here,” Lucas said, pressing play on a video from his camera roll and passing it to Zakk. 

The room was silent save for the tinny voice coming through the phone speaker. Zakk was hanging on every word. Lucas, on the other hand, had rewatched the recording so many times in the parking lot that he practically had it memorized. But as he heard it again, maybe for the hundredth time, his eyes welled up.

“Wow,” Zakk whistled as it ended. “That’s perfect, dude. That’s - Lucas, hey.” Zakk must have looked up and seen Lucas’ tears, because suddenly the phone was being discarded on the comforter and an arm was wrapping around Lucas’ back. “No, no, it was perfect.”

He hadn’t cried in front of Zakk in months, maybe a year, but God knew this had been a tough week.

“I’m so upset,” Lucas confessed, his voice breaking. “Not about what happened in the video, but just, the whole thing. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe it.”

“Me, either.”

“And I’m sorry I didn’t come home. I should have texted you, but I just needed some time…”

“I figured that was what happened,” Zakk said soothingly. “You deserved a break. I wasn’t worried about it, and the guys were fine.”

“It’s my job.”

“And you did so much more than your job tonight.” He gave Lucas’ elbow a comforting squeeze.

“You really think it was alright?” Lucas wondered softly.

“It was above and beyond alright.”

“Okay, thank you,” Lucas exhaled heavily. He turned slightly to face Zakk, and the pair embraced tightly.

“I’ll do the paperwork tonight,” Zakk decided as Lucas sat up and wiped at his eyes. “You go ahead and get some sleep.”

“Zakk-”

“No, I’m doing it. How long does it take, three minutes? It’s fine. Let me take care of it.”

“Twenty, at least,” Lucas countered. “Twenty-five. Thirty.”

“That’s cool. I don’t have anywhere to be,” Zakk said, a cheesy smile on his face.

Lucas couldn’t help but chuckle.

Zakk stood up and headed for the door. “And hey, just like we always tell the boys - I’m here if you need me. Just knock.”

[beautifulramblingbrains]

Crush - Chapter 4. The Break

Pairing: Eric/OC *Abbey* Fandom: Divergent Rating: M

A memory from Eric’s past plays tricks on him. And it’s all about the girl, Abbey Ainsworth.

A/N: I’m SO enjoying editing this, it’s fantastic. It feels like a relationship backwards and something completely different. Love it. Thanks for reading and reblogging and wanting to be tagged!

Tags:  @iammarylastar @badassbaker @pathybo @mimigemrose@frecklefaceb @beltz2016 @ariwolff14 @lauraaan182 @kenzieam @tigpooh67

Eric lets her pull him inside, his hand loose in hers, but Abbey keeps her grip tight.

Eric peers around him for the briefest of moments, taking in his surroundings out of habit. It's clean and tidy, mainly dark stained wood, and a lot smaller than it looks from the outside. The kitchen and living space is crammed together but that's all he can make out from the lack of light.

Abbey leads him through a small doorway to a square hallway, only there to connect the bathroom and bedroom and only big enough for two people to stand in at the same time. Eric has to keep himself from sneering at the stupid Amity design and lack of imagination.

Gleefully, he latches back onto Abbey in front of him, her robe floating behind her. It seemed his luck was in. She's offered him her company for the night - he had no plans to abuse it however, if anything he was enjoying spending time with her.

Abbey turns back and smiles at him. "It's probably far from Dauntless, isn't it?" She let's go of his hand, leaving him in the doorway and crosses the room to sit on her bed.

"You're not wrong."

Eric mulls over her room, a typical woman's room, apart from the fact it was dressed typically Abbey. A dark, wooden framed bed with white sheets and far too many pillows that one person would ever possibly need, sat positioned out into the room from the farthest wall. There were floating net curtains by the only window with a dreamcatcher to one side, a dresser with a mirror on top with personal vanity lotions and other things he didn't particularly care for sitting opposite the end of the bed. What grabs him the most are the roughly stuck pictures around her mirror, and he casually strolls over to them.

A picture of her parents, Abbey with some straw hat on her head holding up the biggest, sickeningly sweet bunch of flowers she could possibly have found. More pictures of flowers… He eventually lands on one of interest and he recognizes the picture well. Eric flicks it, admiring the young girl and baby-faced boy. "Seriously, you have got to get over me…"

"Ha-ha, very funny." He peers over his shoulder, smirking at her before turning back and unsticking it from the edge of the mirror. Abbey crumples her face up, detesting the way he was destroying her room and untouched organization – and also for the fact that he really didn't care either. "I like the picture. We came second in our presentation. It was a proud moment for us and my parents."

Eric huffs, rolling his eyes, his thoughts roaming onto all the ways he was always placed second. Second to Four, second to Abbey's fiancée, second in biology… He tags it back messily and turns to face her. She looks tired, so he's not going to keep her any longer. "So, who's taking the floor?"

Abbey shrugs. "No one. Kind of thought we'd share? We're both adults and it's not like we haven't before." She plays with the bed sheets, suddenly peering up at him. "Don't tell me, Dauntless has led you to be too used to sleeping alone?"

Eric steps in front of her and continues to watch him from her seated position. "From time to time I'm not always alone…"

"Good, so it shan't be any bother, then." She stands, her head reaching to just below his neck. She was getting all moody with him and his eyes dance playfully over her. "Stop looking at me like that!" He pouts. "Or that!" She laughs and eventually, she falls quiet, gazing up at him.

Was she expecting something? … Now, this was awkward.

"You going to sleep in your full Dauntless uniform, or?" Abbey doesn't wait and lets the light robe fall off her shoulders. She nimbly chucks it to one side, still standing before him – he notes the way that just under the silky material of her mint-green vest and matching shorts, that she is definitely not wearing a bra, so that meant - no underwear either.

One of her hands reaches out to him and he sighs, flicking his eyes back and forth between her face and how her hands work against his jacket, loosening the poppers, then yanking on the zip underneath. "I can undress myself." He lets the words rumble from his throat rather than spitting them nastily. He didn't really want her to stop.

Keeping his eyes down on her. She doesn't look up and ignores him, motioning for him to take it off, watching him furtively, the air so thick it could burst. Abbey's small hands find the bottom of his vest and she pulls it up a fraction revealing the pale flesh underneath, then meets his eye.

A silent exchange happens. Eric couldn't really place what it was, and his heart felt suddenly like a ton of lead.

He takes off his vest fluidly and throws it to one side, presenting her with finely defined muscles that held themselves taut from years of work. Abbey finds it hard not to look down to the V of his waist, counting the ab's he had kept hidden from her till now. "Roids are really bad for you, you know…" Eric covers an airy chuckle, and she breaks away to the light, flicking it off, leaving just an orangey glow from the lamp beside the bed.

Abbey flips back the sheets and slides herself in, waiting for Eric to finish undressing. Their escapades had gotten way too personal and deep, leaving her a little strangely breathless. Eric pretends that he can't hear it and makes his way over, hesitating for a fraction of a second before getting in himself while Abbey turns off the lamp.

He feels too highly strung that he may not sleep, a tension in his shoulders and a small tingling down his arms… Until Abbey does what she does best – talks. "So, there is no one waiting for you at home?"

"Never has been." Eric shuffles till he's comfortable on his back, looking up at the ceiling. But he's fully aware that she's facing him.

"So, you just find someone who's favorable that night and take them back to yours?"

Yeah, it was pretty much like that – "They're gone after an hour, it's nothing special." And it only made him feel shitty afterward… until the next manly urge took a hold of him. "Wouldn't be jealous now, would you, Abbey?"

She snorts into her pillow laughing, any other person he'd probably shove off the bed and tell them how vile they are, but with her, it's attractive. "You are so smooth. Where do you get this shit?" – she was mocking his simplistic flirting methods, which was just drawing a word out longer than usual…

"Years of practice." He turns his head fractionally towards her. "You should get some sleep."

The blackened room makes their silhouettes just visible, and Eric can see Abbey's bright eyes shining up at him more than anything else. She shifts till she's touching him, then grabs his arm, throwing it up and placing herself at his side, lying her head on his chest and arm wrapped around her.

Her warmth seeps over him and for a minute he's ridged but gives in when he can feel her breathing against his chest.

Eric would never let any old woman sleep near him. He'd be toe punting them out the door the minute he got his fix. But the fleeting thought occurs that perhaps after all this time, that this was why. He just hadn't gotten over Abbey, and by the looks of her, she hadn't either.

"I've missed you," she tells him. "…I had no idea." Her aching voice vibrates against his chest. "Everything's messed up."

Eric pulls her closer, running a hand over her back in comfort, still managing to feel her spine even through the material. It may have been a selfish act before, maybe even whimsical to get Abbey back, but it was so much deeper than he had realized. The journey was harsher, the reality raw.

Eric opens his mouth to say something and she digs her fingers into his body. "It's okay, I know you don't like that kind of stuff." She sniffs and now he's unsure as to whether she's crying or not. The ape-like instinct to grip her head back and search for evidence surely wouldn't go down well.

"Just hold me… like this… just for a while," she pleads.

God, why did he have to be such a cottoned dick? But the simple fact was he actually couldn't openly trust his emotions being aired. He could air hers, memories - but his feelings, no. He was spineless. Emotions and feelings had represented weakness to him for far too long that he mentally ignored them, he'd never realized how powerful they could be.

When Abbey's breathing becomes softer, slower, he allows his own itching eyes to close. Tomorrow he will do Abbey a favor. One that would stop her pain.

He was going to find her fiancée, and make him break up with her…

Eric wakes on his side, Abbey's back pushed up against his chest and his arms thrown over her. It's warm and clammy and he has a hard time coming to terms with leaving. But he has multiple jobs to do and he has no idea what the time is now. All he can make out is the bright light shining in through the window and he knows he's already late.

Eric pushes himself away, rolling onto his back and slipping himself carefully out of the bed. He studies her precariously when he redresses, trying not to wake her. Hopefully, he'll find her pain in the ass inconvenience quickly and get the job done before she's any wiser. Then there is the problem with the factionless that needs his attention.

His phone call yesterday was to Max. He'd asked for more men as he had no doubt that in the next few days there would be disruption with the factionless. But with the extra support, he knew they could intervene before anything made its way to Amity.

Eric's first mistake is throwing her front door open and stepping outside without checking who is around. In fact, he didn't really care. They hadn't done anything worthy of gossiping, but still, the other faces that appear wide-eyed in passing make him realize he better do this quick before word gets around. There was still one small problem though, he still didn't even know who he was looking for and he had a strange sense that perhaps he was - for some reason, in hiding. Did he possibly know about their connection? Eric guessed he must, their picture was stuck by the mirror after all.

The best place for him to go and find out was none other than her little friends at the flower shop who would be so willing to give him everything he needs if he so asked. A small wry smile forms on his face as he sets off… today will be interesting, he can feel it in his bones.

Eric went back and showered so quickly he was sure he left soap still in on his skin. But he felt better, tired, but there was excitement lingering in his veins. The same feeling he gets when he knows he's about to do something really bad.

Was it normal to feel that way – in the sense that he enjoyed tension, eerie vibes? He actually didn't give a fuck... Eric strived to get what he wanted and would flatten anyone who got in his way.

Every muscle in his face tenses when the door chimes as he enters. The stench of pollen thick in the air, damp, sweet and sickly. It takes everything not to hold fingers to his nose to block the smell. He scans the room briefly, a bored expression sitting on his face as he puts his hands casually behind his back. It annoys him that no one comes out to check who has entered straight away – until he sees his dear friend Sandra pop her head up from out back. She looks like a rabbit caught in the headlights, eyes wide and jittering with unsure looks as if she may be about to be arrested or even attacked.

"Hello, Sandra."

"Abbey's not here."

Eric smiles. No, that's right, she's probably still asleep in the sheets that now smell like him. "I'm actually not looking for Abbey. I was wondering if perhaps you may be able to help me with a little something?"

Sandra looks confused as if she can't possibly fathom what he was talking about and what exactly she could help him with. "Yes, of course…"

"I need to pass a message to Abbey's fiancée, but I've seemingly forgotten his name…"

Sandra's face flushes just a little. "He's one of Mark's men."

Shit… He must've been standing with Johanna when he arrived on the first day and he didn't even realize. That must mean he definitely knows who he is and he has for sure been trying to avoid him. "I need a name, Sandra," Eric snaps, growing impatient.

"Matt, Matt Wallace."

That was all he needed, he could find everything else on his electronic pad. "Thanks," he says abruptly, marching through the door and slamming it shut to the bell chiming behind him.

Finding Matt's details were easy enough. Finding the right words to use, however, was a whole other subject. He had no idea what he was going to say. He was just going to think of something on the spot as per usual.

Eric knew where to find him, he was a bitch of a bitch so it wouldn't be hard. He'd be around Johanna somewhere.

When approaching Johanna's office, he begins to wish he'd left Abbey's shack much more secretly. He's only just made it inside the barn doors when voices shout and reverberate from above him. Stepping on the first step, Mark looks down at him, and for a split second, he swears he sees joy sweep his features.

"Talk of the devil…" Mark says to the yelling voices and there's a load of footsteps echoing above him.

A man pushes passed Mark, looking absolutely frantic, and he knows he's found the Matt he was looking for.

"Matt, I presume?" Eric says rather calmly, watching as Matt's face contorts in anger. Then to his excitement, the young lad barrels himself down the steps towards him, arms outstretched.

Eric allows him to grip his jacket. Maybe he deserved it. He wasn't sure how Amity fellow dealt with emotions like anguish. It was strange to see an Amity so angry, highly entertaining.

Grabbing his jacket would be the only thing he would allow him to do. He knocks Matt's feet out and slams him backward with one arm, pinning him to the ground against the hay and dirt. "Easy, boy."

"Why were you at Abbey's this morning!?" Matt hisses, trying to push against his locked arm to no avail.

"We're friends, Matt. Have been a long time…" Matt then tries to push him harder and Eric slams him into the floor again, knocking some of the tension out of him. "Easy. If it's a fight you're looking for, you won't win. I can assure you that."

"Let him go, Eric!" Johanna screeches from above. The commotion has bought some Dauntless from one of their watches, guns pointed to the blushing guy on the floor.

"Ease down," Eric commands to the guns, motioning with his free hand to lower them while still holding the front of Matt's jacket, keeping him pinned easily to the floor. Eric's gray eyes have glazed over slightly, a little darker than they were before and he peers down to the sweating, grimacing face of Abbey's fiancee. "I think it's about time me and you had a little chat…" Eric picks him up with the same amount of effort he used when he pinned him – nothing, and pats his jacket down from the hay. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves here, nothing has happened between me and Abbey." He makes sure to tell the room who are all cautiously listening. "We've known each other since Erudite, that's all."

"Everyone out. Eric, Matt, in my office. Sort this out now and then concentrate on the real situation at hand here!" Johanna raises her voice and everyone leaves, bar the Dauntless who Eric signals eventually.

Matt throws a hand to his forehead and rubs roughly till red marks paint on his skin. His dark hair is clinging to his head with sweat and he agitatedly paces once or twice before storming back over to the steps and up.

Eric follows him a little less hasty and Johanna gives him a long look when he gets to the top, pleading with him almost - what for, he wasn't sure.

"Sort this out between the two of you. After today I don't want to hear any more about it. We don't need this kind of negativity on the verge of attack," Johanna lets out loosely, so he guesses that everyone at Amity now knows the shitty situation she's been trying to hide from them.

"I'm all for that," Eric says, smiling, peering between the two, and Matt appears as if he just can't stand to be anywhere near him, opting to stand a good distance away from him.

Johanna leaves with one last look over her shoulder and the barn falls quiet. Eric inhales a large lungful of air. "Let's not beat this round the bush. She doesn't love you." Well – someone had to start somewhere.

Matt laughs, still pacing. "Right. She tell you that?"

"She doesn't have to. I know her extremely well."

"I know that. I didn't know to what extent. I was just letting you guys have your little reunion. But finding out you walked out of her place this morning, that crosses the line!"

"Nothing happened. I give you my word." Eric walks casually and takes a seat in Johanna's chair, kicking his feet up on the desk. "However, I want you to call the wedding off. She's not happy with you."

"Oh right, but she is with you. Does she even know you're here?"

"Not exactly. But I know for a fact she won't marry you. One doubt and Abbey is extremely stubborn. So…" He fixes a steady look on the stressed man in front of him. "I'm going to give you a free get-out-now with a reasonable excuse… Cut your losses and never think about her again."

"Shouldn't this really be Abbey's decision?" Matt crosses his arms, but he's reluctantly absorbing his words.

"She'd never tell you, she's too Amity, so I'm doing it for her. She won't call off the wedding as she doesn't want bad feelings. However, if you call it off, you get to be the asshole for the day, but then everyone gets what they want."

"Everyone gets what they want … and what you want is Abbey."

Eric stands, rounding the table and perching his ass on the edge. "I won't deny it, nor will I acknowledge it. Call off the wedding today. Find Abbey and tell her this morning, and I'll see to it you get a promotion," he shrugs. "You can work alongside the Dauntless watches if that's what you want." When Matt doesn't reply, he shifts to stand. "Look at this way, it's not really an option."

There's a long pause, the young man's heart breaking into tiny pieces in front of him. He almost felt guilty - almost. "Okay. Just - just don't hurt her."

Eric chirps up instantly, gleefully moving towards the stairs on his exit. "I wouldn't dream of it, buddy."

Matt watches as he disappears, sighing to himself extremely audibly. But secretly, deep down – he kind of knew this was going to happen… but that didn't make it hurt any less.

Eric's pristine in his uniform standing tall and particularly intimidating. He's crowded by other Dauntless as he instructs the watches and movements around Amity. "Every two hours, switch back. Take that path that runs alongside the fences, skim the woods. Nothing is to be left unturned. You got that?"

"Yes, sir." They chime between them, and he watches the one in front flick a look over to one side. "Incoming…"

Eric turns to the wrath that is an angry Abbey.

"Here she is!" He steps away from the Dauntless, but they begin to disperse around him anyway. She looks as though she's been crying, or just shouting as she's red in the face – he wasn't really good at this shit.

"You!" is all she says before throwing a right hook into his arm, propelling away from him in agony from crumpling her knuckles on his solid arm muscle. Abbey hisses loudly, throwing her hand around and biting her lip in agony.

"Woah, Ab's! Let me see."

"Stay away from me!" She's still whimpering under her breath. "You are the biggest asshole I've ever known!"

"Oh come on, that's a bit harsh." Eric tries to conceal his amusement, a smile cracking on his lips and it only riles her further.

"You told Matt to call off the wedding! What… you didn't think I was capable? Why do you have to throw yourself into my business?" When he steps forward, she slaps his arm, then again. But it's petty.

"Gossip got around. The same gossip that you were trying to avoid. He confronted me and it slipped out," he shrugs nonchalantly. A little white lie wouldn't hurt. He couldn't exactly tell her that this is what he was planning, but either way, it panned out pretty well for him. "It's better like this, is it not? This is what you ultimately wanted. Even if you couldn't bring yourself to say it."

"Don't test me, Eric. I'm so close to kicking you in the balls, it's unreal…" She paces just like Matt did and Eric begins to wonder if that was a passive Amity thing. 

Abbey's fiery spirit compels him, and after a second he steps forwards, motioning to his head to the people standing around them. "You want to talk about this somewhere else? I mean, we can do it here if you want? I don't really care."

"You've made me look like a bitch! Him an asshole – depending on who believes what in the rumors. No! No, I do not want to talk to you. I don't even want to look at your stupid face!" Abbey begins walking away but he follows her. She walks to the entrance of a stable and filters her way through in the dimmer lighting. "Stop following me!"

"I'll stop following you when you tell me that you don't want me."

Eric folds his arms, and Abbey freezes, her shoulders curled inwards on his words. She doesn't turn, just seems to be taking a moment.

Eric begins closing the distance slowly. "Tell me you don't want me, and I'll stop." A horse nickers to the side of him as he passes and he runs a hand over the muzzle softly. "Say it Ab's." He's now within a few steps from her.

She suddenly shivers as she feels his approach and turns to face him, keeping her eyes downcast. Eric reaches her, tilting her chin up, locking his eyes on hers and watching as her lips part again. His other hand grips onto her shoulder, sliding onto the soft skin of her neck.

"Well?" he asks, faltering slightly as her fingers grip onto the top pockets of his jacket, pulling him forward. He doesn't resist.

"I can't." She brings herself up on her tip-toes, him leaning down to her, their faces fractions from each other as they both hesitate. Eric can't help the shuddering breath that escapes.

And she kisses him.

Very, very gently, almost non-existent at first. He tilts his head back, wondering if he imagined it or not. But the warming sensation is left pulsing as its own evidence.

She pulls him a little more severely - and when their lips collide, a thousand things seem to pass between them that were left unspoken.

The fumbling young boy and clumsy girl were gone.

At one point their teeth clash, and Abbey lets a small moan escape from her throat as Eric's tongue moves faultlessly against hers. He bites at her lip and lets his hands drop to underneath her ass as she jumps and wraps her legs around him easily.

This felt right. Everything felt right.

Two hands sit on either side of his face as she tilts it back and holds him there, practically leaving him wheezing as she covers his mouth again. "You… are such… a chicken shit," she whispers between frantic, long and loud kisses. She rolls her hips on him and his erection is practically fit to burst.

Eric would take her here in front of the horses but he doubts she would appreciate that - and the fact they could be spotted at any moment. He was still up for it, though.

He lets his fingers curl underneath her inner thighs, beneath her dress, pulling the skin apart where he can already feel the heat pouring from, and she groans. Teasingly, one fingertip runs along her underwear, testing the flimsy material and she grinds against him. "Eric..." Her head rolls back a little before she brushes a finger on his lips. "Not now…" she breathlessly says, her lips swollen and red.

"We're not finished here…" He bites at her again and quite simply wants to fuck her brains out, right here, right now.

He makes sure he leaves marks on her neck. At first running his tongue across the clammy, salty skin before pulling it into his mouth and sucking.

She presses into him and lets him stay there for a little while - till she realizes what he's doing. "Eric, stop! I've got to go to work…"

He laughs against her neck and eventually brings himself to look at her, licking his lips under her gaze. "You're so fucked…" He paints a coy smile on his face, absolutely delighted with himself.

Abbey thumps his back, leaning forward against his lips as she speaks, flicking her eyes between each of his. "I was fucked the moment I met you…"

And she was right…

[gkingoffez]

The Sun Comes Shining In My Eyes

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Words: 1,858

Summary: Kanan asks Ezra to describe the sunset to him. It doesn’t quite work out that way.

AO3 | FFN.Net

The sun was setting over Chopper Base. Kanan knew this not because he could see it, but because a dusk chill was starting to creep under his clothes and he could feel the long warm dying fingers of the sun sliding down his mask-less face. He also knew it because Ezra was standing at his shoulder, trying and failing horribly to describe it to him.

“Well really, it’s all just a whole lot of orange,” Ezra was saying, and Kanan could sense his arms flailing about as if to punctuate his words, the effect, of course, entirely lost on Kanan. “Well, orange and yellows and pinks, but there’s also a bit of blue and purpley stuff in there as well. And it’s all kind of… smushed in together, really, bluer colours on top and orangey ones on the bottom. What’s that word? When more than one colour all blends in together in a line?”

“An ombré?” Kanan supplied helpfully, raising one eyebrow.

“Yeah, it’s all an omber thing. Ombré? Ombré’s everywhere you look, but the colours are all soft and making everything else like the sand and the rocks look like they’re glowing. It’s putting all those big plant things in shadow and makes them look bigger and darker and more ominous than they actually are. And that other planet’s up there as well, in the blue bit. All blue and shadowy and… big? Is this any good at all?”

“I would say no, but I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” Kanan replied, turning to grin and bump his shoulder playfully against Ezra’s.

Kanan expected a snarky reply, but instead Ezra sighed, long, frustrated and tired. His next words were slightly muffled, as though he’d scrubbed a hand down his face and kept it there.

“I’m terrible at this. You should have asked Sabine to do it, she’s the artist. She could probably use all those fancy art words and describe it so good you’d get the perfect image of it all in your head. I’m useless.”

There was a note of bitterness in Ezra’s voice that Kanan recognised immediately. How often over the years had he felt like he wasn’t enough, not strong or talented enough to help someone he cared about, even for the smaller things like making Hera the perfect cup of caff on a rough day or describing a simple sunset to someone who couldn’t see it.

Ezra sighed again. “It’s just so beautiful, Kanan, all the colours are amazing. I wish you could see what I’m seeing,” Ezra said with such longing in his voice it made Kanan’s heart ache.

Besides the shining light of the holocrons, Kanan hadn’t seen anything other than impenetrable darkness since he’d lost his sight. He’d made peace with it some time ago and had even found a new and different sight in the Force, but there were occasionally moments he wished he could experience through his own eyes.

Today, the sunset had become one of those moments- he’d found himself earlier that day wistfully regretting the many setting suns that had gone by without proper appreciation in his life before Malachor. That was why he’d dragged Ezra along with him to Zeb’s hangout spot (apparently the best place to watch it on the base, or so Zeb bragged), and why they now stood side-by-side in the dying light. Perhaps he could have asked Sabine to accompany him, and maybe he would do just that another day to get her more artistic perspective, but for that evening he had wanted nothing more than to hear Ezra’s view.

Kanan reached out and gripped onto his padawan’s shoulder. “Okay. How about we come at this from a different angle- forget how it looks. How about you tell me how it feels.”

Ezra shifted under his hand, confused.

“Feels?”

“How does the sunset make you feel? When you look at it, what emotions does it evoke?” asked Kanan. “Tell me what you feel… I want to know,” he added softly.

He felt Ezra’s gaze on him for an extended moment, before it shifted back frontwards. Kanan kept his own sightless stare firmly on where he knew Ezra’s face to be.

“It feels… um. Warm? Comforting? But also a little cold, like the warm is being taken away? I mean, it is, but... no, that’s stupid.”

Ezra paused there, clearing his throat, and Kanan knew he was frowning from the tension in his shoulders. The kid stayed silent for long while, long enough that Kanan started to feel the need to try and break the awkwardness that had settled between them.

However, Ezra beat him to the punch.

“It feels different than on Lothal. The sun is warmer here, and there are probably different things in the atmosphere, and obviously there’s so much less green in the landscape. But it’s still mostly the same, the same colours, anyway. A lot of things are different here, but the oxygen is breathable and I have you guys here with me so it’s not bad-different. The sunset feels… well, it does feel comforting to watch. It’s soft and bright and hopeful, and- I feel hopeful when I look at it.”

Ezra drew in a deep breath and noisily released it before continuing.

“It’s like- Kanan, there are so many terrible things out there in the galaxy that want to kill us, but here we are now watching the sun go down and it’s so beautiful. It makes me feel peaceful, it reminds me that beautiful things still exist in the galaxy, natural things that the Empire can never destroy because it’s impossible. That’s a good thing to know, that not even the Emperor himself can stop a sunset being beautiful.”

Kanan found himself smiling, a swell of pride burgeoning in his chest.

Ezra broke out his reverie with a shake of his head, and barked out a laugh. “Or maybe I’m looking too deep into it. I mean, it is just a sunset. They happen every day on nearly every planet in the galaxy.”

Kanan knitted his eyebrows together and turned his head away. Behind his eyes, there was nothing but blackness. The sun could be dancing a cantina dance and drunkenly sauntering towards the horizon for all he knew. It was a big galaxy, who’s to say that couldn’t happen.

“Not for me,” he whispered.

There was a heavy silence. He couldn’t tell what Ezra was thinking, but he knew his words had upset him.

Ezra’s next words were tentative.

“Do… do you want me to show you how it makes me feel?  Might be better than me trying to explain it with words, anyway. You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to.” He laughed awkwardly. “Actually, you know what, forget I said anything, never mind. It’s stupid.”

Kanan considered the offer, reaching up to stroke at his beard. It was a kind proposition to be sure. Immediately, he thought of turning it down. There was no point in an exercise where he would only feel envious that he couldn’t experience a feeling for himself, and besides, it wasn’t fair for him to try and live vicariously through Ezra.

But that other part of Kanan, the part that wistfully missed sunsets, rainbows and Hera Syndulla (also known as The Most Beautiful Sights In The Entire Galaxy) ached for it with all the fierceness of an exploding supernova.

The second part won out, and he sighed, nodding. “Actually, I’d like that very much, Ezra. But only as a one-time deal, there’s no point in making it a habit. That wouldn’t be good for either of us.”

Kanan felt a hand touch his shoulder and then an arm reach around his back and grip onto his waist. He obliged by lifting his own arm up and completely wrapping it around Ezra’s shoulders, locking their sides together, before allowing his padawan to direct both their attentions to the space in front of them.

“Open yourself to the Force,” Kanan instructed. ”We are all connected by it, you and I most especially. Find me in the waves of energy that surrounds us, and forge the connection so I can see what you feel. You’re good at connection, Ezra, I know you can do it.” Kanan wasn’t exactly sure when this had turned into a lesson.

The warmth was starting to fade with earnest from the air, the sunset probably fading with it. Ezra nodded in understanding and began slowing down his breaths to a meditative pattern. Kanan mirrored him, closing his eyelids out of habit more than anything else.

They stood there breathing in unison for a short while.

At first the feeling was slight, approaching timidly through the ebb and flow of the Force, and Kanan opened himself up to its embrace eagerly. Suddenly, he was swept up in a tide of feeling; it was warm and tingly, and safe. Hopeful, like Ezra had said, and awash with the feelings of soft bright colours- blues and oranges, pinks and purples. Kanan felt almost overwhelmed by how beautiful the feeling was. He missed sunsets like a long lost old friend. He missed a lot of things he’d never be able to see again.

As quickly as it had come, Ezra’s sunset receded back into the folds of the Force, and Kanan was almost surprised to find himself back on Atollon, Ezra on his side and Zeb’s hideout of stacked crates and chairs behind him.

“Kanan? Kanan, is that okay, was that too much?” Ezra asked, voice thick and concerned.

Kanan chuckled, feeling warm all over despite the bite of cold in the air. “No, it’s fine,” he said breathily, “Ezra, thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome.”

Ezra sniffled quietly, and Kanan felt him furtively try to reach for his face. He probably thought he was being sneaky about it, but Kanan knew without needing to see that Ezra was crying. He gave the boy’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“It’s okay. You’re right, you know. The Empire will never be able to take things like this from us. They can’t take our hope, no matter what they do.”

Kanan turned towards and reached around with his spare hand to ruffle at Ezra’s short, slicked back hair, before gently cupping the boy’s cheek. He used his thumb to wipe a tear away. Ezra ducked his head, probably in embarrassment, but didn’t push away Kanan’s hand by any means.

They both turned back frontwards and stood there for a few minutes, until Kanan could feel the last rays of sunlight travelling down his legs towards his toes. The approaching night time had most likely already dulled the bright hues of the sunset, so Kanan shifted his attention to merely enjoying half-hug that neither Ezra nor he had yet broken off from.

The sun must have been gone completely over the horizon by the time Ezra suggested they head back. Kanan didn’t see it, but he felt it in the chill in the air and heard it in the chattering of Ezra’s teeth.

“Thank you,” he said again as they headed back. He imagined Ezra grinning in response.

So this was intended as both a soothing balm for that last fic I published and as something nice because I don’t know about ya’ll but I’m really sad Rebels is ending.

This started with just wanting to have Kanan wipe away Ezra’s tears, and for some reason it became beautiful fluff instead of angst like all the others????

(An alternate title for this fic is ‘Fucking Nerds Watch The Sunset And Cry Like Losers And It’s Really Cliché’.)