#v; pink rose // i never wanted it to turn out like this. ( post war )

[musedriven]

@coralxonyx memed // 🎵

Memories - Maroon 5

" toast to the ones here today, toast to the ones that we lost on the way. " she says gently as she takes a seat beside Coral. " they're with us, in memory. at least, that's what the humans say. and they have this whole elaborate ritual they do when they loose one of their own. it's... nice. far better than what we do on homeworld for shattered gems. perhaps we should do something similar for the ones we've lost along the way. "

[catracorner962]

Karaoke

I promise I can write something that’s pure fluff. See?! 

In the newly renovated Fright Zone, the gang is having a party. Catra and Glimmer duet Shaggy. Catra has a surprise. --- AJ Michalka has a phenomenal voice and covers "Warriors" on the SheRa soundtrack. She does this in character as Catra and even says "Hey Adora," at the end, what else did you expect me to do with that except come up with an excuse for Catra to sing this for Adora? I'm sure this has been done before this is just my take. Also whenever I hear "Wasn't Me," or "Angel," by Shaggy I imagine Glimmer and Catra getting drunk and singing it.

Adora brought a hand to her nose, trying to cover her snorting laughter. Besider her Bow swayed in time to the music. Light flashed from above blue and pink.

“HA!!”

Adora couldn’t stop herself, exploding into a fit of giggles, nearly toppling the cocktail in her hand. Nearly sending pink liquid all over her white pants and halter top.

On the stage, her girlfriend and her best friend sang like they hadn’t a care in the world.

“How could I forget that I had given her an extra key? All this time she was standing there she never took her eyes off me!”

Glimmer sang into the mic, her purple leather skirt sparkling in the stage lights.

“Wooow! Yeah Glimmer!” Bow cheered, he took another sip of his beer. More delicately then anyone else around them and probably the only one with a modicum of sobriety left. All around them people sang along, swaying and trying to dance.

“To be a true player you have to know how to play!” Catra sang, winking at Adora from her place on the stage. Her hair had grown out again in the year after the war. Already falling just beyond her shoulders. Adora took a sip of her drink to conceal the blush rising in her cheeks.

“ To be a true player you have to know how to play, if she stay a night, convince her stay a day, Never admit to a word when she say. And if she claim, ah, you tell her, "Baby, no way"

“But she caught me on the counter!” Glimmer’s voice cracked but she kept going,  

“It wasn’t me!” Catra leaned forward into the mic.

“Saw me banging on the sofa!” Glimmer laughed, leaning in to meet Catra halfway.

“It wasn’t me!”

“I even had her in the shower!”

“They’re not bad,” Bow admitted whispering in Adora’s ear. The blonde nodded, pulling a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. Catra had convinced her to wear it down for once.

“Saw the marks on my shoulder!” Glimmer and Catra sang in unison. Catra unsheathed her claws in flash, winking again, this time a little more suggestively at her girlfriend in the audience. Cheers erupted throughout the bar, an eager welcome Adora thought, her chest warming. To have Catra greeted with rounds of applause rather than boos and hisses and threats.

“ Honey came in and she caught me red-handed, creeping with the girl next door, picture this, we were both butt-naked, banging on the bathroom floor. I had tried to keep her from what she was about to see, why should she believe me when I told her it wasn't me.”

Glimmer and Catra belted through the mic. It was all Adora could do not to transform into Shera. Just the sight of seeing Catra in the limelight, black pants held up by suspenders, her white shirt open just a tad too loose. She took a swig of her whisky mid chorus and continued to sing.

“I have to hand it to Scorpia and Perfuma; they've really done wonders with the Fright Zone,” Bow mused. He clapped along to the music and finished his drink.

“They sure have!” Adora answered, finally turning her attention from the stage. “Glad they were able to renovate the place into a karaoke bar. Somewhere in the distance Mermista’s groan could be heard, Adora turned. Seahawk and the water princess sat at one of the tables, the pirate’s eyes wide with amazement at the flaming martini set down before him.

“Should I….?” Adora made a b-line towards their table. Mermista flunk out her hand, a spray of water dousing the flames.

“Just drink it,” she groaned to Seahawk’s evident dismay. Adora bit back a grin. It had been awhile since they’d been able to just kickback and relax, indulge even. Post-war meant bringing magic to all the galaxy. Which meant traveling around, squashing the last of Prime’s brotherhood. Plus meetings after meetings and much needed reconciliation between Catra, Entrapta, Wrong Hordak, Scorpia and everyone else. It had been trying and difficult and the work was far from finished. But tonight, tonight was a chance to simply let loose.

“Honey came in and she caught me red-handed, creeping with the girl next door, picture this, we were both butt-naked, banging on the bathroom floor. How could I forget that I had, given her an extra key, All this time she was standing there, she never took her eyes off me!!” Glimmer and Catra finished in unison. Again cheers lifted from the crowd. Glimmer bowed, losing her balance until Catra caught her by the arm to steady her and they made their way down the stage.

“Wow, that was...wow,” Scorpia’s face nearly matched the color of her claws. “That was..I don’t think I understood half those words! But uhh next, next...we have...Perfuma! Who I’ve been told is going to do an...an interpretive dance called Ode to Rain, so that will be….uhh….fantastic.” Scorpia laughed nervously but clapped all the same while Perfuma seemingly floated up the stage.

“Hey!” Glimmer greeted Adora with a hug and Bow with a kiss.

“You were great!” Bow put his arm around her waist. “Who knew you and Catra could duet so well together!”

Glimmer laughed, full and hearty, accepting a glass of sparkling wine from Bow.

“Where is Catra?” Adora looked around the crowd. “I thought she came down with you?”

“She said she had to get ready for something,” Glimmer shrugged.

Adora nodded, trying to quell the bubble of anxiety that threatened to rise.

Catra would be fine, she can be left alone. She’s not a child. She’s perfectly capable.

Bodies pressed against Adora in the maylay of the crowd. Talking and drinking and laughing. The lights flashed all around them. Dizzying.

There’s so many people here….what if...there could be….threats. Some clone we forgot?

Someone wanting to take Catra down?

Adora forced herself to breathe, gripping her glass tight.

“Adora, you alright?” Glimmer touched her arm.

“Yes!” She smiled automatically, “I’m great!” She took a breath, eyes flicking upward as Perfuma left the stage.

Still no sign of Catra.

“It’s just...I worry sometimes...I worry about leaving Catra alone sometimes...what if there’s…”

Glimmer opened her mouth to respond when a cool light drifted across the crowd from above to the stage.

“Adora….you might want to…” Glimmer pointed. Adora followed her gaze, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. Silhouetted against the limelight a lone figure stood before the mic. The outline of someone wearing a tight fitting black dress that fanned out toward the bottom. Catra’s tail swished nervously behind her, ears flicking. She stepped forward, the high slit of her dress revealing one leg as she moved. The light illuminating her freckled face, mismatched eyes gleaming.

“Oh my….” Adora took the last sip of her drink. Beside her bow gasped. Even Glimmer’s eyes stared wide with shock. The hub-bub of the crowd died instantly, everyone holding their breath. Even Emily and Entrapta, who were observing in the corner, fell silent.

Catra’s shaky inhale of breath sounded through the mic throughout the bar. Adora waited, stunned. Taking in her girlfriend, the deep V of her dress, the way she shifted her weight. Then finally, after a mini-eternity, Catra’s eyes slipped close and her voice drifted out:

“We're warriors, unstoppable. We feel the evil coming, and shadows all around.”

She sang low and haunting, each word a melodic whisper. Goosebumps rose on Adora’s skin.

“Danger surrounds us, but won't bring us down. We're on the edge of greatness, turning darkness to liiightt,”

Her voice undulated and moved like the waves, the crowd beginning to hum. She opened her eyes, gold and blue sparkling in the light. Catra’s gaze looked through the throngs of people finally meeting Adora’s. The blonde felt her knees shake, she passed her glass to Glimmer without looking away. Catra smiled,

“We're right beside you, ready to fight. We must be strong! And we must be brave! We gotta find every bit of strength that we have and never let it go!”

“Wooo!! Yaaaah!!!” People exclaimed, clapping. Catra’s smile widened, she took the mic from it’s stand, now walking across the stage, tall and proud and brimming with pride. Adora’s cheeks ached, beaming with a smile. She too clapped along.

“We're bound to this struggle, with mighty sword and flame, we'll never fail you, when you call our name.”

She turned, again meeting Adora’s radiant face across the audience. Their eyes met, though Adora could hardly see her through a fog of tears pressing against her eyes. Her heart expanded so fast and full she thought it would explode. Catra too grinned with confidence, revealing pointed fangs. Her eyes dazzled, shoulders lifting as she sang, not once looking away from Adora.

“Together we'll be heroes, joining forces as one. Strong as the steel we carry, we rise like a su...uu...uu...un!”

She hit the note perfectly, the whole bar erupting into ecstatic joy.

“Yeah Horde Scum!” Glimmer fist pumped at the air, jumping up and down. Off to the side of the stage, Perfuma pat Scorpia on the shoulder through her tears.

“That’s my wildcat!”

Catra sang through another round of the chorus, parading back and forth. People reached out from below towards her, laughing and whooping.

“Cause we're warriors, we are unstoppable,nothing's gonna get in our way. We're gonna win in the end….”

Catra sang through the last chorus, coming to stand gracefully before the microphone stand once more.

“We're gonna reach inside, still together and fight and never let it go. We must be strong…” She finished with a flourishing whisper. Looking at Adora from her poised position stage, she blinked, slowly, her own voice cracking with emotion.

“Hey Adora.”

Tears streamed down Adora’s face, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel herself glowing, transforming, this time brought on by pride and admiration for Catra. Catra who only sang in secret, in dark places, until now. Catra who had always deserved every bit of attention and affection and praise but never got it, until now. Catra who was so guarded who never let herself betray emotion or vulnerability, until now.

There was a white flash, people gasped, and Adora didn’t need to look down at herself to know she’d become Shera.

Catra climbed down from the stage with Scorpia’s assistance and made her way Adora, people parting for her instantly, cheering and clapping.

“Catra! Y...you! You’re…”

Catra’s lips cut off the rest of her sentence, pressing in a full deep kiss, nearly melting against Adora, well, Shera’s chest. Adora put her arms around her girlfriend holding her close, one hand to the small of her back. She had to control herself in public after all, though it was hard to do with her girlfriend looking so...so ravishingly gorgeous, so happy and exuberant. A new round of tears spilled down her cheeks.

“I knew you could sing,” she breathed, breaking the kiss only to press her forehead against Catra’s which required her to lean down a little more in this form. “But not...l...like that.”

Catra laughed, holding Adora’s hand to her face and leaning into her touch. The ruckus of people seemingly disappearing. The only thing that mattered, the center of her universe was already right in front of her.

“I love you,” Catra whispered.

“I love you too, so much.” Adora pulled her in for another kiss, the cheers escalating around them.

Catra rolled her eyes only to be shoved by Glimmer’s arms around her waist.

“Catra, where was that voice when we were singing?! I need to up my game!”

“That...that was beautiful Catra!” Bow wiped his eyes with his yellow jacket. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“Alright, alright Sparkles,” she pulled away from Adora’s hold. “Next time we do Angel by Shaggy I’ll be sure to really sing it with pathos, yeah? And take it easy Arrow Boy your gonna get snot all over your jacket.”

Glimmer only rolled her eyes but gave Catra a kiss on the cheek.

“Well next rounds on me Wildcat!” Scorpia announced happily clapping Catra across the back gently. This time Catra didn’t stiffen or bristle at the touch but smirked. A testament to how far she’d come in such a short time. Adora could hardly contain her emotion.

“You may regret that Scorp.”

The night continued on, Catra changed back into more comfortable pants and dress-shirt. Rogeilo sang...well..grunt roared some prolonged ballad that no one but Lonnie understood. Mermista and Seahawk performed no less than seven shanties. A curtin was set on fire by the third one. Frosta entertained with a series of impressive ice sculptures and Double Trouble, dramatic as they were, impressions that left everyone’s sides sore from laughter. Scorpia closed out the evening, singing a rendition of “Beautiful,”  by Christina Aguilera that had everyone, even Catra in tears by the end. Though Catra swore her eyes were she only  irritated by the bright lights.

Adora put her arms around Catra from behind, still having advantage of being in her Shera form. Muscular arms holding her girlfriend close in the dark of the crowd while Scorpia, sang her last few notes. Catra swayed in tandem, tail going around her girlfriend’s leg, she leaned her back against Shera’s broad torso and hummed. Adora planted a kiss on the crown of Catra’s head. The mark of the Heart of Etheria glowing against her chest. In the mass of folks and the company of friends, lights glowing and Catra content in her arms, sniffled happily through tears of joy.

They had indeed won in the end.

[florbelles]

C & E for Lyra, G & M for Lillian 💕

thank you lovely!! sorry for the delay xx

— E / EXTERNAL PERSONALITY

i. does the way they do things portray their internal personality?

absolutely. it might seem counterintuitive, since a good deal of her life has relied on deception — her many cons, her evasion of suspicion in forty murders over the span of ten years, and eventually posing as a civilian to spy on the resistance for the project — but she’s effective because of her passive, instead of active, methodology; she will not tell an explicit lie, but she will make a statement that is technically true, but wildly misleading in its context; she really is that affable and good-natured. she is also sadistic, messianic, and freely admits that she considers herself monstrous ( yes, she is terrible; she knows what she is, do you? ), but generally speaking, no one has cause to see that until it’s too late ( no, literally, she is removing their eyeballs, she is cutting their tongues, she is sewing flowers where their organs used to be, and isn’t it beautiful, that their deaths have meaning, that their skin will not simply blister and burn, that they will not choke as the ash fills their lungs; she will string their bodies about the county; no one will know the work is hers, not until later, not until the end, but then, they never thought to ask ). her blood runs much too hot, she is much too impulsive and reckless, her fuse much too short to maintain a persona that is not, essentially, who she is; if others have missed something essential, well. that’s hardly her fault, is it?

ii. do they do things that conform to the norm?

absolutely not. she has never, anywhere in her life, not been glaringly out of place. it’s how she prefers it; she hides in plain sight. she was perpetually flinging herself up against what was expected of her, getting kicked out of boarding school, disappearing for days at a time on nantucket, eventually leaving the week before her sixteenth birthday and never returning. she left behind any semblance of a normalcy with her old life; she’s been on the run ever since. the closest she has had in her adult life to a routine, to normalcy, is with the project. that says everything, i think.

iii. do they follow trends or do their own thing?

see above. she has quite literally never conformed; even as a girl she was a scandal, far too obscene for the old money set ( doubtless her mother’s blood, they murmur; what was lawrence thinking? ). her manner of speaking is outdated, over-formal and over-familiar; her wardrobe consists solely of bare feet or high heels, of long white or pale pink dresses with thigh slits, plunging necklines, bared arms; she is entirely ostentatious. she was living out of her car pumping gas at a texaco in a wedding dress on a tuesday afternoon.

iv. are they up-to-date on the internet fads?

not especially, she stays informed prior to hope county on what’s presently influencing the public consciousness but she doesn’t especially engage with it; she’s never been much for the internet. she’s good at context clues. if you send her a gif or a meme she’ll understand it. if you send her a screenshot of a vine or expect her to understand that sort of shorthand she’ll be lost. why have you sent this photo of a man smashing his phone. is he a friend. does he need help.

v. do they portray their personality intentionally or let people figure it out on their own?

she projects her personality diligently. everything about her has been refined to this; everything about the way she presents herself is intentional. yes, it’s a manipulation, but it’s also true — she has never been anything else. she would not be able to be otherwise, even if she wished to. she allows people to draw their own assumptions from what she presents, and their conclusions are nearly always incorrect; she is indisputably a certain type of woman, but very few actually arrive at the type of woman she is. she weaponizes hyper-femininity to give the illusion of vulnerability to a certain type of man. she gives the impression of materialism where there is none. she bares her tattoos at all times ( the lilies strangled by vines, the thorned roses, the serpent twined in carnations, the wrath across her breasts ); she has shown everyone what she is, she warned them, she wears it on her skin, it is not her fault they did not interpret it correctly ( this is why the marking & atonement immediately resonates with her, it’s aligned with an ideology she already possesses ).

— C / COMFORT

i. how do they sit in a chair?

legs extended and crossed at the heel when she wishes to take up space or make herself an imposing presence; straight backed with her legs folded at a bar or in a meeting; a regular feline at home ( if she’s with her husband she’s curled around him and in his lap, no personal space in this house ). ( originally answered here x )

ii. in what position do they sleep?

she used to sleep on her stomach or side with one arm flung out and the other tucked under her head; she and john sleep in a tangled mess on top of each other because they’re disgusting. she likes to keep a hand on one of his pulse points; she can’t sleep unless she can feel him breathe. ( originally answered here x)

for the last ten years of her life she sleeps curled on the ground with her fingers in the dirt and tries to feel a pulse through the earth.

iii. what is their ideal comfort day?

watch the sunrise ( this is not john's ideal comfort day so his ass better be on that balcony ), fuck all morning, wander the mountains or get high by the river most of the day, read or dance to her favorite records, and a fire at night ( bonfire in the firepit or by the river preferable, hearth fire acceptable if the weather is not permissive ).

iv. what is their major comfort food? why?

hot, sweet, baked things. sugar donuts, scones, coffee cakes. she would loiter around the nantucket bakeries as a girl. lawrence would take her sometimes, if he needed something or was repenting.

v. who is the best at comforting them when down?

john is essentially the only person she even allows to attempt; faith and joseph very circumstantially. it’s less about emotional vulnerability and more about burdening anyone else with her problems; in any given situation, she considers herself the most expendable party, but specifically her discomfort/suffering — she quite literally believes her soul to be damned and forfeit as the price of the world, the lamb, if you will — and that extends to her emotional state in terms. she’s comfortable making herself john’s problem because he signed up for it; she adamantly refuses to do so elsewhere.

— G / GORGEOUS

i. what is their most attractive external feature?

she favors her eyes; all of her sisters share them. she is most often complimented on her hair.

ii. what is the most attractive part of their personality?

extremely resourceful and an excellent conversationalist; either a real pain in the ass or a fucking delight when she lets her hair down, depending on who you ask.

iii. what benefits come with being their friend?

access to everywhere and everything, though if it’s above board she’s probably going to be dull about it and spend the whole time sniping at society she sees there. knows the best places to slip in if you don’t want to be seen, can guarantee you’re seen if you do. can dispatch unwanted suitors, artfully when she’s sober and off-puttingly when she in her cups. premium gossip, if you'd like it.

truthfully, before the war, she'll never be a simple friend to have; she comes with the complications of her family and her name, as much as she might like to slip out at night and play at anonymity to pretend otherwise ( which she will want to do, often ). nonetheless, she invariably comes with society's gaze fixed on her, her familial obligations, and a good deal of skepticism about the intentions of others. she’ll see to your social advancement because that’s what she expects you need from her. if you've withstood the test of time, however, you’re her family, second only to her siblings; she’ll do anything for you.

post-war she can offer her loyalty and a wealth of knowledge about the world before, context to pre-war technology, etc. very scientifically adept, if not trained; in another life she would have spent her years in a lab instead of in front of the cameras. a valuable ally as long as you don't put her on the front lines.

iv. what parts of them do they like and dislike?

she likes that she's resourceful. she likes that she's undefeated among her peers at chess. she likes how splendidly she can command a room, when she wishes; she likes that she can make people listen to her. she likes it better still when she feels she has something that's worth saying ( and she nearly always does ). she likes that she can be ruthless.

while it is one of her defining traits, she can dislike her obstinacy, insofar as she recognizes it’s to blame for her willful blindness to what was happening around her before the great war. she dislikes the extent to which her loyalty to her family led her to turn her head to what was happening around her. she dislikes that she cares so much what everyone thinks of her. she dislikes that she needs her mother's approval, that she hears her voice even after her death. even after she killed her.

v. what parts of others do they envy?

to that point, she envies the more uninhibited like jackie a good deal; to disregard the opinion of others, even their family, in the name of staying true to herself and her ideals is a type of bravery that lillian wishes she had, even if she thinks jackie misguided in her radicalism. she envies freedom, in all forms she lacks it. she envies those unconcerned with perfectionism. she envies anyone who lives a life unencumbered by expectations and legacies.

post-war, she envies those who aren’t burdened with what came before, all that was lost and how and why. she wouldn’t unknow it it she could — being the last to know is a great fear of hers that’s been realized one too many times — but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t envy those who don’t have that baggage of first hand experience and involvement.

— M / MATERNAL

i. would they want a daughter or a son?

neither, truthfully, but she would probably feel more comfortable raising a son; she’s already spent her life shielding evie from their mother, and feels she did an abysmal job of it, so she’s not eager to repeat those mistakes.

ii. how many children do they want?

none, really. lillian is unable to have biological children, but even if she could, she only would have had them out of a sense of obligation to continue the family line, and because of that sense of obligation — subconscious though it might have been — she came to resent the concept.

iii. would they be a good parent?

not really. she could learn — she can learn about anything — but it wouldn't come naturally to her. because it's not something she would choose for herself, it isn't something that would ever be uncomplicated for her. in many respects she's too much a perfectionist to strike a balance as a parent; she would either be overinvolved and overbearing or go to the other extreme and be entirely hands-off. her nanny would most likely be the better mother; hers was.

iv. what would they name a son? what would they name a daughter?

john is the family name for boys, from which she'd probably be disinclined to deviate ( even evie only ventured so far as "shaun" in her defiance ). she would name a girl anything but audrey ( her mother's first name, her own legal first name ). after the war it would be extremely circumstantial. she would probably name her after jackie. because of birth order, she tells evie brightly. evie is annoyed by this for the rest of their lives.

v. would they adopt?

she technically does adopt, in the sense that she takes in her nephew and passes him off as her own. she figured she owed evie that much. ( as it happens, the great war comes just before his first birthday, so motherhood is still not something in the cards for her ). she wouldn't do it again, and she would not have done it under virtually any other circumstances.

[onwardintolight]

Han x Leia, ESB, Trip to Bespin, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Summary: ESB from Leia's POV. A journey from despair to hope, a blossoming, an opening to vulnerability and love.

Warnings: Deals with some heavy themes, incl. working through trauma, depression, self-harm, attempted sexual assault. Each chapter will be individually warned.

Note: I’m currently in the process of reposting the first nine chapters here in full, since when I first wrote this fic, I only shared links to the chapters on AO3 and FFN. I will try to post at least weekly. In the meantime, if you’d prefer to binge-read it, the entire fic is posted in full on AO3 and FFN.

Part: Masterlist | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | Epilogue

~~~

Warnings for Chapter 24: Brief reference to the torture and attempted sexual assault that occurred in Chapter 19

Author’s note from 1/2020: An important disclaimer: As I wrote this fic, I strove to make it canon-compliant—at least compliant with the canon that existed at the time. Now that I'm posting this, however, a few things have changed; notably, we've seen the release of the first issue of the new line of Star Wars comics set after ESB. While I haven't had a chance to read it yet, I'm pretty sure it diverges from what I've written in my final two chapters, and I have no desire to change any of what I've written to fit it. I know most of you don't even care about canon—this IS fanfiction after all—but I just wanted to give you and all future readers a heads up anyway!

One last thing: Several of you have asked me if I'm planning on writing a Leia-focused fic like this one about ROTJ. First of all, I'm super flattered that you'd like more! Tbh though I don't really see myself writing it as another big multichapter; however, I would really like to do a few shorter fics about it. So keep an eye out for those! That being said, things can always change. If I discover that there's an arc I really want to tell through the whole story, I may find myself in over my head again ;) 

~~~

The Kaliida Nebula was about six hours away, not counting the brief stops they’d have to make every few hours to switch hyperlanes. Lando had once again joined Chewbacca at the Falcon’s helm; they had both insisted in no uncertain terms that Luke and Leia get some rest, promising they’d comm if they needed anything. She was tired enough not to argue.

Immediately after the jump to hyperspace, Luke had sat frozen, staring out the viewport into the whirling star tunnels. He’d glanced at her when she offered him a hand, looking for all the universe as if she were his only tether away from the maw. Silently, he’d let her help him back to the crew quarters, and once more she shakily attached the fluids line and pulled a blanket over him.

He was gazing up at her again, now, eyes wide and hollow. “Leia,” he whispered.

Tenderly, she brushed the hair from his forehead and reached down to clasp his remaining hand, squeezing it. She perched on the edge of his bunk. “I’m here,” she said softly. “You’re safe now.” Slowly, his eyelids began to flutter, and he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

She sat there for a long time, weariness bleeding into her bones, listening as his breathing grew deeper. Finally, when she was fairly certain her movement would not wake him, she slipped her hand carefully out of his, turned out the light, and walked over to her bunk, curling up on top of it without bothering to remove the blanket.

The pillow smelled like Han.

She thought of him laying there next to her, his fingers tangled in her hair. She thought of the hungry kisses she had never wanted to end. She thought of easy laughter and healing tears, of potent words and new openings.

She thought of the bed on Cloud City, and how they’d never have the chance now to find out if she’d regret it. She thought of his rending screams, of coils and needles and agonizing pain. Of Captain Orffa’s leers, her ripped shirt, his broken neck as he lay on the other side of the room. Of Vader’s hated mask, cold and merciless. Of throbbing rage. Of helpless grief.

Of finally saying “I love you.” Of the one she loved, turned to stone and torn away.

All the emotions she’d been trying to hold at bay rushed in. Her defenses crumpled, and the first tears came in like a flood, violent and inevitable. Burying her face in the pillow to muffle the sound, she wept, her body shaking with sobs. She wept until every breath came as a gasp; until she could no longer imagine what it was to not be weeping. She wept for Han, and for Alderaan, and for every loss in between. For a galaxy full of loss, cracked all the way through with the cruelty of it.

Long after her tears ran dry, she lay there, face still buried in the pillow—Han’s pillow—breathing in the scent of him. She wasn’t ready to let him go.

She wouldn’t let him go.

She would find him, somehow.

Slowly, exhaustion crept up on her, disarming her resistance just as her tears had done earlier. She gave into it with a mild sense of relief, letting her eyes close.

I don’t regret it, she thought as she began to drift off. Sleepy astonishment at the realization gave way to the certainty that she had always known this, somehow, despite her fears. I don’t regret loving him. Not one bit. As much as this hurt—and oh, how it hurt—she would gladly love him and lose him again.

Then sleep took her, carrying her far away into blessed nothingness.

~~~

She was woken up what felt like minutes later by the chime of her comm.

Lando’s voice was on the other end. “We’ve stopped at Terminus,” he said. “We need you up here to watch for Imperials while we search the ship for homing beacons. We’ve got her pretty well hidden behind a moon, but it’s a race against time until they find us.”

Trying to keep any bitterness out of her voice, she gave her consent and stumbled groggily toward the cockpit. Lando gave her a look when she arrived—she must have looked like hell, with red-rimmed eyes and smeared makeup—but to his credit he didn’t say anything, only giving her a nod on the way out. Chewie was already gone. She moved to sit in the co-pilot’s seat, but changed her mind halfway there, instead opting for the captain’s. Curling her legs beneath her, she leaned back into it, smelling its faded leather and a hint of old cologne. She scanned the starfield carefully, glancing at the sensor displays afterward for any signs she might have missed. There was nothing; only stars. On the other side of the moon, she knew, the sky would be filled with ships of all kinds. Terminus was a busy world; she hoped that, as such, it would distract the Empire long enough that they wouldn’t find the Falcon.

She shifted in her seat, anxious. Finding the homing beacon would likely take Chewie and Lando awhile—they had to suit up to examine the hull, after all—but she wished they would hurry and be done with it. Normally, this would have been made a much easier exercise by simply scanning the hull via the ship’s sensors, but the Empire had certainly disabled that function. Or rather, they probably just hadn’t bothered to fix it—it was, after all, one of the sensor systems that had been damaged during their escape from Hoth.

The minutes ticked by. Fifteen minutes passed, then half an hour. A light freighter moved into view. She stiffened, then relaxed again as it jumped to hyperspace moments later.

Forty-five minutes. Her eyelids drooped; she pinched her arm to stay awake.

Finally, she heard the door open behind her, and Chewie came in with a roar. «We found it,» he said. He was triumphant, but his voice was laced with sorrow. She knew enough of him now to hear it. She caught his gaze, and he sat down next to her. For a minute, they looked out on the emptiness together. «You should go back to bed, Little Princess,» he finally said, his voice gentle.

“You sure you don’t need sleep?” she whispered.

«I will,» he said, «but I have strength left to spare, and I was not hurt as badly as you. Go sleep.» She nodded and got up just as Lando came through the door. She didn’t look at him as they exchanged places. Hazily, she walked back to the crew quarters, fell in her bunk, and was once more lost in unconsciousness.

~~~

Leia’s eyes flickered open. How long had her comm been beeping? Yawning, she sat up, flipping on the light over her bunk, and froze as all the memories of the previous day flooded back in. The deep ache in her chest nearly knocked her over, and she fought off the urge to lay back down and forget everything again.

Luke. She had to make sure he was okay. She glanced over towards the other side of the room; there he lay, as still as a stone. Alarmed, she leapt out of bed and lurched over to check on him. His chest rose and fell, and she sighed in relief. He was in a deep sleep. That was good.

Feeling her heartbeat calm again, she sat back down on her bunk and answered her comlink. “Yes?” she croaked, her voice hoarse.

“Just wanted to let you know we’ve arrived at the Kaliida Nebula,” said Lando. “Whenever you’re able, I’ll let you take over and see if you can reach that contact of yours. Could use a little shut-eye myself.”

“Of course,” she said curtly. “I’ll be right there.”

When she arrived, Chewie was once again nowhere in sight. She felt a pang in her chest, thinking of his grief. At least, she thought, he was getting some sleep, too.

Lando nodded awkwardly to her as they switched places again and left without a word. For a minute, she stared at the glowing pink clouds outside the viewport. She knew he’d be just a comm away, but still, she was nervous. The nebula could be perilous. From time to time, it was home to migrating neebray mantas, which could do some serious damage to ships. Moreover, if the Empire had somehow found out about this checkpoint—

She felt her throat constricting and her heart pounding, and she stopped the thought short. Yes, the Empire had caught up with them a few too many times recently—she had good reason to be fearful of that. But she should be wary, not paranoid. This was the best chance they had to make contact with the Alliance. Straightening, she set a Rebel-coded message to broadcast at intervals to the surrounding parts of the nebula, then she took the Falcon on a leisurely tour through the cloud tunnels.

An hour later, she had a reply. It was also in Alliance code, and it gave her coordinates to meet nearby. She tensed. The Empire could have cracked that code since she was gone, they could have found out about this location, they could have—

She forced herself to breathe slowly. “Chewie,” she said into the comlink, “I’m making contact. I may need backup if it’s not who I think it is.”

The Wookiee yawned, but he didn’t hesitate. «I’m coming,» he said.

Soon both he and Lando joined her again in the cockpit. She felt bad that they’d only had an hour of sleep, but she supposed there was nothing to be done.

Well, mostly bad. She didn’t feel all that bad about Lando. As far as she was concerned, he could suffer. He sat behind her, keeping watch as she and Chewie maneuvered the ship to the meeting point.

Finally, the clouds in front of them parted, revealing an X-wing.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” the pilot whooped upon seeing their ship. “I was starting to think I’d never see that hunk of junk again! Is the princess there?”

Leia breathed a sigh of relief. “Hi, Wedge,” she said, transmitting the codes to confirm it was her.

“Good to hear your voice, Princess,” he said. “High command’s been going out of their minds. They figured if you survived, you’d make your way here. Lucky you found me now; they were beginning to think it was a lost cause. We probably wouldn’t have been patrolling out here much longer.”

“Thanks for waiting,” she said.

“Where’s ol’ Han?”

All the words seemed to dry up in her mouth, and she sat silent for a moment. “He’s gone,” she said finally, her voice quiet. Chewie let out a mournful wail.

She heard Wedge exhale. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice full of genuine grief. “Sending you the jump coordinates now.”

Within a few minutes, they’d left the bright clouds of the Kaliida Nebula behind and were headed home. It wasn’t truly home, of course—Home was Alderaan, and that was gone forever. These days, though, the Alliance had become the only home she could claim to have. But whatever familiarity it offered, it would be empty without Han.

“Hey,” Lando said from behind her, startling her. She didn’t turn around. “Chewie ’n I have been talking and…” he faltered for a moment, then he went on. “…We’re gonna find Han and bring him back. We’ll leave for Tatooine as soon as we can get fueled and ready.”

She leaned back in her seat. “You got a plan?”

Chewie responded. «We have some ideas, yes, but we wanted to talk with you and Luke and hear yours, too.»

Leia nodded slowly. “We’ll discuss it when we get there, after the briefings. I don’t want to put too much strain on Luke before then. He doesn’t even know what happened yet.”

“Sure thing,” said Lando.

She clenched her teeth to avoid telling him to shut up. Instead, she shifted her focus outside, watching the whirlwind starlight.

Somewhere out there, Han was trapped, but alive. And somehow, they would find him and bring him home.

A warmth grew inside her chest; the fire of hope.

[vegetacide]

Whump●tober - Adrenaline

Veg-notables: Wow whumptober has almost come to a close!  Where has the time gone?  

Haven’t visited this one in a while.. Last time I was here I whumped the hell out of Kayo so I figured I would touch base and see where it takes us today.  

Typed out between phone calls at work so excuse any typos.   

@gumnut-logic Another sneak attacked to whoop you with.. Tee he. 

Obligatory whumptober stuff: @whumptober2019 @la-vie-en-whump

Blanket warning: Angst, mental strife..the usual. 

Characters: Virgil, Scott, V/K

Whumptober - TaG’verse

Previous post can be found HERE 

13. Adrenaline

Enjoy…

oOo

Adrenaline spiked through his system and had Virgil bolting up right from the dead of sleep. Panting, clutching at his chest as his pulse thundered in his ears.  

Sweet damping his cotton, arming tunic.  Cooled and chilled his skin, sending a shiver down his spine and his teeth to chatter as his shocky eyes glanced skittishly around the dimly lit room.

A hand on his shoulder was nearly his undoing but the accompanying voice had his shout stalling out in his throat. He couldn't stop the flinch as he pulled away from the comforting gesture.  

“Easy now,  it’s just me.”  

He turned dark, haunted eyes up and was meet with the clear, concerned blue of family.  A safe harbour provided where he wanted none.   The storm of the seas more appealing than the offer of shelter.   

One look at that familiar face and he turned away again. He couldn’t bare the solicitous gaze. He didn’t deserve their attention, their worry.  

“You okay?”  Came the expectant question, the voice shifting as its owner crouched at his side.  A hand raising to ease but stopping short of its target as Virgil stiffened.  “V...?”

He rubbed a hand roughly over his face,  palm rasping over stubble and haggard features. Knotting in messy, unkempt hair as he surged up to his feet.   

The world wobbled, a hand shooting out to steady him to which he brushed off and he stalk across the room.  Placing physically distance between them along with emotional. A wall erected by the space of feet and the solitary bed, filled with a slender, supine form.  

“Virgil?”  The inquiry was tainted by unsolicited worry. Unwarranted in its simplicity of expression.  One could say so much with a mere utterance and some inflection. 

He held up a hand,  forewarning that approach was not an option he would accept right now, possibly forever.  

The situation didn’t call for his comfort for the matter, just his damnation.  

Tired eyes flickered to and away from that cataleptic vessel that was his life on the bed. His entirety. 

He’d put her there.  With his carelessness and his misplaced self-assurance.  Overly cocky. 

Stupid. You nearly got her killed. What good are you if you can’t even save your own?

Shut eyes, averted as his inner monologue of hate, bashed at him.   Tormented him along with the images that had stained his dreams with blood and screams.

You’re no man,  you selfish prick.  You should never have let her come.  Your spouse...your wife.  You couldn’t protect her….

He paced,  cage in the confines offered by the private room.  Hampered by the equipment and the large berth he gave his brother. 

“This wasn’t your fault.”  Scott took a step towards him, posture placating as he tried to draw near. 

Virgil shook his head once, twice, a third time. “No.. no, you’re wrong. It’s all my fault, Scott.”

“How?  She knew the risks going in?”  A step closer, approaching cautious as if he were a scared, injured animal.  “I’ve seen the Gordon’s report. Watched the body-cam footage. Listened to the audio recordings.  Nothing you or he did would have changed the outcome.”

“No..she shouldn’t have been there.”

“Virgil…”

“I sent her in there, Scott. My wife...alone…I should have done another scan. Assessed the site more thoroughly.”

“At what cost, Virgil?  There were people trapped in there.  Your judgement was sound with the information you had.  You made a call. One to save lives,  which you did.   A man is going home to his wife and child tonight.  A woman to her family and countless others.  All because you made that call.” 

“..but what of the cost to us..?”  The words were whispered from a down turned face staring at his hands. Seeing the after images of blood. Feeling it still, dried, caked and cracked over the tarnished band of gold that she’d placed on his finger though it had long since been washed where it seeped through the neoprene of his torn gloves.  Gloves torn trying to get to her...

“Virgil,  she’s alive. She will recover.”  Scott implored, gesturing to the bed.  

Denial and guilt warred within him. Fighting for dominance and his head swiveled again back and forth, back and forth. “No, you don’t understand..”

“Virgil!” His name was said with insistence. A loud, harsh sound above a whisper and just short of yelling.  The act like a slap to return him to reality and the demand that came after was a commanding bark for action, not a request  “Look at her.”

He looked. Saw the battered and bandaged form in the sea of white sheets. She looked small and lost surrounded by all that starched harshness.  Her olive skin, pale and drawn. Shadows hanging doggedly under the closed, long lashed lids but her chest rose steadily, exhaled in time with the blip blip blip of a monitor. There was a rising flush of life sparking high on her cheeks. Her lips sat parted, soft pink and tender. 

““You saved her too.” A hand once more settled on his quivering shoulder. The distance breached.  “She alive because you were there.”

He sagged as his brother’s words finally sunk in.  She was alive, would stay alive because even in his panic, he’d done what needed to be done. Gotten her out, kept her alive, brought her to where she needed to be.  Here in this very room with a fleet of doctors just beyond the door with nothing but respect for the organization that had saved so many and never asked for anything in return. 

Scott was right, of course.  His own doubts hiding the truth for what it was.  

A soft moan from the bed brought both of their heads around and Virgil’s pulse skipped and tripped and started running.  Adrenaline lighting through him again with renewed effort,  forcing him to cross the short distance to be at her side.  

Slender, strong fingers in his hand,  warming and colouring with life, squeezed his own. 

He raised her hand and brushed his lips across the band he’d slipped home, removed for surgery all those hours ago. The find gold, smooth and unmarred and perfect were it hugged her flesh. 

Her eyes fluttered open, his name whispered on her lips and he smiled. 

oOo

The Master List of prompts can be found HERE

[unsettlingshortstories]

The Demon Lover

Elizabeth Bowen (1945)

Toward the end of her day in London Mrs. Drover went round to her shut-up house to look for several things she wanted to take away. Some belonged to herself, some to her family, who were by now used to their country life. It was late August; it had been a steamy, showery day: At the moment the trees down the pavement glittered in an escape of humid yellow afternoon sun. Against the next batch of clouds, already piling up ink-dark, broken chimneys and parapets stood out. In her once familiar street, as in any unused channel, an unfamiliar queerness had silted up; a cat wove itself in and out of railings, but no human eye watched Mrs. Drover’s return. Shifting some parcels under her arm, she slowly forced round her latchkey in an unwilling lock, then gave the door, which had warped, a push with her knee. Dead air came out to meet her as she went in.

The staircase window having been boarded up, no light came down into the hall. But one door, she could just see, stood ajar, so she went quickly through into the room and unshuttered the big window in there. Now the prosaic woman, looking about her, was more perplexed than she knew by everything that she saw, by traces of her long former habit of life—the yellow smoke stain up the white marble mantelpiece, the ring left by a vase on the top of the escritoire; the bruise in the wallpaper where, on the door being thrown open widely, the china handle had always hit the wall. The piano, having gone away to be stored, had left what looked like claw marks on its part of the parquet. Though not much dust had seeped in, each object wore a film of another kind; and, the only ventilation being the chimney, the whole drawing room smelled of the cold hearth. Mrs. Drover put down her parcels on the escritoire and left the room to proceed upstairs; the things she wanted were in a bedroom chest.

She had been anxious to see how the house was—the part-time caretaker she shared with some neighbors was away this week on his holiday, known to be not yet back. At the best of times he did not look in often, and she was never sure that she trusted him. There were some cracks in the structure, left by the last bombing, on which she was anxious to keep an eye. Not that one could do anything—

A shaft of refracted daylight now lay across the hall. She stopped dead and stared at the hall table—on this lay a letter addressed to her.

She thought first—then the caretaker must be back. All the same, who, seeing the house shuttered, would have dropped a letter in at the box? It was not a circular, it was not a bill. And the post office redirected, to the address in the country, everything for her that came through the post. The caretaker (even if he were back) did not know she was due in London today—her call here had been planned to be a surprise—so his negligence in the manner of this letter, leaving it to wait in the dusk and the dust, annoyed her. Annoyed, she picked up the letter, which bore no stamp. But it cannot be important, or they would know . . . She took the letter rapidly upstairs with her, without a stop to look at the writing till she reached what had been her bedroom, where she let in light. The room looked over the garden and other gardens: The sun had gone in; as the clouds sharpened and lowered, the trees and rank lawns seemed already to smoke with dark. Her reluctance to look again at the letter came from the fact that she felt intruded upon—and by someone contemptuous of her ways. However, in the tenseness preceding the fall of rain she read it: It was a few lines.

Dear Kathleen: You will not have forgotten that today is our anniversary, and the day we said. The years have gone by at once slowly and fast. In view of the fact that nothing has changed, I shall rely upon you to keep your promise. I was sorry to see you leave London, but was satisfied that you would be back in time. You may expect me, therefore, at the hour arranged. Until then . . . K.

Mrs. Drover looked for the date: It was today’s. She dropped the letter onto the bedsprings, then picked it up to see the writing again—her lips, beneath the remains of lipstick, beginning to go white. She felt so much the change in her own face that she went to the mirror, polished a clear patch in it, and looked at once urgently and stealthily in. She was confronted by a woman of forty-four, with eyes starting out under a hat brim that had been rather carelessly pulled down. She had not put on any more powder since she left the shop where she ate her solitary tea. The pearls her husband had given her on their marriage hung loose round her now rather thinner throat, slipping in the V of the pink wool jumper her sister knitted last autumn as they sat round the fire. Mrs. Drover’s most normal expression was one of controlled worry, but of assent. Since the birth of the third of her little boys, attended by a quite serious illness, she had had an intermittent muscular flicker to the left of her mouth, but in spite of this she could always sustain a manner that was at once energetic and calm.

Turning from her own face as precipitately as she had gone to meet it, she went to the chest where the things were, unlocked it, threw up the lid, and knelt to search. But as rain began to come crashing down she could not keep from looking over her shoulder at the stripped bed on which the letter lay. Behind the blanket of rain the clock of the church that still stood struck six—with rapidly heightening apprehension she counted each of the slow strokes. “The hour arranged . . . My God,” she said, “what hour? How should I . . . ? After twenty-five years . . . ”

The young girl talking to the soldier in the garden had not ever completely seen his face. It was dark; they were saying goodbye under a tree. Now and then—for it felt, from not seeing him at this intense moment, as though she had never seen him at all—she verified his presence for these few moments longer by putting out a hand, which he each time pressed, without very much kindness, and painfully, on to one of the breast buttons of his uniform. That cut of the button on the palm of her hand was, principally, what she was to carry away. This was so near the end of a leave from France that she could only wish him already gone. It was August 1916. Being not kissed, being drawn away from and looked at intimidated Kathleen till she imagined spectral glitters in the place of his eyes. Turning away and looking back up the lawn she saw, through branches of trees, the drawing-room window alight: She caught a breath for the moment when she could go running back there into the safe arms of her mother and sister, and cry: “What shall I do, what shall I do? He has gone.”

Hearing her catch her breath, her fiancé said, without feeling: “Cold?”

“You’re going away such a long way.”

“Not so far as you think.”

“I don’t understand?”

“You don’t have to,” he said. “You will. You know what we said.”

“But that was—suppose you—I mean, suppose.”

“I shall be with you,” he said, “sooner or later. You won’t forget that. You need do nothing but wait.”

Only a little more than a minute later she was free to run up the silent lawn. Looking in through the window at her mother and sister, who did not for the moment perceive her, she already felt that unnatural promise drive down between her and the rest of all humankind. No other way of having given herself could have made her feel so apart, lost and forsworn. She could not have plighted a more sinister troth.

Kathleen behaved well when, some months later, her fiancé was reported missing, presumed killed. Her family not only supported her but were able to praise her courage without stint because they could not regret, as a husband for her, the man they knew almost nothing about. They hoped she would, in a year or two, console herself—and had it been only a question of consolation things might have gone much straighter ahead. But her trouble, behind just a little grief, was a complete dislocation from everything. She did not reject other lovers, for these failed to appear: For years she failed to attract men—and with the approach of her thirties she became natural enough to share her family’s anxiousness on this score. She began to put herself out, to wonder; and at thirty-two she was very greatly relieved to find herself being courted by William Drover. She married him, and the two of them settled down in this quiet, arboreal part of Kensington: In this house the years piled up, her children were born, and they all lived till they were driven out by the bombs of the next war. Her movements as Mrs. Drover were circumscribed, and she dismissed any idea that they were still watched.

As things were—dead or living the letter writer sent her only a threat. Unable, for some minutes, to go on kneeling with her back exposed to the empty room, Mrs. Drover rose from the chest to sit on an upright chair whose back was firmly against the wall. The desuetude of her former bedroom, her married London home’s whole air of being a cracked cup from which memory, with its reassuring power, had either evaporated or leaked away, made a crisis—and at just this crisis the letter writer had, knowledgeably, struck. The hollowness of the house this evening canceled years on years of voices, habits, and steps. Through the shut windows she only heard rain fall on the roofs around. To rally herself, she said she was in a mood—and for two or three seconds shutting her eyes, told herself that she had imagined the letter. But she opened them—there it lay on the bed.

On the supernatural side of the letter’s entrance she was not permitting her mind to dwell. Who, in London, knew she meant to call at the house today? Evidently, however, this had been known. The caretaker, hadhe come back, had had no cause to expect her: He would have taken the letter in his pocket, to forward it, at his own time, through the post. There was no other sign that the caretaker had been in—but, if not? Letters dropped in at doors of deserted houses do not fly or walk to tables in halls. They do not sit on the dust of empty tables with the air of certainty that they will be found. There is needed some human hand—but nobody but the caretaker had a key. Under circumstances she did not care to consider, a house can be entered without a key. It was possible that she was not alone now. She might be being waited for, downstairs. Waited for—until when? Until “the hour arranged.” At least that was not six o’clock: Six has struck.

She rose from the chair and went over and locked the door.

The thing was, to get out. To fly? No, not that: She had to catch her train. As a woman whose utter dependability was the keystone of her family life she was not willing to return to the country, to her husband, her little boys, and her sister, without the objects she had come up to fetch. Resuming work at the chest she set about making up a number of parcels in a rapid, fumbling-decisive way. These, with her shopping parcels, would be too much to carry; these meant a taxi—at the thought of the taxi her heart went up and her normal breathing resumed. I will ring up the taxi now; the taxi cannot come too soon: I shall hear the taxi out there running its engine, till I walk calmly down to it through the hall. I’ll ring up—But no: the telephone is cut off . . . She tugged at a knot she had tied wrong.

The idea of flight . . . He was never kind to me, not really. I don’t remember him kind at all. Mother said he never considered me. He was set on me, that was what it was—not love. Not love, not meaning a person well. What did he do, to make me promise like that? I can’t remember—But she found that she could.

She remembered with such dreadful acuteness that the twenty-five years since then dissolved like smoke and she instinctively looked for the weal left by the button on the palm of her hand. She remembered not only all that he said and did but the complete suspension of her existence during that August week. I was not myself—they all told me so at the time. She remembered—but with one white burning blank as where acid has dropped on a photograph: Under no conditions could she remember his face.

So, wherever he may be waiting, I shall not know him. You have no time to run from a face you do not expect.

The thing was to get to the taxi before any clock struck what could be the hour. She would slip down the street and round the side of the square to where the square gave on the main road. She would return in the taxi, safe, to her own door, and bring the solid driver into the house with her to pick up the parcels from room to room. The idea of the taxi driver made her decisive, bold: She unlocked her door, went to the top of the staircase, and listened down.

She heard nothing—but while she was hearing nothing the passé air of the staircase was disturbed by a draft that traveled up to her face. It emanated from the basement: Down there a door or window was being opened by someone who chose this moment to leave the house.

The rain had stopped; the pavements steamily shone as Mrs. Drover let herself out by inches from her own front door into the empty street. The unoccupied houses opposite continued to meet her look with their damaged stare. Making toward the thoroughfare and the taxi, she tried not to keep looking behind. Indeed, the silence was so intense—one of those creeks of London silence exaggerated this summer by the damage of war—that no tread could have gained on hers unheard. Where her street debouched on the square where people went on living, she grew conscious of, and checked, her unnatural pace. Across the open end of the square two buses impassively passed each other: Women, a perambulator, cyclists, a man wheeling a barrow signalized, once again, the ordinary flow of life. At the square’s most populous corner should be—and was—the short taxi rank. This evening, only one taxi—but this, although it presented its blank rump, appeared already to be alertly waiting for her. Indeed, without looking round the driver started his engine as she panted up from behind and put her hand on the door. As she did so, the clock struck seven. The taxi faced the main road: To make the trip back to her house it would have to turn—she had settled back on the seat and the taxi had turned before she, surprised by its knowing movement, recollected that she had not “said where.” She leaned forward to scratch at the glass panel that divided the driver’s head from her own.

The driver braked to what was almost a stop, turned round, and slid the glass panel back: The jolt of this flung Mrs. Drover forward till her face was almost into the glass. Through the aperture driver and passenger, not six inches between them, remained for an eternity eye to eye. Mrs. Drover’s mouth hung open for some seconds before she could issue her first scream. After that she continued to scream freely and to beat with her gloved hands on the glass all round as the taxi, accelerating without mercy, made off with her into the hinterland of deserted streets.

[rosetintedswift]

A few months ago my very best friend got engaged to the love of her life. It was all so beautiful: The proposal, the ring, the guy, the girl, the dress, the details…. absolutely amazing. Even more so was when I learned I was to be the Maid of Honor and she entrusted the Bachelorette to me.

Talk about pressure.

So for months on end I searched Pinterest and asked people and watched every bride movie you could think of (Bride Wars, Bridesmaids, 27 Dresses, etc). I made tons of lists of everything I needed, and always had the event at the back of my mind. I had never really planned an event before, let alone every bride’s dream party, so I had to be sure it was perfect.

In light of it’s success, I decided to make a post to give anyone who’s planning a Bachelorette some ideas.

Games

What’s a Bachelorette party without those cheesy games? Here are some of my favorites that were played!

He Said… She Said…

Pull your bride aside and ask her questions such as:

Who kissed who first?

Who said “I love you,” first?

Who cooked the first meal?

Have the party guests guess who did what and whoever gets the most correct, get’s a prize!

Cold Feet

Get each guest a bowl of ice, cold, water and fill them with some plastic rings. Each person has to grab as many rings as they can with their toes in a minute. Whoever gets the most rings wins!

How Well Do You Know Your Groom?

Ask the groom 20 questions from when did the bride and groom first meet to what kind of underwear he likes to wear. It’s a great game to challenge the bride and make her blush a little! Plenty of laughs around for everyone.

Label Your Bridesmaids

Ask the bride herself to label the bridesmaids (such as: Drama queen, hot mess, bad influence, sarcastic, etc.). Cut out a paper that has the label and ask each bridesmaid to pick out the label she feels best suits her personality. After everyone chooses one, reveal which person is who and have the bride explain why she chose that label for them. It’s a great icebreaker and gives everyone a great laugh.

Panty Dropper

This one is my favorite. Have each bridesmaid buy a pair of underwear (can be anything from granny panties to scandalous) and have them drop them in a bag on their way in. Give the bag to the bride and she has to guess who gave her what piece of underwear. This is one I highly suggest for others to get creative with! One girl at my party cut up some old jeans to look like underwear and gave them to the bride!

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Scavenger Hunt

Split the girls into two teams and head to the mall or a place like Target or Walmart. Give the teams each a piece of paper with a bunch of things to do on them with the point value next to it. Set a timer for forty-five minutes and go out and try to finish as many items on the checklist as possible. Some ideas for the list are:

Kiss a bald man’s head, Order a drink with an accent, ask an employee if you are in Walmart or Target (the employee we got was super salty about that question), spell out the bride’s name with clothing, propose to someone, walk around the store eating baby food, dress in a crazy outfit, the possibilities are endless.

Have everyone document what they do with their phones and have a fun time sharing all the videos and photos. Winning team gets a prize!

Porn or Polish?

The bride’s grandma walked in right as we were about to play this game so make sure no adults are around in case! We had to search the internet for porn movie names and different makeup names but in the end it made for a fun game.

Basically give everyone two different sticks: One for porn, one for polish. Then name the crazy name and ask them to guess if it’s a porn movie or makeup. If you want to mix things up, put your dirty mind to work and come up with some on your own for a trick question!

If you need help thinking of makeup names just check out NARS products. They have lots of options.

Decorations

Dollar Store

Literally just go to the dollar store. It may be cheap but they have some pretty good decorations. I got some pink streamers, a table cloth, prizes for games, balloons, fake pink rose petals, plates, and a plastic crown.

Walgreens

I printed out some photos of Abbey and all her friends and family and hung them from the ceiling around her chair. We got to all reminisce about the good ol’ times when we were younger, and share laughs about it too.

Grocery Store

Went to the local Fred Meyer (it may be called something different wherever you are) and found 50% gorgeous pink roses, and a fruit tartlet for cheap. Both were beautiful and loved by all the guests.

Food

Since my best friend’s wedding was three days after the bachelorette, we decided light and fun foods would be the best:

Fruit snacks

Pita chips and hummus

Tortilla chips and guacamole

Peach rings (from the game)

Pink lemonade

A fruit tartlet

Red Robin (For Dinner)

*TIP: Never let the bride pay for anything*

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Shirts

What’s a bachelorette without matching shirts? Online they can get pretty pricey being around ten dollars to twenty for a shirt that says ‘bridesmaid’ and ‘bride’ on it. Therefore, I made the shirts. With a fifty percent coupon to Michael’s I  went to a few different stores and used the coupon to purchase hot pink, V-neck shirts. Then, I got glitter fabric paint and used a template that I found online and painted them! Just be sure to put cardboard in-between the shirts.

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Music

This is a must need for every party. I listed below some of the must haves for a bachelorette party.

Green Light by Lorde

Good To Be Alive by Andy Grammer

Love Song by Sara Baareilles

Death of a Bachelor by Panic! At The Disco

Picture to Burn by Taylor Swift

Cheers by Rihanna

Wonderland by Taylor Swift

All My Friends by The Summer Set

Just The Girl by The Click Five

I Wanna Get Better by Bleachers

Dreaming by Smallpools

Shake It Off by Taylor Swift

Look What You Made Me Do by Taylor Swift

Clouds by One Direction

New Romantics by Taylor Swift

Weak by AJR

Shut Up and Drive by Rihanna

Someone New by Hozier

Closer by The Chainsmokers

Perfect Places by Lorde

Woman by Harry Styles

Believer by Imagine Dragons

Can’t Help by Parachute

Bom Bidi Bom by Nick Jonas

Back To You by Louis Tomlinson

Single Ladies by Beyonce

Crazy In Love by Beyonce

Chapel Of Love by The Dixie Cups

There’s probably many more jams but those are the basic songs for a good time.

The Car

Don’t forget to paint funny phrases on the car! We had “Honk for the bride” and some other silly things that just made it overall more exciting and fun.

Money

Now, it can get expensive planning a bachelorette. That’s why I calculated costs and asked each bridesmaid to chip in fifteen dollars at least. You’ll probably have to put in a little more of your own money but when it comes to it, anything for the bride.

Planning a Bachelorette can be tricky and confusing sometimes. But no matter how it turns out, the bride is sure to love it because you planned it and you all got to spend time with each other.

How to Throw the Perfect Bachelorette Party A few months ago my very best friend got engaged to the love of her life. It was all so beautiful: The proposal, the ring, the guy, the girl, the dress, the details....

[blog-armee-blog]

Take Me Home

Pairing: EXO Baekhyun | Reader Genre: Angst | Fluff Summary: At 11:47 at night, when winter flurries covered the night sky, and relationship shattered in a matter of time, the presence of a certain cute and thoughtful coworker was more than comforting on the supposedly lonely walk home. Author’s note: Inspired by this beautiful song (that I’ve listened to way too many times that I had lost count of the views): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CRWAZZanLg 

(Picture cre: http://iflirtwithexo.tumblr.com)

I tucked my nose into the thick beige knitted scarf, now covered in flurries, hoping to exchange for some warmth. My hands were freezing in the side pockets of my navy blue trench coat and the fact that I was still in my uniforms did not do my legs any favors when standing under the frosty sky with icy, wintry gusts of air sending few shivers up my thighs ever-so-frequently. I had been waiting for nearly half an hour for the sight of a familiar car coming to pick me up as promised but it was nowhere to be found. The road was empty and cold, somehow gave off the feeling of loneliness, of being neglected and abandoned, somehow felt like me now.

“You haven’t gone home yet?” a chirpy voice called out to me from behind, freed me from my train of thoughts fortunately before it went tumbling downhill in much deeper and darker place. I jumped a little at the sudden contact as his hooded parka draped over my shoulder. He took a few more steps and stood right beside me. His eyes followed all around to take in the rare, serene city sight before tilting his head back and sending chuckle into mid-air. “You dress so lightly for this weather. It’s already 11:47. Who are you trying to impress?” I shook my head slightly and looked down at the snow white pavement. The corner of my lips curved up slightly somehow added a tint of rosy pink to my already redden cheeks. He had always managed to make me smile. His presence made me felt warm and accompanied. It was easy with him.

“Baekhyun-ah, you’re going to get a cold like this,” I dragged out the syllables in tiredness, feeling a little light-headed after a long, busy day at work, “then I’ll have to take over your shifts and work overtime. In that case, I’d rather stood here in this bleak weather.” The café was rather popular in the city for its pastry and of course, a large supply of freshly grained coffee every day. And by the time winter came around, the crave for the tantalizing of fresh coffee and its warmth went sky-rocketed, especially when winter had always given off such solitary feel. To put aside the fact that I had to hustle through early mornings and late nights, I did enjoy being welcomed by the wonderful sweet scent of brisk morning wind, steaming dark coffee and pieces of glistening pastry treat. Reverting my attention back to the raven-haired boy, I broke into a little laugh at his silliness as his nose crunch up dramatically in displease when I tried to pass the coat back to him. His hands rose up in defense, keeping an arm-length distance between us. “Hey now, I came prepared. Unlike someone.”

He quickly jogged back to the front door and got a hold of another winter coat, but this time it was a black puffer. Struggling to pull a stuck zipper, he turned to look at me again. “Why aren’t you going home?” He paused for a moment before returning to his zipper, hand pulling up swiftly, then looked back directly into my eyes. “He’s late again, isn’t he? That’s it. Today I’m walking you home.” My eyes widened at the sudden declaration that he was so proud of. Though it was typical of Baek to help out others with the brightest attitude and since we had gotten really close through work, it should have been no surprise but funnily enough, he was never this confident getting involved in my affairs before.

“No, it’s quite alright. My house is not too far away and I think I can manage. You should go the station now if you want to catch the last train back home, you know, across town.” I deadpanned. He would struggle to get to the train station at this hour, not to mention getting himself home yet wanted to walk me home? It was amusing to see him so naïve being selfless.

Letting out a big huff, his eyebrows furrowed, lips pressed together before locking his eyes with mine sternly, “Your house is just as far, don’t you think I don’t know it. Besides I’m not taking a no for an answer, and that you know.”

As helpful as he was, it was undeniable how stubborn and persistent he could be when he knew what he wants. Nodding my head in realization, I ended up giving in and followed what he said in a matter of seconds to avoid all troubles that he had forewarned.

The way back home was dimly lit by a few lamp posts placed sporadically. They gave off fuzzy gold color light that somehow warmed up a touch of the dreary night sky. We took small steps slowly downhill in thick silence. It was rare for Baekhyun to be this still for so long. This boy was everything but quiet. He could be working on all hands and feet yet would still manage to hit up all tables. The café was merrier and more jubilant because of him. Just thinking about it made me smile, how that boy was so special, he could even brighten up darkest corners and put a smile on all faces.

Still, the atmosphere now was so dense by the lack of conversation that I could cut it by my imaginary scissor. Steps after steps evenly and consistently, we walked toward my house at the end of the street. Somehow I found my heart beat faster than it should, all jumpy and jittery. If my cheeks were rosy before because of the cold, then now they were warming up too quickly, much to my protest. It felt as if we were young and inexperienced again, all wrapped up in burning desire yet was sheepishly diffident.

“So,” he spoke up reluctantly and timidly, palms wiping against his dark denims, “how’s life?” He nervously waited for my answer, hoping to break the unusual tension between us. This was new ground for both of us. Never had we ever lasted so long, standing next to one another with such reserved attitude. We were always cracking jokes, terrible ones on me, playing games and chatting our time away. For goodness sake, we were even there to see each other through our worst and much most embarrassing yet here we were standing awkwardly next to each other like little kids trying to make new friends at the playground. It was almost too amusing to witness this scene. With that thought in mind, I broke into laughter and stopped mid-way, causing him to plant himself a few steps ahead and stared at me in wide-eyed before joining in.

“Okay, okay,” I regained my breath, took in as much as air as I could before continuing, “we have to stop whatever this is. I mean ‘how’s life?’. Byun Baekhyun, is that the best you can do? Assuming with all those girls in and out of your life, I seriously thought you’d have sharper skills.”

He took a moment to process before his hand flew up and over his chest, crumbling his shirt in process to cue for his dramatic acting. “I’m very much offended that you show such underestimation. I’ll let you know that all the girls crowding at the coffee these days only came for my numbers, alright? You should feel very lucky that you’re the only one in that shop who was able to have the infamous Baekhyun listed in your contacts.” And he was back. With the adorable, melodic laugh that made his eyes curved up in a crescent-moon like shape. It was such a charm, how such laughter could be so contagious, even put your heart at ease.

“Enough about me, how’s your relationship? Are you guys all good?” His sudden question took me aback. I stopped once again but this time to acknowledge the heaviness starting to fill my heart and mind. We weren’t okay. My mind drifted back to the last few months filled with countless heated arguments that always resulted in screaming and yelling, him storming out of the house and me slumping in tubs of ice cream and blurred sound of 3 a.m broadcasts coming from the television. We would settle on an agreement to forgive one another in the next few days or so but it was never the same. Last night was no different. He came knocking loudly at my door in a drunken manner when the clock struck 2 with a bottle in his hand and some cheap perfume lingered on his shirt, saying that he had an office celebratory party. If that wasn’t the way to spark an argument, I didn’t know what will. Even so, he was supposed to pick me up today after work but considering me rolling eyes in annoyance and slamming the door on his face yesterday, I guessed my hope was too high for actually thinking that he might be generous enough to spare me the long way home before entering the cold war again.

“Earth to you,” I snapped out of my train of thoughts at the sight of Baekhyun’s hand waving over my eyes. “You had zoned out for a good few minutes already.” He bit his lips, looking at me worriedly, “If something is troubling you, I’m all ears.”

I didn’t want to lie about it. I couldn’t do it, not to him and I knew for a fact that he could see right through me anyway. Countless days and nights working together which should have been five years by now, I was sure Baekhyun knew me better than I knew myself. Even right now, when I decided to remain quiet and kept moving step after step, he could read me like an open book.

He sighed heavily. His lips parted as if to say something but nothing came out. Instead, he just took my hand in his and held it tight. I could feel the warmth radiated from his hand, the soft silkiness of the fabric inside his pocket every time he took a step ahead of me. And we just went on like that, all the way back to my house. His hand in mine, two pairs of feet stride down the frosty road, against blasts of arctic wind and emptiness of city by night. My heart was filled with doubts yet it beat with stronger force than ever. This feeling was peculiar but undoubtedly pleasant. It almost felt okay, better than okay, that everything was going to be fine. Even if we ended up walking all night, and day, and if the road went on forever, it would still be alright in this comforting silence, for as long as we were still walking, and as long as our hands were still joined together in the warmth of his pocket.

I took a look at my watch as we walk up the driveway. 12:36. I jumped at the sight, frantically trying to put my words together. “The last train left 6 minutes ago. And you’re still here. How are you going to get home now? It’s already so late, I mean. Do you want to come inside? I have a guest bedroom and I can just set you up…” I went on rambling, slightly cringing out of guilt. If it wasn’t for me, he’d be safe and sound on the train home by now, maybe even almost home if he went on the 12:05 one.

“It’s alright. Don’t worry about it.” A smile plastered on his face. “I’ll just hit up one of my friends for the night. He actually lives really close to you so it’ll just be a five-minute walk from here. Besides I had a feeling I won’t be getting much sleep tonight, so what better way to wind down than taking a casual stroll under the night sky?”

Doubtfully, my eyebrows furrowed at his answer. “Are you sure?” Instead of replying, he just stared at me knowingly. Of course, this boy wasn’t sure with his plan, he had always made it up as he goes anyways, but it never went wrong.

“Alright, better get to that friend of yours then before the blizzard came and swoop you away. I’m heading in now. Go back safely.” With that, I turned and walked in the direction of the front door, hand digging through pockets to search for the keys.

 “Wait,” his hand reached out to grab mine once again before pulling me back and engulfing me in a tight embrace. My cheeks came in contact with flurries scattered all over his jacket, pressed closely against his chest. It heaved up and down. The sound of his uneven and heavy breath sliced through the thick atmosphere and blurred out everything. The frost slowly melt and wet my cheeks, little droplets fell from them to end up in between my parting lips leaving to taste the saltiness and bitterness. But his hug was warm, loving and comforting that it helped melt those bad thoughts away and replaced them with fresh, new, more pleasant ones. His embrace tightened around me, giving back the secure feeling I had been yearning for. I felt safe with him.

 One hand he wrapped around my back, the other went up, stroking my hair gently. “I’m here now,” his voice was deep and soothing, shushing me every now and then, “I might not be him, but let me be for just tonight. I’ll take good care of you, like he should have.”  

And we stood there, like that, waiting for the gust of cold and brisk air to die down. For the fog to clear out, and sky to brighten once again. ~ Ai 

© 2017 BLOG-ARMEE  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[domina-alba]

Domina Alba

Hey Everyone, These are the chapters that were initially posted to Ao3 and FFN so if you’ve already read Domina Alba feel free to skip! If you haven’t read Domina Alba you can find information about the fic Here.

V Domina’s proclamation stunned the party into silence, until Steven stepped forward from behind the Pearl. He looked up at Domina starry eyed.

“You’re half gem.” He said voice awestruck. Domina shifted uncomfortably and glanced around the group, the looks on the others faces raised from stoic to terrified. She looked back at Steven.

“I am, what does it matter to you?” She asked. Steven lifted his shirt slightly in response, embedded in his stomach was a pink quartz gem with a pentagonal cut. Domina gasped then she quickly broke into a wide smile.

“Oh my star’s you’re like me!” Domina’s voice cracked ever so slightly as she kneeled to Stevens level, and then the words were coming out as fast as she could speak them “Wait so you’re a quartz? Can you summon a weapon? How old are you, do you age irregularly as well? What about shapeshifting? How does gravity affect you? Do you have all the quartz abilities? Wait, can you spin dash?”

“How...” She heard the other Pearl said softly.

“I mean probably the same way we got Steven.” Amethyst said.

“White Diamond state your buisness here.” The Garnet said cutting Domina off mid question. She froze and pursed her lips, standing back up and dusting off her pants.

“I could ask you three to do the same thing, I was told there were no gems left on this planet.” She said.

“You were misinformed.” The Pearl said flatly.

“Wait I thought diamonds were supposed to be like super tall.” The amethyst drawled, she was the only one who had unsummoned her weapon.

“Yeah well so are Amethysts.” Domina retorted.

“Don’t have to be tall to kick your butt” The Amethyst drew her whip back out from her chest.

“Bring it pebble.” Domina hefted her sword.

“Hey hey, Guys, don’t fight!” Steven moved in between them holding his arms out. “Can’t we just

talk?” He asked. Domina and the Amethyst stared at eachother for a moment then Domina sighed and dismissed her sword, She looked at the rest of the gems.

“The rest of you unsummon, I’m not going to fight you.” She said. After a moment the Garnet’s gauntlets disappeared along with the whip and the spear from the Amethyst and Pearl respectively.  

“How are you five still here.” her Pearl asked. Domina blinked slightly as she double checked her count again, there were only three gems and Steven in front of them.

“Rose Quartz, myself and Garnet survived the Diamonds final attack at the end of the war. Amethyst emerged 500 years after the blast.” the Other Pearl said, she was pacing, gesturing as she talked, very different than the other pearls Domina knew.

“Who do you belong to?” Domina asked leaning against the hull of the ship. The Pearl paused and gave her a ferocious look that Domina had only seen on quartzes mid battle.

“Nobody.” She said darkly. Domina cocked an eyebrow, she swore she saw the hint of a smile on her Pearls face.

“Pearl come on...” Steven said pulling the Pearl back by the hem of her tunic “Can’t we just get along, I talked with Domina for like an hour yesterday, she’s really nice.”

“Steven you don’t understand she’s a Diamond who knows what she’s planning on doing here!” The Pearl said stepping out of his grasp.

“It’s not any of your buisness what my plans are.” Domina said.

“Yes it is.” The Garnet said stepping forward, she could look at Domina eye to visor. “We are the Crystal Gems it is our job to protect the Earth. Now. State what your plans are here.” Domina frowned slightly in confusion, then turned to look at Pearl.

“Crystal Gems?” She asked. Pearl’s eyes drifted to the group, then hesitantly back to Domina.

“The opposing side in the war for earth.” She said. Domina pursed her lips and sighed counting to ten once again, more things she should have been told about.

“No plan, I’m just here to look,” She said. “Now, where's the other one. Pearl said there was five of you.” There was silence for a few seconds, everyone was looking at the Garnet until the Gem in question held her hands out. Domina jumped slightly in surprise. Garnet had two gems, one on each hand. The one on the left hand was definitely a Ruby cut, the other looked to be a Sapphire maybe. Both of them however were a deep purple as opposed the colors they were meant to be. “You’re a heterogeneous fusion? How is that even possible?”

“Love.” Steven said. Domina snorted.

“Alright pretty sure that’s illegal but fine, not on Homeworld, not important right now.” She said waving it off, she ducked around the fusion back to Steven. “How old are you?” She asked him crouching down again to his level.

“Oh uh.” The boy reddened slightly “14, I haven’t really aged up to that yet.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it I looked like I was 14 until.... Well until I was almost twenty.” Domina said shaking her head. “It partially has to do with your state of mind, the gem half of our dna messes with all kinds of biological normalities in humans.”

“Oh well that’s ok I guess,” Steven said. The other gems had moved closer now, still on edge but they at least seemed to have realized that Domina was not a threat. “How old are you?” he asked.

“Four thousand six hundred and thirty...” She said trailing off as she furrowed her brow in thought.

“Two.” Pearl supplied.

“Woah..” Steven said. Domina chuckled

“Yeah as long as you don’t accidently age yourself to death you’ll be fine.” She said.

“Yeah that almost happened once I got better.” Steven shrugged “So like were you raised on Homeworld or in the zoo?”

“Neither,” Domina said “I’ve never actually been to the zoo, that’s more Blue’s domain than mine. Pearl and my dad raised me on the fleet until Yellow Diamond decided I needed to learn how to be a diamond.” She said “Since then I haven’t gone back to Homeworld unless I have to.”

“Dude, interacting with Yellow D in any way sounds like it would suck.” Amethyst had come over to then, slouching lazily and leaning on Steven.

“Oh it does, especially when she forgets I have to sleep.” Domina said with a smirk. Amethyst smiled crookedly back. Domina had always appreciated most quartzes irreverence.

“Huh a fleet, so you’ve been to other planets?”Steven said.

“I have. Quite a few. What about you?”

“I was on Homeworld” Steven shifted uncomfortably. “For a bit, and we’ve been to the zoo too.”

“Ah well, you want to go anywhere just ask” Domina said gently touching Stevens shoulder

“there’s thousands of planets out there, some gem occupied some not.”

“And the ones that are are dead.” The other Pearl said flatly. Domina stiffened and stood up to turn to the her.

“That’s no longer the empires modus operandi.” She said “Blue and Yellow aren’t thrilled about it but that was what my mother instituted.”

“Your mother never cared the slightest for any kind of organic life in the millennia that she spent stripping habitable planets of their life.” the Pearl said.

“And what do you know about my mother?” Domina spat walking towards the Pearl only to be stopped by her own Pearl standing between them.

“White. You need to get it through that gem of yours that this is not the White Diamond you knew.” She said.

“I knew her for far longer than you did Pink.” the other Pearl said lowly. “I don’t know why she doesn’t seem to know anything about the Rebellion but that doesn’t change the fact that she is still a Diamond. She’s still responsible for thousands of lives lost!”

“And how is that so much different than you and the rest of the ‘Crystal Gems’?” Pearl was yelling now, the two were only feet away from each other and even Steven looked like he didn’t want to get involved. Domina stood at the ready incase she needed to step in.

“We were protecting the earth! From her and the rest of the Authority!”

“And what about me?!” Pink said “You and your precious Rose Quartz” She gestured at Steven “shattered my Diamond and left me with the one that you ran away from!”

“We did not! And that’s Steven.” The other Pearl snapped. “He has nothing to do with this.” Pearl pointed back at the other hybrid.

“And that’s Domina. Neither does she.”

[personagf-moved]

celestial | v. crimson

PREVIOUS PARTS: INTRO. | i. WHAT YOU TAKE / ii. THE TRAITOR / iii. TESSELLATE | iv. DREAMS

There was a sharp rapping at the door.

Cassian woke with a start, untangling himself from Alma's embrace. Without thinking, he stumbled out of bed and swung open the door, greeting a more than curious General Draven.

"G-General," Cassian attempted a formal greeting, but knew he was failing miserably with his hair disheveled and no shirt on.

"Cassian," he nodded, eyes scanning the room over Cassian's shoulder. "She's still asleep?"

Cassian turned to follow his gaze. Alma was facing the wall, still sleeping soundly .

"I guess so," Cassian murmured, staring at Alma confusedly. There was no way she'd slept through his stumbling and flinging the door open. Alma was many things, but a heavy sleeper definitely wasn't one of them. "I can wake her if you need-"

"No, no" Draven interjected, "It's nothing urgent, I was just making sure she was settled in, that's all. I know it all must be rather overwhelming for her right now."

"Yes," Cassian sighed. "That's why I spent the night. Well, I mean -"

"Cassian," the General chuckled, "You don't have to explain anything to me. I've known you two since you were recruited. You're the last part of home she has, of course she'd want you to stay."

"I do intend to stay sir, I hope you understand."

"I do," he nodded. "Like I said, just checking in. As soon as she's awake, we'll brief her for her first mission."

"Her first mission?" Cassian was bewildered, "With all due respect, I don't think she's ready for that kind of work yet, General."

"And I agree. But while she's here her first and foremost purpose is to serve the cause. And we need her more than ever. You know that."

Cassian nodded solemnly. He knew it was a foolish thought, but for that night, being near her again, he truly felt that they could stay there forever, protected from the real world. But it was morning, and with the light came a brand new day.

"Lieutenant," Draven dismissed Cassian, before turning and continuing down the hallway. Cassian watched him go, feeling Alma's eyes on his back.

When he turned around, he saw her, sitting cross legged on the bed. She had an apprehensive look on her face, absentmindedly wringing her hands.

"You heard." Cassian murmured.

Alma simply nodded, looking down at the palms of her hands, now outstretched in front of her.

He wondered what she saw in them.

"It probably won't be anything too drastic," Cassian tried to soothe her, pulling on his shirt before sitting next to her on the bed, shoulder brushing hers . "Maybe some droid reprogramming, simple stuff."

Alma was still silent, eyes almost transfixed on the lines across her palms.

"Alma, please, tell me what's wrong." he urged, reaching out to hold one of her hands.

But when his skin met hers, she instantly drew back her arm, looking up in alarm. It was almost as if she had forgotten he was there.

"I-I have to get ready. I'll meet you after." She stammered, before standing up abruptly.

"Alma?" Cassian questioned, watching her hastily grab clothes from the bedside table.

"I have to get ready," she repeated, refusing to look him in the eye. "I'll meet you after."

Cassian was silent, dumbfounded by her sudden change in mood. But, he still got up, and left without a word. Before she slammed the door in his face, he saw her eyes. Tears were pooling over, her hands shaking as she fumbled with the clothes in her arms.

He wanted to stop the door, to force her to tell him what was wrong, but he knew that pushing her would only drive her away faster.

So he told himself that she would talk to him when she was ready. She always did.

___

Alma slammed the clothes down on the floor, following suit and dropping down to her knees.

She raised her hands again, looked at her palms, and could only see crimson against the morning glow as it broke through her window.

No matter how hard she wrung her hands, ran them down the fabric of her pants, she couldn't get the blood off her skin. It wasn't until she went to the bathroom and ran them under cool water that she realized there was no blood after all.

Alma looked up at her reflection in the mirror, watching how the soft pink skin on her side glistened under the lights. A voice rang through the recess of her mind.

"You can't hide forever," it chided her, "They found you here, and they'll keep on finding you."

Alma felt a pressure building in the pit of her stomach. It told her to scream, to punch the glass, watch as the pieces shattered and spilled onto the floor. But she only stared at the scars.

She was being weak, and Draven was right for wanting to throw her back in immediately. She needed to be in the war, she had to be.

There was too much fire in her belly to not fight. Holding it all in would burn her out.

The scars glistened and shone.

Never again, she thought.

And later, after she was done getting dressed — a loose fitting grey v-neck with black jeans and brown combat boots, her long brown hair braided and over her shoulder — Alma slid on her bracelet, and stared at the material.

It was a simple black cord, adorned by two beads at the top. In one bead were grains of sand from the Jedha, and in the other soil from Endor.

"For you,"  someone once told her. "hope from the hardest ground, and strength from the softest soil."

She adjusted the string on her wrist, and kept their words with her as she trekked through the base.

When she entered the main headquarters, Cassian was leaning against the large roundtable, removing himself from a conversation before making his way towards her.

"Am I late?" Alma asked, watching several emotions run through Cassian's face as he processed her greeting.

"No, not technically," he answered, "we weren't going to start without you."

"So what you're saying is that I'm late," she joked, cracking a smile.

Cassian exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as he grinned. "They'll deal with it," he shrugged.

Alma playfully nudged him with her elbow, and he quickly shoved her back. They began laughing to themselves before General Draven cleared his throat.

"Okay," his voice boomed over the crowd,  "let's begin."

___

Alma was wringing her hands again as they sat in the ship.

Cassian was next to her, bumping her shoulder with his in order to distract her. She sighed, settling to clasp her fingers together before turning to look at him.

"Can I help you?" she asked, an unamused look on her face as he grinned.

"Pay attention to me, I was telling you a story."

Alma let out a breathy chuckle, "I hate you."

Cassian only laughed, leaning back against the ship's walls. They were traveling to the outer rim territories, where Alma would help to uncover pertinent Imperial intelligence.

The planet they were traveling to was a known trading post, and a hotbed of Imperial troopers. With the help of Cassian and several other spies, they would navigate through the stronghold and give her a window to get into the database and obtain the information they needed.

When Draven was briefing them it seemed easy enough, but now, as they flew into outer rim territory, Alma felt uneasy.

Cassian had reassured her countless times that everything was going to be okay, but Alma still felt the pressure as the ship began its descent.

He was so convinced that Alma's first mission wouldn't be this difficult. Cassian was quick to pull Draven to the side after their meeting, to reprimand him for putting Alma in so soon. He knew that he was overstepping, but the more he yelled the less he cared about his rank. The General considered his words, but all he could say in reply was that it wasn't up to him, Bail Organa himself had organized the mission.

The ship shook as they touched ground.

Cassian rose to address the soldiers. There weren't many, only four others who listened intently to the higher ranking officer.

Alma stood next to him, nodding as he spoke words of strength and courage. It was so natural, his willingness to lead. As he dismissed everyone, she couldn't help but smile to herself. Cassian was one of the few that the war couldn't shake. He was meant to lead.

"Alma," A soldier walked up to her, breaking her from her thoughts.

She turned to face him. He was tall and lean, with tanned skin and dark hair that he kept cropped short. The one feature that seemed to captivate her was his eyes. They probed her own, and she couldn't seem to break his gaze.

"Yes?" she took a step back, regarding him with caution.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to introduce myself, seeing as I'm going to be escorting you with the Lieutenant." He replied, raising his arms to show that he wasn't a threat.

Alma nodded, already feeling the warmth crawling up her cheeks. Of course he wasn't going to hurt her. She exhaled, straightened her posture, and tried again, "It's no problem. Uh," she trailed off.

"Kes," he interjected, a warm smile as he outstretched a hand. "Kes Dameron."

Alma grabbed his hand, giving it a firm shake. They gave a slight nod to each other before he pulled back, greeting Cassian before joining the rest of the soldiers at the mouth of the ship.

"He's a good man. I chose him for a reason, Alma." Cassian spoke gently, both watching him crack  jokes with the rest of the men, their laughter resounding through the spacecraft.  

"I trust you," Alma said, "And I'll be okay, Cass. Now lead the way."

He nodded, a grin on his face he stepped in front of her, "All right, on me."

___

"All right, Alma. It's all you," Kes murmured, eyes scanning the room as she stopped at the door. A warm yellow glow spilled through the tinted windows, light against the jet black floor. They had made it into the stronghold with little resistance, a rare feat that Cassian took pride in.

Before them lay two troopers, bodies that Cassian and Kes would move once Alma was in. So she gave a slight nod, and quickly brushed Cassian's hand with her own before disappearing into the control room.

She had to stop to take it all in. At the center of the room, was a grand pillar, rising higher than she could see over the shadows. Lights from all sides of the post blinked in time with the computer's humming. It was a beast of a machine, and a puzzle all for her to figure out.

Without any other hesitation, she dove in, placing a small chip into one of the drives.

For a second, the entire room was red. An alarm prepared itself to go off, but Alma knew that there was no need to worry. She had made this system herself, after all.

And, right on cue, the lights went back to normal, a screen indicating to Alma that she would have her files soon.

"On your right," she heard Kes call out to Cassian, a faint shot resounding through the hall before a thud followed.

She listened as the body was dragged, watching as the percentage slowly reached its full capacity. When it was done she immediately pulled the device and scurried out of the room, desperate to make it back home.

But as soon as she stepped out from the frame, a shrill ringing burst through the silence. Alma quickly turned to look at the pillar. Her system wouldn't fail her, it couldn't have been her.

And she was right, because when she turned around the trooper who had set off the alarm raised his gun, ready to shoot Cassian.

"No!" Alma shouted, pulling up her blaster and gunning him down before he could blink. She glanced at Kes, who regarded her quick reaction with raised eyebrows; he nodded in approval.

But Cassian was less than impressed, immediately grabbing her shoulder, "Hey, look at me. We're gonna be okay, but I need you to stay focused, all right?"

She nodded vigorously, her breath already coming out uneven as she itched to raise her blaster again and take a few more shots at the wounded trooper.

He let go of her shoulders, and hesitated to say more, but before he could, Alma was moving forward, "Escape now, talk later. Gotta stay focused, right?"

Kes chuckled as he followed her lead. "Feisty one, isn't she?"

Cassian shook his head, "You have no idea."

They sprinted down the hallway, backup already clearing the way for them as they fell into formation.

Cassian bumped into Alma, their backs against each other as they shot down soldier after soldier.

When it was clear, they moved on, sunset washing their faces as they made it outside.

She was close behind Cassian and Kes before a soldier called out to her, "Alma, look out!"

Alma turned around just in time to watch as he flung himself in front of her, the blast hitting him in the chest as he crumpled to the ground. She cried out in shock, before looking up at the trooper who did it. As she raised her gun to retaliate, she sprayed shots across the vast array of soldiers. Her chaos was a fire, but she tamed the flames, shooting with a precision that took each man out row by row.

"Stop!" Cassian roared, grabbing her by the arm.

But Alma was lost in her anger, she shook him off, shoving him to the side before kneeling down by the soldier.

"It's okay," Alma tried to soothe him. He was choking on his own blood, eyes wide with fear as he outstretched a hand. Alma immediately grabbed it, shaking her head as tears began to run down his cheeks, mingling with the blood. "You're not dead, this isn't over. You hear me? You're gonna make it back home."

But he was shaking his head, trying to reach for something in his breast pocket with his free hand. Alma immediately moved to help him, feeling the familiar sensation of glossy paper as she pulled out a photo. It was him, standing outside of the base with a pretty girl, her strawberry blonde hair cascading over her shoulder as she leaned into him. She wore a pilot uniform and a beautiful smile, and when Alma flipped over the picture, the inscription read, 'remember what you're fighting for.'

"Make...sure..she gets it..." he whispered, words coming out strained and raspy.

Alma nodded, watching as he looked up to the stars, and saw no more.

All sound around her seemed to drown itself out as she stared into his eyes. She pocketed the photo, and when she looked down at her hands, she saw crimson, and knew that it wasn't her imagination this time.

Before she could scream, Cassian firmly grabbed her shoulders, practically dragging her back with him to the ship as the other men grabbed the fallen soldier.

As he sat her down on the bench against the ship's walls, he tried calling out to her, shaking her repeatedly as he said her name again and again.

But it was all just noise, a faint ringing in her ear. Alma stared down at her hands. It was all crimson. It was all blood.

___

Later, when they got back to base, Cassian made sure to inform Draven himself of what happened. He demanded that Alma rest, to be able to recuperate until she was ready to come back.

When they granted her permission, Cassian gently took her hand, the blood on hers now crusted and dry as it chafed his clean one. But Cassian couldn't care less. They passed by the soldiers as they dragged their fallen comrade from the ship. Alma heard a woman cry out in anguish, her hair dancing like flames as she pushed and shoved through the crowd.

She turned around and watched as the young girl slumped over his body, her cries echoing through the masses.

Alma stopped then, much to Cassian's disapproval. He told her to come back, but she was making her way over to the girl, the man's last words ringing in her mind.

She silently put a hand on her shoulder, watching as her tear stained face regarded her own. Alma reached for the photo in her pocket, and handed it to her. "I'm sorry," was all she could think to say, and the woman nodded, before looking down at the photo.

"Come on," Cassian murmured, grabbing her hand again as he led her away from the scene.

Alma held his hand tighter, leaning into him as he led her back to her room.  

___

When they were finally back, Cassian sat at the foot of Alma's bed, watching as her eyes saw right through him. She was only wearing her tank top and shorts, blood still on her skin as she refused to clean up just yet. Her hair was a mess, falling out of its braid and spilling over shoulder as the moonlight through her window shone against her scars and bruises.

Despite it all, Cassian could only see her beauty, radiating through her sorrow.

When she spoke, he had to strain to hear. She whispered it, then louder, looking at him with a vacant expression. "I helped them, Cass."

He furrowed his brow in confusion, "Who?"

Alma blinked. "The Empire. When they took me, they wanted revenge for what Barret did."

"You brother," Cassian breathed, remembering the stories he told them when they were kids. The base he infiltrated, how he worked undercover, how many lives were lost when he bombed the whole thing.

"I'm the reason they're dead. Rebels, like the one who died today. It's my fault," she whispered.

"No," Cassian shook his head, "Alma, it-"

"Don't tell me it's going to be okay!" She shouted, hands balling into fists.

Cassian was silent then, watching her slowly uncurl her hands, absentmindedly brushing the dried blood with her fingers.

"What have I done?" she breathed, looking out at the window and seeing nothing. "What have I done?"

[musedriven]

@endlcss-entertainment​ said // “ My name's spinel! Who are you? "

Spinel.... the former diamond had nearly forgotten all about the jester. not intentionally, but she had assumed that the diamonds already brought her back home after the rebellion started getting worse, atop of that Spinel was designed for a version of herself that she no longer was. a diamond that presumed shattered. how could Spinel be here now? 

“ I... “ she longed to hug her friend, apologize for having left her for so long. for having forgotten  about her in the rush of revolution and reinvention. “ I am... “ what should she say? what would make this better in any way? “ my name is Rose... it’s very nice to meet you! “ 

[ethelbertpaul444-blog]

The Best Bachelor In Paradise Recap Youll Ever Read: Week 3, Night 1 Betches

Welcome back to Bachelor in Paradise! The show that keeps on giving leaves us shackled to our couches for 4-6 hours a week. When last we left off, Chris was interrupted in the middle of comparing living, breathing women to courses in a meal by Tia who, hopefully, came armed to this conversation with a shoe so she can beat him to death with it. I’m rooting for you, Tia!

TIA: You told me that I deserve the best. CHRIS: You do. TIA: But you made out with Krystal. CHRIS: I did. But I’ll fight for you. TIA: 

Okay, see this is what’s wrong with modern dating right here. They keep talking in circles around each other and Chris might as well be speaking in Pig Latin for all the sense he’s making rn. Tia is pissed because Chris told her he would commit to her, meanwhile Chris is saying that he did mention commitment to her but will actually do the opposite. But, hey, at least he said the word commitment! That’s got to count for something, Tia!

Jesus. This talk is making me want to call my internet company and abandon the sh*tty internet plan that makes it possible for me stream this abomination on clear, cloudless days only. Tia keeps saying Chris’s argument doesn’t make sense—and it doesn’t—but what really doesn’t make sense is how either of these women can fight over him while he’s wearing that fugly bandanna.

HOW.

Moving on. Oh, that poor parrot needs to stay far away from Kendall. Next time we see it it will be on her wall.

Tia thinks that because Colton warned her about Chris, Colton is in love with her. It’s flimsy evidence at best, but her crazy ass will take anything she can get.

HAHA. Tia yelping “help” after realizing she’s insane is me in the mirror every morning.

Jacqueline and her monotone voice emerge from behind a palm tree. Idk why, but there’s something v unnerving about Jacqueline to me. I think it has something to do with the full set of baby teeth hiding in that tiny mouth of hers.

Bibi’s like “she doesn’t smell like Paradise yet. I’m screwed.” Bibi, this girl has the personality of a mechanical pencil. I think you’ll be fine, girl.

Jacqueline pulls Colton aside as Tia is literally in the middle of professing her love to him again. Lol this should be good.

JACQUELINE: Can I steal you for a second, Colton? TIA:

WHAT. Colton turns Jackie down?? First of all, you can do that? Second of all, he can’t say no to a date! What does he think he’s here for?  To sip on his Mike’s Hard and work on his tan? Absolutely not. You’re never going to lose your virginity with an attitude like that, Colton!

Colton tells Tia that he’s still into her but he doesn’t want to, like, do anything about it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to stick my head in an oven. Are you effing kidding me with this, ABC? Honestly, this Colton/Tia thing has gone on far too long. I’ve had enough. Someone murder them both already. For f*ck’s sake.

Jackie picks Kenny for the date because one of the producers lost a bet and had to make this happen. That’s the only way these two on a date makes sense. I’ll be shocked if they find anything to talk about. Fingers crossed the producers don’t have to resort to poking them with sticks to generate any sort of human emotion!

KENNY: You’re pretentious, aren’t you? JACKIE: 

Clearly this love story was written in the stars. Good luck, kids!

Back at the beach, Annaliese is patiently waiting for Kenny to get back from his date. She’s like “I have to find love get a rose tonight. I. have. to.” Damn, this girl did not come to play. She immediately pulls Kenny aside to show him the pink goo she picked out for dessert.

OH MY GOD DID ANNALIESE JUST SAY SHE WANTS TO OPEN HER SEXUAL DOOR TO HIM? Does she mean, like, her back door? Is that what she’s trying to say? I’m confused.

Okay, Venmo John is killing it this season. Who would have thought a man with a decent job and a 401K would be more of a hot commodity than a former pro athlete? No, seriously. Who.

Meanwhile, Chris and Krystal are heating up. It’s disgusting. He’s like “I really appreciated you having my back when I was trying to dump my side chick. That was hot.” Krystal, is this what you’ve been dreaming about your whole life? Because if so, then I’m so glad you found your knight in shining armor!

Okay, Bibiana is a goddamn therapist at this point. She should honestly be charging by the hour for the amount of time and effort she’s putting into getting these losers to express basic human emotion.

COLTON: So my only choices are to date Tia or go home? Guess I’m going hom— BIBIANA: B*tch, what did we just talk about?

Damn. Tia really wore Colton down. Colton decides he wants to give their relationship a chance and Tia actually screams in ecstasy. It’s v disturbing.

Also, Tia all you ever wanted was for him to “give it an honest chance.” No, that’s not true. You wanted to bully him into dating you. And it worked. Congratulations, you sociopath. (And can I DM you for tips?)

Moving on to the rose ceremony. I never thought we’d get here. I’m genuinely worried Bibi is going home, though. And what will her patients cast mates do without her saving their boyfriends in rose ceremonies when they’re mad at them? Hmm?

MY GOD. What is Jordan wearing on his body rn? It’s like a vest/pant combo made out of the vacation section at a Goodwill.

So. Much. Fashion. 🌹🌹🌹 cocktail party paradise edition #bachelorinsider #bts #bachelorinparadise 🌊🌴🦀🥂

A post shared by Bachelor Insider (@bachelorinsider) on Aug 20, 2018 at 9:18pm PDT

Elsewhere, Caroline has Venmo John cornered on a couch listing off her demands for the rose ceremony. 

CAROLINE: I just hate this campaigning for roses. I’m not that kind of girl. NARRATOR: She absolutely was that kind of girl.

Then there’s Jubilee, A WAR VETERAN, who’s reduced herself to handing out back rubs for a rose. Is this really a back rub or  is she actually using a tactic they teach in the army to get the enemy to submit? She could have some real tricks hidden under that crop top.

Lol David is over here trying to give Bibi a pep talk. He’s like “Kenny said he’s into you. He said you have a good booty.” What a strong foundation to build a relationship on! It’s worked out so well for the Kardashians.

WHAT. Kenny and Bibi start making out and I AM HERE FOR IT. Never mind that Kenny all of the sudden has half of Paradise vying for his attention. SAVE OUR GIRL, KENNY. I beg of you.

Jackie grabs Kenny next and is like “I hope you’ll still give me a chance now that I just turned 27. I read an article in the New York Times that says I’m past my prime now.”

ME:

Um, this man is the father of a 12-year-old college graduate, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t give a sh*t if you’re old enough to pay for your own health insurance now.

Meanwhile, David pulls Jenna aside and gives her a giant-ass stuffed animal for her birthday. Omg. It’s literally a washed-up street dog. What was that, like, the only available thing in the prop room?

Jordan is piiissseddd. He starts dragging the dog down the beach AND THROWS IT INTO THE OCEAN. That is actually so f*cked up. I mean have I done the same thing to my ex-boyfriend’s beloved Kurt Cobain T-shirt after he dumped me in the middle of a beer pong game freshman year? Yes. That’s neither here nor there.

Jordan is losing it and starts going OFF on Chelsea and Jubilee. And it’s, like, Jordan, you can’t start yelling insults at women to their faces. This isn’t MTV.

ANNALIESE: I would not be with a man who speaks to me that way. Nope. JORDAN: Will you accept this rose? ANNALIESE: Omg I would be honored. JORDAN: Sike!

Eric confronts Jordan and tells him he needs to apologize to all the ladies or else. Damn. I forgot how attractive Eric is. There’s just something about a man treating women like actual human beings instead of just props for their next Instagram post that’s so… sexy. I guess I’m just a hopeless romantic like that!

@ericbigger, better, badder! 📸:@ericbigger

A post shared by Bachelor in Paradise (@bachelorinparadise) on Aug 20, 2018 at 5:49pm PDT

Eric is the perfect man. I rest my case.

Chris Harrison hauls ass and shows up at the rose ceremony before any other drunken fights can break out. F*cking finally, Chris! The rose ceremony goes as such:

Jordan picks Jenna, who can barely open her eyes with all of that glue holding her eyelashes on. It’s possible she doesn’t even know Jordan is the one who picked her. Who can say.

David picks Chelsea.

Kevin picks Astrid.

Chris picks Krystal. God help her.

John picks Jubilee.

Joe picks Kendall.

Colton picks Tia. Vomit.

Eric picks Angela.

Kenny picks Annaliese. WAIT WHAT. HOW. OVER BIBIANA. How f*cking dare you.

And on that note, I’m out y’all. I have to go try and not have nightmares about Jordan chasing people in the rain. BYE.

Images: Giphy (5) @bachelorinsider /Instagram (1); @bachelorinparadise /Instagram (1)

Read more: https://betches.com/?p=34514

[musedriven]

Rose tag dump!

[dirgeofcerberus111]

Gray Sapphire - A Gemsona

Okay. So. This is a Gemsona that I’ve had for a LONG time. I have no art for her, which is partially why I never posted anything about her. But I’ve been feeling unproductive and on a spur of the moment I’m going to try to make something of it.

Basically, here is Gray Sapphire, The Crone of the Sapphires, The Mad Oracle of White Diamond. 

I made this just before Change Your Mind so parts of her story become canon divergent so bear with me.

====================================================

Gray Sapphire. 

The oldest living Sapphire on Homeworld, White Diamond’s most valued seer and oracle. She is almost as old as the Diamonds themselves and has served White Diamond for eons. Normally she is kept in stasis, until times of great crisis, as she is greatly feared for her apocalyptic visions and the Diamonds are loathed to ask for her predictions.

A small, hooded figure, Gray Sapphire has a very wizened, almost crone or shaman-like appearance. Her hair is arranged in two very long dutch braids that hang down and almost touch the floor. You can’t see her gemstone, probably on her eye under her hair, but never confirmed. Just a small detail to give the subtle sense that something is wrong with this person. 

Many legends surround this ancient Gem and she is an object of fear to all Sapphires. Indeed, she is known amongst them as the Mad Sapphire and is only spoken of in hushed whispers. 

She was actually once a normal Sapphire, one of the first in fact. One day, she and a group of other Sapphires were tasked by White Diamond with combining their power and to see as far into the future as possible. This was to be the first true test of the Sapphire cut, to test the limitations of their power and use.

White Diamond wanted them to go as far as possible, regardless of the dangers, to see where the limits are.

Out of sixteen Sapphires, only she survived. The rest were scattered across the floor, the strain of their collective scry having reduced them all to smoldering burnt-out shards.

“Well, my Sapphire. Tell me. What did you see?” the great Diamond beckoned. 

For a moment, the Sapphire did not respond and simply lay there. Then, like a puppet rising on its string, she rose up from the floor. Her entire form had turned from brilliant blue to an ashen grey. As she looked up, her eye was wide with horror and her smile beaming with newfound and terrible insight.

When she spoke, her words came with a horrible mad twisted distortion. They announced gleefully,

“...E v e r y t h i n g !”

The experience actually turned her gray, and gave her her current older wizened appearance. An immortal, ageless Gem had visibly AGED. But she has gained perfect clarity of the future, but it seems that in exchange for this vision, her visions are apocalyptic tidings of doom. What’s more, no matter how terrible her fortunes, they cannot be avoided. And so the Diamonds are loath to call up on her for prophecy.

As Gray herself would later describe it: 

“I looked too far, and pierced the veil. Saw what was beyond the horizon. I saw what no other Sapphire has ever seen. What no being was ever meant to see...Everything.” 

She is a being who has seen the script of the universe. She knows exactly what everyone will say and do. She even knows what SHE will say and do next, even what she does to try and defy it, all before she even realizes it. This effectively traps her on a linear path, as no decision she makes will actually take her off the path she has foreseen. She is trapped, or "locked" as she puts it. 

She has great knowledge of past, present, and future events, even of events she couldn't possibly have been for. She is quite mad now, always snickering and giggling at things only she knows. She is never surprised, knows the names of everyone she meets before they tell her, and behaves like she has known them all their lives. When speaking of the future, she claims to “remember” events even though they haven’t happened yet.

Perhaps her madness is in fact some form of super-sanity, born of a complete understanding of the future and all connected events. Or perhaps it is just the madness of a puppet who can see the strings, but is powerless to act. 

However, in truth, she also bears a massive grudge against the Diamonds, for the things they’ve done, to her and to the universe. So she gave them apocalyptic visions, all of them true and unavoidable; Homeworld cracked, resources became short, Gem production declined, the civil war erupted, Pink Diamond “died”, and many other disasters on other colonies. Every horrible thing she ever predicted came to pass. 

For an example, she predicted a terrible disaster on one of Yellow Diamond’s colonies that would destroy it, and no matter what Yellow Diamond did to avoid it, it would only make things worse. Of course, Yellow tries to avert this outcome anyway, and of course, only ends up fulfilling the prophecy.

So now Yellow and Blue don't want to call on her, but White keeps her around. But there was still one more terrible vision on the way. 

Gray Sapphire predicts the end of the Authority, a great conflict between the Diamonds, and the doom of Homeworld as they know it...  ...Which happens to be Steven arriving and fixing all their shit. But White Diamond doesn’t need to know that yet.

“Well, my Sapphire. Tell me. What did you see?” The great Diamond bid the seer before her.

“One...two...three...then four…” the Sapphire droned, dull and dreamy. Then she looked up, expression strangely delirious and giddy. “Three, not-four, and then one again!” she giggled. Her mad smile split widely and she cast a finger at the towering Diamond. “You will stand alone.”

“Whatever are you going on about? Speak clearly, Sapphire,” White Diamond commanded serenely.

“A great conflict is coming. One that will tear the Great Authority asunder. The Diamonds will battle each other until they fall and it will be all your fault. In the conflict, you, White Diamond, will stand alone and at the end, you too will fall!” 

Gray let out a great howling cackle of mocking laughter. 

“It will be the beginning of the end of Homeworld as we know it!” she declared to the universe, and with those fateful words, sealed the fate of their whole world.

And with that, she was poofed for her heretical prophecy.

But it was too late as the wheels of fate were already set in motion, and thousands of years later, Steven arrives on Homeworld. 

Right before CYM was released, I had an idea that he explores the Diamond’s palace and accidentally bursts Gray Sapphire’s bubble.

“Ah, right on schedule! Hello again, Steven. It’s nice to have finally met you in person.” “Who are you?” “I am Gray Sapphire, grand oracle of White Diamond and crone of the Sapphires. And I have waited a very long time to meet you.” “Wait, how do you know my name? Everyone here thinks I’m Pink Diamond.” “Oh, I know lots of things about you...” “Like what...?” “Why, what you are, starling! What you will become...and what you will do.” The old-looking Sapphire was suddenly struck by a fit of cackling laughter. She held her face as her head rolled off to the side, like she was daydreaming. “Eeheeheehee, it has fiiiiiiinally begun…” “What do you mean ‘what I will become’? What will I do?! Will I cure the corruption?” “AHHHHHHHH, but the price of knowledge is silence! The more you know, the less you are allowed to say..." Her countenance suddenly ceased and became deadly intense. "The cosmos tends to frown on spoilers.”

Part of how I decided how freewill and destiny work as that everyone’s fates are the result of their own decisions. She just knows what those decisions will be. Including the ones they make if she tells them that. Gray Sapphire doesn’t tell people she likes the future. Because she knows what it is. But they don’t. And from a quantum standpoint, so long as they don’t know, it can be anything, including a happy ending. But if she tells them, the outcome can only be that. 

Gray Sapphire looked so far into the future that she saw the other side. Lives in a world where everything has already been decided. Every word, thought, and action. So her greatest gift to someone is the power to let their choices matter. 

To tell them would be to rob them of all agency and doom them to suffer her own fate.

“So what’s my future?”

“Mm, I’m not saying,” the old Sapphire hummed nonchalantly.

“Why?! Is it that bad?”

“It might be good. It might be bad. It might be something in between. I know what it is. But you don’t,” she smiled. “Which means, it can be anything!” She stepped a little closer and said to him. “Nothing can change your fate. But that doesn’t matter if you don’t know what your fate is.”

After all the craziness settles down, back on Homeworld, after CYM, White is sitting on her throne, chin resting on her fist, just thinking about everything that had happened today. 

“So, you knew all along.”

“Yup.”

“This was what you meant by ‘the end of Homeworld as we knew it’.”

“Mm-hm.”

“You crafty little devil…”

“Is it not exactly as I foretold?”

“Perhaps.”

White Diamond slumped in her throne. A rare sign of relief from her.

“So. It’s finally over then...”

“Oh, not a chance.”

White Diamond’s eyes snapped open and she sat back up. 

“What? But you said this was the end of Homeworld as we knew it! I thought you meant the physical destruction of Homeworld, but now everything’s changing. That was what you meant, wasn’t it?”

“I said it was the beginning of the end. Now the beginning has ended. The rest is yet to come.”

“What…? But I…”

“Congratulations, my Diamond. This was the easy part.”

And yeah, that’s basically that. Just wanted to share. Its really late now so please excuse any errors. Maybe someday when I commission someone I’ll add some art to this old thing.

[musedriven]

onyx eyes turn away from the tear filled glare of the other gem. she always did seem to do the wrong thing. maybe she really was defective. she never quite made it as a proper Diamond and she certainly wasn’t a real quartz. hearing the way Coral described humanity: something she herself claimed to know and support yet still knew so little about; only further cemented the idea in her mind.

but what would Coral think if she knew the truth? what would any of her gems think? it was far too much of a risk. the less that knew the better; even if it meant she had to be hated by those who she once loved and had once in some way loved her. although wasn’t that too something built as a farce? a programmed in insurance to ensure loyalty and obedience from their courts. only a defective gem would be able to dislike their creator; to think for even a moment about betraying the illuminating authority and Homeworld altogether. another highlight in her mind that she herself was as defective as her new crystal gems. why couldn’t she have been a real Diamond?

but once again she was making this about herself. Coral was hurting right in front of her and yet Rose still found ways to make it about herself even if she was only trying to find a real solution to help soothe the other gem’s pain. she needed to be a leader; she was starting to understand now what Blue and Yellow had been trying to tell her.

“… I’m sorry. I know there are no words for what happened…. “ to loose a ‘mother’ is something Rose, something Pink, would never know. she would never experience it nor would she truly understand how it felt. the closest she had to what Coral described was White and White was… well, White. timeless; the creator of the first era. everything a Diamond should be; free of any flaw or imperfection. nothing would even scratch her gem let alone get anywhere close enough to shatter. but she saw the pain in Coral’s eyes; heard it in her words. she knew she deserved any hatred the gem felt towards her: no matter how much she wished to return to a friendly state again. “ I do know one thing; Pink appreciated you greatly. you were a good member of her court; you made her days brighter. you helped her feel like she was better than she was. “

perhaps that was too much. she shouldn’t be speaking like this; like she knew Pink’s inner thoughts so personally. a Quartz could have been close; but no gem beyond another Diamond should truly know the inner thoughts of a Diamond. “ I truly am sorry… “

Coral listened, but didn't really hear her. She already heard the quartz's speeches a thousand times to her followers. Wanting to fight for earth and other gems who existed here.

But how much did she truly know? How much did she fought for something she claim to know but didn't? Wanting for gems to live their own lives here...

But to shatter someone to preserve life? Isn't that hypocritical.

She clenched her first, but waited for Rose Quartz to stop talking so Coral could speak...

       ❝ Do you know what a mother is, Rose Quartz? ❞

She lifted her head up glancing towards the sky, but still had her back turned to the quartz to hide her face.

       ❝ Humans... the dominant creatures of this planet you protect. They come in various sizes and do not know what they are meant for the moment they come into existence. Instead they start out young and are guided and raised by older humans called 'parents'. The one who holds the most responsible for their creation is the 'mother'. ❞

       ❝ Mothers who encourage their young, show them off with pride and would do anything to protect them. Mothers who make their creations feel safe and give care to. With limited time, humans look up to their mothers as their 'leaders' and beloved ones. Someone who can be trusted with their lives. Someone they love... who they live for... ❞

       ❝ But... not every human is lucky to keep their mother. Fate... takes the mothers away too soon and in their term for breaking--die. Sometimes by unfortunate events... and sometimes... by someone with an unknown reason and the intent to shatter... or in human terms-- kill. And when the mother is gone, the younger humans... the child... are lost, scared... sad... and angry. Left to fend for themselves. Not knowing what to do anymore... ❞

       ❝ They ask questions: 'Why did they do this? Why did they take my mother away from me? I want my mother back... where is my mother?' The answer remains the same: the mother is no longer with them and is never coming back. And the lost child is left with that... pain... to reflect for the rest of their lives... forever. ❞

The wind blew unsettling against the form, settling the pink stripped hair back into place.

       ❝ Do you understand, Rose Quartz? ❞

When Coral finally turned around, she held tears in her eyes but the harshest glare she could ever give. The heartbreak heard in her tone as she declared...

       ❝ You shattered... you 'KILLED' my 'MOTHER'. ❞

[musedriven]

after what she-- oh. right... she 'shattered' Pink Diamond. it still didn't completely feel real even after all this time. but it was for the best; this planet and all it's wonder and joy would have been lost if she hadn't done what she did. so many gems were able to be more than what they were made for. look at Pearl, and Garnet, and even herself! she was a quartz now! everything was new and different and maybe she could get Coral to see that it was better that Pink wasn't around anymore.

" I did what I had to do in order to protect something important to me. I sacrificed so many things to get to this point; but I knew what I was doing when I started this journey. i'm... i'm not proud of what all i've done; i know i've made a lot of mistakes and i'm not without my own share of regrets. but this is something i'm determined to see through. " even if it does end with her own shattering if the other diamonds ever truly found out who she really was. or her own crystal gems.

Coral was only able to make a few steps before she froze at Rose's words. If she were human, she could've sworn her heart would've beat faster than the speed of light. Hiding her face, her eyes widen as she listened to what the leader of the Crystal Gems had to say...

... and the audacity of it all... was nearly unbearable.

Coral refused to turn around... but unconsciously felt herself clench her fist. She could do anything... but...

       ❝ How... how could you even say that to me... After what you did..? ❞

Her voice was soft, only just above a whisper but struggled to hold emotion...