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#T with she is reality around you - reality around you took a familiar form but you've revoked your privileges to that
jakegasm · 1 year
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again.  | jake sully 
genre: angst ♧ (sorry but i’m a whore for angst) 
pairing: jake sully x omatikaya!reader (mentions of neytiri) 
word count: 2.5k
warnings: a few swear words(maybe), betrayal (if you want to count that as a warning), and just pure heartbreak 
brief info: you are the younger sister of neytiri, always living in her shadow. your parents glorifying the things she accomplished, leaving you in the dust. until a certain dream walker comes along making you feel like you were living a dream, but sadly all dreams do not come true. 
notes: i’ve been obsessed with sad songs and I thought why not start off with some broken hearts. enjoy! :) 
part 2!
Maite: my daughter
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Laughter. 
That’s all you heard as you found yourself lost in your thoughts again, your heart sinking deeper and deeper into your stomach as you watched them. The way they laughed with one another, the way their hands landed on top of the other's thigh when one said something funny, or the way he looked in awe as she laughed. Your stomach twisted at the sight. 
“Maite, you are quiet.” your head snapped towards the sound of your mother, Mo’at, blinking back into reality, scanning your parents' hut as you all ate dinner together your eyes stopping briefly on him. “Yes, you have been very quiet since we started dinner.” your older sister, Neytiri, interjected sharing the same concerned look as your mother. 
“I am fine.” you said softly making sure you shot your mother a sad but convincing smile before dropping your head down towards your hands that rested in your lap, your fingers suddenly becoming very interesting. “I am just not hungry tonight.” you added on as your head still hung low, swallowing hard as a familiar lump started to form in your throat. 
“You did not eat this morning either, child. Are you feeling unwell?” Yes. Yes, you were. Your heart was feeling unwell. You had to sit with your family watching as the man who saved you from the shadows of your sister…fall in love with her and not you. It was never you. As much as you were used to it, you still couldn’t get over the fire that started in your chest or the way you could feel your heart break little by little any time he was around. 
“No. No mother I am fine.” you cleared your throat to cover up the quiver that shook your voice a little as you spoke. Blinking rapidly you tried your best to get rid of the tears that threatened to spill. “Mother? May I be excused?” the quiver in your voice much clearer than before, causing your mothers’ interest to rise in your sudden sadness. “Yes, you may.” you wasted no time rising to your feet, slightly bowing toward your mother and the couple across from you. “Thank you for dinner mother. I will see you in the morning.” you rushed out before darting your way out of your mothers’ hut just quick enough before she noticed the tears that had formed in your eyes. 
Tears blurred your vision, yet you still tried to blink them away as much as possible. Carefully you hopped from one tree branch to the other, safely climbing down to the one place you truly felt like you belonged. The tree of voices. 
The purple hue illuminated brightly as you walked through, hands brushing against the vines as you made your way to your usual spot. Slowly you sat down, closing your eyes you took a deep breath taking note of the crispy air that surrounded you. You felt it. The silence consumed you and you felt something in you finally break, sending the tears that had threatened to spill finally overflowing onto your face. Your body slightly shook as you sobbed, your mind racing with the images of your sister and the man you were in love with. Their smiles at each other, the small exchanges they’d give each other their eyes filled with adoration, it was all too much. Too much to bear. 
“Oh great mother, please.” you sharply took in a breath as you spoke, “Please stop this pain. I do not wish to be in pain anymore.” you cried out, you clamped your hand down on your mouth to prevent the loud sobs that started to leak past your lips, hoping to drown out how loud you actually were. What did you do in your life to be caused so much heartache? Was Eywa punishing you? Haven’t you been punished enough? You lived in your sister's shadow, always being pushed to the back as your sister was praised for all her accomplishments. You understood though. Your sister has always been the golden child. She had the beauty, the brains, the empathy, all of the things to be a perfect daughter. And you? Oh, you were just her younger sister, training to be a tsahik like their mother. Though that was never praised upon when it came to you. You were never in the eye of praise. 
Crunching leaves quickly broke you out of your fits of sobs, snapping your head towards the sound. Your breathing struggled to steady as you carefully observed the area of the noise, eyes moving frantically until they stopped on a tall figure approaching closer. The figure became clearer as they stepped into the purple hue of the tree causing that sickening feeling in your stomach to return. “You okay?” he spoke to you, his voice soft and concerned. You said nothing, turning your attention toward the small stream that rushed in front of you. With a grunt, he sat down next to you his attention was also on the stream, neither of you spoke. The quietness surrounding you turned awkward, scrunching his eyebrows he searched for something to talk about. 
“Why are you here?” your voice broke out, sounding so dry yet filled with so much emotion. He opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it as he realized he didn’t know why. “Did my sister send you?” again your voice spoke, only this time he noticed the hint of sadness that lingered on every word. Shaking his head, he let out a soft sigh, “No. No she didn’t. I came here all on my own.” he pushed out finally turning his head towards you only to find you already looking at him. Your eyes are slightly puffy with the evidence of dried-up tears on your face, they looked at him full of sadness. Full of pain. Though a small smile broke out on your face snapping him away from your eyes. “My hero. Coming to save the day once again.” you joked turning your eyes away from him once more leaving him to stare at the side of your face, watching as he saw your face fall once more. Your ears pointed downwards pressing against your head, your tail swatting softly among the grass underneath you both. Knees brought up to your chest, you rested your chin upon your knees. 
He watched you. Closely this time. The cool night air blew gently, blowing your hair away from your face, leaving the two braids that resided on the side of your face untouched. He found himself admiring the way your hair looked as the wind blew, your hair cascading down your arms hanging loosely with a few braids thrown here and there decorated with colorful beads. He always noticed how your hair was rarely braided, your reasoning being that your mother was too rough and Neytiri always took too long so you always opted out of the braiding process. Watching attentively he noticed one of your braids had fallen into your face, before allowing you to realize the fallen hair he quickly found himself reaching a hand out, gently pushing and locking the braid behind your drooped ear. The sudden gesture shocked you, your eyes widened snapping to his expecting the same reaction you held, though you were met with different ones. 
His eyes were soft, just as soft as the smile he wore on his lips his teeth just barely showing. “You know…your hair is really beautiful.” your heart picked up its pace, your eyes desperately searching his waiting for him to admit he was joking, though it never came. You couldn’t form any words to say back, only his were rapidly repeated through your mind. 
Beautiful. 
Though it was a small gesture it still made your heart flutter, but as quickly it fluttered it turned into a sharp pain as you remembered him and your sister. You shook your head as if you were trying to shake his recent words out of your mind. You looked towards the sky this time, watching the stars as they glistened and twinkled so tenderly. 
“You shouldn’t say that to someone who is not your mate.” Your statement confused him, furrowing his eyebrows he looked off to the side. Did he say something wrong? He didn’t think he did. Your voice brought him out of his thoughts and back to you, though you were still looking up toward the sky. 
“You must return home. My sister must be worried about you.” 
“She’s a big girl. She’ll be fine…You know…” he started waiting for your eyes to land on his, and when they did he continued. “You never answered my question.” Though you thought the sudden hitch in your breathing wasn’t that loud, he heard it. He heard how shaky it was as you inhaled and exhaled, controlling the familiar feeling of tightness in your chest.
“I am fine.” Your answer irritated him a bit. You were lying and he knew it. You bit your lip to stop it from quivering and showing him that you were about to crumble all over again by the small question. 
“The truth. I want to know how you’re really feeling.” He pushed, his body now turned fully towards you. His hand came to rest gently atop your shoulder,  you felt like your body had been engulfed in flames when he touched you, you even contemplated throwing yourself into the stream to cool off. Instead, you shrugged off his hand standing. 
“I told you. I am fine.” He shook his head not believing you. Not even a little bit. 
“Nah, someone who is “fine” doesn’t cry the way you just were a few moments ago.” 
You were caught and you knew it. He knew he caught you in your lie as well, noticing how you bit onto your lip harder, your hands balled up at your sides. Your face contorted, and that's when he saw it clear as day. He saw the way gravity drove down your shoulders painting a picture of your heart as if neither it nor your soul would welcome a beat. He saw it in your eyes that your brain has built some new walls with you so lonely on the other side. Wondering if you'll give him a chance to help you take them down brick by brick. 
“That is none of your concern.” Your voice spoke harshly, though he knew you were trying to prevent yourself from crying again. He stood along with you his body towering over your smaller one he approached you cautiously, something he had learned to do in fear of getting hit like the many times he had been by Neytiri. His hands were out in front of him reaching to rest a comforting hand on you once again until you jerked away from him. 
“Hey, hey I mean no harm. I just want to know what’s wrong.” He defended himself by throwing his hands in a surrender position. 
“You! You are what is wrong Jake Sully!” You snapped. And like before, he was confused. You were upset because of him? His mind raced with all the possible reasons why you were upset with him. Was it because he was taking your sister away from you? Yeah. Yeah, that had to be the reason. 
Clearing his throat he spoke, “Okay…Okay, I get it. This is about my relationship with your sister.” You felt like time had stopped. He knew?  He knew and he let you suffer for so long? The sadness that once rested within you quickly turned into anger, your breathing picking up. 
“I know. I get it. And I'm sorry about the way things are going but-”
“You knew?”
“Yes. I–I mean no. No, I just realized it now. I haven’t always known this and please listen to me when I say that I, deeply and greatly do apologize for any pain that I have caused you. And that I can understand why you are so upset with me.”
Sorry? He was sorry? He watched you suffer every day and yet did nothing to help mend your heart. Yes, this was very selfish of you to think but you didn’t care.
“You. Are not sorry. If you were, you would have helped me. Helped me to understand this heartbreak and how I could get over this—this stupid feeling.” You spoke, your accent leaking through certain words. 
“You do not care for me like I thought you did. Your heart is strong yet it is ill. So ill.” 
What in the world were you going on about? He thought. He thought this was about Neytiri and him. He brought his gaze to the ground searching it hoping an answer would be written into the glowing grass where they stood. 
And then it hit him. Hard. His eyes widened at the realization, his mouth a gape, quickly looking into yours that had welled up with thick tears. You were breaking, your knees threatening to give out beneath you. 
“No…No, no that can’t be.” Was all he could manage to get out of his mouth, his mind now racing rapidly. It was now all making sense. Your early dismissal from the dinners he shared with your family, the sad look in your eyes whenever he caught you looking at him, avoiding your sister when asked to tag along on an outing only to turn down the offer when his name was mentioned. It all made sense now. 
Your heart was breaking by the second. This was a moment you’ve always wanted to happen, though it wasn’t going how you hoped and imagined. There were no hugs filled with so much warmth, no kisses that were shared, and no feelings that were reciprocated. All you were met with was a blank stare and eyes that pitied you, he was trying to figure out how to let you down gently, you thought. 
You weren’t about to stand here and wait for that though. You were hurting enough. 
You rushed past him, your feet moving quickly enough to get away from him. You didn’t make it far though. His hand gripped your arm firmly but not hard enough to hurt you, he waited for your eyes but they never came. 
“I can’t do this to your sister.” His voice came out as much as a whisper. You chewed on your lip, your lip probably raw by now with how much you gnawed on it tonight. “I know. That is why I am not asking anything of you.” You swallowed down a sob that dared to escape your lips. 
“You are not mine, Jake. You never will be. I understand that.” Peering ever so slightly over your shoulder you gave him the best smile you could muster up, “Besides, Eywa makes no mistakes.” his grip loosened slightly hearing that his own ears now drooping flushing against his head. You slipped your arm out of his hold continuing your original route daring not to look back, finally letting the tears that threatened to escape go. It was settled. He will never be yours nor you his. 
Your sister won. 
Again. 
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WOO, that was a doozy. It hurt but like I said im a whore for this kind of stuff lol, so its a good hurt. I hope you all enjoyed and hurt just as much as I did! Much love !
angel <3
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marcynomercy · 15 days
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Fate written in blood
I wanted to write a fanfic of Calamity and Carnifex for a while so I took courage and did it, hope you enjoy reading.
Thank you @tragedybunny for beta-reading.
Summary: The blood has always been her way until the day that fate changed, After being kidnapped by mind flayers and the fall of the Nautiloid Calamity had a new opportunity for freedom and strangely her fate crossed with that of Astarion when the elf put that dagger around her neck. 
 Their fate until now was written by others, but now they would write with their own hands in blood. 
Warnings: Violence, blood, game events, mentions of trauma, distress/comfort, mention of abuse. (That’s it for now)
Ship: Astarion and Calamity (Tav), Shadowheart and Carniex (Tav), mentions of other characters.
Chapter 2
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Chapter 1 - The beginning of a bond
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Freedom was just a dream, a dream she still cherished and strangely came true in a distorted way. It became reality in the form of a capsule being opened and the shock of her body on the floor.
 A pain in her head and the knowledge that there was a tadpole in her brain... nothing comes for free does it? 
 The first thing she did was look at the capsules looking for her twin brother, maybe he was kidnapped too? Unfortunately, she did not succeed.
 After the fall of the Nautiloid, Calamity awoke for the second time, by the gods she really thought it was her end but strangely fate had other plans as always. 
 She did not hesitate to look for her brother even after the fall, she looked body by body, wreckage by wreckage...nothing. But on the contrary she met the cleric  who had helped before, her sudden infusion of kindness had good results  and so her group began to increase.
 Shadowheart was the first to join her on this journey and then soon after came that strange familiar pale elf who left a beautiful first impression... a blade against her neck. Her response was a headbutt.
 After the misunderstanding was explained he apologized.
"Excuses accepted, if I were in your place I would have done the same." That was her answer. “My name is Calamity.”  She introduced herself.
"A somewhat ominous name for such a cute person, well I’m sure your parents meant well." The elf joked. "My name is Astarion."
 So Astarion joined them.
 He saw her circling the ship freely as he tried to find a way to escape, but he noticed that strangely she seemed to be looking for someone. At first he deduced that she was looking for Shadowheart, but soon fell off the idea seeing how she was still looking for that person; given the way she looked at the bodies with fear and then with relief mixed with disappointment. Calamity did that until they had nothing left to scour just a wounded mind flayer trapped by rubble, that thing tried to control them, but it was too weak so they managed to resist. They were angry, so much anger and hatred for a nasty creature like that... so worried about becoming one of them.
 They could not think about it, they had to forget at least for a moment and continue. 
 In a few hours the group recruited two more members, Gale of Waterdeep and the warrior githyanki Lae'zel who was already known to the girls. 
 Lae'zel was adamant and insisted on looking for the creche, Calamity on the other hand agreed with Shadowheart as to be wary and distrustful of githyanki so she tried to handle the situation as best she can.
"We already understand your point Lae'zel, but at the moment we do not have the resources for this. We need a place to set up camp, supplies and most importantly investigate this whole situation. There is something wrong and if we want to survive we need this information, so yes we will look for this creche and get its location meanwhile nothing prevents us from looking for answers, do you not agree?" One talent that Calamity cultivated and honed was persuasion and it fit her like a glove at that point.
 Astarion was surprised how she was a smooth talker and a good sense of survival, he decided if he wanted to survive he should focus on her.
"In fact we don’t have a defined leader here right? In that case I think our dear Calamity would be perfect for that role." Astarion wasted no time in ensuring his target the most important role, all for the sake of his well-being.
Calamity stared at him in disbelief.
"Me what?!" she protested in shock.
"Well he’s not wrong, you seem to have skills for it given the way you handled it well during our short period on the nautiloid and now after the crash." Shadowheart commented thoughtfully. "Actually for me it doesn’t matter who would actually be the leader, but that you were nominated I won’t be against it."
"I don’t see any problems either." Gale also agreed.
"Tsk, if you’re all for her leadership, I won’t question it... for now. Better prove yourself worthy of that role."
 Still stunned as everyone simply pushed her to the leadership, Calamity just sighed and nodded.
"Okay, okay... so let’s move on." She just took the lead and they moved on.
 Astarion smiled, pleased. The first part of his plan was a success now he just needed to conquer the rest of it which didn’t seem to be difficult for him. 
 Well, that’s what he thought.
 For the rest of the day he tried to approach her, but either Calamity ignored him or she just replied disinterested... How frustrating! 
 He took it out during the fight in front of the gates on those filthy goblins, it was good to kill something for a change, but then he saw that Calamity wasn’t just a pretty face. She beheaded the goblins as if they were nothing, her attacks were swift, agile and precise. It always focused on the vital, simple and practical points. This was no amateur skill, Astarion’s sharp eyes realized it was the skill of a professional, trained assassin. Calamity until now was a box of surprises for him, since they went from plunder this crypt to pacifying an argument between a tiefling and a human, knocking out the human with a punch to finding an improbable clue just because of a mistrust. He noticed the way her eyes ran around the place analyzing everything and that she was suspicious about something, then she tried to be a little too curious and quickly managed to sneak behind the stone shelves of one of the rooms by finding a chest with a suspicious letter addressed to Kagha.
But just as she proved to be very suspicious and cautious, she showed herself to have a terribly naive side! - dumb and stupid being more sincere. 
 Astarion was incredulous when she trusted the druid Nettie and being poisoned by her, but again Calamity saved herself with her lip and got the antidote along with some answers and her best bet was the druid Halsin... then another stupid decision, accept the poison Nettie gave.
"You know I’m starting to think you’re an idiot! You should have denied the poison!" Calamity stared with a serious look.
"I did it to spare us a possible confrontation unnecessarily and she would only let us go if I accepted and if the genius did not notice she locked us there with magic! And we gain a potent poison it can be useful in future battles." She seemed to have thought of everything.
"Well that doesn’t justify your stupid decision to trust her first!"
"Yes it was a stupid decision, but what could I do? I had to risk it and at least we had some productive result in this, never heard that the ends justify the means?" Her voice had a sarcastic tone and it irritated him.
"I can’t believe she poisoned you, tried to put you down like a dying dog without as much as a whisper of consent!" Gale was quicker in expressing his outrage.
"She gave up at the end." Calamity replied.
"Yes! But that doesn’t change the fact! How dare she snuff out life with as much thought as snuffing out a bloody candle?!"
"Are you all right, Gale?"
"Yes. Yes, I am. It’s just that, had it been me…Had it been… But you handled it, and you handled it well! As for myself, I could quite do with a tumbler full of Waterdeep Whiskey."
 He really showed concern so she smiled sweetly at him in response.
"Oh, so you’re the kind of guy who prefers whiskey? That’s good to know, but I think at the end of today no one here would deny a drink." The way she spoke almost sounded like flirting, at least to Astarion’s ears.
 The elf crossed his arms bored while they talked, it was decided that it would be better to find a place to camp and close the day.
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  The camp was set up. It was a tiring day, Calamity lightly massaged her strained shoulder after taking off the leather shoulder pad. Waking up on a devastated beach, recruiting one by one her new companions for that group, being chosen as a leader, plundering a crypt where you had a weird skeleton that was now in your camp, killing some goblins, being poisoned by a druid... She went over the day in her mind as she counted every event on her fingers, a tired sigh escapes from her mouth before she lies in her sleeping bag. 
"Where are you brother?" she muttered covering her face with her hands.
 Maybe he wasn’t kidnapped... so what would she do? Her mind starts spinning, she tried to focus her thoughts. Come on she needed to think of a plan! Wait... when did her mind get so clear? Was it the tadpole? Since she woke up in the Nautiloid she did not feel that weight that excessive fear caused her, the tadpole suppressed it?
Of course the same was still with her, but he did not control her anymore. Calamity smiled taking advantage of this relief, no anxiety, fear or panic... just a brief moment of tranquility. She gave herself the luxury of enjoying two minutes and then began to worry again, they will surely come after her.
"I don’t want to go back, but I can’t leave him..." She swallowed the cry.
 She was free, but her brother wasn’t.
 This brief moment of relief was taken by anguish, she could only hope that he is not suffering because of her. If she comes back maybe they’ll never have a chance to be free, she looked at the group through the small crack in the fabric of her tent’s entrance, she also had to worry about them now.
 Her hands searched for blank book pages she had found, if she wanted to do that she needed to write it down! That’s how she started this diary, noting possible missions and progress and of course a way to vent alone. Calamity wrote everything, her advances of the day, the discoveries, hypotheses, theories, ideas for future plans and finally what she felt. 
"It’s weird, I’ve never felt so good after so long... am I wrong? All this seems like a distorted dream from which I hope not to wake up, still not sure if my brother was kidnapped or not since I did not find any trace of him. I don’t know if I feel relief or regret for not finding him, on the one hand I’m happy because if he wasn’t kidnapped it means he wasn’t infected but at the same time I feel anguish because it means he was alone... I miss him."
She wrote with her anguished heart so she soon closed the diary and left it aside when she realized that someone came to her tent.
"Gale made dinner and I came to warn you." It was Shadowheart.
"Thank you, I’m starving." she replies putting on her social mask again and coming out of the attempt. " We’re lucky to have someone with culinary skills with us." She smiled and walked to the campfire beside the cleric 
That first night together as a group was... quite a bit distant, Gale after dinner stood watching the fire and shared his pessimistic thoughts full of reality shock. " There’s nothing abstract about it" was what he said, Calamity understood his point but all he could offer were words. She then spoke to Astarion who expressed just as everyone else had how serious Gale was and later commented how new it was to him.
"The night normally means bustling streets, bursting taverns. Curling up in the dirt and resting is… a little novel."
"I confess that all this is strange to me, it’s the first time I’m away from the city but we need to take a chance after all we have a lot to do tomorrow."
"You mentioned that you were from Baldur’s Gate and I couldn’t ignore your abilities." She just got serious staring at him. "No need to look at me like that, what I mean is that I noticed that you are someone capable. Well I’m no place to rest yet, today has been a lot. I need some time to think things through to process this, you rest I’ll keep watch."
"If you say so, I’ll sleep quietly knowing there’s someone watching."
"The pleasure is all mine. Sweet dreams."
 She walked away and Astarion kept  his eyes on her, a single measure of her abilities made her alert, he was no idiot and knew that if he angered her, it could be his end tonight. Although it left him more intrigued by the minute, thinking he might have met her earlier wouldn’t make sense, but he still had that impression rooted in his mind... where he saw those eyes before? Her eyes are unique, the left eye sapphire blue and the right eye red this combination is not seen every day around. 
 He saw her talking to the other half-elf and then she returned to the tent, this matter occupied him for the rest of the night along with his hunger.
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Well that’s it! Thank you for reading the first chapter.
@spacebarbarianweird @spacesquidlings@thechaoticdruid
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veronicaphoenix · 2 months
Text
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Chapter tags & trigger warnings: Chapter dealing with heavy topics, including descriptions of physical abuse. Reader discretion is advised. | Word count: 3.3k | Cross posted on AO3. | Series masterpost. ✧.*
General trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction and violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised.
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I dialed her phone number again, exasperation prickling my skin like a relentless itch. The familiar ringtone echoed through the air, emanating from behind Mitch’s apartment door. A furrow formed between my brows as I approached, now understanding that I wasn’t imagining it. Lia’s phone was inside his house, and I could hear it ringing. I climbed the two steps to the entrance. The vague iPhone melody ceased, coinciding with the end of the call on my phone. 
“Lia,” I shouted, heedless of any prying ears nearby. My desperation morphed into anger, fueled by days of silence. I was determined to find Lia. “I know you’re in there. I’ve been trying to reach you for four days and you haven’t given me a single sign of life, so open the door at once or I swear to God I’ll break it down.”
 Finally, the sound of movement behind the door stirred. With a click, the latch was removed, and the door creaked open. The first thing I saw was Lia's long brown hair. 
I was pissed at her. After spending the day with me last week —after she came to the hospital—, she had vanished like a ghost, leaving my messages unread and ignoring my calls. I was worried enough to not let it go another day like this. Whatever was going on, she was going to tell me right now.  
“Lia, what the hell is going on with you? You’ve been MI—"
 She opened the door all the way, letting me see her bruised face. The right side of her face was reddened, and her cheekbone was swollen. the area around her eye was a rather nasty purple color. 
The sight hit me like a physical blow. 
For ten seconds, I did nothing but stare at her, my face transfixed by the horror of what I was seeing. She was wearing an old white T-shirt that hung loosely on her frame, exposing more bruises littering her arms. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, evidence of sleepless nights, and her hair hung in disheveled, greasy strands. 
Then, a surge of fury swept through me like a tidal wave. 
“Where the fuck is he?” My voice erupted from deep within me, laced with a trembling growl.
She didn’t say. She just sniffed, her breathing quickening.   
Before I could muster another question, Lia threw herself into my arms, and her tears started flowing freely.  
It took me a while to respond, my mind unable to process the reality that just unfolded before me. I held her tightly against my chest, as if shielding her from the world with my embrace. 
This had been in front of me all these months and I hadn’t seen it.  
Her sadness, the late-night calls, her insecurity, the childish questions, the pain on her side when the woman bumped into her at the hospital…
My blood gone cold. 
“Lia," I murmured softly. I forced her to take a couple of steps inside the house and with one hand I pushed the door closed behind us. With tender care, I cupped Lia's face in my hands, careful not to cause her any harm. She clutched my hoodie with clenched fists. “Lia, where is he?” My own voice sounded foreign to me. There was a ferocity in it that I hadn’t known I possessed.
Her big, brown eyes met mine, and I saw the tears that pooled there and then welled up and continued rolling down her cheeks.
“Where is he? Where is he, Lia?”
She shook her head and managed to slow her sobs to tell me he wasn't home, still not letting go of me. 
 I didn't know what to do. A myriad of feelings had come over me and I was struggling to make decisions. A sense of defeat washed over me. Lia was hurt. Mitch, who had been my friend once, to whom I had introduced Lia years before, had hit her. He had hit the person he claimed to love. And I hadn’t noticed what was going on until it was too late.   
My fingers slid along Lia's jaw line, dejected, but I had no right to feel that way, not when Lia clung to me as if I were her lifeline.  
“I need to get you out of here.” I dropped my hands to pry one of Lia's fists from my hoodie and pull her into the room she shared with Mitch.  
 As soon as I stepped inside, a wave of disgust spread through me. The room was a mess—unmade bed, dirty clothes strewn across the floor, shoes scattered here and there, and an open closet door. It was a far cry from the organized person Lia was and from the way we kept our house when we lived together with the other boys. 
I couldn't tell if this mess was Mitch's doing and Lia had been forced to live with it, or if it was a reflection of Lia’s own deteriorating state of mind.  
“Get a bag,” I instructed, my voice firm yet gentle. “Pack your things. I’m taking you out of here.”
I picked up her iPad, the book she had on the small table beside the bed, and a pair of flip-flops tucked away in a forgotten corner of the room. As I looked back at her, a small glimmer of pride flickered within me at how quickly Lia was responding to my presence and my words. Despite the pain etched across her face, —despite the physical bruises—, and the lingering tremble in her body, she had ceased crying and stood resolute in the center of the room. In less than a minute, she had prepared herself, holding a backpack and meeting my gaze with determination. I reached over to take the backpack from her hands and put in the items I had collected. I took her hand again and we walked out of the room. I silently hoped that neither of us would ever have to set foot in it again, although I understood that sooner or later, whatever happened, someone would have to come back to pick up the rest of her belongings.  
In the entryway, Lia let go of my hand momentarily to lean against the shoe rack, grab her gray UGG boots and put them on. She grabbed the house keys, and like a child seeking reassurance, she grabbed my hand again. 
During the car ride to the my house, Lia said nothing, and I found myself at a loss for words as well. The initial terror that gripped me had eased with Lia’s presence beside me, curled up in the passenger seat, gazing out the window. Yet, working its way inside me was a torrent of rage, anger, an aggressiveness that I didn't know if I would be able to control once I had Mitch in front of me, because it was clear to me that that moment would come. I would not let him get away with what he had done to her. He would pay for it. 
There had been so many times we'd been out together before he started dating Lia, and I'd seen him smiling countless of times as he wrapped an arm around Lia's shoulders. I'd seen him kiss her, whisper things in her ear... It had just been a facade. No one could tell me that when you love someone, you're capable of hurting them like this.
I needed to know what exactly happened, how long this situation had been going on, but I had enough sense to understand that now was not the best time to suffocate her with questions.
We reached the house. When I opened the door and walked with Lia inside, Jesse and Jolly’s faced looked up from the sofa and their expressions turned to confusion and then shock as they beheld Lia’s bruised face. Jolly immediately rose from the sofa. Jesse remained frozen in place, mouth agape. Lia walked without acknowledging them, crossing the living room, headed towards my bedroom. I silently signaled to Jesse and Jolly, shaking my head in warning, before placing my palm on Lia’s lower back as I followed her lead. 
When we entered my room, Lia sank hopelessly onto the edge of the bed. Without meeting my eyes, she buried her face in her hands and started crying again. 
All I could see was the vulnerable little girl I had found so many times hiding in her own room at her mother’s house, scared at the way her own mother had treated her, the things she had said to her, terrified at what old men had tried to do to her. 
The lump in my throat swelled. A tear slipped down my cheek. I felt helpless. I was useless. 
Kneeling before her, I reached out and lightly touched her knee, instantly regretting touching her. 
“Lia, tell me how I can fix this,” I pleaded, my voice choked with emotion. 
Through sobs and sniffs, she uttered, “you can’t.”
My heart sank deeper as I gently grasped her wrists and looked at the bruises marring her delicate features. The nausea threatened to overwhelm me.  
“Hug me?” 
I wasn’t sure if I heard her right; her request sounded faint, almost lost amidst the turmoil of emotions swirling around us. 
One way or another, nothing was going to separate me from her again. Nobody would touch her again as long as she had me.  
I opened my arms, and she leaned into my body, sliding down from the bed until she knelt in front of me, positioned between my legs. Together, we clung to each other, our tears blending into a symphony of shared pain.
When I returned to the room a while later after a brief escape to the kitchen to get some water  and an urgen update with Jesse and Jolly —I hadn’t been able to stop Jolly from grabbing his car keys and sprinting out of the house; he went after Mitch—, Lia sat on my bed, her back against the headboard, a stack of pillows piled beside her. She looked tiny on my large bed. She wasn't doing anything. She just stared at her hands, which were folded in her lap. Her eyes lifted when I entered the room. I tried to smile at her. There was no other place I wanted her to be at that moment than in my bed, but it broke my heart to see her hurt.
I sat on the bed, close to Lia but without invading her space. Lia had an expression that was not just helplessness. There was also some shame in her still red and watery eyes. We held each other's gaze for a while. I wanted to ask her if she was okay, or at least if she felt a little better. I wanted to ask her when it had happened and if it had happened before. I had one question after another piling up inside me, but I knew none of them was the right one, so I ended up reaching out and touching her knee with my fingers in a comforting gesture. I didn’t know where else I cold touch her. 
Lia observed the movement of my tattooed fingers against the fabric of the sweatpants she was wearing, holding her breath until the dam broke, and thick tears spilled forth again. First, she covered her face with her hands, and in response to my broken voice calling her name, she crawled across the bed to reach me, throwing her arms around my neck. 
I hugged her and held her against my body as much as we were allowed to be together. I let her cry, stroked her neck with my chin, and kissed her hair. If this was all she needed, this would be all I’d give her.
"You’re safe now, Lia. I promise. I won't let it happen again. I'm sorry I even let it happen. I'm sorry I didn't realize earlier."
"I'm sorry," she mumbled over my shoulder. "I didn't— I didn't tell you... " Her words faltered, choked by tears. "I didn't tell you because I was scared and ashamed. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Noah."
"Shh. I knew something was wrong. I should have done something sooner."
Lia's arms tightened around my neck. I felt her fingers clutching my hoodie again.
After a few minutes, as her breathing steadied and her heartbeat slowed to match mine, she gradually pulled away, pushing her hair back from her face. I asked her what happened, and since when it had been happening, how many timesMitch had hurt her.
Sat cross-legged in front of me,  she began to explain. 
She explained everything. She answered each of my questions despite the tremor in her voice and the lump in her throat. Five minutes into talking, I offered another glass of water to her, which she gulped down with a little bit of struggle. 
She told me how things had begun to go south a while after she had started spending more time in his place. He had proven to be someone quite jealous from the beginning, and his anger was easily awakened, but aren’t we all a little bit like that sometimes? 
The first time he pushed her, Lia brushed it off was an isolated incident, unwilling to acknowlege the growing stain it placed on their relationship. 
But as time went on, the stain continued to grow, spreading like ink on a canvas. With each passing week, each day, Lia found herself sinking deeper into a quicksand, unable to escape until it had engulfed her entirely, covering her mouth, and she couldn't scream.
“The time you caught that virus and I stayed with you, I told you we had had an argument that morning and I left to go back to my place, right? I didn’t tell him I’d stayed the night with you, but he guessed. I don’t know why. He came to my place, he pushed me until I fell, and he—he kicked me.”
The pain on her side when she came to visit me at the hospital.
"And this," she continued, gesturing to the purplish stains on the right side of her face, around her eye. As she lifted a finger to point at it, I noticed how much her hand was trembling. "This happened a few days ago, after I came back from the hospital and stayed with you after he—he forbid me to see you.” 
Her eyes met mine. She didn't want me to feel guilty, but a part of me couldn't help it. If I hadn't succumbed to my need to have Lia by my side when I was sick, if I hadn't been a child and had taken care of getting medicine without relying on her, she wouldn't be bruised now. Right?
She lifted the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing to reveal the extent of the bruising on her ribs. Mitch knew where he had hurt her, and he targeted the same spot after discovering Lia had gone against his orders.   
"Noah, please,” she interjected, “I know what you're thinking: If you— if Jesse hadn't called me, it wouldn't have happened, but it’s not like that at all. He would have done it eventually any way, and maybe I would have never been able to tell you, and things could have..." Her voice trailed off. She sniffled hard. 
Being there, I realized something that hadn't crossed my mind before, something that I hadn’t dared to consider. 
When I voiced the question, I held my breath.
"Lia, has Mitch ever forced you to...?"
I didn't want to say it out loud. Vocalizing it was the first step in making it real, and if her answer turned out to be affirmative, I a puzzled furrow between her brows. When I didn't press further but my gaze intensified on hers, she understood what I meant. She dropped her gaze and head with a heavy sigh, and my world collapsed.
But then, she answered ‘no’, and I understood that dropping her head had been a gesture of embarrassment that I didn't comprehend until she spoke again.
"We stopped having sex a long time ago,” Lia explained softly. “He wasn't... He wasn't rough or anything. He was just not attentive, basically. He lost interest very quickly."
A part of me felt relieved. Mitch didn't deserve any part of Lia, and now that I knew the extent of his cruelty, it only reinforced that he had never deserved her in the first place. 
Since childhood, Lia and I had confided in each other and had told each other almost everything, from our first time to our most irrational fears. Having Lia in front of me, bruised, shrunken, filled me with a nauseating mix of emotions. I couldn’t bear the thought of how much she had been keeping inside and for how long. 
"I don't know what he wanted from me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Or what he still wants. These last few months..." She shrugged. "Maybe it's what I deserve: my mother never really loved me. I was a nuisance to her. My father, who knows? And Mitch... For a while I thought he really loved me. I just…” A heavy tremble took control of her. “I just wanted someone to love me."
I clicked my tongue when she burst out again and her tears spilled down her face and onto the duvet. 
"None of them deserve you. And don't think for a second that no one loves you, Lia."
"He'll come looking for me. He'll know I'm with you,” she fretted, clutching at the white sheets. 
"It doesn't matter,” I insisted. “He won't touch you again."
"I don't want him to hurt you," she sobbed.
"Don't worry about that.”
I stroked her right cheek with two fingers, wiping away a few tears as delicately as I could. Her pale complexion and tear-stained cheeks revealed the toll this ordeal had taken on her. The intensity of her bruises seemed to deepen in the dim light of the bedroom, a haunting reminder of the violence she had endured and that will stay with her for days. Maybe nightmares. 
I would get nightmares after this. 
"Why?" She whispered into the air, tormented by the questions that had no easy answers.
Why me, she wondered. It tore me apart to see her like this. She didn't say anything else, but I knew everything that was going through her head. Like me, she was also someone who overthought things too much, especially things that weren't important.
"What matters now is that you're here and you're not alone. And don't worry about anything, please. Especially about staying here."
"I don't want to go back to my mother."
The mention of that woman made me raise an eyebrow. 
"Why do you think I would let you go back there? Lia, you’re staying here. You’re staying with me. You can stay here in my bed. I can sleep in the pullout sofa in the studio, and you can stay in this room."
What’s mine is yours. It’s always been. 
Lia began to protest, but I silenced her with a shake of my head.
"Don't be so stubborn, please."
She sighed. We stayed silent for a while. Jesse was doing something in the kitchen to keep himself from losing it, too, and the noise from the dishes and cutlery reached the room. 
Eventually, I stood up and approached Lia, looming over her. I raised a hand and brought it to her face. Before touching her, I asked for permission, to which she nodded with a slight head movement and a tired look.
I moved several strands of hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ear, revealing the red and swollen area on her face.
"It will disappear in a week," she murmured, as if she thought that would reassure me.
"That's not what worries me," I replied.
Two minutes later, I sank to my knees again and buried my face in Lia’s lap, grabbing her with trembling fingers as I realized that I had let this happen. Lia’s fingers tangled into my hair. We cried again, breaking the silence and clutching to each other. 
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mistys-blerbz · 1 year
Text
Keep Your Eyes On Me • Chapter 12
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Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x F!Mitchell!OC
Summary:
Elizabeth “Ghost” Mitchell is the daughter of what some would say is the most decorated Naval Captain. But when she is called back to North Island for a special mission she is forced to face her past loves, past hurts, and past losses.
Warnings:
violence, swearing, PTSD, war, mental illness & probably more
Word Count: 4,512
Cross Posted: A03 • Wattpad
Story Masterlist
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“Look, if you don't answer my questions, I'm going to have to fail your evaluation,” the man said, watching the woman across from him closely. Elizabeth sat there, her arms crossed, staring at the man. Couldn't they have let her have her normal therapist? “Your file says you were in Afghanistan for a year. Did you go back when you crashed?”
“Yes,” she said shortly. 
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not with you.”
The man began writing down something on the notebook in his lap. 
“Do you tend to have attacks during high-stress situations?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Have you ever felt like you were going to die?” she said shortly. 
“I'm supposed to be asking the questions,” he said, gulping a bit at the dark look the soldier gave him. He shifted in his seat before sighing. “No, I have not.”
“Then you are not familiar with the feeling of everything around you crashing down and going out of your control. Your body's natural will to live.” She was firm and direct with her speech, not letting him read anything other than a soldier irritated with people who didn't understand asking her the same 15 questions. “You try flying a multimillion-dollar plane that is supposed to be state of the art. Now imagine a bird hitting your jet, causing you to lose any semblance of control over your life, only for the one thing you trust yourself with to betray you by not shooting you off into safety.” She hadn't noticed him aggressively writing. She was too focused on telling him off that she was giving him everything he needed. “So yes. Yes, I went back to one of the many times I felt like I was going to die,” she huffed and glared lightly before noticing the man's writing. 
“Thank you, Lieutenant Mitchell,” he said, pushing his glasses up on his face. 
“What…”
“Thank you, for your service, and for explaining how you feel. That's important to do,” he said simply, catching her off guard.
She sat up straighter shifting uncomfortably, causing the man to chuckle. 
“Oh, thank you.”
“I had no intention of failing you unless you didn't speak. But you did. Besides, it's normal for a situation like this to cause an outburst of past trauma. I do not think it will hinder your actions in the field. Now please hand this to Admiral Simpson,” he said, handing her a folder with her name on it.
She gently took it before thanking him, a shit-eating grin forming on her lips as she waved at the receptionist and out the door. Her grin widened when she saw Jake and her father, but frowned when she saw her father's red blotchy eyes. 
“What's wrong?” She frowned, looking at her father before looking at Jake, who also had a frown. 
“Lizzy,” Pete whispered, causing her to look at her father again. 
“What the hell is going on?” she questioned, mind racing with what it could possibly be. 
“Ice is dead,” her father breathed out quickly, trying his hardest to keep it together.
Her blood ran cold. 
“W-what?”
“His cancer came back, honey,” he said, stepping forward. Tears were already beginning to fall. 
“W-why didn't he tell me…” she whispered. Her breathing picked up as the reality of her uncle Tom being dead began to hit her. 
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“How's my favorite wingman?” the tall man asked as her father eagerly embraced the man. She peered up in awe. Her eyes locked onto the whitish blond tips of his hair. 
“It's been too long, Ice,” Pete expressed with a smile, Liz gripped his leg as she watched the two men. 
“Well, I’d say! Two years!” Ice expressed before he caught her eyes. Elizabeth's little ones widened before she hid behind her father again. 
“She’s shy,” Mav explained as Tom crouched down to get closer to her level. Elizabeth peeked out again, blushing at the soft smile of the man before her. 
“Hi there, Elizabeth,” the man said softly. “It's nice to meet you.”
He reached a hand out, his palm facing up as if to ask for her hand. She peered at the hand before slowly taking it, walking out from behind her father and walking closer to the man in front of her. Her little hand went to his hair, gently putting her hand in it, feeling the spikiness of his hair gel. 
“Icey,” she said, causing the two men to laugh. 
“That's it. I'm Uncle Icey,” he said before pulling her in and picking her up. She continued to play with his hair as the two men excitedly talked to one another. Tom introduced his family to Pete and Liz. He also invited them over for Christmas Eve, as Christmas was reserved for the Bradshaws. 
She remembered how well-decorated the tree was. It had to have been 50 feet tall. In reality, she knew it was only because she was so small then. She held the box in her hand, excited to open it. The young girl opened up to reveal a box. Her eyes widened into giant orbs. Her little hands pulled out a miniature version of Iceman's helmet from the box. 
“Like dada’s,” she said, looking over at her father and holding up the helmet with a laugh. Maverick shook his head as he laughed, looking at his wingman. 
“Yeah… like dada’s,” he said. “Great going, Ice, showing me up on Christmas.”
“Oh, I just had to teach her who the better pilot is,” Ice said with a grin as Liz put the helmet on her head. The rest of the night consisted of one of the sweetest times of her childhood. Tom picked her up and flew her around like she was a plane. Rolled on the floor and played with the barbies she had brought over. 
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Elizabeth stood next to John, tears threatening to escape. Her eyes watched her father closely, who was equally struggling to keep it together. The distant sound of Taps being played on the trumpet could be heard. A sound she hated to hear. She never thought this day would come. Uncle Tom was invincible, immortal, he could never die. 
She watched as the flag placed over his casket was neatly folded. Admiral Simpson handed it to her aunt Kelly. The gunshots made her shudder as her father walked up, hammering his wings into the casket with his fist. Elizabeth stepped forward as her father saluted his friend, brother, and wingman. She slowly took her pin off with shaky hands before hammering her wings into his casket. 
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The sound of the horse's hooves trotting back home to the small ranch she called home soothed her more than anything else could. Her lips were in a permanent frown, shoulders slightly slumped. Any quick noise made her jump. But in that moment, the permanent frown seemed to turn up just a little only to falter again at the sight of government-looking vehicles in her grandparent's driveway. She sighed, nudging her horse to begin a trot toward the house. She frowned when she saw him walk out of the house. He was wearing his official suite. She sighed, immediately redirecting the horse towards the barn. She climbed off easily before giving the horse a kind kiss on the snout and a sugar cube she had hidden in her pocket. 
“Bly,” an elder voice said, causing her to look over. Seeing her grandfather, she smiled softly. 
“A Navy Admiral is here to see you,” he said seriously. “Great honor that is.” 
“I saw, grandfather,” she said, eyes looking over as Tom walked through the door. She immediately took her brown felt cowboy hat off. “Sir.” She stood up straighter. 
“Oh common Lizzy, I'm here as your uncle, not an admiral,” he said softly. Her shoulders relaxed. 
“That's why you're in uniform with an entire squadron of Navy men with you?” she questioned. 
“Bly!” her grandfather yelled, causing her head to hang low just a bit. 
“Sorry, grandfather, for the disrespect,” she said softly. 
“If it is okay with you, I would like to talk to Sergeant Mitchell alone,” Tom asked gently to the man in front of him. Her grandfather nodded before walking back to his home. “He always that hard on you?”
“If you think that's hard, you must not realize what army boot camp is like,” she said, voice monotone. 
“Right,” he whispered more to himself. “I know what happened Lizzy, I read your file,” he said, causing her to tense up. She turned to go back to working on her horse. “I would like to talk, genuinely.” 
“Have you ever ridden a horse Ice?” she asked cooly. “I mean it's no f/14 but…”
“I have.” 
“Hope it’s not against dress code to ride. If we're having this conversation, it's gonna be out there, where wondering ears aren't listening.” 
Tom only smiled, understanding clearly. It only took them a few moments to get another horse tacked up. The two rode out through the Wyoming countryside. 
“I'm sorry I couldn't be there when you touched down back in the States.” 
“It's alright, I had Aunt Kelly, and my grandfather,” she hummed. 
“Your father’s sorry he couldn't be there either. He's worried about you.” 
she looked over at him, her face blank as she looked over his sincere features.  
“What did he do that got him a one-way ticket to Iraq again?” 
“Pissed off a different Admiral.”
She snorted a little. 
“Congratulations on the promotion.” 
“Thank you.”
“You say you're here as uncle Tom.”
“No, I’m here as Uncle Icey,” the man said, looking over at her for a reaction. He hadn't seen her crack a smile since he arrived. He had never seen his bright-eyed niece so dull. A smile formed on his lips as he watched a bright glimmer of her past self spark across her vision. 
“I totally forgot I used to call you that. Though if I recall, it was just Icey, no uncle.”
“I saw you still have that helmet I got you for your first Kazansky Christmas.”
“Of course I do, you're my favorite pilot.” 
Tom gleamed with pride. 
“Damn straight kid.”
The two fell into a comfortable silence as Liz pulled ahead, leading them up onto a ridge to overlook the reservation they called home. Climbing off her horse and tying the lead onto a branch, she walked over to the memorial for her mother. She kissed her fingers before she placed them on the picture of her mother. 
“Why are you really here, Admiral Kazansky?” she finally asked, looking back at the familiar face. 
“Elizabeth, you did something extraordinary. You took the odds into your own favor and escaped an inescapable situation,” the man started, walking over to the edge of the ridge, looking at the mountains that protected the reservation from the outside world. “You flew a barely functioning f/14 Tomcat against superior allied aircraft.” He turned towards her now, her eyes never leaving him. “You have been recruited by the Marines, you denied their request. You were recruited by the Air Force, you denied their request.” He paused, observing the young woman before him. “Sergeant Elizabeth Bly Mitchell, I, Admiral Tom Kazansky of the United States Navy, would like to personally and formally invite you to join the Navy and become one of our pilots.” 
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Liz stood there, her hand on her brow. A single tear fell as she blinked. She listened as the planes flew overhead, one flying up higher in honor of one of the most amazing men she ever met was put to rest. 
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“Liz, please come out,” Jake begged from outside the door. The girl just sat on her bed. More like laid back flat with the pristinely made bed to her back her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. “Come on, sunshine,” the man said softly.
Her eyes glanced at the doorway and saw his feet casting a shadow under the door. The man softly sighed before walking away. Elizabeth could hear him talking to the other two men who had been trying to get her to leave her room all day. Training had been canceled that day. The funeral was still fresh in her mind. She couldn't handle going to one more. The thought made her mouth water, hinting at the vomit to come. 
“Lizzy.” Her ears perked up, eyes going back over to the door to see the familiar shadows under the door. “Lizzy… I'm not going to make you open the door but I do need to talk to you,” her father's voice said softly from under the door. She heard the disgruntled sigh. Her eyes looked away from the door. That was a sign the person had given up. One she had grown familiar with ever since she got home yesterday afternoon. “I brought banana pancakes with extra syrup and whipped cream.” His voice vaguely singsongy with a slight hint of annoyance.
She picked up her head, her growling stomach finally made known to her the insufferable hunger she had put herself through. 
She slowly stood up, walked over to the door, and cracked it open peeking over to see Jake, Bradley, and John peeking through John's door across the hall and her father standing there with a bag of takeout. Her eyes went to the food then to Mav, reaching her hand through the cracks to get at the food. Mav pulled it away, giving her a pointed look which resulted in her huffing and opening the door for him. He quickly stepped through before she closed the door, immediately hearing the three boys outside begin arguing about how they knew the food would work and how they should have tried it sooner. 
The two Mitchells stared at one another, not saying a word. Liz looked down at the food bag in her father's hand reaching a hand out as if to say ‘give me the goods.’ Her father gently did so. She brought the food over to her desk as Pete looked around his daughter's room, smiling softly at how much she hadn't changed. Her walls were still a soft purple color. Different space posters were strewn purposefully sloppily on the wall. A diorama of the planets hung from the ceiling along with her favorite spaceships from real and not-so-real life. His smile grew on his lips as he observed the corner of her room with different polaroids from throughout her years. 
Army days pictures, Naval Air Academy, he recognized a few familiar faces. But his eyes landed on the ones in the very middle highlighted by some fairy lights of her family. His fingers traced over the photo of her mother before glancing over at the photos he had given her from his time in TOPGUN and ones she had taken with her own polaroid camera of Carol and Bradley, noting the tastefully placed model jets hovering from the ceiling above. Along with the tiny Iceman helmet on the dresser next door.
He jumped a little at the sound of a camera going off turning to see Liz pulling the camera down from her face. The woman smiled at him softly as she pulled the printout out of the camera and began shaking. She looked at the picture and smiled before walking over and pinning it to the wall. 
“Couldn't have gotten one from my good side?”
“The number of women I had to glare at for staring at your butt as a kid would say this is your good side,” she said with a slight grimace at the memory. Women were feral. 
The man sputtered out a laugh. 
“Make yourself comfortable,” she murmured before sitting at her desk to eat. 
“Still like space, I see.”
“Well, seeing as I never use the space side of my degree I figured I’d overload myself with information about it to really degrade myself into shame for the wasted money… oh wait the army paid for that,” She snorted before going back to her plate and eating.
Mav shook his head and sat on the edge of her bed. Liz swiveled on her chair to look towards the man, mouth full of banana and cake, not ashamed as she devoured the food like she had never eaten in her life. 
“I'm grounded,” he put simply, making her brow furrow and stop eating. “Chew then swallow,” he said, knowing she was about to start asking questions. She quickly chewed, swallowing a bite way too big to be swallowing. 
“What the fuck do you mean you're grounded?” she said firmly. 
“Language.”
“I'm 33.”
“I'm your father.” She huffed, crossing her arms, waiting for him to explain himself. “Admiral Simpson is taking over training. He expressed how I discouraged my students and set unrealistic parameters.”
“You're not going to let him do that, are you?”
“What other choice do I have?”
“Steal a plane, tell him to fuck off, steal a plane and tell him to fuck off. I think there's a lot of options there,” Liz said, counting the three options on her fingers. “I personally like the idea of telling him to fuck off.”
“Elizabeth.”
“What? I did the calculations. The only way we survive this mission is by doing it your way. With the distance we need to go and the factors involved-”
“Lizzy, relax,” he said, cutting her off and causing her to stop and look at him. She’s finally able to fly with her father and of course, Beau ‘stick up his ass’ Simpson had to take that away. “I'm not sure what I’m going to do. I'm fairly confident that this is it for me.” 
“But we are your pilots,” she said genuinely. “You’ll always be our captain.” 
“Ice is gone. This is it for me, Lizzy.”
“You need to figure it out then, because I can’t have Cyclone as my instructor that man cares way too much about protocol it's shocking, Ice wasn't even that bad.”
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Elizabeth sat in her seat, a death glare prominent on her face as she waited for the Admiral to arrive at the classroom. Her fellow pilots avoided her, even though they wanted to offer some condolences they were unable to give at the funeral. She just wanted to get back to training. With only two days left to train, it was ‘go time.’
“Captain Mitchell is no longer your instructor,” Simpson expressed as he walked up to the front of the classroom. “And as of today, there are new mission parameters.” A few of the pilots looked at one another, surprised at the news. 
“That's why you were so pissy last night,” John mumbled under his breath.
Elizabeth ignored him to focus on listening to what parameters the admiral was going to change. 
“Time to target is now four minutes.” Her jaw set. Four minutes? He wanted them to die. She was confident at this point. “You’ll be entering the valley level at reduced speed.” This caused more of them to look at one another as if the man was nuts. “You are not to exceed 420 knots.”
“Sir, won't we be giving their planes time to intercept?” Bob asked, voicing what everyone was thinking. 
“Well, Lieutenant, you have a fighting chance against enemy aircraft.” This caused her to scoff, shaking her head. “What are the odds of surviving a head-on collision with a mountain?”
“Way greater than going head-on against 5th gen fighters. We go at reduced speed like that, we won't even make it to the target you oh so badly want us to get to,” Liz snapped, causing the Admiral's eyes to snap to her’s. 
“Lieutenant Mitchell, I did not ask you to speak, nor for your opinion,” he said pointedly, causing her jaw to clench. The admiral hoped she kept her mouth shut. She had a good chance of being on this mission with her prior experience, along with her score results during this training. “You’ll be attacking the target from a higher altitude, level with the north wall. Gonna be a little harder to keep your laser on target, but you will avoid the high-g climeout,” he continued, causing more of the pilots to get restless. Liz couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her jaw to the floor.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she said, probably a little too loud, causing some of the pilots to look back at her, including jake. 
“Lieutenant Mitchell, would you like to share with the class?”
Usually that made people shut up. He didn't need this; she was on thin ice. Unfortunately, she was a Mitchell and she didn't have a problem speaking out of turn. 
“So not only do you want us to fly slower, risking the mission by making the time to get to target even slower due to the high probability of being intercepted by 5th gen fighters, you also want us to contend against a multitude of enemy SAMs while you're at it?”
“Liz, stop,” John whispered but she brushed him off. 
“Sir it sounds to me like you don't care about us at all.”
“You all knew the risks when you signed up for the navy,” the admiral said. And he had a point. But that wasn’t what she was saying and he knew it.  
“There's no way we would be able to get to the target, and that opens us up to more of a-” 
“Lieutenant Mitchell, that's enough-” But she kept going. 
“Diplomatic problem with the country of origin-”
She only stopped when the screen behind them began to beep. Everyone, including the admiral, saw someone begin to fly the course. 
“Who the hell is that?” Simpson said, turning fully towards the screen now. 
“Maverick to Range Control. Entering Point Alpha. Confirm green range,” her father's voice rang through the speakers, causing a stupid grin to form on her lips. 
“He stole a fucking plane,” she whispered to herself. 
“Uh Maverick, Range Control, uh, green range is confirmed,” RC started, the confusion evident in the man's voice. “I don't see an event scheduled for you, sir.”
“Well, I’m going anyways.”
“Nice,” Natasha breathed out, watching the screen with a grin. 
“Setting time to target: two minutes fifteen seconds.” 
The clock on the screen changed to match that time, making the group of aviators look at one another in shock. Elizabeth was still on the fact that he actually stole a plane. 
“Two-fifteen, that's impossible,” Payback expressed, causing a few of them to agree.  
“Final attack point. Maverick’s inbound.”
Liz leaned forward in her chair, her heart pounding already. She prayed he would make it. They watched as the model plane showed her father's flight pattern, easily making it through the course. More and more of the aviators leaned in closer and got more nervous as the time counted down. Elizabeth was the first one to stand as she watched the plane get closer to target. He was at 40 seconds when he finally began making the climb. 
“Popping in three, two, one.” The diorama showed him getting up over the mountain. 
“Come on, dad. Come on, you can do it,” Liz muttered under her breath, watching him get closer to the target. He let lose his missiles before popping up to get over the imaginary mountain. 
“Bombs Away.” Her father's voice showed the strain. The group of pilots were already in awe at how fast he had gotten to the target and prayed their teacher could make it into the target. More of them moved to stand as the countdown hit 7 seconds. The plane hit nine Gs of force. The missiles hit the target with .16 seconds left to spare. 
“Bulls-eye! Holy Shit!” Yale expressed.
Liz cheered with a jump. Maybe this would wake the admiral up. It's not about the planes being ruined. It's about the skill of the pilot being able to protect their country. Her eyes were glued to the 10 Gs of force her father put the plane under. 
“Damn,” Jake muttered, looking over at Liz.
“I think I have a hard-on for your dad,” Harvard said, clapping her back. She grimaced and looked up at the taller man. 
“Information I don't need to know,” Elizabeth groaned, punching him in the chest, causing the man to heave and groan. Eyes turned to look at admiral Simpson, who was still staring at the screen before turning and storming out of the room. 
“You think you're gonna get in trouble for your outburst?” Natasha asked, wrapping an arm around Liz’s shoulder. 
“Hope not. I think my father stealing a plane might overshadow me speaking out of turn,” she said, hoping she was right. 
“You were only saying what we were all thinking, Ghost,” Jake said, standing up with a smile before giving her a soft wink. 
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The next day, it was announced Maverick was going to be the team leader for their mission. Meaning the odds of going on this mission got slimmer for the aviators. But most of all Elizabeth. She knew it was a conflict of interest. But she still held out hope anyway. The group of aviators took turns being part of A team and B team. With the confidence boost of knowing the mission was not impossible, their scores and times got higher and higher showing. If nothing else, the group was proving to themselves they were better than they ever knew. They were capable of so much more. 
The next day was more of the same. The aviators became more and more competitive as they went round after round in the sky. 
“We can't just end tonight with the Hard Deck like last night and then don't do anything tomorrow. We need to do more!” Fritz expressed, laughing with John and Omaha. Liz watched the group with a soft smile as everyone chatted in the classroom after their afternoon debriefing. 
“We could go bowling?” Echo threw out, getting a few groans. Liz watched as the group threw out idea after idea before she spoke up. 
“I'm the only one with a house close by. It's big enough to hold us all, plus I have a pretty sick man cave. Bar, arcade games, pool table. And I'm right by the beach if we decide to want to swim.” 
The group of aviators all turned and looked at her, a bit surprised she offered her home. 
“Or not was just a suggestion.”
“No! That actually sounds perfect,” Natasha said. The others nodded and agreed. 
“Sweet, I'll even cook one of my famous meals. It will be fun,” she said with a grin already getting excited. She hadn't hosted anybody in a while. The last time she cooked for a giant group was back before she shipped out to the desert the second time. She had cooked for her team back then. She looked over at her father. “You're invited too Mav. Don't be a stranger.”
“No no, I shouldn't. It's your day.”
“No! Common Cap!”
“No, you should join!” 
“Common!” the different aviators shouted until he conceded, agreeing to come. 
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Authors note: sorry for the delay in posting! school is starting up for me again which means I'm unsure how frequently i will be able to post. but at the moment i am written ahead. i do have some writers block for some of the upcoming chapters but im sure everything will be alright! thank you guys so much for your support!!
Editor(s): @delicatenightfury
FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED...
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Plethora's Pleasant-mas Advent Calendar: Day 12- Good Soup [Chapter 2]
Words: 2720
Warnings: Sick!Reader, descriptions of sick symptoms, night terrors, iv fluids, sedation, nudity, non-sexual intimacy
Shadows hovered and grew around your paralyzed form. It was unsettling to have creatures observing you. You couldn’t remember when you had been separated from the Doctor, or been captured.  Body felt too heavy to move and you knew that you were in danger. Your only hope would be the Doctor swooping in to save you.
Several minutes passed with them watching you, none of you moving. The blinding darkness of one of them moved closer suddenly, stopping you from being able to see beyond the growing darkness. It was worse than when the Doctor had taken you to see a black hole in person. Darkness that grew and overtook any receptors in your eyes. No light, no wavelength could make its way to your wide eyes. Panic had overtaken you as your mind had assumed that never would you see again. Blinded by wonder of something so incredible yet terrifying that your mind had melted away into base reactions alone.
The shadowed creature reaching for you inspired a similar reaction but the awe you felt only held terror. The arms of dark shadows pressing against you. Managing the energy to fight back you thrashed against them. Pinning you down. The strength of the creature outweighed your own, only needing one arm to hold you in place. Messing with some sort of equipment on the side of the bed you were kept hostage on. 
Head spinning as something foreign overtook your mind. Black spot overtaking your vision. It only encouraged you to continue your fight against them. You needed to escape, the Doctor wasn’t here. It was up to you to save yourself until she could save you. Teeth digging into the inky black form, enough to make them let you go in surprise. Stumbling out of the bed, the line connecting your arm to some sort of pole snatching. Not allowing you to flee with ease. Tugging at it you attempted to yank it from your arm, to free yourself from the unknown substance infecting you. 
“Stop fighting!” The call of your name in a familiar voice disarmed you for a moment.
The black creature taking on a glow, the form of your Doctor. The moment hung suspended in time. Your body relaxing, no longer tense. No need to fight now, she was here. Reality only took a few moments to come crashing back to you. The haze of shadows surrounding the image of her gave you a clue that this was a trick. The creatures somehow knew that her image, this illusion, would make you complacent.
Fighting back even more viciously as reality swirled around you, your attempts to fight futile. Dragged by hundred of hands down into the nothingness that surrounded you. Tingling skin, as the darkness started to burn your senses.
The next time you knew the world once more you tried to rub the sleep from your eyes. A squeeze of your hand as it was pressed back down had you stopping. The crook of your arm was all achey. And the gentle pressure of another hand in yours was nice. Soft yet calloused skin from tinkering intertwined with yours.
You slowly recognized that the Doctor was next to you. Her coat draped over the blankets covering your legs. Leaving her in just her long undershirt and t-shirt on top. Muscles tense, well defined with how flexed they were. Ready to jump into action at a moment's notice.
"Not going to argue with me this time?" She stares you down, looking into your very soul with stern eyes. "Going to finally listen to me and stay where I've put you for your own good."
The steady beeping and machinery slowly started to make sense to you. Sedated. With your inability to breathe and deteriorating condition, the Doctor had sedated you. Allowing for your body to catch up with fluids. Had you been fighting to leave bed in your sedated state? 
Suddenly the Doctor was in your personal space. It was her's, if she wanted it. You weren't going to dare object to sharing the same air between the two of you. Her eyes were closed, stopping the moment from being overwhelmingly intimate. You could feel her hair brushing against your cheek with the little sway of your faces. Foreheads pressed together.
All too soon she pulled away.
"Temperature is much better. Think you might be on the mend soon."
Disappointment flooded you at the clinical explanation for the tender moment of contact between you.
“That’s good then,” you croaked out.
Your throat hurt now that you had tried to use it. Before you could process it a cup was held up to your lips. Greedily you took gulps of water before the cup was forced away. Coughing as some of the water tried to go down wrong.
“Oi! Small sips now.”
You took her warning to heart as you took small sips when the water was returned to you. She tipped the cup slowly to ensure that you couldn’t drink too much at once this time. Several minutes later you had finally finished the half a glass she allowed you.
“Now what?”
“Now, you rest.”
“But Doctor,” you whined. “I was just sleeping.”
The stern glare she sent your way had you backing down. Okay, guess you were going to rest more. The Doctor could be intimidating when she wanted to be. Already bored now that you didn’t feel that death was a better option for you, you stared up at the ceiling. Tracing patterns that weren’t there into the smooth, blank surface.
The subtle looks out of the corner of your eye showed that the Doctor had begun to busy herself with other things. It looked like she was reading some sort of guide for being sick. All you could imagine now was the Doctor curled up like this in her own room. Shoes off, as she curled up in a chair with her legs folded up beneath her. A book with the stereotypical yellow cover boasting “A guide to humans for dummies”, on it. Maybe you should see if a book like that really existed, it would help her a lot some days.
Hearing your stifled laughter, an eyebrow was raised in question at you. Silently asking you what was so funny. Shaking your head you dismissed her questions. Knowing that it wouldn’t be funny to her. Besides, keeping her curious was nice sometimes. Revenge for all the guessing she made you do. It might be petty, but you were sick. You were allowed to be petty.
Giving up on asking before she even truly attempted it, the Doctor turned back to her book. When she was sufficiently distracted you slowly creeped your hand closer and closer to the nightstand. Reaching into it you managed to grab your phone. Maybe you could watch a movie or something. Well, maybe not a movie. A game? The Doctor would probably not notice that.
“Hand it over,” she commanded with an outstretched hand. Not even looking in your direction.
How had she known?
With a grumble you surrendered it to her waiting palm.
“You can play on your phone in a couple hours. Right now it will only give you a headache again.”
Pouting even when you knew she was right you laid there dreadfully bored. Drifting in and out of focus, but refusing to sleep again on principle. The minutes dragged along, achingly slow. Ugh. This was a new form of hell. Maybe sleeping would be better just to make it pass sooner.
The loud slam shut of her book stole your attention back. Head snapping in her direction. Ow.
“New plan, quick shower first!”
“What?”
"You're too worked up to go to sleep, and so unwilling to try. So let's get you cleaned up and then you can sleep."
She was a hurricane of movement suddenly. Gathering whatever you could need for your shower. New cozy pjs, warm soft towels. Door opened that led to the shower, wandering in and around as she prepared for you.
Climbing slowly out of bed you managed to forget that the IV existed. It yanked you back into bed with a stumble as you failed to move away from the mattress. Hands rushed to steady you, the clanging of plastic bottles as they landed harshly on the floor just as startling as your body being yanked back. 
“Careful there! Can’t have you knocked unconscious, that wouldn't be the rest you require.”
The Doctor’s fingers trailed across your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Pressing down firmly against your wrist with unrelenting pressure. Heartbeat echoing against your joined skin.
“Little fast, wonder why,” she let her curiosity hang in the air between the two of you.
She didn't push, only waited to see if you would admit to her why your heart would be racing. Ignorante of her affect. Satisfied at least with how your heart wasn’t broken in some manner, she carefully drew the IV out of your arm.
It felt strange. You were more than thankful when it was finally over. Rushing away the Doctor gathered the fallen supplies before she made her way back to your side. It took you longer than it should have to realize that you needed to stand up to make your way to the bathroom. Leaning against her body for support as you hobbled over to the bathroom. 
Legs heavy feeling. Attempting to drag you down to the floor. It was more exhausting that you had been anticipating. Unable to conceived of feeling this much weight in your entire body. To yourself you could finally admit that perhaps the Doctor had been right, you should be resting. Still you had gotten this far, been this stubborn. You didn’t dare give her ammunition to use against you now.
Only once she had helped you to remove them did you realize how uncomfortable your jeans had been. Neither of you had thought to take them off, forgetting that they were there to hinder your comfort. Too tired to be flustered even her hands brushing against your bare skin as she took off your shirt garnered almost no reaction from your body. It was intimate in a somehow innocent manner. Simply her helping you to get relief from the sinus pressure, fuzzy head, and general discontent from the state of your body.
The soft pattering of the shower head and the steam collecting to fog up the bathroom made the aches of your body fade into the background. Dozens of tissues were held to your nose for you to expel all of the snot that had taken residence. FInally able to breathe out of your nose. A happy sigh of relief left your open lips.
No shyness existed in you as the Doctor removed your bra and panties. The sickness had flushed it out of you along with your ability to feel any shame or embarrassment. Needing to lean on her as you stepped into the shower under the onslaught of water. TIghtly gripping her arm when your legs wavered. Abandoning you for a moment in order to shove off her suspenders and trousers, before joining you under the water. 
Her shirt sticking to her undershirt, water causing it to cling to her skin. Didn’t seem to care one bit that she was soaked. Instead entirely focused on making sure that your hair was slowly washed, skin lathered, and that you were generally kept from falling to the floor beneath you. Once your hair was rinsed out, you couldn’t help but press your head against her chest. Ignoring the wet fabric now trying to cling to your face in favor of just enjoying when she held you. Fingers cascading through wet hair, attempting to hold onto wet skin that her fingers slipped from.
Humming little songs under her breath, almost hidden by the noise of the water. Letting you tire yourself out just from standing alone. The hot water feeling so wonderful against your tense muscles. Nimble fingers working through knots in your back as she let time pass without complaint. Without acknowledgement of how your body was starting to sink more and more into the ground, into her body- her gravity. Following her lead you allowed her to pull you from underneath the water. Towel secured around you as she quickly shed her sopping wet clothes. 
Wetly flopping onto the tile where she tossed them. Discarding them as an issue for later. As if magically someone other than her would be able to take care of them. Now as naked as you were she turned her attention back to your shivering wet form. Gently rubbing your skin down until it was mostly dry, only slightly damp in some areas. It was a chore to pull on the underwear she had brought in for you. Noticing your struggles, the Doctor elected to finish helping you dress. Soft fuzzy fabrics encircled your rapidly deteriorating - in terms of wakefulness- body. The Doctor had to practically carry you back to bed. Without the scalding water, shivers racked your form. It was cold. You complained as much to her.
With an indulgent smile she climbed into your bed, keeping you in her arms. It was a struggle for her to grab her jacket to pull around your body as an additional layer to keep you warm. Mainly as you refused to let go of her. Shoving your face against her warm skin, lips pressed against her collarbone. Happily humming as she lifted the hood to cover your head. Layers upon layers of clothes and blankets overtop of you. Clinging to her with a feverous intensity as coughs began to wrack your body again. Warm and content you allowed yourself to stop fighting the sleep that threatened to drag you down.
In and out of awareness, as every time your mind surfaced with any form of clarity she was there. The comfort of knowing that she had stayed as your personal body pillow allowing you to relax and be pulled back under into the blissfulness of the dreaming world. No more terrors to attack your mind while the Doctor was watching over you. She would always protect you.
It wasn’t long for you until you finally emerged from the grasps of sleep to the gentle hum of the TARDIS. Lights still dim as candle light, creating a cozy environment in your room. It took you a few moments to realize that the light no longer hurt your eyes. You felt, well, still tired, but otherwise good. Healthy. No longer as dreadfully sick as before. It would probably be a few more days of you taking it easy before you were ready to venture outside of the TARDIS but you should be able to manage leaving your bedroom now. So long as the Doctor was willing to allow it.
“Am I considered well enough for a brief venture outside of this room? Please Doctor? Just the kitchen, I promise I won’t make anything too laborious.”
Looking down at you with eyes alight the Doctor smiled at you. Shuffling about as she attempted to free the two of you from the cocoon that you had both crafted together. Her hair was sticking up wildly. Unable to fully free herself before she crashed to the floor, covers still tangled around her legs. Now she was looking up at you as her face lit up with laughter at her own clumsiness.
Untangling herself as she spoke, “Alright. We can take a look around for something in the pantry.” Scooping you up into her arms again, “But I’m not allowing you to walk there yourself.”
Noses touching. So close to each other. You couldn’t help blurting out your feelings for her when this close, this overwhelmed with affection for how she lovingly took care of you when you were a sick mess. Who could resist confessing to her now? Maybe someone not still slightly sick who realized that it was not the most romantic of times.
“I love you,” you blurted out in a rush.
Somehow she managed to glow even more than before.
“I love you too,” no hesitation in her return of your love. “Now! Let's go get you some food. I could go for a nice toastie, myself.”
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spencerreidswhore187 · 2 months
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Hymn for Her (3)
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Ava x Beatrice (Warrior Nun) 
Summary: The discovery of a resurrected Ava, believed to be lost, sends ripples through Bea's reality, filling her heart with both joy and trepidation. However, the reunion takes a harrowing twist when Ava, transformed by otherworldly forces, becomes an unexpected adversary, unleashing violence upon the Order of the Cruciform Sword. Ava finds herself entangled in a relentless battle against the forces of darkness, the mystery behind her descent into darkness deepens. Meanwhile, Bea grapples with the conflicting emotions of love and despair, haunted by dreams that connect her to Ava's tortured soul.
T/W:  Descriptions of violence, blood and gore. Brief mentions of alcohol, guns and other weapons. Please let me know if I forgot to add something.
Word Count: 2.6k
Part One: An Unholy Darkness
Part Two: Echoes of Darkness
Part Three: Whispers in the Shadows
Part Four: Dance with Shadows
Part Five: Embrace of Light
The journey to track down Ava had led Bea through a labyrinth of shadows, traversing landscapes both familiar and foreign. Days turned into nights, and the rhythmic pulse of her love guided her through the veiled paths that Ava had tread. As Bea finally closed in, the air became charged with tension, and a sense of inevitability hung in the darkened corners of the city.
It was in the quiet alleys, cloaked in the obscurity of the night, that Bea finally caught a glimpse of Ava. Her breath caught in her throat. The celestial glow framed Ava's silhouette, accentuating the contours of her form in a way that stirred a familiar yearning within Beatrice's heart. 
She was beautiful.
The months of separation had done nothing to diminish the magnetic pull she felt towards Ava.
Ava's brown hair was cropped at her neck and fell in loose waves. The armour adorned with sacred symbols accentuated the lines of her figure. Bea, hidden around the corner, couldn't help but marvel at her captivating beauty that had once been her solace amid chaos.
Ava was leaning against a mossy brick wall, twirling a knife in her hand. As Bea observed her she was overcome by memory, her favourite memory - a moment etched in time. It unfolded like a vivid dream, bringing with it the intoxicating rush of emotions. 
In the dimly lit chamber, Ava led the way with a purposeful stride, pulling her hood down to reveal her face bathed in the soft glow of the golden light emanating from the cross. Bea, following closely, mirrored Ava's actions, pulling down her own hood as they approached the sacred symbol carved into the wall.
The air was charged with a mix of anticipation and suspicion as Yasmine voiced the question that hung in the air like an unspoken truth. "Where's the ark?" Yasmine's question pierced through the solemn atmosphere, drawing everyone's attention.
"This is where Jillian told us it would be," Bea responded, her eyes flickering toward Ava, who remained focused on the illuminated cross. Yasmine's suggestion that the ark might have been moved floated in the air, but Bea couldn't shake the growing unease in her gut.
"No," Bea replied firmly, her gaze unwavering from Ava. "She lied about its location."
A subtle tension threaded its way through the room as Bea watched Ava out of the corner of her eye, sensing that something was amiss. Bea took a step towards Ava, a silent acknowledgement of the unspoken doubts that had plagued her throughout the day.
"What? Why would she do that?" Yasmine asked, her confusion mirroring the turmoil within Bea.
"Ava?" Bea’s voice cut through the charged silence, seeking answers.
"Because I told her to," Ava responded, turning around to face Yasmine and Bea. The calm expression on her face was unnerving, a stark contrast to her usual energetic demeanour.
"I don’t…I don’t understand. Why?" Yasmine stammered, her confusion deepening.
Ava offered a gentle smile as she walked towards Bea. "Because things change," she explained, her eyes never leaving Bea. "When you realise not everything is about you."
"I'm sorry, Bea," Ava added, her gaze locked with Beatrice's. "But that's the Warrior Nun's job, right? They die so everyone else can live.”
Ava stepped towards Bea.
Beatrice could feel her heart breaking, a painful reminder of what Camila had once said. It was easy to fall in love with a Warrior Nun, but loving the Warrior Nun was the hard part—they were never truly yours, and they never lasted.
"Ava, don't," Bea pleaded, her voice strained as she fought to keep her emotions in check, not wanting Ava to witness her breaking.
Ava stepped closer, her gaze fixed on Bea. "I'm doing this so you can live your life. So live it, okay?" Ava nodded softly.
"I won't," Bea refused, the pain evident in her voice. "I can't."
"You can," Ava insisted, her eyes briefly darting to Beatrice's lips. She took another step closer.
"I can't." Bea’s desperation deepened. As a final, frantic act, she grabbed the crown of thorns from Ava's side, attempting to put a stop to the unfolding tragedy. Ava, however, seized Bea's arm, pulling them closer together until their chests pressed against each other.
Their faces mere inches apart, a charged silence enveloped them. Ava's eyes held a mix of determination and a vulnerability Beatrice hadn't seen before. In a moment that froze time, Ava moved forward, closing the gap and pressing her lips against Bea's.
Bea was in shock, caught off guard by the unexpected tenderness of Ava's kiss. As Ava began to pull away, Bea closed her eyes and kissed her back, the shock giving way to a yearning that had long been suppressed.
Their chests still pressed together, bodies entwined, Bea lifted her hands to cup the side of Ava's face. Ava mirrored the action. The kiss was desperate, fuelled by the pent-up emotions and unspoken desires that had lingered between them. Desires that have lingered since the day they first met. Bea ran her hands through Ava's hair, her touch gentle yet filled with an aching need to hold on to this fleeting moment.
When they finally broke apart, they rested their foreheads against each other. Bea's hands trembled as she cupped Ava's face, both keeping their eyes closed. Ava smiled as Bea stroked her cheek, their emotions hanging in the air like a delicate balance. 
Bea tilted her head down, as if in prayer, and Ava pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before resting her head back against Beatrice's. The shared smiles spoke volumes, their connection transcending words. Bea held Ava's chin, stroking it with her thumb, saving the moment as if it were the last. Bea knew it likely was; their story had ended before it had even begun. 
"In the next," Ava whispered, the weight of inevitability in her words.
Bea nodded, and with a final, lingering touch, Ava brushed her hand before she phased through the floor, leaving Beatrice standing alone, a thousand thoughts swirling in her head.
Bea relived that day ever since she lost Ava. 
Unaware of Bea's watchful gaze, Ava pushed herself off the wall. She moved with an otherworldly elegance, her footsteps leaving an imprint on the cold stone floor. As she approached a dimly lit intersection, her gaze momentarily flickered towards where Bea concealed herself. The recognition, a fleeting spark in her eyes, lingered like a suspended breath.
Bea, guided by a mixture of caution and longing, stepped out from behind the corner.
"Ava," Bea called, a gentle plea. The alley seemed to hold its breath as Ava turned to face her. 
Ava’s reaction, a subtle mix of shock, surprise and a tinge of disappointment played across her features. The connection that had once bound them together now seemed like a fragile thread on the verge of unravelling. Bea, her eyes searching for a glimmer of the Ava she had once known, found herself caught in the intricate dance of emotions.
”Ava," Bea repeated, the name carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken words. 
Ava threw her knife, narrowly missing Bea’s ear. 
“Beatrice.”
The air crackled with anticipation as the two circled each other; a warrior nun and her warrior sister. Two girls, hopelessly in love. Two girls, preparing to fight. 
Despite the intensity of the struggle, Bea couldn't help but notice the restraint in Ava's strikes. A hesitation that spoke of an internal conflict—a shred of the Ava she knew still resisting the encroaching darkness. Ava, though consumed by a force beyond her control, refused to unleash harm upon Bea, as if some lingering spark of their shared past held her back.
Seizing the opportunity, Bea struck with precision, disarming Ava and subduing her with a swift and decisive move, rendering her unconscious. The once formidable warrior nun now knelt, restrained and shackled. It hurt Bea to do it but she knew it was for the better. She had a plan.
Bea took Ava back to the familiar apartment in Switzerland—the very sanctuary they had once sought during the battle against Adriel. The air in the apartment was thick with memories, both tender and tumultuous, as Bea secured Ava to a chair. The room bore witness to a domestic life they had once shared when in hiding. The remnants of a past that now seemed distant.
Ava groaned as she slowly raised her head, struggling against her binds. 
"Remember this place, Ava," Bea implored, her voice tinged with sorrow and determination. "Remember the life we fought to build here."
Ava's eyes flickered, a fleeting acknowledgement of the familiarity that lingered in the air. The apartment, the bar, Beatrice. 
Bea took a step closer, crouching in front of Ava. Her eyes locked with Ava's. "You're not lost, Ava. We can fight this together. Remember our love, the strength we draw from each other."
Memories echoed through the room—the quiet moments, the shared laughter, the love that had anchored them in the face of adversity. She spoke of the nuns who looked up to Ava, the responsibility she bore as a warrior nun, and the light she brought to their lives.
“Remember that night in the bar? When we drank and danced and danced, I knew I loved you then.” Tears welled in Bea's eyes as she pleaded, "We need you, Ava. The sisters need you. I need you. I love you and I know you love me too.” 
A flicker of recognition passed through Ava's eyes. The internal struggle played out on her face, torn between the darkness that sought to claim her and the love that refused to be extinguished. “You’re wrong,” Ava spat. 
“I only kissed you to distract you,” she grinned. “It was the only way you’d lower your guard. It was a mistake.” 
The word echoed through Bea’s ears. Mistake.
She knew that Ava was trying to hurt her. She knew she was trying to throw her off guard. She knew that wasn’t her Ava but still, she couldn’t look the girl in the eyes.
But as Bea left the apartment briefly to gather her thoughts, the air seemed to shiver with an impending change. Returning to the room, she was met with an empty chair, the restraints now severed. Panic gripped Bea as she realised that Ava, under the influence of Lilith, had managed to escape.
A cold wind whispered through the room as Bea rushed to the window. Below, the city sprawled in silent witness to the girl Bea loved slipping away once again.
Ava, accompanied by the shadow of Lilith, vanished into the night, leaving Bea standing alone on the precipice of loss. The echoes of the apartment walls seemed to mock her, and a guttural scream of frustration escaped Bea's lips as she collapsed onto the floor. She could not grapple with the reality of losing Ava once more, watching her love disappear through the cracks of darkness, just beyond her reach.
Despair clung to Bea like a heavy shroud as she travelled back to the convent, the weight of her failure pressing upon her shoulders. The moon hung low in the night sky, casting long shadows on her weary path. Each step echoed the heartache of losing Ava once again, the girl she loved slipping through her grasp like sand slipping through her fingers.
Returning to the convent, Bea found the atmosphere tense, the air heavy with the anticipation of impending darkness. The nuns gathered in a sombre assembly and exchanged grim glances. Word had spread about Lilith's pursuit of the divinium sword Ava had wielded against the false angel Adriel—the very weapon that now held the key to unimaginable power.
As Bea entered the sacred halls, Sister Yasmine met her gaze with a mixture of concern and determination. "Lilith is after the sword. We must prepare for battle. The fate of not just our order, but the world itself, hangs in the balance."
The realisation struck Bea with a renewed sense of purpose. She had to put aside her grief and focus on the impending threat that loomed over them. The sword Ava once carried had become a beacon, drawing forces from the other realm with insidious intentions.
In the depths of the other realm, Ava had faced horrors beyond imagination. The malevolent energies that pervaded that dimension had twisted her spirit, leaving her caught between two worlds. The darkness had seeped into her, moulding her into a pawn controlled by Lilith, a puppet dancing to the sinister tune of the otherworldly forces.
Lilith, fuelled by her own desire for power and vengeance, sought to harness the sword's latent energies to unleash chaos upon both realms. The sword, once a weapon of hope, had become a focal point for the brewing storm.
As the nuns gathered in the dimly lit chamber beneath the convent, the gravity of their mission weighed heavily upon them. The ancient tapestries on the stone walls seemed to whisper tales of battles fought and victories won. The flickering candlelight cast shadows on determined faces, each nun a guardian of the sacred legacy they had sworn to protect.
The preparations for battle were meticulous and thorough. The sisters donned their battle attire, the armour clinking softly as they moved. Weapons were inspected and sharpened, every blade gleaming with the promise of a formidable defence. The scent of incense permeated the air, invoking a sense of sacred ritual in the face of impending darkness.
Mother Superion stood at the centre, directing the preparation with unwavering authority. "The sword must not fall into Lilith's hands. Our duty is clear—to protect it at all costs."
The nuns, a diverse sisterhood of warriors, scholars, and healers, each took on a specific role. Some focused on enchantments to fortify their defences, while others delved into ancient tomes to glean knowledge about the forces they faced. The infirmary buzzed with activity as healers prepared salves and remedies to tend to the wounded.
In the training yard, the rhythmic clashing of blades resonated as the warriors honed their skills, their movements fluid and synchronised. The air vibrated with the energy of anticipation, a collective resolve that transcended individual fears.
Bea, fuelled by a newfound determination, embraced her role in the preparations. She sought solace in the routine of sharpening her sword, the metal gleaming with a steely resolve. Each stroke of the whetstone echoed the solemn oath she had taken—the promise to protect the world from the encroaching shadows. Bea didn’t know if she could fight Ava again. Consumed by darkness or not, she could never hurt her. 
As dawn approached, the nuns, adorned in their battle regalia, gathered in the courtyard. Mother Superion, bearing the weight of leadership, addressed them with a resolute gaze. "Today, we fight not just for ourselves but for the balance of the realms. The sword is our sacred trust. We protect it with our lives."
The courtyard echoed with a collective affirmation, a chorus of voices merging into a hymn of courage. The nuns, bearing the legacy of warriors who had come before them, marched toward the looming darkness, their steps echoing the cadence of a sacred oath.
The battle against Ava and Lilith had begun. The OCS, united by purpose, faced the encroaching shadows with an unwavering resolve, ready to defend the sword that held the power to either save or doom them all.
A/N: Thank you for reading ◡̈
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kiljoytrout · 2 years
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Let the Children Lose It
Pairing - Hotchreid (Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid)
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating - T
Ao3 Link
Summary
Hotch: Stuck in a meeting with Strauss. 
Jack: Waiting to be picked up at school. 
Prentiss: Waiting for Reid to get over his crush on his boss. 
Spencer: Done with everyone’s bullshit.  
Based on @panevanbuckley​‘s idea.
p.s the title has nothing to do with the work, I was just listening to Bowie. 
Let the Children Lose It
Flip. Flip. Flip. 
Everyone in the bullpen could hear the noise but no one cared anymore. It just meant that Dr. Reid was reading at the speed of light, each page barely exposed before being covered by another one. Usually it would be a case file, another series of victims and unsubs whose names would blur together in everyone’s head but his. But today was a slow day at the BAU, the best kind of day. Even in the team’s most heroic moments, when they caught an unsub seconds before another life was destroyed, it never felt that good. After all, someone else was already dead if the team got called in in the first place. Dr. Reid, the genius who could piece together the puzzles no one else could, itched to get back to work, but Spencer, the young man whose mother had read medieval poetry to him every night, was relieved. No consolations, no crime scenes, just a battered copy of Beowulf in his hand and the buzz of the Bureau around him. 
The epic would only last him a few more minutes at his current rate so he took a break to observe the bullpen. To his right, Agent Prentiss was slogging through a stack of reports, cursing under her breath (“ ‘time of discharge?’ why the hell would I check the time right before I shoot?”). 
“ Want some help with that?” offered Reid. 
“ Ugh, that would be a lifesaver. Apparently the FBI needs a form for every single bullet fired from a federal weapon.” 
Prentiss scooted over to make space for Reid and his chair at her desk. They worked for the next half hour, him peppering her with questions about where or when a shot was fired (“my motive? That I didn’t feel like dying at the moment.”). As they burned through the paperwork, Spencer glanced at the Unit Chief Office. Through the shutters, he could see the familiar blonde head of Strauss, a couple of other bureaucrats, and if he craned his neck -
 “Checking up on your man?”
 Reid averted his gaze, turning back to Prentiss. He wondered how even though they were practically the same color, Prentiss’s dark eyes were so bright while Hotch’s always had a brewing intensity to them. In fact, Prentiss’s were practically dancing in anticipation right now - she asked you a question!  
 “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Reid mumbled. 
“Oh come on, Morgan and I’ve been watching you pine for years. When are you going to make a move, Reid?” she teased. 
“Contrary to popular belief Prentiss, I actually like my job. Here’s the last report, ingrate.”
 Prentiss thanked him (rather ungraciously) and he rolled back to his desk. Over his shoulder, he could catch the sympathy in her bright eyes. To her, he was just the poor kid who fell too hard for his obliviously handsome boss. Spencer couldn’t blame her; that’s all he ever thought he would be too. Despite his eidetic memory, he can’t remember the exact moment when his desperate crush had become reality. Was it always there, in the shared space of an airplane armrest after a long case, in the sole of a holstered shoe kicking him on a hospital floor, in every single “Reid, you’re with me” at the beginning of countless cases? 
Now, he really was with Hotch, though he can’t say anything about it. If the ongoing meeting in the Unit Office was any indication, Strauss was still hellbent on getting Hotch out of the Bureau and a relationship with a subordinate would be the perfect nail on the coffin of his career. 
What if that’s what the meeting is about? 
For a second, Spencer froze, darting a nervous glance upstairs before catching himself and burying his nose in the files on his desk. No, that can’t be it, he thought as he thumbed through evidence reports, trying not to look suspicious (as if one of the bureaucrats were going to look out the window at him and immediately know). If that was the case, they would have called me in too, maybe even the rest of the team. Strauss would want to make a spectacle of it. 
Reassured, he set aside the old case files and picked up Beowulf  again. But as Spencer sped through Hrothgar’s death and Grendel’s siege of the mead hall, something at the back of his mind still nagged him. The meeting was still going longer than usual. Hotch usually kept end of the day meetings short so the rest of the team could go out together and he could pick up - Jack!  
His head swiveled to the clock on the wall. It was 3:07, school was going to let out any minute. Throwing subtlety to the wind, Spencer arched his neck and rolled his chair back a few feet. Through the shutters, he could see Hotch, jaw set and brows furrowed. Spencer waved to catch his eye, mouthed “Jack?”, and tipped his head to the glass doors. Hotch tightened his lips grimly. He can’t get out of this meeting, Spencer realized, and since this is a surprise on Strauss’s part, he probably didn’t tell Jessica to pick Jack up from school. Making sure Hotch could still see him, Spencer pointed to himself, grabbed his bag, and started walking in the direction of the doors.
 “Where are you going, Reid? You usually don’t leave until we drag you out.” said Prentiss. 
“ Got something going on today,” he said, glancing upstairs, where he could see Hotch nodding, as if to Strauss’s words, but making eye contact with him. 
“ Pretty boy’s got a hot date!” laughed Morgan, leaning on the door frame. 
“Sure I do” muttered Reid, ducking under Morgan’s hand trying to tousle his hair and out the door. 
In his ear, there was the faint sound of an annoyed woman saying, “Agent Hotchner, is there something down there that’s distracting you?” 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SCHOOL ZONE SLOW DOWN 
Under the dirty yellow sign, kids of all ages were congregated, bidding goodbye to their friends before getting into their parent’s cars. Spencer sighed in relief; if students were still leaving, Jack can’t have been waiting for too long. Not seeing him in the immediate crowd, Spencer parked the car and walked to the front of the school. He had only seen this place from the passenger seat, waiting for Hotch to pick up his son. 
Jack and Spencer were close but that was mainly in the confines of Hotch’s apartment. In Jack’s eyes, Spencer supposed, he might feel like an imaginary friend to make elephant toothpaste, rewatch Jurassic Park, and fall asleep to constellation stories with. On the days when all he could do was trace the needle marks on the inside of his elbows, it’s this that kept Spencer going; the reminder that to Jack, he is not scarred or beaten, but simply a magical trickster who pulled playing cards out of thin air and knew the names of creatures that lurk in the deep sea.  
“Jack!” he called out but his voice was lost in hubbub. 
“ Can’t find your kid either?” someone asked. A woman, around Hotch’s age, with auburn hair and an exasperated smile was standing behind him. 
“ No, I can’t. Is there a designated pick up zone somewhere?” responded Spencer, not bothering to correct her parenting assumption. 
“ There’s supposed to be, but it’s always a mess by the end of the day. I’m Kelsey by the way.” she said, extending her hand for Spencer to shake. 
“Dr. Reid.” 
“A doctor! Smart and handsome.” 
Spencer blushed, splotched red rising on his collarbones. No matter how often Hotch mumbled it into his neck, there was a part of him, hardened by the Las Vegas climate and cruelty, that could never fully believe he was beautiful. 
“Thank you.” 
“ Don’t thank me for speaking the truth! Wait, there’s my kid. Is that yours next to her?” 
On the stairs was a girl whose auburn pigtails were splattered green and next to her was Jack, blue paint all over his cheek, waving happily. 
“Uncle Spence!” 
Spencer crouched down, gave a quiet oof when Jack ran right into his arms. 
“ Did I hurt you, Uncle Spence?” 
“Not at all Jack, you’re just so big now! What happened to your cheek?” 
Before Jack could answer, another adult appeared behind him, plump with heart-shaped glasses; Spencer was reminded faintly of Garcia. 
“Jack, is your dad here y- oh who is this?” asked the adult. 
“This is my Uncle Spence, Mx. Crassey. Uncle Spence, this is my teacher Mx. Crassey. Say hiiiiii.” 
Spencer bit back a smile. Jack had obviously seen his father introduce colleagues to each other at some point and started doing his own version of it. 
“ Hello, Mx. Crassey.  Jack’s dad is stuck in a meeting right now. I’m his partner, um, at the Bureau.” added Spencer.
 “Are you the same Spencer who taught Jack the scientific names of his toy dinosaurs?” the teacher asked, smiling widely. 
“Yes, he is!” piped Jack from under them. 
“ Aw, that’s sooo cute!” said Kelsey, who was holding hands with her daughter now. 
“Anyways, I came down to let both of you know that Tracy and Jack got into a bit of a paint fight during Art Time, as you can tell.” said the teacher, gesturing to Tracy’s hair and Jack’s cheek. 
“Will it come off?’ asked Kelsey. 
“It should. Schools usually work with acrylic paints, which is just color pigment in a quick drying resin. Water and dish soap should dissolve the resin and wash out the pigment.” explained Spencer. 
There was a beat of silence. Spencer mentally slapped himself, remembering that he was not at the Bureau and Tracey’s hair wasn’t a live-or-die situation that required this information. 
“Jack wasn’t lying during show and tell, you certainly are smart Spencer!” said Mx. Crassey. 
Before Spencer could respond, his pocket started to buzz.
“Give me a second to take this please,” he said before flipping open his phone to answer Hotch’s call. He walked a few paces away, leaving Jack and Tracy to squabble with each other under the supervision of Mx. Crassey and Kelsey. 
“Spencer?” 
“It’s me, Hotch. I’m with Jack at his school.” 
“Good. I’m sorry you had to pick him up, the meeting only ended a few minutes ago.” 
“It wasn’t any trouble. Was the meeting about um, us?” 
“Not directly. I’ll explain more when you and Jack get home.” 
“Is everything okay?” 
He could hear Hotch smile through the phone.
“Don’t worry Dr. Reid, everything at the Bureau is fine. I’ll be home soon.” 
“ Alright, Jack and I should get going then. Goodb-” 
“Spencer. Thank you.” 
“Any time Hotch.” 
“I love you.” 
“ I love you too.” 
Spencer hung up and tucked his phone in his pocket. When he turned back to the group, the vestiges of his giddy smile immediately died. While the kids were still obliviously quarreling, both Kelsey and Mx. Crassey were staring at him in shock, having obviously eavesdropped. 
“I’m so sorry Dr. Reid, if I had known you were taken I would never have…” stammered a mortified Kelsey. 
“ It’s fine, you had no way of knowing,” mumbled Spencer, just as embarrassed
. An awkward pause ensued. In the background, Tracy whined “You took my truck during free time!” and Jack said “Nuh uh! That was my truck, I just let you look at it for a little bit”. 
“O-kay, I think these kiddos could use some separate spaces right now. Ready to go home?” Mx. Crassey nodded at Jack and Tracy, who stuck their tongues out at each other. Spencer took Jack’s (slightly sticky) hand and the two started down the steps.
Hotch so owes me for this thought Spencer as he waved an awkward goodbye to Kelsey 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“She really said that?” 
Hotch, clad in his non-BAU attire of a quarter pullover and sweatpants, was at the kitchen counter dicing onions for dinner. Watching him from where he was sprawled on the couch, Spencer dramatically pouted. 
“So you don’t think I’m smart and handsome?” 
Hotch snorted and shot Spencer a knowing glance. 
“Of course I do. But if I was meeting you for the first time in an elementary school pick up lane, I would try to be a little more subtle.” 
“But then she wouldn’t have been as horrified when she heard me say ‘I love you’ on the phone.” 
Hotch laughed and Spencer drank in the sight of Hotch’s dimples, something the young man could never grow tired of. 
“Next time, I’ll need to make you wear a veil from head to toe so no more parents will hit on you.” 
“Completely ineffective. They would still fall for my dulcet voice and intellectual charm.” 
“And your humility as well.” 
Spencer cackled. It was strange how in Hotch’s company, the young agent could be both flustered at the mere sight of him, yet more brazen than he was with anyone else. 
“Well?” said Hotch. 
“Hmm?” 
“Didn’t you want to know what the meeting was about?” 
Spencer sat upright so fast that two cushions fell off the couch, knocking over the jar of coins (something that Spencer and his mom used to do with spare change) from the coffee table. 
“Shit!” cried Spencer.
“Daddy, Uncle Spence, are you guys okay?” called Jack from his room. 
“We’re all fine buddy!” answered Hotch as he threw the diced onions into the frying pan and went to help Spencer pick up the change. 
“I heard Uncle Spence say a bad word!” 
“No, no no you didn’t Jack. I just said a word that sounds like a bad word!” hastily corrected Spencer as he shoveled pennies in his palms. Crouched down next to him, Hotch snickered. 
“Not helping.” whisper-shouted Spencer. 
“Don’t worry about it Jack, just play in your room until dinner’s ready!” called Hotch. 
“Okay Daddy!” 
Waiting until they could hear the blasts of Jack playing Space Robbers, Hotch and Spencer exchanged furtive grins. 
“You really were excited, weren’t you?” 
“Shut up. Now, what was the meeting about?” 
“Maybe I should wait, there’s still another cushion on the couch that needs to be knocked over.” 
Spencer threw a quarter at Hotch, which bounced off of his nose. Hotch’s carefree grin shifted into his workplace grimace. 
“The meeting was about inter-team relationships in the BAU.” 
“And it wasn’t about us?” 
“Not you. At first Strauss was simply annoyed that Garcia had answered the phone with ‘is this Sex God Derek Morgan calling?’ ” -
 Spencer snorted loudly
 - “But then as I explained for the third time that Garcia and Morgan are just extremely friendly colleagues, I implied that even if there were inter-team relationships, it wouldn’t hurt overall performance as long as all conflicts of interest were made clear.” 
“That’s so…” 
Spencer was trying to choose between ‘heart-wrenchingly sweet’ and ‘unfathomably stupid’. 
“ The second I mentioned that, Strauss accused me of being in a relationship with one of my subordinates.” 
“Oh god.” 
“JJ specifically.” 
Spencer dropped the dimes he was collecting in shock. 
“JJ!” 
“I assume because she calls me frequently to discuss what cases to select.”
“ But JJ has”-
“A husband and son both of whom she cares for deeply. When I reminded Strauss of this, her colleague McKinney then suggested that it was Prentiss that I’m supposedly having an affair with.” 
Spencer was torn between being offended and thankful for the heteronormativity of it all. 
“Since she’s not dating anyone, that took a little while longer to disprove.” 
“How did you convince them?” 
“It helped that the moment Strauss asked her ‘are you having a sexual relationship with Agent Hotchner?’ she burst out laughing.” 
“I bet they loved that.” 
“After that meeting, no taxpayer can say the FBI doesn’t put their money to good use.” 
They laughed and returned to sorting the change. Quarters, nickels, dimes, and pennies piled on the coffee table into shiny silver and copper stacks. 
“So,” Spencer mused as he fingered a nickel, “ I assume we can’t tell the team about us anytime soon.” 
“No.” 
Hotch said in his drill sergeant tone, but Spencer could hear the pain suffocated in it. 
“That’s okay.” 
“No, it isn’t Spencer. You shouldn’t be forced to keep your life a secret from your closest friends because of bureaucratic red tape.” 
“Hotch, I know that. But I don’t want either of our careers to be derailed because of something we decided was a non-issue a long time ago. This is enough for me.”
“And you will tell me the day that it isn’t?” 
“I promise.” 
“Good.” 
They continued sorting for a few more minutes before a peculiar smell in the air caused them to look up from their work. 
“Weren’t you supposed to be making dinner?” asked Spencer. 
Hotch’s eyes widened. As he ran to attend to the burning onions, his partner laughed at him from the floor. 
“Be quiet and finish picking up the coins.” mock admonished Hotch as he scraped the burnt mess from the pan into the trash. 
“Whatever you say Hotch.” 
Spencer continued counting for a few more moments before he felt eyes on him and turned to find Hotch smiling, still scraping but with dimples in full fashion. 
“What?” 
“Nothing. I was just wondering why you still call me Hotch. I say Spencer when we’re not at work.” 
“Certain times I call you Aaron.” 
Certain intimate times. 
“ That I know,” - responded Hotch, the smugness in his voice causing rosy splotches to rise on Spencer’s cheekbones - “But why not the rest of the time?” 
Spencer remembered his beginning at the BAU, the goosebumps raised on his neck when they shook hands, the late nights in the bullpen watching the silhouette of the man working in the upstairs office, the rush of warmth in his chest like mulled cider the first time he was brave enough to call ‘Hotch!’
“That’s a story for another day” Spencer said wistfully as he placed the last coins in their stacks. 
Click. Click. Click. 
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seasonsofeverlark · 2 years
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May Magic
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Author: @mega-aulover​
Prompt: hellooo? it’s my birthday on 3rd May and I was wondering if I could request a bday fic maybe centred around/inspired by some kind of May Day tidings since my bday generally coincides with May Day (in the uk it’s the first Monday of may as opposed to the first day). preferably canon/In Panem. I’ll leave it quite open, doesn’t have to specifically be to do with an actual festival, just some early may good vibes ? [submitted by @shewakesupwiththesun​]
Rating: T/G
Author’s Note: The prompt is for May Day, and my mind went to Beltane and I signed right up! I was trying to maintain May Day within canon but it wouldn’t work for what I have in mind. My head conjured the three witches at the beginning of Macbeth dancing around the pole to have a bit of fun and quoting a bit of Shakespeare on a Beltane, a sort of Fertility Mayhem - complete with a Maypole Dancing with sticks -. Keep a lookout for the following quote! I hope you like it. I did a lot of investigative research on May Pole dances, Morris Dancers, May Day, and Beltane. So happy Birthday, this is May Day well District Twelve style. BTW this wouldn’t have been possible without my wonderful Beta @norbertsmom​. I hope you have a wonderful birthday! __________________
Now let it work; mischief, thou art afoot, Take thou what course thou wilt! – William Shakespeare -Julius Caesar, Act 3, Scene 2.
May Day Eve:
Three huddled creatures circled the giant pole with the brightly colored ribbon. An ancient tradition from days of old. They spun round and round the pole cackling as sparks of their magic flew through the air. Their hair trailed behind them as if illuminated by fire.
They were ambassadors of mischief, chaos, and trouble. Their voices began as whispers but their chanting grew as the moon rose in the inky night.
Their bodies became frenetic as they danced and chanted words of old. Words that contained old magic. The pole began to glow and to throw out sparks as the female forms danced with fervor and their cries reached the heavens and the pole’s glow slowly morphed from orange to a deep green.
Their chanting grew frenetic until drums could be heard and a voice whispered in the wind.
“Now let it work; mischief, thou art afoot, Take thou what course thou wilt!”
Hearing the words, the figures withdrew upon themselves until they became small points of lights that flew to different areas of the district. One flew to an open window and twirled about a golden head. Another traveled toward the train tracks. The last light floated to a humble home where love once abode. It flew to the small creature whose heart once was abundant in love but was now mistrustful of it. The small light glowed as this was whom the greatest gift was to be bestowed.
As the night wore on and the wind picked up, the residents of District 12 slept peacefully. Unbeknownst to them, this year Beltane had come to District Twelve.
May Day:
Katniss dreamt she was deep in the forest wearing a cloak of deep green; the forest floor felt like moss underneath her feet. There was a mist rising from the floor as she moved, her bow in hand. She was chasing a stag, a brilliant white stag that glowed in the darkened wood.
The Stag stopped running as it came to a clearing. It turned to her. Its eyes were clear blue, as beautiful as the pure glistening water. The Stag looked upon her with hauntingly familiar eyes. Eyes that she had seen all of her life and that made her heart tremble. The Stag took a step toward her and it began to transform.
Laying down her weapon, Katniss took a step toward it, when the heavens were filled with a shriek. Glancing up she was blinded and the voice transformed into Prim’s voice.
“Katniss,” Prim shouted, jumping on the bed.
Momentarily, Katniss was out of sorts as she navigated from the dream world to her reality. She groaned at the feel of her sister’s body on top of hers.
“Katniss,” Prim squealed, placing her cold hands on Katniss’ face.
“Prim,” Katniss grumbled. “Get your cold paws off of me!” Prim’s blonde hair fell around Katniss. Her face filled Katniss’ field of view.
“You’re a candidate!” Her sister squeaked in that high-pitched tone only a girl of fourteen was capable of.
“What?”
“Primrose, please get off your sister. You know this is her day off and she deserves to get some sleep,” their mother chided softly.
Their mother Fae was right. Katniss didn’t have many days off. After her last Reaping, Katniss sought employment at the mines. She was loath to do so because of her fear of the mines. Nonetheless, one week after her last day of school Katniss found herself being transported into the bowels of the earth. She uncharacteristically threw up at the end of the day behind her house.
“But mother,” Prim Protested. “Katniss-” Prim began but was interrupted by their mother.
“Your sister needs her rest, Primrose. Not only is Katniss working in the mines, but she’s hunting whenever she can to put food on the table and to help you with your future.”
Prim turned pink and gave their mother the infamous Everdeen scowl.
Katniss sat up, rubbing her eyes. Going to work in the mines was hard, but the income was a valuable incentive. Katniss did not want the same fate for her sister, and with the extra coin she gained, she secured a tutor for Prim. There was a new doctor in town who needed an assistant. Katniss paid the Doctor to teach Prim.
Katniss was hopeful her sister would make it past the Reaping. Prim had never been forced to take Tesserae and as long as Katniss drew breath her sister would never have to. Once her sister was of age she could easily take the test to become the doctor’s assistant. After 5 years of practice with the Doctor, Prim would become a doctor. So that even if the doctor left or died, her sister could continue to peacefully practice medicine. Prim could open a practice and tend the people of the Seam, the Merchants, and the Peacekeepers.
“It’s okay,” Katniss said, yawning to her mother. Turning to Prim she asked, “What’s got you all riled up?”
“You got a rose!” Prim squealed with all the giddiness of a teenage girl pumped up on sweets.
“A what?”
“You’ve been selected.” Prim clapped her hands and then began speaking so fast she didn’t even stop to take a breath. “There was a rose outside with your name on the label and now you have to figure out who your sweetheart is by selecting the right basket and at the end of the day you’re going…”
“Prim, please,” Fae interrupted.
Her sister didn’t have to finish the run-on sentence. Katniss knew exactly what the rose meant. To Katniss, it was worse than the Reaping. It meant that at the end of the day, whoever was chosen to be the May Queen was married to the owner of the basket.
“But there’s a good chance Katniss can become the May Queen and get married,” Prim said enthusiastically.
“Prim,” Fae said sternly. “Please go downstairs and get the package that came with the rose. It’ll be your sister’s dress and the things she’s to wear.”
“Oh, I’ll get to participate in the may dance this year!” Prim gasped and leaped from the bed in her hurry to get out of the room.
“I’m sorry Katniss,” Fae began, sitting down on the bed. “I know you didn’t want to get married, and here you are put into a position where you might have to get hitched in front of the entire town.”
Katniss felt cheated. She’d survived the reaping only to come to a fate worse than death. She swallowed as hot tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. Katniss opened her mouth, but the words became stuck.
“I’m sorry, Katniss, just take a deep breath,” Fae instructed.
Katniss’ chest hurt, it was as if she couldn’t breathe. The feeling was akin to when she was eight years old. Katniss tried to swallow a large nut and it got lodged in her throat and she couldn’t breathe. If it wasn’t for her father’s quick action, she could have died. At this moment, she felt as if she could crumble and dissipate into ash.
“Feeling better?” Fae asked after a few moments of deep breathing.
Katniss nodded, taking one more deep cleansing breath.
“I wish there was a way around this,” her mother said, picking up her hand.
“So do I.”
“But this is a tradition that has been around since before the war. Your father’s family was Covey.”
“Really?” Katniss didn’t recall her grandmother, she only knew the woman had the ability to sing and play any verse she listened to.
“Your grandmother, Maude Ivory, told me that before the war the Covey used to travel to District Twelve and set up the fair. They set up the way the May Queen was chosen. Once the war ended, they weren’t allowed to leave the district, so the tradition continued.”
The Capitol allowed District Twelve the tradition because many babies were born after May Day. It was much like the Fall Festival. The one difference was instead of being capped off by the Sweethearts’ Dance, May Day was capped off by a Toasting. In Katniss’s opinion, it was a ridiculous, trivial, archaic custom that the residents of District Twelve still upheld.
Many believed that a marriage done during the May Day Festival led to a full and prosperous life. Those who danced during the Sweethearts’ Dance in the Fall married during the May Day Fair.
Those with unmarried children clamored for their daughters and sons to be part of the Royal Court. Of the four virginal women selected as part of the Royal Court, one became the Queen. The title of May Queen was desired by all of the women in the District, for it was believed she would be blessed by the gods. Katniss was dubious about this so-called blessing. Mrs. Mellark was crowned May Queen and her poor husband suffered quietly at the hands of that witch.
“I don’t believe in any of it. Not the sacrifice of the May Queen in marriage for the continued fertility of the district, nor do I believe in May Day being the reason why so many women are successful in birthing children after the fair.”
“Katniss,” her mother warned.
“Mother, you and I both know everybody gets drunk and it leads to a lot of shenanigans.”
“Katniss, you don’t have to believe.” Her mother shrugged. “You just have to enjoy the day for what it is.”
Katniss scowled, questioning what her mother was going on about.
“It’s a day for the miners to be out of the mines. A day where they can enjoy their families.”
Her mother made a valid point. The miners only had a few days off, other than May Day. There was Labor Day where all citizens were required to attend a display of the President’s power. It was basically a broadcast of a parade of the Capitol’s military’s might. The Reaping day on July the 4th, and New Year’s Day. Other than that the mines were always open.
“Plus it’s a day your father and I always took advantage of when we were courting,” Fae said, her cheeks turning red.
Katniss frowned.
“It’s a day where the social divide between the Seam and the Merchants doesn’t exist. When we were courting we took advantage of the day; we were able to dance with one another. Your father proposed to me on May Day.”
Katniss had never thought of May Day that way.
“The only saving grace is that they hardly choose a girl from the Seam. The last girl from the Seam to win was Hazelle.”
Katniss blinked when hearing the news. Her mother was right, a girl from the Seam was always chosen to be part of the Royal Court, but they never won the title. “You’re right.”
“Feeling better?” Fae asked.
“Yes,” Katniss nodded.
“Good,” her mother stood from the bed. She paused. “I haven’t been the mother you deserve Katniss, but I will always try.”
Katniss nodded. After her father’s death, Katniss also lost her mother to despair and mourning. Even with the right medication, her mother was never the same.
“Thank you, mother.”
“Now all I have to do is keep Prim away from you, so that she doesn’t drive you crazy.” Her mother chuckled.
As if on cue, Prim’s heavy footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs.
“Prim, help me get the bath and oils ready,” Fae said, drawing Prim away from the door of the bedroom. “We’ve got to make sure your sister looks resplendent.”
Katniss groaned as she flopped back onto her back. She closed her eyes and she pictured the Stag in her mind. He was magnificent, with those piercing blue eyes. At the thought of the magnificent creature, her heart sped up. As she recalled the Stag transforming into a figure, instantly she was transported back to the forest. She stood at the edge of the clearing, her bow in hand.
Like before, Katniss lowered her bow and she stepped out into the clearing. The Stag was transforming into the body of a man. His face was hidden by a stag headdress. He wore no shirt and soft brown pants. His thighs were thick and his waist was narrow. Katniss appreciated his broad shoulders and muscular arms.
His thick arms reached out as if calling her. Katniss took a step toward him. Her pristine dress was flowing in a slight breeze and as she stepped, flowers appeared. She had just reached the man when her dream ended and Katniss found herself staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom. Her mother’s voice was calling to her to come downstairs.
Katniss got up and slowly made her way downstairs where her mother and sister were waiting for her. Taking a bath wasn’t the bad part, it was the shaving. She had to remove the hair from her legs and other places that Katniss would rather not think of. Her mother and sister rubbed aromatic oils on her arms and legs. Katniss did the same for her body. Her hair was brushed out and her dark tresses glowed.
Her mother and sister left the room to get themselves dressed. Katniss sighed as she picked up the white frilly dress she was supposed to wear. She grimaced at her image in the mirror. There was a knock on the door.
“Katniss, are you finished?” Prim asked impatiently.
Katniss chuckled, as she glanced at herself in the old mirror in the room where they bathed. She wasn’t used to seeing herself so made up. She wasn’t what anyone would call beautiful; she was rather on the plain side, small in stature, and she didn’t have many womanly assets.
However, standing in the dress, she glowed. She opened the door. Both her mother and her sister gasped.
“You’re so beautiful,” Prim whispered.
Katniss glanced at her image in the mirror as her mother placed a crown of flowers on her head. Her baby sister’s reflection showed Katniss what true beauty looked like. Prim looked like their mother, blonde with pale blue eyes, she was also tall, willowy, and graceful. And one day she would be the most beautiful girl in the entire district.
“You’re the gorgeous one,” Katniss said, and watched her sister’s cheeks flush to a pretty shade of pink.
Prim twirled around in her light pink dress. The siblings of the Royal Court were automatically included in the Maypole Dance.
“Well, this is as good as it gets,” Katniss said, winking at her sister. “I think it’s time we headed down to the celebrations.
All three Everdeen’s left, unsure of what the day would bring but hoped the odds would be in their favor.
When they arrived at the festival, Katniss gasped. Normally May Day’s were held by the Justice Building. This year it was held in the meadow. A giant Maypole was decorated in bright colorful strings.
Around the Maypole, there were kiosks with all sorts of refreshments and foods. All of the kiosks were brightly decorated with flowers.
Beyond that, there were other kiosks set up with all manner of business and trade, along with fairground games. There was a small stage set up to the right of the pole. A table filled to the brim with baskets lay in wait to be chosen by one of the Royal Court.
There was even a dance floor underneath a tarp. everything was decorated and it looked like a magical field. As if the fairies had set the stage for a romantic day.
There was a group of women clad in white off to the side speaking to an impeccably dressed man. There to his side stood Effie Trinket. Katniss frowned, Effie Trinket never came to these sorts of District Events. Yet there she was dressed like a floral bouquet.
"Ladies, ladies,” she shouted.
“I guess, I’ll see you guys later.” Katniss sighed.
“Good luck, Katniss,” Prim said.
“Have fun,” Fae whispered.
Katniss straightened her shoulders before heading to the group. As she walked she wasn’t watching where she was going and she ran into a solid form.
“Oh, sorry,” she mumbled as she looked up. Her eyes nearly doubled in size when she saw Peeta Mellark staring down at her.
“Katniss,” Peeta said, his voice sounding a bit off.
“Hello,” she greeted, trying to stop her voice from sounding curt.
“You’re in the Royal Court?” Peeta asked, his face was splotchy.
Katniss nodded. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She shifted on her feet, not knowing what to say to him. They had never spoken before.
“Me too,” Peeta said. “I’m a suitor,” he pointed at the table behind him. “Well, got to go…I’m pulling double duty at my family’s kiosk.” His face got redder and redder as Peeta kept on talking. “I’ll keep an eye out for you sister…” By this point even his neck was red. “Okay, good luck.” Peeta nearly tripped as he walked away.
Seeing him and hearing him trip over his words caused Katniss to smile. She was sure by the tinge of heat in her cheeks she was blushing. There was a weird warm fluttering sensation in her stomach that she’d never experienced before. Shaking her head, Katniss marched to where the group of girls dressed in similar dresses were gathered.
An impeccably dressed man smiled at her. “Ah, you must be the last candidate we’ve been waiting for, Miss Everdeen.”
“Why are there ten of us?” Dawn Everett asked.
“All will be explained shortly,” Effie said.
Katniss scowled at the sight of Dawn. The perky blonde menace liked to bully those who she considered beneath her.
“But I demand to know now,” Dawn said, stomping her foot.
“Do you wish to continue as a Candidate?” Effie cooly questioned, in that posh Capitolite accent of hers.
Dawn shut her mouth.
“Ugh,” Katniss murmured, disgusted by the blonde’s atrocious attitude.
“I know,” Madge said next to Katniss.
Katniss turned to find Madge dressed in a similar white frilly dress. Katniss was overjoyed to find a friendly face in the crowd.
“How did you get roped into this?” Katniss said in a low whisper.
“I think my father had a hand in this and all because I didn’t want to get married to the boy from District Two he wanted me to marry,” Madge grumbled.
“Sorry, Madge,�� Katniss said.
“At least the dress isn’t pink,” Madge said.
Katniss laughed. “Thank goodness for small favors.”
“Adeline Cartwright,” Dawn’s annoying voice carried over the voices of the other girls. “What are you doing here? You…”
Katniss and Madge made a beeline for where Delly Cartwright stood.
Delly looked pale and her head was downcast.
Katniss linked her arm with the poor girl. Delly wasn’t ugly, but she had the misfortune of being rounder than the other girls, and her hair was a darker blond than the rest of the girls from the Merchant side.
“Careful what you say to her,” Madge interrupted Dawn. “We wouldn’t want Miss Trinket to hear of your abhorrent behavior, would we?”
Dawn frowned, her eyes blazing at Madge. She quickly turned and walked away.
“You okay, Dells?” Madge asked.
“I’m okay,” Delly’s voice came out in a whisper.
“You don’t have to be scared of her,” Madge said. “Katniss and I, we’ve got you.”
“Well ladies,” Bristel said, marching up to them. “That was pretty impressive?”
“Thanks,” Madge said.
“Everdeen, I didn’t expect you to be here. Normally they choose one Seam girl at these shindigs.”
“I don’t even know how or why I’m here?” Katniss questioned. “What about you? Why are you here?”
“I’m the only unmarried girl left in my year. I work in the mines and I don’t really have time to meet anyone.” Bristel shrugged. “Who are your friends Everdeen?”
Bristel was on Gale’s team in the mines. She was a bright girl but often was considered one of the guys.
“Well this is Delly Cartwright and that’s Madge Undersee,” Katniss introduced them.
“Nice to meet you,” Delly greeted.
“I’m Madge, welcome to our little hodgepodge group,” Madge greeted smiling.
“Much obliged, Bristel Peacewillow at your service.”
“How much longer do you think before this starts?” Delly asked.
“Don’t know, but I think they might be waiting for the band,” Madge said, pointing to where the musicians were gathering.
“Great, I’m not sure how to walk in these shoes, and now I have to worry about dancing in them,” Bristel said.
Madge laughed. “Don’t worry Bristel, we’ll help you.”
They began to wander around the stage area and they came upon the baskets. Typically a group of 15 men was chosen to make baskets the week before May Day. They were the ones in charge of decorating the town, getting the pole set up, and setting up the festivities.
This year there was double the number of baskets. The men with the help of the Capitol made the Meadow look beautiful. They encircled the area of the fair with poles wrapped up in flowers and tiny lights that would illuminate the fair when it got dark and the final chase began.
“Which one do you think you will choose?” Bristol asked.
“I don’t know?” Madge replied as her eyes skimmed the baskets.
Choosing the basket was a very important ritual. It determined who you could potentially marry. Katniss recognized Gale’s and Thom’s baskets right away. Gale’s was covered with a pretty lace napkin. It had the pattern of the Hawthorn Tree on it. Thom’s had the handkerchief his mother gave him. It was gray with pink flowers embroidered on it.
Katniss didn’t want to choose Gale’s because he was like family and that was just ick. However, Thom’s basket was a good choice. He wasn’t a bad prospect and Katniss knew that if for some unfortunate event she was chosen as the May Queen, she could make a life with Thom.
“Who do you think the baskets belong to?” Delly asked.
“Those two over there are Gale’s and Thom’s,” Katniss said under her breath. “Thom has the one with the pink embroidery.”
“That one is Peeta’s,” Delly whispered. The basket Delly discreetly pointed to had a small blank card attached.
Katniss stopped breathing at the mention of Peeta’s name. She always had that reaction to her boy with the bread. She never said anything to anyone, but he was someone who was important to her in ways she couldn’t explain.
“Leevy told me her brother’s had honeysuckle twined around the handle,” Bristel said in a low voice.
“That’s Dwight’s,” Delly whispered, as she nodded to the largest basket.
“Dwight?” The girls asked.
“Dwight Baird,” Madge said. “Real quiet, his father run’s the Train Station.”
Katniss recalled the shy boy with the glasses. There was something off about him.
“That basket with the green napkins, that’s Dawn’s ex, Fred.”
“Ugh,” Bristol said. “Good to know.”
Fred was in the same class as Bristel and Gale. He was all muscle and no brain. He tended to follow whatever Dawn wanted, and he had a reputation as a jerk. But when Dawn broke up with him he became more relaxed and goofy and people started to like him.
“How do you know all of these things?” Bristol asked Delly.
“Everyone ignores me when they’re in the store.” Delly shrugged. “They talk and talk, and they don’t see me.”
“Well, we see you,” Madge said, nodding.
“That’s right, we stick together,” Bristel agreed.
They moved away from the baskets; they didn’t want to get in trouble. Effie and the man were looking at them.
“Why are there so many girls this year?” Delly asked as she glanced around shyly.
“I’m not sure. My parents wouldn’t tell me anything,” Madge said.
“Well, whatever the reason,” Katniss began. “It’s good enough to have the Capitol represented in today’s celebrations.”
“Ladies,” Effie said as she walked by, gathering the candidates. “Please, queue up to walk onto the stage.”
They made a line and walked onto the stage. It was an odd assortment of women on the stage; very few of them would be considered beautiful by Capitol standards. Normally, only the most attractive females were chosen. This year only Madge and Dawn stood out from the rest of the pack. There were ten girls altogether.
“Welcome, welcome to the annual May Day Celebration,” Effie said in her Capitol accent.
The crowd gathered was a mixture of both Seam and Merchants. The crowd clapped politely.
“This year, in honor of the 100th Anniversary, we have Reaped ten lovely ladies. Of these ten, there will be four May Queens. One to represent the four corners of the Earth. There will be an East Queen, West Queen, a North Queen, and a South Queen.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
“Each candidate in the Royal Court shall be judged by you. So ladies, remember to be courteous, polite, and good-natured as you walk around the fair. Now, the introductions by alphabetical order. "Abigail Adams,” Effie called.
Abigail, a diminutive girl who was a year ahead of Katniss, stepped forward. Abigail’s cousin Louisa Adams was called next. Delly’s name was called next and she was followed by Emily Donelson. Katniss was called next and she was followed by Dawn. Ida McKinley then Bristel, followed by Edith Roosevelt, and finally Madge.
As the crowd clapped, Katniss caught Peeta standing with his family. She schooled her face to not react to him. She’d been doing this ever since she was eleven years old. She could not forget the person who represented hope to her.
“Now, to commence May Day, may I present this year’s Maypole Dancers.”
A gaggle of giggling school-aged kids came out and each took a string. Katniss’ sister was present as was Delly’s younger brother Glint. They ran around the Pole doing intricate dancing, winding themselves around the pole as they sang. Their dancing wove the brightly colored strings around the pole in an intricate pattern. Everyone clapped as the music filled the air with the children’s songs.
They made a web as they danced the Gypsies’ Dance. Katniss watched as her sister sailed around the pole ducking and weaving herself gracefully as she held the bright yellow ribbon. When the children were finished, Katniss followed the rest of the Royal Court as they were paraded around the townsfolk. Many threw chains of flowers at them, others cheered until they ended up at the maypole.
Each girl took a colorful ribbon and began moving. Katniss hoped that she didn’t make a fool of herself, yet as she began to move joy filled her heart and she laughed along with the others as they moved about back and forth around the pole. Katniss swore she thought she saw the pole glow.
Katniss nearly stumbled when in her periphery she saw the man with the Stag headdress at the edge of the crowd with his muscular arms crossed over his chest. Her heart raced and her vision blurred as his familiar blue eyes reminded her of another’s eyes. But it couldn’t be, Katniss rationed. Everything seemed to speed up and Katniss found herself bobbing underneath Bristel’s arms. She glanced back at the spot and she found Gale and Thom standing there.
Then the dance was suddenly over and they were all breathless and joyful. And there was a great shout as the festivities began.
The next dance was the dance of Morris. The thirty suitors who were chosen were now wearing shirts covered with strips of fabric in every shade of green imaginable. Their pants had bells attached on their knees. They were divided into three groups of ten and were provided with long sticks. As the lively music began to play, they danced and hopped and they waved their sticks in the air. They clashed their sticks almost as if they were in a fight. The clicking noise of the sticks was done in tune with the music.
The local lore was that this was done in jest as a way to push back all of the evils that could harm the families. Katniss saw it as a way for the men to preen about like peacocks.
Behind her, the crowd cheered and laughed. Some even danced, replicating the dancing the young suitors did. Couples hugged and romanticized their wedded bliss.
Katniss noticed Gale, Thom, and Peeta were placed in the same group. Her eyes began trailing after Peeta as was her custom. Ever since he’d thrown her those two loaves of bread there’d been a connection between them.
They always found themselves staring at each other, but never said anything. Katniss was beholden to Peeta; he saved her family during the worst of times. Katniss had never found a way to pay him for his kindness. As she watched him he made eye contact with her and she shyly turned away.
Gale winked at the group of girls as he danced and Thom nearly fell trying to get them to pay attention to him. Katniss watched Madge chuckle at Thom’s antics, which only emboldened him.
Peeta, however, caught her looking at him and his face became splotchy again. Katniss once more had that pleasant warm fluttering feeling in her stomach. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t. There was something alluring about the way he moved. Peeta’s moves were fluid and pleasing. He was a wrestler and she guessed that was why he was so nimble.
When the dance ended, the men were ushered off to one side of the stage. Even though they just finished dancing, they were all pushing and shoving each other jovially.
As Katniss stood there watching, Effie came around handing each one of the ladies of the Royal court a white belt with a colorful strip of fabric on either side. Katniss wondered why.
Her question must have shown on her face, for Effie said, “It’s for the chase. It will help us pare down the men from thirty to twenty.”
Katniss turned to Delly whose pale blue eyes were wide.
“Ladies, at the sound of the horn you will run. The suitors will chase you and grab one of the strips of brightly colored ribbon. The men who don’t get a ribbon will be eliminated.”
There was a nervous excitement amongst the girls. Katniss shivered, not liking the idea of being the prey. She was used to being the hunter.
Katniss began to use that hunter’s eye her father taught her when she was a child. Her father always told her that being observant was often the greatest tool a hunter had at their disposal. Katniss’ eyes sought out Gale and she noticed Gale’s eyes took on that gleam she’d seen in the forest. And she knew instantly he was aware they were going to give chase to the Royal Court.
Katniss was glad she was quick on her feet. She was one of the fastest in school, she often outran her classmates in physical education class.
Katniss knew Gale was strategic; he would target someone easy to make sure he was still in the running as a suitor. Gale wanted a family and thus far he hadn’t found anyone he wanted to settle down with.
Her eyes shifted to Thom. Thom wasn’t as tall as Gale, and he was pretty but Gale was considered ruggedly handsome. However, Thom was lazy and no doubt he would go for the girl that was closest to him.
Katniss’s gaze shifted to Peeta. He was the dark horse. Peeta was competitive and he did have the stamina to chase her. She’d been to all of his wrestling competitions and even while his competitors were slowing down he looked as if he still had enough energy. To her knowledge, Peeta was beaten only once by his brother and that was because his brother cheated but hadn’t been caught by the referee.
The tempo of the music became faster and it filled the air with anticipation of the next event. It was as if the air was infused with magic. The crowd pressed closer as if to aid the suitors in their chase.
Katniss glanced around, finding her route. She would use her small stature to her advantage.
Suddenly a great horn was heard, and Katniss took off. She could hear the squealing of the girls in her group as she slipped through the crowd. Her heart beat quickly in her chest as she ran. The crowd roared and she glanced back and saw as Suitors grabbed the ribbons and held them up high in triumph. That’s when she saw Peeta eyeing her.
The thrill of being caught by him caused that flirty warmth to spread through her body and she laughed as she pressed forward passed the throng of people. Katniss saw a few girls breaking through as well.
“Run, Katniss, run!” Katniss heard her sister calling out to her from the sidelines.
Katniss heard Madge calling her name. Madge and Bristel had followed her along with a few other girls, laughing and cheering the other on.
Katniss ran into the woods that ran parallel to the path that led to the town. The girls looked at her for guidance.
“Hide yourselves,” Katniss ordered. The girls scattered.
They knew they had a better chance of fooling the boys in the woods than out in the open. Her intention was to find a tree to climb into regardless of her dress, but as she cleared the forest she heard heavy footfalls behind her.
Looking behind her, she saw the man with the Stag headdress. Katniss gasped and ran. Her body became heated and not from the chase, but from the thought of being caught.
The forest was filled with mist and she could hear chanting as she came to a rock wall. There had never been a rock wall in the district. Katniss pounded her hands against the rock before turning around. Her hands grasped the cool rock surface and it slowly morphed into the rough texture of tree bark. The mist disappeared and Peeta stood before her.
“Katniss?” he questioned.
“Peeta,” Katniss whispered.
“Are you okay?” He took a hesitant step toward her. “Your eyes were glazed over and you didn’t hear me when I called.”
“Yes,” Katniss stammered. “I’m fine.”
He walked up to her, his eyes peering down at her, and Katniss couldn’t help but look up at him. There was something magnetic about Peeta, something pulling her to him. She wanted to put her hands on his chest but dared not.
“Would you mind if I grabbed one of your ribbons?”
Unable to talk, she shook her head no. After all, he had caught her fair and square. Peeta gently tore off the ribbon as if doing so would hurt her. He was always gentle and sweet. In school, she noted that even though he was popular, he was never unkind to anyone, not even those who were designated as being an oddball, ugly, or unseemly.
He was the same way in the bakery. While his brothers were borderline rude with the people, Peeta was always kind. She often caught him giving cookies to the Seam kids at lunch and sometimes she’d seen him quietly bring stale bread to the widows or the elderly in the Seam in the pre-dawn hours.
Just then they heard Fred yell in the woods. His steps were uncoordinated and he cursed under his breath. Katniss wanted to laugh.
Fred burst into their private moment together and Peeta winked and took her other ribbon and stuffed it into his pants pocket.
“Move over Mellark,” Fred said, striding up to her.
“She doesn’t have anymore,” Peeta said, holding up the ribbon in his hand. Just then they heard giggling and laughter and male voices as they shouted triumphantly.
“Awe man,” Fred said, pouting.
“I think we should get going,” Peeta said, holding out his arm to her.
Katniss nodded and slowly slipped her hand through his arm and was shocked by how hard and firm his muscles were. That floaty tingly warmth was back in her stomach.
As they reached the fairgrounds they saw that Bristel was being led by two men, one was a man with muscle in his neck and that made Bristel look small and diminutive compared to his size. The other was a slender man with a hook nose. Madge was being escorted by Thom who looked happier than a bear with a pot of honey.
This May Day was very surprising.
Katniss cleared her throat and whispered, “What are you going to do with the other ribbon?”
“I’m going to give it to Dwight,” Peeta said.
“Dwight?”
“He’s a nice guy and a lot of girls don’t like him. But in actuality, he is very shy and gets really nervous around girls. He also likes to collect flowers. He’s very interested in botany. It’s why a lot of girls think he’s weird.”
Katniss watched Peeta lead her to where Dwight sat with his hand in his face.
“Hello, Dwight,” Peeta said.
“Oh hello, Peeta,” Dwight said in a sad tone.
“Dwight,” Katniss greeted. “I think Peeta has something for you.”
Dwight looked up and saw that Peeta had two ribbons in his hands. His eyes widened behind his glasses. He stood up and sputtered. “Peeta? What? I can't…”
“Oh, yes you can,” Katniss said, handing him one of the ribbons. “Now let’s go. I’m sure there’s a basket ceremony coming up next and I’m awfully hungry.”
“Thank you, Miss Everdeen, thank you,” Dwight said, clutching the ribbon.
Katniss smiled at Dwight. “I hope you make a match today.”
“It is my fervent hope that I find someone who is like-minded and as generous as you and Peeta are,” Dwight said, taking her hand and bowing to her as he placed a kiss on her hand. “You have restored my hope.”
Katniss blushed because she didn’t like to be touched but as she pulled her hand away she realized something, Peeta resembled her hope.
Of the Thirty suitors, there were now Twenty.
The Suitors were now anxiously awaiting the Basket ceremony. Katniss watched Dawn and her little entourage question the different siblings of the suitors that were left. She was trying to discover the owners of the different baskets.
“I hope she doesn’t get to be May Queen,” Delly said.
“I hope she gets mud on her face,” Bristel muttered.
The Royal Court was called back to the stage. The crowd was waiting for the all-important basket choice.
Dawn brashly narrowed her eyes at Delly and announced. “Listen to me very carefully. I’m going to choose Peeta Mellark’s basket. So I suggest that you do not touch his basket.”
Delly paled.
“I suggest you stay in line Dawn lest Effie catches you talking,” Katniss growled.
Dawn huffed and muttered, “Seam brat,” under her breath.
Delly turned to Katniss. “Please don’t let her choose Peeta’s basket.”
Katniss hadn’t been sure of who she was going to pick. Earlier in the day, she thought of choosing Thom’s because he was fun. She couldn’t choose Gale’s because she thought of him as a brother. But knowing Dawn wanted to get Peeta’s basket, she could stop the annoying girl and grab Peeta’s basket. Katniss thought this could be a way to repay her debt to him.
As she thought this her hands shook slightly and her heart did a small pitter-patter dance inside of her chest at the thought of having to spend the day with Peeta.
However, Katniss shook her head. There was no way she could choose Peeta, he was a Merchant. Katniss hated having to let Dawn win, but Katniss knew she had to choose someone sensible, someone from the Seam and Thom was her best bet.
Effie once more took to the microphone and everyone was attentive to the most exciting part of the day. Effie began calling their names and Katniss watched as girl after girl chose a basket leaving Peeta’s untouched. Katniss was surprised by Delly’s choice but didn’t say anything.
Because when it was her turn to stand in front of the table with all of the baskets Katniss reached out for Thom’s basket but she found she couldn’t reach it. Frowning, she once more reached out and everything around her blurred.
Katniss heard the voices of women chanting, “Now let it work; mischief, thou art afoot, Take thou what course thou wilt!”
Glancing ahead, she saw the figure of the man with the Stag headdress standing before her. He handed her a basket. Katniss felt her body go up in flames and it caused her to shiver. Then she heard laughter and saw three points of lights dancing around her. Katniss felt the weight of the basket in her hand.
Blinking, she stood up and found she had Peeta’s basket in her hand. Katniss’s eyes flew to Delly’s who was beaming at her and Dawn who was murderous at the moment.
Katniss wondered what the heck she’d gotten herself into.
(The End for Now...)
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leavingdathomir · 2 years
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Legends Never Die Chapter 4:
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Ryloth: Live or Die PT 1
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Parts of ⚡️ Legends Never Die ⚡️
Pairing: Rex x Fem!OC 
Word count: 6891k
Series: Explicit (18+)
Chapter Summary: After adjusting to the pack, Deep Blue is faced with the realities of war on Ryloth. More so - Wolffe tries to console her in ways he had to keep her in line. It never worked as she is determine to help a person in need as we see a bit through Wolffe’s eyes.Meanwhile, we get to see more familiar faces..
Chapter Warnings: War, hardships
Let me know if I need to add any additional tags.
AO3
Ryloth, Outer Rim , Three months before the Battle of Ryloth
She feels the transport move within, occupied with the familiar set of grey clones. At the front stood Plo Koon, waiting like the others. He was holding on to the hangers, and his gaze was looking straight at the door. Maintaining a confident demeanor toward his men. Anticipating that first order given to them of the day. In the back stood Wolffe and Deep Blue. Like a true pack leader, he leads from the back, making sure his men are doing what they are supposed to. And that no one is left behind.
Wolffe turned to look down next to him to get her attention. She took notice and returned the gesture, giving a nod. The only thing Wolffe could return considering their helmets are on. Her helmet is from the same uniform from before. The only thing that is perfectly made for her head and long ears. Structured in a unique way if it were made for clones in the future. Angular, dark, and intimidating. 
"We have entered Ryloth’s atmosphere. We will land shortly.", the voice over the intercom announced. 
"Prepare yourselves for anything, Wolf Pack.", spoke Plo Koon, " We must never let our guard down."
" Sir, yes, sir.", the group said in unison.
"Are…are you nervous?", Wolffe asked in a low tone, only loud enough for Deep Blue to hear.
Deep Blue never moved as she replied, " To be honest, I don’t know what I feel right now. All of this happened too fast. Second, I came out of the tube, I traveled three months in the future to a war I didn’t know was happening. I’ll adjust to it... Like soldiers do.", her voice trails off.
Wolffe reached out his right hand to her hesitantly. She had her back turned towards him. Making it easy for him to touch her—to comfort her , but he never did. Fingers formed into a fist as he pulled his hand away from her. Feeling it was out of character for him to do something he wouldn’t do. He does want to, but he felt that it wasn’t right to give Deep Blue more stress than she was already feeling. He can’t imagine how overwhelmed she must be feeling right now. To be put into a position where she had little knowledge of something he planned to do to make her catch up once they had the time. Which seems not to be the case.
The feeling of the transport landing and the doors automatically made everyone prepare to hop out as quickly as they could. Deep Blue trailed Wolffe as the troops dispersed to take their positions.They approached Plo Koon, which awaited them.
"Commander Wolffe and Colonel Kandros, you will accompany me to meet the freedom fighters.", Plo Koon announced.
"Do you think that will be appropriate, sir?", asked Deep Blue.
"Yes", Plo Koon replied, " Your presence is needed as I have orders for you."
Deep Blue raised a brow under her helmet. For me?, she thought. She spoke to cover her long silence, " Yes, General."
The landscape is all but plains of desert around them. Canyons and long pillars of rock supporting a larger piece Deep Blue questioned how that worked considering it looked to be held on by a thread. Something the Twi'leks don’t seem to have any concern about and have no trouble making it their home…for now. Multiple ships were landing soon as the three were approaching the group on the other side from afar.
As soon as they got closer, Deep Blue took notice of the wear and tear on the group that greeted them by the entrance of the poorly made fences made of rock, wire, or whatever they could use to keep anything outside from getting in. As for them, they have tried to make themselves presentable. As they will learn, being pretty doesn’t matter in the time of war.
" We might not look much, but we are trying with what we can. We welcome you and your men to our Resistance Base, Master Jedi. General Ima-Gun Di and Captain Keeli," the pale yellow Twi'lek said, waving his hand as he aimed to introduce the others, "Cham Syndulla."
Plo Koon would speak over to him, "It seems you have already taken our spot, Master Di."
"Nice to meet you too, Plo Koon.", Ima-Gun Di, a male Nikto, Jedi Master and General, who leads the battalion there alongside Captain Keeli. Maroon markings were marked in faint dirt all over his armor.
"Meet Commander Wolffe and Colonel Kandros of the 104th.", Plo Koon gestures to them. Wolffe and Deep Blue nodded their heads at them.
"Commander.", Ima-Gun Di spoke, "Colonel."
"Sirs.", Captain Keeli spoke, standing at attention. Keeping his head high to show his respect to both Commander Wolffe and Deep Blue. 
"Shall we enter? There are some things we need to discuss.", Cham Syndulla, the leader of the Twi'lek Resistance, spoke in a stern tone. Getting to the point, as he waved his hand towards the direction of the entrance of their poorly gated base. He turned his head quickly with his large tails swung behind him. 
None of them had spoken a word as the big three who had just arrived followed them into the base. Occupied by other clones who didn’t waste any time getting to work. Moving crates of MRE’s , medical supplies, clothes, weapons—whatever they need is given to them. In addition, some are replacing the walls and gates with more intrusive ones. And repair the ones that are able to be kept up and running for a bit longer.
Passing the gates, Deep Blue looked around to get an idea of what she was getting herself into. Walking past endless rows of tents, home to the Twi’lek and clones alike, Captain Keeli’s battalion was helping with getting the twi’lek their food. Poor men looked tired by the way they were standing, sitting off to the side with their helmets off. They didn’t have any life behind those eyes by the time they looked at her as they walked past. She could tell they were barely holding on. How long have they been here? Deep Blue didn’t want to think about it. When one of the newcomers came to the seated clone, he was happy to see one of his brothers helping him have water. Patting him on the shoulder to earn a smile on his face. He did, but it wasn’t enough to make their situation better.
It was a good thing she was wearing her helmet…because they weren’t able to see her cry. Their home is taken over by clankers that don’t have the need to shit. Separatists think they can take over any small world, thinking it might go unnoticed. Deep Blue’s intrusive thoughts lead to feeling waves of anger. Couldn’t help but let out a choked cry, only to cover it up with a cough to mask her cry. Hopefully, the pack leader didn’t catch on. She was steps away from losing herself in her feelings. She kept her head forward, not able to see the area around her.
Until she hears the first whimper...
Shit.
from a baby.
Commander Wolffe had taken notice of Deep Blue slowing her pace away from the group. He turned behind him to see her walk towards a woman sitting down trying to sway her baby to sleep. His eyes widened in surprise to see Deep Blue trying to console the mother. This was the first time he had ever seen Deep Blue interact with the locals. He had a few interactions with civilians, but never when it came to a baby or a kid, for that matter. Then again, he shouldn’t be surprised. Deep Blue knows more about how to react to civilians than he ever did.
With a baby, of all things.
And he didn’t realize how badly it affected her when she deactivated her mask. The look in her eyes indicated she had been crying under her helmet and he didn’t know. It wasn’t because she wanted to help and felt bad for the baby. It’s because she could relate to the situation and wanted to help the woman because she wanted to. She has to. It was a good thing Wolffe read the situation before reacting to her. It’s what soldiers do...
He removed his helmet and bent on one knee next to Deep Blue. She looked at him and gave him a worried look. to make him understand how she was feeling at the moment.
I’ll adjust to it…like soldiers do…
And he realized that she was taking it all at once.
"I'm sorry for all the crying," the Twi'lek women said tiredly.
Deep Blue waved a hand, " You don’t need to apologize.", she began, " What seems to be the problem?"
"He's hungry," she murmured, "and I haven't...been able to feed him for days. I’m worried he might - ", she drifts off to choke up her held tears.
"May I see him?", Deep Blue asked.
Without saying a word, the woman pulled down her makeshift baby sling made from a shirt. Revealing a newborn baby underneath. His skin was blue like Deep Blues’. The baby obviously showed signs of malnutrition. His ribs are skinny from not receiving any nutrients from his mother’s milk. There was little Deep Blue could do. Little that she has to help her as the baby wails and shivers from being exposed for a second. The mother covered her again and looked at her eyes for help.
Deep Blue looked at Wolffe, " Do we supply milk?"
"I. . .", Wolffe thinks, " I will have to let my men check if we supply any."
"Good.", replied Deep Blue as she looked back at the mother, " We will help you in any way we can to ensure your baby gets what he needs. I promise you that. "
The mother gives a weak smile and says, " Thank you - uh -"
"Colonel Kandros."
"Kandros. I’m so grateful all of you are able to be here on time to help. "
"You’re welcome.", Deep Blue gives a hopeful smile. Giving the mother one pat on the shoulder before standing up. Wolffe followed and gave the woman a respectful nod before putting on his helmet. Following beside Deep Blue, who had already activated the helmet on her face. 
Oh, there you are.", Cham Syndulla caught up to them by himself when he saw them standing near the woman Deep Blue and Wolffe were just talking to. "The reality of the war is endless with their unfairness," Cham Syndulla grumbled as he approached the woman and held her close to him, "This is my wife; Eleni."
"Ma’am.", Deep Blue bowed her head.
"As you can see, the separatists took everything from us to prevent us from winning. I hope with you here, that can change. "
Deep Blue hummed, " -and so it seems. Lead us to our brief, Syndulla.", giving Eleni one last hopeful smile before turning to the direction where she was heading.
"Yes, we shall."
Cham Syndulla led the two into a large cave leading into the center of it. In the center was the control console, where the group stood around it. The console showed where they were located on the hologram. Their eyes soon caught on when Wolffe and Deep Blue joined them. Ignoring the welcome in and focusing more on getting the brief started. Deep Blue cared less about having a pleasant return.
"Your clones have provided the necessities my people and yours needed. ", Cham Syndulla began, " We appreciate your help with the little that we have. We certainly had our hardships overwhelmed by the loss of both of our people. They are almost warned of the fact that we will lose our home completely. "
"I apologize for the very late delay in our support.", Plo Koon spoke, " We are bound to give you all that we have in order to support your cause. Though, we were informed someone else had been instructed to take back your home of Ryloth."
"General Skywalker and General Obi-wan Kenobi if I’m correct.", replied Cham, " Excuse me if I sound rather rude and know that I mean no offense, but your battalion of the 104th isn’t enough to take back our home. I wouldn’t want to lose a lot of men as we already have. We are ever so grateful you are able to provide humanitarian efforts.."
" No offense taken, Syndulla.", Plo Koon nodded his head, " I’m aware that the situation is already complicated."
"Yes it is, and it would help if the 212th and the 105st were here to help in our efforts to take back Ryloth….for the hundredth time.", Cham paused , looking down at himself, "… If it wasn’t for your early arrival, I don’t think my people and yours would've made it without your help."
Deep Blue stepped forward, " Your people always come first, Syndulla. The fight comes after. "
Except for Wolffe, everyone turned to face her. Not Expecting her to speak unless she was told something, but she knew Syndulla understood what she was feeling from the interaction from minutes ago. He let a curved smirk of approval appear on his face. followed by a hum afterwards to cut off the awkward silence.
"If I may-there is something I want to discuss.", Cham reaches forward for the console to sift the image of the base onto a different one. Making Deep Blue lean forward to get a closer look behind her mask. Taking notes of the surroundings of the unfamiliar base. " General Ima-Gun Di.", Cham stepped back for him to take over.
"There is a base near here that houses most of Ryloth’s food supply. We haven't been able to find a way without damaging the facility," Ima-Gun Di said, pointing with his index finger. " If we damage the facility.."
"The food goes to waste..", finished Captain Keeli, " - and there won’t be another facility like this crossing hundreds of miles of desert."
"Exactly. We lost a lot of men last time..", Ima-Gun Di spoke lowly, " With your help, we may be able to flank them at night in order to attack without being noticed.."
Plo Koon crossed his arms across his chest. Tendrils twitching as he went into thought - thoughts that didn’t take too long for him to make a decision.
"I’m afraid we are not able to help you gather the help you need to infiltrate this facility.", Plo Koon stated, " Our priority is to send our efforts across villages that need food and supplies, not to fight."
Are you serious?
Ima-Gun Di and Cham looked down in defeat after hearing the news, " I. . . I understand. People must come first.", replied Cham.
" I appreciate your welcome, Syndulla, but we are bound to leave to lend our support soon.", Plo Koon turned to look at Deep Blue, " -and I’m leaving Colonel Kandros here to look after your base while I am done. I will return when the deeds are done."
Are you fucking serious?
Deep Blue returned the look with a slow turn of her head. If only he could see what was underneath her mask--he wouldn’t be too kind with her attitude. She remained silent and voiced her dismay later. 
"Ah yes-Colonel Kandros, the one man army.", Cham Syndulla acknowledged, " I’m honored to have her here guarding our base."
"Sir?", Deep Blue tilted her head in confusion, "One-man army?"
"Yes-Captain Keeli told me about it."
Deep Blue turned to look at the clone, who was visibly embarrassed as he shifted and rubbed the back of his neck.
"It-it was nothing, sir.", Keeli choked in his words.
"I need to get my men ready; the hour is flying by," Plo Koon said.
"Of course, farewell, General.", Cham Syndulla spoke, motioning over to speak to Ima-Gun Di and Keeli while leaving Deep Blue and Wolffe to themselves. 
Following the Jedi out of the cave, Deep Blue deactivated her mask on the way out. Quickly picking up pace ahead of Wolffe, who stayed behind. Already knowing what was about to happen. Deep Blue made sure there was no one around, but they were still in close proximity to the tents that were in front of them.
"You’re making a mistake.", she hissed.
"Colonel, I need you to stand down.", Plo Koon spoke, turning around to face her.
" How many supplies did we bring?", she asked, " - and how much are we splitting here?"
Plo Koon never responded.
"How much?", Deep Blue boldly asked, turning to Wolffe, " Wolffe?"
"Not nearly enough."
" I assume those supplies won’t last them longer than we intended..", Deep Blue began, " How long will the supplies last? three months? two? ….ONE?"
"Kandros, keep your voice down.", Plo Koon stepped forward, grabbing her by the shoulders and taking her to a more secluded area. Making sure Wolffe stood nearby to watch while they were debating.
" I don’t like this as much as you do ,but -"
"But what?" she asked, shaking his hands away. "Have you seen what is going on around you? They’re sick… tired… hungry.", she pauses, trying to avoid a tear from falling, " - and if they run out of supplies by the time reinforcements arrive? Then what? They’ll die because you decided not to infiltrate that base crucial to their survival."
Plo Koon grows silent for a moment, " You are wrong.."
"What?", Deep Blue whispered.
"What we are doing is more crucial to their survival than they realize. Because if we do in fact attack the facility, then those in the city will die as a result of our actions so that both our people get fed."
Deep Blue’s eyes widened at the realization she never took into consideration.
" To ensure the people of Ryloth know they are not alone, we must do what needs to be done and make them realize they are able to fight for their home. It’s one or the other, a decision that is difficult to make. "
Deep Blue looked away from him, still having the same determination in wanting to help as much as she could, but now it’s never a win-win situation. It’s one or the other.. and for what benefit?
She growled out her frustration, throwing her hands up in the air. Her emotions were so strong, Plo Koon stopped her from doing the most reckless thing by patting a firm grip on her shoulder. She immediately stopped and turned to look at him, then at who was standing on the other side of that wall.
Taking a deep breath, she walked away. Giving Plo Koon a wave behind her, "See you soon…General."
Wolffe heard the argument die down, trying to tone out the voices by distracting himself with what was ahead of him. From this level, he can see the entrance from where he is standing. The white dots walking around let him know where his brothers were taking action around the perimeter. He glanced over his shoulder to see why it had been quiet for so long when he saw Deep Blue already making a pass by him. startling him as the result as he moved out of the way.
Soon after, Plo Koon approached him. watching with him as Deep Blue marched away. 
"Watch her.", Plo Koon ordered.
"Sir, are we not leaving soon?"
"Yes, and I will com you when it is time. Now, go.", he stated.
"Yes, General."
Wolffe looked up to Plo Koon like a father. In his own way, he has taught Wolffe many things a clone should know. What a regular person should know. The life of a civilian, the difficulties encountered from various backgrounds, cultures, and even the language of wherever they land.The many things he has learned are through him. Plo Koon always had time to get to know his pack. His brothers all respect him—love him even. And so a family is formed within a war group of brothers. always abiding by father’s command when it’s needed.
"What the hell do you mean there aren’t any?"
And then there's Deep Blue. 
A woman who taught the clones everything they knew before the war started. Wolffe wasn’t assigned to her back when he was a cadet, but he had heard of her from others. About a young woman who is an instructor and that she was the most beautiful woman they had ever seen. His brothers, including him, have never seen or spoken to another woman before. So naturally, they titled her the most beautiful.
Other clones feel envious that they weren’t assigned to her. Oh, how much they wanted to be taught by her—hell, even try to interact with her. Wolffe never saw her until he had graduated, along with the hundreds of brothers beside him at the general assembly. Graduation was different back then; now shines are graduated by sending them off to their posts.
Seeing her along with the other instructors made him see why they called her beautiful. Her features are unique. She could pass off as pantoran or chiss, but she is neither. Her long pointy ears give her away. Wolffe suspected she must have been an experiment by the Kaminoans, but that suspicion died after she revealed that Kashyyk was her home.
Wolffe had never thought he would have the chance to interact with Deep Blue, but here she is. She is now a member of the wolf pack, which he never expected to happen. With how close they are, he’s glad she’s here. Their friendship grew the more they spent time together before she officially joined. He’s grown to accept her , to care about her , and finally, to love her. However, he doesn’t know if she felt the same. No—of course she does. Just not in the way Wolffe does. And it wouldn’t be right to do so..
Because he had owned it up to himself to make sure that he gave up his life so that she may live…
Knowing he loves her..
" What seems to be the problem?"
And if he did tell her…
" Comet just told me the supplies do not supply milk.", replied Deep Blue, " Why would they not supply milk?"
He wouldn’t bear to see her cry..
" I’m unsure, make sure to double check again.", Wolffe ordered.
"I did, sir."
"Check again.", Deep Blue boldly ordered. Getting too emotional in front of Comet, he noticed. Wolffe whispered a small "hey" and nodded towards Comet that he had it from here. Taking Deep Blue by the shoulders and taking her off from the secluded area outside the base. For the moment, the morning burned bright, so there was no need to worry about apex predators or droids.
They were standing before a cliff. The sight of endless canyons trailing off into the shadows below. The early morning sun touches everything, including them. Deep Blue turned her back towards him, arms crossed, and faced the opposite direction from the sun.
Wolffe never pushed Deep Blue into anything. Never pushing her into speaking is what’s been making her so moody. Reading people is his job, but when it comes to her. This time, this was different. He couldn’t pinpoint what was in her mind, and so he had to think backwards from the start.
Oh yeah, it was obvious.
"Did you mean what you said?", asked Wolffe.
"What?", giving a quick glance beside her. Finding him removing his helmet.
"- to Cham’s wife earlier. Do you think you can -"
"I meant what I said, Wolffe. Why would you think I would lie?"
" It’s not about lying … You can’t give people false hope, Blue. It’s not how - "
" I’m not giving anyone false hope. I will make sure she gets what she needs. I’ll make sure of it. I have to..", Deep Blue trails off, looking away from Wolffe while holding her arm.
Wolffe took notice, raising an eyebrow, " Why are you so persistent in wanting to help her?", his voice low, trying to meet her eye.
Deep Blue remained silent for a moment, her hands fidgeting with each other. Hesitant to speak about a sensitive topic-too close to home.. 
Wolffe's brow quivered as he tried to read her. Trying to get an idea why she is so reluctant to tell him. To pinpoint the source, he thought back on the mother. The mother and her baby - the baby crying - Deep Blue’s determination...
Is it conceivable that-
"Blue, do you … Did you... ", Wolffe trailed off, unsure what to say." Have a …"
" My mother did..", she stated.
Wolffe’s weight was lifted off his shoulders, but he was also surprised that she mentioned her mother. Apart from the photo Deep Blue keeps and a brief mention of her, he had never had the opportunity to get to know her.Never thought of asking more about it. He didn't mind knowing, but the thought of her mentioning her was too personal for him to ask. Not wanting to cross the line of asking her such a thing. And now, it was inevitable.
And he didn’t imagine it like this...
"A year before the war started, my mother informed me that she was pregnant. I made as many trips as I could to make sure she was okay. I almost didn’t make it home for the birth.", Deep Blue chuckled as she shrugged once, " The wookies were very supportive and made sure she was comfortable. She gave birth to a baby girl. A half twi’lek one at best.", she almost laughed.
This made Wolffe smile, seeing her collected in her positive thoughts. 
" - and the father?", he dared ask.
" Does it matter?"
"I just thought - "
Deep Blue laughed, " If you were to meet my mother, it wouldn’t surprise you how she decided to get herself knocked up after her nightly adventures off world. She wanted to keep the baby. "
"Ah-so that explains why you’re concerned for the mother."
She sighs, " Yeah.. - after a few weeks, I received a distress call from my mother stating the village had been attacked by bandits. They took everything. Leaving the village to starve and my mother stressed from her milk.."
Another dreadful silence. Wolffe knew where this was heading..
"You don’t have to- "
" I tried to get there as fast as I could. Taking care of the bandits was an easy task with the help of the commandos, but I wasn’t fast enough to save her.."
"Your mother?"
"Zahra.. - that was my little sister’s name…", Deep Blue took a deep breath, " Putting me into the field quickly has left me with a lot of mixed feelings. If I couldn’t save my sister, then I should try to save them. "
" and how are you doing to do that?"
Deep Blue lifted her hand and placed an index finger under her chin in thought. Before she could speak, she heard an accented voice followed by a mechanical one a few yards behind Wolffe. Looking past him, she walked towards that direction.
"You hear that?", she asked, whispering.
"Hear what?", triggering Wolffe to place on his helmet for good measure.
Following behind her as she scurried closer to the rock near them. She didn’t bother taking cover as what she was hearing was what he was barely hearing himself. Is that..
" a child?", asked Wolffe, lowering his weapon that had been drawn seconds before.
Deep Blue hummed as she looked at him to give him an approved nod. Behind that wall revealed a twi’lek girl and her droid painting the wall with different colors. She didn’t bother to use anything but her hands on the walls, herself, and eventually painted the droid orange to cover the black on the top of its head.
By the time they got closer, the droid became alerted, and so did the small girl, who instantly looked guilty for being left behind outside the compound.
"Aw man, did my parents tell you to find me?"
"I don’t know.", Deep Blue smiled, getting down on one knee to meet her level, " Do you think it’s safe to be out here painting your droid here?"
She looked down, fidgeting with her fingers, " No.. I just wanted to give him a different color. Black doesn’t suit him. It looks bad doesn’t it?"
" No.", she replied, " I think it looks amazing."
"You think so?", she smiles. Her face brightens up.
"What’s your name?"
"Hera and this is Chopper. Say hi, Chopper!", she exclaims happily. The droid reacted positively as well. making Deep Blue chuckle.
" I’m Deep Blue and this is Wolffe."
" Wolf as in the animal?", she asked.
"Yes."
"Cool, I have never seen a wolf before.", Hera looked up at Wolffe, " Have you seen a wolf, sir?"
" I . . erm - don’t think-"
Deep Blue clears her throat loudly for Wolffe to catch on to her glare to ‘play along’.
" I uh - yes, I have seen many wolves.", he said quickly. removing his helmet again to meet the girl’s eyes. If only he had a helmet like Deep Blue’s, it would have saved him so much time.
"Wow.", Hera loudly whispered.
"Say Hera.", Deep Blue asked, " Do you mind if I use your paint for a second?"
"Sure!"
"Good," Deep Blue says as she stands up and grabs a few buckets she noticed Hera not using, "You can show Wolffe what you’re painting... I’ll be right back."
"Blue I -"
" Okay!", Hera butts in, feeling excited, " Want to help me paint Chopper?"
"Uh -.", Wolffe looked up to see Deep Blue disappearing from the wall. What is she up to?, he thought. Now stuck with the girl, he sighed, " Sure kid, what do you want me to do?"
It felt like hours had passed since Deep Blue had disappeared. Looking back and forth and again to see if she had come back from whatever she was doing. Wolffe slowly became distracted by Hera asking him a lot of questions about wolves.
He had never seen one in his life. He had only read about them. catching his attention while browsing through the holonet as a young cadet. The idea of a wolf pack excited him. Eventually, he formed his own with an odd handful of brothers. However, seeing a real wolf will be impossible considering the ones he read about are extinct on Lothal. If he were to ever see one, it would be on his deathbed. Seeing a live one will be too good to be true.
He was telling the kid in front of him how the wolves he encountered excited her. Making her have a big imagination with what’s out there in the galaxy. The thought of exploring the galaxy is what led her to talk about wanting to leave Ryloth when she gets older. Even if the plans were unrealistic, she could still leave if she wanted. 
"How many planets have you been to?", asked Hera.
" Many planets.", Wolffe spoke, "more than I can count."
"Any planets that gave you the heebie-jeebies?"
"I beg your pardon?", Wolffe raised a brow.
"Y’know.", Hera paused, holding out her hands over her and forming her hands into claws, " The scaries?"
"Oh.", Wolffe laughed, " Yeah, kid. I do get scared of a few of them."
"Really? I thought clones never got scared. "
" That proves you wrong."Wolffe's voice uplifted while speaking; he never knew his voice could change in that way, " Anyone can get scared."
Deep Blue’s voice caught their ears, appearing from behind the rock she was behind earlier. Wolffe stood up as he was going to question why she took so long when he noticed something different on her face. "I’m done.", she told them.
" What did you do?", Wolffe asked.
"It’s called face paint, di’kut.", Deep Blue huffed, " You don’t like it? Is it too much?"
Wolffe realized too late that the face markings on her face meant something to her. She had white and grey angular shapes on her face as she looked at him with a wry smile. He wanted to hit himself for not realizing sooner. She wanted approval.
"I—"
"Maybe it is too much.", Deep Blue embarrassingly looked away, " I wanted to appreciate how much I’m grateful for being a part of the 104th…now, I’m separated from the pack again.."
" It looks beautiful on you.", Wolffe complimented, so unnatural for him to say. Complimenting a woman isn’t his forte , but he is telling the truth, " I’m sure the boys will feel the same, but never think we hate you any more for staying behind. We are honored to have you along with us."
"Thanks, Wolffe.", she finally looked at him. 
Wolffe would put a smile on his face, looking down at her. Her teal ones make him get lost in his thoughts. not realizing the long comforted silence between them was cut off by the sound of the girl’s awing.
" Awww - you guys love each other.", Hera cupped her hands beside her head and tilted her head with it.
Wolffe coughed, " I uh-"
Deep Blue laughed, " Of course I do."
Something within Wolffe made his heart skip a beat. Feeling excited when she responded without hesitation.
" I’m honored to have him watching my back.", Deep Blue glanced at him. giving an innocent smile, something he returned slowly.
"HERA!", a voice called out from a distance.
Wolffe and Deep Blue turn to see a row of clones running towards them. mixed with white and maroon. Showing the difference between two units that belonged to Captain Keeli and - new shines they didn’t know about?
Chopper chirps loudly in a sense that both Hera and Deep Blue understood. Wolffe, of course, stood there pretending he understood binary. The shiny wore a white cape to his right to indicate he was in charge—though they were unsure if he was.
"Hera, your parents are worried about you. You can’t just sneak past the wall anytime you like. It’s dangerous.", he spoke, getting down on one knee to meet her level. hands on her shoulders to make her look at him.
"I know - I just.."
The clone sighed, standing up again to face the two that were with her.
"I apologize for the trouble.", he moved his arms under the rim of his helmet to take it off before speaking again., "Hera has a bad habit of leaving the compound."
"She has done it many times before?", asked Deep Blue, looking down at Hera. Giving the girl a small wink, " Then that means you should do a better job looking through your defenses for weaknesses, uh-", she looked back at him. Meeting his face, noticing the scar on his left cheek trailing down his chin.
"Captain Howser, ma’am.", he acknowledged, " Commander Wolffe. I also want to apologize again for not meeting up earlier. I had other orders placed upon me and my men. "
"I understand.", he responded.
After he had spoken, the comlink alarmed him to answer, followed by Plo Koon’s voice to order Wolffe back to the front as they were leaving soon. Deep Blue, to her displeasure of being left behind; said nothing but sighed.
"We should return back to base."
" Yes, sir.", Howser nodded, turning to Hera and Chopper. He waited for them to start walking back and then followed behind them.
Deep Blue and Commander Wolffe returned with the men, Captain Howser, and the girl and her droid back to base. It wasn’t a long walk, but it felt that way as the clones in grey made their appearance at the front of the entrance with the supplies being hauled by hover vehicles. The Jedi and his captain stood by the entrance, watching the wolf pack leave.
By the time they got closer, Hera tensed up at the sound of her father’s voice calling out for her. Deep Blue smiled at the sight of father and daughter reuniting, considering Hera’s circumstances. Howser kept his helmet under his arm as he was speaking to Eleni, who stood next to Cham with their newborn, who was quiet at that moment.
"Look who's made it back!", Wildfire exclaimed. Getting his brother’s attention from making sure they have everything.
"Hey, Colonel!", one called out. waving from on top of the crates.
"Nice face paint. You did that yourself?", asked Sinker as he approached with his other; Comet.
"I did.", Deep Blue smiled.
" It looks good on you.", complimented Comet, " Hey guys! Check it out. The Colonel's got something to show you!", he yelled. 
Howser and Keeli looked at each other, watching as their brothers in the grey surrounded this woman. complimenting her on her face paint and asking her about her assignment. Merely curious and disappointed to hear that she was staying with Ima-Gun Di’s unit while they left.
" Men, stop towering over her.", Wolffe sternly told them. He quickly makes them step back from her to give her space. Poor Blue could barely breathe from being surrounded by 6 foot tall men.
"Wolf Pack, get back into positions, now.", Plo Koon’s voice echoed for them to stop what they were doing and yelled after one another, " Yes, sir.", leaving Wolffe and Deep Blue to themselves as he approached.
Deep Blue teased, "You sure you want to leave me here? I don’t want the boys to miss me too much."," giving Plo Koon a smug smirk.
"I see your sense of humour has returned, Plo Koon," he said, "remember your orders."
"Yes, General." Deep Blue saluted lazily.
"Do not see this as a punishment, Deep Blue. As you will realize, your efforts here will matter. "
"What do you mean?"
"That is something you have to figure out.", Plo Koon turned to him, " Commander Wolffe, are you ready?"
Wolffe nodded, but only to stop himself and gave a look towards Deep Blue and back to Plo Koon, who quickly got the message.
"Don’t take long."
"Yes, sir", he spoke as Plo Koon left.
Deep Blue raised her brows, waiting for Wolffe to say what he needed to before he needed to leave. which it was obvious to pinpoint what it could be. When Wolffe made the first move, Deep Blue remained still as a surprise came her way.
Wolffe had given her the keldabe kiss, a Mandalorian way of kissing to show their love and appreciation towards each other. He did it knowing there was a chance Deep Blue would take it the wrong way. Luckily, it was the opposite. Returning the gesture by holding him on both sides of his neck. Her thumb presses lightly against his jawline. He saw that it was okay to touch her, placing one on her hip while the other held his helmet. Closing his eyes the same way she did, he made the first move.
He cared less about who was watching; this was between them.
"I never thought there'd come a day you'd ever do this.", Deep Blue whispered.
" There is always a first time for everything, Cyari’ka."
" Going soft on me, Wolffe?", she teased.
"Shut-up.", Wolffe chuckled.
Deep Blue chuckled with him, and pulled apart when it was appropriate to do so. Their hands were pulling away from each other. 
" Don't do anything stupid while I’m gone.", Wolffe told her.
" I can’t promise you that."
Wolffe huffed, knowing nothing would ever stop the shadow from doing anything against orders. In order to get stuff done, she will have to do it on her own. Hopefully, she learned something from their missions together.
"Alright men! Wolffe yelled out as he turned around and yelled the first time his helmet was placed back on his head.
Deep Blue stepped away and walked over to the line of leaders, watching the 104th leave the base. She stood by Captain Howser, who stood there very still. If she noticed, he held his helmet under his arm tightly. And if he knew what he was thinking, he wouldn’t bear to let it pass for a couple of months. By the time Captain Keeli, Ima-Gun Di, and Cham Syndulla started walking back towards the base with his family, Captain Howser had to stay behind alongside Deep Blue, who stood a minute longer. 
Receiving orders from Cham Syndulla that he is under Deep Blue’s command is the result of him unconsciously gripping his helmet. making him nervous about Deep Blue. Not because he questioned her leadership, but because she’s Palpatine’s favorite. Or so the rumors say.
He, too, fell victim to his brother’s talk about her as a cadet. Having her here is rare-and he suspects it was because something more was going on. He wants to believe he was being dramatic and she was simply here to do her mission. The Republic could use more soldiers..
more experience than a Jedi.
" What is it, Captain?", she asked.
"I was ordered to remain by your side during your duration here."
" Great. Now I can’t do this on... my own..", Deep Blue paused, making the captain give her a questionable look. Noticing she was preoccupied with something.She snapped her finger, " Maybe you can help me."
"With what exactly?"
" This base doesn’t house any milk , but the facility does, does it?"
"You mean the food supply?"
"Yes."
"Well, it is a -"
"Good.", Deep Blue nods, " I’ve got an idea. And you’re going to help me."
"How?"
Deep Blue formed a smirk.
"Form a plan."
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Star Chasers - Chapter Two
Well folks, I was gonna wait longer to update but after the calculus test that I wrote today... I needed a rest from reality. Eloise and the footman, chapter two. Let me know how you’re feeling, if you enjoy it or think the plot’s decently interest-piquieng. Or however you spell that word.
John wasn’t proud of many things.
The one time he’d snapped at his mother for never knowing his dad. The way he’d broken the heart of their neighbor’s daughter on a hot August day. The time he’d made fun of a girl’s hair at eight years of age. How years would pass just for her to never wear it that way again. How words left their scars.
But the way his stolen-champagne-frazzled mind screamed to do more than just sit there took the cake that evening. The urge he felt to lean into her lips, to taste the alcohol on them. He was too intoxicated, too far gone to silence the thoughts he usually stuffed down deep inside of him.
“Is there something on my face?” She asked suddenly, snapping the man from his reverie. “You are staring.”
“I am?” He asked, halfway surprised. One foot in his thoughts, the other in the stars that stretched overhead. How the constellation reflected in her bright grey, sharp eyes.
Laughing, Eloise rolled her eyes with a mischievous sort of sly grin. “I can see how tired you are. Past your bedtime?”
“I am three months your senior, not an old man.” He huffed with a smile, passing the shortened cigarette butt to her for one last shared puff. She didn’t take it, just leant in to breathe in the smoke, lips ghosting around his calloused fingers.
There are always moments in our lives, when things really go wrong, when the realization dawns that we are totally fucked in ever which way. That we’ve made some irreparable mistake from which we will always feel the sting. It was then that John felt it too. That he’d fallen into something dangerously wrong. That he liked the feeling it stirred deep inside of him. That he liked how she made him feel afraid.
“Eloise!” Came a voice came from the hall, snapping them both to attention. Breaking the magic of that shared moment. Reminding him that this t h i n g he felt could never be.
“Benedict.” She smiled.
When the girl looked back, John was gone.
***
The footman slept wonderfully, it was just the waking that haunted him.
He’d really been loving the dream. What he might have done, in a different kind of world.
How he’d have pushed her up against the wall there, kissed her hard and taught her things. How to move, what to do. Where to place your hands and how to mould your lips against another’s. What to do with your tongue. The memories of that still sent shudders down his spine.
He woke up like some kind of schoolboy, aching and hard and covered in a thin sweaty sheen. Shaken awake by a hand on his bare shoulder blade. He knew he was even more fucked once he opened his eyes, bleary vision catching the familiar face that leaned down on him.
“Eloise?!?” He muttered, horrified, pulling the sheet from his neck up the bottom of his jaw, legs pulled up to hide his shame.
“Are you alright? You seemed to be in some pain.” She interrogated, hands on the hips of her nightdress clad form. Hair wild and unbound. God have mercy, John quite nearly snapped then and there.
“What are you doing here?” He hissed, pushing himself to sit more upright, glancing around to ensure they hadn’t been seen.
“Your wig. You left it outside.” Returned the lady matter of factly. Mildly perturbed to have been received so brusquely.
“Where did you come from?”
“The window.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh really John, you can pretend to be so obtuse at times. I climbed.”
“Why?”
“To return this ridiculous wig of yours.”
She was not answering the real important question at hand. Not aware of the danger her being here posed to his career.
“You need to leave.” He hissed finally. “‘Your father will kill me if you’re found here.”
“My father’s been dead for a decade.” She responded primly, going to lean against his dresser with arm crossed defiance.
“Your Brother- I'm sorry- I meant- God, Woman I’m not even awake.”
Rolling her eyes, she moved back to the windowsill with a huff.
“You’re welcome, John” and then, just like that, she was gone into the night.
Horrified, the man could still feel the… delicate results of her presence, in dreams and true life, pressed against his bare thigh.
Oh, he was absolutely screwed.
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czenzo · 1 year
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Seven Years - Chapter II
[ao3] chapter links: [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ]
summary: Charlie swung the door open, and his world promptly came crashing down around him. It had been seven years since Charlie last saw Nick Nelson, but he had barely changed – aside from the extra inch or so of height, the beard, and the fact he’d put on a bit of weight and muscle. Charlie’s brain couldn’t process it quickly enough, and so he simply stood, slack-jawed, waiting for Nick to say something.
Seven years after they broke up, Nick suddenly shows up at Charlie’s door, changing the course of their adult lives.
words: 2706 rating: M
note: tw for a brief mention of animal death (I'm so sorry), if you'd like to avoid it then once you reach “So how’s Nellie and Henry?”, skip to “How is she? Your mum?”
Charlie groggily opened his eyes and immediately winced at the sliver of sunlight peeping through his curtains. It gave him a moment to work out whether his memories of Nick showing up at his door were reality, or simply a cruel fantasy conjured up by his own sadistic brain, but no amount of time could help him reach a conclusion.
He was alone in his room. What time was it? A quick glance at his too-bright phone screen told him it was roughly seven o’clock in the morning.
Good god, that was way too early for him.
Charlie hauled himself out of bed anyway. The desire to find out if Nick Nelson had truly stayed the night after eating takeout and talking all evening long far outweighed his desire to stay in bed. He moved to the living room, footsteps light, and cautiously peered over the back of the sofa.
It was there that Nick Nelson lay, feet dangling over one end and hands tucked behind his head at the other, blanket loosely covering his body.
Charlie resisted the urge to reach out and touch him.
It was real. He was real.
He had another chance at keeping Nick Nelson in his life.
Finding Nick still there had both startled and excited Charlie so much he knew there was no point in trying to get back to sleep; instead, he brewed himself a cup of tea and opted to read, keeping an ear out for Nick waking up.
He’d mentioned having his teacher conference today, but Charlie had absolutely no clue what time it was at. He could only hope Nick had set himself an alarm. (Though back when they were together, Nick had never set alarms. He’d never needed them on account of his body always naturally waking up at the right time, and Charlie had always envied it.)
True to form, he heard Nick stirring less than an hour later, without the need for a blaring alarm. Some things never changed.
It took him an embarrassing amount of time to work up the courage to leave his room – it was as if the previous evening had never happened, and his body was suddenly full of self-doubt and hesitation. He thought he'd left all of that in his teenage years. Having a hint of nausea in the pit of his stomach wasn’t a particularly pleasant way to start the day, and it was so stupid. If anyone should be feeling awkward, Charlie reasoned, it should be Nick. He was the one who did the breaking up, on account of–
No. Charlie shook that line of thinking away. He didn’t need to be wasting his time and energy on it. They were trying to rekindle their friendship; nothing more, nothing less. And Charlie was content to keep it that way.
When he finally emerged from his room, hands gently picking at his nails to ignore the way they trembled ever so slightly, he found Nick sat up on the sofa, scrolling through his phone.
“Morning,” Charlie said, startling Nick so much he was surprised the phone stayed in his hand.
“Jesus, Charlie,” Nick breathed, a smile forming on his face. “Morning.”
“Sleep well?”
“Yeah, yeah I did.”
“Good, good…” Charlie absently rocked back on his heels. “Have you had any breakfast?”
“Er– no, I wasn’t sure where to find any.”
The nausea in Charlie’s stomach subsided upon being reminded that he had the upper hand here – this was his flat, his space, and he was far more familiar with it than Nick was. It was going to be fine.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, feeling the tension melt from his muscles. “Cereal’s in the first cupboard on your left, uh, and there’s eggs in the fridge, or– y’know, I could just sort you something out myself. What do you want?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh,” Nick said, eyes darting this way and that as he tried to make a decision.
“I was gonna make an omelette, if you want one too?”
“I’m not gonna say no to that,” Nick replied. “There anything I can help with?”
“No, no, you’re fine,” Charlie reassured him as he made his way into the kitchen, hearing Nick call out his thanks as he went.
After seven years of not seeing or hearing from him, Nick Nelson was sitting in his living room while Charlie cooked breakfast for him. (All because he hit his car?) It was too strange to dwell on, and so Charlie busied himself with going through the motions of making food. As he cracked the eggs he tried not to think about Nick’s beard, while he whisked them he didn’t allow himself to remember the way his muscles strained the sleeves of his pyjama t-shirt, as he poured them into the hot pan he tried to forget the way his name sounded in Nick’s deeper voice, and while he flipped over the half-cooked omelette and added some cheese Charlie let out a sigh, because he’d failed at every step. The omelette turned out fine, but Charlie’s heart sure as hell did not.
He was falling for Nick again.
Fuck.
It was so stupid, so childish. Nick had moved on, and Charlie thought he himself had – no, he really had, he was fine and had even gone on dates and flirted at bars and kissed and teased men who weren’t Nick, who looked nothing like Nick, and who would never be Nick. He’d moved on until Nick reappeared at his door and Charlie was stupid enough to ask him to stay.
As Charlie was plating the first omelette, Nick entered the kitchen, and Charlie had a split second to straighten his deflated shoulders and widen his drooping eyes before the other man noticed.
“There you go,” he said, motioning to the plate with his spatula. “Oh, shit, I didn’t even ask if you wanted a drink or anything.”
“S’alright,” Nick said, taking his plate over to the kettle. “I’ll sort it. Tea?”
“Coffee, please.” God knew he needed it.
Charlie’s omelette was turning out significantly worse. He was hyper-aware of Nick’s presence behind him, as he munched on his breakfast and prepared their morning doses of caffeine. Luckily the tea bags, coffee, and sugar weren’t too hard to find, so Charlie didn’t have to listen to him asking where things were in his sleep-deepened voice, but it didn’t escape his notice how his arm bulged and stretched through his sleeve as he opened the fridge and reached for the milk.
Jesus Christ, stop staring, Charlie thought.
Nick had finished making the drinks and was about done with his omelette when Charlie finished making his own, and as they both returned to the living room he incessantly thanked and complimented him on the cooking.
“It was just an omelette,” Charlie said. “I’m not a renowned chef or anything.”
“Consider the career change,” Nick replied, sipping on his tea. He checked the time on his phone, and Charlie stole a glance too. It wasn’t far off nine o’clock.
“What time’s your conference thing?”
“Eleven,” Nick said. “It’s not far from my hotel though, and my hotel isn’t actually that far from here. It’ll be fine. You have anywhere to be today?”
“Mm,” Charlie nodded around a mouthful of egg. “Meeting up with Tao in a bit.”
Nick paused with his mug halfway to his mouth. “Tao? Are you still good friends?”
“Yeah, ‘course. I still speak to most of the secondary school lot, really.”
“Oh. That’s nice.”
“Do you?”
Nick made an uncertain noise. “Not really, honestly. After… everything that happened before I left for uni, it, uh. Conversations started to die out quicker, I guess. I talk to some of the rugby lads, and Tara every now and then, Isaac once in a blue moon.”
“Oh,” Charlie frowned. He didn’t know what he expected; once Nick left he’d been adamant about not bringing him up around his friends – he didn’t care if they spoke to him, it was none of his business. But knowing they all stuck with Charlie was… it was comforting, honestly, though he couldn’t ignore the twinge of guilt that hit him. Nick had been forced to start anew, at university without the cushion of having friends back at home.
That must’ve hurt.
Seventeen-year-old Charlie would’ve been glad to hear it, but twenty-four-year-old Charlie wasn’t so sure.
“It was fine, though,” Nick carried on, seemingly seeing the sadness in Charlie’s eyes. “I get why it happened. I still managed to settle into uni and make other friends, so it was fine.”
“Yeah,” Charlie said. They’d managed to stick to more light-hearted topics the night before as they stuffed their faces with Chinese food; the sudden shock of talking about their teenage memories in the morning light was almost too much.
But, Charlie supposed, if they were to try being in each others’ lives again, it had to be done.
“I bet Tao hates me now, doesn’t he?” Nick said with a laugh.
“Hate is a strong word,” Charlie replied.
Nick raised an eyebrow. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“So how’s Nellie and Henry?”
“Nellie…” Nick’s eyes were suddenly glued to his feet. “She, uh, she passed away a couple of years ago.”
“Oh,” Charlie breathed. “Oh Nick, I’m so sorry. That must’ve been so hard on you.”
“Yeah, it was. But, y’know, she lived a happy life, and everything. She really did try ’n stay as long as possible, but, once they get to a certain age… It’s kinder to… yeah. It wasn’t fair to force her to keep going.”
“She had the best life a dog could ask for.”
“I like to think so,” Nick smiled bittersweetly. “Henry’s doing well, though. Keeps my mum company between my visits.”
“That’s good,” Charlie replied, suppressing the wave of emotion that hit him at the mention of Nick’s mum. Sarah Nelson had been like a second mother to him.
Seven years.
God.
“How is she? Your mum?”
“She’s good, yeah. I think it was hard on her once I properly moved out after uni. When David left she still had me, so… But she adores Henry, and I try to visit as much as I can. How about your family? How's Tori?”
“Tori’s doing well, yeah,” Charlie nodded. “She’s still with Michael. He’s started not-so-subtly asking me questions about Tori’s preferences for rings. And, uh, mum and dad are fine. I visit when I can. And Oliver – ah, well, he’s grown quite a bit since you last saw him. Full-on teenager now. I’m starting to worry he might end up taller than me.”
Nick’s smile stayed on his lips all throughout, nodding along as he listened intently, and Charlie wondered how the bar was so low that that was enough to make him want to swoon. He took a deep breath, finished off his (now somewhat cold) omelette, and inhaled the last dregs of his (even colder) coffee.
“I’m glad they’re all doing okay,” Nick said, rising from his seat. “I should probably start getting ready. Thanks again for breakfast, Charlie.”
“No problem.”
Cleaning and washing up was a welcome distraction from all the thoughts racing through his mind; if he focused hard enough on scrubbing a particularly stubborn piece of dried food, he almost forgot about the other person in his flat. (But not completely.)
He wasn’t due to meet Tao until later that afternoon, so Charlie was more than content to stay in his pyjamas for now. Nick, in the meantime, was in the bathroom, changing into… whatever it was that teachers wore to teacher conferences, no doubt pimping and preening himself to show off what Charlie could’ve had but didn’t get in his adult life.
No, no. He didn’t have the need for that kind of thinking. (What would it be like to kiss him with that beard?) Stop.
To drown out his thoughts even more aggressively, Charlie pressed play on his phone and badly sang along to the tunes that followed. It was a bad mish-mash of sung words, unsure noises, and humming when he didn’t know the lyrics, but it kept him occupied and happy – so much so, that he didn’t notice Nick come into the kitchen as he was drying off the dishes.
“I like this song,” Nick said, sending Charlie jumping ten feet into the air like a startled cat. “Oh, sorry. Thought you knew I was here.”
Charlie tentatively pressed pause on the music. “I… did not. But at least I’m properly awake now.” He placed the last plate into the cupboard and turned to face Nick, then immediately regretted that decision.
Nick was in a crisp, clean, white button-up shirt, perfectly tapered to rest on his broad shoulders and narrow at his hips, disappearing into a pair of trousers that hugged all the right places and reminded Charlie that Nick was an avid rugby player. The neatly knotted tie, the leather watch, the shiny belt buckle, the polished shoes…
Charlie almost forgot how to breathe.
“You look…” he paused. “Like a teacher at a posh private school.”
“Thanks. Exactly the look I’m going for,” Nick replied, leaning against the countertop and making Charlie hate him even more. “The other teachers at these conferences can be so pretentious sometimes. I hate how I feel like I have to impress them, or something.”
“Yeah, no, it’s really rubbish,” Charlie said unconvincingly.
Nick checked his watch. “I’ve already packed my stuff back into my suitcase, so I’m all ready to head off and check into my hotel. Hope they won’t mind I skipped a night.”
“Ah, yeah… At least you didn’t pay for it.”
“Very true,” Nick said, standing up straight. “Well, uh… thanks again for having me. It’s been nice.”
“It has, yeah,” Charlie replied, finding himself sounding more sincere than he intended to. He followed as Nick left to scoop up his suitcase and head to the front door. “Hope the conference goes well.”
Nick was reaching for the door handle when he stopped moving completely. Slowly, eyes narrowed with apparent uncertainty, he looked over his shoulder.
“Do you… wanna stay in touch?”
Charlie thought about it for a moment. The sensible side of him said no, that he should let Nick leave and forget he never came by just like he should’ve done yesterday, but the hopeful side of him said yes far too enthusiastically, said that they should stay in touch and make plans and slowly intertwine each others’ lives once again.
He sighed inwardly. There was, unfortunately, a very obvious winner.
“Sure,” he said, and Nick immediately pulled out his phone.
“Has your number changed?” he asked, and Charlie shook his head. “Oh. I was kind of hoping you’d say it had.”
“Why?”
“So I could pretend I didn’t still have it saved.”
Internally, Charlie screamed.
“You never were one for regularly cleaning out your phone,” he managed to reply. “Bet your camera roll is full of useless screenshots, too.”
“Haha, yeah, you got me. I’ll just– I’ll send you a message now to make sure it’s all in working order, yeah?”
Moments later, Charlie’s phone buzzed from his pocket. He pulled it out, unlocked it, and stared at the new message from an unknown number.
He’d deleted Nick’s contact long ago (seven years), but the number was as familiar to him as his own face. He’d recognise it anywhere.
Charlie created a new contact, and the message now read:
[Nick Nelson] Hey
It was so simple, so cautious, a message that seemed to tiptoe around him in fear of crossing an invisible line. Charlie didn’t let himself stare at it for a moment longer and slid the phone back into his pocket.
“Keep in touch. You’re more than welcome to visit while I’m here for the weekend, yeah?” Nick said.
He gave Nick one last farewell smile before he watched him leave and shut the door behind him.
Charlie closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and leaned his head against the door. He was full of uncertainty, doubt, and tentative excitement. He had no idea how things would turn out between him and Nick, but he was certain about one thing:
Tao was going to freak out.
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beinghumanoid · 1 year
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Uroboros Kiss STNAF Contest FanFic *Chapter 1 of 4*
--TW: NSFW, Gore and Domination in the Bad and Good Way ;)--
*Twilight. A smell so sweet it hurts. A soft hum. Silence.*
"Come back!" You yell into the silenced void, tears running slowly down your cheeks.
Nothing.
"Come back to me!" You yell out again, arms stretched out to touch the darkness but this time, you're in your room in your bed reaching out to nothing. Sweat beads dot your face as the cold air of Reality blows past you sending chills throughout your body. What was that dream? Why did it hurt you so? The tightening in your chest continues but then ceases when you hear your phone ring. You shake off the mysterious feeling and answer the phone, trying to sound normal.
"Are you dressed and ready to go?" Your mother say before you say a Hello. It dawn's on you that you was supposed to go to the airport today to fly out and see your mother since it has been a while and you needed a change of pace from the mundane. Oh shit! You forgot and now you'll be late!
"I'm about to leave now Mom! See you soon! Love you!" You say as you rush off the phone and before she can respond you already hung up, caught up in the whirlwind of you getting yourself together. You spring out of bed and run into the bathroom and turn on the shower to get it nice and warm while you get your outfit out of the armoire your mother gave you. You pick a simple college t shirt with your college's name on it and some form fitting leggings and some nice shorts to put on over the leggings. You pick out a simple black bra and panties set and rush into the bathroom to suck up the dream feeling water like a sponge when you get in the shower. You let the water run over you as your mind raced back to that weird dream. Why did it hurt so much? Why was you calling to it? You wash yourself up and get out the shower, wrapping a towel around you as you turn off the shower and rush into your room so you can lotion up and put your clothes on. When you turned into your room you see a familiar face staring back at you with a cheerful grin.
"Heyyy Sweeeeatheart~!" Friend exclaimed happily as he waved. His eyes then trailed down to your wet and towel wrapped body and a light blush eclipsed his cheeks. How did he get in? You didn't even hear him come in! Was it when you were in the shower? That can't be! You would've seen him walk by or heard his footsteps. You save the questions for later as you realize you have to hurry before you miss your flight. You have been waiting to see your mother for a while. You took off a week so that you can go back to your old stomping grounds and unwind and zen out with your mother. She was the only person who understood you. She was the only person who you trust more than anything. But then again, Friend was a person you trusted as well but sometimes...he felt...off. You have this eerie feeling that he watches everything you do even when you're at home. You're too concerned about hurting his feelings to bring it up but it is starting to boil over.
"I have no time to deal with your craziness right now Ugly! I have to get ready to go to the airport. Heeey...since you're here you can take me." You say as you take your towel off and lotion yourself as fast as you can so you can put your clothes on. For a second there, you felt that same chill again run down your spine.
"Where are you going?" He asks in a monotone voice that takes you out of left field because that contrasted his attitude from earlier. He gets up from your bed and walks over to you until he was standing a breaths away from you. You clam up. Your rushed thoughts escape you. He's close. Too close.
"I have to go the airport so I can catch this flight on time so I can see my mom. I told you this last week remember?" You managed to say as you put on your bra and bend over to pull up your panties. He grows quiet again but he's still close. All of a sudden, he stays your hands from pulling up your panties. You look up at him with a puzzled look and now he has the eyes of a predator now. Without a second for you to process, he scoops you up into his arms. You give him another confused look.
"What are you doing?! I have to get ready to go!" You yell out as you struggle to get out of his arms. His grip tightens. He's not letting you go. He throws you on the bed and leans on top of you.
"Who gave you permission to leave?" He says in almost a whisper he climbs on top of you, arms on each side of you. What is going on with him? You told him before that you had to leave so why is he acting like this now? You start to feel uncomfortable as his hands move to caress your lips, down to the neck, his index finger dancing amongst your flesh, shivers radiating your body. He traces his finger down your chest outlines your bra line where the under wire is.
You hurriedly sit up, almost headbutting him as you wiggle your way out of his grasp and onto the spot where your clothes laid. As if you became lightning itself, you put you clothes on and forced yourself to turn back at him, fighting back the urge to hurt him. Why would he play like that? He knows what Keagan did to you and he has the nerve to play such a sick joke like that? Atleast....I hope it was a sick joke.
"What the hell was your problem?!" Your voice yelled out as a hurt look was worn on your face.
"What? Can't take a joke?" He said nonchalantly as he sat upright on your bed. Did you quickly see a look of hurt on his face?
"A joke?! You know I don't joke or take jokes concerning that ever since Keagan..." you started but couldn't finish and you hugged yourself. You look down at the ground as you fight back tears. You hear the springs of your bed release and footsteps then the warmth of a hug as Friend's embrace envelopes you. You wanted to cry but you know you don't have time for that as you need to get to the airport on time.
"I'm sorry...go ahead and get ready I'll take you there" he says sadly as he lets go of you slowly and backs away as you get the rest of your stuff on and round up you luggage. You make sure you have your stuff, your phone and your wallet before switching off the TV and lights of your place and when you and Friend are about to leave, you take one look back at your place before closing the door, locking it up with your key.
(End of Chapter 1)
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crimsonfacets · 2 years
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Little Octavia but trembles and whimpers, as she reaches out her tiny talons towards her mother. More than shaken by the cruel nightmare that she just had, even as she was slowly reassured by the sight that her parents were indeed-- still right there with her. "M-Mommy! Mommy... I-I... I had a bad dream... a t-terrible one... y-you and daddy weren't..." The little owlet wasn't even able to finish, before breaking into any series of frightened sobs. Clinging tightly onto her, as she hid her face away into her shoulder.
A gentle click of the tongue, and a shake of the head. "And it was just that, my darling - a terrible, awful dream. A terrible image in your head, that is all."
While Stolas took the more gentle and gushing approach in terms of comfort, Stella often took the logical and realistic one. It never lacked love, mind you, 'twas only more crisp, direct. That was the excellent balance the both of them struck, she thought; Stolas was always the much more gentle individual, he always has been, he always was. Stella, on the other hand, was known to be more fierce and sharp, piercing, intimidating. Rearing a child with both forms was important. The warmth of the father, the elimination thought process of the mother.
Where Stolas would soothe the ache, Stella assured it would not harm her any further, and that she was stronger than it. Yes, that applied even to little nightmares.
Stella wrapped her arms around her frightened Octavia and cradled her beneath her beak, blanket wrapped around the owlet. "Dreams can be so very cruel, but they hold no power over reality, dear. They can trick and deceive you when they're naughty, but your daddy and I are right here, are we not? Yes we are, yes we are."
It surprised Stella how... melted, she could sound. While Stolas was the tip of the iceberg, Octavia was truly the experience that made Stella realize just how warm she could be. The way she spoke with her child always surprised her, so soft, so gentle. She never knew tears before, but she became familiar with them after her daughter came to be. Happy ones, worrisome ones.. all so very strange, but so very possible.
The magic of a daughter. The magic that was Octavia.
Stella pressed a small kiss to her weeping child's head and gave her a squeeze. "We're not going anywhere, Via. You're rather stuck with the both of us for a very, very, very, very very long time."
All the while, she did flick open an eye towards her husband and gave a dart of her pupil from him to his old grimoire. Someone had best get on casting a spell for good dreams.
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hydropyro · 3 months
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Wildly out of context NSFW OC Excerpt
TW: 18+ themes, SA, Violence, Abuse/Child Abuse, Dissociation, PTSD, SH
Reign of Fire
Leon offered the women his most sly smile as he invited them into the prince’s chambers, hoping that he’d successfully masked his displeasure. In Ikhiya’s absence their company had probably been arranged by Samuias to stave off Leon’s ‘lonliness’. The thought disgusted him.
Leon turned away from them, gesturing to the lounge now to his right as he moved away to pour each a glass of wine from Ikhiya’s small cart. He then took a seat in the centre of the settee between them, passing the drinks to each.
They immediately set upon him, unabashedly kissing and caressing his body, pulling the low collar of his shirt away from his shoulders and chest to expose more flesh. They’d visited him a few times — they were well past small talk and niceties.
The prince had some conference in Golratha that evening. On the one hand Leon appreciated not having an audience to the sounds that always followed soon after the maidens’ arrivals — but on the other hand it was nice to have someone that he could trust keeping an eye out for him. He wouldn’t be in any ‘danger’ from these — ladies — though. As much as they violated him, he would survive.
A—static—a numbness—began to take hold as Leon watched himself stand from the lounge and pull his t-shirt off, dropping it to the floor where he stood. He’d been in decent shape before arriving in Hanestria, but the muscles across his chest, back, and arms were taut now. It was probably the best he’d looked in his life, but it only repulsed him now. His almost it obsessive exercising had been the only respite from the gnawing of crippling anxiety in such a place.
Heavy pets were whispers across his skin now as Leon floated, numb, outside himself. The metal *clink* of his belt almost didn’t sound real, but then he watched his jeans being pulled down by his *helpful* guests. Leon stepped out of the all-but-removed clothes, leaving the jeans and underwear in the unceremonious pile where they’d been peeled from him, and he took both wine glasses and downed the remainder of each. He placed the glasses on the floor and straightened to wrap and arm around each woman, leading the way into the bedroom. Leon closed his eyes and lay himself back into the prince’s plush bedding, a sigh escaping him. Though the familiar setting was comforting, the sound hadn’t come from satisfaction as his guests started to work on his body. He was uncomfortable and angry.
Rough pressure, long false nails raked across his skin, teeth sank into his flesh—all were whispers. He watched himself be worked and mauled, his arms and legs spread open over the bed to give them unobstructed access to his body. He held that sly smile on his lips, watching as his eyes tracked the movements of the women—but dread gripped his heart.
A kiss pressed to his chest above his heart, the gentleness almost stinging in contrast to the scratching and swatting that had reddened his pale skin. He heard himself moan as the mouth descended to torment his nipple, his voice sounding distant and foreign.
“Sam-an-tha?” The maiden had lifted her head, her body lying across his. She continued to caress and tease his stimulated nipple while the nail of her other hand traced across the script on his chest. The white ink that was typically inconspicuous now stood out stark on him, slightly distorted by the welts forming beneath it. Her companion paid no mind as she mounted herself on him.
The name snapped him back to reality a moment and all of the sensations held at bay by his mind’s absence slammed into him with such force, tearing a cry from his throat. Physical pleasure and mental anguish waged an agonising war as Leon pulled the woman not already impaled on him into a rough, biting kiss—needing her to just shut the fuck up.
She laughed, pushing herself away from him to inspect the calligraphy again. “Is that a tattoo? Do you have any more?”
He ground his teeth and worked his fingers into her hair, grasping her jaw with the other hand. He pulled her down to him again, growling into her ear, “You’re not here to talk,” before he crushed their mouths together again.
Especially not about her —
Johnny (Leon), age 8
He couldn’t get the eyes right, and the cheap eraser on the pencils from the discount store did a better job of smudging than erasing. He glanced at the reference photo again. He kept it in a little pouch that Cala had sewn in her new ‘Home Economics’ class at school. “One of the perks of being in a big school this time,” she had said. Before then he’d hidden the photo, stolen from his dad’s photo albums and photocopied in secret at school before returning the original, in a roll of dress socks hidden at the back of his drawer.
In two years, Johnny could take an actual art class and work with better, specialised materials. The art building stood between theirs’ and the Upper Grades, adjacent to the cafeteria. He would walk past its big glass doors and wide, bright windows nearly daily but hadn’t allowed himself to look inside. He wouldn’t get his hopes up. They never stayed in one place for too long. If he were lucky, his next school would have playground equipment, let alone a real art studio.
He'd been so lost in thought, trying to perfect the symmetry, that he hadn’t heard the heavy footsteps thundering down the hall. He slipped his reference picture beneath his bedside table at the last instant, unable to turn the notebook to another page or stand before the door burst open.
“Johnathan,” his father scolded him. “Do you expect me to cook in that fucking pigsty?” He gestured out the door in the direction of the kitchen.
“What’s taking you so damn long in here?”
Johnny pulled himself quickly to his knees, looking up at John Sr. Even with their vast height difference, he could smell the alcohol on his father’s breath, though mid-afternoon sun filtered through the plastic blinds across the room.
“Sorry, Dad, I was just—doing homework.”
“Looks like playing to me,” John snorted. His father’s hand extended quickly, thick though long fingers splayed expectantly.
Johnny’s heart broke because he knew he would never get the drawing back. He tore the page carefully nonetheless from the workbook before passing it to his father.
“You’d do better in school if you spent less time doodling.” He crunched the page in his hand as he turned and left the room. Johnny leapt to his feet and started after him, hoping to fish it from the trash when he wasn’t looking.
John had already lit a cigarette and was throwing away the match but stopped to look at the drawing. “What the fuck is it even supposed to be?” he turned to his son, more annoyed than anything. “I’ve seen you draw this lady before. Who is it?”
Johnny couldn’t tell his father who the drawing was of. He shrugged, at a loss for words.
“Junior!” His father was always angry, but called him Junior, John Junior, unless Johnny was in trouble.
Terror coursed through him at the sound of his father’s bellow. “I—I just like her.” He knew he was to make eye contact when beings spoken to, but couldn’t bear to look into his father’s pale blue eyes. Instead he focused on the bridge of John’s pointed nose.
“Who is she?” John asked again, shaking the paper to catch the boy’s attention. “Don’t lie to me, boy.”
A lump rose in his throat, and Johnny felt heat jabbing the back of his eyes. “She’s—” he suppressed the urge to say ‘mom’. He wasn’t allowed to call her that, though he did in private. “Sam—Samantha.”
Angry eyebrows shot upward. “My Samantha?”
“Yes, sir.”
He didn’t see the slap coming, and didn’t know if it or the ashes that fell to his cheek were hotter. Johnny had learned long ago that a yelp would be met with a harder blow, and he bit his tongue.
“Get this trash out of my face!” John raged. He stood still as a statue, towering menacingly over the boy.
Johnny inched forward to take the crumbled page, careful not to brush his hand across his father’s.
“No! Not in the trash! You’ll dig it out again.” John pointed, waving his cigarette to a squat coffee table in the living room. He had a big, green, glass ashtray there, the chimney he was. “Get rid of it,” John growled.
Johnny’s body grew numb. He couldn’t remember crumpling the drawing into a tight ball, moving across the room, and placing it gingerly on the thick pile of stinking ashes. He fumbled with the matchbox, the abrasive so worn down from use. Each time the bright green ball at the end of the stick scraped across the cardboard, screeching as it did, Johnny shivered. The sound itself made his teeth ache. John began to storm over, but Johnny was able to get it lit before his father could ‘help’.
His eyes stung, but he was too old to cry.
“First, you kill her, and then you dare to disrespect her memory with trash like that?” John’s dangerous grumble came from just beyond Johnny’s right shoulder. He drew hard on his cigarette, held it a moment, and blew it out over Johnny’s head.
They watched the ball burn together in silence. Suddenly, John spoke, sounding irritated. He waved the spent butt of his cigarette around, pinched forcefully between his thumb and forefinger.
“Kitchen’s a fucking mess,” he began, his jaw working as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. “You disgrace my wife—who’s not here because of you—and now you’re using my fucking ashtray.”
Johnny’s cry of pain earned an open palm slap after the last embers were ground against his bare shoulder. Then the crushed butt followed the drawing into the small flames.
“Forget about dinner,” John snapped. He moved away, back into he kitchen behind, shouting, “Cala!”
She emerged from her room at the end of the hall. “Yes, Dad?”
“Your homework done?” Leon saw her nod at the end of the dark hallway. “The bathrooms are clean?” Again, she nodded.
“Come in here and get this kitchen picked up so we can eat sometime tonight. Your brother decided to fuck around.”
The siblings exchanged sad, empathetic expressions as Cala made her way up the hall.
“Thank your sister for picking up your slack, then fuck off to bed,” John snapped at his son.
Johnny did as he was told, murmuring thanks to Cala in passing. Her hand brushed his, as much reassurance as she could give.
As soon as he made it into his room, Johnny hid the sketchbook and the only picture he had of his late mother in his school bag, then hid beneath his covers.
Johnny (Leon), age 13
He hadn’t thought he’d get into any legal trouble for having a buddy’s uncle give him some ink. He was supposed to wait until he was eighteen but hadn’t paid for it. In exchange for some custom art, he’d been given a white tat in calligraphy of his mother’s name right over his heart.
One would need to look hard to find it among the sea of scars already marring his pale skin. He’d always planned on waiting until he was an adult and having it done more visibly, not having to fear John’s anger, but he wasn’t sure that that he would be around that long—especially as of late.
The next time that Leon’s mind broke the surface of the present, he was being shoved hard by the taller of the two maidens. The other maiden was out of sight, but Leon heard crying in the main room of the prince’s chambers.
The maiden pushed him again, and Leon allowed himself to fall back into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He watched her storm out, his brain still foggy. As he gazed around the room, which had become so familiar and comforting to him, his first sense to strengthen was olfactory—and the room reeked of sex.
He put his hands on the bed to steady himself and found it wet. Not ���soaked’—but disturbing, nonetheless. He stood again and dutifully stripped the bed, leaving the soiled sheets in a bundle by the bedroom door. Then he went into the bathroom, still searching for any recollection of that evening. He ran the shower hot—almost too hot—and wasted no time in bathing.
He’d commandeered a rough fibre brush from the prince, designed for rough skin on feet, and had used it on every inch of his flesh. Every. One. Perhaps, he reasoned, if he scrubbed off the top layer or two of skin, he wouldn’t feel their hands and mouths and—
He scrubbed harder.
The maiden had teased him, again, as she had their first night together—asking—begging—that he give her the ‘royal treatment’. He felt a rage building in him again at the recent but cooly detached memory. Red pinpricks sprouted in the wake of the brush—blood. Not much, but it was as if every pore had been torn open. Leon moved the brush and focused his scrubbing on a new, defiled patch of skin.
“The stupid bitch,” he growled to himself. How smug she’d been.
It wasn’t something that he *needed* but Leon could appreciate the subtleties pain could add to the pleasure—scratching, biting, nothing too extreme. Is that what the maiden expected from him, though? He didn’t know what kinds of stories Kacie had concocted about their ‘engagements’, but surely it was nothing enticing.
Once his skin had been thoroughly soughed, Leon used a softer cloth and soap for bathing, the screaming of his raw skin liberating. Then he stepped out of the shower. He knew from previous evenings with similar visitors that even the prince’s softest towels would be painful, so he stood and examined himself in the mirror and brushed his teeth until his gums bled. By then, he’d dried enough to wander out into the entry. As he passed, he retrieved a pair of silk boxers for ‘his’ side of the prince’s tall wardrobe.
Ikhiya was seated at his typical place at the desk, startling Leon.
“Hello. I had expected you to stay in the capital,” Leon greeted the man.
The prince had a grim expression on his face. “I see you had some company.”
Leon grimaced in response.
“They left less-than-satisfied,” Ikhiya continued. “Losing your touch?”
The Vorinian gave him an angry frown.
“One woman was crying,” Ikhiya said, eyeing his friend. “She claims you were going to kill her.”
The fog of memory continued to clear. Leon had his hands wrapped around the Hanestrian maiden’s thin throat, his fingers interlacing at the nape of her neck. He’d been [resent enough to focus pressure on the sides of her neck, cutting off blood from her brain but not impeding her breathing—too badly—though he had pressed his thumbs into the hollow of her throat.
The sex had halted then, he remembered. One woman struggled in his grasp, and the other moved away in horror. Leon had no desire to hate-fuck the maiden—he just wanted to hurt her. He wanted to make her regret begging him, not once but twice, to treat her like his enemy.
He’d laid over her, her bare legs still splayed either side of his waist, though their bodies were no longer conjoined. He’d suspended his weight on his knuckles beneath her neck and on her thin body itself, forcing the air further from her lungs with his heavy chest. He’d hissed ill-enunciated obscenities at her, not caring as spit flew out like venom with his hateful words.
Her richly tan skin had darkened and purpled around her cheeks, full lips, and wide eyes—those eyes becoming bloodshot as the pressure from the blood unable to escape built.
Her fighting had been weak and futile, but the other maiden pulled him off, forcing Leon to release the woman and steady himself into standing. Then she’d shoved him, and Leon was present—all rage and pain pushed back into the recesses of his mind.
“Shit,” Leon took a seat at the lounge, dropping his head into his hands. “I fucked up.”
Ikhiya didn’t disagree.
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Emilia in her party dress performing at a bar; Anyone have a guess at what  she will shoot from that pink water gun next?
33. The Stage (chapter 2 - Tap n’ Jazz 2/5 ) part 8. Stories of Dreams.
none
The next day, Emilia took Cadence to the park. She wore her big sunglasses, a hot-pink plaid mini-skirt, white T-shirt, andboots with her knee socks. She found a nice bench to soak the heat and green, while she ignored the text stream her mother was sending. Emilia’s knee jittered, as she hoped no one would recognize her. After a few minutes her phone rang, and Emilia checked to make sure it was her mother. To her surprise, it was Ametrine. She immediately answered.
“Emilia Loket speaking.”
“Enjoying the weather back home, Mrs. Loket?” Ametrine asked. She didn’t answer, and handed Cadence a ring of plastic shapes.
“I’m Calling for business. As an official Magician, I pulled you back from Ealden Cynedom; To tour and approve some new Magicians. We have a lot of applicants, and you need a stage partner your age.” He asserted. Emilia sighed.
“Sure. Not like I’m parenting or need a distraction from my parents’ divorce.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it resolves quickly. Anyhow, the audition is on Friday; Come in costume. Or at least formal wear. I’ll see you there.” Ametrine finished. Emilia said goodbye, and hung up. She did a perimeter check, and got up to stroll Cadence back to the car.
“Emilia? You have a baby?!” A familiar voice called.
Zoey was class fool. When he raised his hand, there was a witty joke waiting, making them comedic cringe rivals. They shared classes form elementary to secondary. They weren’t close, but knew each other well enough. Emilia didn’t know it, but of all her peers, Zoey was the one who helped look for her. He missed her when she disappeared. Emilia did tricks in the hallways. Overwhelmed with relief to see her, is an understatement. He recognized her by her long silk ivory hair, and doll inspired cloths. Zoey followed Emilia around the park, trying to ask questions, and entertaining Cadence. He loved children, while simultaneously not wanting to sire one.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Zoey asked. He could sense Emilia’s radiating frustration. She couldn’t answer his questions, for a simple reason: To do so, would reveal magic was real, which might make him manipulate reality unknowingly. Then again, there is refuge in audacity.
“I ended up in a fantastical world, where my One True Love turned out to be a caramel haired, freckled, shy, child-abuse victim; Who ascended to King Mage, and became a magic librarian. Possibly a lost prince. I rode his eagle familiar with him, and his giggle is as contagious as our daughters. Our True Love spell dictates we will have a child for each season. Morgan loves pink, argyle, romances, and naiads. Living with him, in the black tower that opened to the ether of all magic, I met many quaint villagers, and many equally enchanted friends.” Emilia tested. Maybe if Zoey thought she’d lost it, he would flee.
“Wow. That’s pretty metal.” He responded; Emilia recoiled.
“You believe me?” Emilia said. Zoey shrugged.
“I want to. Your magic tricks sure make me wonder. Hey, you wouldn’t be able to do one for me, eh?”
“No! It’ll attract attention! If people recognize me the tabloids might gossip about my family life!”
“Fair. But would you do it on open stage, with some school friends?” He insisted. It was like her father set them up. Tempted by the opportunity to perform, and a promise to her father, Emilia gave Zoey her number. They would meet there later tonight, as her mother was working late.
Emilia took a taxi to the beat down bar. She wore a grey trench over a pink dress that looked like raining diamonds; With a delicate necklace Morgan gave her. Inside the bar, it smelled like smoke, in spite of bylaws. She looked around, searching for Zoey. He waved her over from a table. Everyone offered her drinks, of which she declined. While they talked, Emilia watched the stage. She was supposed to be making friends, but instead the hot lights and now empty stage called to her.
“Ready to do a performance?” Zoey asked, seeing Emilia glaze over at the glistening opportunity. She got up swiftly, and approached the stage, nearly breaking an ankle on her mother’s heels. Before she could take another step, the bouncer held her back.
“Let go!” Emilia snapped. “I’m a magician!” She yelled, showing her watch and pulling the licence from her cleavage. The bar went quiet. A real magician. Tickets to a show could cost a pretty penny, as they were in grand theaters. But for the cost of entry, and giving Emilia a cut, a poor crowd could finally see a magician redefine possibility; Make their minds race with explanations for the fantastical. Plausible Deniability is how Magicians keep everyone from believing reality apart. If they think there’s a logical explanation, they will remain mundane.
Emilia stepped on stage. She told herself the curtains were red, the lights brighter.
“Hello ladies and gentleman! I’m Rhodochrosite, and it’s my pleasure to make you smile tonight!” She announced. The crowd clapped at the sound of the unplugged microphone.
Emilia performed a tap number, manipulating the stage by turning props into furniture. She reached into a hand mirror, to pull out a drape, that she waved to summon a table. Pulling off the cloth revealed numerous perfectly stacked wine glasses. After a gasp, Emilia pulled a pink water-gun from the hat she snapped into her hand. Normally she liked cards and mirrors, but she was feeling a little dangerous tonight. If she hadn’t gotten lost, she would have remembered another rule of Magicians: When believing weapons into reality, remember they’re props; Never point them at the audience. Never let them believe the gun is real.
“Alright everybody! I’m a solo-act tonight, so which one of you wants to guess what’s my ammunition?” Emilia called. She postured like a tantalizing piece of fan-service, as she unhinged the lock of her toy. She pointed it to the tower of glass. On the other side was Zoey, who still had plausible deniability, and thus frozen stiff to see the barrel of a gun.
“Dice!” a hand waved.
“Flowers!” another called.
“Water!” someone called, noticing the resemblance to a child’s toy.
“Are you sure?” Emilia smiled devilishly, putting her finger on the trigger. Zoey sat unbreathing. Praying it was something silly. Emilia was good at silly. She was doing jazz-hands to raining paper confetti a second ago. The crowed yelled more guesses.
“Alright everybody! For my last trick, we get to see who’s right!” She laughed, pulling the trigger. Zoey fell out of his chair as the crowd went silent. Then a cheer! Emilia had shot bulk bin candy into every single wine-glass. Their crinkled pastel wrappers, littered the stage.
“Sweet.” She said, blowing glitter off the gun. She walked to the front, put away the mic, snapped everything away, and bowed to an encore. Emilia was exhilarated. She felt alive again, as her heart nearly forgot about how much she missed Morgan, and worried about her parents.
“EMILIA, YOU SHOT AT ME!” Zoey yelled, tossing his hat down. Emilia used small steps to leave stage, and looked down in guilt. The manager placed her cut onto the table.
“Sorry, Zoey. There are rules against that. It must have been a scare.” Emilia said, running her fingers through her hair. She reached to help him up. Zoey was looking behind her in confusion.
“What?” Emilia asked, doing a shoulder check.
“I thought the stage had no steps.” Zoey pointed. “This place is notorious for having performers fall off that thing.” He continued. Emilia, assuming all stages had stairs, had believed some without thinking, and couldn’t make them disappear now that everyone noticed.
“They look new; They must’ve installed them due to the hazard.” Emilia shrugged. She hoped they’d take the bait. The others at the table went back to conversation, but Zoey gave her an amber side-eye; He could tell when she lied.
At nine, Emilia’s mother pulled up to the curb. Emilia sheepishly walked over, and opened the door, waving good-bye to Zoey. Her vision blurred from overstimulation.
“You look waisted; You probably spoiled your milk.” Emilia’s mother prodded.
“I wasn’t drinking, I was performing, Sueann.” Emilia snapped. Her mother recoiled at being addressed by her fist name.
“So, your father told you.” She said, starting the car. Both of them felt heavy, and in need of sleep. Maybe cereal too. Emilia starred into the street lights, trying to hold back. Sueann kept driving.
“Tell me about Morgan; Is he dead beat?” She inquired. Maybe talking about something pleasant might cheer her girl.
“No. He always wanted daughters, and takes good care of Cadence when we’re together.” Emilia mumbled. “Since when do you care? Why don’t you ask me about my show or something? Why him?”
“Because you love him; And I already know what your shows are like.” Sueann sighed. Emilia rolled her eyes and leant against the window.
“Your father sent me pictures of Cadence tonight. Made work easier.” Her mother said. There was a brief silence.
“By the way, can I get a ride to the convention center next Friday? Magician auditions.” Emilia asked. Her mother nodded. “Also, I made a friend.”
“Well, Zoey did help look for you when you disappeared. He got roughed by some cops for his slight of melanin. Then laughed it off. I feel so bad for him.” Sueann shrugged. “Also, I may have set you up at the park.” She continued. Another ache in Emilia’s chest. It wasn’t her mother setting her up. It was guilt and warmth. People she hardly knew searched pointlessly for her, while the Magician guild knew everything. They worried while she fed fairies. Just to make sure the power of belief didn’t destroy their world. She wished she’d stayed here. But if she had, she wouldn’t have her blessings.
NEXT--->
<---PREVIOUS
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siirkaian · 3 years
Text
Stardust refuses to take control UNLESS its banning Moonshine from doing something
#The thing about the three highest demos is that all three of them could be in charge. Like. They're all extremely powerful#You see this when we're brought back to the war like. You see Stardust absolutely untouchable on the battlefield.... Pure fucking#Speed and power. He's the Sun like........ He's so powerful#And then it turns to Moonshine who's literally taking up half the sky in a repeating lemniscate pattern... His energy when let loose is just#He's so slippery and so fucking powerful too like he'd king of the mental realms and when he's released he manipulates reality in#Accordance with willpower like. He's generally confined by Stardusts word to keep himself in the mental realm but it's literally like....#His mind radiates from him like Siirka. Siirka's hair is visible though. Moonshines isn't.... Moonshines just got this immense weight#Like UHHHH I keep seeing it in my mind and then I forget what it is but basically..... Its like his mental power buzzes under the skin of#Reality pushing at the surface so hard that that surface starts to bend.... Hes terrifying bc a) Huge. But also b) you can feel reality#Start to become like abstract water around him for miles and miles and miles and miles as his true self. Not the one you see. So much#Bigger than him is brimming at the surface ready to destroy reality like a piece of paper about to be crumpled up or folded into shapes#And Midnight........ She's literally space itself..... Over the other side of the sky she's not even really visible because she's become#Space itself. She's no longer taking a viewable form.... Like you look at her and its like..... No. She's not even something you can interac#T with she is reality around you - reality around you took a familiar form but you've revoked your privileges to that#Because now its so Furious at you it's no longer on your side#You know.... The three highest demos are weird......... I don't know why they are the way they are#I think it's that Moonshine is Consciousness and Midnight is Mind and Stardust is like.... The conscious being?? And its not that like#They bow to Stardust even tho he Is God-King. I think it's just that they..... Yeah it's conplicated?? They really don't have a human#Relationship. I think it's just a case that they Are that way because they aren't just beings they ARE the things they represent#Like..... Spoilers unless I change my mind. As much as I want there to be a huge question about whether Moonshine and Siirka are the#Same species because..... Oh boy#Oh BOY it's a really important question. Where did Siirka come from? He's the single most powerful entity in the whole story. Are there more#Of him? Are they all evil? Moonshine and Siirka both are very......... Out of touch with reality. There's a huge question as to whether MS#Is on Siirka's side or not..... But anyway they're not the same species I don't think. Uh. Point being. Moonshine literally is#Consciousness like he is the.... I guess fictional sort of field of opposites and distinctions and experiences and subjectivity#Midnight is a manifestation of the fabric of space itself she is like. The parental space. Referred to as She bc of how people see her#But she's beyond gender she's just a unified lake that now does what it wants. Stardust...............................................#Lore#Highest demos#Higher Demos
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