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tallstars-rewrite · 3 years

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Chapter 24

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Tallpaw was instructed to remain in camp for several days, and regularly check into the medicine den. Miraculously, none of his bones were broken, but the nasty gashes across his back were still at risk of infection and nearly every part of him was horribly bruised. It was torment having to remain still. Dawnstripe came to see him regularly to bring him food, and he wished her presence brought him the comfort it used to. For the most part he couldn’t help just feeling bad that she was having to deal with him at all. Her first apprentice that she’d been so excited for had become such a mess.

Briarpaw was in and out of the den. Hawkheart, providing his apprentice more sympathy than he offered anyone else, did not give him duties. Tallpaw wasn’t sure where Briarpaw had been going the rest of the day. He didn’t speak much when he came in save for the same pleasantries. “How are you feeling? Is the pain manageable? I’ll get you some wet moss to drink from.” The words were caring but his voice was stiff, like the life had been drained out of it. Sometimes he just sat in the dark corner of the den and stared at his paws. Tallpaw wondered if he still saw his mother's blood on them, or if any amount of grooming would make them feel clean. He was too ashamed and afraid to reach out. Briarpaw might see him as responsible for his mother’s death like Shrewpaw did; someone Tallpaw gratefully had not seen at all.

Tallpaw's relationship with him had always been a bit precarious, the easy affection he and Briarpaw had--or at least used to have--was never Shrewpaw’s strength. They had been as much friends as rivals could be, but Tallpaw sensed that night, in the hate in his eyes, that something had broken in him as well, and their unstable foundation crumbled.

Woollycloud was around him the most, just as subject to bed rest as Tallpaw. He offered him friendly chatter which Tallpaw rarely reciprocated, but Woollycloud graciously pretended not to notice. He had a nasty cut on his head where a rock had struck him, but unlike Tallpaw, his legs and movement were fine and he was able to be more active. In between the comforting talk Tallpaw had to endure, there was nothing to do but sleep. And he really did not want to sleep. When he closed his eyes, the rumbling of the earth and world collapsing on top of him returned, along with his father's voice calling out from far off. But it was only when he was asleep that he didn’t have to suffer the pity and concern from his clanmates. Or worse, their uncomfortable silence. As if a frightening air surrounded him, a discomfort that remained since the formerly well mannered and quiet apprentice’s violent outburst against the rogue. The rogue the rest of the clan apparently cared for more than Tallpaw and his father. The fear in his dreams was, marginally, still preferable to facing others.

After nearly a full day of not speaking, Tallpaw was staring absentmindedly up at the stars. Each star a warrior of the past, so he’d been told. Brackenwing would be among them. But a horrible thought nagged at his mind the longer he stared at those stars. So at last he dared to speak to Woollycloud.

“What about Sandstone, Woollycloud?” He could barely manage more than a whisper. “If we couldn’t lay his body out, how will he be free? How can the wind carry his spirit if it can’t find him? He’s trapped. He’s trapped down there alone, isn’t he?”

Woollycloud curled his tail behind Tallpaw.

“Don’t worry, Sandstone will not be lost. There is something we can do for him, but the tunnelers want to wait.”

“What for?”

“For you, of course. You should be there. StarClan knows to welcome him, and we will help his spirit how we can. I’ll show you as soon as we’re strong enough to.”

Tallpaw nodded quietly and lay his head back down.

Woollycloud continued, “You and your mother will have closure. Did Palebird not tell you about the tunnelers tradition?”

“I... have not seen my mother.” Tallpaw said. He didn’t want to think about her. Of all the cats whose presence filled him with a deep set guilt, Palebird was among the worst.

“You haven’t? I...I see.” Woollycloud sat up and hummed in concern. Tallpaw wished he wouldn’t do that. “I haven’t seen her myself...I should look for her.”

“You don’t have to.” Tallpaw said quickly. “Really.” The last thing he wanted was for any cat to pressure his mother into seeing him. Before Woollycloud could argue, he continued, “do you think I’m strong enough yet? I know the third sunrise hasn’t passed, but the herbs have been working and I...I really want to do something.”

Woollycloud sniffed at his shoulder, “Perhaps we could ask Hawkheart. I understand why you don’t want to wait. In the meantime, I’ll see if Mistmouse can find Palebird. She must be grieving heavily, and I know she’ll want to come.”

Tallpaw had a hard time imagining his mother wanted to do anything. But with Hawkheart’s begrudging blessing, and a small lie about not feeling any pain anymore, Woollycloud led him to the camp entrance. Mistmouse had told the other tunnelers it was time, and they were waiting for them. To Tallpaw’s surprise, even the retired tunnelers Fennelpelt and Whitetooth were waiting.

Woollycloud gazed at Whitetooth with a slight trace of worry. “You’ll be alright making the journey? I hope the pain in your legs has eased some.”

Whitetooth sniffed proudly. “I won’t let anything stop me from doing this for Sandstone. He always spoke up for us and didn’t let anything stop him. I’ll be fine.”

Fennelpelt nodded “It’s only right for us to give the proper send off in the place his body rests, or as close as we can get. I know StarClan can find him wherever he is, but...this has sadly become a new tradition, the more we lose to the tunnels. I always hope the present one may be the last.”

Woollycloud nodded sadly, “StarClan willing it be true this time.”

Hazelnose turned to Mistmouse “So...did you find Palebird?”

Mistmouse shuffled her paws “No, but Lilywhisker told me she has an idea where she might be.”

“I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning,” Crowfur said with a displeased flick of his ears. “She can’t mean to miss her own mates’ remembrance.”

“She doesn’t want to, perhaps they will meet us there," Mistmouse said quickly.

Tallpaw couldn’t help sharing Crowfur’s frustration. Palebird was so rarely where he wanted her to be. It was one thing to avoid him, but she shouldn’t avoid Sandstone at a time like this. Unless...it was because he was there? It was hard for him to ignore how out of place he felt here. Once he had assumed these cats would be his closest companions, but that was before his apprenticeship. He’d never been able to figure out if they were as disappointed in his choices as Sandstone was. They ought to be, he thought bitterly Because if I had made the right choice...maybe I would have known how to save him. Maybe I could have gotten to him faster.

The patrol made the trek quietly, as the last light of the sun started to vanish and the sky turned from orange to cool dark blue. Tallpaw had some difficulty keeping pace, even Whitetooth walked faster than him, but he forced himself not to wince. He wished his muscles didn’t still ache from the bruising all over his back. That restless feeling of being somewhere he didn’t feel he had a right to belong still gnawed at him. Unfortunately Woollycloud, in all his endless sympathy, padded behind with him. I wish you wouldn’t waste your energy worrying about me, Tallpaw wanted to say.

Instead he asked, “What are we going to do?”

“Right now, we are going to collect every strong smelling moor plant we can find. I’ll explain when we arrive.” Woollycloud replied.

Tallpaw couldn’t pretend he wasn’t nervous about returning to the place where he’d nearly been buried twice, and where his father had disappeared forever. But he wouldn’t let that apprehension stop him now. Some of the patrol split off on the way, returning with herbs and plants plucked from the ground, smelling of new-leaf growth. Woollycloud gestured for Tallpaw to take his heather flowers as he picked additional sprigs of sage. Tallpaw hadn’t a clue what they were doing, but he followed obediently.

When he finally caught his mother's scent, he almost thought he was imagining it. But as they approached the hill that led down to the soft earth where the old rabbit burrow tunnels used to be, he saw her approaching the group. Lilywhisker was with her, and carried some brightly colored flowers in her jaws that she passed off to the small white molly, but as she watched Palebird come to join them, the former-tunneler did not follow. Palebird padded soundlessly into the muddy clearing, placing a rather large bundle of marigold on the ground. “I wanted to find the best flowers I could,” she said quickly, as if expecting someone to ask for an explanation. Her voice sounded weak and cracked. “I apologize it took so long.”

“We are here now,” Woollycloud replied gently, “that is all that matters.”

No cat asked why Lilywhisker had not joined them. Perhaps it was because she’d left tunneling behind so long ago. It made Tallpaw wonder even more if he deserved to be here himself. Because he was family was surely the reason, but Sandstone saw his tunnelers as better family than he ever was. None of them know how Sandstone really felt about me… he realized miserably.

Tallpaw felt incredibly on edge to finally be in his mother’s presence. He could feel her gaze drift toward him. She at last padded over to him, and gave the scar on his ear a soft lick. He looked up at her timidly. He hadn’t noticed before how awful she looked. Her eyes were dull and tired. She looked smaller and thinner. Palebird had been a frail, skinny cat for as long as Tallpaw could remember, but now he could more clearly see the bones in her back. Her fur was messy with bits of dust clinging to her legs, showing she hadn’t been grooming much.

She offered him a weak smile “I’m glad you’re doing better, Tallpaw.”

Her voice carried that familiar hollowness he remembered from when he was a kit. When she told him things would be ok in that empty way. Even back then her words felt practiced and obligatory, with little feeling behind them. As empty as her eyes. She seemed to be looking through him. He quietly nodded in response.

Woollycloud padded closer and leaned forward to touch her nose in greeting, which she stiffly reciprocated.

“We were worried when we couldn’t find you earlier,” he said “Where have you been?” He looked at her with deep concern in his soft orange eyes, surely noticing her disheveled appearance as well, but not wanting to comment on it directly.

“I’ve...been sleeping in my own den. Not far from camp. I just wanted some air. I’m sorry, I really didn’t realize I had been gone so long. Time just slipped away from me.”

Woollycloud didn’t look fully content with that answer, but he didn’t want to push it. The tunnelers had placed down what they carried and gathered around the collapsed entrance of the tunnel. It was hard to discern where the hole had been, as the mud around it filled in the cracks. Slowly and meticulously, they began to dig.

Tallpaw looked to Woollycloud “What are they doing? I thought...I thought we already tried to dig through to the tunnels.

“We did. Believe me, Plumclaw especially was out for ages digging holes above and below. We will not dig into the tunnel anymore. Only a shallow ring around the entrance. Come with me, and I’ll tell you.”

He led him to the muddy ground, and together scooped out small pawfuls of earth. Tallpaw suppressed a shudder from the feel of the cold dirt seeping into his paws, and he tried not to remember how it felt to sink into the ground while it buried it from above and below. He focused on Woollycloud’s voice.

"In the rare cases where we have no body to lay in our sacred place, we will go as close as we can to where we know the body is and lay a separate grave, as we do in the Sleeping Glade's burial grounds. We’ll collect every strong smelling moor plant we can find. The familiar scent of the open air will guide the lost spirit out.”

“How will he sense anything trapped underground?” Tallpaw asked quietly.

“He will. Trust me.” Woollycloud said firmly, “The Wind Runner never abandons her children, wherever they are, she will find them again. Her son knows the earth and hidden places of the moor. It may be a harder journey, but Sandstone will hear him and find his way to our ancestors.”

“But...how long will it take? How long will he be trapped?”

“Worry not, young one,” Whitetooth croaked. He was doing his best to dig, making slow progress, but there was a sureness and prescivion to his movements that spoke of his experienced seasons in the tunnels, even despite the stiffness in his joints. “Your father wore the tunnels like a second pelt. He will not be afraid.”

Tallpaw struggled to imagine anything alive in the ground. Well, not alive exactly. But he’d only ever felt hostile eyes on him down there, the kind belonging to monsters that frightened him as a kit. Could there be anything else? He felt his fur tingle as he struggled to pull one last pawful out of the earth. He imagined Sandstone watching him with that cold disapproving glare at how much clumsy effort it took to do this small task. It felt like the ground wanted to suck him down, just waiting for him to put his weight on an unstable patch. He backed up from the hole, but luckily it seemed the other tunnelers had decided they dug far enough. All around the burrows entrance, they weaved the flowers and herbs in a ring bordering the shallow dip. When they had finished, all the cats sat around their work, and were silent. Tallpaw was silent with them, but he didn’t expect to feel any peace wash over him. All he felt was empty and sad. In that stillness, Tallpaw could only dwell on what he really lost.

His father had not loved him for some time, not really. Perhaps Tallpaw would not have to fearfully creep around camp anymore, or carefully check over each rise on the moor to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally run into him on a bad day. But Sandstone being gone also meant that the cat that had loved him once, the cat Tallpaw dutifully waited for everyday in the nursery, the cat who made him his entire world for those often lonely cold moons...that cat was gone too. Some part of Tallpaw, even at his most frustrated and scared, still held onto hope that maybe someday they could figure things out between them. Sandstone could at last let his guard down when the clan wasn’t facing so many outside threats, and he wasn’t putting himself under so much pressure. There was still a small chance that Tallpaw could have that old father back, and this wouldn’t last forever. Sandstone would tell him he didn’t really mean what he said before, and he was only harsh because of all the troubles weighing on him. But no. Those words could never come. There was only one last cold glare of disdain, and now that was all there ever would be.

After what felt like a lifetime, Whitetooth stood, bony shoulders weighed down by grief. “May StarClan welcome you as you find your way to them,” he rasped.

One by one the other tunnelers bowed their heads and left. A solemn Plumclaw followed Mistmouse away, and Hazelnose and Crowfur offered to walk back with the elders. Woollycloud, Tallpaw, and Palebird sat there alone. Woollycloud was surely waiting for them, but Tallpaw felt like his paws had rooted to the soil as he stared into the shallow hole. How could he feel like those he lost were still with them, when the air around him felt so dead and still? What good was their presence if he couldn’t really speak to them, couldn’t see them, couldn’t show them that he could be better than he was when they left? It was one thing to imagine they were far away in the stars, but even here, even in the earth, he couldn’t feel anything. There was no solace here.

“Woollycloud?” he whispered “do you really believe that there are spirits on the moor that watch over us?”

Woollycloud was quiet for a moment.

“I do. I feel them with me often. Our moors are so close to the sky that on the right nights, StarClan can touch the ground and walk alongside us, even in the darkest places. WindClan’s guardian spirits are not only with us when we hunt,” Woollycloud looked a bit wistful. “I believe they led me to save you that night.”

Tallpaw stared blankly into the earth. “But why would the spirits make the tunnel collapse in the first place?”

Woollycloud grimaced “I don’t believe they did. I think...These tunnels were our own doing. And perhaps it was only a matter of time. Not every cat can be saved. But it was not your fate to die that day. And I’m glad of it.” Woollycloud touched his nose to Tallpaw’s head “You’re father will always be with you Tallpaw.”

Those words were clearly meant to comfort him, but they didn’t. Not at all. Woollycloud didn’t know how disappointed Sandstone was before he died. Even if he was here in some way, all he would see was his son's continued failure, continued hesitance and fear. It should have been you buried here, the shallow burrow seemed to growl, perhaps Woollycloud could have saved Sandstone instead. He’d do more good for the clan than you.

Sandstone died angry. He died resentful. What if he couldn’t find peace? A frightful chill was working its way up Tallpaw’s spine. He was too afraid to ask.

Woollycloud pressed softly to Palebird for a moment, and said he’d be waiting for them at camp. He wanted to give Sandstone’s family time to grieve, and Tallpaw didn’t want to tell him how uncomfortable it was to be with his mother.

He couldn’t remember the last time they were alone together. The few times he’d spoken to her...Brackenwing was usually there. He never really realized until now how she rarely left his mother's side. When Palebird wasn’t with Sandstone or Woollycloud, as she was less and less often, it was Brackenwing fetching her prey, taking her on walks through the moor, Brackenwing who knew her pain from the kitten she’d lost moons ago and who remembered her grief when the rest of the clan hardly knew the kit existed. It was Brackenwing who would encourage them both.

But Brackenwing wasn’t here anymore. And neither was Sandstone. Instead, it was just Palebird and Tallpaw. They were both there together, and they were completely alone.

The silence between them hung thick in the air.

“Are you going to be alright, Palebird?” Tallpaw asked. He had to know.

Palebird took in a small breath. “I am…” her sentence trailed off. “...I am alive.”

She sounded so far away. It wasn’t really an answer so much as it was a statement. Yes, they were both still alive. For whatever that was worth.

Tallpaw shifted. “...Where were you really? Before, I mean?”

“Not far. Mostly I was walking where she used to take me...I didn’t realize I had just been wandering the same short trail for so long. I should have been back sooner.”

She didn’t have to say it for him to know she was thinking of Brackenwing.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said, and he meant it. He didn’t want her to feel worse.

“I should have been there…” she whispered, so quietly he almost couldn’t hear it.

“Where?”

“The patrol. She really wanted me to go. But I was…” she sunk to the ground and lay her head on her paws. “I shouldn’t have left her side.”

Tallpaw felt his heart twist in a knot. I wouldn’t have left her like you did, he imagined her saying. It was surely what she wanted to say. Then at least, Brackenwing would be here to comfort her for Sandstone. Yet another death he was present for, and couldn’t stop. He wanted to ask her if she blamed him. If she resented him. If she had ever stopped thinking of that kit she lost so long ago, and if she wondered if Finchkit would have been strong enough to save the ones she loved, in a way that Tallpaw wasn’t. If she never wanted him to speak to her again, he would honor that. He wished he was brave enough to just ask, so he didn’t have to wonder anymore. But he wasn’t.

“Palebird?” he whispered.

“Yes, Tallpaw?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For... everything.”

Palebird’s expression was unreadable as she stared into the earth. “I’m sorry too.”

Tallpaw wasn’t sure if either really knew what specific thing they were referring to. Sorry for Brackenwing. Sorry for Sandstone. Sorry they were in so much grief. Or worse, like Sandstone, sorry that he turned out the way he had. He didn’t expect her to elaborate, and she did not.

All Tallpaw’s life he had simply had to guess what went through his mother's head. He’d long since given up on her telling him. She had cared for him just as much as was physically necessary, and all the while he felt like a stranger to her, like there was a wall of brambles between them that perhaps had always been there. But right then, he felt like he understood her a little. The emptiness in her voice. The hollowness in her eyes. She was quiet and drowning in her grief, in a hole no one could see. But he saw it now. How much easier it must be to simply feel yourself be swallowed up by that hole. He used to wonder when it was exactly that she had started sinking, what had first set the seed for the thorny wall separating them. She wasn’t always like this, his father's voice echoed. But she had been at least as long as Tallpaw had known her. Perhaps it really was as simple as that. Still, he was not brave enough to ask.

But now he felt certain that he had no parents anymore, all in one terrible fell swoop. Palebird did not speak after that. Her mouth hung open and empty. She didn't even have any practiced phrases of comfort left to offer.

After that night, Tallpaw would not hear her voice again for a very long time.

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#cw depression #cw self loathing #FRU24 #chapter 24

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kelyon · 3 years

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Golden Rings 23: A Hat

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Jefferson tries to get help

Read on AO3

Inside a cramped little cottage in a cramped little town in the mountains of a flat planet that flies through space on the back of four elephants on top of a turtle, he is having dinner with his family.

Technically, they are Leo’s family, but technicalities have never troubled him. These people have welcomed him into their lives. This smoke-filled, boisterous cottage is more home to him than the solemn rock quarry where Jefferson spent the first few miserable decades of his life.

The meal is mostly over, but everyone lingers over pudding and conversation and beer. A few of his sisters-in-law have gathered up the dishes and are headed back to the kitchen for the washing up.

His daughter sits on his lap. She is almost too big for the gesture and maybe that’s why she wants it so much. It’s certainly why he lets her do it. How much longer will he have with his little girl? Even if they have escaped from the Queen’s curse, they cannot escape time. There will only be a few more years before Grace is more a woman than a baby. She’ll be as pretty as her mother, and just as smart, winding her way through the hearts of everyone who meets her.

But for now, his girl sits on his lap and listens to her family. Beside him, Leo squeezes his arm.

She leans into him. “No matter where we go, it’s never better than being home.”

He smiles at her, his wife, his life. Her face is ruddy from drink and smoke. Her blonde hair curls in the heat, teasing wisps escape from her bun. Her plump curves fill out her dress like bursting sausage. She has a shine of bacon grease around her mouth and a touch of beer foam on the tip of her nose. In all the lands in all the worlds, he has never seen anyone more beautiful.

Somewhere down the table, a baby cries. One of his many sisters-in-law is trying to soothe one of Grace’s many cousins, without much success. The infant has been fussing all night, and now the poor thing’s wails have drowned out the riotous conversation.

“‘Ere now!” Leona’s mother calls down from the head of the table. “Are you going to help that poor babby or do I ‘ave to?”

His sister-in-law--a washed out, nervous looking woman whose name no one can remember--looks gratefully up at Nanny Ogg. “Can you?”

Nanny Ogg snorts. This grande dame--which she translates as “big woman”--is the matriarch of the Ogg clan and the second-most powerful witch in the Ramptops Mountains, though she doesn’t try as hard. She’s had five husbands (and married three of them), fifteen children, and more grandchildren and great-grandchildren than anyone in Lancre can count.

The baby is passed from hand to hand down the table, squalling all the way. When it finally gets to the head of the table, it is placed into the very solid arms of a round old woman dressed in black. She has a pipe, a pint, and a black pointy hat. (There’s nothing magic about a pointy hat, except that it says that the person underneath it is a witch.) She also has lively dark eyes--like Leo’s, like Grace’s--and the widest grin most people have ever seen.

The current occupant of the old woman’s lap is a mangy ball of fur and claws named Greebo. Though known to pick fights with bears (and not lose), he’s nothing but an old softy to Nanny Ogg. Still, the cat is smart enough to know that he is always second place to any child. As soon as the baby is in the witch’s arms, he scampers out of the way.

Jefferson’s life would have been hell if Nanny Ogg hadn’t given him her approval to marry Leo. They would have married anyway--Leo wouldn’t have let anything stop them--but coming home like this would have been… difficult. There are a dozen tiny ways an Ogg can tell you they don’t like you--and a hundred large and painful ones. But Nanny Ogg’s welcoming nature--and Jefferson’s endless potential to bring her presents from far-off lands--had ensured that they were welcome any time.

Within a minute of entering Nanny Ogg’s embrace, the screaming baby quiets. Within another minute, it sleeps peacefully, despite the raucous conversation around the table.

Perched on his knees, Grace looks curious. “Was that magic, Gran?”

“Coo-ee, no, my duck!” Nanny Ogg chuckles. “The day I needs magic to calm a babe is the day you lot can put me in the ground!”

“But you did it so fast!” Grace persists.

“Coz I been doing it so long,” Nanny Ogg explains. “Ever since your Uncle Jason was a wee thing! There’s a knack to it, but it ain’t magic.”

Grace ponders this for a moment. Children are allowed to speak freely around Nanny Ogg’s table--provided they keep the conversation interesting. “Papa knows a man who does magic.”

Jefferson thinks about explaining, but clearly this is a private conversation.

Nanny Ogg nods sagely. “I imagine your dad knows all kinds of people, the work he does.”

“He was a funny little man,” Grace says. “He has a funny voice and he’s all green.”

“Takes all sorts, luv. We can’t help the way we’re made.”

“He gave me a yellow dress, to match Mama’s pink one. He pulled it out of the air! We were there for--why were we there, Papa?”

“A wedding,” Jefferson answers. “The Dark One and Belle wanted us to be there for their wedding.”

“It was a lovely day,” Leo smiles at him while stroking their daughter’s hair. “Do you remember dancing in that big ballroom, Grace? Remember how he made the instruments play themselves?”

Nanny Ogg snorts. “Sounds like a show-off, if you ask me.”

“Oh he is,” Jefferson agrees. “I don’t know if you’d like him, and Mistress Weatherwax would hate him.”

“Well, there’s not many I don’t like, and there’s not many Esme Weatherwax don’t hate, at least at first.”

They laugh at that, as they laugh at everything. The conversation moves on to other topics. Later the lot of them move away from the table and into the parlor. Around a fire and more beer, Nanny Ogg brings out her banjo, but the evening still manages to end happily.

He puts Grace to bed in a room with her cousins, a group of girls near her age. He kisses her and makes sure she has her stuffed rabbit. Then he goes up to the bedroom where Leo is waiting.

His wife is a dream, all satiny pink. All soft and warm and round. Like a sunset cloud with grasping arms. Like candy floss with a libido. She is everything. All the happiness he has now is because of her. This family, this life, their daughter. Everything in his past led to her, everything in the present comes from her, everything in the future will be theirs together.

They make love, full of food and clumsy with drink. Their lips are loose and sloppy. They giggle and try to stay quiet in this crowded house. Their hands know their bodies. They know how to pleasure each other. They know. They feel. They love. They delight in each other and fall asleep in each other’s arms.

When Jefferson wakes up, everything is gone.

****

For the ten thousand, three hundred ninetieth time, Jefferson woke up alone. In a giant, empty bed, inside a giant, empty house. He woke up, like he always did, with a gnawing ache in his chest and a burning desire for nothing more than to go back to sleep. Back to his dream. His best dreams were always about them. Leo. Grace. Home.

Sitting up in bed, Jefferson covered his face with his hands and let a dry sob rack through him. Tears would come later. First sob of the morning was always dry.

“Morning” was not the right word. It was a gray spring afternoon, more or less identical to every other gray afternoon he’d woken up in since he was brought over to this world. Over the years--over so many years--he had gotten in the habit of starting his day when most people in Storybrooke began to end theirs. The only reason he woke up at all was to get a chance to see his daughter walk home from school.

The telescope was in the office, what he tended to think of as the hat room. This side of the massive house faced Main Street. He could see quite a lot--the diner, the Sheriff’s Station, a few important houses. And he had learned quite a lot, just by looking at all these people living their lives.

Nothing changed in Storybrooke. Children didn’t get older. The old and sick never died. People worked the same jobs no matter how much they hated them. There was a girl he saw walking to and from the diner who had been nine months pregnant for twenty-eight years. Everyone was miserable, alone and unloved in one way or another, but they all carried on with what they thought were their lives.

Until the day a yellow bug drove into town.

Looking through the telescope, Jefferson trained his eyes on a lime green winter coat. The coat was bouncing over the shoulders of a young girl as she hopped, skipped and jumped her way around the sidewalk. His throat tightened, as it did every time he saw her. In the lens of the telescope, she looked close enough to reach out and touch.

Grace was walking with another girl--Jefferson didn’t know her name. She was poor, from Old Town. Her father was gone and her mother worked long hours for low pay. Girls like that didn’t get their accomplishments written up about in the newspaper the way Grace did every time she won the Science Fair. Until a few months ago, Grace had never spoken to this girl. Both of them had walked the same path from the school to the abandoned library, twenty feet apart, every day for twenty-eight years, without ever interacting with each other.

Until the day Sheriff Swan started a youth outreach campaign, and made a point to talk about how much safer kids were if they used the buddy system when they didn’t have an adult around.

Then Grace had looked up from her routine, and she had seen the other girl looking back. Both of them needed someone to walk with. Both of them were looking for a friend. Both of them found one. It was a little thing, but it was a change.

He watched them walk from the library to the house in New Town where Tim and Mia Lewis lived. The people Grace thought were her parents. Every once in a while, they ran an ad in the Storybrooke Daily Mirror--all three of them with big smiles, the adults offering their services in insurance and real estate.

The lights were off inside the house, so he couldn’t see into the kitchen. He couldn’t see what healthy snacks Mia had made for the girls today. He couldn’t see what game they played to unwind for a bit before Mia made sure they both started their homework. A few hours later, the other girl’s mother would stop by after her shift at Granny’s. He never knew if she thanked Mia for watching her daughter. Maybe it was just understood. Maybe Mia said she was just doing what Sheriff Swan advised, watching out for children who might otherwise get into trouble, being alone and unsupervised.

Once Grace was out of his sight, Jefferson moved the telescope to look around town. Not too many changes today. Archie Hopper was walking his dalmatian. Marco the handyman was making another trip to the hardware store. The stranger on the motorcycle idled outside Marine Automotive; he seemed to be watching Marco. Mrs. Gold was strutting away from the pawn shop with her head held high.

He watched her, this woman who used to be Belle. It looked like she was going towards City Hall. Curious. Was she applying for a permit? Was there some licence she needed to renew? His fingers itched to pick up the phone and call the Dark One about what he had seen. He was the only other human being in town, the only person who knew the truth about anything. It was just the Dark One, Jefferson, and Queen Regina.

But he couldn’t bother him too much. They couldn’t raise any more suspicion than they already had with their one secret meeting in the woods. The Dark One was still trying to maintain his cover as “Mr. Gold.” Besides, what difference could it make that Belle was running an errand to City Hall?

With a sigh, Jefferson moved away from the telescope. He’d been awake for more than an hour, it was time to put on pants.

In no time at all, he had showered, dressed, and chugged down a protein shake. Most days, it was hard for him to summon up the will to cook or eat. He kept his body going with prepackaged meal replacements. They tasted like crap, but at least he didn’t have to think about them. He left cooking for people who thought they had something to live for.

He made his way to the front doors. The house had a wide driveway that ran under a large overhang. Whenever visitors came, they could disembark from the vehicles and go into the house without the hazards of rain or snow.

If he ever had visitors.

At the moment, and for the past twenty-eight years, all he had was the most recent copy of the Storybrooke Daily Mirror. It wasn’t a bastion of hard-hitting journalism, but for a long time it had been the only way he could know anything about the town he spent so much time looking at. The newspaper had given him names to put to the faces--Mayor Mills, Mr. Gold, Sheriff Humbert, and later Sheriff Swan. It had been a lifeline, and he still clung to it. For nearly three decades, the dates on the front page had been the only changes he had seen anywhere in this town.

Today’s date was April 2nd, 2012. The headline was about the continued search for a missing person. Kathryn Nolan, a paralegal working at the firm of Duke & Duke, had been missing for more than a month. There had been sightings of a woman matching her description in various parts of Storybrooke, but by the time the police arrived, all traces of her had gone. Sheriff Swan encouraged anyone with any information regarding Mrs. Nolan’s whereabouts to call the station.

On the next page, there was an editorial decrying the lack of effort put forth by Kathryn’s husband, David Nolan, to aid in the search. Sydney Glass stopped just short of outright accusing Mr. Nolan of gross negligence or foul play. He only noted the amount of time Mr. Nolan spent with the schoolteacher, Miss Blanchard. The article concluded with speculation that perhaps Mrs. Nolan was not missing at all, but had run away from a terminally unhappy home.

After finishing the paper, he put it away in the office closet and went back to the telescope. The lights were on in the house where Grace lived. The other girl had been picked up. Tim Lewis was home from work. The three of them were making dinner together. Mia was stirring a pot of chili and Tim was taking a bag of corn out of the freezer.

“She doesn’t like corn, guys,” Jefferson muttered to himself. “She won’t eat the chili if you put corn in it. You’ve been taking care of her for twenty-eight years and you’ve never figured that out.”

He shook his head and looked away. Sometimes it was maddening to watch the town like this, to see these people make the same mistakes, over and over. Emma Swan had made some changes, but there were still so many ways to be unhappy.

He watched dinner in the Lewis household. He watched Grace carefully pick out all the corn from her bowl of chili and set it into her paper napkin. He watched Mia shake her head at his daughter. He watched Tim lecture her about wasting food. He watched Grace scowl as she picked up the napkin and dumped the offending corn kernels back into the chili. She ate, but she looked like she was going to vomit.

“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered. He had to get to her, somehow. He had to let her know that he was her father. He had to get her back to Leo.

After dinner, the family watched TV. Grace sat on a couch between Tim and Mia, and flickering light bathed over all of them. They weren’t bad people, her fake-parents. They did love her, and they did the best they could to raise her to be healthy and successful in this world. Whoever Tim and Mia had been before, they were victims of the curse too. They had never meant to steal another couple’s daughter.

He had to put this right. He had to end this curse. Jefferson didn’t have much power, but he would do anything to put his family back together.

He moved the telescope away from Grace. After a brief search, he found the big pink house in Old Town where the Dark One lived. The lights were on, but no one was visible through the windows. If he called on the phone, the Dark One would tell him to be patient. The Savior would break the curse in due time.

But Jefferson had already waited too long.

Scanning through town, he set his sights on the Sheriff’s station. Storybrooke was peaceful enough that most of the cops could hang up their guns in time for dinner. They were all long gone by now. Even Sheriff Swan was packing up and getting ready to go home for the night.

Perfect.

Picking up the sleek, silver cordless phone, Jefferson punched in the numbers he had seen in the newspaper. Through the telescope, he could see Emma Swan hear the phone ringing. She slumped and grimaced in the way of everyone being clawed back into a job they thought was done for the day. Then she straightened up, and picked up the receiver on her desk.

“Sheriff’s station, this is Emma.”

Jefferson cleared his throat. “Yeah, is this the number to call if somebody saw Kathryn Nolan?”

Perking up, Emma fumbled on her desk for a pen and paper. “It sure is. Who am I talking to?”

That question was too complicated to get into. “Yeah, I don’t know for sure if it was Kathryn Nolan, but it looked like a woman in her mid-thirties, caucasian, looked kinda haggard. I, uh, I tried to talk to her, but she just kept walking through the woods.”

“Which woods are those? Where was this?”

“Oh, yeah, it was the north woods. You ever been up on Angus Drive?”

“Can’t say that I have. Still kind of new to the area.”

“Yeah, well that’s where she was. About ten minutes ago I saw her, she was walking towards town. Like I said, I tried to get her attention, but she didn’t listen. I didn’t wanna try to chase after her. Might scare her, you know. Make things worse.”

“Right, right,” Emma said. “So, north woods, Angus Drive, ten minutes ago. And what was your name?”

Jefferson hung up the phone. Then he got his coat and a scarf. It was time to go for a walk.

****

There were several cars in the massive garage of the house where Jefferson had been a prisoner. For the first twenty-eight years, he hadn’t been able to open the garage door to get them on the road. Even after Emma had rolled in, the cars were still useless. None of them had gasoline.

So Jefferson walked. He had walked along the highway and through the woods and over the town line as far as he could before something terrible happened. He walked into town sometimes, trying to find a way out. When he’d noticed “Mr. Gold” acting strangely, he had walked to the pawn shop.

At this point, he knew the town better than anyone else. Who knows the shape of a cage better than the captive inside? He knew the borders and boundaries, especially the area around the house. He knew where the road made a wicked hairpin turn, where someone who was still kind of new to the area wouldn’t know what was coming and could be caught off guard.

The yellow Volkswagen had better brakes than he thought--Emma stopped short of actually hitting him when he emerged from the woods onto the road in front of her. He’d been willing to take the hit, half-curious to see if the curse would let any injury last longer than a week or so.

Emma’s quick driving stopped him from actually getting hurt, but the collision was close enough that he could fall to the ground in a convincing show. She stopped the car and got out when she saw him.

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

On the gravel shoulder of the highway, Jefferson groaned and clutched his leg.

“Sir? Sir, can you talk? I’m Emma Swan, do I need to call for EMTs?”

“No,” Jefferson gritted his teeth, swallowed the imaginary pain. “No, I live around here. I’ll be fine. Can you just get me back to my house?”

For just a moment, she hesitated. “Uh, sure. Yeah, let’s get you inside, at least.”

She helped him up and into the passenger seat of the bug. Then she began to drive.

“So where do you live, Mr…?”

“Angus Drive.” He answered only the question she had said out loud. “It’s up ahead.”

“Funny.” Now that the moment of panic had passed, Emma seemed less willing to accept half-answers. “I just got a call about that address. A man said he saw a missing person out this way. Maybe you saw her when you were out. A blonde woman in her mid-thirties?”

He shook his head. “That sounds like your description, Sheriff.”

“First, I’m not in my mid-thirties. Second, how did you know I’m the Sheriff?”

“I read the paper. And who else would be getting a call about a missing person? And, you’ve got your badge on your hip.”

She frowned. “Guess that all checks out. Yeah, I’m Sheriff Swan. What’s your name?”

Again, Jefferson didn’t answer. “This is the house on the right.”

“A house?” Emma said as she parked under the awning. “This looks more like a hotel! Do you have a big family or something?”

Jefferson opened the door, but made sure to wait for her to help him out of the car. “No,” he said. “It’s just me.”

“The sign on the mailbox says Dogdson.”

“Sure does.”

Leaning on Emma, Jefferson pretended to hobble up the stairs to get into the front door. The curse had never given him a key to this house, so he always left it unlocked. Someday, when the curse was broken, he would find a way to lock the door behind him and walk away a free man. He would take Grace and walk all the way to the Discworld if he had to.

“Where should I put you?” Emma asked once they were in the foyer.

“Closest living room is over there.”

She set him up on one of the white leather couches with his “bad” leg propped up on the arm. “Want me to take a look at it?”

“No, no, I’ll be fine. Listen, I’m kind of an amateur cartographer. Upstairs, I’ve got maps for all of these woods. They could be useful to you, since you don’t know the area well.”

Hands on her hips, Emma Swan looked down at him. She looked shrewd, suspicious. Kind of like Leo, only skinny. “I never told you I don’t know the area.”

Jefferson grinned. What was the old saying about honesty? Better to tell the truth because then you don’t have to keep track of your lies? “I guess you didn’t.”

“The only person I told that to lately was a man on the phone who also didn’t tell me his name.” Emma sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch so they were on the same level. “Did you actually see Kathryn Nolan around here?”

He didn’t stop grinning. “No.”

“And your leg isn’t hurt at all.”

It wasn’t a question, but he still answered. “No.”

“Can you give me a single good reason why I shouldn’t arrest you on the very serious charge of Wasting the Sheriff’s Time?”

Jefferson sat up. “I do need your help,” he said. “But I thought if I told you what was going on, you would think I was crazy.”

Emma didn’t blink at that. “People who might be crazy need just as much help as people who might be sane. Let’s start from the beginning: Tell me your name.”

“Jefferson,” he answered immediately.

“Jefferson,” she repeated. “Is that a first name or a last name?”

“First.”

“And the last name?”

He didn’t really have one. Few people in the old world did. “Ogg,” he answered.

It was the name he went by on worlds where last names were common. Leo’s name. He was part of a proud tradition of men becoming Mr. Ogg when they married an Ogg woman.

Emma looked him in the eyes, long and hard. “Jefferson Ogg,” she said slowly. “That’s… such a weird name, I don’t think you made it up.”

“I didn’t,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “And what do you need help with, Jefferson Ogg?”

“I…” Gods, how could he even start? He would just have to show her. “It’s upstairs.”

She gave him another look, not speaking. Then she pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and pressed some buttons.

“Texting on the job?”

“I left my walkie-talkie in the car.” She put her phone away. “Just letting my roommate know where I am and to call the dispatch office if she doesn’t hear from me in 10 minutes.”

That was almost funny, that she thought he was dangerous. As if the most dangerous person in Storybrooke wasn’t signing Sheriff Swan’s paychecks.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he said.

****

It was the first time anyone other than him had set foot in the office. He wondered what Emma made of the room. All Jefferson ever cared about was the telescope and the walk-in closet where he stored the newspapers. Neither of those things drew Emma’s focus.

“That’s a lot of top hats,” she said as she stood in front of the lit-up shelf. There were rows of them, all made of an endless supply of black felt. “You part of a show choir or something?”

“No.” He shut the door behind them, locked it. “The hats… are actually what I need your help with.” He pulled out some of the felt, some sewing needles and a pair of scissors. He tossed them all onto the table in front of her. “I need you to make one.”

Now the expression on Emma’s face was what ‘suspicious’ wanted to be when it grew up. “You think I’m a hatter?”

He stood behind her, nudging her into a chair in front of the raw materials. “I think you can do extraordinary things, Emma. I think you can do exactly what I need you to. I think you can save me.”

Her expression morphed from disbelief to exhaustion. “No, not you too. Have you been talking to Henry? What is it with this town and people thinking I can save them?”

“Because you can!” He put his hands on either side of the chair and pushed her to the table. Then he leaned over her to keep her from getting up. “You are a special person, Emma. You made the changes start, you can make everything good again.”

“Bring back the happy endings, is that what you want from me?”

She was angry. She meant the remark to be flippant. But she was so right it brought tears to his eyes.

“Yes,” Jefferson whispered. “Yes, that’s all I want. The Dark One says it’s your destiny, that you have already brought--”

“Wait, who?”

“The Dark One,” he said. “Rumpelstiltskin, he--”

“Will you listen to yourself?” Emma pushed herself up away from the table and stood up to confront him. “Do you think you’ve had a conversation with Rumpelstiltskin? What, do you think Regina is the Evil Queen too?”

“Yes!” he shouted. He picked the felt up off the table and shook the fabric in her face. “You have all the pieces, Emma! Why can’t you put them together?”

“Because this is the real world!” she shouted back.

“Every world is real!”

She made for the door. The lock kept her busy for just enough time that Jefferson was able to catch up with her. Gently, he pulled her away from the door and stood in front of it. Just being taller than her was enough to make him look like a threat.

“You don’t understand,” he tried to keep his voice from breaking. “There are so many worlds out there. I’ve been to most of them. The Dark One gave me a hat that I can use to travel from world to world. I could use it to get out of here, but I don’t have it anymore!”

Emma reached for her phone. He grabbed her wrist and pulled the device out of her hand.

“It needs magic,” he explained, as calmly as he could. “I’ve made a hundred hats, but they’re just hats, no good to anyone. I need magic. You have magic. You brought magic to Storybrooke the day you came here.”

She frowned at the phone in his hand and stepped back. “There was nothing different about the day I came here.”

“You’re right.” Keeping her in his sights, he stepped away from the office door and toward the closet. “It was the day after you arrived, the day after you broke the sign. October 24th, 2011. That was the day the clock on the library started to tick.”

Emma just gaped at him. “How could you remember that?”

“It was the most important day in the history of this town. The first real day to happen in twenty-eight years.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Can I show you?” he asked. “I’ll even give you your phone back, so you can tell Mary Margaret you’re okay. But I just need you to promise that you’ll hear me out.”

She glared and held out her hand. “You are damn lucky you don’t have a gun right now.”

He watched her press the buttons, then put her phone back in her pocket.

“You bought yourself another ten minutes because I don’t feel like filling out the paperwork necessary to arrest you.”

Jefferson went to the closet. “It’s in here,” he said. “All the evidence I have is in here.”

She put her hands on her hips, squared her shoulders. “Go get it then.”

Right, Sheriff Swan wasn’t going to be the first one to go through an unknown door in the house of an obvious lunatic. Jefferson opened it, and showed her the newspapers. Twenty-eight stacks and counting. Each stack was made of twelve bundles, reaching to the ceiling. Three hundred and forty one bundles. The whole of the curse, contained in this room.

“I saved them all,” he said. “Twenty-eight years’ worth.”

“So you’ve been saving newspapers since you were, what, five?”

“Since the day I came to this town,” he answered. “Since the day anyone came to this town.” Kneeling on the ground, he moved the smallest pile and pulled out the smallest bundle. “Do you want to know what day that was, Emma?”

She didn’t answer, but he took the paper out from the bottom of the bundle and held it up in front of her.

“Go on,” he growled. “Read it.”

“Uh, it says that Mayor Mills announced a new committee to--”

“Read the date!” he snapped.

Jaw clenched, Emma yanked the paper out of his hands and looked at the top. She didn’t read it out loud, but he saw her eyebrows furrow.

“That’s… my birthday,” she whispered. “Like, that was the day I was born.”

“October 23rd, 1983,” he said. “That was the day the curse started. The day you were born was the day the Evil Queen cursed us all to live in a world without magic.”

“That’s--”

“There was no time.” He didn’t let her speak. “Nothing changed, nothing happened. We were frozen. Most of them didn’t notice, but I did. I remembered, I…” He couldn’t go on. “I thought I was crazy. I thought nothing I knew was real. I thought I had lost everything. But you… You’re the Savior. You can bring it back.”

Emma shook her head and looked down at the newspaper again. “Even if all this is true, why am I the one who has to--wait a minute!” She pointed at the paper, at a picture of the mayor. “This is a crock of shit! That’s Regina! Regina wasn’t mayor on the day I was born!” She flipped through the other pages. “Yeah, look at this. Sydney looks the same in this picture as he does today. Look at the school news, I’ve seen these kids!”

“I told you, time was frozen.”

“Or you put a fake date on an old paper just to mess with me!” She kept looking at the newspaper, seeing but not understanding. “Yeah, this ad here, this is Tim Lewis. He gave me a discount on my car insurance. His daughter, Paige? She looks exactly like she does in this ad. Pretty sure she’s eleven, not thirty-nine.”

Jefferson ripped the paper out of Emma’s hands. “She is not his daughter!” He snarled. “Will you listen to me? That girl’s name is Grace. She is eleven. She has been eleven for twenty-eight years!”

“I--” Emma put her hands up and let out a slow breath. “I don’t think either one of us is going to convince the other.”

“I don’t care if you believe me, I just need you to make a gods-damned hat!”

To Jefferson’s shock, Emma seemed ready to do what he asked, maybe in the name of de-escalating the situation. She went back to the table, slowly sat down, and picked up the felt. “You need this so you can go back to Fairytale Land?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t care about that world anymore. I need to go back to the Discworld.”

Emma squinted as she tried to thread a needle. “Discworld? I’ve heard of those books. They’re supposed to be funny, right?”

Jefferson didn’t smile. “It’s a real place.”

Looking up, Emma opened her mouth, and then closed it. “Sure.” She began to half-heartedly jam the needle between two pieces of felt.

He collapsed into a chair by the telescope. Gods, was she really doing this? Jefferson only knew enough about magic to know that he was better off not playing with it. But if the Dark One was right, then Emma Swan wouldn’t be able to stop herself from using magic. She would do it naturally, maybe accidentally. It wouldn’t matter if the hat looked awful. All it had to do was work.

“My wife is from there,” he offered as a way to make conversation.

Emma didn’t look up from the stitches. “From Discworld? Does that make her a witch or something?”

He shook his head. “Her mother is. I guess she could be too, if she wanted. Most of the time witchcraft is just knowing something other people don’t know.”

“Like how to make a hat?” Emma looked at him through a tube of felt. “It’s been a long time since my last Home Ec class. This is not going to be pretty.”

“It just needs to work,” he muttered. “Just… get it to work.”

Sighing, Emma pulled out her phone again.

“Has she even answered you?” he asked. “Maybe she’s off somewhere screwing David Nolan.”

A glare. “I’m doing you a favor by working on this hat. So maybe you could do me a favor and not say rude things about my friends.”

“I got you here by talking about Kathryn Nolan. Do you actually care about her?”

Emma kept her eyes on her work. “She’s a person. I care about people. She could be lost in the woods, disoriented and hungry. Of course I want to find her.”

“Do you think she’s still alive?”

“I have to hope so.” She cut one of the threads. “We haven’t found a body, or even body parts. If some monster was out there cutting out hearts and putting them in jewelry boxes, at least then there’d be some evidence.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Do you care about Kathryn Nolan? Or do you think she’s just a fairytale character?”

“I care about her because she’s a fairytale character,” Jefferson said. “Her name was Princess Abigail. She was the daughter of King Midas. She gave me a lot of gold just for trying to find a way to reverse the effects of her father’s… gift.”

Emma nodded, clearly humoring him. “I’d heard that King Midas had a daughter. I didn’t know her name was Abigail. Doesn’t sound Greek, but what do I know?” She was sewing the brim on the hat, after that it would be finished.

Jefferson stood up. His feet moved on a schedule that was bigger than Emma Swan. He looked through the telescope. It was nine-thirty. Bedtime.

“Do you want to see her?” he whispered to Emma.

“Kathryn?”

“My daughter.”

They were putting her to bed, Tim and Mia both. She was almost too big for the gesture, but maybe that was why she wanted it so much. Jefferson felt Emma’s presence beside him, and he stepped away from the telescope.

“They never remember to give her the stuffed rabbit,” he said. “That’s the only one that keeps her from having nightmares.”

“Oh, that’s Paige,” Emma said. She looked up from the window. “You… have a telescope pointed at the bedroom of an eleven year old girl.”

“She’s my daughter,” Jefferson repeated. “I’ve lost her mother. Grace doesn’t know who I am. I need to keep an eye on her.”

Emma stayed between Jefferson and the telescope. “Is it because Paige is adopted? Are you her birth father or something?”

He didn’t know whether to scream or cry, so he laughed. Emma kept talking.

“It’s no shame if that’s the case. Believe me, I know how mixed-up it can be to have a kid that’s yours but isn’t yours.”

“Shut up,” Jefferson said through gritted teeth. “Grace is mine. Mine and my wife’s.”

“You said you lost your wife…”

“Yes! And I’ll only find her again once I have a hat that works!” He almost grabbed her by the shoulders, but she was too fast. She made it back to the table and kept it as a barrier between them.

“Enough!” Emma said. She picked up the hat and tossed it over to him. “This is the last of my goodwill, understand? I’m going to leave now. You’re gonna let me out of this room and out of this house. I’m gonna call Tim and tell him to buy his daughter some blackout curtains. If I ever catch wind of you snooping around little girls again, I will personally make sure you rot in jail.”

Jefferson looked down at the crumpled felt in his hands. It was only a hat by the most generous definition. But maybe it would be enough.

When he looked up, Emma was gone. From outside, he heard the rumble of a car engine starting up. As she drove away, the sound grew fainter. He still held the hat in his hands.

It didn’t feel magical. His old hat had a certain… quality. There was an aura about it, not quite tangible. But there was a feeling he got when he looked at his hat. A feeling of… possibility. Like there was so much more to it than what met the eye. There was none of that in the hat Emma had made.

Maybe magic was different here. Maybe there was a way. Some way. He had to try. He would never know if he didn’t try.

He closed his eyes and took a breath. “Please.” With all his heart, he prayed to any power that was listening.

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the hat to the ground, as he had done a thousand different times in a hundred different worlds. The hat spun and he waited for it to keep spinning, waited for it to grow larger and disappear into a whirlpool of purple smoke. He waited for the hole in the whirlpool, the portal that could take him anywhere.

But the hat barely made a full rotation before it stopped spinning. It sat on the ground, unmoving, unmagical.

Jefferson stared at it, until his vision blurred with tears. Then he began to laugh.

Of course it didn’t work! Why would anything work in this world? Of course there was no escape! Of course he was going to die in this world! Or worse--he would live forever in a world without time and he’d never see Leona again.

He sobbed. His legs gave out and sent him careening to the floor. He lay face down on the patterned carpet, stared at Emma Swan’s misshapen hat, and wept like a child.

****

Later--an hour? A year? Did it make a difference?--when couldn’t cry anymore, Jefferson pulled himself off the floor. He made it all the way to the chair before he collapsed again and hung his head in his hands.

It hadn’t worked. The Savior hadn’t worked. The side of goodness hadn’t worked. Well, Jefferson was never one to get too hung up about paltry matters like good and evil.

Slowly wheeling the office chair over to the desk, Jefferson fumbled for the silver telephone. He pushed in numbers he knew by heart, numbers he had wanted to call a dozen times in the past month, but never had. Not until now.

He tried to breathe, as the phone rang. But then he stopped when he heard it pick up. A woman’s voice. Belle’s voice.

“Mr. Gold’s residence. Who is calling?”

Jefferson didn’t speak. He didn’t breathe. Mrs. Gold knew that he had slept with her husband. He couldn’t ask her to put him on the phone. He couldn’t even let her know who he was.

He hung up.

With another deep breath, he pulled a book with yellow pages out from a shelf above the desk. He flipped through the thin paper, until he found the name and number he was looking for.

He dialed slowly, taking a breath between each number. He couldn’t sound like he was upset. He couldn’t show any weakness in front of her.

This was a bad idea. This was the worst idea he could have ever come up with. The last time he’d worked with this woman he had watched her murder a helpless servant once she was no longer useful. How could he know that she wouldn’t do the same to him?

Maybe by the time he wasn’t useful, he would already be in the Discworld.

He needed magic. He needed to get out. He needed power. So he called the most powerful person in town.

Regina picked up on the third ring. “Who exactly do you think you are to be calling my home at this time of night?”

“Your Majesty,” he said calmly. “This is Jefferson the realm-jumper. I’d like to offer my services.”

#golden rings #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #jefferson #hat trick

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years

Text

Robin and Red X

Just a silly thing I wrote for @animemangasoul. Hopefully this makes you laugh a bit, hon! No edit whatsoever.

The titans were having a difficult time reconciling their easy going, funny, sure of himself leader with the hot mess in front of them.

“Uhh…”Wally, the bravest of them all, places a careful hand on his shoulder. “Maybe we should… call your dad?”

Robin turns to look at him so fast it almost looks like his neck broke. Beast boy screams, turns into a rabbit and jumps into Raven’s arms, because the sound that came from Rob’s mouth wasn’t human at all.

“If any of you call Batman, I’ll personally ensure living hell for everyone in the Team. This is MY case!”

Wally hastily retreats, hands up in a surrender gesture.

“Okay, okay! I’m just saying, chill. This Red X dude has been giving us all too much trouble, maybe Bats could point us in the right direction or…”

They think Dick said ‘no’, but it was more of a demonic screeching.

“But we’ll respect your wishes! Because you are our friend!”, and you scare us shitless, he added in his mind.

Roy signaled at Wally, the moment Dick turned his back to them again. Something like ‘are we calling the Bat anyway?’, to which Wally replied ‘I don’t have a death wish, fuck no’.

They never really get around to capture Red X, but no one dares to bring up asking Batman for help again. The mysterious anti hero keeps kicking all their asses each and every time they face him, always having a countermeasure for their specific powers or abilities, but honestly? He’s not as scary as an unhinged Dick could be, so they’d rather fight him than wait for bathed breath for Dick’s revenge if they went behind his back to solve the case with his old mentor.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Jason hasn’t inherited the Robin cape from his predecessor. Dick wasn’t happy, seeing a new kid using his suit without permission, when he himself apparently hadn’t been ready to let it go.

But Jason wanted to be Robin. Needed it. All the good he could do… the people like him he could help… This was his chance of doing right. Of proving the world (proving himself) he was not like his father, a complete and utter trash that belonged in the dumpster that was Arkham. That he, a street rat, could be a hero.

So he fought for his right to the mask, even if he sometimes felt the itch to go wild and do his own thing. Because honestly, being Robin was awesome, but having Batman constantly breathing down his neck? Yeah, not so much.

So when Dick, now Nightwing, approached him one afternoon while Bruce was out on business, he was both weary and desperate for some distraction.

Which was exactly what the dude provided.

“What I’m going to show you”, Dick starts, slowly, after he’s checked there are no ears on them, ”it’s Robin’s secret. The only one we manage to keep from Batman. What our ancestors saved for us, our legacy.”

“We are the only two Robins, dipshit.”

“Shut up this is a formal process. Do you wanna know or not?”

“Just… tone down the roleplaying.”

“Fuck off, that’s the best part.”

Curiosity trumping annoyance, he watches as Dick places a briefcase in the coffee table where he was doing his math homework.

“This right here, it’s all the information, anything you ought to know about our mantle’s most important endgame. This is Robin’s never-ending mission. Our Moby dick. Red X.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When Jason approached Tim with the briefcase, Tim’s first thought was ‘he’s going to bribe me’- an automatic response after working on Wayne Enterprises for months now.

The second was ‘he has someone’s head there hasn’t he. Am I going to be an accomplice? What crime was this, and can I hide it from Bruce?’.

The third and final ‘maybe I should ask him first’.

His -thankfully sane now- predecessor reached the little nook where Tim had tucked himself, in hopes of staying hidden from Damian long enough to enjoy the mannor’s wifi without having to stand his bitching. He sits cross legged in front of him.

“So. Give me all you have on Red X.”

This was… unexpected, but not unprecedented. The family tends to think of him as a convenient alternative to some criminal wikipedia sometimes.

Obediently (because then he’ll get to go back to his research sooner), he rattles out what little he could scrounge on the antihero. It was, admittedly, not much; any younger hero had not heard of Red X, as he’d been dormant for some years now, and the older ones were forbidden to talk about him by Dick himself. The first Robin had claimed ownership of the antihero, and anyone caught working on his case without his permission would find themself with their life turned around in the most inconvenient of ways before they could even finish burying the evidence. With Bruce taking a neutral stand on the matter, merely respecting his son’s wishes, no one was willing to risk the fury of someone with Batman’s resources and knowledge.

Except, apparently, Jason, because he was opening the briefcase and turning it in his direction.

“Let me tell you a lil story, that Dickie shared with me some years ago. I wasn’t a good predecessor for a long time ‘ere, Timmers, and I wanna make it right by properly passing this on. The true legacy of Robin; the mystery of Red X.”

“I… I’m not Robin any longer”, he blurted out, though his fingers twitched to touch the contents of the briefcase, to go through all that juicy, sweet treasure.

“Doesn’t matter. Dickie gave Robin without your permission, but this… this only I can pass on, just as you can only pass it to the brat when yer ready. No one can take this away, or Dickie loses the claim he has on Red X.”

Jason opens the briefacase all the way, then.

Tim drops his coffee.

Suddenly, there was something way more important. As unholy as it sounded.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When Damian was invited by Drake to their own private ‘bonding night’, he was weary but hopeful. He’d been trying to fix their bond for some time now, so he could not ruin this chance, as suspicious as it sounded.

So they watched a movie, ate vegetarian pizza (Damian felt emotions when he realized Tim knew, paid attention) and complained about their older siblings and their role as Robin.

“It’s just… a heavy burden”, he admits. If someone can understand his feelings, it’d be Timothy after all.

“I get you. There’s also the matter of Dick’s and Bruce’s expectations on you.”

“I have to be perfect for them, all the time. The smallest mistake and… I could lose my family. But I feel so trapped…”

Tim’s hand found his and squeezed it. When Damian looked up, the older teen had a compassive look on his eyes.

“I might have the solution for that.”

As if he had planned this (perhaps he had), Tim retrieved a briefcase from under the couch they were occupying.

“Dick gave this to Jason, and he to me. Now, I’m passing this on to you.”

Damian tilted his head, a bit confused.

“I.. am already Robin.”

Tim smiled and pushed the case closer to him.

“This is even better. The freedom to the bindings that come with the suit. Open it.”

Curious, still weary but unwilling to lose any ground he had gained with his brother, he obeyed.

And promplty dropped it to the ground.

“What is this?!!”

“This”, Tim smiles, cheshire-cat-like, “is the Red X costume, and all his toys. Including, but not limited to, a perfect holographic devise, to use to make people think you are fighting Red X, to clean your name should anyone suspect the truth. I’ve been using it all this last few months, to…”

“Ruin my life?!”, he yells, because it’s not a secret Red X had came back from dormancy to utterly fuck with Robin, taunting him and beating his ass at every turn. It had been doubly frustrating, because everyone refused to speak about the antihero to him, so he had no information on the man to hunt him down properly.

“Chill. I just.. needed to vent a bit. And this suit helped me, which is the entire purpose of Red X.”

“I...don’t understand.”

Tim placed the briefcase in the coffee table and inched closer to Damian.

“Dick created the alias back in the day, when the pressure of being a perfect Robin became too much and he just… wanted to fuck shit up. Unwind a bit. He couldn't do it as himself and lose all the respect from the other heroes he had managed to amass, so he needed a scapegoat for it.”

Damian felt a tug of interest in his gut. He tried to surreptitiously look at the briefcase.

“Being Robin is tiresome. It’s too heavy a burden. Always perfect partner, always a goodie two shoes… Red X allows you to go wild, be gay-do crime sort of thing, without meddling from any other hero in the community. Burn a warehouse. Use the rocket launcher B has under lock and key. Fuck whoever dumb crimefighter you dislike the most up. Stir shit whenever you feel life’s been too quiet. Let go and have fun... Damian, aren’t you tired of being nice? Don’t you just want to go ape shit?”

His fingers were digging into the suit before his older brother could even finish talking.

#my writing #dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd #damian wayne #red x #robin #nightwing #red robin #red hood #batman #crack #just crack guys #no plot #batbrothers #Batfamily Fanfic #my writting

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enby-hawke · 3 years

Photo

Chapter 6 Summary: Malcolm and Leandra finally have the night to themselves or do they.

Warnings: Racism, Mageism, Gamlen’s an asshole, and songs

Word Count:10,037

A03:

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Malcolm was nervous, gut-nervous, like he’d just come from a Fade jump and his stomach was still doing all the roller coaster flips, threatening to empty out his hard-earned dinner. It didn’t help that the mountains of half-eaten food piled in the dumpsters were starting to turn along with the pungent aroma of the fish stew that gave the alley a rather wet smell. He couldn’t help but feel that this was a terrible place to meet Leandra. This held none of the grandeur of the Palace, the walls defaced with graffiti that had yet to be painted over. And since no one important usually came back here, they wouldn’t bother to for a while. The dumpsters were leaking what Malcolm hoped was just leftover soup, still dripping and draining down the gutter into the sewers below. Hardly romantic.

As the minutes dragged on he made wet tracks into haphazard circles as he found new anxieties that weren’t there before, seeds of doubt cracking into his confidence. What if he was not worthy of her? It wasn’t that he was an elf, though that difference did come to the forefront of his mind often, but what could he possibly offer her to sway her from the lover that already claimed her. He was a mage in the Circle, which meant he had no means to provide for her. He couldn’t compete with the wealth of a billionaire, couldn’t take her to the finest restaurants in Kirkwall to sample cuisines from far lands, couldn’t woo her with expensive gifts like bouquets or beautiful jewelry. He couldn’t even afford the suit the Circle loaned him. Would this night be all he had? Would she have her fun with him and go back to her wealthy fiance, and live her charmed life, and leave him with a broken heart?

And she would break him. He could feel it. He would spend the rest of his days aching for a taste of her lips. His hand clenched and unclenched, feeling so empty without her hand. He clenched it once more and punched the wall, the pain of the brick against his knuckles enough to shock him back to his senses. “You are not a coward!” he growled at himself.

But the seed of doubt rooted deeper. What if this is all she wants from him? A good time. A new experience. What if she didn’t see him as a man willing to love her but some plaything?

The door opened behind him and Malcolm wouldn’t say he jumped, but his feet definitely left the pavement. He straightened himself out to hear the alley suddenly echoing with a bounding argument broiling between Leandra and another man who looked similar to her in the way their scowls matched, but his eyes were not starry black but a shocking blue against his tawny beige skin.

“I’m telling you this is a bad idea. Now let’s go home before we’re caught.”

Leandra snarled, her face more akin to a warrior than a prim noblewoman. “Oh, please, you’re lecturing me?” she snapped her hand back from his muscled grip. “I thought you’d be more supportive considering all the times I’ve covered for you and Mara.”

Another woman in a red dress the same color as the man’s suit followed close behind, trying to keep the two of them apart, but it wasn’t working. Her cat eyes were pulled in a glare as she stayed close to Leandra’s heel. “Gamlen, for Maker’s sake give it a rest.”

Malcolm didn’t know who this man was to Leandra, but he didn’t like how handsy he was being, jerking her arm this way and that in forceful attempts to get her to follow, and Malcolm’s temper quickly snapped as he raced forward to defend Leandra.

“Hey, what’s your problem, asshole?” He balled his fists, rolling up his sleeves as he glowered up to the taller man, knowing he couldn’t use magic but he reckoned he could bet his Ferelden pride he could throw a better punch than a prissy Kirkwall nobleman.

The man looked down at the shorter elf’s stature and snorted, utterly unimpressed as if a kid had challenged him. “Run off, rabbit, this doesn’t concern you.”

Malcolm snarled ready to swing but Leandra instinctively put herself as a shield between the two men, “Malcolm, wait!”

Malcolm pulled himself back from the momentum, almost tripping over himself as he tried to veer direction. He was dazed in that moment, off-balance first by the sudden realization that this was the very first time she had ever said his name. He was so puzzled about how she even managed to remember it with dream fog he almost didn’t realize Carver had just walked through the door and had witnessed most of the exchange.

Carver walked up to Malcolm and pulled him back with force so Leandra, the man and he were now a good distance apart. “What are you doing starting fights?”

“Did I start a fight?” Malcolm shook himself back to reality, a new glare settling at the man who was holding Leandra’s wrist hostage. “Or did he?”

“Yeah, Gamlen, what’s your fucking problem?” the woman marched up beside Leandra as if to protect her.

Malcolm was about to say something else when Carver slapped the back of Malcolm’s head, not hard enough to hurt but the metal of his gauntlet still made a satisfying thwack. “Use your head. This is not some Circle brawl where you’ll get detention. Assaulting a nobleman has real consequences, Malcolm.”

The pushy man made a satisfied smirk at being defended, before it quickly dropped. “Wait, this is Malcolm?”

Malcolm’s ears twitched, not liking the accusatory way he used his name.

Leandra looked at the man as if she was pleading him not to say whatever was about to come out but still he just gawked at Leandra as he pointed at Malcolm with the force of a smack. “Are you kidding me? He’s an elf!? Are you trying to kill Mom and Dad?”

And there it was, the metaphorical elephant in the room that had plagued Malcolm’s thoughts had been spoken aloud and was staring him in the face. So this man was her brother. How unfortunate. He could see the resemblance now in the shape of their eyes and flat of their noses, and Malcolm suddenly felt self-conscious. Already her family disapproved of him, and he didn’t realize how badly he wanted their approval until now, but he knew how ridiculous it was to even have the expectation. He knew the raw ugly truth about how people would look at their relationship, but he wasn’t looking at her brother’s grimace, but at Leandra.

Her shoulders snapped back as her fury exploded like cannon. “When did you ever care what Mom and Dad think!?”

The other woman also didn’t look pleased with Gamlen’s confession. “Did you forget my grandfather is an elf?”

“Mara…” Gamlen sputtered. “It’s not the same. That’s your grandfather. You’re practically human.”

Mara’s smile turned chilly as she cocked her head at the statement, squinting her eyes. “Am I?”

The man sputtered again as Malcolm crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels thoroughly enjoying himself now. The man seemed to understand that this was the wrong answer but from the look of his face everyone could tell he was confused about why. “I mean…it’s not only that. He’s a mage, too.”

“And we have family that are mages,” Leandra countered.

His head was turtling into his shoulders as the two women stared him down with equally withering glares, but still Gamlen pleaded at them to listen. “Think this through, Leandra. You’re practically married. Do I have to remind you tonight was literally your Betrothal Ball. Think of how selfish you’re being.”

Leandra was tiny for a human woman but she had the ferocity of a warrior when she was angry, and it spilled out in a gushing tsunami at the accusation of being selfish. She shoved the other man off of her. “I supported you!” she cried and then shoved again, “had your back against mom and dad at every turn, and now I’m supposed to self-sacrifice and play good child so you can do whatever you want?” Gamlen balked at every shove, not expecting Leandra to fight back so fiercely, and he held her wrists as she attempted to hit him in the face but she was much too short to get a good swing so she started jabbing her heels into his legs. “When is it my turn? When do I get to be happy?”

Malcolm covered his mouth in amusement as the tiny woman beat back her brother with shorthanded swipes looking oddly like a housecat trying to beat back a confused crocodile. Her temper was beautiful, like the oncoming rage of a storm, leaving him in awe of her.

At the sound of Malcolm’s laughter she dropped her shoulders suddenly looking sheepish.

“Oh don’t stop on my account,” Malcolm grinned at her. “I’m enjoying the show.”

She looked at Malcolm with wide eyes suddenly uncertain and shy and she tucked a loose strand of hair that had come undone behind her ear, trying to look prim again.

Malcolm was disappointed. He would have liked to see at least one more kick.

“I like Malcolm,” she announced, not quite able to meet Malcolm’s gaze though her voice remained steady.

Malcolm blinked a couple of times unsure he had heard right, but then she marched up to Malcolm and picked up his freckled hand like it was the most precious thing in the world. “I want to explore what that this means,” then she glared back at her brother over her shoulder. “So can you kindly butt out?”

Malcolm didn’t mean for a laugh to escape. Maybe he was relieved to hear her say that. Maybe it was because that furious expression didn’t quite match her soft personality. And then her anger softened into a shy smile when he squeezed her hand in silent thanks, her whole demeanor suddenly demure again.

Malcolm could see the man confused, as if he didn’t expect her to take such a strong stand.

Leandra ignored her brother, her attention only on Malcolm. “I’m so sorry. I hope my idiot brother didn’t spoil our night.”

The smile that was already on his lips pulled wider. Our night.

She then glared at her brother. “He won’t join us.”

“Fine!” Gamlen barked. He snapped his fingers. “Mara, we’re leaving.”

Mara snorted. “You sure? Cause I think I’m going with Leandra, tonight.”

Gamlen narrowed his eyes, his voice taking on an edge of possessiveness. “Mara, we’re publicly together now. I know we don’t always agree but you’re supposed to be on my side, not Leandra’s.”

Mara laughed which seemed to confuse Gamlen and she took Leandra’s other arm and wrapped herself around her. “You’re just my boyfriend. Leandra’s my best friend. Get the hierarchy?”

Leandra looked utterly disappointed in Gamlen. “Need a shovel for the hole you’re digging?”

This time Carver joined Malcolm’s laughter. He had been standing silent the whole time, making sure Malcolm’s temper didn’t get away with him again, and he didn’t bother to hide his amusement as he met Malcolm’s gaze. “She’s a keeper,” Carver nodded approvingly, earning a pleased but flustered blush from Leandra.

Gamlen turned his scrutiny on Carver. “Aren’t you a templar? What are you doing letting this mage off his leash?”

Malcolm bristled at that, but Carver just placed a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder, a squeeze reminding him to behave. Still, it was a friendly enough gesture that Gamlen seemed uneasy by it, as if he wasn’t sure what to make of this dynamic. “It may be a long leash, but believe me, there’s still a leash.”

Malcolm grunted at that, hating how true his words were, but Carver continued, “I know you have your doubts about mages, and I know fully the dangers that magic can bring, but Malcolm has opened my eyes many times to the wonders magic can bring.” He let his hand drop from Malcolm’s shoulder but didn’t lower his proud gaze. “He is a good man, a better man than many who serve under me and I’m proud to call him a friend.”

He had never heard Carver talk about him in such a way so to hear him come to his defense made him swallow a lump that suddenly crept up his throat like a frog, but it was apparent that Carver’s pretty words were not swaying Gamlen, though he looked like he was losing some of the fight out of him once he realized that he had no ally to turn to. So he resulted in sulking, hunching his shoulders and jutting out his lip which made him look like a mannish baby. “This is still a bad idea.”

Leandra nodded. “Noted. And ignored.”

“Then I’m coming with you,” Gamlen argued. “If only because someone needs to watch out for you tonight. He’s clearly got you under some sort of spell.”

Malcolm’s shoulders raised at the accusation. Gamlen was glaring at their intertwined hands with a sneer he couldn’t contain like she was touching a dirty animal. He was suddenly overcome with the overwhelming feeling like he would taint Leandra. Stories about how mages seduced their lovers by altering their minds with blood magic or how elven men tricked and stole the innocence of naive human women recounted in his head and though he thought he would have some sort of reply to that he found the words caught in his throat. Instead he held back a tremble as he struggled not to act on his temper and punch the man senseless, only to prove that he didn’t need a spell to rub that sneer off his face. But then even that was a trap, for it would only prove that he was uncivilized as the humans claimed elves to be even if humans never seemed to show much civilization.

There was no way he’d last the night.

Leandra glared. “As if! You’re being a real ass.”

“Well, how are you going to stop me?” the man’s voice took on a childish challenging tone as he dug in his heels.

Leandra groaned, knowing her stubborn brother wouldn’t take no for an answer. What brought on this bought of overbearing protectiveness she didn’t know, but she wanted to spend the night getting to know Malcolm, not bickering with her little brother.

“Fine, but if you say anymore idiotic things to Malcolm I won’t hesitate to knee you in the balls,” she huffed as she started dragging Malcolm and Mara around her annoying brother. “And you're taking your own cab!” she added with a snap.

They started marching out of the alleyway and out into the street where they found that the place was swarming with Guard and Templar cars in flashing red white and blue lights bathing the streets in headlights so that they all seemed exposed and Leandra froze at the thought of suddenly being caught and marched back to her parents.

“Follow me,” Carver spoke from behind them, and then marched past them as if there was nothing amiss about what they were doing.

Leandra dropped Malcolm’s hand and put some distance between them at the sight of the crowd that clearly saw them. Malcolm’s stomach dropped in disappointment. Though he knew an elf and a human holding hands would only invite more stares it didn’t keep his heart from aching, wishing just for a moment that he was human so that she wouldn’t let go.

The templars and guards glided around them without notice all seeming to have their own agendas and orders to carry out. There were news vans swarming the front of the Palace trying to make sense of what was happening and they took great care not to get in their line of sight.

Malcolm had a sinking feeling as he followed Carver, thinking that he’d return to his duties and let him have some peace with Leandra. Well, he and Leandra’s friend, who invited herself, but he knew the hierarchy. As they approached an armored vehicle with reinforced wheels and a red Chantry sun impaled a sword, the symbol of the templars, Malcolm realized another was joining the night. It seemed his leash was shorter than he thought, tonight.

Carver opened the door gesturing for the ladies to go in with a respectful bow.

Mara’s eyes gleamed in mischief as she inspected the back of the templar’s car, the armored barriers seeming more fit to housing dangerous apostates than escorting Kirkwall nobility. “Are we in trouble, Officer?”

Carver’s eyes crinkled in a smile but his face remained neutral. “Simply making sure you all get home safely.”

Mara bounced into the backseat. “This standard?”

“Perfectly,” Carver allowed a small smile.

Leandra, too jittery with all the people about quickly ducked behind Mara without a word, grateful to be out of sight.

Carver blocked Gamlen’s push forward so Malcolm could snag the seat next to Leandra and shut the door behind him.

Gamlen scowled, trying to look intimidating but Carver had a few inches in him and was in full armor and gear and didn’t bother to even look in Gamlen’s direction as he got into the driver’s seat and slammed the door.

Gamlen tried to get into the passenger’s seat but he found that it had been locked. Gamlen pounded on the tinted window demanding to be let in.

Carver rolled down the window only enough so Gamlen could hear him say, “I thought the lady told you to get your own cab.”

Gamlen’s face went slack with shock, his blue eyes glassy as he was not able to process what was happening. He could hear Mara and Gamlen’s laughter peeling out from the window, mocking him.

Even Leandra barked out a short laugh before she clapped a hand over her mouth, burning in shame. “That is not necessary, Lord Carver.”

But Carver was already pulling off from the sidewalk, a shellshocked Gamlen watching as they left him at the curb.

There was a satisfied smirk on his lips that no one else could see. “The silence might give him some time to reflect on what he said.”

But it seemed like silence wasn’t what Gamlen wanted. Mara’s phone started to ring, Gamlen’s ringtone, which was a high stringed addictive pop song that filled the cabin.

“With a taste of your lips I’m on a ride.”

Mara sighed raggedly knowing the tantrum that was sure to come. She clicked the button to answer, cutting the music and with a curt voice she said, “I’m not interested in anything but an apology.”

“Apology!?” his voice boomed loud enough from the speaker. “You should apologize. You ditched me and laughed!”

“That’s right,” Mara confirmed in a sing-song voice. “You’re being a hypocrite.”

“Mara-”

But she quickly cut him off with a snarl that was unlike her, “I’m turning off my phone. Maybe if I’m in a good mood I’ll text you where we’re at.”

Then she cut off the rest of his tirade by ending the call and did just that.

She then threw her head back in her seat, her face reddening as she muttered a string of curses under her breath.

Leandra looked at her friend feeling torn. On one hand she couldn’t excuse her brother but she felt her heart ache at what she thought might be the end of their relationship. She knew her brother was better than this and she hoped that somehow he’d find a way to fix this. Still she felt shame like somehow it was her fault the whole wonderful night had been left uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” she said guiltily.

She found Malcolm touching her hand, unsure if the gesture was welcome, but just his hand being close made her fingers wrap around them to keep him there, hoping Malcolm didn’t think less of her.

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve heard. They get more creative in the Circle,” he said it like a joke, but there was tenseness in the admission.

Leandra didn’t like the thought of that. She knew what her brother said was ugly, and yet to know it was not the worst experience he’d had made her squeeze his hand, the words to comfort him failing her.

“So I’m curious,” Mara’s voice cut between them. She leaned forward so Carver could hear her better through the bars that separated them. “How does a templar and a mage get so chummy?” There was mischief in her curiosity and Malcolm couldn’t help but feel like Mara was scrutinizing him, judging his every move, but unlike Gamlen, she seemed to have not come to a conclusion yet.

“Carver’s not a prick,” Malcolm explained which brought delighted laughter from Carver, a soothing sound like water bubbling over a brook.

“It’s easy to be friends with Malcolm, as long as you can handle some honesty,” Carver echoed back.

“Have you been friends for a long time?” Leandra asked.

“I watched him grow up,” Carver answered as he wove through the streets of Hightown. “He’s always been a bit of a scamp.”

Mara’s eyes lit up. “Ooooh then you’re the one to ask for all the juicy details.”

Malcolm suddenly felt uneasy, not sure exactly what Carver would share.

“That’s true,” Carver admitted freely. “I do have a few stories, but I’ll let you get to know him yourself. I plan to mostly stay out of the way tonight and let you all enjoy yourselves.”

Malcolm found himself sighing in relief. Carver was a true friend.

Mara started leaning on Leandra as she gazed at Malcolm, and he felt strangely like she was a cat and he was her new toy. “So who are you Dream Guy?”

Malcolm found the nickname brought a smile to his lips, especially with the way Leandra was reddening.

“Just an elf from Ferelden,” Malcolm summarized. “Not anyone special.”

“Ferelden?” Leandra asked. “You’re far from home.”

Malcolm nodded grimly. The homesickness burrowed in his gut. The food at the ball was delicious, but he found he missed his mother’s cooking, lechon at Satinalia, pancet at celebrations, adobo, dinuguan, even lumpia. Being a lone elven Ferelden in a Marcher state that kissed Orlais ass with the rest of the world was terribly isolating. It almost seemed fitting that it was an Orlesian that claimed Leandra. They claimed everything Malcolm knew.

Leandra seemed keen to know more. “What about your mom and dad?”

“My mom’s might be somewhere in Ferelden. I haven’t seen her since I was taken by the templars when I was 8.” Admitting this so freely felt odd to Malcolm. They weren’t exactly secrets but he kept his memories close to his heart, but Leandra wanted to know. “I don’t even know if she’s alive.”

Leandra could sense there was more to the story. Malcolm’s eyes were far away, watching the lights of Hightown’s neon bathing his dark skin in a heavenly glow.

“You don’t know what happened to her?”

“I mean when I was in Ferelden’s Circle I got a letter or two, but…” Malcolm sucked in a breath not admitting how the templars took those, too. “Nothing since Kirkwall.”

Leandra stroked his thumb with hers. “What about your father?”

At the mention of his father Malcolm’s whole body went rigid and his breathing got shallow. “Better off forgotten,” he muttered as he stared dully at the window.

The high cityscapes of Hightown receded into the bridge that was thankfully not filled with the usual traffic at midnight. Malcolm’s eyes were far away as his eyes passed over the neon marketing sign and art and competing billboards that seemed to permeate every corner. Kirkwall was a loud city, even at night, but the city seemed to be holding its breath. The high-tech architecture that was just on the other side of the bridge seemed to just die off into the archaic city of Lowtown. There were still ads and graffiti and neon signs on every street, but Kirkwall elite had not seen a purpose of modernizing most of Lowtown, except for the subway system that most of the inhabitants used for travel, so that the sounds of trains running through tracks was a constant echo across the stone. The snaking networks wound through the city but stopped at the bridge that connected Hightown. Lowtown only had so many major streets, the main one connecting to the Lowtown market where shops were piled on top of each other like shoeboxes, mimicking the cityscapes of Hightown but with the grace of a graffiti-filled dumpster. The city cleaners didn’t extend to Lowtown so debris covered the street, the car dipping into the cracks of the concrete and swerving to avoid potholes.

Leandra wanted to know him, but it seemed that poking at him only brought up painful memories, and it was already a painful night. She had no idea how she could even fathom what he went through. He was always carefree and smiling, but now he looked brittle, like he would break if she pressed him too far.

So she tried to change gears. “I have family in the Circle.”

“Oh?” That made Malcolm perk up, curiosity in his golden eyes, and his shoulders relaxed as he realized the interrogation was over.

“A niece in Ostwick, a nephew in Markham, and another nephew in Kirkwall.”

Malcolm seemed much happier to continue this conversation. “What a small world,” he hummed in amusement. “Well tell me about the one in Kirkwall. I might have met him already.”

Leandra was pleased that he wanted to know her family. “His name’s Isaac. He only came to the Circle last year around spring.”

Malcolm placed his free hand on his chin as his eyes reached up into his skull as he tried to summon a face. “Isaac…Isaac…” The name sounded familiar. “Wait does he like to make a lot of truck noises?”

“Yes!” Leandra jumped in her seat in excitement and then blushed when Mara snickered.

Malcolm smiled as he recalled the little guy, suddenly seeing the family resemblance in their eyes. He had life just like Leandra did. “We call him Lil’ Garbage Man. He’s the funniest dude.”

Leandra shook her head though a smile was on her face thinking of how horrified her Mother would be at the nickname.

“You call my nephew Lil’ Garbage Man? Why?”

“Cause he makes garbage truck noises when he busses people’s trays. Dude seems to have a blast doing it.”

Leandra laughed imagining the look on her parent’s face if they had heard that. “My nephew is bussing people’s trays?”

“Isaac is helpful and compassionate. He might be a little odd to people but he has a very good heart,” Carver’s voice came from the bars. “In fact, if you would like to see him, I think I may be able to arrange that.”

Leandra’s eyes widened pouncing on the chance. “Can you? I haven’t seen him since he was taken.”

“I’ll add you to the allowed visitors list in Isaac’s file. It shouldn’t be a problem,” Carver’s voice was steady and comforting, like a sturdy oak giving shade. “You’ll still need to come after Mass. There’s no way around that.”

Leandra felt positively giddy. She had tried to get on the visitor’s list before but Chantry policy only allowed immediate family members. The bastard father who abandoned him had more rights to see Isaac than she did, and she had given up on that cause for the moment but to just be offered as a gift was more than she had words for. She found grateful tears prick her eyes. “Bless you, Lord Carver.”

Carver chuckled. “I think at this point you may just call me Carver. At least in private.”

Leandra wiped her eyes before the tears could fall. “Do you think I can smuggle in a gift?”

Carver hummed on his answer noncommittally. “Toys will be taken if he’s not careful to hide them.” But he didn’t say no.

Leandra considered this as she brainstormed what she could bring. Nothing too big. It had to fit in her purse.

Before they knew it Carver pulled up to what looked like a ratty old bar. It was originally called The Caged Canary, but half the light bulbs were burnt out so it spelled Cage Cry with the ‘The’ blinking in and out.

Malcolm chuckled. “Here?” he asked Carver.

“It’s private and she liked your singing,” Carver replied. Malcolm could hear the smirk in his voice.

Leandra looked at the bar that had so many flyers plastered on the wall it looked like a Chantry board. There was graffiti layered upon layer, sometimes over the flyers, some beautiful mosaics and art pieces of colors. Birds behind bars seemed to be a theme throughout the patterns. It was a chaotic sort of art, the kind that would make her parents sneer, but Leandra found it beautiful, the many hands working together to make something so utterly unique, like a thousand memories cased in time speaking at once. “What is this place?” she found herself asking Malcolm as Mara started shuffling out of the car.

“A karaoke bar,” Malcolm said nonchalantly as he watched Leandra’s face which quickly drained of color.

She froze in the car as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to leave. “Oh, no, I’m better at playing the lute than singing,” Leandra blubbered, suddenly mortified at the thought of making a fool of herself in public.

Malcolm grinned. “Karaoke is not about sounding good, it’s about having fun.”

“Well, no one’s going to have fun once they hear me sing,” Leandra protested.

Mara peeked in the car from the other side, ganging up on her with Malcolm with a conspiratorial grin. “You should do more things you’re not good at, my lady. It will be good for you.”

Leandra pouted as Malcolm offered his hand to help her out of the car. She reluctantly took it, knowing once she did there was no going back.

Carver started pulling out his phone as he approached the group. “The address is 369 Copper Avenue if you would like to invite your brother,” he looked at Leandra as he said this and she was already pulling out her phone to text the details.

Then Carver’s eyes slid to Malcolm as he fished out his wallet and pulled out a sovereign bill and handed it to him.

Malcolm resented being handed money like a kid but it wasn’t like he was allowed to have money like a normal person. That didn’t stop him from finding his ways, but he hadn’t expected to go on a date tonight and didn’t bring anything with him. So he took the bill feeling like a teenager being chaperoned on his first date.

“I need to make a phone call. You can go ahead and order a round of drinks with the booth.”

Maker, at least he could drink. “You going to join us?” He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for.

But Carver said, “I have some reports to catch up on but you have fun.” Then Carver walked off into a corner to take his call in private.

Malcolm led Mara and Leandra into the bar which was smaller than anticipated. There was a TV with the news reporting on the incident on the Viscount’s Palace, speculating attacks and calling it the worst haunting of the new century. The bartender who was a pallid man with graying hair raised an eyebrow at Malcolm’s fine suit and the ladies’ gowns which were much richer than the sticky floors and peeling dull brown faded wallpaper that decorated the environment.

Malcolm marched up to the bartender with confidence as the ladies inspected the furniture that had looked like it hadn’t been changed out since the place was built. The grout of the floor was uneven and chalky.

Malcolm placed the bill on the cracking counter and said, “A room and all the drinks this can afford.”

Would this afford much? He didn’t exactly know the prices on things.

The bartender looked at the bill and took it without question, though he was curious about the party’s outfits he seemed more interested in their money. “Room 3,” He leaned his head to point to a dark cove where a line of rooms were waiting. “And for the drinks?”

He looked to Leandra, who looked to Mara who said, “Shots. Tequila. Vodka. I don’t care.”

“You got it,” the bartender chirped.

Malcolm led them down the corridor, jealous of the way Mara openly leaned on Leandra’s arm. He could tell the two women must be close and he felt in some ways there was a bubble between him and them.

“Charming place,” Mara cooed as she looked at the posters of different singers lining the walls, flowing locks and colorful makeup and costumes crooning into microphones. “You bring all your dates here?”

Malcolm chuckled. “The only time I’ve ever gone here is with Carver or Charlie,” he said.

He opened the door to the room for them which was a cozy little setup with a boxy couch that wrapped around the room, a table in the middle with a thick booklet, and a screen with a few microphones.

“Boyfriend?” Mara prodded as she passed Malcolm, cat eyes gleaming.

“Brother,” Malcolm countered.

Leandra perked up, trying to corral some of Mara’s teasing with a question of her own. “You have a brother in the Circle?” Her voice was hopeful and she gathered her skirts and took a seat on the square couch fully listening.

Mara plopping beside her to take a look through the booklet, the laminated pages cracking and yellowing.

“Not a blood brother,” Malcolm explained. “We just grew up together.”

Leandra tried to mask the disappointment in her eyes.

He took a seat, close but not too close. He glanced at her hand which was relaxed at her side, tempted to reach out and grab it, but with Gamlen in his head he just clenched his fist.

“So what would you sing?” Leandra leaned over as Mara flipped through the selection as she tried to find something that she recognized.

The bartender came in holding a large tray of liquid amber and set it on the table without a word.

“Well first we’d get drunk,” Malcolm said, suddenly needing the liquid courage and he grabbed one of the glasses and knocked it back, the burn welcome and warming him, soothing his frazzled nerves.

“Smart man,” Mara grinned as she grabbed two glasses and handed one to Leandra without thinking. “But you’re breaking the party rules. We’re supposed to cheer before we drink.”

Malcolm reached for another glass with a chuckle. “I can just grab another drink.”

Mara gleamed at Leandra holding up her glass as she said. “To Leandra. She’s the most badass woman I know.”

Malcolm grinned at Leandra’s fluster as he held up her glass to match Mara’s praise. “She definitely is.”

Leandra clinked glasses with them and knocked back the liquid before coughing which brought chuckles out of Mara and Malcolm. “That’s much stronger than wine.”

Suddenly Leandra’s phone rang and she looked at the cell phone to see that Senhel was calling. In confusion she answered it thinking it was an emergency.

“Leandra Gloriana Amell,” the voice of her mother shrieked on her phone. “Do you have your Father and me on ignore!?”

Leandra grumbled, she was just starting to have fun. “Mother,” she hicced. “I thought I told you I’m resting.”

“You are certainly not in your room!”

“I’m at Mara’s.”

“Don’t lie to me. I sent Sylvain to fetch you and you’re not there.”

Mara and Malcolm looked at each other as Leandra slunk into the couch, looking ragged and tired. “Fine,” she snapped, her voice sounding like a tight thread. “I’m out having a drink with Mara. Because it’s been a night. And I deserve it.”

“Leandra Amell-”

“Goodnight, Mother. I’m turning off my phone,” then she powered down her cell and threw it back in her purse with a huff.

“Another drink?” Malcolm offered.

Mara was beaming at Leandra. “After standing up to the wicked witch of Kirkwall let’s have three.”

So they did, clinking their glasses each time as they knocked it back in unison, the alcohol starting to make them feel giddy and loose.

Finally Mara picked up the microphone and waggled her eyebrows. “Alright we’re supposed to be singing, right?”

Leandra and Malcolm cheered, raising more glasses sharing a grin.

Mara plugged in the song and with an upbeat piano that was as spunky as she was. She wiggled her hips as she grooved with her microphone, getting into it, her face goofy and carefree for the first time that night.

“Why men great til’ they gotta be great,” she sang loudly and proudly off-key.

“I just took a DNA test

Turns out

I’m a hundred percent

That bitch

Even when I’m crying crazy

Yeah I got boy problems

That’s the human in me

Bling! Bling! Then I solve ‘em

That’s the Goddess in me

Malcolm and Leandra danced in their seats and Mara gave them a show, belting her frustrations into the mic and only slightly tripping over the words with her drunken tongue. The mistakes only made her laugh which made everyone laugh. Then she grabbed the mic with both hands, her face twisting in anger as she kicked off her red strappy heels so they bounced against the couch and wall, belting out with flourish,

“You could have had a bad bitch

Non committal

Help you with your career

Just a little

You’re supposed to hold me dooown

But you’re holding me back

And that’s the soooound

Of me not calling you back.”

Soon Malcolm and Leandra were trying to sing along to the chorus, though Malcolm didn’t know the words to this one. Still, Mara was fun and it was nice to see Leandra with that beautiful smile. He thought her laugh was the most gorgeous sound in the world and he’d never tire of it.

They were all thoroughly enjoying themselves so much that they didn’t notice that Gamlen had now perched himself at the door and listened to the man-hating song, a bouquet of what looked like store bought roses in one arm and a box of expensive fine truffles in the other, but Mara at one point noticed him, the song fading from her lips as the music continued and quickly wrapped up.

The silence was awkward and no one knew what to make of it. Everyone was staring at Gamlen but Gamlen was only staring at Mara.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I was an idiot.”

Mara huffed putting down the microphone with a thud, feedback shrieking through the speakers.

“No denying that but do you even know what you’re sorry for?”

Gamlen rushed forward and placed the gifts in Mara’s arms which she reluctantly accepted. “I was an ass. You told me that enough.”

Mara blew out air, ruffling her bangs. “But the comments you said about Malcolm said a lot about what you think about me.”

“I don’t-I would never,” he sputtered. “I just…Being an elf never seemed to matter to you before.”

Mara glared. “Of course it matters to me. I might not have the pointed ears, but Lolo is all I have left after the car accident. You know that.”

“Of course,” Gamlen said. “Of course it’s important. I just…” he blew out a ragged breath, his eyes flicking to Malcolm. “This is all so fast. Leandra just met him tonight.”

“But you heard Leandra, she likes him. This is not your decision to make.”

Gamlen looked like all the air had been taken out of him as he struggled to find an argument but failed.

Mara looked at Malcolm who seemed to have gone quiet at Gamlen’s presence. “I’m not the only one who deserves your apology.”

Gamlen looked conflicted as his eyes snapped to Malcolm who was knocking back another drink. Gamlen clenched his fists, as he looked over Malcolm, the disgust still clear in his eyes but from the look on Mara’s face she wouldn’t let this go.

Through clenched teeth he said. “Sorry,” but he spat the word out like a curse.

Malcolm discarded his glass and picked up another, feeling slightly drunk and still very very pissed off. “I don’t know, did I hear an apology?”

Leandra crossed her arms, matching Malcolm’s glare. “No, I don’t know that I did.”

Mara dropped Gamlen’s gifts on the table like she was dropping trash in a bin. “Care to try again?”

Gamlen’s eyes widened in fear and he swallowed his anger as he tried to suppress his glare at Malcolm. “Fine, fine. I’m really really sorry.”

“For…” Malcolm drawled looking into his glass of amber liquid.

“For being an ass,” Gamlen chewed out.

“And…”

Gamlen narrowed his eyes, flicking to the other women for help but they simply waited expectantly for his answer. He wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to add. Apologizing wasn’t exactly something he did voluntarily.

He looked for Leandra to help but found her usual warm expression cold, but still she added, “And he won’t do it again.”

Gamlen bristled at that, seeming reluctant to actually say those words, but with Mara glaring at him, too, he repeated, “I won’t do it again.”

Malcolm grinned at that, all teeth. “Now that’s an apology.” Then he made a cheering motion at Gamlen and knocked back his drink.

Mara sniffed and sat down beside Leandra, satisfied but still seething. Gamlen followed her like a sad puppy and when he sat down next to her he tried to hold her hand but she snapped it back, still angry.

Malcolm sighed, feeling sloshed by now, but with Gamlen being so close he felt himself tensing like a stretched rubber band ready to snap. Still, getting the asshole to apologize was at least slightly satisfying even if Malcolm didn’t believe a word of it.

Leandra brushed his hand, bringing him out of his churning thoughts. Her eyes looked worried as she bit her lip, seeming unsure. “I’d love to hear you sing next.”

Malcolm did have a song in mind already, one that he heard long ago but didn’t have any meaning to him until meeting Leandra, but his eyes flickered to Gamlen who was sulking in the corner, unsure if singing it would bring more ire.

Leandra seemed to sense his hesitation and she was suddenly rambling as if she was nervous. “You don’t have to. I mean I can definitely try singing a song with Mara if you’re not feeling up to it.”

Mara leaned over to Leandra with a grin on her face. “What are we singing?”

Gamlen snorted. “You’re singing?”

Leandra glared. “Shut up! As if your voice is any better.”

“At least I know when to keep my mouth shut.”

“Not when it counts,” Malcolm’s unfiltered drunken thoughts blurted out which brought another laugh from Leandra and Mara and a scowl from Gamlen.

Malcolm smirk softened at Leandra’s laughter and he watched her with soft eyes.

She stopped when she noticed he was staring, his honey eyes drawing her in.

“I’d love to hear you sing.” Malcolm said in a voice so genuine she could only swallow.

Leandra dropped her eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean you’re going to have nightmares.”

“I don’t know,” Malcolm grinned. “Since meeting you it feels like I’ve been living a dream.”

She blushed deeply, her breath stuttering, a pleased smile forming on her lips as she choked on what she said. “I guess I’m drunk enough to sing.”

Mara cheered and Malcolm and her clinked glasses in a celebratory drink.

Leandra and Mara took the stage, their eyes on the screen as they huddled together.

A slow ballad filled the speakers, soft and sweet, just like Leandra was. Mara opened her mouth widely inhaling but as soon as the countdown signaled for them to start only Leandra’s voice sang out,

“Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help

Falling in love with you”

Leandra’s eyes flew in panic as she realized that Mara was not singing along but looking at her with a smirk as she was forced to either stop or continue. Her eyes flew to Malcolm’s like a moth to a flame, her voice trembling in uncertainty.

She was not as terrible as she claimed, not a singer’s voice sure, but Malcolm found he could listen to her all night. He watched the rosy glow of her cheeks as her eyelashes fluttered, looking so uncertain and vulnerable.

“Like a river flows

Gently to the sea

Surely how it goes

Some things were meant to be.”

Malcolm hoped that was what she was telling him, and his gaze turned so intense she could not bear the scrutiny, her voice shaky and faltering but she finished the song to the end. Malcolm and Mara then burst into applause as Leandra shyly tucked hair behind her ear.

She glared at Mara but there was no anger in her voice. “Traitor.”

Mara shook her head in laughter as she took her seat beside Gamlen.

Leandra sauntered up to Malcolm, closer than ever. He could feel the warmth of her body and smell the alcohol on her breath. She playfully grabbed his arm and brought him to the stage and pushed a microphone in his hand. “Ok, now it’s your turn. Better make it good.”

Malcolm was nervous, but the way she was smiling at him he couldn’t help but smile back. “I aim to please, my lady.”

“Well, then do it,” she commanded cheekily. “Please me.”

Malcolm’s eyes darkened at this challenge. Her cheeks were so rosy he had to resist cupping them, her smile brilliant as she sat captively in attention. He felt shaky with nerves, his stomach doing that warm flutter. He plugged in the song, a soft drumbeat pulsed through the speakers as he gazed in her eyes, feeling like there was no one else in the room. His heart sped up, aching to have her. His honeyed voice crooned through the speakers, begging her to accept him.

“I wish we were both someone else

So you wouldn’t be somebody else’s

I don’t want to lie here by myself

Ain’t afraid to say I’m selfish.”

“Don’t wanna lie to you, Don’t wanna promise something

Knowin’ I can’t come through, toast over this discussion

More of ignoring the rules, too close and then we’re touching

Now we’re both confused.”

Leandra found herself rising to her feet, her heart feeling the same ache in the lyrics. His hand seemed to beckon her to him as he looked at her with a yearning that made her feel alive.

“Something in the way you smell

Something in the way touch me

Maybe it’s the way you wrap your arms around me

Makes me wanna lay you down, Tell you all the things we could be

Tell me that you need me now, even though it’s not allowed.”

Leandra couldn’t help herself if she wanted to. Malcolm’s honest words crooning at her had her grabbing his tie before he could reach the chorus again and she answered him with a hungry kiss. He tasted strawberries and alcohol and her taste coated his tongue until he was lapping it up greedy for every drop of her. Hungry. That was the only way that could be described when their lips met. His hands snaked up her back untangling her braid loose as she held him captive by his tie, pulling him closer by his curls as they devoured each other, the beat still pulsing in the background. They stumbled, trying to find steadiness as their mouths refused to part, tripping into the table and almost knocking each other over.

Mara hooted encouragingly at the kiss and she tried to get Gamlen to join her in a cheer but he looked like he was trying to look anywhere but at his sister. When Malcolm had backed her into a wall and it was clear that they wouldn’t stop, Gamlen finally snapped and said, “Leandra!”

Malcolm pulled away, surprised by Gamlen’s shout but she held onto his tie and stuck out her tongue like she was five. “Grow up, Gamlen. I’ve watched you and Mara dry hump since tenth grade.”

Malcolm barked out a laugh, lipstick smeared across his lips. Then Leandra pulled him in for another sweet kiss. “Sing me another,” she asked against his lips.

The night seemed to go much better, the laughs easier, and after Malcolm sang a few more songs they went back to rotating. Gamlen mostly sulked throughout the night, giving a tight-lipped glare as Malcolm and Leandra shared kiss after kiss, feeling bolder and handsier, but other than some huffs he didn’t do much more to ruin the night.

Before they knew it Carver crept through the door, his face amused at the state of Malcolm’s lipstick smeared face as he and Leandra were cuddling in the corner sharing a drunken snooze, Leandra cradled on Malcolm’s chest.

Gamlen sat in the corner, tight-lipped, the same scowl he carried all night plastered on his face.

“So you all had a good time,”

Leandra and Malcolm stirred, both yawning and blinking.

Mara saluted drunkenly from the couch, in a fit of giggles. “Yes, Officer. Mission succeeded.” He had interrupted her from eating Gamlen’s apology chocolates, a pile of used wrappers piled on the table among the many, many drained glasses.

“Very good,” Carver had a satisfied smile on his face. “I’ll need to take you back to Hightown now if Malcolm’s going to make it back by First Bell.”

“Nope,” Leandra shook her head with a yawn, her words a little slurred. “Nope. No, my parents will kill me if they see me like this. Take me to Mara’s.”

Mara yawned and covered her mouth. “Good idea. You have the day off so we can just sleep.”

Leandra jerked, suddenly realizing, “Oh, no! I have a Cleansing today!”

Mara cocked her head. “What time? Maybe we can grab a nap?”

Leandra chewed her lip picking herself up from Malcolm’s hold so she could look through her bag for her phone.

It was full of texts from her Mother and Father. She scrolled through the lectures and threats to find that her Cleansing was early and not only that but the Du Lancets would be participating and the Guillaume would be at her side tomorrow. And then the bubble popped.

“Oh, how am I going to presentable by 10 am?” Leandra’s voice was filled with panic.

“Don’t worry, I’m on the case,” Mara patted her chest confidently. “As long as I can pass out as soon as I’m done.”

“You’d have earned it and your raise,” Leandra pulled herself upright and wobbled in her heels.

“Easy there,” Malcolm automatically moved to steady her and she placed her hand on his chest as she willed the room to stop spinning. He sat her back down allowing her to lean on him.

“Something greasy will work wonders,” Carver said helpfully.

“I’ll whip up a bacon breakfast when we get home,” Mara yawned. “And lots of coffee.”

As Mara stretched she looked at the templar with renewed interest, the man seeming more like a statue to her than a person and she eyed him from head to toe. “Not going to sing at least one?” she said in a sing-song voice, her cat eyes gleaming with mischief. “Malcolm tells us you have quite the voice.”

Carver smiled, chuckling. “We don’t really have time.”

Malcolm was looking for any reason to make the night last just a little longer. “Oh, c’mon just one. For old time’s sake?”

Leandra blinked her doe eyes, batting them like a weapon. “Oh, please,” her words crashed together clumsily. “You’ve been alone all night, Ser Carver. I’d love to hear you sing.”

“I’m tired,” Gamlen snapped. “Let’s go.”

Maybe it was the fact that the other three were pleading, their drunken stupor making the consequences of the night still seem far away. Or maybe Carver wanted to have one more opportunity to get under Gamlen’s skin, but he smiled wider than he did all night, fully coming into the room and headed for the stage, crooking a motion to Malcolm to follow him. “I’m only singing if you join me, Hawke.”

Malcolm pushed himself off the couch eagerly. “Deal,” he said grabbing one of the extra mics from the stand as Mara and Leandra cheered, no more alcohol to toast with but they still raised their hands up in the motion.

Carver plugged in the song and a high energy guitar riff started streaming. Malcolm grinned as he recognized it. Carver’s energy seemed to change, his stiff shoulders relaxing as his warm coffee eyes gleamed at Malcolm, still remembering how Charlie was there the last time they sang this. He raised the mic, a raspy baritone ringing clear and beautiful like a deep bell, belting the lyrics with confidence.

“She’s got a smile that seems to me

Reminds me of childhood memories

Where everything was as fresh

As the clear blue sky.”

His eyes flicked to Mara, his hands cradling the mic as the beat rocked. Their eyes met in a strange crackling energy that Gamlen didn’t seem to notice cause he was too busy sulking. Carver watched as her slow gaze inspected him in curiosity, following the lines of his armor.

“Now and then when I see her face

It takes me to that special place

And if I stared too long,

I’d probably break down and cry.”

Malcolm joined him for the chorus, harmonizing with him so beautifully that it brought goosebumps to the ladies skin.

“Whooooa, Sweet child of mine,

Whooooa, Sweet love of mine.”

Then Malcolm’s honeyed voice took over, his eyes meeting Leandra as he sang with a smile, his face smeared with Leandra’s kisses, light and life in every bounce of his step.

“She’s got eyes like the starriest skies

As if they thought of rain

I’d hate to look into those eyes

And see an ounce of pain.”

Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place

Where as a child I’d hide

And pray for the thunder and rain

To quietly pass me by.”

Carver joined him again for the chorus, his soothing deep voice weaving around his melody as they repeated, their gazes meeting in boyish mischief.

Then soon the guitar break came and both Carver and Malcolm went into ridiculous scatting, mimicking the riffs as they pretended to play invisible guitars. When the lyrics came back they echoed against each other, the melody getting more complicated as they each broke into their own renditions, bouncing and dancing on the stage as they pushed each other, a couple of boys roughhousing. Leandra and Mara couldn’t stop laughing at their silliness, the song stretching on and on never seemed to end until Carver and Malcolm kept singing back to the other.

“Where do we go?

Where do we go now?”

It was the question in Malcolm’s mind. His eyes stayed drawn to Leandra, asking her.

Then the song wrapped up with the same high energy and Leandra and Mara rose to their feet cheering drunkenly.

“Bravo!”

“Bellissimo!”

“Encore!”

Gamlen’s scowl looked like it had been carved into his face and would stay there forever. He glared at the two men as they made exaggerated bows at the ladies’ applause.

“Now can we go?” Gamlen snarled.

Carver’s proper demeanor was back in place as he put away the microphone with care. “Yes, I believe that is best.”

"Wait, wait, wait," Leandra reached through her bag for her phone and turned it back on. Ignoring the new messages, she then went to her camera. "We need to commemorate the night."

Malcolm and Carver looked at each other.

"I'm not sure we should be leaving more evidence," Carver's voice said nervously.

Leandra blinked her eyes pleading. "Please, it won't leave my phone. I just need something to remember the night was real."

That was all the convincing Malcolm needed. He grabbed Leandra's waist pulling her in for a pose. She blushed and snuggled in closer, holding out the phone, their faces framing the screen.

Carver looked like he wanted to protest more but Mara grabbed his arm. "C'mon Officer, loosen up." He seemed flustered as the small woman led him. "It's just a selfie." She then motioned Gamlen to join her. "You too, Grumpmeister."

Gamlen looked irritated to see Mara casually touching Carver's arm and so stormed up and claimed her with a possessive grab on her hip and yanked her to him.

Mara seemed annoyed, but said nothing as they all huddled in close for the camera so their faces could fit.

It flashed, and they all blinked, temporarily blind.

"Sorry," Leandra said as they all peered at the picture.

Carver was caught in the middle between Mara and Leandra looking out of place in his armor, his face grim like a statue. Mara leaned on Gamlen but her face was closer to Carver, smiling a model's smile as she posed expertly. Gamlen's face was cut off slightly, his ugly glare caught as he stared at Malcolm and Leandra pressing cheeks, her lipstick had left a clear trail of where she claimed him and they shared the same ecstatic smile.

Malcolm wanted something to remember the night, too. He grabbed Leandra's phone and texted himself the picture. He handed the phone back. "Now you have my number."

She gazed at her phone blushing as she realized he inserted himself as "Dream Guy."

They left the club, the sky still dark among the high buildings, but there were still signs of the bus moving for the early commute. Carver drove them to Mara’s place in Midtown which bordered the edge of Lowtown and Hightown, a cut of suburbs that were newer and had a cookie cutter like appearance. There was already a car in the driveway, a nice but older SUV that had been handled with care. The streets were dark except for the street lights that marked the houses in neat little rows, flowering shrubs and gardens filled with knick knacks differentiating them.

Malcolm got out of the car and helped Leandra out, their hands not unlinking as she stepped out.

Mara pushed out of the templar car still yawning, Gamlen following quickly behind. “You can go to my room, but don’t be loud and wake Lolo.”

Gamlen nodded, keeping close to Mara as she dug through her purse for her keys. He cast a glare in Malcolm’s direction when he noticed he was holding his sister’s hand but he kept to his apology and said nothing, following Mara into her house.

Leandra and Malcolm’s stroll was a languid shuffle as if they slowed down the moment it wouldn’t end. Still Mara’s porch approached and it did.

“When can I see you again?” she asked shyly as she squeezed his hand harder instead of letting go.

Malcolm’s heart fluttered, his voice eager. “I’ll break out as soon as I’m able.”

Leandra seemed conflicted about that. She placed her hand over his heart, lines of worry streaking her face. “Don’t get in trouble on my account.”

Malcolm grinned cheekily as he leaned into her face. “I am trouble.”

He captured her lips in a hungry kiss, not knowing when he’d be able to taste her next. Their lips moved unhurried and slow, their fingers exploring over their clothing under the arch of the porch. One minute passed, then two. It seemed there was not enough time in the world to memorize each other, and they were soon interrupted by Carver’s loud but abrupt honk.

Malcolm grinned against her mouth. “See you soon,” he promised and he dashed off and hopped into the front seat of Carver’s car.

Leandra didn’t go inside until the vehicle pulled away from the driveway and disappeared down the street.

#my writing #leandra x malcolm #hawke #da fanfic #da2 #wrote this instead of sleeping #did I post the reworked chapter 5?#idk

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ohemgeeitscoley · 4 years

Text

Rey doesn't think when she calls Ben to go into her emails to send off her draft email with her final to her professor.

It isn't until she's off the phone that she remembers all the other draft emails are to him and vary from confessing her love to him and describing in detail what exactly she wants to do to his body.

No, Rey didn't think this through at all.

These letters to you (1/1)

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Rey/Ben Solo (Reylo)

Note: This came from this prompt from the ReylosPrompt Twitter account.

Curious Cat Prompt: "Ben finds a draft on Rey’s email addressed to him confessing her love and lust for him."

@andyouweremine and @storiesofimagination are some of the best betas a girl could ever ask for. They make sure that my tenses stay correct and reassure me the entire time that I’m writing. They are the best cheerleaders and I wouldn’t know what to do without them. <3

Read below or on AO3.

Please pick up. Please pick up. If there is any sort of fairness in the galaxy, please pick up your fucking phone--

"Hello?" Ben's voice is low, deeper than usual. It's his mostly asleep voice. Rey hates that she has thought enough about the variances of Ben's voice to know the different tones almost as much as she hates the fact that a sleepy Ben Solo is almost always her favorite version of Ben.

Ben had been one of the first people Rey had met when she transferred in as a sophomore. He had been in his first year at the law school. They both fought for the right to study under a specific tree toward the edge of the campus. It was quiet, far enough away from the hot spots to really attract much attention or noise. The leaves were big and provided plenty of shade from the sun. The ground was soft and mostly free of any large rocks or bouts of even landscaping.

It was Rey's favorite spot.

They fought over the tree for two months, both of them refusing to leave and each attempting to annoy the other into giving the spot up. It didn't take long for them to realize that when they were just sitting under the tree, quietly, together studying, it wasn't so bad.

It was actually nice, not being alone.

Rey moved into Ben's apartment the following fall and they'd been best friends ever since.

Rey's fairly certain she's been in love with him for roughly the same amount of time.

Not that she has the time to be getting lost down that particular rabbit hole.

"Thank God, you answered," Rey responds, twisting the cord of the phone around one of her fingers. Everything about the diner she works at is a little bit kitschy and old, but having to make a call on a phone actually attached to a wall with cords is a whole different experience. "I'm so sorry I woke you up. I know you were up late studying."

"Rey?" Ben asks while yawning. Rey can hear him shuffle around in his bed. "It's not even 6 AM, is everything okay?"

"You answered," Rey smiles, hoping Ben knows that she is practically beaming at him through the phone. "Everything is going to be fine. My final paper is due at 6. On the dot. I was too nervous to send it last night when I finished it. I was going to send it in this morning, after I had a chance to at least look over it for grammar and spelling, but I'm me and I--"

"Slept through your first four alarms and barely made it out the door for work?" Ben interrupts.

"Yes." Rey sighs, rolling her eyes. "Anyways. You know I can't use my cell at work, I'm probably going to get shit for this call, and you're the only number I have memorized. So I really, really need you to get on my computer, go to my email and send in my paper. I have a draft saved and everything. All you have to do is get in my drafts folder and hit send."

"Sure," Ben agrees. "Password for your laptop?"

"Capital d-y-at sign-d-hashtag-number 3-exclamation point."

"I'm on it." Rey can hear Ben's door open, the same squeak sounding over the phone that she complains about every night when he's anxious from studying and walks back and forth from his room to the kitchen every twenty minutes. "Consider it done."

"You're the best roommate, slash friend, slash just all around hero of my life," Rey blushes, stopping just short of adding 'probably the love of my life' at the end of her sentence. Thinking about her feelings for Ben is definitely a rabbit hole she is better off to avoid. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"It's the least I can do if I'm really the only phone number you have memorized."

"It's 2020, Ben," Rey teases. "The fact that I have your number memorized is really impressive."

"Why mine?"

Rey can hear water running in the background, a cabinet opening and a drawer shutting. Rey hates that she can clearly see Ben in their kitchen, making coffee, probably with a slightly grumpy look on his face because Rey knows that she put the grinder and the filters back in the wrong spot. She hates it the same way she hates knowing that Ben won't say anything about the misplaced items to her, and that if she were home he would make her cup of coffee first.

The way Ben always takes care of her first drives Rey crazy most days.

"I figure the only time I'm ever going to need to call someone without having access to my phone would be in a real emergency. And you're the person I would want to call." Rey bites her lip, shaking her head as if she could shake away how vulnerable she sounds to her own ears. "Or, if I've been arrested. And if that's the case, you're the only lawyer I know."

Ben snorts. "I have to actually finish next semester and pass the bar to be a real lawyer."

"You're going to pass," Rey gently reminds him. It's the same conversation they've been having since the beginning of the year. "And then you're going to kick legal ass all over New York."

Ben's laugh is warm. "You should go back to work, don't worry about your paper. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't. Text me what you want for dinner. I'll pick it up on my way home from my last final."

Rey hangs the phone back up on the wall and walks back out into the diner. She smiles, grabbing a rag to wipe down the front counter. Her nerves finally calm knowing that Ben wouldn't let her down and she no longer had to worry about failing one of her last classes.

Ben would just go into her draft emails and send the email on to her professor.

Into her draft emails.

Her draft emails.

Fuck.

***

Ben is not surprised when he opens Rey's email and sees that she has 37 draft emails. It's honestly exactly what he expects.

He blows across the top of his mug, watching as the steam from the cup scatters. The coffee's still too hot to drink, but it's 5:57 in the morning and Ben's only had 2 hours of sleep.

If he survives law school and passes the bar, Ben is going to need a three week long nap.

Taking a drink from the mug, Ben grimaces as the too hot liquid burns his tongue and throat, and yet at the same time warms his soul. Ben opens the draft emails, seeing the one at the top to Rey's professor. It's easy enough to look at, make sure that there's an attachment attached and that Rey's message isn't full of 2 AM Rey snark.

It's sent by 5:59.

Ben's glad that he woke up to his phone going off and that he answered. Usually, answering unknown numbers isn't something Ben does, but he's always a little more cautious when Rey is gone and it's a local number. Just in case.

Answering a spam call and wasting 5 seconds but knowing Rey is fine is worth it.

Everything about the call fell into the 'reasons to tell Rey about his feelings' column in the pro/con list he kept in his mind. Rey had his number memorized in case of emergencies.

Somehow Rey Johnson had decided that he was worthy and could be trusted to be someone she could rely on.

And for Rey, with all of the abandonment issues Ben knows about, to trust him to be there for her… it means more than Ben can say.

Falling completely in love with his best friend was not on his list of things to complete before finishing law school.

Though he thinks it might be the most worthwhile thing he's done in the three years. If he wasn't absolutely terrified of Rey not feeling the same way and ruining their friendship, Ben knows that loving her, being loved by her… that would be the honor of a lifetime.

Tilting his head back, Ben reaches for his mug and takes another drink. These are the kinds of thoughts that Ben knows he cannot dwell on so early and on such little sleep. He's going to fuck up one day and send her a text message confessing that he does actually reorganize their kitchen cabinets sometimes just because he thinks that the way she scrunches her nose when she's confused and angry is the cutest thing in the world.

Maybe he'll just text her that he loves her and not in a friend way. But in a ‘very real, very romantic, wants to take her on dates, and make her toes curl in pleasure’ kind of way.

Which is why Ben needs to go back to bed and try to sleep before studying again. His last final is tomorrow and if he isn't smart enough to list ten reasons why texting Rey about how pretty he thinks her freckles are in the sunlight, well, he has no idea how he's going to pass his trademarks and false advertising final.

Ben is just starting to close the laptop when he sees his email on one of the draft emails. He knows that he shouldn't snoop in Rey's draft emails, but it's addressed to him and it's probably just a dumb meme that she forgot to hit send on.

Because Rey sends Ben a lot of dumb memes. It's one of the things he loves about her.

Ben pushes the screen up and is stunned to find that there are a bunch of emails to him.

Before he can think his way out of doing it, Ben opens the first email.

Dear Ben:

I came home early from work and you were shirtless and exercising in the living room

First: rude.

Second: I've decided it's unfair for you to ever wear shirts and you should be shirtless all the time

Third: actually, no one else needs to know about this gross injustice and you should only not wear shirts around me

Fourth: have you always been so... big?

Fifth: I need to go to bed and think more about this.

Yours,

Rey

Ben takes a deep breath. That was not a dumb meme.

That was the furthest thing from a dumb meme.

Ben slowly releases his breath, closing out of the draft email. He should stop. He knows he should shut down Rey’s computer and that he absolutely should not open another draft email to him.

But he needs to know what else they say. For the first time in three years, there's a spark of hope inside Ben that maybe Rey feels something for him. So he looks down the list of drafts and opens one from 6 months ago on his birthday.

Ben,

It's your birthday. I know you aren't comfortable with attention being solely focused on you, but I'm so glad that you seemed to be enjoying yourself tonight.

You deserve it. You're always so hard on yourself. I wish you could see you the way I see you. How kind and caring and thoughtful you can be. It never fails to amaze me, just how wonderful you really are.

You looked gorgeous. I had to stop myself from telling you just what seeing you in that suit did to me. I almost told you how badly I want you.

I drank too much. I hate that you thought you had to leave the club to make sure that I made it back home okay, but I also… God Ben, you are always taking care of me.

No one else has done that for me.

You got me in bed, made sure I could change out of my outfit (which did you like my outfit? I thought you looked like you appreciated it when I walked out of my room, but you didn't say anything. I mean of course you didn't say anything. But I hope you did. I wore it for you.) you even brought water and aspirin for me to take tomorrow morning when I wake up.

You kissed my forehead when you tucked me in.

I just want to kiss you.

Well, I want to do more than just kiss you. But kissing seems like a good place to start.

Which is how I ended up here. Reading all of these unsent emails to you. I almost hit send on the first one I wrote. My feelings for you haven't changed.

But I'm so so scared.

I am terrified Ben.

I can't lose you. You've become the one constant in my life and I don't know what I would do without you in it.

What if you don't feel the same way? What if I ruin everything?

I should go to bed. I just wish that I were in your arms instead of alone.

I'm so tired of being alone.

Anyways.

Happy birthday, Ben.

Yours,

Rey

Ben reads the email four times before it really clicks in his brain that Rey likes him. Rey has apparently liked him for at least six months, but maybe even longer since she referred to sending her first draft email and that her feelings hadn't changed.

Her feelings. For him.

His birthday had been the best birthday he could remember. Rey had planned the entire event. She had been so excited to celebrate him that it was hard not to embrace it.

Ben's birthdays usually consisted of a phone call from his parents, maybe lunch or dinner if they were in the same city, and a few text messages from others.

Rey woke him up with pancakes and waffles, because no one should have to choose between the two best breakfast foods on their birthday, and a detailed itinerary of all her ideas for the rest of the day.

She spent the entire day with him doing whatever he wanted to do. Watching his favorite movies, ordering lunch from his favorite restaurant, confirming with everyone the dinner plans and post-dinner drink plans she had made.

Ben had almost told Rey about his feelings for her that night. After reading her email, he wishes that he had.

How much time had they missed out on being together because they were both scared?

Ben shakes his head, he still isn't sure that this all is real. Maybe Rey hadn't really called and he is still asleep. Maybe this is all a dream.

He downs the last of the coffee in his mug, running a finger across the chip on the side.

Rey had tried throwing the mug out after she moved in, saying something about how they could just use his mugs. Ben had ignored her, placing the pastel colored mugs, chips and all, next to his glossy black ones in the cabinet. He told her the blue one was his favorite and it wasn't going anywhere.

The smile she had given him lit up the entire room.

He sets the mug back down on the table, scrolling down until he finds the first draft to him. I almost hit send on the first one I wrote. The email is dated the day before she moved in.

He opens it.

Ben,

I will probably never send this email, but I also don't know that I won't. I know that I want to send it. I want to be brave and to know the truth.

The thought of doing it is just scary though.

You know that you're my best friend right? It's hard for me to imagine a world without you in it, which for me is a lot. You haven't even been in my life for a year and you've already managed to make it so that I don't know what I'll do when you decide to leave.

That's what people do, Ben, they leave me.

It's just a fact in my life and knowing that, honestly, has kept me safe. I keep people at a distance, which wasn't hard growing up because I just bounced around from foster home to foster home and school to school. But now I'm here and I'm not going anywhere new anytime soon.

And then there's you.

For some reason, I believe you're not going anywhere either.

Which is scarier to me. I've never had anyone stay before. I don't know what to do with that.

A part of me needs to believe that you're going to leave. So when you do eventually move on and leave me behind it'll at least be something I knew was going to eventually happen.

Anyways. I've gotten really sidetracked here.

I've been going to therapy. Which you already know, since you're the one who kept telling me that it was something I should look into. Thanks for that by the way. You were right.

She suggested that I write letters to the people who have left or hurt me. Not to send, but to just, get my thoughts and feelings out of my head.

It helped.

Which is why I'm writing this email to you, even though I'll never be brave enough to send it. I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about you, Ben. I need them out of my head.

I love you.

I am in love with you.

Not in a platonic way. In a very romantic way.

Almost everything you do drives me crazy and makes my heart warm and my face glow.

I want to kiss you and hold your hand. I want to find out if my head will fit in the crook of your neck when you hold me the way I think that it will. I want to commit the taste of your skin to my memory. I want to know the marks on your body better than I know my own. I want to know what you look like when you lose control and give into pleasure.

It's really apparent, I think, the way I feel about you.

Only you don't seem to notice. And I need to admit to myself that it's because you don't think of me that way.

Which is fine. I get it.

You're you… and I'm just, well, I'm just me.

But I'm moving in tomorrow and I just needed to get these thoughts out. Otherwise I'm a little worried I might just blurt it out when you help me wash the dishes or eat dinner with me. Which I'm sure sounds a little strange, but after a lifetime without these moments…

I imagine living with you is only going to make me fall more in love with you.

Maybe I'll just have to write you more.

Yours,

Rey

Ben doesn't bother to count how many times he rereads the email. He just keeps going back to the top as soon as he reads her name and starts again. He doesn't stop until he is sure he could repeat every word without looking at the screen.

And then he continues to read the email again, just to make sure.

Rey loves him.

Even with the words clearly on the screen for Ben to see, it's hard for him to believe. He's been in love with Rey since before she moved in. The idea that Rey has felt the same way the entire time doesn't make sense.

Ben is objectively smart. He isn't even shy about his intelligence. In fact any given classmate of his would likely describe him as an insufferable know it all. Rey loving him without Ben catching on for over two years is inconceivable. He would have noticed. He would have seen the signs. Certainly he would--

He reads the email again. And again. And again.

Every time he tries to find a way to read anything into it beyond 'Rey has admitted in three different emails, to various degrees, that she is physically attracted to you and that she is in love with you' he rereads the emails.

He doesn't read any more beyond the three. There are plenty of drafts to him that are unread, but he grasps the threads between them to form the overall picture without needing to read the individual emails.

He feels guilty if he thinks for too long about reading the ones he did. He has information now that he didn't have before. He reasons that it is information that he should have though. Because now that he knows and he thinks to any given memory of Rey, with just a tiny bit of certainty that Rey loves him…

Well it's the easiest thing in the world to see.

When he really thinks about it, Rey doesn't hide the way she loves him, she shines with it. He can see it in the way she smiles at him when he pulls the blanket from the back of the couch and tucks it around her during a movie. Her face soft and warm as she instinctively burrows into the heat.

He can see it in the way she keeps finding reasons to touch his arm when they are walking. Her hand guiding his elbow when she's giving directions. A finger tapping on his wrist when she wants him to follow her gaze. Her arm interlocked with his when she's had just a little too much to drink to still be steady in her heels.

It's certainly the way she trusts that he won't let her fall.

Ben closes the laptop, stretching as he stands. He places the empty coffee mug in the sink, rinsing out the small drops of coffee lingering in the bottom of the glass. The time on the stove clock mocks him.

7:34.

Rey isn't going to be home for hours. She'll go straight from the diner to her final. And he doesn't want to worry her by texting her. Especially when he knows she won't have a lot of time, if any, to text him back.

He isn't even sure what he would say to her.

He could study. He should study. He tries to study, but it's pointless. He can't really focus when at least half of his brain is still focused on Rey's emails.

Ben waits. Impatiently watching the clock and attempting to will time to pass faster. He reads his note cards in between planning the possible ways his conversation with Rey may go when she finally, finally gets home.

It's a long day.

***

Rey glances down at her phone for approximately the millionth time on her walk from the diner to campus. She's almost run into ten different people while walking because she's too focused on her phone and not where she is going.

There are no messages from Ben. No missed calls either.

Maybe Ben didn't see the emails. There's no way Ben would see the draft emails to him and not read them. And if he read them he absolutely would have texted her about them by now.

Right? Right.

Unless he thought that letting her down over a text message or a phone call is too impersonal. Maybe he is just waiting for her to get home to break her heart.

She should have just turned in the paper late. So what if she failed and had to retake the class over the summer and figure out a way to pay for it out of pocket? At least she would still have her best friend.

A drop of water hits Rey's face, Rey looks up from her phone and glares at the darkened sky. She doesn't remember rain being mentioned in the weather forecast, but that hardly matters as it starts raining harder.

Rey checks one more time for any messages before sliding her phone into her bag and running the rest of the way to class. She makes it inside of the building just before a large round of thunder and the rain starts to pour.

She sits at her desk, waiting for the rest of her classmates to show up. She pulls out her phone, debating if she should send Ben a message.

Hey! By now you probably read the emails. This is really embarrassing and obviously I should have deleted them instead of saving them. I'm an idiot. Please let me know when you need me to move out by. Sorry for making this so awkward.

You find two years worth of love letters and you have NOTHING to say to me??????

I assume that if you felt anything similar toward me you would have said something by now. Can we just pretend that you never saw them? I don't want this to change everything.

The professor walks in, handing off the test packets to another student to begin passing around.

There's not enough time for Rey to address any of this with Ben in a message. But she can't stomach the idea of not hearing from him at all before going home.

Rey: Hey! Getting ready to start my final, you never said what you want me to grab for dinner on my way home?

***

Rey hands in her test to her professor with a tight smile and a small wave. She's pretty sure she passed, which at this point, is all she can hope for.

She spent half of the time thinking of different scenarios that could be a possibility when she went back to the apartment. Anything near passing would be fine.

She walks out of the classroom and pulls out her phone. She has two messages from Ben.

Ben: Actually, I was thinking I would make dinner. Something to celebrate your last final.

Ben: Maybe something to distract me from studying.

Rey sighs as she walks toward the exit of the building. Maybe Ben didn't read the draft emails after all. Even if he didn't have feelings for her, surely they'd be enough to at least distract him.

Rey had poured her heart out in some of those emails. She knows there are at least a few where she went on and on about what she thought about Ben's body and the way his hair looked with him growing it out. A few where she made it clear about her thoughts about how kissable his lips looked, how she wondered what his fingers would feel like tracing her curves.

Even if he didn't have feelings for her, certainly he would be distracted by some of those emails.

Maybe she won't go home. Maybe she can avoid Ben long enough that she won't have to find out if he read the emails or not. She won't have to find out if she's ruined one of the best things in her life.

The sun is bright when Rey steps outside. The sidewalks are a darker grey, small puddles pooled around the cracks and uneven slabs.

Rey zips her jacket up, shivering slightly as the wind picks up speed.

She spends most of the walk home trying to fight against her disappointment at the thought that Ben hadn't gone through the emails to him. She had spent so much of her energy imagining Ben breaking it to her that he didn't feel the same way, but a part of her had been hoping that maybe, maybe he felt the same.

The idea that Ben just didn't read the emails was worse.

Maybe Rey should just tell him. Get her feelings out in the open and see what comes from it. There was a chance, a small chance, but still a chance that he felt the same way. Or that he could be open to the idea.

Rey: Sounds good! Need me to stop for anything? Dessert? Wine? Hard alcohol to help with the studying?

Ben doesn't respond until she's almost home.

Ben: No. The only thing missing is you.

***

Ben fidgets with the pen in his hand, twirling it in between his fingers. The pasta is done, the french bread is in the oven.

The only thing that is missing is Rey.

He glances down at his phone to check and see if Rey had responded, but there's no notification. She should be home soon and Ben still doesn't know what he's going to do when he sees her.

He knows what he wants to do. He doesn't want to waste anymore time. He wants to tell her that she's beautiful, because she is, even if she'll fight it because she always complains about how gross she feels after a shift at the diner when she has to head straight to class. She’s always beautiful though, and now he just wants to tell her that. He wants to be able to tell her that when she wakes up in the morning and she’s scrunching her face up against the harshness of the sun sneaking in, or when she is passionate about something and it lights up her entire face.

He wants to tell her that he loves her. That he has been in love with her the entire time too. He’s just not sure how.

It doesn't seem like enough to just say that he loves her. She wrote him fucking love letters. And even though Ben only read three, he knows that there are more and that they are just as lovely and somehow all about her feelings for him. She deserves more than just him saying that he feels the same way.

She deserves to know about the day he realized he was in love with her. She deserves to know about the way the slope of her neck into her shoulder drives him crazy. She deserves to know that he pretends to fall asleep during their movie nights because then she'll fall asleep and curl herself around him on the couch.

The oven beeps and Ben stands from the table, he closes his book, grabbing his note cards and pens and highlighters. He dumps the items into his bedroom, before walking back into the kitchen to pull the french bread out from the oven.

Ben's sliding the bread onto a cutting board, knife in his hand, when the door opens and Rey walks in.

Ben struggles to remember how to breathe as he stares at her. She looks beautiful. But she's nervous, her fingers are playing with the sleeve of her jacket, pulling and twisting at the loose fabric. She shuts the door, taking a step into the kitchen.

She's staring at Ben and he can see it now. She loves him and he can see it. How had he never noticed it before?

Maybe he really was an idiot.

He had spent all day fighting his own nerves, trying to come up with the perfect plan on how to tell Rey that he never thought about what she must have spent the entire day doing.

Obviously, she knew that she sent him into her draft emails and that there was a chance that he would see the emails.

Did she know that he read them? Is that why she is looking at him with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open, as if she is almost about to say something, but she doesn't.

Of course she's worried that he doesn't feel the same way. Why else would she keep writing him draft emails while not saying anything or giving him any real signs about her feelings?

He sets the knife down next to the bread and takes a step toward her.

"Dinner smells good," she says, a little breathless.

Ben doesn't say anything in response, he just takes another step, closing the distance between him. Rey glances up at him, her body tense as she takes a small step back.

Ben reaches out for her, his hand settling against her lower back, gently urging her to come closer to him.

"Ben," she breathes, stepping forward, her hand hovering over his bicep for a second before she commits and rests her hand against the sleeve of his shirt.

"It was the first night you stayed over," Ben says, brushing a stray piece of Rey's hair behind her ear. "It was… two, maybe three months before you moved in. You came over to study. We had dinner first and then you demanded that we watch a movie before we started studying. Something about how our brains needed a break and we'd be better off waiting for a few hours to get started on our all nighter."

Ben smiles, mostly for himself, remembering how cute she had been arguing with him.

"We didn't study," Ben continues, running a finger down her cheek. "You fell asleep twenty minutes into the movie. You looked so peaceful and beautiful and I just… all I could think was about how all I wanted in life was to share it with you. Because I was in love with you."

Rey's expression is soft and a little bewildered as he continues. She turns her head slightly, her lips quickly pressing against his thumb.

"I've been in love with you this entire time. I'm sorry I was too scared to tell you. I was nervous… I am nervous that I'm going to ruin this. I love you and I know, Rey, I know that nothing is ever going to change that. I'm going to love you forever. I can feel it in my bones. Be with me? I know it's scary--"

Rey pulls at Ben's shirt until he bends down and she cuts off his sentence by kissing him. Ben sighs against her lips, his eyes closing as he places her free hand on her hips. She deepens the kiss, her tongue running across his, her fingers burying themselves in his hair.

The way Rey feels pressed against him, the pressure of her mouth on his, it's better than he could have imagined.

It's over too soon, Rey breaks the kiss, a large smile spreading across her face. Ben's grin is just as large and toothy. He stares at her for a second, trying to memorize the way she looks in that moment to his brain. Then he pulls her into his chest and kisses her hair.

"I love you too," Rey says after a moment. "And I agree that it is scary. But I want to be with you. It's worth it."

***

Ben's kisses are something Rey could get addicted to. He kisses with his whole body, the way he angles in his legs to brush against hers, the pressure of his thumb pressing into her hip, his fingernails lightly scratching down her spine. And his lips.

God his lips.

She had been right about his lips. They were absolutely made for kissing.

He left kisses all over her face, her cheek, her jaw, just above her eyebrow. Rey tugged at the bottom of his shirt with one hand, the other quickly moving to run along the exposed skin of his stomach.

He is so warm and solid underneath her hand.

Ben pulls away just long enough to pull his shirt off. Rey spends a few seconds taking in the sight of him shirtless, his eyes darker than she has ever seen them as he watches her watch him.

"You're so gorgeous," she says because she can. Then she moves to pull her own shirt off.

The black bra, which was mostly see through mesh, that she had picked out that morning appears to have been a good choice, judging by the way Ben swallows at the sight, his eyes slowly moving down her body.

He places one hand over her right breast, gently squeezing before taking her nipple and rolling it in between his fingers.

Rey moans, pushing herself forward into his hand, desperate for more friction. he repeats the actions on her left breast and Rey can't control the needy sounds falling from her lips.

Ben pulls away then, dropping his hands to her waist as he takes a step back to put distance between them.

Rey whines, instinctively following after him.

"The food is going to be cold if we don't stop," he explains, nodding at the pasta that's on the counter.

Rey shakes her head, lifting up on her toes to kiss him again.

"Ben," she says, her fingers digging into his shoulder as she tries to find her balance. "I don't give a fuck about the food."

***

Ben groans at Rey's words, helpless to pull away when she's saying things like that and smiling against his lips.

He kisses her, while moving them until her back is pressed against the wall. His fingers making quick work of the button on her jeans.

This is going too fast. He knows that he should stop, that they should eat and he should ask her to go on an actual date, or to be his girlfriend, or fuck, his wife, whatever she wants.

But he can't stop kissing her. And judging by the way she's trying to undo his belt, she doesn't want to stop either. It's hard to argue against the side of his brain begging him to give into the pleasure and to take her into his room when she's pushing his pants and boxers down just enough to run her fingers down his cock.

"Rey, look at me," he begs, his hand grips the corner of the wall as he fails to stop his hips from pushing forward. The way Rey's hands feel wrapped around him, moving at a slow and steady pace as she raises her eyes to his face. Her hand picks up speed, and her eyes slightly narrow in concentration, like she's trying to decipher every twitch of his face so she can make him do it again is too much.

"Yeah, Ben?" Rey says as an answer, her eyes not leaving his. She looks like the picture of innocence as she holds his gaze, her eyes full of love, her cheeks slightly pink, and her lips turned up in a smile.

It's difficult to believe that she can keep that expression on her face while giving him the best hand job of his life.

"We should, uh, we should talk," he manages to get out, his grip on the wall tightening. "About all of this and what it means. I don't want… we don't have to rush into anything. We have time."

Rey's hand stops moving and if Ben was capable of holding on to more than a few of his brain cells he would have been embarrassed at the way he kept moving his hips long after she stopped.

She holds his chin in her other hand, tilting his head down so she can look directly into his eyes before she leans up. The kiss is chaste and short, it leaves Ben wanting more.

"I don't want to talk," she says, moving her hand down his length again. "I don't want to wait either Ben," he shudders at the combination of her words and the way she twists her hand around the head of his penis. "I just want you."

***

Ben doesn't say anything, he tilts his head and looks at Rey like he's trying to decide what he did to deserve her and what he wants to do next. He's all action once he's made up his mind.

He places his hand on top of Rey's, and Rey pumps him faster, feeling emboldened by the feel of Ben's hands on hers. He moves her hand away off of him, pinning it above her head and against the wall.

"Ben," Rey sighs, half heartedly fighting against his hold, "I wasn't done--"

Rey stops talking while she watches Ben push down his pants to the floor. He picks her up and Rey wraps her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist.

Heat pools in her stomach when he starts to walk them towards his room. His mouth is on her again. Ben's room is only about 30 steps away from the kitchen, but it seems to take forever before Ben finally makes it to his door.

Ben holds her against the door, carefully shifting her in his arms so that he can move one hand from her to open the door. Rey uses that as an opportunity to suck at the skin just below his jaw. The arm wrapped around her tightens and Rey can hear Ben's sharp intake of breath once she's moved her lips away.

So she does it again to the skin below his ear, just to see if she gets the same reaction from him.

Ben carefully sets her down on his bed. He settles his knees on either side of her and bends down to kiss her. His mouth is hot and desperate against hers as he unclasps her bra. Rey leans back on the bed and helps him slide the straps down her arms.

Rey lifts her hips up so Ben can remove her underwear and jeans. She runs her fingers along the edge of his hip bone.

"You're beautiful," Ben says, his voice lower than Rey has heard it before. He drags his thumb along the curve of her breast and across her nipple. "You're so beautiful Rey--" his fingers trail down along her waist and stomach until he barely grazes her clit with the pad of his finger.

But it's enough to send small tendrils of pleasure throughout her body. He moves lower, running a finger through the wetness at her opening. She nods at the questioning look he gives her.

He pushes a finger inside of her, curling it up as he sets a slow, leisurely pace with his movements. Rey moans, trying to urge him on to go faster.

"Ben, please," Rey begs, though she isn't quite sure what she's asking him to do. "I need more."

Ben drops to his knees, hooking Rey's legs over his shoulder. He adds another finger, picking up speed while he places wet kisses on her thighs and hip bone. His nose brushes against her clit when he moves his head to pay attention to the other side of her body.

Rey whines, lifting her hips to try to find something to give her friction where she needs it most. Ben grins into her thigh.

"You're a tease," Rey huffs. "An absolute damn tease and I need--"

"I know what you need," Ben whispers, his breath hot on her center and then he finally, finally lowers his mouth to her clit.

Rey's brain ceases to function when he sucks and pleasure washes over her body. She lifts her hips up and she's only slightly annoyed when Ben's hand pushes her back down to the bed.

Ben works her up easily. He isn't shy about trying different things, and the way he manages to work his tongue with his fingers and his mouth is magic.

Rey threads her fingers in his hair, she tugs on the strands as he brings her closer and closer to the edge.

"Ben," Rey whimpers, her back arching. She's fairly confident the grip she has on his hair is actually painful, but she can't bring herself to let go and Ben doesn't seem to mind. At least, it isn't stopping him from devouring her.

She doesn't want to come yet. She wants to stay in this moment forever. She needs it to last longer so she can commit the way her nerves are buzzing with pleasure and her heart is swelling with love and comfort to her memory.

Ben sucks harder. The hand on her stomach moves up and he is pinching her nipple and she comes.

He works her through her orgasm. His mouth and tongue slowing their movements against her clit until she swats at his head.

"Too sensitive," she mutters, her eyes still closed. He laughs against her skin, resting his chin just above her pubic bone.

Rey leans up, pressing her elbows into the mattress. "Hi," she says, grinning down at him.

"Hi." Ben sounds a little breathless, but he matches her smile and presses a kiss against her skin.

His hair is a mess and Rey's stomach swoops with the knowledge that she did that. She's the reason this gorgeous man was out of breath and his usually perfectly tousled hair was all out of place.

He moves up her body, running his tongue along her exposed skin until his head is hovering just over her own.

"I love you," he says. And if it were possible Rey knows that he would be able to see her heart beat out of her chest.

His face is so open and honest it surprises Rey. Because she knows that he said he loved her earlier, but there's still a part of her that isn't sure that he can mean it.

But then he looks at her with such adoration in his eyes and she's not sure how she could doubt him.

"I love you too," she says, beaming up at him as he closes the distance between them.

She can taste herself on his lips, but she isn't complaining as he opens his mouth to deepen the kiss.

"Condom?" she asks, breaking the kiss before placing smaller kisses along his jaw.

He nods, moving off of her and moving to the other edge of the bed. He opens the top drawer of his nightstand and pulls out a condom. Rey just watches as he tears open the wrapper, pinches the tip of the condom and rolls it down his length.

"Come here," he says and Rey rolls over and makes her way to Ben. She settles herself over him, resting her hands on his shoulders and sinks down on him.

Ben let's her set the pace, but he meets her thrust for thrust and it makes Rey clench against him. He feels so good inside of her, and then he uses his hands, dragging them down on her spine, across her chest, down her stomach until he reaches her clit and he presses down and Rey starts to see stars. Her movements above him stutter and she knows she isn't going to last long if he keeps that up.

"That's it," he says, "Are you going to come for me?" He puts more pressure on his finger, drawing small circles on her clit.

Rey sighs his name, squeezing her nails into his shoulder. He's taken over, controlling the speed of her thrusts as she just let's him, too lost in the pleasure pulsing through her veins.

"Ben," she groans when his mouth wraps around her nipple, his teeth sharp against her skin.

She comes when he bites down, her vision blurring. He keeps fucking into her chasing his own orgasm.

He comes silently, his breath hot on her neck. Rey catches her breath, enjoying the way Ben can't keep his hands still. He runs his hands over her collarbone, a finger trailing across her jawline, another down her spine.

She rolls off of him once she feels like she can take a full breath without immediately trying to suck in another. He moves around, removing the condom and tossing it into a trash can near his bed.

Rey is glad to discover that her head does fit into the crook of his neck just like she imagined. She tastes the salt on his skin when she leaves an opened mouth kiss to his shoulder. She wraps her arm around his chest and curls herself around him.

"So, you read the emails then?" Rey asks with a small laugh.

Ben kisses her head. "I read three of them, yeah."

"Just three?"

Ben sighs, his fingers continuing to run across her body as if he can't get enough of her skin. "I felt bad. Reading through emails you didn't send me, it felt like I was invading your privacy."

"I'm glad you did," Rey admits, pulling him closer to her. "Otherwise we might not be here."

Ben hums, his chest vibrating underneath her hand. "You have a point."

"Which ones did you read?"

"Um," Ben hesitates. Rey can feel his heartbeat pick up pace. "A recent one about me working out? And then the one on my birthday and the first one."

"Those were good ones," Rey laughs. "You could have read the other ones."

"You could send them to me." Ben drags his fingers through her hair. "I don't want you to hide from me anymore."

"Maybe I will," Rey teases. "Now that I know you might feel the same way about me."

"I do feel the same way," Ben amends her words. "I'm crazy about you. I've been crazy about you."

"But will you be tomorrow?" Rey asks, hating how needy her voice sounds to her own ears. "And the next day?"

"Always," Ben answers. There's no hesitancy to his answer.

"Always is a long time," Reys says, kissing his neck. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I never do," Ben promises. "I'm always going to love you."

"Me too," Rey says, her voice heavy with sleep. "I'm always going to love you."

"Maybe tomorrow we can read the rest of them together?" Ben asks.

"Yeah," Rey smiles. "We can do that."

#reylo #reylo fanfic #reylo fanfiction #reylo fic #reylo au #my fic

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brindlestorm · 4 years

Text

My Truth Or Yours?

CH1 | CH2

Tigerclaw was no fool, he knew that some of his clanmates didn’t agree with his methods. There were times he may have been too quick to unsheathe his claws or snarl a taunt when his patrol ran into the neighbouring clans border patrol. But he will swear to the stars that he does it only to protect his clan.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to be better, peace is better than bloodshed after all. Tigerclaw never realized just how extreme Thistleclaw’s mentoring was until Darkstripe became a warrior. Having mentored Darkstripe the same way Thistleclaw had mentored him, he hadn’t quite understood just how bad it was until he saw how Darkstripe would treat his clanmates and then immediately turn to Tigerclaw expecting praise or support. No doubt Darkstripe learned that from himself, which meant that he had learned it from Thistleclaw.

When Bluestar gave him Ravenpaw, she told him privately that she hoped Tigerclaw could shape the easily frightened kit into a more confident warrior by the end of his apprenticeship. Despite what Bluestar asked of him, Tigerclaw knew that he’d be walking a thin line with this one, he wanted to bring out the best in his new apprentice, but he couldn’t do to Ravenpaw what he had done with Darkstripe. Not just because he wanted Ravenpaw to become a respectable warrior, but if he was too aggressive, Ravenpaw would only retreat further into himself. Yes, Ravenpaw would require careful attention, they’d have to work at his pace but Tigerclaw would push him to keep trying things just beyond his comfort level.

It took about four moons, but Tigerclaw had finally managed to form a good mentor-apprentice relationship with Ravenpaw and coaxed him out of his shell somewhat. He was still a little skittish and would occasionally flinch during battle training, but they could share a few good-natured jokes between them.

The only issue was that now that Ravenpaw was more relaxed, he also got distracted more often. Several times now, Tigerclaw had caught Ravenpaw spacing out, watching birds in the sky or nosing around plants, but not in search of prey.

Tigerclaw stalked over to where Ravenpaw was, he was supposed to be tracking the rabbit he scented earlier, but instead he was sniffing curiously around a patch of yellow flowers.

“Ravenpaw, how do you expect to feed the clan with a bunch of leaves?” Tigerclaw growled lowly, “The trail will go stale by the time you get your head out of the clouds!”

Ravenpaw jumped. “S-sorry Tigerclaw! I just noticed that there’s a patch of goldenrod and maybe Spottedleaf could use some for her stores...” Ravenpaw hung his head in shame, “I’m sorry Tigerclaw, I’ll do better.”

Tigerclaw sighed and beckoned his apprentice closer, “I’m not upset Ravenpaw, but you need to focus on your training, you want to be a warrior with your brother, don’t you?”

It didn’t go unnoticed by Tigerclaw when Ravenpaw hesitated before nodding earnestly. “Ravenpaw... You do want to be a warrior, right? Are you interested in plants because...?”

Another thing he probably learned from Thistleclaw, though many warriors seem to share this sentiment. What was so interesting about plants and berries? Sure it's important, medicine cats are the most respected cats in a clan next to the leader, but how could a life in a stuffy den filled with plants be appealing when they could be patrolling borders and providing for their clan?

Ravenpaw’s stuttered mew broke him out of his thoughts.

“Well, I don’t really know? I do enjoy hunting and learning battle moves with you, I just... also like learning about medicine? Sometimes I like to stop by Spottedleaf’s den when she has patients to see what she’s doing, but I swear it's nothing more than that! I’ll keep training with you, I promise! I’ll-”

Tigerclaw gently placed his paw on Ravenpaw’s head to get him to stop talking, clearly he was about to spiral into an anxiety attack and Tigerclaw really didn’t want to deal with that again, not after all the progress they made to stop them.

“Ravenpaw, there is no shame in wanting to be a medicine cat. Though I do ask you to consider this carefully, the role of a medicine cat is a great honour, but it also requires personal sacrifice and it will take you a lot longer to earn your full name.”

Ravenpaw let out a breath, relieved that Tigerclaw wasn’t angry with him.

“That being said, focus on your warrior training for now, it won’t be long until it's time for your trip to the Moonstone. Perhaps while you’re there you can ask Starclan if you’re calling is to be a medicine cat instead, I’m sure it won’t be the first time an apprentice made such a realization and had to switch.”

“Yes Tigerclaw, I... That sounds good, should I mention this to Spottedleaf or...?” Ravenpaw asked hesitantly.

Tigerclaw shrugged, “If you want, but for now lets go catch that rabbit, hmm? Can you tell where it went?”

Ravenpaw jumped to his paws eagerly, scattering leaves and loose rocks with his excitement, though he quickly shrunk into a stalking position when Tigerclaw glared at him good-naturedly for alerting the nearby prey.

Great Starclan, if this apprentice made any more noise, he’ll end up chasing the rabbit straight into the paws of a moor-runner! _______________________________________________________________

Somehow, they managed to catch up to the rabbit near the Shadowclan border, now Ravenpaw was slowly creeping up on it. It was a large one, clearly alert for predators as its ears were twitching constantly. Tigerclaw made sure to remind Ravenpaw that he’d need to be silent if he wanted to catch it. Hopefully he would, it could feed all the elders and then some if they were lucky enough to catch it.

Ravenpaw got about a fox lengths away, in prime position to leap and catch the rabbit, but he flinched as a monster came barrelling down the thunderpath not too far away. The rabbit remained unstartled, used to the sound of monsters it seemed.

Ravenpaw glanced at Tigerclaw, hoping for a nod or a signal that it would still be alright to try and catch it after the disturbance. Just before Ravenpaw could pounce though, a familiar tortoiseshell lunged at the rabbit, killing it with a neat bite to the back of its neck.

Tigerclaw slunk over to his apprentice, “Bad luck, it’s not your fault though, you couldn’t have known Redtail would be there.” He murmured in his apprentice's ear.

The pair watched silently as Redtail started dragging the rabbit towards a bush, probably where he had left his other catches, Tigerclaw mused.

“Should we offer to help him carry his prey?” Ravenpaw whispered to his mentor.

Tigerclaw thought for a moment, it would certainly be a kind gesture considering the deputy had caught his apprentice’s prey that he tracked from Snake Rocks, but on the other paw...

“I have a better idea Ravenpaw, how quietly do you think you can climb that tree over there? I think it’s about time you learned how to follow an enemy from above.” ________________________________________________________________

The two snuck away as quietly as they could, and despite Tigerclaw’s lumbering form and Ravenpaw’s tendency to step on twigs, they managed to retreat far enough to scramble up their own trees without being noticed.

From their perches high above, they watched curiously as Redtail pulled three more large rabbits out from under the bush, dragging them one at a time closer to the Thunderpath.

“What do you think he’s doing?” Ravenpaw whispered.

Tigerclaw’s eyes narrowed, what was their deputy doing?

Redtail paused at the edge of the Thunderpath, glancing around before darting under the bush he had pulled the rabbits out from. The mentor and apprentice stayed still as they waited for Redtail to come out and retrieve the rabbits.

The sun had climbed steadily into the sky and there was still no sign of Redtail returning for the rabbits.

“Maybe he went hunting for more prey?” Ravenpaw suggested as Tigerclaw got up to stretch.

“Perhaps,” Tigerclaw mused. “Head on back to camp, Ravenpaw. Catch something for the queens on your way, I’m sure Frostfur would appreciate something fresh if the hunting patrols aren’t already back.”

Ravenpaw’s ear twitched curiously. “I thought we were going to wait for Redtail? Didn’t you want me to practice my-”

“Training is over for the day, you’ll get your chance to surprise Redtail another time, I promise.” Tigerclaw said firmly.

“Oh well, are you going to wait for him then? That’s a lot of rabbits, should I grab one to help out or...?”

“Just get going Ravenpaw, Redtail and I will handle it.”

Ravenpaw, sensing that Tigerclaw was close to losing his patience, turned tail and darted down the tree, quickly disappearing into the undergrowth.

Tigerclaw settled back onto his tree branch, he had no intentions of leaving until he knew exactly why Redtail would leave so much prey in plain view of the Thunderpath. ________________________________________________________________

Ravenpaw was cleaning his whiskers after catching his shrew, it was small but he had already caught a mouse and a vole. Peering through the trees, he noted that it was almost sundown. He found enough to hopefully satisfy Tigerclaw, he could probably return to camp now but it might not be enough, not after losing the rabbit he and Tigerclaw followed all the way to the Thunderpath.

Ravenpaw thought for a moment, if he buried his last catch now, he could get back to the Thunderpath and surprise both him and Redtail! If he could pull it off, surely Tigerclaw would be proud of him then!

Quickly jumping to his paws, Ravenpaw hurriedly scraped a shallow hole in the earth to drop his shrew into. Then he rushed up the trunk of the nearest tree and made the quiet journey back to the thunderpath from above ground. ________________________________________________________________

Tigerclaw was dozing on his branch, starting to think Redtail might just be hare-brained and wasn’t worth waiting for when the bushes started rustling on the other side of the Thunderpath, revealing a Shadowclan patrol.

Blackfoot nimbly crossed the thunderpath, the others following quickly with ease. “So Redtail, I see you found Shadowclan some rabbits. Good job, we’ll take them from here.”

Tigerclaw bristled and prepared to leap down on top of the Shadowclan deputy. How dare he openly steal Thunderclan prey! From our deputy no less, I’ll show him!

“Just take it and go. The less time you spend stinking up our territory the better.” Redtail growled back, not moving to step away from the prey but not moving to defend it either.

Tigerclaw watched through narrow eyes as each of the Shadowclan intruders stepped forward to take a rabbit, Clawface paused and instead turned to Redtail.

Slowly and deliberately, Clawface bent his head down and rubbed it against Redtail’s cheek, taking his time as if he was greeting an old friend.

Redtail closed his eyes and breathed deeply, and then in turn, he bumped his head against Clawface’s chest for a moment, hardly enough to touch, but very clear meant to show affection.

Clawface swooped down and picked up the rabbit. “It's been good seeing you again, Redtail. May Starclan light your path.”

"And yours as well," Redtail mewed, "you all best be on your way now before the dusk patrol arrives. I'll deal with the scents you left behind."

Nodding to his fellow deputy, Blackfoot flicked his tail and darted back across with his rabbit, the others following close behind. Redtail wasted no time, grimacing as he pushed around a load of fox dung he had collected before the Shadowclan warriors had arrived, effectively hiding their scent. Tigerclaw wouldn’t be surprised if the dusk patrol came back reporting fox scent at the Shadowclan border that night with how much Redtail spread about.

Having seen enough, Tigerclaw nimbly hopped along the branches a few tree-lengths. How am I supposed to tell Bluestar any of this? Should I confront Redtail first?

Climbing down the tree, Tigerclaw was wrapped up in his thoughts, not realizing where he was until he came across the Great Sycamore tree, where Ravenpaw was waiting for him, tail twitching nervously as he tried to keep his small prey pile stacked neatly.

“Well done, Ravenpaw. I didn’t expect to find you still hunting, this will be enough for the queens and elders combined!” Tigerclaw rumbled approvingly.

Ravenpaw looked ready to jump out of his fur when Tigerclaw spoke, what had spooked him? Tigerclaw was sure Ravenpaw had heard him approaching, he certainly wasn’t trying to be quiet as he walked.

“O-oh! Thanks Tigerclaw...” Ravenpaw trailed off, he looked like he wanted to say something else but his jaw stayed firmly shut.

Tigerclaw sighed and picked up a few pieces of the prey his apprentice caught, the pair walked back to camp at an agonizingly slow pace. Tigerclaw was just about ready to drop the prey altogether and interrogate his apprentice when Ravenpaw spoke.

“Tigerclaw, is there somewhere quiet we can talk? I... I have something I need to tell you.”

Tigerclaw flicked his tail and swerved to the left, carefully sniffing around the base of a tree before heading down into the abandoned den beneath the roots.

Ravenpaw followed and set down the prey, staring nervously at his paws.

“Well? Spit it out Ravenpaw, we don’t have all day.” Tigerclaw said gruffly.

“Well I.... I’m sorry Tigerclaw.” Ravenpaw mewed quietly, “I know you told me to hunt for the queens on my way back but I really wanted to surprise you with my tree stalking.”

Tigerclaw’s eyes narrowed, “Ravenpaw, what are you getting at?”

“I went back to the Shadowclan border,” Ravenpaw confessed. “I thought maybe I’d be able to catch you and Redtail by surprise, I wanted to impress you...”

“I saw Redtail talking to those Shadowclan cats, they looked.... Very friendly with each other.”

Tigerclaw inhaled sharply, “Ravenpaw, you disobeyed direct orders! Not only that, we don’t even know what Redtail was doing, what we know could be very dangerous.”

“Am I in trouble again?” Ravenpaw mewed.

“..... No.” Tigerclaw said, “I can’t go to Bluestar with what we saw until we have more information, even if you were there with me, it's us against the clan deputy. She’d never believe us.”

Ravenpaw deflated a little, unsure if he should be glad that he wasn’t going to be punished or troubled by the fact that they can’t go to Bluestar about Redtail’s actions.

“For all we know, Redtail is acting under Bluestar’s orders to appease Shadowclan without spilling blood.” Tigerclaw continued, pacing around the den now, agitatedly flicking his tail as he tried to reason more with himself than his apprentice as to why Redtail would be working with the enemy.

“For now, you are not to say a word about this to anyone, do you understand me?” Tigerclaw said, whirling around on his apprentice.

Ravenpaw nodded mutely, pressing himself against the wall of the dens in fear.

“I need you to promise me Ravenpaw, you can’t tell anyone, not even Dustpaw. Especially not Dustpaw, okay? Can you do that?”

“I’ll keep it a secret Tigerclaw, I swear.”

“Good,” Tigerclaw said, stepping back. “Good, now let’s that get this back to camp, you go straight to your nest, alright?”

Ravenpaw nodded once more, snatching up his prey and clambered out of the den and back into the forest. The two walked back to camp at a slow pace, neither one daring to try to talk again. ________________________________________________________________

Doing as he was told, Ravenpaw deposited his prey on the pile and went to his den, carrying a small mouse with him to eat before he went to sleep.

Tigerclaw set down his prey as well, about to ask the queens if they were hungry when the hairs on his pelt began to raise when he saw Redtail approaching him.

“Tigerclaw! There you are, the dusk patrol just made their report. Fox scents have been found by the Shadowclan border, I don’t want any of the apprentices training near there until they’ve learned a few moves to take on a fox, understand?”

“Ah, uh yes Redtail. I’ll be on the lookout. How fresh was the scent? I didn’t smell anything there when I was with Ravenpaw earlier.”

Redtail eyed him suspiciously, “Fresh enough, stick to the Tallpines for now, Thunderclan can’t afford to lose any apprentices right now.”

“As you wish, now if you’ll excuse me I’m rather tired. I think I’ll retire early tonight.” Tigerclaw replied, paws itching to get away from the deputy.

How strange, he mused. Just yesterday I would have laughed at him telling me to be careful and now I can barely stand to look at him.

Redtail nodded, “Dismissed, get some rest Tigerclaw. I’ll see you and Ravenpaw on the dawn patrol in the morning, we’ll be taking the Twolegplace border.”

Tigerclaw just flicked his ear in response and hurried to the warriors den. Could Redtail be suspicious of him already? Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned he was in the area.

Whatever the case was, Tigerclaw would be keeping a close eye on the young deputy. Something had to be done about him, should he prove to be a traitor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Done! That took way too long, lol. Anyway, this is actually my first piece ever for the warriors fandom! Its about eight pages and a bit, writer’s block kept me from writing as often as I wanted to, otherwise this would have been done sooner.

Hope you all enjoyed it!

#brindle writes #my truth or yours #redtail #tigerclaw #ravenpaw #blackfoot #clawface

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theramseyloft · 4 years

Note

Hi, I have a very broad question. what can you generally expect from the experience of having a pet pigeon? I know a bit about parrots and their relatives, enough to know that I would not be able to give them the time they deserve for a good home. pigeons are not as smart as parrotkind, but are they as social? as loud? do they require the same amount of work? in short, what are you getting yourself into when you adopt a pigeon? I’ve always loved the idea, but don’t want to be neglectful.

The long and short of it is that you are more forging an interspecies friendship than adopting a pet.

I’m noise sensitive. I can’t be around anything too loud or pitchy with out tremendous pain, so the low cooing of pigeons makes them an ideal fit for me.

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youtube

Here are a few minutes of my flock enjoying breakfast and conversing, for reference.

A single pet pigeon does not require the same amount of manual work in cleaning and food prep as a psitticine.

They don’t like the cluttered environment that psitticines need as enrichment. They can’t climb. Flight and walking are their only two modes of transportation, so they prefer a clear air space to move around in, with perches spaced well apart.

Basic physical needs are simple.

Pigeons are strict granivores. Seeds are all they can digest, so a wild bird seed with a good, varied blend is a decent start that can be bolstered with unpopped popcorn, dried lentils, and split green peas.

Calcium can be administered for a few pets through drops in their water, dust over their daily feed (reptical purchased from a pet shop, or cuttlebone grit by a cheese grater), or oyster shell offered in its own dish, which ever is easiest for you.

Pigeons are intensely social, so a cage for them should be more like a wire crate is for a dog: a safe place for them to sleep at night or wait while you aren’t available to supervise them until they have learned the house rules.

And speaking of wire crates for dogs, they are easy to modify, and make a comfortable enclosure for a single house pigeon that’s kind to your wallet and bird.

These are labrador sized dog kennels with a garden stake used for a perch (pigeons are cliff nesters. round perches hurt their feet.) and a rabbit corner litter pan hung up as a nest.

If you have a bigger breed, like a King, in mind, it would be best to seek out a great dane sized wire kennel and mod it.

Pigeons enjoy splashy baths, swings, mirrors, and anything stick-shaped, shiny, and/or jingly, but most of the enrichment they really need is social.

They can be very happy with an attentive human partner, with out needing to be on you all the time.

They like having the option to come see you and hang out, and go do their own thing when they want time to themselves, so free roaming at least in their handler’s room if not the entire house is ideal.

Pigeons are exactly as smart as parrots. They just have a different skill set and can’t mimic speech.

Pigeons are highly cooperative pattern mapping social learners, about as smart as a five year old human.

Pigeon flocks are democratic meritocracies.

Every bird that can fly has a say in what they do when they go foraging, and they decide by vote.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2010/04/100416214045.htm

Birds earn their place as leaders by proving they are the best at that specific task, be it finding food, water, nest material, or navigating back home.

If some one else proves they are better, the flock will demote their former leader by choosing to follow the new one who has proven themself.

https://www.audubon.org/news/in-homing-pigeon-flocks-bad-bosses-quickly-get-demoted

they are capable of high level cognition.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/02/090212141143.htm

because their brains are wired very similarly to ours.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/07/130717095336.htm

They recognize faces like we do

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2011/04/110411171847.htm

show superior self recognition to three year old humans

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2008/06/080613145535.htm

They categorize like we do

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2014/04/140402095107.htm

Learn the equivalent of words by the same mechanic as human toddlers

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2015/02/150204184447.htm

They can even learn written words with enough nuance to differentiate a real word from an acronym with the same number of letters.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2016/09/160919111535.htm

And they understand the abstracts of time and space, using the same regeon of the brain that humans and primates do.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2017/12/171204144805.htm

The relationship with a pigeon is a lot closer to friendship with a nonverbal child than the typical owner/pet dynamic.

Their social structure is so similar to an extended human family that individuals socialized with humans integrate easily into a human flock.

The way they pattern map makes them adept at picking up language.

If you talk them through everything like you would a toddler that doesn’t know those words yet, they will pick them up.

For example, “You like chasing that ball?” tells them the object they are interacting with is a ball and the action is chasing.

“I feel sick/sad/angry/happy” will help him learn the words for your moods and states of well being.

Pigeons are smart and socially conscious enough to draw parallels between yours and their own, largely on their own.

Because their flocks are democratic meritocracies, pigeons innately understand the concept of consent and are capable of expressing what they want, once they work out what indication you can understand.

If you make a habit of telling the bird that you need to do something that may be unpleasant for the sake of their well being (like going to the vet, or untangling a hair from their toes), doing that as quickly as possible, and releasing them immediately afterwards, and only asking what the bird wants when they have the option to decline, you and your pigeon can work out a means of answering yes and no and indicating their choice.

They are smart enough to learn house rules as well as a dog or cat, provided you are consistent enough.

My Assistance Pigeon free roams my house like a puppy. Even taught himself to try to poop on tile, where it’s easiest to clean up.

There is some difference in the personalities of cocks and hens.

Cocks build friendships primarily through rivalry, and their affection is very pinchy and aggressive.

People often think a human-social cock is antagonizing them because he dislikes them, when what he is actually doing is trying to impress them with his strength and tenacity, the way he would a hen he was courting.

You can wrestle them back with out fear of hurting them.

When you want the game to finish, just relax your hand and move it where ever he pushes or pulls, until he finds the position he wants.

Hens tend to be more cuddly and clingy than cocks.

Check out @tinysaurus-rex, @birdgeppetto, @sensitive-pigeon, and @katskip and ask them about life with their pigeon house mates.

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datenightfright · 4 years

Text

Bastian

The shrill voice of Mrs. Cherish Blackmire rings through the cold room with clarity few can achieve. “Get up you lazy pig!” Bastian, up and dressed long before she comes to his door. He opens up immediately. “What took you so long?” She asks. He doesn’t answer, not that she expected one. She turns from him in disgust and begins to walk down the servants hall. He follows immediately, listening carefully to her instructions. “The roses need watering, the lilacs and lupines need weeding, the herb garden is in desperate need of fertilizing, and I want my arrangements done before noon.”

He nodded as she continued her list. The rhododendrons needed to be moved, she wanted the willow tree needed the moss scraped off it, and for Maker’s Sake please washe the statues, they’re getting grimy. “Did you get all of that pig?”

“Yes Mrs. Blackmire.” He says as quietly as possible so as not to startle her delicate senses. She hmph’s and turns back to him, “Don’t forget tonight is a very important night for me.” He nods, not daring to speak. They stand there for a few moments. “Well, get on with it! Don’t be lazy!” Bastian doesn’t hesitate and rushes to the garden.

If there was one thing in life Bastian had to be proud of, it was Blackmire Garden. Though the family didn’t want to admit it, he’d transformed a veritable wasteland into an oasis of greenery. Homegrown flowers to exotic plants, fountains to stop at, topiaries and statues to admire, a maze of carefully clipped bushes, trees to provide shaded areas for picnics. Birds flitted through the leaves, squirrels danced on the branches, there was even a rabbit or two if you looked closely. Yes, he was proud of the Blackmire Gardens indeed.

Bastian gets to work on his list of chores. With practiced hands he waters, weeds, and washes. The sun overhead gleams, making him the warmest he will be all day. He enjoys working in the heat of the sun, sweating, getting his hands dirty. It’s relaxing to him, he feels that’s why he’s succeeded in this place and failed in others.

He break for lunch once the flower arranging is finished. He enters the kitchen long after all the other servants have left. They often look at him with jealousy when he eats. It wasn’t that he got better fare, it was that he got more than they did, much more. He couldn’t help the fact that he was half-orc, thus did most of the heavy lifting for the Blackmires. The other half-orcs his masters had got the same amount of food he did, but they worked the fields and this ate at different times, in different places. He was the only one to work inside with the other servants.

He eats his share, savoring the gruel and salted pork for last, as they were his favorites, and then went off to work once more. Washing the statues wasn’t such a hard job, the grime comes away from the surface with ease, it was just the sheer amount of statues he had to clean that took the longest.

Even so, it’s well before dusk when he finishes his last task. He goes to his mistress, careful not to be seen by the others of the house, for more instructions. He found her, as he often did on days when she was planning a great feast, in the dining hall. She had no work for him, which meant he had the rest of the day off. He knew better than to stay in his quarters in the servants wing, they would talk, and eventually get him in trouble. He went, as quietly as he could, to young Ms. Blackmire’s window.

Hiding in the bushes he listens closely, closing his eyes as he listens. Ms. Blackmire had a soft, delicate disposition, and loved poetry just as much as Bastian did. She read it aloud daily to her cat, and whenever he could, he listened to her.

Poetry was the single most beautiful thing to Bastian in all the world. No sound, no sight, no smell, touch, or taste could move him like poetry did. As he listens to her recite line after line of love poetry, he allows himself to dream. He dreams of a world where a beast like himself can read and write. Where he could compose his own poetry. Where it was read world wide, by people just like young Ms. Blackmire.

#bastian #half-orc #my ocs #the blackmires

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wildlyminiaturesandwich · 5 years

Photo

G’day everyone!

Thanks to the EA Game Changers Program, last Sunday SimGurus Jill, Morgan and Geoff hosted a super secret private live stream for those of us in the program who weren’t able to attend EA Play and I am so excited to finally be able to share all the information I learned about Island Living and the upcoming free patch with you guys!

I don’t have any new screenshots or gameplay to show you but I did take pages and pages of notes so I’ve spent the better part of today trying to condense those down and put them in order so that you guys can have a look over them and read about some of the amazing new stuff that’s coming in this pack.

Just be aware that because we weren’t able to take screenshots or record the stream, all I had to refer to while putting this all in a post is my own notes and while I did my best to simultaneously listen carefully, write everything down, fend off my cats, and stop myself falling asleep... I could have easily missed something or some information could be wrong because it was 4am in the morning and my cats get bitey when I don’t pay attention to them lol You should definitely check out some of the other Game Changers posts and videos to see if they have any information I missed too!

SO! All that being said, I’m going to put this all under a cut because it’s long and also because spoilers!

If you have any questions about Island Living, I can’t promise that I’ll know or be allowed to tell you the answer, but my inbox is always open and it never hurts to ask anyway 😊

ENJOY!

New World - Sulani

🌴 The beautiful tropical Sulani contains 14 lots spread out over 3 island neighbourhoods: - Ohan’Ali is a town/commercial area containing 6 lots. Festivals/Events take place every day in town, keep an eye out for balloons to find out where - Lani St. Taz is an upscale residential area containing 5 lots - Mua Pel’Am is a Natural Island containing 3 lots. There is also a beautiful (and useful) waterfall and possibly a hidden cave but shhh, it’s a secret!

🌴 All lots are fully editable and can be changed to any lot type you want 🌴 There’s a new Beach venue type 🌴 The weather in Sulani is generally pretty mild, but if you have Seasons installed you may get the occasional tropical storm

Traits + Aspirations

LOT TRAITS

🌴 Volcanic activity - Can be used on any lot - Causes lava bombs to fall on the lot - Lava bombs can catch your sim on fire if they touch them too much while they’re still hot - Once cooled lava bombs can be broken open and looted or turned into decorative objects

🌴 Off the Grid - Free base game trait to be added in an upcoming patch - Your sims bills will be lower BUT most electronics will not work on lots with this trait and you will have limited internet access - Objects in the buy catalogue will display “Off the Grid Functionality” if they can be used on this lot. Eg there is a new sink in Island Living that looks like a sort of natural spring water pump, it’s perfect for off the grid lots

🌴 Clothing optional - Free base game trait to be added in an upcoming patch - Sims will react differently depending on traits. Eg. Self-assured sims will be more willing to strip off than sims with other traits like Childish

ASPIRATION

🌴 Beach Life - This sim wants to take it slow and enjoy the beach life

SIM TRAITS

🌴 Child of the Ocean - Answer the call of the ocean! Sims with this trait will prefer water related activities and feel closer to their denizens of the sea. 🌴 Child of the Island - These sims experience a spiritual connection to the islands of Sulani. Honor the islands by partaking in their culture, summon powerful elementals and reap the rewards of their blessings — or the consequences of their disfavour. 🌴 Sim trait randomization will also be added to the game in a free upcoming patch!

Careers

🌴 Fishing/Diving Career - Fishing will also be getting a big update (I think in the upcoming free patch). There will be new fish to collect, a fish trap, a high skill cast, re-tuning and new fishing spots in lots of worlds

🌴 Lifeguard

🌴 In an upcoming patch, all teen part-time careers will be made available for all ages

Gameplay + Activities

MERMAIDS!!!

🌴 Sims can become mermaids via gameplay or you can make one in CAS (they are under the occult life states menu) 🌴 There are a ton of new customization options for mermaids in CAS, including eyes, tail shapes and textures, teeth, tops that match the tails. 🌴 Instead of a hygiene bar, mermaids have a hydration bar that will slowly drop the longer they are out of water 🌴 Mermaids who spend too long out of water might get a cramp, or a sudden chill, or get very tired if their hydration becomes too low 🌴 You can raise their hydration by having them drink a glass of water, take a shower, go out in the rain, splash about under a waterfall, or have a bath 🌴 If your mermaid decides to have a bath (even a bubble bath) their tail will reappear and hang over the side of the tub! 🌴 There was no mention of whether or not mermaids tails reappear when they’re in a pool but I would assume so? 🌴 Mermaids can give birth to Merbabies! 🌴 While Merbabies can be born, Merchildren won’t manifest into their tales and power until they’re teens 🌴 Mermaids have some pretty cool powers - Siren Lullaby - Sing one of the four different siren songs to a human sim to provide them with a moodlet… for good or bad is up to you - Summon Ocean Threat - Will drag a sim underwater and drain the needs of a human sim to a dangerously low level. If done on a sim with already low needs, this may lead to death - If you have Seasons installed, your mermaid can summon a thunderstorm - There are more but they didn’t have time to show us them all

🌴 Using powers will drain your mermaids hydration quicker 🌴 Mermaids have their own cool little plumbob, similar to aliens and vampires 🌴 If you’re sick of being a Mermaid (we can’t be friends anymore), you can find some special kelp to help you with that

OCEAN SWIMMING

🌴 Sims can now swim in the ocean! 🌴 Ocean swimming is only possible in Sulani, not other worlds BUT the Gurus did say that extending ocean swimming to the rest of the worlds is not off the table just yet and may come at a later date. They just really wanted to nail it for Island Living before even thinking about making it possible in other worlds. 🌴 Toddlers can’t swim (obviously) but there are little shallow areas of the ocean they can sit in and splash around 🌴 If you have Cats & Dogs installed your pets will also be able to swim in the ocean 🌴 Sims will receive moodlets depending on what’s happening while they swim. Eg. If they see a shark, or a beautiful sunset 🌴 Sometimes while your sims are in the ocean, they might think they see a shark… they might be right, they might not. Either way, I wouldn’t stick around to find out!

SNORKELING + SCUBA DIVING

🌴 Sims can snorkel around Sulani’s reefs and shallows 🌴 Snorkeling is fully animated 🌴 Sims can also scuba dive by clicking on a buoy and paying the fee for scuba gear 🌴 Scuba diving is a rabbit hole activity, there a no animations 🌴 Sims can take photos underwater whilst snorkeling and diving and keep them as souvenirs 🌴 There may be treasures and a secret area to be found whilst diving as well but don’t quote me on that, I was distracted by my cat jumping on my keyboard at the time lol

DOLPHINS

🌴 Your sims can now befriend a dolphin! 🌴 Dolphins can be found playing around buoys (possibly only twice a day?) 🌴 Sims can work on friendship with dolphins by feeding them fish, playing with them, and teaching them tricks. 🌴 They can even be renamed so you know exactly which dolphin is your friend

BOATS

🌴 Outrigger Canoe - Sims can fish off the edge of them, nap in them, and they are able to be dragged into your sims inventory

🌴 Aqua zip (jet ski) - Sims can do tricks on the Aqua Zip. The higher your sims fitness skill, the better tricks they can do. Aqua Zips can also be dragged into your sims inventory

LOUNGERS + BEACH TOWELS

🌴 Your sims can now relax and sunbathe on the beach (or at home) in lounge chairs and on beach towels 🌴 One lounge chair will also be available for free in an upcoming base game update 🌴 Floating loungers are also coming with Island Living. They have similar interaction to regular lounge chairs but sims can also sunbathe nude on floating loungers and can be splashed by other sims in the water. They can also be used in pools! 🌴 All loungers, floating and non, and towels are able to be dragged into your sims inventory and taken with them

TANNING + SUNBURN

🌴 Tanning and sunburns are exclusive to Island Living 🌴 You can “opt-in” to have your sim tan or sunburn using a float lounger, lounge chair or beach towel 🌴 Tans and sunburns will take into account what your sim is wearing at the time 🌴 Mischievous sims can also “sabotage” sims who fall asleep in the sun with some strategically placed lotion. These “sabotaged” sunburn patterns are completely random and there may be some funny little easter eggs in there

VOLCANOES + WATERFALLS

🌴 The natural island of Mua Pel’Am is home to an active volcano and your most adventurous sims can even live right next to it if they want 🌴 There is also a gorgeous waterfall on the natural island of Mua Pel’Am that is not only very romantic (wink wink), but also can be used as a shower by sims living off the grid

CONSERVATION

🌴 Your sims will be able to clean up the beaches of Sulani, which will impact the rest of the islands 🌴 At max level conservation the scenery of the islands change to be more beautiful, more wildlife (butterflies, turtles etc) will show up, and you might even see some bio-luminescent algae floating around in the ocean 🌴 There was mention of a special turtle hatching event but I’m not sure if it has to do with the conservation level or not

HARVESTABLES + COLLECTABLES

🌴 Coconut 🌴 Pineapple 🌴 Taro 🌴 Kava 🌴 Several new fish

DEATHS

🌴 Lava bombs are hot 🌴 Look out for sharks 🌴 Mermaids are beautiful but accidents happen

WOOHOO

🌴 I hear the waterfall over on Mua Pel’Am is a very romantic spot…

FANS

🌴 Coming soon with a free update, ceiling fans will now not only be able to be switched on and off, but they will also cool things down on hot days and dry off wet sims

Create-A-Sim

I think most of what’s in CAS was covered in the trailer and during the announcement from EA Play, and we really didn’t get much of a look at it during the private stream, but from what I did see there’s a lot of amazing stuff!

The only thing I can say for sure is that as per usual, the male options are lacking and a little lackluster compared to the female options. I also don’t think there’s much in the way of clothes and hairs for kids and toddlers either 😟

Build/Buy

There is TONS of beautiful new Polynesian and Pacific Island inspired build/buy stuff, some of which I’ve already listed above, so I can’t list them all but here’s a few that don’t really fit into any other category but were specifically mentioned by the Gurus during the stream or just plain caught my eye

🌴 A beautiful new island-themed wedding arch made with palm leaves and tropical flowers and urgh! Just trust me, it’s beautiful! 🌴 Sandcastles! 🌴 A grill pit, that gets covered with palm leaves while it’s cooking 🌴 So many new island plants (hopefully they’re in debug 🤞) 🌴 A new island speaker (for community lots I assume) with all new Island Living music 🌴 Glass floors! They’re not actual flooring like carpets and tiles though, they’re more like the Get Together dance floors where you just place them on the floor and you can see through them. 🌴 Stilted foundations! FINALLY!! They can be placed on any lot, not just ocean lots! 🌴 There was a ladder shown in the trailers that I know many people were very excited about, however it acts more like a diving board than an actual ladder you can use between house floors. If you place it on the edge of a deck, your sims will jump off the deck straight into the water. But that doesn’t stop you from pretending it’s an actual ladder 😉 🌴 This isn’t an object but I didn’t know where else to put it - Pools can’t be built on the ground floor of lots built on the ocean. I didn’t catch why but I’m assuming it would interfere too much with the ocean itself. I also assume they can be built on any floors above the ground floor though.

Animations

This is probably not that interesting to a lot of people but I’m fascinated by a lot of the animations that are created for this game and with this pack it’s really clear the team put a lot of effort into even just the smallest of animations so I wanted to point out some of my favourites that I saw in the stream

🌴 There is a new walk style/animation for when your sims are entering/exiting the ocean. Just like real life they will slow down and kind of struggle to move through the shallow water until they’re deep enough to swim or walk up onto the sand 🌴 There are different swim styles if your sim needs to get somewhere faster (similar to jogging instead of walking) that also use less energy than the standard speed 🌴 There is a bunch of cool new animations added for when sims are multitasking swimming with other things, like talking, flirting, and even kissing in the ocean! 🌴 The mermaid tail animations in general are so smooth and organic, it’s beautiful! Whether they’re swimming in the ocean, jumping in and out of water, or just lounging in a bath tub; the team really outdid themselves with the animations for the tails! 🌴 Speaking of mermaids, there’s an option whilst swimming to “Mermaid Kiss”! I don’t know if it’s available for human sims but it looks very cute and sweet when performed by two mermaids! 🌴 Not only do the floating loungers float, but they also drift! They slowly move around and drift back and forth with the waves just like a real floating lounger would!

#TS4 #The Sims 4 #The Sims 4 Island Living #EA Game Changers

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