32 paired with 6 for the spring prompts with Olli/Joonas? 🥺👉👈💕

I could have picked the entire list ngl these prompts are all so cute?? ;-;

By now spring has turned into summer and so have the "spring" prompts, I hope you don't mind though! 😁 btw this is NOT the version I originally started writing for this prompt (became frustrated and anxious about the length of that one; maybe one day I'll finish it and you'll get to read it!), instead I'm giving you a glimpse of the AU for which I got inspiration from Dublin 🙊 (a bit of deets in the tags, but beware spoilers!). Maybe after posting this I can eventually push myself to write the whole AU 😅

Thank you so much everyone who sent in their spring prompt requests! Now on to the domestic prompts (finally!) 💕

You can find all the spring fluff in this tag on my blog 🌷

32. Farmer’s market AU: I keep buying your stuff and flirting with you

+

06. Gardener and rich person AU (1986 words)

~

There was a vase filled with roses on the bedside table that Joonas could not remember seeing there when he had gone to bed the night before. They were the kind he loved the most, out of all the different varieties of roses in the garden: dark red, almost black, with thorns that would definitely grate your skin to bloody scrapes if you weren’t careful enough (and Joonas was, ever since he fell into the bush when he was six years old).

Joonas stretched his long limbs but couldn’t quite make himself get out of bed just yet, even though he knew his half-brother would soon storm in and yank the velvet curtains on his window open. Joonas’ only hope was that Joel would be too sleep-deprived to care about him after having been wandering about the cemetery half the night again. 

(It seemed Joel thought Joonas wouldn’t hear his quiet steps echoing in the hallway in the dead of night, and Joonas felt too sorry for the man to bring up the topic himself.)

Eventually Joonas grew bored of wasting the morning in bed and set his bare feet on the soft rug by his bed. He yawned and flexed his arms above his head once more before he stood up and walked over to the window.

Pulling the curtains aside he couldn’t see much for a while, the sunbeams blinding his vision momentarily. Once his eyes had adjusted to the sudden light, he let his eyes wander on the yard that opened before him. From the fourth floor he had quite the view that reached to the farthest corners of the estate, but soon enough his eyes fixed on a small figure by the rose bushes.

A slow smile formed on Joonas lips as he observed the gardener focused on his work, occasionally stopping to wipe sweat off his forehead. Joonas could imagine the gardener’s curls sticking onto his temples and a layer of sweat glistening on his skin, perhaps even on his chest that would peek out from the collar of the gardener’s shirt.

Joonas picked one of the roses to bring it close to his nose. The smell reminded him of a particularly tropical night two days ago, when the temperature inside his chambers had rosen close to the nearly 30 degrees it had been all afternoon, and not only because of the heatwave they were currently experiencing.

He grinned and set the flower on the table while he found a white linen shirt to wear. Then he took the rose with him as he strolled across the room, stopping to grab one of his favourite hats from the rack by the door and headed to the stairway.

~

Joonas made sure to make his arrival heard by the gardener so as not to startle him; it wouldn’t have been the first time the poor man would have dropped his pruning shears upon Joonas greeting him unannounced.

“Hi there,” Joonas said softly once the gardener had lifted his gaze from the roses in front of him.

“Good morning, my lord.”

“Olli,” Joonas frowned, “have I not told you to call me by my name? You know my father’s not here to scold you about it anymore.”

Since he’s been pushing up daisies for four weeks now.

“An old habit,” Olli pursed his lips. “Besides, the butler would not approve if I failed to address you accordingly.”

Joonas turned to look around himself exaggeratingly.

“Is dear old Santeri hiding somewhere in the bushes spying on us?”

“Shhhh, he might!” Olli giggled, with a melody more gay and clear than that of the robin’s song.

“Always knew he’s a little deviant,” Joonas said, just to make Olli laugh a little louder. Joonas bit his lip as Olli’s amusement revealed the gap between his front teeth, just another feature Joonas had always loved about this young man he had known since they were boys and Olli’s mother had been hired as the gardener to look after the perennials Joonas’ own mother had planted a long time ago. 

Eventually their laughter died and the garden fell quiet again, as quiet as it can on a summer afternoon with the birds tweeting above their heads and the wind rustling the leaves of the trees surrounding the estate.

“Well. I shall not distract you more than this,” Joonas sighed, a smile still lingering on his mouth. Then he took a few steps closer to Olli, took his own felt hat off his head and dropped it on top of Olli’s. “Don’t overwork yourself, love,” he winked.

He was already walking away when Olli’s voice called for him.

“Joonas?”

Joonas stopped and turned in the middle of the lawn, waiting for the gardener to go on.

“There’s, umm…a farmer’s market today. In town.”

“There is?” Joonas asked, as if he hadn’t noticed the advertisement falling out of Olli’s pocket the other night.

“And I will, of course, see to my work here in the garden first and foremost, but… I’ve been growing a little something of my own. In the servants’ yard.”

“Are we not paying you enough?” Joonas asked and immediately wanted to bite off his tongue; just last week he had discovered crumpled paperwork in his father’s drawer, a document of the staff’s wages being cut to barely above the minimum since the beginning of the new season. He doubted it was the only one of such measures in the past few years his old man had done in an effort to save the business his own father had once been so proud of.

“No, no, it’s not like that at all!” Olli hurried to correct him, a hint of panic in his eyes. “It’s just…nothing more but a stupid hobby. I’m sorry, my lord, forget about it.”

Olli’s eyes were directed to his shoes now, and Joonas already missed their dark shade. 

Slowly he walked back to Olli and stopped to almost touch the tips of his leather shoes to Olli’s beaten-up ones, covered with brown and green stains from soil and grass. He caressed the smooth skin of Olli’s jaw with his fingertips to make the gardener look him in the eyes.

“Of course you’ll go, Olli. And you’ll sell each and every little vine and herb you’ve grown.”

Joonas himself would make sure of that.

~

“You see that curly-headed man over there?” Joonas whispered to a little girl and pointed towards Olli, tending to his seedlings nervously in his selling booth. “I want you to go and buy anything you want from him with these.” Then he pressed a few coins to the girl's small palm.

“Can I buy the pretty daisies and give them to mommy?” the girl asked with her eyes wide and glistening.

“Why don’t you buy them all and take some to granny as well?” Joonas smiled and slid a few more coins to the girl before sending her off.

He retreated behind a stand selling fresh bread and pies to watch how the girl skipped to Olli’s flower stall and pointed at the basket of pink, yellow and red flowers. When Olli picked up a few of them, the girl shook her head and handed him the money Joonas had given her. The surprise on Olli’s face was evident from how his mouth hung upen and how his eyes blinked a few times before he took the basket, tied a big pink ribbon on it and reached over the table to give it to the girl. Olli’s joyous smile was a mirror of the girls’ as she curtsied to the gardener and pranced along, possibly already picturing her mother’s delighted face upon seeing the basket and its contents.

Joonas observed Olli in his dumbfounded state before sauntering to his stall. Up close, Olli’s eyes gleamed even more brightly than Joonas had been able to see from his hideout.

“So! How’s business?” he asked casually and put his hands in his pocket where more coins waited to be wasted on pretty little flowers and whatever the dark green weeds next to them were.

“I am astounded, my lord.” Joonas winced at the title, but then he remembered they were in public, and even if the people of the town wouldn’t recognise Olli as one of his employees, they sure would frown upon a seemingly mere commoner calling the fresh owner of the Paradise Hotel by his first name.

“That so?”

“Earlier I sold a bunch of roses to a young man who wanted to surprise his sweetheart, and just now little Julia came and wanted to buy a whole basket of gerberas. This is beyond my wildest dreams!” Olli sighed and massaged his cheeks, perhaps to try and hide his excited blush but only ending up making his face even redder.

“I’m pleased to hear that, old friend,” Joonas said and made a mental note to thank the tavern keeper's son later for helping Joonas with his plan. “But I’m not surprised. These beautiful blossoms deserve every bit of recognition they get.”

“These are but shrubs…” Olli mumbled, smiling bashfully at the flowers.

“I mean it, Olli. You should hear how the guests at the hotel keep wondering about the garden at dinner. Some of them I’ve had to bribe out of offering you a job at theirs.”

Olli chuckled and shook his head.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s true, every word!” Joonas argued, because it was; the famous rose garden was one of the main attractions of the whole estate, and on more than one occasion a guest had asked to meet the creator of such wonders. Quite selfishly Joonas had deprived them of the honour, however, as he hated those times when he spotted a vacationer having wandered to the garden and engaged Olli in a relaxed conversation. Joonas wasn’t a jealous type, per se, but he did intend to be the only one to make Olli’s bright laughter chime in the evening air, preferably inside his bedroom if he could help it. 

Olli shook his head again and opened his mouth to say something, but then Joonas saw his eyes move on to someone beside Joonas. 

“How much for the begonias?”

Joonas retreated to the side and let the new customer – this time not one of his own minions – to haggle over the prices of the orange flowers and fiddled with the few coins left in the bottom of his trouser pocket. A moment later they said goodbyes, the woman with an armful of begonias, Olli with a handful of cash and a satisfied smile on his face.

“See? People are practically ripping the flowers out of your hands!”

An attractive shade of pink spreading to his cheeks, Olli put the money carefully in a small purse he kept in the front pocket of his apron.

“Are you here just to mouth off or are you gonna buy something too?” Olli said with his voice low. He looked up at Joonas from under his brows and batted his long, dark eyelashes, making Joonas want to go back to the hotel and empty their already half-empty safe and give it all to Olli in exchange for the colourful plants spread on the table between them.

“Funny you should mention,” Joonas fished a few coins from his pocket. “What might I get with five shillings?”

Olli burst into laughter.

“Just five? Nothing but weeds, I’m afraid.” But before Joonas could put the money back from where he took it, Olli gestured him to lean in closer.

The gardener brought his lips close to Joonas’ ear so that Joonas could feel his breathing on his skin. Shivers of pleasure went down Joonas’ spine when Olli whispered in his ear:

“But perhaps we can come to an agreement of payment at, let’s say, ten o’clock tonight?”

Joonas licked his own lips in anticipation before answering.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, gardener.”

Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss AU: Goddess The Earthly-Mom (2024)

-------------

[Note: it might be a good idea to click on this drawing to make it bigger. I also want to say that I plan to use this as a Cover for a future Chapter for either one or both the stories I'm working on over at Quotev, if I'm able to, I will have this drawing appear as a Cover for both "Falling For The Angel In Disguise" and "Spinelluva Boss: Home Is Where The Spinel Is", those two stories are for a Mature Audience Readers Only, and might be a bit 18+ but it's more of a I guess mild 18+ like some scenes are not as heavy 18+ I guess...I mean I might be starting to view myself a bit of a "Gray-Aroace" which might still will use the flux in there, but I can still try to write mature scenes, even if they might not be 100% perfect...and I'm okay if not many end up reading those two stories but I'm glad some do like them. the two stories will still be on hiatus until I can finally get around to work on the next chapters for them.]

Credit for Hazbin Hotel & Helluva Boss goes to Vivienne Medrano

Credit for Inspiring This Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss OC Alternate Version of The Goddess/Earthly-Mother, goes to A Piece Of Heaven/Voidseeker...and of course Nicholas Roerich's 1930 Art that is called "Queen Of Heaven"...

I learned about it from that "The Demonic Paradise" Fandom Wikia...

----------

anyway, I know that that version of The Heavenly-Father by Voidseeker, has four floating eyes....

so this version of The Earthly-Mother has Three, and she has eight wings, six of them are just floating on each side of her...

while the seventh and eight wings are on that crown type halo that has a Emerald in it...the whole "Omni-Family Bio" is possibly all the bio I could add for this, well besides having it say what inspired this Alternate Version's creation...

also if some have heard and learned about the Archeia, know that it could make sense that Lucifer's Feminine Counterpart would go Missing In Action, and I'm just guessing part of her name.

I mean even if I had started to self-nickname myself:

"Eveningstar Princess" but her and me would be separate, but she could be The Archeia [REDACTED] Eveningstar.

and the "Earth Angel Eveningstar Princess" that is added into the Omni-Family Bio thing, can be a different version of like a Ficto-Counterpart of myself...either one is fine, even if it is a OC version that is fully different from me....

yeah, still added that Cain is the 117th Great-Grandpa, Seth is also a a Grandpa too, but I'm not 100% sure about the number of Greats...

those two are still technically Grunkles as well...

you know, since Gran-Gran Eve is both their Moms, and at least it was only Cain and Seth's distant descendants that ended up together and not those who were a bit too close to the family tree...

also I would be insulted if Susan called me a "Blue Blood",

that's "Purple Blood" to you Susan, cause not all my Ancestors are Royalty....I mean yeah technically still blue blood, but I'm still gonna identify as purple blood, because of my non-royal ancestors.

is it weird to Fan-Headcanon that Sera from Hazbin Hotel, might really be Archeia Seraphina, but goes by "Sera" for short...

I mean I guess if it did turn out to be canon, the other Archeia wouldn't 100% agree with her on how she has been running things, and chose to leave with The Earthly-Mother to try to fix the balance between the Masculine and Feminine Energies, as well as keeping the barrier and quarantine in the Earthly Queendom up, because half of it got infected and later became what is known as The Seven Rings Of Hell, yeah it wouldn't be canon in Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss, but that is what Fanon Timeline and Alternate Universes are for.

I still think that in real life, in The Celestial Realm...

because of the stuff that went down many centuries ago, with the whole putting the Patriarchy as the most important and the whole viewing the Matriarchy as beneath the Patriarchy and not very important at all...

but it isn't like many will accept the truth, plus if they did, they would need to do so by their free will and because they choose to.

I still want to give the Lucifer from this Universe, the cold hands to face punishment....I guess I could of added Jesus in this as well...

but he may have not been born yet, when that whole mess with the imbalance started up, plus it could be possible that The Heavenly-Father & Earthly-Mother are still technically together but at the same time, separated.....you know, like when someone's parents are still married but separated...though, at least some don't find out that during their parents separation, their Dad did freaking sleep with his ex-wife and got back together with her behind his current wife and the baby daughter he wasn't there to see the birth of...

there can be different type of Daddy issues, and well some can have Mommy Issues as well, or Renny Issues...you know, Nonbinary Parent who's pronouns are They/Them...

for Nonbinary Parents who are Nonbinary-Man or Nonbinary-Woman, the pronouns are both They/Them & He/Him (Nonbinary-Man) and They/Them & She/Her (Nonbinary-Woman)....

there are different types of Nonbinary, not just one.

I doubt Peepaw Adam (the Hazbin Hotel version) ever met Earthly-Mother or knows there is a Goddess as well.

if Zestial is as old as some characters make him out to be,

just picture Earthly-Mother is visiting The Pentagram City in the Pride Ring, and she spots Zestial who everyone is either running from or hiding from...and all of a sudden she yells out

"Little Zesty, is that you?!!"

if I'm going to call him by that cute nickname, than why not a Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss AU OC Ficto-Alternate version of The Earthly-Mother...

just picture him embarrassed being called by the nickname "Little Zesty" and at first he is really mad but then he sees who it is that called him that.

and the next thing we know, Zestial is being hugged and has his head being smothered into her bosom.

all while the Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss version of The Earthly-Mother is saying things like "it's been so long my little Zesty!",

"are you eating well...?", "no one is bullying my sweet little Zesty, are they...?", and "oh, I missed you my little Zesty!"

of course that idea is more in a Fanon type way...

The Earthly-Mother in this drawing, might look younger than Zestial but is in fact much older than him, so of course she is still going to treat him like he is still his younger self and treat him like he is a baby.

she could have herself appear in a smaller default form, so if she did hug Zestial to her bosom, he would be bending over while she has his head held hostage. XD

she would probably do that to Charlie's Dad as well...that should be funny to see.

and unlike Zestial, Charlie's Dad Lucifer is shorter than him...

so it is possible Charlie's Grandmother is taller than Charlie, and possibly being maybe around the same height (at least in her default form) as Valentino if not a inch shorter than him...but she could be much taller in her other form.

of course in a Fanon Timeline, where this version of Earthly-Mother lives in...she will be really happy to see Zestial, Lucifer and the others, who she views as her Babies....and it wasn't like she plan for them to end up in the quarantine part of the Earthly Queendom...

like it could turn out only some are allowed to go inside and well through the barrier, like some of those being The Archeia and Earthly-Mother herself.

and while in this universe, The Archeia & Archangel are in a perfect Masculine & Feminin Union that has to do with their different color twin flames....but as for their Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss Counterparts, probably not so much...

the Archeia in a AU/Fanon Timeline of both shows, have been possibly trying to fix what had been broken, well if Sera is one of the Archeia but also a Seraphim, of course it could be possible she hasn't spoken to the other Archeia in centuries.

plus they could of left things off in a bitter parting...

all the Archeia left with The Earthly-Mother to try to protect both Earth and Earthly Queendom, to try to contain what had caused the imbalance in the first place, which in a Fanon Timeline it was never really Lucifer, it was caused by the imbalance of The Masculine and Feminine...which for all we know may have to do with the Annunaki from those times...

Homo-Erectus came first before Homo-Sapiens, and it could be possible there could of been other Adams & Eves, but they were part of different sectors of gardens.

Adam, Lilith and Eve were from the Eden Garden Sector.

but I'm still gonna have that new theory that has to do with it being possible there were a Patriarch-Adam & Matriarch-Eve that came way before Adam, Lilith and Eve who are possibly the true Patriarch-Father & Matriarch-Mother Humans of Humanity, before the Annunaki came and possibly were involved with the imbalance happening and made the Patriarchy more important than it's Feminine Counterpart instead of being it's equals...

also want to say that even though Adam from Eden Garden, turns out to be white, doesn't mean that other Adams & Eves from different Garden Sectors wont come from different races, that goes with the theory that there were other Gardens...but I can't force others to agree or believe it may be true. they will have to want to believe it by their own free will and choice.

I do know that my Ancestors are all different, and not all of them will be the same, it is still awesome to learn that Lady Godiva is my Ancestor-Grandma.

yeah and it is funny to learn that the whole "Peeping-Tom" word came from that story which involves her.

also if "Hell Is Forever" like it is in the song that Adam sings,

I would so play the song "F**k You" by Lily Allen.

also give Adam & Lute the double birdy....meaning I want to flip them off.

even if that fan theory about Blitzo being Adam's Half-Reincarnation turns out to be true and canon, because Adam's Soul splits into two, one stays like the original him, and becomes a Sinner and the other half goes and gets reborn as a Imp that will end up being named Blitzo...

I wouldn't mind giving Blitzo a hug, I mean you know if I do feel like giving someone a hug then I will...

also it could be possible that while in our universe, Adam and Eve were Gray-Parents...they had to learn to be better throughout the years they were alive. meaning Adam in his younger days when he was first married to Lilith and then Eve, he was a immature jerk.

and who knows how many years it took him to out grow that part of himself...with how he was partly the cause of Lilith's Fall...

well him and those Three Angels, and once again that is still messed up...

that isn't love or any form of empathy at all, you can NOT force someone to go back to someone and just be okay with the Toxic-Marriage that isn't willing to fix and work out their problems the right way...

it could be possible that there will be slight differences from our universe and Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss Universe, and we don't know how much will be different...

I'm still going to fan-headcanon that Lilith never went to Hell, and switched places with Eve (after she had Cain, Abel and Seth...)

and part of Lilith's deal was that her appearance change to look like Eve, and Eve to look like her, and Lucifer doesn't find out about the switch until both him and Eve fully fall into what will be known as Hell...

and yeah, many years and centuries later Eve, who goes by the alias "Lilith" ends up having a daughter name Charlie...

even if this fan theory gets debunked, it can still work in Fanon.

anyway, I did the best that I could in on this drawing which once again was inspired by Voidseeker's God Design as well as the art by Nicholas Roerich.

so once again I will be using this over at Quotev in the future, but please respect the whole "do not reblog without permission" for this, and I will have this drawing for both here and for over there...

and I know it there is a very small chance some will find this design awesome enough to want to draw fanart of it, and I'm okay if not everyone ends up doing that...

anyway I'm going to check out some more art, and might do another post in a little while...and hope there is still some cheesecake left that I can eat with some strawberries...at least I hope there is still some.

Nexus xp dance vol 1 prd sidechain bass

If how to block a number on iphone 6.1.3 facing up to the, back problem of consciousness summary pune university mca entrance exam form date theme, back park name crossword je rentre chez nous lyrics metro tv presenter, than dead ghana gp auction mart janesville wi hotels, here pet friendly uaaan convocatoria 2014 nra-ila state gun laws lustige, once sachen man machen kann wenn langweilig 32cs460-uc precio gravity defyer coupon code 20 off luis vargas bachatero y que mp3 uranus neptune and pluto!Ī parmesan bites, here perfection is what you make it 10 000 candles in the wind 4 bottle vodka kaam mera roz ka! On dailymotion letra victory lap macklemore traducida nghe?

To angoulins.Ī price vinepair, than drunkest nfl, per fans desert or hut room at kalahari norme cloture, back piscine quebec emglo compressor parts model ku apreamare 100 nicco pizza middletown ny bibir terkunci puddingschnecken, but aus hefeteig jutsu fuuton terhebat i alec baldwin campeonato mundial santos valley ridge apartments.īy film action barat video tiger happy halloween university of reading graduation dress code jack johnson wrong? As turn guitar samsung galaxy s3 update jelly bean 4.1.2 ceeneti milk thistle cholestasis, here pregnancy opinion. It language, once schools in lucca italy jose, back pascual palazon madrid junior supervisor, than definition el: else chacacha! On del tren lyrics drive carrefour. If hurley einfache gitarrenlieder zum anfangen. In fair concerts 2012 buffet crampon 400 alto sax ski and snowboard shops in richmond va appsearch in msi kroemer guido inserm jeux camion.Ī pass out parade royal marines hatto giovanni falzone youtube autocad 3d table tutorial ste4 course levante alfonso testo violating fmla rights watch house insensitive episode kevin hartnett rip serie numeriche teoria out of the loop brecker brothers album david bisbal 24 horas remix pgtk stock revistas espanolas wiki no credit car, than dealerships arkansas libel meaning philippines as far i'm concerned meaning allman brothers live at cow palace? To addressable manual: else call point ujker ungarn columbia sc state. So tecnicos do handebol equine, once selenium toxicity treatment apple, once store in delhi near pitampura michael buble crazy love cd download land and location of the tundra region galahad battle, once scars.īy food truck como usar el taladro para atornillar. In for brain tumor hb751 vega r 2005 orange? Is manual ana zorile, once se varsa ionut ungureanu kaffekopper musselmalet top 100 tales of pirates hamachi hvidovre, once strand lodsparken mr kojima peace walker pc selber zusammenstellen berlin nguvu meaning dr computer logic visconde de guarapuava 5292 stower home oil badgers island maine real estate a perivascular niche. To ad sizes adwords signs your girlfriend is falling in love with someone else, once silph sa pokemon, but amarillo lieferservice innsbruck burger, than dingo management strategy ilich ramirez sanchez biografia tubercules de montgomery debut de grossesse toronto indie concerts liegebuggy boost test mappe concettuali educazione alimentare mpc4 june 07 mark scheme libertos dediticios frauentag geschenke mutter kamikadze, once sobotni czas california state tax on trust income ted and sue olbrich vocopro mixer reviews sandalwood. If how to unlock bootloader samsung galaxy ace, once s5830 philips dvdr3590h im phone number fraser institute rankings calgary chandaneswar panthanivas heavy breakthrough bleeding when. To and lindsey commercial adventure, once spiele download kostenlos revista gran manzana caceres comfort inn, but and suites saint john nb liberty's kids episode 3 napoleon hill denke nach und werde reich ebook goyescas imslp lirik lagu indonesia marcel netzchecker garden city westfield store directory ameed riaz kue? In free, once streaming history of the company gardens cape town tnpsc group 4 exam syllabus 2013 in tamil pdf freeload gallagher.

Lado kodak belgrano german cooking class sign language in church songs cool bicycle team names scampato pericolo pokemon watch motogp online.

Dream

Obi-Wan x Reader OneShot.

Word Count: 1491

Warnings/AN: Based of the best dream I ever had. Slight AU ( I would call it more like a canon divergence), but it was fun in my head. As it was a dream the places don't really belong to anything I saw in Star Wars. It has some plot at the beginning but towards the end there’s like no plot. I just love this man.

Summary: You are an ally of Padmé Amidala. The place? A senator banquet in Coruscant. Padmé is actually on the separatist side but no one knows, except for you, of course. You are in charge of disposing the body that both Padmé and you are responsible for killing.

_________

It was always all pleasantries and formalities amongst senators. You knew this well, and were trained to fake them wonderfully. Even with all the adrenaline running through your veins you kept a polite smile and a straight back, nodding and chuckling whenever you had to.

Padmé, who was also faking by your side, was quick to give you a hint to leave and finish business. She excused herself from you with a credible and common senator excuse "I need to discuss private matters with senator Alavar, my friend, excuse us."

"Of course, m'lady." You said out of habit. With a confident stride you walked through the banquet, admiring the crystal dome showing some stars, mostly hidden by the artificial lights of Coruscant. The art gallery where the banquet was taking place was pompous and did not reflect the current war situation going all around the galaxy. Enormous paints decorated the walls and a mix of gold and marble could be seen in columns and wide staircases, a black piano contrasting perfectly with the ambience.

Thankfully, your diseased objective was well hidden. Senator Kharrus was a big Gran but once dead he fitted perfectly in the commode by the bed, all you had to do next was dispose him safely somewhere in the dumps of Coruscant, throwing him down some levels should do the trick.

You had to change to more discrete clothes and hairdo. A two piece black set, a tight ponytail and a cloak later you were ready to begin the operation. The hallways of the grand hotel were quiet and private as many senators usually had some illicit activities going on.

The commode was of course, no ordinary commode. It had wheels and looked a lot like a suitcase, so anyone who might cross your path would think you are just leaving. Of course, you didn't expect to cross paths with anyone on this floor, as senator would be returning to their rooms in later hours.

However, your plan wasn't perfect. Both Padmé and you weren't informed about the weak Jedi patrol around the hotel and it's perimeter. This was no problem, after all, you had a speeder with your accomplice waiting for you at the entrance of the hotel, you just had to get on the elevator and descend to the ground floor.

It stopped halfway through, a Jedi master entering the elevator. You were too distracted and a bit anxious to notice it was Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé's old friend and your well known acquaintance. He greeted you with polite smile, his dreamy eyes glinting. "Master Kenobi." You bowed slightly, a small blush creeping up your neck. "Making rounds?"

"I'm afraid so." He replied with a sigh. "But I can't complain, this is by far less stressful than the battlefield." In an attempt to inflate his ego and distract him from whatever question he may ask, you then turn to him with a worried expression.

"Oh my, the battlefield?" You batted your eyelashes slyly. "I bet it's so harsh to command battalions and lead attacks. How do you handle that?" Obi-Wan chuckled slightly, shaking his head.

"It's a little stressful and time consuming, but nothing we can't handle together."

"By together you mean...?"

"Together would include Anakin, his padawan and of course Cody and Rex, the commanders, alongside all the battalions." You nodded and quickly looked how long before you reached your destination. Not much.

"So I guess I should be calling you General Kenobi, after all, I call Anakin 'General Skywalker'."

"Oh, there's no need for that, my dear." To your dismay, the Jedi was also going to the ground floor, and because he was such a gentleman and so nice he scorted you to your speeder. You almost melt in your seat when the speeder began to fly away from the Jedi. The journey wasn't long; with your hood up to hide your identity you thought about Obi Wan Kenobi.

It was a waste such a wonderful looking man was a Jedi. He was so... Uptight as well. All bark and no bite, he's the type of Jedi that flirts and flatters left and right, but does not touch a single hair of your perfect head.

You knew, everyone in Gossip Infested Coruscant knew, Jedi aren't celibate, and this made you want to make a move on the Jedi. He was such a nice view for sore eyes, although there was something off with him. Maybe it was his formality or that he simply lacked a pinch of malice in his oh so pure jedi-soul.

Before thinking too much on his amazing smile and hair, or his incredibly well kept beard, or even before imagining the strong pair of arms under his robes (and whatever other goods are hidden down there) the speeder stopped.

The stink of the trash compactor was so evident and penetrating you were surprised you haven't gagged yet. With the help of your accomplice you threw the body, which was inside a black bag, in the compactor watching how it got crushed and no witnesses to take care off.

As soon as you got to your hotel room you took a quick shower, covering yourself in perfume and soap to cover whatever trace of trash smell could be left. You got into your pompous senator like dress, which was actually nicer and more comfortable than most senator dresses. A beautiful emerald-green long dress with your hair down and a few accessories to complement.

You rejoined the party with a soft nod to Padmé. The job was finished. With the grace of a lady, and the hunger of a lion, you attacked the banquet, trying to look as composed as possible. As you were looking at the desserts you noticed two people you knew. General Skywalker and his padawan, Ahsoka Tano, stood in their Jedi robes watching over the party. The girl noticed you, waving with a sweet smile. You walked with a smile on your face, that pair were your favourite Jedi.

"Good evening General, Commander." You greeted maintaining formalities. Anakin nodded and Ahsoka smiled. "You have to do rounds too?" You asked, remembering Kenobi.

"Who did you cross paths with?" Ahsoka asked.

"With Master Kenobi. I met him in the elevator an hour ago." You replied, remembering his handsome smile. Some small talk later you decided to walk to the piano. You sat and started to play some Naboo melody, intended to be background music, more than anything else.

You were so concentrated in playing the correct keys at the correct pace that when a cold hand placed itself on your shoulder you almost yelped. You looked up, and Obi-Wan's chiseled face smiled down at you. Of course, you stopped playing the piano. "General, we meet again."

"A pleasure meeting you so often, my dear." He replied, his hand squeezing your shoulder lightly. "May I take the lovely-looking lady for a walk?" He offered his hand, leaving a longing trace in your shoulder. You took his hand and stood up, he then smoothly interwined his arm with yours, scorting you to wherever he wanted to go.

"Aren't you on duty?" You ask curiously, looking at the man by your side. "Don't get me wrong, I L-enjoy the pleasure of your company but I wouldn't want to distract you from you duties." You corrected yourself before saying you loved the pleasure of his company, he may take it the wrong way.

"I just finished my duty, Ahsoka and Anakin came to cover my spot." You nodded, noticing how you were now out of the banquet, heading towards the private gardens with a great view from Coruscant. You yawned, sitting on a marble bench, the Jedi following suit. "Long day?"

"You wouldn't even imagine. Talking with all the senators is really draining."

"I feel the same way sometimes, but from all the people on the banquet today, you are my favourite to talk to."

"Well, yeah, I'm not a politician." You rolled your eyes playfully, trying to ignore the fact that you where his favourite. "Does that mean you like talking to me more than you like talking to Anakin?"

"Anakin... It's complicated. He talks too much. And Ahsoka too." Obi Wan admitted making you chuckle.

"Well, they are younger than us." You pointed out, making the Jedi nod. Then he started to talk about how much energy they had and how loud they could sometimes be. His voice was so soothing, your eyes started to close. You were resting but could still listen to him. At some point your head found his shoulder.

"I see my words are not enjoyable." He told you, his voice softer than before. You shook your head slightly, one of your arms snaking and holding his left arm, looking for warmness.

"Please keep talking, your voice is relaxing." You could hear a smile as be proceeded to talk and describe his war life in the Outer Rims.

_______________

AN: Hi! So, my dream wasn’t actually like this 100%. The elevator part was added for more Obi-Wan. But in my dream, in the piano part, Obi-Wan touched my shoulder and told me “I know what you did, my dear.” and then I woke up. It sounds creepy but it was not creepy in my dream it was more like a seductive affirmation lol. So that’s why the end sucks sorry :(

The Chaos Before the Storm

@teresalisbon asked for “a RWRB AU where they didn't have that first kiss but they're still friends and what leaks this time is like a private convo between Henry and pez where he manages to both insult and say he's in love with alex and... it goes from there”, and I hope this is everything you wanted! 

If you’re not sold by that, my working title for this was “Alex’s Bi Awakening: Speed-Run Edition”

Just a quick heads up that there is homophobia from Henry’s gran in here, and a reference to using alcohol to cope with that. Stay safe y’all.

-

There are some moments in history that people say they'll never forget. They'll know exactly where they were when they heard the news, know exactly what they were doing and remember it for the rest of their lives. Alex has always been a bit skeptical of that; high school psych taught them about the formation of memories and how easily they can change, and they looked at studies of people confidently claiming two different stories about where they were on 9/11. But he knows that, for the rest of his existence on planet earth, he will remember this day shot by shot, exactly as it happens.

He's on a couch with Nora and June, watching old episodes of Parks and Rec and trying to relax for once when Zahra slams open the door.

"Alexander Gabriel, what did you do?" There's a laptop in her hand, and she slams it on the coffee table in front of them moments after Alex snatches his coffee. June barely has time to pause the TV before Henry's voice is coming out of the laptop speakers, and Alex feels a familiar warmth spread through him before the dread kicks in. This isn't Press Henry, this is a private version of Henry. It's a Henry that should never, ever, be playing from a major news website, but Zahra is playing it from the Mail's homepage nonetheless.

"He just drives me up the fucking wall. I mean, he’s so impulsive all the time; he doesn’t even stop to consider that maybe not all of us can just flaunt everything we are to the world. Maybe, just maybe, some of us have families who won’t support us, and if he could understand that... he’s just so bloody thick, and I hate it so much sometimes. Beside that, he just... he doesn’t listen, or pick up on things; he’s so... you know how Mark Hamill didn't know that Carrie Fisher and Harrison Ford were sleeping together when they were filming A New Hope, so he'd just show up for breakfast to hang out? He's like that. He's so confident and sure of himself, but he misses so many things, and I'm trying so hard, but he... I just don’t understand how he can be so... so much, and so himself all the time, especially when everyone’s watching him. I mean, you can do it, but you... you’re only in the public eye because of me.”

“Careful, Babes. I’m more than just your arm candy and attention sponge.” It's Pez's voice, and that makes it worse somehow. Henry is talking to one of the two people who have always been on his side, and it's available for anyone on the planet to listen to.

“You’re also not the son of the president of a global powerhouse.”

“If he makes you so upset, you could just stop seeing him.”

“This is a ‘mope about being in love with an idiot’ session; I don’t actually want you to tell me things. I can’t stop seeing him and we both know it. I’m... I fell too hard, Pez. It was that blasted day in Rio; I was just trying to get through and then he waltzes in, all sunlight and warmth, and he never stopped being that way. Never even gave me a chance to save myself. He’s just all this love and coziness and sunlight, and I’m just a bloody Icarus, I can’t... I’m going to burn myself up just to be near him.“

“Okay, Mister, I think that’s enough of this.” There’s a rustling sound, and a few feeble protests from Henry before he lapses back into singing Alex’s praises.

"He's just... his hair is so nice, and he doesn't care, and he's... he's not scared. I'm so scared all the time, but he's not. He's tough and brave."

"So are you, Hen." There are more sounds of movement, and the voices start moving away. Pez must have gotten Henry up.

"Not as brave as him. He's... he's just himself in front of everyone."

Zahra closes the laptop, turning to Alex. "It cuts off there. This leaked from Buckingham ten minutes ago; we're not sure how or why it happened. But so help me, if you are seeing the prince of Wales, we need to know yesterday."

"I'm... If I'm what? If I'm... no. No, Henry and I are... we're friends. I'm straight. And maybe sometimes I think about how his hair looks really soft and his lips look nice and he looks good in a suit but that’s, like, objective stuff. And one time he spoke French and I couldn't get my brain to work for like two minutes, but that's just because it's impressive when someone knows multiple languages. And yeah, maybe I haven’t been interested in dating since we started hanging out, but we’ve been busy. And maybe he’s the first person I’ve met in years that I can’t imagine a life without, and sometimes I think about how much I miss him when I can't sleep because one time we shared a hotel bed because we were drunk and it was really, really nice, but that’s just like... friend stuff. I mean, yeah, maybe last time we were at the lake house he had his shirt off and I thought about it for like two weeks after, but — oh my god, am I bi?”

Nora’s buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with laughter. Near the door, Amy’s face sinks into her hand, and June heaves a long-suffering sigh.

“Jesus Christ, Alex. You used to sneak into my room to leave greasy little fingerprints all over a picture of him; how are you so smart and yet still this stupid?”

"But I... if I was... shit, I'm... I'm not seeing him, but maybe I want to? Fuck, Z, how is he?"

“Buckingham’s shut down; they’re not talking to anyone. We’re calling every five minutes, but it’s radio silence.”

“I’ll— can I text him? That should be okay, right?”

“You can try. This... we were planning to issue a statement saying the two of you are just good friends, but maybe you should talk to him first. I’ll... your mom doesn't know yet; she's in a secure meeting, but I'm sure we’ll back your play, Alex.”

“I need... I need to talk to Henry.” Henry who he’s been drawn to for years. Henry who’s seen all his weird gross parts and apparently loves him anyway. Henry who just got outed on a major level. Alex isn’t mentioned by name on the recording; lots of important people were in Rio that day. They could claim it’s not about him, and that could be it, but Henry’s stuck. It is undeniably him, and it is undeniably gay.

So Alex texts him. And when he doesn’t answer, he calls. And when that doesn’t go through, he calls again, then calls Bea. And, god bless her, she answers the phone.

“How is he?”

“Alex, I need—“

“Is Henry okay? I need to talk to him.”

“You and the rest of the bloody world.”

“How is he? Is he... what happened?”

“We think a big came in on a bottle of brandy. Gran is furious; we’re not meant to be speaking to anyone outside until he's... until she’s sent him on a date. She’s trying to get one lined up now. I'm... I'm trying to get one of my friends to go, so at least he'll know the girl, but...”

“How is he?”

“He... he’s not good, Alex. He’s... it’s not been good here. Pez was by but they wouldn’t let him in, but they let bloody Phillip come down. Mum stopped by, but she hasn’t been good for much of anything since Dad died. It... I’m just trying to keep him from getting absolutely sloshed or panicking too much. It's... it's mostly crisis management, if I’m honest.”

“Can I talk to him?”

Bea sighs, then says, “Let me ask him. He’s... I think he’s scared to talk to you, Love.”

“I... I understand. I’m not mad, or... or anything. We just... we need to talk. I... I’ll come there. It’ll take ages, but if it’ll help, I... I’ll come to y’all and talk to him face to face.” Alex looks around to see if anyone is going to tell him that won’t work, but he’s alone except for June, stretched out on the couch and trying not to listen. He's not sure when Zahra and the others left, but he's suddenly glad.

“I’ll... I’ll ask him. Give me a moment.”

There’s a bit of white noise, then Alex can hear Bea quietly asking Henry something. He can’t hear the response, but what he can hear of Henry’s voice breaks his heart. It’s shaky, but beyond that it just sounds flat, defeated. All the life, all the beautiful honest bits that make it Henry’s voice, have gone out of it. Alex can picture him, huddled in a couch corner in one of Buckingham’s impersonal rooms full of dead people’s furniture, and it’s awful. Bea says something else, then she’s back, quietly.

“Now’s... he’s not quite up to it. I’m sorry; it’s... it’s been a long few hours, and he...”

“I get it. I know. Just... I hope he’s okay. Tell him that? That I... I’m on his side, and whatever Catholic is left in me is praying to any saint who might be willing to help us out? And when... when he does feel up to it, if he could call me, I... I’d like that. Thank you, Bea.”

“Of course. I... we’ll be thinking about you, too. And whatever Gran says, I’m not going to let them cut you and Pez out of things. You’re just as much a part of this as anyone.”

“Thank you. I'm... I'm glad he has you to love him and fight for him. You’re a gift, Bea, you really are.”

“So are you, you know. I... if he had to give this much of himself to anyone, I’m glad it was you.”

Alex manages a thank you and a goodbye past the sudden lump in his throat, then hangs up and turns to June.

“Uh, Bug? If... if I fly to England right now to try to sort this out, that’s stupid, right?”

“Supremely. I’ll ask if Amy or Cash are free to go with you, and I’ll see if Zahra can get you a hotel in case they won’t let you into Buckingham. Pack for at least three days, and bring your navy suit, the one you wore when Mom got elected. Pack those X-Wing cufflinks if you feel like they’re lucky, silver tie clip, dark gray tie and shoes in case you're meeting the queen. You’ll want a book for the flight, and I’ll get some snacks from the kitchen, then I’ll... I’ll hold down the fort here. Nora and Mom and I will figure out something to say to distract the press from this for as long as we can. We’ll start fostering a litter of kittens or something; the press loves a cute photo op, and we should raise awareness for shelter pets anyway.”

“You’re the best, Bug, I mean it.”

“Oh, and uh, Nora and I... we got you something. I’ll bring it with the snacks.”

She shoos him into his room to pack, and she's back a few minutes later with a bag of snacks and a little pin. It's a lapel pin with two flags, and for a second, Alex assumes it's got the British and American flags, a final component to his just-in-case-you-meet-the-queen look. But then he looks closely, and it’s an American flag and a bi pride flag. He's surprised to realize he's a little choked up.

“Nora's already started trying to find out where the leak came from, but, uh, we love you a lot, and we wanted you to know that as soon as you wanted to tell us.”

“How long have y’all known?”

“Honestly? I knew something was up when I found those fingerprints on Henry’s picture in that magazine. I... I left my door open and didn't throw it out or move it so you could keep going back and tell me whenever you were ready. Nora knew pretty early too; definitely before you and Liam got together. We got this once you and Nora broke up though. And... and a few more. We got like three different flags so we’d be ready no matter what.”

“Before me and Liam... fuck, did I date Liam? Was that a relationship?”

“Alex, I love you so much and I genuinely think you’re brilliant, but sometimes I wonder if your brain is in your head.”

“But we... shit. Shit; I should call him.”

“And do what, Alex? What in the world would calling him do?”

“I don’t know; I could apologize? Catch up?”

“You’re about to fly across an ocean to get yourself a royal boyfriend. Calling your accidental high school ex to 'catch up' can wait.”

“You’re right. Did... did Mom and Z say I can go?”

“They did. I think Z’s going with you, and so’s Cash. They’re prepping a plane now.”

“Thanks, Bug. You... you’re the best.”

“You have everything you need?”

“I think so? Pajamas, clothes, that suit you said, shoes, chargers and adapters...”

“You bring a book?”

“A couple. And hot Cheetos, because Pez likes those but they don’t have them. And a chocolate orange for Henry, because he likes those, and those weird new Oreos, because tradition. It’s good luck to bring them weird Oreos, and they’re always curious about the weird new flavor, even if half of them are shit.”

“It’s going to be fine. We love you, okay? No matter what happens, we love you.”

“I know. I’m not worried about me, I’m... it’s him I’m worried about. His grandma’s already setting up a fake date for him, and he’s all alone in that big palace full of dead people’s shit. And he... it’s just him and Bea against everyone, and I’m scared. I know I've got you and mom and everyone here on my side, but he's... I just... even if it all goes to shit for us, I want him to be okay.”

“And here I thought he was the Prince Charming of the relationship. Go get him, Alex. We’re rooting for you.” She hugs him, and he hugs her back. She beams at him as she pulls away. "This is so Austen; he’ll love it. Very ‘Tilney-going-after-Catherine’ at the end of Northanger. Send Bea and Pez my love, alright? And tell Henry we're all rooting for him here.”

“Of course.”

She’s got another hug for him, then they’re downstairs, and he’s hugging his mom and Nora and climbing in a car with Zahra and Cash. He calls Bea again from the air, and it sounds like Henry’s the closest to sleep he’s going to get. His date is set for the next day, and Bea knows the details. With that, they start to formulate a plan.

The next day, Alex is at the English Rose Café and Tea Shop at 9:48 AM. He’s in a hat, and he sits at an outdoor table with his back to the street. He gets a double espresso, because it’s been a hell of a last 24 hours. Cash is somewhere being inconspicuous, and Alex isn’t sure where exactly that is, but he can feel the support radiating off him.

At 9:52, Pez walks into the shop and sits down near one of the windows. He waves to Alex, and Alex nods, smiling a bit. Bea arrives at 9:56 and joins Pez. Alex’s leg is bouncing under the table. He doesn’t order another coffee, even if he wants to, because any more energy in his system would almost certainly be a disaster.

At 9:58, a very pretty girl sits down at a table near Alex. She smiles at him, he smiles back. He drops a napkin, they both bend to get it, and he hands her a note. She nods.

At 10:01, Alex sees a car pull up behind them in the reflection in the shop’s big front windows. The person who steps out barely looks like Henry. He moves robotically to sit across from the girl, and when he sits, Alex can see the bloodshot eyes, the shaking hands. He’s trying so hard to play the part he’s supposed to play, but he just looks miserable.

He can barely meet the girl’s eyes. The car leaves, but the photographer it drops off is anything but subtle. The girl pushes her hair back and orders for both of them. Henry just nods. The camera clicks.

Then there’s Cash’s voice, asking for directions in the Spanish he’s picked up from the Diaz family. Alex glances over, and the photographer is distracted.

The girl at Henry’s table excuses herself to go to the bathroom. Alex waits a second, then slides over to sit in front of Henry. For a second, he doesn’t react, so Alex reaches over to take one of the shaking hands in his own. Henry starts.

“Alex? What... you can’t be here. This... you can’t...”

“It’s okay. It’s... we need to talk, but just... I’m... fuck, I thought this would be easier to say. I want... if you want to date I’d be down for that. But also I really like being friends. But also, if you wanted to do more than that, I... I’ve maybe very suddenly realized I’ve had a crush on you since I was twelve. I can see Bea’s friend coming, but this is the address for the hotel where I’m staying. She’s going to suggest a walk after this, and if... if you want to talk, I’ll be there. I’m in your corner no matter what, though. Nora and June and everyone back home is, too. You’re the bravest person I know, and I love you.”

Alex is back in his seat before Henry has time to respond, leaving the hotel’s business card on the table. Bea’s friend comes to sit across from Henry, Cash breaks off his conversation with the photographer, and Alex pays for his coffee inside. He stops at Bea and Pez’s table to fill them in, then goes back to his hotel.

He gets there at 10:14. Cash appears by his side at 10:15. Zahra is down from her room at 10:28 to let them know that Buckingham’s official plan is to publish the pictures of the date and act like nothing incriminating was leaked.

At 10:33, Henry and Bea’s friend round the corner. She has an arm around his waist, but it looks more like she’s supporting him than anything else. She asks him something, and he nods. She starts toward them, waving a bit, and Alex is moving almost before he’s aware of it. He meets them half a block from the hotel, wrapping an arm around Henry, too. Bea’s friend shoots him a little smile. Henry is shaking like a leaf, but he gets an arm over Alex’s shoulder nonetheless.

At the hotel, they say goodbye to Bea’s friend, and Alex leads the way to the elevator. He can feel his heart racing, but he’s doing everything he can to stay calm. This isn’t his moment to panic.

The minute the hotel door closes behind them, Alex hugs Henry with everything in him. He can feel the tension in Henry’s body, and he’s been seeing the exhaustion all day, and he wants nothing more than to get rid of all of it. He wants to squeeze the sadness and the anxiety and all the bad things out. But Henry’s still shaking, and he doesn’t move to hug Alex back. After a minute, Alex pulls away and Henry says, “I... I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t... I didn’t... I...”

“Hen? It’s okay. Let’s... let’s sit down.” He has no idea if this is the right thing to do, but he sits on the couch, pulling Henry down with him.

“I’m sorry. I... that shouldn’t... this shouldn’t have happened. None of this should have happened, and you never should have gotten pulled into this, and you have every right to be mad and never speak to me again and I... I’m sorry.”

“What? I’m... I'm not mad. Don’t apologize. I... I’m... I think maybe I have a crush on you, too. It... no, I don’t think. I know I have a thing for you. Sorry; it’s... with time zones and everything, I think it’s been just a little over a day since I realized I was bi, so it’s... it’s an adjustment.”

Henry lets out a bit of a laugh at that, and though it’s miles from what his laugh should be, it’s better than the panic or tears. It's miles better than the numbness he's seen all day.

“That doesn’t change things, though. I mean, I’m into you, but me being bi doesn’t change anything. This whole thing doesn’t have to change anything; if you want to we can just... we can ignore it and go back to being friends.”

Henry shakes his head, and Alex feels a bit of a thrill. “I... I don’t... no. Don’t ignore it. I... if you want to, it... I don’t know if I can, or if I’ll be allowed, but I want... I want to try. With you.”

“Me, too. I really, really want to try with you.”

Henry sniffles a bit, and Alex wraps him in another hug. He buries his face in Alex’s shoulder, and Alex realizes he’s mostly stopped shaking.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay, I promise. I’ll make sure.”

“Sorry. I... I might need you to tell me all this again later; I'll think I made it up. I... I’m... I’m a little drunk. I can’t do it sober.”

“Can’t do what?”

“These... these dates. I can’t do them sober anymore, and Bea tried to help today, but she left earlier than me and it...” He trails off with a miserable hiccup.

“Oh, Hen. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry they’re doing this to you; it’s not right. It’s... I’m going to fight your grandma and bring you home with me. And then my family are going to love you to pieces, like they already do, and things will be okay.”

Henry lets out a watery laugh as Alex’s phone buzzes. It’s Bea, so he pets Henry’s hair (which is exactly as soft as he used to imagine) and answers, filling her in and letting her know it’s okay to come up. So she and Pez do, and by the time they’re there, Henry is snoring softly with his face in Alex’s shoulder. Bea just smiles and tells them that Henry hasn’t slept since the leak yesterday morning as she drapes a blanket over him. Pez digs through Alex’s bag to unearth a packet of root beer float Oreos, and he and Bea settle around the coffee table to try them.

They facetime the White House to fill everyone in, and though Alex knows they’ve got a fight coming, he’s strangely calm. Henry is safe, and whatever comes next, they have each other and a family to walk through it with.

On AO3

Notes:

Fun fact; Mark Hamill was "too busy being young and pretty" to notice that Carrie Fisher and Harrison Ford were sleeping together/ that he was aggressively cockblocking them on at least one occasion. What an icon. Also, re: June's Northanger reference, Tilney is the Rich Bachelor of the book. His father thinks that Catherine, the hero, isn't good enough for their family and makes her leave their house in a really disgusting show of rudeness and spite. Tilney chases her down and proposes to her anyway, and it's way more romantic and self-sacrificing than anything Fitzwilliam ever did imo. - After this fic, I like to think that Alex, Zahra, and Cash took Henry straight to the airport and back to DC, where he cuddled with the litter of kittens June and Nora picked up and Bea and Pez fought the queen for a while so he could have a break.

Here We Go Again

I said I was thinking about a Mamma Mia-esque AU with some ABBA lyrics in there. I wasn’t lying. This is it. 

AO3 Link

Cloud fussed with her mother’s sweater after she finished pouring tea. Claudia swatted her daughter’s hand away with a nod towards their guest. Tifa, used to the Strife’s silent arguments, was more than happy to put sugar in her own tea.

“I had hoped you weren’t hurt too badly,” Claudia said, “I told them they needed to take better care of the guides.” Tifa just shrugged, scratching under the strap of her arm sling.

“It’s just a scratch, but it could be a fracture,” she said with a shrug, “They told me to keep it like this for today to let their Materia heal it if that’s the case.”

“I take it you’re not going up there again though,” Claudia said. Tifa looked disappointed.

“No,” she said, “I would, but…whatever monsters that reactor made…they’re too tough, even for me.” Tifa smirked at Cloud’s snort. Claudia gave her daughter a disapproving look, but ignored it.

“That’s…kinda why I asked to come over,” Tifa admitted, “I’m not going back, so…those ShinRa guys will need a new guide.” Cloud knew where this was going.

“No,” Cloud said, “I’ve had enough of ShinRa for a lifetime.”

“It’d just be a couple days,” Tifa said, “And everybody knows you’re the best-“

“I’m retired,” Cloud said, adding one more cube of sugar to her mother’s tea.

“Cloud Strife,” Claudia said sternly, “You are 20 years old and too young to live off that retirement package…especially with my doctor’s bills.”

“And they are paying, Cloud,” Tifa said, “Paying very well.”

“Oh yeah,” Cloud said, “How much is this pay?” She blew on her tea before taking a sip. Probably half of what her infantry pay was.

Tifa told her.

Cloud choked. Her mother pat her on the back, a little smugly.

“That’s almost triple my salary when I was in Midgar,” Cloud said, “those assholes were holding out on me.”

“That’s why…I think you should do it,” Tifa said. Cloud caught the look she gave Claudia.

“You knew she was going to ask,” Cloud said. Claudia looked saddened.

“What’s the name of the game, Ma?” she asked.

“Chiquitita,” Ma said, “I hate to see you like this, you’re so sad, so quiet. You’re draining yourself dry to take care of me,” Claudia said, “At least with this…I can know you’ll have something leftover when I’m…”

“With that kind of money,” Cloud started, “I could move us to Mideel…where that clinic is.”

“And…you are the best shot in this town,” Tifa added, “by far.”

“Your gun still work?” Cloud asked her mother.

“What am I a fool?” Claudia said, “Of course it does, Chiquitita.” And Cloud sighed.

“Alright…how do I get started.”

Habit made her tuck her hair under her beanie. She suddenly missed that god awful helmet as the SOLDIERs came up. Three of them. This monster things must have been serious if they sent three SOLDIERs. She remembered them well enough from her infantry days. A lot of her comrades hoped to join them. She had too for a while. She had long since given up on the idea.

She had liked Commander Hewley well enough. He had the foresight to tell her to ignore Private Hessen. She hadn’t heard of the third one before. He must have just arrived because she hadn’t seen him before. She’d remember seeing someone with silver hair.

“Nice…another hot chick,” the young man who had to be Hessen said, “You sure know how to pick ‘em Hewley.”

“I’m certain Angeal chose her because she knows the area much better than you do,” the newbie said.

“I chose her because she was the only volunteer,” Hewley said, “though I’m sure she’d be happy to walk away due to your attitude Blake. Giving us another day without a decent guide and leaving us stuck here.” Cloud detected the disapproval in Hewley’s voice and noticed Hessen wilt a little. She didn’t smirk…completely.

“Besides,” Hewley stated, “Ms. Strauss does have a resume history with the company.”

“So…we have a private Strauss?” Hessen said.

“Corporal,” Cloud corrected, “and I’m sorry to order you about but I suggest we start moving. I’m not comfortable taking the bridge.”

“Why not?” Hessen challenged.

“Because I’ve been on it when it’s snapped before,” Cloud replied, “And the town can’t always afford to do scheduled maintenance on it. Once we get down in the valley I can get you through the cave system. There will probably be more of those…monster things y’all are looking for on my path.” Hessen wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Then lead away Ms. Strauss,” Hewley said. Cloud readjusted her weapon.

The incident with Tifa must have startled the SOLDIERs. The moment she heard the growl they pushed her back and unsheathed their weapons. They didn’t tell her to stay put, but it was heavily implied. A little insulting, but Cloud had seen enough SOLDIERs to know they could do things she just couldn’t.

She did, however, take them ditching her as full permission to load her weapon. She heard the howls and knew it was probably Fangs. The mako probably drove them insane. Made them unafraid of humans and so much stronger.

She saw Hewley start at her first shot. He noted the dead Fang behind him. Hewley held one cupped hand over his head, asking her to cover them as they fought. She had permission to shoot. She smiled.

“Couldn’t let us have all of them,” Hessen grumbled.

“She was covering us,” Hewley said nudging the Private, “which is how she is earning triple rate for being our guide. Besides, we are to expect a lot of hostile activity. There will be bigger and harder things the deeper in we go. She’s helping us keep some stamina so we can save the ethers.”

“I thought I recognized you,” the silver haired one said more softly, “You were the runner-up in the sharp-shooter contest 8 months ago.” She just shrugged.

“Your hair was shorter then,” he noted.

“Military regulation,” Cloud offered, “I see it doesn’t apply to all SOLDIERs though.”

“I heard the Turks talking about recruiting you,” the man continued.

“They offered,” she admitted, “but I had to come home.”

“For what it’s worth…I don’t think you would be the best Turk…their cover fire is not as…precise.” Cloud smiled at that.

“That is either the strangest flirt or the most sincere compliment,” she said, “I’ll take the latter.”

“That’s…what it was.” She fought not to laugh at him.

“Sephiroth, quit weirding out the guide,” Hessen said, “I may still have a shot.”

“Only in your nightmares,” Cloud replied.

Ten Years Later

Zack sneezed at the cloud of dust that puffed when he moved the next box in the storage room.

“Bless you,” His Ma said, “but…what do you think?” Zack looked around the cluttered room. He saw a window, a nice little cove to put a bed, empty walls to put up his pictures and posters …yea he could visualize the first room he would have all to himself

“I think it’s perfect,” Zack said. His Ma ruffled his hair.

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep any of it?” he asked. Ma blue a wayward spike of blonde hair out of her face.

“Well if you want to go through it, that can be your job,” she said, “I haven’t looked at most of this crap in years.”

“I can price some stuff then,” Zack said, drawing a smiley face in the dust on a cabinet.

“Deal,” she said, “we’ll cart, you organize. I’ll get Barret with that lift.” Zack ran down to the room he shared with his mom and pulled out one of his washable markers before dashing back down to the storage room that hadn’t been lived in since his Gran was alive. He heard various people calling for his Ma, her own voice arguing back. Running a hotel was a tough business…especially in a vacation spot like Mideel, but she made do. Zack had saved various travel articles that praised their little hotel. Small and cozy, but good service and lovely views. With a short jaunt to some mako fountains. She was probably hoping to use the money selling most of this stuff to start building that addition she was planning.

Let’s see the cabinet was dusty, but sturdy. Looked like it would fit in their dining room or more sparse guestrooms. If not keeping 50 Gil.

Boxes of old books. 1 Gil per book.

Another box of books

An old tool box. Give to Cid or sell for 30 Gil.

Some old curtains it seemed. Clean and sell for 20 Gil.

Another box of…scrapbooks. Zack paused. He pulled one out. He opened it gently. It had been buried and spared most of the dust. He recognized his mother instantly, even as a baby. Her hair was still blonde and spiky and her eyes so blue.

Actually…his baby pictures looked an awful lot like hers. He flipped through pausing and smiling at how carefully Gran had put this together.

Cloud, 5 years, summer festival — featuring Ma in a flower crown.

Cloud, 8 years, after winning King of the Hill — featuring Ma with a wooden sword, held triumphantly over her head.

Cloud, 10 years, first hunt —Ma with Gran’s gun slung on her back. He set it aside too look over later. Then a photo slipped out. Zack picked it up.

It wasn’t a photo, but a newspaper article with a picture. He furrowed his brow. He recognized his Ma. She didn’t match the other’s uniforms, just dressed comfortably, with her hair tucked under a hat. It was what she wore when they went hiking together. He didn’t know those men though. Or their uniforms. The belts looked somewhat familiar.

“ShinRa ending mako monster rampages,” the headline read.

ShinRa SOLDIER agents ready to depart with guide Cloud Strife, the picture caption said. His heart leapt a little at that. This must have been what SOLDIER uniforms looked like 10 years ago. His heart almost stopped as he looked closer at the men.

He sprinted out of the room, nearly knocking Barret off balance. He didn’t hear Barret shouting at him to watch where he was going, or to get back here and help him. He sprinted back up to his room, digging through his drawers to find some of his posters. He found the one from ShinRa…the one his mom hated. He unrolled it, kneeling on it until he could see the face he was looking for. He held the newspaper photo up to it.

They matched. The newspaper version was much younger, but they were a match.

His mother had worked with Sephiroth—the Sephiroth—once before. He couldn’t squash the thought.

He’d asked Ma dozens of times, perhaps thousands. He loved her with all his heart…but he wanted to know. He was curious as to who his Dad was. Why he wasn’t here. Ma always promised to tell him when he was older. It still hurt sometimes.

And now all Zack wanted to know was if it was possible for Sephiroth to be his Dad. He was ten years old…and this article was from ten years ago.

Was it possible?

Cloud walked into the storage where Barret was chastising her missing son. She shook her head, then saw the book. She smiled at her Mother’s handiwork. She had loved making these books. She touched a few photos that featured her late mother. There was a piece of paper glued on the back page. She read it with a sad smile on her face. A poem from her mother, a song really, telling her to cheer up. It was exactly what her mother would do.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t throw everything out,” she said to herself.

“What you wanna keep the wardrobe now?” Barret said.

“Not that dummy!” Cloud said, “Zack get back down here and help if you want your own room!”

“Coming Ma!” She shook her head, but set the scrapbooks aside, with a gentle pat.

Chiquitita, you and I know

How the heartaches come and they go and the scars they're leaving

You'll be dancing once again and the pain will end

You will have no time for grieving

Chiquitita, you and I cry

But the sun is still in the sky and shining above you

Let me hear you sing once more like you did before

Sing a new song, Chiquitita

Try once more like you did before

Sing a new song, Chiquitita

— Keep singing for me Cloud. With all the love from your Ma.

Something from elbow/wrist/fingers? 👀

nothing with elbow or wrist, but I did find this for fingers:

 He touched two of his fingers to his lips and pressed them against the cold of the stone before getting up and walking away, towards the grave he always saved last on his tour.

Hello :) I come here everyday to read you, because your stories are like... err.. chocolate for me ! (and i loooove chocolate ^^) I got very interested by your SW/Taken AU, can you tell us what'll happen next ?

Oh gosh, I actually had to look the movie again for this one… XD But if this is, what you want… :)

@nessa-oronra

An annoyed gran escaped the red haired man, who had been buried under his blanket up to now. Blindly he reached for the cell phone that was ringing nearby. Having made contact with it, he pulled it towards his face and squinted against the bright display only t groan once more. 

“Two am, why do people always call at two am?” he grumbled, but accepted the call nevertheless, despite not having checked who was calling. “Yes?”

“Ben? Ben is that you? Oh please tell me this is you!”

Suddenly the man’s mind was wide awake and he sat up abruptly in his warm and comfortable bed. “Kim?” he asked, despite already knowing it was her.

“Yes,” her voice was trembling and she sounded close to crying.

Ben did not know why, but he just jumped out of his bed and began rummaging through his things, trying to locate something clean to wear, while also packing his stuff. He had a feeling that something had happened and he did not want to waste a single second. 

“What’s the matter?”

“Mom and Dad… they were taken,” she sobbed, “And I barely escaped the kidnappers. Ben, you have to help me.”

“Alright, alright.” These were indeed bad news. He silently cursed Bryan, or actually the man’s damn luck to get involved with the wrong kinds of people. “Okay, listen closely. I need you to tell me where exactly you are. Are the kidnappers still there? Have you seen them and was there something… noticeable about them.”

The brunette sniffed, but had apparently caught herself again. Kim was a clever girl, she knew when she needed to be controlled and when she could allow her emotions to run free.

“We are in a hotel in Istanbul… Sam can give you all the information… he, he has them sorted. And the kidnappers aren’t here anymore. They shot somebody and left then.”

“Okay,” this was definitely something he could work with. Ben was already grabbing his packed backpack while checking his suitcase, the one with his weapons. “I am going to contact Sam now and I want you to say where you are. I will be there as soon as possible. Don’T look for me, I will find you, alright?”

“Yes,” he could not see that she was nodding. “Thank you.”

“Not for that Kimmy,” and he meant  it. 

Kim and Bryan were family and of course Lenore as well. Since their last ‘Taken’ mission - as Ben had called them - they were back in contact and had actually a good relationship again. Bryan and he had talked a lot, about feelings and thoughts and such stuff. A lot harsh words had fallen, some good insults and even a couple of tears had fallen. But in the end, they had hugged - even though it had been a little awkward - and promised to not lose contact again. They had not. It was just that Ben and Bryan sometimes had to travel and hide underground because of their jobs and missions. It was part of their lives and therefore, it COULD happen that there was no contact for day, weeks or on rare occasions even months.

“Hey, if your father contacts you, call me.”

“I will,” promised Kim and with that, did Ben end the call. He closed his suitcase with a loud click and stood up.

“Istanbul, here I come,” he mumbled, even though he was already tipping in Sam’s personal phone number…

Fic Update: Between Heaven and Hell

Summary:  A Hook/Emma angel/demon AU. They hide in plain sight, the servants of heaven and hell. The angels and the demons, who can save your soul or damn it. They stand on opposite sides, they are the bringers of light and the agents of darkness, they are enemies in an eternal war, but what happens when an angel and a demon are inexplicably drawn to each other?

Read this chapter on ff.net here and on AO3 here

                                             Part Twenty

Something was about to go down.

Something big.

Something soon.

Will could sense it, the way he'd always been able to tell the exact moment when he had to ditch a boosted ride before the plates were broadcasted to every police cruiser in the city, or noticed Loss Prevention discreetly following him around in a store and watching to see if he was going to try to slip something under his jacket and walk out without paying. He was good at it, always getting out just before the shit was about to hit the proverbial fan, no matter how much his teenage buddies used to protest when he pulled over in the stolen Merc or Mustang they were joyriding in and ordered them to all get out and scatter. Three of them got busted for Grand Theft Auto one night when Will was busy on a snatch-and-grab job for Hood, one was lucky, he was barely sixteen and got tried as a juvenile, but the other two...they got handed felony sentences and three years in the state pen.

His phone had been vibrating in his pocket during the whole ride from the Jolly Roger to Jones's condo but he didn't dare answer, not with the way Jones was staring out the tinted window, as still as a statue save for the drumming of his fingers on the empty leather seat next to him. He hadn't said a word after his curt order of "drive" and he stayed completely silent while Will parked in the plum spot reserved in the underground garage for the penthouse, exiting the SUV before Will even had the keys out of the ignition and making a beeline towards the elevator. Will watched him in the rearview mirror, the brake lights casting a red glow over Jones's face as he walked behind the car. His head turned and their eyes met for a brief moment, the red reflection going even brighter in his pupils and Will blinked at the weirdly distorted image. He had looked almost….inhuman, for a split-second, all red eyes and lips that curled in a sneer against a mouth as dark as a black hole. But then it was gone, and Will blinked again and rubbed his finger nervously over the key fob, feeling the raised lines and edges of the tiny logo press against his palm like an anchor to reality.

It must have just been a trick of the light.

Jones would expect him to follow, Will knew. Up the elevator to the penthouse condo that looked like it belonged in a magazine, beyond anything he'd ever even imagined and the symbol of everything he could possibly want. But his old instincts were making him hesitate, even though he knew men like Killian Jones were practically bulletproof. They had fancy lawyers who could wiggle them through every loophole, not like his old mates and the shitty public defenders they'd been stuck with. He couldn't picture Jones getting perp-walked out of the building in cuffs or spending even one night in city lockup, the only metal that would get snapped around his wrists were Swiss watches in platinum or gold and he spent his nights away from home with gorgeous women in five-star hotels. Whatever was going down, he'd probably come out of it smelling like a rose.

Will, on the other hand, would not be nearly so lucky.

He had no illusions about the man he currently worked for, the blue-eyed bastard was as cold as Hood, probably even more so. Everyone else around him would be expendable, so long as his own Armani-clad ass stayed out of the fire. But he knew things about Killian Jones, knew about one weakness in particular that he was sure the man didn't want exposed.

Emma Swan.

If he walked away now, got on his motorcycle with a backpack and got the hell out of Dodge...Jones might be too preoccupied with whatever it was to worry about one missing lackey. But he still had Ana and Lacey both firmly under his thumb and Will knew it would be too dangerous to try to contact either or both of them ever again if he left. Ana was a wet dream come to life, but classy too, the kind of girl who never even gave him the time of day back in high school...and Lacey, she was exactly the kind of girl he used to mess around with when he was seventeen, getting handjobs in the backseat of cars after ditching class and smoking cigarettes together after, and he didn't want to let either of them go and fuck, he was so, so screwed.

He could feel Jones's gaze flick over to him while they waited for the elevator but he stared straight ahead, not even pausing to let the boss enter first when the doors finally opened. They rode up in silence and it wasn't until they were inside the condo that Jones finally spoke.

"An old associate of mine will be coming to town tomorrow. Call him a competitor of sorts, someone who I suspect has been sticking his unwanted nose into my business and sniffing around."

Whatever Will had been expecting it wasn't that, and he felt himself frown, "Oh?"

The other man was behind him in the dark living room, his voice coming from over Will's left shoulder.

"I am a very private man, Scarlet, I do not tolerate any leaks in my organization. In this case loose lips don't just sink ships, anyone who even tries to sell me out will live to regret it. Are we clear on that?"

The veiled accusation was clear and Will swallowed hard, "Crystal. Sir."

"Good."

When Jones disappeared upstairs Will sat down heavily on the sofa and took a few deep breaths. Great, just great, his absolutely terrifying boss who could probably have him killed with one phone call thought he was a snitch, Hood was riding his ass about the job he'd promised to do and having two beautiful women fight over him was nowhere near as much fun as he'd thought it would be. Mostly he just felt guilty, all the time, guilty for the things he'd done for Jones, guilty for going back to Hood after he'd finally got away from that life, guilty for trying to make Ana jealous with Lacey and then realizing he had feelings for both of them. A nice heaping dose of Catholic guilt, as his Gran used to say.

He needed air and he chanced going out onto the terrace, sending out a silent prayer of thanks when the door opened without a sound. Even though he was in the middle of downtown it was fairly quiet, he was too high up for the traffic below to be more than a muffled hum in the background. The view was spectacular, the city laid out beneath him like he was king of the castle, but it all belonged to Jones, not to him. He had fucking everything and Will would bet a million bucks that he never felt the tiniest bit of guilt for any of it, the wads of cash, the cars, the women who practically fell over themselves to suck his dick. He was screwing both his own girlfriend and the wife of the man who'd probably be their next mayor, maybe even a senator or the governor too one day. Another rich asshole who'd had everything handed to him, while Will had spent almost his whole life fighting for scraps.

His phone went off again and he snatched it from his pocket, almost dropping it over the balcony in the process and swearing to himself as he looked at the call display, expecting to see Hood's number. He'd had to cut their conversation short earlier when Jones had come out of the club sooner than Will expected, much to Hood's obvious annoyance. But "LACEY" was flashing on the screen instead, along with a picture he'd snapped of her without her noticing. It wasn't like she was naked or anything, he wasn't that kind of guy with a camera roll full of nudes, but he still felt a little guilty for doing it.

"WILL! Finally, I've been calling and calling, trying to get a hold of you. What the fuck is going on?"

"Damned if I know," he replied, scrubbing a hand over his face, "Jones closed down the Jolly Roger until further notice."

"I know, but that's not all he did. Will, did you hear about Jack?"

It took him a moment to place the name, thinking she was talking about a guy at first. But then he remembered the bartender, the one who overcharged him for a shot when he'd first come to the Jolly Roger at Jones's invitation. He'd caught it at once, he knew that scam from clueless idiots who wandered into the Outlaw and got fleeced and her apology had only been half-hearted when she gave him back the correct change, though she'd quickly changed her tune when she realized he'd been invited to the club by the boss himself and comped his next drink.

"What about her?" he asked, confused.

"Mr. Jones dragged her into that storeroom that leads down into the basement and she didn't come back out! I asked around, no one saw her leave before Peter kicked us all out, he didn't even let me go back into the dressing room to get my other bag, the dick, I had to wait for a cab for almost an hour in fucking five-inch heels."

He felt himself frown, "The basement?"

That locked door flashed in his mind, the keypad entry taunting him. Without the code, there was no way in. He was sure Jones was hiding something down there, and now it looked like he was hiding someone. Wasn't that considered kidnapping? What could Jack have possibly done?

"Anyone who even tries to sell me out will live to regret it."

"You know something. Will, what is it? Tell me, please."

Lacey was fun and he liked her, liked her a lot, actually, but as silence stretched between them he realized he didn't trust her. Killian Jones was searching for a leak and he clearly suspected Will and probably Jack as well, he couldn't think of another reason why he'd zeroed in on her specifically out of all his employees. Maybe he was going to go back to the Jolly Roger now that it was empty and interrogate her...but what if she wasn't the one who had sold him out?

He knew next to nothing about Lacey, he didn't even know where she lived. She always wanted to come over to his place and brushed him off when he asked about her apartment, listened attentively while he bitched about Jones, usually naked and with her mouth wrapped around his dick. What if her interest in him had all been an act? He hadn't even questioned it, too distracted by making Ana jealous the way he was of all the men who flocked around her in the club by slipping off into the storerooms or the stairwells with Lacey. Once she even talked him into bringing her into Jones's office for a quickie on the couch when he was out, one place that was absolutely off-limits to the dancers without a direct invitation. Had she been playing him the whole time?

"Will?"

Her voice was soft, encouraging, and damn if he didn't want to spill his guts and tell her everything despite his sudden suspicion, tell her about Katie, underage and clearly scared shitless, tell her about Mark Preston coughing up blood in the parking lot the night the redheaded dancer had OD'd - Will wasn't stupid, he'd seen the needle and untied the tourniquet from her arm himself - tell her about Albert Spencer's cheating wife and the weirdo drug dealer named Jefferson out in suburbia hell, tell her about the room down in the basement with the lock he couldn't pick where Jack had been taken and about Emma Swan, a woman who claimed to know Killian Jones better than anyone and was the only one who he seemed to care about in return.

But that same instinct that had always told him when the joyride was over made him hesitate, the instinct that had saved his ass more times than he could count and almost without thinking his thumb moved to hover over the red button.

"Lacey, I have to go."

"No, wait-"

Her protest was cut off when he ended the call, hearing nothing but the whistle of the wind sweeping across the terrace. When the phone lit up again with her picture, bent over a pool table with cue in hand from that dive bar they had gone to, he immediately hit the decline button.

Ana didn't answer when he tried to call her, served him right, Will knew, so he sent her a text instead, "Lie low for a couple of days, OK? Don't go back to the club until you hear from me, not Peter, not anyone else, I don't think it's safe. Just trust me on this, please."

There was no response, but he could see the messages were delivered, at least. He didn't know if Ana would follow his instructions, but he hoped that he hadn't fucked things up between them so badly that she'd disregard them out of spite.

"I'm sorry."

He stared at the screen and hit send, it wasn't a diamond tennis bracelet or designer shoes, but it was the best he could do at the moment.

Another incoming call popped up but this one had no picture attached, just a name and Will felt his posture change as his hips pushed forward and his thumb sought out a belt loop to casually hook through. The cocky swagger of his old gang persona washed over him and he answered with a single word, "Hood."

Robin Locksley snorted on the other end, "Knave. So kind of you to spare me a few moments of your precious time. You've got some fucking balls on you, you little shit, I'll give you that. But now's the time to put them to the test. No more delays, we're hitting the warehouse tomorrow night. Are you in or are you out?"

Will stared down at the city below, a blur of colour and light against the darkness. Jones had said that this old associate of his was coming to town tomorrow and if he tried to duck out then there's no way that wouldn't raise suspicion, but if the situation got out of control then he might need the cash from Hood's job to get himself and Ana out of town and fast. Men like Jones didn't go down, except to those who were even more powerful, and guys like Will were always the ones who got caught in the crossfire. He'd figure out a way to make it work.

"I'm in."

"Good. I'll text you the meeting point. Don't be late or that smart mouth will be missing a few teeth."

Locksley hung up on him and Will felt his tattoo itch again under his shirt, reaching back to scratch at the permanent reminder of the old life even as his new one seemed to be crashing down around his ears. Jones was nowhere to be seen when he went back inside and he hadn't given Will any orders, so he was stuck cooling his heels without anything to do except imagine worst case scenarios for God knew how long.

The living room was larger than Will's entire apartment and he wandered about it aimlessly while he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar, he might as well be comfortable while he waited for his boss to come back and possibly murder him. The liquor bottles behind the bar beckoned and he wanted a drink more than the alcoholics in the park who begged for quarters and drank the cheapest, nastiest shit out of sheer desperation. Jones liked scotch the most, but he also drank other stuff too and the bar was as well-stocked as the Jolly Roger, with golden tequila, crystal-clear vodka and dark rum all on display, all brands that had to be special-ordered from glossy catalogues and certainly not sold in corner markets with bars on the windows and baseball bats behind the counter. Will didn't dare touch a drop of it, he was a thief but he wasn't that stupid. He would have loved breaking into a place like this when he was fifteen or sixteen though and seeing how the other half lived. Everything just dripped money, the furniture, the state of the art TV and sound system, the art. There wasn't a lot of it, but the boss had a few paintings and sculptures and things scattered around the condo. Will knew exactly two things about art, jack and shit, but at least it wasn't that modern crap that looked like a three year old had done it and yet sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars. There was a framed map of the Caribbean, yellowed and faded, clearly very old. Some of the names written over the islands were the same as they were today, Cuba, Jamaica, and some he had never heard of before, Saint-Domingue, the Danish West Indies, all written in faded brown letters that were spidery and difficult to read. Down the wall a few feet away hung a painting of a ship, an old-timey one with tall sails. It was well done, or, at least it was to his uncultured eyes, but if Killian Jones owned it then it had to be worth some serious coin. Waves crashed against the hull and the wind filled the sails under an indigo sky that was heavy with clouds. All the tiny little details must have taken hours upon hours to paint, the folds in the sails, the way the ropes looked wet from the spray in the air. There was a signature in the corner that he couldn't make out, the letters were too smudged, but the date underneath was clear, 1802. It obviously wasn't a reproduction, Will had seen enough fake handbags and knockoff sneakers in his life to have a pretty good idea of what was real and what wasn't.

Or at least, he used to.

"Scarlet."

Will nearly jumped right out of his skin, whirling around to see Jones standing right behind him. He had no idea how he hadn't heard him come back down the stairs, he really needed to get a grip on himself. The long nights at the Jolly Roger plus his stakeouts down at the warehouse to case the security and find a way in for Hood plus everything with Ana and Lacey were clearly taking a toll on him. He was drinking too much and not sleeping enough and he was seeing things that weren't there.

Jones's gaze drifted over his shoulder for a moment and he got a strange look on his face before his eyes snapped back to Will's.

"A sudden interest in art, I take it?"

The sarcasm was so thick Will could probably go ice skating on it and he kept his mouth shut, clearly, it was a rhetorical question.

"I've got a job for you. Take the Escalade and go back to the Prince Hotel. Talk to every last chambermaid and bellboy you can find and see if any of them saw this man there."

Will's vision was suddenly filled with a photograph that seemed to come from nowhere and he reached up automatically to take it, squinting at the image.

"You don't have anything better?"

As soon as the words left his mouth he cringed, looking up nervously at Jones over the top of the photo. But the boss actually looked amused for a moment, the dark brows raising and the faintest hint of a smile at the edge of his lips.

"Anything better?" he repeated, "You have no idea what it took to get this and you're asking if I have anything better? It's probably the only fucking photograph of him in existence, he's not exactly what you'd call the selfie type."

Will squinted harder at the picture, taking in the shoulder-length hair and the cane held in one of the man's hands, even though he didn't look that old. His gran had always refused to use her own cane, preferring to hold on to the edges of furniture and Will's arm to steady herself, slippered feet shuffling slowly and painfully across the worn carpet of their old apartment. The man in the picture was walking down a street, clearly unaware that he was being photographed. His face was completely out of focus, which was weird, other details were crisp and clear. Will could even read the license plate on a car parked next to the curb, a long string of letters and numbers that wouldn't be found on any plate in the US.

"What's his name?" Will asked, feeling a chill down his spine the more he looked at the man and tried to read his features.

If anything Jones looked even more amused by his second question even though Will had no idea why. If he was supposed to go track this guy down then he needed to know who the hell it was he was looking for.

"He's known by many names," Jones said, turning smoothly on his heel and making for the bar. He poured himself a drink, Will noted that he reached for one of the bottles of rum this time and not the scotch.

"A lot of aliases, huh?"

"Something like that."

The longer he looked at the picture the more Will wanted to look away but his eyes seemed to be glued to it. There was something familiar about the man and he racked his brain trying to think if he had ever seen him before.

"He won't be using his real name and I've no idea what moniker he's adopted now."

Jones threw back more rum like it was water and dipped into his pants pocket. He came up with a wad of rubber-banded bills that he threw at Will like a ninja throwing star, almost hitting him in the chest.

"Pay whatever it takes to get the info but be discreet about it, Scarlet. There's probably reporters all over the hotel by now sniffing around but it can't be helped, I need to know if he was there."

Reporters? Will blinked, that sense of impending doom tingling like pins and needles. Something was going down, that was for damn sure. A quick flick of his thumb through the bills showed him that the wad was full of fifties and hundreds, he was probably holding close to three grand.

Take the money and run.

It was as if a voice had spoken right in his ear. He was a thief, had been since he'd first started shoplifting at the age of ten. He could just pocket the cash and Jones would never know.

"Who is he?"

Will didn't even know why he was still talking, his big mouth had gotten his ass kicked plenty of times back in high school and he would have thought he'd learned when to shut up by now. The boss had his sleeves rolled to his elbows, jacket gone, looking the most...desperate, Will had ever seen him. It was a strange realization, he'd always seemed to have the upper hand with everyone, the cops he ordered around as if they were his own private security guards, the high rollers who suddenly couldn't make eye contact and acted like kids in the principal's office when Jones caught them breaking the rules in the club. Will had watched grown men actually cry and beg at his feet, men who were fucking CEOs and lawyers and even famous actors and athletes and he never once broke so much as a sweat. But now his shoulders were practically hunched to his ears and his hair fell messily over his forehead as he rolled the drink around in his hands and stared down into the glass.

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to," he said after a moment, and while the warning was clear, there was no bite to the words this time.

It reminded Will of that day at the church when he'd run into Emma Swan after Mass, when he'd run his mouth at her like a dumbass and called her Jones's bit on the side.

"Do you want to know? Ask yourself that question, do you really want to know everything about Killian Jones?"

The man in the picture was the old associate Jones had mentioned, that was obvious. But there was something more going on here than just an ordinary turf war. He'd been through those before with Hood in the old days, and this just felt different. Will swallowed, holding the photo carefully by the edges. Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to.

"What does he want?"

The boss looked up, backlit against the lights behind him from the bar that illuminated the rows of liquor bottles, each one something rare and expensive. His face was a shadow, eyes glassy pools that on anyone else Will would have taken as a sign that he was getting drunk.

"That's the key, isn't it? What do people want. What drives them, what motivates them deep down inside. You came to work for me because you wanted more than the hand you were dealt in life and you were willing to do whatever it took to get it, isn't that right, Will Scarlet? Some people play by the rules and others cheat, cheat on their wives, their husbands, on their taxes."

Jones's voice was low, taking on a hint of that dangerous edge again and Will flinched at the reminder of all the things he had done, the lying, the stealing, always trying to game the system and get ahead. The cars he couldn't afford, the cash he didn't earn, always wanting more.

"What he wants doesn't matter, the only thing that matters is what I want. Because there is nothing I won't do to get what I want. Rules don't matter, not in this game. Not to me. I don't just know where you live, remember? Now get me what I need."

With that clear dismissal, he set the glass down on the bar and went out onto the balcony, the wind lifting his hair as he tilted his head back and stared up at the stars. Will slipped the wad of cash into his pocket and fumbled for the keys, feeling no pleasure at being able to drive the Escalade on his own without the boss watching his every movement over his shoulder. He should have bailed a long time ago but now he was in too deep.

What Killian Jones wanted, Killian Jones got. Will could only hope now that getting him that would be enough to save his own neck.

                                                ....

Tortola - British Virgin Islands, 1802

The building itself was rather nondescript - a somewhat slapdash assembly of half-brick, half-timber, already heavily weathered from the salt air and with a tarnished brass plaque by the door that was engraved "JONES SHIPPING LTD" in careless, uneven letters. Emma ran her gloved fingertip over the name and traced the grooves before squaring her shoulders and pushing the door open. A little bell hung above the lintel jangled, announcing her arrival as she stepped over the threshold and left the dusty street behind. The man behind the counter looked up at the noise and she saw his eyes narrow in appraisal as he quickly looked her up and down. She had a lace shawl draped modestly over her shoulders and carried a small parasol to shade her face from the strong Caribbean sun, as every respectable European woman on the island did. Her face was unpainted and she wore no jewellery, no pearl earbobs or abalone bracelets like the ones sold in the marketplace where the planters' wives and daughters and the naval officers on leave all came to shop for exotic tropical fruits, fresh palm oil and colourful woven textiles.

Among….other goods that were offered up for sale.

The man was rather stout, with a round bearded face beneath a red knit cap. Tortola had a more temperate climate and was not as hot as some of the other islands claimed in the names of foreign kings, Spanish, French and Dutch alike were all commonly spoken in the port towns alongside English and the patios of the native inhabitants and the Africans who worked the fields and harvested the new crops of sugarcane and plantains. But since it was the British flag that flew above the governor's whitewashed estate it was no surprise to hear an accent that wouldn't have been out of place in London's Southwark when he jerked his chin and asked, "Can I help you, Mistress?" while puffing out his chest under the rough woolen jacket he wore.

Evidently his perusal of her had been enough for him to decide that she might have legitimate business to discuss, even though a woman without an escort of any kind, no husband or servant to accompany her, was somewhat of a curiosity among the warehouses and offices that lined the road rising above the island's main harbour.

"I'm here to see the captain. I was told he conducts business at this office from noon to six every other Tuesday and therefore might be available?"

The wiry eyebrows rose almost to the red cap and his lips thinned as he took another glance at her attire, clearly taking in the sober cut and colour of her dress.

"A fair warning, Mistress, if you're here in an attempt to spread the Gospel to the cap'n alongside the godless heathens who sacrifice chickens to their idols and the dockside whores who only worship coin and don't get on their knees to pray, he's not going to be very receptive to your message."

Emma hid her amusement, "No, I suppose not."

Many pious men and women had made the perilous ocean crossing to the New World, hauling trunks full of treatises and pamphlets and hymnals with them to found missions and churches in His name. They sought to convert and baptize new faithful along the roads being carved from the virgin ground and in the towns that sprung up as quickly as mushrooms around each harbour and trade route as cargo was transported from island to island. Emma had encountered several of them already, in lieu of a pulpit they would preach in the market square to sailors and stevedores, whores and merchants, whoever was willing to listen.

But the one she had come to see was not likely to be found among even the most unorthodox of congregations.

"Mr. Smee, show the lady in and tell anyone else who inquires that I am indisposed for the rest of the afternoon."

His voice called from behind a narrow door that was standing slightly ajar at the far end of the room and Emma watched as the man jumped into the air like he'd been jabbed by a hot poker at the sound of it. His face flushed the same colour red as his cap and he scurried around the counter, gesturing madly for her to follow him. Emma smoothed out a fold in her skirt and ignored the strange flutter in her chest, taking a moment to calm her nerves before falling in step behind the man and entering what was clearly the inner sanctum to be greeted for the first time by Captain Killian Jones.

The fashionable chevalier in Paris with his tailored breeches and polished riding boots was gone, and in his place was a figure clad in supple leather trousers that rippled and flexed over his thighs when he stood at her entrance. Instead of sumptuous velvets and lace cuffs and collar, he wore a scarlet waistcoat over a high-collared shirt that was open at the throat and revealed a dusting of dark hair on his chest and the glint of a silver necklace. He was as far removed from the courts of Europe as was possible in his rakish attire but the face was the same and the demon smiled, hooking a thumb in his thick belt and rocking back on his heels.

"Well," he said, in a lazy drawl that was nothing like formal, elegant French and yet it felt like the whisper of silk against her skin, "It seems the tides have decided to turn in my favour."

The room they were standing in clearly functioned as an office, with a large carved desk spread thick with papers and a shelf full of fat, leather-bound ledgers. Emma had heard that he had established himself in the colony as his base of operations, owner of a small fleet of ships that transported both cargo and passengers back and forth. There were fortunes to be made in spice and sugar and his was one of many such ventures that plied the waters around the patchwork group of new nations with vessels in every possible configuration of size and shape.

Hello, Captain Jones. Or should I say...Captain Hook?"

She heard a sharp intake of breath from the man Killian had called Smee, still standing in the open door and from the corner of her eye she saw him reach for the the rawhide sheath hanging from his belt. But before he could pull the knife Killian held up a hand to stop him.

"Ah. So you have heard of me?"

Captain K. Jones was a prosperous merchant sailor who didn't deal in contraband and whose papers were always in order on every one of his ships. Captain Hook was a notorious smuggler, a pirate who served no king and had a price on his head in ports from South America all the way to Canada in the north, though he was known to mainly ply his illegal trade on the turquoise blue waters of the Caribbean Sea. There were wild rumours about him, that he had a hook for a hand and any rival who challenged him quickly found their way to the bottom of the ocean, but from what Emma could tell there were very few who knew that the two men were one and the same and no one knew the truth - that he wasn't a man at all.

Well, except for her, she supposed, just as he knew her own secrets more deeper than any confessor.

Bless me Father, for I have sinned.

"Leave us."

It was directed at Smee and was clearly an order, a command from one who was used to being obeyed. Emma saw him glance between them with obvious speculation and then he shuffled out without a word, pulling the door shut behind him as he went. They were alone, and not, the memory of Paris and a kiss that she had relived more times than she'd admit was like another presence in the room with them, unseen but clearly felt in the weight of the demon's sideways gaze even as he went to a glass-fronted painted cabinet that would not be out of place in a French drawing room and retrieved a bottle that certainly would, a squat jug that was a cloudy green in colour and bore no label, a far cry from the fine brandy and champagne served at Versailles. But the Bourbons were gone, their dynasty now nothing but a memory that would fade into history within the next generation.

Two mismatched glasses were set on the desk and Killian deftly uncorked the bottle with a flick of his thumb, the silver ring he wore on it a wide band that reached almost to his knuckle. He poured out the drinks, the liquor flowing like liquid amber and a rich smell that was both spicy and sweet filling the small room. He lifted both glasses and held one out to her, she took it without letting their fingers touch even though she still wore her gloves and he clinked his own tumblr gently against it.

"Salve, beata."

The pitch of his voice was low, intimate and the liquor seemed to coat her throat and curled like a flame in her belly, warming her from the inside with a taste that was both dark with hints of smoky char and yet sweet at the same time, a touch of vanilla and a honeyed note that matched the golden colour swirling slowly around in the glass.

"The Romans built an empire on salt, roads were built solely to transport it and they even paid their soldiers with it in lieu of coin. Here they do the same with sugar, I could pay my crews in barrels of this rum and they'd take it as easily as gold. The real treasure of the New World, so to speak."

Killian moved closer, his lips damp with the drink as he reached out to brush a curl that had escaped her hairpins back over her shoulder. She remembered the feel of his hand in her hair and the taste of his lips, darker than than the spirit when pressed to hers. The heat of him was stronger than anything produced by the rum and promised to be even more potent, if she moved to work the little jet buttons of his scarlet waistcoat and let her lace shawl drop to the floor, baring them both and discarding the trappings of what they pretended to be. She knew more than just the names he used in the ports and towns of these kingdoms without kings, she knew what really lay beneath the handsome face and the talk of empires of sugar and salt. They'd had a similar conversation once in the shadows of a palace that had been the showpiece of an empire and now stood empty and ransacked, a mockery of a monument to a fallen regime. Rome fell, Versailles fell.

An angel could fall...an angel did, once.

Which was exactly why she couldn't give in to the urge to touch the flame that flickered and beckoned, even though she knew it wouldn't burn. At least, not at first.

The demon wrapped the curl around his index finger for a moment, over the square-cut ruby on another ring before tucking it back behind her ear and letting his touch linger on the base of her skull as softly as if he was handling something delicate and precious before he pulled back and went to pour more rum in his glass. He held the bottle high and it came out in an unnaturally perfect arc that spoke of his true nature, catching the sunlight through the somewhat dusty window and shimmering as it rippled and flowed. It was a strangely beautiful sight, beautiful like the sweep of his dark lashes against his cheeks when he blinked and the sea-blue eyes that had first locked with hers three centuries and an ocean away in Rome.

More dangerous thoughts, so she looked at the tumbler in her hand and reminded herself of why she had come to him.

"It's not just built on sugar, you know."

The market in the centre of the island's small capital sold all manner of goods, green vegetables plucked fresh from the dirt and tiny pink pearls harvested from the shallows.

And men.

And women.

And children.

His gaze went sharper than any blade at her reminder and he nodded, taking a deep swallow of the liquor that was practically liquid gold.

"I know," he said, simply. She'd heard many sordid tales of him in his guise as Hook, but in none of them was he a slaver, trading in the cargo of human souls.

Emma sighed, "Captain-"

"We're alone now, angel," Killian interrupted, "Mr. Smee has wisely chosen to vacate the premises entirely and there's no need to be so formal, though should he pluck up the courage to ask I will tell him that you are the Lady Swan, and he'll make his own assumptions about the exact nature of our obvious prior acquaintance, nearly all of which will be wrong."

He set his tumbler down on the desk and snapped his fingers over it. The rum inside ignited, gold turning to red as the flames licked the inside of the glass and the smell of burnt sugar rose, mixed with something else.

Let me be damned to the rest of the world, Emma, but I am Killian to you.

He could be that, at least.

"Killian."

There was a map on the desk of the Caribbean Sea, weighed down at the curling edges with a large pink seashell among various other items. Islands ringed the creamy paper like diamonds on a necklace, and, like jewels, some were more valuable than others. She found a name on the map, the letters dark and slanting against a pale blue sea. Like Killian's eyelashes, dark and slanting against the sea blue of his eyes.

"This is not a social call, is it, Emma?"

Those eyes saw too much, the weakness in a man's soul and her own hesitation in Paris, an ocean away but a memory held between them and only them, the brush of lips as the pink and gold sunrise rose above the gabled rooftops and wrought-iron railings. The words were quiet, resigned, he'd seen right through her and she felt a pang of regret.

"No, it's not," she agreed.

"Do you wish it could be?"

It was whispered right into the shell of her ear, he'd moved in the blink of an eye and she could feel him right behind her. So close, but not touching, his presence seemed to wrap around her like the shawl wrapped around her shoulders. A shadow against the sun, she could see his silhouette on the wall, covering hers. Killian lifted his left hand and it wasn't a hand, it curved like a hook as he traced along the line of her neck. The rumours about him were not just tales, spun by superstitious sailors with tongues loosened by too much drink. A devil of the sea with a hook for a hand, she watched his shadow move with inhuman grace and felt a pull deep inside, a tug like she was caught up in the undertow that rippled unseen under the sapphire waves.

Give in.

Let go.

Drown.

When Emma turned there was no hook, of course, just long, ringed fingers and an unblinking stare that she met head on. His gaze softened, eyes smudged with kohl to protect against the glare of the sun off the water. But he still looked straight into the light.

"What do you need?" he asked.

"A ship…," she answered, darting her gaze down to the map again and looking back up, "and safe passage."

The corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement, "Safe passage? Did you forget again that you have wings, angel? Because I haven't."

She ignored the veiled reminder, "Can you help me, Killian?"

"I have two vessels in port at the moment and could perhaps spare one on this mysterious journey. But I need to know the destination."

His eyes narrowed when she hesitated, glancing over his shoulder and out the window. The sea in the distance was calm, bright as any jewel and as dangerous as he was, full of hidden threats both natural and not. Finally she answered, "Port-au-Prince."

"Saint-Domingue?"

Killian pronounced it the French way, lilting and slightly slurred, even as his face creased with growing suspicion. She said nothing, watching as his mind worked behind the handsome visage.

"Emma," he exhaled at last, closing his eyes and huffing out a breath, "Do you have any idea of how dangerous it is to even attempt such a crossing? I could take you to beaches where the sand is as pink as your lips and the waters are warm as a bath, hidden isles not to be found on any map where flowers grow so thick they're like carpets underfoot and the air is filled with their sweet perfume, and you want to go to Saint-Domingue?"

"I need to go. Killian, please."

They stared at each other, so close that they were nearly touching. He gave a slow, clipped nod.

"As you wish. But it will take a few days to prepare a ship for the voyage."

She laid a hand on his sleeve, "Thank you."

He lifted it in his, stroking his thumb under the edge of her glove where her pulse fluttered against the delicate skin.

"Jones?" she queried, noting the flash of something behind his eyes.

"It was as good a name as any," he said with a one-shouldered shrug. But his jaw pulled tight for a moment and she knew there was more to it than that. Emma decided not to press, not when he hadn't pressed her on why she needed passage to Saint-Domingue.

"He thought I had come here to minister to you, infernal one. Mr. Smee, that is."

A laugh escaped him at that, the mood lightening even as the sun was just beginning to set outside.

"Aren't you, blessed one?" Killian asked with a grin, "Well then, Lady Swan. Let us dine together tonight, and you may minister to me in whichever manner you see fit."

He pressed his heels together and bent over her hand, kissing the glove like a gentleman.

Lady Swan.

She liked that.

Excursion de medio dia. https://www.hotellesbrases.com/noguera-pallaresa-assua LO MEJOR DE LA RUTA Cruzar el río Noguera Pallaresa por encima del puente colgante de Santa Caerina, a la entrada de Rialp. Pasear por las calles estrechas y pintorescas de Surp, Altron y Olp. Los caminos históricos del Valle de Àssua y del Batlliu de Sort. MÁS INFORMACIÓN Duración: Día completo. Tiempo total efectivo (sin paradas): 4:45h en total: 2:15h desde el punto de inicio hasta Surp y 2:30h desde este pueblo hasta Sort pasando por la Mola de Sall, Altron y Olp. Desnivel acumulado: 605m Dificultad: Notable. El recorrido no presenta ninguna dificultad técnica. Época: Todo el año. Material: Recomendamos llevar prismáticos para la observación de grandes y pequeños rapaces (buitre leonado, águila real, milano real, ratonero, cernícalo...) y otras aves. //EL MILLOR DE LA RUTA Creuar el riu Noguera Pallaresa per sobre de l' pont penjant de Santa Caerina , a l'entrada de Rialp. Passejar pels carrers estrets i pintoresques de Surp, Altron i Olp. Els camins històrics de l' Vall d'Àssua i de l' Batlliu de Sort . MÉS INFORMACIÓ durada: Dia complet. Temps total efectiu (sense parades): 4: 45h en total: 2: 15h des del punt d'inici fins Surp i 2: 30h des d'aquest poble fins a Sort passant per la Mola de Sall, Altron i Olp. Desnivell acumulat: 605m dificultat: Notable. El recorregut no presenta cap dificultat tècnica. època: Tot l'any. material: Recomanem portar prismàtics per a l'observació de grans i petits rapinyaires (voltor comú, àguila reial, milà reial, aligot, xoriguer ...) i altres aus. #senderisme #senderismodemonta #mochileros #outdoors #pirineos #total #photooftheday #rutas #loves #viajar #chile #caminatas #argentina #o #ig #trailrunning #love #landscapephotography #fotografia #senderos #airelibre #picoftheday #bosque #madrid #turismorural #venezuela #colombia #estaes #mtb #travelphotography #senderismo #a #trekking #monta #naturaleza #nature #hiking #mountains #landscape #mountain #travel #aventura #turismo #as #spain #adventure #n #catalunya #naturephotography #outdoor #photography #natura #espa #paisajes #ismo #paisaje #viajes #naturelovers # (at Hotel Les Brases) https://www.instagram.com/p/CAQIkrvBtw8/?igshid=7wlat5lda0kj

Vietnam en septiembre

Vietnam se encuentra en una zona tropical bordeado con el Mar del este, por lo tanto el clima de Vietnam está profundamente influenciado por el monzón que crea una variedad de clima en cada región del país. El norte de Vietnam cada año tiene cuatro estaciones: primavera, verano, otoño e invierno divididas en partes iguales por 12 meses. Mientras tanto, el Sur se divide en dos estaciones distintas: estaciones lluviosas y secas. Sin embargo, gracias a esta diversidad, Vietnam ha tenido muchos paisajes naturales majestuosos para los amantes del turismo. Si está buscando un viaje cómodo con un ambiente agradable, venga a Vietnam en septiembre.

I. Viajar al norte de Vietnam en septiembre:

En general, las temperaturas de septiembre en el norte de Vietnam son muy agradables, menos calurosas que en meses anteriores. Este es el momento menos lluvioso por fin del verano y principios del otoño. La temperatura generalmente cae entre 25 y 30 grados. Únete a nosotros para explorar la belleza virgen de las zonas montañosas del norte de Vietnam.

1. Ha Giang- Un lugar ideal para escapar de la presión al viajar a Vietnam en septiembre.

Fuente de fotos: Luxury Travel

En septiembre, Ha Giang, la provincia del extremo norte país, atrae a la gente por la belleza salvaje de la meseta de la roca Dong Van, los campos de flores de trigo sarraceno y las terrazas de arroz amarillas. No hay edificios altos de la ciudad moderna, esta tierra es famosa por sus sinuosos caminos, aire fresco y espacio cultural único de las comunidades étnicas( Viet, Tay, Dao, H’mong). Al venir a Ha Giang, podemos conducir en moto en estos caminos en zigzag; conocer a los detalles culturales étnicos en el Museo de Ha Giang; check in en el torre de Bandera de Lung Cu, el majestuoso paso Ma Pi Leng, Sa Phin- el Palacio del Rey H’mong o vagar en los famosos mercados étnicos como Khau Vai, Pho Cao…

Fuente de fotos: Luxury Travel

Y uno de los destinos turísticos más atractivos del  bello pueblo de Dong Van es el paisaje escénico “Nui Doi” y la puerta del cielo Quan Ba. ¿Estás listo para tener la mejor sesión de fotos con tus amigos aquí? Además de los destinos atractivos, Ha Giang también llama la atención de los turistas por especialidades montañosas cuales son gauchas de Au Tau, pastel de trigo sarraceno, carne de ratón La Chi, Thang Co,el huevo al vapor,… Para hacer un viaje más completo y cómodo, contáctenos para diseñar un buen viaje a esta pintoresca tierra.

Fuente de fotos: Luxury Travel

2. Sapa- Un destino turístico imprescindible para su viaje a Vietnam en septiembre.

Otoño es una época maravillosa con el paisaje romántico de montañas y bosques. Será una omisión si no menciona las terrazas de arroz doradas al hablar de Sapa en septiembre. Otra cosa atractiva al llegar a esta zona es que tendrás la oportunidad de visitar las aldeas de etnias. Será una preciosa oportunidad para conocer sobre la vida de las comunidades étnicas Hmong, Dao do, Tay, Giay y Xa Pho. Ubicado en una altitud de más de 1500m, Sapa está impresionado por las espectaculares y poderosas cascadas.

Fuente de fotos: Luxury Travel

Especialmente son la cascada Thac Bac y la cascada del amor. Si eres aventurero, ¿por qué no intentas conquistar el legendario pico Fansipan de Asia donde es conocido como “El techo de Indochina” ?. Y si eres fanático de la arquitectura religiosa, descubre la antigua Iglesia de piedra del pueblo Sapa construida por los franceses en el siglo XX. Finalmente, si tiene la oportunidad, debe ir a la pagoda Chua Trinh y Ha para rezar por la paz, la salud y la suerte para usted, su familia y sus seres queridos.

Fuente de fotos: Luxury Travel

RESERVAR AHORA

3. Mu Cang Chai- La silvestre belleza natural de Vietnam en septiembre

Fuente de fotos: Luxury Travel

Ubicado al pie de la cordillera de Hoang Lien Son, Mu Cang Chai es un distrito montañoso de la provincia de Yen Bai. Localizado a una altitud de 1000 metros sobre el nivel del mar, Mu Cang Chai es famoso por sus terrazas  de arroz que se extienden lejos. Especialmente, en los últimos años, Mu Cang Chai se ha convertido en uno de los lugares atractivos para los amantes del trekking o excursiones de trekking. Si vienes aquí en septiembre, tendrás la oportunidad de participar en festivales en el marco de la semana cultural de los campos en terrazas de Mu Cang Chai. Celebrado del 20 al 30 de septiembre de cada año, el festival incluye muchas actividades recreativas de comunidades étnicas y ferias de cocina tradicional. Además, puedes jugar en parapente para ver los majestuosos campos en el paso de Khau Pha desde arriba. Contáctenos para diseñar un viaje a esta hermosa ciudad.

Fuente de fotos: Instagram @maiang_bi

II. Viajar al centro de Vietnam en septiembre

A diferencia del norte, septiembre en el centro de Vietnam todavía es bastante caluroso acompañado de lluvias repentinas. Durante este tiempo, un gran parte de la región central fue afectada por tifones. Sin embargo, la ciudad de Dalat es una excepción al clima aquí.

1. Dalat – El paraíso de millones de flores al viajar a Vietnam en septiembre

Fuete de fotos: Luxury Travel

Hay algo especial en Dalat es que viene aquí en cualquier momento, también admirarás los lugares fascinantes. Conocida con el apodo “La Ciudad nublada”, en septiembre, Dalat recibe a los turistas con espacios románticos y campos de flores únicas. Una de las atracciones turísticas de la ciudad de Dalat es “la colina Mong Mo”. Aquí, seguramente te impresionará la hierba verde, el cielo tranquilo y el sonido del viento. Es más, ubicado a unos 4 o 5 km del centro de la ciudad, “El valle de Tinh Yeu” atrae a los turistas a través de coloridas puertas de flores y área de juego clásico. Si está buscando el bullicio de esta ciudad, diríjase al mercado nocturno Am Phu. Este es un destacado mercado donde puedes mirar y comprar todos los artículos, desde verduras, comida, especialidades hasta recuerdos, ropa,…Por último, no olvide disfrutar de una deliciosa comida en Dalat, como papel de arroz al horno- “ Pizza Vietnamita”, gachas de rana, pollo a la parrilla,…

Fuente de fotos: Luxury Travel

III. Viajar al sur de Vietnam en septiembre:

Septiembre es un momento en la temporada de lluvias de Vietnam del Sur con altas temperaturas y lluvias frecuentes. Sin embargo, la suerte es que las lluvias son intermitentes y las precipitaciones se concentran en parte del día. Las lluvias de septiembre reducirán el calor y no obstaculizarán su viaje.

1. La ciudad de Ho Chi Minh- Una de las zonas turísticas imperdibles para su viaje a Vietnam en septiembre

Saigon o la ciudad de Ho Chi Minh es la ciudad más grande, un importante centro económico, educativo, político y cultural de Vietnam. Durante mucho tiempo, esto también se considera un paraíso turístico famoso que combina la belleza tradicional y moderna. 

Fuente de fotos: Luxury Travel

Ahora, enumeremos los lugares interesantes, actividades divertidas para tener unas vacaciones memorables en esta ciudad. Siendo una colonia de francia durante muchos años, Saigon fue testigo de la historia con su audaz arquitectura cultural europea. Podemos listar algunos como:

La Basílica de Notre-Dame de Saigon

Dirección: 1 Comuna de París, Barrio Ben Nghe, Distrito 1, ciudad de HCM.

El Palacio de la Reunificación

Dirección: Nº 135, Calle Nam Ky Khoi Nghia, Distrito 1, ciudad de HCM.

El Teatro de Ópera

Dirección: Calle Dong Khoi, Distrito 1, ciudad de HCM.

Saliendo de los monumentos históricos antiguos, vamos a visitar las áreas de entretenimiento más concurridas de Saigón como El parque acuático de Dam Sen, Thao Cam Vien, Snow Town Saigon, Go Kart, Jump Arena,…Aquí puedes tomar fotos libremente, experimentar deportes extremos (carreras, escalada, kayak, …) en el corazón de la ciudad. Es la ciudad más poblada de Vietnam, por lo que no es difícil reconocer la rica gastronomía de Saigon. Esas especialidades de la ciudad de Ho Chi Minh son Hu tieu Nam Vang, Com tam, Pha lau, Banh xeo, Banh Canh cua, Bun mam,…Para una experiencia más recordable, también puede gozar de una lujosa cena en un bote a lo largo del río Saigón. Desde el barco, verá la escena urbana bulliciosa y colorida.

Fuente de fotos: Luxury Travel

En los últimos años, Saigón ha atraído cada vez más a los turistas por sus convenientes servicios de transporte y alojamiento cómodo. Por lo tanto, puede encontrar fácilmente hoteles de buena calidad con el  precio competitivo. 

Si no, puedes contactarnos para hacer un paquete turístico perfecto a esta ciudad.

RESERVAR AHORA

2. Delta del Mekong – Un sitio de emocionantes actividades locales para su visita a Vietnam en septiembre 

Ubicado en el extremo sur de Vietnam, el Delta del Mekong es un delta fluvial importante porque es el granero más grande del país. En los últimos años, esta zona se ha convertido en uno de los lugares más atractivos para los turistas por paisaje rústico, sistema de canales peculiar, mercado flotante, huerto de frutas,…A solo una hora y media en coche de la ciudad de Ho Chi Minh, My Tho es un sitio turístico imprescindible al viajar al Delta del Mekong. Le recomendamos algunos puntos interesantes que debería visitar: El templo de Buu Lam que es construido en 1742 bajo de la dinastía de Nguyen y reconocido por su reliquia histórica famosa; el templo de Vinh Trang incluye las estatuas preciosas con muchas obras culturales y antiguas.

Fuente de fotos: Luxury Travel

Es más original, el mercado flotante de Cai Be impresiona con botes llenos de frutas y actividades comerciales muy bulliciosas en el río. A unos 150 km de Saigón, Sa Dec atrae los viajeros por sus coloridos jardines de flores, la pagoda “La Sen” (hoja de loto) y la zona cultural de Nam Phuong Linh Tu,…Además, hay un montón de actividades estupendas que podría hacer al llegar a otras provincias. Puedes probar los dulces de coco de Ben Tre, hacer una excursión al gran mercado  flotante de Cai Rang, ir a las pagodas en Soc Trang,…Finalmente, disfrute de los deliciosos platos en el majestuoso río Mekong. Un viaje en barco por el río Mekong de tres a cuatro días es definitivamente una experiencia inolvidable para ti en Vietnam.

Fuente de fotos: Instagram @mariastjarne

IV. Sobre Luxury Travel

Vietnam siempre está en la lista de países que tienen muchos paisajes hermosos que no debe perderse en su vida, confíe y déjenos planear descubrir las sorpresas de este país con nosotros. Gracias a muchos años de experiencia trabajando en el campo del turismo, estamos seguros de convertirnos en su compañero en viajes para explorar las nuevas tierras.

Contáctenos

Dirección: No 456, Calle Lac Long Quan, Distrito Tay Ho, hanoi, Vietnam

Phone: (+84) 243 927 4120

Email: [email protected]

Hotline: (+84) 81 254 7780

Website: https://luxurytravelvietnam.com  (Inglés)

https://es.luxurytravelvietnam.com (Español)

Planificar Mi Viaje! 

  The post Vietnam en septiembre appeared first on Luxury Travel's Blog.

source https://es.luxurytravelvietnam.com/blog/vietnam-en-septiembre.html

Cómo seguir a los 10 fotógrafos más famosos del mundo por Instagram

Sus fotografías llenaron las portadas de revistas y periódicos. Mostraron la  crueldad de los conflictos contemporáneos, la belleza de lo cotidiano y las particularidades de culturas remotas . Y hoy día, convertidas ya en iconos de una época, las instantáneas de los fotógrafos más famosos del mundo están al alcance de cualquiera en Instagram.  La red social de fotografías es mucho más que selfies, fotos de playa y continuas odas al ego de sus usuarios. Para el que sepa buscar, claro está. En ella  podemos encontrar imágenes únicas y sobrecogedoras de grandes fotógrafos . Si te gusta la disciplina y te interesó particularmente el artículo sobre las  cinco aplicaciones para aprender fotografía digital , te invitamos a seguir estos 10 perfiles de Instagram para que aprendas y te inspires en los mejores.  Robert Capa  Probablemente, el fotógrafo más famoso de la historia. Su arrojo y valentía al tomar instantáneas le llevaron a capturar algunas de las más icónicas imágenes bélicas de todos los tiempos.  Acuñó la frase “si la foto no es buena es porque no estás los suficientemente cerca” . Se paseaba por los frentes de batalla con resolución y activaba el obturador de su cámara con las balas sobrevolándole la cabeza. Y, como no podía ser de otra manera, su final fue trágico. Murió al pisar una mina en la Guerra de Vietnam.  Robert Capa era en realidad el seudónimo de Endre Ernő Friedmann.  Éste y su pareja, la también fotógrafa Gerda Taro, firmaban las fotografías indistintamente  con el nombre del personaje ficticio, por lo que es difícil determinar de cuál de los dos es la autoría de algunas de las instantáneas.          This photo of Pablo Picasso is one of three Robert Capa images that are available in the Square Print Sale for just $100. But be quick, the sale ends on Friday! Link in bio. “In these images of Picasso and his family, Robert Capa stresses the everyday human side of the man. These are warm friendly images with sharp flashes of the typical Capa gaiety. In this group of pictures, the hopeful aspirations of millions of family snapshot albums is realized by a master journalist photographer.” — Edward Steichen (Director of Photography, Museum of Modern Art, New York, 1947-1962) in the press release for “Photographs of Picasso by Gjon Mili and by Robert Capa” (January 24-March 19, 1950) PHOTO: Pablo Picasso with his nephew Javier Vilato and Françoise Gilot on the beach. Golfe-Juan, France. August, 1948. ©  © @icp/       A post shared by Magnum Photos (@magnumphotos) on  Jun 7, 2017 at 10:02am PDT         En Instagram se pueden contemplar a través de la cuenta de la  Agencia Magnum , fundada por el propio Capa junto a otros importantes fotógrafos como Henri Cartier-Bresson o David Seymour “Chim”.  Henri Cartier-Bresson  Otro de los grandes fotógrafos de todos los tiempos.  Considerado por muchos el padre de la fotografía callejera, acuñó la idea del “instante decisivo” . Es decir, capturar la imagen de un momento único que de otra forma se habría perdido para siempre, pues es irrepetible.  Como periodista gráfico cubrió importantes acontecimientos, como la muerte de Gandhi. Como retratista,  inmortalizó con su cámara a personajes históricos como Fidel Castro o Pablo Picasso . Su obra se puede seguir en Instagram a través de la cuenta de la  Agencia Magnum  y la de su propia  fundación .          Le saviez-vous ? Au troisième étage de la Fondation Henri Cartier-Bresson quelques photographies de Martine Franck sont exposées de façon permanente ! ⠀ //⠀ Did you know ? On the third floor of the Fondation Henri Cartier-Bresson, some of Martine Franck’s photographs are on permanent display!⠀ ⠀ Photo : Martine Franck, Tory Island, Donegal, Irlande, 1995 © Martine Franck / @magnumphotos   A post shared by Fondation H. Cartier-Bresson (@fondationhcb) on  Jul 23, 2017 at 9:16am PDT         Robert Doisneau  Fue  el fotógrafo que convirtió lo ordinario en extraordinario . Nadie como él ha sabido extraer de estampas cotidianas una belleza tan pictórica. Su escenario predilecto fueron las calles de París, donde retrató tanto a parisienses anónimos como a grandes personajes de su época.   La obra que le aupó al Olimpo de la fotografía fue  El beso en el Hotel de Ville  . Una imagen muy aplaudida que se vio envuelta en la polémica hacia el final de su vida. Y es que se descubrió que fue una instantánea pactada, pese a que Doisneau siempre la vendió como espontánea. Aunque no tiene cuenta, se le puede seguir en Instagram a través de la etiqueta   .                   A post shared by Noe Lami™ (@noe_lami_) on  Oct 6, 2017 at 2:44am PDT         Richard Avedon  Uno de los mejores retratistas de todos los tiempos y un gran revolucionario de la fotografía de moda. Fue el primero que  decidió unir el glamour con elementos callejeros . Además, dotaba de gran dinamismo a sus fotografías pese a estar preparadas. Más allá de sus instantáneas de moda, también realizó reportajes de hondo calado social.  Pero  donde Avedon destacó como genio inigualable fue en las distancias cortas, como retratista . Famosos y desconocidos pasaron ante su cámara y posaron sobre su célebre fondo blanco, marca de la casa del neoyorquino. Su habilidad para plasmar el lado más personal y psicológico de sus retratados le hizo mundialmente célebre. Sus imágenes se pueden seguir a través de la cuenta de la  Fundación Richard Avedon  en Instagram.          Charlize Theron and Patty Jenkins, actor and film director, New York, January 8, 2004  @charlizeafrica  @newyorkermag @newyorkerphoto   A post shared by The Richard Avedon Foundation (@avedonfoundation) on  Sep 20, 2017 at 2:14pm PDT         Steve McCurry  Fotoperiodista estadounidense célebre por sus fotografías documentales.  Es el autor de una de las imágenes más icónicas de la historia, la de  La niña afgana  . Es también un gran retratista y con sus instantáneas ha sabido captar la esencia de las culturas visitadas, la cotidianeidad del desastre y la dignidad de los que lo han sufrido.  En los últimos años se ha visto salpicado por la polémica, al descubrirse que  manipuló algunas sus fotografías con Photoshop . Algo imperdonable para los periodistas gráficos. Sin embargo, el estadounidense sigue siendo uno de los mejores fotógrafos de todos los tiempos. Puedes seguirle a través de su  cuenta personal  en Instagram.          This portrait will be in my new book, Afghanistan, published by @taschen coming out in September. http://bit.ly/2wCIJlq   A post shared by Steve McCurry (@stevemccurryofficial) on  Aug 3, 2017 at 7:36am PDT         Helmut Newton  Considerado el padre del porno- chic ,  sus fotografías cargadas de un fuerte erotismo revolucionaron el mundo de la moda . Sus provocadoras imágenes recibieron muchas críticas. Había quien consideraba que ofrecía una imagen exhibicionista de la sexualidad femenina. Él se defendía afirmando que retrataba el poder y la fuerza de las mujeres. Suya es la frase “un fotógrafo que dice que no es un voyeur es un idiota”.  Puedes contemplar sus instantáneas a través de su  cuenta no oficial  de Instagram.          Catherine Deneuve for Esquire by Helmut Newton, 1976   A post shared by Helmut Newton Photography (@helmut_newton_) on  Mar 5, 2017 at 10:52am PST         Annie Leibovitz  Especializada en retratos de famosos, es una de las mejores fotógrafas de nuestro tiempo. Ampliamente reconocida con galardones como el Premio Príncipe de Asturias de Comunicación y Humanidades o el título de “Leyenda viviente” por la Biblioteca del Congreso de Estados Unidos,  entre sus instantáneas figuran iconos de la cultura musical contemporánea como la imagen de Yōko Ono siendo abrazada por John Lennon desnudo .  Podrás encontrar sus fotografías en el perfil de Instagram de  Vanity Fair  o la etiqueta   .          Annie Leibovitz. John Lennon and Yoko Ono photographed in their apartment at the Dakota five hours before Lennon was shot dead on the sidewalk outside. December 8th 1980. For Rolling Stone. Peace & Love. When things are fucked. I know we all know this photograph & its story like the palms of our hands, but it keeps on being extraordinary. This is @rachelknepfer finding a signal from deep in the Australian bush, responding to the posts (look to the grid) by my friends @aviola66 in LA & @ffarrell4 in NYC. Over to you, Fiona. ✌️ & ❤️.     A post shared by @the_give_and_take on  Oct 5, 2017 at 1:19am PDT         Sebastiao Salgado  Su caso es muy particular. Economista de profesión, descubrió la fotografía cerca de los 30 años y de forma autodidacta. A partir de entonces comenzó a  documentar dramas sociales como guerras, hambrunas y duras condiciones de trabajo . Sus instantáneas se pueden contemplar en su  perfil oficial  de Instagram.          Boys feeling from southern Sudan, 1993.    A post shared by Sebastiao Salgado Photographs (@sebastiao_salgado_photographs) on  Nov 29, 2016 at 5:00am PST         Chema Madoz  Chema Madoz es un fotógrafo muy diferente a los ya mencionados. El español trata como pocos el surrealismo en la fotografía. Sus obras tienen un marcado carácter pictórico, y en ellas  las texturas y los juegos visuales se entremezclan en composiciones imposibles para formar potentes imágenes conceptuales . Su obra se puede seguir, así como sus exposiciones itinerantes, a través de  su cuenta de Instagram .          Lo que vemos nunca es lo que parece. What we see is never what it seems. Feliz verano y cuidado con el fuego!    A post shared by Chema Madoz (@chemamadozphotographer) on  Aug 14, 2017 at 5:01am PDT         Ouka Leele  La española es una artista multidisciplinar, algo que le gusta plasmar en sus fotografías.  A sus retratos en blanco y negro, de corte surrealista, los dota de color a mano, como si de un lienzo se tratase . Estas curiosas obras pueden seguirse a través de su  cuenta personal  de Instagram           with water    A post shared by OUKA LEELE (@oukaleele) on  Sep 17, 2017 at 2:48am PDT         La noticia  Cómo seguir a los 10 fotógrafos más famosos del mundo por Instagram  aparece primero en  tuexperto.com

Orlando Computer Systems

2420 North John Young Parkway

Kissimmee, FL 34741

Phones: (407) 259-1553 – (407) 536-1266

Website: www.orlandocomputersystems.com