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matttgirlies · 7 months ago

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Matt & Me 🎀

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a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - age gap,, i think thats all

all of the songs and celebrities mentioned in here are from the time periods this was written if you are confused🩷

Chapter 1

It was 1956. I was living with my family at the Bergstrom Air Force Base in Austin, Texas, where my father, then Captain, Joseph Paul y/ln, a career officer, was stationed. He came home late for dinner one evening and handed me a record album.

“I don’t know what this Matt guy is all about,” he said, “but he must be something special. I stood in line with half the Air Force at the PX to get this for you; everybody wants it.”

I put the record on the hi-fi and heard the rocking music of “Blue Suede Shoes.” The album was titled Matt Sturniolo. It was his first.

Like almost every other kid in America, I liked Matt but not as fanatically as many of my girl friends at Del Valley Junior High. They all had Matt T-shirts and Matt hats and Matt socks and even lipstick in colors with names like Hound Dog Orange and Heartbreak Pink referencing names of his songs. Matt was everywhere, on bubblegum cards and Bermuda shorts, on diaries and wallets and pictures that glowed in the dark. The boys at school began trying to look like him, with their fluffy hair and turned up collars.

One girl was so crazy about him that she was running his local fan club. She said I could join for twenty-five cents, the price of a book she’d ordered for me by mail. When I received it, I was shocked to see a picture of Matt signing the bare chests of a couple of girls, at that time an unheard-of act.

Then I saw him on television on Jimmy and Tommy Dorsey’s Stage Show. He was sexy and handsome, with his deep brooding eyes, pouty lips, and crooked smile. He strutted out to the microphone, spread his legs, leaned back, and strummed his guitar. Then he began singing with such confidence, moving his body with unbridled sexuality. Despite myself, I was attracted.

Some members of his adult audience were less enthusiastic. Soon his performances were labeled obscene. My mother stated emphatically that he was “a bad influence for teenage girls. He arouses things in them that shouldn’t be aroused. If there’s ever a mothers’ march against Matt Sturniolo, I’ll be the first in line.”

But I’d heard that despite all of his stage antics and lustful, tough-guy looks, Matt came from a strict Southern Christian background. He was a country boy who didn’t smoke or drink, who loved and honored his parents, and who addressed all adults as “sir” or “ma’am.”

I was an Air Force child, a shy, pretty little girl, unhappily accustomed to moving from base to base every two or three years. By the time I was eleven, I had lived in six different cities and, fearful of not being accepted, I either kept to myself or waited for someone to befriend me. I found it especially difficult entering a new school in the middle of the year, when cliques had already been established and newcomers were considered outsiders.

Small and petite, with long y/hc hair, y/ec eyes, and an upturned nose, I was always stared at by the other students. At first girls would see me as a rival, afraid I’d take their boyfriends away. I seemed to feel more comfortable with boys—and they were usually friendlier.

People always said I was the prettiest girl in school, but I never felt that way. I was skinny, practically scrawny, and even if I was as cute, as people said, I wanted to have more than just good looks. Only with my family did I really feel totally protected and loved. Close and supportive, they provided my stability.

A photographer’s model before her marriage, my mother was totally devoted to her family. As the oldest, it was my responsibility to help her with the kids. After me, there were Don, four years younger, and Michelle, my only sister, who was five years younger than Don. Jeff and the twins, Tim and Tom, hadn’t yet been born.

My mother was too shy to talk about the facts of life, so my sex education came in school, when I was in the sixth grade. Some kids were passing around a book that looked like the Bible from the outside, but when you opened it, there were pictures of men making love to women, and women making love to each other.

My body was changing and stirring with new feelings. I’d gotten looks from boys at school, and once a picture of me in a tight turtleneck sweater was stolen from the school bulletin board. Yet I was still a child, embarrassed about my own sexuality. I fantasized endlessly about French-kissing, but when my friends who hung around our house played spin the bottle, it would take me half an hour to let a boy kiss my pursed lips.

My strong, handsome father was the center of our world. He was a hard worker who had earned his degree in Business Administration at University of Texas. At home he ran a tight ship. He was a firm believer in discipline and responsibility, and he and I frequently knocked heads. When I became a cheerleader at thirteen, it was all I could do to convince him to let me go to out-of-town games. Other times no amount of crying, pleading, or appealing to my mother would change his mind. When he laid down the law, that was that.

I managed to get around him occasionally. When he refused to let me wear a tight skirt, I joined the Girl Scouts specifically so I could wear their tight uniform.

My parents were survivors. Although they often had to struggle financially, we children were the last to feel it. When I was a little girl my mother sewed pretty tablecloths to cover the orange crates that we used as end tables. Rather than do without, we made the best of what we had.

Dinner was strictly group participation: Mother cooked, one of us set the table, and the rest cleaned up. Nobody got away with anything, but we were very supportive of one another. I felt fortunate to have a close-knit family.

Going through old albums of family photographs showing my parents when they were young fascinated me. I was curious about the past. World War II intrigued me, especially since my father had fought with the Marines on Okinawa. He looked handsome in his uniform—you could tell he was posing for my mother—but somehow his smile looked out of place, especially when you realized where he was. When I read the note on the back of the picture about how much he missed my mother, my eyes filled with tears.

While rummaging through the family keepsakes I came upon a small wooden box. Inside was a carefully folded American flag, the kind that I knew was given to servicemen’s widows. Also inside the box was a picture of my mother with her arm around a strange man and, sitting on her lap, an infant. On the back of the photo was inscribed “Mommy, Daddy, y/n.” I had discovered a family secret.

Feeling betrayed, I ran to phone my mother, who was at a party nearby. Within minutes I was in her arms, crying as she calmed me and explained that when I was six months old, my real father, Lieutenant James Wagner, a handsome Navy pilot, had been killed in a plane crash while returning home on leave. Two and a half years later, she married Paul y/ln, who adopted me and had always loved me as his own.

Mother suggested I keep my discovery from the other children. She felt it would endanger our family closeness, though when it did become known, it had no effect on our feelings for one another. She gave me a gold locket that my father had given her. I cherished that locket and wore it for years and fantasized that my father died a great hero. In times of emotional pain and loneliness he would become my guardian angel.

By the end of the year, I’d been nominated to run for Queen of Del Valley Junior High. This was my first taste of politics and competition and it was especially trying because I was running against Millie Collins, my best friend.

We each had a campaign manager introducing us as we went from house to house knocking on doors. My manager tried to talk each person into voting for me and donating a penny or more per vote to a school fund. The nominee who collected the most money won. I was sure that this competition would jeopardize my friendship with Millie, which was more important to me than winning. I considered quitting but felt I couldn’t let my parents or my supporters down. While my mother was out looking for a dress for me to wear to the coronation, my dad kept reminding me to memorize an acceptance speech. I kept putting it off, certain I was going to lose.

It was the last day of the campaign, and a rumor began circulating that Millie’s grandparents had put in a hundred-dollar bill for their vote. My parents were disappointed; there was no way that they could afford to match that much money and even if they could, they objected on principle.

The night they announced the winner, I was all dressed up in a new turquoise blue, strapless tulle net formal that itched so badly I couldn’t wait to take it off. I sat beside Millie on the dais in the large school auditorium. I could see my parents with happy, confident looks on their faces though I was sure they were going to be disheartened. Then the principal walked up to the podium.

“And now,” she said, hesitating to heighten the suspense, “is the moment you’ve all been waiting for . . . the culmination of a month of campaigning by our two lovely contestants: y/n y/ln . . .” All eyes turned toward me. I blushed and glanced at Millie. “ . . . and Millie Collins.” Our eyes locked for a brief, tense moment.

“The new Queen of Del Valley Junior High is . . .” A drum roll sounded. “ . . . y/n y/ln.”

The audience applauded wildly. I was in shock. Called up to the stage to give my speech, I had none. Sure that I was going to lose, I’d never even bothered to write one. I walked, trembling, to the podium, then looked out at the crowded auditorium. All I could see was my father’s face, growing more disappointed as he realized I had nothing to say. When I finally spoke, it was to apologize.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m not prepared to give a speech, as I did not expect to win. But thank you very much for voting for me. I’ll do my very best.” And then, looking at my father, I added, “I’m sorry, Dad.”

I was surprised as the audience graciously applauded, but I still had to face my father and hear him say, “I told you so.”

Being elected Queen was a bittersweet victory, because the closeness that Millie and I once shared was restrained. Still, to me that crown symbolized a wonderful, unfamiliar feeling: acceptance.

My newfound tranquility ended abruptly when my father announced that he was being transferred to Wiesbaden, West Germany.

I was crushed. Germany was the other side of the world. All my fears returned. My first thought was, What am I going to do about my friends? I turned to my mother, who was sympathetic and reminded me that we were in the Air Force and moving was an unavoidable part of our lives.

I finished junior high school, my mother gave birth to baby Jeff, and we said our goodbyes to neighbors and good friends. Everyone promised to write or call, but remembering past promises I knew better. My friend Stephanie jokingly told me that Matt Sturniolo was stationed in Bad Neuheim, West Germany. “Do you believe it? You’re going to be in the same country as Matt Sturniolo,” she said. We looked at a map and found that Bad Neuheim was close to Wiesbaden. I said back, “I’m going over there to meet Matt.” We both laughed, hugged each other, and said goodbye.

West Germany

The fifteen-hour flight to West Germany seemed interminable, but finally we arrived in the beautiful old city of Wiesbaden, headquarters of the U.S. Air Force in Europe. There we checked into the Helene Hotel, a massive and venerable building on the main thoroughfare. After three months, hotel living became too expensive and we began looking for a place to rent.

We felt lucky to find a large apartment in a vintage building constructed long before World War I. Soon after we moved in, we noticed that all the other apartments were rented to single girls. These Fräuleins walked around all day long in robes and negligees, and at night they were dressed to kill. Once we learned a little German, we realized that, although the pension was very discreet, we were living in a brothel.

Moving was out of the question—housing was too scarce—but the location did little to help me to adjust. Not only was I isolated from other American families, but there was the language barrier. I was accustomed to changing schools frequently, but a foreign country posed altogether new problems, principally that I couldn’t share my thoughts. I began to feel that my life had stopped dead in its tracks.

September came and with it, school. Once again I was the new girl. I was no longer popular and secure as I’d been at Del.

There was a place called the Eagles Club, where American service families went for dinner and entertainment. It was within walking distance of the pension and soon proved an important discovery for me. Every day after school, I’d go to the snack bar there and listen to the jukebox and write letters to my friends back home in Austin, telling them how much I missed them. Drowning in tears, I’d spend my weekly allowance playing the songs that were very popular back in the States—Frankie Avalon’s “Venus” and the Everly Brothers’ “All I Have to Do Is Dream.”

One warm summer afternoon, I was sitting with my brother Don when I noticed a handsome man in his twenties staring at me. I’d seen him watching me before, but I’d never paid any attention to him. This time, he stood up and walked toward me. He introduced himself as Steven Wright and asked my name.

“y/n y/ln,” I said, immediately suspicious; he was much older than me.

He asked where in the States I came from, how I liked Germany, and if I liked Matt Sturniolo.

“Of course,” I said, laughing. “Who doesn’t?”

“I’m a good friend of his. My wife and I go to his house quite often. How would you like to join us one evening?”

Unprepared for such an extraordinary invitation, I grew even more skeptical and guarded. I told him I’d have to ask my parents. Over the course of the next two weeks, Steven met my parents and my father checked out his credentials. Steven was also in the Air Force and it turned out that my father knew his commanding officer. That seemed to break the ice between them. Steven assured Dad that I’d be well chaperoned when we visited Matt, who lived off base in a house in Bad Nauheim.

On the appointed night I tore through my closet, trying to find an appropriate outfit. Nothing seemed dressy enough for meeting Matt Sturniolo. I settled on a navy and white sailor dress and white socks and shoes. Surveying myself in the mirror, I thought I looked cute, but being only fourteen, I didn’t think I’d make any kind of impression on Matt.

Eight o’clock finally arrived, and so did Steven Wright and his attractive wife, Carole. Anxious, I hardly spoke to either of them during the forty-five-minute drive. We entered the small town of Bad Nauheim, with its narrow cobblestone streets and plain, old-fashioned houses, and I kept looking around for what I assumed would be Matt’s huge mansion. Instead Steven pulled up to an ordinary-looking three-story house surrounded by a white picket fence.

There was a sign on the gate in German, which translated as: autographs between 7:00 and 8:00 p.m. only. Even though it was after eight o’clock, a large group of friendly German girls waited around expectantly. When I asked Steven about them, he explained that there were always large groups of fans outside the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of Matt.

I followed Steven through the gate and up the short pathway to the door. We were welcomed by James Sturniolo, Matt’s father, a tall, gray-haired, attractive man, who led us down a long hallway to the living room, from which I could hear Brenda Lee on the record player, singing “Sweet Nothin’s.”

The plain, almost drab living room was filled with people, but I spotted Matt immediately. He was handsomer than he appeared in films, younger and more vulnerable-looking with his haircut. He was in civilian clothes, a bright red sweater and tan slacks, and he was sitting with one leg swung over the arm of a large overstuffed chair, with a cigar dangling from his lips.

As Steven led me over to him, Matt stood up and smiled. “Well,” he said. “What have we here?”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I just kept staring at him.

“Matt,” Steven said, “this is y/n y/ln. The girl I told you about.”

We shook hands and he said, “Hi, I’m Matt Sturniolo,” but then there was a silence between us until Matt asked me to sit down beside him, and Steven drifted off.

“So,” Matt said. “Do you go to school?”

“Yes.”

“What are you, about a junior or senior in high school?”

I blushed and said nothing, not willing to reveal that I was only in the ninth grade.

“Well,” he persisted.

“Ninth.”

Matt looked confused. “Ninth what?”

“Grade,” I whispered.

“Ninth grade,” he said and started laughing. “Why, you’re just a baby.”

“Thanks,” I said curtly. Not even Matt Sturniolo had the right to say that to me.

“Well. Seems the little girl has spunk,” he said, laughing again, amused by my response. He gave me that charming smile of his, and all my resentment just melted away.

We made small talk for a while longer. Then Matt got up and walked over to the piano and sat down. The room suddenly grew silent. Everyone’s eyes were focused on him as he began to entertain us.

He sang “Rags to Riches” and “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” and then with his friends singing harmony, “End of the Rainbow.” He also did a Jerry Lee Lewis impersonation, pounding the keys so hard that a glass of water he’d set on the piano began sliding off. When Matt caught it without missing a beat of the song, everyone laughed and applauded except me. I was nervous. I glanced around the room and saw an intimidating life-size poster of a half-nude model on the wall. She was the last person I wanted to see, with her fulsome body, pouting lips, and wild mane of tousled hair. Imagining Matt’s taste in women, I felt very young and out of place.

I glanced up and saw Matt trying to get my attention. I noticed that the less response I showed, the more he began singing just for me. I couldn’t believe that Matt Sturniolo was trying to impress me.

Later, he asked me to come into the kitchen, where he introduced me to his grandmother, Minnie Mae Sturniolo, who stood by the stove, frying a huge pan of bacon. As we sat down at the table, I told Matt I wasn’t hungry. Actually I was too nervous to eat.

“You’re the first girl I’ve met from the States in a long time,” Matt said, as he began devouring the first of five gigantic bacon sandwiches, each one smothered with mustard. “Who are the kids listening to?”

I laughed. “Are you kidding?” I said. “Everyone listens to you.”

Matt seemed unconvinced. He asked me a lot of questions about Fabian and Ricky Nelson. He told me he was worried about how his fans would accept him when he returned to the States. Since he’d been away, he hadn’t made any public appearances or movies, although he’d had five hit singles, all recorded before he’d left.

It felt like we’d just begun talking when Steven came in and pointed to his watch. I had dreaded that moment; the evening had gone so fast. It seemed I had just arrived and now I was being hurried away. Matt and I had just started to get to know each other. I felt like Cinderella, knowing that when my curfew came, all this magic would end. I was surprised when Matt asked Steven if I could possibly stay longer. When Steven explained the agreement with my father, Matt casually suggested that maybe I could come by again. Though I wanted to more than anything in the world, I didn’t really believe it would happen.

a/n - thoughts on this story so far? all the fashion and technology and things is still based in the time period its set in but i promise it gets better as the story goes on! i know the age gap is crazy but back in the day it was normal and its the age gap in Priscilla’s book so i just stuck with it. I in no way support this at all🎀

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

This material may be protected by copyright.

#matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturn #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #Spotify

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oftlunarialmoon · 1 year ago

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Ciao lovelies! I have written before on the topic of Age Regression many times, from explaining what Age Regression is, to Age Regression Self-Care, to Age Regression Journaling. I never explicitly said before now, but I, myself, am an age regressor to cope with stress (and some other mental health reasons). The reason why I have officially decided to come forward and say so is because I feel that I want to keep writing posts on the topic of age regression, some with personal experience perhaps, so I want to be open with you all and let you know why I continue to write on this topic. I’ve also noticed some of this blog’s audience is made up of age regressors like myself, and I want to provide you all with some content from a safe, welcoming, and open-minded source. All that being said, today I’ve decided to write down 101 activity ideas for Age Regressors/ Things to Do When Bored, Age Regression edition. Please be sure to let me know in the comments (yes, you can even comment anonymously!) if you like these ideas, please be sure to tell me your favorite!

101 ACTIVITIES FOR AGE REGRESSORS

Outside Activities for Summer

1. Play on a swing-set!

2. Play hopscotch!

3. Color with chalk!

4. Build Fairy houses with materials you find outside!

5. Take pictures of your toys in nature! This works especially well for dinosaur toys, animal toys, et, because they look like they’re meant to be in nature!

6. Jump rope!

7. Go swimming!

8. Go fishing with a net and play catch and release!

9. Go to a beach and find cool seashells!

10. Read a book outside in the sun!

11. Go for an ice cream!

Outside Activities for Fall

12. Find leaves and flowers and press them into a journal. You can also do Leaf rubbings, where you put a piece of paper over a leaf and use a crayon to rub over it to get the imprint of the leaf on the paper!

13. Carve a pumpkin!

14. Go to a pumpkin patch and take lots of pics among the pumpkins! You can even pick out one to take home and make into a Jack-O-Lantern (like #12)!

15. Collect cool leaves and make a leaf arrangement/wreath!

Outside Activities for Winter

16. Build a snowman!

17. Build a snow-fort!

18. Have a snowball fight!

19. Try to catch snowflakes on your tongue!

20. Make snow angels!

21. Play hide and seek in the snow!

Outside Activities for Spring

22. Collect flowers and make bouquets!

23. Make flower crowns!

24. Play tag with some friends!

25. Weave grass into cool shapes!

26. Collect cool rocks/gemstones…You can even pretend to be a dragon who’s collecting rocks for their hoard!

Indoor Activities for Any Season

27. Redecorate your room!

28. Clean your room! (I know, bleh, but if you clean then you’ll have a clean slate for #27!)

29. Change your phone’s wallpaper/lockscreen (check out our Instagram Highlight for some of ours!)

30. Play with makeup!

31. Try out new hairstyles!

32. Play dress up!

33. Play with some dolls!

34. Play pretend! You could pretend to be a teacher for your dolls/toys, or even have your stuffies go on super cool adventures with you!

35. Craft! You can make accessories, décor, toys, clothes, anything! Check out our DIY tag for lots of fun crafts!

36. Read some kid books!

37. Stim! I like crinkles when I’m small, and I also like slime and flappy hands!

38. Play with squishies!

39. Walk around a store and look at all the toys and kid stuff!

40. Go on a Dollar Store shopping spree! You can get a lot of stuff at a dollar store for under like $20!

41. Color in some cool pictures!

42. Design a new OC (Original Character)

43. Draw some comics! They can be of yourself or of your OC’s!

44. Cosplay your OC’s/any character you like!

45. Do a photoshoot!

46. Make a sensory bottle!

47. Set up a dollhouse!

48. Make beaded bracelets!

49. Make yourself a snack!

50. Or a meal!

51. Bake some cookies (just be careful with the hot oven, okay?)

52. Have a dance party with your stuffies!

53. Make a playlist to regress to!

54. Find new regression YouTubers!

55. Play some video games! I love Slime Rancher , Animal Crossing, and more!

56. Play with some phone apps! I love Animal Crossing Pocket Camp, Pastel Girl, and Pokémon Go!

57. Try to mix your own perfume!

58. Design a picture using glitter!

59. Draw some fashion designs!

60. Start an age regression journal!

61. Practice some age regression self-care!

62. Make a self-care box!

63. Make figures from modeling clay!

64. Paint your nails!

65. Give your stuffies/dolls a makeover!

66. Find cute regression music!

67. Make posters for your room!

68. Make gifts for your friends!

69. Find a new penpal!

70. Write letters to your pen-pal!

71. Start a sticker scrapbook!

72. Open some blind-bags!

73. Watch some toy youtubers. Our YouTube Channel has some toy videos, my other favorites are Cookie Swirl C and My Froggy Stuff!

74. Make your own YouTube Channel!

75. Create a mystery to solve with your stuffies!

76. Solve a Crossword Puzzle!

77. Solve a Wordsearch!

78. Finish a puzzle!

79. Design your own puzzle!

80. Make an escape room for your toys!

81. Paint something!

82. Watch cute anime like Himouto Umaru Chan!

83. Watch cute shows on Netflix like Twelve Forever or Hilda!

84. Watch fun shows on Hulu like Gravity Falls!

85. Go to the library!

86. Play chess or checkers!

87. Watch a movie! I like Welcome to Monster High!

88. Go see a movie in theatres!

89. Make temporary tattoos using food coloring!

90. Make your own T-shirt using a blank T-shirt and fabric paints!

91. Take a little nap!

92. Put on a play with or for your stuffies!

93. Make clothes and accessories for your stuffies!

94. Make clothes and accessories for your dolls!

95. Make furniture for your dolls!

96. Make your own blindbags for a friend!

97. Upcycle your old clothes and jewelry by designing them into something new!

98. Visit a thrift store!

99. Go to a museum!

100. Go to the mall!

101. Visit an Arcade!

WHEW! I hope that is enough ideas for you bored little ones out there. Have a great day!

#agere #age regression #sfw littlespace #sfw agere #age regressor #sfw age regression #agereg #age dreaming #sfw little blog

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ilanorgratvol · 1 month ago

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Rough tempest they will raise - Part 12

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

For the first time during their forced journey, Talia felt relief as if a huge boulder that had been pressing her to the ground, not allowing her to breathe freely, was removed from her shoulders. The curse was gradually leaving these lands, laughter and bird song were heard more often around. More often, the sun began to break through the clouds, warming those present with its warmth. Gale was recovering, thanks to Shadowheart and the regular dressings that Talia made with unnatural patience and focus.

The tieflings, having went through hell both literally and figuratively, were getting ready to set off. The road to Baldur’s Gate turned out to be more difficult and unpredictable than they initially expected, and they did not want to waste any more minutes. Talia went out to the gates to say goodbye to Rolan and his siblings.

“So, Talia, our brother told us about your friendly fight,” - Cal smirked, squinting his eyes, - “Though I think he might have seen it in a dream.”

Rolan raised an eyebrow, glancing at the sorceress. Trying to maintain the most serious face possible, she replied:

“Actually, your brother quite skillfully defeated me in that fight. A rare success for a wizard, I must say.” - She looked at Rolan, who nodded his head gratefully. Her own words seemed to make her ponder something for a second. - "Rolan, where did you get that robe?"

“This old thing?” - He passed his hands over the robe as if dusting it off, - “It’s all I have left from my father. Why do you ask?”

“You do know that this is a sorcerer’s robe, right?” - Talia carefully ran her fingers over the metal overlay covering almost the entire chest of the tiefling. It was battered, like the robe itself, but still shone under the emerging sun rays.

“Hard to tell. My father left us long before I could ask him about it. And judging by what my mother said afterwards, I wouldn’t be surprised if he stole it,” - Rolan clearly didn't enjoy this conversation. Cal and Lia exchanged anxious glances.

“Well…” - Talia smiled slightly, not removing her hand from his chest, - “Whatever the case, I would advise you to listen not only to your teacher and what is written in books but also to this.” - She nodded gently at his chest.

“I...” - The tiefling seemed a bit taken aback, - “I’ll try.”

“Find us when you get to the city.” - Lia approached and took Talia’s hand warmly, - “We could really use a friend who can finally shut this grumbler up.”

The sorceress smirked slightly and nodded to them as they finally set off, continuing to tease each other.

“Do you think encouraging such beliefs’s a good idea?”

Talia turned around at the familiar voice. Gale stood slightly behind her, arms crossed over his chest. He was dressed in his usual brown trousers and a white shirt.

“Don’t doubt him,” - the sorceress frowned disapprovingly.

“Don't get me wrong, I don’t doubt his skills. Just his new teacher. In Waterdeep, they say Lorroakan is quite the cad; even worse as a teacher.”

The sorceress just shrugged:

“Well… then we’ll have to doubly hope that Rolan listens to my advice. And speaking of new…” - Talia smirked mischievously, - “I have something for you.”

“New? In these lands?” - The wizard tilted his head, squinting slightly, - “I’m afraid the newest thing you can find in these lands is us. And I don’t want to bring up the issue of age, but…”

“Just follow me…” - Talia sighed slightly irritably and walked back to the entrance of the tavern. The wizard followed her with interest.

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Talia was sitting casually on a chair, her legs thrown over the table. She methodically sliced pieces from an apple she was holding, putting them into her mouth directly from the knife.

“Are you quite certain I’ll look acceptable in this?” - came a hesitant voice from behind a dressing screen at the other end of the room.

“Anything's better than your old one,” - the sorceress glanced at the old purple robe, still covered with dried blood, carelessly thrown under the table.

“Fair enough,” - grunts and rustling of clothes continued from behind the screen, then the wizard finally emerged. He spread his arms to the sides, - “Are you sure about this?”

Talia, who had been focused on her apple, finally looked up. Gale was wearing a dark blue robe adorned with silver embroidery. Its shortened sleeves highlighted his arms, and a deep cut almost left nothing to the imagination, showing the upper part of his slightly hairy chest where the sphere rested.

The sorceress froze for a moment, staring at him unblinkingly, audibly swallowed a piece of apple, and almost squeaked in an unnaturally high voice:

“Yep.”

The wizard seemed unaware of this and continued to fidget, trying to adjust the collar of the robe and get used to the new feeling:

"I appreciate the finer things, but don't you think this is a bit much? Especially considering I've been on the battlefield more often than at receptions lately..."

"On the contrary," - the sorceress dismissed, - "In a few days we'll be in Baldur's Gate. And something tells me that your eloquence and appearance will be just as useful as the ability to incinerate a handful of goblins with a wave of your hand."

"I hope you're right. Imagine how foolish I'd look in battle wearing this, all covered in blood and sweat…" - the wizard continued adjusting his robe, paying no mind to the sorceress. She, in turn, was clearly absorbed in fantasies she had no intention of sharing.

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

A few days later, the group finally reached the city. Even before they crossed the city gates, the bustling and active suburbs provided a welcome contrast to the desolate lands they had been traveling through for so long. Of course, the mood was somewhat dampened by the number of refugees fleeing from the army of the Absolute, which was slowly but surely advancing towards Baldur’s Gate. However, the solidarity, determination, and willingness to help each other somewhat warmed the companions' hearts and allowed them some respite. Karlach, not without effort, convinced Wyll and, surprisingly, Shadowheart, to visit the local circus; Astarion, Tav, and Halsin headed to the local brothel, eliciting disapproving looks and grumbling from the wizard about some people not knowing their limits; Talia had her expectations about Gale's attire confirmed when they encountered the disgruntled owner of a large estate who was unwilling to let refugees stay the night. Eventually, they managed to negotiate with him, and Talia believed that half of their success was due to the wizard's appearance. The other half was his eloquence, but the sorceress preferred not to dwell on that.

"Are you sure you didn't enchant this robe?" - Gale, not without a touch of smugness, smoothed the garment over himself while standing near the mansion. - "I must admit, it gives me a particular sense of confidence."

"It's called growing a pair, Waterdeep," - Talia smirked, beginning their usual banter - something they were both so used to that it seemed they had forgotten how to communicate differently.

"I assure you, there's nothing wrong with my manhood," - the wizard responded, raising a finger habitually. But realizing where the conversation was headed, he blushed slightly and added, - "Anatomically speaking, of course."

"I haven't had the pleasure of verifying that..." - the sorceress replied, distractedly looking into the crowd moving toward the city gates. A strange feeling, bordering on intuition or the premonition of something terrible, suddenly washed over her. She kept scanning the crowd, not fully understanding what had caught her attention. She turned to the wizard. He stood there, a corner of his mouth slightly curled into a smile, his eyes narrowed.

"Are you saying… what I think you're saying?" - He tilted his head slightly, accepting the unintentional challenge the sorceress had thrown.

"All I'm saying is, see you at the camp." - Talia lost focus completely and headed toward the market, waving at the wizard in farewell. - "Sorry, I just have to… just sorry." - She quickly blended into the crowd, leaving Gale alone.

Talia herself didn't fully understand where this oppressive feeling had come from, driving her feet forward through the market crowd. She turned her head from side to side, as if searching for something or someone, as if somewhere deep in her mind there was already the realization that something was ready to catch up with her, but she couldn't grasp it. A strange feeling, a tingling at the edge of perception, a stirring of the Weave inside her body, seemed to be drawing her toward something. She continued scanning the heads of the crowd when she suddenly saw what she had been looking for.

At the corner of one of the buildings ahead stood a man. His gaunt face, gray eyes, and overall sickly appearance contrasted with his evidently strong, though slender, body hidden beneath a dark cloak. He had sharp facial features, thin lips, a similarly thin, slightly elongated nose, and a sharply trimmed gray beard framing his chin. Talia froze for a second, catching his gaze. He seemed to shiver slightly, as if from the cold, and a small lock of his white hair fell over his cheek from under his hood.

Talia abruptly dashed forward, trying to make her way through the crowd to where the stranger had stood. The broad shoulders of passersby kept blocking her view. She cursed, trying to shove them aside. By the time she reached the spot, the man was already gone. Breathing heavily, she looked around, hoping to find some trace. Then, closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to sense any magical trace, indicating he had used a portal or a door in space. Nothing. Talia opened her eyes, frowning—nothing. But that couldn't be—there always had to be something. A trace, a whisper of magic left behind when someone used it to disappear. She knew the feeling intimately, the way magic lingered in the air like the fading scent of smoke after a fire. But here, there was nothing. It was as if the man had simply vanished into thin air without a trace.

Her chest tightened with frustration, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach. This wasn't the first time she'd felt this way—so close to finding something, only for it to slip through her fingers at the last moment. The sense of familiarity gnawed at her. Could it have been him? Could it have been Nathaniel?

She swallowed hard, pushing down the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. If it was Nathaniel, then he was close. Closer than he'd been in years. The sorceress took one last look around—no trace. Disappointed, she had to admit there was little she could do. The recent sense of lightness was gone, and Talia trudged back toward the camp, feeling that all-too-familiar heaviness in her heart.

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

This time, the camp was set up in the ruins of an old fortress that had recently served as a forward post near the city. Now, with the Absolute advancing closer every day, all forces had been relocated behind the city walls, leaving the fortress abandoned.

Upon returning to the camp, Talia sought solitude atop one of the towers, accessible only by a hastily constructed ladder. Sitting on one of the crates left behind by the soldiers, she gazed out at the city below, her eyes cloudy and unfocused. The streets and homes gradually lit up as night descended. A half-empty bottle of bitter wine swayed gently in her hand.

Talia felt a restless itch - the urge to drop everything and rush into the city, to search every alley and corner, to find no rest until she saw her brother again. She was so close, closer than she'd ever been. But she continued to sit on that damned crate in the damned camp, not moving an inch.

As the minutes stretched into hours, the city’s lights flickering like distant stars, Talia's grip on the bottle tightened. She knew she was on the edge of something monumental. For years, her every breath, every step, had been haunted by the need to find him, to confront what he had become. But now, when she was finally on the verge of that confrontation, she was almost ready to forget about it; to forget everything that had been the meaning of her life for so long, for... Talia gave a bitter smile to herself. For a wizard who was on the brink of sacrificing himself for the fleeting hope of earning a goddess’s forgiveness. And if not that, sooner or later the illithid tadpole would take over. No, Gale wasn't long for this world. So why couldn't she find the strength to leave? She knew perfectly well why…

She took another swig from the bottle, the bitter wine burning her throat, and blinked back tears that threatened to spill. Below her, the camp was quieting down, the sounds of laughter and conversation fading into the chilly evening. The others were resting, preparing for what lay ahead. But for her, there was no rest. Only this gnawing emptiness.

"Here you are!" - Gale grunted slightly as he climbed up the ladder to the tower. - "Are you all right? You haven't said a word all day..."

Talia quickly wiped her eyes and forced a smile:

"I'm fine. I just needed to... get away."

The wizard frowned slightly, but seeing her state and the bottle in her hand, he decided not to press further. He sat down beside her, hunching over slightly and lacing his fingers together in front of him on his knees:

"Looking for the truth in wine?"

"Something like that," - Talia replied, holding the bottle out to him.

Gale took the bottle, took a couple of sips, and immediately started coughing, his face scrunching up in disgust:

"Gods, I hope the truth isn't as bitter as this swill!"

Talia remained silent, her expression speaking volumes. She turned her head, glancing over at the wizard, as if hoping to find the answer to her unspoken question in his keen eyes. Her gaze fell on the earring that glinted slightly in the torchlight.

“Why do you still wear Mystra's symbol? After everything she’s put you through…” - Talia reached out, attempting to remove the earring herself. Gale merely smirked, squinting slightly, and gently stopped her by placing his hand over hers.

“A common misconception among those who weren’t properly trained in the art of magic,” - he said, pausing as he removed the earring himself and placed it in his palm, holding it out for Talia to inspect more closely. - “This isn't Mystra’s symbol, as people tend to believe. It’s a symbol of magic itself. You see…” - He pointed to the center of the symbol, a small but brilliantly shimmering diamond. - “This is the Weave - the source of all magic, as far as we know.” - He traced his finger along the earring. - “And these rays that emanate from it represent the eight schools of magic - eight rays, eight schools.”

Talia leaned in, listening carefully:

“You wizards... always need to organize everything into neat little boxes, don’t you?”

Gale smirked slightly before his expression took on a more nostalgic tone:

"Indeed, we do. But you know what? I'm learning to enjoy the taste of chaos."

The sorceress tore her eyes away from the earring in his hand and turned to him. There was a playful spark in his eyes, as if he wanted to convey something deeper than what appeared on the surface. Talia’s hand instinctively covered his palm, the one holding the earring. Her body seemed to move closer on its own…

"A wizard, Tally? Really?" - Gale’s voice suddenly turned unnaturally cold and sharp. His hand tightened, causing her pain. - "I always knew you had too soft a heart, but to stoop so low as to lie under a wizard?"

Talia recoiled, trying to free her hand from his death grip. It was useless. She watched in horror as Gale’s body twisted unnaturally, as if all the bones in his body had broken at once. Within moments, her brother sat before her instead. His slight smirk contrasted sharply with the coldness in his eyes as he tilted his head, measuring her with his gaze:

“Don’t be sad... I thought you were looking forward to this. A little family reunion!" - He sneered maliciously, yanking her hand and forcing her closer.

Talia winced from the pain and anger, resisting his grip as much as she could. Nathaniel mockingly pouted as if in feigned offense:

“What, are all your kisses reserved for the wizard? No kiss on the cheek for your brother?”

“I’ve got something for you, but it’s definitely not a kiss…” - Talia snapped out of her shock, preparing to strike him with lightning. But he was faster. With a swift motion and a whispered incantation, he summoned a dimension door right in front of them. Shoving Talia through it, he disappeared behind her. The magical door closed with a heavy sound and vanished into thin air as if it had never existed.

#bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #gale x sorcerer tav

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paperboy-pb · 1 year ago

Text

"A Very Special Day" [Life Story]

[TW for: ableism against kids, internalized ableism, and mentions of suicidal ideation.]

9 years ago today, in the state of New York on September 5th, was my second day of 6th grade. Being a Special Ed kid, I was upset; my school, a K-8 that I had been with since the start and stayed with until the end, had always treated us so differently. And the world around me had promised that things would change once middle school began. But they hadn't. In fact, barely anything was new at all.

Same old baby talk from adults who saw me every day, but willfully ignored how big I had grown.

Same old bullying from my peers, disabled children who spent their days as pots calling kettles black, because no one had any intentions of teaching us better.

Same Adapted Phys Ed, getting ready to interrupt my morning reading every Monday, Wednesday, Friday; even though they'd promised to let me play in Gym with the rest of my class years ago by now.

Same old kids from the neighborhood filling up the rest of my grade, coming in smiling and laughing and oh so free in their new groups of 30. 30-something of them. 12 of us.

They'd even gotten some new kids from the K-5s around town. All of which seemed really nice. Man. Lucky them. Meanwhile, everything was so same-y that I'd considered running away from the school bus when it pulled up.

September 5th, 2014. Still kinda hot in Brooklyn. Sunny out there.

The day had gone bad. My classmates were talking FNAF, and being mean about things I don't remember. They flicked food at me during lunch while I tried to read and mind my own business. We weren't allowed to change seats, even though the rest of our grade got that privilege. It was supposed to be for all of us middle schoolers, but when I'd asked the day before, our lunch aide had no idea what I was on about. She suddenly insisted it was never a thing! While the rest of our grade was splitting into cliques behind her back, paying us no mind, knowing they'd somehow earned it and we didn't.

10-year-old me couldn't wait to go home.

By the end of the day, I was drained like no other. Head down on the desk and all. I was thinking, 2:20-something. Just a few more minutes.

God, why are things like this? Is it gonna get better later this year? I hope so, it's only the second day. Maybe it just starts bad!

Man, I miss summer already. I wish I spent today home all day eating onion ring chips again and playing Animal Crossi--

"Alright guys, listen up!" Said Mrs. Z, who would pretty much be our only teacher this year. (Meanwhile, everyone else got to have different people for different subjects.)

I don't remember her exact words. But she held up a white booklet with a bunch of kids holding hands and awkwardly smiling at us from the mostly-white cover. She said something about it being very important. And she ended her little stanza with, and I quote, "DON'T read these, alright? It's for your parents."

I think that one line changed the trajectory of my life.

As our para handed them out, my bookworm ass couldn't help but furrow my little brows. I'd had teachers assume certain books were "too hard" for me when they weren't, and get upset at me whenever I summarized the plot of them correctly. I'd had teachers tell me not to read other books during class, which was fair enough, I guess. But a teacher telling me not to read something at ALL?

Now THAT'S a new one...

It felt plasticy, not like paper. It's a packet, not a book. Six kids in a row, but none look like me, as usual. The cover said, "Family Guide To Special Education Services for School-Age Children. A Shared Path to Success." ...I don't think a title should be that long. Why not parentheses that end bit?

After that, we were dismissed. Me & some peers headed into the hallway down to the first floor to wait for our bus, and we chatted about it a little bit?

One was like, "Is this a report card or something?"

Another was like, "I guess?"

The first boy skimmed it, though, and saw nothing about him. Which eased his nerves.

A third asked me what I thought it was since I was the only kid who'd hit a Z-reading level. They figured I could make sense of it. And my first thought was boring adult stuff, or some sort of... after-school? Program? Thing? But I didn't really answer. I was too preoccupied with what Mrs. Z said.

What kind of teacher tells me not to read something? Give it to my parents is one thing, but specifically, "don't" read this? Dude! What doesn't she want me to see?

Everyone else had tossed the damn thing into their bookbags and zipped 'em up by now. We headed downstairs, and I couldn't help but notice that our 6th grade class was on the third floor; with a lot of grades 2-4 around us.

Meanwhile, the rest of the big middle school classes came down from higher up. It turns out that they all had their classes high up on the top floor. A bunch of bright minds floated down from above like they were that summer's fireflies, and we were the tips of night grass. Or maybe even worms, burrowing into the dirt and calling it a day.

...

By the time the bus was moving, I still had the packet in my hands. I was wondering why they all got to be up there and we didn't. We lived pretty close to Coney Island, after all: it must be cool seeing the parachute jump from the hallway window on your way down every day.

I barely had time to stuff the packet in my hands once we pulled up to my apartment.

If you've ever wondered what Kid Jonah was like, imagine some sort of hybrid between a miserable little nerd & the most optimistic goody-goody you've ever met. Like, yeah, I'd been in a few fights by this point, broken some rules behind their backs, but I was also... 10. And known for being "THE good kid" in front of teachers. I didn't like to defy them, you know? Even if they did always make me feel weird, or on-edge, or like I was a part of something bad.

So when I made a beeline for my room, I was like, Oh my God, I'm actually gonna do this...? And I didn't tell my parents a thing. I've kept the packet all this time and they STILL haven't read it!

But I did. I think I hesitated, but I remember opening it on my bed.

"Welcome.

Dear families, we've come a long way since our special education reform initiative, A Shared Path to Success, was launched citywide in 2012... we've also been changing hearts and minds as our core belief- that special education is a service, and not a place- has taken hold in our schools...

Section 1... Children learn at different speeds and in different ways. Some children have physical and/or intellectual disabili..."

WHAT?!

...

It was a really dense packet for a kid. Long, boring, seemed endless. But I understood the words. Especially that D one. And at the time, 10-year-old me knew it was a bad one.

I'd crossed the point of no return by then. I kept reading. And I didn't dare skip a word. "Intervention," "Special," "Disability," "Meeting," "Evaluation," "Eligibility," "IEP,"-- Hey, I know that word! IEPs are the dense things stapled to my report cards!

I remember the anger flaring in my heart, out my nose, widening my eyes once I got to the Eligibility bit. I thought, and I quote, "THEY THINK WE'RE DISABLED?!" I don't think words can articulate how insulted little 10-year-old me was!

...I don't think I can articulate how sad that is now, either. How do you instill such heavy ableism into a little boy like that? How do you live with yourself?

But I couldn't throw the book at the wall or take one of my mom's lighters to it like I initially wanted. Because I realized pretty quickly... Oh my God. This is it. These are THE ANSWERS! THIS IS WHY IT'S ALL HAPPENING!

I couldn't believe my eyes as I took it all in. The 13 disabilities that landed me and my friends in this mess, some of which matched up with certain kids I knew right away. But what really caught my attention were the services. Terms that I KNEW about. Things I engaged with. Things I... hated.

"Occupational Therapy." That nice older lady who takes me out of class every few days so I can play memory games, or play with this hand-gripper, or yank pegs outta this bright green putty.

"Paraprofessional Services"; those weird second-teachers that annoy us and only us, but never anyone else in the other classes. They're so stuck-up sometimes! And they never really seem to know how to leave us alone. Especially certain kids.

The stories I could tell about them all now... good fucking lord.

Physical Therapy; That's the one where the lady is always making me feel bad about things and do sit-ups or run drills in the hallway and stairwell... and do embarrassing stretches like people aren't walking by.

And she got upset with me because I brought a lunchbox every day for years; she told me, "You'll never be a big kid if you keep bringing food from home, Jonah!"

And I told her, "But my mom doesn't even make the sandwiches anymore! I make them for myself!"

And she was like, "But still!"

She also measures her footstep, saying it was a foot of distance. Like, 12 inches. But nuh-uh, it was never a foot! Her sneakers aren't that big. Rulers are longer. Why didn't she just get a measuring tape? What's this lady's problem?

The one that sunk my heart, though, was Adapted Phys Ed. The packet said it was "A specially designed program of developmental activities, games, sports, and rhythms suited to the interests, capabilities, and limitations of individual children who may now safely or successfully participate in the activities of a regular physical education program."

And I thought: ...That's the watered-down gym class I do three times a week.

The one where we do "challenges" like stepping into each hole of an agility ladder mat and doing a squat before moving to the next.

The one where we never play sports like everybody else gets to do.

The one that makes the gym teacher sit me out on the bleachers by myself, and watch literally everybody else I know have fun. And when I ask why, nobody tells me anything.

The one where I ask how I can improve in order to go play with everybody else, but nobody tells me anything.

The one where Mrs. D keeps promising me that I'll get to play with the rest of my class soon... but it never comes true.

This is why everybody acts so weird around us.

This is why we can't even talk to the rest of our grade.

This is why nothing ever changes...!

It all made sense. 10-year-old me couldn't feel the floor or the bed anymore. The back of my mind buzzed like shaken soda, fizzling against the back of my skull. I didn't cry. I didn't have tears. But I did sink down, down into the depths of I-don't-even-know-where.

I went time-traveling back to May of last school year, where a Special Ed kid the grade above me was saying to his classmate, "We're all just the kids nobody wants." But I didn't have context. Was this the context? He sounded like he was about to cry.

I went back to 4th grade when I headed into the bathroom and saw two kids from my grade walk by with papers promoting the talent show to everybody. I saw the text written on them clear as day! And I got excited; Our school's having a talent show? COOL! We must be getting those later today, too!

The papers never came.

I went back to 3rd grade, where paras would hover over our class during lunch, but nobody else's. They always stood tall above and between us, like they were a scarecrow keeping the birds of our grade away.

And there was so much. More. Than that.

...

I still wonder why Z didn't want me seeing that. Maybe she knew I would spiral or label myself. But at the same time... that's a learned behavior. Ableism is a hatred, and hatred is learned. From ADULTS. One that she and the rest of the school could at least try to curb if she noticed.

Z wasn't a bad lady. I think she was trying to protect me? But... we already knew we were being treated unfairly. Why would keeping this secret protect me?

The anger only lasted a little while. Because something else dawned on me.

I can't stay here.

This place had been upsetting me for YEARS. And now I knew that it was happening for a reason. A shitty one, but still... a reason. It's not just bad luck. And that it wasn't going to change unless I removed that reason from their minds.

I had to leave. Sound familiar?

The next day we had school? I was completely shaken up. Kinda surprised no one noticed. I was finally seeing just how deep this all went. The teachers smiling in my face, baby-talking, getting reallll close while having this sense of disgust in their eyes.

The staggering difference in numbers between "normal" classes and ours.

Our class locations.

I even found this board on the first floor that had a picture of every teacher and what they taught. Sure enough, "Special Education" was specified in the label for every teacher I'd ever had. I was even able to find the next teachers I'd have for Grades 7 & 8. And my blood went cold because I knew those two particular ladies were pretty mean.

My school was DEFINITELY failing that, "Special Ed is a service, not a place!" shit the state allegedly wanted to accomplish. It was a place. And I... was trapped.

And I couldn't stay trapped. Because as far as I knew, education was everything. I was a very academic little boy back then. And I didn't know what staying in a place like this could mean for my education later down the line.

I didn't want to find out.

I also didn't want my social life restricted like this. Especially since there weren't many kids who treated me well. I wanted freedom. I wanted independence. I wanted a chance to actually find real friends!

And this is sad, but... I was already very depressed by that age. Due to the nature of Special Ed at school. Had been since 8. And so... I made a plan in my bedroom the same night I found the packet:

I can't carry this environment with me into high school. I have to do anything-- EVERYTHING I can to get outta here by the time 8th grade starts! And if I fail... I can't finish 8th grade like that.

The Verrazzano Bridge and the walkway by the water, the one with the short fence that I can get right over, are only a fifteen minute walk from home. If I don't get out of Special Ed by 8th grade, then... I have to go out there and throw myself off. I have to kill myself. I have to...! Because I know for a fact I just can't. Stay. Here.

And I was serious. Dead-serious. Because I thought about it every day for the next 2 years straight.

...

That packet started it all for PB. And as sad as it is that I technically had to go behind adults' backs just to learn something about myself and where I was, I'm extremely glad it happened. Because it's also what kickstarted my interest in disability topics. My journey in learning who we were, what we were, and what we do & don't deserve.

It led to the first drafts of PB just under a year later, which set my life on a completely new path. Paperboy would not EXIST if it weren't for that day. Hell; I don't even know if my OTHER projects (like Weirder Than Usual) would, either!

That wasn't right. None of that was right. But it did give me a story to tell. One that you guys are finally starting to see!

And one that I'm very, very proud of.

Disability conversations are extremely important to me now. I don't think I'm the beacon of anti-ableism or anything like that. I know I've fucked up as I grew up, especially in my younger years. But this entire situation showed me how hush-hush the world likes to be about it. And while it's better now than it was in 2014, it ain't great yet.

And I think I owe it to 10-year-old Jonah to change that shit. Because when he googled "Special Ed makes me feel bad," he barely found anything.

It was definitely an experience I will never forget. And as you saw above, I still keep that packet with me to this day, and I always will, because of just how heavily it changed my life.

I have no idea where or who I'd be if it wasn't for that.

Happy 9th birthday, SpEd packet. Can't wait for the 10th!

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 2 years ago

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A Mouse in a Lion’s Den Pt.13

Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader

Warnings: blood

Words: 2118

Summary: A dinner is held to celebrate your pregnancy.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Book One of Heir of Ash and Fire

That old witch had been wrong about everything. She should have known better than to trust that crazy bat that promised her a crown and a king. It all had gone to her sister. Her unworthy sister that didn’t realize just how lucky she was for Rhaegar to give her the time of day.

Why?

The moment she was conceived Joanna had been convinced that the babe was meant for greatness without even seeing her yet. Sometimes Cersei would catch her mother dotingly caressing her swollen stomach and promising her unborn daughter that she would be queen.

Nothing about (y/n) was extraordinary. She had just been a squawking newborn, not beautiful in any way. Oh but how Joanna loved her. For no apparent reason she loved her more than Cersei even though it was Cersei who was the beautiful one. Cersei, the one with the brains and wit even at such a young age-

“I’ve had enough of this!” Cersei growls at her father, slamming down her palms on his work desk. He quirks an eyebrow at her actions, unamused. “I want to go back to Casterly Rock!!”

“Lannisters never run away. No matter how unpleasant the news is.” Tywin watches his eldest child with impassive, pale, eyes. Cersei looked so much like Joanna, except for the fury. The fury was purely her own. Another one of his children had taken after her gentle nature. . .

“What use have we to stay here any longer?! You’re no longer the Hand! There’s no way of me becoming Rhaegar’s bride now! There’s nothing left for us here!”

Yes, things did look bleak. Tywin never had been accustomed to losing. He was a man of strategy. “Sit down, Cersei.”

Her normally pale face was blotched with anger as she forces her bottom onto a cushion. She never thought she would hate it in King’s Landing yet (y/n) ruined that as well. She’s ruined everything ever since the day she was born. That wretched day where Jaime had looked upon his baby sister. Fragile and small. Was that the day she lost Jaime’s favor? No, it couldn’t be. Jaime had always been her’s since the early days of their childhood. Even at the Tourney of Harrenhal, Cersei had still been the center of Jaime’s heart. When she was heartbroken over (y/n) being betrothed to Rhaegar, it was Jaime that comforted her. Jaime that said that she was the queen of his heart.

Everything must have changed recently.

How recent though?

Tywin’s words sounded important, but all Cersei could hear was the sickening beat of her heart.

She couldn’t lose Jaime.

She lost her mother to (y/n) as well as Rhaegar.

(y/n) wouldn’t have Jaime.

As Tywin spoke of his plans for the family, Cersei made plans of her own. (y/n) had ruined her life for the last time.

There was a brooding air around your husband lately. You had caught whispers, talks of war between him and Jon Connington. Things you weren’t supposed to hear. When he didn’t think you were paying attention you would catch a glimpse of his weary face. Underneath that youthful beauty was exhaustion. He wore it well though, you would give him that. It melted away when he would see the growth of your belly. At least that was something.

No matter how plagued he was by the secrets he kept, the clouds of his face parted to let out the sun.

With this new melancholy of his, Rhaegar would also be gone hours at a time. You didn’t know where he was when this happened, but could only assume it had to do with the passed whispers him and Jon shared.

War.

You place both hands on your swollen stomach. What did that mean for you and your baby? From listening to your father when he used to be the Hand of King Aerys, you knew that there were different types of war. Yet for Rhaegar to be so concerned you knew it was something big.

“My lady? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the feast tonight?”

Fingers draw weary circles on your temples, you address Thalina “It’ll be fine if I don’t show up right? I’m not feeling up to a feast tonight.”

“But it’s specifically for you!” Thalina exclaimed, slightly outraged.

“Not for me,” you pat your abdomen “for him.”

Huffing, Thalina is already marching to your wardrobe to pick out a dress for you. “Regardless, the king will be there! How would it look if you didn’t show up?”

You shrug. “I’m sure he wouldn’t really care. I don’t know why he’s throwing a feast for us anyway. Everyone knows how Rhaegar lost his favor. Even I’ve heard the rumors that Aerys wants Viserys to be next in line for the throne. And don’t say that he’s doing it out of the kindness of his heart. Even you know that’s complete nonsense.” She knew that she was caught there. Aerys possessed no kindness in his heart. “Well. . . It would be nice for you to get accustomed to the court here. Ever since you got married you’ve either sequestered yourself here in your room with Rhaegar or in the courtyard. You need to show the others that you’re going to be a strong queen. For both Rhaegar and the little prince you carry inside of you.”

Thalina was right. You couldn’t hide away forever. You had to be the queen that Rhaegar deserved. After all, you wanted to be strong and smart enough to survive life at a royal court.

Inhaling deeply you consent. “Alright. Just choose something that won’t suffocate me or smoosh the baby.” Whenever you mentioned your unborn child, an intense wave of warmth would feel your stomach. A giddy smile sparks onto your face as you think about your baby. Your beautiful baby that would look exactly like Rhaegar. No matter what horridness went on around you at least you had the thought of your baby that was growing quickly inside of you.

“Your father is growing incredibly suspicious.” Ser Arthur Dayne tells his prince hastily. He had been away for quite some time, trying to rally supporters in secret for Rhaegar. Griff huffs, crossing his arms in a haughty manner. “The Mad King’s always suspicious. What makes this time so different?”

“Everything.” Rhaegar tells his red haired knight, making the man simmer down. “He’s anxious more than ever now that (y/n) is pregnant. Tywin Lannister is still here which doesn’t bode well. He has good reason to be suspicious now. We’ve been able to keep quiet thus far but the stakes are rising.” Weary he runs a hand through his silver hair. It wasn’t safe for (y/n) to be in King’s Landing. He didn’t know what his father would do. Her pregnancy was already so far along though, he couldn’t risk moving her. He should’ve known it months ago. Selfishly though he wanted to keep her by his side. Rhaegar had grown so used to her presence. Being away from her. . .

Pausing at the thought he realized he didn’t even want to finish it. To be without her would be painful. She was what kept him put together. She kept the melancholy away. A warm fluttering sensation made his stomach feel light and for some reason he felt like laughing. How was it that even when she wasn’t near that thinking about her caused him to smile and feel as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Even as his knights argued among themselves he wasn’t worried.

That’s why when he let out a soft chuckle both Arthur and Jon turn their heads and stare incredulously at him. Rhaegar covers his mouth with his hand. “Apologies. Yes, this is very serious. We must start acting quickly if we are to still catch my father off guard. Which, needless to say, is a difficult task. As long as our decoys do as is instructed then his attention should be off of us.”

“Do you think it’s still wise to be trusting Tywin?” Frowning, Jon crosses his arms across his chest. “Someday he might use this as leverage.”

“He is my father-in-law and the man is guaranteed some trust. . .” sighs Rhaegar although it was the last thing he wanted to do. Not even (y/n) trusted her own father which said a lot. But Tywin Lannister was smart and calculating. Of course Rhaegar wouldn’t be chummy with him, rather keep a close eye. They did say to keep your enemies close. And with someone like Tywin Lannister it was best to hold their hand rather than stray away.

The one thing he was concerned with most was (y/n). He needed to get her out of King’s Landing before all hell broke loose. It would be best if he were able to move her into a nearby town that wasn’t too far of a journey.

“Arthur, how quickly can you acquire a place for (y/n)?”

What else could you expect the banquet to be? Everyone acted so happy for you but deep inside you could see the mirror of their words. At least Rhaegar had been there for you. Surprisingly you had enjoyed yourself. The food had been marvelous as had the music that you couldn’t help but dance with Rhaegar when he offered you his hand. You weren’t as graceful as he was, even before your belly had swelled so that it kept him at a distance rather than flushed against you. When you were with him you didn’t care if you looked akin to a mule kicking up dirt with his hoof. Even Tyrion had been allowed to attend, although he was incredibly self-conscious of the many eyes that stared at him. You tried to take his mind off of them by dancing with him and simply making him happy.

It was starting to get hard for you to get comfortable in your bed as your belly grew. Trying not to make too much noise you shift your body to face a slumbering Rhaegar. Smooth eyelids closed to allow his dark lashes to kiss his cheeks. Such beautiful cheekbones he possessed that sloped down to his chiseled jaw. Wild hair splayed all over his pillow like silver water. Full lips parted slightly as he dreamed of sweetness. He had had fun today too. You don’t recall ever seeing him smile so much and laugh so easily. At least not in a while. Something had been bothering him as of late and a dark part of you assumed it had to do with Lyanna.

Eyes dart over to his large desk where he kept his letters. Ever since he received that letter from Lyanna you had been dying to read it. What did she say?

You regard your sleeping husband for a moment, making sure he was truly deep in the arms of slumber.

“Rhaegar?” You whisper. He didn’t move or even indicate that he was a little bit awake. Satisfied you shimmy to the side of your bed and slide off. You take a candlestick from the side of your bed and light it, illuminating the way to Rhaegar’s desk. The curiosity was too much to bear.

Each step you took felt like the dull thud of your heart as you tried to keep your wits with you. What would Rhaegar think if he caught you sneaking around his personal belongings? You had never done anything like this before. It wasn’t in your nature to skulk around.

Your fingers brush against the brass handle of one of the desk drawers, holding your breath in your throat as your other hand placing the candlestick on the smooth surface. It might kill you to read what Lyanna wrote to Rhaegar. What if they were still having their emotional affair? It had been bad enough finding out about his affections for her, but what if they still lingered?

As you were about to slide the drawer open a stabbing pain pierced through your stomach and made you incredibly nauseous. You keel over, landing harshly on your knees, holding onto your abdomen as it felt like your insides were being ripped to shreds. Your breathing was hard as you tried to cry out for Rhaegar. You didn’t need to though. The violent sounds of you vomiting was enough to trigger him awake.

He instantly rises from his bed and rushes to your side. “(y/n)?!!”

Your eyes strained to look up at his pale face, but only fell to the floor. The light from the candle was enough to illuminate the massive red pile on the floor that you had expelled.

Blood.

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TAGLIST:

@esposadomd

@ladybug0095

#game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #Game of Thrones fandom #A Song of Ice and Fire #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #a song of ice and fire fanfic #A Song of Ice and Fire fandom #ASoIaF #asoiaf fandom #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fanfic #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction

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topazshadowwolf · 1 year ago

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GoopTales Part 18: Chocolate?!

Hey everyone who is waiting for the next chapter of HNBD, guess what?

New GoopTales!

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18(you are here)

AO3: Ch 1 (1-4), Ch 2 (4-8), Ch 3 (9-12), Ch 4 (13-16)

---

Cross idly kicked his feet behind him as he lay on his chest, coloring book in front of him. It was about sea life, and this page had a cool-looking shark. It had a really long tail and was called a thresher shark. According to the little bit of information on the page, it uses that tail to hunt. The picture had the animal in a dynamic pose to demonstrate how.

He was so engrossed in his coloring and thinking about how cool the shark was that he didn’t hear what was happening around him. It was when he was randomly pounced and let out a yell in fear that he knew that Horror had been creeping up on him. The slightly taller skeleton child picked him up and held Cross in a bear hug.

“Gotcha,” he chuckled as Cross squirmed.

“you’re a jerk!” Cross snapped as he was set back down. In that background, he heard Killer giggling away from where he was sitting with some Legos.

“sorry, was just bored,” Horror sighed as he patted Cross on the head.

No surprise, they all were. It had been a week since being here at Mr. Night’s castle. It was the times that Mr. Night was off doing his errands or working that were the dullest. There was a lot for Mr. Night to do. He was caring for them, for starters, and then he had all those animals he cared for. Then he had a job. When Cross asked if anyone helped him with his job, a moment of sadness appeared in the dark skeleton’s eyelight. He said he used to have help, but those who helped him could no longer assist. Cross asked if he could help, but Mr. Night patted him on the head and said ‘Maybe when you are older.’ There was such sorrow in his voice that Cross couldn’t forget how that sounded.

Dust was the only one who didn’t seem to mind these long periods of nothing to do. They had to be even longer for Dust, as he was often done with all the lessons Nightmare had for them before everyone else. So, he had to sit quietly and do something else while Mr. Night finished teaching the others. That one knew a lot of cool stuff and could do math easily.

Looking over, Cross saw Dust sitting by himself, reading a book that Nightmare had given him. After all, he had already read all the other books written for children their age. Still, he had to be lonely, too, right?

“let’s talk to dust!” Cross said.

Horror shrugged, and they walked over, Killer following along behind. Dust was as focused on the book as Cross had been on his coloring. Horror looked ready to pounce, but Cross grabbed the other’s shirt. Unlike the others, Dust seemed jumpy and nervous about new situations.

“hey, dust?” Cross asked, and Dust looked up at him, his eye lights shrinking nervously as he noticed the other two.

“yes?” Dust replied, his tone flat to hide the fear. Not wanting to scare him anymore, Cross decided to sit down. That way, the shorter of the four didn’t have to look up and feel like he was surrounded.

“i wanted to ask you something since you’re so smart!” Cross replied happily. “i wanted to know if your dad is really smart too, since you never talk about him.”

Dust looked down at his book for a moment, then back up at Cross. “i… i… uh… don’t like him, so i don’t want to talk about him.”

“you don’t like your dad?” Killer asked as he knelt by Cross. “why don’t you like him?”

Dust was quiet for a while, and Cross tilted his head, curious. “did he give you up? are you an orphan like i was before dad adopted me?”

“no…,” the other replied as his fingers idly flipped the corner of the pages. “i… my father, uh… mr. night says he was a bully and not a father… that i should just forget him.”

“whoa! really?” Killer asked.

Cross watched as Dust sat there quietly for a moment. He looked up at Cross, then Killer and Horror. “your dads taught you what a family was… right?” To that, Cross nodded. “well… he… the doctor… he never taught me the word father or family or other words or things you all know so easily. to him, i wasn’t his son. all he did was make me and then… stuff i don’t like… so…”

“wait, mr. night won’t return you to some mean bully who doesn’t think you’re his kid, right?” Horror asked, frowning.

To that, Dust shook his head. “mr. night says this is my home now.”

“good!” Killer loudly declared.

“yeah, you deserve someone nice for a dad!” Cross added. He then got an idea, “maybe mr. night can be your dad!”

“yeah! you should totally ask him to be your dad!” Killer insisted, approving of the idea.

“i don’t know… maybe?” Dust frowned. “not now… but after you all go home and it’s just us, i can ask.”

Horror moved over and sat next to Dust. “i think mr. night likes having us around and would be happy if you called him dad after we leave.”

“me too!” Killer said. “he seems so lonely and sad sometimes.

“ok,” Dust said quietly. He looked worried.

“something wrong?” Cross asked.

“well… i… don’t know what to do, so maybe i won’t,” Dust muttered.

“know what to do?” Killer asked, and Cross was confused about what Dust meant also.

Horror then wrapped an arm around Dust and picked up the shortest of them up. “enough talking, let’s play a game.”

“but dust is confused about something,” Cross protested.

“yeah? and i say the cave dragon is tired of answering questions,” Horror announced as he carried Dust from the corner he had been reading his book in.

“the cave dragon’s cave is in the kitchen,” Killer frowned.

“the cave dragon is no longer a tiny hatchling and needs more space and territory, right?” Horror asked Dust, who looked between everyone nervously. “see! he needs more… uh… experiences! learn about life and have a larger home.”

Horror stepped up on the stool by the bed and guided Dust to climb up. The smallest of them looked at everyone, looking confused. “this is…”

“your mountain home,” Horror announced with a smile.

Dust looked down for a moment, then whispered to Horror, though Cross was now close enough to hear, “what am i supposed to do now?”

Cross, ignoring the stool, climbed up on the bed. Dust and Horror watching him made his way as Cross said, “hang on, cave dragon dust!”

“look… i wanna play and will totally build a village for dusty to wreck and steal sheep from if he wants, but i’m hungry,” Killer frowned.

“hmmm… well, if we are careful, maybe nightmare won’t care if we grab some snacks from the kitchen?” Horror asked.

“he didn’t want us to leave the room…,” Dust said nervously.

“i know, but… i think he would understand. he said he wouldn’t be gone long, but it’s been a few hours,” Cross pointed out.

To that, Dust started to say something but stopped. He frowned and looked down for a moment and then shrugged.

“you two stay here; we’ll be back. that way, if he is mad, we aren’t all in trouble!” Killer announced before he grabbed Horror’s hand, and the two left the room.

Cross sat there and looked over the room from the bed as he kicked his feet over the side idly. Dust had his knees drawn up to his chest and was looking at nothing in particular, it seemed. The need to break the silence came over Cross, who was about to speak when Dust beat him to it, “what are sheep?”

“sheep?” Cross blinked as he looked at Dust, but the other just looked away. “their animals with big fluffy coats that monsters and humans raise. they cut off their fur coats to make clothes and stuff with.”

There was a pause for a moment after that, and then Cross asked, “hey, dust… what were you saying before?”

The other was quiet for a while, then looked at cross with his red eyelights. “horror was right… i don’t wanna answer any more questions.”

“oh…,” Cross replied.

“we are back!” Killer announced as he ran into the room. “we found chocolate!”

“chocolate?!” Cross grinned and slid off the bed.

As Killer and Cross opened the bag together, Dust watched, and Horror reentered the room. Horror grabbed some chocolate and joined Dust on the bed while Cross and Killer dug in. Chocolate… blessed chocolate! Cross grinned as he enjoyed the flavor with a big smile.

Looking over, he watched Dust investigate the chocolate piece Horror gave him. That is something Dust does when he hasn’t eaten something before. Now that Dust said his ‘dad’ was mean, it made sense why he hadn’t eaten so many things before. That was most likely why Mr. Night told him to take it slow with things he is unsure about and see what his magic tells him. Dust then put it in his mouth, and Cross saw his eye lights brighten.

“let’s make the chocolate loot and stuff for us and the cave dragon to find!” Killer announced.

“yeah!” Cross agreed and he worked with Killer to make a lego village of simple block houses to hid the chocolate in.

---

That took longer than expected. Nightmare leaned against the wall of his room as he tried to calm down. The truce with Dream seemed to have only angered others. Those others have learned to add positivity to their magic-made weapons. Who would have thought a simple shopping trip would have been interrupted by mercenaries out for him?

They notice his followers have been missing…

And Nightmare had been gone for too long.

With a sigh, Nightmare had to accept that at least he had some of his errands done and wouldl have to try another neutral AU later to go shopping. Regardless, their positive tainted weapons aren’t as powerful as Dream’s attacks, and the wounds were nearly healed.

He had to check on the boys.

Luckily, they were close, and he opened the door to their bedroom… to find them curled up on the floor. Nightmare would be worried if it were not for the bag of chocolate kisses, previously unopened and now empty, laying in the middle of them. “You all have belly aches?” Nightmare asked as he entered the room. The boys flinched except Dust, who looked utterly sick.

“it was soooo good,” Cross whined.

“It would have been better if you ate them in moderation,” Nightmare frowned as he grabbed some of the wrappers.

“what’s moderation mean?” Killer groaned.

“It means smaller amounts of things, for example, a few chocolates so you can enjoy them and not get sick,” Nightmare replied as a tendril started to tickle the immobile child.

Killer whined and swatted the limb away, “doooon’t, i’m gonna spew.”

…

As mad as he should be… he was just happy he was able to return home to them.

---

#UTMV #GoopTales #dadmare #nightmare!sans #killer!sans #cross!sans #horror!sans #dust!sans #badster #kids make bad choices sometimes #kids are bored #I need to try drawing 'cave dragon' dust #Poor papa noot

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fromkenari · 1 year ago

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Waterloo Letters #4 (1/4): Hometown stuff

Hometown stuff A [email protected] 9/2/20 5:12 PM to Henry H, Have been home for three hours. Already miss you. This is some bullshit. Hey, have I told you lately that you’re brave? I still remember what you said to that little girl in the hospital about Luke Skywalker: “He’s proof that it doesn’t matter where you come from or who your family is.” Sweetheart, you’re proof too. (By the way, in this relationship, I am absolutely the Han and you are absolutely the Leia. Don’t try to argue because you’ll be wrong.) I was also thinking about Texas again, which I guess I do a lot when I’m stressed about election stuff. There’s so much stuff I haven’t shown you yet. We haven’t even done Austin! I wanna take you to Franklin Barbecue. You have to wait in line for hours, but that’s part of the experience. I really wanna see a member of the royal family wait in line for hours to eat cow parts. Have you thought any more about what you said before I left? About coming out to your family? Obviously, you’re not obligated. You just seemed kind of hopeful when you talked about it. I’ll be over here, still quarantined in the White House (at least Mom didn’t kill me for London), rooting for you. Love you. xoxoxoxoxo A P.S. Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf—1927: With me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal.

Re: Hometown stuff Henry [email protected] 9/3/20 2:49 AM to A Alex, It is, indeed, bullshit. It’s all I can do not to pack a bag and be gone forever. Perhaps I could live in your room like a recluse. You could have food sent up for me, and I’ll be lurking in disguise in a shadowy corner when you answer the door. It’ll all be very dreadfully Jane Eyre. The Mail will write mad speculations about where I’ve gone, if I’ve offed myself or vanished to St. Kilda, but only you and I will know that I’m just sprawled in your bed, reading books and feeding myself profiteroles and making love to you endlessly until we both expire in a haze of chocolate sauce. It’s how I’d want to go. I’m afraid, though, I’m stuck here. Gran keeps asking Mum when I’m going to enlist, and did I know Philip had already served a year by the time he was my age. I do need to figure out what I’m going to do, because I’m certainly closing in on the end of what’s an acceptableamount of time for a gap year. Please do keep me in your—what is it American politicians say?—thoughts and prayers. Austin sounds brilliant. Maybe in a few months, after things settle down a bit? I could take a long weekend. Can we visit your mum’s house? Your room? Do you still have your lacrosse trophies? Tell me you still have posters up. Let me guess: Han Solo, Barack Obama, and … Ruth Bader Ginsburg. (I’ll agree with your assessment that you’re the Han to my Leia in that you are, without doubt, a scruffy-looking nerf herder who would pilot us into an asteroid field. I happen to like nice men.) I have thought more about coming out to my family, which is part of why I’m staying here for now. Bea has offered to be there when I tell Philip if I want, so I think I will. Again, thoughts and prayers. I love you terribly, and I want you back here soon. I need your help picking a new bed for my room; I’ve decided to get rid of that gold monstrosity. Yours, Henry P.S. From Radclyffe Hall to Evguenia Souline, 1934: Darling—I wonder if you realize how much I am counting on your coming to England, how much it means to me—it means all the world, and indeed my body shall be all, all yours, as yours will be all, all mine, beloved. … And nothing will matter but just we two, we two longing loves at last come together.

Re: Hometown stuff A [email protected] 9/3/20 6:20 AM to Henry H, Shit. Do you think you’re going to enlist? I haven’t done any research on it yet. I’m gonna ask Zahra to have one of our people put together a binder on it. What would that mean? Would you have to be gone a lot? Would it be dangerous??? Or is it just like, wear the uniform and sit at a desk? How did we not talk about this when I was there????? Sorry. I’m panicking. I somehow forgot this was a thing looming on the horizon. I’m there for whatever you decide you want to do, just, like, let me know if I need to start practicing gazing wistfully out the window, waiting for my love to return from the war. It drives me nuts sometimes that you don’t get to have more say in your life. When I picture you happy, I see you with your own apartment somewhere outside of the palace and a desk where you can write anthologies of queer history. And I’m there, using up your shampoo and making you come to the grocery store with me and waking up in the same damn time zone with you every morning. When the election is over, we can figure out what we’ll do next. I would love to be in the same place for a bit, but I know you have to do what you have to do. Just know, I believe in you. Re: telling Philip, sounds like a great plan. If all else fails, just do what I did and act like a huge jackass until most of your family figures it out on their own. Love you. Tell Bea hi. A P.S. Eleanor Roosevelt to Lorena Hickock—1933: I miss you greatly dear. The nicest time of the day is when I write to you. You have a stormier time than I do but I miss you as much, I think. … Please keep most of your heart in Washington as long as I’m here for most of mine is with you!

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 292-297). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

2 | 3 | 4

#waterloo letters #hometown stuff #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #red white and royal blue #casey mcquiston #out of credits

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uhuraisgay · 10 months ago

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fic writer meme

ty lore @megafaunatic for tagging meee :3c

How many works do you have on Ao3?

fifty three as of today. tomorrow? who knows.... (probably still fifty three)

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

518,435 words .... wrow.....

3. What fandoms do you write for?

historically its been all over the place but theres so much stuff rotting and dying in my gdrive that has never been posted so i feel like i have a broader actual ouvre than is represented on ao3. which is mdzs heavy at least in the past couple years

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5. beyond all limit (wangxian i wrote for lore right after i first read the book) 4. if the story's over (moshang post-divorce get-together fic) 3. someone as good for me as you (written in 2016 for holster and ransom when i was reading check, please. LMAO) 2. at least as deep as the pacific ocean (written in 2015 in the clearest example of 'person distraught by the tragic ending of a tragedy misses the fucking point and writes a coffee shop au of achilles and patroclus after she read tsoa' ever, even bigger LMAO) 1. your name safe in their mouth (lsz gets his dad back, and other emotional adventures)

5. Do you respond to comments?

i used to try to reply to every comment i got but i stopped doing that around the same time i went to college and got more depressed. but i love reading comments and i sometimes reply if someone says something that moves me or like. asks me a question about the fic that i want to elaborate on? because i love to yap

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i'm not really good at writing straight angst i feel like it's normally like. angst with catharsis. but i wrote some explorations on grief in the past couple years that i feel like have the angst factor (what i have of you about nhs after nmj dies, and then when your beard fell out about my sweetie pie kageyama tobio in middle school after his grandpa dies)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i have a lot of silly fluffy fics... idk i try to toe the line mostly of like. the joys and sadnesses of human experience but sometimes you just gotta fluff it up. i'll set the table, you can make the fire, which is book verse aziraphale/crowley living in a cottage and being in love, comes to mind....i love that one

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i don't think i've ever really gotten hate on a fic? i have been extremely lucky in that regard. especially since my whole ouvre from like 2014 onward is on that damn site and much of it is very cringeworthy.

9. Do you write smut?

not well!

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you have written?

i often will do like kind of a quasi-crossover kind of thing rather than a True Crossover wherein i take characters i like from one medium and plop them into the roles and places of characters i like from another medium. i did a dragon age wangxian fic where lwj was the inquisitor from da:i called we held together the fragile sky that kind of exemplifies this dynamic

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of or that anyone has ever notified me of, but i also don't look that hard. if this has ever happened, it would hurt my feelings, so please don't do it ? lol

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes!!!! and i was honored

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

not as such but i have one not-intended-for-posting fic which is basically just a transcription of jokes i have with my roommate about haikyuu characters LOL which i think counts as co-writing. she's my co-writer in spirit even if i'm the one at the keyboard

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

my answer to this changes with every new fixation i have. like right now it's kagehina. if you asked me four years ago i would have said wangxian. You Know?

15. What is a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

SO MANY...i think probably my fullmetal alchemist nie brothers au....i try not to post things until they are done and fully edited now, but that one was a whim-based fic that i lost all strength for as soon as i started thinking too hard about kagehina. i also had a fem nielan sci fi au that was vaguely based off beauty and the beast but nmj was like stuck in a ship and she thought she was its computer and that she was a program but she was actually a person....which i never posted any of except snippets on twitter and i think it was just too sprawling for my current skill level...i just was never able to wrangle it. but i am fond of it nonetheless

16. What are your writing strengths?

based on what other people have told me i would say the way i write sibling / family relationships, and while my prose is not always pretty i do think it can be pretty at times ...

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i feel like it's often too self-indulgent even if that's what fic is for lol, and i tend to look back on fics and think, i wrote that because i had feelings about it and wanted to say it, but i'm not necessarily sure that This Character would say/do that at this point in time....idk like i fear that when i don't think about it hard enough my characterization can be weak or guided by what eye personally would do vs. what The Character would do. but some of that is because the majority of my fics on ao3 are from years and years ago and i (hopefully) have continued to improve

18. Thoughts of writing dialogue in another language in fics?

i'm picky about it but when it's done well i think it's really fun and builds so much of the world/character. i think when it's bad it's really bad. when i go about it i try to think about like, a) do i know this language myself/do i know someone who does. if the answer is no i try to keep it really minimal. b) how do people who know multiple languages approach speaking those multiple languages naturally in real life. like (IN MY EXPERIENCE) ppl don't tend to switch languages for random words mid-sentence unless those words are like, mom, dad, uncle, aunt, ect...maybe swearing if they're less familiar with one of the languages and don't know slang/swearing in it...but again when it's done well it's really good and i'm not an expert. i just can kinda tell when it feels off when i read it, if that makes sense...(it's the same way i feel about grammar lol. sometimes i can just tell it's a little Off)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

probably either fma or soul eater or the sister's grimm book series when i was in middle school. or maybe doctor who? idk i had a lot of fanfic notebooks that i have since destroyed and then regretted destroying

20. Favorite fic you have written?

at the present moment it's in these coming years my kagehina love letter but again i feel like it changes constantly. like the more i write the better i get and the more the newest/most polished thing i've written sort of Becomes my favorite just by default of my satisfaction level with it. sorry if that's a bad answer

tagging @yuebings @dcyiyou @burins @cairoscene @cafecliche @perilously sorry if you've been tagged already also if you want to do this and i didn't tag you just say i did. I'll shut up now

#look at me. president of yap city #anyway here's my Distinguished Writing Thoughts.

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paranormals-of-ilvermorny · 3 months ago

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Chapter 4

It was 8:43 a.m. and four women, three redheads of varying degrees and a darker skinned girl with black hair, were running through Ichabod Lane. Each girl was pushing a cart with trunks and other traveling items, slowing their pace.

“C’mon girls, the train leaves at 9,” Lisa Copper, leading the brigade, breathlessly called back. Despite having woken up early, there was a great amount of packing left due to the fact that a certain red headed younger sister spent the entirety of August catching up on her reading. Thankfully, they got their luggage and minds together in time to get out of the house and arrived at the station only running slightly behind.

“Quinn, if we miss it, your books are going in the fireplace.” Yelled the out-of-breath voice of Robin who, despite being a very athletic young girl, was not prepared to run miles whilst pushing upwards of fifty pounds.

“NOOO!!!” Cried Quinn, taking the threat of losing her beloved dog-eared friends very seriously, and used the adrenaline to not only surpass her sister and Lorelei, but kept running past her mother.

Quinn Copper, at only 12 years of age, ran so hard and so fast that any onlookers would have been concerned that she was going to collide with the train that was fast approaching. By the grace of Merlin she stopped just before the yellow safety line before becoming a pancake on the side of the Ilvermorny Express. As the other three hurried to catch up, Quinn used the time to catch her breath and regain her composure.

“You’re not really gonna burn my books, are you Robbie?” She asked her older sister as she approached the platform. Robin, who had never seen her sister move half as fast as she just did, was both in awe of her speed and exhausted beyond comparison.

“No… but…,” she said, taking in lungfuls of air, “it worked…didn’t it?” Quinn’s freckled face became flushed with anger, her mouth open ready to go off on her older sister for deceiving the safety of her precious books, but a conductor with a rather pointy goatee interrupted her.

“ALL THOSE FOR MOUNT GREYLOCK, ALL ABOARD!” He shouted to the various parents and students at Platform 6 of the Ichabod Lane Train Terminal. Although Mt. Greylock Express was one of the oldest wizarding train stations in the U.S., there are many different stations that bring Ilvermorny students to school. For example, there was a platform in New York’sGrand Central Station, and another in Lancaster Station Pennsylvania. But, Ilvermorny is far from the only wizarding school in North America.

Once the conductor loaded the last of their luggage, Quinn, Robin, and Lorelei made their way onto the train hoping to find a private box. After looking through compartment after compartment they finally found one that didn’t have anyone in it. They piled in and took their seats, Robin and Quinn both taking the window seats and Lorelei spreading her legs next to Robin, all three catching their breaths from carrying their luggage.

“LAST CALL FOR MOUNT GREYLOCK!” The conductor yelled, followed shortly by the high pitched whistle of the train. Every child raced to find an open window, some barging in on an already full compartment, just to wave and yell one last ‘goodbye’ and ‘I love you’ to their parents. All four girls were amongst the many to yell out to Lisa Copper who stood waving her hand towards the girls, telling them to take care and write soon.

After a few minutes, the Mt. Greylock Express slowly started to exit the station, steam rolling past the many extended hands until the station became nothing more but a far off sight. Even longer and soon Ichabod Lane was completely out of sight, and with it, home.

Next stop, Ilvermorny.

Scenery of lush green fields that made way to dark tree leaves, some already changing their color for fall, the lack of sunlight providing a dark, cool environment on the train, perfect for a mid trip nap. Anyone looking about the cabin would see Lorelei and Robin blissfully asleep with their limbs stretched out, their jackets folded under their heads as makeshift pillows. Across was Quinn who was still up and reading, every now and then pushing her round glasses up her freckled nose. The scene was made all the more perfect by the mid morning sun peeking into the cabin’s window, made dim by the thin curtains, a vision of calm.

It took a particularly loud knock on the compartment door for Lorelei to wake up, not quite fully awake to hear and understand what the muffled voice on the other side said. Still groggy from her nap, she wiped the sleep from her eyes as she tried to remember where she was and the date. She also tried, and failed, to recall what the voice said.

“Do you know what they said?” Lorelei asked the younger girl across from where she sat. Although she seemed completely absorbed in their books, Lorelei was hoping for Quinn’s multitasking ability to have heard.

“Arriving soon, better change now,” the red headed reader said. Lorelei wiped the rest of the sleep from her system then pulled her smallest carry-on down from where it stayed above her, and picked a fresh robe, polo shirt, skirt, and socks. Then, after opening and closing the sliding door as gently as she could so as not to wake the still sleeping Robin, she walked down the train corridor to the nearest bathroom and got changed.

Upon returning, now in the familiar school uniform and robe she had so dearly missed, Lorelei was less gentle with shutting the door. Noticing the subtle thump of the door did not even stir her sleeping friend, Lorelei stood with a look of confusion on her face. Ever since knowing her, and the multitude of sleepovers they’ve had both at and away from school, Lorelei knew for a fact that Robin Copper could sleep through sneezes, coughs, a small fire, the croak of a goat-horned bullfrog, and one astronomy professor’s voice amplified by Sonorus. So, waking her up from a simple nap was more tedious than one might imagine.

Her first thought of waking sleeping beauty was rather arbitrary but whatever got the job done would be seen as a success. Rummaging through her carry-on Lorelei took out unnecessary items, like her wand, sleeping bonnet, toothbrush and paste, until she finally found what she was looking for. Carefully, though with little caution for Robin’s quality of sleep, Lorelei placed a thin headset onto her friend’s ears. After successfully accomplishing task one, she placed the proper CD in her Diskman then upped the volume as high as it would go.

The response was immediate; Robin’s eyes snapped open, her body jerking from the sudden atrusion to her system, almost jumping straight up from her seat. “Hey man, what the hell? I was in the middle of a great dream!” To Robin’s dismay, her traveling companions were laughing at what had transpired.

“Sorry”, Lorelei responded, still chuckling at her friend's reaction, “but you sleep like a rock, how else was I supposed to wake you?” Reaching down to pick up the long-forgotten Diskman with Love Thing blaring from the headset. As she began to rewrap the earphones’ cord, Lorelei told Robin that they were nearing the school and should go change. With an exaggerated sigh, she reached up to grab her carry-on and took out her uniform, leaving the compartment before she too was dressed in the navy blue and maroon uniform. After Robin changed, she went into ‘big sister mode’ and snatched the book Quinn was reading until she agreed to return it once she changed and soon all four girls were wearing their school colors, just in time too.

“MISTY VILLAGE STATION! ILVERMORNY SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY DEPART HERE!” Announced the same loud voice of the conductor.

Once making their way through the gaggle of other students, all wearing similar clothing and long black robes, Lorelei took a deep breath of the cool Western Massachusetts air. After taking in the air, she, along with most other students, took in the view before them.

The entirety of Mount Greylock was covered in a thick pine forest making the surrounding area smell of dirt, pine, and sweet sap. Due to the higher than average altitude, the mountain and its fauna gave off a foggy air, casting anyone who walks through a dim, gray filter over their eyes. Despite the fog, it didn’t take away from the rich emerald greens of the trees, nor the steel blue water of a running stream that is said to be runoff from the nearby Hoosic river. On one side of the train’s departure platform was a woodchip-filled path that ran a mile or two into the forest, leading to Misty Village. Although it is called a village, it more so resembles a small town almost forgotten to the modern age; with paved roads and streets cracked from the many winter’s atop the mountain. During weekends and holiday break many students, second year and up, can usually be found causing a ruckus or spending all of their summer allowance on the various goodies the shops had to offer, as long as they had a permission slip signed by a parent or guardian.

Misty Village is not, however, a primarily magic village like many assume; there have been the odd accident when a transfer student would cast a spell only for a local Muggle to faint at the sight of a floating snowball. It was school policy that no magic was allowed in the village, transfer student or not, and if word got back to a professor or the headmaster that someone had been using, the punishment would be dire. As for wands, while not strictly forbidden because the school wants students to feel comfortable and safe with them, they are encouraged to be kept away from any prying eyes or sticky hands. Due to the anti-mag shield, all village residents believe the Ilvermorny castle to be a dilapidated school building, and not the palace of learning it truly is.

On the other side of the departure platform — where Lorelei, her companions and the rest of the train’s passengers now stood— was another path that ran into the opposing tree line, though this one was covered in dirt well worn from the many young scholars who have walked down that same path.

It was a thought Lorelei had a lot, even now, as she and the others walked down the creaky wooden staircase that she wouldn’t set foot upon again until the end-of-school year train ride home. How many people, much like herself, walked the same path she did excited and prepared to start or continue their education in the magical arts. I wonder how many of them felt so at home as I do, finally finding somewhere they belong?

As soon as Lorelei and Robin’s feet hit the ground, a loud almost piercing noise could be heard by every incoming and returning student. The screech was so intense it caused everyone to cover their ears with their hands to try and muffle the noise, some poor students even doubling over in pain. Thankfully the sound only lasted but a few moments, but it was enough of a shock for everyone to turn towards the tree line from whence it came from. There, at the edge of the forest, stood what appeared to be a boy with some sort of horn held up to his lips.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” came the grainy speaking voice of the boy from the edge of the tree line, “welcome to Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

Slowly but surely everyone started to take their hands off of their ears, hoping that dreadful noise wouldn’t come back soon, and made their way over to the small clearing right before where the boy stood. Upon getting closer it was easy to make out what the boy looked like he had glasses, rather large ears, and dark hair, which complimented his warm brown skin, that tended to curl if long enough. His face sported a wide grin and eyes that shined with mischief, and he wore the same navy blue robes with red lining and a crest of what looked to be a cat-like creature. It had also appeared that the boy was not alone, for standing beside him was a girl, about his height and wearing the same robes, only her crest was different, sporting a Nordic triad with a snake's head and tail.

“Welcome, we promise this year will be full of learning and fun! My name is Amanda and I'll be here to help any of you younger years throughout our time together! And with luck no more of that horrible screeching from Kirby.” Said the girl standing besides him, giving her partner a sideways sneer. Many of the returning students knew these two to be Kirby Bunyip, school monitor for the Wampus, and Amanda Logg, school monitor for the Horned Serpents. Once students have reached year five at Ilvermorny they were eligible to apply for the position of monitor, which means you have special jobs and responsibilities that include taking care of younger students as well as making nightly rounds so as to report any student who is out of bed or help a lost first year find their way around the castle.

“Isn’t it cool!” Kirby exclaimed, holding up the engraved horn he wore on a leather strap around his neck, “my cousin brought it back for me from a trip to the Philippines. Said it was an ancient death whistle?” He asked, unsure of his own knowledge. “You wanna hear it again?” At the inquiry of the student body, to which everyone cried out ‘no’, Kirby lifted the horn to his lips. But before he could make another peep out of the horn, Amanda yanked it away from him, causing his neck to crane at an odd angle.

“There’ll be no more of that,” she announced, mostly directed at Kirby, before mumbling, “It’s worse than a mandrake, that thing.”

After the so-called ‘whistle’ had been removed from Kirby’s possession,much to his chagrin, Amanda called out for all first years to follow the two of them while the rest of the older students were to wait for the carriages and other monitors to arrive. Once the two of them and their horde of incoming first years went on their way to an off beaten path that led to two larger carriages, one for each monitor to steer, both being pulled by the horse-like Kelpies. Lorelei recalls from memory that the monitors will take the first years on a tour of the Ilvermorny grounds, showing them where various places of historic importance are and how they play a part in the school’s legend. One of them being Isolt’s cottage, the Quodpot Pitch, Old School Ruins, and the Owlry before ending where they started at the entrance hall. There, the students will go into said entrance hall to be sorted for their houses.

“Before we get started,” Amanda could be heard as the carriages began to ride away, “the Kelpies that are pulling these carriages were gifts from our friends across the pond for America’s alliance during World War II. Only two are needed for each carriage, for one water horse has the strength of ten regular horses…”

Not long after Amanda, and the less enthused Kirby, were out of earshot, a line of carriages came riding up to the awaiting students. In the front of the pack was an older boy steering his carriage, pulling the reins to a stop once close enough.

“Easy there, you did a good job.” He said, speaking gently to the skinny black horse, giving it a pat on the neck as he jumped down. Instead of getting the luxury of being pulled by water horses, the older years got to ride in smaller groups pulled by Murk Horses, with their greasy black hair that runs along their bones necks, in stark contrast to their alabaster eyes containing no pupils. They’re looks are deceiving, as they are very sweet and caring creatures once they warm up to their owner.

“Well, looks like you all made it through another summer. Good job!” The boy said, sending a wink towards the crowd. This caused many of them to cheer and applaud, his cheek dimples only adding to his charm. Lorelei was quickly pulled out of his trance by a sharp nudge in her arm, looking to her left and seeing her friend smiling wildly and wiggling her eyebrows.

“Looks like someone missed you too, ‘Lei.” She muttered for only her ears only. “He was talking to the whole group, stupid.” Lorelei responded, to which Robin shrugged her shoulders and let it go. But yes, Lorelei wishes many times that she would be the one to receive one of Orville’s signature winks.

Orville Doe, a sweet, kind, and generous boy was a year ahead of the girls but that didn’t stop Lorelei from dreaming he knew she existed. She had always been fond of the second year boy who patched up her knee, as any Pukwudgie does, and made her laugh when she felt like her world was ending. So what if those feelings developed over the past few years into a one sided crush, it wasn’t hurting anyone? Except for Lorelei whenever a beautiful girl would ask him if he wanted to go to Misty Village with her. But anyone with good eyesight would see how charming and nice the half-Japanese boy with fluffy black hair and flawless skin that had an amber undertone that made you feel like the sun was shining on him at all times was. It wasn’t her fault that Lorelei fell into a beautiful booby trap made by Merlin himself.

“Alright,” his honey voice brought her back to the present, “if you don’t already know the drill, each of you will divide into groups no bigger than six and get in a carriage. Once everyone is ready, I’ll lead the front half and Sara,” he gestured to the brawny haired girl standing next to him, “will take the rear so that none of you get off track. But these guys are really good, haven't had a problem in my years of being here.”

After Orville was done speaking the students started to divide into groups, Robin, Lorelei and Quinn already having made up their minds to ride together. For the older years it was easy, having known everyone their grade for years, but the second years were having some trouble trying to stay with those they knew and afraid to speak to someone they only saw during meal times. But eventually everyone was in a carriage and ready to embark on the few mile trek that led to the castle.

“Everyone ready? Ha!” Shouted Orville, urging his horse forward and compelling those behind him to follow. Soon enough, they were on their way to Ilvermorny Castle

#ilvermorny #hogwarts #Harry Potter #autumn #harry x draco #james x regulus #remus x sirius #wolfstar #harry potter fanfiction #witchblr #witchcore #fall

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matttgirlies · 6 months ago

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Matt & Me🎀

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

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - none

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 17

Late one evening, shortly before Christmas of 1966, Matt rapped lightly on my door and called, “Sattnin, I have to talk to you.” We had a password. Teasingly, I told him he’d have to utter it before I’d admit him. He laughed and said, “Fire Eyes”—the nickname I gave him when he was angry.

He had his old boyish grin on his face and his hands were behind his back. “Sit down, Baby, and close your eyes.”

I did. When I opened my eyes, I found Matt on his knees before me, holding a small black velvet box.

“Baby,” he said.

I opened the box to find the most beautiful diamond ring I’d ever seen. It was three and a half karats, encircled by a row of smaller diamonds, which were detachable—I could wear them separately.

“We’re going to be married,” Matt said. “You’re going to be mine. I told you I’d know when the time was right. Well, the time’s right.”

He slipped the ring on my finger. I was too overwhelmed to speak; it was the most beautiful and romantic moment of my life.

Our love would no longer be a secret. I’d be free to travel openly as Mrs. Matt Sturniolo without the fear of inspiring some scandalous headline. Best of all, the years of heartaches and fears of losing him to one of the many girls who were always auditioning for my role were over.

He was in a rush to show the ring to his father and Grandma and to tell them that we were officially engaged. I didn’t even have a chance to get dressed. Considering our irregular life-style, getting engaged in my dressing room and showing off my beautiful diamond while dressed in a terrycloth robe didn’t strike us as at all odd.

I wanted to share the great news with my parents, but he suggested we wait until we returned to L.A. a few weeks later. Then we could tell them in person; they deserved that consideration. That night, we called my parents and invited them to spend a weekend with us in Bel Air.

On the day they were due to arrive, Matt was as excited as I’d ever seen him. He kept looking out the window, watching for their car. He was dying to show them the ring and almost did the moment they walked in the door, but I managed to keep my hand behind my back until we were all settled on the sofa. The second we were seated, he pulled my hand from behind me and said to my parents, “Well, we just wanted to show you this.”

“What is it?” my father asked, peering at my hand.

“Well, sir, that’s an engagement ring.”

Tears trembled in my mother’s eyes. “My God,” she said softly. “It’s beautiful.”

They were both ecstatic. We loved letting them know that what they’d so long hoped and prayed for had now come to pass. We emphasized the importance of keeping our announcement a secret, asking them to maintain strict confidence even within the immediate family, since the kids might tell their friends at school and then word would be out. We wanted a private wedding, not a celebrity event. My parents agreed with all the plans. They couldn’t have been happier, and all weekend they beamed with pleasure.

In the five years I’d lived with Matt, I would rarely let them discuss marriage with Matt. The possibility of their daughter being hurt was foremost in my parents’ minds. Now they no longer had to worry whether they’d made the right decision in allowing me to leave home at such a young age.

I know that Colonel William asked him to take a long look at our relationship and decide where he wanted it to go. Matt’s attitude toward marriage was that it was final. Although he was monogamous by nature, he loved options. Still, he wasn’t about to let me go. Curiously enough, after his talk with Colonel, it didn’t take him long to decide the time was ripe.

It was his decision and his alone.

In our excitement we made the rest of our plans for the wedding ceremony. It was suggested I find a dress immediately, the reason being that if the news leaked out, we could get married at a moment’s notice. But my search for a wedding dress ended up taking months. Disguised in dark glasses and a hat, I shopped every exclusive boutique from Boston to L.A. where, despite my disguise, I was paranoid enough to think people recognized me. I even spoke with several seamstresses about designs but I didn’t trust them enough to tell them it was for a wedding dress.

Finally someone suggested a little out-of-the-way shop in L.A. Charlie escorted me, posing as my fiancé, and it was here that I found my wedding dress. It wasn’t extravagant, it wasn’t extreme—it was simple and to me beautiful.

I glided out of the dressing room to model it for Charlie, and when he saw me, his eyes filled with tears. “You look beautiful, y/nn,” he said, and whispered, “He’ll be so proud of you.”

It was the February after our engagement. We were driving near Horn Lake, Mississippi, when we spotted a beautiful ranch—one hundred sixty acres of rolling hills. A herd of Santa Gertrudis cattle was grazing. There was a bridge across a little lake, a barn with stalls for horses, and a charming house situated in a prime location. It was for sale.

This was my perfect dream house. I fell in love with it and began to picture Matt and me living there alone. It was small enough for me to handle myself. I could clean it and take care of Matt, bringing him his breakfast in bed in the mornings as he gazed out at the gentle view of Rising Sun grazing in the pastures.

I thought of this ranch as a wonderful way for us to get away from Graceland from time to time. I pictured us saddling our own horses and riding in the early morning or at dusk. My picture was of us alone, without an entourage.

We were determined to buy it, never foreseeing the burden it would become. He wanted the ranch as much as I did, even though James said that at $500,000 it was overpriced. He felt the owner could offer a much more desirable deal and tried to persuade us that financially it was not a good move. Matt’s movies were continuing to decline in popularity and record sales were down. He was averaging a million dollars a film and the money was going out as quickly as it was coming in. Yet Matt’s mind was made up. He wanted it.

James grudgingly went to the bank to borrow money, putting Graceland up as collateral. We bought the entire ranch as was, including cattle and equipment, and christened it the Circle G for Graceland.

We had eighteen horses by then, and all were transferred to the ranch as was the staff of nine. It was the heyday of the commune, but Matt had his own idea about how he wanted us all to live. Since the house on the property was small, he bought individualized mobile homes and designated one to each family. James worked diligently to get permission from the city to put gas and water on the ranch.

“Whatever it takes, do it,” Matt ordered.

Before long, tons of cement were being poured to make the huge concrete foundations for the trailers. It didn’t stop there. He bought El Caminos or Ranchero trucks for each family, even one for the plumber and another for the painter. He spent at least $100,000 on trucks alone.

He continued spending money as if it were going out of style. Alarmed, James literally begged him to stop, but Matt said, “I’m having fun, Dad, for the first time in ages. I’ve got a hobby, something I look forward to gettin’ up in the mornin’ for.”

It wasn’t unusual to see him walking around the property, knocking on doors, waking everyone up, or checking on the horses in the early-morning hours. He was having a ball, and there were days he didn’t even want to take time out to eat—he’d walk around with a loaf of bread under his arm in case hunger pangs struck. He loved shopping in Sears’s basement, buying power tools, knives, flashlights, and other equipment that he would come bearing proudly back to the ranch.

That spring of 1967, we spent a lot of time there, sometimes staying as long as two weeks without returning to Graceland. On Sundays we had picnics and all the girls chipped in on potluck, bringing chicken baskets, cookies, and salads. We rode horses, held skeetshooting contests, and combed the lake for turtles and snakes. There was fun, laughter, and a lot of camaraderie. Once again, our life was a group affair with everyone participating.

Even in my tiny house there’d be guests for dinner every night, usually single guys like Steven and Charlie. Cooking for Matt was easy: I’d just take whatever we were having and burn it. But there were so many others that his cousin Patsy would usually stop by to help me. The guys with wives would have dinner in their mobile homes and then come over for dessert and spend the rest of the evening with us.

There was always a lot of jamming. Matt, Steven Wright, and Charlie Hodge would get together in the middle of the room, harmonizing a favorite song. When they were really going good Matt would yell, “Whew! Hot damn! One more time!” He’d sometimes spend an hour just on an ending because it had “the feel—the ingredients of a masterpiece.”

Just as the entourage had followed us to the ranch, so did the curious. The same ones who gathered around Graceland started turning up at the Circle G and soon—day or night—scores of people were lined up along the fence. Since our little house stood in full view of the road, Matt built a ten-foot-high wall, but nothing deterred them; now they began climbing on tops of cars and roofs of nearby homes. We couldn’t get away from them, and I dreaded driving through the gates.

The dream was slowly turning into a nightmare. The wives wanted to get back to their homes, and the children wanted to get back to their friends and their schools.

Matt liked it when everyone was together on terms he alone specified—and he got upset when they wanted to leave. “Hell, I bought all this stuff,” he said, “and everyone wants to go home.” He resented defections; he’d given the employees everything and they didn’t seem to appreciate it. He discovered that some of the regulars were selling their trucks. They needed the cash more than the El Caminos. Matt couldn’t imagine the financial struggle most people face and he never understood that the married regulars had to consider responsibilities to their wives and children.

Still, he enjoyed giving and sharing even as his own bank account was radically diminishing. An expensive hobby, the ranch had already cost him close to a million dollars and created a serious cash-flow problem. In daily phone calls to the Colonel, James pleaded with him to come up with some work to divert Matt from his spending spree. The Colonel promptly made arrangements for another movie, Clambake. Matt read the script, yet another beach-and-bikini story, and hated it.

James convinced him he didn’t have much choice. “We need the money, Son.” And Matt was committed.

“I don’t wanna leave here, y/nn,” he said. “I don’t want to leave you, the ranch, Sun. Ain’t no son of a bitch gonna keep me away long. That goes for Dad, Colonel, the studios—no one. Their little plot to keep me from spending money ain’t gonna work. If I need money, I’ll go to Nashville and record a few songs. It’ll be better than those lousy goddamn pictures.”

Neither he nor James ever considered turning the Circle G into a profit-making operation. All the necessities for a successful farm were present—tractors, feed, and the finest Santa Gertrudis cattle, bred on the Rockefeller ranch—but he sold the cattle after James advised him that upkeep was too expensive. With professional financial counsel, Matt might have pursued legitimate business ventures beneficial to him and his hobby.

Unfortunately, James and Matt were leery of business matters requiring financial advice. James operated on pure instinct, refusing any suggestion of tax breaks, which he found too complicated to consider. He let the IRS figure Matt’s taxes and had done so ever since Matt had been audited while in the Army and assessed eighty thousand dollars in back taxes.

“Let’s just pay the taxes, Dad,” Matt said. “I make enough money. I’ll make a million dollars and I’ll give them half.”

It was during the filming of Clambake that our lease on the house on Perugia Way in Los Angeles expired and we had to go looking for a new home. After our experience at the Circle G, we were concerned with protecting our privacy, and when we spotted a secluded home nestled against a hill in Bel Air, we thought we’d found sanctuary at last. But privacy was to elude us here as well.

Soon, hundreds of people began collecting on the mountain road directly above us and observing the view below through binoculars and telephoto lenses. We could no longer use our pool, patio, or driveway without looking up at an audience, including reporters and photographers who were having a field day trying to get candid photos and scoops.

The situation occasionally got out of hand. One night when Matt went to Mount Washington to talk with Daya Mata and I was driving to Amber Doe’s (Nate’s wife) for a visit, I noticed a car with bright headlights tailgating me. It was one of Matt’s most ardent fans, a two hundred-pound female who was accompanied by another girl and a guy. Feeling unsafe, I decided to turn around and go home. She followed close all the way and by the time I drove through the gates, I was furious.

Seeing her drive up to the dead-end road above our house, I sped after her, parking my car broadside across the road, blocking her. She was standing beside her car when I strode up and demanded: “What are you doing here? Why are you following me?” She stood there mutely and again I demanded: “Why are you following me?”

“You whore,” she snapped.

Incensed, I clenched my fist and swung an uppercut, hitting her in the face. She landed on the ground, spread-eagled and stunned. I landed on her and the two of us yelled, screamed, and pulled hair until I realized I needed help. I ran back to our front gate and yelled into the intercom, “Someone—Sonny, Jerry—come help me!”

Within seconds Matt came flying out of the house with the guys close behind him. “What is it, Baby?”

When I explained, pointing to the ridge, Matt went charging up the hill. Seeing him coming, the girl and her friends locked themselves in her car. Matt was livid, lifting the car on its springs, bouncing it from side to side. He pounded the windshield, threatening to kill them if he ever got his hands on them or if they ever laid their hands on me.

“I’m underage! I’m underage!” she kept yelling. “I’ll sue you if you touch me.”

It took a lot of convincing from Sonny that she was more trouble than it was worth before Matt would let her drive away.

Matt was so despondent over Clambake that his weight ballooned from his usual 170 to 200 pounds by the time he reported for work. The studio ordered him to take the weight off—and fast. Enter the diet pills, the only way he could curb his appetite and reduce his weight in the short time allowed. Colonel managed to deal with the impatient studio brass.

The morning he was to begin shooting he awoke groggy and went into the bathroom while I was still in bed. I heard a loud thump, then cursing. “Goddamn motherfucking cord! Who the hell put this thing here?”

I jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom, calling out, “What’s happened?” He was lying on the floor, rubbing his head.

“I tripped over the goddamn TV cord. It was so damned dark in here I didn’t see it. Help me out of here—I have to lie down.”

Although he was dizzy and off balance, we managed to make it to the bed. Feeling a big lump on his head, I called Nate Doe at once, who summoned Colonel William and a doctor. Within minutes, the room was full of people—the doctor, his nurse, Colonel William, and several nervous studio executives. Colonel suggested that everyone but himself wait outside while the doctor made his diagnosis.

A few hours later it was announced that Matt had a severe brain concussion and that the start of his film would be delayed indefinitely. The Colonel decided to use the accident to curtail some of Matt’s other activities. He wanted Matt to abandon his involvement with esoteric philosophies, which the Colonel felt were irrelevant to Matt’s acting career and detrimental to clear thinking.

Matt’s spiritual quest hadn’t gone unnoticed. Everyone from the entourage to film crews was aware of a change in his personality over the years he’d studied with Larry Geller. Matt’s vibrant personality was now passive and he was becoming more introverted. The mischievous games he’d once played on movie sets had been superseded by studious pursuits. Matt buried his head in books that he diligently lugged to and from the studio every day.

The person most concerned about this change was Colonel William. The Colonel felt that Larry’d hypnotized Matt, and his acting and recording careers were suffering as a result. Matt’s “concussion” provided an opportunity to put a halt to the soul-searching.

A few days after the accident, the Colonel gathered Matt and the boys together for a meeting and told them they were burdening Matt with too many problems. “Dealing with one person is one thing,” he said, “but eleven, plus his own problems, is enough for any man to buckle under.”

The Colonel told them that there were going to be some changes, from cutting back the payroll to taking problems to Nate instead of Matt. His basic message was: Leave Matt alone.

“Matt should concentrate on his career,” he said. “He’s an artist, not a shoulder to cry on. Leave him alone, and let him do his work.” The Colonel looked over at Larry; it was obvious that his message was primarily aimed at him. “I don’t want him reading any more books and getting involved in things that clutter up his mind.”

Matt sat and listened like an obedient child, looking down, saying nothing. He did not stand up for Larry; no one did.

Later the Colonel told Matt that he should get Larry out of his life, that Larry used some sort of technique to manipulate his thinking. Matt argued that this wasn’t the case. He was truly interested in his readings.

“You wouldn’t be in this condition if your head was on straight,” shouted the Colonel.

“I’m telling you, Larry’s jamming up your mind.”

I was surprised at how attentively Matt was listening. Matt had always argued with anyone, even me, who said anything against Larry. At one point; it seemed Matt would cut off his right arm for Larry. But now Matt promised the Colonel he wouldn’t spend any more time than he had to with him. He kept his promise. He only used Larry to style his hair and was never alone with him again.

After that meeting, the boys became openly hostile toward Larry, and even Matt began making a few pointed remarks about him. Larry was now the outsider, and he eventually left. Colonel William was elated. His boy was back.

Matt was ready for a major change and it was time to move on. The Colonel said his films were doing badly and he had to revitalize his career. He’d be getting married soon, and before that date he’d have to get his career and life back on track.

After Larry left, Matt locked away many of his books. I told him I was glad, that they were literally destroying us. We were engaged to be married. “Would it make you feel better if I just got rid of them all?” Matt asked. I nodded.

That night, at three in the morning Matt and I piled a huge stack of his books and magazines into a large box and dumped them into an abandoned water well behind Graceland. We poured gasoline over the pile, lit a match, and kissed the past goodbye.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - engaged!!🎀

#matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturn #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #Spotify

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kirkwall · 6 months ago

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tagged by @camelliagwerm <3 tysm harps!! this is probs gonna make me sound like a lunatic tho bc im still in my self-made vampire chronicles prison lmao

tagging whoever is reading this and wants to do it :3

1. the last book I read:

i finished blackwood farm (vampire chronicles #9) like a week ago. idk what to say about this one except that it has the first appearance of the word bisexual which is WILD in a series where at least 90% of the characters are in fact bisexual

2. a book I recommend:

have you heard of our lord and saviour babel by r.f. kuang? now you have. no but seriously it is so fucking good and all the ppl saying it's overrated or gets recommended too often are simply wrong lol

3. a book that I couldn’t put down:

also babel tbh. i vividly remember reading the last 150 pages in one sitting and then looking at my phone for the first time in hours only to find out the queen died in the meantime lmaaooo. 10/10 experience

4. a book that I’ve read twice (or more):

honestly i don't think i have? i went from barely reading at all to wanting to read so many books that i haven't really found the time to re-read anything beyond looking up specific passages. i do wanna re-read babel and iron widow tho

5. a book on my TBR:

way too many 💀 i think once i'm free from my vampire chronicles prison i'll tackle what moves the dead by t. kingfisher next

6. a book I’ve put down:

uhh i think leech by hiron ennes? we read it in the book club and it just didn't really grab my attention long enough but i honestly don't remember if i finished it and forgot or if i never actually finished it. i also have like two books on pause bc i forgot about them but i'll pick them up again at some point i hope lmao

7. a book on my wish list:

the gilda stories by jewelle gomez. among other vampire books bc no offense to miss rice but i need to read some that are not Like That lmao

8. a favourite book from childhood:

i really did not read as much as a kid as i should have tbh. i remember reading a series that my aunt got me called abby lynn by a german author. it was about a girl who got arrested and sent to the penal colony in new south wales in the early 19th century and i remember liking it bc it was a lot darker than i assumed was appropriate for my age lmao. but looking at it with an adult brain the colonialism of it all would probably kill me

9. a book you would give to a friend:

i have actively shoved my copy of babel into multiple ppl's hands already lmao. but i also love recommending this is how you lose the time war by amal el-mohtar and max gladstone

10. a book of poetry or lyrics you own:

oh boy i don't think i do. my copy of edgar allan poe short stories might have some of his poems in it as well? but i'm not sure

11. a nonfiction book you own:

one that i recently enjoyed is otherlands by thomas halliday. i passed most of my biology books on to friends but i still have one on immunology and i have a really cute edition of from so simple a beginning

12. what are you currently reading:

prince lestat (vampire chronicles #10). really sad that this one didn't have a signature lestat cringey my immortal type intro :( the showrunners said s2 is gonna include nods/easter eggs for this book which feels wild given how far ahead it is but i'm really curious to find out!!!

13. what are you planning on reading next:

blood canticle (vampire chronicles #11) 🤡 and only 2 more books after that one and then i'm free (to read other books, not mentally tho)

#nina talks #thanks again harps this was really fun!!

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thegirlzkpop · 1 year ago

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˗ˏˋ BASICS ´ˎ˗

˗ˏˋ stage name. minju

˗ˏˋ birth name. kang minju

……❪ 강민주 ❫

……❪ MEANING. the surname 'kang' means 'ginger' in korean origin. the name 'minju' meaning depends on different factors and can mean clever or gem ❫

˗ˏˋ nickname. pretty nerd ❪ by members ❫, 4th gen princess ❪ by fans ❫ minj ❪ by members ❫, brainiac ❪ by eric, kevin, paige, and jacob ❫ nerd ❪ by maknaes ❫, kju ❪ by haknyeon ❫, savage ❪ by members and fans ❫

˗ˏˋ birthday. august 10, 1997

˗ˏˋ zodiac sign. gemini

˗ˏˋ birth place. seogwipo, jeju province, south korea

˗ˏˋ hometown. seogwipo, jeju province, south korea

˗ˏˋ current residency. seoul, south korea

˗ˏˋ ethnicity. korean

˗ˏˋ nationality. korean

˗ˏˋ languages. korean ❪ native ❫, english ❪ basic ❫

˗ˏˋ PERSONALITY ´ˎ˗

˗ˏˋ mbti. intj-a ❪ architect ❫

˗ˏˋ description. architects are one of the rarest personality types out there. architects can be seen as rational and often think for themselves better than others. intjs are always questioning everything and often like to figure things out on their own. this personality type has the goal of being successful and wants things to work out their way with no intent on slowing down. this personality type is extremely independent and would rather be left to do things by themselves. even though the architects are insanely independent and don't care for others input, they are still very caring. this type can be very affected by others pain and sorrows, especially if caused by them. architects are always searching for new ideas and knowledge. they can often be labeled as nerds or book warms which isn't too far off. this being said, they often have trouble fitting into social events.

˗ˏˋ strengths. independent, smart, informed, determined, curious, original, creative, ambitious, confident, honest, open-minded

˗ˏˋ weaknesses. overly critical, anti-social, anxious, arrogant, cold at first, socially clueless, skeptical.

˗ˏˋ habits. zoning out when she uninterested, giving people the stank eye, resting bitch face, picking at her fingernails, finger tapping, freezing when she's scared, looking for her members in large crowds, holding someone's hand in crowded areas

˗ˏˋ phobias. large crowds ❪ agoraphobia, severe ❫, bridges ❪ gephyrophobia, severe ❫, bugs ❪ entomophobia, mild ❫

˗ˏˋ CAREER ´ˎ˗

˗ˏˋ occupation. kpop idol

˗ˏˋ labels. cre.ker entertainment ❪ 2017-2021 ❫, ist entertainment ❪ 2021-present ❫, kakao m; formerly loen ent ❪ 2017-present ❫, universal music ❪ 2022-present ❫

˗ˏˋ training time. 2017-2019, 2 year and 1 month

˗ˏˋ debut. december 7, 2019

……❪ age; 22 ❫

˗ˏˋ positions. visual, lead vocalist

˗ˏˋ known for. visuals, sarcasm, her iq, vocals,

˗ˏˋ representative number. 01

……❪ she chose 01 because she wants her and her members to always be number one ❫

˗ˏˋ designed color. lilac

˗ˏˋ rankings.

……❪ singing. 9/10 ❫

……❪ dancing. 8/10 ❫

……❪ rapping. 4/10 ❫

……❪ acting. 8/10 ❫

……❪ modeling. 10/10 ❫

……❪ songwriting. 8/10 ❫

……❪ composing. 6/10 ❫

……❪ choreographing. 4/10 ❫

……❪ speeches. 3/10 ❫

˗ˏˋ FAMILY ´ˎ˗

˗ˏˋ mom. n/a ❪ 1974 ❫

˗ˏˋ dad. n/a ❪ 1973 ❫

˗ˏˋ siblings. hyunmin ❪ 1995 ❫

˗ˏˋ pets. n/w

˗ˏˋ notable family. grandma ❪ 1953-2020 ❫

˗ˏˋ PHYSICAL ´ˎ˗

˗ˏˋ height. 165 cm ❪ 5'5'' ❫

˗ˏˋ weight. 47 kg ❪ 105 lbs ❫

˗ˏˋ blood type. a-

˗ˏˋ hair color. black

˗ˏˋ eye color. brown

˗ˏˋ body modifications. 12 piercings, 2 tattoos

˗ˏˋ face claim. miyeon ❪ (g)i-dle ❫

˗ˏˋ vocal claim. miyeon ❪ (g)i-dle ❫

˗ˏˋ voice claim. miyeon ❪ (g)i-dle ❫

˗ˏˋ dance claim. chaewon ❪ le sserafim ❫

˗ˏˋ INTERESTS ´ˎ˗

˗ˏˋ likes. reading, eating, writing short stories, movie nights, skinship; acts like she doesn't, chocolate, fruit, cake, anime, shopping, doing makeup, babysitting her niece, hot showers, sunsets, making others happy, documentaries, expensive jewelry and clothing, hair treatments, mugs, having her nails done

˗ˏˋ dislikes. veggies, burgers, mushrooms, bugs, rainy days, messy environments, reptiles, loud noises, driving, long plane rides, packing and unpacking.

˗ˏˋ favorites.

……❪ movies. cruella ❪ 2021 ❫, parasite ❪ 2019 ❫, the fallout ❪ 2021 ❫ breakfast at tiffany's ❪ 1961 ❫ grease ❪ 1978 ❫, harry potter ❪ 2001 ❫ ❫

……❪ shows. outer banks ❪ 2020 ❫, winx club ❪ 2004 ❫, stranger things ❪ 2016 ❫, you ❪ 2018 ❫, hunter x hunter ❪ 20011 ❫ ❫

……❪ colors. lilac and black ❫

……❪ food. shrimp, lobster, bread, chocolate, mango ❫

……❪ drinks. water, tea, pepsi, smoothie ❫

……❪ books. harry potter, the silent patient, kim jiyoung born in 1982, the hobit ❫

……❪ emojis. 🫶🏻🥭 ❫

……❪ musical artists. red velvet, iu, shinee, sunmi, hyuna, beyonce, dove cameron blackpink ❫

……❪ songs. allergy ❪ (g)i-dle ❫, girl on fire ❪ alicia key ft. nicki minaj❫, lilac ❪ iu ❫, let me down slowly ❪ alec benjamin ❫, noir ❪ sunmi ❫ ❫

˗ˏˋ TRIVIA ´ˎ˗

……❪ she has an iq of 140 ❫

……❪ she idolizes sunmi and iu a lot ❫

……❪ she has never had a pet but she's always wanted a dog or turtle ❫

……❪ she says her mom would push her to study a lot and she grew up not doing any sports, only studying. her family wasn't very supportive of her being a trainee ❫

……❪ she has struggled with anxiety since she was very young, but she says it's gotten better since then ❫

……❪ her older brother is a well known soccer player ❫

……❪ her dad taught her how to play piano when she was young because he though it would help her become smarter ❫

……❪ her first kiss was in kindergarten because a cute boys friends dared them to kiss each other during lunch, she says they got in trouble for it ❫

……❪ she was an ulzzang on instagram during predebut and was trending for a while back in 2017 and trended briefly in 2018 when she officially deleted her account ❫

……❪ she likes alcohol and will drink often in between schedules ❫

……❪ her grandma and her brother were her biggest supporters when she decided to become an idol and even helped her pay any tuitions and fees ❫

……❪ she enjoys acting and hopes to be in a drama one day ❫

#❛ ━━･❪ THE GIRLZ ⇢ profilez. ❫･━━ ❜#❛ ━━･❪ THE GIRLZ ⇢ minju. ❫･━━ ❜#kpop group #kpop oc #fictional kpop idol #kpop #kpop girls #kpopidol #the boyz oc #kpop oc gg #fictional idol oc #idol oc #kpop added member #kpop addition #the boyz added member #the boyz addition #the girlz #the boyz sub unit

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thrushforreal · 2 years ago

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Batfam Ages and Other Things

So technically I guess this would be an au, because of my oc and tweaking of characters ages, but most things stay the same and I’m not ever really planning on writing any full blown stories. I don’t trust myself to get the character characterizations right, having only just started to get very interested in the Bat Family. Bolded names are what they go my what now, that out of the way here we go!

Alfred Pennyworth/Agent A: 67 yrs old

Bruce Wayne/Batman: 44 yrs old

Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson/Robin/Nightwing: 23 yrs old

Jason Todd/Robin/Red Hood: 19yrs old

Timothy ‘Tim’ Drake-Wayne/Robin: 15yrs old

Trace Drake-Wayne/Thrush: 15yrs old

Stephanie ‘Steph’ Brown/Spoiler/Robin: 15 yrs old

Cassandra ‘Cass’ Cain/Batgirl: 16yrs old

Barbara ‘Babs’ Gordon/Batgirl/Oracle: 25yrs old

Okay, ages and aliases out of the way! So lets see if I can get this into a comprehensible type beat of a timeline. Basically everything before Bruce becoming Batman is the same, parents die, Alfred stepping in being a father figure. Where I am going to really start is the night Dicks parents passed. So in the comics, and in other places and sites, its said that Tim was 5 when he went to the circus with his parents, I've shifted that back 1 year he’s 4 now. Why? Because I can, and it’ll make things move smoother. So because he is now 3 yrs old obviously he can’t really remember things very well from that young, but you know how you have these really vivid memories of like one or two things from when you were really young? Lightbulb memories, and that’s what the circus is for Tim, a lightbulb memory. His parents had brought him to a circus (Trace unable to come having come down extremely sick but Jack and Janet couldn’t go any other time it was to important), and he met this really bright personality person that hugged him so tight, tighter than he can ever remember, and he whispers something to him. But that's all he remembers, not before where his parents talk about this being a good opportunity to try and talk Bruce Wayne into a company partnership, or afterwards in the chaos of the Flying Grayson's dying. So, Dick’s 12, Tim’s 4 which make Trace 4 as well, making Jason 8, Bruce 22 and Alfred 45. (Age difference are because of birthdays happening, it all works out)

Five years later tiny 9 year old Tim is hopping rooftops, with his twin chasing behind him with various types of bandages cause their parents are out of town and their babysitter is very much asleep and nothing short of an atom bomb will wake her up, taking pictures of Batman and Robin. He snaps a picture and witnesses Robin execute a trick that only one person should be able to do. A trick that hes’ heard mentioned in one of the only stories his parents will tell him and his twin. Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson were Batman and Robin. Shortly after the mantle of Robin passed on to a new person, Bruces new ward, 13 year old Jason Todd.

Through the next three years and some months the two children would continue to jump rooftops following the vigilantes during the night. When not doing unnecessary parkour at night their either at school, both being smart enough to move up to sophomore year by the age of 12, skateboarding, Tim, studying medical books because someone has to keep their brother alive, Trace, trying to figure out if the oven should be smoking like that when they’re making pizza, both of them. When their parents are home it usually coincides with a gala being help so they would be dressed up for their parents tastes and attend in silence. One gala that sticks out to the both of them was held at Wayne Manor, their parents had set them free, planning on finally getting Wayne to agree to a partnership between their companies. The two snuck around the edges of the room, Trace tripping on their dress a couple of times falling into her brother, giggling. They ran into an older boy, also hanging around the edges of the room, for different reasons, looking uncomfortable. Tim was frozen with excitement from seeing Robin in person so up-close instead of from behind a camera lens. Trace saw a kid, an older kid sure but a kid, who unlike her and their brother wasn’t as comfortable with high society. The rest of the night the trio were quite inseparable, sneaking beneath tables and into other rooms in the manor, under Alfreds watchful eyes of course.

Of course this of era of time couldn’t last forever, and it ending with a death. Robin had run off to Switzerland, Batman not far behind him. The twins couldn’t follow them, not without making their parents suspicious. Eventually news came, but not in the way either of them were hoping. Jason Todd had died, the reason not to revealed to the public. Their parents were back in town for the funeral, the three kids had grown a little close in their civilian identities. Batman became more violent during his patrols, and Tim couldn’t make himself take pictures after the first couple of times. Three months passed before He couldn’t take it anymore, travelling to Bludhaven to Dick Grayson's apartment. Because Batman needs help, not just help he needs a partner, he needs a Robin. Dick said no, he couldn’t be Robin again, after Tim explained how he knew, but agreed that Tim was right. Batman did need help, and he would help as Nightwing, but not Robin. Five months after Jason had passed and Tim confronted Batman on a night that was more peaceful than most. Batman was flung into memories of catching a child stealing the tires off of his batmobile. He was refused, Batman didn’t want to be responsible for another childs death. Six months after the second Robin had died 12 year old Trace opens the door to Alfred Pennyworth. They knew what he was here for and called Tim down. And so the third Robin came into play, Batman agreeing to help train him. If the kid was going to go out anyway, he might as well make sure he’s prepared. Not long after Robin came into play, did another Vigilante make an appearance, Thrush.

Thrush only kept their identity secret for about a year before Batman figured them out and started training them to, by this time Nightwing had begun to help with Robins training so he also helped with Thrush. Thrush was an on field medic more than anything else, shown by the red cross on their chest where the Robins symbols was on her brothers uniform. They had a lot of experience with patching wounds, from night excursion cuts to belt lash's on the back. Their knowledge only grew over the years with Alfred and Dr Thompkins help.

When the two were 15 the Red Hood came onto the scene. And he seemed to have a vendetta against Robin and Batman. After a bad run in with the Red Hood at the Titan’s Tower Tim was put on bed rest for a while, and after he was off it was supposed to be benched from patrol. He would sneak out anyway so Batman made him promise to not go out without Him or Nightwing. It was a particularly quite night, one that Thrush wouldn’t be needed on, so Trace stayed at the Drake manor, planning on trying out a cake recipe Alfred gave them. The years where they made to oven smoke from making things far behind them. She was mixing the ingredients when there was a crash from the upper level of the house, the lights flickered and the power went out. In the dark Trace and Tim are practically indistinguishable besides their voice, that might have been the reason Red Hood came after them if they hadn’t known their name.

Red Hood took them, luring out Batman and Robin. He was focused on The Bat for the altercation allowing Tim to sneak and grab Trace. Unfortunately they were noticed as they were leaving and in the resulting chase they lost Batman. Tim and Red Hood fought, Robin taking considerably more hits that the Hood. After a while Tim was on the ground with Thrush standing in between them, ready to take any more hits for her brother. It was at this moment that Red Hood took of his helmet, “I’m not here to hurt you Trace. Just the replacement.” Twin gasps came from them, because behind the helmet was someone they both knew. It was their Robin, their hero, and their next door neighbor, Jason Todd back from death. Seeing Trace refusing to move, because that's their brother fuck you very much, even when Tim tells them too Jason leaves clutching his head. They were found not to long after by Nightwing and taken to the cave.

Things pretty much go in the direction you would think they do. Batman is confronted about Joker by Jason, Bruce and Dick get all teary eyed about him being alive and he is now slowly warming back up to his father, older brother, and two snot-nosed kids that are his younger siblings that don’t know their part of the family yet. And that’s were we are right now in the au. In the future Damian, Duke, and probably others will be added. I believe that’s all for now!

#batman #batman and robin #batman oc #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #richard grayson #dick grayson #robin #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake robin #tim drake-wayne #tim drake #trace drake #trace drake-wayne #thrush

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highwaytothedangerzone502 · 2 years ago

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India Lima Yankee - Bonus Chapter

Pairing: Rooster x Female OC

Word Count: 2411

Warnings: Mild pregnancy complications

Summary: Juliette Kazansky discovers Maverick is back in town for a special training detachment, but she's more than a little blindsided when Rooster arrives too. Having not spoken to him for almost ten years after their less than amicable break-up, Juliette can only imagine how the next few weeks are going to play out when she remains head over heels in love with him while he wants nothing to do with Juliette other than to forget her.

Or so she thinks.

Notes: None!

Chapter Songs: All I Want For Christmas Christmas Baby Cold December Night

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12 Chp 13 Chp 14 Chp 15 Chp 16 Chp 17 Chp 18 Chp 19 Chp 20 Chp 21 Chp 22 Chp 23 Chp 24 Chp 25Chp 26 Chp 27 Chp 28 Chp 29 Chp 30 Chp 31 Chp 32 Chp 33 Chp 34 Chp 35 Chp 36 Chp 37 Chp 38 Chp 39 Chp 40 Chp 41 Chp 42 Chp 43 Chp 44 Chp 45 Bonus Info Bonus Chapter

Rooster

Bradley Bradshaw discovered his wife curled up under a blanket on the couch with Raptor and Lightning, reading a book in the warm yellow lights of their Christmas tree. She looked miserable. Leaning against the wall, he asked, "What are you doing up?"

Juliette snapped her head up, and in the dim light, he could see her paleness. "I've been nauseous for the past hour, and nothing is helping, not even the anti-nausea medicine the doctor gave me. It's taking ages to kick in," she said sleepily, glancing over at the pill bottle on the coffee table with distaste. "What are you doing up?"

"Bad dream. Why didn't you wake me up? I would've sat up with you." Rooster moved to her end of the couch, intending to sit on the coffee table to be closer to her without moving the dogs, but Juliette sat up and moved over just enough to allow him some space next to her. He pulled her onto his lap and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"You're not getting enough sleep as it is. Still having nightmares?" Juliette inquired, looping her arms around his neck.

"Yeah, I guess getting shot down and traipsing through an enemy base and evading fifth-gen fighters in a fourth-gen fighter can do some damage to your psyche. Nothing I can't handle, though. I'll be fine. I'm more worried about you. Do the docs know why the morning sickness is so bad?"

Juliette shook her head. "No, they're saying all my hormone levels are super high, and that's what's causing all this." Juliette chuckled weakly and added jokingly, "Maybe it's twins."

"Let's hope they take on more after you than me because I was a troubled-ass kid."

"Hey, you went through things no kid should ever go through. If they take on after you, they'll be extremely lucky. And hey, I've seen the pictures of the men in your family. If we have a boy, he's going to be a heartbreaker."

"And if we have a girl, she's going to be beautiful like her mother and all the women before her." Rooster kissed his fiancée, smiling into it. He started to say more, but Juliette's hand flung to cover her mouth, and she bolted off his lap faster than a jet launched off a carrier catapult. Rooster followed her to the bathroom and barely managed to pull her hair back before she hurled into the toilet.

"Oh, I hate this," Juliette groaned, leaning away and sitting against the cabinets. Rooster grabbed some tissues for her, which she gratefully took to wipe her mouth. "I'm creating life, and this is how Mother Nature decides to thank me?"

"I wish there was something I could do to help," Rooster said sympathetically, hating seeing Juliette in this state. "Are you up to going to your mom's later?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine. I want to go. Besides, we're giving everyone the big news, and I don't want to miss that. If it gets much worse, I'll go to urgent care or the ER to make sure it's nothing else, okay?"

"I'll be by your side wherever you go. Come on, let's get you back to the couch."

"No, no, brush my teeth first, then bed. It's still a little easier for me to sleep in the bed. I only went to the couch so I wouldn't wake you up."

"You can always wake me up when you're not feeling well, Jules. This is what I'm here for." Rooster stood up and held out his hands to help her up. Juliette gratefully took them. The couple strolled hand-in-hand to their room, intent on getting a little bit of rest before the chaos of Christmas Day.

Things hadn't gone as planned. Juliette passed out the moment she got out of bed later that morning. She barely called out for Rooster before she collapsed, and he narrowly managed to catch her. He rushed her to the hospital, much to her protest when she came to.

"I'm fine, Rooster. I'm sure it was my blood pressure dropping too low," Juliette insisted, bracing her head against the window.

"My mom thought she was fine for weeks before she went and saw a doctor," Rooster said sharply, a flashback of his mom eerily repeating Juliette's words almost exactly: I'm fine, Bradley. Just my blood pressure dropping too low.

It hadn't been that. It'd been something so much worse, and Rooster hadn't been able to convince his mom to go see a doctor sooner. Then again, even if he had, they would've told her she was fine, that it was stress. He wouldn't let it happen to Juliette or his future child. Besides, medicine had come so far now, surely they wouldn't make the same mistake now with Juliette as they had his mom?

Juliette had reached over and laced her fingers with his free hand, smiling understandingly at him. "India Lima Yankee."

Rooster smiled. "India Lima Yankee."

The trip and stay at the hospital turned out to be short. As Juliette stated earlier, it had simply been her blood pressure dropping too low, but they left with more information than they intended, and a flood of emotions went through them. It also sent them scrambling to buy new presents for Sarah and Maverick.

Upon arrival at the Kazansky house, as the last people to arrive due to the unplanned hospital visit, they had to park on the road, meaning a long trek for them up to the door. Rooster turned to Juliette and asked, "You sure you're up for this? You've had a hell of a day, and I know this year is... particularly hard since-"

"Dad's not here," Juliette finished, sniffing. "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. I'm going to stay off my feet as much as possible. Besides, we have to give everyone the news. Trust me, there's no better surprise than this for my mom."

"Then let's get going." Rooster hopped out of the Bronco and rushed to the other side to open Juliette's door. As she stepped out, he kept a grip on her hand until she stood steady for long enough that there was no threat of her fainting. Then, and only then, did he let the dogs out of the backseat, who darted to the front door. The couple followed, and on the way, Rooster asked, "Hey, how many insinuations do you think I can make before people start to catch on that you're pregnant?"

Juliette grinned. "Let's find out."

Before they could knock, Sarak Kazansky threw open the door and enthusiastically greeted the two with a hug. In the blink of an eye, the pair found themselves going from one person to the next in the packed household: first Maverick and Penny greeted them, followed by Jack and his family, then Joey, and then the Daggers. Even Hondo, Warlock, and Cyclone came with their spouses. Rooster tried to stay near Juliette as much as possible, and if not near her, then at least have his fiancée in his line of sight, the events of earlier still fresh in his mind.

Two hours in, Rooster entered the kitchen, where Juliette sat at the counter chatting with Hangman and Maverick. He peered into the oven and remarked, "Ooh, got some buns in the oven."

Juliette hid a snicker behind a fake coughing fit, then said, "Mom's making two kinds as well, so it's double the goodness."

"Speaking of doubles, think I'm gonna have one." Rooster shot Juliette a mischievous look. "Mav, you want anything?"

"No, I'm good. I still have my beer." Maverick lifted his bottle. "Jules, you want something?"

"Nah, I was sick all morning and doubt alcohol will help. I'll stick with water."

Maverick's brow creased in concern. "How come you were sick all morning?"

Juliette shrugged. "Could be anything, but I'm fine now."

"Are you sure? You didn't eat anything weird recently?"

"Outside of the Prego's tomato sauce the other day? No. Hey, Rooster, what did you use to call Prego's when you were little?"

Rooster cringed, knowing Hangman wouldn't let him live down the truth for ages. Still, it was yet another hint for everyone at their big announcement later, and he couldn't resist it. "Preggers."

Hangman snorted into his drink. "Classic."

At that moment, Sarah Kazansky walked into the kitchen and pulled out the prime rib and roast chicken. She hollered out that dinner was ready, and everyone swarmed into the kitchen. Rooster sidled up next to Juliette, ensuring he stayed close to her while she stood and walked around in the event she passed out again. He doubted she would right now, but it'd scared him earlier to the point he found himself paranoid about her wellbeing.

The evening passed with good food, good company, and good conversation. Rooster mainly talked with Maverick and Juliette, who sat beside him, and Phoenix, who sat across from him. He and Jules even slipped in a few more pregnancy idioms and insinuations, mainly at the end of the dinner. Juliette leaned back in her seat and groaned, "Uh, I was so hungry, I ate enough for two or three people."

"Got a food baby?" Rooster teased, gingerly patting her stomach.

"I think there might be two."

"Well then, Merry Christmas to me! Best present yet!"

"Oh, speaking of presents, Mom, Mav, I want to give you yours before I forget." Juliette started to get up, but Rooster beat her to it, shooting her a disapproving look at how fast she tried to move. Jules sighed, evidently annoyed that she couldn't do what she usually did. Rooster returned shortly with the two presents and handed them to his parents. Then he sat back down in his chair and tried to hide his anticipation at their reaction. Sarah and Maverick opened theirs, although the former was a little faster. She blanched at the little onesie she pulled out that said: Guess what? August 2021.

"You're pregnant?" Sarah Kazansky squeaked, tears welling in her eyes.

"It's twins?" Maverick added in disbelief, staring at the onesie he pulled out that said: Guess what else? It's twins.

Juliette nodded, biting back a broad smile. "Rooster and I had to scramble to find new onesies because we just found it was twins today."

The shock finally seemed to pass for everyone because the group burst into cheers while hugs were immediately exchanged. It was Hangman that pointed out, "You were dropping hints the entire time, weren't you? The buns in the oven, the eating for two or three, the food baby, the 'Preggers' joke-"

"That was actually a true story," Juliette chirped. "And I give you full permission to never let him live it down."

"Perfect!" Hangman grinned and enveloped her in a tight embrace that lasted longer than any he'd given her before. Then, his voice full of sincerity and excitement, he said, "Congratulations, Juliette. I'm so happy for you two."

She smiled at his use of her first name as he rarely used it, always calling her 'Princess' or 'Jules' or 'Kazansky.' "Thank you, Jake."

Before they could converse any further, Sarah and Maverick reached her, and she found herself unable to catch her breath between hugs and conversation about her pregnancy until she and Rooster arrived back at their house with the dogs. They collapsed onto the couch, not even bothering to turn the lights on, as the Christmas tree provided more than enough illumination.

"So," Rooster began, "I think it's fair to say everyone was excited."

Juliette nodded, fiddling with her locket. "Yes, I think so. Thought my mom was about to pass out when she found out with how much she paled."

"Pretty sure Maverick wasn't far behind her. How are you feeling?"

"Better. I think all the anti-nausea medicine finally kicked in. Now I'm just anxious."

"About what?"

"Being a mom to twins. I mean, I don't know the first thing about being a mom! I don't know what all milestones there are or what diapers are best to use or-or what is normal during pregnancy and what's not!" Juliette rambled quickly, her mouth moving faster than he'd ever seen. "I'm going to get so freaking fat, and I've never been able to lose weight easily, so losing the baby weight is going to be a bitch. Worst of all, you're probably going to be deployed when they're born and-" Juliette's voice cracked, and she bowed her head to hide the tears Rooster had already seen welling in her eyes.

"Hey, hey, hey, what brought this on?" Rooster asked gently, brushing her tears away with his thumb.

"Seeing pictures of my dad on the wall in all these different countries and ports and knowing that that's going to be you. And I'm so, so proud of you and supportive of you for being in the Navy, but I'm selfish in that I want you here with me."

"Well, then, your wish is granted."

"It's not. You're still having to-"

"I'm going to be stationed at the naval base here. I already talked to Cyclone about it tonight, and he's given his approval. Apparently, he has a few favors of his own he can cash in to make it happen if it doesn't happen when he asks nicely."

Juliette looked up, eyes full of surprise. "Y-you're staying here?"

"Yeah, I am. I'm never leaving you again, Jules, not as long as I can help it." Rooster placed a hand on her barely swollen belly. "I'm going to be here for you every step of the way, every bad morning, every anxious thought, every pound gained, and I'm going to love you through it all too. If you're scared about losing the weight, I can help you get back in shape afterward when you're ready. We have your mom, Mav, and Penny to watch the twins when they're born, so we don't have to worry about babysitters. And if none of those three can do it, we have the Daggers as backup, although we need to make a list of who would be best and who not to call."

Juliette smiled through her tears. "Have I ever said how much I love you?"

"You don't need to. I know." Rooster lifted her left hand and kissed the skin next to her engagement ring. "India Lima Yankee."

Juliette cupped his face and kissed him. Her lips brushed against his as she said, "India Lima Yankee."

****

A/N: Threw this together after @polikszena gave me an ask about what Rooster and Juliette would be like at Christmas time. I made it relatively short and sweet, but I hope you enjoyed! And for the record, the twins came a month early on July 4!

Tags: @lgg5989 @shanimallina87 @polikszena @summ3rlotus @souslesyeuxde @gleasonmalfoy @icemansgirl1999 @supernaturaldawning @thedarkinmansfield @lyannaforpresident @lapilark @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @simpofthecentury @shadeops21 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @double-j @picklejuicesposts @bradshawsandbridgetons @majdoline @jakexfmc @catsandgeekyandnerd @peachiicherries @multifandomcnova @fandomsstolemylife00 @bookloverhorses @nicangelinee @mak-32

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