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rebouks · 1 year

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Brynn: You are much more silent than usual today-.. are you going to miss me?

Wyatt was going to miss Brynn a great deal, but telling her that seemed harder than it ought to be, so he said naught instead.

Brynn: You are not comfortable being happy?

Wyatt squinted, something Brynn had learnt he tended to do when she was on the right track.

Brynn: Maybe you should not fight yourself.

Wyatt: Maybe you only know I feel that way because you’re the same.

And as she tended to do when he was right, Brynn dodged Wyatt’s comment.

Brynn: Do you think I stay, if you asked me to?

Wyatt: I don’t think you want me to ask that.

Brynn: No, I don’t…

Wyatt: Do you want to stay though..?

Brynn: I not sure it’s a good idea to leave home-.. not for a man I spend only a few weeks with.

Wyatt’s brow creased, though he quickly rearranged his face; she had a point, whether he liked it or not.

Brynn: Does that hurt your feelings?

Wyatt: No…

Brynn hummed and tugged on Wyatt’s hand, forcing him to stop and face her. It was obvious he was lying. He wanted to know whether this was just a holiday fling to her, or something more, but every time he even thought about doing so it felt like someone had rammed cotton wool down his throat. He’d promised himself he’d be more honest, but it wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped…

Wyatt: What exactly would you be leaving behind? I doubt you’ve exactly made anything for yourself there-.. not with Gael’s arm to cling to.

Wyatt instantly regretted being so blunt as Brynn frowned slightly, a flash of sadness darting across her features.

Brynn: That is a cruel thing to say, no?

Wyatt: Maybe-.. though I’ve a feeling I’m right, so I’m not taking it back.

Brynn narrowed her eyes, he was right, of course. She had nothing of her own in San Myshuno. Everything she owned, down to the clothes on her back, had been paid for by Gael. She’d never thought about leaving before, she had everything she ever needed, technically-.. but spending time with someone who wasn’t afraid to interrogate her about such matters finally made her question her innermost protests, rather than burying them.

She didn’t like Gael, she didn’t like his friends or his apartment, she didn’t want him to propose, didn’t want to marry him, didn’t want to carry his children. It wasn’t ever supposed to be permanent; she wanted a life of her own…

Wyatt: Well?

Brynn: I not argue with you on my last day here.

Wyatt: We’re not arguing, are we?

Brynn: Exactly!

Wyatt ran his hand through his hair and sighed, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He needed more. He was desperate to know how she felt before she left, desperate to know how she’d gotten herself into this situation, whether she wanted out or not. He thought she did, but for once, he wasn’t sure of himself.

Wyatt: I just meant-…

He huffed as Brynn leapt on his back with a chuckle, that was the end of that then. He’d never realised until now how socially inept he was with women-.. no, intimacy; but Brynn didn’t seem to mind, maybe she could relate. He was willing to bet she knew what he was struggling with. It almost seemed as though she were goading him into being honest, like he craved to be.

Brynn: Let’s find somewhere nice-.. if you tell me what you meant, maybe I tell you a story.

He shook his head and snorted, amused; that was definitely what she was doing, wasn’t it?

Wyatt had done a lot of terrible things over the years. Amongst countless other felonies he’d taken more than a few lives - some with his bare hands - but no crime he’d committed had ever caused his heart to beat as erratically as it did now. Against his “better” judgement and despite his pounding chest, he’d held Brynn close and told her how he felt.

He told her how much he’d enjoyed spending time with her, how pleased he’d be if she stayed, and how curious he was about her situation back in San Myshuno. Brynn had softened upon hearing his words, appreciative of his honesty; and in return, she’d told him how she and Gael met…

Brynn hadn’t left Del Sol to begin with, choosing instead to remain employed by Varius, which had eventually been taken over by new management. Never embroiled in Ashton’s more nefarious business ventures, the casino and its franchise hadn’t suffered much, remaining completely operational as a result.

Gael was in town for family and work, hauled to the top floor by some of his rather more enthusiastic associates. Clearly uncomfortable, she’d taken him aside and entertained him in a different manner-.. she’d clocked him eyeing a handsome waiter surreptitiously, felt him recoil from her touch; he might’ve fooled his colleagues, but he hadn’t fooled her. Enjoying an easy night full of free drinks and cheesy jokes, she’d thought nothing of his proposition to attend an upcoming event with him the following weekend.

The event Gael had invited her to was a wedding – his brother’s wedding – and Brynn had suddenly found herself referred to as his girlfriend. She’d thought it quite funny at the time, what an odd man, paying an erotic dancer to pose as one’s partner. The money was good though, and it was much more enjoyable than working in some stuffy club, even one as fancy as Varius.

But as things do, one thing led to another and before Brynn could second guess herself, she’d agreed to move to San Myshuno and stay with Gael permanently. Genesis had seen her arse about Brynn’s newfound source of income, her friends Ace and Robert had moved away, Del Sol was smoggy and garish, held memories she’d rather forget; why wouldn’t she move back to San My? She’d have her own room in a spacious apartment, she wouldn’t have to work, Gael said he’d pay for her to finish school; it seemed like a good idea at the time, like she could have whatever she wanted.

Except she couldn’t. Gael was a controlling - albeit kind - man, terrified of being discovered by his peers. He told her where to go and when, what to wear, what to say, and how to act. He’d take her phone from her if she’d get distracted at one of his precious galas, force her to attend wellness retreats with his colleagues’ insipid girlfriends and wives whilst he and his friends smacked tiny balls with silly sticks, drag her on family vacations to hot countries where she’d get accosted by mosquitoes and prickly heat.

He’d bemoan her lack of enthusiasm when she wasn’t her usual self, but it’d been so many years that Brynn didn’t even know who she was anymore. He’d felt guilty then, promising she could pick their next destination; that it’d be just the two of them, no pretending.

Brynn had never imagined bumping into Wyatt again, but she’d often thought of him, wondering what he’d done after that fateful phone call. She’d almost felt proud of him, in a way-.. it wasn’t easy to turn against your upbringing like that, against your friends, against yourself. She’d given him the benefit of the doubt and he hadn’t taken it for granted, which was more than could be said for a lot of men she’d trusted in the past.

Having landed herself in hot water more times than she could count over the years, Brynn had learnt to be wary of her gut, but she couldn’t deny being drawn to Wyatt; she admired the change in him, despite the fact he seemed unaware of it himself. It was freeing to spend time with someone who didn’t expect her to act a certain way, someone who knew where she’d come from and what she’d been through, yet didn’t appear to judge her poorly for it. He’d done terrible things and so had she; it was nice, being on an even playing field for once.

Brynn had subsequently returned home more disheartened than ever, completely uninterested in her so-called life with Gael. She’d hoped Wyatt would call, hoped she’d get a taste of that freedom in her self-imposed cage, hoped something would magically change. But it hadn’t.

Wyatt: So, you’re not happy anymore?

Brynn: I am very happy here, with you-.. but that scares me.

Wyatt: Why?

Brynn: Because it means I have to confront the fact that I am not happy at home, and that is something I have never done before. I always find someone to take me in, but is always with conditions, I am never free-.. never happy.

Wyatt: Are you safe at least..?

Brynn: It is painfully boring, sharing a home with Gael, but he is not exactly aggressive.

Wyatt scowled; not exactly? That wasn’t what he wanted to hear, he ought to strangle-..

Brynn: I not want you to get involved, I think I would like to do something on my own for once.

Wyat: Okay…

Brynn: I put my foot down and leave, even if it means I have nothing. I not want to run to anyone else, including you.

Wyatt: That’s why you don’t want to stay?

Brynn nodded, it would’ve been easier to tell Gael to stuff it and stay here, but that was what she always did; fall into someone else’s hands. Being with Wyatt was different though, it made her want to choose him because she wanted to, because she could, not because she needed to. If that meant she had to throw everything away and strike out on her own first – even though she had no idea how to – then so be it.

Though he was glad to know the truth, Wyatt was less than thrilled with Brynn’s plan; but she craved true freedom, and after everything she’d endured – in part due to his own transgressions – he figured he owed her as much.

Wyatt: I won’t stop you then…

Brynn: This is why I love you-.. you help set me free in the end, like I to you.

Wyatt: You love me?

Brynn: You love me too, no?

Wyatt dipped his head in agreement. He wasn’t sure how it’d happened so quickly, but there wasn’t much point denying it any longer.

Brynn: Say it…

Wyatt: I love you too.

Brynn: Is not so hard, right?

Wyatt scoffed quietly and shook his head.

Wyatt: I don’t know-.. I’m sweating.

Brynn: [laughs] Ew-.. me too though.

Previous // Next

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 story #sims story #forever in between #fib #wyatt shaw #brynn franz #hnnnnng #lookit them.. telling the truth to each other n talking properly n shit #maybe they've been replaced by aliens 🤷‍♀️#there's so much to unpack here..#but i think the two most important things are that wyatt actually allowed some real gods honest emotion to come outta his mouth #for the first time in like forever..#and that even if we don't agree with brynn - past future or present - she should get the chance to decide her own fate for once #and he GETS it #;-;#this is why she cried on the mountain.. cos for the first time in forever she felt free #stood on top of the world like that she realised she's the captain.. n even if jumping off the ship is scary #maybe she'll find some land #u kno #maybe even a slightly reformed wyatt too ¯\(°_o)/¯#bwuhh #neway.. u asked for this essay so i hope u enjoyed it 😆

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ifindus · 2 months

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I’ve never heard of ScotNor before, is there any historical background for the ship? Just curious, they’re a cute couple!

The historical background is a large part of what makes a ship interesting to me, and ScotNor’s history is definitely of great appeal along with their peoples and culture. I’ve touched upon this topic before, but that was probably years ago now, so we’re due for a bit of a refresher! Thanks for the interest 🙏 I’m sure there’s no history I’ve not included in my time line below, but this a summary of what I’ve gathered so far.

Viking Period (→ 1066).

The earliest contact between the nations Norway and Scotland begins in the Viking Age and it presents itself in different manners. Norway is expanding across the islands in the Norwegian Sea and the North Atlantic and gain sovereignty over Shetland, Orkney, and the Hebrides among others. Note that this is almost exclusively Norwegian people – the Danes usually went to England and the Swedes went East. This increased the contact between the two nations, manifesting in settlement, integrating with the locals, and more trade. There were some disagreements and there is still several theories about how violent and early the colonisation of the Scottish islands were, but we find some evidence that their interactions remained mostly peaceful in the certain areas. Norwegian Vikings definitely fought against both Gaels and Picts before they joined forces.

The celtic name Laithlind/Lochlann, is thought to reference Scandinavia – mainly Norway, but might also be the word for the Norwegian areas of Scotland. The word means “land of bog/lakes” and could be related to the Welsh word for Scandinavia; Llychlyn

Norse Period (1066 – 1468).

The Norse Period is the name of a period in Scotland from the end of the Viking Age in the middle of the 11th century to 1468, when the Danish King gives away the last of Norway’s territories on the British Isles to the Scottish King as a dowry. During this period people in the Norwegian occupied areas identifies as Norse and their language evolve from Norse into Norn, which was in some places spoken until the 1800s.

The Battle of Largs was fought between Norway and Scotland in 1263 A battle at both sea and on land with no winner. They fought over the rights to the Western Isles, which the Scottish King had tried to buy since 1240, but had been rejected. The Norwegian King felt threatened and left Norway with a great fleet to negotiate/fight. After failed negotiations and some Norwegian raids a huge storm surprised the fleet and crashed some of the boats and washing them ashore where the crews were attacked by twice as many Scottish forces. The storm hindered any tactical moves as the waves and wind made it impossible to control the ships, but eventually the Norsemen got back on some of the ships and it became a long distance battle, which both sides pulled back from after a while. The Norwegian King died from illness in Orkney later that year and his son negotiated a treaty with the Scottish King where he gave up the islands for money and trading prospects with Scotland.

Margaret Maid of Norway, was the granddaughter of the Scottish King and the daughter of the Norwegian King. Her mother’s marriage to the King of Norway was diplomatic and a move to strengthen the relations between the countries. Her mother dies in childbirth and Margaret Maid of Norway suddenly become heir to the Scottish throne when her grandfather dies, but unfortunately she dies only 7 years old from illness on her way across the sea to claim her throne in 1290.

Originally, Norway was part of the Auld Alliance. With the negotiating skills of a Norwegian diplomat, Norway became part of the Auld Alliance in 1295, a military alliance that lasted until 1560. Norway was a member until 1326. The alliance marked the end to Norwegian expansion in the British Isles and cemented their collaboration. The Auld Alliance said that if one of the parties was attacked by England, the others should help. Norway were to supply Scotland with warships while England and France were at war, but Scotland never paid and Norway never sent any ships as they were still hesitant to make an enemy out of England. It’s seen as a bit of a scam on Norway’s part as they accepted a pre-payment for their help, but the money “disappeared” and Norway would never have been able to provide the amount of ships and warriors they promised.

Then Norway becomes a part of the Kalmar union as a result of the devastating effect the Black Death in 1348 had on the Norwegian Elite, leaving Norway weak and under Danish rule for about 400 years, where the Danish king in 1468 gives away Orkney and Shetland as a pawn for the dowry of his daughter because he did not have the money to pay (this situation was never actually resolved and the isles still could be considered only a pawn).

Norway under Denmark and Scotland under England (1397 – 1814).

Norway entered a union with Denmark and Sweden in 1397 and proceeded to fall further under Denmark’s rule for about 400 years until 1814, while Scotland entered a union of crowns with England in 1603 and then later a personal union in 1707, which still stands. During these periods it is difficult to talk about the interactions of the nations Norway and Scotland as they both fall in the shadow of the more powerful nation running the union, Norwegians often just considered Danes by people from other countries at this time.

The Battle of Kringen in 1612 was a battle between invading Scottish mercenaries hired by the Swedes, and Norwegian farmers. Denmark-Norway was at war with Sweden again and the Swedes had employed help by foreign forces – very common at this time, and Scottish mercenaries were famous. The Scottish forces were to meet up with Swedish forces, and while they traversed the country they robbed and pillaged Norwegian farms. Norwegian farmers organized and staged an ambush on Scots as they passed through steep terrain, trapping them by cutting trees and disrupting them by rolling rocks down the mountainside. They were only armed with spears, axes and scythes, but managed to absolutely devastate the Scottish army. The Norwegian farmers only suffered 6 deaths while the Scots only had 18 out of 300 make it out alive in the end.

The 1800s.

In the 1800s, Norway was become its own country (still in a union with Sweden) and it’s at this time tourism in the country becomes popular in Great Britain, with both Scottish and English Lords travelling to Norway to fish salmon and hunt and experience the nature. In 1886 a Scottish shipping company began to provide Norwegian cruises to look at the fjords along the coast of Norway, maybe one of the first ever boat cruises, which was so popular that they increased the amount of ships the following year. This continued until World War One began.

In 1806 a Norwegian son of a wealthy merchant travelled with one of their trading ships to the Caribbean, but the ship sank by Jamaica. He drifted on the shipwreck for three days before he was rescued by a British ship. The officer who took care of him was son of a wealthy Scottish landowner, and they became enamoured with each other and never left the other’s side after this. They spent the rest of their lives together, travelling between their estates in Norway, their castle in Scotland, and apartments in London, Paris, Rome, and Naples.

Skotthyll is a game that used to be prevalent in my region, and it’s said to be a game invented by Scottish engineers who came to Norway to work on a railroad in the 1860s.

The 1900s.

When Norway became independent from Sweden in 1905, the new king received a letter from the authorities on Shetland stating that “today no ‘foreign’ flag is more familiar or more welcome in our voes and havens than that of Norway, and Shetlanders continue to look upon Norway as their mother-land, and recall with pride and affection the time when their forefathers were under the rule of the Kings of Norway”.

During the First World War, Norway was neutral, but very much involved with the ongoing politics as they wanted to keep trading with both sides, but eventually settled for Great Britain when they decided to commit to buying all the fish Germany normally would have bought. When the Germans began sinking Norwegian ships, it also drove them further onto the side of Great Britain.

During the Second World War Norway was occupied by Germany, and many of those who fled went to Great Britain (as was the case with most of Europe). On Shetland, there was established a Norwegian base of operations where Norwegian sailors and volunteers would carry out missions across the North Sea to Norway. There they would smuggle in weapons and provisions and information to the resistance, as well as helping refugees to escape the country. This was of immense help to Norway during the war. Additionally, a training camp for Norwegians was established in the Scottish highlands, where Norwegians who wanted to fight for their country was stationed and trained for missions by the Allies.

#historical hetalia #hetalia #scotnor #aph norway #aph scotland #hws norway #hws scotland #thanks for the ask! Always love talking about them - thanks for taking an interest 💖 they're the best ship I promise #long post #so glad I had written about this before - this took a lot longer than expected to put together

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atopvisenyashill · 3 months

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I was thinking about the possibility that Daemon was sent to the Vale because of assumptions that he was the one who got Gael pregnant (while it was actually a different Targaryen) which then led me to wonder if he did ever think of a connection. Like, they're around the same age, they're related, she's a girl, they're related and his parents are a prime example of signs of affection being made sexual. He doesn't have a sister (and can't be Viserys' sister) (it would be about Viserys)

(following on Daemon & Gael & actually Viserys) when your parents great love story is a sister following her old brother around since she was young and that meant she was made for him, where do you even go?

I've always headcannoned that Daemon, Aemma, and Gael were thick as thieves, with Viserys and Rhaenys often getting roped into the shenanigans. Just a bunch of lil menaces running around, pretending to be proper when the adults were looking and giving their septas and maesters and the servants a run for their fucking money. And then adulthood comes along far too quickly. Rhaenys marries and assures Aemma and Gael nothing will change, they'll see each other all the time. Then she's disinherited. Aemma marries Viserys. Gael moves back to Dragonstone. Daemon is left alone, with nothing to do, and no one to talk to, feeling abandoned. I think this is when Viserys and Daemon start going to brothels - it's probably at Viserys' behest and it quickly gets out of control because it's the only attention Daemon ever gets from a relative, and wouldn't it have been so much easier if he'd been born a girl and got to marry Viserys instead of Aemma. Gael comes back home and for a small, brief moment Daemon feels like things could be normal again. It's not quite the same, bringing wild stories back to ever pregnant Aemma and embellishing on them to make her laugh, but it's something! A little piece of childhood again.

And then Alysanne is giving him the side eye. He's getting too old, he's spending too much time with Gael. He's taking her on Caraxes and he's letting her see the world outside of her mother's apartments. There's safety there, up in the air, where they can pretend they are still children, and Aemma is just behind them, chasing after them, reminding them they'll get into trouble even as she laughs. But it's ripped away, and Daemon is sent to the Vale, to a wife he doesn't know and doesn't want, and Caraxes hates the weather there, and before he can come home and see Gael again, she's dead. I almost wonder if it was Daemon who squealed about the reason why. Was he mad he was lied to? Was he mad he couldn't mourn and rage in public? Did he not believe it, hate the way they called her simple, and started digging? Did Viserys lie to him for years, before breaking down and revealing the truth after Aemma suffers yet another miscarriage and tearfully tells him she knows he would have chosen a different name, but in her head she called the boy Gaemon after Gael? Was it Rhaenys, angry and grieving her losses, that dug and dug and dug into why her beloved little cousin died so suddenly? Did she reach out to Daemon, sharing the information, watching as this last tie they had to one another shrivels up and dies?

#I JUST THINK ABOUT GAEL A LOT #gael targaryen #gael and the bard #gael the winter rose #daemon targaryen #asks #anons

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nefellibatta · 20 days

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I-T G-I-R-L You know I am that girl

Targaryen Characters' Reactions When They Meet an It Girl in Westeros

Part One

Editing: Children of Jaeherys I and Alyssane Era

Tw: Arranged marriage, jealousy, envy, polyamorous marriage, rejection, female rivalry, mention of murder, among others

Viserra Targaryen

She loved everyone's attention, she loved being called the most beautiful daughter of the King and Queen.

But when you arrived at the fortress, she hated it mainly because everywhere you went, everyone knew it was you and that irritated her.

She tried to get the attention away from you but when she saw you with those jewels, purple dress and your hairstyle she could only feel pure envy gnawing at her neck and she knew that the envy would only get worse.

She almost threw you when Baelon and Aemon together crowned you the most beautiful woman in Westeros and she thought Alyssa and Jocelyn would complain but they liked your age, the servants had to put up with Viserra's outburst.

Saera Targaryen

Another who also knew that if she were a demon, she would certainly be one of envy

She felt extreme jealousy when she saw her father, he was friendly with you and she hated how beautiful he looked in all his dresses and his hairstyles.

Just like her sister, Saera put cats in your room so you would be scared just like her sister, Daella. But when he saw the commotion, he saw you holding the kittens

After she ran away and became a prostitute, she hated it when she heard her clients moan or desire you, she would always take a dagger and hit them, and then throw them away

Daella Targaryen

Poor Daella, she loved your style but was too shy to compliment you but she still couldn't muster the courage to do so

Daella liked your company and how you brightened her life, especially when you groomed her, and you helped her and respected her shyness

When she said she felt stupid, you said you felt the same way but pretended not to feel that it was just that

When you took care of a kitten, and showed it to her. Daella lost her fear of this kitten and named her "Tulip"

Gael Targaryen

Gael looked enchanted and soft when he saw you, mainly because of your beautiful appearance at that moment

She praised you so softly as she helped you prepare Daella for the dinners, but she also saw the pure envy in the eyes of her brothers Viserra and Saera.

She took advantage and joined Daella, she loved it when the sunlight hit her dress and illuminated it while you read to both of them

Maegella Targaryen

When she met you she praised you and even said that the Gods had blessed you with splendid beauty. And when you said the same, she felt happy

She knew that vanity could be bad so she always took you to the Sept to pray and you always accompanied her

It was always one of the best days, when you gathered her sisters and made a night of beauty for everyone and besides, she always loved to praise you

#house of the dragon x reader #house targaryen #jaeherys targaryen #Alyssane Targaryen #viserra targaryen #saera targaryen #daella targaryen #maegelle targaryen #gael targaryen

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lapsus-memoriae-gael · 2 months

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Where: The Odyssey, towards the Auditorium With: Lindi (@lindiwe-in-camelot

It was dark. He was having trouble breathing. His brow furrowed as he opened his mouth to take in air but nothing was coming. Naturally, he panicked and tried again, but once again he was met with gasping like a fish out of water.

But he was in the water.

Suspended, with the strap of his messenger bag floating off of his shoulder as his weight sunk, heavier than the contents of the satchel. An arm reached out sluggishly, everything slow as he was being suffocated in the murk-- Then suddenly he was tumbled as though spit out of a moving dryer. Abruptly, and definitely not in a dream, Gael found himself slammed onto his side where his dark eyes snapped open with a start, his breathing heaving his chest as he gulped for air.

It didn't last long and he was still disoriented as he rolled onto his knees and retched onto the floor in front of him. His head was pounding, but at least he could breathe, which he did so deeply and shudderingly as his arms trembled with weight. Gael blinked blearily, shaking his head and not allowing himself even a single moment longer than absolutely necessary to recover from what he considered to be a helluva nightmare. He was almost more ashamed that he'd fallen asleep to begin with.

So, with his head still swimming and the acrid taste of stomach bile on the back of his tongue, he shakily got to his feet where he was able to ascertain that he was in a bathroom of sorts. Clean. Tilted? He was dry. Definitely a dream. His messenger bag still hung over his shoulder, and his attire suggested that he had passed out in his normal clothes.

Uncertain and treading as lightly as he could, Gael made his way out of the bathroom to the main room, with a window that sparkled with the sunlight outside, to the skewed hallway. Where... was he...? He shook his head again and started to make his way down the hallway, down a flight of stairs and towards... "The auditorium," He said aloud, reading the placard on the wall that was just above where his palm leaned against it for support.

#Gael // Lindi 1 #Event 1: the Odyssey #//lemme know if you'd like for me to edit!#//also absolutely no requirement to match length!

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prolix-yuy · 2 years

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Writers’ Iron Chef #11: Staying the Night

[PROMPT] “I’ll be here the whole night, okay?”

[TIME LIMIT] Optional 10 minutes prep time, 30 minutes writing time, optional, 10 minutes editing time

Pairing: Jack Russell, Werewolf by Night x F!Reader

Rating: M, allusions to sexual acts, descriptions of male and female (and monster!) bodies, allusions to monsterfucking but we cut to black (sorry babes I ran out of time).

Summary: "Has this ever worked before?" "Once."

Notes: Written for Writers’ Iron Chef Prompt 11.

In honor of the Spooky Season, and because I had a fun time watching Werewolf by Night, I'm bringing a new boy into the mix this time. I just want to write some fun werewolf shenanigans with Gael García Bernal. Don't worry Pedro, you're always first in my heart.

Did I walk right up to the monsterfucking door and knock but then run out of time to finish the prompt? Yes, yes I did. But I had a lot of fun doing the walking. Enjoy!

The story concludes in Mistake.

His eyes are human, surprisingly. Popular media had you convinced he’d be something much less than a man, something hungry and lupine. There are aspects - the claws, the fangs, the wiry hair covering his body. But his eyes are the same that stared down at you when he pleaded for you to go.

“The wolf doesn’t care who you are,” he said, hands tight around your shoulders. “He eats and he runs and anything that gets in his way is fair game. This is not something you can reason with.”

Jack soothed his bruising grip with gentler strokes, and you couldn’t dismiss the pain on his face as an overreaction. You knew what you were asking.

“What can he remember, then? If not faces and names, how can I communicate with him? He can’t just be a monster, thinking and unfeeling, Jack, we both know that.” The way his face fell at the word that haunts him - monster, through no fault of his own - made you cup his face in your hands. Your eyes traced the lines and smudges of his ancestral markings, fingers stroking along his jaw.

“If he’s a wolf, he should behave like one. And most great beasts hunt by smell,” you offered. Jack’s face lightened with clarity, eyes flitting over your shoulder as he contemplated this bit of information.

“If I scent you, he might…recognize you,” he concluded, a smile gracing your face. “It’s still too dangerous,” Jack insisted, but you were already shrugging off your jacket and baring your pulse points.

“One day this will happen out of your control, and I would like to be prepared in whatever way I can,” you said, Jack’s eyes softening with a mix of understanding and despair. “Please, Jack. It can’t hurt to try.”

Jack had pressed his face into your neck before, inhaling deeply after your first kiss. He told you later, wrapped in blankets and sated, that your scent speaks more words than your mouth ever can. You could be encased in stone in a crowd of thousands and it would still bring him straight to you. It’s unique, ever-evolving, and the first thing he fell in love with.

This was something different. There was a need in the way Jack gripped your wrists, pressing his pert nose to your pulse and inhaling deeply. It spiked arousal in your hips, the intimacy of his mouthing at your delicate skin.

“It still may not be enough. You'll have to look him in the eye, show him you know him, you know me,” he growled, low and quiet, as your heartbeat hammered in your chest. His nose trailed up your arm, lips leaving searing kisses along your skin. By the time he was nosing behind your ear you had pressed flush to him, arm winding around his waist and fisting into his jacket. Puffs of breath warm your skin, each deep inhale followed by a rattling exhale. When his tongue laved a wet path along your neck your knees almost gave out.

“Lover, your scent is strongest here,” he whispered, one lithe hand cupping your sex. The electric slide of his palm pulled a whine from your mouth, a pleading yes, that dropped you on your back with Jack’s face between your legs. As he scented and mouthed at the cradle of your arousal, you thought his fervor might be reminiscent of the wolf.

The lovemaking that followed was slow, careful, sensual and deep, like every time Jack takes you apart. He likes it that way, wants the wolf to be far from your soft body. Sometimes, you wish he would allow a small part of him in.

When the moon fills next, you watch him pace the locked room, eyes sharp and fearful.

“This is not a good idea. You should leave. This won’t work, please leave,” he pleads, even though the lengths of chain manacling his wrists and neck keep him several paces from you. You steel your jaw, resolute.

“I’ll be here the whole night, okay?”

Jack shakes his head, rolling his shoulders with a hiss as the transformation begins.

“The whole time. You aren’t shouldering this alone anymore.”

Pain wracks his face, body folding to kneel on the ground. His breath comes out in short bursts, panting against the change overcoming him.

“I love you, Jack Russell, and I will love the beast you harbor.”

The howl that rips from Jack’s throat raises goosebumps all over. Watching in morbid fascination, Jack’s lean body snaps and cracks as hands become claws, his chest barrels out and hair blankets his body. His face, however, remains. You worried that he would be unrecognizable, but once the transformation ends he truly is a wolf-man. The rattle of the chains snap you back to your predicament.

“Jack, it’s me,” you say, loud and clear, as the wolf watches you with interest. He stalks to the end of his lead with a snap, snarling and spitting as you circle him. “Breathe, Jack. You said you’d know my scent anywhere. Breathe. Know I’m here.”

The wolf seems to pay you some mind, following your path while huffing and watching you. After circling the room once you take a step closer. The wolf doesn’t move, only watches your slow approach.

“Jack, I don’t want to rush it, but it might have worked,” you say, still two good paces away but closer than you ever thought you would get. Relief bleeds into your bones. This could work.

Metal shrieks as the wolf yanks hard against his restraints, and with molasses-slow observation you witness the chain failing, zipping through the manacles and collar as the wolf pulls free. Your reflexes catch up, spinning you around and into a dead sprint, but you’re against a creature with supernatural abilities. He’s on you before you can get three paces.

The slam of your back against the floor knocks the wind out of you, tears springing to your eyes.

“Jack, please,” you gasp, eyes shut and body shaking underneath the weight of the wolf’s bulk. When jaws don’t snap around your skull you hazard a look.

His eyes are human, not yellow or red as rubies, raking over your face. The press of his claws against your chest keeps you beneath him, hips forcing your legs apart. You lie still, waiting for some sign that he knows who you are.

A hot breath, a dip of his head to stroke his nose across your cheek. You almost start crying again, this time in relief.

“Oh Jack, Jack you’re there,” you gasp, hands coming up to hold the wolf’s face so gently. He nuzzles into your touch, coarse hair slipping through your fingers. You bask in it for a moment longer, waiting for him to release you.

When you meet the wolf’s eyes again you see something you didn’t expect, that never crossed Jack’s mind to anticipate.

The wolf has your scent, laced through with arousal and carnality. Blood rushes to your face when his hips grind into yours, a hard length pressing against your apex. He’s larger than Jack, almost impossibly so, hefty and throbbing against you. The claw on your chest moves to cover your breast, squeezing gentler than you thought possible for something so menacing.

“Oh…oh shit,” you whisper, the wolf’s snarl almost becoming a smirk.

You were his mate after all. And you would be there all night.

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#writers' iron chef #lissie's iron chef #iron chef 11 #werewolf by night fanfiction #jack russell x reader #jack russell x f!reader #jack russell x you

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bucknastysbabe · 2 years

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Ser Criston Cole HC’s

So the uptight white knight himself. Criston Cole. I have thoughts. *rubs hands together* Let’s get into it.

Tags: SFW, Groomy behavior, Targaryen!reader, possessive behaviors, obsession, murder, attempted assault (not by Criston), religious fanaticism, MENTAL ILLNESS

Setting the scene- Aight let’s say the reader is a Targaryen. Alysanne and Jaehaerys last daughter, Gael almost had a child. In canon, she was seduced by a bard and impregnated. She committed suicide in 99AC. So in my version the child survived, Gael did not and the babe would be 2 years younger than Rhaenyra. Aemma and Viserys adopted her, kept it hush-hush.

She’s a sweet thing, overtly pious, definitely the crazy half of the Targ coin later on. The opposite of the willful and hot-headed Rhaenyra. Still Nyra drags her along into escapades. Even asks for her surrogate sister’s approval of picking Ser Criston as a Knight of the Kingsguard.

Rhaenyra and Criston still have their folly and she dumps him. Her sister watches from a distance, praying for the two to figure everything out. Alicent decides to swear Criston to the younger sister, thinking the other one’s piousness will make him feel better and secure. And at first he’s annoyed. He sees Rhaenyra in the other ones looks but nothing else— he’s trying to move on dammit!

Rhaenyra is hip to hip with Ser Harwin now, even if married. Criston is stewing in jealousy, even snapping at the poor younger sister. His chest twisted when she sniffled and asked to go to the sept. She stayed in her quarters for the rest of the day, then called Criston in before dinner.

She had made a fine needlepoint piece displaying the imagine of the warrior— but they bore the garb of his station. On that day Criston decided to leave his anger behind and treat his sworn princess how she should be treated. The girl is DELIGHTED. Even makes the Knight sit through her readings and ramblings about the Seven, he actually pays attention. The big man is often spotted next to the dainty Targaryen in the Godswood, being read to.

She turns 17 and Criston is having a Crisis. He knows they’re going to marry her off and scares off any lordling sniffing around the keep. The dreamy princess is hardly aware, just enjoys his company. She holds his hand once and asks him to pray with her. Criston Cole’s broken heart felt mended for a change. He would serve any man’s head on a platter for his princess.

Walking from the Great Sept, they get separated. The knight is frantic, shoving people aside and threatening lives. He chokes out a gold cloak until they spill of a raucous down a nearby alley. Criston sprints and finds his dear girl being stripped and groped by vagrants. His heart cracks and vision goes red at the sound of her tears and sobbing prayers.

The men are dead. Cut into pieces. One’s face is gone. The princess is alright though— just shaken and bruised. Criston holds her as she cries. He murmurs, “I can’t let you out of my sight, precious, I don’t know what I would do.” She pets his hair and whispers, “I won’t leave your sight anymore. The Father blessed you with me, my very own version of the Warrior.” She gave him a chaste peck on the cheek, if tears mixed they didn’t make a comment.

Criston stands watch inside her quarters now. He likes to see her face smoothed in sleep. He will soothe her when she has nightmares and sit next to his princess in a sturdy chair, holding her delicate hand as she prays. Sleepily she sighs, “I wish vows weren’t so serious.” Criston blinks— he can’t do this again. But he could.

His docile dragon knows of his past, prayed for him, didn’t even judge. Criston rasps, “I’d give anything to steal you away.” She replies, “Just keep the unholy lords away from me and I’ll have you forever. The maiden and the warrior come again, we can’t ruin that.” The knight nodded along, sucking in every word. He slept next to her in his small clothes that night, holding her body chastely. He would bury himself in her body and live there if he could.

Every man that makes intentions to marry the second daughter of Viserys either runs off screaming or ends up dead in peculiar ways. Criston’s princess gave him a kiss or something more each time he committed an act to protect their divine love.

Rhaenyra is getting suspicious. Harwin even reports that her surrogate sister sits and watches Criston when he trains the boys. They’re practically inseparable, and when they are it’s a pain in the ass. He’s violent and short-tempered, her quiet and melancholy.

Rhaenyra goes to Viserys and points this out. Alicent, eager to rid of another Black and get the white knight back on task proposes the idea of letting the Princess become a Septa. Viserys shrugs and thinks it would be good for her since she can’t seem to get betrothed. So in the dark of the night she’s taken to Oldtown, crying and scratching. Three kingsguard and two gold cloaks hold back Cole.

They both cry for eachother. Criston grows even more bitter at Rhaenyra for taking his maiden away. The pious princess walks into the sea, praying to be reunited with her Warrior. Criston’s soul turns to stone when the raven arrives. He swears to take down the dragon cunt himself. He’s too broken to realize Alicent was a part of it. The knight never is the same again.

#criston x reader #criston cole #hotd fanfic #Targaryen Princess!reader #toxic love #obsession #codependency #angst #sad ending

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yojeongin · 1 year

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DON’T BLAME THE LOVECATS — 32: ANTOLOGIA

→neighbor!jaemin x neighbor f!reader

genre: social media au, neighbors au, fluff, angst, enemies to friends to lovers, humor

wc: 2.4k

m.list | previous | next

an: I don't think you guys would like to know that this story is less than a week away from ending...

While the beginning of spring hadn’t flourished the love you and Jaemin had begun and rather a new one between you and Jungwoo (not actually); at least Jaemin wanted to express what he’s been holding back all this time.

He felt glad enough that the letters he had been slipping under your door and the brownies weren’t left there like a week ago (or that Ami had taken the liberty of taking whatever he left you). He was aware it wasn’t out of malice and rather your wishes but he won’t deny it hurt at the beginning.

Though heartbroken over what he sees online between you and the football player, Jaemin was glad that at least some progress was being made between you two. In the past he wouldn’t admit audibly that he loved your flan but throughout the drought, he was the first one to dig into the dish.

Cliche enough, compared to the rest he was the one to make the most pleased noises when the creamy texture of the curd and caramel fell upon his tongue. He missed it more than anyone could imagine. His selfish tendencies had tried to take over and hog the dessert but he couldn’t say no to his present friends. They all missed your labor of love, glad that you put away any resentment even if just for a tiny bit so they could eat their favorite food ever since meeting you.

Sadly enough, they all had gotten so carried away while eating that they forgot to save a slice for the two cooks who yearned for your recipe. It’s fine, you saw their crying and though you hadn’t seen Jaemin or Mark mention the flan, you knew what those two were talking about. For that reason you had gotten more ingredients while taking Sunwoo around the city on his free weekend. Now those two will get a flan of their own. At least so they know there’s no bad blood between you and his friends.

Almost like children of divorced parents or a girlfriend who’s partner’s kid got attached to.

Nevertheless, your demeanor with Jaemin and his cowardice had made Amilah have enough of whatever you two were playing. She understood he had hurt you with the way he acted but now Jungwoo was also in the mix and he didn’t deserve to ache.

In this instant, she took the opportunity that Gael took a nap to head up to your floor and talk with Jaemin like he had told Sunwoo. It worked since you yourself weren’t in your apartment, everyone was getting their dishes for the dinner get-together at Hyuck and Jeno’s apartment to receive Sunwoo who was back after leaving for his new FC.

Panting and huffing, Amilah went up those two flights of stairs. Sure, not a lot but she got the apartment on the first floor for a reason. Regardless, her knuckles fell upon the wooden door three times until Mark opened with a childish smile on his face.

“Here to pull Jaemin’s hair?” He giggles, opening the door fully for her. Ami rolled her eyes, shooting him a smile before walking towards Jaemin who had been doing the dishes after losing a game of paper-rock-scissors (Jaemin always picks rock).

“Hey…” Jaemin says, scared. “So… When are you two gonna talk?” Straight to the point, leaning against the wet counter, snickering when her forearm gained that moisture.

Jaemin sighs at her words, shutting off the sink water and turning to her with a side frown. “Believe me, that’s all I want but she won’t talk to me and… I don’t want to force her. What if she hates me more than she does already?”

Ami couldn’t deny that would be something she’d think too if it wasn’t for all your tweets in private that let her know semi-otherwise. “Well, we did make some progress, though. She dropped off some flan.” The image of you spending hours making the dessert and dropping it off in your favorite plate made a smile slip onto his face. His perfect pearly whites were not able to be hidden.

She found it sweet, the tenderness fighting with her anger towards him. “Aww. you missed it, huh?” She giggles pinching both his cheeks, causing him to smile wider even with the pain. At least he was able to let out a strangled: “Yeah.”

Letting go of his face, Amilah looks at the plate Jaemin had been washing. It was the one you dropped the flan in but it also turned out to be hers. “That’s my plate! That sneaky little weasel!” Ami gasps while pointing at the plate. No wonder she couldn’t find it for a good year, you had taken it!

“Well…” Jaemin nervously laughs, showing her an awkward smile. Mark on the other hand looked at the scene while laughing silently. Amilah clicks her tongue, giving up on the ordeal for now. “I’ll talk to her, okay? I need you guys to at least have closure. Seeing her crying about you not saying anything is a little… tiring.”

Jaemin furrows his eyebrows, turning to her fully. “Crying?” He was worried, he knew you were upset but the last thing he wanted to do was make you cry. “You know what I mean.” Amilah squeezes his shoulder. Yes, you cried but he didn’t need to know that.

“Are you sure?” “Yeah.”

He didn’t believe her. Intense stare through slotted eyes, the two were comically defensive now.

“Amilah… she’s been crying?” “Doesn’t matter, just give me my plate!”

She tries to deflect. “But that’s her favorite dish.” He pouts hoping it’ll hit her sympathy but she only knits her eyebrows letting him know it won’t work.

“It’s mine.” “Don’t you want me to win her back?” “Not with my plate!” “But, but—“

Jaemin holds the wet dish to his chest, starting to walk back to get away from her. Amilah places her hands on her hips like an angry mom whose kid won’t listen. “Jaemin…” But it doesn’t help because he walks to Mark hiding behind him and leaving the two to bicker.

While things were going comically in the Na-Lee household, you and Sunwoo were near the apartment complex from the supermarket. Throughout the entirety of his stay with you this weekend, the same melody and same song had been haunting him.

Not one minute when you turned your music on that, that nostalgic melody didn’t torment his ears. Yes, it was beautiful but hearing it night and day through your walls and in the car was driving him insane. In addition he knew why you kept listening to it and it had to do with the parent of your cat’s girlfriend.

“This makes you think about him, doesn’t it?” Sunwoo finally musters the will to ask. “You’ve been listening to it since I got here. Have you considered giving him a chance to talk?”

You hoped listening to every song you two liked would help you disassociate and forget about it. That maybe if you created a reality different from what was truly going on, you could distract yourself but that didn’t seem to be the case.

This song reminded you so much of Jaemin and you couldn’t help it. By now you were just being stubborn but he also wasn’t helping you understand what truly happened. All he would write in his letters was how sorry he was and that he would be there for you but never an explanation. You figured he wanted to do it in person but it’s been too long for that, why won’t he just cave?

“I made flan as a conversation starter but after knocking I chickened out and ran back inside. I don’t know, felt a little childish. I guess it’s not that deep anymore since Mark, Karina, and even Ami have told me everything they know but…” You scratch your temple, shrugging. “But it did hurt that he just pulled away out of the blue so it doesn’t hurt to make him ache a lil’ does it?”

Sunwoo smiled widely, shaking his head while you two laughed. Your stubbornness mixed with your will to play around a little was a bit comedic to him. “At least translate it to me. I know ‘amor’ that means love, right?” You nod, throwing him one last glance before parking in your parking space. One you and Jaemin often fought over for years but has left open for you since the beginning of the year.

“Because of you I learned how to love.” Warmth creeped onto your face, embarrassment and giddiness getting the best of you.

Sunwoo wanted to tease you for this vulnerable moment but he opted to just comfort you. “If it makes you feel better I think he’s been hurting a lot lately because of Jungwoo.” His arms were beginning to ache now, gravity making sure the bag straps do their worst on him on the way up the two flights of stairs.

“I figured.” You smile through your own pain from the bags. “Speaking of Snoopy, I hope he doesn’t feel like I’m leading him on…” Biting your lower lip in worry, Sunwoo turns to you with a slight pout. How he felt for both his friends.

“Believe, he’s aware you care for him as a friend.” It’s the best he could do. Now it was your turn to give him an apologetic smile. One that was easily swiped away when finally arriving to your floor. An obstacle of flowers laid across every square inch giving you two no passage towards your door.

Both of you stood in shock, the only question in your heads being: What the fuck? There were only two apartments on your floor. One wasn’t vacant and the other two were yours and Jaemin’s. If they were for him, they surely would’ve been cleared by now, right?

So that leaves it, they were obviously for you and the only two who’ve given you flowers have been Sunwoo and Jaemin. The former should be your target for now.

“Did you do this?!” Your voice pitched, struggling to lean down and move the first vase. One step closer to your door. “How? I’ve been with you all day.” He returns in that same confused voice, helping you clear the way to the vacant doors.

The latter was your only option now. You felt queasy and nervous, like you had to run to the restroom now if what your mind was telling you was true. “Do you think?…” You point to Jaemin’s door, biting your thumb nail and then flesh. Sunwoo did nothing more than shrug, pressing his lips together with a quizzical look.

Asking won’t hurt then…

Reaching the door of the Na-Lee’s household, the soft sound had stopped Amilah from ripping the dish out of Jaemin’s grasp, one that he held dear for life's sake.

Mark was closest to the door, taking the role to open it without even checking the peephole. “What’s up,” He cheerfully opens the door, forgetting to lean against the doorframe when seeing the scene before his eyes.

“Woah damn, that’s a lot of flowers.” He awkwardly laughs, door left ajar and now the two inside could see what he gawked at.

“Do you know if Jaemin did this?” There was hope in your voice. The way you tried fighting off your smile made Mark’s heart swell in despondency knowing what his answer would entail. You really liked Jaemin and seeing you hurt because of him was disappointing.

Mark tries to stall, sighing but with an apologetic smile that won’t leave his face. “I’m sorry… He’s been here all day.” He pouts, tucking his hands in his pockets. Surely enough your smile slowly faded, trying your best to avoid his gaze.

“Did anyone knock then?” But he shakes his head. You in contradiction nod, defeat taking over you now.

While you ran out of ideas, Sunwoo had thought of someone while you were talking with Mark. There was only one way to find out and that was by calling him.

So while you were distracted with your neighbor who tried making small talk to relieve some of that sadness, a loud groggy voice took all of your attention.

“It's a little early to call, isn't it? Missed me?” Jungwoo jokes with Sunwoo, the younger rolling his eyes but going back to business. “Here.” He ignores the older male, passing you the phone.

You again felt that queasy feeling but this time it wasn’t out of hope, it was freight. Freight over how this would take your friendship with Jungwoo.

Porting worry on your face didn’t impede him from smiling widely when seeing you. In fact he was glowing after doing so and that only made you feel guilty.

“Hey!” “Hey, Snoopy…”

The difference in your tones was so painful to note.

“By any chance did you do this?” Flipping the camera, Jungwoo chuckles seeing the sea of petals, all different colors and types. Fully unaware of what type of flowers you liked.

But Jaemin knew and the poor boy was listening in.

“Like them? Wanted it to be a surprise. I asked Eric to put in the order for me.”

A nervous laugh leaves your lips, your leg couldn’t help jitter at the situation. “Very pretty but you really Didn’t have to.” He could tell this was overwhelming for you but he hoped you still appreciated this action.

Mark felt the tension and by now all he could do was lift his hand as a sign of goodbye before shutting the door behind him and leaning against it to look at his roommate’s saddened look.

The three inside looked at each other with no words threatening to leave. They all knew this had made Jaemin’s heart even more sensitive and they didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. Not now at least that the younger of the three excused himself with the wet plate clutched tightly against his chest on his way to the bedroom.

And by now that you and Sunwoo had hung up on Jungwoo and carefully took in the flower arrangements inside your apartment, that same song you had been listening to all weekend was plaguing the walls of Jaemin’s room. Loud enough for you and Sunwoo to hear.

‘But you forgot one last instruction because I don’t know how to live without your love yet.’

There goes your progress.

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matchestopetrol · 13 days

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MDZS X HOTD drabble part 2

Part one

Baelon couldn’t help the groan he let out as he fell into the chair at his desk in his solar. The last small council meeting was headache inducing at best. The lords squabbling, his father unyielding as usual and his son.

Gods his son.

Daemon hand flown in from the Vale to protest his marriage and beg for an annulment.

Though beg was a generous description of what Daemon did.

He shouted and cursed and raged. Vowing that his bronze bitch was untouched and that he should not be chained to such a woman. Baelon buried his head in his hands, just thinking about Daemon gave him a headache. Reaching for the pitcher of wine on his desk he poured himself a glass. With his guards outside, he allowed himself to slump in his seat.

He couldn’t decide what was worse.

Daemon the resentful husband or Viserys.

Gods Viserys.

When they had wed him to little Aemma Arryn, Baelon had believed the marriage to be symbolic. There was no bedding ceremony and Baelon had regretfully thought that it would be obvious to Viserys that the marriage was to remain unconsummated until Aemma reached an appropriate age. But within the year Aemma had become pregnant.

Baelon still felt a deep sick guilt at that. He should have talked to Viserys, he should have made clear to his son not to touch the girl. Now years later Aemma's health was still fragile from so many lost babes. Although Baelon loved the giggling little Rhaenyra, he sometimes wished that she had come later.

Baleon stared at the ceiling, his eyes following the curving arch of the ceiling. It was beautifully frescoed with scenes of dancing dragons, they curled and twirled around each other, a veritable rainbow of creatures sprawling across his vision. Baelon couldn’t help but think that there were more dragons here than in his family.

Aemon, gods he missed his brother.

Baelon felt sure that if his brother was still here everything would be better. His brother would have been able to convince their mother that marrying Daemon to Rhea was folly, his mother would have been able to curb their fathers harsher tendencies and navigate the treacherous waters of court.

But he was gone and most of their sisters were gone. Maegelle and Gael lived, one under the thumb of the Faith, one under the thumb of their mother.

But Gael…

She had been different of late, Baelon peered morosely into his goblet of wine and took a great gulp. Gael had been quieter than usual, more reserved. She had looked…tired the last time Baelon had spoke to her.

There had been something in her eyes that Baelon had liked not, according to the gossip her favourite bard had moved on and she was sulking, but that seemed out of turn for her. Gael was a sweet uncomplicated girl, content to remain at their mothers side and sew. It would be unlike her to pout over something so trivial as a bard, or to pout at all really.

Baelon rose, his solar was positioned so that he could look out over the great expanse of Kings landing. In the mid-morning light the city almost looked pretty. Regretfully Baelon put down his goblet. His father’s habit of scheduling small council meetings in the early morning had led him to drink before midday.

Breathing deeply, Baelon attempted to center himself. He had felt out of sorts since dawn when a murky nightmare had disturbed his sleep. A dream of grasping boney hands and a distant voice begging.

Sighing Baelon turned to the letters on his desk.

Suddenly the doors of his solar burst open and Ser Clement Crabb rushed in.

“My prince you must come quick, It’s Princess Gael!”

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

King Jaehaerys Targaryen knew he was a hard man. A difficult man, but by the gods why did his grandchildren have to be so difficult?.

He was beginning to think that this perhaps some sort of divine punishment. He felt his age in his bones. Wars, uprisings and the loss of his children weighed on him. Looking around the empty small council chambers he couldn’t help but feel very tired and very old.

Exhaling he rose and left the chamber. The lord commander, now hand of the King was standing guard at the doors. Jaehaerys couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips.

“Ser Redwyne, you do remember that you are the Hand of King?”

Ser Redwyne grimaced, a faint flush on his cheeks “yes your Grace”

Jaehaerys allowed himself a moment of levity “unable to break the habit?”

Ser Redwyne flushed a deeper shade of pink “my apologies your Grace”

Jaehaerys nodded graciously “I undertand some habits are harder to break than others” he motion down the hall “walk with me Ser.”

The Red Keep was alive with movement as Jaehaerys and Ser Redwyne walked through the halls. Sevants moved swiftly, clean linens and platters of food in their hands. They dutifull stooped and bowed to the aged King. Jaehearys basked in the bustle of the busy silence. It was a balm after the chaos of the small council.

Swiftly his peace was broken.

“Your grace! Your grace!”

Ser Clement was moving swiftly towards the King. Ser Redwyne and the King paused. The young knight looked slightly bedraggled. He came to a stop in front of the King.

“Your Grace” he panted “your presence is requested in the Princess Gaels chambers”

An uncomfortable feeling, not unlike fear crawled up Jaehaerys spine.

“Why, pray tell am I requested?”

Ser Clement glanced around the hall nervously eyes jumping from servant to servant. He moved closer to the king and said in a low voice “Princess Gael has brought a drowned man to the Keep”.

When trio arrived at Princesses Gael’s chambers there was contained chaos. Outside the walls of her chambers it was calm, but as soon as the King stepped through the doorway he was swept up in a current of activity. Gael appeared to be arguing with Baelon, while Ser Shaw appeared to be scolding Ser Westerling and a maester scurried around the room. In the eye of the hurricane, laid out on the Princesses bed was a figure. The door shut behind Jaehaarys and the room went silent.

Baelon stepped forward “fathe-“

Jaehaerys held up a hand to silence him and moved closer to the bed to get a better look at the still figure. It appeared to be a young man, though an exceptionally comely one. He had fine features and high graceful cheekbones with yards of dark hair, perhaps the longest hair that Jaehaerys had ever seen, it must reach near to his knees. His clothing was unfamiliar to Jaehaerys. He appeared to be clothed in layers of red and black robes belted at the waist with and odd decoration hanging from his belt. Jaehaerys might have though he was dead he was so pale, except to the stuttering rise and fall of his chest.

As he turned away the master moved in to once more tend to the youth. Turning his gaze to his children he spoke “who is this?”.

Baelon drew in a breath to speak, but Gael was quicker “I don’t know father, but I found him in the bay and I couldn’t leave him!”

She seemed oddly nervous, In the the bay she said, what did she..

“Blackwater Bay?” Jaehaerys couldn’t help the sharpness the crept into his tone. Gael flinched, but nodded her head.

“And what were you doing at Blackwater bay”

Gael eyes darted around the room “I wanted to see the sunrise?” it sounded weak and Jaehaerys scowled.

Gael turned to her brother, but he too was scowling “I wanted to see the city” she burst out “mother never lets me out of the keep and I thought I could see the city when in was quiet and then be back before mother woke” tears pooled in her eyes “I just wanted to see the city” the words were watery and pitful.

Jaehaerys felt himself soften, but still. He looked to the shamefaced Ser Westerling “I take it your guards were unaware?” Gael shook her head, tear welling in eyes.

Jaehaeys opened his mouth, anger warring with worry. A sharp breath from the master caught his attention. The group turned toward the maester who had begun to remove the youths wet robes. Upon his chest was brand. Partially healed though It was still a stark purple colour, it appeared to be of a swirling sun. Brands were usually reserved for criminals, though it was not usually a form of punishment in Westeros and no house that Jaehaerys knew of had a sigil like that and the youth dressed too finely to be a one of the small folk.

A horrified gasp from Gael brought his attention back to her, she was staring at the brand in abject horror. Baelon looked to his father. “Perhaps its best that we discuss this in my solar and let the master work?”

“Yes perhaps that is best”

With a nod Baelon led his sister and the kingsguards out of the princesses chamber. Jaehaerys turned to the maester “you will come to my sons solar when your are finished tending to…our guest and tell us all that your have learned’

The master nooded his head “of course your grace”.

And with that King Jaehaerys followed his son and daughter out of the chambers and away from the mystery lying in his daughters bed.

#hotd #house of the dragon #jaehaerys targaryen #asoiaf #mdzs #mxtx mdzs #mdzs fic #mdzs fanfiction #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #the untamed #untamed fanfiction #untamed #untamed fic

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jayveesim · 26 days

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The sims are just smart enough to make me side eye and be like okay.. that was an intelligent move. I made it to where sims can only marry sims in their own town.

So these two..

Got married.

Why this was funny was because Gael lived in a small house with his three big breed dogs, Bo - Duchess - Dino.

He was just smart enough to move into Finn's BIG ass house that he and his father share. I'm like okay.. MOVES! I mean he did his big one.

Had to end this union though because although Finn is bi.. Gael is straight (in my mind) almost obnoxiously so.

#just funny things ive noticed

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howdy-cowpoke · 10 months

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TIMING: Early December LOCATION: Monty’s Farmhouse PARTIES: Monty & Gael SUMMARY: Considering what is going to be their last hangout for a while, Gael goes over to Monty’s where he can get everything off his chest and erase any secrets he might’ve been keeping from him, intentional or otherwise. CONTENT WARNINGS: none.

—

Even after all this time, all these months, and everything that had happened between the first interaction and now, Gael still felt bittersweet every time he pulled up in the dusty driveway of the dairy farm in his little ice-blue convertible. The road was dark, the air chilled and the sky overcast as it tended to be in the colder months as he removed himself from the car, his breath from a heightened body temperature puffing out as his brown eyes looking almost wistfully up at the building. It was so familiar, yet he always felt like he wasn’t quite as welcome as Monty had emphasized. That was far from his first trip out there - indeed, he tried to visit at least once a month just to catch up and hang out with the cowboy - but melancholy– no, it was sorrow.

Sorrow hung onto his thinned frame; he never quite recovered his physique from his stint out in the woods, not to mention he wasn’t really hiking, working out, going anywhere or doing anything. And after the most recent set of full moons, the final driving force that cemented the idea in his mind that he wasn’t welcome anywhere anymore, Gael looked up at the cozy house for what seemed like it would be the last time for a long time. The weight of leaving still felt somewhat unreal and more than once he reconsidered. He had friends there, even if he felt like he’d failed all of them. He had people that he liked and that liked him. He had semblances of a pack, with Alan and Alex more than willing to help. He knew he had a unique friendship in Felix and their similarities with shifting. There were the college-aged kids that he’d gotten to know, who made him laugh and all had aspirations, dreams, talents. And yet, here he was, reaching the front door as his breath danced in front of him, reaffirming to Monty, arguably his oldest and closest friend in Wicked’s Rest, that he was leaving because of his inability to tackle the problems that suddenly found themselves staring him in the face. Tentatively, with a shuddering exhale though one couldn’t have been sure if it was from the cold air or the emotions that tugged on his lungs, Gael rang the doorbell.

—

It seemed that no matter what Monty did or said to try and convince his friend that he was wanted and seen, the man was determined to pull back and figure things out his own way. It wasn’t wrong, and Monty couldn’t fault him for wanting to disengage, considering that was all he’d done for decades. Still, he was sad to know that his friend would be going away for a while, but tried not to let that show when they were together. No reason to make it any harder than it surely already was. Gael had to do what he had to do, and it would be wrong of Monty to not support his friend in his decisions to better himself.

So as he opened the front door, knowing who waited on the other side, he wore a warm smile. Mirabel, Señor, and their mother all lifted their heads from where they were napping, the two young cats jumping down from the couch to pad curiously over to the front door. Monty ushered Gael inside, glancing down at the felines as they recognized their real owner, meowing and rubbing up against his legs.

With the door safely shut, Monty permitted himself the melancholy that came with knowing this would likely be their final interaction for a while, and before Gael could become distracted by the cats (because who wouldn’t), he pulled his friend into a tight hug. It was an action that had once made him desperately uncomfortable, but over the months of knowing Gael, had instead become a source of genuine comfort. His friend felt smaller in his arms now than he ever had, and it only inspired the cowboy to worry about him more than he already was. In spite of this, he kept the smile on as he pulled back again, leaving one hand on the professor’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said to the other in Spanish, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Is, ah, there anything that I can get for you?”

—

He knew the cowboy was going to have that same gentle, warm smile on his face that he did every time Gael showed up so the werewolf reciprocated; it was tired and made the hollow quality of his cheeks more noticeable but it wasn’t by any means empty. On the contrary; regardless of how he felt, regardless of what was weighing on his mind or making him want to pull away because he had never grown accustomed to sharing the burdens he carried with others, Monty’s general presence always had such a welcoming warmth to him, which he supposed was ironic considering he was a zombie. And the thoughts that he was a zombie certainly crossed his mind when he was told - he pictured a slack-jawed, drooling, unthinking creature with milky white eyes and a shambling gait. Monty wasn’t any of those, though. At least, he did everything in his power to prevent that. His eyes were dark and sparkled. His heart was still but it was so much more full of life and love than seemed possible sometimes, whether literally or rhetorically. And as Monty opened the door, greeting the professor with that warm smile, immediately pulling him into a hug, for just a moment Gael completely forgot why he was there. The thoughts that he was going to leave fled from his mind, similarly to how they’d done when he told Alan. Every person he told, every person who told him that he didn’t have to, gave him pause. Time had come to a standstill with each of those moments, feeling like he was thrust into a game show where the camera had paused on him while he made a decision, only he never knew if it was the right one. That was how Gael felt now as he, in turn, wrapped his arms around Monty. He felt his cats mewling up at him for attention but there would be time to focus on them. At that moment, as the thoughts of leaving disappeared, he felt Monty. His room temperature skin. His non-beating heart. The complex musculature of a working man and how… full it was despite being a walking corpse. It was like a puzzle had been solved, just slightly too late. Gael welcomed the embrace though, only pulling away once Monty had - how far the cowboy had come since their first interaction. How similar they really were, how foolish the professor had been all those months. “Thank you for having me over; sorry it’s such short notice.” He replied in Spanish before he snapped his fingers, trying to keep an overall light tone to this initial interaction, at least, before having the inevitable breakdown as the gravity of what he was doing crashed down on his withered frame. “Y’know, I should’ve brought some alcohol. Like, super spicy stuff for you.” He laughed. “Water. Water would be good.” He offered instead, placing a hand atop Monty’s and supplying it with some of his excess body heat before looking down at the cats. “Hello my kittens! Give me just a moment to settle then you’ll get pets, too.”

—

“It's no problem, my friend,” Monty responded in turn, laughing at the suggestion that he should've brought booze. “Perhaps next time, ah?” If there was a next time. The somber thought nearly brought a frown to his face but he fought it off, instead giving Gael's shoulder a squeeze. “Come.” He led the way to the familiar kitchen, the remnants of whatever Daisy had been doing in there that morning strewn about. She was something of a whirlwind, sometimes, but Monty didn’t mind it. He actually preferred it because without her (and now Kaden), the house had never felt very lived in.

Moving a spool of twine from the kitchen table to a nearby basket, rewinding it as he went, Monty cleared away a couple more things before getting a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water for his guest. Passing it off, he nodded his head at the porch through the window. “Let’s sit outside, it’s nice right now.” It was a warm afternoon for the time of year, and as the cowboy led Gael out to the chairs that faced out toward the yard and distant barns and pastures, he grabbed a thick, short branch that was clearly being carved into something.

Taking a seat, the zombie removed the knife from its sheath on his belt and started to chip away at the piece of wood. He glanced up from it to look at Gael, giving him a soft smile.

“Do you know where you will be going?”

—

“Next time, for sure.” Though he couldn’t have been sure if there would be a next time. Gael cursed the rate at which information had been ignored and subsequently forced upon him; would it have been easier if he had come to terms with everything sooner? Should he have been more open and accepting of others, despite trying his best to be when he was told about them? So, with these thoughts in his head and no certainty on which ones to consider further - he could speculate all he wanted, but everything up until this point was in the past - Gael followed his oldest friend in town through the nostalgic house. He wished the positive memories of the quaint, warm farmhouse weren't spiked with the distressing ones; the first meeting, the mornings he showed up after. …Now. And even then, it was different than before. He caught Kaden’s scent on occasion, flitting in and out of the air like a wisp. Denver, Dallas, everyone else, they all carried unique traces about them. It was almost a shame that Gael was so slow to realize what he was, so insistent that he wasn’t a monstrous animal that murdered things without provocation. Through the kitchen they went, pausing as dark eyes found the sun that came through the window if only to have something to look at that wasn’t following Monty’s figure as he absently cleared some space. A glass of water, requested so he had something to hold, was given to Gael and as though he and the zombie had the same thought, the latter suggested they sit outside. That worked - the reluctant werewolf’s body temperature, always seeming to run just slightly higher than average on a relaxing day, felt like it was threatening to singe him as his emotions ran rampant through his mind. He sat in the seat parallel to Monty, his brow twitching as he could feel the mottled scar on his lower back being pressed against the wooden slats. The cowboy had taken to carving, and Gael kept his gaze looking out to the rest of the ranch, leaning forward and holding the glass in both hands as he placed his elbows on his knees. “Nope.” He replied first to Monty’s inquiry, trying his best to keep his tone from getting too… emotional, he supposed. “No idea. Thinking about visiting the family down in Arizona.” He paused. “Told my kid that I’d help her find some answers for what’s been going on in her life.” He ultimately decided to share this with Monty - the two didn’t have many secrets between them anymore, and the werewolf had reached a point where Ren wasn’t something he felt like he should’ve had to hide.

—

Nodding as Gael answered, Monty looked contemplative. “Arizona will be good… you should see family.” And it sounded like there was some family he was taking with him. That was good. Monty didn’t like the idea of Gael being alone, so he was glad that there was someone close to him that would be by his side.

He chipped a few more pieces away before speaking again, his tone and the way he held himself with a calm confidence conveying how genuinely pleased he was to hear about this development, and how he didn’t doubt for a moment that Gael would make an excellent father figure for anyone who needed it. “This kid, she is lucky to have you,” he responded thoughtfully. Obviously Gael would have been worried about putting her in danger, so he felt it was safe to assume she knew — about him, and also how to protect herself. There seemed no shortage of those types in this town, anyway. He wouldn’t prod for details though, instead leaving the door open for Gael to pass through if he so chose. It was enough that he told the cowboy about her, and about his plans to leave and figure himself out. Monty didn’t need or want much more than that. As long as Gael was happy, he was happy.

He leaned back in his chair, gaze on the horizon for a few beats. There was something he wanted to say, but he worried that it was too selfish. This journey didn’t involve him, and he shouldn’t play any part in how it was to unravel, but…

“I hope… that you discover what you need to… quickly,” he offered with a breathy chuckle, knowing how it sounded. “I will miss you, Gael. But I am proud of you.”

—

“I’m lucky to have her, if anything.” Gael laughed, the smile lingering on his face longer than the laugh did in the crisp air. He could function on his own, despite how often he didn’t want to. All the times he tried not to think of them as wasted because something fell through, all the ambitions that he had that he’d never see come to fruition. He could function on his own, he told himself until he thought about how close he was to dying out in the middle of the woods. He thought about the look on Alan’s face. He thought about the conversations he had with just about everyone who mattered that didn’t… pretend he didn’t exist. He supposed Regan wouldn’t be there when he got back. It didn’t matter. Right now mattered. And the werewolf leaned back from how he was sitting in the chair himself, keeping his dark gaze looking out as it had been, feeling rather like a cowboy himself at that moment as he heard the rhythmic shaving from Monty, holding his glass of water. He inhaled the scent of the farm, Monty’s smell mingling in with it. The whole place smelled of him, whether that was psychosomatic or not. “I hope so, too.” The same gentle smile easily found itself back on Gael’s face, though he resisted the urge to look over at the zombie. “I’ve gotten rather fond of everyone here. I just…” He faltered, his brow twitching as a pang of guilt involuntarily prodded at him despite how hard he tried not to let it. He had to remind himself that this wasn’t a choice that he made lightly. He had killed a woman. And instead of accepting it and working with Alan and Alex, he was… chasing an idea, a fantasy. Or was he just running for the first time in his life? “I’ll miss you, too.” Of course he would. He’d probably miss Monty the most; a quiet, unrequited crush that dissolved under the weight of eternally owing the cowboy for the support, the trust, the secrets that he knew the zombie held longer than Gael himself was willing to acknowledge them. “Wait ‘til I come back before you be proud of me.” He scoffed, a light, playful sound that accompanied his smile turning sheepish. “I just hope to find something. You get it. You know how it feels to suddenly… not be what you were before. What you were so used to being.” Gael blinked, lowering his gaze and pinching the bridge of his nose. “It feels… so strange. Like I don’t know who I am anymore.”

—

Monty could understand Gael’s hesitation, his uncertainty that this would accomplish anything. He could understand it better than most. “I know it is scary. I know it might not feel like the right thing to do, or it might feel like the only thing to do… there is no right answer, Gael. And so there are no wrong answers, either. You will find your way, of this I am certain. How that happens… it may take a few tries, yes? A few stumbles along the way. That is okay.” He set his project down in his lap to reach across the small space between them and put a hand on Gael’s arm, coaxing his hand away from his face. He offered his friend a sympathetic smile and nod, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

“You are still you,” he assured him. “This new part of you… it does not subtract. It just adds. You are still you, you are just now more complicated than before.” He thought of Alan—someone he’d not known before the realtor was a werewolf, but who he imagined was not all that different from what he was now.

“Your new family, she will help make this easier. Not because she knows anything you do not, but because she knows your deepest truths. This… this is what Alan and Daisy offered to me. This is what helped me become a person again. What helped me feel something like myself again.” Better than before, if he really thought about it. Someone with a desire to do good and be a positive impact on the world. The fact that it was driven by guilt for the wrongs in his past seemed irrelevant to this conversation, since he didn’t want to add to whatever guilt Gael was already carrying over the accident. “And no, I will not wait! I am proud of you for taking this step, my friend. I will always be proud of you, because you are always trying to act in ways that benefit others, that lift them up. That is something you should be proud of, too. This journey is just about how to keep doing that and figuring out how to manage the things you cannot control. You will find a way. I know you will.”

—

No right answers meant there were no wrong answers. Gael had mentioned that Monty knew how he felt, but sometimes, in that painfully human way, he had temporarily forgotten how well Monty knew how he felt. He’d only been dealing with it for a hundred more years. He felt the zombie’s cool hand on his arm and the gentle guide to lower his hand with the purpose of looking at Monty this time. The zombie’s warm expression, betraying the logic that he was undead, meeting the werewolf’s own that always seemed welling with tears, a brow that was consistently knitted in the middle with an unspoken concern. As Monty spoke, Gael was reminded of how the things he said could’ve been reflected back at the people he spoke about these matters to. It was so easy for him to discredit everything he’d done up until that point because he was convinced that whoever he was before that night in the woods had died. Yet, when he applied that to Monty, or Alan, or Daisy or Alex, the thought didn’t make sense to him. Of course they were still them, it seemed obtuse to think otherwise. But Alan had been a werewolf for over a decade. Zombies were essentially frozen in time when it came to age. ‘More complicated’ felt like an apt description, though he still felt the pull of thinking less of himself. The Wolf didn’t add anything of value to him. It decreased his self-worth. It felt like it should’ve been so easy to just remove. It was so easy to remember before he had to worry about it. The werewolf wiped his eyes with the heel of a hand and he managed another scoff with a laugh at his own emotional vulnerability. He supposed that didn’t change, at least. “You’re right. You’re right a lot.” He replied. “But hey! I finally got you to admit that you’re a person, which is much better than a decorative houseplant.” Gael added playfully, placing one of his hands over the zombie’s gently. “Her name’s Ren.” The shifter said after a moment of silence. “I don’t know if you met her. She’s small and has wild red hair. She, uh… saved me from this monster that was living in a really deep puddle.” It sounded utterly ridiculous now that he was saying it aloud. “And that’s not a metaphor. …Entirely. There really was this puddle that was like… abyssal. And it housed like a mutated alligator-looking thing.” He moved his arms in an attempt to mimic what the thing looked like and about what size it was, which he was sure wasn’t actually helping. Another pause. “...Isn’t that all any of us can do at the end of the day.” There was a soft sigh as Gael calmed back down. “Just figure out how to manage the things we can’t control. For some of us it’s a dependency. For others it’s a monster. Some of us are born with it. But isn’t it so human, trying to find out how to control it?” His other hand subconsciously found the necklace that Emilio had gifted him, gently pressing a thumb against one of the points of the nails that formed the cross. “Can you promise me just one thing?” He asked, turning his gaze to Monty once more.

—

Monty sucked in a short breath, taken aback by his friend’s astute observation—he had upgraded himself to personhood at some point over the last few months, hadn’t he? His lips parted to protest but then he thought better of it, instead just chuckling and shaking his head. “Ah. So I did,” he conceded, offering Gael a shrug. Sometimes he was so busy worrying about other people’s trials and tribulations that he forgot to recognize his own strides in improving himself and his life. He would be remiss if he didn’t at least let Gael know that he played a part in that. “You inspire me to be better. To… appreciate what I have. I am grateful for that.”

He hadn’t met Ren, but he hoped he might get the chance some day. If not, at least he knew she had Gael. “A puddle?” he parroted the other, looking as surprised as he felt. Still, he couldn’t discredit what his friend was saying, laughing when the werewolf spread his arms to try and suggest the size of the beast—after all, Kaden had gotten dosed with hallucinogenics by a frog, of all things. Frankly it sounded entirely plausible. “Gosh, I’m glad she was there, then! That does not sound like it was a fun time.”

He nodded along at Gael’s observation of humanity, finding it to be very true. His gaze fell to the necklace as his friend fiddled with it, then back up to his face when he felt the other’s gaze on him. “Of course, anything,” he responded without hesitation, straightening up in his chair as he waited to hear what Gael had to ask of him.

—

“Psht, we’re all grateful that you’re here; if you weren’t, I probably wouldn’t be, either.” It really was so much easier for Gael to focus on others, even if it wasn’t what the other person wanted. He wasn’t the only one who had grown over the past few months; Monty had maintained his kind, gentle demeanor while being able to find love, let himself accept physical affection, make decisions based on what he wanted to do, stand up to someone like Emilio. It warmed Gael’s heart to see anyone grow, no matter how minute it was. And he was thankful that Monty had so many people in this second life, that he had those chances to be who he wanted to be, to be a person who could love, do the things that made him happy. But then he thought about what he wanted to ask and the context that Monty was a zombie, and for a moment, he fell silent. His eyes didn’t swell with tears this time as he thought about how he wanted to word his request and he contemplated abandoning it altogether, but the contemplation was evident on his sunken face. “On the off-chance that, I dunno, something happens to me and I can’t come back, can you take the memories of me with you?” The words came out, possibly not making sense but Gael was sure to explain a little further just in case. “I know, it’s selfish, but… There’s something a little… tragically comforting in knowing that even when you die, someone will be there to carry your memory.” He explained, fiddling with the cross to give his hands something to do. He felt childish, as though he were actually asking for something as silly as a dollar for some frozen ice. “Like I said, it’s selfish. That’s not fair to you; you didn’t ask to be effectively immortal.” He exhaled. “And, I mean, I do plan on coming back! It’s just… I thought, when I was out in the woods for a couple of weeks, I thought…” The words were getting caught in his throat on occasion. “I thought, when I died, that…” He couldn’t finish the thought, as it turned out. The thought that that was it, that he was just another thing there and gone, to be lost to time. That no one would know he was gone, that no one would think he deserved to be mourned or searched for. He realized how foolish he sounded, maybe, or how selfish it was. In any case, the rest of the sentence died in his mouth and he gave Monty a look, sad but not teary-eyed. Regretful and almost as though he knew the answer but there was some selfish part of him that needed to hear it come from the zombie.

—

He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it. Monty frowned in a concerned sort of way, but just listened quietly while the other explained his thought process. He could understand it, the sentiment in Gael’s heart and why he felt the need to ask for such a thing, having had the same thought himself. Before he was doomed to walk this earth forever, of course. He set aside the knife and the thing he was carving, getting to his feet only to crouch again in front of the chair Gael sat in. He stole the glass of water from Gael and then took both of his friend’s hands in his own, looking up at him with a determined expression.

“The ones that matter stay with me. The man whose cruelty started me on the path of being a kinder and more compassionate person, even though the last time I saw him was in 1904, he remains a part of me. And you…” He huffed out a sigh, shifting his weight almost anxiously, giving Gael’s hands a squeeze. “I was going to carry you with me whether or not you asked me to. It is not selfish to want to know that you had an impact.” It was hitting him harder now—the knowledge that his friend was leaving for some indeterminate amount of time. It didn’t matter how much Gael insisted he would be coming back, because neither of them knew when, and there was still always that possibility that he wouldn’t. Monty would never voice this fear aloud, he wouldn’t want to give it any kind of credence, but it was there in the back of his mind. Crouched like a predator, making him fearful and upset.

“You have, Gael. More than you can know.” His calm, even tone had become somewhat constricted, like it was becoming more difficult to speak. And it was, because it broke his heart to think that there was any possibility that Gael felt like this might not have been true. “You mean so much to me, you…” Frustrated and feeling like the words weren’t doing a good enough job of saying what needed saying, Monty rose to his feet and pulled Gael up out of the chair, grasping him in an even fiercer hug than before, his composure shot to shit in one fell swoop. His eyes stung with tears as he stared at nothing in particular beyond Gael’s shoulder, and he just held on like the next time he let go, that would be it.

—

Just as it was easier for him to focus on others, it was also easier not to get emotional as his studious, contemplative expression was effortlessly shifted into one of… he wasn’t sure as Monty crouched in front of him with a steadfast expression. It didn’t feel right, it never felt right. Gael was the one to match others in height, change himself to match them; not the other way around. It never felt right. Just like it never felt like he was making the right decision whenever he left. There was always someone or something worth staying for and by making the choice to leave, he was leaving those people or things. Monty was in front of him, assuring him that he wouldn’t be forgotten, in that childish way he needed to be assured - the lack of permanence that when someone left the room, they left reality. Of course Monty would remember him, it was so dumb of Gael not to think that. Or was it haughty? Was it more selfish to ask someone to carry that weight or to assume it would be? He didn’t know as the cowboy’s words faltered, standing, pulling him to stand and taking him in another embrace. This one was tighter, yet less restricted. Exposed, shining through the facade of politeness, emotional restraint. Gael knew that Monty would be okay - he’d been okay for a century. The man was much hardier than the werewolf himself would’ve ever thought months ago, and that thought itself just went to show how Gael really hadn’t been there that long. Still though, despite the negative thoughts tugging on his mind, the shifter easily reciprocated the hug, closing his own eyes as he once more felt the nuances in Monty’s body and how alive he felt despite knowing better now. “I’ll miss you, brother.” The words were muffled into the cowboy’s shirt but he made sure they were audible nonetheless. He’d never had a brother before. He’d had friends that he felt filled the role, of course, but they either left him or he left them. Just as he was doing now, with Monty, with Alan. Gael loved quickly and easily, sometimes too easily, and that got him in trouble. But he never regretted it. He never regretted loving deeply, broadly, he never felt pulled thin by it as he thought about everyone in his life, everyone he took with him despite his own limited time on earth. Did he love Montaña? Yes. He did, even if he didn’t feel it appropriate to say so. Brothers, with aches and troubles and things inside them that turned them into monsters. Things that tested them, things that made them realize what was important. He was so glad that Monty had those people in his life. But letting go, even if for a little while, felt so insurmountably difficult sometimes.

—

“I’ll miss you too, mi hermano,” Monty reciprocated softly. He knew that what he was feeling was mostly pity for himself, for having to let the other go. Since opening himself up to a wider circle of friends, this was the first one he’d had to say goodbye to. He hadn't realized it would be so difficult, even with the promise of a reunion on the horizon. The friends and family he'd lost over a century ago had been so abrupt and confusing and traumatizing that he'd not really had the time or clarity to process it, but here? Now? He was all too aware of the ache this was causing and he wished, desperately, that he could provide whatever answers or solutions or experiences that Gael needed to feel comfortable staying. But he couldn't. He knew that. This was not his fight and he had to let his friend make this choice, even if he didn't like it. He supported Gael, but that didn't mean he had to be thrilled by it.

Dried leaves pinwheeled across the yard as the wind kicked up for a few seconds, rustling the branches of the nearby trees and coaxing Monty to lessen his iron grip on his friend. “You come back to me,” he began softly, still not fully pulling away, “and I promise I will always be here for you.” He was immortal, frozen in time. Gael was not. Gael would grow older, he would enter stages of his life that Monty would never be able to experience, and eventually, he would be taken from the zombie. They all would, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do whatever he could for as long as he could to make sure they were looked after. “When you and Alan and all of my friends are… are discovering the joys of bingo night, I will be here.” He couldn’t imagine moving on from them, that just wasn’t who he was. “So come back.” Now he straightened himself up, moving so he could see Gael’s face. “I really need to know how much taller than you I will be once you start shrinking.” A grin lit up his face in spite of the way he felt, or perhaps because of it.

—

The werewolf wasn’t aware that his own grip seemed to tighten slightly, that same childish feeling like it was the last time he was going to be able to do this even though that was defeatist. Then again, maybe part of him felt like maybe Monty would be able to feel it then. “I will.” Gael assured, finally opening his eyes that glistened in the soft morning sun. They were unfocused, but present as he returned from the moment, even managing a smile as they talked about the prospect of Gael growing old. It was humbling, in a way. Gael had never thought about death in such abstract concepts before; ghosts were in religious text but zombies sure weren’t. Before, it was considered a natural part of life - to live, grow old with the people you love, then move on to whatever came after but… would Monty have an after? Was this Monty’s after? It made the shifter realize just how limited his own time was - over forty years old, having been turned into a werewolf a little more than a year ago. Turning his life on his head, his one life, his one shot. It was difficult to think that that was all he got, and he was relegated to being forced to deal with this parasite inside of him. “Of course I’ll come back.” He reassured, leaning back so he could see Monty’s face in turn. “Even though I’ll probably still be around your height.” With that, Gael gave the cowboy a gentle, playful push. “And you’re older than me! You’ll always be older than me, don’t give me this shit about bingo!” He laughed, wiping his eyes though his face was still red from the emotions he was determined not to let overwhelm him. “As you sit in your chair and carve your wood looking out over the prairie.”

—

Monty withdrew as he was pushed, crossing an arm over his chest to grasp at his own shoulder and letting out a breathy laugh. “¡Oye! Who knows, maybe I will be discovering the joys of bingo with you!” he offered, still grinning. His arm moved to swipe at the tears with his sleeve and he found himself thankful for this intermission from the uncomfortable disquiet that was knowing this would be the last time he saw Gael for a while. And that being the case, he didn’t want it to be all doom and gloom.

He dropped his arm and reached his hand out to Gael instead, giving his friend a warm smile. “Come on. You’d better say hello to Manzanita while you are here, I think she misses you,” he encouraged. They could walk and talk—he had a feeling that movement would help alleviate some of the unavoidable anxiety, at least in his case.

—

“Good, maybe bingo would be less boring with you there to wake us up every once in a while.” Gael joked back, internally thankful that he wasn’t the only one who got teary-eyed during this exchange. Not that he was embarrassed, but there was something… he felt bad thinking it but there was something human about knowing that zombies could still cry, or at least show some semblance of crying. The scientist did always desperately grab at those connections, feeling like any that were severed as a failure on his part. He wouldn’t fail this time. He wasn’t running away. This was another challenge, something else for him to overcome. He had Ren by his side, he had Alan and Monty, Felix and Alex, Cass, Elias, all the people in that weird little town that he’d gotten to know. Gael wasn’t sure what he would find but he was determined to find it. He could feel his resolve, cliche as it sounded, hardening inside of him, reinforced by the conversations he had. Monty had been dealing with being a zombie for over a century, Ren was learning to be a human after spending her 20 years as a weapon. Alan had been a werewolf for ten years. Gael could learn. None of the people he cared about gave up, he wouldn’t either. The werewolf took Monty’s hand, nodding with a gentle smile of his own. It was melancholy, but in no way hollow or even tired, not this time. “I’d love to see ‘Nita; I’ve missed her, too.” He knew their conversations would ebb and flow, wax and wane as the emotions wove themselves around the words exchanged between the two but they could handle them. And Gael would remember them and his promise to come back.

#. thread ;#. with ; gael cordova #. i see you ;

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