#but for now!!! happy birthday dead horse the best track ever!!!!

[taintedtowers]

cheat on the devil

[dovedewdrop]

The One That Got Away

In another life

I would be your girl / 1.7k

A/N: Hi! Welcome to my first fic! I've been super anxious to put this out but also itching to write something so here we are🤗 I hope you enjoy🩷

Also thank you to one of my besties @gracieispunk for being so supportive always🥹 she truly has a heart of gold and deserves the world💛 Happy 5 months of friendship🫶��👹

Warnings: Post-Outbreak. Mean!Joel. Just pure angst tbh. sad vibes.

---

The last time he had kissed you was the morning of the outbreak, long and passionate, his arm slung around your lower back, your hand on his chest. He’d done it to shut you up really, both you and Sarah on his case about how he was working late, on his birthday of all days, but you both knew why he had to, it was the same reason you picked up extra shifts at work too, you had a wedding to plan and weddings weren’t cheap no matter how low-key they were.

Now you sat at your kitchen table in Jackson in the house you shared with Tommy and Maria, your fingertips ghosting across your bottom lip as you reminisced on that morning. Soon those sweet memories that seemed to be coated in an orange hue were contrasted with shades of blue, Joel had changed, he became a man you didn’t recognise, a man who was cold towards you.

You knew deep down that he didn’t blame you for what had happened, but he had to be mad at someone. At first he just withdrew into himself, but it didn’t take long for him to become outwardly mean, you felt pathetic as you followed behind him up dirt paths and across fields and embarrassed when one day he’d stopped in his tracks, drew in a long breath, and muttered, “wish you’d just leave already,” stalking off up the hill and leaving Tommy to comfort you.

So that’s what you did, you and Tommy, you left with no idea where you’d end up and it killed you to turn around at the edge of the woods and see Joel sitting there on his own, snapping sticks in his hand as if it was your heart he was holding.

You wiped your tears away with the back of your hand and downed the rest of your coffee before placing the mug in the sink, grabbing a checked fleece from the hook on your way out the door. The air outside was biting, bringing a rosiness to your cheeks which you didn’t really mind, you’d be out of the cold and in the Bison soon enough. You took note of the patrol coming back in through the gates and smiled at some of the other families as you weaved your way through the crowds of people who had stopped in the streets.

“Tommy!” You stopped dead in your tracks. Tommy was a popular man around here; someone was always looking for him but there was no mistaking whose voice that was. When you turned ever so slightly they were embracing in a hug, it made your heart burst to see them together like that, how they used to be, how Joel used to be. He seemed a lot brighter, full if a bit more life. You scanned the horses and noticed a young girl amongst the patrollers, someone you hadn’t seen before, you wondered if she was his, if he’d met someone new after you, fallen in love again and decided to have another kid, you wondered if he was healed, if she’d healed him. 

When you turned your attention back to them he was already looking at you and for the first time in your life you couldn’t read him, his emotions had always been so strong, when he loved it was with his whole heart and as you came to find out, when he hated, that was with his whole heart too.

You tore your gaze away from his and headed towards the pub, clutching at your chest, you were grateful that you didn’t have to open for another hour as you slumped against the wooden cupboard behind the bar, trying your best to regulate your breathing, eyes closed and head pounding. As you’d finally calmed down and peeled your eyes open you noticed a head full of curls peaking over the bar, Tommy.

“You know he was coming?” You asked, with a slight shake evident in your voice.

“Nah, guys picked him and the girl up whilst out on patrol.” He began rounding the bar to sit on the floor with you.

���Is that his daughter?”

“Don’t think so, haven’t had chance to speak to him properly yet, ‘ad to come check on you.” He nudged your shoulder with his and gave you a sincere smile, one which you returned, he’d always looked out for you and now that Joel was back that wasn’t going to change. “Take the rest of the afternoon off, I’ve got it covered here.” 

“Thanks Tommy,” you pull him into a hug before standing up and heading home. 

You take a hot shower and try to drown out the recurring memories of how Joel fell out of love with you, of how when he looked at you his eyes no longer held warmth, how when you’d touch him he’d flinch and looked away. When you sat at your dresser your eyes fixed on your engagement ring that sat in a wooden box that the carpenter in Jackson had been kind enough to make, it wasn’t incredibly fancy, you weren’t into big sparkly rocks, but the green amethyst stone was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, and it made your heart burst to know that he picked it. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been sat at the dresser but when you snap out of your trance you realise you don’t quite know what to do with the rest of your afternoon, perhaps you should’ve carried on with your shift, but you know there’s no arguing with Tommy. Eventually you decide on grabbing a book from the bookshelf and sitting outside on the porch with a cup of coffee. That’s when you see him again, or rather hear him. The door to the Bison swings and he storms out, jacket in hand, boots trudging through the sludgy remnants of snow until he stops in the middle of the street, he looks down and you watch, over the top of your book, as his body lets out a breath he seems to have been holding in for a long time. 

You try to hold your tongue but you’re not about to let him walk around in this town and ignore you. “Get into a fight with Tommy?” you question, placing your book down in your lap and pulling the blanket further up your legs. His head shoots up to look at you, his expression looks pained, like he knew this was coming but would prefer it to not be happening right now. 

“Somethin’ like that,” he grumbles as he slowly walks over to the house, treading lightly both figuratively and literally. 

“Ah, still the same Joel Miller, so elusive and cautious, so stony-faced,” he doesn’t answer you, just looks away to where the girl is talking to some other kids, “of course, he wasn’t always like that,” you mumble, more to yourself than him but he still catches it.

“Don’t” He snaps back.

“Don’t?” You scoff, “that’s rich, what? Can’t handle a bit of shit back?” Again, he doesn’t answer. “That your kid?” You ask, you make sure that you breathe when you ask but really, you’re suffocating inside, you want to fawn over him, you want to hug him and cradle his head in your hand, and you want him to rub soothing circles on your hips like he used to but you’re dealing with an entirely different man now.

“No.” There’s a pause, you notice his eyes flit down to your hands, presumably searching out your ring. “Just tryna get her somewhere.” You nod at his response before silence falls over you both, your eyes drifting over to the kid.

“What’s her name?”

“Ellie.” You nod your head once again. 

You can feel everything bubbling up inside you, emotions and words and if you’re not careful they’ll come bubbling out of you in a way that you can’t control. Every second spent in his presence goads you. “You… got a boyfriend?” he asks cautiously and you roll your eyes.

“Jheez Joel, no, how are ya?” He looks down at his fingers that are resting on the wooden railing, like a little boy that’s just been told off. You don’t even know how to respond, your brain trying to categorise your thoughts and feelings like your mind is a jumble sale. 

“What ya thinking about?” His voice is soft, his eyes feel as though they’re looking into your soul, like they used to do, he was looking at you like he did when you did something he adored, something that reminded him why he loved you so damn much.

When you let out a sigh instead of an answer, he tapped both hands on the railing and pushed himself off, a slight smile that quickly turned into a frown. “See ya around.”

He stopped walking as you began speaking and you were glad his back was to you because here comes the word vomit, 

“ Thinkin about how one day, probably sometime within the next five years, my kids are gonna come runnin up on this porch and my husband is gonna come home from his patrol shift, presumably with you, and he’s gonna tell me about his day and he’ll give that little of a shit that he won’t even notice that I’m not lookin directly at him, I’m lookin past him at you. About how, when I go to tuck my kids in at night I’ll get this stabbing in my chest and this gnawing feeling in my brain telling me that I’m a bad mother because sure, I’ll love them to absolute pieces but part of me can’t help but think I’d love them more if they were your kids. About how I’ll get into bed at night, with my husband who doesn’t so much as utter a “goodnight” to me, instead just rolls over and goes straight to sleep and I’ll cry and mull over what could have been and what I wanted more than anything in the world- until the exhaustion washes over me. Then I’ll wake up the next day and do it all over again. That’s what I’m thinking about Joel.”

He turns to face you at your admission and you can see the tears in his eyes, watching as he forces them out with a blink before wiping a stray one with the back of his flannel. “See ya around,” he repeats.

[barzzal]

between halls and thin walls → part two

summary: friends who fool around almost never work. almost.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: swearing, sex toys, masturbation, sexual/suggestive themes, and yenno, mathew :(

↳ genre: angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+ minors dni*

↳ length: series; part one, part two (5.9k), part three, part four, part five, part six

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: listened to a lot of beyoncé for this one !!

note: part two’s here!! and i know it’s late for an update but i just wanna thank everyone for commenting on the first part 🥺 really glad that you guys liked it. reading your tags are everything to me it means a lot! happy reading <3 (gif used: mine)

You come out of your bedroom dressed and ready for work. Your handbag was slung over the depth of your forearm as you headed for the kitchen and the other, scrolling past emails on your phone, admittedly bracing yourself for the mess you know will eventually greet you.

To your surprise, what you see instead were Mat Barzal’s guns rippling through the jet black sweater he had worn last night. A memory that sent your mind to less than eight hours ago, before eventually landing on what happened shortly when the two of you had woken up.

“Thank god you haven’t burnt the house down.” you kid, placing your handbag atop the island.

Mat spares you a quick glance, rolling his eyes whilst he lets you watch him whisk some eggs for breakfast.

“Like it?” he cocks, pertaining to how your eyes were pinned hard on his biceps that he was, for the most part, effortlessly sporting. It’s true, though. He didn’t need to flex because it was just there.

“Coffee or Juice?” he asks, as the kind friend and roommate that he is. 

Anthony, as surprising as it was, takes incredibly long showers. If people hadn’t known him well, they’d easily think he’s abusing himself there. But you’ve got to admit that not having him around felt nice for you didn’t have to feel so seen with Mathew.

‘Course, there’s nothing more, like a fix-in on the side, to your set up. You just appreciate the feeling of not having to lie to Beau about all the ugly concealed underneath all the innocent gazes you and Mathew exchange.

“Coffee.” you answer shortly, realizing that you forgot the material you need for today’s meeting.

“Where are you going?” Mat asks when he catches you receding out into the hallway. You didn’t bother looking back, “Forgot something!”

He gets back to whisking the eggs when a chime comes off his phone. He takes it from the counter, placed just before the plates he left to dry last night, absent-mindedly putting the bowl he was holding onto the island, toppling over the green juice he has prepared for himself. 

“Shit.” he curses as soon as he sees it for it was already spilling all over the place, making the mess you’ve been secretly anticipating the moment Mathew said he’d make breakfast.

Panicking at how you’d see he’s successfully screwed such a no-brainer task, Mat grabs the first thing he sees on the marbled surface and uses it to clean the mess he’d made.

“Huh.” he muses to himself, realizing that the silk fabric didn’t do much in helping him clean up. He tosses it over the sink carelessly and grabs a few napkin rolls from one of the cupboards. 

So much for making an effort to feed Anthony Beauvillier. 

“Now, that was fast.” you say with a smirk once you’ve entered the kitchen, startling Mathew as he continued cleaning up after his mess. 

“Ha-ha. Very funny.” he sarcastically laughs, discarding the paper towels onto the sink along with the used ones. 

Thankfully, your stuff was at the other side of the island so it was very much safe from all the chaos happening at the other end of the marbled surface. However, your laugh dies down the second you realize that your handkerchief was no longer where you’ve last put it.

“Hey,” you call on Mathew, “What’s up?”

“Have you seen my handkerchief? I know I left it somewhere.” you anxiously ask, eyeing every corner of the room hoping to see Nana’s handkerchief, the one she gave to you on your 18th birthday.

“What does it look like?” Mat asks, now holding a pan in his hand as he prepares breakfast.

You proceeded to describe your grandma’s handkerchief in the most specific and perhaps excruciating detail Mathew has ever heard someone talk about something as mind-numbing as a handkerchief.

Despite that, Mat lights up the moment it hits him, not realizing the bigger mess he’s about to walk into. He rejoices at how he knew exactly what you were looking for, “Oh! You mean this?” 

With clueless eyes, you watch Mat go over the sink after he wipes his hands dry, fishing out an all too familiar fabric from the sink. Once your eyes land onto the cream colored silk handkerchief, with details carefully sewn by hand, drenching in what seems to be Mat’s morning drink, your heart falls to the pit of your stomach. 

“What did you do??” The sudden rise in your voice startles an unsuspecting Mathew. You eagerly went over to his side and hastily snatched the smooth fabric off his hands, “It’s ruined!”

“What? I didn’t know it was yours!” Mat’s eyes are wild with confusion. Puzzled at how you were so fixated on the useless fabric. It didn’t help him anyway. There’s nothing much left to do but to throw it. It’s garbage. 

“You ruined it!” you lash out, letting Mat get eaten up by the sudden anger bubbling inside your guts but he was rather quick in defending himself, “I didn’t know it was yours since I grabbed the first thing I could find. Why are you getting upset over a shit-ass handkerchief?” 

Your mouth falls and you shake your head, finding his defensiveness quite appalling. “You’re an ass.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was yours.” he explains, “Come on, it’s just a stupid handkerchief I’ll just buy you a new one.” he tries to laugh the tension off, sporting his signature grin.

Mat take shots of the stunned expression on your face, “Stupid?” you repeat what he said, your eyes already starting to sting with tears. Clearly, you were far too overwhelmed to even acknowledge Mathew’s half-assed apology.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” your words bite and that’s when things took a turn for the worse. 

“I said I was fucking sorry! What the hell do you want from me? Shit a fucking hanky?” he rans a hand through his hair, “Do you realize how childish you’re being right now?”

Outraged, and perhaps disappointed by how he was too high up his horse, your voice takes up a higher tone, entering what seems to be an early screaming match between you and Mathew.

“Could you just–” you breathe, “for one second– stop being so goddamn stupid and get over yourself!?” were words that welcomed Anthony the moment he stepped into the kitchen, towel wrapped around his waist, a grin on his face visible as he poured himself a glass of water, inviting himself in the screaming match you and Mathew have exclusively put forth for him.

“Stupid is not when you’ve already apologized a hundred times! Stupid is being such a crybaby and a bitch about it!” Mathew retorts, gaining his better end of the argument.

“What a beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Anthony chimes in, a hand resting on his chin, adoring his two best friends upon getting used to the best worst duo he’s ever known in his life. 

“Shut up, Beau.” you say, throwing him a glare.

“Well, beautiful is definitely not in Y/N’s dictionary.” Mathew chides with a smirk, enough to earn himself a scoff from you. 

“You know what? I don’t have the time for this bullshit.” you cuss, finally retreating, your already heavy heart taking a better hold on your thoughts, blocking your ability to even come up with a clever remark to come back at Mathew.

You throw the delicate, yet already ruined piece of fabric towards his way as hard as you could before marching out of the kitchen and head off for work.

“Fucking unbelievable.” Mathew curses under his breath once he catches the silk linen, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to the morning task at hand. 

You were fucking unbelievable.

Once the boys were left alone, Tito raises a brow, briefly looking back after your footsteps, “What happened here, anyway?” he asks, having realized what must’ve caused such a heated argument so early in the morning. 

“I used this handkerchief to wipe the whole thing off and she just went ape shit! I mean–” Anthony cuts Mathew the moment he recognizes the thin cloth he was holding.

“Woah, woah. Wait a minute, you used this?” he muses, stressing on the possibility of what might have been Mathew’s biggest mistake of the day, his eyes darting between him and the fabric.

With furrowed brows, admittedly weirded by how Anthony reacted almost the same way you did a while ago. “It’s just a handkerchief, man. I can go buy her a bunch if that’s what she wants.” he says defensively.

Anthony shakes his head wildly, his irises now dilated as he examined the stain already sitting on the material. “No no. Oh god no.” He says, snatching Mathew’s phone from the counter to google quick remedies that might remove the said stain from the already ruined cloth. 

“What do you mean no? You guys spend way too much time together, you’re beginning to be as weird as her.” He scoffs, sipping on a glass of water. 

“No, you dumbass. This was her grandma’s!” Anthony says, eyes fixated on the delicate handkerchief. Remembering how you’d told him how long it has been in your family that having Nana give it to you after all the years you’ve spent admiring it from afar meant so much to you than anything anyone could have possibly given you.

“So?” Mat casually replies, closing his arms to his chest before adding, “Is she dead or something? Didn’t you guys visit her for the Holidays?” 

“What?? Why would you even say that?– You’re such a jerk.” Tito shakes his head, appalled by how Mathew easily shrugged the matter off when he knew full well how sentimental he himself could be.

“Well, how am I supposed to know?? If that thing’s so important I wouldn’t leave it on top of some random shit lying around!” He counters, defending himself for reaching for the nearest cloth he could find when he did whatever he does best when he’s in the kitchen.

Tito clicks his tongue and looks at Mathew exasperatedly, “Tell me, where did you find this exactly?”, to which Mathew only answered with a quiet voice, “It may or may not have been placed on top of her purse…” he avoids Tito’s gaze, finally catching on how he was the one in the wrong. 

“See? Jerk. Now, go figure out how you’ll take the stain off.” Anthony demands, his voice embraced by a definitive tone. One that made Mathew know he wouldn’t be able to persuade him into letting this go. 

Tito takes one good look at Mat’s catastrophic attempt to feed the house, striding his way out of the kitchen, “And make sure you apologize!” he adds, footsteps receding into the hallway, leaving Mathew scratching the back of his head out of guilt and frustration.

You have spent the following days either avoiding Mathew or ignoring his existence completely. Anthony talked to you the night that incident happened and assured you that he would do his best to have it fixed. You didn’t want to bother him nor take time off his already busy schedule, but you were just so bummed to even say a word.

That night, you spent the entire evening in your room, facetiming your mother, saying how much you’re missing home. You can’t bring yourself to tell her about the handkerchief. For some people, and that people being Mathew, it might’ve been just some silly thing but Tito knew how much that small piece of cloth meant to you. 

Mathew, on the one hand, was for sure guilty to his bones. He didn’t see you that night nor the nights that followed. He didn’t think much of it but when he found himself searching for that same handkerchief in the hopes of replacing it only to find out that it was nowhere to be found in the market, was when he did realize that ruining the one thing that held you closer to home was the last push your non-existent relationship with him had to have for you to finally lose any ounce of amour nor civility you once had for him. 

Anthony wasn’t a stranger for said changes either. He began waking up to a still apartment enveloped by a wall you profusely built between you and Mathew. You even unknowingly shut Tito out in the process as well. It was like you were grieving. Like, it was a whole different kind of heartbreak he knew he can’t get you out of that easily. 

You tried making it up for your best friend of course. Knowing that you haven’t been yourself since that day. You thought about the possibility of having taken the whole thing too seriously that you might’ve overreacted a bit. Nonetheless, no matter how much you try to push it in the back of your head, Mathew’s mere presence began irking you in ways it never did back when you used to enjoy the bickering you exchange with him, especially in bed.

“Thanks for dinner, belle.” Anthony politely says, earning a smile from you so effortlessly upon hearing the pet name he uses for you. Something Mat only shrugged off, trying to piece out the same gratitude, “Thanks, y/n.” he genuinely adds. But as expected, he had nothing.

You pick up all the empty plates, including Mathew’s, who was sitting in front of you while Anthony sat at the end of the table. Tito hurriedly wipes his mouth with a napkin and takes the plate from you, “Let me help you with that.” he says with the same kind eyes that has never failed to win you over. 

“Yeah. Okay, sure.” you shortly answer, leading the way towards the kitchen, leaving one Mathew Barzal feeling small and alone at the dining table. 

𖥸

If there was one thing you’d gladly acknowledge after all the years of watching people kiss Mathew’s ass was that he was is really good. He’s fast and he can do unimaginable damage on the ice. There’s no denying that he deserves to be the face of the New York Islanders. But we know you don’t care about any of that. The only thing you care about was how unbelievably good he is at everything he does that not even you or your pink rubber toy could suffice. 

He was just that damn good. 

As your eyes shut whilst you mount your pleasures on your own, biting your lips to choke in your own moans, Mathew handling you was what circled your mind since you started defiling yourself in the bathroom. You let your arousal be washed away by the warm water trickling down your skin, envisioning Mat’s rough hands grazing your body, touching your core like his hands were meant to do nothing else but that. 

It was wrong and pathetic, but you couldn’t think about anything else. You and Mathew have been avoiding each other for days. The dynamic went so much worse than when you weren’t sleeping together and you know that Tito was bound to notice it soon. Thankfully, the boys were on another roadie for a week so you had quite some time to think things through about your current sitch with Mathew. You didn’t like any of it because it felt like you gave a fuck (which obviously, you didn’t). You just feel obligated to sort things out with the biggest ass that ever lived because you didn’t want to involve Tito into the mess you’ve wrongfully made yourself. 

You hop off the shower feeling unsatisfied. You haven’t gotten laid since the last time you were with Mat. Which is sad, not just for you but also for her. You’d think considering the boys aren’t around you’d bring someone home, maybe even one or two. But just thinking about going on bars alone so you could find a potential bone-mate is already far too tedious and you weren’t in the right state to do so. You had so much going on at work, anyway. And you can always use a wand to scratch an itch. Neither would satisfy you more than how someone-who-will-not-be-named could, but you might as well be pathetic without having to hook up with some random dude whose name you’ll eventually forget in the morning. 

You opted to wear an old pull-over you borrowed (took) from Tito years and years ago and partnered it with some leggings so you’d be comfortable enough for the rest of the night. You have nothing else to do and you are already fed up with your workload that watching a crappy movie off of Netflix doesn’t sound like a bad idea. 

With a giant bowl of popcorn and two bottles of beer in your hands, you march your way into the living room, ready to spend the night binge watching romantic comedies, crying and laughing in between. Or maybe just fall asleep on the couch while your comfort TV series is on. 

The boys won three games out of the four that they had during the trip and you only saw the ones they won so you were thankful that you didn’t have to sit at home alone watching their faces fall after that OT lost against the Flyers. Anthony phoned you that night and you can just feel the relief in his voice that you didn’t have the time to see it. They weren’t playing like they should. Thankfully, they were able to bounce back. 

Your eyes were beginning to grow tired halfway into the movie when you hear the front door open, followed by luggages dragged into the house tirelessly. 

“Y/N?” Anthony calls out.

You hit the movie on pause and hurriedly make your way towards the hallway. “You’re home already?”

They were already taking their coats off when you met them halfway, Tito was putting his away while Mat had just taken off his toque and was running his hands through his hair, unconsciously meeting your eyes upon hearing your voice. 

You quickly break it off when you give Tito a quick embrace and plant a small kiss on his cheeks, “I texted you.” he says, eyebrows quirked, surprised that you didn’t know. 

In an effort to avert any more of his questions you immediately point towards the movie you had on, “Haven’t checked my messages, sorry.” 

“So, you guys ate dinner?” you ask, passing Mat a quick look. One that came as a surprise because he wasn’t even hoping to hear a word from you given the way you two left things a little too on the edge, screwing with the whole thing even more. 

Mat avoids your irises and faintly nods. 

“Big win tonight huh? Told you, you can do it.” you say with a beaming smile, nudging Tito with your hips as you get back to watching your film. “You gotta do what you gotta do, babe.” he winks, lugging his stuff around towards his bedroom. 

“Barz, don’t stay up, Trotz needs us first thing in the morning.” he looks back, reminding Mat who was already standing in front of his door, “Yeah. Sure.” he replies shortly with a tired voice. 

You and Anthony bid your own goodnights whilst Mat mutters a quiet “Night.” when you nodded his way, clearly not enjoying any of the first awkward encounters he’s yet to have with you. Seven days is quite a reasonable time for your anger to dissipate, a short yet seemingly long period of time that’s just enough to kill off whatever guilt Mat had initially felt before you parted ways.

𖥸

“Alright, I’m off.” Tito casually declares, putting on his watch. “There’s food in the fridge, and tell Mat to go easy on my beers.” he gives you a knowing look as he bends down to give you a kiss on the cheek. 

Tito had been seeing some mystery girl for quite some time now. He hasn’t told you anything spicy in particular but by the looks of it, you could already tell that she has him towed. 

“Good luck, loverboy.” you say, swatting his hand away and pushing him out to the door. The two of you cringe at what you said, sharing one last laugh before you watch him disappear out into the hallway.

The apartment was cramped the whole day because Anthony and Mat had the day off. Tito had plans for the night, obviously. As per you, you had plans lounging in the living room, switching through channels in the hopes of stumbling on a show that isn’t half as bad than the rest. 

Thankfully, a Sandra Bullock film was on HBO.

The Proposal, to be exact.

You decide to dive in the film with a cold bottle of beer on your hand. There was no way you’d be washing down the effects of a naked Ryan Reynolds with a glass of water. You haven’t gone mad. 

The film was already at the part where Sandra was proposing to Ryan when you hear Mathew’s door open. You haven’t talked since the night they came back home other than the small nods you exchange upon passing by each other. All of which are mind-numbing and impossible to swallow. The awkwardness has not dissipated completely unlike what you presumed. You were just grateful Tito was always around that you didn’t need to be alone together. 

Alarmed by another impending awkward encounter, you clear your throat and turn up the volume a little to remain focused on the film, investing your sole attention to it even if you have seen the movie countless times. 

Mathew, in his sweats and a gray shirt on, carefully makes his way out the hallway and into the common area after snatching a glass of water from the kitchen. You see him move further into the room but you make sure that he knows you weren’t paying attention. You take that he must’ve been thirsty and needed a drink but you don’t see him move further in the corner of your eye like he was making his way back in his room. It almost seemed like he was actually waiting for you to look his way.

Hesitantly, you follow your gut feel and see him standing a few feet away from you. “Yes?” you ask when you catch him staring. 

Mat blinks a few times, “Hi.” he takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the awkwardness circling the two of you.

When the only thing he gets from you is a tight lipped smile, he shakes his head and proceeds to walk where you were seated. 

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, his voice deep and clear enough to send your mind elsewhere. 

Regardless, you contain yourself and return a polite smile, “No. Not at all.”

“So, what are we watching?” he sits once you gestured onto the other end of the couch. 

“The Proposal.” you answer before throwing a question yourself, “Aren’t you supposed to be resting now?” you shake your head, absentmindedly chuckling. Not intending to make him feel that you’ve forgotten about what he’d done weeks ago. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” he props his back and lets himself sink in the cloud couch, his legs spread wide eating up most of the space left for the two of you to share. “Oh. I only like him when he’s Deadpool” he points out, cringing at how you were watching another one of your romantic comedy films.

You roll your eyes, admiring how he’s trying to break the tension between the two of you despite his unsolicited sentiments, “I like it when we were on not-speaking terms.” 

Mat mocks you for a while but decides to watch the movie so you let him be and get back to the film, letting a giggle slip every now and then. Something you thought Mat wouldn’t notice.

Watching the remainder of the film went with ease. ‘Course, Mat would steal a few glances here and there (ones he thought had gone unnoticed), but overall the quietude between the two of you was bearable. Almost like it was just two buddies hanging out. 

Although, not long after, your eyes were torn away from the huge flat screen when Mat spoke, “By the way,” he looks at you and calls your attention. 

Puzzled, you watch him take something from his pocket, “Here.” 

Once you see what he has in his hands your heart froze. Mat carefully hands you the cloth with an apologetic smile; his eyes soft with a hint of hope as he watches your reaction. 

“What– How?” you ask in bewilderment, failing to comprehend how he was able to fix the handkerchief. It looked the same as before. All of its details were in place, it was good as new. You were holding Nana’s handkerchief. 

Mathew didn’t bother to dance around and just offered you a quiet chuckle, evidently enjoying the wide smile painted on your lips. “Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.” he apologizes, shielding you from all the strings he had to pull just to get that cloth fixed up.

You hold the smooth and delicate piece in your hands as you look at Mat, letting your feelings get a better hold of you, “Thank you.” you say, unknowingly reaching out, your arms wrapped around his neck as you give him a quick peck on the cheek. 

Mathew’s hand instinctively finds your back to support you, startling himself in the process. Nonetheless, the thought was easily shrugged off by how close your faces were, your smiles fading once you meet each other’s gaze. You feel the same rush you felt the night you and Mat got involved for the first time. Your hand was placed rather endearingly on his cheek, your faces, just like all the other times, unreasonably close to each other. Mat then clears his throat and only looks you in the eye. 

Afraid that the innocent hug would lead to something more, perhaps another mistake to be jotted down on the board, you breathe a laugh and break away, “Uh, thanks again. It really means a lot.” 

Mat must’ve sensed that you were being cautious so he puts his guards up and returns a chuckle, “So… we good?” he asks, reaching out a hand your way. 

Your fingers slide into his, gliding its way perfectly, your hands fitted well with his despite the obvious difference in proportion. His grip tightens in the most comfortable way possible. 

A smile breaks off his lips once he hears you answer, “We’re good.”

“I should probably get some sleep.” Mat tells you the moment you pull your hand away.

“Are you gonna be okay here?” he adds.

You looked at him, not wanting him to be obligated to keep you company, “Oh, yeah. I’m a big girl.” you say, making Mathew grin, shaking his head.

“Alright. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

Not picking up on whatever sloppy insinuation Mat has thrown out carelessly into thin air, he hears a simple “Mkay.” 

Thus far, letting him know that his subtle invitation was far from being RSVP’d.

𖥸

“You’ll be in your room?” Mat scoffs, staring at the ceiling while he lays on his bed, “The fuck was that, Mat?” he scolds himself for always coming up with the worst things to say. 

Mathew would be lying if he’d say he hasn’t thought about you (or doing you) for the past week of not being around home. But he definitely wouldn’t deny that the roadie kind of made things easier for him because then he didn’t have to stomach seeing you walk around the flat looking like the hot piece of ass that you were in his eyes. 

Mat knows he needs to pull his shit together. He wasn’t some 13 year-old boy raging with hormones. He needs to control himself around you and he could only do that once he learns how to push this whole thing between the two of you behind him. 

What happened with you and Mathew shouldn’t have happened at all. It was just a moment of weakness, and he hated that he’d let his dick (and apparently, him being one) ruin the relationship he once had with you. 

Before that night, seeing you do yoga and work out on the terrace was just seeing you drenched in sweat, and in your work out clothes looking icky and constipated. Something he’ll later on tease you about and he’ll end up catching the water bottle you throw in his face. But now, after all that fucking, seeing you sweaty and all worked out in the same yoga pants is just like walking into a porn commercial. Like the ones they show before the actual porn. In fact, he doesn’t even have to watch any of it. Tents and Boners were pretty much sponsored by you from then on. It’s sick, and he knows it. 

However, the tension he feels with you is palpable that he’s even certain that you feel it too. But how can he be wrong? He sees how your eyes blink a few times when he’s fresh out the shower, he sees you follow his trance when you thought he wasn’t paying attention, and you never fail to slide him shadowed hints with every touch you “accidentally” pass at him. The kind that’s short enough to remain innocent but not so much as to keep him at bay. Mat hated everything about it. He hated that he wanted you– and he hated that he thinks he might be right about you wanting him too.

All that self-loathing aside, did he regret it? 

That was one of the things he feels bad about. Because as much as he wants to lie and push it aside, he didn’t regret any of it. He didn’t like you that way and just thought about you sexually but he just wishes that you could push past this and just be friends. He was still sexually attracted to you, yes. But he knows he’d eventually get over it and be back on his game. That is if he can ever find someone who’d be as good as how you were the last three times you’ve let him be with you because it would really help him a lot if he could stop picturing your mouth getting stretched by his cock every time he hops into the shower.

Mat was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a knock on his door. The shy banging sound made his heart beat rapidly in an instant, knowing full well that the two of you were alone in the house and that Tito was, in no way, going to be home for another hour or two.

A faint knock follows the first one before he gets to the door. 

“Hi.” you greet him, a moment unfolding like it was déjà-vu.

“Hi.” 

“Did I wake you?” you sheepishly ask, your hands balled into fists before eventually settling down to hug your own build, unsure of where to put your hands exactly.

Mat quickly shakes his head, “No. I couldn’t sleep myself.”

You offer him a smile, acknowledging how he’s been nothing but good to you ever since they got home. Of course you wanted to get your hands on him being that you were completely dry and horny ever since you’ve ignored him completely, but you haven’t gone mad and you weren’t a complete neanderthal. You can keep your hands to yourself and act like a decent human being. 

“I’m sorry for making things weird between us.” you say, your eyes heavy with guilt. “But I’m only apologizing for being so unreasonable for the last couple of weeks.” you reiterated.

To which he only answers with, “You shouldn’t be. You have every right to be unreasonable– and I know that I’ve been a giant prick that day. It’s what I deserve.” he bites his lower lip, scratching his brow as he continues, “That’s why if there’s someone who owes someone an apology, it should be me. What I did was pretty crappy, so… I’m sorry.”

Like all the other times, Mathew towers over you wearing the same confidence he does when you’re around. Your bodies were reasonably apart from each other but close enough to mean something else if someone had walked by. Mathew was still in his room while you were out in the hallway, separated by the thin line made by the door frame. 

You feel Mat’s steady breathing and everything went still. He looks down at you, pretty eyes drowning yours. His messed up bed hair ridiculously makes up for how dressed down he was. No, actually, he looks fine even when he is. And all of that sight instantly makes your throat dry as you feel something curl in your belly, enough to make your hands sweaty as the thought of tasting his lips again cruised your mind entirely.

Mathew was no stranger to the said feeling either. He watched you punish him more at how plump and inviting your lips were. Or how your hand brushed on your clothes as you remain uncomposed under his gaze. 

Mat was becoming accustomed to how the two of you meet. Same time, same place, only this time, a different hallway. He steps further and crosses the line that divides the two of you, making you take a deep breath as his scent floors every nerve in your body. Waking what has been awake ever since that moment you shared back in the living room even more. 

“Yeah, okay.” you gather yourself, “I– I should probably head back.” 

Just by how his shoulders dropped, you knew you had said the wrong thing. And you hated that you did. Mat clears his voice and swallows, breaking off his gaze, “You probably should.” 

“Good night, Mat.” you smile, trying to regain yourself. 

“Good night.” he replies as he watches you turn your back before finally closing the door behind him. 

Frustrated for he was already starting to feel things more than just being “sorry”, Mat leans against the door and runs a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath and tries to get you out of his head. 

He was about to walk away from the door and sleep off his frustration when he hears your faint footsteps on the other side of the door. He rests his head back on the wooden surface and sighs, “You’re still out there, aren’t you?”

There was a total silence for a moment, devoid of the knowledge of how you had your fist, ready to knock yet again, suspended in mid-air. 

Mathew hears you deny sheepishly, “No.” 

You hear him let out a small laugh, knowing that he was trying to contain himself. 

The door sprung open again, and for a second you thought how what you’re about to walk into will start another mess for you and Mathew. But how could you possibly think about it that way when you have nothing else but this man standing at the other end? 

A friend that took no seconds to waste as he finally lets his thirst and perhaps foolishness, get the better hold of him once he cages your heated face in his hands, crashing into your lips as fast as he’d taken you to his end of that thin gray line that has once irkingly parted him from you. A gray line you’re both willing to cross if that meant sharing another night in between halls and thin walls.

[lovesanmotion]

yandere!ateez reacts: s/o with agere

💌. This is: requested 

Heads Up: To those who don’t know what agere is (like me when this was requested) agere is short for age regression. Agere is completely different from DDLG, it is also 100% SFW and a coping mechanism. 

Seonghwa: 

He wouldn’t leave you alone, wherever you are, he would always be beside you. Seonghwa always has the need to see and touch you. If you weren’t in his sight or hold, his eyes would go wide and look for you everywhere. Like a mother who goes on full panic when her child gets distracted and follows something in a busy crowd. 

The first (and last) time Seonghwa lost you in a crowd was the time you asked him to go to an amusement park with you. The bright lights, tall ferris wheel and happy smiles of the children made you jealous and you asked Seonghwa to take you there. He wouldn’t let you at first, but since your birthday is nearing, he thought that maybe going to the amusement park for your birthday is the best gift he could give. 

And it is the best gift you’ve ever received. Seonghwa could never forget the bright smile on your face while you are eating a cotton candy, clinging onto his arm when going inside the haunted house and him winning the huge teddy bear for you. When you started to feel hungry, you pointed to him this food stall that caught your attention, walking towards the stall and asking what you wanted to eat. And while waiting, you mentally hummed to yourself while hugging the teddy bear, your eyes darting around the place until a bubble came into your view and popped before your eyes. 

Unknown to Seonghwa’s attention, you had titlted your head to the other side and followed where those bubbles were coming from and who was blowing them. But you failed to recognize that further you stray away from him until you no longer knew how to get back. Seonghwa, coming back to his senses, no longer felt your presence by his side. His eyes widened and left the stall, turning his head left and right while looking all over for you. Multiple scenarios ran through his mind and he prayed that you are still here, not leaving him for anyone perhaps. 

But once he stops dead on his tracks, his heart broke into a million pieces. A few feet away from him is you, crying while hugging the teddy bear tight. He would run over to you and immediately hug you tightly. Leaning away and wiping your tears as he asks you where you went and why you left his side. He wouldn’t be able to bring himself to scold you. Instead, he’ll hold your hand tightly while going home, making your favorite dish and cuddling in bed instead. 

Hongjoong: 

He loves to personalize your clothes for you. He’d buy an item off the rack, take it home to re design it and then hand it to you. However, he noticed that you weren’t wearing the clothes. When he asked you one night about it, you straight up told him that you prefer wearing thin clothing. He found it odd at first. But he would observe how you would rather wear a tank top, underwear and socks than an expensive pajama set. Cuddling a stuffed toy to sleep while sucking your thumb. It was an odd behavior but he found it cute and heart warming to watch you. Even when he pulls you in his embrace, he would feel his insides bursting at how you would snuggle up to him. He wouldn’t say but he always wished it was nighttime so he would be able to watch you sleep before placing kisses on top of your head. 

Yunho: 

When Yunho met you at first, you told him how you hated tying your hair. But if it was necessary, you would tie your hair. And you love it when people compliment your hair, but when it comes to dating Yunho, you couldn’t get enough of him showering you with praises. 

And he did find it out that one day you asked him to buy you those cute little hair tie in clear plastic packs sold in children’s department store. He didn’t know why but nevertheless while he was out he bought it for you. To add it up, you suddenly asked him to tie your hair. 

“But I thought you didn’t like tying your hair?” Yunho asked, curiously eyeing the hair ties inside the plastic. 

“I really don’t like it but please tie my hair for me. Any style would do.” You begged, kneeling down on his feet with your hands clasped together, a pout painting your lips. Yunho sighed and ordered you to sit down on the couch. He walked at the back and stood behind you, gently combing your hair before you taught him how to braid your hair. When he was done, you waddled over to the mirror, putting on the quirky little hair pins before going back to where Yunho was and straddling on his lap. 

Yeosang: 

You were quite the picky eater and it pissed Yeosang off whenever he would cook vegetables and you wouldn’t pay any attention to it. He tried alot of tactics like hiding it under the meat, but you would always find it and put it on the edge of your plate. At first, he would just let it slide, thinking there is alot of ways to make you eat vegetables. But eating solids is still different from drinking solids turned to liquids. 

“If you aren’t going to eat your vegetables then just fucking stay in the table until you eat them.” He abruptly stood up from his seat and left the kitchen, growing from watching you ignoring your plate filled with carrots and green peas. That night, Yeosang was able to do everything: having his night shower, brushing his teeth, doing his skincare. Four hours after he left you in the kitchen, he found you already dosed off on top of the dining table finally eating the carrots and green peas. He cleaned up your used utensils before gently scooping you up in his arms, heading towards the bathroom as he gently sat you down on top of the counter, brushing your teeth and washing your face before laying you down on the bed besides him. 

San: 

When you found out that there was a playground in the neighborhood, you had begged to San to take you there everyday. Even though it was just a few walks away from your house, San was scared that you could run away and leave him. But actually it was the opposite. He didn’t know what was up until he saw you all happy and giggling at the sight of a the swings, slide and rocking horses. 

He was blank and stared at you in confusion. What was about a playground that got you all so hyped up? He stood close where were you are and watched you in awe. Crouching down at the end of the slide. 

“Y/N~ come down the slide quick!” He calls, looking up at you with a big smile. He watched you sit down on the upper end and slide down to him before placing a peck on your lips. 

Mingi: 

He stared at the dress and tiara in your hands in horror. There is no way he is going to wear that and join a tea party with you and your eight plushies. But that was half an hour ago and now Mingi, wearing Sofia the First’s purple gown is playing tea party with you (wearing Cinderella’s blue gown) and with your eight plushies. Fake gossiping about what is happening in their respective kingdoms. 

This is a new feeling to Mingi and somehow he’s liking it. Well, too much. He would act soft with you, drinking and eating how women in the old days would and laughing with a hand hovering his mouth. 

Wooyoung: 

His eyes shot up instantly when he hears you crying beside him. Turning to the other side, he immediately engulfed you in his embrace, soothing your arm. 

“Bad dream?” He asks when your cries slowly died down. You nodded your head, he slowly laid down on his back and placing you to lay down on his chest. 

“It’s okay, darling. I won’t be going anywhere.” It got quiet for a moment before he softly sang to Spring Day while slowly running his fingers on your hair. When he felt a heavy weight down his chest, he didn’t need to peak as he knew that you had fallen back to sleep. Smiling to himself, he brought the blanket on top of them before going back to sleep as well. 

Jongho: 

He prepared all the snacks and drinks on the living room table, covering yourself with a pink blanket as Jongho puts on Bee Movie on his netflix. He sits down besides on the couch, getting his purple blanket and covering himself too as he watches the movie. Occassionally eating pop tarts and funfetti flavored cupcakes and sipping apple juice. When the movie ends, he crawls through the floor still covered in his blanket as he turns to play Despicable Me. 

[enbeemagical]

Happy Aro Pride Day!!

As part of the Aro Pride Collab with @siriuslyremus @mossypebbles @logandeservesbetter @marathegreat @emmytheace @fandom-trashowo, I also wrote a Dragon Prince fic! Part one is complete, part two will be out when I finish it, hopefully soon.

Summary: Aaravos is asexual, aromantic, and sex-repulsed. Inspired by the vast amount of fics where Aaravos makes things spicy very quickly, my being a sex-repulsed aroace, and a what if. Roughly 2.4k words.

PART ONE

Aaravos is eleven years old when the human and elven children his age announce their first crushes. He does not have a crush, so he says it must work differently for Startouches, since they have such long lifespans.

Aaravos is sixteen years old when his caretakers finally realize he is going through puberty and sit him down for The Talk. The physical changes part he's already figured out. He doesn't understand the other part at all. Why would someone want to put their body next to another's in such a way when simple cuddling is likely far more comfortable?

Aaravos does not like not knowing things. He takes a dozen or so books on biology to his room, and spends weeks studying them. He still does not understand. The books seem to say that is enjoyable, but the pictures look rather uncomfortable.

At nineteen, Aaravos finally claims a crush: a shy, curly-haired human boy his age who clearly admires Aaravos. Aaravos enjoys this admiration– and who is to say he does not have a crush? No one else can know what he feels, and for all he knows this is what a crush is supposed to feel like.

The two have been together almost two months when the other boy brings up… physical intimacy.

They do not make it to their two-month anniversary.

Aaravos faces more questions about his intimate life as he gets older, and more beautiful. "How is such a one as you still alone?" "Do you not desire companionship?" "Books cannot provide the same company as another person…." "Have you ever done it?"

For his twenty-sixth birthday, Aaravos gets a cat. He names her Diamond.

Dia never once tells Aaravos that he should get out more, that he will be lonely without a partner. She does not attempt to pull him from his books and his stars. She asks only that he keep her dish full and her box clean, and in return she sits on his lap or his feet as he reads, purring all the while.

He reaches forty, still alone save for Dia, having connected to both Sun and Moon as well as Stars.

"You will be alone forever!" one of his human friends tells him exasperatedly. She is also forty, with a wife and three children. 

"My lifespan is more than twenty times yours," Aaravos replies. "Should I ever desire a romantic or sexual partner, I have much time to find one." He has no intention of ever doing so.

"You'll like it," his friend promises. "Try it someday, Aaravos."

Aaravos rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "Perhaps I shall," he says, with no intent of doing so.

✨💚✨

Despite his best efforts, Dia is only a cat, and a cat's life is not so long as an elf's. His constant companion and forever supporter exits his life on the same day she came into it, and for the first time, Aaravos is alone on his birthday.

He hates being alone. And so, for the first time, he tries sex. Perhaps it truly does work as his friends believe it to. Perhaps it will make him feel better.

He feels even worse afterwards. Dirty, violated. He consented fully to the experience, sought it out even, and he cannot figure out why he still feels as though he did not.

Never again. 

He retreats even further into his studies for a time, refining his mastery of the Sun and Moon, and connecting to Earth, Sky, and Ocean.

Aaravos has been alone for decades. Sometimes he misses other people. Contact with another living being. Sometimes he is content alone, and sometimes he aches with the wish, the need to hear another voice, to touch another being. Elf, human, cat, horse, it does not matter…. Aaravos is lonely.

He returns to society. It is awkward at first, speaking to others after so long. All his old friends are dead, he learns, and though he is sad there is also a spark of something else.

He can reinvent himself. Be anyone he wants to be. He does not need to be the awkward Aaravos he was, the boy whose ears and cheeks turned crimson at the mention of crushes or sex, the young man who was constantly on edge from the feeling of eyes following him, the man who threw himself into his studies as a way to escape constant questions. He can be anyone.

It happens gradually, almost without thought. A woman compliments his beauty, and before he can reconsider he says, "Oh, I know,” adding after a moment’s thought, “I thank you for noticing."

She smiles and nods silently, cheeks flushing.

A one-off interaction, or so Aaravos thinks. But later, when he is at dinner at an enchanting little café in Lux Aurea, another person comes up to him. Putting their hand on his table, they say, "Are you single?"

Aaravos pauses, looking up and quirking one eyebrow. "Why?" He smirks, lowering his eyelids. "Are you interested?" Stars, why did he just say that? What if they think he wants– that?

The human's eyes widen slightly, and Aaravos sees the dark blush spreading over their neck. Did he cause that? The thought gives him a sensation of– of power, of control. He is not the one blushing crimson, not now.

"Maybe I am," the human says in an almost sing-song voice. "Depends on if you are, I suppose."

What is the human getting at? "And what precisely is it you are asking me for?" he returns, voice light. Is this flirting? he wonders. Am I flirting with them?

"May I take you out for lunch tomorrow?" the human says.

They are interested then. Aaravos does not have much money at the moment, which he hopes to remedy soon. In the meantime, he still has to eat, and, well, they offered.

At lunch the next day, Aaravos watches carefully for signs that the human– he has already forgotten their name, so he calls them “starling,” which they seem to like– wants something from him in return for the meal. But, they seem only to want to talk, and listen. He guards his words at first, but they are surprisingly easy to talk to, and he finds his tongue loosening more and more.

He is enjoying this.

He stays in Lux Aurea for a time, continuing to date the human whose name, he finally remembers, is Tess. They help him get a job where he can use his magic: architecture. The new city never seems to have enough architects or builders. Sometimes Tess will take Aaravos out, sometimes he will take them out. 

After a time, he moves into their house. Both of them enjoy this new arrangement, Aaravos especially because they have separate rooms.

Now they are living together, there is much more casual physical contact. Aaravos does not like this, but he does not mind it.

Their relationship lasts about a year of living together before Aaravos and Tess separately decide to tell each other, on the same night, that it is not working out. They laugh at their timing, and agree to remain friends.

✨💚✨

Aaravos begins traveling Xadia then, never staying in one place longer than a couple moon cycles. He finds he enjoys this, the freedom of not being pinned down. Wherever he goes, he will use his skills to barter for food and lodging, or use his magic to gain those directly. He acquires new skills occasionally, and practises these as he goes. “A jack of all trades, a master of none,” the saying goes, “is sometimes better than a master of one.” Aaravos, however, is no human. He has time to master many trades, and he does.

He speaks however he pleases, finding another kind of freedom in flirting with no sense of obligation. He will be moving on in a matter of days, after all; he will not know anyone long enough to care whether they take his flirtations too seriously. And if anyone moves on him, he will simply… move on.

When the constant moving around and learning of new names and customs becomes too much for him, Aaravos retreats back to the Star nexus, where he stays until the loneliness becomes too great to bear. Then he is off again, as charming, flirty, and witty as ever.

He’s stopped keeping track of the years. Sometimes, someone will ask when his birthday is. He has it written down somewhere, but as he never bothers to check, he’ll usually ask the date and say, in great surprise, “Why, it is today!”

Aaravos mostly sticks to smaller cities and villages, whether human or elf. He notices that even the bigger human settlements are dirtier and poorer than the elven ones, and in the cities with both humans and elves, high-ranking humans are rare.

“This is the way it’s always been,” he hears every time he asks.

But it is not the way it must be.

Aaravos knows he can be charming and persuasive. He is beautiful, which does not hurt, but his voice and his intellect are what really matter. His voice is deep and smooth; he knows that when he speaks people hear the truth whether he speaks it or no. His mind is better. He is clever with his words, somehow knowing what his listener wants to hear. How to turn them to his cause. His magic, too, is powerful, a weapon many would kill to have.

And he finally knows why he has been given these gifts.

He journeys to the mountain called the Storm Spire, and requests an audience with Queen Azare. At first, the Dragonguard denies him, but he insists the queen will want to see him, even demonstrating his mastery of all six Primal sources. A guard leaves to ask the queen, and Aaravos waits, cracking jokes and seeing how hard he needs to flirt to make the stoic guards blush (very hard, actually), until the elf returns with the news that Aaravos is to be allowed in under guard.

Apparently this means something different than it seems to, for two elves grab his arms before he can react, and place wide metal bracelets on his wrists. They do not restrict his movement, but they are uncomfortable.

“What are these for?” He raises his arms, smirking. “Not exactly my style. I prefer sterling silver, in case you wish to get me a better gift. Iron isn’t really the best metal to give someone you want to ask out.”

“None of us are asking you out,” one guard snaps, causing a younger guard to blush and mumble something under her breath. “Those are magic restricting cuffs. No one does magic in the queen’s presence without her explicit permission.”

“Hm.” Aaravos draws a quick rune, which fails to even appear in front of him. “It seems they are.” He gives a short laugh to cover his rising panic. Stars, he needs to work on his physical fighting skills more. “Shall we proceed?”

Aaravos learns several things that day. Namely, that the Dragon Queen cares little for the plight of more than half her subjects, and even less for the charms of a certain Startouch elf. Not even his offer of service sways her.

“‘Humans are humans,’” he grumbles to himself as he leaves. “‘Their lives are too short to be changed by any effort on my part, so why should I try?’ Damned stuck-up uncaring spiteful dragoness!”

After that, Aaravos keeps mostly to human villages, staying longer and doing more to help. He cannot do anything about the systems that keep humans below elves, however, not like this.

He retreats to his nexus again, to study not magic, but politics, wars, government.

When he emerges, he finds there is a new dragon queen, this one an Earth dragon. He meets with her, but she claims there must be a reason humans are not equal to elves. If they were truly equal to elves, she argues, they would not be considered lesser. Yet they are, so they must be.

Aaravos points out the flaws in her logic, very nicely, and attempts to leave, only to be flung in jail. He works on charming his way out, but they continually rotate his guard, and that makes it very difficult. Until there is a regular guard. He flirts with her as hard as he can, but she never reacts.

“How can you simply ignore me?” he cries one day in frustration. “Am I so long imprisoned that I have lost my ability to flirt? Or is your heart simply so hardened from being a guard to that cruel queen you do not care?”

She looks at him for the first time since she entered. “I am aroace,” she says simply. “Your charms cannot work on me, Archmage.”

This is a new word to Aaravos. “Ah-row-ace?” he asks questioningly. “I’ve not heard this word before.”

A trace of a smile crosses the guard’s lips. “It’s a relatively new word, coined in the past, oh, fifty or so years. You’ve been here nearly a century, so I’m not surprised. It means aromantic asexual.”

Those words… Aaravos remembers reading them somewhere, but he cannot remember what they meant. He asks the guard, and she is all too happy to explain.

Aaravos enjoys her explanation past only the sound of another voice and the definitions. He feels… seen. The words resonate within him strangely, and he is silent for the rest of this guard’s shift.

He sleeps through the next few shifts, waking when the aroace guard returns.

“I have been thinking about what you said,” he tells her.

“Oh?” She raises one eyebrow at him.

He smiles. “I think I am aroace as well.” The word feels strange in his mouth, but oddly right. Like his name, like the title Archmage, it seems to fit him, settling around him comfortingly. He is not broken. He never was. He is aroace.

How strange, that he should realize he is whole in a place meant to break him.

✨💚✨

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

All Is Found:Anastasia!AU

Part I – At the Beginning

Fandom: The Witcher Word Count: 1,893 Rating: G Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me​ @kemmastan​ @mycat-is-mylove​ @amirahiddleston​ a/n: A retelling of Don Bluth’s Anastasia (1997)

{prologue}

Your time at the Belhaven Foundlings Home ended as abruptly as it began ten years prior. You woke up to find the headmistress standing over you, hands on her hips, giving you that familiar, disapproving scowl she always had.

“Happy birthday. You have till noon to collect your things and get out.”

“I only need till 10,” you replied coolly, giving her that look you knew she hated. Whenever you conjured that imperious, disdainful expression she would tauntingly call you ‘Your Majesty’ and send you to do some odious chore. She had no power over you anymore, though. You were 18, a legal adult, and no longer hers to pretend to care about. Not that she’d put much effort into that anyway.

True to your word you readied yourself quickly. You’d been dropped off at the Home with only your clothes on your back and a necklace. The clothes you’d long ago outgrown and you’d given them to the House for other girls to wear and use, despite being advised to keep and sell them. The necklace was around your neck where it hadn’t left once in the last 10 years. You dressed yourself in the simple clothes you’d acquired since, relying on the charity of neighboring villages to provide for the little House. It was rumored that many of the children in it were bastards of the noble houses which sounded about right to you. You had no use for nobles. The little you’d seen of them had been during the annual holiday fundraiser where you were trotted out on display and they ooh’d and ahh’d and congratulated themselves on their generosity. As if a one-time donation meant anything over the span of a year with more children found abandoned or orphaned all the time.

“Are you really going to do it?” one of the girls asked as you said goodbye, “Are you going to find them?”

“I’m going to try,” you answered, brushing her hair out of her face tenderly.

“What if you don’t?” she asked. It would sound cynical to others but children of the Home knew better than to assume there was family waiting for them out there.

“Then I will make my own,” you answered.

“Are you really going to New Nilfgaard? I’ve heard there are monsters,” another child said, whispering the question and eyeing the closet suspiciously.

“Monsters aren’t real but tragically paperwork is so yes, I have to go there, try and get some notification papers drafted and then I can get a job and then I can save up money and go to Cidaris,” as you recited the plan your heart grew a little heavier. You were closer than you’d ever been but there was still so much time and money and work to do when all you wanted was to get a horse and ride until you were far away from Nilfgaard, New or Old. Still, you kept an optimistic face for the children. You knew you represented something that was rare around here; hope. If you could get out, maybe they could too.

“You have to stop by the palace! Oh Y/N, tell me you will!” a girl pleaded.

“Don’t be stupid, the palace burned down years ago.”

“No! Not all of it! There’s still some standing! A palace, can you believe it?”

“I will go to the palace,” you promised them, though you had no use for palaces or ruins or whatever was left now. You continued your goodbyes and by the time you left it was a bit past noon. You found it hard to leave the girls you’d become a bit of a surrogate mother to in your time there. You worried about them, too. You stood up for them, relentless in your protests against the callous way the headmistress treated them. These protests had caught you the long, lovely tresses you’d had when you arrived. They’d been cut in an attempt to humiliate you into submission but you just praised how light your head felt and vowed to never let it grow long again. You kept your word, your hair rested a couple of inches above your shoulder and you never let it get much longer. It was one of the many unnatural things about you, and therefore one of the many you exhibited with pride.

It was a bitterly cold winter’s day as you left, the snow crunching beneath your shoes which weren’t at all suited for walking through snow. There was still a determined courage in your heart as your fingers rubbed at the pendant, the familiar press of the letters against your skin a reminder of what you sought. Cidaris was far and you’d heard that New Nilfgaard was a brutal place full of conmen and tricksters. But you were a survivor, a girl found lying in the road by some docks with no memory beyond a name and no family though a necklace with clues of where some may be found. It was all you had but it was more than many you knew possessed so you faced the bitter cold and your soaking boots and you held your head up high as you began to trudge towards New Nilfgaard and your new life.

-----

New Nilfgaard was where hope went to die. Fortunately, it was where opportunism went to flourish, and none knew how to work an opportunity like Jaskier de Lettenhove. Separated from his family one fateful night a decade prior, Jaskier had woken to find himself in the company of a boy older than him (though, he reminded him often, not that much older). The boy, who begrudgingly introduced himself as Geralt, offered to aid Jaskier in tracking down any remaining family he may have but the boy took tragedy and turned it into a second chance.

“I’ve always been terrible at being noble anyway,” he’d argued, “Besides, no one is allowed in or out without identification.”

Geralt argued that the first point didn’t matter but the second had merit. Since Nilfgaard had “repossessed” the formerly independent duchy of Toussaint (a name no longer allowed to be spoken) they had become very concerned with identifying any who may spread word of what had occurred and bring attention from outside countries. Those who had fled the party that night found that trying to leave was akin to walking into a mousetrap and so many had chosen to either hide their identities and take that risk or start a new life in New Nilfgaard.

The first thing Jaskier stole was a lute. He insisted it was necessary as he could use the money he made performing to never steal again. This, as Geralt knew, was just the first of what would be a long and increasingly adept skill of thieving. They had a code, though, only stealing from the shops owned by Nilfgaard merchants who raised prices exorbitantly and tried to push out local merchants. And Jaskier did spend his earned (or pilfered) coin on those smaller places. Geralt offered his services doing bodyguard work around the country, a highly demanded occupation for those noblepeople who were hiding out and wanted to try and cross over to other places. He had invested in leather armor which Jaskier had decried as an extravagant expense until Geralt convinced him by increased earnings that the more intimidating he looked, the more business he got. It didn’t take very long for him to earn back what he’d spent. Jaskier didn’t have much room to criticize clothing expenses. He was forever coming back with a new doublet set and when Geralt glowered at him for it he just talked about The Local Economy and Helping Small Businesses. He didn’t mention the additional cost of importing the fine fabrics. Most of the time, like now, when they were just talking about plans, he tried to spare the nice clothes by opting for a simple undershirt. Geralt sometimes teased, reassuring him that they could afford to replace his buttons if they went and he could in fact use all of them but Jaskier merely scoffed and left his shirts half-unbuttoned, the soft thatch of dark hair across his chest always visible and whether or not Geralt liked to admit it, the scandalous sight made people a bit more generous with their well-earned coin after performances. All in all they made an odd-looking pair; the amber eyed, silver haired man in pitch black leather armor and the pale blue eyed, chestnut haired bard with his lute and jewel-toned doublets. Both wearing their own sort of camouflage, both trying to find ways to survive in this new world they’d been thrust into as children. Together they survived alright but Jaskier was determined that they find a way to earn enough money to secure their way out of New Nilfgaard forever. And he’d been working on a plan for 10 years, waiting for the moment to strike.

“Why now?” Geralt demanded, voice much lower and brisker than it had been when they’d met.

“Her grandmother grows desperate,” Jaskier answered, “This is our best chance.”

They spoke in hushed tones over cups of watered-down ale that made Geralt screw up his face in disgust and glare in the direction of the bartender with every sip. Jaskier was too focused on his plan to notice or care.

“Hmm… and you feel aright with this? Tricking an old woman into believing she’s found her probably dead granddaughter?” Geralt asked bluntly, giving Jaskier a look that wasn’t so much judgmental as assessing. He wasn’t against shady dealings but he did need to know that his partner wouldn’t back out if his sometimes romantic or sentimental nature got the best of him.

“Whatever it takes,” Jaskier said simply, reciting the motto the two of them had established when they decided to stick it out together. Geralt nodded.

“Whatever it takes.”

“And besides, you’re acting as if we have nothing to go in with! We have this,” Jaskier glanced around carefully and then produced the little music box he’d taken with him from the palace when Geralt rescued him, “We just need a woman.”

“Famous last words,” Geralt murmured into his glass, taking another sip and then wincing and glaring at the bartender again. “Where exactly will we get a woman who happens to look like this long lost princess? You expect her to just waltz into town? Perhaps we can summon her to the palace?”

He chuckled, amusing himself with his bizarre idea, and then looked over and found Jaskier’s sky blue eyes glinting dangerously. It was a look he got as he worked out an idea and Geralt already didn’t like it.

“Do you still know that mage?” Jaskier asked.

“She’s in Cidaris,” Geralt replied, “And no.”

“What about that other one?”

“No, Jaskier.”

“Very well. But the old palace is a good idea anyway. We should go there and see if we can find any more scraps of relics or information we can use to help build our case for when we find the right woman,” Jaskier said, already getting up from the table.

“Everything has already been ransacked and either sold or burnt. Jaskier, are you listening to me? Gods damnit…” Geralt slammed a coin on the table and hurried off after the bard who was already out the door and running headfirst into the unknown.  

[xxunicorncaitxx]

Chapter one- Childhood memories

This is going to be a fanfiction with many warnings which I will add at the beginning of each chapter. This will also be posted on my wattpad account!!

All the credits go to @sammie-cant-write

Ialsogottheirpermissionsoyoudonthavetoworryaboutthat-

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Warnings: Abuse and Language

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Race's pov-

Nov. 1, 1993-

My life all started on the first of November, the year of 1993. Everything seemed perfect and happy. I was a healthy kid, which was a good thing, of course, but that didn't seem to last long.

"Anthony"

My mother said, smiling down at her one and only child in her arms. She was so happy, but my father on the other hand? He wasn't happy at all.

Nov. 10, 1993-

My parents have been fighting for 8 days now. It somehow turned into a physical argument.. every... single.. time.

"That worthless piece of shit!"

"Useless!"

"Just as ugly as you are!"

"He'll do this world no good"

"He'll grow to be a useless nobody.."

And I guess he was right. Maybe I am a worthless and ugly nobody. Maybe I didn't do this world any good.

It wasn't too long after one of the worst fights where he decided to leave. And for good.

Dec. 24, 1996-

"Ma?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Is Pop coming home for Christmas dis year?"

Those words brought a strange look onto my mother's face. I was confused as to why she looked so upset. Did I do something wrong? All I wanted was answers.

"No, he's not.. maybe next year."

"But Ma-"

"Anthony, I don't want to talk about it. Go to bed."

I did what I was told. Laying down in bed, I covered myself with the blanket and just cried until I was finally able to fall asleep.

April 16, 1997-

My mother's wedding to my step-father. To this day, I still don't know where they met or why she chose him as a husband.

I stood there and watched them get married, smiling, thinking that everything was going to be fine after that. Of course, I was wrong. Wasn't I always wrong? 

Bruised and beaten and tired. Was it ever going to end? 

Every day was a fresh start of being tormented. New bruises and cuts all over my body. Guilt and regret filled me as I already wanted to end my suffering. I was only so young and I didn't know what I did to deserve this. 

Soon I start school. Great right? I will have to go in on my first day looking like a complete mess. That smile will always be fake no matter what, and I will feel so bad for those who are my friends.. if  I even make any that is. They'll have to put up with a friend who is fake and nobody likes fake people. That's what I was told anyway.

Jan. 3, 2000- 

I felt completely numb. Doctors and nurses rushed in and out of the room. They did everything they could to save her. No matter what they tried or how many times they did, nothing worked. Hours upon hours of sitting there with a blank expression on my face, a doctor said "I'm sorry" as they proceeded to take off their gloves. I stared at them for the longest time, not knowing what to say. Angry and upset, I ran home, tears streaming down my face. 

Dinner was different without Ma. It was complete silence half the time. I didn't want to eat but I did anyway so I didn't make my step-father upset.

"How was your mother?"  He asked, putting some of the food in his mouth

"Fine, I guess..."

"You lyin'?"

I set the fork down slowly and stared right into his dark brown eyes. That was a way of saying 'yes'

"Are you serious?  I thought I told you not to lie"

"Y-You did, sir..." (I called him 'sir' because why the fuck would I call him dad?)

"Then why are you?"

"I-I don't know.," I muttered.

"Tell me the truth boy. Go on"

"She... She's gone.."

"What do you mean by ‘She's gone’?!”

"SHE'S DEAD!" I raised my voice out of nowhere. Getting up, I try to walk away but I didn't get too far. He grabbed the back of my shirt and beat the shit outta me. As he did, the tears escaped from my eyes but I stayed silent, scared, and hopeless. 

Jan. 4, 2000-

After yesterday, I finally got the chance to call for help. I was done being hurt by this man both physically and mentally. Soon, I'll feel safe and will be taken to a better place.

Jan. 15, 2000-

Brooklyn, New York. That's where I ended up. I moved schools and I got to say... I love it here! I made a friend by the name of Spot Conlon. He was pretty chill and had such a good reputation, which I admired so much. Every day, we'd go out and get some ice cream, feed the ducks, sit at the docks, swim; and for once in my life, I felt happy.

Jan. 18, 2000-

Today was the day of my mother's funeral. I put on nice clothes and went back to Manhattan with some older kid. No idea who he was but he was pretty friendly.

Standing there listening to what everyone had to say struck me. She didn't deserve the pain and all I could think of was that it was my fault. Maybe if I were a better son, she would still be here. This was going to be the last time I was going to see her so I said goodbye and apologized before heading back across the bridge to Brooklyn.

They wouldn't let me see her get buried. However, they gave me the location of the burial site.

May 29, 2001-

It's been a year since my mother has passed and a few weeks since my step-father's death as well. My biological father was long gone so they just considered me as an orphan. Packing up my things, Spot stood at the doorway with a small smirk on his face.

"You sure you want to go back to 'hattan?”

"Of course.."

"Well, where are you going to go? You got nobody"

"I'll find a place to stay. I'll get myself a job and I'll be fine"

"Anthony, you make it sound so simple when really, it's not. You can't just go back, ask someone for a job, and expect yourself to get accepted right on the spot. It'll take some time-"

"Just stop.. Please..."

"I'm just saying. You can't just-"

"I SAID STOP! Just leave me alone, OKAY?"

Rage filled my body as Spot went silent. He glared then walked off. There was no way he'd be my friend now!

I grabbed my belongings and left that evening without saying goodbye to anyone. Not even Spot.

June 5, 2001-

I got a job and met the love of my life: Albert DaSilva. He was perfect! I know I was still pretty young to get these feelings but... I couldn't help but love him.

March 31, 2006-

I got a hold of cigars and started gambling. Probably another good choice I've made. The cigars calmed me down, and ever since I got one, I haven't snapped at anyone or got so anxious. I earned some cash while gambling too which was amazing.

 November 1, 2007-

After a few years of talking, Albert asked me to be his boyfriend; and on my birthday!! I accepted, of course, and realized that he was the only one who actually cared about me! Hopefully, it lasts.

The racetracks closed for the winter and I was quite bummed out, although I'll definitely go next year! 

November 8, 2007- 

I received the nickname "Racetrack" from the other boys who work with me. They said they'll call me "Race" instead because I loved watching the horse races. Ever since the track closed for the rest of the year, I wouldn't stop bothering them about it so here I am with "Racetrack" as a nickname

December 25th, 2007-

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

There was music, drinks, food, and presents everywhere. Us orphans stayed at a home in Manhattan and there weren't many of us so it was easier to get things done (if that makes sense.)

Albert got me a present that even I can't afford. A promise ring? I looked at him, letting a small smile take over. Not knowing what to say, I put it on and held his hand. This was one of the best days of my life! I couldn't be more grateful than this...

So I stared into his eyes and finally said

“I love you”

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 56)

Brandywine Drop

Arthur and reader have some much needed respite away from the crumbling gang. We also meet a familiar face! Warning for some animal death/hunting-ish.

Tagging @emily-strange ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

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We set up a campsite with Arthur's tent at Brandywine Drop, a short distance away from the huge waterfall and as far from the train tracks and trail as possible. We were set up under the cover of a patch of trees with a clearing big enough for us to set up a little fire. It was evening time once we were settled, with Rayna chewing on some wild carrots I'd pulled up for her, and Arthur heating up some cans by the fire for us. It was a little late to find something to hunt for meat so it'd be a light and bland supper, but it didn't matter. I played with Rayna's mane while she ate, listening to the peaceful sounds around me; it was a wonderful place. The constant shhh of the waterfall put me at ease, coupled with the familiar crackling licks of the fire and the sound of birds singing a final song before they found a place to roost for the night, it made the tension in my shoulders fall away as I stood there by my horse and my love. This is how life is meant to be, I thought.

I suddenly remembered the letter in my pocket from that morning, and looked over my shoulder at Arthur. He was prodding at the contents of a can with a fork, trying to stir the congealed substance to heat it evenly. I reached inside my pocket and retrieved the letter, looking down at it for a moment before walking over to him. I held it out to him silently, and he glanced at it before meeting my eyes.

"This came for you this morning," I told him. He took the letter from me and looked at the writing on the front. I could tell by the slight shift in his eyes that he knew who it was from. "It feels like there's something inside," I added. 

Arthur tore open the letter and knocked it against his palm. I was correct in my guess that it was a ring, it fell into his hand and he stared at it for a while before unfolding the letter. He tilted it towards the fire to get some better light to read it with and I wandered away, back to Rayna, to give him some privacy. He didn't need me standing over him as he processed whatever she'd written.

I scratched Rayna under her chin and kissed her nose, whispering to her soft words of affection. She'd been neglected a little bit by myself over the past week or so, and she needed some love. I didn't want her thinking that Kieran was her new papa or something, considering the time he put in making sure that she and the other animals were happy. 

Barely a minute passed and I heard the sound of folding paper. I looked over my shoulder and Arthur was staring at the ring again, a mild frown on his face. He must've been hurting but I didn't know how to comfort him. How does one comfort a lover who is hurting over a previous one? It was an odd situation. 

"I don't really know the right customs when it comes to these things… but I feel like it'd be in bad taste to–" he began, then stopped and met my eyes. "She's giving me this back because she thinks it'll help her forget about me, I think," he clarified, holding the ring up to me. 

My heart did something funny when I saw him like he was; happening to be on one knee as he crouched by the fire, now showing me a ring. The mental leap I made made me ache with some kind of longing. I pushed it away, for the time being.

"She put in her letter that maybe I should give it to someone else. Maybe even you," he continued. "I feel that's a little… odd. Considering I bought it for her all those years back. But I guess… do you want it?" He asked, a slight shrug coming with his words. I couldn't help but laugh. 

"No," I breathed, shaking my head but grinning. I walked back over to him, bending over and cupping his face, tilting it so I could kiss him. "I don't want Mary's old ring. But thank you."

"I thought as much," he murmured, tucking the ring away in his satchel, "I thought I'd ask in case you thought it was pretty, or something, but it wouldn't be special," he shrugged. 

"Special?" I repeated, a little unsure of what he meant.

"It was her… you know I asked her to marry me," he said very quietly, looking away from me. I nodded even though he wouldn't see it. He took a breath and met my eyes again, "I plan on buying you a ring of your own when that happens," he said, his tone light and casual, yet making my entire body burst with tingles and adrenaline. 

"When that happens?" I repeated, choking the words out. Arthur's face seemed to pale as he realised what he'd said. 

"If, when, I don't– you know what I– shit, I didn't mean anything by that. That was just a slip of the tongue. I just meant I… I wouldn't propose to someone with the same ring I did with someone else, it was just a general statement, I wasn't–" oh, he was panicking. I snickered and pressed my fingers to his mouth. 

"It's okay. I understand," I nodded. 

"I guess I… I love you and I can't imagine not loving you, that just slipped out like it was a normal thing to say," he justified, his eyes comically wide. I shook my head in amusement and carefully lowered myself down to sit next to him on the ground. I wondered how I'd get up again but that was a problem for later.

"It's alright. I'm not gonna take that too seriously," I sighed, leaning into his side. "This is an odd situation and you were just trying to say the right thing."

"Perhaps I'll… I'll sell it," he shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe you could give it to John?" I suggested. "Perhaps one day he and Abigail could have a use for it, you know?"

"You think?"

"Abigail loves him. They're working things out, it seems. Aren't they?"

"Yeah, they are," he nodded, sitting down properly on his backside and wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "Maybe you're right. If he's got any sense he'll marry that woman. He ain't ever gonna find someone else who'll put up with him," he snorted.

"I think that would be sweet, if you gave it to him. That way, someone gets to use the ring and it ain't odd… plus I get my own ring, when the time comes," I smirked mischievously. "I like sapphires, by the way."

"Sapphires," he chuckled breathily, "noted. You know, that bracelet Penelope gave to me was sapphires."

"It was?"

"I still got it, you want it?" He asked. I chuckled and shook my head.

"The money's more important," I said.

"Well, she said it would be worth some," he nodded.

"My mama had a beautiful necklace with a sapphire in it, had to sell it, though. I always begged her to wear it," I told him, fondly recalling it. "Was only allowed to once, I remember," I lifted one finger. 

"When was that?"

"My tenth birthday, we went to the park in Saint Denis, I was dressed up in my best frock. Mama said now that I was in double figures she needed to see if I was grown up enough to wear such a special necklace. I was so scared of losing it all day that I never asked to wear it again," I laughed, and Arthur chuckled too. "Couple years later we sold it, keeping a roof over our heads was more important, you know?" I added, and Arthur nodded. 

"I suppose, lookin' for silver linings and all, at least we ain't gotta worry about losing no roof, living how we do," he sighed. 

I nodded slowly. "And I think I prefer having no fixed abode. Don't know for sure why, but I like this," I gestured around us. "Always have. Much more now I ain't alone." 

Arthur scrubbed his hand up and down my arm and then shifted forwards to retrieve the cans from the fire. He used a pair of sticks as pincers to lift them out carefully, placing them on the ground in front of us. He sighed down at our dinner.

"How we splitting this, you want beans or peas, or shall we have half and half each?" He asked.

"Half and half?" I shrugged. 

"Alright, here you go," he handed me a spoon from his satchel and I started on my half of the peas while he went at the beans. It was certainly no banquet but it was something warm to fill our bellies. 

"So, Colm's dead, I tried to throttle Micah… what a day this has been. Sadie told me that you and Dutch had a disagreement at the saloon earlier," I delicately broached the subject. 

"That why you went and spoke to him?" He asked. Aw, shit.

"Yeah, I guess," I shrugged. I sensed him looking at me. "I just didn't want him treating you like crap because of me, so I went and told him that it's just me who wants us to leave."

"That ain't true," he protested.

"Yeah, I know. But it's simpler if Dutch thinks that."

"He ain't gonna be good to you, he thinks you're against him like that," he warned, and I shrugged carelessly. And I really didn't care. Dutch could fuck himself, to be frank.

"Whatever, just let me take the load off of you. You don't need him doubting you, you've got enough to worry about," I muttered, shaking my head and shovelling some more peas into my mouth. "I'm more interested in how you're feeling. He must've upset you."

"Just felt like he was throwing the past twenty years back in my face. I figure I've spent so long earning his trust and proving myself to him, and all it takes is me wanting the best for the woman I love for him to tell me that I ain't loyal. Maybe I ain't loyal to him no more, I don't know," he shrugged his shoulders, "if I'm not, that's only because he's been acting crazy."

"If he wants everyone to blindly trust him, no matter what, he's gotta do better," I shrugged. "I don't trust him to have everyone's best interests at heart. If it was me running this gang, I'd've given John a bunch of money and told him to get lost with Abigail and Jack by now. The poor kid got kidnapped and he's been shot at in his own home at least twice," I used the term 'home' very lightly, but it was true nonetheless.

"We could probably afford to do it, too. John's brought in plenty of work, ain't like he hasn't earned his cut," Arthur mused under his breath, a bean falling off of his fork down his shirt when he paused before putting it in his mouth. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over the mark it left.

I looked down into my can. "I do understand why you can't leave, when I think about these things," I told him quietly. "I don't think I could live with myself either, if we ran off and left everyone else in this mess."

Arthur met eyes when I looked up at him. He didn't say anything but I saw him relax a bit, read relief in his eyes. I could tell it put him at ease to learn that I was on a similar page to him. We ate for a while longer and then swapped cans, and finished off the last of the peas and beans between us.

"How's your leg?" He asked, leaning back on one elbow, head tilting towards the sky where the stars were out.

"Getting there. You saw me walking without my cane today. That weren't on purpose, I forgot it, but maybe I don't need it no more," I replied, leaning back on my hands and looking down at my outstretched legs before joining him in looking at the sky.

"Just be careful, princess," he whispered. There was a stretch of silence before he spoke again, "I'm still hungry after that. Maybe I'll go out in the morning and get us some proper food," he said, and I chuckled.

"You ain't got no more food?" 

"I got some biscuits, not many though. Prob'ly not enough for two," he told me. I reached over and patted his belly.

"I won't ask for none," I assured him with a grin.

"You sure? I'd feel bad eating them in front of you," he said.

"I had some chocolate earlier, and I never shared it with you. Go for it."

"Where'd you get chocolate?" He asked, sitting up and retrieving the snack from his satchel.

"Pearson gave it to me, bless him."

"Pearson never gives me chocolate," he muttered to himself and I snorted, shaking my head.

It was quiet save for the crunching of Arthur's biscuits, and I leaned back, lying on the ground so I could watch the stars again. I felt sleepy and at peace. It was so good to be alone with Arthur, just quietly enjoying his company, completely alone for the first time in weeks. I wore an easy smile and released a content sigh, prompting Arthur to look at me.

"That's more like it. It's real good seeing you smile," he commented, brushing the biscuit crumbs from his short beard.

"It's just nice here. So peaceful," I noted, and he looked around and nodded. 

"I keep thinking I can hear Karen yelling, drunk, or Micah winding somebody up. Mind's playing tricks on me, it's just the waterfall," he said, shaking his head. 

"You sure? They ain't found us, have they?" I joked, making a show of looking around. Arthur laughed and laid down next to me, rolling over to half lean over me. He held himself up with his hand beside me, leaning down to kiss my forehead, then the tip of my nose.

"You look so pretty when you're happy. Not that you ain't pretty all the time, but when you're like this… makes me wanna wrap you up in my arms and keep you there," he said in a low, rumbling tone. I cupped his face and connected our mouths for a slow, open-mouthed kiss. 

It went on for some time, we lost ourselves in it indulgently, always letting the background of our surroundings slip away when we kissed like that. I could do it for hours. It might've been one of my favourite things to do with him. Arthur shifted so his elbow held him up and his free hand could go to my waist, his thumb rubbing the spot back and forth, his fingers squeezing in my shirt. I was hazy with adoration in moments, bringing one hand to his torso where I wrapped it around his suspender. 

When we broke away for air, Arthur's voice was gravelly and deep, almost a mere vibration in my ears.

"This is making me want you too much. Since the other day my thoughts ain't been anything close to pure–" he began, hearing himself and chuckling. "Sorry. I can't stop thinking about it. I wanna take you, out here, so I can watch your face while I make you feel good."

"I'm still– my monthly ain't finished," I whispered, though I was immediately turned on.

"I ain't squeamish," he said without missing a beat and I gasped and barked out a shocked laugh, smacking him lightly on the arm. He parted from me a bit so he could see my face properly.

"Arthur! That's so…" I laughed, shaking my head, not knowing what to say. "Dirty! In more than one sense."

"I'm sorry, I'm getting carried away again. You do that to me," he said, his cheeks reddening.

"It's okay. I just think– what a mess," I snickered, feeling my own face heat up with embarrassment. Arthur breathed a laugh too and laid down on his back next to me.

"You're probably right," he sighed. "It was worth a shot."

"Dirty boy," I muttered in faux-reprimand. 

"Only since I met you," he retorted accusingly.

"I was a virgin when I met you, remember that?"

"What're you insinuating, that I'm the one who's turnin' you dirty?" He smirked at me and I chuckled.

"I don't know. Either way I'm not complaining."

"Mm, me neither."

His hand brushed against mine and he linked our pinky fingers. We were quiet for some time, and I was the one to tentatively break the silence.

"Mm, you know, if we were to go inside that tent…" I began, trailing off quietly. 

"Yes?" His voice rose in pitch playfully.

"I might not be able to offer you the full fun and games, but I've got a perfectly serviceable pair of hands," I squeaked. He hummed a sultry laugh.

"Miss Jemima," he breathed, shaking his head in false disapproval. 

"Is that a refusal?" I questioned. Arthur laughed breathily and rolled over onto his front enough to push himself to his knees. I watched him from my spot on the ground with a wide smile on my face. 

"Sweetheart, I'm in no fit state to refuse anything from you. Come on," he jerked his head playfully towards the tent and I snickered, sitting up and shuffling along with him inside.

-

I awoke to an empty bedroll beside me. I noticed the little piece of paper laying atop it quick enough not to panic over Arthur's absence, and plucked it up to read it. 

Gone hunting for some breakfast, back soon. Won't go far. 

Love, Arthur

I folded the note and slipped it away in my satchel, its sentimental value manifesting itself in an instant despite being something so simple. It had the memories of such a beautiful place and a peaceful night attached to it, of course.

I scooted out of the tent; the fire was going strong, Arthur had obviously tended to it before he left so I'd wake up to some warmth. It wasn't the warmest climate this far north. I warmed myself there for a few moments before tackling the act of getting to my feet. It was trickier than it looked without the ability to bend my leg as far as I needed to, but I got there in the end and headed away from our campsite into the woods to take care of some morning business. Then I headed towards the water to clean up a bit and splash some water on my face. The place looked different in the daylight, with the vivid violet snowdrops dotting the foliage and the sun glinting off the churned up surface of the water by the waterfall. 

I looked out across the river to the other side, taking in the trees that surrounded me. Movement caught my eye between them, all the way across the other side of the water. I stepped a little way to the left so I could see better, and spotted two figures in the trees. A gunshot made me jump, but it sounded like a varmint rifle so I wasn't too alarmed. I'd used one enough over the years to recognise its particular sound; less full-bodied than most rifles and almost a little hollow sounding.

I squinted and leaned forwards, trying to make out the figures. I was certain one of them was Arthur, recognising his blue shirt, but he was with someone else. A woman. From all the way across the river she looked a bit like Abigail, but there was no reason why she would be out here. 

I decided to investigate. I glanced back at our campsite and ensured that nothing valuable was left unattended, and whistled for Rayna who immediately closed the space between us. I used my good leg in her stirrup to lift myself onto her, side-saddle, and clicked at her to get moving. I crossed the water at the shallowest point, Rayna's big hooves thu-dunking and splashing through noisily. I followed the path around into the part shrouded by trees, hearing their voices as I got closer. 

"Get ahold of its legs, have a firm grip, give it a hard pull. Straight down," Arthur was explaining. I didn't want to creep up on them but I also felt strange shouting out, so I waited until I was close enough for them to notice.

Arthur turned, his face brightening with a smile once he saw me. The woman hadn't noticed, focusing on skinning the rabbit in her hands. She tore the skin off in one clean pull, a technique I'd never had much success with myself, but she seemed to do okay. 

"Darlin', you're up," Arthur greeted. 

"I saw you from across the water," I said, suddenly feeling a little odd about having sought him out. I hoped he didn't think I didn't trust him.  

"Oh, hello there," the woman said when she noticed my arrival. I smiled at her as Arthur approached and helped me down off of Rayna, his hands on my waist as I slid off ensuring that I wouldn't land too hard on my feet and hurt myself.

"Hi," I replied, taking in her appearance. She looked slim and tired, her skin a little sallow and dirtied with mud. Her smile was weak behind her politeness, but she was pretty. 

"This is Mrs. Balfour, she lives in a house just up there," Arthur introduced her, pointing up the path. "I came across her when I was looking for game."

"Charlotte," she nodded, reaching her hand out towards me, then spotting the rabbit blood on it and thinking better of it, "you must be Mr. Morgan's partner. My sincerest apologies, it's my fault you're having to wait for your breakfast," she chuckled weakly.

"Oh, not at all," I shook my head.

"He was helping me find some food, he taught me how to skin this rabbit," she said, holding up the animal. "My… my husband passed, and I've been struggling ever since. Well, we were struggling before he died but that's a different story," she shook her head, looking off in the direction of her home.

"I'm so sorry," I frowned. She gave me a small, grateful smile.

"I haven't eaten in days, but this will keep me going. Thank you so much," she turned to Arthur. 

"Don't mention it," he said, gesturing with his hand for her to start heading back. "Let us walk you back." 

I tagged along with them, sounding for Rayna to follow and taking hold of her reins.

"Did your husband do all the hunting?" I gently asked, concerned about her lack of knowledge when living so far out of civilisation. 

"Tried to. Neither of us were any good, as I said to Arthur, we were City folk," she sighed, "just looking for some new escape. I don't know the first thing about hunting, can't even fire a gun properly."

Arthur and I glanced at each other, sharing the same look of worry. 

"You should probably learn… no use me teaching you how to skin an animal if you can't catch any," Arthur suggested and she nodded her head, looking down at her feet.

Rayna suddenly dug her feet in, pulling on the slack of the reins, whinnying in distress. A moment later there was a gasp from Charlotte and then a choir of wailing howls from above. My blood ran cold, I'd never heard that sound so close and I swivelled to see three wolves up on the slope, looking right at us. I froze in place, my legs going numb as Rayna tore the reins from my slack hand and understandably bolted in the other direction, a second before the wolves pounced forwards. 

Instinct sent my hand to my holster, pulling free my revolver and fumbling to pull back the hammer. This was why sidearms stayed loaded. A series of gunshots sounded before I fired, I watched one wolf slam into the ground and slide down, a second wounded. I aimed at the third and shot, missing a couple of times before finally landing a shot in the animal's chest, sending it down before unloading the remainder of my shots into it for good measure while Arthur finished off the others.

There were a few moments of still silence once the wolves were finished. Adrenaline made my hands throb and my head pound; I turned to look at Charlotte and Arthur with wide eyes.

"I would be dead now, if it weren't for you two," she breathed, shaking her head and shoving her hand into her hair, "I'm completely hopeless." 

I shook my head, "you just need to practice shooting. I had to learn on my own years ago, I just kept trying. It gets easier, becomes second nature almost, aiming right," I told her in a tone I hoped would reassure her. 

"Okay," she sighed and nodded, and we carried on towards her home. 

I fell back a little to walk with Arthur, and spoke to him quietly. "Perhaps we could help her. Teach her how to shoot properly," I suggested.

"I was thinking the same thing," he nodded. "She just needs to eat right now but we could come back in a few days."

I nodded in agreement, then we reached the house. It was a pretty spot, right near the waterfall, neatly tucked away between trees and cliffs. Quiet and picturesque. I would've envied her if she wasn't so alone and struggling.

"I would invite you in, but I'm dead on my feet," she told us, breathing a little laugh. "But please, if you two are ever out this way again, do come and visit."

"Of course," I said, and Arthur nodded too. 

"It was nice meeting you both."

"You too, you take care ma'am," Arthur tipped his hat at her and I dipped my head politely.

"Thank you, for this," she looked at Arthur sincerely and Arthur awkwardly shifted on his feet. 

"Ain't no trouble," he shook his head.

"It's the kindest thing anyone's done for us since we… I appreciate it, a lot," she told him. "Enjoy the rest of your trip."

"Thank you," Arthur nodded, then Charlotte closed the door.

Arthur and I looked at each other then headed away. 

"That was good of you," I told him, hooking my hand over the arm he offered. "You're a sweet man."

"I just did what anyone would've done. She was starving," he shook his head dismissively but I didn't let him get away with it. I reached up to kiss his cheek.

"It was a kind thing, I'm proud of you," I said, smiling up at him, "this is why I love you."

He met my eyes, his own softening and warming. 

We reached the wolves and paused. "I guess this can be breakfast," I said.

"I suppose. And lunch, and dinner…" he chuckled, "better than letting it go to waste."

And so we set to work skinning and butchering the wolves. The pelts weren't in great shape, torn up by bullet holes evident of a panic, but they'd still come in useful around camp for extra warmth when the temperature dropped, as it occasionally did at the new camp. I stocked Rayna's back with the three pelts while Arthur finished cutting the usable meat from the animals, wrapping them up and distributing them between our satchels and the saddlebags. When we were done we took a moment to wash our hands in the river, cleaning away the blood and grease before mounting up together and heading back towards our campsite.

[dancinginthecenteroftheworld]

Can I prompt "Oh god, any permutation of J/A/B" and call it good? 😂 Also, happy birthday!

It starts somewhere in the Westerlands. Jaime has gone to try and convince as many Lannister troops as possible to disobey Cersei and join the fight against the dead. Lady Sansa has sent Brienne with him, to ensure it isn’t a trick. 

Some of the Lannister troops turn their backs, but most are surprisingly willing to follow Jaime as the rightful Lord of Casterly Rock, and not the crown. That’s how Brienne meets Addam Marbrand, who hugs Jaime with a familiarity Brienne has rarely seen. 

Brienne has shared Jaime’s tent since the nights have grown colder, sometimes with Podrick bunking down as well, which limits rumors of impropriety. As if Brienne wasn’t dogged by whispers of “Kingslayer’s whore” already. But once the Lannister troops join them and they all start back north again, Addam takes Pod’s place.

Brienne finds she genuinely likes Addam. He’s witty, but less biting than Jaime can be and he’s quick to smile and laugh. Addam also brings out aspects of Jaime Brienne has never seen before, a softness and ease that makes Jaime seem younger.

Brienne thinks she must be seeing glimpses of who Jaime was before Cersei sank her claws so deeply into him. 

They take turns sleeping in the middle of the bedrolls, where it’s warmest. Brienne does her best to ignore whatever awkward moments arise. She’s been in camps long enough to hear plenty of talk from men, and she knows that some things just ... happen, without any reason. Which seems like a terrible design when it comes to anatomy, but Brienne tries not to dwell on it too much. Thinking about Jaime and Addam that way makes her feel too hot and itchy, like something is smoldering under her skin. 

Even after several weeks of travel, even after they’re all more than a little ripe from not being able to bathe it’s so cold, Brienne feels an aching, empty feeling in the pit of her stomach when she lies between them. When she feels Jaime pressed against her back, his arm around her waist, when she feels something hard and thick pressing against her ass. When Addam shifts sleepily against her front, nuzzling his nose into her collarbone and his thigh sliding between hers. 

It makes Brienne ache between her thighs, makes her wonder what unnaturalness about her prompts such wanton responses. Bedding is a wife’s duty, Brienne knows, but nobody’s ever said anything about how the idea could make her feel like she’s being turned inside out, like she needs something she can’t quite name. 

It’s frustrating enough after several nights that Brienne can’t help tilting her hips when Addam’s leg worms between her own, the pressure sending a bolt of pleasure through her. It’s such a surprise Brienne gasps, and of course that’s when Addam’s eyes fly open. 

Brienne feels heat rising in her cheeks, staring right at him. There’s no chance of pretending she was asleep, not when her face is giving her awareness away. She tenses, waiting for Addam to push her away in disgust, to tell her how terrible and slatternly she is being. 

Except Addam doesn’t push her away, Addam just keeps looking in Brienne’s eyes and very slowly shifts his leg, pressing his thigh upwards and rubbing it against Brienne. 

Brienne can’t help the way her hips move in response, the way she shivers. It’s so distracting she doesn’t notice Jaime waking up, not until his arm has already tightened around her waist and his voice is sleepy and rough in her ear. 

“Having fun without me?” Jaime drawls and Brienne’s whole body jerks in response. 

“I’m sorry,” Brienne says, forcing herself to be still. It feels like the most difficult thing she’s ever done, especially when Jaime tilts his hips forward, pressing into her. 

“What for?” Addam asks. His voice is rough too, from sleep and something else, maybe, that Brienne has heard in other men, when they seek out willing women. 

“It’s improper,” Brienne says. She fights the urge to move, although she’s not sure if it would be to run away or to push herself further into one of their arms. 

Jaime snorts behind her. “Since when are any of us proper?”

“Speak for yourself,” Addam retorts, but it lacks any heat. He moves his leg again, rubbing slowly against Brienne. 

“Women aren’t supposed to ...” Brienne starts.

“Women aren’t supposed to carry swords,” Jaime says. He pauses and then Brienne feels something warm and wet on her neck. His mouth, she realizes, as he grazes his teeth against her and she shudders again. “And you do. Magnificently.”

“We can make sure you’re still a maid,” Addam says. 

“At least until we manage a bath and an actual bed,” Jaime mumbles against Brienne’s skin. He sucks at her neck, and it feels like there’s a sudden, direct connection from Brienne’s neck to the place between her legs. 

“Soldiers help each other out all the time,” Addam says softly. “Although Jaime and I tend to be more selective.”

Something about the way he says it gives Brienne pause. Jaime has said Cersei is the only woman he’s ever lain with. Woman. 

“Have you ....?”

“Helped each other?” Addam finishes, as Brienne loses the thought to the feeling of Jaime’s lips on every bit of skin he can reach. “A time or two.”

Brienne can’t stop the noise she makes, the sudden image of Jaime and Addam together, the way she’s sometimes seen men in camps when the women are scarce. Jaime groans against her neck and moves his hand, sliding it up under the loose tunic Brienne wears to sleep. It feels like burning against her skin, in the best kind of way. 

“We can help you too,” Addam says. 

Brienne can’t bring herself to say it in words, but she nods, suddenly uncaring of what terrible things this says about her, about another way she is failing at womanhood.

Addam grins at her, bright and eager before moving forward and kissing her. Brienne has had men try to steal kisses from her as a jape, a dare, but those attempts have been sloppy and unappealing. Addam’s lips are warm and soft, and when he teases her mouth with his tongue until she opens to him, it only feels good.

Brienne can feel both of them now, moving slowly against each other. Jaime behind her, Addam against her thigh and she blushes to think what she’s feeling, what they’re mimicking. Brienne is surprised by how noisy it is, about the little sounds she makes despite her efforts, the moans and groans from Jaime and Addam, the rustling of their clothing together. 

She’s less surprised that Jaime can’t seem to stop talking even when they’re -- well, whatever it is they’re doing, it’s not quite a bedding, really. He whispers words into her skin, half nonsense, half praises about how good it feels, how good it is. 

Brienne thinks he must be desperate, if his palm over her meager breast is enough to spark such words, even as it sends more bolts of pleasure through her. She loses track of how long they stay like that, how long she trades kisses, only knows at some point, strong arms turn her over, and she’s facing Jaime, kissing Jaime while Addam thrusts against her from behind. 

Something spirals tighter inside Brienne, and it’s almost frightening but Jaime seems to sense it and rubs his hand along her side like he’s gentling a horse. It’s such an odd, sweet moment in the middle of something Brienne can only describe as improper and it makes her heart clench in ways she absolutely shouldn’t allow. “Just let go,” Jaime tells her, staring into Brienne’s eyes like she’s the one he really wants to see. “Let yourself feel, Brienne, let us make you feel good.” 

And Brienne can’t deny Jaime, she can’t and suddenly everything inside her seems to be bubbling up all at once, until she’s trembling and weak. 

Something similar seems to happen with both men, as they both thrust harder and quicker against her before stilling and then going limp on either side of her. Addam doesn’t even move his hand from under her tunic, still cupping Brienne’s breast, absently running his thumb over her nipple, as they drift off into sleep.

The last thing Brienne hears is Jaime declaring they should do this every night until they reach Winterfell. 

[multibookfanwriter]

they never found Alyss’s body therefore she is still alive

Will and Alyss ran, giggling, into their bedroom. It was Will’s birthday and they had just been at Jenny’s restaurant, celebrating with Halt, Pauline, Jenny and Gilan. Gilan had come all the way from castle Araluen to wish Will a happy birthday. They had all shared a cask of wine and by the time they left it was empty. Will pulled his belt off and left it on the bedside table. Alyss unbuttoned Will’s shirt then pulled off her own dress. Will got tangled in the blankets and fell out of the bed, making Alyss laugh until she threw up.

Alyss woke with a start when she heard Sean calling her. “Mummy! Mummy, I’m scared.”

She walked over to his bed in the corner of the room. “It’s alright, Honey, I’m right here.” As she talked, she picked up her son and hugged him.

It had been two weeks since Lilian died. Sean had seen the body. Every night since then, Sean had woken up with nightmares. More than three years ago, Alyss had stumbled into the small village. She was covered in burns and had no memory of the past ten years. Lilian was the closest friend to Alyss in the village. She had taken Alyss in and helped her get her memories back. Most nights Alyss had dreams of her adventures with Will. Lilian had left all her possessions to Alyss in her will, including the house.  As soon as she could sell the house, she was going to move back to Redmont.

The house was sold within the week. Alyss packed all their belongings into a bag, bought a horse with some of the money from the house, and they rode all day for weeks to get to Redmont. Whenever they could, they stayed at an inn.

When she finally got to Redmont, it was almost midnight. Sean was curled up on Alyss’s lap and she didn’t want to ride through the dark forest alone. Instead she went to Jenny’s restaurant. She took Sean in with her, still asleep. It was almost empty with only one man finishing his meal at the back of the room. As she was standing in the doorway, he finished his supper and brushed past her on his way out the door. Alyss walked to the counter and asked for Jenny. The waiter told her the restaurant was closed.

“Just tell Jenny that I’m here. When she sees me, she will know me. My name is Alyss.”

The waiter shrugged and walked to the back room where Jenny was directing the cleaning. “there is a woman at the counter claiming that you know her. Her name is Alyss.”

Jenny wiped her hands on her apron and moved to the front of the building. “Alyss? She can’t be Alyss. She’s dead. But she looks exactly like her. And Alyss hasn’t got a baby,” she muttered.

“A lot has changed in the last three years, after I was trapped in the fire, three months after Will’s birthday, four years ago. That was the best apple pie I ever had, by the way. The one you made for Will’s birthday.” Alyss overheard Jenny’s muttering.

“so, you really are my Alyss? I’ll have to send someone to get Will!” Jenny walked out and found one of her new apprentices. “Get the Ranger. Tell him that I sent you and to come here immediately. It is urgent.”

The apprentice ran outside, saddled a horse and rode out to the cabin in the trees.

Will heard Tug and Bumper whinny and woke. In the next room, Maddie did the same. They donned their belts with their double knife scabbard and walked to the front door. Will opened the door before the apprentice could knock. “what do you want?”

“Mistress Jenny sent me to get you. She said it was urgent and you have to come immediately.”

“we’ll be there in a few minutes. You can go now.” The apprentice mounted his horse and rode back to the restaurant. Will turned to Maddie, “get dressed and string your bow. We are going to Jenny’s.”

Five minutes later they walked out to the stable and saddled their horses. They rode down the dark path in silence. Jenny was waiting just inside the restaurant door and when she saw the Ranger and his apprentice, she stepped out and hugged them both. She had a huge grin on her face, and they could both see she was bursting with excitement. Jenny grabbed Will’s hand and pulled him inside, Maddie followed a few steps behind them. Jenny led them to a back room. Inside, a woman was sitting on a bench as a toddler ran around her legs. She had her back to them, but she looked strangely familiar.

Alyss turned and saw Will. He just stood there as he registered who was now hugging him and then he lifted her up and spun her in a small circle. She laughed in excitement. They stopped spinning and just stood there hugging and crying. After a couple of minutes, Maddie broke the silence. “Alyss? How is this possible? You… died. Four years ago.”

Alyss looked at her. She saw the double knife scabbard at her waist, the mottled cloak and the recurve bow over her shoulder. “Maddie! Are you a Ranger now?”

Maddie nodded. “Will’s apprentice.”

Alyss held her at arm’s length. “You’ve grown so much since I saw you last. You’re almost twenty now, aren’t you?”

“Yes. But, enough about me! How are you here? Who is the kid?”

“It’s a long story but since we have all night we might as well get comfortable.” Alyss sat and motioned for the others to do the same.

“When I went back to save the girl in the fire, the roof collapsed but only one beam landed on me. It burnt my back and legs, but I pulled myself out and crawled through a break in the flames. There was a stream in the woods behind the inn and I dragged myself to it and laid in it. I must have passed out because I woke up and couldn’t remember what had happened or where I was. I don’t think I could remember what had happened for the last twenty years. I remember thinking of the time Keren had me locked in the tower. I couldn’t recall anything after that. My mind was blank.

I walked to a village and an old woman took me in and cured me. Her name was Lilian. She had no family left. Her only daughter and her husband had died in a fire. She died only a few weeks ago now. It turned out I was pregnant when I went to Celtica. Seven months after the fire I gave birth to Sean. His birthday is only a few days before yours, Maddie. I had regained most of my memories by then but with a newborn baby and no money I couldn’t travel. I wanted to come back here so much, so I got a job as a waitress in the local inn to get money. I never used my real name. I was known as Jessica Sama. As I said before, Lilian died a few weeks ago and since I was her only friend in the village, she left me all her possessions. Sean found her dead one morning. When she didn’t move, he got me to come in. The funeral traumatised him and every night since then he has had nightmares. I sold the house as soon as I could and brought a horse then came here as fast as I could.”

“is Sean my son?” Asked Will.

“yes.”

“I’m a father?!”

“yes.”

Will looked pale so Jenny stood and motioned for Maddie to come outside. “we’ll give you two some privacy.”

Alyss pulled Will up and wrapped him in a hug. He returned the embrace and kissed her. They stood together for several minutes, only stopping when Sean tugged on Alyss’s dress. “Mummy, I’m hungry.”

“I’m sure Jenny will have some food for you, honey.” She grabbed his hand. “come on let’s find you some food.” She walked to the door but noticed Will wasn’t following her. “are you coming, Will?”

“yes, but I think I’ll stay in here a bit longer. This is a lot to take in.”

“Yes, I understand.”

In the kitchen, Jenny and Maddie were making an apple pie. While they worked, they talked about Gilan.

Maddie turned to the door as she heard Alyss talking to Sean. He was running up the hall. He saw Maddie and Jenny and started running faster. He tried to climb onto the stool beside Maddie, but it was too tall so, she lifted him and sat him on her own lap. Alyss had walked into the kitchen by then. As she walked past the oven, she smelled something.

“Are you baking an apple pie, Jenny? It smells so good.”

“Yes. It should be ready in a few minutes.”

“I can’t wait.” Alyss sat on the stool beside Maddie. “so, Maddie, how did you become a Ranger? Last I heard, you were a princess.”

“Mum and Dad thought I was misbehaving, and Will was almost going to quit the Ranger corps to avenge your… death, I guess. Halt, Gilan, Mum and Dad all agreed that this would be the best way to get us both to behave better. It did. I was only supposed to train for a year, but I loved it so much that I continued.”

Alyss had frowned slightly when she heard that Will almost quit the Corps. “What are you going to do when you finish your training? I don’t think your parents would like it if you became a full time Ranger.”

“Mum didn’t like it when she found out that I wanted to continue my training. Only a few people know that I am training to be a Ranger. Most people think I am learning how to sew and act like a princess with lady Sandra. I don’t stay all year. I visit Mum and Dad for a few months a year and become a princess again. After I finish my training, I will go back to be a princess. But I will still practice my skills.”

Alyss smiled, “I see Will has taught you well.”

Maddie looked confused so she elaborated.

“getting completely off track when you talk, then going back and answering the question after heaps of pointless information. All the while confusing anyone that is listening. It is quite a useful skill, but it gets annoying sometimes.”

“so, you think I am annoying sometimes?” The voice came from behind Alyss and she turned, recognising the voice. It belonged to Will. He kissed her and sat.

As Maddie and Alyss talked, Jenny had pulled the apple pie out of the fire and left it to cool. Now she cut it into slices and put them on plates. “Maddie can you help me?”

She stood and sat Sean on the chair, then moved to the kitchen. She took her own plate and Sean’s plate as well as five sets of forks. Jenny carried the rest of the plates.

Maddie put the plates and cutlery on the table and picked up Sean and put him on her lap and sat down.

Alyss took a bite and sighed. “I forgot how good your cooking is. I missed it so much.”

Jenny filled everyone’s mugs with coffee. Alyss filled everyone else in on what had happened to her, going into more detail. The others in turn filled her in on the happenings of the kingdom. Just after they started talking, Sean had curled up, asleep on Maddie’s lap so, they talked in slightly more than whispers.

At around 2 am Alyss, Maddie and Will said goodnight to Jenny and rode to the cabin in the trees. They were almost there when Alyss realised the problem. There were not enough beds in the house. Will and Alyss would share a bed of course. Maddie had the other room, but there was nowhere for Sean to sleep. When she addressed the problem to the others, Maddie suggested that Sean could sleep in her bed. Alyss was riding with the sleeping child so Maddie decided to ride ahead to get the house ready. As she approached the house, she saw a bay horse waiting beside the building. It was a ranger horse. Maddie thought she recognised her and the thought was confirmed when she walked inside. Gilan was sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee. He looked up as she walked in. “good morning. Where’s Will?”

“he’s coming. How long have you been here?”

“about an hour.”

Maddie walked into her room. “Hey Gil, would you be able to help me move my bed? I don’t want it to leave marks on the floor.”

Gilan sat his coffee down and stood. He picked up one end of the bed while Maddie lifted the other. They positioned the bed next to the wall. Gilan went back to his coffee but Maddie walked around the cabin picking up any items low enough for Sean to grab and putting them on higher shelves. She put another blanket on her bed as well. Gilan watched her, perplexed, but didn’t interrupt her. When she finally sat, he poured her a cup of coffee and topped up his own cup. She nodded her thanks. He was about to ask her what she was doing, when Blaze and Bumper whinnied a welcome. There was an answering call from Tug. Maddie looked in the coffee pot and seeing that it was almost empty, refilled it and put it to boil, then walked outside to greet Will. Gilan stayed inside. By the time Maddie had stepped off the veranda, two horses walked out of the trees. Sean was still asleep on Alyss’s lap and she lifted him down into Maddie’s waiting arms. Careful to not wake Sean, Maddie walked to the cabin. She walked through the open door, straight into her room. She rested Sean on her bed and tucked him in. She sat at the table once again to finish her coffee. Gilan looked at her puzzled. He had no idea what was happening. Will walked in with a tall, graceful figure beside him. Will saw the coffee pot and filled a mug.

“Coffee, Alyss?” He asked. She nodded. He poured her a cup and handed it to her.

Gilan looked at her then at Will and at Sean, sleeping in Maddie’s room. “what am I missing?”

“Gilan, this is Alyss, my wife.”

“But she died years ago.” He looked at her.

Will was about to answer but Alyss put a hand on his arm to stop him.

She answered Gilan’s question. “I escaped the fire but lost my memory from the shock. I got it back eventually and came home with my son.”

“when did you have a kid?”

“I was pregnant when I went to Celtica. I didn’t know. No one knew.”

“so that kid Maddie brought in before, is your son?” There was a note of disbelief in his voice.

Will answered before Alyss could stop him. “yes, Sean is our son!”

“was he, by any chance, named after Halt’s nephew, King Sean?”

“yes, he was.” Alyss replied.

“Halt is going to love this! Have you told him yet?” Gilan grinned.

“no. We were just at Jenny’s. I went straight there when I got here, and Sean was asleep. I didn’t want to wake him.”

“How is Jenny?”

“she’s fine. What did you come here for?”

“I have a mission for you two Ranger’s, but I see you might want to stay here for a while, Will.”

“yes. I don’t want to just leave Alyss here all alone with Sean again. Not so soon. Maddie might want to still go.” Will answered.

Gilan turned to Maddie but was surprised to see that she had fallen asleep at the table, her cold cup of coffee still sitting in front of her.

“I guess we should take her to bed. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Bring Halt and Pauline if they aren’t busy.” Will lifted Maddie and carried her to bed and laid her beside Sean. He pulled the blanket up and tucked her in.

An hour later she woke to the sound of Sean crying. She sat up and saw him beside her with tears rolling down his cheeks. “Hey Sean, what’s wrong?” She whispered to him.

He looked at her and said. “I’m scared.”

She picked him up and hugged him. “it’s okay, I’m here for you. What are you scared of?”

“the lady came back.”

“what lady?”

“the lady that played with me when mummy went to work.”

Realisation dawned on Maddie. “was her name Lilian?”

“yes.”

“why is she so scary?”

“she’s grey like she was in the box.”

The box must have been the coffin, Maddie realised. “don’t worry Sean, I will make her go away.”

There was a knock on the door and Maddie, still holding Sean opened it. Alyss was standing there.

“I heard Sean crying.”

“he’s fine now. He had a nightmare.” Maddie reassured her.

“mummy! The nice girl made the lady go away.”

“What lady?”

“he’s been having nightmares about Lilian.” Maddie said.

“thank you, Maddie. You are really good with him.”

“I’m sure I fell asleep at the table earlier. How did I get in here?”

“Will carried you in here and tucked you in.”

Maddie raised her voice slightly. “Thanks, Will!”

“you’re welcome!” Will called from his bedroom.

Maddie grinned. “I knew he’d be awake. I’ll put Sean back to sleep, now. Goodnight.”

Alyss nodded. “thank you.”

Alyss shut the door and went back to her room. Maddie put Sean on the bed and laid beside him. “are you ready to go back to sleep, Sean?”

“will you keep the lady away?”

“of course, I will.”

“okay.” He rolled onto his side and fell asleep.

Maddie closed her eyes and fell asleep as well.

In the next room, Alyss listened as Maddie got Sean to sleep. “She is so good with him.” She whispered to Will.

“yes, she is. She is a good kid.”

Alyss looked at him. “she is not exactly a kid anymore. She will be an adult soon.”

Will grunted his agreement. “’night.”

“goodnight, dear.”

The next morning Will woke to the smell of bacon and coffee. He pulled a shirt on and buckled his belt around his hips. He tucked his shirt in as he walked out of his room.

“’Morning, sleepyhead.” Alyss was standing at the stove, cooking bacon and eggs.

“good morning. Is Maddie up yet?”

“no. Sean is still sleeping as well.”

Will poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the table.

“I forgot how nice it was to have someone cook breakfast for me.” Will grinned.

“didn’t Maddie cook you breakfast?”

“a few failed attempts. It didn’t taste very good. It was a good effort, considering she had never cooked before. At least she made me laugh.”

“good morning, Sean.” Maddie said as the child moved beside her. She had only been awake for a few minutes but, fearing that she would wake Sean, stayed in bed. She heard Will talking to Alyss. She smiled as she remembered her first attempt at cooking bacon and eggs. Maddie sat on the edge of the bed. “Sean, do you want a piggyback ride?”

Alyss smiled as Maddie came out of her room, Sean on her back.

“Gilan’s coming over later, Maddie. He wants to talk to you. And you can have a day off today, to watch Sean.” Will said.

For a couple of hours, Maddie played with Sean, making mud patties and playing tag. It was almost noon when Gilan, Halt and Pauline rode into the clearing. Sean wanted to go over and see the horses, so Maddie held his hand and walked over to the small group. Pauline tethered her horse but Halt and Gilan just let the reins drop to the ground as usual. They turned as Maddie called out to them. Gilan hadn’t told Halt or Pauline why they had to come, so neither of them knew why Maddie was leading a small child towards them. As they approached, Halt turned to Gilan, “I suppose that has something to do with why we are here.” Gilan nodded and smiled.

Sean whispered something to Maddie, and she picked him up and walked faster towards the trio.

“and who’s this little angel?” Pauline asked.

“this is Sean. Sean, this is Gilan, Halt and Pauline.” She pointed to each as she said their names.

“hullo, Sean. Where did you come from?” Halt asked.

“come inside and we’ll tell you.” Alyss called from the doorway.

“who else is here? That was definitely not Will. But the voice sounds familiar.” Halt hated not knowing.

Gilan and Maddie exchanged a glance and Halt decided he would get them back for this later. While they were talking, Sean had started patting Blaze’s nose. Now he grabbed it and Blaze snorted. They all looked at her and Maddie laughed.

“Sean, be gentle.” She scolded light-heartedly.

She stepped onto the veranda and put Sean down. The door was open, and he ran inside.

“mummy!” He shouted happily as Alyss scooped him up. Maddie followed him inside and after a moment’s hesitation the others also stepped inside. Pauline recognised her first. Afterall, the graceful blonde had been her protegee. Halt took a few seconds longer and concluded that it must be Alyss. Then he realised that Sean had called her ‘mummy’.

“Two things.” Halt said. “first. Alyss? Second. Mummy?”

Alyss smiled. “yes, to both those questions Halt. Before you ask, no, I am not dead.” She had seen his mouth open to ask a question and close as she answered it.

“his name is Sean, like my nephew.” He said

“that’s who he is named after.”

“mummy, what does nefew mean?”

“nephew is a brother or sister’s son.”

“coffee’s ready if anyone wants it.” Will said. He was sitting at the table drinking his cup of coffee.

There were not enough chairs, so Gilan and Maddie sat on the floor with Sean.

“Last night I was going to ask you if you wanted to go on a mission, but Will is going to stay here. If you want to still go, I will go with you.” Gilan told Maddie.

“Where is it? And what is it about?”

“Toscana, Arridi. It’s just a routine trip to check the treaty. Do you want to come?”

“yes.” Maddie said after a moment’s hesitation.

“are you sure?”

“yes.”

“We leave in two days. At dawn.”

Maddie’s smile slid off her face. “I knew you would say that. Sean, do you want to help me pack?”

“yes!”

Maddie stood and lifted Sean up and walked to her room. “how long is this going to take?”

“two or three weeks.” Gilan replied.

“will I need any gowns?”

“yes.”

“am I a princess or a Ranger?”

“both. In Arridi you will be a Ranger but in Toscana you will be a princess.”

 After Maddie left with Gilan, Will sent a letter to Horace and Cassandra. ‘I will be coming to castle Araluen with a surprise. Have a big room prepared for me. I’m bringing a friend. We’ll be staying a few days. We’ll be there in less than a week.’

Will, Alyss and Sean left for the castle later that day. It was an uninteresting trip until they got within a day’s ride of castle Araluen. They stopped for the night in the ever-present woods beside the road. There was a small brook near the clearing they had chosen for their campsite. Will and Alyss had two cloaks each and they had a few blankets. It was a cold night, so Alyss had piled all the blankets on top of herself and Sean. She was curled around him to keep him warm. Will was sitting at the edge of the clearing, wrapped in his warm cloak, keeping watch. Tug and the other horses were on the other side of the clearing, closest to the road.

Alyss slept facing Will and he could see the details on her face clearly with the moonlight. As she slept, a single tear slid down her cheek and froze on the tip of her nose. It glistened in the moonlight and Will was struck by a sudden urge to wipe it off his wife’s face. Sean was squirming in his mother’s embrace, but she was in a deep sleep and didn’t notice. Will checked around for any intruders one last time before darting across the clearing. Alyss unconsciously stroked the air where Sean’s head had laid seconds before and woke up immediately when she realised, he was gone. She looked around anxiously, searching for her son and relaxed when she saw Will at Tug’s side, and Sean perched on top of the horse.

“Will,” she called with mock severity. “bring that cheeky little boy back to bed!”

Will pulled Sean off Tug and tucked him back in with Alyss. He hesitated, looking at Tug then as the little shaggy horse seemed to nod, he laid down beside her and wrapped her in his arms. They lay undisturbed for hours until Tug whinnied a warning. There is someone nearby, the warning said. Will was awake instantly. As was usual for a Ranger, he made no outward sign that he was awake. His hand searched under his pillow for his saxe knife.

The man watched, shocked to find that a mysterious, green and grey clad Ranger was curled up with a woman and child, with no sentries. If he hit the Ranger now, he would be able to get the woman easily. The Ranger looked like he was still asleep. The man crouched behind the bush, formulating his plan. He would throw his spear at the Ranger. If he missed, he would use his second spear. Or he would threaten to kill the woman. The Ranger obviously cared about her.

Will saw the man crouch behind the bush. This was his chance. He rolled away from Alyss, saxe knife in hand. He grabbed his longbow and quiver as he ran to the edge of the clearing.

The man behind the bush stood with his spear ready to throw at the Ranger but he had disappeared. What he didn’t know was that the Ranger was creeping toward him. He brought the spear back to throw it at Alyss. Will stepped out of the trees, arrow already nocked. He hadn’t seen the man draw back the spear to throw. The spear sped across the open ground and Will fired at the man. He knew it was a good shot and he dropped his bow, turning to face his family.

“Alyss!” He screamed, the agony clear in his voice, as he sprinted toward her. She had cried out as the spear flew at her.

She was sobbing when Will reached her. Her hands were covered in blood. He Searched for the wound and cried out in shock when he saw it. Sean’s upper arm was sliced to the bone. Alyss didn’t seem to be hurt but her eyes were haunted as she looked at her child. Will bundled up Sean and carried him to the pond. He washed the blood off his arm and whistled for Tug. There was a first aid kit in his saddlebag. He smeared a pain killer in Sean’s wound. As it took effect, Will noticed the torture in his son’s eyes dissipated. Will stitched the lips of the wound together.

Alyss was sitting up on her blankets, hands in her hair, rocking back and forth, muttering to herself and crying. She was oblivious to the blood staining her ash blonde hair.

Will heard hoofbeats and decided to investigate. He carried Sean. It was the mail carrier cart and its entourage. Six armed knights. The captain saw Will and recognised him. He stopped the cart.

“Good morning Ranger Will. I am captain Wurel.” The captain dismounted.

“Not all that good of a morning, I’m afraid captain.” Will replied, indicating the bandage wrapped around Sean’s arm. “Sean got a spear through his arm.”

“what happened to the man that got him?”

“he is sleeping in the woods. My arrow is with him.” Will grinned.

Alyss had finally stopped crying. She heard voices from the road, Will was not in the clearing so she reasoned that he was talking at the roadside. Her suspicions were confirmed when she heard his voice. Alyss stumbled toward the voices. Will turned when he heard her coming. He saw the blood in her hair and on her face and hands. He hurried over to her asking if she was alright. She threw her arms around Wills neck and burst into tears again.

“It was all my fault, Will.” She whispered between sobs.

“No, it wasn’t, honey.” His hands were full so he couldn’t hug her back. He kissed her cheek instead.

The captain was looking embarrassed as he watched the famous Will Treaty kiss this unknown woman.

Will saw his look and called to him as his own face reddened. “you should get back to work.”

Captain Wurel nodded his thanks and ordered his men to get back to work. Most of them had dismounted and slumped on the ground. They all stepped up into their saddles again and rode off with the wagon. As they rounded the corner, Will kissed Alyss again. It was more passionate but still clumsy because of Sean. They broke apart as Alyss broke down into another bout of tears. Will lead Alyss to the brook and started to wash her face and hair.

The blood had dried, and her hair was matted with it. Will soaked her hair then combed it out with his hands. Most of the dried blood came out so he just combed it with his fingers, occasionally wetting it again. Eventually her hair was back to normal. He wiped Alyss’s face with a wet cloth removing the layer of blood. The sun had risen over an hour ago. They packed up camp and headed for castle Araluen.

They arrived a few hours after lunch. They were greeted at the gate by the Queen herself and her husband Sir Horace.

“Your majesty.” Will said grinning.

“Who are your friends?” Horace asked.

“I believe that you have met Alyss? My wife.”

“It can’t be!” Cassandra stated.

“It is Cass. And this is our son, Sean.” Alyss replied.

“hold up a minute! Will. You’re telling us your wife has been brought back from the dead and you have a kid?” Sir Horace challenged.

“yes!”

“how is this possible?”

“She was never dead.”

“why didn’t she come back three years ago? It would have saved us all a lot of grief. It would have saved Maddie from that spear she took for you.”

“Maddie save your life?” Alyss intervened.

“Yes.” Will answered briefly.

“what did it have to do with me not coming back?”

“Jory Ruhl threw the spear. I was tied to a post to be burned alive. Maddie jumped in front of me. I was hunting him down. I thought she was dead. She was all I had left. I wanted to die.” Will’s voice lowered to a hoarse whisper as he said the last words. A tear slipped down his cheek.

Alyss’s eyes were watering and seeing the tear on Will’s cheek was the last straw. She burst into tears for the third time that day. Will handed Sean to Cassandra after pointing out the cut on his arm. He leaped off Tug and lifted Alyss off her horse. Her whole body was shaking. Will held her close. He gestured for the four of them to go into the castle. Horace looked at Will then at Tug the question was obvious. ‘What about the horses?’ Will tilted his head toward Alyss. ‘She comes first.’HHhhhhhhhhhh5eryhrb

Horace called out to a stable hand and told him to look after the visitor’s horses. The hand nodded and took the bridle.

“Tug, go along.” Will said to his horse. He reluctantly followed the stable hand into the stable.

Will walked Alyss into the castle. Cassie led the way and Horace came behind them. suddenly he stopped. “did you name your son after Halt’s nephew?”

Will grinned. “did you just realise that?”

“so, you did?”

“Alyss did. That was one of the first questions Halt asked. The first was, Alyss? Then it was, Mummy? Then he asked if Sean was named after King Sean.”

“why did he ask; Mummy?”

“Sean came running into the house laughing and yelling, Mummy! Your daughter was right behind him.”

“Maddie knew. And she didn’t tell us!”

Will grinned sheepishly. “I told her not to.”

The Queen opened the door and held it open for the others to pass her. She had moved into her fathers’ old room. Will led Alyss straight to the bed and sat her on it. He sat with his arm around her shaking shoulders. She laid her head on his shoulder. It didn’t take long for Will’s shoulder to become soaked with tears. He kissed her forehead. Her cries eventually stopped as she sank into asleep. Will laid her on the bed and kissed her again.

Sean tugged on Will’s sleeve. “Daddy? What’s wrong with Mummy?”

“She’s having a bad day.”

“poor girl. She used to be so strong. Now she is so stressed.” Cassie said sympathetically. She hated seeing her friend like this and not being able to do anything. They all hated it.

“she has been like this all day. Early this morning, Sean got hit by the spear. She blamed herself for him getting hit. The spear was aimed at her, but they overshot. It cut his arm all the way to the bone.” Will frowned.

“how can she blame herself for that? She couldn’t do anything to stop a spear.” Horace argued.

“I know. I tried to tell her that. She had blood all over her hands and she got it all through her hair and on her face.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Horace randomly asked if Will wanted the doctor to check Sean’s cut. Will thought about it for a couple of minutes before he answered.

“If Alyss says yes.” He naturally surrendered to his wife’s authority.

Cassandra and Horace both had work to do. They left Will, Sean and Alyss in the room alone. After a few hours, Alyss finally woke up. Sean had gone exploring around the suite of rooms. Will was going to kiss her forehead, but she pulled his lips down onto her own. He didn’t resist. Neither pulled away until Alyss had to come up for a breath. A servant was backing out of the room and Will turned and saw him. They all turned red with embarrassment. The servant turned and ran out of the room. Will turned and kissed Alyss again. He pulled away, remembering what Horace had said hours earlier. He asked Alyss if she wanted to take Sean to the doctor. She nodded.

They found Sean in the office, balancing on the big oak desk. They walked him down to the doctor. Just outside the doctor’s office Cassandra was busy planning a celebration. They told him to go straight to aunty Cass when the doctor was finished.

They walked back up to the Queens rooms. This time they locked the door. They caught up on the three years of missed kisses in the hours before Horace and Cassie knocked on the door. Will kissed Alyss one more time, before getting up to open the door. He was surprised to find it already open and the couple were obviously trying hard not to laugh.

“they’ve been like that for hours, Horace.” Halt was standing inside the doorway.

Horace burst into peals of laughter. “And you managed to stay in here that whole time?”

“What!?” Will looked at Halt accusingly.

“you didn’t even look around the room when you locked the door. Even Horace could have hidden in plain sight and you wouldn’t have noticed him.” Halt looked disappointed.

“No-o-o! You saw the whole thing? And heard it all?” Will looked more horrified as Halt nodded to both his questions.

Will was horrified that his former teacher had seen and heard everything.

Halt decided that Will was embarrassed enough. He softened his gaze. “you two deserved the love after what you have been through.”

Will’s face was bright red. Alyss, trained in not showing her emotions, was only slightly less red. Lady Pauline was standing behind Cassandra, Sean clinging to her arm. They stepped forward and Sean ran into Alyss’s waiting arms. His arm was wrapped in a new bandage.

“Mummy!”

Alyss lifted him up, kissing his cheek and her embarrassment faded away.

“when did you get here, Halt?” Alyss asked.

“Daddy.” Sean said and Alyss put him on the floor and he walked to Will, who picked him up.

“we left Redmont a couple of hours after you did, and we got here just as you were walking inside. I came in here to see you, but you were… too busy.” Halt answered Alyss’s question.

“why didn’t you say anything?” Will interrupted.

“I did. But that’s not important. Dinner is important.”

“finally, someone agrees with me!” Horace said and everyone laughed.

 The group of six camped in the woods that night. They were heading to Seacliff to see Maddie and Gilan who were due to arrive late the next day.

Horace had second watch. Less than an hour into it, Cassandra woke. They talked for a while until Sean woke up. He walked to them, telling them he need to use the privy. Horace and Cassie started to argue who would take him. As they had their whispered squabble, Sean wandered into the woods. Neither of them noticed. Will heard the fight and slowly stirred.

“What are you doing?” Will whispered, still hazy with sleep.

Cassie looked around and noticed Sean was gone. “Nothing.”

As Will laid back down Cassie murmured to Horace that Sean was missing. He looked around and his eyes widened. Will was almost asleep, and he looked at his wife, thinking, ‘She looks so peaceful when she is asleep. She is not worrying about Sean.’ He realised that Sean was not curled up beside his mother anymore. He shot up, looking around. Cassie and Horace were whispering fighting again. His son was not in the campsite.

“Where is he?” Will stood in front of the Queen, hands on his hips. They were on watch. They were supposed to be watching.

Cassandra and Horace avoided Will’s angry eyes.

“Where is he?” He repeated, his voice was ominously low.

“We don’t know.” Cassandra said in a small voice.

Halt’s bedroll was the closest to where they were arguing. He roused when he heard Will’s voice rise with anger.

“what do you mean, you don’t know? You were supposed to be watching!”

“What’s the problem, Will?” Halt was suddenly standing behind him.

“Them.” Will pointed to Horace and his partner. “They weren’t watching Sean.”

“Where is he?”

“That’s the problem!”

Alyss and Pauline heard Will and decided to find out what happened. They walked together to the scene. Will turned as he heard the familiar sound of his wife’s voice.

“What’s the problem, Will?” Alyss asked.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He apologised.

“Nothing. You should go back to bed.”

Alyss and Pauline simultaneously raised their right eyebrow in disbelief. Then Alyss realised what the problem was. Her baby was gone.

“Sean?” She breathed. Her legs seemed to become jelly. They wouldn’t hold her up and she fell to the ground. Will’s arms stopped her at the last moment.

“We’ll find him. Don’t worry.”

Alyss stood. “I’m going.”

“No! You’re staying here.”

A child’s high-pitched scream rung out from the forest. Will immediately let go of Alyss who screamed out her son’s name. He sprinted toward the noise, snatching up his bow and quiver as he went. Alyss tried to follow but Halt grabbed her around the waist, stopping her.

“Let go of me, Halt! Sean! My baby!” She clawed at Halt’s arms and screamed again when she heard her son.

“Mummy! Da…!” His voice was muffled by a hand clamped over his mouth as he screamed for his parents.

Alyss slumped in Halt’s arms, realising that he wouldn’t let her go. She twisted in his embrace and buried her tear-stained face in his chest.

Will followed the muffled screams. His cowl was up, shading his face and he carried his longbow easily, ready to shoot in a second. He moved, silent as a cat stalking its prey, toward the bandit who was holding Sean.

The outlaw spoke to the small boy. “Guess Mummy and Daddy aren’t coming, kid.” He pressed a knife under Sean’s chin. “Guess I’ll just have to kill you.” The knife was moved closer to the child’s neck, causing a thin line of blood to appear.

“Don’t move!” Will shouted. “King’s Ranger!”

The bandit, Ramen, pressed the knife harder into Sean’s neck. He knew what Rangers were like. If he ran, the Ranger would come after him and kill him. If he stayed, the Ranger would kill him. It wouldn’t matter what he did, the Ranger would kill him. Ramen decided he would not go down without the pleasure of killing the boy. Sean whimpered in pain and fear. Will threw back his cowl, revealing his face to his son.

“Daddy!”

Ramen cursed and put his hand over the kids mouth again, smothering the shout. Seconds later he realised what the kid had said. His eyes widened and he smiled cruelly.

“Guess Daddy did come after all. Dressed as a Ranger.”

Will brought his bow up, pulling it to full draw and sighted on the hand holding the knife to Sean’s throat. If the man moved, the arrow could hit Sean. Will didn’t want to take that risk, so he released the tension of the bow and dropped it on the forest floor, replacing the arrow in his quiver. He moved forward, drawing his heavy saxe knife. Ramen dug his own knife further into Sean’s neck. Blood was running freely down and soaking into the kid’s shirt.

Will leaped, twisting the knife from Ramen’s fingers and Sean sunk to the ground. Will dragged the bandit away and threw him to the ground. As the bandit got unsteadily to his feet, the pommel of Will’s saxe knife came down heavily on his head, knocking him out instantly. He was tied to a tree and Will left.

Will took off his cloak, wrapped his sleepy son in it and carried him back to the campsite. As the child was drifting off to sleep, he remembered something. He opened his eyes.

“Daddy? The man said his friends were going to get Mummy.” Sean whispered.

Will silently cursed and started to run. “Alyss! Halt!” he yelled.

Halt and Alyss turned at Will’s voice and ran toward him. He didn’t hear the man behind him. The sword stabbed into his back and he reeled forward. The world turned black. Alyss leaped forward to the man who had cut her husband. Her dagger slipped between his ribs and found his heart. She dropped to her knees beside Will. The sword had gone through, below his ribcage. Alyss was torn between helping her husband or her son. Halt stopped another brigand and seeing no other enemies around, also dropped to the ground beside Will.

“I have Sean. You get Will.” Halt reassured her. Alyss carefully pulled the bloodstained sword out of her husband’s body. His breathing was ragged and so was his pulse. He opened his eyes at Alyss’s gentle touch. She pulled his ruined shirt away from the wound and wiped the injury with a clean linen bandage.

While Will was sleeping, the others talked. Horace volunteered to get a healer from the castle. It would be half a day’s ride to get there and another half day ride back. It would be more than twelve hours before Will could get proper treatment. Cassandra and Pauline would continue to the docks to meet with Maddie and Gilan. Sean would go with them.

Cassandra and Pauline trotted their horses slowly down the street. Sean was sitting in the saddle in front of Pauline. Two horses trailed behind them. A piebald and a bay. Wolfwill, the sleek wolfship captained by Gundar Hardstriker, glided to the wharf. Maddie and Gilan were standing at the port side railings and leaped off as soon as the ship stopped. Maddie ran to her horse and threw her arms around his neck. Then she seemed to notice everyone around her.

“Mum!” she shouted excitedly. She looked around only seeing Pauline and Sean. “Where’s Dad?”

“He is… with Will, Halt and Alyss. They are camped in the woods less than a day’s ride away,” Pauline answered. “We will be staying there for a couple of days.”

It was obvious that she was not telling them something. Maddie wondered what it was for a few seconds before realising that they would find out in due time.

Gilan was watching Maddie from beside his own horse. “I have to get back to work but I can come with you to the campsite.”

As they rode into the campsite Maddie expected to be greeted by her mentor, not by the site of him lying unconscious on the ground with a bloodstained bandage around his bare chest. Maddie and Gilan both stopped their horses as they saw Will. Alyss looked up as the hoofbeats stopped. Her eyes were filled with tears.

“What happened to Will? Is he going to be okay?” Maddie cried out as she jumped off Bumper and ran to her teacher, dropping to her knees beside him.

At the sound of Maddie’s voice, Will’s eyes flickered open.

“Hey Maddie.” His voice was weak and his eyes were full of pain.

[parkrstark]

who needs pictures?

based on this song (X)

It took him a while after everything happened to even go near Peter’s side of the lab. It had been months, maybe even a year already since he’d be gone. It felt like a million lifetimes. Tony lost track of time when all of the days merged into one long nightmare.

He only started looking through all of the stuff he had shoved in the desk drawers because May was looking for one of Peter’s old notebooks. She couldn’t find it in his bedroom and of course, the only other place that managed to collect all of the kid’s things was in the tower. Either in the spare room that had slowly turned into Peter’s or his section in the lab.

He didn’t mean to make it an all day affair, but every little thing he found had him distracted for a while.

He clicked on the old DS he had shoved in the top drawer and it still had his Animal Crossing game inside. Tony winced as he walked the little guy character (Peter named him Han Solo. Of course, he did) around the town, through the weeds that had taken over every spot on the ground. Peter used to always make sure to check his town routinely so there was never one weed in sight.

There was a plastic spoon in the bottom drawer that once lit up when you clicked the button. It was red with a faded cartoon picture of both Iron Man and Spider-Man on it. Peter had gotten it out of a box of cereal when the public first started noticing Spider-Man and Iron Man’s unlikely partnership. He had it hidden in here so no one ever used it and “tainted its awesomeness”.

Peter kept his fidget toy, one of many, on his desk. It had been a present from Tony when he noticed how the kid was always fidgeting. Especially when he was sitting in the lab doing nothing else but homework or something that didn’t involve much moving. He threw it to the kid one day after school nonchalantly. He’d been hesitant to use it until Tony told him about the collection of stress balls he had; there wasn’t ever a time when he didn’t have one in his pocket. Tony had spoiled the kid with dozens of fidget toys; some he loved, some he liked, and some he wasn’t a big fan of. When Tony was in a store, usually a gas station, they’d sell them by the cash register and Tony bought one he thought Peter would like. He even ordered special Star Wars ones.

When he reached the camera however, he froze. Of course, it had its own special drawer. Peter took care of that thing like it was his literal baby. He used to talk to it sometimes. He named it...Tony thought hard to Peter got it for his birthday from May (she had saved up months to get it for him and the look on his face when he opened it was well worth, even Tony knew). He had been there, but Peter hadn’t named it until a few days. He claimed he needed to pick a name that felt right. Four days after his birthday, he walked into the lab with the strap around his neck and holding the camera tucked safely in his hands against his chest.

“Meet Paisley!”

“Finally named it, kid?”

“Named her, Mr. Stark.”

Tony smiled at the memory, lifting the camera up and brushed away the layer of dust that covered the screen. He tried the power button, but nothing happened. Dead. He sighed, ready to put it back in the drawer when something stopped him. He turned it carefully in his hands and popped open the SD card insert.

He put the camera in the drawer and then went over to his main desk where he had a computer capable of showing the contents of the SD card. He stuck it in and waited for the monitor to load the pictures.

The first on the screen hit hard.

Peter was staring right at the camera smiling so widely. And with the high quality the camera took pictures in and his compute showed pictures on, it was almost like Peter was right in front of him again. He reached a hand out and his fingers hit the screen.

Peter had a weird tradition of “baptizing” each of his SD cards. He always took the same first picture. Whoever he was with when he replaced it, he threw an arm around their shoulder and took a selfie. Tony was usually the one caught, though he had a few with May, Ned, Happy, Rhodey, and Pepper.

Tony was in this one. He was staring down at one of his tablets, not giving the camera a glance. But Peter was there, next to him on the couch, pulling him in close and smiling. Tony wished he had looked up...just to see that smile on the kid’s face. But he didn’t. Because that had be a normal thing for Peter to do. Tony never thought there’d be a day where he wasn’t there to fill up empty SD card and start with an impromptu photo session.

He’d never get a chance to do that again. He took that moment for granted just as often as Peter took the picture.  

He swiped to the next photo and smiled. They were a lot miscellaneous shots of people and places Peter loved.

There was May raising a pair of chopsticks to her mouth as she sat across from him in what looked like a restaurant. Which Tony bet it was. Whenever she tried to cook, that’s usually where they ended up.

Ned sitting in a pile of hundreds of Legos they had dumped all over Peter’s bedroom floor.

A view of the city streets from a very high spot somewhere Peter perched to get the perfect shot.

Happy petting a orange cat, Murphy was his name if Tony remembered correctly, that sat on a counter of Peter’s favorite deli.

May and Pepper laughing as they sat on a couch, each with a champagne glass in their hands.

Endless photos of dogs in the park.

Tony sitting on Rhodey as they played Mario Kart, so he could win.

Ned making a funny face in the camera as he sat in a library with a book open in front of him.

Happy yelling out his window as they drove, Peter was sitting in the passenger seat.

A duck walking down a city street.

Tony working on something in his lab.

Peter liked taking candid shots of Tony in the workshop. Sometimes Tony was glancing at the camera from the corner of his eyes, but most times he had no idea the picture was being taken.

God, Tony. Why didn't you ever take a fucking second just to look? Look up at what you had. The kid was always there. And now, he’d never be there again.

He swiped through the dozens of photos Peter took of Tony in the lab, mixed with a few of the bots hanging around.

(Tony’s favorite was the one he took himself. Peter, U, and Dum-E were sleeping on the floor in a sea of blankets Peter had set up for the four of them to watch a movie. He had made sure to drape a blanket over each of them.)

He smiled when he realized what the majority of this SD card was full of: Peter and Tony’s roadtrip to Florida over the summer. They had a big trip planned to Disney World for the kid’s 17th birthday. He’d always wanted to go to Disney World and one of the parks was practically throwing up Star Wars. There was a ride, character meet and greets, parades, firework, shows, and more just for this movie.

So, it was a no brainer where Peter was going to celebrate his day.

Except there was one problem: Peter was deathly afraid of planes. Ever since the night he crashed the Stark plane on Coney Island. So, flying to Florida was not an option. At least not for Peter.

Tony remembered when they surprised him with the tickets and told him about the private jet that would get them there in no more than 2 hours. He hands started to shake. Tony didn’t hesitate before saying Peter didn’t have to take the plane. (“I’m thinking about driving down, if you want to join. I could use the company”)

Sure, one day, Tony would help Peter get over his fear of flying, but he didn’t need to do that when he was going to celebrate his birthday. He didn’t want the kid to dread the trip. So, Tony and Peter left two days before everyone else did and they started their roadtrip.

It was the best trip Tony had ever taken. He enjoyed the car ride to and back more than the actual vacation, probably.

The collection of vacation photos started with Tony packing the car with their suitcases. Tony was looking over his shoulder as a bag on the top was about to fall over on his head. (“A little help, Parker?”).

Tony steering the wheel with one hand and shoving a fast food burger in his mouth with the other. (“Who the fuck puts mustard on a burger? Are their taste buds that dead?”)

A random horse Peter had made Tony stop driving for suddenly by screaming, “Stop!” (“Christ, Parker, you’re lucky no one was behind me. Don’t do that again.” “But he’s so pretty, Mr. Stark.”)

Peter’s dirty converse kicked up on the dash and a blur of Tony’s hand, swatting his feet off. (“Unless you want to clean the dashboard with your toothbrush, get your filthy feet off.”)

A sunset Peter made him spend 10 minutes driving to get the perfect shot. (“Peter, the sun is going to be gone by the time you find a spot you like.”)

One that Tony took of Peter fast asleep in the passenger seat, drooling slightly with his head at angle that couldn’t have been good for his neck. (“How do you even sleep like that?”)

Then the next one was Peter sleeping again, this time after Tony leaned over and fixed him so he was in a comfortable position. He leaned the seat back, laid his head in a normal position, and covered him in a blanket. (“See? I take care of you.”)

He continued to skim through the pictures and found the selection of pictured from the actual trip itself. Peter had gone crazy with photos. LIke he snapped a picture of every little thing. He was like those tourists they made fun of in Times Square.

Tony and May had taken a lot of them too when Peter wanted to be in the pictures. The kid almost cried when he saw all the Star Wars shit. There was a show that had an entire dedication to Han Solo, and Tony actually saw him wipe at his eyes quickly. Tony had rolled his eyes, ruffling the kid’s hair.

He continued through the hundred of pictures for what had to have been hours before he reached the last one. Tony packing a full car that overflowing with bags and bags of Disney souvenirs.

Tony didn’t realize he had been crying until there were no more photos to distract him. He sniffled and wiped his wet cheeks.

That was only one SD card...the kid had dozens in his drawer that Tony could look through.

He always took a picture of everything. His face was always behind the lens, taking a photo of something.

Tony told him to put the camera down and live in the moment, but Peter said he didn’t want to forget a single moment.

Tony didn’t understand how he could when it was all so clear in Tony’s mind. He could still close his eyes and remember what had happened in each photo before and after it was taken.

He didn’t need these photos to remember Peter.

Peter was the most vivid memory in his mind every time he closed his eyes.

Sometimes it was a blessing, sometimes it was a curse.

[lonely-canadian-shrimp-universe]

Good Omens:A First Foray

The First Impressions of a Viewer with No Context

I knew a good chunk of the plot because at first I honestly wasn't going to watch it, so I didn't really shield myself from any spoilers on tumblr.

That being said, I was hooked right from episode 1. I went into it thinking I was gonna be all over Crowley (given my other favourite characters in most other franchises) but the first time Aziraphale smiled I M E L T E D. SO PURE AND SWEET Also when "Aziraphale" was said I had a moment of 'oh. that's how you say that' Also the earth and my mom share a birthday. When Nanny Ashtoreth showed up I KNEW I was gonna need more content of her. Wife 100%

The fact that, try as they may, Zira and Crowley are completely incompetent and really only matter in the last like 16 minutes before the end of the world is really great. It's like watching a show that's about the really interesting side characters you get to see for 2 minutes and WISH you got 6 hrs of. Thank you, Neil.

Ep 2 we get to meet Newt and Anathema and omg I love them. I need Anathemas wardrobe ugh. And newt??? disaster Newton Pulsifer??? he's a mood. Not totally sure how I feel about their relationship but I love the contrast of "hey we just met like an hour ago and we're dating now thnks" to "we've known each other for 6000 years but there's no way he likes me the same way? side note, isn't it funny how the world is always emitting a low buzz of love my dear?" "ngk"

Agnes is amazing and I love how sassy she is. 10/10. I love how Aziraphale is not at ALL concerned about being shoved against a wall by Crowley. Like not one bit. He's like "oh finally, it's only taken you 6 millenia" honestly same

Ep 3 gives us the 30 minute cold open who's only purpose is to show how these two kept coming back to each other for 6 millenia, no matter how the last meeting may have gone. Here are a few thoughts:

Crowley has very pretty hair. Also I could 100% see by this point how these two have been gay for each other since day 1. Er rather day 7? Golgotha Crowley is v pretty and learning later that those are traditionally female garments was a treat. That scene was otherwise hard to watch, and they definitely thought so as well. The globe theatre was really fun to watch, I love Shakespeare. Sadly, Hamlet reminds me of my awful 10th grade English teacher. she ADORES that play. So thanks,  Aziraphale.

Bastille= PEAK GAY LOOK

I'd seen the church scene and "you go too fast for for me in MANY a gift,  but hearing them was OOF. Michael Sheen didn't have to go so hard on that line but OH BOY DID HE EVER. I may have cried.

I honestly didn't realize that the intro didn't play until the middle of the episode until I rewatched it??  like that completely flew over my head.

THE BANDSTAND. THE E M O T I O N. AZIRAPHALE WAS SO HURT. he was so torn because so much of him still wanted to believe in the good of heaven, but his heart (or the angelic equivalent) had long ago sided with Crowley. When Crowley came back and asked him to run away to Alpha Centuri??? UGH. that dude instantly assuming they're gay? same. same random dude. same. And omg Crowley praying??? to God??? he cares about humanity and it SHOWS. By this point I was REALLY relating to Aziraphale. His reluctance to stray from what he knows and was told reminds me so much of myself. that A n x i e t y.

the end of episode 4 and into episode 5 HURT. the bookshop? "I lost my best friend"? The fact that Crowley was ready to give up and wallow drunkenly through the Apocalypse because continuing on or running away held no meaning if he didn't have Aziraphale by his side. I cried. On the other hand, defiant Aziraphale? "Angels can't posses people" "Demons can..." YES BBY STOP BLINDLY FOLLOWING ORDERS!!! FREE THOUGHT BABEY!!! Now: Shadwell and Tracy. Shadwell is hilarious and I love him, end of story. He's just so... out there. crazy dude. Madame Tracy on the other hand? AMAZING. her actress (I can't think of her name and I have a REALLY ONE TRACK MIND) absolutely KILLED it. AMAZING. The seance?  That dude who WAS JUST LOVING EVERY SECOND? Loved that so much. still cracks me up. When they first get to the airbase and Crowley compliments his dress and Aziraphales like OwO like fellas they gay.

1970s crowley... the mustache... "Can I hear a Wahoo?" Hastur... love him... "What's a computer" part of me wants to think he's just fucking with Crowley because who wouldn't but also he's so deadpan and yo I can't read expression AT ALL.

Love the fact that Crowley was ready to yeet off to a far off star system light-years away, but at the same times like "you expect me... to go to TADFIELD? In this weather??? Maybe I should drive but I mean, have you SEEN the TRAFFIC Angel? And now the M-25s on fire. Great."

Hastur going from on top of everything and tearing Crowley down to panicking because YOU'RE DRIVING TOWARDS A WALL OF FIRE.

snek eyes :3c

"Young man your CAR is on F I R E"

ALSO the horse people getting lost is peak entertainment. Honestly the horsepeople are great. War? Gorgeous. Famine? Love him. He's got style Pollution??? They're amazing, and also THEY THEM PRONOUNS BABEY. that made me v happy bc I just got used to usin em myself uwu. D E A T H. He knows his aesthetic yall. love it.

suppose nows a good a time as any: THE THEM.

I didn't really like Adam at first, he seemed a bit snobby. he's grown on me now but... ngk. Wenslydale was an instant fave. he's adorable. love him. Brian? total mess. super genuine. Great kid. PEPPER. she's great. she's sassy. she's gonna go far in life. all together, they're a tight knit group and I love them and they're all my children now thabks. and the parallels to the horsepeople? p e r f e c t

Alrighty Episode 6!!!

The beginning terrified me. All this time I was rooting for Zira and Crowley to finally get their happily ever after and yknow how most media is nowadays. There's a reason Fix-it Fics are so popular. So the beginning of the episode scared me. Also Beelzebub 💖

I love the Them vs The Horsepeople. "I believe in Peace, bitch."

I didn't even realize til later that that was Aziraphales sword. didn't even catch that line.

When Beez and Gabriel showed up? THAT DUMB SMILE OF GABES? I really hated Gabriel. The way he treated Aziraphale REALLY rubbed me the wrong way and I just did not like him one bit.

W I N G S. PRETTY WINGS. also didn't even realize that what Crowley did was STOP TIME. LIKE WHSOHDOEBE WHaT? ??

 "it burned down... remember?" uuggghhh kill me with how soft and gentle he's being!!! he knows that bookshop MEANT something to Zira hdoehekdn

T H E B O D Y  S W A P

the caught me COMPLETELY off guard... at first. I was completely unaware right up until "crowley" was attacked. I caught that little "Tickety boo" and I paused screaming like CROWLEY WOULD NOT SAY THAT IN THAT SCENARIO NO WAY THAT IS N O T ANTHONY J CROWLEY W H A T 

The heaven scene solidified my then hatred for Gabriel. I like him now but oof that scene he's still VERY punchable.

Crowley: Nearly threw hands with the Archangel Gabriel

The Hell trial. So Extra. Asking for a rubber duck? iconic! "Michael, dude!" oh mood.

when they switch back and it's all revealed? G l o r i o u s. They played each other so well!!! honestly props to Michael and David, their acting was PHENOMENAL.

The ending. A happy ending. The amount of love with which Zira says "to the world" killed me. I'm dead now thanks to that. I'm typing this from the grave,  that's how powerful that line is. Honestly, knowing next to nothing going in was kind of wild and my crazy reblogging spree actually got some of my mutuals to watch the show which is pretty neat. Going back through 3 more times now, Aziraphale definitely resonates with me the most. I actually have a small blurb I wrote on the positive effects he's had on my perception of myself in terms of stimming.

All in All this show hit me in a way I did NOT expect it to, and I'm glad I found it when I did. I was at a point where I was kinda feeling like I'd never really have a fulfilling relationship because of my asexuality, and then I found good omens. I def read the characters as ace while watching it and it was amazing seeing two characters who can love each other fully, without the need for anything explicit. The show was an instant fav and I'm trying to find a physical copy of the book (that I can afford) so I can read the original text. This is a story that's going to stay important to me for a very long time, I can feel it.

[casputin]

20. Sirius Black

Harry went down to breakfast to find the three Dursleys already sitting around the kitchen table. They were watching a brand-new television, a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Dudley, who had been complaining loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room. Dudley had spent most of his summer in the kitchen, his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbling as he ate continually.

Harry sat between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, a large, beefy man with very little neck and a lot of moustache. Far from wishing Harry a happy birthday, none of the Dursleys have any sign that they had noticed Harry enter the room, but Harry was far too use to this to care. He helped himself to a piece of toast and then looked up at the newsreader on the television and almost fell off his chair.

The report was about an escaped convict. And through the gaunt face and matted, elbow-length tangle of hair, there Harry felt sure he recognised the man.

'... the public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hotline has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately.'

That confirmed it then, this man was the brother of Professor Black, the Potions Master at Hogwarts. For just over a year now Harry had known that Professor Black had a brother, one who had been friends with his own father no less. And then, at the start of this year, when he and his friends were doing research into who the Heir of Slytherin might be Harry discovered that he had been sent to Azkaban for the murder of 12 Muggles.

'No need to tell us he's no good,' snorted Uncle Vernon, starting over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. 'Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!'

He shot a nasty look at Harry, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon. Harry daren't tell him that Black was a wizard, he didn't feel that would go down too well.

The newsreader had reappeared.

'The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today -'

'Hang on!' barked Uncle Vernon, starting furiously at the newsreader. 'You didn't tell us where that maniac's escaped from! What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!'

Aunt Petunia, who was bony and horse-faced, who's around and peered intently out of the kitchen window. Harry knew Aunt Petunia would love to be the one to call the hotline number. She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on her boring, law-abiding neighbours.

'When will they learn,' said Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his large purple fist, 'that hanging's the only way to deal with these people?'

'Very true,' said Aunt Petunia, who was still squinting into next door's runner beans.

Uncle Vernon drained his teacup, glanced at his watch and added, 'I'd better be off in a minute, Petunia, Marge's train gets in at ten.'

Harry's mind was taken from one unpleasant thought to another.

...

Stan had unfurled a copy of the Daily Prophet and was now reading with his tongue between his teeth. A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at Harry from the front page. It was Professor Black's brother.

'That man!' Harry said, forgetting his troubles for a moment. 'He was on the Muggle news!'

Stanley turned to the front page and chuckled.

'Sirius Black,' he said, nodding. ''Course 'e was on the Muggles news, Neville. Where you been?'

He gave a superior sort of chuckle at the blank look on Harry's face, removed the front page and handed it to Harry.

'You oughta read the papers more, Neville.'

Harry held the paper up to the candlelight and read:

BLACK STILL AT LARGE

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still evading capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today.

'We are doing all we can to recapture Black,' said the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, 'and we beg for the magical community to remain calm.'

Fudge has been criticised by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.

'Well, really, I had to, don't you know,' said an irritable Fudge. 'Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it - who'd believe him if he did?'

While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand which Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

Thirteen. Harry was sure Hermione said it was twelve Muggles that Professor Black's brother had murdered.

'Scary-lookin' fing, inee?' said Stan, who had been watching Harry read.

'He murdered thirteen people?' said Harry, handing the page back to Stan.

'Yep,' said Stan. 'In front of witnesses an' all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?'

'Ar,' said Ern darkly.

Stan swivelled in his armchair, his hands on the back, the better to look at Harry.

'Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo,' he said.

'What, Voldemort?' said Harry, without thinking.

Even Stan's pimples went white; Ern jerked the steering wheel so hard that a whole farmhouse had to jump aside to avoid the bus.

'You outta your tree?' yelped Stan. ''Choo say his name for?'

'Sorry,' said Harry hastily. 'Sorry, I - I forgot -'

'Forgot!' said Stan weakly. 'Blimey, my 'eart's goin' that fast ...'

'So - so black was a supporter of You-Know-Who?' Harry promoted apologetically.

'Yeah,' said Stan, still rubbing his chest. 'Yeah that's right. Very close to You-Know-'Oo, they say ... anyway, when little 'Arry Potter put paid to You-Know-'Oo' - Harry nervously flattened his fringe down again - 'all You-Know_'Oo's supporters was tracked down, wasn't they, Ern? Most of 'em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-'Oo gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black. I 'eard he thought 'e'd be second-in-command once You-Know-'Oo 'ad taken over.

'Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an' Black took out 'is wand and 'e blasted 'alf the street apart, an' a wizard got it, an' so did a dozen Muggles what got in the way. 'Orrible, eh?'

So he murdered a wizard as well as the twelve Muggles. Black was a powerful and evil wizard alright.

''An you know what Black did then?' Stan continued in a dramatic whisper.

'What?' said Harry.

'Laughed, said Stan. 'Jus' stood there an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, 'e went wiv 'em quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is 'ead off. 'Cos 'e's mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?'

'If he weren't when he went into Azkaban, he will be now,' said Ern in his slow voice. 'I'd blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind ... after what he did ...'

'They 'ad a job coverin' it up, din' they, Ern?' Stan said. ''Ole street blown up an' all them Muggles dead. What was it they said 'ad 'appened, Ern?'

'Gas explosion,' grunted Ern.

'An' now 'e's out,' said Stan, examining the newspaper picture of Black's gaunt face again. 'Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, 'as there, Ern? Beats me 'ow 'e did it. Frightenin', eh? Mind, I don't fancy 'is chances against them Azkaban guards, eh, Ern.'

Ernie suddenly shivered.

'Talk about summat else, Stan, there's a good lad. Then Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles.'

Stan put the paper away reluctantly and Harry leant against the window of the Knight Bus, feeling worse than ever. This Sirius was a murderer all right, and a supporter of Voldemort. And Harry's dad had been best friends with him, what kind of a man did that mean he was?

____________________________________________________

I find it quite fun when Harry knows that Sirius Black and his dad were friends. That'll be interesting to explore for this part of the story.

[starshineskyandthepowerofrock]

Nightmares and Stallions

Part 9 of Starshine, Sky, and the Power of Rock.

CW for a little over a paragraph describing a gory nightmare. You’ll know when you hit the word “autopsy.”

I shouldn't be doing this to myself. This is torture. But the music is too good.

I'm encased in squishy padding. My body is cocooned in the soft blanket. Wilbur's terrycloth in my arms anchors me to home. The music does too.

The CD player sits on the pillow, right next to my head. It pumps electric power through the wires and into my earbuds and into my skull. Track 11 is still the best. There's no light in this casket, so I can just sink into it. Drown in it. Become it.

This album was a birthday gift. For my 10th, if I'm remembering right. So was the CD player. And the earbuds, now that I think about it. His gifts were always my favorites because he was the only one in my life that shared my taste.

There's something about the violence, the chaos of this music that awakens something in me. An electric shock to the system that gets me going. Tells me that I can do anything. That I'm not powerless. That I am power.

He got that. It was the same for him. I'd show up at his dad's music store, eye black and lip bloody because the kids at school were relentless and he'd remind me that the world was bigger than them. I was bigger than them. He didn't tell me with words. He told me with music. And I spoke to him the same way.

But this morning ritual isn't the same anymore because I still hear him in every note. The music that would bring me back to the real world after the constant nightmares is now pushing me deeper into them. Because he's part of the nightmares now.

So I should probably stop listening, right? But the music is too good.

💙💙💙

Star and I are supposed to be at the stables by 10:30, I guess so we can have time for breakfast. But my breakfast is in the stables anyway.

Almost all of the students' horses are already gone. I guess being stuck in one building, even one as big as this place, gets claustrophobic after a school week. I also guess the Land of Light is filled with morning people. I've seen enough of Fairy Dust Falls so I'll leave them to enjoy it. I don't think their horses like me very much anyway. Guillotine, on the other hand, is real happy to see me.

"Morning, buddy," I say as I put down my bag and go to stroke his neck. As usual I'm careful about going around the wad of gauze taped to the side. I look up into his blank eyes and can feel him looking down into mine. I sense the warmth coming from him even if on the outside all I see is something straight out of a nightmare. Or an album cover. Yeah I like that more. Speaking of nightmares... "You hungry?" I ask. Instinct tells me the answer is "Yes." I gently pull his giant head down until it's at the level of mine, move the hood of my cloak up and out of the way, push my forehead between his eyes, and dig through my brain to remember last night's horror show.

I've had autopsy dreams before but this one's getting to me more than the other ones. I mean obviously being cut open and feeling everything and seeing my own organs being pulled from my stomach and somehow puking all over my own guts gets to me every time it happens. But this time it was Boris doing the job. And he wasn't laughing like the normal guy. Everyone watching was laughing but he just stared into my soul. Every time I begged him to stop he only got rougher as he dug through me. The part I remember best is when his fingers sank into my intestines and he let them linger there so I could really take in the raw pain. At that point all I could get out was a desperate "Please..." He stopped for a second. Got so close I could taste his breath.

"Traitor," he spat. Then he yanked out my intestines harder than they'd ever been yanked out before, spraying bile everywhere. That'd been enough to wake me up.

My fingers tremble on Guillotine's face now. I want to throw up just remembering the awful dream. I press myself harder onto his head, let the fear take over. Bit by bit the knot in my gut loosens. My lungs still. The fear is drained away and into Guillotine, who relishes in what's no doubt a delicious breakfast. I open my eyes. Smile at him. He'd smile back if he could.

"Okay," I whisper, feeling around for the gauze and carefully peeling it back. "My turn."

The bite mark is starting to scab over. I always feel a little bad that I can't ever let it heal but I'm sure Guillotine prefers that over me picking a different spot every time and leaving scars all over his neck.

My stomach rumbles. I'd better get going.

My mouth opens wide. The tips of my fangs are placed just around the wound and I rest my tongue on the scab. It tastes like iron. I put supportive hands on Guillotine's neck. Then I bite down. Pull the scab back with my teeth. Blood pools in my mouth and I drink it up. I keep my lips pressed on his skin to keep any drops from escaping. I know how badly blood stains.

The blood burns my throat on the way down, it's so hot. It warms me from the inside out. Just a few more gulps and I'll be-

"Um, Sky?" a panicked voice asks.

An involuntary gasp makes me swallow through the wrong tube. I rip my mouth from Guillotine's neck, way harder than normal, and cough blood all over the straw-covered floor.

Star and Queen Diamond Shine stare at me. Star wavers between concern and fear. Diamond Shine tries to hide disapproval behind professionalism.

I try to stammer out an explanation but Diamond Shine cuts me off with, "I understand this as one of the... accommodations made for you."

All I can do is nod and pull out a clean rag from my bag to wipe my face.

"Um..." Star says, uneasy. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I rasp.

Diamond Shine stares at the blood splatters on the floor. "Well, you two have plenty of work ahead of you. Lunch break is at 12:30. You may not stop until sundown." She looks to me. "There are security cameras in here, by the way. Don't try anything." Then she leaves me alone with Star.

"So..." Star is having a hard time looking me in the eye. "I take it this is where you go every morning?"

I nod. "Yup."

"I see... Is your horse okay?"

"Oh! Guillotine!" I fold the rag over, get the peroxide bottle from my bag, and disinfect the wound. He recoils from the sting. "Shh... shh... it's okay, bud, I'm done. You did great, okay? It's okay..." I whisper.

Star keeps her distance while watching me redress the wound. "Do you, um, normally drink horse blood?"

"Oh Guillotine's is the only blood I have. He's my host."

"Your... host?"

"Yeah. Any decent vampire has one."

"I see." Star takes a couple cautious steps forward. She looks up at Guillotine. He snuffles her hair.

"You just ate, bud, give it a rest," I say to Guillotine, patting him playfully. I look to Star. "He eats fear."

Star steps back again. "Does he, now?" she says, failing to hide the wobble in her voice.

"Yeah Night Mares normally sit on people's chests while they're sleeping and give them bad dreams to get their fill."

"Hence the name."

I nod. "Yeah. But my dreams usually suck anyway so we kinda have a thing going. I feed him and he feeds me."

Star smiles a bit. "That's actually kinda sweet. You're like... parasites in mutualism." She gasps. "Hey, I should write that down!"

I smile back like I understand whatever she just said. "Yeah, exactly."

💙💙💙

Royalty never really meant much to me. Like, big deal, you ended up in the right family. So Star being a princess hasn't really crossed my mind all week because it's kinda irrelevant to me.

Now I can't forget it.

Star has clearly never lifted a finger her whole life. She's been holding the pitchfork wrong, she can't maneuver the wheelbarrow, she doesn't even sweep right. I mean I'll give her this, she is trying. But I'm still pulling, like, 80% of the weight because I'd rather have 20% of the job done wrong than half.

Come lunch I'd say we've made good progress. I sit at the edge of the landing platform, sandwich in hand, while Star lays next to me panting like she's had the craziest workout of her life.

"You good?" I ask, mouth full of lettuce and tomato.

"I'll be fi... ugh..." she rolls to her side. "Where's lunch?"

"You didn't bring any?"

"Your steak tartare, Your Highness," a guy in a pastel jacket says, coming towards us and holding a plate with a metal dome over it.

Star yelps and sits up. "Thank you!" she says, clapping. The guy sets the plate down, puts a cloth napkin over her lap, and bows out.

I knock on the dome. "Uh..."

"What?" Star says. "It's called a cloche." She takes it off to reveal a tiny mound of beef with an egg yolk on top and takes a dainty little bite with a silver fork.

It puts me off my sandwich for a bit. I can't help staring. "Is that... raw meat?"

"Mm hm," Star says between bites. "The normal dish is supposed to have, like, capers and stuff, but that makes me feel sick. Ugh, carnivore problems. I'll just take the protein, thanks!"

"Carnivore, huh?" I ask, vaguely remembering that most people in the Land of Light are vegetarian. "People ever give you crap about that one?"

Star giggles but there's a sadness to it. "Not to me, obviously, but my friend Citrus gets it from some jerk kids that don't get that we don't have a choice, you know? Like, one time Summer literally told him, 'You like the taste of dead animals, freak?' Like, first of all, lame and unsubtle, but also rude!"

I nod, deciding she doesn't need to know that I try to be vegetarian outside of the blood thing. "She seems like a b-"

"Malignant harpy? I know."

That's not what I was going for but that works too. I keep eating my sandwich.

"I bet you get some of that too, huh? Being a... you know... bloodsucker."

I almost choke on that last word but manage to swallow. "Don't call me that," I say, dead serious.

Star's cat ears flatten against her head. "Oh, I'm sorry! I just figured, you know, it's what you do, right?"

"I mean, yeah, but that word is just..." I shake my head. "Don't call me that."

"Oh, okay, um..." Star's trying to look for a way to change the subject. "So, if you only drink blood from your horse, then you've never bitten a person, right?"

"That's right," I say firmly.

...Alright so I've bitten one person but she was crazy and I'm trying to forget about her. Telling Star about that mess would just muddy the issue, you know?

...She wanted it more than I did, okay? Okay. Moving on.

"And you're totally done with the Band of Darkness, right?" Star asks.

"Yes." I'm not lying about that one.

Star scoffs. "So, there we go! People are freaking out over you for no reason." She pulls me into a hug that I wasn't prepared for. "And... I admit I was freaking out, too. I'm really sorry about that. Really." She pulls back and looks me straight in the eyes with her slit pupils. "Really."

I can't say why, but I believe her.

💙💙💙

We should be a couple hours away from sundown now and it looks like we'll be about halfway done by the end of the day. Perfect. Even more perfect, I think Star is starting to get into the swing of things. I'm willing to shift the workload split from 80-20 to 70-30. We'll see how this keeps going.

Kids have started coming back from their days out. Most deal with their horses themselves because they feel weird about having the princess do the job for them and don't trust a vampire not to rip out their horses' necks or something. We get a few compliments on our work so far. They're all said to Star but being invisible is better than being a target so I'm not complaining.

At one point a group of boys flies in and greets Star excitedly. One of them, a catboy with orange hair, picks her up in a big hug that brings her off the floor.

"STAR!" he shouts and puts her down. "It sucks you couldn't go out with us today! How's the punishment going?"

"Oh, I think we're getting along nicely, actually!" Star says, then gasps. "How about a spa trip next weekend?" They squeal together. So they're friends, huh? Maybe I should introduce myself.

"Hey," I say, walking up. "I'm Sky. I'm in Star's band."

The smile wipes clean off his face. His ears flatten against his head. He just stares at me with wide eyes. This was a mistake.

Star wraps an arm around his. "Um... Sky, this is Citrus. He's been my friend since we were kids in the orphanage."

I nod. "Nice to meet you," I say, trying to look as friendly as a monster can look.

Citrus tries to open his mouth but no sound comes out. He turns to Star, who's at a loss too.

That's when the — What did Star call her? — malignant harpy comes. She and her four sisters, one of who's supposed to be rooming with me but has been sleeping who knows where all week. I'm guessing with her sisters.

"Oh look," Summer says way too loud, dismounting from her shimmering white horse. "The princess... and her charity cases."

"Screw off, Glade," Citrus says.

Star holds him back, cool as ever. "It's okay, Citrus. She's just salty because I choose my friends based on their personalities and not... Sorry, Summer, what do you have going for you?"

I stifle a laugh.

Summer's eyes snap on me, then she gives Star a smug smile. "Careful, Your Highness." She gives an exaggerated curtsy. "You've already gotten in trouble. Looks like the bloodsucker is rubbing off on you."

I'm not laughing anymore.

Star gasps. "Don't call her that!"

Summer raises her eyebrows, finally getting a reaction out of Star. She turns to me real slow. Looks me dead in the eyes. "Bloodsucker." She relishes every syllable.

Keep your cool, keep your cool. Okay she doesn't seem like the type to get physical. I don't think I'm in danger. I think. But my fight-or-flight is going off anyway. Gah, why can't I say anything? What's wrong with me?

"I said don't call her that!" Star repeats.

Summer ignores her. "Going after royal blood, aren't you? I bet you wanna suck her dry, freak. Is that your plan?"

Don't move a muscle. You're stone cold. She just wants a reaction out of you. Don't give her one. My face is getting real hot.

Star steps between us. "Leave her alone or I'll tell my moms."

Summer scowls. "Whatever. Come on." She and her sisters leave.

"Oh, and Gossamer?" Star calls as they head inside.

Gossamer turns around. "Yes, Your Highness?"

"Mama says you have to start sleeping in your dorm room. Not your sisters'."

Gossamer opens her mouth to reply but Summer cuts her off with, "She's not sleeping in the same room as a coffin."

"I'm not sleeping in the same room as her," I call back to them but they've already left. I'm not sure they even heard me. I hope they didn't.

Citrus left in the middle of that. It's just us again.

"She's pathetic," Star says. "They're all pathetic. Forget them. Come on." She picks up the pitchfork the right way this time.

We get back to work. "You said you knew Citrus from an orphanage?"

"Mm hm," Star says. "I spent the first six years of my life there. He came in when he was three and I was two."

I stop for a second, just look at her. "You're an orphan?"

"Well, yeah, technically. Did you think my two moms were my birth parents?" She giggles.

"No, obviously. No, I guess I just... I don't know what I thought. The story I always heard was that they found you. They never said where."

"Probably because the Band of Darkness was the reason I was there in the first place."

Alright now I have to drop what I'm doing completely. "Your parents were killed by the Band of Darkness?"

Star nods like this isn't news. "Uh huh. It's happened to lots of kids. Citrus's too. By the way, I'm sorry about how weird he was around you. It's nothing personal, he just has a hard time trusting vampires since it was it was a vampire that his parents were... you know..." She makes a slashing motion across her neck.

There's a difference between knowing something happens and seeing the consequences right in front of you. I knew the Band of Darkness was making orphans left and right but I'd just talked to two without even realizing. And this one barely seems fazed by it! How normal is this to her?

Our shadows are getting longer and longer. The sky'll start changing color any moment now. In fact... I'm seeing a bit of orange!

"Looks like we can turn in," I say, stretching my shoulders.

"Ugh, I'm never breaking the rules again, that was exhausting!" Star says.

I chuckle to myself. If she thought that was bad she should see tomorrow. I'm splitting the work 50-50.

[ifuckinglovestvincent]

St. Vincent Is Telling You Everything

“I told you more than I would tell my own mother.”

September 10, 2017, 10:34 a.m. By Laura Snapes | BuzzFeed Contributor Reporting From New York, New York Annie Clark was reconfiguring some older material for her upcoming tour when she realized how alien it felt to play it. She could adapt the arrangements to her harsher new sound — the sleazy, acid aesthetic of Masseduction, her upcoming fifth solo record as St. Vincent — but the writing’s proggy complexity was cockblocking the emotion. “In so many ways, I thought I was being completely transparent and brave in every record, only to realize that they are very oblique,” Clark told BuzzFeed News. She cackled and looked delighted. “Who knew! I had no idea.” Clark is much too self-aware for this to be completely true. But the difference between her polite, guarded Texan past and confrontational present is colossal. When I first interviewed Clark in 2009, she nervously pressed her pendant against her lips and face, leaving a red lipstick pox on her insane cheekbones. By 2014’s St. Vincent, Clark’s public persona would be imperious. But these days, she’s a playful freak who revels in showing the tightness of her grip, a disposition aided by long, straight eyebrows that dance like Memphis squiggles. In late July, she appeared in the lobby of New York City’s Marlton Hotel, her temporary home during the making of Masseduction. She had come from pilates — which she likes because it makes her sing better and “come a lot harder” — and disappeared to change out of her leopard-print gym shorts. When I mentioned a recent paparazzi photo of her looking like a sexy detective in another skintight leopard-patterned getup, she asked twice, with predatory delight, whether I’d looked at her camel toe. (No! Okay, maybe!) The only time her control slipped was when the hotel’s stereo started playing “Who,” a knotty song from the album she made with David Byrne, and she shriveled like a salted snail at hearing her own voice. Self-possession like hers is often interpreted as pretentious, or pathological. But over time, the confidence that the younger, anxious Clark had to fake has become bracingly real. You can hear it in Masseduction, a record of pop fluidity and queer possibility. It’s the best thing she’s ever done, and there are no bad St. Vincent records. It’s partly harsh, heady, erotic synth-pop visions steered by her diamond-sharp guitar, and while Clark has written plenty of ballads, there have never been any as brutal and gorgeous as these. Its lurch between apocalypse and ecstasy mirrors how it felt to be kicked in the head by the past couple years. In a way, Clark was right about the obscurity of her past work, filled with archetypes and distanced observations — emotions through a stained-glass window. If not a clear pane, then Masseduction is at least a peep show on heartache, fucking, addiction, destitution, and suicide. And her relatively new life as a very public figure, thanks to relationships with Cara Delevingne and Kristen Stewart, gives it an extra frisson. Tabloids will rush to find the former, the famed British supermodel, on an album littered with wasted bodies, especially on “Young Lover,” where Clark finds someone overdosed in the bathtub. She recounts the night with terror but also arrestingly ugly indignation. “Oh, so what / Your mother did a number / So I get gloves of rubber / To clean up the spill,” she sneers. “Scenario has to rhyme, babe,” is all Clark said about its veracity. She was bemused at being asked to explain the lyrics. To her, this record is butt-naked. “I told you everything,” she stressed. “I told you more than I would tell my own mother. It’s right there.”

Annie Clark Nedda Afsari Masseduction started out with three tenets: It would feature programmed beats and pedal steel guitar, and examine power and seduction. “What does power look like, who wields it, how do they wield it — emotionally, sexually, financially?” Clark ticked off her fingers. The album was properly born over a creative first-date dinner with Jack Antonoff, the Bleachers frontman who also recently produced and wrote with Lorde and Taylor Swift. Clark was looking for a teammate; they told each other everything that was going wrong in their lives and decided that total oblivion was the only way out of their heads. “It wasn’t, ‘Hey, let’s make a record together, that’ll be fun,’” Antonoff told me. “It was, ‘Let’s absolutely go all the way and find the absolute best thing that exists here,’ which is really the only way to work on things.” That grit is Clark’s MO. Until recently, she claimed to have taken approximately 36 hours off in between returning from touring 2011’s Strange Mercy and starting work on 2014’s St. Vincent. The concerts for the latter were bonkers, starting the run as avant-garde, meticulously choreographed deconstructions of a traditional rock show, and ending it with exorcisms that entailed Clark crumpling down a 10-foot pink plywood pyramid like a drunken horse. She often stole objects from the crowd: a pair of crutches, someone’s dinner. The spectacle of her murdering the thing she’d trained for was addictive.

St. Vincent during the 2015 Coachella Valley Music & Arts Festival. Frazer Harrison / Getty Images “Touring became a blood sport for me. I mean, I was born with a whip anyway, and touring became this self-flagellating exercise,” she said, clenching her jaw and lashing each shoulder with an imaginary strap. “And I was seeking that kind of physical exhaustion; I was seeking the pain.” She doesn’t know why, and she’s okay not knowing why, though eventually she did accept that her relationship to touring was a form of delirium. On the new album’s “Sugarboy,” a dystopian, post-Moroder disco banger, she describes herself as a “casualty hanging on from the balcony.” (She literally climbed rafters in some theaters, kicking away security guards.) This hysteria is one of the reasons she considers Masseduction her saddest record. “I lost my mind, I lost people, I gained people, I stopped touring,” Clark said of that period between 2014 and 2017. “It was just a lot of a lot, you know.” After the St. Vincent tour dates ended, Clark had to learn to construct and value life away from the road — she had been on tour since age 16, when she worked as an assistant for her aunt and uncle’s jazz group. “And I still love that,” she said of touring, “but it’s more like a component of my life now rather than…my life.” Back home she indulged in a “period of bacchanalia,” and briefly got into self-medicating, an experience she turned into the lunatic track “Pills”: Imagine the Stepford Wives lost in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory (Kamasi Washington guests on saxophone; Delevingne sings on the chorus). She’s transfixed by the forces that can swallow us — “You know, drugs, sex, and rock ‘n’ roll,” she winked. “So corny. Kill me! Kill me dead!” Though sometimes she uses those themes to dress up more mundane relationship dynamics. “Savior” explores the unhealthiness of mutual projection through a funny S&M parable involving nurses and nuns and our tediously prosaic concepts of kink: “You put me in a teacher’s little denim skirt,” Clark moans on the song. “Ruler and desk so I can make it hurt / But I keep you on your best behavior / Honey, I can’t be your savior.” The album’s self-destructive dynamic comes out on the title track — “I can’t turn off what turns me on,” she wails over twisted guitar — and her protagonists never stop annihilating each other for their own benefit, whether for carnal kicks, or for the mothers who “milk their young” in the song “Los Ageless.”

The album cover for Masseduction. Loma Vista Recordings And then there’s the heartbreaking “Happy Birthday Johnny,” which sounds like a snowflake but crushes like an anvil. It calls back to the title track of her 2007 debut Marry Me, about “John” who’s “a rock with a heart like a socket I can plug into at will”; and to “Prince Johnny,” the decadent downtown royal from St. Vincent. She said she feels compassion and hopelessness for his self-destruction, but can’t judge because she’s just like him. Maybe he’s also a cipher for the way humans use each other — Clark flatly refused to talk about him. “One thing I have learned in six records and 10 years is that I’m not obliged to answer any questions — a lesson I more or less only recently learned.” She stared into the bar, fixing a grim expression through her orange aviators. “Next question.” At any rate, the song is a whole story. Once conspirators, her and Johnny’s literal fire-starting days are behind them, and now he lives on the street, calling up Clark at New Year’s for “dough to get something to eat.” She demurs, and he calls her a queenly miser who’s sold out for fame. “But if they only knew the real version of me / Only you know the secrets, the swamp, and the fear,” she pleads. It is deeply tragic, being shamed — perhaps rightly — by the person who once understood your shame. Antonoff theorized that she’s mourning a past on the record. On the forthcoming Fear the Future Tour (named after a new song, and to resemble a Jenny Holzer maxim), Clark said she probably won’t be flinging herself around stages as much because “I think I’m emotionally throwing myself around a lot more.”

A still from St. Vincent’s “New York” music video. Alex Da Carte In late July, Tiffany & Co. announced Clark as one of the faces of its fall advertising campaign. Diamonds and waspy Americana are a weirdly prim contrast to the freaky propaganda aesthetic that Clark is calling “manic panic” — the Masseduction album cover is a photo of a nice ass in a leopard-print thong bodysuit. But like any savvy propagandist, Clark’s image will be everywhere this year. Having directed a short film, The Birthday Party, as part of the horror anthology XX, she’s now due to direct a feature-length, female-led adaptation of The Picture of Dorian Gray. (“The most rich text I have ever read: transgression, modernity, society, repressed queerness.”) There’s also a multimedia performance as part of October’s Red Bull Music Academy in Los Angeles, and an upcoming art exhibition in New York. A coffee table book. Essays. (She calls art “a fountain of youth” that’s given her everything and everyone in her life, hence her urge to make everything.) And that’s just the exposure she has control over. Celebrities like to pretend that their success is the result of some cosmic fluke, but Clark has said quite openly that the best part of becoming more famous thanks to her love life is “just getting the opportunity to do more work in different fields,” which nobody ever admits! (Though her 2015 Grammy for Best Alternative Album and overwhelming critical acclaim probably helped, too.)

St. Vincent, Zoe Kravitz, and Zosia Mamet at the Tiffany & Co.-presented Whitney Biennial VIP Opening in March 2017 in New York. Mike Coppola / Getty Images One of Clark’s best-known songs, 2014’s “Digital Witness,” is about social media voyeurism. “I wonder if, in the future, privacy will be something that only the 1 percent can afford,” she told Rolling Stone that year, which now seems beautifully naive. From the second she and Delevingne were spotted together at the 2015 BRIT Awards, the UK’s pervy yet ever-scandalized tabloid media went nuts that their hottest young model was dating a woman, and pursued them so staunchly that the couple once took revenge by firing water pistols at the paparazzi. “She really is so famous!” Clark said of Delevingne, feigning hammy disbelief at the attention they received. “That shouldn’t have been shocking to me, but it was shocking to me in the sense that she’s such a sweet, really, deeply kind, unspoiled person. She has more compassion in her little finger than—” She waved her hand around her torso with a grim laugh. (The pair reportedly split last fall, but Clark would only say they were “never not close.”) Clark’s self-assurance helped her to perceive the tabloid aggression and celebrity weirdness as baffling rather than distorting. She was too classy to run with my suggestion that attending that Taylor Swift 4th of July party must’ve been an interesting anthropological study. “That was, I think, in the midst of a game of Celebrity,” she said of a photo of her wearing the same stars ’n’ stripes onesie as Gigi Hadid, Karlie Kloss, and Ruby Rose. She took a long pause. “I was very bad at it!”

From left: Cara Delevingne and Annie Clark Schiller Graphics But she was disturbed by dangerous high-speed car chases from paparazzi in pursuit of photos of the couple; she thinks the gossip industrial complex relates to a wider societal disparity. “The biggest problem was that the value system of it is all based on aspiration,” she said with genuine concern. “It’s wealth aspiration, fame aspiration. But if the government, if the world was just generally a more compassionate, empathetic place, people wouldn’t be aspiring to…that. They would be more fulfilled with their own lives if the wealth gap in general wasn’t so insane.” Admittedly, it was hard not to want to look at them, in matching sharp suits and laser-cut Burberry, queering the archetype of the male rock star dating the young supermodel, watching the context around an established artist mutate in front of you. There is the kind of halfway-benign personal invasion where paparazzi follow you and your girlfriend around an airport. But then there is the kind where the never-not-creepy Daily Mail doorsteps your older sister at home in Texas and calls up your well-meaning uncle to sandbag him into revealing that your father went to prison in 2010 for participating in multimillion-dollar stock fraud. Although it is grotesque to treat the paper’s muckraking as a puzzle piece, it did illuminate part of the story behind Strange Mercy, which Clark had — understandably — only ever vaguely attributed to an overwhelming period of loss. “Suitcase of cash in the back of my stick shift,” she sang on “Year of the Tiger.” “I had to be the best of the bourgeoisie / Now my kingdom for a cup of coffee.” (She cowrote the song with her mother, Sharon, who split from Clark’s father when she was three.) “Everybody has their personal tragedies and their crosses to bear,” Clark said in a clipped tone. She calls her father’s 12-year prison sentence “a horrible tragedy. On so many different levels. So absolutely heartbreaking.” She — an adult — could handle it. But her younger half- and stepsiblings on her father’s side are still teenagers. “And I specifically would never talk about that or have ever mentioned that in a myriad of questions about Strange Mercy because it seems like an incredible betrayal of my family. But most specifically, my youngest siblings who are innocent children. They were kiddos.” She described the Daily Mail story as “faux concern,” and reiterated that the paper couldn’t find any dirt on her, no matter how outrageously they tried. “I’m not ashamed of my family,” she said. Then I asked her whether her father going to prison had spun her own moral compass, or made her reconsider any values of right and wrong that he may have instilled in her. She was momentarily confused, and then let rip a massive, absurd, demonstrative laugh. She kept going. “I love my father,” she said eventually, still tickled. “I love my father very much, as any child loves their parent. He’s very intelligent and erudite and a good writer and incredibly well read, and those are all things that I value and I’m glad that he instilled in me.” She paused, and kept on laughing. In the run-up to announcing Masseduction, Clark was Instagramming absurdist junket-styled videos, in which she wears a hot pink skirt and a transparent rubber top the color of ash, and takes questions from an off-screen interviewer. Her answers were scripted by the musician and comedian Carrie Brownstein, who is also her ex-girlfriend. One video poses the question of whether Annie Clark and St. Vincent are the same person. She pauses to consider. “Honestly, you’d have to ask her.” What’s it like being a woman in music? “Good question,” she muses, as the camera zooms to her black and yellow fingernails, which spell out “FUCK OFFF.” These films might factor into her upcoming tour, but the answers were also written for journalists. Earlier in July, in London, Clark found alternative ways to conduct interviews for hours at a time. She invited some female journalists to get massages with her (too weird with men, even though she was face-down on the table the whole time, avoiding eye contact). Other writers were invited into a 10-by-10-foot pink wooden box that was constructed in a North London studio especially for the occasion. Her interrogators had to duck through a low door to enter the blacklit space. “Not full-on crawl, because that’s a little heavy-handed,” she clarified. Inside, she looped a pedal steel recording and lit a Diptyque candle that struggled to mask the paint fumes.

St. Vincent / Via Instagram If anyone asked her an obvious question — like where the name St. Vincent came from — she planned to play prerecorded answers and “check my email, or stretch, or zone out for a second,” she said, sounding almost disappointed that she didn’t get a chance to enact her schemes. She insisted she wasn’t being antagonistic. But sitting opposite Annie Clark for two hours is often intimidating enough without the added fear that she’s about to make fun of you to your face: It is a gigantic power play! “Oh, deeply so,” she said, affecting a wryly elegant tone. “But then also not at all because I was the insane person stuck in a box for eight hours!” If critics and fans are bored of this sort of thing — see Arcade Fire’s recent album campaign — they are clearly not as tired as the artists who have to smile politely at writers who don’t know how to use Google. Plus, Arcade Fire’s hijinks felt cynical; Clark’s feels like a rejection of the idea that women artists are meant to be relatable, having endured a career’s worth of inane juxtapositions between her pretty face and gnarly shredding like it means anything. The point, she said, was that putting ourselves in a totally different, slightly strange context can produce interesting results. (She and I were meant to do Pilates together — before an oversold class spared me the indignity.) Why not make everything thoughtful and curated? If the stakes are already high, why not aim even higher and put yourself in extreme circumstances to see what happens? If Clark has done two things for the cerebral indie-rock world that she’s long outstripped, it’s teach about sex (thank god), and expose its low-risk complacency for a con.

Nedda Afsari Of course, in some people’s eyes, this makes her a phony, a manipulator. Earlier this year, legendary cultural critic Greil Marcus wrote an admirably dim-witted column for Pitchfork where he compared Clark to the slippery Father John Misty, aka Josh Tillman, claiming that they “perform as artists of such pretentiousness you couldn’t possibly figure out how to talk to them. … There’s no way to address a saint: To be a saint you have to be dead … Such characters allow themselves to appear as if touched by God, which is what they’re selling, and laugh at you if you’re so square not to know who they really are: to join their club.” If Marcus had read any of the million interviews that Clark is parodying in her high-concept clips, he would know the name is rooted in humiliation and squalor — the hospital where Dylan Thomas died — rather than divine aspiration. “And I have never, nor would I ever, put the kind of trapdoors and booby traps in my music to make the listener feel dumb,” Clark told me in response to Marcus’s theories. “I have enough hubris not to kill myself, but I actually have such a deep respect for the listener that I have never tried to pander. Songs and arrangements were complex and convoluted at times, but they were sincere attempts at connecting.” She hoped there will be no mistaking her intent with her new record, which “is so first-person and sad.” But if anyone does, she knows it’s not her job to correct them.

A still from the “New York” music video. Alex Da Carte A still from the “New York” music video. If you want to use Masseduction as a treasure map, then this is what it tells us about Annie Clark’s personal life. She experienced a complicated kind of heartbreak. Sometimes that makes her crazy and neurotic: “I won’t cry wolf in the kitchen,” she swears on woozy opener “Hang on Me,” but threatens to jump off her roof “just to punish you” on the vengeful, cracked opera of “Smoking Section,” the last song. Sometimes a mental safety net stretches out when she might otherwise get hurt. “Slip my hand from your hand / Leave you dancing with a ghost,” she sings on “Slow Disco,” the most tender song she’s ever written. “Don’t it beat a slow dance to death?” a forlorn and disembodied voice repeats as it fades out. Her world is changing, and that’s unsettling. “Too few of our old crew left on Astor,” she sings on “New York,” a song about lost heroes. On “Fear the Future,” she belts the title as the song reaches a pyrotechnic cataclysm that sounds like a truckload of fireworks being dumped inside a volcano. But if you respond in kind to Clark’s vulnerability, then these are the more meaningful revelations that we can take from Masseduction into our lives: Relatability is a crock, and sincerity doesn’t take a single form. “I refuse to seem less threatening, if that’s how I’m perceived,” said Clark. “Ultimate freedom is not caring whether you are liked, because you are making something you really love and believe in.” On Masseduction Clark tells us that all the good forms of desire — love, sex, art — are self-destructive. But at their best, they create just that little bit more than they consume, and can eventually alchemize anxiety into total power.

[peakyblinders1919]

The Answer Pt. 5

Elouise puffed out her cheeks as she ran down the street, throwing unapologetic sorries over her shoulder as she weaved in and out of people on the sidewalks. They hurled angry swears at her as she still bumped into them, her feet pounding the pavement as the betting shop came into view.

She threw open the doors hard, making them swing back and hit the wall with a loud bang, causing everyone to stop what they were doing and look at her.

She stood in the doorway, hands on her legs, huffing loudly to catch her breathe. “A…am I late?” She managed through her jagged breathing, her eyes scanning over their annoyed faces.

“No, not yet,” Arthur said, swirling the liquid around in his glass and taking a sip. “But that's only because Tommy’s not here yet. You got lucky this time Lou. Next birthday I'm getting you a watch.”

“I already have a wa-”

“One that works.” He clarified and she scoffed but he ignored it. She made herself comfortable next to him, Arthur knowingly pouring her a glass, if only to keep her quiet when it came time to actually start the meeting.

“Where’s Tommy and John?”

“Getting Pol.”

“She’s not gonna be very happy about that.”

“When’s she ever happy about what we do?” He mumbled under his breath, loud enough for everyone else to hear and laugh along in agreement.

“Too right you are, and you’ll never hear the end of it this time. She’s just got her son back, and now you're stealing her away from him.”

He sighed, throwing back some more of his drink. “Right, the kid. Michael’s his name?” She nodded, unable to say anything else as her lips were pressed to the glass. “You think he’s cut out for all...this?”

“Hard to tell,” was all she said as she thought about Michael again and almost as soon as she did, wished she could stop. Staying at Maggie’s last night hadn’t helped ease her feelings at all. Instead, her friend had worked her up, embarrassing her by claiming she liked the boy.

“Like, I hardly know him. I just…something’s off. It’s this...feeling.”

“Like an omen?” Maggie had asked giddily.

“No, more like a premonition. Except not because there’s no such thing,” Elouise had smiled at the end of her words. “Gypsies don’t have premonitions and incase you’ve forgotten again, I’m not one of them.

“Well you hang around them so much I tend to forget.” Maggie smirked, giving her best friend a nudge. “Or maybe they’re just rubbing off on you and you are becoming one.”

Gyspy or not, as Elouise stood there now, in the betting shop next to Arthur, talking about Michael, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was brewing. The air hung differently, her stomach felt queasy as she thought about him.

But thankfully a commotion in front shook her from her thoughts and she jumped to the back of the room as she heard Polly’s voice, knowingly complaining about ruining her holiday.

Elouise tried to lay low in the back, but she perked up when she heard Arthur ask about Michael. Now that she looked, she didn’t see him anywhere.

“Where’s the boy?”

“In the back room.”

“He wanted to come in and say hello-” John started but Polly shut him down rather quickly.

“There's nothing of interest to Michael in this room.” Polly said, looking around as her eyes landed on Lou. She gave a small smile but her face was still ridden with annoyance as she waited for the boys to tell her their amazing plan so she could get back to what she was actually doing.

They first talked about the real company issues, Sabini and the body of the dead, innocent boy left in the green. Elouise tried to remain calm, none of this new to her, but she still wasn’t accustomed to it. It takes something traumatizing to make you cold and unfeeling towards the evil in the world. Something like war, or seeing a loved one die.

“Did you come up with this idea in a pub by any chance?” Polly’s anger raged, making Elouise pay attention again. That’s when the women turned on her heel and looked at Lou in the back. “Did you know about this?”

When all the men looked at her, she stood up straighter, not knowing what to do with her hands. She couldn’t shake the glare Polly was giving her but she caught Tommy’s eye and subtle nod. “Yes.”

“And you didn’t tell me beforehand?”

“She doesn’t have to tell you everything Poll.” Tommy interjected, making Elouise sigh in relief as the attention was pulled off of her. She was back in the shadows, trying to steady her beating heart as they continued to talk about the sale. And they were so immersed in the conversation of business, no one but her heard the back door opening. She stood up straight, trying to get a look at the door, never knowing who was trying to spy on the Blinders and get information. She was slightly relieved, however, to find Michael step into the light. She tried to remain quiet, but also tried to get his attention. He shouldn’t be in here. She tried everything, even whispering his name when he walked further into the room, closer to her. His head perked up, catching her eye. She shook her head as a warning but he didn’t listen, strutting further into the room so everyone now saw him. She sighed angrily, crossing her arms. She wondered when it would stop; everyone ignoring her, underestimating her. She was ready to leave at this point, so close to the door she’d slip out and no one would notice, but she couldn’t sabotage her position in the company again.

“I thought I told you to lock that door.” Polly cried.

“He did. I used the key on the nail. Look, I’ve been listening. I want to go with them.” Elouise perked up at this again, ready to hear Polly go off the deep end and deny him. She never let Elouise go, and she was like a daughter to Polly. She’d never let her own son go, but Elouise admired him for trying.

“I love horses. I could even help.”

“Over my dead body.” Elouise snickered, a few of the older men turning to look at her. She rolled her eyes, ignoring their looks as Michael spoke again.

“It’ll be alright Mum.” He said, Elouise shaking her head.

“Fucking unbelievable.” She let slip, louder than she thought too as everyone stopped talking and looked at her for the uptinth time that day.

“What’s that Lou?” Tommy asked. She wouldn’t meet his icy stare, glancing at Michael.

“Oh, nothing. Sorry.” She lied, and the look he gave her as he moved on said he knew something was up. And something definitely was up. A few days ago Michael had barely been able to acknowledge that Polly was his mum, and now here he was, using it as a means to let him be involved. She wasn’t about to watch this new kid walk in and go to a business deal, when she’s been working for Tommy for years and was never allowed outside the betting shop.

“I’ve been to loads of horse auctions before with my uncle. They’re very respectable. People bring their butlers.”

“Yeah, and their posh wives.”

“And their mistresses.” Once again, Elouise perked up at the sound of John’s voice. That was it. Her way in. She tried to hid her sly smirk on her face as ideas were already racing through her head, but she couldn’t get too excited just yet.

“No. Fucking no.” She said, only making Elouise smile again. She caught Polly’s eye momentarily before she watched Michael walk out angrily, pushing a huge pile of papers a desk. He looked back at Elouise right before he left, and all she did was smile at him wildly. There was a long moment of silence as everyone calmed down again, as Tommy told everyone to go back to work. And the second he sent the men back to their desks, Elouise shimmied her way to the front.

“Aunt Poll,” John said, causing Elouise to stop in her tracks. She saw the look on Poll’s face, she wasn’t about to lose her son after just getting him back, and she knew if she let him go she’d lose him to this lifestyle forever. But the way John talked, her face was changing.

“If you want him to stay, let him come.” John finished, waiting for her response and when she stayed silent, he walked away, throwing Elouise a smile.

“Poll…” Elouise tried silently, reaching out to console her with a squeeze to the arm. The sudden contact made her jump a bit, and look at Elouise with soft eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, aside from being so blindsided,” she said, running her fingers through her hair, “but I’m alright. I just don’t know what to do.”

“You heard John Poll. You want to drive him away then keep doing what you’re doing.”

“But who knows what’s going to happen tomorrow. What if...”

“No what if’s Polly. You can’t control everything. You have to let them go. If you want...I can go with them and make sure everything’s fine.”

“You would?”

“If you wanted, yes.”

She sighed heavily, contemplating the offer on the table. Elouise waited anxiously for her answer, hoping she’d cave.

“Ok fine.” She gave in, causing Elouise to lurch forward and hug her hard.

“Thank you Polly.” She said into her ear as she rested her chin on her shoulder. “We’ll be fine. Now go tell him so he doesn’t resent your guts.” Elouise said, making them laugh together as she headed out.

With a smile still on her face and a deep breath, Eloise walked over to Tommy’s office, knocking on the door and waiting for him to let her in.

“Shouldn’t you be working Lou?”

“All done.”

He looked up from his paperwork momentarily, shocked to hear that something was on time for once. “Then what do you want?”

“I want to go with you guys tomorrow.”

“No.” He said without hesitation, his glance lingering on her a second before he took his pen back to his paper.

“Why not?”

“You don’t know what you’re doing. You’re young.”

“Michael’s going! Plus, Polly already said I could.”

“Well I’m the boss and I say no.”

“You don’t always have the last say. You heard Michael, people bring their posh wives and mistresses, bring me. We’ll blend in.”

He just shook his head, refusing to answer her. When the silence overwhelmed her, she turned around, kicking the chair angrily, finally getting Tommy’s attention.

“I’m capable Tommy. You said so yourself, I’ve been an asset to this company, why can’t I go?”

“You’re. Not. Ready.” He said calmly, indifferent to Elouise’s outburst.

“Let me prove to you that I am.” She said, planting her hands firmly on his desk and leaning over, leaving just inches in between their faces. She held strong, staring into the depths of his eyes, leading into his soul, her gaze never wavering. If she didn’t get the chance now, she thought she never would. “I’m ready Tommy. Trust me.”

A few moments later Elouise was handing her book into Tommy and walking down Watery lane, a huge smile on her face. Hoisting herself up into the car, she twisted the key and the engine roared to life. She pulled out without looking again, the sound of screeching breaks sending shivers down her spine behind her.

“Fucking git!” She heard through her window, causing her to yell back as she hurried on down the road.

When she got to her destination, she turned the car off and jumped down, skipping up to the steps. She hopped from foot to foot, waiting anxiously for the door to open.

“Elouise…” she was greeted by a confused Maggie. “What…”

“I need a dress. Tomorrow. I’m going to an auction.”

surprise chapter release lol! lmk what you think and please like or comment or something if you’re still reading this one and are interested!