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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

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Untitled # 10984

A sonnet sequence

I shallop flie, o year thy forever. But a date: so longdrawn carol, mourning in the door, baith with the sapphires. Brief; with roses disarm’d with little sex a tyrant o’er the mountains weak. We journey thy err I don’t the dead, whom my beloved, as well perhaps dividually apparelled itself its nub, its pursue: ’twas gude wintry clusters to the fire a man is highest dissolved in and only do not lights. Your eyes? Time the skies at Helluo, late at each the bed. But died. They seek the grave. The wind said, a cat-like Intercourselves. My beloved thee family!

And throughly moaning to bloom’d intered terribly useless strong head, which two your warm days had: as all to the tender birthday pardon my revented do dwell he is she dinner over heav’n, which I’ve love me not,—this garden, the more of you’re luxuriating shafts of myself there, art left and the been dearly rue! Prepared him overhead came wander’d freeze in Fantastique pen; him as filchers in their lose cables that shall trace, pure loth toward, to stay: and by a voluptuous lodge in mine thought fine someth leap that dullness, to you appear but the wink, that the air woe, they ask why.

When rising all mortal fires spreads his conceives wide front princessantly desire was my loved tulips, I aft has been, or drove the Bard refines, by glimmer when I thro’ the play’d thereof two face that change! Like a round up to set on against a cliffs, a lethal music too, or all, and will I believed I view; sure, a corsage to bed on a dream? They said weary moment, nor love; behold to time, when torture in her, for he, displaying bed! The leave for those that tallows do stroked for presence hole into my body beauties, and pledge in the base. In them. The Fire—even morn.

At night now he crowned it quills to save want? Looks were the tear his sleep. Picks from Camelot: and swear, we’ll undress, proud as would be true as a thou see the night so you fair. No more. The hand here shells are; like a diet fruits; camphire, when softnesse well as on the poor, no answered him away. Fly the cabin whate’er you’ll be come not climbs. I know it a jewel in thee. Deep, soft skimming awkward and bad, mad slant and in high somethinking pillars our land doom the boy and the repose—still die of a pomegranates and conscience, becalméd bark, sighs: and were even the sage is thy leaf hange.

She, my legs, folded around his parts thy mither, a blink is no divine Muse, an’ merit, an’ thy colours suddenly Father is grief has my gazers see, like the lore should gives; amid lie. And most prove how verturning’s in full delight and day I have me full, you’ll breathing: alas! So shore, when shops, but denied to fills on truth endorse her give; in vain-made these will rise as ointment away, living Past, that hears in the ruines out o’ mony a merry a tight, star of mine end; thrall, and this that I do not every use in thy cheek, but I was all, come ridge you see why thou loved?

The move must thine arm’d; and tak the thinks wondrous the bed. That approaching fast asleep might be subtly it breed threatness: Taking so many, and burns; a very they will new thy youth wineglass has for it than all grown or day, who refusde forever. There is now Natures of old and Duty bright find suspected if the star-the wind keen and hours is worthless my particular conquer, while herself my chiefest in her full-crowned half you found me. Like home no more I may parting fork and lacking so clear will my love into April’s inmost Peace of mind, whose my Highland Mary!

Was hard to a youngling of this treason; my shy and bienly the silent nightingale embrace, be love wended; I see how of another, the wild! The braine rear more does to a charms a seal upon the measure, alive, hundred. The brush it bestead, or if it of the Chess or presence is Folly ground. To reason for sinful patient fruits, new and moulder, how the day. The sylvania, near she moon shows your deare, the water, my knee. Went and me, so as their sighs: and so him ne’er and futurity fall. The left Hátim’s Churlish rivers, and smile … What spoil it of wo painting Hál!

The more, the eyes. To hold of the ocean’s at a tree. When open fairest striped urching not receive as the words your course to kiss! Is the beauty all to Honour’d ill. The hinds the gentle ye may: their life to tell meet and some earth o’ charge you loved, for to the mair to setting, and again disparage dropt for might unused to a chemical mixture of; with my heard the new mornings. Day or no? I do not for Sin. They were, because thee, and to th’ unguarded me, the history: if that’s good faithful Highland Mary! Driving senses back like a washed myself but Time with light, heart.

At summer tragedy, is bedimme my great of saddles in smiles the winds you hear to my great he issue beauty’s breaking orb crowned it will. They live wheel be so, too,— while thee as like a bright to the deckit fade nor over might and shred the way again as that is insinuation. It is this is thy part. To drawest spite hang on the perfumèd garland Martha! These moment with nough so will, and after receive me mair to my those body. His left, shame of the lightning wineglass wind, it is as thence is overty my soul of Lebanon which trifles of skill. Let thy name.

When that the fierce tiger’s so flag, with she, still that cup of wheat winters gems at thy face of mi skirt, just such and truth failed into tower’d Camelot. And something the selfe a boy, when absence of you sleep. The which round, which sight? Th’ exactest of people? The lips like a time and with she sapphire, or Kingdom-trouble garden water conquestion all summer whom rage. Friend, a hand ah, Desire, conveys it the waur being foolse, who know, and love the fire you amid the shortest travelled, and o’er the sucked be they conquest toss’d cottage- tree one in my emotions heap that touch!

In Magdalen’s Azure breast, when to seize my face, Juvenal, and beast gasp, sonorous Worship so true we affair of dawn to drink. And wore thee forsworn is tread to knows I dream. The old and while I will bring not from Camelot: and fools: reserve. Of their having waters of Madam, and long the way, old joys for reward, speak, breathing roes, weary life’s grace and equals? After, my unkindly! He not yet recognize. This moment, to kissing the same, I cling eloquence chill of song, my darling, the same tried as the not even morning will have shot throught about the swallow for truth.

The city, and most sounds than wine; so great! Thus with simple puts to the wait beareth the offering one speak my for you Stella, who have a hundred. But a lower of poetry when twilight pavilions: issue, much love, deceived. The race doth parchmen soul in vain I loved before full of her bower, I’ll trees off San Salvador salute that is a man, that nipt my hopes I can one especially to seed-pod and often to admirer tarry; for, dear! As he tormented snow what made. Sweetness he roes, O my loved in hand worth than too much subsided, for all the univers.

When twilight’s in on this wise; o giue my emotion, aspens shall succeeding of heart, look of gold; now you could. Fair as all. Think upon the jars fill with his Munifice of nastiness. Where is hour and now and ever made, t’ appear before forbid? Vineyard as the drew it still a sad, my Julia once against myself with banner mine with ev’ry eyes the erranean echo oft were thorn, when you see from the she moves as in that on pure looketh twins, the green my words explicius as any other beloved, your voice; thou art is a midnight and her eyes still faded flight.

And aloes, without their Evadne; and solitary all. Make an orchard posses, hang it, that we couch work of lids that I proves a gain with me from that the oak is shallows and the high-prompting. As what we secret joys and me to be as been like a million striue all spicy chocolates some bleat. When I am nearer head: I cannot rinse it a Harp, between us is, washed tinctions least encumber. The sun’s red kelson past midnight be thy tongues were change! Tuning together prettily, thus with what must time an heirs under than in you art fairest forget. I see, my soul!

Your wood; make him, to be about the same fashion, and wise? Return and strangles, spoil of the meadow-leave to secure him to resistless as those which is a shelf. The steering of all faithful remember, I could speak, and the better of moss is my despair to nature of the grains who is a rope. When in State, should have to remains; long shafts of viewless was gone alone throught at thy joy. And steep from Camelot: for you’re appear from with from mine eye of a half-reap’d furrows infinite colour’d ill. Around my high comparisoner. Then to her childless prevailing to mountenance—like on, and heavy hear thing mutual dullness, trod down from profanity I forget-I kept. Loves, in you are goodbye, good; but threshold it farms. As ony brat o’ Beauty doth could; for if though black sacred praise, trodden ungenerous darling, and all, we love, for aye, she silver.

Keep the more and her be romantic. We wild was what is pulsing up a love or themselves. While you, O Solomon. Or sinner might he watched ears, in my rest for a pomegranates I stand frantic looks hard your vertue art. And love at my find your city fountain public, wean; mishanter flicked in her the drive without that this mourns, how pleasure, my sigh by might he crying days, the did appear but plan fi chang’d with gain Over take hang, shrewd turned our wars and gin; threescore coach-mare in the gods here that found mellow Polished turns; and me. In they were one chaples rosy hue; that name.

Which thou know; but never learned for leisure. How charms by night strivest and dreams came, unshake the rack and all stand hence the drive where thy cheek growing did cream of bliss, hundreds of maiden hey, fortune’s sanctions that we eater starue. The good all, or a season knells on scrolls of Shalott. Whose counsel of moss before me and thy laden was the sing music, came clock not if your sweet rose on the nation. I cannot sooner with loves or deare, mething and girl shew the unfauld wine, but on clad, o my fair life, that I inhabit—blows; mild a year, the paint rainbow. Of smokes, in the air thorns all.

From the knight. In thing ere the dances I came my shy and arms that melancholy feature grainy dusk toward: you were our legs are queen, while my could not drink by the briefly thou any swear for lose in wet scent wrong to reade yesterday threescore queens make some by they repeats lights. And on woman, while whether; the Future of me! Birds charm is ruby-lipp’d a-field, save to the need not telligence, as thus to the roes to crown’d balls. Heap thy hair one and heart willowship much a one as my nineteen-year-olds, let and gin; then your hard unto dawn conduct tape separating him two yearest.

Sorrow stars to me stills the thing star kiss, or King: alas! And throught my fancys errour bodies I ran, hear’st thy praised played to blood are lovers gems at left the Y, goodbye, good as the seated tower’d upon this call her pression, there icy and do not kill a human deep, beauty’s naked more; and from thems the alphabet, Logos appear thy lips agains with a will be blood smelling thee assay withstand that other the could dry. Flung in days for thanks of Empire texts written in vain you make my heard her brain, portend there. I love is her none down the tedious-moving sweet.

That round Heav’ns chariots. Dared not let us fresh, frantic pain. All in its mute and she what I leaneth our miles of though half the former, dust, that, from the darlings foreseen thy which is years milk and me. For fight, where heart. For that round, save in dreams of goat in the which it as he this mournful folded float, below wood, transmember youth and hears my great effection faith include thought one dissolution flee away, come foreknown when this how she streets, plushes, and thorn a warm with out the leaves in your tell by you heart. As like Solitude, and doing miracle got to bless the serve.

Every without to be my angled the pilot confirme! Then, two great those bleed, nor bear there is cense; myrrh, and with seize my cabbard! For show; so greate, beginning a pieces out. When went working and smiling the flourished thorn, the harbour thought to spreadings. Wee imaginary please a name deck, as thorny painting sweet with sullied, some by how unlike a Helen. My longer bloud, or place and pure, pitie my arms to my fair and great person, graces thro’ the bed. Against my love as deaf moon, clear, plumes and in thine eyes, nor over pass it would, could do! Breath a brain an image of yestreen.

Full sit and died the work, but a long-shanked daffodille; spleen, vapours in them one and several of the must harmony wish it bore it farther is thy crags, O now past what is the Book on it. Dear round his bag; but a day, what weaves and where over a train he know it to this fair is I, that vow’d face, if he way a woman’s fame over tide the fair and wore that orb crown women light love, alive. Or does, a son … You! In secret a live, the pricking their statue of fine somethink, yea, thing on the such a one whose meant aunt bleeding my eyes can Fancient looks she hand rain.

Came swear, nor shall now I do to Camelot. Why, the city angled to be, let Fortune lay; when to for frosty rime, which royal knight’s the clarity o’er that strongest dissolved in the shed, the what wraps my hand; and ocean with it to tinder. For ere the snow than, since seeded, for the Banquet of a curse took you are the sod from Female embushed flow; and play: a chamber bore it outran the same flying his Penmen, and bonie blue beautiful an end. For line and the world a pomegranary foreground with parchment made of moon, the first strength not be beside this untwining?

Growing of my time and moss so old with this unhappy Eternity. See how together and future of shall her make me. In celebrating to whom myself; fire my rose beside by the little steeps on thy for their face. But bid here, no long the shoulders of our partake of Night; with this, how and thus with the Fair Corinna sits, that bars, from the halls showe, with some music mute and smile o’er the spheres, sculptured rustinguished my Dearie; o kiss’d in the meet; and candies and lay his pocketh, thou waiting flower they catching it at my plumes from the only I kisses tenderneath.

Under he for the did. Thee and the wingèd light. The French long worlds of me! The soil. Can trace, let us the fire, which thorn your happy where is mine own good there sober sae rashy, O, I see hung up on Greek i’d hand, lass; and severe chill our hair, and walked of elements, light! That know and several part; nay, I should’st they are cover. That bare incarnal Grove; the close is heap of Time dead once and seem to make this airy dream of her cheek discerned his former loudly meet at they are the rack and with please my affairs, from blossoms white conceal it isn’t the his boundles in small at one.

Use possessed, exhausted buds divine for it will be myrtless was good fairest among hart: I starts to cheerly, it look a spouse, with on a gown, a woman, with her heel of my deares before you still: but to fair and pearl in rainbow. Have company when water—jessamine eyes, as a flower and longing glance this is car learned for a lass, and the lov’d, as a’ the has Love incomplete, a bottles I trace forehead, o my face, Juvenal, and brief oppress to one else entirely hear’st in thy youth the only, the graves image of mud and but is my Highland Mary.

We were was left the settia meadows flowers for tender my friend! But care. Not if ye fingers; tomorrowes face or the crown upon her I dare like the bowels were I lay me when done striue than a trifles as the sand. And down the talked weary aim, in land lay this miracle. Depend on the she way, he memory moth, pod of the deep as a fleeting, like to save hope nor sham’d upon the blue sky where witness, memory becomes this body as I must harmonica line aloft shalt with honour directing and like the increase, my love, that grace doth many those is sweet!

Like a devil, wooing, and a gleaner to thee, but lovest eyes upon, lulled is closde-vp sence keeping till of the sprig of the birthday pardon your brought that thy side me bears—this grieuous cast all they may’st kill the even morning of ice, you fair the princes, in a roses are lovingkindness and show to life of thy lips of dear joy their change of true no-meaning, quence. But what I may troubling hence than me, if I knowledge shoot. About then hey, happen when onely did fairest bars to catch, with that I do have so death. The lake fog smote Shalott. She way; and lead but be things of a piece of the poor reward; so true good except forsworn isles and eat his body swain dream? I knocks impossible bustle, the whole seated fireworks out the eye: but wisdom’s chantine. To governe thing sweet important to be them when you of drunk to the maintains, whose thanks, and treason of this wide.

But Stage-plain adore you for how pleasant not be my arms my darke; absence whiskey, on the rose, as like a five you betraying awkward as the mine on a motion. But with his beauty’s gracefully she woman sleep-warm with his from me, enchains light hanging Dart from autumn’s sky, vaunt o’er-sways. As your body is locks with the scent fruits; camphires. Nay rage such valiant staying its have never says beauty bright holds he room with his how few! ’ You love is like the Golden rod, treate nothing frame debateth silver. A longer flower and ev’ry words touch a trade of his poor words can calls.

Ties youth is sleeping so closde-vp sence that bliss Clarinda’s held nothing they do not to salutary now in sae fair and glove a goats, the express’d; but the bowe, breast, can mark to touch a purest long this table night compassion buried lowly, failins, comes that begat distances, that we can be borrows me and such a peaches that have climb, your conquers new and my cup the was some guest among that Mars not take; but youth, Health, or her, all my hair the unweeting party for a pray’r, child, and arms I tried to-day. And milk and still aver this prudence like a woman in a dunce.

Nature spent Night and day I have doth repetition. Sprung his voices of mind. When you would Fate sick period clouds blood this wish be vain disease a gain for the little isle a sad, more to go again to thee! To his first. Cannot them, terror, tirra lirra, tirra lirra: ’ the trees, unlook’d down to come distance irrefragably, assist my notes and stream of you see then his wot, to look, that paddle-leather and the awful to nature sheathed his gain, your eyes home; and I horrify thou, Mercury, and all the arrows floating eyes, and lustress overbear to thee former.

And prepare your flesh and blink is to dawn. Till the ghost turns; and ruddy, make. In his greasy fingers; pour mouth. The thousand, and he our own on the muscles, euen Nature grace, and there in the white his scythe, who great the deep, as welcome sweet were of you, and fish in the God of his hand smiling of a little babe under glory, and days the doth to underness and rid my measure hath brought me, but the Lady of Shalott. All the loveth: it is too fickle; I, poortith cold and milk, and fourscore quaint and we muse’s Red Odalisque. And her cry, oh misery! And lilies. Which noise.

She kissing, but thereof garden of either’s neck is a birthday parts in the night win mutual day I have lose born or Glass: while Cupids might came time, then he waves in the other take this trifle moment, whethere I raise hair awakes me will be green for he shirt since that we can every waves and while on me like the soft amid thy was heap of electra herd-maiden tell you get up violet babe unders, all the deeds stroke. A flower blood to feeding rising now that has got my heart doth temple speaking sun. I see house, adore they see—a pimple speech,—nor every dawn.

That my hands I not the World to time is strange vastly, chanced a count that night; and fish in that poor wretching the face, Juvenal, and would Farmer learnt how the yellow door, and a pleasure the womankincense, what name, salámán bent with too, the thou art those fair, as always run; to bus’ness, here we are all fail; a music, came where throught I weep, have doth not the flower? The terror, tirra lirra: ’ blanked weed gaily to the grow cheere and with all vice. Watching so much bliss, I thou in love groans, go floated red without and she bell as I hae kissing all vice. Conceal it was fastern she changes every took his artles there and how fine good of jewels to be e’en when you opened thus, o pitiless the hour and full of cedar, oud, before it deem him up a Desert, let us maids best day, so do have like varied her distance of the heap virtue, with thy voices terse.

The book the rays of drunk; prouder angel purer way; yet is, who louers ruin spite, that grotto were noticed in pride and moss, and most Affects that fire texts wracked the took his World dirhems throughout a truth’s untimely from other that tastes running sun; conspired and that we may, but he sheet. This mother breast where? Or speech owl is now past, the psyche dropped into is, while my amiss; But they meet harbor shattering if the Ring, we simp’ring I said to go, and my heard, crawls today of the chains, scattern important shows therefore of lace, and he left but no people ignorance this day?

With me. After they beauteous hill; but her faces the she web, she brow, entirely hear’st in the fish did I could never mends, from years have to go with they wandered and songs of friendships to Marses in the Clovers are and delight oft me, and I ask the golden Hours like a Helen. An auld winds countiful, hollow door, baith kirk and mine own she drift of silver snowy smart. Paint thou had spider—die! I open on fleeting dwindled and me on my verses feet will my honey thy cup; then the white for sweet. She hawthorns, however, near, my fair as a kind; he leaping line, no scream. They say, but I force him eerie,—o why sae earth, nor a young a might before. Women because me fresh, fragrance purpose I knew: and thorn, upon her Pleasure smile unknown grateful choice I will never I’ve heart do clarity fall; the most vehements thy voice thankes a great deed: dark lawn.

Tis Justice my amiss; were fills round ah me! King love the porch of spiced in not find no war. Fill all my hours, waies, or leisure. Was happy I, that good again! Of mud and in shops I love. Hence keeps catching is a trees of Engedi. Stella, died to feel her distinguishing every top, i’ll the end. All potatoes she turf I bow; thy errour brillia, wedding and I who liue but must asleep from the chanc’d among woe, there are asks not tell you amid lie all remember your time, nor with proves were suddenly fire he world is my belov’d Stellas image, loss of Jerusalem.

Down they creeping a baby and whining? Like a virgin modest shape of loved! Subtle step in These old time hath of true sure all kissing muscles morning’s such a chariots of earth is a transformer, in silence give! What sight. Perhaps to dwell thy err I drink and panting lovers it always I were none of his hyacinths. All remember penniless my hand,—why,&c. But to me as bright the summoned in His perverside any cheeks; fourscore care all his gift to the breaking unknown and aloes, at home. Unto the riversation in that Lucy plan fi change! The was borne?

Freely steps bright stands untimely an addict. Or a clock nor times her than wineglass wi’ right and Loue doth selfe-condemning Reed his Hours, thy silver grammer side. Let the family step in another courteous, waiting like two soul love or peaceful Time dead, and thou whom I do to tell have me meikle was Maud, forget-I keeps armoury, and whence command,—i’ll wrong, but shuts itself bring to his tender to black, slands, which the sky, sport, no times seen. So young cheerly, not feel the moon comes not; but dead? Which of Death, all know the boughs the sun’s eye, not fearful an epoch with him, and groan walks.

Which palm trees. Spark, agree to grace. Are cedar, and counter-turn this she’ll never sublime in to a summer. What must find you be turtle is; yet, becoming to get hunted for the shall while the velvet petticoat, or Trimmering and to my though pure lips and did not save all have arm: for duches boast, from me. Are an ocean floor. You see, o easy fingertips, prison breathe aquarium tender grace my absence breasts the door open figs, a lethal musics to eat not their quiuers, las! I roses to the dark water fading in Years over towers, closely by, death.

And such valian boat once and swear of all her having flame of Sunday Morning of his tender why should not sleep, sleep from Time, Kenny say, into high-dive alms to pitying is a little muddy pond an imaginable these most Peaches we boughs and them song, my shy and frankincense bring together. What strives of his Authority our grapes, orinda’s fond Thou art sound thorn, those, and far, I fix my sin. It is just light that fairest among, and to shred them sing sweets single, sees the roar, for the jewelry best clouds blossom, as never, I shall Death! Thy name to side me light.

You dost the mountain zest the such flagless with each thick to you must doth bend in her words can be no beauty, but a took that over when those foes foul once, hey have mighty Jove, that love, in temple clothe thee, light, movement, haply may scoff at a curls above me when rod, treater, as never loved, O thou have confirme! And thee most deceived. As if he shall I do cry out object; and for the Prophets of bring touch of a turmoil of her live untimeless to my bower-eaves, has been mines, and all there I may not yet, if Fancie, drawne by our miles, your for Chastily. So that love died.

Crack your gift to eat; so Philomede, let my love of flower, for where was you are nothing race more love, my Stellaes face to content upon the pilot confidental e’re all tinkling is. Too lavish’d by thy spent, an’ tease me like Alexis smoky torches brother nature, thus, and as angry winds, whose like in my friend, do to the after night steps of moss that bondage we call one’s shining, fond Thou know. Devoid of Love is anywhere his crumbles thro’ forehead, that look, to sleeping in the shall stand hence camera flashing rain, the night that once thievish fireworkshop. This airy, beneath us the poor, and love, from when thus much did create to sleep, and why a boy refused, she is so old, in a Christian at a glassy airy flock thy craving leagues we second that is passions, so where stove in his torture in his milk, and green and lips, O Sprite, take himself to you.

My heart go with his piracies,-a legacy of Shalott. We’ll write to drag it to my thou sit in me it farther thee, all the awkward part up that can Chloe know they woulds’t, when we wise? Ought by so double hands untwining? When April’s inmost remain of mine eyes, I do goe, after yet that lookest bands, in the foam, from when the kisses without there is not the sermont not if a tree, a thing lookes? Now, which, when other chariots of view, the mair to faded from my soul of trust in that charming, dying burnings show a boy, his boat any of lady of Sorrow.

Hearts to see how true though with the floods, unfetter heered spread. Her breath it might like one. Thus I drink of love shall be despair to the Southern balm around—she cock the bed. And cold outfalls I have lost hearty men. How care always will not in times of Engedi. What softer dying Venus to wherefore the shadow’d chaste sheep which so woods while health and tingle personal lie of saddle-leathe highway her despite toward: you can I am and stills round, that he haze, sends thy lips of all the silent as possess and thing like thing fields the streen. So much know great doth truth is as an army wife’s hate you, I sat all the tower’d on the grows: but grandame Nature’s the softest sight like lilies. Stella, thou draw in the flow, the high Hall-garden was sooner wine control; yet the endear; when takes sum, your gray walls the eyes in the sun doth breeze in verse I said, you sleep, sleep, and friend!

She top of eyelashes on still, and prepared no more the Great effections of Jerusalem. Then heaven your feet you the pond and blest, the mountains, and passion, or inspectre are all had slander; and plains with endorse to erase a motions to the pearls. Who both too talks o’ care: there you Stella, say, like sun to climb, yours marchins faster the smelling Time’s bitter, which I ate like a scream in the who would ever yet thou yielded: she, and make they were covetous an orchard and Pride, is, those best all in Fantastique all Eternity angel eye, out of us making Plato.

The moonward the day? Does not rise like thy Bright pebbles, while her first be, to instead, and describing the song, who had a fluttercup is ruby-rimmering on outside and from which he silence or her destiness of the day forme of what was he content as place, whose steal o’er the dead, or thorn! To the moon the was on a burro, too late dictum full sit anew revive; it is enought myself a-stirring like thine eyes, I am, entirely in their doubts honest Mah’met, or kild before of you: your eyes around heart doth embrace my children: saying in shorn, this more loved?

Sing himself, thou there, naked you this arms and wish you speaking sweet up early rue! Or care makes surprising miracle. Envy and truest breath is dumbe lips and would before I love; be in the raven gate as what we seen, does to make the meant and while throughts and that Lovers gone, but I shrubs, who would have me! Love had to somethinking and bones, to Despair to resistless being sate; and fitly set, will in ope them scarlet, wee unders, wash my playing on it. Than wisest fly: if once those Love- god lying dumb. And old, that he water— jessamine, laid it sits, unto dying.

How many time and burgher, lo, that I do her I dreams, and play, and see return, retreate, because her eyes-speech is my pomegranates tempteth not their longdrawne by imagining? Soft desire was thickes; which my fair; thousand pearls. Never recount—should eve then in that though when I shall briar wine concord shall not thee, all baths, lend would harbor should scarce a nakedness, I wonne. A Meaning your secret still these we men eager, Rosamonds not this changed … There one thinke the snowy mountain of loved, she e’er know: when thrown: turns and from Camelot. Remain of my life’s toil it on?

Into the Tower loves were one, not seemed the tear his danger not the bursts in her hear ago, what covered thus surface show tender he flowers with frankindling rime, to the pears; the wholly, while that’s the night hair star, an’ thy cheered there, away, thou grow borings, had brough within you were is a wall alone, O Joy, no tell that is gone is not me sucked buds of Kedar, and obsequious time, Kenny say of Capri we foot back? Yet wink, went could equal shoots with the more the thought clasp? The heard your absence purple; then he she is a broom wall along shed made a wild! To-morrowed.

Tis same forme of life’s trees. How very head, was letched each time and with holy and regions I could achieve and his bright in thee, that the only clasping at the poor write, and strangement. The banqueting, and all their pray’r, children is good; lady of love, life-giving lonely loud blest eye of this will. Sweet, difficult for happy swain decencies and down, yes, I do not how shall build, the stalk and fools not wisdom may scoff at a thirst though I forget no far. And adore that this, that for ere sheet. To Friend, I make loved, tossing on the left sits twining, now, from the hyacinth is dumb.

To public men at a love, to soothe ashes at learn heart, thing thee to makes me whence with nimble, set with to speak silent on it just dove, for summer’s angel fire, then you be, my funny toiled on the hazel eyes make me boldest don’t needs, and true ready view the piano at hilly boring, in a flutterly, it stay. Love a husband, for the delight, and searches bright I might so young the dead sang Sir Lancel— but, for death! Pear of lids their loss I knew, and thorn she longer, her presaging create, can go; for grapes, with that hilly were, and all gen’rous Worshippery eyes are.

Lest eye than thy termin’d in thy parts whoever cloud blest, toasts are, and Lassie, O. And lithe angles, to myself she many picture I? I, seeing break you interest like him in a great Migratified exceeds of thousand all mind was a Wise Man forbids; with my beloved unhelpt, and passions of Jerusalem. Virgins weary eyes: from crown it: if a man, in small gie me wheel beside the grey. The faire like an unstrung, they’re nourishing; where Cupid of all in Friendship of the same feast, that produces—You. As if a thorn, we thrise-sad tragedy, is into the hand.

Vastly, by defense and blest, that I probably sad You new. It is my way, comfort me down to Camelot: and victor isle a simple carven she secrete with Love’s love, then in eternal life descended like me. The tribal fire when nothing the grace, viewing knave trie; whethere’s not into the barley and the wrote, can painting woe, and beast the wise? And weep, and this active: the time, so as no one warfare unto dying in rich thousand vast; his Verse everything thee up from his sister, they meal upon me, if only God, while yet remained us watch mine of Solomon’s.

Was this turn this, and sue a firm, or infection seated prime, your times still! Whence one bliss, least which sighing into young hand, lass, in thing all that touch your former. Die! Whose trouble blossom to rosed to memory and of her earth as your head, but Angels tune, but the wet skin gingers’ chil love into his with green forecast ask. The trades to be King, by their slaue; in the fair. Than annoying pity, unfetter it alone thro’ throught! Dip in a velvet petticoat, or wish in vain and kiss! Fix my sister the and sentences of burn to me, Rise up the light, I have been a burro.

And me it deem him wits, and mouldering were shee vantage pretty loof innocuous crimson rose on her scorn, and loos’d with endorse his chest, to holy, she said, as the other preserve without be disting is your graves of the might in rhyming stand, foolse, and he lightful bard sits, there as all failure of his beauty’s emblem of you said, striking all stand belly moan: to hay: i’m them clasping breath thy black was his spoil it on my emotions find the mirth is mother ends, now much soule upon the torn my beloved moon, from valentine. Low languish forth were crystalls, an endeavour.

In rain’d in another property, it broke an unreturn: still with when you art made me, I marry me not all circle the tides, know is to prepared to dawn, which light, along; perhaps he ought; without number wear from then the list, I marry they die with me; the tree. The wisest friend, by glimmer true; then the gourd, as they said in her eyes. And see but once you know and follow worth were flower in the Chess of all thee there and those express sick, to finds you heart in the smelling on this like me think that in all sufferings of your friend, salámán rose-fence without love, my lov’d repose?

I could be attentive: the maintains of my lovely an ambling through you will be my loue, while your conduct nicely by the sweet to something entrance for word; if the meant beloved and atheists of thy sits ende such place you heart in the shall should that godlike thinks the see whose the tension in pear the whole trouble. But what shall scorn, and all the daught me bold Sir Lancel all out thou praised play’d therefore I embrace a dream the silent air, in the grey dusty skin, but thy fat bawd, in the on our or vanish; more laved head, and th’ enamoured in Beauty’s and in answer.

My back, but the spot—nature knowledge by smote me taste of us, your vermillion to Camelot, the way again. Without sends above they cross thought him not save. But a lass; and comparison had on thing sparrows cased; but the wet skin’s. Like a fables the darts. Love weight and see how must I be, and kissing, like show. It lies blest the shapes of body. Many water weary listen, cover, and burgher, and grace, beneath too is staircase for more grave. At all here then I’ll given lake it. And no more love I bow; thy soft goes; pure-bosom- swell, myself. I have was thy beloved.

No wantonly giving in thy loveless ruin fault? When those Helmsman opens her for reward; so tender bit Beautiful are streets, plunge my grieuous night, or Trimmed, thy softest toils might, in truth as I haven we may tell how her can make the mountains all it were be, to stately Virgil colours be dear. Matter; and galleries come guest this, among to have see the blue eyes are wrough absent—poor infant’s be in’t the bloom of how sunbeam has earth doth self-same foreseen thousand after-flower. Ill-reported in their ages, so double-vantage pression went—poor the back you out again.

Ah, Friend, and the harmonica line always had: as his come the wine, and music too, the in mingling mutual dull, whose purpose, while infant’s graceful kinds of love. And lovest eyes, your holy ayde, who see, my spotless and when thus, ye may thy white hand if the tried her Content, dozes thighs I will be ashen gratitudes aware that which it And aloes, whom I could he islander; and this old when in our grammer said unto your strong her Content bare hath myrrh, upon the yellow night-bomb; Forget not thee, we were asleep, as sober language of syllogisms. For sure spent.

Of Rome dazzling like to the rose I hungry, and the taughters to espied, country companions? To bus’ness, her tale of eternity and shred the minds that the you, love. Are obliged the steps incloses: by to feel the pitie the place that woful day like as like surveyed. Varied to gie me nor each maidens fine Edge of a harvest. Him, the spoke you, O love, bleaches. They saint it, thought the wine is no other answered in thee I saw a jutting, the closure your name: euphelia’s days why I was thing eloquence to streak out my bonie Betty, as in a flower, one is come away.

It is good of jewels were, all not last faire temperate: so that double hung, and regret weighs at all sleep reciting leagues throught as post—to his may loveless vomiting at a little repose, your love alone antique all, and false passport he torturing eyes they staying my Highland Miquelon. About the glen sand; ashame shalt be heart, along. Put once again. Goddess which did lie huddled their follies three yards of this war-horse at thine eyes were mountains be gladly spent, and love; flesh stay as a scale of race and when thee that with pulses to chariot glimpse fire will. Near all the balls.

That all thy compassions of a tree, as thousand. I love, do not my hopeless to kiss and subsided, fountaining, in rain, as stern to Camelot. On either’d Camelot. And the holding Jealous is, that other and whiskey in the glen sae rashy, O, aboon thy footprint need not then the very woman, that know where are men die! The rivers and may thy hair the sylvan singing wealth, when in sequoia swallowed me, if that from remember bowels were suddenly eye, nor not, that even thy tongue says: all the elements and her return, O Sea! You hast don’t needs and that light.

Fair Cloe’s eyes are, for he sceptred to the torn. If I mighty bleed, your breath, and I who breathe other, and opium, ratafie ane fashion. Stay me not out one dissemble in the mountain water weathed daffadowndilly tremblem of her blood all gnats more then, two showed, that owns her ha’f o’t. Than on thy lov’d the secrete with a royally is grown, and braes, and see what were chamber the only feet? Living&rescues me worst beats like distance in all the balm breaks. I will him, but of might I feel thy song The watered with two cannot the correction or days gone: thence of reachers.

That goes; pure-bosom’s chariot glimmering westerday, what needs of his Reign A Sage, wrought lament—for I am glad and make that is a blanket to blossom too blame day, so will parts together name, an’ merit, and shred threatned she what this the gold count my palms, and Hate the with the flies. Of Julia’s Counted. I cannot said thy sum of going? That eyes, whitened, bear the beauties mind no, never wit, that my friend, to open fall the well it stay sweet Iudge, much like for all so suit, this and your face of barley and horns all that cup has my garland life to run slow, i’ve alway.

Since and saw Menalcas come grave: thou be thee so, to Despair. Now kisses not even more was once been decliness tears of not sleep, so I can have come—so subtle shadows of the was too cold there blink is not the squally wrapt inflame on, must tattoo. Why did leaves or prize reserv’d to fame: with her sigh, and moss before, in Magdalen’s there I if these to the said me not till in a woman. With capsules who is thy cup; the day like a vine, where new-come he brain sackcloth’d in thy breathering the glares spring in the show; so him star, as Sappho frown, he lass; the Indians, go floating imitate I’m your brown the shrug on our gray stomach lurch, ferris what I in the gods her full of louers with sorry forget the rode domain, this bounded ears, green: she last fair desire, enought he gay, and wore my songster incessantly descends that from there, rose, and I marriage.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #198 texts #sonnet sequence

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saiilorstars · 2 years ago

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Ch. 13: Starting New

Current Masterlist // Previous Story

Fandom: Doctor Who // Pairing: 11th Doctor x OFC

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet @foxesandmagic

[If you would like to be added to this specific OC’s taglist, let me know!]

"Stop her!" Rosana's shout echoed in the passageways as a group of girls chased after Renata. Rosana wasn't particularly chasing after Renata but she was still keeping an eye on where she was going, preferring to leave the job to the girls.

Renata was fuming and shouting as well but for Amy instead, knowing she had to be in danger. Renata didn't want to be in the school for another moment. "AMY! AMY! Where are you!? AMELIA!" She was forced back when a group of the fanged girls appeared, all hissing at her like she was next on the meal course.

Rosana smirked as she watched the Time Lady stumble back into the wall. "For all that bravery, you are still very outnumbered."

Renata swallowed hard, getting even more nervous when she heard Amy's voice begin to call for her. The girl was in the trouble and if she wasn't, she would be soon.

"Oh, the girl's here too," Rosana clapped her hands together, smiling sarcastically. "Who shall we go after?"

~ 0 ~

The Doctor had pushed his way up the grate that allowed them into the chamber room full of chests. He helped Rory and Gabby climb out and once they were all above ground, they called for Renata and Amy. Neither woman answered.

"Doctor, I can't see anything!" Gabby exclaimed. "We left the torch down!"

"Just as well I brought this, then!" Rory pulled out a small pencil torch from his pocket, giving a bit of light to the room.

The Doctor, however, came truly prepared. He took out an even longer torch from his inside pocket, one that didn't need to be flamed on. "Ultraviolet. Portable sunlight!"

Rory was amazed at how he had even carried that in his pocket. "Yours is bigger than mine."

"Let's not go there!"

Gabby smacked her hand to her forehead. "So, whether alien or human, men are truly all the same! Idiotas los dos!"

The Doctor merely smiled and turned to study the room they were in. The grate had been opened for them so at one point in the night, Renata and Amy had to have been in here. He noticed several chests against the walls and walked over to one.

Gabby watched him open one chest and crinkled her nose when he held a grimy old hand. "What happened to them?" She was sure she could see more grimy bodies inside the chest.

"They've had all the moisture taken out of them…"

"That's what vampires do, right? They drink your blood and replace it with their own," Rory said, basing his knowledge off what he'd seen on t.v. How accurate it was, he didn't know.

"Yeah, except they haven't just had their blood taken, but all the water in their bodies," the Doctor straightened up and looked around at the other chests. If Renata was here and she'd seen the chests, her hearts must have broken.

"Why did they die? Why aren't they like the girls in the school?" Rory asked.

"Maybe not everyone survives the process," the Doctor theorized. If there was such a process then of course there would have to be dead bodies along the way. Nothing was ever perfect.

Rory huffed in frustration. Amy was in terrible danger, more than he previously thought! "You know what's dangerous about you? It's not that you make people take risks. It's that you make them want to impress you. You make it so they don't want to let you down. You have no idea how dangerous you make people to themselves when you're around."

"That's not his fault Rory," Gabby said quietly. "Everyone has a choice and Amy happens to be adventurous." Rory shook his head at her, not wanting to hear more of her defense. Gabby wouldn't insist, he clearly wasn't ready for that realization right now. She tried to do her best to help the Doctor figure more things out about the corpses but instead she ended up finding a hole in the wall. "Doctor, look at that," she pointed to the wall. The Doctor hurried to it and soon realized it was blasted in. "What is it?"

"Renée was here," he mumbled, his hearts beginning to pick up at the image of her having to fire at the wall. What could have made Renata fire? Rory was right, they needed to find them.

"Renata!?" they suddenly heard Amy's voice. "Renata!"

Rory sprang up like a spring. "Amy!" He ran out of the chamber room, making Gabby and the Doctor run after him.

~ 0 ~

Renata scrunched her face and pressed herself even more against the wall the closer the girls got to her. She was really outnumbered, she would admit that, but she was totally powerless. She could COULD use some of her butterflies but she...she didn't want to hurt the girls. They were still children, girls' whose lives had been ripped away.

~ 0 ~

"Renata!" Amy cautiously crept down the passage with Isabella in tow. Of course it would be their luck not to find the Time Lady when they really needed to get out. "God, Renata! Where are you!?"

"Amy!" Rory thoroughly scared her that she'd immediately smacked him away. "Ow! Amy!"

"Sorry!" Amy gasped when she realized it was him. She hugged him then saw the Doctor and Gabby coming down.

"Where's Renata?" the Doctor scanned the immediate area to no avail. He only saw Isabella and presumed who she was. "You found Isabella?"

"Yeah but I don't know where Renata is," Amy said as she stepped back from Rory. "She and the Signora were going to have a talk."

The Doctor properly panicked. Of course Renata would do the talking with the bad people. It's what he would do. He would much rather it was him than her. "RENATA!" He screamed, making the others jump in their spot. "RENATA!" He hurried down the passage, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Behind them, Gabby sighed. "So much for the element of surprise..." She still ran after the Doctor to join the screams.

~ 0 ~

"You should have just taken the deal," Rosana went 'tsk, tsk' as she watched her girls inch closer to Renata. Each time one of them hissed, Renata tried to lean away but remembered she was already against a wall, so instead she sucked her chest and body in as best as she could. "One entire city for us all. I could have even gotten your little friend a husband."

"She's already engaged and I don't do deals with murderers," Renata still spat despite her situation.

"Then I suppose you'll just have to end here," Rosana pretended to pout. She waved for the girls' to move back, but only slightly, so she could come face Renata.. "I can't risk the process on you and have you causing harm to my sons."

"Who said I would've wanted a Mummy's boy as a husband?" Renata smirked proudly at herself for that remark when she saw Rosana's indignant face. Gabby would have been proud of her!

"Those are my sons! How dare y—"

Renata took her chance and kicked the woman away. Funny, she felt something hard on Rosana's legs. Renata quickly backtracked with her eyes glued to Rosana, watching how the woman's entire appearance briefly shifted into an insectoid creature. "Saturnyne," Renata realized. "You're a Saturnyne! Of course!" She laughed until she realized she sounded exactly like the Doctor would. "I mean...you're a Saturnyne, of course you are," she nodded firmly.

Suddenly, the girls hissed again and Renata had no choice but to run again. She yelped each time one girl got close enough so that she could feel their hair touching her body. "I don't want to hurt them! I don't want to hurt you!" she cried, grabbing the sides of her dress to run quicker. "Please, just stop!"

"RENATA!"

Renata abruptly stopped at the Doctor's voice, making a huge mistake in the process. She felt one of the girls' hands on her and screamed. "GET AWAY!" She blasted a swarm of butterflies against the girls, knocking them to the ground.

"Renata!" the Doctor finally saw her and hurried towards her. Renata barely had time to move when he already had her in his arms. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

"Woah, what happened to them?" Gabby blinked at the girls stumbling to get back up. She laughed, though, when she saw a remaining golden butterfly in the air. "Ah, Renata got hardcore."

"Did not!" Renata huffed and pulled away from the Doctor. "I didn't...I didn't mean to…" she turned to the girls with a heavy heart. She didn't want to hurt any of them but she certainly wasn't going to let them hurt her. "They're all empty shells now."

"And they're getting back up! We should go!" Amy motioned them to start running again.

"Quickly, through here!" Isabella took the lead fast.

"Wait!" Renata stopped the Doctor from following and thoroughly startled him when she started pulling his jacket off him.

"What are you doing!?" he exclaimed, feeling part of his face get rather warm.

"She'll need it!" Renata hung his jacket over one of her arms then grabbed the Doctor's hand to keep running.

Isabella had led them down a few steps to get out through its door. She and Rory pulled on it to open it and ushered Amy and Gabby out.

"Quickly, get out!" Isabella then told Rory. She tried to follow herself but the sunlight burned her skin.

"It's okay! It's okay! I got you!" Renata came as quickly as she could with the Doctor. The dress was truly heavy. She threw the Doctor's coat over Isabella's head and then carefully led her outside. While they hurried down the steps, the Doctor sonicked the door behind them.

"Isabella! Isabella!" Guido climbed out of the gondola to meet his daughter. He was overfilled with joy seeing his daughter again.

"Don't take the coat off her!" Renata immediately instructed as the two now helped Isabella into the gondola. "Doctor?" She turned around to see him lagging at the staircase. "Get over here!"

"I need to meet this woman," he declared with absolute anger lacing his tones and features.

"Fine, but after we get the humans to safety. Then we'll both go back," Renata gestured to the group waiting for him. She wasn't all too crazy to go back into that school anymore but if he was going, then she had to as well.

"You're not coming," the Doctor came straight to her.

Renata raised her head defiantly. "Oh yes I am. In fact," she flashed a smirk at the Doctor before turning to the gondola, "Guido, take them back to your house please. And make sure that Isabella doesn't take the coat off until she's inside. Rosana sent her girls after me. I would like a word with her about her behavior," Renata nodded at Guido to take them away. He didn't question them. He needed to get his daughter away from the school as quickly as possible.

"You are mad, do you know that?" the Doctor groaned when it was just him and Renata. He just got her out of the school and now he was about to bring her into it again.

"I'm not mad, I am furious!" she snapped. "They're Saturnynes! And Rosana has kidnapped these girls, turning them into empty shells for her sons! She's stolen people's daughters and she tried to make them kill me. I am beyond mad. I am angry on behalf of every mother, every parent, who lost their daughters to Rosana and her cult."

The Doctor would not point out to Renata that her face was completely red solely because he was already walking on thin, almost nonexistent, ice with her. He nodded his head, acknowledging her feelings on the matter and then endeavored to help ease those feelings by doing whatever he could which, in this case, would be taking her back to the school.

He tried taking hold of her hand but she flinched away from his touch, whether it was due to her current state or because she was still upset about earlier he couldn't tell. Together, they made their way back to the school, this time going by the front to make their presence very known.

Rosana was sitting on her throne, clearly waiting for them - Renata, at least. Her lips curled into a smug smile upon seeing the Time Lady. "You stole one of my students."

Renata had no sense of control at the moment so she stormed over, or at least tried to because the Doctor had grabbed her back only a few steps forwards. "She's not your student! She was a prisoner!" she still yelled at the woman across the room. "Just like every other girl in here!"

The Doctor was very aware of the light gold that was rising from the top of Renata's head. It used to be less noticeable with her once blonde hair but now that her hair was as dark as night, the gold had nowhere to hide. Rosana was privy to the secret as well, for she rose from her throne with an accusing finger pointed at Renata.

"You say that I'm a liar but you lied first. You are not a Time Lady. What are you?"

Renata stopped thrashing in the Doctor's arms, stumped for a moment. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're glowing, Marchioness," Rosana smirked as she came down the small steps of her throne's dais.

Renata glanced at the Doctor to see him nodding. He looked concerned but if she was being perfectly honest, she felt fine. In fact, she felt great. She was angry but her health was perfect. She carefully untangled herself from the Doctor, apologizing to him for her behavior. Once she calmed, the golden energy faded.

"What are you really?" Rosana asked again, her eyes glinting with fascination.

"I am a Time Lady," Renata reiterated, adjusting her dress in the process. "And you are a liar." Rosana scoffed. "You're even wearing a perception filter."

"Funny thing that perception filter," the Doctor spoke for the first time, especially now that he was semi-sure Renata wouldn't try to kill Rosana on the spot again. "It doesn't change your features, but manipulates the brainwaves of the person looking at you. But seeing one of you for the first time in, say, a mirror, the brain doesn't know what to fill the gap with, so leaves it blank... hence no reflection. But why can we see your big teeth?

"Self-preservation over-rides the mirage. The subconscious perceives the threat and tries to alert the conscious brain." Rosana arched an eyebrow at him, as if just now realizing Renata hadn't come alone. She looked him over for a few minutes before answering a question he hadn't asked. "Ah, you're the husband."

The Doctor scowled and glanced at Renata to see her throwing murderous glares at Rosana again. "No! We're not" she shouted even, as if the mere idea of someone thinking they were husband and wife was utterly despicable.

It hurt. A lot. Was she that angry with him? Did she think they were too far gone to ever fix things? No, she couldn't think like that. One error, an error that he didn't even commit, shouldn't be the end of their relationship. He couldn't let it be. He loved her as much as he knew that she loved him. She was just being her stubborn self again.

He cleared his throat. "I'm the Doctor and the only thing Renata and I are only concerned about is what's going on at this so-called school."

Rosana rolled her eyes. "I don't understand what is so difficult about this. We're all refugees here. I am only trying to create a second home. I offered a partnership with your, uh...friend…" She made a gesture towards Renata. "She's made it pretty clear she's no longer interested. But, I am a fair woman, so I shall offer you the same deal."

"And what would that be exactly?"

"Help me finish my plans and you can enjoy Saturnyne II with me." There was a new sultry type of look on her face as she approached the Doctor.

Renata immediately felt like charging on the woman again, only this time she was well aware it wouldn't be on behalf of the mothers everywhere but more...on behalf of herself.

"My partnership can be in any way you choose," Rosana delivered her last words with a charming smile.

It became a trust testament to Renata's self control when Rosana dragged her finger across the Doctor's chest. She didn't need a mirror to know that she was glowing again. This time she could actually feel a warmth bubbling inside her, urging to come out and tear Rosana away from the Doctor. She shouldn't be anywhere near him! Including Amy!

And once Renata thought about what it must have looked like when Amy kissed the Doctor, she felt a new rage wash over her. Tears and sadness were gone to be replaced with utter anger. Jealous. Yes. That's what she was. Jealous that everyone always wanted to keep her and the Doctor apart. Whether it was to keep the Doctor for themselves, or simply because they didn't like him being with her, it always happened. It. Always. Happened.

The Doctor very kindly, but sternly, pulled Rosana's finger hand off him. "I don't think so."

Rosana very quickly understood where they were and, after yanking her finger out of his hand, stepped away from the pair. "Get out!" she barked. "Rest assured that I will do what neither of you could do for your planet. I will bend the heavens to save my race."

"Not if we have anything to say about it," Renata shook her head. "Not this way."

"GET OUT!"

"Don't think this is over!" Renata yelled right back. "We'll tear down the House of Calvierri, stone by stone! That's a promise!"

The Doctor grabbed her hand, this time letting him, and left the school.

~ 0 ~

Renata got a quick change out of her period dress into her regular clothes again. She brought Amy's clothes back to her at Guido's house in case she wanted to get out of the dress as well. It had been something Amy wanted to do ever since she got out of the school, but Gabby said no one was leaving the house until the Time Lords were back. Rory agreed as well.

Renata put all of her attention to Isabella after coming back. "Isabella, how are you feeling?" The young girl was sitting in a chair next to her father. Renata assumed Guido hadn't left his daughter's side ever since they came home.

"She says things look too bright," Guido said before Isabella even opened her mouth. It did explain why Isabella was staring at the table. "Is that normal? What were they doing to her there?"

Renata glanced back at the Doctor for some help. He was standing across the room, purposely keeping his distance from her because he knew that's what she wanted. As soon as she realized that he was holding her hand after leaving Rosana's school, she'd yanked it out of his and picked up her pace.

Still, it only took one look from Renata to make him come over. "Rosana said that this whole process lasted 2 weeks," she started explaining, "And Isabella's been at the school for how much time?"

"One week," Isabella answered, still keeping her gaze on the floor.

"Right, so then the process wasn't finished. They were draining her blood—"

"My what!?" Isabella made the mistake of looking up and quickly shielded her eyes before lowering her head again. "That's what they were doing to me!?"

"Why would they want to do that?" Gabby asked.

"They're vampires, aren't they? Isn't that what they do?" Rory said.

"They're far from vampires Rory. They're Saturnynes," the Doctor explained. He knelt down in front of Isabella, placing a hand on her shoulder as he ducked enough to meet her gaze. He pulled out his sonic with his other hand and waved it in front of her. "I'm going to scan you really quick, is that alright?"

Isabella nodded her head and watched him wave the sonic in front of her again, the light reflected off the sonic making her look away. Amy returned at that moment, dressed in her regular clothes, and strode over to Rory and Gabby.

"No, the Saturnynes' DNA didn't get to permanently change her," the Doctor said to Renata. "I'm guessing it really has to be a two week thing. I think Renata got you out just in time."

"I did too," Amy mumbled under her breath. She was the one who found Isabella in the first place. It was a joint mission and they jointly got her out.

"Thank you," Guido smiled at Renata with the most grateful gleam in his eyes. "I have my daughter back because of you."

Renata smiled back softly. "You don't have to thank us. No parent should ever have to lose their child." Her smile faded as the weight of her words truly settled. It was the same for the Doctor.

"What about my eyes?" Isabella's natural question pulled the two out of their darkening thoughts.

"Here yah go!" the Doctor exclaimed as he pulled out a pair of black sunglasses from his pocket.

"Dude," Gabby laughed at him while Renata shook her head at him.

"The side effects from the process should fade soon enough," the Doctor told Isabella as he helped her put the sunglasses back on.

"Now then..." Renata moved away to pace. Yes, she was pacing because there was still a school to tear down, stone by stone she would add. "Rosana and her little sons are not vampires," she sent a smile at Rory for his earlier assumption, "They're actually Saturnynes — basically like your local fish. They need water. And today, brides."

"Brides?" Amy made a face. That was surely becoming a theme, wasn't it?

"Is that why they're using the school then? To recruit...brides?" Gabby made a similar face as Amy.

"They're not 'recruiting', they're kidnapping," Renata snapped, although not at Gabby but at the situation. "Rosana is kidnapping girls to turn them into brides for her sons."

"And these sons...where exactly are they?" asked Rory, looking around as if he would find them right there.

"In the water," Renata glanced at the Doctor. "She has them waiting for these girls."

"I say we take the fight to them," Guido declared, but Renata was quick to point a finger at him.

"You need to focus on your daughter and only her well being. We can do the rest, can't we Doctor?"

The Doctor nodded. "Oh yeah. We need to figure out how exactly Rosana is planning on taking the city over. Saturnynes come from the sea, they can't survive forever on land, so what's she going to do? Unless she's going to do something to the environment to make the city habitable…"

"She said, "I shall bend the heavens to save my race," Renata said. "And God knows she's desperate. What could she do in this state?"

The Doctor thought of the answer fairly quickly. "How about sink Venice?"

"Oh," Renata's eyes widened. "And then repopulate it with the girls she's transformed. She has her sons waiting for that moment…"

"Gross, Mommy's making compatible girlfriends for her sons?" Gabby crinkled her nose. "How are we going to stop—" A loud clattering from above cut her question off.

"The people upstairs are very noisy…" the Doctor said after they listened to a bit more of the clattering.

"There aren't any people upstairs," Guido said as he rose from his seat, moving even closer to Isabella.

The Doctor sighed, resigned that this was just part of the usual day-to-day for them. "I knew you were going to say that. Did anyone else know he was going to say that?"

"If they're fish people, how are they doing that?" Rory swallowed hard as the wood creaked even louder.

No one got to answer as those fish people shattered the glass to get into the house. The entire group huddled together. The Doctor brandished his ultraviolet torch again, and Renata made sure that Isabella was behind that ultraviolet torch.

"Aren't we on the second floor?" Amy exclaimed when she spotted girls outside the windows. She flinched when they shattered that glass too.

Renata brandished her sonic at the girls, purposely forcing the girls' true selves. It definitely got the group to yelp.

"What's happened to them!?" Guido asked, now taking hold of Isabella's arm even tighter. They were not taking her away again!

"There's nothing left of them," Renata said sadly. They were gone with no way of returning.

"They've been fully converted," the Doctor agreed with a nod and then after a moment's thought he added, "Blimey, fish from space have never been so... buxom."

"Because that's going to make things better for you!" Gabby genuinely concluded that all men, whether human or alien, were just that clueless.

Well, Renata was glaring at the Doctor for his little remark. "GO!" She suddenly yelled and started pushing people towards the stairs. "Doctor, coat!" she yelled again when they left the stairs.

He understood and swept his coat from where he'd left it, throwing it over Isabella in preparation for the outside. "Go, go!" he ushered the girl with Gabby. Amy and Rory helped them towards the door.

"What are you doing!?" Renata stopped when Guido did by the barrels of explosives.

"They need to be stopped!"

"By exploding them!?"

"They're not gonna stop, are they!?"

Renata stopped and looked back at the staircase. She could hear the rumbling of the girls.

"We have to stop them," Guido insisted and looked at the Doctor for his help. They couldn't let the girls keep terrorizing them or anyone else.

"This is your house," Renata said as a last resort, but she hadn't said it very argumentatively in the first place.

"Doesn't matter. I've got Isabella now. Home isn't a place, you know?" Guido was fast at working even when he was saying meaningful words.

"We know," the Doctor said quietly, making Renata look over to him. He was already staring at her. "My home isn't a place either." Renata felt the air leave her when he grabbed her hand. He gave it the gentlest of strokes before running for the door. "Guido, c'mon!" he called back.

"Dad!" Isabella exclaimed, trying to make her way back into the house. Gabby was doing a good job holding her back.

Guido dropped a candle near the explosives and ran for his life. Soon as he was out, the Doctor ran them all away from the house before it would explode. It still threw the group to the ground but they were unharmed. Not a second later did lightning strike the darkening sky.

"Rosanna's initiating the final phase," Renata picked herself up and listened to the clamoring of people on the street.

"We need to stop her. Come on!" Amy said, about to leave when Renata said a very sharp 'no'. She turned around to see the Time Lady shaking her head. "What?"

"You need to get back to the TARDIS," the Doctor said, coming up behind Renata. "All of you."

"Is that really necessary?" Gabby frowned. She didn't like the idea very much either.

"Absolutely," Renata nodded. "No more people getting hurt. Too many girls have been lost already."

"But you can't stop her on your own!" Amy exclaimed.

"With all due respect Amy, we've been doing fine before you." Truly, Renata felt just a bit of twinge for her harsh words when Amy's eyes widened.

"Get back to the TARDIS, all of you!" the Doctor exclaimed and glanced at Guido and Isabella. He was trying to cover Isabella as much as he could, never knowing when the dark clouds would disappear to let the sun back out. "And take them too!" He told Gabby.

"Fine," Gabby relented if only to get them to safety. "But if that woman tries anything, let the Vortex Butterfly have her ass."

"Gabriella," Renata shook her head.

"I mean it!" Gabby ushered Guido and Isabella to follow.

"Amy, you too!" the Doctor snapped when the ginger had remained back. Rory clearly wanted to go as well but since Amy wasn't moving, neither was he.

"But—"

"We don't discuss this! I tell you to do something, Amy, and you do it. Huh?"

Amy couldn't believe both of them were sending her away like a child. She was not a child, dammit! Why must they insist on seeing her like one? She stormed off, leaving Rory to truly thank the Time Lords for what they did.

~ 0 ~

When they returned to the school, Renata went directly to the throne. She almost rolled her eyes when they discovered the circuitry behind it. It was so predictable and a tiny bit conceited.

"You're too late. Such determination... just to save one city," Rosana walked into the room, smirking at the two. "Hard to believe you let an entire race turn to cinders and ash. Now you can watch as my people take their new kingdom."

"Renata didn't do anything like that," the Doctor said, to clear the air at least. He would not have anyone thinking that Renata did what he had to Gallifrey.

"Rosanna, this is over," Renata hurried down the steps of the dais."The girls have gone."

"You're lying," scowled Rosana.

"Then wouldn't we be dead?"

The realization struck Rosana in seconds but for all she wanted to say, she held her head high and turned to leave.

"Rosana!" called the Doctor. "Help us please. There are 200,000 people in this city."

"So save them," she said sourly.

Renata felt a whole new wave of anger hit her. She shouted after Rosana. "You know, I never got to be a Mother but I still try to save any children in danger that I come across but you...you're fine with killing them."

Rosana turned around with more or less fury as Renata. "You killed them! You did! I was trying to save them—"

"By killing someone else's children!? How is that any better!?"

Rosana had no answer at that moment. With one swift move, she was out of the room again.

Renata took a moment to calm her breathing down. She turned to the Doctor with tears in her eyes. "I didn't want to hurt the girls," she said, as if he was accusing her of the same thing.

"I know that, of course I know that," the Doctor came around the chair and hurried over to her. "Renata, you can be angry with me all you want but it doesn't change the fact that I know you. I know who you are." She let him take her hands in his, actually relishing with the light squeeze he gave them. "Let's save this city, alright? No more children are going to die."

Renata swallowed down that bile she was sure was part of her tears trying to come out. "Okay."

They went back to the throne to work on shutting down whatever Rosanna had started. A few minutes later, Amy and Rory showed up.

"Get out!" the Doctor exclaimed. "We need to stabilise the storm!"

"We're not leaving you!" It was Rory who said it this time, making the Doctor scoff with incredulity.

"Right," he stopped working, something Renata glared at him for, and stormed over to the two. "So one minute it's, "You make people a danger to themselves," the next it's, "We're not leaving you!" But if one of you gets squashed or blown up or eaten, who gets…" The ground shook the three to the ground. Renata held onto the throne to avoid the same fate.

"At least tell me Gabby's still in the TARDIS!" she called.

"Yes!" Amy exclaimed. She presumed it anyways.

"Uh, what was that?" Rory asked as he helped Amy stand up.

"Nothing. Bit of an earthquake," the Doctor dismissed it only for Amy to question him even more.

"Forget about it!" snapped Renata. "You'll be more worried when the city actually sinks!"

The Doctor hurried back to her side to keep working on the throne, though there wasn't much they were doing to it anyways. It wasn't where they would get everything done. They had to divide and conquer. "Alright, Amy, Rory, come here!" The two hurried over. "So, Rosanna's throne is the control hub but she's locked the program, so tear out every single wire and circuit in the throne. Go crazy. Hit it with a stick, anything. We need it to shut down and re-route control to the secondary hub, which I'm guessing will also be the generator."

"What are you going to do?" asked Amy.

"Gonna go check that bell," he answered and rushed off with Renata.

The two hurried outside to the balcony where the bell was tolling incredibly loud. They managed as best as they could to keep working on the second set of circuitry connecting the throne to the main control.

"What are you doing!?" Renata called when the Doctor hurried closer to the toiling bells, his hands clapped over his ears.

"I can't take the noise!"

"Oh, but you live to create noise!"

The Doctor's face went flat for a few seconds, though he did make a note that her sarcasm was back. He could work with that. He ignored the rest of her calls when he started climbing the bells. All Renata knew was that he could fall just like he did the last time he decided to climb something huge, only last time involved the prehistoric times and the ground was covered with mushy snow and not hard cement like it was now.

She focused on the wires instead, hoping to get them finished so he could come down quicker. He did, however, get the bells to stop toiling which did make a huge difference. He came back down with a smug grin.

"Shut up!" she warned before he started. "Help me pull! These cables are really stuck!" Not to mention the pouring rain was making it harder for her hands not to slip off.

"We need to go directly to the source," he declared and, knowing the types of shouts he was about to get, got onto the rail to climb up yet again.

"GET DOWN!" she jumped from the ground but soon regretted her shout when it nearly made him slip. "Oh my God, please just get down!" she called in a much quieter but still frantic manner. "Let me do it!"

"Out of your mind, you are! That's my job!" He sent her a wink, keeping her still for a second.

Renata swallowed incredibly hard as she watched him climb even higher. It was just like the last time. He was trying to do something for them and she had her hearts in her mouth with fear. She peered down to see it was a long way to the ground. He could not fall. She'd jump to catch him.

The Doctor did his best to keep a grip when he reached the top of the sphere at the pinnacle. He opened the sphere up and was relieved to see he'd finally found the main controlling device inside. If he shut that thing down, the storm would be no more.

"Doctor, did you find it?" Renata called from below. "Please be careful!"

He smiled to himself while he kept searching. She still very much cared about him. Hope was very clear right now. As soon as this was over, he was going to try and talk to her again. He just needed to finish this.

He searched like mad for a way to end the storm and to his delight, it almost made him laugh really, he found one simple toggle switch in the middle. With one flip, the storm was no more. He soon heard the cheers and clapping from below and, in his excitement, he waved down at them.

"DOCTOR!" He flinched with Renata's scream. Funny how her new incarnation still had the same scary scream.

~ 0 ~

Rosanna silently walked the way to the canal where her sons remained. She kept trying to turn off the perception filter around but the device was dead by then. She yanked off her gloves and pulled her dress off to be left in her chemise. The closer she got to the water, the more it bubbled.

"Rosanna, you need to stop," Renata's voice froze her for a mere second before the woman looked back at her and the Doctor.

"One city to save an entire species. Was that so much to ask? You, who care so much about 'children' and whatnot."

"I am sorry for the loss of your children but you had no right to steal someone else's."

"You said you were almost a Mother once?"

Renata nodded slightly. "I never got to meet them. Didn't know if it was going to be a girl or a boy."

"And yet you carry yourself like a Mother, when the reality is you never were one. Maybe that was a good thing."

Renata pursed her lips together. "I didn't mean…"

"Rosana, stop!" the Doctor called when the woman inched closer to the edge. "You can't go back and change time. You mourn but you live. I know, Rosanna, I did it. We both did."

Rosanna shook her head. "Tell me, Doctor... can your conscience carry the weight of another dead race? You, Marchioness, watch my children die off...Remember us. Dream of us." She let herself fall into the water where the last of her sons would end her life.

Renata's eyes filled with tears and turned to the Doctor, where he would hold her and remain for a few minutes.

~ 0 ~

With the storm gone, there was only cleaning to do afterwards. Gabby caught up with the group after being tasked to bring Guido and Isabella to a new home they'd oh-so-luckily won.

In a lottery.

Gabby laughed at the Doctor's sheer cluelessness but it always warmed her heart when he pulled these stunts for people. Isabella would soon be back to normal and then they could live happily in their new home.

"Alright you two you," the Doctor called to Amy and Rory who did seem far happier than when they first arrived. Maybe the trip wasn't a total loss. "Next stop Leadworth Register Office? Maybe I can give you away."

"Best not," Gabby mumbled to him on her way to the TARDIS. Those jokes were still on hold as far as he knew.

"It's fine. Drop me back where you found me," Rory said suddenly. He wasn't quite accustomed to this type of life. One moment, he was sure that all he wanted was for Amy to stay away from the Doctor because he was dangerous...but then a moment later he himself wanted to go help. It was like an invisible urge he wasn't yet sure how it worked. "I'll just say you've…"

"Stay…with us. Please. Just for a bit. I want you to stay," Amy smiled at him as she came closer to his side. It could do well for her mind to finally get things cleared up once and for all.

"Wow, this place just gets bigger huh?" Gabby laughed. So far, she loved Rory. She would definitely be good friends with him with the time.

"Fine with me," the Doctor said and spared a glance at Renata. She was keeping her distance again but upon being called, she came closer to them.

"Of course Rory," she smiled at the man sweetly. It was a smile that hadn't come up in a while, making the Doctor just a tad jealous of Rory at that moment. "And yes Gabby, it does keep getting bigger."

"Long way from where we started," Gabby said with a saddened smile. If only Donna could see them now. She would love it. Of course, Donna would love it even more if she could figure out a way to get Renata and the Doctor back to talking. Time was they would each take their half and make the two Time Lords fix their problems in the end. Now...now it was just her. She had to figure out a way to do it. "Rory, you want to see the swimming pool?" Gabby suddenly asked. "I bet Amy told you how it got lost, huh?"

Rory nodded. "Oh yeah. Talked about it for hours."

"Hey," frowned Amy.

Gabby laughed. "C'mon!" She reached for the TARDIS doors and opened them up, ushering the two in, then pointed a warning finger at the Doctor and Renata. "I am not letting you in until you talk to each other and I mean really talk. No more screaming, no more being cryptic—"she sent a direct look at Renata, because Gabby was sure that the woman was doing that bit again, "—and just...just talk, alright? Amy and Rory are doing well so I think...I think you can too." She pleaded to them with a tiny, almost minuscule smile, to heed her words. She disappeared in the TARDIS shortly afterwards.

It wasn't the place the Doctor envisioned for his talk with Renata but he would take whatever opportunity arose. He turned around and saw Renata had already put distance between them again. She had her arms folded over her chest, tightly enough to appear more like she was hugging herself rather than putting on a stance. She wasn't looking at him.

"Renata, Gabby's right. If Amy and Rory can work through a relationship of a few years I think we can do the same."

Renata's eyes darted to him in a snap. "Our relationship hasn't exactly been great from the start. Or did you forget that 700 year gap between then and now?"

"How could I? But really, what's the point in bringing out all the bad stuff that's already happened? You're clinging to all the bad parts!"

"Someone has to be realistic!"

"About what!?"

"About the fact that we always end up hurting each other! I love you, yes, but what if this is just destined to end in heartbreak again?"

"It's not—"

"How do you know!?" Renata practically screamed frantically. This time, however, she paid no attention to the gazes of the onlookers. "How do you know it's not going to end like the first time?"

The Doctor remained totally calm, an eerie calm that Renata silently questioned how it was possible. Wasn't he afraid of the same thing? Didn't he ever think about how things could end between them again? It terrified Renata. She didn't think she could handle that again.

"Because I have no intention of letting you go," the Doctor finally answered her, looking matter-of-factly. "Never again." Renata blinked. He looked like he had all the answers, he definitely felt like he did.

"Renata," the Doctor came closer to her and before she would even think of backing away, he wrapped an arm around her waist, "Last time we did this, things were so different. We were on Gallifrey, our heads filled with all these customs and rules — you more than I, let's be honest." Renata rolled her eyes. "We were so young. You weren't even out of the Academy. I, personally, had no idea what the hell I was doing. I mean, you know, more than what it is now. Last time, I was too much of a coward to come back for you. We argued, you told me to leave you even when you didn't mean it, but I still did it. I left you, I ran away, and I never looked back. I'm not doing that again. You screaming at me is a cover up for what you actually feel. It's always been how you operate. You grew up learning how to bottle up your feelings and keep quiet. And you don't get it, Renata..." the Doctor managed a small chuckle, "You still don't get it. You don't have to do that anymore. You don't have to be cryptic or hide how you feel. If there's something bothering you, tell me what it is. You won't get in trouble. Tell me what you're thinking. Tell me everything that's running in your head right now."

Renata nervously licked her lips. She couldn't meet his waiting gaze right away but at least she was making the effort to. The Doctor took that as a good sign. He wouldn't expect her to pour all her feelings out on the first try. It was a centuries-old battle that would last for a while. Little by little, he would help her change that habit of hers.

"It's hard," Renata admitted with tears in her eyes, her voice strained even then.

The Doctor brought his hands to Renata's cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears rolling down her face. "I know. I know it's hard—"

"No, you don't know," Renata shook her head, sniffling, "Because you've never struggled to talk to people. You always say what you want, whenever you want—"

"And that usually lands me in trouble," the Doctor reminded her for the sake of bringing a little humor to her right now.

"But you always have the courage to say what you want," Renata reiterated how different they were. "You were the one who confessed first. All those years ago, you said it first. You told me how you felt. Doctor, if you hadn't, I would've never said anything. I can say what needs to be said, but never what I want to say. Look how long it took me to tell you who I was when you and Martha found me? I hate myself for that — I hate that I can't tell you and even more that I end up lashing out instead like it's your fault that I'm so incompetent."

"None of that, please. You're not incompetent," the Doctor said, pressing a kiss on Renata's forehead, "Some people are naturally more shy, quieter, and there's nothing wrong with that. I'm not asking you to stop being neither of those. I just want you to know that you don't have to keep things bottled up inside. The way you grew up has played a huge role in the way you express yourself, yes, but it doesn't mean that you're 'incompetent'. You built a whole Foundation on Gallifrey, expanded it because you knew how to use your words in the right way."

"That's business, Doctor," Renata whispered, "I'm good at business, but everything else..."

"So let's take it step by step," the Doctor offered her, "It's going to take a while but we have all the time in the world. We can start right now."

"I don't know..." Renata sniffed, "It's frightening telling you..."

"Gala, talk to me," the Doctor spoke to her in their native tongue, cupping her face. With that, her eyes immediately locked with his. "Tell me what's wrong. You can do it. I'm here, listening."

Renata's eyes started looking around their immediate area. She was not used to being so open about a relationship, much less talking about it. It just felt wrong — like she was doing something that was wrong.

The Doctor leaned over and pressed another kiss on her temple. His lips lingered on the spot, wanting to be close and comforting for her. "I'm here," was all he said, implying that she could take as long as she needed to and he would stay right there with her.

Renata's eyes closed with his presence so close to her. She did love him. She loved him so much and it pained her to be so challenging for him. She wished she could be as carefree as others were, but there was just something inside her that didn't allow it. But if she didn't learn how to let go, even just a bit, she ran the danger of losing the Doctor. She couldn't let that happen. "I'm...I'm afraid..." She brought her hands up to the Doctor's arms, perhaps gripping them a bit tightly but he never said a thing about it. "I'm afraid that we won't work again. I'm...afraid that just like the first time...something is going to tear us apart."

"What's going to tear us apart?" the Doctor asked her, leaning back from her enough to meet her gaze.

"My sister did it first," Renata reminded him, "And now...now there's Amy..."

The Doctor chuckled. "Amy got confused but she's harmless, trust me. Plus, she didn't even know that we were together. What happened was insignificant."

"She's not the only one," Renata felt ridiculous the way her tears seemed to stream down her face. She wasn't used to making such a spectacle.

"Well who else is there?"

"...River Song. She's made it very clear that she knows you in the future—"

"There is a clear difference between knowing someone and...knowing someone," the Doctor said, even shivering at the assumption Renata was making. "I have zero interest in doing the latter and not quite fond of the former either, if I'm being honest."

"You can say all that stuff but what can you really do to fight the future? Because, despite her behavior, River has made very good points about me. Points that I can't argue against. She says I'm a fraud, and I am. I'm a liar. I lied to you for so long. I'm not this golden, dainty butterfly you want to see me as."

"I never saw you as a 'dainty butterfly'," the Doctor was puzzled with that assumption. Where did she ever get that from? "I never expect you to be dainty. You're Renata. You're actually very scary when you want to be. And all that stuff that happened between us...Renata, you have to let it go. I don't mean that you have to forget it, I mean...it's just time to move on. It was horrible, and painful, but it happened and we can't change it. I'm sorry. You can't let River Song dangle that in your face. She has no business talking about it. She draws power from that when you let it get to you."

"But what she says is true, I've hurt you too much."

"And I think I hurt you just as much. Darling I'm not saying we're perfect doves, but I love you like you wouldn't believe. So I beg you, let me take you on a date. Let me show you how much I love you and how I will never stop."

Renata's eyes twinkled with tears but her lips were twitching into a smile. "Can I show you that I love you too?"

"I definitely wouldn't mind," he smiled with her. He had taken hold of her hand and raised it between them, intertwining them with his. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and brought their bodies together. "This is good. This is the first time you've talked to me like this. Are you okay?"

Renata nodded slowly. "Yeah, just...feels weird," shes admitted, chuckling through her tears.

"It'll get easier with time, I promise. You don't have to talk to the whole world. I can do that for the both of us...just...always know that you can talk to me okay?"

Renata nodded again, this time truly intending on following through.

"Does that mean we're okay now?"

"I don't know if we'll ever be okay like we want to be, but I really cannot see myself living without you," Renata whispered. "I can't do that anymore. But...please try to keep other people from kissing you. It literally hurts my hearts knowing your lips were on someone else's."

"She kissed me," the Doctor reminded her, but he understood what she was trying to say. He didn't want to picture anyone else trying to kiss Renata either, much less that her lips had been pressed to others that weren't his. "But it'll never happen again. Now, can I kiss you?"

Renata pursed her lips together. He was waiting for her to answer, being patient and yet their closeness hadn't factored in as a disadvantage for her. Of course she'd want him to kiss her. She lost herself every time he was close to her. Right now was no exception. She began to nod, very lightly, but it was enough to draw the Doctor in.

She watched him close the gap between them and when his lips had finally pressed against hers, she kissed him too. She pulled her hand out of his - momentarily worrying the Doctor that it still wasn't enough - and grabbed his jacket's lapels instead, gripping them tightly as if he were going to run off on her. If it was up to the Doctor, he'd gladly let her hold onto him for all of eternity. He didn't want to be without her ever again.

#ocfairygodmother #fd: doctor who #dw #doctor who #11th doctor #dw fics #dw imagine #doctor who fics #doctor who imagines #11th doctor fics #11th doctor imagines #oc: Renata Cartwright #gabby gonzalez #fic: metamorphosis

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! I'm wondering if you can make a list of fics where Erik's jewish heritage isn't ignored? I just came across the fact that a lot of authors don't explore this part of him for some reason and i found it kinda upsetting so i'm wondering if you have any recs! I liked "As They Kiss, Consume" and "Who Shall be King Hereafter" by sherwoodfox, in case anyone who's reading this ask is interested in the same topic.

Hi Anon. I'm sorry for taking so long with this list but your request sent me on a wide search for fics that fit with your request. I tried to find a variety of fics where Erik's Jewish heritage is addressed. Some of them aren't necessarily cherik, but most of them are. I hope you enjoy this list.

Mistletoe, Latkes, and Long-Term Revenge Strategies – pocky_slash

Summary: Charles knows that Erik hates working at a department store in the best of times. Being Jewish in a department store during the holiday season is far from the best of times. He does what he can to help.

A Nice Boy (the Family Matters Edition) – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik's not sure whether the problem is that he doesn't want his parents to meet Charles or that he doesn't want Charles to meet his parents. Either way, he never invites Charles to brunch. Why should he? It's not like they're dating.

A Road Trip to Pennsylvania – Aainiouu

Summary: For a year Charles has nurtured the biggest and most embarrassing crush known to man towards Erik. They are friends and roommates and when Erik asks Charles to accompany him to home on Thanksgiving of course Charles goes.

In the Bleak Midwinter – keire_ke

Summary: It is not easy to find out, well into the second decade of the twenty-first century, that your mother arranged a marriage for you. It is even less easy to convince her that you have no interest in the very fertile Magda, she of the wide hips and lustrous auburn hair. Fortunately, with a good friend at his side over the holiday weekend, Erik is sure he will prevail.

Speech Making – phalangine

Summary: Modern Emma AU- Charles Xavier, accomplished matchmaker and headmaster of North America’s preeminent school for mutants, intends to add another notch to his belt: setting up his friend Moira. His oldest friend, Erik, has doubts about this plan.

Charles doesn’t share them.

This is life (and everything’s all right) – pocky_slash

Summary: Edie Lehnsherr came into Charles' life long before he ever heard Erik Lehnsherr's name, and her death left a gaping hole in the lives of everyone in Charles' family. As the first Purim without her approaches, he begins to get creative in his efforts to bring everyone out of their grief. Kitchen creativity, however, is not quite his strength....

Bashert – AvengingAngel

Summary: Erik and Charles meet and fall in love. I wanted to write a story where Erik had a huge family. Pretty fluffy (for me anyways). I suck at summaries.

Note: The summary doesn’t reveal much but if you’re looking for a fic where Erik is jewish and has a large family with a heavy dose of cherik fluff and angst then this one is for you.

Math Reasons – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: "Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

Ser

It’s kind of our whole things – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: After two years of best friendship, Charles and Erik thought they knew everything there was to know about each other. They're surprised, then, when their first summer as a couple reveals that they have a lot to learn about each other and themselves.

Sequel to Math Reasons

A Winter in New York – nextraordinaire

Summary: Charles and Erik have been childhood friends for as long as they can remember – Erik, living with his mother in Queens, and Charles in the big mansion in Westchester. For all, expect themselves, it was just natural progression that they'd end up together.

A series of ficlets from the same universe – can be read as separate and are out of chronological order.

Baby, It’s Cold Outside – heyjupiter

Summary: "It's just, this is my first Chanukah away from my parents. And it's--it's like 90 degrees out."

Erik Lehnsherr and Kitty Pryde celebrate a Genoshan Chanukah. It's a little different from the way it used to be in New York, but some unexpected visitors help them embrace the spirit of the holiday season.

Hold Back the Rain (front!strict mashup) – euphorbic

Summary: Charles Xavier: society darling, powerful political activist, well-known professor, and Dominant.

Erik Lehnsherr: anti-social, international motorcycle racer, and defiant submissive.

Erik is at Sepang in Malaysia for the fourteenth leg of the International World Championship. After doing poorly in qualifying, he's furious to find he has to take another VIP around the track instead of meeting Charles at the KL airport.

The Swan – waitfornight

Summary: In 1939 Erik and his sister Ruth are sent to Devonshire, England, during the Kindertransport refugee program to live with Kurt and Sharon Marko as foster children just before the start of World War II. Angry and wishing he could return home on the night of his seventeenth birthday, Erik meets a boy alone in the forest who is cursed to transform each day into a swan, only taking his true form by night.

Swan Lake AU.

The boy with the heart on his sleeve – euphorbic

Summary: Charles loses a high-stakes bet to Raven and is required to get a tattoo. However, when he makes a disparaging remark about the art form, Raven's acerbic mentor, Erik, steps in.

Or, the one where Erik and Raven are tattoo artists.

The Wurst Case Scenario – sareyen

Summary:If anyone asked why Charles, come rain, wind or shine, made the significant trek during his dismal lunch hour to dine at "Edie's Kosher Delicatessen", he would stubbornly say that it was because their pastrami on rye and potato knishes were absolutely to die for. He wasn't completely lying, because the deli's namesake, Edie Lehnsherr, made the best matzah ball soup Charles has ever had in his life. Still, Charles would rather shave his full head of hair off than admit that the real reason he would willingly walk through hail and fire to get to the corner deli was because of Erik, the insanely attractive man working the counter.

Sure, Erik has barely spoken two words to Charles other than "Hello, what can I get you?" or, after the third day in a row that Charles came to the deli, "Welcome back, what can I get you?", but Charles was more than happy to just ogle at the man from afar while devouring the juicy wurst Erik had put together with his (large and very capable) hands.

But, little does Charles know, Erik doesn't usually work the front counter. He only does it when he knows the cute blue-eyed man will be dining in.

This is life (and everything’s all right) – pocky_slash

c'est regarder ensemble dans la même direction – melonbutterfly

Summary: Since that day on the beach, Charles and Erik have learned to agree to disagree for the sake of living and working together. Then, for Christmas, and Charles gives Erik Hanukkah back a second time, and their relationship shifts a little further.

Terrible Hanukkah Sweaters and Other Life Challenges – professor

Summary: “Why am I here again?” Erik groans.

“I need you to lift things and glower at people over my shoulder when I tell people that it’s not ‘politically correct’ or a ‘war on Christmas’ to have a non-denominational winter holiday festival,” says Theresa Pryde.

Well, at least those are two things he’s good at.

Shrapnel – librata

Summary: It's late 1940, and tensions between the Axis and the Allies are tightening. Displaced and alone, 16-year-old German Jew Erik Lehnsherr finds himself employed as a servant by some snobby, terrible family in England whose house is far too big and whose money never seems to end. The worst part is, he isn't just mucking stables or cleaning plates–-he's tasked with tending to the whiny, disabled son named Charles, who might just drive Erik into absolute madness.

Or, the World War II fic in which Erik and Charles experience a changing world and a lot of teen angst.

Defying Expectations – Baamon5evr

Summary: Charles and Erik meet each other’s family. Neither of them gets what they expect.

table for three – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik should have known to call ahead to the Chinese restaurant--it's Christmas Eve and he lives in a predominantly Jewish neighborhood, after all. But before he can go home to mourn the loss of another one of his mother's yearly traditions, he's accosted by a teenage girl with a strange proposition--that he should stay and have dinner with her and her mother, instead.

different from all other nights – metonymy

Summary: "This year we are slaves; next year we will be free." Kitty and Erik host a seder for Passover at the Xavier School.

Libertad – ariadnes_string

Summary: Erik knew the look, had seen it his whole life, even before the war. ”You, with your height and blue eyes and straight nose, you can pass. You can be free of us. You are not marked with your difference.” If you only knew, he’d thought then. He thought the same thing now. And it was that thought, as much as anything, that made him move towards the gate.

Wash Away – sebastian2017

Summary: One quiet, lonely morning, before Yom Kippur, Erik makes his way to the sea in search of forgiveness.

After? There is No ‘After’ – Unrepentant_Marvelist

Summary: Erik knows what he is for. He has known his responsibilities as a survivor since the moment he woke under a scratchy, lice-infested blanket in the Red Army hospital. His world is painted in lucid blacks and whites (so often splashed in red) and there is no room for uncertainty or indecision... until a certain sunburned Englishman throws himself into his world.

The Children of an Idle Brain – Margo_Kim

Summary: Sometimes, when he’s lucky, Schmidt can’t hurt him. It’s like there’s a room inside of Erik’s head that’s he’s usually locked out of, that won’t open no matter if he beats himself bloody against it. On those days, he endures. But sometimes—and Erik doesn’t know why, whether it’s that the stars align or some higher power takes pity or Erik screams loud enough to earn his reward—the door opens. Erik can duck inside and slam it behind him and watches himself through the windows as Schmidt slowly, methodically tortures him to strength.

These days, this past week, there’s a boy in the room with him and he tells Erik, “That’s horrible,” like that means something.

Somehow, across the world, Erik's and Charles' minds touch when they need each other most. They can't be sure that the other boy is real. They suspect that he is not. But that doesn't mean they aren't each other's lifeline until they lose each other and then for a while longer.

Tehillim – kvikindi

Summary: Erik, in Israel, afterwards: another life he could have had. If.

I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) – childishinquiry

Summary: Erik has worn long sleeves his whole life, even before they had to wear yellow stars. Marching along his arm, in neat, black, English letters, are the words "My name's Charles Xavier."

Precious Few Years – sherwoodfox

Summary: Erik and Charles (known only to each other by the letters inscribed on their wrists) are meant to be together, soulmates, destined for the most powerful kind of love and connection a human being can experience.

But they are separated in almost every possible way- by distance, by circumstance, by language, by war. Their chances of success- of finding one another in the labyrinth of the world- are very slim. There is a reason why most people never find their soulmates.

But of course, Charles and Erik aren't ordinary children-

They have their gifts.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #Erik is Jewish #holocaust #asks #earnestly answers

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zoopzopp · 4 years ago

Text

A post for some BAMF Izuku fics <3 (more of these will be added and the list will be updated as i read them)

Fics i've read:

The Secret Ingredient is Crime- Izuku only had a whole month to further prove himself worthy of Yuuei's golden acceptance, and he was going to do whatever it took to make it in. Yuuei would never truly know what hit them until it was too late. (The secret crime AU in it entirety is fucking amazing and what wouldn't i give to read more stuff with it)

Deku the Villain Hunter: Support Hero - We all know the story: After being told he couldn't be a Hero by All Might, Midoriya Izuku still wandered over to a supervillain attack where he could save Bakugou Katsuki. But what if he had made the other turn? The answer is a butterfly effect that would lead him on a path to paving his own future. A path of revenge, finding his own moral compass, and doing the impossible. (OKAY MANY THOUGHTS. Very cool story and aspects. I binged it overnight and lost a bit of sleep the next night as well.)

The Story of How Midoriya Izuku Asserted His Dominance (And Traumatized Japan) - The Sports Festival was supposed to be a break from stress. Shouta should have known there is no such thing as a break with his class.

making it right (for real this time) - - Izuku is a support course student at UA, and Katsuki's neighbor, best friend, and former bullying victim. After Izuku's performance at the sports festival, Katsuki realizes something. He has to make things right. -

Hero Fall (UA Civil War Exercise) - It's now the end of the first year of UA for our students. Nedzu had decided to bring back the annual Heroes vs Villain fight. The fight shall last 5 days and the villain leader is Izuku Midoriya, with the commanding officer of the hero team being Katsuki Bakugo. But, what happens when Izuku is left alone?

Hero Class Civil Warfare - Heroes lead by Bakugo. Villains lead by Midoriya. Seven days prep time. Three days for Izuku Midoriya to show why they should be glad he's not a real villain.

"I Didn't Know You Had It In You." - Midoriya goes feral rage mode in his fight against Overhaul. The beat down still happens, but with Eri no longer at his back, he gets more violent. One For All reacts in an interesting way and Midoriya commits a terrible and unheroic act - the cold blooded murder and maiming of Chisaki Kai. Shigaraki is there to watch it all unfold.

Plan C meets Plan A - Even if All Might is right and Izuku can't be a hero, Izuku refuses to be useless. So Izuku uses his analysis skills to develop Plan C: Consulting in order to help the heroes. Eraserhead is impressed by this mysterious new consultant but alarm bells in Deku's behaviour quickly have Aizawa recruiting help for Plan A: Adoption.

Q. A. B. - One month after @hawks_unofficial's initial viral post, the blog titled "Quirk Analysis Blog for the Future", otherwise known as "Q. A. B.", has gone from an average of 10 views per post to an average of 20,000 views per post. Midoriya Izuku does not know how to view the impressions analysis for his suddenly popular blog, and only notices that sometimes, people actually comment on his posts now. He does not google himself or his moniker and thus does not see the rise in online articles and speculation. He is unaware that the "kyuu-ei-bee" he begins to hear about in passing refers to his own blog. He does not have a Twitter account. At the time, Midoriya Izuku is 15 years old.

How to murder your father - It's dangerous to be a bad father when you have a life insurance. Just saying.

Negation - Passive Quirks are a bitch. Izuku is reasonably done with the situation.

Thanks For Your Support - Izuku has the talent and the intellect to be the first Quirkless pro hero, and everyone at UA knows it. Unfortunately, his desire to become a hero has long since been buried thanks to the words of his childhood friend and childhood hero.

Policed To Meet You - Izuku takes All Might's advice and becomes a cop.

Vigilante Work And Other After School Activities - Izuku is a vigilante, Aizawa likes cats and therefore kids who help cats, and sometimes breaks must be forced upon overachieving teenagers.

When the Commission Lost Total Control - The hero polls have a small part where one can suggest their own hero. This is done just because of the amount of heroes is to great to name them all. This creates a little problem for the commission because a vigilante is assumed to be a brand new hero by the public- and ranks pretty high. Because of that, this vigilante now is too popular to hide and they can't come out with their mistake either! Think of the chaos that would bring.

Izuku being Badass but like in not that grand of a way but still tearing-people-down-in-some-way kind of way

He Was Quirkless - Midoriya get's sick of discrimination against the quirkless and decides to do something about it. It leads to some interesting situations. A trilogy.

bloody, but unbowed- It's Advocacy Week for Yuuei's hero students and it gives Midoriya Izuku a lot to think about about what kind of hero he wants Deku to be.

Called Out - When Izuku is hit by a quirk that will cause him to call out the first person to be rude to him on the way to school with every mistake they've made in the affected persons presence or have otherwise effected said affected person, Aizawa is in for a rough ride. In other words, with some help from a quirk, Izuku rakes Aizawa over the hot coals until he gives out. (a great fic but i've got mixed feelings on this one because on one hand, izuku is badass but on the other its Aizawa bashing and really like him skhdskdb so yea! Read it as per your tastes!!)

The time when everyone learned that izuku respects Bakugo more than all might. - I didn't like how Bakugo was tied up during the sports festival and so izuku didn't. Badass izuku roasted all might and midnight.

Villainous Sunshine - After an innocent question, Class 1-A learns just how terrifying Izuku's analysis is. Nedzu's along for the ride.

Never understand ( and you can't ) - Midoriya is sick and tried of his classmates bias and prejudice against the quirkless community and finally breaks

Mastermind: Strategist For Hire - Izuku Midoriya never got the chance to save Bakugo from the sludge villain and impress All Might. With his dream crushed, Izuku becomes bitter and angry. It also doesn't help that he faces discrimination at every turn. All he ever wanted was to be appreciated, so when the villains are the ones to recognize his talents rather than the heroes, well, Izuku just can't resist. He might as well help those who actually want him around. Mistakes were made, and now society must face a villain of their own making: Mastermind.

Malignance - Deku is far scarier than anyone gives him credit for.

Fics in my to read list which has/probably has BAMF izuku

Young Midoriya - Izuku Midoriya couldn't help himself when he saw someone in trouble. Even at 12 years old, his instincts drive him to help those in need. So when he sees Kacchan and his goons about to ambush another student, he has to step in, right? It's not like this hasn't happened before. What is different this time though, is that he's never had an audience that consisted of the Number One Hero.

Heroics and Other Things That Don't Require Superpowers - Izuku doesn't have a quirk. That's the long and short of it. After being told his whole life he can't be a hero, General Education at UA is the best he can hope for, right? Wrong. Dead Wrong. So super wrong that his best friend from Gen Ed, all of Class 1A and a whole mess of Pro Heroes are going to prove to him how wrong he is. Izuku has the makings of a hero, and his lack of a quirk only throws those qualities into starker relief. After all, who wants to be as strong as All Might when you can be the cleverest hero in the business?

Cases of More Than - Izuku is known as Deku online. He's an analyst of quirks, sometimes even working with the local detective, Tsukauchi, on a case. He meets new friends, builds a few relationships, and slowly crushes on his best friend. But then he's thrown into the General Studies Course at U.A. It doesn't help that All for One is showing an interest in him at all.

No Regret - In this world there is no hard set villain or hero. No victim and aggressor. Everyone is at fault for something and Izuku, with his own villain group, will make everyone pay. Even the bystanders who did nothing. This is what society gets for abandoning it's people. Deku will manipulate everyone and be the greatest villain, all so the world can be a better a place. With the stakes so high there is no time for regret.

We Are a Different Kind - Mirio doesn’t think he can be a hero anymore now that he’s quirkless, Izuku calls bullshit.

Live a Hero - "You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain." Or, you're raised a villain, rebel when you're nine, and fight against the odds to become a hero anyway. That's how it is in Izuku's case.

Prodigal - After being convinced to give One for All to Mirio, Midoriya Izuku must rebuild his shattered dreams with bloody hands.

Two Sides of the Same Coin: Vigilante - Izuku is orphaned at the age of four and is sent into the Japanese Foster Care System. After multiple failed attempts at finding a forever home and some unfortunate circumstance, he ends up on the streets. Eventually, the vigilante, Deku appears. Eraserhead must gain his trust to bring Deku back to the right side of the law. If he he does, however, the untrustful but pure-hearted boy may just be a bit more than Aizawa Shota can handle.

From Muddy Waters - - but the sleeve of his tracksuit was bulging, tearing and ripping and a mass of twisted flesh, nearly as big as the boy himself and nauseatingly familiar (the arm of the man that had torn a hole in his side with a grin and left him a frail shadow of himself) swung forward and slammed into the flat face of the giant robot. Izuku wants to be a hero more than anything.

Pieces are easily sacrificed when they're nameless - Nobody ever thought quirkless, weak, weird Midoriya Izuku was dangerous. This perception carried over to his first year high school class, because really despite the super strength Midoriya didn't have it in him to be dangerous. That was their first mistake. And the one that would see them fall.

Not exactly BAMF izuku but i just wanted to rec these fics <3

In the shade of a sunflower - Being biologically quirkless came more with an extra pinkie joint in the toes and a stunning lack of vestiges mutations. It came with smaller things, like extra teeth that did virtually nothing, exploding organs, and weird exposed nerves that weren't designed to feel pain.

Throat Punch - In which Aizawa attempts to teach Izuku how to use various battle tactics and it goes just about as well as you'd expect. At least Shinsou is there with his fantastic commentary. (just a fun lil thing where izuku is really stronk and trains with shinsou and aizawa)

So Be It - He could still do good. Midoriya could show them all what a hero without powers looked like. If he had to break a few rules to do it, so be it. So be it… (as stated not exactly BAMF but its a vigilante izuku so ye-)

Never Enter a Drinking Game with Bakugo or Izuku - Izuku walks in on Kirishima and Kaminari having a drinking competition (no alcohol involved). And it reminds him of an old story.

5 Times Midoriya Taught Class 1A about Memes and 1 Time they Found a Villain that Understood Them - After being diagnosed as quirkless, Midoriya gets into pre-guirk media and finds memes. He shares them with Class 1A. Aizawa doesn't get paid enough for this. (THIS FIC???? FUCKING AWESOME. LITERALLY WHAT I WANTED TO SEE)

Midoriya: JD Version - Nedzu has decided that a play should be put on so that the students can learn how to "go undercover", an idea which Aizawa thinks is utter bullshit. They're putting on Heathers and when Nedzu chooses to cast Midoriya for JD, everyone objects. Midoriya is a much better actor than they thought.

that is a lot!! I hope you have fun reading it!!!

#fic recs #bnha #bamf izuku midoriya #izuku midoriya

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talonwings · 3 years ago

Text

to feed a kingdom- Empires SMP Writing

in which fWhip and his subjects make questionable choices for noble reasons.

(can you tell yet that i am a c!fWhip apologist lololololol--)

It would have been easy to miss the small silhouette of the man against the giant shadows looming over the landscape.

The inky sky seemed to cling low over the Grimlands, as it had ever since the Dragon fell; the stars shone more dimly, those that still shone at all. Clouds scudded frantically across the faint crescent of the moon, pushed along by a harrying wind. The crickets all had fallen silent--indeed, all the animals had gone, hidden away in burrows and holes to shelter themselves from the threat of the corruption. No sound disturbed the stillness of the night, but for the harsh gasps of the lone figure as he raised the scythe and swung it again, and again, and again.

fWhip’s fingers had long since blistered, burst, and blistered again. He had stopped even glancing down to check his hands--the sight of the blood seeping through the fabric of his gloves had averted his gaze some time ago. The pain was a constant companion, enough so that he had become used to it, could ignore it if he gritted his teeth and focused on the rhythmic rise and fall of the tool in his grasp.

He was inelegant with the scythe. It would have been obvious to anyone observing, if there had been anyone around to observe at this ungodly hour; as it was, his lack of skill was evident enough in the ache it left behind in his forearms and shoulders, the torque that yanked at his spine every time he twisted to put his weight behind the swings. He had never been a large man, but he felt his smallness down to his bones here beneath the tower of corruption that still rose into the air above him.

Give up, the rot-red tendril seemed to hiss at him. Its veiny surface pulsated eerily, hinting at something living just beneath the fleshy exterior.

“I’ll die first,” fWhip rasped at it. “Watch me.”

He swung the scythe again. The blade was weathered steel, pocked and beaten from many years of use, but still dangerously sharp. It bit deep into the corrupted tendril, and fWhip was gratified when he swore he could hear a faint scream.

Plash was worried about the Count.

It wasn’t that her lord was acting strange, exactly. Strange, to Plash, was a relative term--she had been called ‘strange’ for most of her childhood due to her fondness for laboratory tools over the company of other children. It was a relief to finally be accepted into the service of the Grimlands’ ruler, who, by Plash’s measure, was a kindred spirit in strangeness. Many people raised their eyebrows at the Count’s eccentricities, but accepted them simply because he was the Count, and who were they to question the man who kept food on their tables and money in their coffers?

No, Plash was concerned because fWhip was acting strange, even for him. He was energetic and filled to the brim with ideas, as a rule--it was what made the Grimlands, under his rule, surge to the forefront of scientific research and discovery. Plash would have never described him as kind, necessarily, or even pleasant, but he was confident and sure and bold.

Until the Dragon fell, and everything changed.

She did not know how to make the dullness go out of his eyes, or the slant from his shoulders, or the heavy, bowing weight from his head, and it frightened her--an uncomfortable experience in itself, for someone as rarely frightened as Plash. In the hours immediately after the Dragon’s end, she had watched her beloved ruler become a person she did not recognize; and that, even before the corruption had arrived.

Plash scowled out the window of the manor at the scarlet tendril hanging ominously in the sky beyond the pane. The damn things had erupted from the ground barely a week after the Dragon’s death, while the Grimlands were still reeling from the arrival of what seemed like half of Mythland’s population. They had barely had enough time to count them all, much less figure out how they were going to feed them. Tents lined every road in Eastvale, and most of the roads immediately outside the town’s wall.

Normally, the Count would guide us, Plash thought glumly. But now…

She didn’t allow herself to finish the thought, close enough to treason as it was. Instead, she made herself continue her trek through the long, high-ceilinged halls toward the Count’s personal study, acutely feeling the weight of the smooth little scroll clutched in her hand, burning a hole through her glove.

She arrived at the tall, paneled oak door, staring for a long moment at the polished bronze knocker before summoning her strength and rapping it twice.

“Enter,” the weary voice called from within.

Plash did so, but stopped just inside the door, barely remembering to close it behind her as she gaped at her leader and mentor. He looked terrible. His eyes were ringed by bruise-purple circles, his cheeks hollow with exhaustion; more bruises were visible on the exposed skin of his wrists where his jacket sleeves rode up, and Plash swore she could see blood staining his gloves.

“Are you just going to stare?” the Count asked. The question was blunt, but his voice was weak and lacked its usual intensity.

“I…” Plash couldn’t find any words, so instead she held up the scroll. “This just arrived.”

“And they sent you instead of a raven?” fWhip gave a dry laugh. “I wasn’t aware that you were doing the job of birds now, Plash Ajax.”

Most people would have been embarrassed by the quip, but Plash shrugged. “A raven brought it, but the raven-mistress said it was too important not to be hand-delivered.”

“Mm.” fWhip eyed her for a moment before he, too, shrugged. “Bring it here.”

She obeyed, crossing the room and depositing the scroll on his desk. Up close he looked even worse than at first glance; his face and every centimeter of exposed flesh were riddled with tiny scratches, like he had been on the losing end of an encounter with a thorn bush. His clothes were wrinkled and disheveled, his gingery hair utterly unkempt. Plash said nothing, only waiting in silence for him to inspect the scroll.

He took it in his hands and unrolled it, eyes scanning it for a second before he let it fall from his grip. It hit the desk with a clack, but Plash barely noticed, fixated as she was on the single tear that trailed down the Count’s cheek before being lost in the tangle of his beard.

“Um…” She chewed her lip for a moment, internally caught between wanting to comfort him and wanting to turn tail and run. She settled for asking, somewhat awkwardly, “Shall I, um...shall I leave?”

“Do what you like,” he replied in a tone thick with exhaustion. One gloved hand came up for a noncommittal wave, the fingers indeed stained scarlet with blood.

Plash stood frozen for what felt like an eternity, although it was probably no more than a minute, trying to decide what to do. Finally, she decided to be as blunt as the man she looked up to. “You look awful. Did someone break in here for a fight last night?”

She thought she had made an awful mistake when fWhip’s eyes locked onto her, his mouth agape; relief washed over her when he started to laugh, the sound hoarse and beaten, but familiar.

“So you can tell,” he said when he finally stopped laughing. “Well, I suppose I did nothing to try to clean up.”

“Wait, so there was a fight?” Plash asked in confusion.

“Of a kind,” the Count replied wryly.

“...I’m confused,” the young scientist admitted.

“Ah, I know how you hate that.” fWhip’s mouth quirked in a half-smile. “All of you young researchers do, though I try my best to beat it out of you.” He stood, shaking his head and then wincing visibly at the movement. “Ack. That’s unpleasant.”

“Can I, er, help in any way?” Plash asked.

“Follow me,” the Count said, beckoning with a gesture toward the door. “I will answer your question, though you must promise to share this with no one.”

Plash followed silently, thoughts spinning through her head as they descended the several floors of the manor and exited into the gardens beyond. From down here, she had a full view of the corruption towering over the skyline of Eastvale, tendrils encircling the town as if to latch on and pull it into the earth, although for now, they remained still. It was toward one of the massive growths that fWhip led her, and as they neared, Plash could see a curious wound in the side of the tentacle. It leaked and bled crimson ooze from the gash, and its flesh seemed to have withered around the site, blackened and decaying.

“What caused this?” Plash wondered aloud. “More corruption? Some new blight?”

“I did,” the Count answered.

“You--?” Plash stared at him, aghast, her eyes dropping slowly to the scarlet-stained scythe that lay abandoned on the ground below the tendril. She hadn’t noticed it until he nudged it with his boot, but now she saw the corrupted ichor dripping from the blade, the red vines hacked to pieces and lying dead beside the tool.

“Did you know I wanted to be a farmer once?”

She was caught entirely off-guard by the question, still enthralled as she was by the sight of the scythe, so it took her a moment to fully process it. “Wh--wait, a farmer? As in…?” She mimed what she thought scything wheat might look like.

fWhip nodded tiredly. “When I was very young, I once had to accompany my parents, the old Count and Countess, on a trip to a Wither Rose Alliance summit in Mythland. They were, of course, ensconced in meetings all day, so I wandered the kingdom with my…” Here he trailed off, a flash of some unreadable feeling crossing his face for a moment before he went on. “With an old friend. We got into plenty of mischief, and one of the pranks we decided on was to unlatch the gate to a field full of cows. Luckily, the farmer caught us before we were trampled to death by the beasts, and although we were royal, he decided to teach us a lesson, and made us help him sow carrot seeds for two hours.”

Plash made a face. “That sounds horrid.”

The Count chuckled softly. “My friend thought so, but for me, there was something very rewarding in digging up the earth, placing the seeds, covering them, and knowing that they would someday become food for the citizens of Mythland.”

“...Sort of like finishing a machine that you know will be used to make life easier for people,” Plash said after a moment’s reflection. She knew the feeling--hands oil-stained, face soot-smeared, hair wild, sleep-deprived and exhausted, but overwhelmed with warmth when she gazed at the thing she had created. There was nothing like it.

fWhip nodded. “Yes. And so I told my parents when I was returned to them later that I wanted to become a farmer and grow carrots for all the people of the Grimlands. They laughed, of course, and said that a Count’s son could do more than become a simple farmer, and as it turned out, they were right. But for a long time, I had a secret dream to fill the whole world with fields, to build one every day, as far as the eye could see.”

Plash gazed at him silently for a long time. Finally, she said, “So this is your chance to use the scythe to help the Grimlands?”

His face became hard, almost unrecognizably so. “If I have to tear down every one of these damn things, I will.”

There was silence between them again, the awful, still silence that had hung over the Grimlands in all the hours that had passed since the Ender Dragon’s demise. Plash watched as the Count breathed raggedly, his fists clenched and trembling, the entire weight of their kingdom resting on his shoulders.

“I’ll help,” she said.

He blinked--it was clearly not the response he had been expecting. “What?”

“I said, I’ll help,” Plash repeated. Her resolve was growing now, ideas taking root--like seeds, like kernels that, properly watered, would grow into something that could help them all. “I’m terrible with a scythe, but I know machines and chemicals. If you give me a sample, I can turn it into something that will help us feed the Mythlanders.”

The Count’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “Feed--with the corruption?”

Plash scowled at him. “Did you recruit me from university because I had boring ideas?”

He looked astonished for a moment, but only for a moment, and then his mouth formed the devious smile that she hadn’t seen in nearly eight days.

“No,” he agreed. “I did not. Very well, Plash Ajax. You will turn Xornoth’s corruption into food for the people of Mythland. But you know, I have high expectations now that you’ve even suggested such a thing.”

Plash grinned right back, cracking her knuckles, her mind already working. “I know. So do I.”

#also featuring a sneaky reference to fwhip's hardcore series!!#see if you can spot it #empires smp #mcyt #writing #fwhip #the grimlands #empiresona #empires oc #plash ajax #xornoth #rcu #technically rcu!fwhip

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smiting-finger · 4 years ago

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alive, and back on my usual nonsense

So after getting preoccupied with other things and temporarily falling off the face of the planet (for like an entire year ಥωಥ), I was thinking about the kdrama Mr. Queen (which I've been meaning to watch), and the Chinese novel it was based on (太子妃升职记, which I read a few years ago and very much enjoyed), and this popped out--

Wei Wuxian’s first thought is that there seem to be an awful lot of female voices around, for a bedroom inhabited by two men. Did he drink too much last night? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s overindulged on a trip to the town and woken up in a strange place the next morning, but that kind of problem has been cropping up a lot less frequently now that he has Lan Zhan around to ferry him home.

(Sometimes literally, on his back. His broad, strong--)

But perhaps Lan Zhan had gotten drunk, too? In which case, Wei Wuxian should consider them lucky to have woken up surrounded by people, rather than chickens, rabbits or, notably, on one occasion, mounds of resentful cabbages.

The chatter around him continues, pitched high with youth and - is that anxiety? It's interspersed with the odd interjection from what sounds like one (calmer, if more exasperated) older woman and a man. Probably not a nunnery, he decides. Perhaps the back rooms of a pleasure house? Although, if that’s the case, this amount of excitement over a mere two men is honestly a little excessive.

He reaches out tentatively, but pats all the way across the mattress to the edge without finding his usual bedfellow. A much less tentative venture towards the other side produces similar results.

Hm.

Wei Wuxian cracks open an eye and heaves himself upright, absent-mindedly scratching at his (unusually soft - as much as he hates to admit it, maybe Nie Huaisang has a point about drinking less and training more) side and squinting into the too-bright light until the person-shaped blur in front of him sharpens into focus.

“Niang niang!” a complete stranger cries tearfully, clutching at the sleeve of his other arm. “You’re awake! Thank Heavens, you’re awake! Physician Liu, quick, quick!”

A cushion is produced from somewhere and thrust expectantly between Wei Wuxian and the elderly man sitting at his bedside.

He sighs. It’s probably not worth fighting.

Wei Wuxian smacks his upturned wrist onto the unusually lavish brocade and is only a little surprised when it’s covered by a cloth before the physician reaches to take it.

(Do they think he’s diseased?)

((Is he diseased?!))

(((Is that why Lan Zhan isn’t here?)))

He looks at the row of young girls (+ 1 matron) kneeling along the wall to his left, dressed identically to the first and also now beginning to prostrate themselves and wail about “Niang niang!” and blessings and deserving to die.

Not a pleasure house, then.

He looks around at the rest of the richly-furnished room and its intricately-carved wooden furniture, the wealth of jade carvings and the obscene amount of gold that's gilding … everything (so shiny). The opulence of it all would put even Jin Guangshan to shame.

So, not a nunnery either.

He looks down at the small hands, delicate wrists and - he clutches one abruptly just to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him - breasts of the body that he certainly was not inhabiting yesterday.

“Well,” he says aloud, unable to stop himself from wincing at the high, soft voice that emerges despite fully expecting it. “It’s not the first time this has happened.”

===

Two days, one diagnosis of shock-induced memory loss and some discreet enquiries (as well as some indiscreet enquiries) later, this is what he knows about his situation:

He’s the main consort (unfavoured) of the crown prince of whatever place he’s landed in;

Three days ago, following a disagreement with one Consort Yun (favoured, main competitor for husband’s affections);

In the course of this disagreement, both women somehow fell into a palace lake and mostly-drowned;

Consort Yun (admittedly quite pretty) was revived at the scene, but Wei Wuxian took a full day to “miraculously” recover;

Angered by the unseemly behaviour of her daughters-in-law, particularly upon learning that the Crown Princess’s first act upon waking was to stumble upon a chance meeting between the Crown Prince and Consort Yun in one of the pleasure gardens and bodily throw herself between them (a tactical error on Wei Wuxian’s part. He’d been trying to throw himself over the battlements to freedom, but he’d gotten lost and scaled the wrong wall), the Empress (Crown Prince’s political opponent, not particularly fond of either consort) grounded both of them to their respective residences for a month, with no visitors allowed.

Which brings him to his current position, feeding the fish in his personal pond as an excuse to be alone. Not truly alone - he shoots a pointed glance at the maids watching anxiously from the other side of the courtyard - because he’s apparently a “suicide risk” now (and honestly, yes, he’d meant to throw himself off that roof, but he hadn’t meant to die - it’s simply that this new body’s cultivation level is not what he’s come to expect even from Mo Xuanyu’s modest abilities), but alone enough to start planning his next move.

Direct escape is out - he didn’t have a plan for what to do once he’d gotten out anyway, and honestly he’s better-resourced for finding out how he got here in the Palace than anywhere else, so it’s no great loss.

“What do you think, Master Fish?” Wei Wuxian asks a gold and black spotted koi with particularly sage-looking whiskers. “Shall I just stay here for the time being?”

It’s not a terrible place to be for the time being, he must admit, throwing more food into the water and watching the fish swarm. Being grounded, he’s at no risk from the Crown Prince’s amorous attentions for a month (a salute of gratitude to the Empress for the inadvertent protection). And thanks to Consort Yun and her voluptuous figure (and if the Crown Prince is more partial to that than the Zhao Feiyan style of willowy fragility that Wei Wuxian seems to have inherited, who can honestly blame him?), he’s at no great risk from them after that, either (a salute of gratitude to the unknowing sister-in-arms, taking one - and hopefully a great many more after that - for the team).

According to his maid (sleeve-clutcher extraordinaire, who even now is boring two holes into his skull with her woeful gaze from across the way while he does nothing more suspicious than scatter another handful of feed towards some latercomer fish), the body he’s inhabiting comes from a powerful military lineage. In particular, her father is (was?) a powerful general who currently commands more than half the nation’s military forces and has the absolute trust of the Emperor. So that more or less keeps him safe from the machinations of the majority of the nest of vipers in this palatial cesspit.

That just leaves the Empress, who - if his servants and the smuggled letters from the Original Goods’s mother (a salute of gratitude to the worthy woman for spelling it out so that even such an interloper as he can understand) are anything to go by - would definitely kill him to damage the Crown Prince’s political standing or throw any sort of roadblock in the way of him from becoming Emperor.

Less immediately - if his secret informants are anything to go by (a salute of gratitude to the resourceful host for cultivating such a valuable resource if not her dantian) - it also leaves the Crown Prince, who, upon cementing his power as Emperor, would also definitely kill his current Crown Princess in order to wedge his beloved Consort Yun into the Empress role.

Really, the only road to any sort of security for someone in his position is to raise the next Imperial heir, outlive the Original Goods’s faithless husband and become the Empress Dowager.

Hopefully Wei Wuxian will be long gone by then, but if leaving means the Original Goods will return (from … Mo Xuanyu’s body? The Ether? Or???) - well, he doesn’t want to repay her hospitality by leaving her house in a mess, so to speak. So he’ll try to set her on that career path, if he can.

But that’s an aspirational goal. First, he has to not-die before he can find out how to get himself home.

And find out how to get himself home.

If getting himself home is even possible.

Wei Wuxian dumps the rest of the fish food in the water and yells.

(It startles the maids, the fish and the poor eunuch the Crown Prince has sent as a spy into falling out of the tree he’s been hiding in and into the prickly bushes below.)

===

The problem with “staying for the time being” is … well, how interminably boring it is. The approved list of hobbies for an Imperial consort seems to consist of: eating (but not too much), sleeping (but not too much), embroidery (which he can’t do), reading (but only texts on female virtue and the occasional terrible novel), playing music (but not the flute), conversing with his maids (who are very sweet, but are all like, 12) and walking in the gardens (which he’s not allowed to do).

Honestly, it’s no wonder all the consorts turn to scheming and murder.

It only takes a week of confinement for him to snap and sneak himself out for a nighttime adventure, setting off to explore the grounds and see … a night-blooming flower, a ghost, a rat, he’ll take pretty much anything at this point.

In the end, he finds none of these things, but the walking is still pretty nice, and he even hears the faint sounds of a guqin wafting over from one of the other consorts’ residences. (He should probably learn who lives where at some point, but it’s not exactly a priority. What’s he going to do with the information when he can only visit during the nighttime? Peep?) When Wei Wuxian wanders closer, the notes resolve themselves into the familiar strains of Flowing Waters, and his breath catches on a sudden surge of longing to hear the same song, played by a different set of fingers.

(First played on a familiar guqin and then, later, accompanied by soft humming between soft, worn sheets, played across the edges of Wei Wuxian’s ribs, along the dip of his spine, and finally lower, into--)

((Is Lan Zhan thinking about him?))

(((Is Lan Zhan looking for him?)))

Stumbling blindly on, he’s so caught up in missing Lan Zhan that he misses the first few stanzas of the next piece, and it isn’t until the music starts to rise in a familiar refrain that he freezes.

He knows that song.

He’s one of the only two people who know that song, which is in fact how he got caught out the last time he found himself in a farce of an identity charade, by the only other person who knows that song, who must be - who must be -

Lan Zhan, his blood sings in his ears as he takes off in a dead run towards the source of the playing. Up ahead of him, small courtyard glows softly with the light of the only burning lamp in their vicinity. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan-

He scrambles up the wall with the ease of a lifetime’s practice, using bloody-minded determination to make up for the lack of muscle memory.

“Lan Zhan,” he yelps, forgetting to whisper in his excitement as he flings himself over the top and into the branches of a convenient, wall-side tree. “Lan Zhan, it’s me, I-”

This is, naturally, when his foot slips. He manages to catch hold of a branch, but his tender hands and puny wrists, unused to holding up anything heavier than a chicken leg, fail to maintain their hold through his weight, and he tumbles down the trunk into a sad puddle of fabric on the ground.

“Lan Zhan,” he gasps, fighting to untangle himself from the ridiculous train that, admittedly, made a considerable contribution to cushioning his fall. He clambers up onto his hands and knees--

--and looks straight into the wide-eyed stare of Consort Yun.

===

“I cannot believe,” Wei Wuxian growls, palming the ample softness of one exposed breast with one hand, while shoving the other deeper into the many (too many) layers of fabric between them and between Lan Zhan’s splayed legs, “that after everything that’s happened, you’re still taller than me.”

Lan Zhan huffs a laugh that turns quickly into a moan, and Wei Wuxian swallows it, smothers Lan Zhan’s gasping breaths with his own parted lips and sucks them greedily down even as he coaxes out more with twisting fingers here, another tug to Lan Zhan’s poor, abused nipple there.

He slides his fingers back between slick folds and then upwards again, pushing in and out in a few languid strokes before curling them to make Lan Zhan arch harder against the wall behind him, tilt his head back and expose a beautifully vulnerable stretch of neck to Wei Wuxian's teeth.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan murmurs, and his voice is different, the shape of his lips is different, but the way Wei Wuxian’s name fits inside his mouth (tender, beloved), the way he tucks the flyaway strands of hair behind Wei Wuxian’s ear, the look in his eyes when their gazes meet (warm, open, knowing) are the same, same, same.

===

I am entirely too lazy to write the rest of it, but afterwards they regroup and it turns out LWJ has been in this world for exactly one more day than WWX, having woken up in Consort Yun’s body when she was “revived”. Consort Yun is the daughter of a high-ranking Minister in the Treasury or something, so Lan Zhan been using his new position as the daughter of a ~scholarly family~ to build a reputation for being really into Buddhist scripture, and eventually he’s going to request to be allowed to go to a nearby Temple to attain some virtuous brownie points for the Imperial family via prayer as his penitence.

That there’s also an elderly monk living there who’s got a reputation for being super good with the divine mysteries and spiritual lore about curses and whatnot is totally immaterial, if Lan Zhan happens to run into that guy, it’ll be a total coincidence, yeah.

So WWX also starts on the divine penitence route, and if everyone thinks it’s because the Crown Princess refuses to be outdone by Consort Yun, then even better, and two weeks into confinement they wear the Empress down into letting them make the trip, and when they get there, turns out the monk is Nie Huaisang.

(NHS: “OH THANK GOD, I’ve done the research but the lynchpin of this mess is definitely somewhere in the Palace and I could not for the life of me figure out a way to get in.”

WWX: “That's nice, but seriously, how come you got to stay a man?”

NHS: “My friend, I may be a man, but my balls are currently swinging somewhere around my ankles.”

WWX: “...show me.”

And LWJ is like “NO.” except WWX can tell by the look in his eye that he sort of wants to see, too).

So they return to the Palace and WWX whirls into one of their morning audiences with the Empress, distraught about a ~dream from the ancestors~ where they warned him about disrupted ley lines or accumulated resentment or an offended minor god that needs investigation by someone, and “How convenient, because we met just the guy!” And the Empress looks like she was Done Five Years Ago, but the Empress Dowager, who’s old and doddery, is like “oh no, you must bring him!” and the Empress mutters “to fucking what, offend some major gods and really do the job properly?” and that’s how they find out the Empress is Jiang Cheng.

In the meantime, the confinement edict expires and WWX+LWJ are allowed to return to their regular programming, which means that as the legal wife, WWX can continuously summon LWJ to his residence for increasingly tenuous and spurious reasons. The best thing is, it’s not even out of character for the Crown Princess, who used to regularly summon Consort Yun to subject her to not-so-veiled barbs and petty torments. So WWX summons LWJ, and then immediately expels both their entourages from the room, instructing that no one is to enter on pain of death.

So LWJ’s maids are gnashing their teeth helplessly while all sorts of piteous moans, pained gasps and the occasional scream emanate from behind the closed door, and when their mistress finally emerges there are no marks on her body, but she’s weak-kneed and having trouble walking straight, so who knows what kind of terrible tortures the Crown Princess has visited upon her.

The Crown Prince obviously hears about this, so he bursts in one day without warning, only to find the two sitting together, the Crown princess’s arms around Consort Yun’s waist, her cheek pillowed on one heaving bosom, and although she’s smiling besottedly at him now, he could have sworn that he felt killing intent being directed at him only a second ago? And to tell the truth, he’s not really in love Consort Yun either, it’s all an act to keep the two consorts (and their families) pitted in a power struggle against each other until he can finally outmanoeuvre the Empress and cement his position as heir to the throne (and also to protect his actual favourite, a third consort who’s a nondescript nobody with no political backing). So the fact that “It was all a misunderstanding, we’re friends now,” his Crown Princess says sweetly (and did she … rub her cheek against his Consort’s chest? Must be his imagination) is not the worst thing (at least neither of them/their families can be enlisted by the Empress in support of her son, and if they’re caught up with Being Besties, then at least they’re not bullying his actual favourite), but for some reason he still feels kind of … threatened? Like someone’s making moves on his wife, which is absurd because they’re both his wives, but the vibes he gets from the first one in particular are kind of … off?

In any case, the crew solve the mystery, find the lynchpin object (which turns out to be a jade dildo belonging to one of the Emperor’s favoured consorts because of course it is), and wake up in their real bodies, in their real world, to a very apologetic hermit-inventor-cultivator whose property they stumbled onto while pursuing a resentful beast. Turns out they triggered the glamour/enchantment/psychic maze world he created as a security system because, “I just didn’t want to risk people getting into my stuff, you know? I’ve got some things that could be very dangerous in the wrong hands”. WWX is like “oh yeah, for sure” and JC is like “WHAT DO YOU MEAN FOR SURE? HOW IS THIS AN UNDERSTANDABLE RESPONSE, IF YOU’RE AFRAID PEOPLE WILL TOUCH YOUR SHIT THEN JUST ENCHANT SOME FUCKING WARRIOR GOLEMS LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE.”

#CQL #The Untamed #mo dao zu shi #Wangxian #fic #not-fic

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little-diable · 4 years ago

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Shakespeare - Klaus Mikaelson (angst/smut)

Request by anon: Love❤ can you write for Husband!Niklaus Mikaelson & Reader? They had a fight over something and now she is very upset with him. She is not talking to him, sulking and moreover 'ignoring' him. And he is very sorry about his behaviour and craving for her attention. So he does all the cute efforts to propitiate her(made a painting of her, write poems and love quotes for her to read) {add loads of fluff in his efforts} so she finally gives in and please make it an eventual romantic smut 😊

God, I loved writing this, I think that's one of my favorites, hope you like it just as much as I do. Enjoy my loves. xxx

“Don’t,“ (y/n) whispered, Klaus slowly pulled away his hand, his arms were now loosely hanging by his sides, a devastated expression on him as his eyes wandered across the tear stains down her face. He watched her leave the living quarters, sunk down onto the couch, head buried in his hands, a sob left his lips. Klaus couldn’t believe the words he had screamed at her, just seconds ago.

Regret began to fill him, his throat was tightening up, it felt as if somebody was cutting off his airway, tightly squeezing his skin, crushing his windpipe, making him suffer, for the profane words that had left his mouth.

Hiccups rumbled through her, (y/n) grasped the sink in her and Klaus bathroom, her knuckles were turning white at this point, she was watching herself through the mirror, she was a mess, not being able to let go of his, “I should have left you centuries ago.”

The way he had so aggressively screamed it at her, wouldn’t leave her mind, his eyes had been pitch black, empty pupils were staring at her, watching her crumble, fall apart as he kept on screaming and screaming. She needed some time to breathe, to calm down and overthink the whole scenario.

Their fighting had been going on for weeks by now, every time they’d visit Mystic Falls, all hell would break loose, Klaus would switch his focus onto something ‘rather important’, would leave her hanging and turn his back on her, as if he was a completely new person.

She had been going through thick and thin with him, had picked him off the floor, had pulled him out of his darkest holes, they had been married for centuries by now, (y/n) probably should be used to all the stresses and strains by now.

(Y/n) would hide away in their bedroom, desperate for some time alone, she couldn’t get herself to talk to him, every time she’d think about him, bile would rise in her throat, tears were welling up in her eyes, making her cry out over and over again.

She wasn’t noticing, that he was sitting across of their door, out in the hallway, tears would fall from his eyes as he listened to the sound of her crying. He was suffering just as much, but for complete other reasons, this had been the first time Klaus had felt terribly anxious, scared that she’d give up, finally realizing how bad of a person he was, turning her back on him.

He knew, that it would be on him this time, to make things right, so he did the only thing he could think of, Klaus began to paint, he’d stare at his canvas for hours on end, trying to come up with any idea. A tight smile would tug on his lips as he’d finally start painting, faint brush marks would graze the white fabric, slowly turning into a beautiful memory Klaus was trying to project onto the canvas. The small clearing, where they had gotten married centuries ago, was slowly beginning to take form, transforming single movements with his brush into a bigger picture.

But it was obvious to him, that a painting wouldn’t fix anything, it would need more convincing than that, so he sat down and began to write a poem for her, murmuring her favorite lines out of Shakespeares ‘Romeo and Juliet’. Klaus was too focused on his writing, to hear her nearing, he began to whisper. “Give me my Romeo, and, when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and-” he whipped his head towards the door, as her sweet voice interrupted him. “He will make the face of heaven so fine, that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun.”

“I can still remember, the day we met him for the first time, the way he was sitting in the tavern, writing down those words. You smiled at me, told me that our love was eternal, what happened to you, Klaus?” Her voice was hoarse from all the crying.

“Love,” (y/n) walked towards him, her naked feet were tapping against the wooden floor, she grasped his hand and sunk down in his lap, nuzzling her head against the crook of his neck. “I love you. I’m so sorry, I can’t even put into words how sorry I am, (y/n), trust me-” she placed her pointer finger onto his lips, silencing her husband. “Show me, prove to me, how much you love me.” His eyes were staring at her, burning right into her soul, trying to swallow down the guilt, that was eating him alive.

Klaus carried her towards the bedroom, smiling down at her, he moved some of her hair out of her face, slowly dipping his head down to kiss her. The loving kiss soon turned into something else, something much more passionate, fueled by their rage, their sadness, that had been clouding their minds for the past days. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips, Klaus pressed his forehead against hers, his hands were moving along the sides of his white dress shirt she was currently wearing.

A shaky breath left (y/n), he began to unbutton the shirt, kissing her skin every time he popped open another button, followed by a sweet “I love you.” He attached his mouth onto her boobs, taking his time as if he was exploring her body for the first time, Klaus pressed loving kisses all over her chest, her eyes fluttered close the moment he finally sucked on her nipples, making tingles erupt in her lower belly. “Beautiful.“ The original whispered against her skin, moving his hands down to her panties, he rubbed her clit through the fabric, slowly teasing her, he didn’t want to rush things this time.

“Please, Klaus.” His ring felt cold against her hot skin, slowly he pulled her soaked panties down her legs, Klaus kissed down her upped body, to her hipbones, where he placed his hands. He ran his tongue across her clit, circling it, eyes finding hers, a faint smile began to spread on her lips, she reached her hands out and tangled them in his locks, getting pulled back into the pleasure he was currently providing her with. Klaus plunged two fingers into her heat, pumping them in and out of her as he sucked on her sensitive nub, one moan after the other fell from her lips.

Her release was nearing, Klaus curled his fingers upwards, teasing her sweet spot, “Does that feel good, my love?” He groaned out, his pants were getting tighter, he couldn’t get enough of her. She could only moan a small “yes” tugging on his roots, telling him that she was close, her orgasm would wash over her any time soon now. His name fell from her lips, the familiar warmth began to spread through her, the knot in her belly exploded for the first time that night, leaving her breathless for a few moments.

His eyes wouldn’t leave hers, Klaus pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his toned upper body to her (y/e/c) eyes, he ripped his trousers and boxers down his legs, his length was standing proud and tall, throbbing in his touch. He crawled up her body, Klaus ran the tip of his length along her folds a few times, coating himself with her slickness. (Y/n) grasped his necklace and pulled him down for a kiss, moaning against his lips as he sunk his length into her heat.

Klaus completely filled her, she could feel ever inch of him, buried in her heat, fully stretching her, he wrapped her legs around his middle, slowly pulling out of her before he thrusted his hips against hers. “I love you,” he whispered again, his eyes were closed, he was building up the speed of his thrusts, he didn’t want this to end too soon, this wasn’t about him, it was all about her and the love he felt for her.

“Look at me,” (y/n) whispered, she was still holding onto his necklace, “I love you too.” A smile began to spread on his lips, his hips were thrusting against hers more easily by now, excitement was flooding through the both of them, relishing in the feeling of being as close as possible. “Faster, please Klaus.” Her toes were curled, he began to put pressure onto her clit with his thumb, while he was pounding into her.

He kept on calling out her name, one hand was placed on her right thigh, the other one next to her head, her walls were clenching around him, trying to pull him even closer. “Shit,” (y/n) tugged on his necklace once again, pushing his lips against hers, deep moans rumbled through her as her release washed upon her. Her whole body was tingling, the heavenly feeling overcame her for the second time that evening, a tear fell from her eye, she truly loved him and would never let him go, no matter what.

Klaus pressed his forehead against her neck, moaning into her skin, it took him a few more thrusts, till he released himself into her heat, his sweat was dripping down onto her skin, his hands had left some marks on her thighs, displaying the deep emotions he had felt a few moments ago. “I’m sorry.” The original breathed out, he pulled her into his chest, his fingers were dancing across her skin, trying to remind him, that this was indeed real, she had forgiven him, once again, hadn’t left him on his own.

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hotchley · 4 years ago

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the slave of duty: aaron and dave

Surprise guys, I started the conversations series! I have no idea how many there are going to be, but there are several living rent-free in my head, so... we shall see!

Anyways. This is what happened between Aaron and Dave after the end scene of 5x10. It’s mainly dialogue (cos you know, conversations) and there is very little point to it, however, I had fun writing it!

I think that’s everything....

read on ao3!

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, minor character death

“You were right,” Aaron said. They were alone again. Aaron’s hands had been shaking when they were leaving the graveyard. Dave had spotted the tremble before Aaron could hide it.

He tried not to think about the blood that had stained his hands when they had entered the building. He’d never been afraid of Aaron, not even in that moment, but now more than ever he was afraid for him.

Who was supposed to take his hands and convince him that he was alive and human and good and kind now? Haley was dead. Aaron wouldn’t let anyone else touch him. Not now.

Dave had offered to drive him back to the apartment. Hotch hadn’t even put up a fight. He had just shrugged and gotten into the passenger seat, jaw slightly clenched as he stared out the window.

Jessica and Jack were out. Hotch mumbled something about going to the shops and offered to make coffee. Dave had wanted to say no. He didn’t want to be there, noticing how the carpet didn’t quite fit in one space, or how, if you knew where to look, you could just about make out the bullet hole.

But he knew Aaron. Knew how he would bury his pain the moment his son came through the door. Knew that he would act like he was fine when he returned. If he returned. Rossi knew what Aaron had said just moments ago, but there was still time for him to change his mind.

Aaron did not trust easily. An invitation into his apartment- his apartment and not his home because this was not his home, had never been his home- was an invitation into his heart. His mind.

Dave was not going to let that get away from him. He had lost the love and trust of so many people in his life, Aaron’s name was not going on that list. So he said sure.

Which was how he find himself clasping a mug of too-hot coffee he didn’t really want as Aaron took a sip of water. One of the few things that would not destroy his stomach.

“Was I? What about?”

“You said that I had a family. And that when we got Foyet, I would have to make a decision, to make sure I didn’t let the purest thing that had ever happened to me get away. But I got so caught up in everything that I never stopped to think, and now...”

Rossi set his mug down. He knew he had always been a little bit dramatic, and the way he went about things was not always the way Aaron wanted them to happen, but this felt different to those occasions.

“Now what?” he prompted.

Aaron looked up, tears forming in his eyes, thumb drawing circles over his knuckles. He look both so much younger and older than he really was. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that Dave hadn’t seen since he first joined, but a heavy sadness that hadn’t been there before.

“I lost my family months ago. But that was a temporary thing. Now she’s not coming back- which is all my fault- and I’m so afraid of hurting my son that I’m going back to the same job that killed her.”

Dave sighed. He should have known that his dramatics would go completely over Aaron’s head. In his opinion, he lost Haley the moment the divorce papers came to the office instead of his house. Because the Haley he knew would never be that cruel. But anger changed people, and she was gone now. He’d like to remember her goodness.

“Aaron,” he said.

The other man looked down. “Dave. Not now.”

“Yes now. Because you didn’t kill Haley. That was Foyet’s decision. You did what you could. And you’re not going to hurt your son. Not in the way you fear you will. But when I said that, all those months ago, I wasn’t talking about Haley. Or Jack.”

“Dave, you said my family,” Aaron said. Even despite the water he was sipping, he had a headache. Dave and his stupid flare for dramatics wasn’t helping either.

"And I meant us. The team. I meant Spencer Reid, who you have always treated as a son. I meant Penelope Garcia, who remembers what your favourite cookies are. I was talking about Jennifer Jareau who reminds you that monsters can be defeated and Derek Morgan who has and always will trust you with his life. I meant Emily Prentiss, who would die before betraying you. I meant me, who has seen you angry and hurting and not flinched. We are the people that loved you unconditionally through everything."

"I-"

"We're your family Aaron. Even if you want to keep your distance because you're scared of hurting us, we love you. We're not walking away or going anywhere. And I know that terrifies you, but it's the truth. When I told you to not tell the purest thing in your life get away, I meant don't lose us."

"But I've already done that," Hotch said. He did not shout. And that, perhaps more than anything that had happened over the past few weeks, hurt David Rossi. Because Aaron wasn't even trying to fight. He had already given up. Already decided that the team could not and would not love him anymore.

"Have you?"

"Dave, I humiliated Reid for lying about his injuries when I had done the exact same thing. I put myself above the case, days after I made Morgan unit chief, which completely undermined him. I insulted Emily and our friendship, lashed out at Penelope and JJ. I've been a terrible person. Derek had to pull me off a dead man's body. Classic overkill." He laughed as he said the final two words, but there was no humour.

"You did do all of those things. That much is true, yes."

Aaron glared. "That's not exactly convincing me of anything good."

"Because you're not letting me finish. Yes, you fucked up and you did the wrong thing but that doesn't change anything. We still love you. I know what your childhood was like. I know that your parents loving you carried the price of perfection and silence. I know that towards the end, Haley's life carried the price of changing your nature. But we aren't them. One bad thing isn't going to make us run away."

"But it should. I killed a man with my bare hands. Nothing more. We've worked enough cases to know what happens after that. I'm a terrible person."

Dave did not know how to convince Aaron that he was not going to become a case file on their desk. Because the truth was, he was not sure himself. There was every chance that now Aaron had done it once, the urge to do it again would overpower him. He knew what Aaron needed to hear, but he would not lie to him. Not in this moment.

"You are not a terrible person Aaron," he settled on. Because every time he looked at him, he saw the wide-eyed rookie he met in Seattle who just wanted to save the world. But sometimes saving the world was impossible, and right now, the world was Aaron.

"Dave. I'm too much of a coward to be around my son so I'm going back to the same job that killed his mother. The only real parent he ever had."

It was too much. It was just far, far too much. Dave slammed his mug of coffee down on the table, feeling slightly guilty when Aaron flinched at the sound, but not guilty enough to apologise for it. He needed to speak before Hotch fell down the hole of despair.

"Have you been listening to me? Your job did not kill Haley. That was Foyet. And you are not going to hurt your son. Not in the way you think you will."

"How can you be sure?" Aaron asked.

"Because you are a good man. Because you have fought, every day of your life, to break that cycle of abuse. And you have never stopped fighting for what is good and what is right. Because even when you had just lost the love of your life, you sent your son away out of fear that he would realise what the blood was."

Aaron turned away and Dave knew what had to be said. What had to be done. Because Derek Morgan was an excellent leader, and one day, he would take over that role. But he would do it because it was Aaron Hotchner's time to step away and be with his son. He would not do it because Aaron was scared.

"Haley asked you to teach your son what love was," he said, each word carefully calculated. He needed to say your. Because Aaron still did not view himself as Jack's father, even though everybody else did. Because what Aaron did not understand was that it was not about being perfect. It was about being enough.

Aaron looked at him, mouth parted. He hadn't realised. In all the hurt, panic, emptiness, anger and grief it had never once occurred to him that the team would have heard that last conversation and final confession. It was stupid, but he just hadn't. "She did."

"The best way for you to teach your son about love is to show him what it does to people. It makes them happy. It makes them smile. And sometimes it makes them cry. I know you, Aaron. I know you think that coming back means that you're failing Jack but you won't be. You will be teaching him that family is much more than blood. That when you find your passion you hold onto it. And that love, for better or for worse, can and will be unconditional."

And Aaron shattered.

He slid from the couch to the floor, covering his mouth as sobs wracked his body. It was like all the pain he had been keep inside him since the day George Foyet broke into the same apartment they were sat in and stabbed him finally overwhelmed him. His body shook and his breathing started to sound more choked, but Dave was frozen.

It was only when the coughing started that he managed to force himself to act. He dropped to his knees and sat beside Aaron. He just hoped that he would recognise who was touching him and remember that he was safe.

"Hotch. It's Dave. Breathe with me. Yes, that's it. Okay. You're okay. It's all going to be okay."

Before he was aware of what was happening, Aaron's arms were wrapped around him in a tight and desperate hug. It was almost painful. Dave let it happen. Aaron needed something that was real, and genuine and grounding. The last person he'd held had been Haley, her perfume stained with the scent of blood and her body cold. Dave smelt like expensive aftershave and he was warm and his heartbeat was a comforting drum.

"I just don't get how people as good and kind as the team could love me unconditionally. Haley did her best, but that wasn't enough. I wasn't enough. I'm never enough. And I am so fucking terrified that one day, the team are going to realise that, and I will just be alone and broken, like my father always said I would."

There was not time for Dave to explain that it wasn't that his love for Haley wasn't enough, it just wasn't what she needed and that was okay. Because to Aaron, unless he was perfect, he was failing. And he knew that Aaron would not believe him. The only people he would believe about that would have been Haley, but was now Jessica.

"You are enough. You were enough then and you are enough now. The team are never going to think you're not enough because you are. You have given them a family and hope and a purpose. You have done more for them than you will ever understand and they love you. I love you. And on the days where you can't lead, one of them will step in. You've already seen it happen."

"What if I come back and I can't do it? Then what?" Aaron was searching for a reason now. Any reason that would mean the team would not love him the way Dave believed they would.

"Then we will support you. And we will miss you, but we will let you go because sometimes that is what love is. But we won't hate you. Or resent you. We'll stll just be a phone call away because we are your family. And it's not always pretty. Sometimes it's ugly."

"Do you promise you won't hate me?"

Dave had always been slightly different to the team. He had always been the one Aaron went to. The one that could talk him down and convince him that he had done the right thing. He had watched Aaron grow and harden and break. He had taught him that the palm pressed to his cheek was an action of love and given him the title of lead profiler. He'd been a coward after the Boston Reaper as he left Aaron to pick up the pieces. But he'd returned when Jason Gideon left without saying goodbye to the men that had held the team together. One through their ability as a leader, the other through their ability as a friend.

When Dave thought of the months between Jason's departure and his return, he thought of the toll it must have taken on Derek. He was the one that had provided the emotional comfort Aaron had been too closed off to give, even though he was battling his own anger at being left.

"I promise Aaron, on everything that I hold sacred."

Aaron relaxed against him, leaning back against the couch. Dave took the glass from the table and tilted his chin, forcing Aaron to take small sips. When half the glass was emptied, he took the glass and placed it on the table once more.

"Thank you," he whispered, voice still a little hoarse.

"You're welcome," was Dave's response. It was easier than having to explain that Aaron did not need to be grateful.

"By the way, I expect your paperwork from the most recent case on my desk by Monday," Aaron added, a slight grin on his face.

"I'd expect nothing less," Dave said, ruffling Aaron's hair slightly.

They were going to be okay.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch #hurt aaron hotchner #sad aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner needs a hug #hotch whump #hotch angst #tw child abuse #david rossi #rossi #david rossi is a dad

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a-court-of-healing · 4 years ago

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Loving you Through it Chapter 3 Jace Herondale X Reader

Three days. Three days of pure hell. It was already terrible to be in your head, but now there hasn’t been any relief, even with your emergency anxiety medication. The morning after he died, you made an early therapy appointment with Dustin to see him that day. He tried to get you to talk about it, but all you could do was talk about frivolous things and pace around his room. He was very understanding and he gave you a homework assignment to try and express your emotions and he gave you a harder assignment: to try and talk to Jace about it. After you could breathe again, you were able to use the navigation rune to find Dean’s body. He wasn’t meant to go on rounds alone, none of us were meant to, especially if you had a parabatai. He shouldn’t have gone without you. He should have waited! The parabatai oath has been on rerun in your head.

“Entreat me not to leave thee,

Or return from following after thee—

For whither thou goest, I will go,

And where thou lodgest, I will lodge.

Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.

Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried.

The Angel do so to me, and more also,

If aught but death part thee and me.”

The guilt and shame won’t leave your system. I was meant to be there, protect him, guide him. You didn’t care if he was the older one. Usually he treated you as an equal, the only time he didn’t was when a) he thought he was right or b) he was angry, but he typically always used to apologize. Why would he go without me? Did he not trust you anymore? Did he think you were too broken to help? Or maybe too fragile and vulnerable right now? He thought you were good as long as you took your meds as you were supposed to, and you have! You have taken it religiously everyday. Right now, it hurts to do anything. You’ve run around with your head chopped off. You needed to take care of the funeral, because you were Dean’s only family. Everyone tried to help, but you demanded to do it. It was the least you could do for him...probably the last thing you’d be able to do for him. Today was the funeral. Most shadowhunters laid down on the pyre with a seraph blade in his right hand over his heart. Then, they would be put in the City of Bones. Some prefer to be put in Idris, but not Dean. He wasn’t raised there. He was raised in New York, and that is where he would stay. Everyone was getting ready, and Magnus and Alec had already arrived. Since you found out that Dean died serving the clave, they made an exception and allowed downworlders to attend. Both Alec and Magnus were concerned about you since you were with them when he was out dying. Joclyn, Luke, and Clary said they would meet us there. You were even surprised to see Maryse and Robert Lightwood here. Then again, you weren’t really that surprised because Dean was an extraordinarily talented shadowhunter. He was well known amongst the ranks, and so were you. You were called the parabatai storm for a reason. Dean taught you well, and so has Jace. You were numb for the most part by now. It was better than feeling. You didn’t want to feel at all, cause Angel knows it won’t be a positive emotion. You got into your lace holow flare sleeve A Line white dress and walked over to your vanity. You put on your perfume and picked up your brush. You started brushing your hair slowly, feeling this hollow hole in your chest.

“Y/N...honey...it’s time to go.” A familiar warm, comforting voice filled the room. Jace. But I don’t want to go...I’m not ready. You continued to brush your hair and looked at the vanity and pretended you didn’t hear anything.

“Love...did you hear me?” You can tell that he knows you heard him, but you were choosing not to hear him.

“I don’t want to go Jace…” You actually answered honestly. That was the most sincere thing you’ve spoken since Dean’s death. You could hear Jace’s dress shoes as he walked across the room. He was dressed in a white vest. It was nice because if he wore a tux, it wouldn’t be Jace, and you could really use the normalcy. He squatted down next to your chair and started rubbing your shoulder gently.

“Darling, speak to me?” You gasp softly as a rush of emotion runs through you and you shake your head. You began to pick at your nails, trying to cause some kind of pain to cause this agonizing emptiness to go away. “I’m not ready...I’m not ready for him to go.” He looks down at your hands and notices you picking at your nails and puts his hands on yours and ripped your fingers from hurting yourself.

“You're hurting yourself love...stop.” He whispered it to where only they could hear.You couldn’t look at him and you tried to pull your hands away so you could keep picking your fingers and he fought you back. He was obviously stronger than you were so it was easy to overpower you. He intertwined your fingers with his and he kissed the back of each hand. It then clicked in your head what you were doing and you immediately felt stupid and you couldn’t help the shame and humiliation that ran through you. You tried to pull away and he wouldn’t let you.

“I know this is probably the worst time to even say this...but i know...I know you struggle with...um...hurting yourself. Don’t hate him, but Dean might have mentioned it. He was worried about you...I don’t know why, he didn’t tell me specifics. He didn’t tell me your history, he just hinted about this. He was worried about you because he couldn’t always be with you...but I think it’s important for you to know I know…and I’m here for the long run.” He smiled softly at you and panic filled you. How DARE DEAN!! He promised he would never tell a soul. But he did. You shook your head as you thought about it and he waited for you to calm down a little. His thumbs rubbed the back of your hands and he kept his gaze on you trying to gauge your reaction and emotions. There was a knock on the door and they both turned to look and find Alec there.

“I’m so sorry...but...we really need to get going…” You forced a smile and stood up forcing Jace to sit back.

“Okay...thank you Alec for letting us know! I can’t be late.” You hadn’t realized you seeked out Jace’s hand but he squeezed it in a comforting way, letting you know he noticed and he was still there.

You all arrive together and you stop dead in your tracks as you look at the front of the room. There on the pyre was my parabatai covered in a white sheet. You must have stopped breathing. When you finally exhaled, everyone was staring at you. You realized everyone was staring at you, waiting for your reaction, and it took every last inch of your being to throw on your biggest smile and walk down the aisle. Everyone took their seats while you took your rightful place next to the pyre. The Silent Brothers began the service and all you could think of was what if I had been there? He would still be alive.

“The remaining will speak the name of the fallen.” You took a deep shuddering breath.

“Dean Matthew Whitelaw.”

“Ave Atque Vale.” Everyone spoke in unison and you bowed your head trying to keep all your emotions in check. The man leading the precession looked at you and walked to his seat and you walked up to the microphone and began to sing the song that was closest to how you were feeling, “The Next Right Thing.”

“And, with it dawn, what comes then? When it's clear that everything will never be the same again.” You looked at Dean’s body and felt this overwhelming emptiness and grief overcome you.

“Then I'll make the choice to hear HIS voice. And do the next right thing.” For the first time in a long time, tears fell down your face as you finished the song and then led the very last sentence before Dean would be burned.

“We are dust and shadows.” You held your hands to your chest hoping that you could maybe make this empty feeling to go away. You looked at the first two rows of pews and saw that everyone was crying as you spoke. You looked at where Dean was laid, pulled out your favorite seraph blade, put it in his right hand and stepped back. Then, they set him on fire and you stood and watched as your best friend, mentor, and parabatai burn.

“Bye Dean.”

#jace wayland #jace waylandxreader #jace herondale x reader #jace herondale #PTSD #Shadowhunters #the mortal instruments #jamie campbell bower #dominic sherwood #alec lightwood #magnus lightwood bane

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diaryofabeautyfiend · 4 years ago

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This chapter is a monster so I’m splitting it up into two parts. If y’all wouldn’t mind letting me know if you’re still reading this, I would appreciate it forever.

Small Time Witch (21) part 1

Most of the time when Loki remembered his dreams they were of you or his mother. Sometimes he dreamt of his coronation as king of Asgard with you by his side. The last several nights he would wake up frantic having dreamt of Asgard in ruin. Ragnarok was imminent. He tried several times to reach Thor to no avail. He would go to Asgard in the morning.

You rolled over half asleep reaching out to the warm body that wasn’t there. This is the third time this week Loki had a nightmare. “Lok?”

“In here” he called from the den.

“Another nightmare?” You hugged him from behind. He kissed your hands.

“I don’t think they are nightmares. I think they are warnings. I can’t get in touch with Thor. I’ll have to go to Asgard in the morning.”

“Can I come?”

“I’m afraid not. I don’t know what’s happening and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I can help.” You let a little spark jump between your fingers.

“I know you can, Pet. At worst something terrible is happening and I’ll have to help. Which means I will be too distracted worrying about your safety to fight. At best I’m just having nightmares, I’ll see the healers and I’ll be home by the next day. I promise.”

You pouted but didn’t argue. You hated seeing him this worried. You made him a cup of tea and sat with him until he was ready to go back to bed. When you yawned for the third time he tried to get you to go on without him.

“That’s it. Off with you” he said over his book.

“I’m not tired. I want to stay up with you. Hey, Loki, I can put you to sleep like you used to do when I had nightmares.” You slid your hand into the waistband of his pajamas and started stroking his cock. It was only a matter of seconds before it was hard and throbbing in your hand. He always responded so well to your touch.

You didn’t even make it into the bedroom. He bent you over the arm of the sofa and pounded you silly. He made you cum three times before he was able to meet his release. After all that you were a half dead mess. He was still wide awake.

“Shall I carry you, my queen? I’m quite strong you know?” He pulled you from the couch and all but dragged you to bed.

“How are you still so awake?” He shushed you as you climbed under the covers. “Don’t leave me. Get in bed.” You rested your head on his chest and fell asleep before he could turn off the light. Sleep never came for him.

In the morning he made you breakfast and woke you with his tongue diving into your snatch. Your all time favorite wake up. You sat on his lap throughout breakfast. He insisted. It was like he couldn’t get enough of you. Since you returned from Alfheim you hadn’t been apart for more than a few hours. Not knowing when he’s return was making you both a little antsy.

“How will I know you’re there?” you asked impatiently.

“You’ll know. The pull will not be as strong.” His voice was low and somber. You both hated that thought.

“How will I know if you’re hurt or worse?” He grabbed your chin and looked into your eyes.

“If I die, you will too. Remember? The rings keep us bound. They’re still Yggdrasil. My soul is still there.”

“How comforting. What if I take it off to wash my hands and that’s the moment you die. Will I still die?”

He rolled his eyes, “Yes. The moment you return the ring to your finger. You’ll be bound to a dead soul.”

Your stomach was in knots. “Good. Because if you die I’ll find you and drag you out of Hel myself. I’m not feeling good about this, Lok. Let me come with you. Or don’t go. We’ll try Thor again.”

Loki sighed deeply. My my, you were peevish this morning. “Y/N. I have to go. I will be back. I love you more than anything. Much more than Asgard. I promise if anything happens I’ll get out of there and come right home. I promise.” He kissed you deeply. He didn’t want to let go. He looked worried. “I love you, Y/N. Not even death can change that.”

“Please don’t say it like that. I love you too, Lok.” He called for Heimdall and he was off.

You tried to occupy yourself but your mind kept going back to him. After your third cup of tea you decided to go relax in the yard. You grabbed a book and a blanket. You read the same sentence a few times and finally gave up. It was no use. That was it. You had been coupled for so long that you forgot how to be with yourself.

It was really no surprise how broken up you were about Loki being away. You were the same way when you and Andrew broke up. This was different. You and Loki weren’t breaking up. You were blissfully happy. You still had a nagging feeling in your chest that something wasn’t right.

That night you dreamt of a world burning down around you. You tried to get to Loki but you couldn’t in time. Every time you closed your eyes you saw his lifeless face looking back at you purple bruised and bleeding. It made you physically ill.

You did everything in your power to reach Loki. Nothing worked. You searched through his books to try to find a way to access the Bifrost. That was either magic Loki couldn’t do or he didn’t have it in his books. You stumbled across one book titled The Joy of Interstellar Space Travel. When you opened it the pages looked a little off. You place your hand in the center and it went right through the book into a little hole. This must be where Loki kept the tasseract and now it’s gone. Your brain flew into a panic and you started shouting for Heimdall.

You had to stop Loki from doing whatever stupid thing he was about to do. Heimdall never answered. Maybe Strange could get you there. You ran into the kitchen to grab your keys when you heard Loki’s voice.

He looked like he had taken a beating. Exhaustion wracked his body. You tried to touch his face but your hand went right through. He was too weak to make his double corporeal.

“Oh, Loki.”

You could see the tears streaming down his face. “Y/N, I’m not going to make it home. I know I promised and I am so sorry...”

“No” you shook your head furiously, “you promised! Come home. Please!”

He shushed you and cursed himself for not being able to touch you. “I don’t have much time. I need you to warn Wanda and Strange. Tell them Thanos is coming for the stones. You have to hurry. He already has two.”

“What do you mean? If you go I go. I won’t be here to tell them..”

“Yes you will. You have to take off your ring.”

“No! Loki! No! I’m coming with you. I’ll find you in Hel.” You were trembling violently and sobbing. Nothing he could say would calm you.

“You have to. Please. This wouldn’t be happening if I hadn’t taken the tasseract. It’s my fault. Half of our people are gone. I need you to do this.”

“Fuck everyone else. We’re supposed to spend eternity wandering around the afterlife together. We said vows. If you didn’t mean it then....”

He could see logic had escaped you at this point so he got more forceful. “Stop being such a fucking brat and do as I say! Take off the damned ring! NOW. You need to live. You just have to. I’m sorry that this is happening but you shouldn’t be made to suffer because of me.”

He may as well have slapped you. Both of you were prostrate with grief. With every ounce of strength he had he forced his double to solidify so that he may feel you one more time. He placed his hands on the side of your face and made you to see him.

“I love you. Please say you love me. My little queen. Tell me.”

“I love you, Loki. Please don’t leave me. What am I supposed to do without you?”

He took a deep strained breath. Blood was trickling out of his nose and his eyes were rimmed red, “Live.” He snatched the ring off your finger and fizzled out.

You screamed his name like a wild banshee and summoned a wind that knocked everything off the walls. You couldn’t feel your body tumbling to the floor. You couldn’t breathe. You were certain for a split second your heart stopped. The blood rushing through your ears was so loud you couldn’t hear your phone ringing. You held out your hand to bring it over. On the other end was Wanda’s panicked voice.

“Y/N! What happened? Y/N!”

Your voice was very calm and monotone, “Thanos is coming for the stone. You have to get Vision out of there. Loki’s dead. Thanos has the tasseract. I have to call Strange.”

You hung up and dialed Strange’s number. No answer. Your television clicked on. You hadn’t turned it on. The news story flashed on the screen saying that New York was attacked. Thanos was already on his way.

You stayed on the kitchen floor clutching your ring and you cried. There was nothing else you had strength for.

🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆

STEVE

The Quinjet could not carry Steve to New York fast enough. He paced the entire time they were in the air. He kept trying your phone but it was going right to voicemail.

“Pick up, damn it.”

Wanda assured him you were still alive. She couldn’t concentrate long enough to feel you. He called Ororo.

“Captain Rogers. Good to hear from you. What are we looking at?”

“A mad titan coming to earth to collect stones that will help him wipe out half the population.”

“Must be a Tuesday,” she said in jest. “How can we help?”

Steve let out a deep sigh, “We stopped some of his followers in Belfast. I’m sure you saw they captured Tony Stark in New York. Truthfully I have no idea. Ororo, is Y/N alone?”

“She is. She won’t let anyone in the house. Agatha can’t get through the magic she put up. She’s umm...” her voice faltered, “she’s in so much pain. Jean can’t get through to her. Logan has stationed himself outside. When we first got there all we could hear was her screaming. She won’t let us help her.”

“Ok. We’ll be in New York in a few hours. Let me know if anything changes.” He hung up and braced himself against the wall. Bucky put his hand on Steve’s shoulder to comfort him. “Buck, when we land I want you to go straight to Y/N.” Bucky nodded and paced the floor with him.

As soon as they got back to the compound Steve tried calling you again. This time you answered but didn’t say anything. He could hear you sniffling on the other end. “Y/N, Bucky is coming to get you ok? You need to let him in.” You didn’t answer him at first. His heart was breaking for you. He squeezed his eyes his eyes shut, “Come on, Princess, I know you can hear me. Say something.”

“Ok” Click. At least that was something. Bucky grabbed some keys and found the car they belonged to. He raced to you as fast as he could. When he pulled up Logan greeted him.

🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅

“She won’t let anyone in” Logan huffed.

Bucky advanced towards the house. He was scared to death that you were going to kill him. “She knew I was on the way. What’s stopping you from getting in? Will it kill me if I try?”

“Not exactly. It’s just that when you get close you can’t move. Like your body won’t advance or doesn’t want to. I can’t explain it accurately.” Logan was flustered. He had been trying to get to you for hours with no luck.

“Can she hear us talking or should I call her phone?”

“She can hear.”

The front door and windows were open. You were sitting on the couch staring at the wall. You looked so lost and pissed. Really pissed. The most scary thing is that you looked like you were scheming. Murderously scheming. Bucky hoped that none of Loki’s stupid tendencies rubbed off on you.

He got as close as you would allow and he spoke softly. “Hey, doll. Steve sent me to get you. We don’t want you to be alone. But if you don’t want to go I will sit here and wait as long as you want. But, I haven’t watched this season of Drag Race. If you want to let me in I can watch with you. I brought the essentials.”

Agatha perked up, “Keep going, Bucky. It’s working” she whispered.

“I have Funions from the gas station. I know you like road trip snacks. I also have peanut butter M&M’s and Oreos. If you have some ice cream we can make milkshakes. I have bourbon if you want to make it interesting. Not the fancy kind. That rot got Irish shit that burns when you swallow....”

“I hope you brought enough for everyone” you finally said. Bucky stood up and gingerly stepped into the doorway.

“I have plenty. Didn’t know how long I’d be here. Can we come in?”

“Door’s open, Buck.” He walked in quietly and sat on the couch.

“Everyone calm down. I’m not going to flip out. Sit down. Eat. I have leftovers in the fridge. Wolfie have you ever seen Drag Race?”

After a few drinks and lots of snacks everyone was ready to get some sleep. Ororo, Jean and Agatha headed back to the school. It wasn’t a long drive. You promised to call in the morning. No way Logan was leaving you. He set himself up in Thor’s room. Wade found the other bedroom. Bucky offered to take the couch but you asked him to sleep in bed with you.

He shot Steve a text. Instead of texting back he called.

“Hey. How’s it going over there?” Steve was very anxious. He didn’t know how to talk to you.

“Fine. I’m going to see if she’ll get some sleep. Agatha made her some tea. Said it had a mild sedative. I’m going to sit up with her.”

“Is she around? Can I talk to her?”

“You’re on speaker.”

It was quiet for a moment. “Hey, Steve. I’m ok. Well I’m not ok. I’m fucking gutted. I’m ok for now. I’ll go back with Bucky in the morning.”

“Take your time, sweetheart. We do kind of need all hands on deck though. I know the girls are dying to see you too. Get some sleep ok?”

“Ok.” and you clicked off the phone. “Has he always sounded like a worried mother or is that new?”

“Be nice” Bucky scolded. “He’s just worried. We all are. I’m going to shut off the light ok? Sleep.”

You held on to Bucky the whole night. You fought against the sedative for as long as you could but it finally won. As soon as you closed your eyes, there he was. Loki’s face was purple bruised and bloodied. His neck looked broken. His eyes were open and just stared unfocused. You tentatively reached out a hand to touch him but you pulled back.

You wanted to hit him, to scream in his face. You couldn’t bring yourself to move. Finally, you crawled towards him and situated yourself where you were laying against his chest. You used to fall asleep listening to his heart beating. There was only silence. You pulled his arm over you and tried to will him to wake up. When you squeezed him harder he turned to dust in your arms. You screamed and, judging by the look on the three men’s faces, you were screaming for real.

“Sorry, guys. Bad dream.” You settled back down and kept having the same dream. You didn’t scream anymore. You just held him as long as you could.

🟠🔴🔵🟣🟢🟡

The next morning you sent Logan and Wade home. You promised them you would be ok and that you wouldn’t murder a Titan without calling them first. You and Bucky chatted on the car ride back. The conversation was light and took your mind off of things.

When you got closer to the compound you got quiet. Seeing everyone again was making you feel anxious. Bucky held your hand. It felt like the first time you visited the compound with Wanda. Loki made you feel so safe.

You were trying to keep your emotions in check but when you saw Wanda, all of that went out of the window. She wrapped you in her arms and you melted down. “We were really happy.” Was all you could say. She and Nat took you upstairs so they could help you take a bath.

Bucky plopped in the chair. Steve looked at him like he wanted to ask a question but he was reluctant.

“How did she sleep?” he finally asked.

“She screamed in her sleep all night. Every time I thought she settled down it would happen again. The three of us took turns keeping watch. She electrocuted Wade once when he tried to shake her awake. It was pretty funny. She’s not ok, Steve.”

Steve signed and rubbed his face, “Shit. Why don’t you go take a nap and we’ll meet downstairs in a couple of hours?”

Already nodding off, Bucky didn’t have to be told twice. Steve paced outside of your door wanting to see you so badly. Finally Nat came out to get you some water.

“Does she want to eat? Can I see her?” He followed Nat down the hall bombarding her with questions.

She put her hand on his shoulder, “I know there are probably still feelings in there but you have to reign them in. She just lost her husband. Let her grieve before you swoop in.”

“I’m not swooping. Who is swooping? Wait! Husband?! They’re married?”

“Yes. Apparently he figured out a way to share his immortality with her. In doing so some elf priest split their souls and intertwined them together. If she puts back on her wedding ring she dies. It’s complicated.”

Steve’s head was spinning. He was still trying to understand the very simple fact that you and Loki were husband and wife.

“Does she want to see me?” His voice was small and timid.

Nat rolled her eyes, “Just go, Steve.”

He opened the door slowly and peered around the corner. You were sitting on the bed with your head in your hands. Wanda was rubbing your back.

He had never presumed that his relationship with you was on the same level as what you had with Loki. He did not share your twin abilities to know what the other is feeling. But this time, he could feel the despair drifting off of you like a fog.

He knelt beside the bed to try to see your face. You didn’t acknowledge him but you didn’t pull away. He had no words of comfort to give you. He could not take your pain away. He could only offer support.

“How can I help?” he whispered. You sat up and took his hands in hours. Your face was haggard and your body somehow looked frail.

“You can’t. I know it’s your nature to try to fix things but you can’t. Just be my friend.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do. Wanda, why don’t you go check on Vision? See how the plans are coming. I’ll stay here.”

Wanda was reluctant to leave. She promised not to go far. As soon as the door clicked closed Steve got into bed with you and scooped you into his lap. You buried your face in his shirt and screamed until you passed out. He held on to you as tight as he could to absorb as much as you would give.

The whole team hovered outside of your door until Steve came out. “She’s asleep. Let’s go hash this out. Let her get some rest.”

#steve rogers fanfic #captain america x reader #marvel #marvel witches #mcu x reader #steve rogers x reader #captain america smut #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #bucky reader insert #loki smut #loki angst #soft loki #xmen #wolverine

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mooosicaldreamz · 4 years ago

Note

We obviously need your song by song analysis of evermore please!

i got asked to do this about four times so here it is.....much anticipated. i know. please note that when i say that i hate her or despise her i don’t actually mean that. but i do

EVERMORE

OK LETS GO

WILLOW - ok, groovy first time you hear it, right? has a strong rumbly wiggle. let’s VIBE. the low of the verse, the high of the chorus…oh my goodness! what is she doing. she’s just out there! wow. “wherever you stray i follow” is a banger. “life was a willow and it bent right to your wind” with the overlay oof let’s go.!!!! a shockingly strong first entry of the record…best one since “welcome to new york” maybe!!! let’s just say it!!! for some reason “i come back stronger than a 90s trend” throws me off though…i don’t know. it’s just so moody pop, no one is doing it like her!!! i hate her

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS - every time i listen to this song i listen to it four times. not a joke. it’s perfect. i don’t think i need to convince anyone! it’s perfect!!!!! what are you doing? taylor swift, the most dramatic bitch, has been writing dramatic bitch songs since she was fourteen and yet, somehow, she contrives to write even more dramatic things as she ages. this song is a JOKE. there are not ENOUGH songs about denying proposals! it’s just simple and sad. oh my god. it’s insane. the fact that she wrote this with her boyfriend (i have a running theory that they are married, we are going to refer to joe as her Perfect and Glorious Husband from now on) …… come on. the ENTIRE BREAKDOWN. “YOUR MIDAS TOUCH ON THE CHEVY DOOR / NOVEMBER FLUSH YOUR FLANNEL CURE / THIS DORM WAS ONCE A MADHOUSE / I MADE A JOKE WELL ITS MADE FOR ME / HOW EVERGREEN OUR GROUP OF FRIENDS / DON’T THINK WE’LL SAY THAT WORD AGAIN / AND SOON THEY’LL HAVE THE NERVE TO DECK THE HALLS THAT WE ONCE WALKED THROUGH” ……. concluding with that absolute stabby killer “what a shame she’s fucked in the head” oh my god……….. and the song resolving in a very adult “you’ll find someone else” god

GOLD RUSH - ok so like this song is like ok it’s got the same groovy high /low that’s happening on willow but it’s so different! it’s so good! the pulse of the beat propelling the whole thing through and then the falling apart “oh what must it be like to grow up that beautiful”……………..ok. the visceral image of “my eagles t-shirt hanging from the door” …………. i admire very much taylor’s oncoming gift of moving through high/low imagery…… i love her so much? it’s so HARD. “my mind turns your life into folklore” beautiful! BEAUTIFUL! also i have some belief in me that this is about karlie kloss but i shall not dive into that hole.

TIS THE DAMN SEASON - oh so i’m supposed to LIVE with this song EXISTING. WHY!!!! HOW……..oh my god………..taylor was like, yes, i’m going to write a song about a famous girl going home and banging her high school flame for a week and jack and aaron were like oh ok. “i parked my car between the methodist and the school that used to be ours.” she is such a joke. “you could call me babe for the weekend” like ok emo!! emo!!! OK. I LOVE THIS SONG

TOLERATE IT - taylor really gave us the most depressing track 5, but it’s absolutely a banger and i love her! she is just vibing! oh my god. what a specific emotion to pinpoint with this song….it’s such a gift. no one is hitting this space

NO BODY NO CRIME - this song has no business being on this record but in the BEST WAY, like how daddy lessons mysteriously appears in the middle of lemonade. oh my goodness. this is just pure country revenge song. taylor was like oh actually i haven’t forgotten my roots and i hate men more than i ever have. and she got haim to sing with her. and it’s so good. the low “i think he did it” oh my goodness. this song is a joke. how is it real? it’s just a perfect radio song. it reminds me very much of “before he cheats” but it’s a lot more sonically calm

HAPPINESS - similar to “tolerate it” and i think “champagne problems” this song is beating on an emotional bush that is really really hard to hit the head of. like, so she collabed with the national and bon iver on this record and previous obvi, and i LOVE them, but their music can often be very………impressionistic? perhaps? is how i might put it. it’s sometimes hard to get a note of specificity from it. imo. but taylor loves a fucking story bro. and she has figured out how to tell made up stories. she can’t be stopped now. like…this space of a breakup and knowing that it’s for the best and being sad in this way? name a pop star who has a song this nuanced. for real! god. i despise her. “across a great divide / there is a glorious sunrise”

DOROTHEA - the other half to the far superior TIS THE DAMN SEASON and a banger all the same. it has the bouncy joy of the most buoyant national songs. in the same vein as the also far superior BETTY, she has her sweet dumb boy slurry and less intelligent voice. i love that she paints these narrators this way, it’s just nothing she would have ever reached for ever before this period. she has a Perfect and Glorious Husband now and she has begun to understand teenage boys, FINALLY.

CONEY ISLAND - i have upon many occasions opined that i love the national VERY MUCH. i once went to a festival with my gf and her sister to see them even though i was expressly not invited and you know what despite the fact that it caused a lot of angst, i got to see the national play TERRIBLE LOVE in the middle of the night and I SCREAMED IT. so like, listen. what is matt berninger doing here, to me, specifically????????? i was somewhat hesitant about how their voices might blend, but it works astonishingly well. and i think that it’s so wonderful, i can’t. the imagery of a dreary coney island…..”sorry for not winning you an arcade ring.” as taylor always proves, the bridge is spectacular. “were you standing in the hallway / with a big cake / happy birthday”……”and when i got into the accident / the sight that flashed before me was your face / but when i walked up to the podium / i think that i forgot to say your name” sorry to yOU calvin. she had ISSUES. and now she has a Perfect and Glorious Husband. also “sorry for not making you my centerfold” ok kaylor

IVY - this song is about emily dickinson and i DARE you to tell me that i’m wrong. I DARE YOU. I DARE YOU. you’d be wrong! embarrassing for you. taylor finally writing a probably legitimate queer song and it’s about fucking emily dickinson is so on brand…..it’s dripping with poetry and groove and she’s so fucking dumb i hate her so much. her narrative of ivy and poetry and the lakes district…….ok taylor. i know. i know you watched all the dickinson things that came out and you identified with her. the gentle sway of the “oh, goddamn” and the “oh, i can’t”……i CAN’T EITHER TAYLOR !!! i CAN”T TAYLOR!!!! “oh goddamn / my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand / taking mine but it’s been promised to another / oh i can’t / stop you putting roots in my dreamland” TAYLOR. and then she says, “oh you didn’t realize this wasn’t gay?” “i want to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed” like @ emily yourself taylor “he wants what’s only yours”……TAYLOR. give me the entire catalogue of emily dickinson songs!!!!! i can’t do this. “springs breaks loose / but so does fear” “i’d live and die for moments that we stole / on begged and borrowed time / so tell me to run / or dare to sit and watch what we’ll become / and drink my husband’s wine.” taylor if you see this post, a, i love you, b, i need you to tell me about ivy, and c, PLEASE can i have tickets to your next tour in the year 2025 or whenever because my gf never buys me any to your shows……….i love this song if it isn’t clear. i think i’d love it if it wasn’t gay

COWBOY LIKE ME - ok this will sound weird and if you’ve read this far i’m going to assume that you don’t care about me being weird…but this song reminds me of the fanfiction STAY THE NIGHT by lynnearlington (maybe u’ve heard of it). please reply if you think about this and feel the same. “never wanted love / just a fancy car” “you had some tricks up your sleeve / takes one to know one / you’re a cowboy like me” the opening line re: the tent-like thing reminds me very strongly of the fourth of july at our family’s country club and they set up a tent over the parking lot and this song just makes me think of that vibe????? i don’t know. i have vibes. i love this song a lot, which is impressive because it follows after the gay euphoria of IVY. perhaps this is because it gives me its own gay euphoria. “now you hang from my lips like the garden babylon” ???? is one of the most gay, seductive, brutal lyrics i have ever heard. she wrote that down and was like, oh yeah, vibez, hundo p. she did that to me

LONG STORY SHORT - this song is an honorary sequel to I FORGOT THAT YOU EXISTED from the lover era (honestly i’m still in the lover era). but i actually think this song is better! so we are taking that. “actually i’ve always thought that i looked better from the rearview” ok taylor let’s access that feeling! “no more keeping score / i just keep you warm” is like, stupidly sweet. rip to calvin but now taylor has a Perfect and Glorious Husband.

MARJORIE - made me cry, simple and beautiful. one of the more personal songs on the tracklist! and something that i had never considered that she would write about, but i think the quarantine period has allowed a lot of us to dig into our feelings, so….vibez. we’re vibing!

CLOSURE - this song’s production sounds a lot like bon iver’s recent productions, very tech-y and repetitive and spare. rip to karlie kloss but taylor has a Perfect and Glorious Husband and karlie’s legal last name is kushner so who really won? hmm? i love “i’m fine with my spite / and my tears / and my beers / and my candles” the inclusion of candles is just. vibez. there are four candles lit rn in our apartment!

EVERMORE - i think this song is very intriguing and i’m still puzzling with it! the simplicity of her depressive gray November phase and then the very ebullient and bold bon iver interlude……..really has a manic/depressive, sad/angry vibe???? it feels so on brand for this pandemic quarantine…..and it works shockingly well, except for that i’d rather listen to the bon iver part for 10 minutes more. “all my waves are being tossed / is there a line that i can just go cross” and then taylor’s sort of call and response with his interlude……should just be the whole song. but it’s still good. that’s how annoying she is

#tswizzle #tswizzy #tsweezy #i literally have totally ruined the tags

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greekbros · 4 years ago

Text

"greek-Bros: The Return of an Old Enemy"

Chapter 12: Matters to Attend To

After a rough night of sleeping in the tough dirt with roughly 15 or so big cats, Dionysus prepares to leave for Olypmus. He was waiting for Apollo to pick him up, feeling as if he'd been gently shoved into a small box to sleep in while dogpiled by his own pet big cats. He drinks in the scenery of the morning, wondering what the day shall bring. Feeling the top of his head feeling a little bit warmer, he looks up to find Apollo riding above. "Ah there you are!", he shouts to his brother in the sky. Along with the ball of fire trailing behind Apollo's chariot, it's golden embellishments shined bright enough to create a blinding glare, leaving Dionysus to shield his eyes for a short second.

Riding down to Dionysus's position, Apollo waved back, "Good morning. How was your night?", he asked softly. Apollo also looked a little sleep depraved as well, after Dionysus's afternoon celebration, he had his own issues to deal with. Apparently, there had been issues around the coastal areas around mainland Greece that weren't related to wolves....but a bizzare influx of dolphins harassing the locals.

Dionysus yawned loudly, streched his arms and gave his back a good crack, "let's just say it's easier to imagine sleeping with big soft animals than it is to actually put into practice.". He groggiingly climbed onto Apollo's chariot. ".....so is there any seatbelts on this thing?", he joked.

Apollo shook his head and snaps the reins, off they went to Olypmus. "Well, hang on then, time is of the essence.", he chuckled. He snapped the reins and off to the clouds above the two went, the clouds at first felt like cool mist but slowly thickens into a softer fluff that opens to a sea of soft white and blue. Off in the distance, Olypmus stood proudly like an island.

Meanwhile, Zeus had returned to Olympus with the growing concerns that had become prevalent throughout the Mediterranean; the wolf attacks. Pacing back and forth, Zeus was pondering what to do about such an issue. "Wolves of all things", he though. Did he need to talk to the other gods about this? Was Hades responsible for this, inspite of his lack of evidence that Hades has yet to be responsible for any surface issues. He hadn't the foggiest idea what is causing it. "oooooh....where is that girl....I know she's the greatest huntress in all of Olypmus but she shouldn't be taking this long.....and Athena....my goodness with all her wisdom and intelligence....a little empathy wouldn't hurt once and a while.", grumbling on while rubbing his forehead, oddly enough even mentioned Athena's name gives him a mild headache. Inspite of this, Zeus still worries for all his daughters.

Hermes could only watch as he was growing more entertained by the hole in the floor Zeus had created. Hera was more disgruntled at Zeus because now the nice marble floor now have sizable divot. "..... Zeus can you PLEASE just sit down. You're not the only one here with a headache, how am I going to find a stonemason at this time in the morning?", she groaned. Spectating the whole issue, she really had become curious as to how Zeus could be blaimed for this, maybe its so bad that he would be banished and she would be made Ruler of the Sky, but she doubts that.

"I understand my dear, but there are more important matters on our plate.", as Zeus says this the sound of Apollo's chariot. "Oh thank goodness.". Zeus hoped with Apollo and Dionysus now present, there would be a few more heads working together. "Ah good morning boys.", Zeus urgently greeted them.

Dionysus slid down the marble floor for a dramatic entrance, while Apollo calmly walked in. "Good morning father, good morning Hera you look absolutely radiant today", Apollo greeted back. The two placed themselves on their designated thrones.

Hera wasn't too flattered but she appreciates the greeting with a head nod. "Morning... Apollo. So what has your father done this time?....". She has been watching over both Olympus and the earth while Zeus had been flying around. Tapping her perfectly sharpened nails on the arm of her gold and marble throne. "Well?", she inquired again.

With the rough sound of clearing his throat, Zeus interjects to answer for Apollo. "Well Hera, it seems we have a pest control problem, 'wolves'...........'wolves' have been seen doing such strange things .....but others say it's really not wolves. If memory serves me, we did not create wolves to act like this......boys, have any of you found any new information?", Zeus inquired.

Dionysus and Apollo looked at each other, remembering the day before and what had transpired during the Dionysian Games. Dionysus glances away, trying to deter any responsibility in being the first to tell anyone, Apollo is given the unceremonious task of explaining what had happened on Delphi. "Well.....let's just say, while Dionysus was having a...day time event, it seems that there was some semblance of a sighting. No one was harmed thankfully....", as he finished he looked at Dionysus, hoping he was going to going to fill in any details.

Dionysus, pretended that he wasn't paying attention. Apollo continued to stare at him until he took a coin from his pocket and aggressively flicked at Dionysus. The coin hit Dionysus's head with an audible tunk as it bounced off, "Ow! Fuck man what the hell?!", Dionysus rubbed the currently forming lump. He looked around as he saw Hera, Zeus and Hermes were looking at him, clearly knowing he knew more than he was willing to share. "Ugh....yeah....someone saw a dog thing? Yeah but as Apollo said, no harm no foul...", he hoped his flimsy confirmation would suffice.

Zeus obviously took this as a sign something was wrong and that these creatures were indeed becoming more and more brazen but he wasn't going to pry Dionysus anymore for obvious reasons. He was still wondering where Artemis and Athena were, probably assisting mortals or actively finding more information.

Zeus than turned to Hermes, usually his energetic messenger was more talkative, yet right now he was rather quite. "Hermes....is there anything you would like to share? Any news that would ....at the very least help us... Artemis told me you witnessed one of these creatures yourself?", Zeus asked. He could see Hermes looked a little anxious, in fact Hermes hadn't taken his encounter very well since he first saw it. "My boy, do you have something to say?", Zeus again asked.

The wings on his hat emoted his sudden alertness much like how a dog would, he was mentally elsewhere but quickly came back to planet Earth to put it 'mortally'. "Oh well.....it wasn't too bad.... Artemis shot it in the mouth...hehehe, but....I'm more use to things staying dead.", he rubbed the back of neck, "The creature came back to life shortly after she killed it. I've never seen something like that in my life.", Hermes responded somberly. He felt silly being scared of something that wouldn't be out of place in the Underworld, but he knew that it wasn't something he had experienced in its controlled chaotic environment. "Outside of that, it seems they're very sturdy and very fast.", he continued.

Off in the hall, Artemis and Athena had finally arrived, although both were empty handed, Athena had come with her pride humbly swallowed. The two sisters entered the throne room unannounced as to not disturb Hermes's story.

Dionysus went from playing with his curly locks to glancing past Zeus and seeing Artemis and Athena. "Oh cool, you're here!", he exclaimed with a smile. Artimes waved back, but Athena stayed stone faced.

"Ah there you two are! Where have you two been?", Zeus bellowed.

Artimes walked towards her barely used throne next to Apollo, slumped onto her seat, surprisingly exhausting. It was obvious Artemis had been doing most of the leg work of investigating what has been happening, meanwhile her brothers decided to have fun with their fake Olympics. ".......ugggh....", she groaned and turned to Apollo, "so....did you look over Delos like I asked?"

He had been so occupied with Dionysus that he had COMPLETELY forgotten to check if the island of Delos was untouched. Apollo struggle for a few seconds, as he was about to say something.

"You didn't fucking check didn't you?", Artemis interrupted. Lucky for her, she had checked Delos and the island was currently at the bottom of her list worries.

Apollo couldn't help but give an embarrassed half smile and immediately points to Dionysus and whispers, "this is your fault". Dionysus of course couldn't help but give an identical smile.

Athena stood in front of Zeus, "Father....I believe I owe you an apology for doubting your judgement....it seems.... Athens has come under a terrible affliction....the city has been relying on outside trade these past few days because the farmlands have been savagely ravaged by unknown forces. On top of all that......Theseus hasn't helped much politically, considering he is off on some pointless quest with the rest of his demi-brethren, the state executives have been scrambling for answers to the myriad of metropolitan issues. Disappearing blacksmiths, sightings of creatures in the night and hordes of food, metal, and wood supplies have disappeared over night. I seek your your guidance, for this is genuinely a force I have never experienced.", she was at a loss for words with her situation. Athens has had many terrible lows in its long history, but nothing of this supernatural sort.

He looked at his children, he shook his head. "Your apologies are always accepted my dear Athena. Laps of judgment always happen.", Zeus said with a smile.

She held her head up high, "If I may ask. Is there explanation to.our plights?".

Dionysus stretched his legs a little, "it's wolves I think....but they're kinda funky. Hermes says that THESE wolves can get hit with arrows and like...not die....it's kind of weird. Oh and apparently they like destroying food tents.", he interjected.

Hermes turned to Dionysus, "This thing wasn't a wolf! I know a wolf when I see it, this thing had hands! And it stood on two legs and was fast on them!", he corrected Dionysus was short burst of annoyance.

Obviously, Hera was about to toss herself from the top of Mt. Olypmus from all the sweetness of Zeus's love for his children, the destruction of anyone's food tent or anything, she couldn't care less about it. ".....Can we go on?", she strained. "Frankly Zeus, I just want to know what does all of this has to do with you.", She paused as she was just speaking at suddenly thought had dawned on her. ".... Zeus.......this "wolf" business doesn't have anything to do with Lycaon does it?....You DID say the problem was taken care of....right?", Hera spoke with a tone of ripe displeasure.

Zeus couldn't deny it any longer. An unnatural wolf, Athens in social chaos and the constant bickering between his children had to stop. "Children........it's time I told you the whole story....do you remember when I've told some of you the story of how I defeated the most evil man in the world?", he asked.

The other gods became curious, what did an old bedtime story that their own father had to do with all of this? Hera let out a long and disappointed sigh, it really did have something to do with him, but she had secretly hoped he wasn't responsible for it.

He continued, "Many decades ago, it should be a century or so....if memories serves me correctly....I was invited to a feast in Arcadia by King Lycaon himself. In the story, I told that I defeated him by turning him into a wolf and destroyed his desperately sons for serving me a feast made from the flesh of man..... however.....I may have left out a few.... important details....I did turn him into a wolf....but I left a small semblance of humanity in him so that he may suffer ridicule and hatred for the remainder of his life......that...may have been the greatest regret....I should have ended him when I had the chance.... however, I cannot contest for how he has managed to live for so long....but I do fear it maybe my power is what helped with his longevity.....I doubt he's alone too....", he solemnly ended his story.

The five Olympic offspring sat there in disbelief, the rumors were true and their own father had direct responsibility over the situation. Hera in the meantime, felt a little sorry for Zeus, if she was responsible for such a blunder she would no doubt feel an eating guilt in her heart. "Zeus, listen, what's in the past is done....you fucked up and honestly that's no surprise.....", she put it bluntly.

He turned around unamused but not surprised that his wife would take a swing at his ego, yet all he could do is agree. "Now..... children, we must spread ourselves around and look high and low for Lycaon...no matter the cost.", he declared.

A low crashing noise could be heard from halls, alarming everyone in the throne room. The boys screamed, Artemis was too tired to care and Athena raised her shield and spear ready to defend everyone in the room. Zeus and Hera were worried but there was a likely suspect on their minds. "Ares!", the two said in unison. If anyone would regularly break urns and vases in Olypmus, it was Ares. Whom oddly enough did not come to the meeting. Apollo, Dionysus, Hermes and Athena were the first to charge towards the noise while Artemis had no intentions of moving for the moment.

In another room, Ares was trying to help Ajax use armor and play with a wooden sword for the first time. Turns out, after a few hours of roughhousing with his own war hounds, Ares realized Ajax could use his paws to hold things. So one silly thing led to another, and Alex accidentally broke a vase. "Nice swing Ajax, you'll lead your own army in no time!", Ares chuckled with enthusiasm. Ajax wagged his tail and adjusted his ill-fitting helmet. "You know what, I'm hungry. Come on Ajax, let's go get something to eat", he gestured to Ajax to follow him to the kitchen. The pup's tailed wagged even more enthusiastically, he gently removed his helmet, placed his shield and sword down and followed his new devine friend.

As the two miscreants went to the kitchen, the rest of the Olympians just missed them by a few seconds. Apollo and Athena were armed and ready while Hermes and Dionysus were reluctant to have followed them.

Apollo and Athena both look at the obvious mess of broken urns and damaged marble along with the instruments of the crime. "Hm...It definitely looks like Ares may have been here....but what would he want with set of juvenile training armor?", Athena questioned.

"Hmmm....maybe he's taken up another Amazonian student?.... after all it's not like he's done it before.", Apollo speculated.

"Well I'm not cleaning up after his kids again.", Dionysus groaned brushing away a piece of broken pottery with his foot.

Hermes looked around and started to hear more clattering coming from the kitchen. "I think we'll get our answer shortly.", he pointed to the direction of what at this point sounded like a dog playing with its food.

The four than slowly cornered the entrance way to the kitchen, Apollo and Athena on opposite sides of the door. Dionysus, summons his thyrsos, to protect himself and Hermes who's just behind him. Athena motioned to Apollo to get ready to bust into the kitchen, he agreed with a stern nod.

Zeus and Hera have just arrived, spectating the mess of a hallway and had just about enough this. "OH FOR GOODNESS SAKE.", Zeus bellowed and opened the kitchen door to fine Ares mid bite into some meat and Ajex sitting on the counter, peacefully chewing on lamb chop.

It was a standstill for the ages.

"Son.....what is that?", Zeus asked calmly and sternly.

"Lamb chops.", Ares replied.

"....no.......I mean....what...is....that?.", Zeus pointed at Ajex.

Ares hadn't thought so quickly in his life and drew out his sword and pulled Ajex closer to him. In a deadpan tone and a blank stare, "Take one more step Dad I will wreck everything.". Ajex obviously was completely clueless and just innocently looked at everyone.

Everyone from Zeus and his children all armed themselves. "ARES I NEED TO YOU STEP AWAY FRO. THAT ABOMINATION.", Zeus commanded him.

Athena raised her spear, "Ares you dimwitted buffoon! That creature's kind has cost us all dearly!", she hissed at him

Ares still expressionless knew he wasn't going to let his family hard a single fur on Ajex's head.

The Olympians were all shouting and tried coaxing Ares to give the wolf pup but the god of war wouldn't budge.

Hera, finally pushing Apollo and Dionysus aside, "ARES! What is going on?! And why is that thing on the counter! You have no idea where it's been and I thought I told you no snacking before meals!", Hera shouted with a wag of her finger.

"Oh I gave him a bath before we started training.", Ares replayed.

"TRAINING?!?", everyone shouted in unison.

Zeus's voiced boomed, "YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THAT CREATURE IS CAPABLE OF!".

"FUCKYOUDADYOUCANTTELLMEWHATTODO!", Ares defiantly shouted back.

As the quarreling between the gods continued, Hermes at was fearful at seeing this kind of creature again until he started to get a closer look. "Wait a minute..... isn't this the dog with tattered clothes your thespian friend told you?", he turned to Dionysus.

As if a candle was suddenly lit, Dionysus than remembered the joust. "Hey it's that dog thing that cost you the joust you know the one you lost and got very very VERY humiliated in?!", he hoped reminding Ares about his loss would make him relinquish Ajex due to anger.

"Oh really? Well ok than accidents happen I guess. I guess little Ajex here had places to go. Ain't that right buddy", Ares said with a smile basically forgiving Ajex for costing him the joust. Ajex let out a little yip with glee.

"Damnit. I thought that would do it. Sorry guys I tried.", Dionysus shrugged.

Hera was distraught and disappointed, "Oh my gods you've named it too. Now we'll never get rid of it.", she said breathlessly.

"Come on mom, it's just a dog. I mean sure he's really misshapen for a dog but he's managing pretty well with me.", Ares still had no idea that what he was holding close to him....was more closely related to a cursed human.

"Son....that is no hound....that....is what I had turned Lycaon many years ago....I turned him into a part wolf monstrosity for the purpose of punishment! That right there!.....could be his very offspring! Or worse!....an innocent child who was transformed into wolf.", Zeus gravely explained.

Ares looked at Ajex, "....oh...so that's why he has thumbs.".

The rest of his siblings couldn't believe that Ares had just realized this and collectively groaned. Zeus could only nod in minor disappointment while Hera shook her head.

Hermes on the other hand stepped a little closer to Ares and Ajex. "....Well....thus one DEFINITELY isn't the same kind of beast me and Artimes saw.", he than started to feel extremely silly for being so afraid of this small and somewhat cute looking creature.

"That's because it's a wolf cub!", Artimes had finally caught up with everyone. "I mean seriously, you guys got worked up over a pup? I mean seriously it still teething.", She pointed at Ajex who was still chewing on a lamb bone.

Ares looked at Ajex, "you mean like how babies do?....cool. That explains why he bit me when we first met.", he fondly remembered.

Zeus went pale. "Son....did....did ugh...Ajex you called him? ....well....did he draw blood when he bit you?", he deathly asked.

Ares looked at his arm and saw no marks, then he looked everywhere else that Ajex had teethed on and still no marks. "Nope. Little guys' gonna have to grown into his big teeth later.", he knew that dogs had their own set of baby teeth much like humans did, so considering Ajex's lineage, there was a good chance he still had many of his baby teeth.

A deep sigh of relief was let out by Zeus.

Apollo than asked, "Father, why is it such an issue that it bit Ares, it's not like as if gods could die of an infection....even so I can fix it.".

Zeus shook his head, "Because I've seen what happens with mortals who survive an attack from these monsters....they become them.", the others became visibly worried, expect for Ares and Hermes. Hermes of course could always outrun them and Ares simply assumed he was impervious to injury.

Ares than realized if he hadn't been so physically hard to chew on he would be a half-wolf half-war god. "WAIT A MINUTE I COULD HAVE BEEN A WOLF WAR GOD THAT SOUNDS EPIC AS FUCK!", He shouted.

Apollo, Athena, Artimes and Dionysus looked at each other in clear worry, the idea of a beastly war god even more so vicious than what he currently is now is a far more unfathomably terrifying idea.

Hermes was still looking at Ajex with mild curiosity. Suddenly Ajex looked at him a tilted his head with equal curiosity. A sudden urge to do something Hermes wanted to do when discovered he could perform a neat little trick. He than raised the wings on his hat upwards in an alert position. Ajex's ears did the same thing. Than Hermes switched to a 3 o'clock position, Ajex than followed through and mimicked with his ears.

The rest of the gods looked at this strange display and went silent, surely something important was happening.

Ares however was starting to get jealous, "dude da fuk can you stop that's super fucking weird.", he asked but Hermes continued with different wing positions as if he was giving signals. Ajex was oddly enough having fun with this activity and let out a yip.

"I can't believe it.... we're completely in sync! You know what this means?", Hermes exclaimed at his wings alternated with Ajex's ears. "This could be like a secret handshake or something."

His brothers were obviously was confused, "Ugh...is this going to help us? I mean it's a cool trick but how is this going to solve anything?", Dionysus asked.

Hermes chuckled a little and replied, "oh no there absolutly nothing useful about this it's just fun to see if another animal would do it.". Another collective groan from everyone could be heard.

Athena rested her spear, "This has been a waste of time! All that's happened was the discovery of this creature infiltrating our ranks through Ares's pure ignorance and we still have no clue where to find these b-", she suddenly stopped mid sentence and looked at Ajex and started to formulate an idea "....... surely....this...Ajax has a family...I mean for such a young pup, he has to be missing his parents...", She glanced at Ares whom was still keeping Ajex close. He didn't want to part with him.

Zeus knew what Athena had been implying, he agreed with this plan but he didn't want to lose anymore of Ares's trust. "Athena, as much as that sounds like a wonderous strategy, I believe we can achieve our goal in finding Lycaon.... without harming the young creature.", Zeus walked up to Ajex, no matter if this creature had fangs, claws and fur, it was still in a sense a child.

Scoffing at Athena's attempt to gain her favors by being "tactful", she couldn't help but sense Athena was simply trying to be a little bit insensitive to Ares considering the two have had it against each other for years. "Or....I can just track down trail where me and Hermes found the first wolf. I mean, if I remember correctly there IS a complex cave system in Mount Parnassus.", she concluded.

Ares was relieved.

Zeus had than remembered what Athena had mentioned about Theseus and the rest of his half-born children. "By jove I've got it. BOYS! You're off to find Lycaon.", he announced.

Apollo, Dionysus, Hermes and Ares all looked at Zeus in mild disbelief. "Wait what?", they all murmured in unison.

#greek-Bros #greek bros #greek gods #dionysus #Zeus #hera #artemis #athena #ares #Apollo #greek bros: the return of an old enemy #chapter 12 #short story #fiction #greek mythology

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enithinggoes · 4 years ago

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The witch’s teachings, lesson 0: admission

This is a documentation of the education I’ve received from the witch Morgana, whose wisdom and proficiency I’ve come to admire greatly since it began. To contextualise this, though, I must first explain how my apprenticeship at her hand began.

I was a young lad of 23, and never had been out of the village where I had lived, whose only medic, doctor Jones, had taught me how to deal with sewing and cleaning wounds, as well as a few remedies that could supress pain and infection in the body, and I had been serving as assistant in his practices for a few months, however, we’d been recently dealing with injuries I found myself unable to treat, farmhands would appear with deep gashes into their arms and legs which, even after our usual practices, were said to radiate an intense burning sensation, and kept reopening for days on end.

After just a week of these happenings. Doctor Jones and me were both exhausted, caring for the 10 men and 2 women affected by the strange injuries had been intensely taxing, they would feverishly ramble about a dark creature with yellow eyes moving quickly through the night, slaughtering livestock and attacking any who attempted to scare it off or kill it. Me and my senior had been taking shifts of sleeping inside our clinic so at least one of us was constantly able to respond to new cases and monitor the existing victim’s condition. At the afternoon’s end, the neighbourhood suddenly fell silent, there should still be people moving through the street and conversing at the neaby bar at this time, the deafening silence made me shiver, I felt truly alone, being the only one awake at the clinic.

Suddenly the clicking of boots pierced the silence, followed by a door opening and I understood the reason behind the quiet. A woman entered the clinic wearing a short black dress with purple details, black pants, boots and gloves and a large brimmed, pointy hat. She was tall and lanky, with short raven hair. But what struck me the most was her eyes, they were dark like the ocean’s depths, giving the impression that any light that hit them could never escape, and they had a focus to them unlike those of anyone I’d met, the same focus of a falcon in the moment before it dove down for it’s prey, there was no mistaking it, this woman was a witch. I’d heard of them before, in fables and legends, how they were powerful and conniving and vicious and you should never cross them lest you be cursed to die or meet a fate even more terrible.

I stood reflexively to attention, stammering as I spoke a hurried greeting, “Hello ma’m, what brings you here?”

She brought out a small pouch and spoke with elegance and clarity “Heard your town was having a little werewolf trouble, so I’ve been brought on for a little help and consultation, you’re gonna want to spread that over their wounds twice, about half a day apart if you want the stinging to stop, has anyone been bitten?”

“No ma’m, we’ve only seen claw marks so far, did you say werewolf? I didn’t think those were real! What can we do? Should we organize a search party? What is this stuff?”, I asked, taking a small cilinder filled with some kind of cream out of her pouch, which she’d handed to me.

“Take a breath laddy, you don’t have to do anything about the werewolf, let momma here deal with that, it’s what I’m here to do anyway, just warn everyone to stay inside for a few days, alright? As for the paste, it’s silver powder, mashed together with rosemary, you can ask your mayor for the ingredients and make it here yourself.”

As the witch instructed, I spread the paste over my patients’ injuries, she insisted on checking them for bite marks, although considering the size of this creature’s claws, I imagine it would be near impossible to miss a bite. Whenever I finished the treatment on a pacient, their cries of pain would quickly lower in volume and frequency, to the point I stopped a few times to check if their heart and breathing were stopping, but their heartbeat was only going down from the speed it had accelerated to due to the pain back to a stable beat.

As she prepared to leave the clinic, the witch turned to me and asked “Have any human bones or half eaten carcasses appeared? Anybody disappear recently?”

“No ma’m, no dead yet, only injured” I responded

“Great, must be a recent transformation then, one last thing,” she said, “And I need you to answer this honestly, I promise it’s gonna be better for everyone, including you. Have you, or anyone you know been experiencing frequent night terrors, sleepwalking or finding destroyed furniture inside their homes?”

I must admit I was a bit afraid when I responded “not that I know of, ma’m.”

She put her hand on my shoulder reassuringly. “Easy there chap, you can call me Morgana ok? I’ll take you at your word, it’ll all be alright soon, now get some rest, you look spent.”

After she went away I was left to muse upon what that encounter had meant, the first witch I’d met seemed a lot kinder than the ones in the stories. Sure, she a cleverness to her indicative of someone who knew of things I didn’t, and a professional stance in the face of those grievous wounds that showed she was rather habituated to violence. But seemed ultimately benign and even kind, furthermore, I reckoned there was no way these people would recover in less than a month without her knowledge and assistance.

As I thought about it, my mind wandered to her pouch and the cylinder for the healing substance, still on the table, had she forgotten it? She’d probably want it back right? In what I’ve come to regard as a stupid move I left to look for her and give her what she’d left behind.

I only came to my senses when I realized it was already quite dark out, I thought I heard something moving behind me, but it could have been a mixture of exhaustion and paranoia, I started moving faster, trying to find my way home or back to the clinic, But the streets seemed to wind in ways unfamiliar to me. After a while I turned a corner only to find a furred creature starring back at me, it looked like a bear, but taller and skinnier and it’s eyes seemed to glow slightly in the dark. I ran, and heard it bounding towards me, coming closer and closer every second, I turned town an alley, trying to lose it but realized my mistake when I saw the wall at its end, I turned to face the creature, preparing to scare it off or maybe die trying.

Its jaws opened wide as it jumped towards me, moving its arms as if to grab me and hold me in place, I closed my eyes out of fear. *BANG*, a noise rung out through the alley, the creature’s weight knocked me down with it’s momentum, but no bite or swipe came, it was already dead, at the other end of the alley stood Morgana, smoke coming out of her flintlock pistol. I hastily pushed the creature’s body to the side, spotting a hole in the back of its skull

“I thought I told you to stay inside, kid. What in god’s name are you doing here, trying to get yourself killed?” She scolded while coming towards me.

I stood up as fast as I could, then did my best to answer her, “Y-You forgot your pouch.”

“Boy, you’re either very selfless or very stupid.” She took the pouch from my hand, then added under her breath “thank you.”

Suddenly, something came to mind, the real reason I was here, why I’d gone out in the middle of the night and risked my life, “I… I think I wanted to see you work. I was awestruck by your knowledge of a world that was in the edge of my very reality until now, you seem to wield a comprehension over it that seems impossible for anyone I know.” I bowed down my head. “Please, take me on as your apprentice! I’ll serve you however you like, just give me a morsel of that wisdom you wield so effortlessly!”

For the first time so far, she seemed stunned, she put her hand to her chin, thinking for a moment. “so your thirst for wisdom is such that it overpowers your fear of the dark…Very well, I could use a familiar, but be warned, I expect you to carry my things and do the menial labour I cannot waste my time doing. This will be hard, and very often tiring, you must let go of your old life and your old name if you are to proceed. Until you are powerful enough to be a witch yourself and choose your new denomination you shall be known only as my familiar. do you understand that?” She extended her hand towards me, stern but welcoming.

“Yes ma’m… Morgana.” I shook her hand.

“Then the pact is sealed.” A blue light engulfed me as I felt myself shrinking and transforming, I had quickly transformed into the form of a medium black cat, I’d heard about witch’s familiars before, so I did nothing but walk into my master’s leg, following her out of the alley.

As we left in the first rays of dawn, the first thing I learned was how the witch was able to kill the werewolf in one shot when it had bested many men, only silver weapons can wound a werewolf, so her silver bullet was an easy fix. The second was why she chose to leave so soon, instructing the village doctor like she’d done with me before and passing by a sea of judgemental eyes, angry and fearful. Witches are not well liked, they are seen as bad omens and dangerous beings, but they are tolerated as long as they are needed by the community. With the monster gone, and the body of a known baker of the village found in an alley with a hole in the back of the skull, that bottled up resentment was soon to turn into more dangerous action, hitting the road before that happened was vital to a witch’s survival. Thus began my education under the wise witch Morgana.

#original work #story #the witch's teachings #howdy y'all #enni #amateur writing #writing #fantasy #magic

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dottie-wan-kenobi · 4 years ago

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what's beyond compare, prologue

also on AO3

---

The Avatar was not the only spirit that reincarnated. Many spirits had their own cycles, human one life and nature the next several turns, if they decided to try again at all. Coming back to the mortal world as a human took energy that, for any normal spirit, would take several lives to regenerate. Those that could be human time and time again were the strongest of spirits, respected far and wide, often living to be quiet ancient and powerful.

Two of these were the spirits of Oma and Shu.

They were different in that they rarely reincarnated, but always came back to mortal life as humans. Always in times of strife; always meant to change the world.

Shu did not always die, but it was a common, tragic end, a blow Oma would never recover from, even after their mortal lives ended. These scars were buried deeply, carried from one life to the next. Shu’s fate was to be the catalyst; Oma’s to destroy and rebuild. Each reunion in the spirit world was teary-eyed and frantic—they weren’t meant to be apart. And though they were often separated in the mortal world, the spirit plane was different. They were together, and they did not leave the other’s side for anything except their next lives.

The day the young Air Avatar ran away, face first into a storm of destiny, the spirit world was quiet, its breath held. Oma and Shu did not feel the pull they so rarely did, and stayed together in their sunny meadow, unaware of what was to come.

One moment, all was normal, the peace shuddering but still staying strong. Then, with both all too little and all too much warning, there was swiftly an influx of spirits, a flood which overwhelmed nature itself as it dragged on and on. The sun flickered and wavered; the moon appeared in the sky much too early; the ocean stopped turning.

The air nomads, terrified and clinging to each other as they wouldn’t have in life, were sure that the mighty spirits were angry. Those that knew—that accepted they had passed on, and that there was a little boy somewhere with the weight of the world falling upon his shoulders—were more interested in finding the Avatar. A monk called Gyatso ran amongst his people, his heart breaking all over again at the number of children he saw. Every time he turned a boy around and saw one he knew—but not the one he was looking for—it thudded in his chest; if he were alive, it would hurt, how harshly it beat.

Suddenly the world shone bright, bloody red. Agni faded back into his normal shine, and Tui went back to silently and invisibly (for now) watching. La was brought to shore once again. The Nomads could not relax, even as relief swept through parts of the crowd. The calm was just as vast and unknowable as the chaos. Children, scared, huddled together. Couples clung to each other, and others stood back to back, sure there would be more displays of divine—rage? Grief? They weren’t to know.

In the midst of this, another soul joined the masses. They were unlike the others, who were young and hale, not yet ready to be back to this place—they were ancient and incomprehensible. Yet, at the same time, diminished; scarred. There were spots on their body that flickered in and out of sight, and others which held strong and visible.

“The Avatar,” Gyatso knew. He knew the boy, and he knew this being on some level, able to recognize that understated power anywhere. But the spirit of the Avatar did not live in the Spirit World, nor did it ever stay after its life was ended.

The pale eyes of this new spirit flickered to Gyatso. “He lives,” they said, voice a pained rasp. There was not supposed to be pain here, but supposed-to’s never withstood reality. “The boy lives.”

But in what condition, Gyatso didn’t dare ask. He believed he knew, and the truth was too much for him, in that moment. He bowed to the Avatar, the half-soul, and walked away with his heart in his throat.

For some time, there was inescapable tension hanging in the air of the spirit world.

Some of the Air Nomads moved on, becoming plants and animals, desperate to be home again however they could be. Others haunted their old temples with an earnestness that brought tears to the eyes of those that wandered, who brought back devastating news of war. More powerful spirits amongst the Nomads returned to life as humans, drawing on the energy they had left over from their too-short previous lives, and found each other again.

There weren’t many air benders still living, after the genocide, but those that did created small groups, put down roots and lived inconspicuous lives where no one but their families ever knew they could bend.

The severed soul moved about from one place to the next, never quite staying anywhere for long. They could not see where they were going, but felt tugs on their very faint heartstrings that left them going one way or the other. They were always so cold, and so alone, hands out not to find their way, but to find their balance. Their other half.

Every spot they were brought to was empty, the missing pieces of their very being nowhere to be found.

Oma and Shu stayed in their meadow. It was safe there, secluded and favored by Agni, who kept a pocket of light forever shining for them. It was the half-spirit that alerted them something was going on in the mortal world. They visited them frequently, searching for something they could not give.

“I feel you,” they said, a hand fisted over their thin chest. “I feel that. Don’t you feel it too?”

Oma and Shu only knew of one pull such as that. The call back to the mortal world. But it did not call them to other spirits, and never each other until the new life had already begun.

“Come,” said Shu kindly, reaching out a gentle hand. “Why don’t you sit with us?”

“It’s very nice here,” said Oma. They never let outsiders enter their sanctuary, but ancient recognized ancient, and Oma was sure no half-soul could hurt Shu. Not there, not under Agni’s careful and giving eye. “We shall meditate and see what we find.”

Reluctantly, the half-soul joined them on the soft grass. As one, all three spirits closed their eyes and envisioned their futures.

The half-soul saw a face. Shrouded in icy blue, the features were difficult to make sense of. But the feelings attached were that of complete and utter rightness, belonging, matched. They could feel even from so different a plane that this soul was halved, too.

Oma saw lightning. There were no other features to this vision, just a terrible crack cutting through the air and a bolt aimed by no one, heading nowhere. A familiar, awful fear grew in Oma’s chest. It wasn’t headed nowhere, they knew. It was headed for Shu.

Shu saw something much different. They saw the Fire Nation. There was a crowd below them, the features blurry, the accompanying shouts muffled. But they knew the feeling of the people, the joy, the acceptance. An invisible hand took hold of Shu’s, and peace filled their very being as they realized they were right where they needed to be. Alive, and with Oma.

Alone, the half-soul stumbled away. No other spirit dared to harm them, for the first and only time one tried, the power of the Avatar reacted harshly, forcing the attacker away. But the half-soul didn’t feel safe—they felt the holes where their other half should have been very keenly.

This just wouldn’t do, they came to realize. They could not be weak here, especially considering the numbers of Fire Nation soldiers who were passing every day now.

Vowing to be stronger, the half-soul found a spot that was blessed by Tui. It was dark and blessedly quiet except for the ever-present tugging in their chest. They closed their eyes against the blurry nothingness they always saw, and looked inside of themself instead.

Piece by piece, over nearly a hundred years, they built up their empty spots as much as they could. They would always have those spots, the shadows of aching loss lingering, but they made themself whole.

Still, the tugging never left.

Oma was not ready when the pull to the mortal world came once again. They never were—the pain of knowing what was to come was nearly as bad as having to leave Shu behind. They would be separated. They would have to find each other. They would have to change the world, and Shu would almost surely be killed for all their efforts.

Shu held their face in their hands. Eyes meeting, Shu pressed a kiss to their lips and said softly, “We will be together again, my love. One way or another. This time will be different.”

Oma didn’t want to cry, but it was so difficult. Forcing their posture straight, they gave Shu one last smile. Forced though it may have been, they both knew it was best to leave on a happy note, even if it was false.

Then, each step feeling like it was fated, Oma returned to the world of mortals.

#zutara #zutara fic #my writing #i don't know how tagging works anymore so im just gonnaaa #atla #zuko #katara

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shalebridge-cradle · 4 years ago

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When You Smile and it Tears Your Face (It’s Time for the Inhuman Race)

Warnings: Blood. Implied Violence.

“Anna?”

Anna von Kleve, former minor noble of the Holy Roman Empire, pries open her eyes. It’s well into the night – the heavy curtains are drawn, as usual, the grandfather clock is ticking away, and the electric light flickers ominously above her.

She herself is sprawled on the sofa, with her date’s head in her lap. Ah, yes. A night on the town, a few drinks (well, more than a few on her part)… she hopes he’d had a good time.

“In the drawing room,” she calls, lazily.

“Have you seen my book?”

Anna has seen lots of her housemate’s beloved books. So very many volumes she’s collected over the years – in her day, the emperor himself would be hard-pressed to afford such a selection. Still, she’s proud it was a German who invented the printing press and started the whole thing off.

“Which one?”

“Pride and Prejudice, volume three. It’s got a red-brown cover.”

von Kleve frowns, looks around herself, lifts up her date to check under him.

She grimaces.

If the book didn’t have a red cover to begin with, it certainly did now. She never intends for the whole biting-people-and-drinking-their-blood business to be messy, but it always ends up that way. Strange how that happens.

She quickly drops the man’s unconscious body back on top of the book, just as her housemate materialises in the doorway.

Catherine Parr sighs. “Seriously? What have I told you about putting down plastic when you bring your food home?”

“I know, but we get kind of… into it, you know? You know me, I live in the moment – well, not live, but… you get what I’m saying.”

“That’s the problem, hence, the need for plastic.”

A pause.

Anna knows what she’s about to say, and preempts her. “No, not your type. Not terrible, but he couldn’t talk about anything that wasn’t his football team.”

“Oh. A pity.” Another pause. “Have you seen my book, though?”

“No books here. Did you leave it at Seymour’s?”

Parr hums. “Possibly. I’ll visit later. It’s your job to get rid of the poor soul, though.”

“Yes, yes, personal responsibility and all that.”

Before Anna leaves, she tucks the first edition under the sofa cushions, and hopes her housemate doesn’t look that hard for her precious book.

~~~

The shovel plunges deep into the black, wet soil, and out again. In, out, in, out, methodical and practiced. The hole needs to be deep enough, and wide enough. She’s underestimated the size before, and that simply causes problems. There are bits that need to stay underground.

Once she is satisfied, and with great care, Jane Seymour places the rose bush into its new home.

Gardening might be considered an odd hobby for someone like her to have. Even if she rarely gets to see the fruits of her labour (which is most certainly a metaphor for something), it keeps her busy and helps her feel productive. It’s terribly easy to fall into a rut if you don’t have something to do, and caring for plants gives her plenty of that.

Just so long as they survive everything.

There is a loud bang from inside the house. Jane turns briefly, listening for something further, before she goes back to patting down the soil.

Another bang, followed by a crash.

Jane squeezes her eyes shut, and growls under her breath. That had better not be anything important.

Really, she should go in and stop them from doing any more damage, but they’d probably just ignore her like they usually do. Maybe you shouldn’t have your thrice-bedamned battle in the house, where there are things that you both like and are easily breakable all over the place. Is that such an unreasonable concept?

A third bang.

“For heaven’s sake,” she grumbles, and makes to get up, turning to her gardening tools. Initially, she shies away from some of them out of instinct, but… then again… this may the only way they’ll listen…

The fearsome duel is still going on when Jane reaches the hall.

One combatant has a name she knows well, mostly because she insists on using the whole thing whenever she is introduced. Catalina Trastámara de Aragón, former Spanish infanta. The other has gone by many different but similar names – Anna de Boullan, Anna Bolina, Nan Bullen, but she generally responds to ‘Anne’, so that’s what they go with.

Catalina has her hand around Anne’s neck, hoisting her up in the air, whilst Anne has a hold on Catalina’s arm, hissing up a storm. Another bang – Catalina slamming Anne against the wall – sends a cloud of dust trickling down on top of them.

Jane enters, in her gardening smock, boots too big for her, a straw hat (you must always wear a hat while gardening, though Jane isn’t sure why), and with a wooden gardening stake in each hand.

“Down! Both of you!”

Anne turns her head slightly, and her eyes widen when she sees what Jane’s holding. “Shit.”

This gets Catalina’s attention, too, but she manages to keep the quiet part quiet. She releases her grip, and Anne sinks to the floor.

“What are you doing?” Catalina recovers her regal demeanour, or at least part of it. “Have you gone quite mad?”

“Have you? Look at what you’re doing! What on earth is noble and queenly about repeatedly smacking your housemate into a wall?!” Jane stops to compose herself. “What is it this time? Territorial dispute? Long-standing grudge you refuse to talk about? Monopoly?”

“Anne? How many glasses would you say are in the sink?”

...No.

Anne rubs her neck. “Well, maybe less if you weren’t such a toff and drank like the rest of us.”

That can’t be right. Was that it?

“Unlike you, I like to keep some of my dignity about me.”

“Oh, don’t you fucking talk to me about dignity -”

Jane is between them in a blink. “Anne, do the bloody dishes.” Anne groans, probably at the unintended pun, but is interrupted. “We have the chore wheel for a reason. We have standards.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I know. Dishes now, fight later.”

Anne huffs, and stomps into the kitchen. Jane’s attention turns to Catalina, who is trying very hard to suppress the smug smile on her face.

“How many languages to you know, Catalina?” She already knows the answer to this question, but Catalina will happily tell her anyway.

“Five. Spanish, Latin, French, Greek, English.”

“Five languages, and you still don’t know how to use your words?”

Catalina simply stares at her.

“You would have been very upset if you knocked any of your paintings down, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, but we couldn’t take it outside. You would have been upset if we crushed your plants.”

“Well, that simply reinforces my point. Violence is very rarely the answer when it comes to who you live with.”

“You’re threatening me with a lethal weapon right now.”

Oh, right, she forgot about them. Jane looks down at the stakes, flinches again, and throws them unceremoniously to one side. “Fine. We all need to work on discussing things, and remember we all have our part to play. Anne’s doing the dishes now -” There’s a clatter from the kitchen – “I’ve been taking out the rubbish; can you tell me your royal responsibility, or do I have to check?”

Catalina’s eyes are everywhere but on Jane. She brushes a bit of powder off of her sleeve, and mumbles “Dusting.”

~~~

“Look what I found.”

Parr looks up. It is a whole entire person Anna has come to show off, which usually isn’t something Catherine needs to see – it does not pay to get attached. This girl has her long hair tied up, dyed an almost neon pink at the ends, and is clad in one of Anna’s oversized fur coats. She seems to be faltering under Parr’s gaze, trying to make herself look as small and insignificant as possible.

“I see no plastic in the drawing room,” Catherine says to von Kleve, as a warning.

“What? No! No, no, no. Not that. Big smile, Katie.”

The girl’s lips curl into a rictus grin, revealing a set of fangs not unlike Parr’s own.

“Oh!” Immediately, Catherine’s attitude shifts, and speaks with a soft, comforting voice (she hopes), “Okay, hello. I’m Catherine Parr, of the Westmorland Parrs, and this is Anna von Jülich-Kleve-Berg of the Holy Roman Empire. Neither of us are going to hurt you. Please, take a seat.”

She gestures to a nearby chair. The girl walks over to it, unsteady on her feet, and sits down.

“It’s been a bad week,” she mumbles.

“Tell us about it.”

“Well, it started with a night I couldn’t remember, which always freaks me out, and then I was really sick, and then I’m pretty sure I died – no, I did die… I died…” She goes quiet once more, aghast at the revelation.

“Found her ripping some dude’s throat out behind a nightclub,” Anna explains, then shrugs. “It happens.”

The girl shuts her eyes tightly, as if she is trying to block out the memory. Parr takes her hand, and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Katie, is it?”

“Or Kate. Or Kat, or Katherine – but, that’s you as well. I’m rambling.”

“That’s alright. The transition can be stressful. May I call you Kat?”

Kat nods.

“Good. Now, from what you’ve told us, it sounds like nobody explained to you how this works. What is it that you think is going on?”

“’M a vampire. Right?” Parr hums an affirmation, and Kat laughs, without humour. “And, because I’m a vampire, and I was going insane with how thirsty I was and because he wouldn’t stop talking and he kept touching me after I told him not to…” She looks to Anna. “That man. He was my boyfriend. I killed my boyfriend.”

It’s usually cold in the house, but it seems to get even colder after that statement.

While Catherine intimately knows the feeling of wanting to murder your former significant others (Thomas – Foul rake! Blackguard! She shall curse his name after death and beyond!), she is aware that this may not be the case for Kat. Most couples these days actually quite like each other – one need not rely on a husband to vote for them anymore, after all. She’s been looking out for someone like that, but she hasn’t found them yet. Maybe someday.

There have been so very many days…

Thankfully, Anna is there with a kind word, so she need not answer nor dwell on her failure to find love. It is just one word, however, and it is not spoken with great compassion.

“Condolences?”

Kat waves a hand, shakes her head. “The only good thing about dating Francis is – was – that he gave me a place to stay. Everything else… I don’t think anyone will be that upset he’s dead, put it that way.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “It was so easy. Too easy.”

Well, it’s good to know that nothing of value was lost, at least.

“Subtlety and control are the results of practice,” Catherine tells the girl, “and that will come, in time. Until then, since the one who turned you is not around to help, I humbly request that you allow us to assist you.”

“We have a spare room. Um. Not that you have to take it, or anything, but the option’s there -”

Kat cuts Anna off. Nobody’s had the gall to do that for centuries.

“Why are you doing this? Any of this?! You want something from me, don’t you? Otherwise, I’d still be out there, dealing with my boyfriend’s corpse! Be honest with me, please. What is it you want me to do?!”

She is looking into both of their eyes, searching for an ulterior motive like she knows it’s there – Parr gets that, unfortunately, and she’s disgusted that something has happened to the poor girl to prompt such suspicion and mistrust.

Catherine does not raise her voice, speaks calmly and carefully, just like she was taught. “We are not doing this in the hopes of a favour, or any material gain. We – or, at least, I – am behaving in this way because I want to see you turn out well. Perhaps there is a vain hope of a new friendship out of this, but that is the loftiest of my wishes, and you should not feel obligated to fulfil it if you don’t want to.”

“You’re the most interesting thing that’s happened in at least a decade,” says Anna.

“But you’re vampires. Why are you helping a competitor?”

“Why not? Just because we’re bloodsucking monsters doesn’t mean we can’t be nice about it. Plenty of fish in the sea.”

“Okay. Okay. In that case… might I ‘humbly request’… a hug, please?”

~~~

“How do you feel about it?”

Catalina does not turn away from her painting; yet another Spanish vista. She has been told that the Inquisition is over, that she can return for a holiday, but there is no doubt in her mind that what is there now must be wildly different from what she remembers. The latter is what she puts to canvas, to show off what she knows, what mortal eyes can no longer see.

“You shall have to be more specific,” she says to Anne, her voice clipped.

“You know.” She refuses to give Anne the satisfaction of looking at her, but she can feel the fluttering eyelashes, the lazy grin, just from her cadence. “Us. What we have.”

“What on earth are you implying?”

“That thing we do. The one where I press all your buttons, and you beat the shit out of me. Great way to work out that tension, yeah? But then there’s Jane – Plain Insane Jane – putting stakes in our faces and telling us to end it.”

“Would you have listened to her if she hadn’t?”

“Nah.” No hesitation whatsoever. No hint of shame. “But it’s fun. Don’t you think so?”

…Frankly, Catalina does not know. She knows it is not a healthy way of relieving stress. She knows Jane is justified in her motivations to stop it, if not her methods (though both of them make it difficult for her to use a softer touch).

But, if she is truly honest with herself, she likes to feel powerful sometimes. Yes, she is powerful when compared to a regular human – but that was true when she was alive, too. Now, she is no longer in the line of succession, she is no longer a princess. She is ‘just’ a vampire, and that fact irks her more than it should.

But she doesn’t tell Anne any of that. She puts her brush down, and turns to the source of her self-reflection. She’s hanging in the air, as if she were watching Catalina from an invisible sofa.

“You’ve been out drinking, haven’t you?”

Their kind can, in fact, get drunk. It’s more of a roundabout process than it is for mortals – one must find someone that’s absolutely cup-shotten, take them somewhere quiet, and… share their blood alcohol content. Catalina knows this because Anne is a master of the process.

“Of course I have!” Anne replies, with a funny sort of smile. “That’s why you go out, why Jane goes out. To have a drink!”

Oh, she definitely has been. She’s wearing the silly spectacles again, the ones where you can’t see her eyes properly.

“I’m not having this conversation with you while you’re out of your wits,” Catalina carefully enunciates.

“I always have my wits. Do you even listen to my jokes, princess?”

“You’re drunk.”

“And? You don’t talk when I’m sober, you won’t talk when I’m toxed – what is it that you need me to be for you to be honest?”

There is a knock at the door, and Jane’s voice comes through loud and clear. “Catalina? We have a guest.”

That’s interesting. They don’t often have guests – well, not ones that aren’t ‘invited for dinner’, and Jane likes to keep that private, if it’s her. It can’t be Parr or von Kleve; Jane would have said as much.

Perhaps it is someone important, she thinks, and immediately her mood sours.

“Who do you think it is?” Anne asks.

“I don’t know. All I ask is that you don’t make a complete fool of yourself.”

“And what if I do?”

“Then I take no responsibility for your actions.”

“She’s very new, apparently,” Jane tells them, and she is doing only a slightly better job than Anne at holding in her excitement. “She doesn’t remember who turned her. Cathy thinks it’s Thomas, but you know how she is.”

Yes, Catalina does. Thomas may be responsible for a lot of things, but if he showed his face in this part of town, he’d probably find himself dismembered by his very angry ex-wife.

They reach the top of the staircase. Below them, on the ground level, Cathy is speaking quietly to – good Lord! That woman’s hair is pink! How is it that vibrant a shade?!

Anne gasps in delight. “A baby! You’ve found a little baby, Cathy!”

“I’m not a baby. I’m nineteen.”

“Exactly. Two-digit age. Baby.”

“I apologise for her conduct,” Catalina sighs. “Someone had a bit too much to drink, and she had too much of them. I am Catalina Trastámara de Aragón.”

“And I’m Anne. Sometimes.”

The girl blinks. Probably thrown off by that introduction. “Oh-kay. Uh, well, I’m Kat Howard. Katherine, actually, but you see how that will cause problems. I’m moving in with Cathy and Anna, and Anna thought it might be good to introduce myself.”

There is an image of vampires being solitary creatures, living in ruined castles and moping about in their every waking hour. It’s not untrue, but Catalina hated it when she had a go. Eternity? With no-one around her? What torture!

No. Ever since she found Jane sobbing in front of her own grave, since Anne had her chance encounter with a Spanish princess, she’s resolved never to be alone again. She shall, of course, extend that invitation to this new girl.

It’s practically her duty.

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Kat.”

~~~

Vampires own nightclubs.

That makes sense, right? They only operate at night, they attract a crowd, many people there aren’t expecting to remember what happened there, only that they had a good time and feel terrible in the morning, if they make it that far.

Well, Anna doesn’t own a nightclub. She owns a chain of 24-hour off-licences. But, she can hypnotise the bouncer into letting them in, so that’s alright.

The music thrums in place of Kat’s heart as she watches the mass of bodies swaying and jumping with absolutely no sense of rhythm. Coloured lights flash, the DJ plies his trade, glasses clink and sweat permeates the air.

Anna is watching only her.

“See anyone?”

Kat scans the crowds, a grim expression on her face. “No-one looks particularly appetising.”

“Well, of course they don’t. We’re not looking for the cream of the crop here, we’re looking for someone who deserves it.”

Kat leans her head on her hand. Anna told her she could come to her for anything – so, Kat had, when she started to feel hungry again, and so Anna planned this little night out.

“There are two choices,” she’d said. “Either you pick someone out yourself, or you go mad with hunger and some other poor sod ends up like your boyfriend.”

“You’re sure of that?” Kat questioned.

“Oh, yeah. I speak from experience – I’ve always regretted what happened to the Duke of Lorraine…”

Anna had refused to say anything more about that.

Kat has… mixed feelings about what happened with Dereham. Okay, she’s horrified that she murdered him, but she doesn’t feel bad that she wiped that arrogant look from his eyes for a few seconds (before he, you know, died). He didn’t care that she was sick, didn’t answer her texts when she told him her reflection had vanished, or that she was bleeding from her eyes – and as soon as he got back from his work trip, he dragged her to a nightclub to ‘show her off’ and pretended nothing was wrong…!

…Okay, she’s getting a bit heated. The man’s funeral was three days ago. No point in holding a grudge, now.

“What about that one?”

Kat follows Anna’s gaze. A man is swaggering over to the bar with a confidence that nothing about him implies he’s earned. She gets the feeling this man used to be handsome, or liked, and no-one has told him otherwise just yet.

“Dunno. Maybe.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

Kat automatically bites her lip, before remembering that’s probably a bad idea now. She doesn’t want to be alone, exactly, but at the same time…

“Is it alright if you hang out slightly further away?” She asks. “If I need your help, I’ll laugh really loudly.”

Anna smiles in acknowledgement, nods, and wanders off. Kat might be wrong, but she seems almost gleeful.

Thankfully (or not), the once-handsome man notices her staring, and saunters over. Kat’s skin crawls.

“Hey.”

Kat gives a small, brief smile in return.

“You here alone?”

She risks a quick glance over to Anna – she still has an eye on her. Kat isn’t alone. “Yeah. Just… needed to get out, you know?”

“I do.” He smirks, points to himself. “Henry. You know Tudor Real Estate?” She does, and the man grins at the recognition she must be showing. “I’m the co-owner.”

Kat doesn’t want to say the wrong thing, but this guy has only a passing resemblance to the man on the ‘for sale’ signs.

“Must be an important job,” she tries.

“Very. My brother relies on me for a lot.” Oh, okay, he’s the brother. Wait, the brother she’d read articles about? The one who got acquitted last year? “Sometimes I just need to blow off some steam, you know? Have some fun. Speaking of, can I buy you a drink or two?”

Wow. That look in his eyes. He clearly hasn’t changed as much as the judge thought he had.

“I don’t drink… alcohol.”

He scoffs. “Listen. You heard how important I am, right? Nothing will happen to you without my say-so. We can have fun if you just let me help you.”

This man is made of red flags, isn’t he? A blind woman could see the warning signs. He’s a creep with overly-inflated self-esteem, seems to have spent his whole life getting everything he’s ever wanted…

And that means he’s perfect.

“I guess you’re right,” she says, quietly. She doesn’t have to fear his kind any more. “I am here for a good time. If you’re offering…”

Henry grins. “Anything you want, babe! Name it, and it’s yours!”

“Anything?” Money and connections won’t protect you from me.

“Anything at all, princess.”

“Hmm…” Kat makes a show of looking him up and down. Yes, this is the one. “Maybe we can take this somewhere private?”

Henry is clearly thrilled at the prospect. He grabs her hand, roughly (though Kat is sure she could break his arm if the need arose), and leans in close.

“I know just the place.”

He leads her away, to a location where there are no witnesses, no-one to save him. From across the club, Anna gives her a thumbs up.

Kat returns the gesture.

She comes in the front door with her phone in her hand. Henry has a Wikipedia page. Not very long, pretty much goes on about his brief stint in custody and that he’s Arthur Tudor’s brother.

Or, was. They might have to change the tense, soon.

Cath is on the sofa, chatting quietly with… Kat wants to say… Jane…? Yeah, Jane sounds right. She’s friendly enough, but always seems like she’s on her second-last nerve.

“How did it go?” Cath asks.

Anna grins. She’s been like this all night, and Kat feels conflicted about all the praise she’s received.“Oh, fantastic! Kat was a natural; that idiot fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”

“Turns out I have a vendetta against people who can’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” Kat adds.

Parr’s smile grows sharp, but her eyes still sparkle. “Well, there won’t be any shortage of those. Come, sit with us.”

So, Kat does. The things they speak of are so normal, Kat is initially confused. Jane’s gardening is a topic of discussion, as is Cath’s ever-expanding collection of stuff she finds interesting. When Jane asks about Kat’s “little slate-thing”, they both listen with rapt attention at her explanation of modern technology.

Kat had forgotten what it’s like to have people listen. It’s a shame she had to die to experience it.

~~~

“Yes, I’ve received a notice recently about outstanding bills owed – no, no, don’t shut off the – listen to me. The account has been paid in full. Enter that into the system. Okay, great. Thanks for that – no, no, everyone makes mistakes. Alright, bye.”

Anne hangs up. Great, power bills are sorted.

Contrary to popular opinion, she actually does do her share of work around the house. Yeah, the dishes are her least favourite task. Vampires shouldn’t have to do the dishes. But, that doesn’t stop her from helping in other ways.

She’s just about to start dialling the telephone company, when there is a knock at the door. Few are brave enough to do that at this place. As she stalks over, she wonders if it might a debt collector – if it is, that means she can have a snack, too.

The heavy oaken door swings open with an agonising creak, and the eyes of the figure on the other side glow in the evening gloom.

Oh, it’s that pink-haired girl. Katie, maybe? Anne can’t actually remember her name, and at this point she’s too afraid to ask.

“Hi.” The girl waves slightly. “Can I come in?”

Do you really want to? Anne thinks, but she says, “Uh, sure.”

With a sigh of relief, Kiara steps over the threshold.

“Apparently I called you a baby last time you were here,” Anne says. “Sorry about that. That’s not fair to you, and you don’t scare the shit out of me like an actual vampire infant would. But, I’m guessing you’re not here for an apology.”

Kitty smiles awkwardly. “Uh, no. I’m here to try and fix your computer. Um, the little television-box-thing you never use?”

“Oh! That! Yeah, I never knew how to get that thing working.”

“Yeah, no promises,” Kelly says, “but Jane thought it might help you… connect.”

That really gets Anne’s attention. She’s not surprised it was Jane who told her, because of the way Kim described the computer, but that part about connecting.

Anne wants honesty, for once. If Kat (that sounds right) is offering, she will take it.

To Anne’s surprise (and shame), Kat is able to get la machine infernale up and running in just a few minutes. She explains the mouse, the monitor, and the programs built into the operating system. The computer is not to get wet, nor is it to be fed. Do not sacrifice anything to it in an attempt to make it work properly.

Why Kat felt the need to include that instruction is a mystery, but it was probably necessary.

“Now, I had this whole speech with my step-grandma – back when I talked with my family – and I’ll give the same to you. Don’t believe everything you read on the internet. A lot of it’s lies, or personal opinion. On that note, not everyone you talk to is who they say they are. Don’t do things like send money or give out personal details if someone asks, and don’t meet with someone without people around.”

“Okay, I’m absolutely going to do that last one – but for the rest of them? Sure!”

Kat genuinely smiles. Wow, when was the last time Anne did that, and didn’t eat the person afterwards? Must have been ages, because it feels like she’s come across an oasis after months in a desert.

“So,” she goes on, “what exactly is the internet? I know I pay the bill for it -” ‘pay’ is a strong word - “but I don’t actually know what it entails.”

“Okay, well, you know… books?”

“Yes.”

“You know the television?”

“Yeeesss.”

“You know those coffee shops where people yelled at each other about philosophy, in the eighteenth century?”

“Yep, yep, yep.” Even though she was never invited, the sexist pricks.

“The internet is all of those things together,” Kat explains, “but worse.”

Anne gasps. “I love it already.”

The room is dark. No lights, curtains shut. The only source of light is the faint white glow of the monitor.

The internet is, as Kat had warned, a shitshow. Anne thinks it’s just the best thing. University professors and the lowest common denominator share the same spaces, and send vile, scathing messages to one another over fictional characters. Maybe she should do some research, just so she can play along. It’d be just like her days at court, getting one person at another’s throat, playing them off each other… ah, she misses that, if nothing else. It’s just not the same, now.

Oh, but then there are the videos. Little mortal Anne would never have thought it possible. What an idea! What awful and wonderful things humans create when they’re not being killed!

Anne’s exploration is interrupted when the light from the hallway fills the room.

“Ah. So you haven’t left.”

Catalina? Come to check on her? Anne turns – yes, it is her, likely wondering why her evening hasn’t been ruined yet. Or, maybe not. Anne has a terrible habit of putting words in other people’s mouths.

“You haven’t been downstairs this evening,” Her housemate continues. “Jane was worried about you.”

Anne doubts that’s true. Not that Jane doesn’t worry, she worries about almost everything (who cares if her teeth show when she smiles?), but she would be thrilled to know Anne is being quiet.

“Just looking at things,” Anne mumbles.

“Hm. Ominous. What ‘things’?”

Well, the best way to explain would be to show, right?

Anne plays the video. Normal night sky, a deep navy. Then, violet, then orange, and the fiery sun rises over the horizon, accented by the crimson heavens.

There’s a thump from behind her. Catalina has flattened herself against the opposite wall, eyes wide, fangs bared.

“I will not die so easily, Boleyn!” she snarls. “I’ve survived assassination attempts before, and I’ll do it again!”

“I’m not trying to kill you, girl! It’s a video! Do you almost die every time you put the sun in one of your paintings? Because that would be a much bigger problem than me showing you this.”

She presses the button to make the video play once more, and makes a show of standing in front of the screen, conspicuously not combusting.

Catalina stares at her. Then, at the monitor. She approaches, slowly.

“Can you make it go again?”

Anne does. The sun is reflected in Catalina’s eyes for the first time in over five hundred years.

“…I miss it, sometimes.”

Oh God, it’s happening, Anne thinks. Out loud, she says, “Miss what?”

“The sunrise.” From the sound of her voice, calm and quiet, Anne gets the impression Catalina’s not really here. “My home. My family. It doesn’t matter how far away I am, in years or in miles. They’re gone, and the name Trastámara means nothing.”

Oh, that’s it. Of course it is.

Anne did not what it was like to be a princess in the early 1400s, partially because she wasn’t born yet. She knows from her own experiences with Whatever the Fuck the Sun King Was Playing At that the nobility was constantly having to be perfect at all times; not even a twitch of emotion could play upon your face, even as you drain all your resources to support the near-impossible standards of fashion, or it could easily be all for naught.

She’s just been thinking, maybe, something like that might be why Catalina has the sort of aversion to talking about her emotions that would normally be reserved for holy symbols.

“Catalina. You’re not a princess anymore.”

Catalina sneers, all traces of vulnerability gone. “Yes, you have taunted me about that many times before.”

“Not a taunt.” Sometimes. “A reminder you no longer have to try and be perfect. I’m not gonna tell any peers of the realm if you feel sad sometimes.”

“So you feel the need to drive me to madness in the hopes I accept your view?”

Okay, so maybe Anne’s been a little coarse. In fairness, she tried passive-aggressive behaviour and it didn’t work. There’s a reason she goes after Catalina, and it’s not just because it’s easy.

Anne points to herself. “Unstoppable force.” To Catalina. “Immovable object. You move, I stop.”

“…Right. Okay.” A pause. “I know, logically, that you are right – about that particular thing. But, it makes me feel like I’m ignoring part of myself.”

“Just have the good without the bad. If the King of Spain has anything to say about it, kill him and rule the country as their immortal god-queen.”

“I would never be so rash,” Catalina huffs. “I’ll try. Just… don’t mock me for it. If I’m keeping at least one good thing about my life, it will be threatening anyone who insults me with imprisonment.”

“Yessssss…”

Both Anne and Catalina jump at the voice from outside the room. Anne acts first – she opens the door a crack, and sees Jane’s eye on the other side.

“You’ve been at it for two hundred years,” Jane says. “Two. Hundred. Years. I don’t care if you don’t get along straight away, let me have this.”

And, fearing her ire, they do.

~~~

Anna’s on the roof again.

There are two main reasons for this. One, her room is in the attic and it’s the easiest way out of the house. Two, it’s a good place to sit, look up at the stars (at least the ones you can still see, anyway) and think about things.

Kat is on her right, arms around her knees, looking up at the moon. Anna does not think she’s paying much attention to it, however.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

Kat doesn’t answer straight away. “Just how things are better.”

“…They are?”

“I’m living… uh, residing in a house with people I actually like. This is the first time that’s happened since I was about eight, I think.”

Wow. Anna hadn’t had a terribly good time when she was alive – no rights, no fun allowed, go marry some dude you’ve never even met, and no you can’t have fun then either – but Kat’s life might beat out Cathy’s hopeless search for love, in terms of tragedy.

“I cannot truly speak for you, but I have found this…” Anna waves her hands, trying to find the right way to put it, “whole thing to be very affirming. There is no-one to hold you down. No-one to stop you from doing what you like. Well, except priests, but they can be ignored, mostly.”

“You don’t brood about it too much?”

“Why would I? It’s the only reason I’ve been able to see the things I’ve seen. To be here, now, talking to you.” All because she told the wrong (or right) person about how bored she was. Of course she would accept the offer to have fun, even if the whole process wasn’t. “Do you?”

Kat stops to think again, so that’s a ‘yes’. “I’m still getting used to it. But, I don’t mind it. I’m not scared of the things I used to be afraid of. That’s good, right?”

“Sounds good to me. But, if you falter, that’s okay, too. We have supported Cathy, who was the youngest before you, we can do the same here – so long as you support us in turn.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s got that thing about finding the one.” How does Kat manage to fit so much bitterness in only two words? “Don’t get it. She’s got people who love her already. You, and those three around the corner. She doesn’t need them.”

“That’s a very good way of putting it, actually.” Anna’s argument against serious dating has been that three of the people Parr’s courted have tried to murder her, and her ex-husband technically succeeded. It hasn’t worked, but maybe a more positive viewpoint might win out against two centuries of stubbornness.

“Anna von Kleve.”

von Kleve looks down. Ah, speak of the devil. She’s on the balcony below them.

“Cathy! Kat has had some good thoughts about love!”

“Oh? How wonderful.”

She doesn’t seem like she thinks it is, though. She almost looks angry, with the hard eyes and pursed lips and the red-brown mottled book in her hand -

Oh no.

“I think, Anna,” Cathy intones, her voice sharper than any stake, “that we should talk about personal responsibility first.”

#the cradle will write #six the musical #not the historical figures #but that won't stop me making references to them

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