#haze i hope it's ok to tag you!!! and to post it!!!

[r4pira]

inspired by THIS fic by @hazeism

[syluslnd]

If the pregnant MC is kidnapped by Sylus' enemies, Luke and Kieran don't know how to inform Sylus because they know how much he cares about MC and her babys. If MC miscarries her babys and falls unconscious because of what she went through there, what will happen when Sylus finds her, what will she feel when he takes her to the hospital, what will Mc feel when she wakes up? How will Sylus comfort her when she starts crying and how will he eventually take revenge on his enemies?

I think I've written this request before, but I really want to read this article from your perspective. I'm sorry if I bothered you by sending the request a second time.

when sylus enemies attack you causing you to have miscarriage

tags-angst,comforting,mentions of violence,guilt

(note-hi don’t worry it’s ok if u sent it a second time,it took me a while to write so that’s why I’m posting until now! I hope this is what you wanted 🤍)

────୨ৎ────

The room was dark, cold and the pain was unbearable. Your body ached with every breath, bruises spreading across your skin like ink stains and your mind struggled to keep up with the reality of your situation.

You had been taken, dragged from the safety of Sylus’s protection by enemies who were relentless in their cruelty. You had fought but they were too many and now, your body bore the cost of their violence.

But the worst pain wasn’t physical. It was the dull, nauseating sensation in your abdomen, the sinking, terrifying fear that something was deeply wrong.

Your vision blurred as you lay there on the cold concrete, your hands instinctively moving to your stomach, trembling as you realized what had been taken from you—not just your freedom but something far more precious.

The baby. The one thing you and Sylus had never fully planned but had begun to hope for, had begun to envision. The agony in your gut was matched only by the agony in your heart.

The door creaked open and heavy boots stomped into the room. The men—the ones who had done this—stood there, sneering at your helpless form, mocking your weakness. You barely heard their words through the haze of pain but their laughter cut through. Each chuckle was a reminder of your helplessness, of your inability to protect the life that had been growing inside you.

And then, there was a sound. A familiar, terrifyingly calm sound—the door slamming open, the faint hum of something electric, like restrained fury. Sylus.

His voice was cold, filled with a rage that he rarely showed. You couldn’t see him clearly but you heard the quiet menace in his tone, the way his words dripped with a deadly promise.

“Where. Is. She?”

There was no hesitation. You heard the scuffle, the brief yelp of one of your captors before everything went silent. Then, you felt his hands—warm, steady but trembling with suppressed anger—as he lifted you into his arms. His touch was gentle despite the tension radiating from him and for the first time since you’d been taken, you felt a flicker of safety.

He didn’t say a word as he carried you out, the sound of footsteps and the faint groans of the men behind him lost in the fog of your pain. You knew what this meant—he wouldn’t kill them now. Not yet. But they wouldn’t escape. Not after what they had done.

At the hospital, the lights were harsh, the sterile smell filling your senses as Sylus carried you inside. Nurses rushed to your side, the urgency in their movements sending a cold rush of fear through you. Your head lolled to the side, eyes searching for Sylus but all you saw was his face, stony and unreadable as they wheeled you away. His hand briefly touched yours before you were pulled into the emergency room and that touch was all that kept you from sinking completely into despair.

Time passed in fragments—flashes of doctors, machines beeping, cold hands pressing on your abdomen. You felt detached from your body, lost in the haze of pain and fear, until a voice broke through.

“I’m sorry.”

You blinked, trying to focus as the doctor stood by your bedside, their expression somber. Sylus was beside you, his posture rigid, his hand gripping yours tightly, almost painfully.

“I’m sorry” the doctor repeated, their voice softer now, filled with regret. “We did everything we could, but… you’ve lost the baby.”

The words hit you like a freight train. You stared at the doctor, unable to process the weight of what they had said. The baby… was gone? No. That couldn’t be true. It couldn’t.

“No…” you whispered, your voice trembling, barely audible. “No, I… I should have been stronger. I should have fought harder. I—”

But before you could finish, Sylus’s grip on your hand tightened and he turned to you, his face a storm of emotions you rarely saw. Anger, pain, guilt—it was all there, swirling beneath the surface of his usually controlled demeanor.

“Don’t” he snapped, his voice rough, almost breaking. “Don’t you dare blame yourself.”

You flinched at the intensity of his words, your tears spilling over as you tried to form some sort of response. “But I—I should’ve—”

“No” Sylus interrupted, his voice low but trembling with fury. “This isn’t your fault. It’s mine.” He looked away for a moment, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might break, his hands shaking now as he struggled to keep himself from unraveling.

“I should have been there” he continued, his voice raw with guilt. “I should’ve protected you. This happened because of me because of my enemies. I brought you into this life and I couldn’t even keep you safe. I…” His words faltered and he took a sharp breath, trying to regain his composure.

Your heart broke at the sight of him like this—Sylus, always so calm, so collected, now barely holding himself together. You had never seen him so vulnerable, so angry at himself and it only made the pain in your chest worse.

“I should have been there” he repeated, his voice softer now, filled with regret. “I failed you. I failed our baby.”

The tears flowed freely now and you shook your head, trying to tell him he was wrong, that it wasn’t his fault, but the words wouldn’t come. The grief, the guilt—it was all too much.

Sylus’s hand cupped your face, gently forcing you to look at him. His eyes, usually so cold and unreadable, were now filled with a deep, aching sadness. “Kitten” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ll make them pay. I swear to you, I’ll make them pay for this. But you… you have to know this wasn’t your fault.”

You leaned into his touch, your body shaking with sobs as the weight of the loss crashed over you. Sylus pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could shield you from the pain, from the reality of what had been taken from you both.

The baby was gone. The future you had only just begun to imagine was gone and there was nothing either of you could do to change that. But in that moment, as Sylus held you, his own grief mixing with yours, you knew that you weren’t alone in this. He was there and no matter how much he blamed himself, no matter how much you blamed yourself, you had each other.

And for now, that had to be enough.

Luke and Kieran stood guard at your door, their shadows tall against the dim light of the hospital hallway. You knew Sylus trusted them-his two most loyal men-but it did little to ease the cold dread that had settled into your bones.

Sylus had left without a word but you knew where he had gone. You knew the kind of wrath that was brewing inside him, the rage he held back only for your sake and now, he was gone to unleash it.

The basement was cold and damp, the smell of mildew mixing with the stench of fear. The three men who had taken you were bound tightly to chairs, their heads slumped forward, blood dripping from their faces from the initial beatings Sylus had given them when he'd first found you.

Their bodies were bruised and broken but that was nothing compared to what was coming. Sylus stood in the shadows, silent, watching them as they stirred, slowly waking to the nightmare that awaited them.

One of the men groaned, his head lifting as he squinted through swollen eyes. "W-Where are we?"

Sylus stepped forward, his boots echoing against the concrete floor. His face was devoid of emotion, cold, calculating. He was no longer the man who had cradled you in his arms at the hospital, no longer the man who had tried to soothe your pain with soft words. This was a different side of him— ruthless, unrelenting, and out for blood.

"You know exactly where you are" Sylus said, his voice low, a dangerous calmness to it. He crouched down in front of the man, his dark eyes locking onto his with an intensity that sent a shiver down the man's spine.

"And you know exactly who I am."

The man's breathing quickened, panic flashing across his face as he realized who was standing before him. "P-Please, we didn't mean to-"

Before he could finish, Sylus backhanded him, the force of the blow snapping the man's head to the side. Blood splattered onto the ground, and the man whimpered, his body trembling.

"You didn't mean to what?" Sylus hissed, standing up slowly, towering over him. "You didn't mean to kidnap my fiancée? Didn't mean to hurt her? Didn't mean to kill my child?" His voice was deadly now, each word punctuated with a barely restrained fury.

The man sobbed, his words a jumbled mess of apologies and excuses. Sylus's eyes darkened as he turned his attention to the others. "You're all going to pay for what you did."

He walked over to a table lined with tools— knives, pliers, a blowtorch. The sight alone was enough to make the men scream in terror, their bodies jerking against their restraints as they tried in vain to free themselves. But there was no escape. Sylus had made sure of that.

He picked up a pair of pliers, testing the grip with a snap before walking back to the man he had hit. "You took something from me that I can never get back” Sylus said quietly, his tone almost conversational. "So, I'm going to take something from you."

With that, he grabbed the man's hand and forced his fingers apart. The man screamed as Sylus clamped the pliers around one of his fingers and, without hesitation, ripped the nail clean off. Blood poured from the wound as the man howled in agony, his body convulsing in the chair. Sylus didn't flinch, his eyes cold and focused as he repeated the process on the next finger, and the next.

"Stop! Please! Stop!" the man begged, tears streaming down his face but Sylus was unmoved.

"You don't get to beg" Sylus said, his voice low and deadly.

He moved to the next man, who was already sobbing, begging for mercy. Sylus picked up a knife and with a swift motion, he sliced across the man's cheek, deep enough to leave a permanent scar but not enough to kill him. It was slow, deliberate, designed to inflict as much pain as possible without granting them the mercy of death.

The man screamed, his cries echoing off the walls of the basement. Sylus barely blinked as he moved to the last man, the leader of the group. The one who had orchestrated the entire thing.

Sylus leaned down close, his voice a whisper in the man's ear. "You're going to suffer the most and when I'm done with you, you'll beg me for death."

He grabbed the blowtorch, flicking it on with a soft hiss. The man's eyes widened in terror, his body shaking uncontrollably as Sylus held the flame close to his skin, the heat searing his flesh. The smell of burning skin filled the air and the man's screams were deafening but Sylus didn't stop. He burned him, inch by inch, savoring every moment of the man's agony.

Hours passed and by the time Sylus was done, the men were unrecognizable, their bodies broken and mutilated beyond repair.

They were still alive but barely. Sylus stood over them, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with the adrenaline that still pumped through his veins. The cold satisfaction of revenge washed over him but it didn't erase the pain. It didn't bring back what they had taken.

He wiped the blood from his hands and walked out of the basement, leaving the men to rot in their own misery. There was no rush to finish them off. They would suffer until their last breath.

but sylus ? He would return to you.

[unspuncreature]

a few weeks ago i was briefly possessed by the spirit of writing and spat out a mishmash of concept and ficlet at @renlyslittlerose, who took it all in stride and even encouraged me to post it!

i wanted to wait until i had the bandwidth to polish it, but with my limited time and energy these days, who knows when that will be.

instead, below the cut, i’ve copied the exact original messages i sent with absolutely zero editing. i hope you enjoy my candor and typos.

here’s the obikin bath & body works au ✨🫧🧴🧼

i feel like i’ve talked my way around a bath & body works-adjacent AU without ever actually talking about it but you know what?? today is the day

anakin is a retail associate at a soaps+lotions store and obi-wan comes in looking so handsome and frazzled and confused and anakin is like. oh boy one of these. ok sir who are you buying a gift for 🙄

except he can’t get all the words about because once he’s close enough to greet the man with his normal spiel. he realizes. this is the most amazing smelling man he’s every encountered in his LIFE

so he fumbles through helping obi-wan pick out a gift basket’s worth of assorted but complementary lotions and body scrubs in a daze. hoping and praying to the powers that be that he did not just help this man build the perfect gift basket for his girlfriend or, heaven forbid, his wife. and as anakin walks him all the way to the checkout counter (usually he just points customers in that direction but anakin is LATCHED onto this man), obi-wan turns to him and squints at his name tag and says “you’ve done a lovely job, anakin. i think with your help i’ll be spared my sister’s disappointment.” and anakin’s heart SOARS while his dick threatens to publicly embarrass him because he has never heard his own name sound like THAT coming out of anyone’s mouth ever

he’s almost forward enough to ask the man’s name or even give his phone number, but balks and ends up giving him a discount card for buy one get one half off any purchase of 2 or more body care products. except the expiration date is scratched out and scribbled over hastily in anakin’s handwriting, written to now expire instead at the end of the week

obi-wan blinks but pockets it with a charming smile and thanks anakin AGAIN and anakin thinks he might just pass out at this point

the rest of the shift passes in a haze, anakin makes it home and kicks himself the entire night, barely able to sleep. he barely pays any attention in his classes the next morning, worried that even if obi-wan does return, he has no idea when anakin works and they could very possibly miss each other entirely. that is, if obi-wan even comes back

his coworkers ask him what’s wrong when he clocks in the next day, and anakin grumbles and does his best to put on something akin to a serviceably customer-friendly mask. he drags like a zombie as he resets the seasonal display in the center of the store, snapping into lucidity every time the door chimes and a customer walks in, none of them his warm and spicy, flustered and handsome nameless crush

defeated and debating whether or not to feign illness so he can just go home and languish in bed, anakin hangs up his apron and goes to clock out for his break when he hears another customer enter. he doesn’t turn around, unable to stand any further self induced disappointment. one of his coworkers covering for him on his break greets them. and anakin’s stomach drops

“i made a purchase yesterday actually and was hoping to speak to the associate who assisted me. does… is anakin working today, by chance?”

“oh… i’m so sorry, he’s on break right now, but i’d be more than happy to—“

anakin doesn’t care that he must have bruised his hip on the checkout counter with how quickly he throws his apron back on and whips around to barrel through the store at lightning speed. he can’t even be bothered to bite back the stupid smile on his face.

with all the grace and propriety of any man on a mission of true love, anakin slips in beside his coworker and pipes up over her, locking gazes with the man and relishing the way his eyes widen, then soften and crinkle with warm recognition.

“i’ve got it from here, it’s really not a problem.”

anakin doesn’t even turn to see which of his coworkers he’s just so rudely dismissed. they must leave without fuss though, because then it’s just the two of them, staring at each other over a carefully stacked pyramid of passion fruit and peony hand lotion.

“short break, then? i’d hate to be the reason you forgo your lunch.”

“i’m alright. i’m, uh. i’m not hungry.”

the man smiles knowingly and cocks his head to the side, a lock of hair falling in his face as his eyes crinkle once again, just the faintest hint of age.

anakin thinks he might die. he smells even better than he remembers. it’s like nothing he’s ever smelled before. certainly nothing they sell here, at least. it can’t be cologne, right? jeez. maybe this is how all those ridiculous hallmark movie leads feel when they lock eyes with their favorite generic brown-haired man of the hour. anakin wants to fall into this man’s thick, sweater-clad arms. he wants to wedge his face in the crook of his neck and nuzzle his beard that looks oh-so-soft and inhale him. he wants to get down on one knee and ask if he—

“… can get your help with something?”

oh. right. anakin desperately hopes the flush he can feel crawling hot up his neck isn’t as visible as it feels.

“y-yeah, of course. sorry. what can i do for you?”

tl;dr because i promised myself i’d start my day at 9:50 and it’s now 9:56 BUT

obi-wan coyly asks anakin to help him find products for *himself* and anakin is like. um no offense but are you insane. you smell amazing already. and obi-wan is like 👀 and anakin is like NOT that i was smelling you because i WASNT hahahh that would be SO weird i just. there was a strong breeze. and. man that cologne you’re wearing sure is strong. plus i have a sensitive nose yknow. for example, i can smell that uhhh…… and obi-wan is like. i’m… not wearing any cologne. and anakin is like 😵‍💫

anakin helps him make his purchase just as dazed as he was yesterday. rings him up himself to make sure he gets his special anakin only discount. and then he finally gets obi-wan’s name.

obi-wan asks if he’s free after work. anakin says yes and also he’s free every afternoon for the rest of his life. in case something comes up and obi-wan needs a rain check. or something. obi-wan laughs and says today is just fine.

obi-wan picks him up and they go home and put obi-wan’s brand new body oil to excellent use 😌 the end

[pines-pantheon]

Notes? :3

[cracks knuckles

ok major spoiler warning so be aware of that

to begin, bill didn’t exactly curse the pines family, but instead thought ahead. he broke himself up into fragments (unequal fragments because he was dying, but still fragments) to go into the pines family. this gave them his power, but now he’s kind of spectating their lives. bill also misaimed, everyone who was standing in the wheel also has a veeeery small part of bill’s power in them. very small.

i had never managed to come up with a full stan design, aside from this unreleased sketch:

basically retired old golfer. i didn’t like this direction though, so instead, at least in my mind, he’s like a robot/zombie. if he’s not working at the shack, he’s loopy and disoriented, incoherent, nearly catatonic with none of his previous mannerisms (seemingly). this is partially because he was the one who inherited the ridiculous amount of souls bill had absorbed. in my mind he looks mostly the same, but showing absolutely no skin (gloves, high socks, etc.) and a spark/star overlaying his face so you cannot see anything. he’s a very big reason that ford is doing so much, along with saving dipper and mabel.

a code that no one has solved (at least not to my knowledge) is in the tags of this post:

ford has an hourglass on his console that always seems to run out of sand too quickly. sometimes stan sneaks a handful of sand into it when ford isn't looking. but it doesn't seem to matter. ford has gotten rid of all of the clocks in the basement.

the meaning of this was supposed to be that stan was somewhat there and trying to help or calm his brother, but he is in a haze.

early concept for the kind of design philosophy i went in with ^^

this unreleased sketchpage also hints at another plot point i was thinking of, which was dipper and mabel trying to escape (kind of alluded to in this post). they were trying to find a key that belonged to ford that would unlock something that had the equation to releasing the weirdness magnetism field, but they had different reasons for why they wanted to do this. mabel thought that the world would recover and that the amount of weirdness would, instead of remaining at the same intensity worldwide, would even out and become less powerful. dipper, because he is going to die, wants to see his parents and also leave the dimension to see if there is a cure somewhere.

basically, they were just digging through ford’s stuff to see if they could help on their own, which he isn’t a fan of.

no other people but wendy and soos have realized that they have a fragment of bill in them. wendy is trying to grapple with it and stay in reality as other dimensions call to her, hang out with her friends, etc. soos is experimenting with his powers more and is taking care of abuelita, along with experiencing some changes in his physical appearance like looking pixelated.

at some point i would’ve introduced the plans to escape gravity falls and went from there, ending with a few different ideas. first, bill wins, kind of. the pines do not escape and they stay stagnant in gravity falls. second, mabel and dipper get their way. they escape gravity falls, steal a car for dipper and eventually get approached by the axolotl who offers some relief in the form of extracting bill himself, but not the power he gave them. third, ford keeps trying. eventually, he finds a breaking point and finds a solution that will leave everyone scarred but safe, but stan is kind of beyond the help that anyone can give in most of these endings. maybe a subplot with wendy’s friends, pacifica, the time police, mcgucket and tate, etc.

thank you all for your care and support for this au, and i hope you all find some way to make it your own.

[hazeisblue]

Weekly Tag Wednesday: Google Search Edition

Hiii, I was tagged by @thepupperino Thank you so much! <3 I had a lot of fun

name: any variation of hazeisblue (haze, blue, idk) lol or whatever honestly

where in the world is carmen sandiego? (or you) I had to google carmen sandiego lol. I'm in Lima, Peru 🇵🇪

ok, so this week we are going to snoop into your google search. type in each phrase and tell us what the first suggestion is that google gives you!

what is the best way to…learn English (By having unrestricted and unsupervised access to internet at a young age like I did. But tbh I'm still learning and I'm hoping to get my C2 certification soon!)

where can i… watch oppenheimer (I only saw a bootleg version for 15 mins and I got bored, I have a very short attention spam)

how old is…she en español (Cuál es su edad/Cuál es la edad de ella lol)

how long does it take…to get to the moon (about three days)

how many…how much (i bet a lot of my google searches are just going to be grammar related i'm sorry)

who set the record for…the highest jump (how come we all get the same one here?)

when did…einstein publish his theory of relativity (1905 according to Google)

what does it feel like to…be in love (wouldn't know but I bet it feels like whatever my cat feels when he lounges in the warmest spot of the living room under the sun)

can you…play roller derby with inline skates (so I go through these hyperfixations sometimes...)

when you…know you know (the spanish version of this is a meme in Tiktok lol)

why do…n't you get a job (i'm taking this one personally)

is there a way…to save karlach (i have never played a videogame in my life)

how old do you have to be…enter a casino (i think 18 here)

where do the…clichés go (apparently this is a manhwa and i might check it out)

what is the best time to…post on instagram (i wouldn't know, i only use reddit/tumblr)

and to finish us off… what comes up when you type in shameless? cast (I don't think I've ever googled the Shameless cast lol I just found out about gallavich and got deep into the fandom)

Tags under the cut :)

@fearlesbian @transsexual-dandelions @mikhailogallagherhoe @pookiebearmick @treeffles @onthepyre @southsidestory @kandyzee if you feel like it 🌻

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 1/10/2023

the more injuries and minor surgeries i pick up throughout my life i get more convinced i do actually play first person shooters as a power fantasy but not in the normal way. recovering ok, this was prescheduled and premeditated, just extremely tired

listening

are you havin any fun? this tony bennet version is good enough. the SINGULAR line "and nervous indigestion" has been stuck in my head since thursday.

-

reading

another pitch for Molly White's Web3 Is Going Just Great, bc HOO boy did a lot of shit happen last weekend. every crypto gaming project that folds feels like a personal gift to me. i did feel slightly insane last year bc the hype was so intense, everyone at my old job was fully bought in, and i got cited on two "performance reviews" for not being "excited enough" about crypto. anyway i hope my boss' two teslas explode.

-

watching

watched a ton of shit this week, including the entire run of the vampiric interview tv show, which i WILL have more coherent thoughts about later. what a horrible, messy, incredibly satisfying bit of television.

guillermo del toro's pinocchio made me fucking bawl my eyes out and i'm a little resentful of that. stupidly, stupidly beautiful film.

i'm here to talk about s/tar wars the bad b/atch, or at least the second season's first two episodes.

the whitewashing and general racism around the clones has been a problem since attack of the clones but has really only gotten worse with time and is especially bad in this outing of the franchise. i'm not super qualified to talk about this, but i think @unwhitewashthebadbatch is a good starting point.

my biggest storytelling beef is that it feels very much like a DnD campaign that is trying to be a blades in the dark campaign. the format and tone aren't quite right. this show neither focuses on the immediacies of survival right after the republic's collapse, nor where the Bad Batch are trying to fit themselves into a new world, and it really suffers for it. there's almost nothing about parenthood (bc Omega is still tagging along on missions, and she is still twelve). i still don't really know the story this show is trying to tell, but am forced to conclude that a weekly show for children about guys who can do some sick flips is not the correct medium since i still don't fucking know what story this show is trying to tell.

there are eight products on shopDisney for this show and two of them are on clearance. i do not anticipate this series will be renewed past s3. apparently according to some advance reviewers this picks the fuck up after the midpoint of the season but i'm not holding my breath.

production wise, the backgrounds and lighting have gotten way better, they've really leaned into a luminous sort of matte painting that doesn't always pretend to have depth. i like how the rocky set in the second episode feels very much like a live-action limited-budget set. looks very much like a soundstage but animated, and i think that's oddly charming. i do like the location we visited in e2, wish we got to see more of it or talk really at all about the significance of the location. like. we have a literal castle chase and we don't talk about the castle At All. come ON.

one of the few canon trans characters in star wars deserves a better show with more coherent storytelling. love star wars! wish it was good.

-

playing

largely fallow week. shouts out to the app Flick Solitaire bc i played through a hundred and fifty levels in the past few days

-

making

some knitting problems i have to mull over before i post, bc i created an entire kerchief thing in a percocet haze but am unhappy with the finish. we shall see! might frog it but i'll post about it before i do

[deanwax]

Writing Whispers

Cheers for the tag, @mrbexwrites!

Rules: Find a few paragraphs of writing from as long ago as you can. Re-write them how you would now.

Gonna do a mostly open tag for this, but I also poke @dyrewrites as this could be a fun activity.

Wailing is a WIP that started in 2012. It's devoid of hope so I'll never finish it, and it's posted on an old AFF.org account that I lost the password to so it can stay there for all I care. Let's do the first 3 paragraphs.

Original chunk

My name is Mikey Rose Smith. Well, not Smith. I’d like it to be, because then I could sign my name M.R. Smith on each and every school report and imagine the R. stands for Robert. But that would be trying a little too hard. My surname is Lamont, not that it matters. Where I like to go, surnames don’t matter; sometimes not even first names. I could have made an edgy nickname for myself, like the countless Xaviers and Ravens you meet on the street. But I didn’t, because Alistair Wright didn’t. He uses his own name, his whole name, and that’s just how cool he is. Everyone knows who Alistair is, and by proxy they know who I am. Because he and I are really close.  Not that we’re dating. Alistair doesn’t do mushy stuff like that. We’ve made out a lot, I’ve even sucked him off, but that’s a totally normal thing in our group. It’s cool to be fluid, it’s cool to make out and fool around and swap sex for cigarettes or whatever. It’s all part of a bigger picture of decay; Alistair is usually talking about something like that. I’ll admit that usually I’m too buzzed or stoned to listen properly, but when I do; man, his words are like poetry. I could listen to him for hours, staring at a bedroom ceiling through a haze of spliff smoke backed by the crooning of The Cure. But certainly not out here in the shitty ‘burbs, with white picket fences and snotty little kids with white picket faces making a racket in the streets. The only person even remotely interesting is that weird gangly creep ‘Flicker’ Prescott and that’s only because he has some sort of dress sense apart from being a complete loser. His name is Adam, by the way. I can’t remember when he picked out his stupid nickname. At least it’s not Raven.

Notes

I still dig the "partially speaking to the reader vibe"" but Mikey's characterisation is off. He does OK in school but he's not a nerd, so terms like 'by proxy' don't belong in his inner monologue.

His feelings towards Flicker are also off. I can see what I was doing, I wanted to obscure the truth from the reader because it's revealed in a later chapter from Flicker's perspective that Mikey is trans and Flicker is the only one who knows about it, so he's a threat to Mikey's identity. Still, to treat him as a total stranger instead of an awkwardly-still-around childhood friend is a smidge too aggressive.

I refuse to remove "white picket faces".

Chunk rewritten

My name is Mikey Rose Smith. Well, not Smith. I’d like it to be, because then I could sign my name M.R. Smith on all my notebooks and imagine the R. stands for Robert. But that would be trying a little too hard. My surname is actually Lamont, if you care. Where I go, names hardly matter; I've swapped spit with total strangers. I guess I could have picked some cool handle for myself, like the countless Xaviers and Ravens you meet on the street. But I didn’t, because Alistair Wright didn’t. He uses his own name, his whole name, and that’s just how cool he is. Everyone knows who Alistair is, and that means they know who I am. Because he and I are really close.  Not that we’re dating. Alistair doesn’t do mushy stuff like that. We’ve made out a lot (I’ve even sucked him off) but that’s not a big deal. Totally normal. Our group is fluid, cool; we make out for fun and swap sex for cigarettes. Alistair says it’s all part of a bigger picture; something about 'decay' or whatever. I’m usually too buzzed or stoned to listen properly, but when I do; man, his words are like poetry. I could listen to him for hours, staring the ceiling through a haze of spliff smoke while The Cure croons from an old CD player. But not out here in the shitty ‘burbs, with white picket fences and snot-nosed kids with white picket faces infesting every lawn. The only person even remotely interesting is ‘Flicker’ Prescott, and that’s only because he has some dress sense. He got hired at the library over me, and when I see a new outfit wasted on his weird, gangly body, I still get sore about it. Mother dearest will buy black lace but she won't cough up for red tartan and zippers. His real name is Adam, by the way. I can’t remember when he picked out his stupid nickname. At least it wasn't Raven.

[florida3exclamationpoints]

hi! very confused, who’s Molly? why blacklisted? what’s going on???

It's actually not a big deal !!! Im not gonna speak for Molly bc I don't believe we're even mutuals . Idk if she'd want me to tag her or not........

She's a fellow tumblr swiftie. She has indirect connections to Taylor's team (she doesn't know secrets and she's not gonna tell you if she does). She's saying that we (everyone in general) need to mind our own business and stop speculating about Taylor's personal life. It seems that Tree is mad. If you get blacklisted by Taylor's team it's bc you did/said smth bad enough that they DONT let you meet her or anything else.

At first I was concerned that me thinking/slightly posting that it seemed like Taylor wants to change the narrative of The Great War to be about the ticketmaster situation bc of what she said tonight was crossing a line. Also I have Anxiety™ so even if I had never spoken a word on this site I would be worried I had done something wrong 💀 so don't freak out bc of me.

Molly (@youweremycrown I hope you don't mind if I tag you im trying to not drag you into stressful drama you don't wanna deal with lol just trying to state the facts so we don't have to talk about it anymore 💀) clarified that those discussions about tgw/yoyok weren't the overstepping of boundaries she was talking about. She was talking about people who are deciding now that Lavender Haze gave """"easter eggs""""" to the break up or there were So MaNy HiNtS in Midnights.

Bc that is invasive and rude and for the record I don't like it either and have made a conscious effort to avoid interacting with posts that even IMPLY anything like that bc it makes me uncomfortable.

In conclusion there's nothing giant going on!! Don't be creepy towards Taylor!!! If you're not being creepy towards Taylor you have nothing to worry about!! I worry about everything but that's just me!! I apologize for vague posting and causing any confusion or drama!! That's just how I get my thoughts out sometimes. And I apologize to Molly for this discussion being taken to my blog bc I know it's stressful and you shouldn't have to explain yourself!! Ok bye

[notquitecogent]

Find The Word Tag Game

Ok I am shockingly late to the party on this one because Life™ and my desire to write being at an all-time low, but I've been tagged by 3 lovely people so here we go <3 The Rules: find the suggested words in your WIPs and post snippets, then tag others to do the same with words of your choice!

Tagged by: @astorytotellyourfriends to find lose, tear, accept, and shake. I couldn't find lose or accept in any WIPs, but I did find shake and tear (sort of).

Tear, from a fortune teller WIP, which also involves a costume party. This bit is set at a fair, a prelude to the meet-cute with Chrissy, I guess? (Not really a meet-cute, more a meet-awkward):

Perhaps Eddie would have noticed what was about to happen next if he hadn’t been so busy laughing at his own joke. Instead, he completely missed Carver's pointed nod at two of the jocks, and the four large hands instantly grabbing the back of his jacket. 

Shit shit shit.

Years of trailer park muscle memory taught him he had about half a second to shrug off the leather and run for the hills, and he barely had time to yell at the rest of Hellfire to book it too before he was tearing his way through the crowd towards – well, something. Anything.

***

Shake, from an untitled little ditty where Chrissy gets injured at cheer practice and ends up hanging out with Eddie while she's recovering:

“Are you ok, Chris?” Melinda asks, and there’s an ugly, hopeful note in her voice; she’s Chrissy’s alternate, and in the zero-sum game of high school cheerleading, that means she’ll be the one tossed in the air at Regionals two weeks from now. 

“Fine,” says Chrissy, through gritted teeth. “It’s just a sprain.” 

Everyone’s looking at her as Julie sprints back from Coach’s office, dusty first aid kit in hand. 

“The nurse left already, but you should try to keep it elevated,” she says, breathless, and Chrissy kind of has to marvel at the efficiency; Julie Michaels is good in a crisis. 

She tries not to shake as Julie eases off her sneaker (scuffed, Christine, look at the state of you) and then her sock, wincing as she presses against a tender muscle. 

“It doesn’t look broken, I think,” says the younger girl, chewing her lip.

~~~

Tagged by: @majicmarker to find bright, heart, laugh, and sweet, or any variation of the above. 

Bright and sweet from an unfinished sequel/companion to ‘baby i’m yours now (dreaming a connection)’: 

Was it just him, or was the sun shining a little brighter, a little warmer that day than was usual for summer in Hawkins, Indiana? Were the birds singing a little sweeter, the flowers blooming a little more colourful? Did everyone else see that day through a gauzy halcyon haze, or was it just the fucking bliss of kissing Chrissy, of holding Chrissy, of being loved by Chrissy that was doing that to him?

~~~

Heart from ‘does it feel like magic?’, my stupid attempt at a magical AU which is going to become a roommate AU (I've realised I only really like writing oneshots that don’t diverge too far from canon, as I *immediately* lose grasp of the character’s voices and motivations and shove in a bunch of thinly drawn OCs and then hate myself). Anyway, this is from chapter 3:

“Look, I’m not saying forever – just until my lease ends and you find a place you actually like.”

Eddie punctuates the sentence by slicing open another bag of ice cubes and clattering them into the tray. 

“I won’t like it?”

“Well, the view’s not great, but the rent is high.”

“Really selling it to me.”

She bites her lip as she sets down the paring knife and turns toward him. “What’s my roommate like?” 

He grins. “Horrifically messy. Perpetually stoned. Plays terrible music very loud.”

Chrissy pantomimes looking thoughtful, bringing one pink-tipped fingernail up to her lip as she hmmms exaggeratedly. 

“Can he cook?”

“Not even slightly." 

“Perfect,” she winks, and he feels his heart thud in his chest. 

Yeah, this is probably a terrible idea, actually. 

~~~

Laugh and sweet from the fortune teller WIP:  

She’d tried so hard to be sweet, hoping he’d just drop it and move on. He reminded her of her mother sometimes – of walking on cracked ice.

Jason ruffled her hair. “You’ll have me for that, hon,” and he’d said it so fondly that she’d tried to ignore the sinking feeling that crept under her ribs and stayed there.

~~~

Over her shoulder, the boys were crowing as Jason burst the last balloon and selected his prize – a gold plastic trophy, which he held aloft like a talisman before a group of other high schoolers pushed past him. One of them – a guy with long hair in a leather jacket – said something that made the others burst out laughing and Jason’s face erupt into fury.

Chrissy had never felt less like going to his side. 

^^^

Tagged by: @erythromanc3r to find right, laugh, carry and fear. I couldn't find carry or fear.

Right from the fortune teller WIP:

Suddenly, someone flung the drapes open. The strong scent of clove cigarettes followed them in. 

“Don’t touch the cards,” said a raspy voice. 

Chrissy looked up at the fortune teller ('Madame Le Fay', apparently), taking in a dark head of hair with a livid streak of white at the temple, a pair of bright green eyes lined with kohl, and cracked lips slicked with red lipstick. Her hands were clustered with heavy, tarnished gold rings and tipped with dirty fingernails.

Madame Le Fay looked back, and her gaze seemed to pierce right through Chrissy’s skin. 

^^^

Laugh from the sex pollen WIP 😈 :

And, in fact, the weed was definitely living up to its description; her body did feel pleasantly loose, the air thick and heavy against her skin, almost like she’d been dipped in a jar of honey. The air smelled sweeter, too – unlike the usual skunky scent, these joints had a sort of soft, floral-y perfume that seemed to linger in her hair and clothes, mixing with Eddie’s usual tobacco and leather, and that kind of sweat only boys seemed to produce.

She breathed deeply through her nose. 

Eddie let out a low, rumbling laugh. “Are you sniffing me, Cunningham?” 

Chrissy blushed as her hands flew to her face, giggling through splayed fingers. “You smell nice."

I'm tagging: @chrissy-n-eddie @thedarkestgreys @carry-the-sky @a-strange-inkling (not sure if you've been tagged already?? I'm so bad at keeping track of these things! feel free to ignore if so) to find shoulder, night, twist and sound.

[rarepears]

Hey, you have broadened my horizons. These AUs are great. I'm pretty sure I followed a LiuShen post to you.

I was hoping you or your followers might be able to rec me some good Shen Jiu fics, even SY is SJ. Preferably a Fix-It, as long as it's not Hurt/No Comfort and not BingQiu. I'm open to just about any other/no pairing. I just really want to see SJ's life change for the better.

Here's some of my recs in no particular order:

The Love Letter by shorimochi (Gōngyí Xiāo/Shen Jiu)

To A Life (Never) Forgotten by VermilionRain (Shen Jiu/Tianlang Jun; also I recommend their entire Memories Remembered series)

saviour by RitaWrites (Shen Jiu/Mu Qingfang)

A Well Wherein Serpents Are Coiled by Nighthaunting (Protagonist here is Shang Qinghua aka Airplane but the end pairing is Shang Qinghua/Shen Jiu/Mobei Jun so I'm going to recommend it.)

Regretting you by hasa3810 (another one of those Shen Jiu travels back in time with his memories and decides to not join Cang Qiong)

Residing over autumn leaves by hasa3810 (Shen Qingqiu actually did suffer a qi deviation that erased his memories and then everyone gets a crush on Shen Jiu.)

we should stick together by pennydaniels (Shen Jiu/Liu Qingge; Shen Jiu leaves Cang Qiong to become Liu Qingge's bride)

forever and ever and ever and ever by pennydaniels (another Shen Jiu/Liu Qingge)

There is ruin and decay (--In the House on the Hill) by llamallamaduck (Orochimaru becomes Shen Jiu's teacher!!)

The Hidden Flower (隐花) by demoniqt (Shen Jiu finds himself in the past so he decides to create his own sect)

By the Stroke of a Brush by Araceil (Shen Jiu/ Tianlang Jun)

Spread your Wings by Araceil (Shen Jiu/ Tianlang Jun)

Fair Trade by 00janeblonde (A very very different Shen Jiu joins Cang Qiong)

autumn hazes, forges sparks by ectocosme (Wei Qingwei/Shen Jiu)

The Father-In-Law Is Unknowingly the Bride? I Must Train Hard to Become Best Husband! by munyusz (Ok, I know you said no Bingjiu, but THIS IS SO FUCKING CUTE. Luo Binghe is still a white fluffy sheep and timetraveler!Ning Yingying is making sure that Shen Jiu doesn't do anything too extreme. It all somehow ends up with a happy ending.)

I highly recommend you search the #Shen Jiu's Good End Festa 2021 tag on ao3 for more. Plus I've written some Shen Jiu oneshots which you can find here: SVSSS drabbles and oneshots by fox23.

Happy reading!

[autisticandroids]

anyway ok so lets talk about ruby SPECIFICALLY in my good s6 au. this ruby concept is almost the same as @lesbiansamwinchester‘s ruby lives au but has some key differences, mainly ruby doesn’t redeem herself in s5. lucifer raises her in sympathy for the devil because she really was the best of those sons of bitches and she deserves it but she spends all of s5 conflicted in her loyalties because while she really DOES want lucifer to win she is also In Love With Sam, Unfortunately, and gets more and more uncomfortable with sam being lucifer’s vessel and shit. and then she finally betrays lucifer in like, two minutes to midnight or swan song and he IMMEDIATELY kills her (very important: lucifer must already be possessing sam when this happens). then she’s brought back like. face down in a ditch 300 miles away. that’s how ruby ends season five.

anyway watch this video to set the mood. ruby stuff in season six:

- so at FIRST she is actually running around with a ragtag group of lucifer loyalist demons led by meg. meg kind of hates her for betraying lucifer for sam but also you know sam’s dead and ruby won’t do it again and most importantly they need EVERY pair of hands on board for this. so ruby is kissing huge amounts of ass mostly meg’s, like, meg is making her wait on her hand and foot in an apron. it’s comically villain homoerotic. you know. like ruby serves meg tea in a maid outfit for no other reason then as like. ridiculous humiliation that’s also intensely, weirdly horny. like the lucifer crowley dog stuff in s11. actually meg literally makes ruby wear a dog collar with a little tag that says like, “ruby. if found, please call 666 and return to owner (meg).” i cannot stress enough that this is just STUPID horny for NO reason. you guys know what i mean. it’s basically sorority hazing but up to eleven because demons, and also forever. also meg makes ruby kiss her hand at least once. or like no she makes her kiss her boot. i am having too much fun i’ve gotten distracted.

- ruby finds out sam is alive and immediately ditches. like she just fucks off to nowhere and they can’t figure out where she went. anyway this samruby reunion takes place like, before the first episode definitely, maybe a few months.

- i do like @lesbiansamwinchester‘s thing where ruby tries very hard to be sam’s moral compass but also imo she fucks up, very bad, and a lot. and soulless sam can’t really catch her at it so they end up doing a lot of very fucked shit actually. but she tries very hard because she cares about sam and she wants him to think well of himself y’know. and she wants to be someone who sam would think was worth following.

- re: that last point. many thoughts. head full.

- when sam and dean finally see each other again ruby is there and dean is like what the FUCK. like he did see that she betrayed lucifer for sam at the last minute but also he hates her and doesn’t trust her, and he actually kind of suspects that whatever’s wrong with sam might actually be HER fault. 

- this post is relevant.

- okay but i’ve decided that the cas/meg kiss DOES in fact happen in this au because i do kind of love it and also more importantly, with the addition of the insane meg being ruby’s shitty ex vibe that i am jamming into this au with both hands, it is just. chefkiss. ruby and dean look at each other in horror while sam is just like huh? i’m sorry but imagine being ruby and being forced to watch your horrible ex get kissed dommily by castiel. god this is funny i love this. again this is all in subtext because we are imagining cw censors and i’ve used up my one allotted gay kiss for the season by having anna make out with a random woman at an orgy to prove that all angels are degenerate pansexual hedonists, you know. (is this homophobic enough for the cw? i hope so!) also: an orgy which balthazar organized and cas refused to attend, to be clear. 

- dean is actually garbage enough about the whole ruby thing that sam and ruby fuck off by themselves for a good while like, maybe three or four episodes, leaving dean alone or sometimes with cas. during this time dean gets a little bit involved with the angel revolutionaries.

- anyway when sam gets his soul back he’s like, torn, between dean and ruby. he feels guilty for how he behaved towards and thought about dean but he would ALSO feel guilty just kicking ruby to the curb.

- HOWEVER when he gets his soulless memories back he does kick her to the curb because she has done some REALLY fucked up shit while trying to be his moral compass like she is BAD at it.

- once ruby is left all alone in the world, guess who shows up in a flutter of wings and ambiguity! it’s anna! 

- she is here to ask ruby if she wants to spy on hell for the angel revolution. ruby accepts because everyone else hates her right now. if anna wants to take her in under cas’ banner (and not tell the winchesters because they’re technically on the same side but what’s a little subterfuge between friends) ruby will take it.

- ruby and anna DO get to have some fun agent runner/agent lesbian subtext, as a treat! at least when anna isn’t busy eating food out of lisa braeden’s fridge like villanelle and other nuts things. 

- like i do wanna be clear anna just. appears in lisa braeden’s kitchen, slowly, wordlessly eats her leftovers while staring her down, and then flies away. this contributes to lisa’s impending mental breakdown. MY season six is about the madness of the suburban housewife, among many other various things.

- also i want to be clear that raphael’s side is actually like, funneling weapons to the lucifer loyalist demons to try and get them to defeat crowley but it’s all very hush hush, like, raphael would NOT want his underlings to know that he has organized this, like, they can barely stand to work with naomi. the fact that raphael had naomi organize help for DEMONS is unthinkable. anyway it’s basically celestial iran-contra.

- ruby is actually one of the last people to stick by cas even when like, anna and balthazar are betraying him, because like. whomst among us has never wanted to become god a little. and also, ruby is weak to authority figures we KNOW this she might be down to accept cas as her heavenly father a little, she’s NOT a rebel. but most importantly she sticks by him because, you know, i love sam and he’s mad at me for kinda betraying him and you [REDACTED] dean and he’s mad at you for kinda betraying him like we’re all winchester derangement syndrome patients here, and also like. i get it. sometimes they don’t know what’s good for them. sometimes in order to love you have to betray a little bit.

- ruby doesn’t turn on cas until he breaks sam’s wall. but by then it’s too late and there’s nothing she can do really.

- the parallel where it was dean who stabbed ruby in lucifer rising and it’s sam who stabs cas in the man who knew too much is actually intentional this time and WAY more aggressive. actually there are tons of cas-ruby parallels. i think meg should call ruby a whore like one episode before crowley calls cas a whore just to hammer it home. i think the thing where soulless sam runs away from dean’s judgement and is running around with ruby while dean is sulking about it but also running around with cas is super aggressively obvious. god i love that ruby’s existence makes it super obvious that cas is dean’s [REDACTED]. that’s so fun. 

- this has been an intensely hypertextual romp and it’s apparently nearly fifteen hundred words, good god. anyway, special thanks to @lesbiansamwinchester, @pietacastiel, and @seragamble, all of whom brainstormed with me

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

🐰🎩NEW TRICKS🎩🐰

Prompt: Y/N decides to show Mr. Moxley some new tricks in order to certify him that he is still her number one

Word Count: Long

Pairings: Jon Moxley x Reader

Warnings: +18, oral sex (male receiving), angst, jealousy, cursing, praise kink

Tag: @jibbles26 , @bellalutionn

Notes: I’m a sucker for the power that blowjobs hold upon guys. Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories on my Masterlist and my newest story as a fixed post. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“Hi doll, what you’re up to?” He smirks as he nibs my neck

“Just working. Why? Do you need something?” I ask as I remove my reading glasses

“I do, actually”

“What do you need babe?” I look up to his blue eyes that were filled with mischief

“You” He grinned

“Jon, I thought you needed something urgent” I chuckle

“I do!” He pulls me off my desk chair “I missed you so much” He cradled his face on the crook of my neck

“Jon, we’ve had sex six times yesterday and two times this morning, how can you physically still miss me?” I laugh “That’s like, 8 rounds in less than 24 hours babe! And you only got home yesterday”

“I can’t help it that you’re so fucking hot and looks so sexy all the time” He licks a trail from my neck to my lips

I look down to my current outfit that consisted in a comfortable pair of grey leggings, an oversized Korn t-shirt, Wilson’s crew socks, glasses, messy hair and no makeup

“I don’t think I look very sexy right now” I cackled

“Yes you do! You always do!” He pulls me closer to his crotch by my ass “C��mon Y/N, let’s do some fun nasty business, kitten” He slaps my ass quite vigorously

“Tempting, but I’ll have to decline it! Sorry big guy” I patted his chest

“Why?” He whined and stomped his feet like a little kid

“Because some of us got some serious work to do” I smiled fondly as I sit back in my desk chair

“But I wanna be with you! I need you and I want you now!” He pouted

“Jon, I promise you that once I finish this I’ll be all yours ok love?”

“No” He whines “Not later, right now!” He stomps his feet again

Yes, Jon Moxley can be quite the bad boy, but what a lot of people don’t know is that he’s also a fucking whining little baby! He gets an attitude over the dumbest reasons and sometimes this little scenario happens, where he thinks he can whine and pouts his way until he get what he wants. Sometimes it’s cute and charming to see such a big bearded man like him cause such a scene, but another times like right now it’s annoyingly frustrating, uncalled for and the last thing I need to get me even more stressed out.

“Jonathan, don’t start it! You’re not 4 years old! You’re a grown ass man in your 30’s, so behave as such” I turn to my computer and start to type my notes. After 10 minutes I can still feel his presence behind me, making me grow more nervous

“Jon, you’re not helping, my love” I said calmly

“I’m waiting. You said I would have you once you’re done so I’m waiting!” He bitterly said

“Won’t you rather wait in the couch instead? Meanwhile you can pick a movie for us to watch it later” I try to negotiate

“Meh, I’m perfect where I am right now, thanks for the concern” He huffed

*Oh great, what a fucking joy!* I thought

“This might take a while” I defeatedly said

“Don’t worry, I got time” Was his short answer

Fifteen minutes (and a stubborn Jon Moxley sitting on the floor) later I get a call from Peter, my coworker.

“Hey Peter what’s up?” I say holding my phone to my ear with my shoulder “What? Wait Peter, hold on I can’t hear you properly and I can’t stop typing”

“Well, put it on speaker then” Jon mumbled behind me and in my workaholic haze I did it as he told me, forgetting about one little small detail: Peter’s innocent (but also kind of annoying) flirting.

“Pete, can you repeat that again please?” I rapidly say while I type

“I asked when do you think you can send me the paperwork?” He chuckled

“Oh! Can you give me like....30 minutes?”

“I can give you whatever you want” He charmingly said

“Peter, shut up”

“What?” He cackled “It’s true you know, ask and you shall receive, my dear”

“I didn’t knew you were a Jesus fan” I mocked

“I’m your fan” I can hear the smile on his voice

“Whatever weirdo” I brush it off as I continue to type on the dashboard “Is that all you needed?”

“No, there’s one more thing that I forgot to ask you”

“Ok, shoot” I said

“When are you finally going to accept any of my nightcaps invitations?” Pure amusement filling up his voice

“Oh God send me to hell, fuck off Peter!” I jokingly said and hung up

I totally forgot the fact that Jon had heard that until his voice broke the silence

“So how long have you been seeing each other?” He rudely spats

“What? Seeing who?” I ask confused

He stood up from the floor, yanked me off the chair and trapped my body between his and the table.

“Your sweet boy Pete” he coldly smiles

I roll my eyes “Jon, are you really gonna take a guy like Peter seriously? He quotes Jesus to flirt! That’s nothing but pathetic and also slight disrespectful towards Jesus” I joke

“You think this is funny? What if you caught me flirting with a girl from work, how would that make you feel?”

“It depends if you’re gonna quote Jesus or not” I tease

“Y/N I’m fucking serious! Is this a joke to you? Our relationship is a joke to you? Am I a fucking joke to you?”

“My answer is no to all the above. Now if you ask me if I think that you’re overreacting then yes, I do”

“Overreacting? Really? What about all of the nightcaps invitations? Are you gonna tell me I’m overreacting about that too?” His voice starts to rise

“I don’t like your tone Jonathan” I angrily said

“And I don’t like you having an affair with your coworker!” He yelled

“Oh, so I’m having an affair now? Wow, I better accept those invitations then, if I’m going to hold the cheating girlfriend of the year award” I spat

“Are you having an affair with him?”

“How can you even ask that? You know me better than that Jonathan!” Now I’m yelling too, peachy just peachy!

“Well you didn’t answered my question though. Are you?”

“Of course not! What makes you think that?”

“You don’t wanna have sex with me, so where are you getting some? ‘Cause we both know you have quite the appetite for sex, I mean fuck, is hard even for me to keep up with you! You’re like a fucking machine!” He says

My eyes widened in disbelief “So just because I declined to have sex with you 30 minutes ago, because I have to work, I am suddenly a cheater? Or is it because I like to have sex more than the average women do that makes me a cheater? Wow Jonathan, I’ve never heard you say that when one of your male friends cheated. That says a lot”

“Says a lot about what?”

“Your sexist side. Or I don’t know, maybe it’s something else, maybe you are the one who’s cheating on me! So you’re mirroring your infidelity on me”

“Me? A sexist? Now that’s a joke” He laughs “We both know the things you’ve already done to me in the bedroom and trust me pumpkin, if I was a sexist I would never had let you go down that road, if you know what I mean” He measured me up and down “And even if I wanted to cheat on you, which is not the case, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t physically be able to since you knock my ass down every single time we fuck”

“I don’t hear you complain! In fact if I remember correctly you were the one who got in here wanting to have sex in the first place” I huff annoyed

“And I still do kitten” He gets closer

“Don’t touch me, jerk”

“You know how much it turns me on when you get all mad like that, right?” He tried to grab my breasts but I slapped his hands away

“Stop, Jonathan”

“What?” He leans closer, pressing his hardening bulge against my lower belly “Am I not good enough for you anymore? Do you prefer your boy Pete instead?”

“Bullshit” I spat

“Then show me, kitten” He whispers “Show me I’m still good enough for you” He makes me grab a handful of his erection “Show me that you still want me, that I still turn you on”

I pulled him down towards me by his neck, kissing him roughly, biting his lower lip quite harshly

“Hmm” He growls “My kitten is feisty, I like that” He smirks “I love when you’re a bitch to me” He laughs devilishly “Whatcha gonna do, huh?”

I forcefully open the button of his jeans, pulling the fly down and yanking the pants along with his boxer briefs down.

Jon put his hands up, in a surrender position. I lick my palm and close my fist around his cock, pumping it up and down.

“Yes baby” He moaned “Take it! Take what’s yours”

I kneel down and without thinking twice, I swallow his length until it reaches the back of my throat

“Fuuuuck! Y/N, baby...so good, you suck my dick so fucking good kitten! I love it, I fucking love it!” He moans and I push him further down my throat, swallowing around him

“Oh my fuck” He bucks his hips forward in surprise “How can you be so good at this?” He whispers, holding my hair back, so he can watch me sucking him off

“You look so fucking gorgeous sucking my cock baby. Fuck, look at that! Look at how well you take everything in”

I look up at him, hearing him continuing to praise me

“I love when you look at me...so beautiful with your mouth full of cock, so greedy for more aren’t you, baby?”

I nod, lifting his member up so I can lick the bottom half of his shaft, making him moan loudly

“You’re so insanely good at giving head! A fucking pro” He panted “The best head I’ve ever gotten”

I lock my lips around the head, sucking it hard to make him feel the pressure I know he loves, while my hands pump his length with a tight grip

“Oh yes, baby” Jon screamed in pleasure “Oh my fucking- Stop, stop” He moans with his eyes hazy in ecstasy, mouth in an ‘O’ shape as he bites his knuckles to prevent any screaming.

“We both know you don’t want me to stop” I smile, licking from the bottom of the head to his slit

“You’re gonna pay for this” His voice shakily says

“I wouldn’t threaten me if I were you baby” I smirked “I have other tricks that I’ve never showed you before” I whisper, feeling his length throbbing on my hand

“Other tricks?” He faintly whispered

I let go of his member and lay down on the floor beckoning to him.

“Come here Jon, let me show it to you baby”

Please let me know your thoughts on this? Feedback is always appreciated 🥰😘

[beskarberry]

Holy schnikes batman! It's been a WHOLE YEAR since I wrote Bargaining with Beskar?!

I never ever EVER imagined that my writing blog would take off like it did. When I wrote that first chapter on January 6th, 2021, I thought it was going to get drowned out by much more popular fics, washed away to the annuls of tungler never to be seen again. And that was ok by me, because I wrote it in a frantic haze at 3am because I was literally too horny to sleep and I had to DO something!!

Then I got a couple of reblogs, and some comments, and some followers that are still with me to this day that inspired me to add on to that first chapter (as well as FANART holy shitballs of hell!!), and the rest is history. 152k words and 5 months later I finished(?) that monstrosity on a high and hopeful note because it helped me get through some seriously tough times of my own.

Since the completion of BwB, I've gone on to write various other works for Pedro Pascal's characters, and though I can't thank the man personally for what he's done for me as a creator, I CAN thank the fandom for accepting me into their welcome arms, even when I started dragging eggs and tentacles through the doors...

This fandom, the Mando fandom and the PP fandom, and all the fandoms that are interlinked throughout, has introduced me to some of the most amazing, wonderful, creative, captivating, spellbinding, awe-inspiring, and downright FILTHIEST people I have ever had the absolute pleasure of getting to be friends with!!!

So from the bottom of my heart, I want to say thank you to everyone who came aboard the BwB starship with me, and thank you to those who came later when I started writing other fics and characters.

I also want to thank those who became inspired by my writing to go on to do writing of their own, to write the things they thought nobody would want to read or never thought they could be brave enough to write. And those who were inspired to draw art based on my fics as well! Some of you I have printed out hanging on my walls, but all of you I have saved in a personal folder that I have set as my computer desktop, so I see your art all the time! I love so much :3

This community has grown to be such an integral part of my life, and I was never much of a fandom person until you guys dragged me in here (affectionate) and I can confidently say that I have made lifelong friends because of it!

I work some pretty difficult hours at the hospital, sometimes 70-90 hours at a time, so getting content made and posted has been a real challenge for me, and I want you all to know how much I appreciate not only the people who are still following me, but also those that ARE capable of creating regular content! Thank you for being there when I could not, making amazing stories and fantastic works of art for me to enjoy and love!!

For my writers birthday, all I want is for all the wonderful creators in this fandom to know they're loved and appreciated, and if you want to send me an ask/tag me in something that deserves recognition, I'd love to promote it!

Thank you, I love you all!! Smooches and snooches 😘

Taglist

@amneris21 @absurdthirst @anaaaispunk @torictailor@221bshrlocked @kotemorons @mandoblowmybackout@the-scandalorian @littlemisspasca l@feralest-femme @capsheadquaters @fan-of-encouragement @beskarboobs @blackdogdesignuk @fandom-blackhole @adancedivasmom@pedroslilbitch @dincrypt @marydjarin @mrsparknuts@tanzthompson @Tintinn16 @insomniamamma @mindidjarin@poppunkdee @maievdenoir @wildmoonflower @readsalot73@mandocrasis @pinkninja200 @fic-appointment @pumpkin-stars@marvelranger @novemberrain221 @elinedjarin@pureprism21 @shadesofnerdlygrace@actuallyprettylucky @pastel-0-princess @missminkylove @nicolethered @green-socks@michi-readsamneris21 @beskarboobs @misscamptl @mswarriorbabe80 @feralhotmess @ezrasbirdie @alexxavicry@doin-stuff @kirsteng42 @t3a-bag @natashaispunk @c4psicle@daddys-minty-princess @iamskyereads

[alovesongshewrote]

If you’re taking requests, maybe something about Doux finding the reader absolutely delirious from lack of sleep? I may or may not have gotten literally any sleep last night and although I managed to get through my morning routine pretty efficiently I FEEL my body just wiping out. I will be comatose within the hour.

Sleep, Darling | Hisirdoux Casperan x Reader

Plot:  you’ve been awake for too long and it is not doing you any favours.  Thank god for punk wizards who care about your wellbeing, amirite lads?  (Also, the pure Irony that this is getting posted at like, 2:40 am where i am, rip me i guess)

Word Count: 2,292

Warnings:  A bit of blood is mentioned in passing, the reader isn’t human and probably has adhd or smthn.  Also, Friends is mentioned, like, the tv show, so that’s a thing!

A/N:   if you look closely, you can actually see me projecting onto this one.  I hope you got some sleep anon.

Tags:   @furblrwurblr @einahpetsyarcip @sorrels-scribbling @anxious-stitcher @alive-and-afraid @animedweeb333 @douxiesdamsel @saroski05

Time isn’t real.  It’s a social construct made to bring order to the general chaos that is human existence.  That was why you were up at 5 a.m for the second, maybe third, night in a row.  Was it healthy?  Probably not, but you didn’t need sleep, you needed answers.  Answers to what?  Who knows at this point, honestly.

You couldn’t say you were surprised when you finally noticed the late, or early hour.  You just shrugged it off and went “fuck it, all-nighter,” which was fine for the moment.  But time’s a bitch, and that moment was over pretty fast.  By noon, you were ready to collapse.  The three cups of coffee did not help.  Instead, they made you vibrate at a frequency that could quite possibly break glass.  As much as this sucked for you, it was worse for your lovely friend and co-worker, Hisirdoux Casperan.

Now, our boi Douxie was and is madly in love with you, but shhh, it’s a secret.  You also love him, and that’s a secret too.  Neither of these secrets are well kept, and the only reason you aren’t together is general stupidity.  Literally, anyone else who watches the two of you interacting can tell that you're in love.  Hell, half the town assumes you’re together already.  The other half keeps trying to get you together.  It is not working very well.  But that’s all a digression.  What you really need to know is that Douxie loves you and watching you suffer from a lack of sleep was Not A Pleasant Experience.  You were delirious, shaky, and constantly off-balance.  You could work well enough, but it was clear that your health was not in the same zone.

The final straw came when you cut your hand on broken glass.  You’d dropped a cup, and instead of using magic, you’d tried to fix the mess by hand.  That plan did not work, and you received a bloody slash across your palm for your troubles.

“Ah.  Fuck,” you said, thinking you were whispering but instead speaking at a normal volume.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“‘S nothing, I’ve got it,” you did not got it, especially not in this state, and Douxie had the good sense to figure that out.  The blood was a pretty good hint though.

“Oh, fuzzbuckets.”

“I told you, I’m toooootally fine, there is nothing to worry about.”

“Here, (Y/N), let me help you-”

“No, no, this is, this is-” it was then that your sleep-deprived brain decided to cut off your train of thought and replace it with another, more chaotic train.  You stopped talking and just stared at Douxie for a solid minute.  Or at least it felt like a solid minute.  Time isn’t real, remember that.

“(Y-Y/N)?  You alright there, darling?”

“You’re really cute, did you know that?  Like… really cute.  Steve was right, you could be a model.”

“I-”

“Also, just gonna put it out there, I freakin’ love it when you call me darling.  Like, I know you call most people darling, but it makes me feel special.  Don’t ask why, it just does.”

Douxie wasn’t planning on asking why.  He wasn’t really planning on anything.  Your sleep-deprived half-confession had turned him from a capable individual into a blushing mess in less than a second.  You always had that effect on him, but it looked like your exhausted state was giving you a bit of an edge.

“Oh, sorry, I made it weird.  Anyway, do you think if I brewed my next coffee with Monster instead of water it would wake me up?   Because I’m still tired, and it isn’t fun.”

“I- you- I’m-”

“I think I might try it, honestly.”

“Ok, how about you don’t do that,”  Archie said, swooping in, literally and figuratively, to save the day, “Douxie, can you please get (Y/N)’s hand patched up?  It looks quite painful and they’re dripping blood onto the carpet.”

You were, in fact, dripping blood onto the carpet.  That wasn’t good, “Oh, that’s- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fret, just go do something about that hand,” with that, Archie smacked Douxie upside the head in an attempt to snap him out of his flustered state.  It was super effective!

“Ahh, yeah.   C’mon, (Y/N), let’s,,, go,,, fix,,, that.”

“Ok,”  you stood, too tired to protest, and followed Douxie into the back of the bookstore, which was literally just his apartment.  

It was a nice place.  Very cozy, very him.  It made you want to curl up and take a nap, but to be fair, literally everything made you want to curl up and take a nap at the moment.  Regardless, his home made you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside and you never wanted to leave it.  Maybe it was the interior decorating, but you knew it was because your favourite person lived there.  What you didn’t know, or didn’t realize, was that you’d just spoken your entire thought process out loud and Douxie heard every word of it.  Once again, the boy was a blushing mess.  If you were awake enough to process things, you would have found it cute.  Or you’d be dead from embarrassment, that one is a bit of a toss-up.

Fighting through his flustered state, Douxie pulled you into the bathroom and collected a first aid kit from under the counter.  While he focused on getting things done, you curled into a ball in his bathtub.  For some reason, your exhausted brain decided that sitting on the edge of the bathtub simply did not Vibe™ but sitting inside the tub was better than nothing, and so you just,,, curled up there.  Douxie was only a little surprised to see you there.

“(Y/N)?”

“D’you remember that time on Friends when Winona Ryder played a closeted lesbian?  That was a fuckin’ trip, man.”

“(Y/N), darling-”

“That whole episode is just- it’s just strange.”

“(Y/N)-”

“Hehe, Stranger Things.”

“(Y/N), love, I need to see your hand.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah, I forgot.  Here,” you sat up, extending your hand out to the wizard.  He took it, sitting on the edge of the bathtub which was fine for him to do, I guess.  Not you though, you were stuck in bathtub jail for sleep deprivation crimes.

You squinted up at his face as he tended to the nasty scratch you’d given yourself.  You didn’t have the capacity to focus on what he was doing, so instead you focused on him.  He was pretty, as you’d said before, but that was always true.  At that exact moment, his brows were furrowed in concentration, his eyes concerned and his jaw set.  His hands were steadier than yours could ever hope to be, especially since you hadn’t been sleeping.  Overall, he looked kind of mad, so you sunk down into your bath-prison, silent and waiting for him to finish so you could get back to work.

Douxie was not mad at you.  He was upset that you hadn’t been sleeping, but he wasn’t mad.  He was just worried for your health.  Your wizard did not appreciate seeing you shaking and sleep-deprived.  He didn’t appreciate it when your current state led you to injure yourself, either.

He wrapped up your hand and gave it a small pat, “Done.  Now, come on, you’re taking a nap.”

His voice surprised you.  It was gentle, calm, not at all angry like you’d suspected.  You found yourself so lost in it that you didn’t realize what he’d said until he said your name, trying to snap you out of whatever haze you were in.

“Oh, wait, what?  No, shit, I have to get back to work-”

“No, you need sleep.”

“Sleep is for the weak, I need to go-” you stood and almost fell over.  You probably would have broken something if Douxie didn’t catch you.  You hadn’t exactly expected to end up in his arms today, and despite the heat rising in your face and neck, you were not complaining.

“(Y/N)-”

“I’m sorry, Douxie, I-”

“You need to sleep.  Please, (Y/N), don’t make me use a spell on you.”

You froze for a second before a smirk crept onto your face, “You wouldn’t.”

“I-”

“You wouldn’t use a spell on meeeeee-” the smirk grew into a full smile as you let yourself go limp, forcing him to move his hands to support you better and pull you closer to him.  Was that your plan?  Maybe.  Was it part of a second, bigger plan?  Also yes.

“You wanna bet?”

“Sure.”

“I-” and then he went silent.  There was a moment of tension where you just stared into each other’s eyes, holding your breath to see what the other person would do.  Your gaze fell to his lips as his fell to yours.  For that moment, your thoughts began to wander far out of your control.  Douxie’s mind was also running rampant but in a different direction.  You were right, he thought.  He couldn't use magic on you.  As far as he knew, you were a human.  Just a mortal being who crawled their way into his life and stayed there, improving the quality of it greatly.  If there was even the slightest chance that a spell may have negative side effects, which most sleep spells did, he wouldn’t dare risk it, especially not on you.  He sighed, tightening his grip on your waist, “You’re right.”

“What?”  Oop, plan going sideways, PLAN GOING SIDEWAYS!

“I’m- not going to use magic on you,” he helped you to stand, and moved to take a step back before you grabbed his hoodie and pulled him back to you, ignoring the sharp sting in your hand.

“Ok, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, hang on there wizard boy-” you took a moment to pull yourself out of the bathtub entirely, “You can’t give up that easily.”

“Wha-”

“Come onnnnnn, make it fun, make it exciting.  Put a spell on me or whatever, just-” you went quiet for a second, but for once you weren’t distracted.  Just quiet.  You had to face facts.  Your plan had failed, and now you had nothing but the truth.

“(Y/N)?”

“Just make my brain stop.  For just two seconds.”

“What?”

“Please.  I’m running on a motor and I can’t stop myself.  I haven’t slept and I have no choice in the matter.”

“(Y/N)-”

“Look, just, take away my free-will if you have to.  Knock me out, magic or otherwise, I just want five seconds where I’m not on hyperdrive,” you were standing on your own now, though Douxie’s arms were still wrapped around you and you hadn’t let go of his hoodie, “Please.”

The bathroom was silent for a minute.  It took that long for Douxie to process what you’d just said.  You feared, for that moment, that you’d said too much.  You hadn't.  Not to him, anyway.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“Come on,” he said, picking you up, effortlessly sweeping you off your feet.

“Wait, what!?” your voice was slightly more frantic, surprise lacing through your words.

“There’s more than one way to get a person to sleep.”

“Oh-?”

He didn’t respond to your question, instead, he carried you out the door and into what you could only assume was his room.  You had no choice but to wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him for dear life until he set you down on the bed.

“Stay here, okay?  I’m going to make you some tea-”

“Wait!” you stopped him, grabbing his wrist as he turned to leave, “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, my darling,” he sat in front of you on the bed, “You just need to get some sleep, okay?”

“But what about-”

“I’ll cover your shift, you don’t need to worry.”

“I-”

“Just rest, for now, love.  Please.”

“Ok,” your words were a whisper, something that Douxie could only just hear.  The next thing though, he didn’t have to strain to hear at all, “Yeah.  I meant what I said earlier, by the way.  You’re so pretty, it isn’t fair.”

He laughed at this, at you, finally seeing some humour in your shenanigans.  He relaxed now knowing that you may actually get some much-needed rest.  He stood, kissing your forehead and tracing the side of your face with a hand, rough from guitar strings and 900 years of sweeping.

“Worry not, love, you’re pretty too.”

“Hey, wait-”

“Don’t ‘hey, wait,’ me.  You are.  Now lie down, I’ll be back in a second.”

A smile crept onto your face as you followed orders.  Your emo wizard man thought you were pretty.  And he cared enough about you to let you sleep during work hours, in his home, no less.  You let yourself relax into the bed, grinning once again.  It smelled like him, like thyme and peppermint, lemongrass and sleep.  It was nice, comforting.  You could only vaguely think of Douxie as your brain finally took a fuckin breather.  It was everything you needed, honestly.

By the time Douxie came back, you were long gone, lost to your dreams and finally asleep.  He sighed a smile that matched yours on his face.  He placed the cup of tea on the bedside table before grabbing a blanket out of his closet and draping it over you.  You looked so peaceful.  Good.  You deserved some peace every now and then.

He took the cup and left you, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes as he did.  After making his exit, he placed the still-hot tea on the counter, disregarding it for now before returning to the bookshop.

“How are they?”  his familiar asked, tail twisting in concern.

He gave a final fond look at the door before returning to business, “They’re just resting.”  And for once, you were.

[loveinterestcastiel]

erosion

I wrote some endverse fic based on a @lateral-org post asking a FANTASTIC question:

When/why/how did endverse! cas get rid of the trenchcoat and what was dean's reaction?

Rated M. Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence. Word Count: 4.1k

tagged some mutuals and people I thought might be interested in this under the cut, if you want tagged in this/future fic or want me to remove your tag dm me!

erosion

Of course, Sam said yes in Detroit. So why dream about that? He lived it every day. The redundancy was irritating at best.

Where the fuck did I leave my boots last night? Cas cursed under his breath and embarked on a thorough search of their cabin, the coarse words warm and familiar on his tongue as he yanked on his socks. I really am starting to sound like Dean.

Dean’s boots were already gone, his gun and thigh holster absent too. He’d left his green jacket behind, tossed carelessly aside last night and hidden under the trenchcoat on the floor at the foot of their bed. He slipped his coat on over his clothes and shoved Dean’s jacket into their pack- he knew he’d want it later, even if it was just for the drive back. He slipped on the worn coat, habit- he’d stopped wasting Grace on its upkeep a while ago, but it was still important. It felt like comfort, in some strange way, so he kept on wearing it despite the worn-through elbows or the stubborn little bloodstained spot on the hem.

He’d dreamed of Detroit, last night, again. He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to dreaming, as unsettling and involuntary as it was. It felt like the unfair hijacking of an otherwise enjoyable human bodily function, and he resented it altogether. He snagged a bit of weed from his stash and tucked it in next to his flask, sweeping out the cabin door and into the frigid morning sunshine, giving Chuck a lazy wave as he ambled past his cabin to the truck lot, kicking little pebbles across the packed dirt at imaginary targets with a super-human precision that grated strangely on him today.

“Big run today,” Chuck said with a tentative smile, his hands clasping a chipped mug filled to the brim with his ridiculously indulgent tea, wafting a cascade of steam out over the railing of his cabin porch before dissipating into the air. “Don’t forget the perishables if you can get at them, ok? We’re seriously low on-”

“Toilet paper, milk, cheese, butter,” he interrupted, “plus sugar, flour, canned fruit, hygiene products, toothpaste, toilet paper, coffee, meat if we can get it, .35 and 9mm ammunition, mechanical oil, gasoline, propane, rubbing alcohol, gauze, surgical tape, toilet paper, paracetamol, and oh, toilet paper again!” Cas recited dryly, rolling his eyes. “You gave us a written list yesterday. Twice. Couldn’t fuck up blackout drunk.”

Chuck snorted, shaking his head in self-deprecation. “Just doing my job, Cas.”

“We’ll do ours,” he called over his shoulder, continuing down the central path briskly. “We’ve all got our part to play.”

What was it Lucifer had said to Dean, that night Zachariah stole him out from under Cas’s nose and threw him into the future? No matter what choices you make, whatever details you alter… we will always end up here.

It certainly seemed like he was right. Most days, it seemed like they were all hurtling towards the exact same place Dean had caught a wretched glimpse of, once, with the brakes slashed and emergency failsafes offline, and no indicator that the impossible choices they were making every day were anything but inevitable. He knew that Dean still had nightmares about his ending, but he didn’t know much else about Dean’s nightmares anymore but what little snippets he could garner from what Dean mumbled and cried out in his sleep. He’d lost the ability to dreamwalk a while back. Three nights after the Croatoan virus wiped out Fort Worth and they were forced to fall back, he tried to enter Dean’s sleep to watch his dreams in the dubious refuge of a closed down Motel 6 off of interstate 70 as they ran west, to see if there was some piece of information they’d missed, some new choice they could make one day that could change the path they were on.

It simply hadn’t worked. He mourned the loss of one more skill in the darkness of their room that night as Dean slept uneasily in the bed beside him, one more thing which, in its absence, made him ever more useless to Dean, much like the loss of his ability to time travel, or to smite their enemies with ease. Flight was becoming difficult by the day, and he knew in some part of his mind that his wings would be the next to go, and he would be grounded, permanently, on Earth and not in Heaven.

And so it goes.

Anyway, it wasn’t like they had much of a choice about anything these days. Once Michael had taken Adam, they lost their only trump card. Heaven didn’t need Dean anymore, but Hell desperately needed Sam. It was a shame, it really was, that Sam’s gamble hadn’t paid off.

It was a miracle Lucifer let Dean go. He had brushed him off as a non-threat. Unimportant on a cosmic scale, however important Dean was to the vessel. To Sam. So Dean walked out of that run down building alive, and he was the most beautiful, terrible thing Cas had ever seen. His soul shone brighter than even an archangel’s grace in his rage and trembled with the fierce sharpness of grief, and it was glorious, righteous.

Godly.

Even as Cas’s memories softened and blurred, becoming tinged with a mortal haze, that memory of Dean remained in a sparkling clarity. He could imagine no life, no moldable version of the past, in which he did not choose Dean. From the very first moment his soul had reached back to cling to Cas’s Grace in Hell, Cas had fallen, was falling, would fall, for Dean. It was inevitable, his love. They were inevitable. They fell together in the time after Detroit, into battle, into bed, and into cosmic obscurity. Soon, too soon, their losses began to outnumber their wins, and they had to make more and more certain regrettable sacrifices just to stay alive. Cas was used to collateral damage, far more than Dean was, but whatever the other humans in their ragged camp believed of him, he wasn’t unaffected. Just the opposite, in fact. He had never felt anything before, not for billions of years, an incomprehensible existence of light and intent and obedience and war, and now he felt everything. That- not Dean’s disappointment, or the slow loss of his Grace, or his Father’s unyielding silence- was undoubtedly the worst part of becoming something like human.

Some days were better than others, of course. Some days he took precious little blue or white or green pills, all different shapes and sizes and he felt good. Numb, pleased, far away. Quiet. Others, fewer than the days he had his pills, he took shrooms, LSD. Molly, twice. Often he took nothing at all, craving the wicked pain and emptiness it created in him as his sobriety enhanced the ache his dwindling Grace left behind, needing the punishment to feel real before forcing himself into a tumultuous sleep after days spent horribly awake with half a bottle of rotgut sloshing in his stomach. He still liked joints, rolled meticulously, their verdant smoke curling up deliciously in his lungs and setting him up on a lovely little metaphorical cloud the best, and then, they were even more so lovely when he shared them with Dean. There was nothing, nothing like passing it between them, before transitioning into trading hit after hit between their mouths, brushing against his soft lips, breathing his air, watching Dean’s cheeks flush a stunning pink and holding tight to his deep golden hair, dragging him down into slow, languid kisses that desire deepened and turned into a precious sort of holy consumption as the high hit its stride in them both.

He was sober today, mostly, just riding out the last of some gorgeous pink pill from a nearly full bottle he’d just scavenged out a few days before. It made him feel floaty, focused, fearless. He felt almost like he did two years ago, before his reeducation stint in Heaven. Angelic. It was nice. He’d take another, later. Maybe Dean would want to take one, too, and they could fuck high out under the stars on their quilt again like they did last October and feel like the real Gods of this stupid little planet, on top of the world, on top of Dean, cradled in the soft embrace of his thighs, and worship each other.

Take that, brothers. Castiel smiled viciously at the sky. You’ll never fuck God like I have.

Standing impatiently among their motley caravan of vehicles in the sickly yellow light of a midwestern April morning sun, his back to Cas, Dean’s silhouette and the flashing imprint of his soul- the only one Cas could still see clearly- caramelized into a sweet union of tangible and not that pulled at his stomach and swept him into the siren song of Dean’s being and woke up the hungry creature that lived in his heart and craved DeanDeanDeanDean.

No one else was there yet, probably all still dicking around at the camp mess and drinking shitty chicory. His feet fell silently on the earth, leaving behind the sound of the universe and the vibrant humming of Dean’s soul- and oh, he hoped he could always hear that symphony, even when all the rest of his powers had run dry.

Just as he reached out to take Dean by the shoulder and turn him around, Dean moved with a sudden burst of energy, like a coiled snake striking out. He whirled around and met Cas’s eyes, took him by the neck and the waist, and kissed him. His lips moved with a gentleness that contradicted the intensity of the grip of his cold-fingered hands as they worked their way into his hair, wormed their way under his trenchcoat, and touched the bare skin they found where the hem of his t-shirt met his jeans. He met the kiss eagerly, licking teasingly at the seam of his lips, biting down gently and coaxing Dean into opening his mouth. He pushed Dean back until his back hit the nearest rusted army-green truck with a small thudding noise, pressing himself up against Dean and tugging on his hips so they were pressed flush against each other, the contact sending and electric thrill racing up his spine.

“Cas,” Dean gasped out at the sensation of their bodies meeting, the air punched out of his lungs.

“Mmm, morning,” Cas murmured between kisses. “You’re out here early.” Dean’s neck was uncharacteristically bare above the neck of his rough brown sweater, creamy and invitingly unmarked. Cas indulged in the impulse to change that, working his way over the tender skin, sucking and biting until a bruise began to bloom below the junction of Dean’s jaw and neck, worrying it with his teeth until it was a deep reddish-purple.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Dean whispered, letting his head fall back against the truck window, baring his throat further, and closed his eyes. He seemed almost happy, today. He seemed to light up in the lead-up to their more dangerous missions, and Cas didn’t want to think about that right now. Didn’t want to ruin the moment. “Didn’t want to wake you up,” Dean elaborated.

“I appreciate that.” Satisfied with the rather outrageous hickey he’d created on Dean’s neck, Cas pressed it with one last kiss. “How’d you know I was behind you?” he asked, pressing their foreheads together and slowly grinding their hips together lazily, just breathing Dean in.

“Felt you,” Dean said, bringing their lips together again briefly. “Always can.” One more little kiss.

“Dean, last night, when you couldn’t sleep, I dreamed again about Detroit-” Cas started to confess feverishly, almost against his will, Dean stiffening up at his words in his arms, and was interrupted by the sound of people approaching, footsteps, voices, and an earsplitting wolf-whistle directed at their compromising position.

Dean’s face shuttered immediately, and Cas felt every scrap of easy bliss flee his body.

He pulled back with more than a little reluctance, his stomach twisting as a fakely jovial grin tugged at the corners of his lips, and clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Let’s go, fearless leader. We’ve got a mission to run, don’t you know?”

“Don’t start with that fearless leader shit,” Dean said tightly, rolling his eyes away from Castiel’s face and fixing on a point somewhere over Cas’s shoulder. “Who’s driving?”

“Looks like Cas is driving,” Joe called out mischievously.

Risa smacked him in the chest. “Get in the truck, idiot.” She turned her gaze to Dean, an odd glint in her eye. It felt sticky and wrong in his core but Cas stamped the feeling down. “Group brief over the radio on the way?” she asked.

“Yeah, at 8,” Dean said, sliding into his unshakeable militaristic persona with a firm nod. “Should be fairly straightforward in and out supply grab. Intel says the Croats cleared out of Roanoke a couple days ago, left major infrastructure and commerce sites relatively untouched. It’s a good thing too,” he added, “we were getting spread a little thin with most goods.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

———————————————————————

It was not, in fact, easy.

Their intel was wrong, so wrong, and Cas didn’t know how the fuck it happened, but they were fine, they were almost finished, closing up the trucks in the alley behind the supermarket and waiting for Dean and Trish to return from sweeping the perimeter, when out of what seemed like thin air and with no more than a broken shout for warning there were more Croats swarming them than he’d ever seen in one place before, and Joe and Maya and Kris were dead, and Dean was nowhere to be found.

The Croats had the remaining seven pinned down against the main truck, snarling and screeching and reeking of blood and gore, strips of flesh and clothing that once adorned their companions now dangling from their teeth. Their single-minded need for the endless consumption of human flesh and that it was currently being denied drove them to a terrifying frenzy, but the hunters were starting to push back, and the Croat numbers were thinning slowly but surely. Cas thought he saw Allen get bitten, but next he glanced at him he looked fine. He’d need to check on that if they made it out alive. He resigned himself quickly to the idea of killing the man before they got back to Chitaqua- Allen was a nice enough man, quick-witted and skilled with a blade and a loom, but nothing was worth bringing a Croat back to camp. He owed it to the man as a human being to grant him a swift death if he’d been infected before Allen himself could realize it. A shot to the back of the head, unawares, had to be better than a clumsy battle and inevitable stab to the chest (Cas knew he would always have the upper hand against a human, even when he had fallen in full) with fear in his heart.

He buried his angel blade to hilt in yet another Croat’s throat, yanking it out and ducking out of the way of the spray of blood that followed in a well-practiced motion uncanny in its speed. They would win this one.

But still no Dean.

Cas felt a bubbly panic rise up in his chest through the haze of battle as it became clear to him that Dean wasn’t coming back. Even from the other side of the building or from inside, there was no way that Dean had not heard the commotion of such a large fight.

Something was stopping Dean from coming back to him.

“Risa,” he shouted over the din to the woman on his left. “Dean and Trish-”

“I know,” she interjected tersely, hacking the head off of a skeletally thin Croat in a tattered suit. “Retrieval? We’ve got this handled here as long as this all the fucking bastards around.”

“I’m going in,” Cas said quickly, slicing at a particularly bold (stupid) Croat trying to charge him. It crumpled to the ground and twitched once, and was still. Some of its companions fell on the body ravenously, and were subsequently cut down in turn as they began to tear at the corpse. “Leave as soon as you’re able; I’ve got the keys to the main truck. Cover your right,” he warned Risa, and, sensing an opportunity in the parting sea of Croats before him, ran.

He was through the service doors of the building before the Croat hoard could even begin to respond to his escape, and their noises were quickly muffled by the service door as it locked automatically behind him, leaving him in relative quiet.

There were a surprising number of crates and boxes remaining in the storage and unloading zones, either empty or nearly so, and he quickly ascertained the area was, apart from himself, devoid of life or anything of interest to the camp.

Cas.

Dean's sudden prayer hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut.

Aisle... his mental voice trailed off for a second into indistinct sounds, colors, and waves of pain. Aisle seven. It's bad.

Cas shoved through the access door into the freezers, and out into the store with a recklessness he would have been ashamed of had he been so terrified.

He turned down aisle seven and skidded to a halt, frozen at the sight that greeted him, and tried to make sense of the hideously macabre tableau.

Trish's decapitated body lay the furthest from him, her ribcage torn open, her organs spilling over her arms and scattered in pieces over the floor. Three dead Croats, all headshots, around her remains. Then a bloody lake on the cheap linoleum tile, thick and viscous and so, so red, two more dead Croats, clearly more hard-won victories, their arms hacked at, heads partially removed, and nearly blocking the last body from view, wedged up against the shelves and bloody as it was.

"Cas," Dean wheezed, lifting his head laboriously to meet his eyes, blood bubbling up between his lips and staining them. "Cas, I'm so sorry-"

"No, no, don't talk like that," Cas said desperately, kneeling beside Dean. He took their pack of his back with shaking hands and shoved his angel blade somewhere inside. "We can fix this. You'll be okay."

"Cas-"

"You will!" he said, too loudly and startling himself.

"My ribs," Dean panted out in pained little gasps. "Broken. There's something in my back." He twitched minutely as if to show Cas the problem and immediately convulsed involuntarily at the pain the movement caused him, a horrible rattling moan in his throat. "My leg. Right one. Broken too." His jaw was clenched so tightly it was a miracle he could speak at all through the teeth-grinding pain he was in.

"Okay," Cas said faintly.

Cas...

Oh, he hated feeling. Sometimes he thought it made him useless. He missed being cold. Brutal, uncaring about pain or death. But this was Dean, and he'd never actually been particularly good at being a machine, anyway. "Okay. Dean, I need to see your back," he warned him, before moving him as gently as he could and angling his body so that he could get an unobstructed view of his back.

There was a crude metal stake wedged just an inch to the left of his second and third thoracic vertebrae, rusted, twisted and cruel-looking.

"Dean, I- I have to try to heal you," he said slowly, knowing that Dean wouldn't want him to be wasteful with his Grace. But this was beyond what human field medicine could help.

Dean didn't respond. He'd fallen unconscious.

"Oh no, no, no, baby," he babbled under his breath, trying to figure out the best way to extract the bar of metal. "Hold on," he muttered, grasping the stake firmly and bracing Dean's body against his own, trying to avoid fucking his broken ribs up more.

"Father, please, if you're still here, if you're listening, if you care at all," he begged, "help me."

Of course, his Father didn't answer. Gritting his teeth, Cas yanked out the stake and tossed it aside, immediately covering the wound with his hand. He summoned his Grace together and it responded sluggishly, but his hand was glowing and Dean's back was knitting back together.

As the skin merged into a puckered, raw-looking pink scar, Cas dropped his hand away from the wound and found himself utterly breathless, gasping for air and drained.

Dean was still unconscious.

He leaned Dean back up against the shelving and took a moment to figure out what to do next. Dean was still dying. He was still in danger. He couldn't be moved, nor could they stay put. He quickly opened up their pack and realized in horror that all the medical supplies were with Risa and AJ on the trucks and so, so far away by now.

He yanked his coat off with a twinge of regret. It was bloodied and worn and what he was about to do with it felt like a milestone he was loathe to reach.

He shredded it into long, wide strips, not letting himself think of how it was the last piece of Jimmy Novak, or how he had repaid the man's sacrifice by being party to the end of the world they both wanted to protect, or how Claire Novak had stopped praying to him weeks ago, now. He got on with the job, this is just a job, I can fix this-

He managed to wrap Dean's leg up decently tight, straight and stiff, but he had quickly discovered it was broken in several places. He didn't know what he could do for Dean's ribs, and he felt, as if from a distance, how Dean's breath was coming shallower and shallower, and he made his choice.

He laid his left hand on Dean's broken leg, as gently as he could. Leaning forward, he smoothed the wispy little baby hairs he loved to tease Dean about back, off his sweaty, pained, precious face, and, placing his right hand on Dean's crushed ribs, near his heart, touched their foreheads together. He looked at Dean's soul, his shining, beautiful (fading) soul and knew.

"I love you," Cas whispered, his voice wrecked. With that finally said, he grabbed his exhausted, weary Grace, and though it fought him and slipped through his grasp, he got hold of it and he pushed everything he could, everything he was into his hands, into Dean.

When he had done it, when he had drained himself down to mists and vapors, and had saved Dean, he gathered him in his arms, and carried him back to the truck on numb feet, leaving the scraps of Jimmy's coat behind in aisle seven.

When the truck broke down thirty miles from Chitaqua, and their radio too, he turned to Dean, pulling on a blue-ish jacket they'd picked up earlier during the run. It fit well.

"It's a good look for you," Dean said gruffly, staring at Cas with an expression he could not recognize. There was blood still smeared on his cheekbone, he noted absently.

"Oh. Yes. Well, thank you," Cas answered, adjusting the sleeves.

Dean tugged at the tan fabric strips on his leg, wincing at the pressure.

"You did a good job, Cas. With this fabric splint from your coat-"

"I know you won't be able to walk it," Cas said quietly, unable to meet his eyes even as he interrupted him. "I did what I could, but you'll be weak for days. You need time."

"You can leave me, Cas," Dean said, a strange, pinched guilt-pain-tenderness on his face. "You can come back for me."

"No," Cas said, smiling, and choking, and took Dean's cheek in the palm of his hand with a terrible ache rising in his throat. "I can't."

April 19th, 2012, under the peak of the Lyrids meteor showers, Cas flew for the last time, right up to the gates of the camp.

When they landed, a millisecond and millennia later, his wings burned away into nothingness in a wave of electric, minty-white pain that forced him to the ground. In the aftermath, panting and sweating and shaking in Dean's arms and clutching at his handprint on Dean's shoulder, he realized his Grace, or what was left of it, anyway, had consolidated into a bright little ball in his chest. Like a soul.

The realization was followed by another. Despite his earlier conviction that it would one day be lost to him, he could still see Dean's soul- behind his teeth, in his chest, radiant like a halo around his head, and worth, a million times over, and a million again, falling for.

Tagged:

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[sfb123]

Sapere Aude - Part 4

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks

I introduce one original character in this chapter, all characters belong to Pixelberry.

Catch Up Here

Series Description: I developed a theory of what I think will happen in TRH Book 4, and I was encouraged by some very lovely people to turn my theory into a fic, so here it is. Basically, Riley is recruited to join the Via Imperii, this series will follow her as she joins them to try and bring them down from the inside, and all of the drama and bombshells she learns along the way. Sapere Aude is Latin for “dare to know” it seemed like an appropriate title.

Rating: PG-13 Adult language, allusions to smut (but nothing graphic), discussions of death, conspiracy, blackmail, and other adult themes.

Warning: The Royal Heir Book 3 Spoilers all over the place.

Word Count: 2,954

Notes: My only real note for this one is to make sure you’re sitting down. Other than that, enjoy!

As always, one love to my pre-readers @texaskitten30​ & @txemrn​ (who is also always down to hear my crazy ideas, thanks for fact checking references to books I didn’t read!). And thank you @twinkleallnight​ for my moodboard! 

Tags: My tag list is below. If you would like to be added or removed, just let me know!

“Mommy, I don’t want to go to my lessons today. Can’t we play instead?” Eleanor pouted and threw her shoe across the room.

“Baby girl, you need to go to your lessons, and mommy and daddy have to go to work.” Riley knelt down to her daughter’s level and brought her in for a hug. “I know sometimes lessons can be boring, but I promise if you’re a good girl, we can talk daddy into a game of maze tag when you’re done.”

“Pinky promise?” Eleanor pulled out of the hug with a hopeful look in her eyes. 

Riley lifted her hand, pinky extended, and moved it toward Eleanor. The princess did the same and linked her pinky with her mother’s. They each kissed their thumbs before separating. “Now go get that shoe, Thomas is waiting outside to walk you downstairs.”

Thomas had been a member of the King’s Guard for a few years. He had been mostly tasked with general details, and would regularly accompany the family when they required extra security for their outings. It was during those outings where Liam and Riley saw how good Thomas was with Eleanor. He was able to take the parts of a public life that would seem terrifying for most adults, let alone a five year old, and help her navigate them as if they were a fun game. They saw the care he took for their daughter, as if she were his family, and decided that he would be assigned as her permanent detail. 

As soon as Eleanor saw Thomas standing by the kitchen counter, she let go of her mother’s hand and charged toward him. “Tommy!”

“Good morning, Your Highness.” He grinned and caught Eleanor before she collided with him, lifting her up and spinning her in a circle. 

“Thank you for walking her down this morning Thomas, Liam is dealing with a last minute call in the study, and I still need to finish getting ready.” 

“Of course ma’am, all in a day's work.” He gently placed Eleanor back on the ground, and bowed as Riley approached. 

Riley gave Eleanor a hug and a kiss before Thomas escorted her out of the royal quarters to attend her lessons for the day. Once the door shut, Riley returned to her bedroom to finish getting ready. It had been a week since she had accepted the invitation to join the Via Imperii, and she hadn’t heard anything from them about what that meant, or what to do next. She wasn’t sure if she was now a member, or if there was some kind of hazing or initiation ceremony that she would need to partake in, but she was sure she should have at least heard something by now.

The same day Riley accepted the invitation, Liam met with Bastien and ordered a full sweep of both offices, as well as their private quarters. He made sure to instruct Bastien not to remove anything, just to report on what was found. It was determined that their offices, as well as the study in their home were bugged. Liam was relieved but, after everything sunk in a bit more, he realized they should have been more vigilant before speaking so openly about what Riley had uncovered. 

In addition to the sweep, Liam spoke with Bastien about the Via Imperii, and told him about the conversation he had had with his wife the night before. Bastien said that he had been recruited to join many years ago, but after Jackson Walker’s death, they rescinded the offer. The only information Bastien knew was that they were an international organization whose mission was to keep world leaders in check. When his membership didn’t happen, he tried to do some research on them, to gather intel for Constantine, but he couldn’t find anything. Like they didn’t exist. This was deeply concerning to both of the men, no group that is out to do good works so hard to stay anonymous. 

As Riley stood in her closet picking out her dress for the day, she felt Liam’s arms wrap around her waist. “I don’t want to go to work today. Can’t we just go back to bed?” He trailed light kisses down the side of her neck. 

“Like father, like daughter. I swear, if you throw your shoe across the room, I quit.” Riley chucked as she turned in his arms. 

“You had a hard time getting Eleanor on her way this morning?”

“I had to bribe her. We owe her a game of maze tag when she’s finished for the day.”

“Hmm...that shouldn’t be a problem. But only if I get to play with you alone first.” His kisses turned more heated.

“Liam, we have to get to work. We have a whole kingdom to run.” Riley tried to push him away, but he only pulled her tighter against him. 

Liam’s lips gently brushed her ear as he whispered, “You know, as King and Queen, the more children we have, the more stability it means for the monarchy. If we stay up here and play the games I have in mind, it could technically be considered working.”

Riley was just about to give in when there was a knock on their bedroom door. They both groaned and pressed their foreheads together. 

“I’ll get that. You cool off. You’ve got a meeting with Rashad in 20 minutes.” She kissed him quickly, as she removed herself from his arms and walked away.

Riley opened the door to find Mara on the other side. “Good morning, Your Majesty. Can I have a word with you in your study?”

They entered the study, Riley motioned for Mara to sit as she walked around the desk and sat behind it. Mara didn’t have to say anything for her to know what this was about. She was about to receive her marching orders from the Via Imperii. She was nervous, no question, but telling Liam seemed to lessen the anxiety. She knew she wasn’t alone in this anymore. “What can I help you with, Mara?”

“I have received word back from the Via Imperii, there will be a small gathering this weekend to welcome you into the society. You will be formally inducted at that time.”

“Ok, where will this gathering be held?” 

“I am unable to divulge that information at this time. The only information I can provide you is that you will need to plan to be in Valtoria for the weekend. Leaving the palace Friday morning, you will return on Sunday night. His majesty’s schedule will be arranged so that he is unable to travel with you.”

“And Eleanor? I’m assuming she’s not on the guestlist, but she will need to travel with me.” Even if she was on the guest list, there was no way she was going to bring her daughter anywhere near this mess. 

“Of course, it is fully expected that the princess will be traveling with you. That is why you will be leaving out of Valtoria. The house staff will be on hand to care for her while you are at the event.” Mara stood from her seat before continuing, “We will need to leave for Valtoria by 10AM Friday, the event will begin at 6PM that night.”

Riley walked Mara out of the office and paused before she headed down the hallway to her bedroom. “Thank you Mara, I will make sure Eleanor and I are ready to go. If you’ll excuse me, I need to finish getting ready. Please return to your post, I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

When she returned to the bedroom, she told Liam about the conversation that she had just had with Mara. It was then that Liam filled her in on the phone call he had taken earlier that morning, (not so) coincidentally, it was Francesco inviting Liam to Italy to partake in some trade agreements the same weekend that she would need to be in Valtoria. Of course Liam was concerned for his wife, she was being whisked away to some mystery location, and neither of them had any idea what was going to be done to her. However, he also held a great deal of concern for his daughter, who would be alone in Valtoria. What if their end game was to get Eleanor alone and something were to happen to her? The two most important people in his life, the centers of his universe, were going to be left without him and vulnerable, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Liam suggested one of their friends travel with her to Valtoria, that way someone from their inner circle would be there to protect his family if needed, and there was no question who Liam’s choice would be. He invited Drake to lunch where he asked him to escort Riley and Eleanor to Valtoria for the weekend. The royal couple had agreed not to tell anyone else about the Via Imperii just yet, so Liam simply told Drake that he didn’t want his family traveling alone. Since Riley would frequently invite her friends for ‘slumber parties’ at the palace when Liam had to travel without her, this didn’t seem like a particularly out of character ask, so Drake agreed without hesitation.

On Friday morning, Liam escorted his family to the vehicle waiting out front to take them to Valtoria. Drake was helping the driver load the bags in the back. He nodded at his friends as they came into sight, then quickly went back to what he was doing to allow them some privacy for a goodbye. 

Liam bent down on one knee, so that he was eye-level with his daughter. “Now Eleanor, I trust you are going to be a perfect little Princess for your mother and Uncle Drake while you are in Valtoria?”

“Always daddy!” She placed her small hands on her father’s cheeks and pushed them together. 

Liam chuckled in return, and pulled her into a hug. “Wonderful. I love you angel, I will see you in a few days. Why don’t you go see if Uncle Drake needs some help so that I can say goodbye to mommy?”

As Eleanor ran off to the waiting car, Liam stood and took both of Riley’s hands in his, stroking her knuckles with his thumbs to soothe her. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrified. I don’t like one single thing that is about to happen.” Riley’s voice wavered as the reality of the weekend began to sink in.

“I know it is an intimidating situation. But you, my Queen, are the strongest person I have ever known. I have no doubt that you will be fine.” He pulled her into a tight embrace. “And you will come home, and we will work together to figure out how to stop all of this. Just like we always do.”

Riley sighed deeply into her husband’s chest, trying to memorize this moment to draw back on when she was away from him. “I love you Liam. So much.”

“I love you too, Riley”

They both pulled back, Liam resting one hand on Riley’s cheek, wiping the stray tears away with his thumb.They were not afraid of facing another enemy, they had defeated their fair share in their short time together. However, when they fought those enemies, it was always together. They drew from each other's strengths, and would compensate for each other's weaknesses. This time, Riley would have to do the fighting on her own, while Liam sat alone, waiting. It was similar to the battle they fought during his engagement tour to Madeline, but the stakes were much higher this time around. They both knew this, and it made it that much harder to part ways. 

They leaned in and shared a deep kiss that expressed all of their feelings in that moment. As they pulled away, Liam gave Riley’s hand one final squeeze. She wiped her eyes and got into the car where Drake and Eleanor were waiting for her. Riley watched Liam through the window until he was completely out of view, then she turned and faced the seat in front of her, sniffling a couple of times. 

“Mommy sad?” Eleanor reached across the seats and touched her mother’s hand on the center armrest.

“No baby, mommy’s not sad, I’m just going to miss daddy while we’re gone”

“Jeeze Brooks, get a grip. I know you guys love each other, and are all but surgically fused together, but it’s only a couple of days.” Drake chimed in from behind them. 

“Yea, thanks Drake. Helpful.” She brushed off his comment, the hurt evident in her voice. 

“Hey, I was just joking around. You guys are ok, right?” 

“Yea, we’re fine.” She nodded towards Eleanor to signal that she didn’t want to have a heavy conversation in front of her daughter. “It’s just been a while since we’ve been separated for more than 24 hours. We’ll survive.” I hope. Drake bowed his head in understanding and patted her on the shoulder. The rest of the car ride was mostly silent, Eleanor sleeping for a majority of the drive. 

After settling in, and a quick mother-daughter walk through the gardens, it was time for Riley to leave for the Via Imperii induction event. She went into Eleanor’s playroom to say her goodbyes, making her best effort to hide the emotions that were running rampant inside of her at that moment. There weren’t many people who would have been able to see the worry and panic deep within Riley’s eyes, but Drake wasn’t just anyone. He was one of her best friends, and had been with her through so much already that he could tell that wherever she was going, it was not someplace she wanted to be. And it was much more than the average mother not wanting to leave her daughter. Between that, and how she acted after they left the palace, he knew something serious was going on with his friend. He made a mental note to check in with her tomorrow. 

As her car pulled up to the large estate where the ball would be held, Riley looked out the window, reaching through the recesses of her mind, trying to match it up to one of the pictures in the many history books that she had studied in her journey to become Queen. She knew it looked familiar, but she wasn’t able to place it. “Mara, this place is gorgeous. Where are we?”

“Welcome to House Fierro. This is the Via Imperii’s base of operations in Cordonia”

“Wait, House Fierro as in Hunter Fierro?” Riley had learned about Hunter, he was personally appointed by Queen Kendra Rhys as heir to the throne, and became King-Regent of Cordonia after her assasination.

“Yes ma’am. He was Cordonia’s first Via Imperii member, he donated his family home to them.” As the car came to a stop, Mara exited and walked around to the other side, opening Riley’s door for her. 

Riley entered the estate, paying attention to every last detail, looking for anything worth reporting back to Liam. However, there was nothing that particularly stood out, it looked just like every other fancy party she had attended since she arrived in Cordonia. She made note of the faces she recognized, mostly minor palace staff members, a couple of members of the King’s Guard, including Thomas, Eleanor’s personal guard. Great, they’re still trying to take my daughter away from me. In addition to staff, she also recognized a lot of faces that she knew she’d seen before, but couldn’t place. Aside from the members she was already aware of, there was only one other notable person she recognized. Donnie Brine. A local paparazzo that had been on hand to cover all of the Royal events and functions. He was no Ana De Luca, but he was definitely popular with the people. 

As she walked around the ballroom, she shook hands, made pleasantries with those she knew, and was introduced to those she didn’t. She would ask leading questions to try to understand people’s roles, or try to get some information of their plan for her, without coming off as too eager to gather intel. She didn’t get much information, it seemed this was merely a mixer, not so much an official ‘plan the fall of King Liam’ meeting.

Later in the evening, Riley stood in a back corner with Mara, evaluating the scene in front of her. “This seems like an awfully small group for a major worldwide organization.” She whispered to her bodyguard. She really expected a better turnout, considering the build up she was fed. 

“This is just the Cordonian chapter, Your Majesty. Each territory occupied by the Via Imperii has its own chapter, with its own leader. Rest assured, there are many more members around the world.”

“So who is the Cordonian leader?” Riley tried to act casual, she didn’t want to come off like she was just phishing for information, which is exactly what she was doing. 

Mara nodded to the front of the room, where a woman started to approach the podium. “That’s her, she’s about to give the opening remarks.”

Riley’s eyes followed Mara’s as she watched the older woman step up to the podium and clear her throat. She could have sworn that this woman looked familiar, maybe she had seen her around the palace. Perhaps their paths had crossed during one of her Royal appearances. Then it hit her, she knew where she had seen that face before. She immediately got dizzy and felt her legs start to give out underneath her.

Queen Eleanor?

Then the room went dark.

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