#i am on the far left and i have some notes for the centre

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Are we pretending that politicians just do things out of the goodness of their hearts without being prodded by voters, or do we also want to thank the "far left" for not shutting up about this and correctly stating that railroad workers need sick days?

It "stopped trending" because the government ordered them back to work and wouldn't let them strike. Protests are meant to be disruptive and get attention for this very reason. If you deny the right to protest, a lot of people who don't have a personal stake in the matter stop listening and shut up. Don't pretend this apparent disinterest wasn't engineered from the top down. It is not just railroad workers whom they are trying to bludgeon into silence.

Do you honestly think anyone, even that progressive golden boy Sanders (who is mentioned in the linked article), would've kept working on this if they didn't think it would get them political points? The railroad workers never stopped fighting. And we need to pat Biden on the back for helping to throw them a freakin' bone?

Okay. Thank you for doing your fucking job, after you were forced to, now get back to work.

biden 2024 - making things work

[freeuselandonorris]

love ur point about the gender of it all!!! it’s one thing i wish i saw a little more of with landoscar, obviously alwaysagirl!fic is always lovely but there is something to be said about exploring gender/gendered language with them amab as well

this is not a prompt/request really (unless you want it to be 😈) i just wanted to set this thought free from my brain. i myself lack gender almost entirely so writing it does not come naturally to me lol, but if anyone else has any thoughts to contribute pls do!!!

hi anon, thank you so much for this message, i couldn’t agree more!! i am increasingly wild for all forms of genderfuck where lando is concerned.

i know you said this doesn’t have to be a prompt but i couldn’t resist bashing out this little scenario for it in my notes app lmao. thank you for the inspiration!

(i also have a max f/lando WIP which i need to go back to that explores feminisation far more explicitly and disgustingly than this 🫡)

“What’s this?” Oscar says, picking up the slim tube from Lando’s bedside table. It’s pink and shimmery, with a gold lid.

Lando flops back to the bed next to him, T-shirt riding up as he stretches. “Lip thing. Gloss. Some girl left it here last week.”

Oscar rolls his eyes and unscrews the lid, sniffing cautiously. It smells sweet, a bit like marzipan. “You can’t just call her ‘some girl’ when you’ve had sex with her.”

They talk about it sometimes, while they’re having sex. What Lando’s been up to with the girls he meets at clubs and on Raya, or what Oscar’s been doing with Lily if he’s seen her. Oscar’s not quite sure why, but Lando seems to like it, describing his pussy-eating technique or asking Oscar about fingering. Oscar’s not great at talking about that kind of thing, but Lando never seems to mind when he stutters and stumbles over his words.

“What’s the point,” Lando says, and leans over to take the tube of gloss from him. “You don’t know her anyway.” He pulls the wand free of the tube with a slightly obscene slick pop, inspecting the glob of pink on the tip off the applicator. “She was hot, though. Reckon I’d suit this?”

It’s such a non sequitur it takes Oscar’s brain a second to catch up. Lando’s staring at him with a slightly guarded expression.

He looks at Lando’s mouth. It’s a very nice mouth. Shapely, with a full soft bottom lip and a curve to his top lip. He’s clean shaven again, pretty and delicate.

“Yeah,” Oscar says honestly. “You could probably pull it off.”

Lando smirks, and lifts the applicator to his mouth, smearing it with gloss. There’s no finesse to it; another swipe and there’s shiny pink all over his Cupid’s bow, well outside the boundary of his top lip. He looks a bit like a kid who’s been sucking on an ice lolly.

“You’re making a right mess of that,” Oscar says.

Lando pouts, but it doesn’t last longer than a second when Oscar licks his thumb, brings it up to Lando’s mouth to neaten up the edges. He smooths the tip of his thumb around the skin, wiping it clean.

“Here,” Oscar says, softly, and takes the tube of gloss from Lando’s hand. “Let me.”

Lando’s eyes close when Oscar touches the lipgloss wand to the centre of his bottom lip, smoothing the gloss carefully along each contour until his whole mouth is pink and shimmering.

“Go like this,” Oscar says. Lando’s eyes flicker open, and Oscar presses his lips together to demonstrate, the way he’s seen his sisters do. Lando copies him, rubbing his lips together to distribute the gloss and parting them with a smack.

“Do I look pretty?” he asks, blinking up at Oscar.

“You do,” Oscar says, because it’s true. Even though his body ripples with muscle and he’s only just shaved off the beard. Underneath it all, Oscar’s always thought he was pretty.

He’s half-expecting Lando to roll his eyes and squawk and laugh, but instead he takes a shuddering breath and blinks hard, the way he sometimes does when his contact lenses are drying out.

“Like a girl?” Lando asks, quieter now. He doesn’t quite meet Oscar’s eyes as he says it.

Oscar hesitates, unsure which answer Lando’s looking for.

Lando licks his lips, frowning slightly at the taste. Then he bites down, sharp little teeth digging into the glossy flesh.

“Yeah,” Oscar says, mentally crossing his fingers. “Pretty like a girl.”

Lando’s eyelids flicker. His lips part, and he leans in close, so close Oscar can smell the sweetness of the gloss.

“What kind of girl am I?” he says, coy. “A good one or a bad one?”

He likes it, Oscar realises. Relief washes through him, mixed with something else that twists his gut with desire.

Oscar screws the cap back onto the gloss and tosses it back onto the bedside table with a clatter. Then he pushes his thumb between Lando’s sticky lips, right up to the webbing. Lando’s cheeks hollow automatically, tongue hot and wet as it curls around Oscar’s thumb.

Lando, his good girl, with his wicked mouth smeared with gloss and thick cock tenting his shorts. He can see the appeal.

“Oh, I think you’re a very bad girl right now,” he says, watching the corners of Lando’s mouth curl, pleased. He hooks his thumb around Lando’s teeth, pulling downwards until Lando gets the hint and drops forward to his hands and knees, pressing his cheek to Oscar’s thigh. “But I’m sure you can improve with practice.”

[chitty-chitty-bang-bang-bang]

“Corpse Groom pt. 2” (Viago x reader)

[part 1]

Requested by @froggoofthrones

Word count: 2,889

Age restriction: 16+ (vulgar language)

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Self Imagery issues/Insecurity, slight crack, happy end (sorta)

Synopsis: Even though you were technically banned from ever seeing Viago, the matter that made you break the silence is no joke and he needs to be warned about it.

Author’s note: The focus here is kind of less on romance and more on the plot (that is a bit cliche), but I’m still happy with how it turned out. It’s the longest oneshot I’ve written so far and it was very fun to write, so thank you for the request!

_____________________________________________

The air was chilly, despite it being the middle of June. Dark gloomy streets were lit up by dim lamps, making faint shadows form on the muddy gray pavement. Unenthusiastic and dull were the steps of many tired people returning from work in the centre of Wellington at this late hour. You walked down the same street, matching everyone’s lack of spring in their step, looking around slowly and trying to examine each and every single person passing by. What if maybe, just maybe, one of them happened to be Viago?

Three months passed since you last talked to him. You saw him once in late April, when he was out on the town with Deacon and Vladislav. Watching him from afar was a bit sobering. He seemed happy. Way happier, than you were, which scared you way more than you’ll ever admit. Viago seemed completely fine. Of course, why wouldn’t he be? He’s immortal, he’s smart, he’s pretty. He can probably get anyone he wants, if he wants them hard enough. And you? You were just you? A human.

You shook your head from side to side, as if trying to displace those unpleasant reflections on your own life. This called for a drink. It’s Friday after all, you could allow yourself to unwind once in a while. Sighing, you turned the corner into a small Pub very ironically named “Dracula”. The place was a bit rundown, but what Pub wasn’t? You took a seat at the counter and asked for a Jim Bim.

Tranquility was surprisingly one of the main qualities of this place. Aside from you, the staff and a group of random people whispering back and forth at the table in the corner, there was nobody. The quiet atmosphere calmed you down and simultaneously made you uncomfortable, because silence inevitably left you alone with your thoughts. Thankfully, it wasn’t for long.

“Hello there, you came for the Mosquito Collectors assembly?” A woman from the group, that was mentioned earlier, came up to you.

“Hey, Uhm… what?” You tilted your head.

“The Mosquito Collectors Club assembly. You’re here for that?” She repeated patiently with a bright smile.

“No.”

She looked you up and down, then sighed in disappointment. “Okay then, have a nice evening.” The woman turned around to leave.

“Wait!” She turned back again. “What is this club?”

“Oh, you’ve never heard of us?”

“No, not really. Am I supposed to?”

“You can come and see.” Her grin reappeared, wider than before.

Frankly, you wanted to go. Mosquito Collectors Club seemed so wacky. Talking to these people was either about to be the most fun you ever had or the most dull and awkward interaction you can imagine. Naturally, you preferred the company of some entomology nerds, than being alone. So you stood up, took your drink and followed her to the table.

“Guys, we have someone new interested in the club.” She said and pointed at you. The others turned their attention to you as well.

“So you hate mosquitos too, huh?” One person asked you.

“Uhh… Yeah, they are pretty annoying to be honest.” You shrugged.

“Oh, annoying is an understatement.” A man on the left said.

“Don’t you feel disgusted by them? Don’t you absolutely despise creatures vile enough to… drink human blood.” A woman in the center of the table questioned.

“I already said it. I don’t really like mosquitos.”

“Well, you see…” The woman, who led you to the table gently patted your shoulder. “…We’re not only talking about mosquitos. There are other creatures. Much more dangerous, but with the same bloodthirsty tendencies. You know who I’m talking about.”

“Vampires.” A breath hitched in your throat. There was no way.

“Yes, vampires. Vampires, who kill and keep killing our closets ones. How can Wellington be tolerant to these creatures, who have no respect for us?”

“That’s why we’re taking matters into our own hands. We’re vampire slayers, you see. And we can teach you to be one too.” You turned to the men at the table again. “What do you say?”

Vampire slayers. You thought that this problem would never arise after Petyr’s tragic death. Yet, here they were in the flesh. What if they hurt Nick, Vlad, Deacon or Viago? Maybe it was best to join them and quietly sabotage their plans from the inside?

This felt stupid. Why should you be protecting the guys, who are hundreds of years old? Surely, they don’t need the help of some scrawny human. They must know how to deal with situations like that. But do they, though? Because last time a vampire slayer found them, somebody died very tragically. They might be old, but not all knowing. They needed you just this one time.

“Yes, I would like that.” You responded after a few seconds of thinking.

The club members unanimously happily congratulated you on joining them and immediately started giving you the rap of what they do, how they do it and what are their plans for the future.

It’s been more than a month since you’ve joined the Mosquito Collectors. They turned out to not be the worst people. Sure, they were terrifyingly violent and suspiciously good at driving stakes through the hearts of silicone dummies. But most of them, had someone very close to them killed by a vampire. Be it a relative, a friend, a partner and even one man’s daughter. You felt really bad for messing with them. They were like some kind of avengers, fighting for what others didn’t understand.

While dating Viago, you pushed back all the thoughts about him killing humans into the back of your mind. Because he was so sweet and nice to you, that you didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that he literally needs human blood to survive. You didn’t want to think about jars of blood in their fridge. You didn’t want to think about the corpses buried in their yard. You didn’t want to think about the crimson stains he had on the majority of his clothes.

And yet, here you were, with people who had to suffer the consequences firsthand.

The worst part is that their next affair was raiding a certain vampire residence in the Northern Wellington suburbs. The same address you visited so often just a few months ago. Apparently they weren’t the best at keeping vampirism a secret. Your worst fear came true. They all were in grave danger.

It was around 3am, when you were called into the same “Dracula” bar for an emergency meeting. They told you to bring all your weapons, like crucifixes, stakes and so on with you, which made you all the more nervous about their plans. Everyone was already sitting at the table, so you quickly grabbed a chair and joined them, feeling the tense atmosphere. Your leader Cassie looked at you, then started speaking.

“Now that everyone’s here, let’s discuss this. Initially, we planned to attack on August 13th, which is next Friday…” That’s why you thought you had a whole week to tell vampires about this and you were going to do it tomorrow. You even prepared a whole speech, because you imagined it will be hard to make them listen to you after all this happened. “…But the plans changed, because Marvin over here has to leave the town for that day. So we decided to do it today, as the sun goes down. We can’t risk losing any more time. Who knows how often these things feed. We have to put an end to this.”

The club members cheered, their spirits were evidently up and ready to kick some vampire ass, but your heart shrunk in absolute terror. This was not good. This rapid change of plans… It’s not good. You had to come up with a plan of your own and fast.

“Okay, let’s polish our strategy, before we make a move.” One of the members started, but you interrupted him.

“I’m sorry, can I leave for like… five minutes? I have to take my medicine and I… uhh… I left it in my car.”

“Yeah, sure. Be back soon.” They nodded and you sprinted out of the bar and to the nearest bus stop, taking the first bus to the suburbs.

You rushed there as fast as you possibly could, considering you weren’t the one driving the bus. Once you exited the vehicle, you started running like your whole life depended on it. Your lungs burnt and your legs cramped, but you had to tell them, before the night is through. If something ever happened to them, you wouldn’t forgive yourself.

As your hand reached the front door, you started banging on it loudly and frantically.

“Deacon, open the door, please!” You heard the familiar German accent say. “Thank you!”

The door swung open to reveal Deacon’s already annoyed look. But when he saw that it was you, who was knocking his face soured even more and he immediately tried to close the door back, but you put your boot in the way, to make it stay open.

“Deacon! Stop acting like a child! This is important!” You struggled in the fight for the doorknob, as the young vampire kept trying to shut the door on you. “Come on!”

“We banned you from coming here, mortal!” He hissed.

“Vampire slayers are planning to kill you, morons!” You yelled in final desperation, as you realised that you’re losing this ‘door fight’.

Deacon suddenly let the door open and Vladislav’s head popped from the staircase. Seems you were a bit too loud with your statements.

“Repeat that?” Brücke stepped back.

“There is…” you panted slightly from running and battling at the door. “There is a group of vampire slayers in Wellington, who are planning on raiding your house as soon as the sun goes up. They are really skilled, I’m not joking. You guys need to leave this house right now. Go to Boogie Wonderland or crash at Jackie’s place or mine, I don’t care. Just don’t stay here, I beg you…”

“How do you know that?” Vlad descended to the first floor.

“I accidentally met them at the bar and they told me all this stuff, I…” You collected yourself. “I know, you don’t want to trust me. You don’t have to. But this is really serious, I would never lie about this.”

You looked behind their backs at the two gleaming eyes watching your interaction from the shadows in the hallway. You wondered if you should greet him or let it be. You shook off both thoughts and continued talking.

“It’s four am. They will attack at five, so they are probably already on the way, ‘cause getting here takes a while.” You mumbled.

“Then the whole thing about running away wouldn’t really work, would it?” Deacon shrugged.

“I mean, we could try. I don’t know if staying here would do anything for you, guys.”

“Okay, then we need a plan.” Viago finally appeared from the shadows, briefly meeting your gaze, then immediately looking away.

It’s been almost half an hour and no working plan came. You had dumb ideas of pretending to be dead, killing the slayers instead, leaving them warning signs and other ideas, that were half-baked to say the least. So many powers and yet so little clue how to use it in defence against professionals. This sucked in the most literal way possible.

So you did the only reasonable thing: blew out all the candles in the house, closed the windows and turned off the lights, then hid in the basement. Might seem cowardly, but it’s really not. It’s called survival instinct and vampires had a good grasp on it. If they didn’t, they would probably not stay alive for hundreds of years.

The basement was cold and dusty. Bones and rotting flesh accentuated the disgustingly dirty floor, that you found yourself sitting on. The four of you sat in silence, closely listening to every little noise that came from upstairs. You didn’t know, if it was instinctive or not, but when the sound of a broke window on the first floor reached your ears, Viago moved a bit closer to you.

“This isn’t how I wanted to die…” you whispered.

“Why would you die? It’s not like they can burn you with a crucifix.” Viago answered even less audibly.

“No, but they can stab me with a sharp wooden stake, you know? Humans are not immune to this shit. Plus, I betrayed those guys and they are unhinged lunatics. If they find me, I’m pretty sure they’ll kill me too.” You sighed and silence fell again. There were distant sounds of doors being opened and furniture turned over. “Viago, I’m sorry if I made you feel, like I wasn’t taking our relationship seriously.” He turned to you and even in the dark lighting, you saw his eyes widen. “I’m just not ready for marriage. It’s a big step. Too big for me right now, but… I love you and I really want to be with you and see how it goes. Would you mind… trying again? If we make it out alive, that is.”

Before you could fully finish, his cold lips met yours and you found yourself melting under his soft and gentle caressing of your cheek. He pulled away and left one last little peck, before quietly giggling to himself.

“If this is how I die, maybe it’s not so bad.” He held your hand.

“It’s all great and I’m happy for you, but can you not do this shit now? Even the rats in our basement feel uncomfortable.” Deacon grumbled.

“Right…” you shut up. “Wait… I have an idea. Listen here.” You leaned in and started explaining your very simple, but working scheme.

Upstairs, the whole house was turned inside out. Closets opened, with all the stuff scattered on the floor, the fridge partially taken apart, their caskets stood open, their books on the old carpets. They searched every corner and didn’t find a single vampire, like they planned. Mosquito Collectors were about to go into the basement, when you climbed out of it.

“So, did you find anything, guys?” You casually said, dusting off your pants.

“No… How come you are here? We thought you left.” Cassie said.

“Oh, no way. I thought we were going separately.” You shrugged.

“We literally had a minivan rented out. Okay, whatever. Did you find anything?”

“Not a soul. The basement is empty, so is the attic. Found a few cool books in their library though. They probably left a while ago, because the place seems slovenly.”

“Hmm… You sure the basement is empty?”

“Yeah, yeah. Checked it several times. You don’t have to-“ She walked right past you.

“Oh, I do have to.” Cassandra went downstairs into the cellar.

She lit up a battery powered flashlight and started to examine the dark room. Aside from some creepy remains on the floor and a bunch of rats, shivering from cold in the corner, there was absolutely nothing to see. Empty. She returned upstairs.

“Fine, whatever. Sorry guys, this raid was unsuccessful. But that’s just our first step! Next time we will get those bloodsuckers. Let’s go home.” They all headed for the door, but you stayed. “Are you going, [reader]?”

“Oh, it’s okay, go on without me. I want to take a few pictures for my blog. It will take a while.”

“Well… sun is already up, so I guess you’re safe. Don’t take too long though. Precautions, precautions, precautions.” She pointed her finger at you and you nodded back. “Bye, [reader].”

“Bye, bye!” You waved at the rest as they left the house one by one. When you saw their car drive away, you quickly returned to the basement. “All clear!” You smiled and leaned down to pick up the three rats and hide them in the inside pockets of your jacket.

Going to the second floor, you first put Deacon into his closet, quickly closing the lid to avoid sunlight. You heard a little thud of him turning back into his human form. Then you went into Vlad’s room, closed the blinds tightly and let him go as well. Finally, you made your way downstairs into Viago’s room.

It was a mess. Probably one of the rooms that took the worst damage. You could imagine how upset he is, since neatness is the thing that your dandy is very keen on. You shut the embroidered curtains and gently placed the mouse in the big coffin. It went up in a cloud of smoke and sun transformed into the lovely German you know.

He looked at you with his big brown eyes, that you swore had their own galaxy inside, and smiled. Smiled so affectionately, you felt like there was no four month break in your relationship.

“I’m sorry for rushing you. I just… I guess I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. It’s funny how after all these years I keep acting on impulses.” He chuckled sheepishly.

“Can I sleep with you today? I didn’t sleep through night whatsoever…”

Viago moved, leaving enough space for you to fit in perfectly. You perched inside it and enveloped your limbs around his lanky body. He carefully closed the lid and let the peaceful darkness pass you by.

[thenerdofthegroup]

Analysing the Ballad of the Witches Road and I wanted to point out something. If others have figured this out then… I might be slow and just was dumbfounded by how beautiful Agatha was but here we go. The lyrics:

“Gather sisters far who water, earth and air darkest hour wake thy power, Earthly and Divine”

So this is slightly piggybacking on @trickofthelights blog (with your amazing Coven collage) but this is directly referencing the women in the coven. Later in the song it mentions ‘Familiar by thy side’ which is Billy Teen and this is purely the witches.

Agatha gathers a coven made of Alice (Fire- we see her associated with fire and red/orange a lot in the trailer), Jennifer (Water- we see her try and be drowned and she definitely fits personality wise) and Lilia (Air- we see her floating in the beautiful shot and she just gives ‘air’ vibes… so yeah we’ll go with that) to help her on her journey. The ‘far’ may reference the corners of the world they come from (Alice is linked to Homg Kong through her mother, Lilia is Sicilian).

The next line is more of a prophesy, it’s linking Agatha (divine) and Rio (Earthly) separately in being able to awaken agatha’s powers. I think this is telling us that at the end Rio will be absolutely crutial in getting agatha’s magic back. Some think it’s in a bad way, some think it’s in a good way, no one can really say. She is such an up and down character, but everything we have gotten leads us to the conclusion that she is obsessed with Agatha. Even looking back at the trailer, whenever she isn’t able to take the piss out of a situation or isn’t the centre of Agatha’s attention, she’s bored. That’s my interpretation anyway, proof here:

(i just think this photo is cute)

ANYWAY, the separation of them in the song tells us that those two are much closer and more intertwined than the others. I think that the other witches (probably won't die because I actually want to see them all together at the end, don't shoot me I know that's an unpopular opinion) will come of the road and the main three of the series, Agatha Rio and Billy will be left.

Short analysis whilst I am now on page 42 on my dissecting Agatha evidence document that I will never show anyone out of embarrassment if everything is wrong. But I am making theories every day. Only the ones I love and don't think have a chance of being bollocks do I share.

Also this is what I call them now “The Earthly and Divine” as you could probably tell by my fic title. But I’m trying to stay objective in these theory things because some people are getting quite violent over ships and shipping culture. The internet is a scary place and I don’t ever want to interact long on here because some of y’all are actually crazy and I cannot understand it…

Anyway, thanks to anyone who actually reads these theories, this was done at midnight because I can't sleep. Today your gift for reading this is this observation: The flower Rio plays with in the photo above is in most of the show (note, in the airport clips, in the solo posing that we can see because it is filmed atrociously I'm positive she's holding the same flower):

Right after this disco scene she gives it to Agatha trust I'm Jac Shaeffer-

[greenandsorrow]

What once was.

the secret history fanfic

"One likes to think there's something in it, that old platitude amor vincit omnia. But if I've learned one thing in my short sad life, it is that that particular platitude is a lie. Love doesn't conquer everything. And whoever thinks it does is a fool."

I'm a fool... Richard was right. Love has the power to conquer many things, it can make the shy act brave and the brave act shy, but it cannot conquer death. I used to think Henry could not be conquered by neither love or death. I such was a fool.

Author's note ����

This story will be very self indulgent and maybe not for everyone! I am aware that the characters of the book aren't meant to be romanticised and I'm also aware of all the elitism and pretense that's portrayed in the book, but I still love it. If you love it too, you'll excuse me, I know it.🏛️🍂☕

No Bacchanal will take place in this fic. The characters will still be messed up, but not guilty of murder. Richard won't be the narrator. Another mention, this is Henry centred!

The Secret History left a big impression on me when I first read it (I've read it three times so far) because: I) I'm greek, live in Greece & speak greek, II) during high school I had to study ancient greek and latin to death III) I have a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.

I hope you'll like my attempt at inserting a new character. Obviously, this isn't even trying to compare to Donna Tart's exquisite talent, it's just fanfiction.

That's just an introduction. I'm a bit insecure about writing something I aspire to be a bit more "serious", especially when it comes to my use of the English language, but it's fine I guess.

The title is basically "What once was" by Her's.

My OC, Rita, is definitely my shameless self insert. I didn't want to make her flawless, without any negative traits. I also wanted to explore the contradiction between a raw, almost bohemian person against Henry's perfectionistic and almost non-human at times personality. Rita is genuine, she is simple but in a complicated way (like all of us). She shares the same passion of the ancient world with her classmates, but not in their flamboyant manner. In a way it's her heritage, Plato, Homer & the twelve Gods of Olympus, but she embraces the fact in a grounded way, not in an obsessive one.

Just like the title is inspired by a song, so is Henry & Rita's backstory. The childhood I'll be referring to is inspired by Taylor Swift's song "seven". You don't have to be a Swiftie to enjoy this fic, but do listen to the song. It describes the purity of childhood friendships. Childhood friends that get separated for years only to find each other by chance (or fate) is all the information you need for now.

Warnings; possibility of smut/ nsfw content, mentions of childhood trauma and abandonment, triggering themes in general, physical injuries, mental issues, self harm, homophobic people from the 80's, some cute moments that might be out of character for the gang, stereotypes that I don't resign with but are part of the plot, dark themes that might have to do with death, pov changes

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[changingplumbob]

Woods Household: Chapter 2, Part 7

We spend some time with the voice in Samir's head.

CW: Low level sim spice. Content Warning Guide

Carrying on from last chapter, Samir has a voice in his head now that he's a werewolf. When it "speaks" to him, it will be in italics. When he answers back, just in his head, it will be bold.

When Samir finished his run he swung by the rec centre to switch the laundry over to the dryer. He’d just finished when Reece returned from campus for the day. Reece was rather shocked at Samir’s appearance. The glow he saw earlier may have been a trick of the mind but now it seemed like the red light was paired with a fiery glow from his partner’s eyes. Pushing it to the back of his mind as a likely headache symptom from a fast paced lecture he embraced Samir who sent him to do homework while the werewolf continued searching books for lore.

Reece sat out the back and reviewed the notes he did in class. It was like Keira had said, logical. Flourishing off some answers he heard the beep of the dryer. He went inside but when he opened it the clothes still felt damp. Holding his breath and hoping not to start a fire he sent the dryer on another cycle. He went back to his board right beside the dryer so that if anything caught flame he would be able to react.

Outside Samir felt the wolf within him stir, forcing him to his knees and shifting him. Growling he pushed himself back up, feeling his view become tinged with red.

Cute partner you got yourself. Shut up. I’d really like to take him to bed. Bet I could make him cum faster than you. But you are me… aren’t you? And I’ve already- Am I you? That is the million dollar question. Now, shall we go track down a killer. No! Why not? Are you scared? I’m not ready. I’d hurt myself. What’s wrong with dying trying? It would hurt Reece. Now get… out of… my HEAD!

Samir let lose a violent howl that caused some snow to fall of the branches of nearby trees. Clutching his head he felt that he had turned back in to his human form. The wolf was gone for now. Yeah he should talk to people who could explain...

Collecting Reece and the dried laundry he headed home. Reece had work to do on his presentations, so Samir left him to it in the spare room and turned his attention to the piece of bone he found earlier. It seemed to be a jaw that could fit on to the top part of the skull he had found ages ago. He remembered what Kristopher said about his eyes developing. Focusing he writes down what he can see on the pieces, part of the time his hand seems to move by itself.

Reece: Can I have a favour please boss

Samir: Huh? What’s up blondie

Reece: I finished collecting all that info for my presentations and I think my brain has turned to mush

Samir: Beautiful brain like yours couldn’t

Reece: I was hoping a little, or a lot, of you in me might put the pep back in my step? I still need to do my homework

Samir: *chuckles* Work, work, work

After their fun Reece planted one of the chrysanthemums inside, hoping the grafting wouldn’t be far off. Samir went back to the tunnels. He ran across a strong lockbox but it was wedged under too much debris to try shifting. Although he never clapped eyes on the wolf who had attacked him down here before he did feel like he was being watched.

Heading home Samir spotted Reece’s mum at their door and invited her in.

Samir: Blondie, your mum is here

Kayleigh: Hi ya honey

Reece: Hmm? Oh hi mum

Kayleigh: You busy studying

Reece: Basically

Samir left to go do some carving and Kayleigh waited until he was out of earshot. Well, it was human earshot.

Kayleigh: So tell me, when can I start planning a wedding

Reece: What are you talking about?

Kayleigh: You’ve been together, what? Four years

Reece: Yeah and?

Kayleigh: Oh honey you don’t have to get married if you don’t want to. But you know… some grandkids would be nice

Reece: Watcher! Keira has already said she's thinking of it, we don't all need to reproduce at once. Mum, I’m trying to study

Kayleigh: Yes but with my income I can support you. You don’t need to go to university

Reece: Maybe not, but mum I want to. I enjoy learning, using my brain.

Kayleigh: Hmm… Would you at least let me increase your allowance so you can expand this house

Reece: Mum! I’m capable of doing things myself

Outside Samir can hear the whole conversation and can feel Reece’s anxiety increasing. Time to swoop in and be distracting. What should- oh well there was one thing that was bound to distract her. Squaring his shoulders he goes back inside.

Samir: Kayleigh? Reece and I have been wanting to tell you...

Kayleigh: Have you impregnated him already

Reece: *wishing the ground would swallow him* MUM

Samir: No. Probably could if I tried though. I’m a werewolf

Kayleigh: Three sentences ! That's a- you’re a werewolf? But... they’re fictional

She looks at Reece in confusion.

Reece: He is a werewolf mum. They exist…

A silence descends and Samir can feel Reece’s joy that the spotlight is off his choices coupled with worry about how Samir was doing. Samir didn't like talking to anyone but Reece but he could do it. He'd do whatever he needed to look after Reece.

Samir: I made a sculpture for you... and Harvey

Kayleigh: Oh, thank you. So… werewolf… have you always been…

Reece: No not always but he is now

Kayleigh: And you are still happy together

Samir: Being with Reece is the best part of my life

Kayleigh: Well then who cares what species you are! Thanks for telling me. Can I tell your dad? He’ll have so many questions!

Reece convinces her the best thing to do is leave and brainstorm a list of questions with Harvey.

Reece: I am so sorry, she must have eaten the wrong kind of mushroom or been working with strong paints or-

Samir silences him with a kiss. Sometimes humans are just weird.

Outside the moon rises high, illuminating everything below.

Reece: I guess this means we won’t be sleeping together tonight

Samir: Not with this moon. Get in our room and lock it properly. I’ll see you in the morning *kisses* I love you

Reece: I love you to

Samir heads for the bathroom to try cool down. The full moon can’t be ignored though and he is forced to shift.

Did you miss me already. Hardly, you’re in my head all the time. Yeah but you ignore me unless it’s like this. Because I like to appear sane. Boring. So, who we going to hunt? No one. I am going to look for artifacts. I need to learn more about being a werewolf.

Samir stomps outside, the voice in his head continuing to protest.

I pissed you off talking about the boy toy didn’t I. I love him. Of course we do. That's exactly why we need to track down who killed your parents. No. Kristopher says I’m not ready. He’s a weakling who wouldn’t say boo to a goose. We need to find the killer and- NO. I just want answers. I’m not a killer. But maybe I am. What do you mean? Oh now you’re quiet. Fantastic.

Samir sniffs around for things buried beneath the ground, he finds a few of them to.

He continues through the night with the voice in his head providing unhelpful commentary every so often.

We should take him in the snow, that'd get him moaning. What? The hot, the cold, the sensations would be incredible. I’m not risking my partner getting frostbite. I suppose you’re right. Would be a shame for his pixel parts to fall off. No one asked you. I know you’ve thought about it. I’m in here remember. So what? When someone is turned on they think a lot of things, doesn’t mean they intend to follow through with them all.

Finally the moon loosens its grip and Samir can bring himself to shift back to being human. The voice is still there, obviously, but it’s quieter. Easier to ignore.

Previous ... Next

[morri-draws]

Gale x Reader - 'Some Time Alone, Together'

Summary:

You plan some time alone with Gale to finally relax and bathe after so long in the Shadowlands, and to make passionate love

Rating: Explicit

TAGS: porn no plot, self-conscious reader, passionate sex, nipple-licking, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, blow-jobs

Words: 4,099 | Ao3

(Note: This is my first time writing smut so please go easy on me lol)

After weeks in the Shadowlands, the relief you feel when you finally arrive in the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate is immeasurable. Even with protection against the Shadow Curse, just being surrounded by it seemed to eat at you, leaving you feeling a sense of hopelessness, as if you’d never be able to leave. But at last, you’re out of that dark and dreadful place, the sun is shining, and you are so close to finally being able to have a bath.

Once you and your party arrive at Wyrm’s Crossing and make camp, you take a little trip by yourself while the others relax, to a famous pleasure house called Sharess’ Caress. However, you’re not going there to let off steam, but to arrange something for the next day for you and someone special.

Over your time travelling together, you and Gale have become close. In fact, one night during your time in the Shadowlands, he declared his love for you, and you confessed yours for him, before making love under the wizard’s conjured starry sky, a pocket of beauty in an otherwise perilous land.

You talk over your plans with the Mamzell of the establishment and pay her upfront, before heading back to camp, where you have some dinner before heading to bed.

~

The next morning after breakfast, you talk with each of your companions in camp, encouraging them to have a day for themselves to relax and do what they choose. Once you’ve spoken to everyone else, you make your way over to Gale and ask him to head out, just the two of you.

You walk together from your camp at the abandoned homestead in Rivington and over the bridge to Wyrm’s Crossing. When you turn off the path to enter Sharess’ Caress, Gale’s expression becomes unsure. You look to the Mamzell behind the bar, who nods with a smile and speaks discreetly to another employee, who then leaves the bar and heads upstairs. You pull Gale aside to a vacant corner.

“I know what you must be thinking,” You say. “But I promise, the only person I am here to be with is you,”

His shoulders relax slightly, showing some relief, but you can tell he’s still not entirely certain.

“Let’s head upstairs,” You give a reassuring smile and take his hand in yours, heading to the back of the bar area and turning left up the stairs.

You lead him through a passage and up another flight of stairs until you step out onto a balcony. To the left is a set of double doors, surrounded by intertwining vines, rich green leaves blanketing the walls.

You approach the door and knock. The door swings open almost immediately, revealing a beautiful wood elf, her skin almost the same shade as the vine leaves, her hair the colour of cherry blossoms. She is scantily clothed in green and black lingerie.

“The two lovers,” She greets you and Gale with a smile, her voice silky.

She steps aside so you may enter. You step onto the shiny marble floor of the antechamber, multi-coloured tiles forming a mandala pattern in the centre. At the far end of the room is a large rectangular bath framed by vines and ferns.

“Before I leave you to it,” The wood elf says. “Are you sure you do not wish me stay? I offer many services beyond the erotic,”

“Thank you, but no. It shall be just the two of us,”

You look to Gale for confirmation and he nods and clears his throat. “Yes, thank you for preparing the room,”

The elf smiles and steps out, gently closing the doors behind her. Gale looks about the room, taking in his surroundings.

“You’ve picked a pretty place,” He says. “Very atmospheric,”

“Gale,” You approach him, slipping your hands around his. “It might be a silly idea after all, I just thought… well we’ve been on the road so long. Self-care hasn’t exactly been a priority. I know you said you like my… musk… as you so eloquently put it, but I personally can’t wait to have a bath,”

Gale smiles and shakes his head. “Not one of my best lines of conversation,” He chuckles. “In my defence, you are one of the only people who makes me nervous and when I am nervous, I can say… less than intelligent things. I hope I didn’t offend you?”

“Well… I wasn’t really offended, just a bit… self-conscious, and being in the Shadowlands so long… well I wouldn’t want to touch any water there with a ten-foot pole. But now we’re here, in civilisation, no shadow curse… just me and you in a beautiful room with a very enticing bath,”

He glances over at the crystal-clear water. “It does look very inviting,” His voice softens, taking on the sultry tone you heard during your encounter under the moonlight.

The encounter where despite the act that was performed, the two of you remained almost completely clothed. But even though it was you who planned this moment here and now, you had put aside your anxieties leading up to it, hoping that when the time came, it would all melt away. But now Gale gazes at you, his eyes soft but wanting, the bath waiting for occupants.

“Shall we?” Gale quirks a brow, a hand hovering over one of the clasps on his robe.

You nod, and he undoes the first, second and third clasp, slipping off his outer robe so he’s in just his undershirt and trousers. He slips off his boots and socks, placing them beside the bath, along with his neatly folded robe, before facing you again. Seeing that you’re in the exact same position as you were before, all garments of clothing remaining on, he steps closer, his eyes searching yours.

“What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, embarrassed, turning from his gaze.

“If you’ve changed your mind, that’s perfectly alright,” Gale says softly. “We can take turns in the bath in privacy. Or not do this at all,”

You meet his gaze again. “I do want this. It’s just… I thought I’d be alright once I got here,”

“What do you mean, my love?”

“It’s just… well, you’ve never seen me without… not wearing…” You sigh. “You’ve never seen me nude,”

“To be fair, you’ve never seen me either,” He chuckles.

“I… I’m self-conscious,” You hang your head.

He takes your hands in his, eyes locked onto yours. “I hope you know that I love you… all of you,” You lets go of your hands to cup your face. “The whole package. But I understand, I do. So, we don’t need to do this today, alright?”

You close the gap between you, your mouth finding his. You melt into his soft lips, desire flooding through your body.

“But I want to,” You say as you pull back.

Gale smiles. “Alright, what if… I look away while you get undressed and… you get in the water first?”

You think it over for a moment and nod. “Okay,”

“And you’re sure this is what you want?”

“It is,”

Gale plants a kiss on your cheek and steps back, turning to climb the shallow steps up to the attached bedchamber. He stands facing away from you and begins to remove his shirt, so you turn away to attend to your own clothing. Untucking your shirt from your breeches, you pull it over your head and drop it on the floor next to you. You sit on the edge of the bath on the tiled ledge and slip off your boots and socks, before standing again to remove your pants. You glance up to the bedchamber where Gale has his back turned, now wearing only his drawers.

Focusing back on yourself, you remove your bra and undies, adding them to the pile of clothes, and step up on to the bath’s ledge, dipping your toes into the water. The temperature is perfect, so you step into the bath and lower yourself into the water, until only your head and the top of your shoulders remain unsubmerged. You quickly give your armpits and intimate places a quick scrub before calling out.

“Gale… I’m ready,”

You inspect a series of bottles placed on the edge of the bath, filled with various bath gels, shampoos and lotions, as Gale comes into your peripheral. Given that he didn’t watch you undress, you give him the same curtesy, only hearing him slip off his underwear before he steps into the bath. You feel a foolish now for not considering that he too might be nervous. Perhaps that’s why he kept his clothes on during your last encounter?

He lets out a low, satisfied groan as he lowers into the water and you look his way as his sits on the inner ledge of the bath. You edge closer to him until you’re sitting beside him, your arms brushing against each other’s. He turns his head, his eyes finding yours.

“How lucky I am,” He says with one of his smiles that you love so much.

He extends his arm, inviting you to cuddle up to him. You oblige, moving closer and resting your head against his shoulder. You gently trace the markings on his chest, the symbol appearing warped through the rippling water. You move your head up, intending to plant a kiss on his cheek, when you notice something.

“There’s dried blood in your hair,” You say.

He wrinkles his nose in disgust and dips his head under the water, running his hands through his hair, before resurfacing with a gasp.

“Is it gone?” He asks, water drops clinging to his lashes.

“How about we give it a proper clean to be certain?” You reach for one of the shampoo bottles.

Gale inspects the bottle in your hand. “I have that same shampoo at home,”

You smile. “Good. Imagine you’re at home then, without a care in the world,”

You open the bottle, pour some of the shampoo in the palm of your hand and reach for his hair.

“You don’t need to do that,” He says.

“Let me look after you,”

You beckon him closer and he gives in, turning his back to you. You begin to lather the shampoo through his hair, massaging his scalp with your fingers.

 “That feels… really good,” He sighs. “But I can’t imagine I’m at home, since I don’t get this there,”

“Well, maybe that’ll change,” You murmur in his ear.

You plant a soft kiss on the curve between his neck and shoulder and continue to work the shampoo into his hair, the floral scent absolutely divine. Once his hair is completely covered, you dip your own head underwater for a moment before getting more shampoo from the bottle, rubbing it through your hair. Once you’ve done that, you return your attention to Gale, brushing your fingers down the back of his neck and along his shoulders. You sit up on your knees to reach around him, placing a hand along his jawline and gently turning his face toward you, planting a gentle kiss on his already parted lips. He opens his eyes, his gaze flicking down to your now exposed chest. He turns his body to face you, snaking one hand up to your neck, his fingers lightly brushing on the sensitive skin there as he brings his face closer, nuzzling into the other side of your neck. At first, he kisses you softly, then hungrily, his teeth nipping at your skin. He plants a kiss on your collarbone and continues down, leaving a trail of kisses until his lips find your nipple. He strokes it with his tongue, your nipple hardening instantly. His lips enclose around it and suck it lightly. A quiet moan escapes you as arousal shoots through you and your body goes slack for a moment, your knee slipping off the side of the step’s edge. You plunge into the water, your vision blurring, bubbles coming out of your nose. Two arms wrap around you, pulling you upwards. You gasp as your face breaks the surface, and come face to face with Gale, his brow creased with concern.

“Are you alright?” He asks, wet hair clinging to his face.

You chuckle. “I’m fine Gale, I just slipped,”

He lets go of you, moving back a step. His gaze moves downward and you realise that your body is exposed, the water only covering your legs.

“You are exquisite,” Gale says in barely more than a whisper.

Embarrassed, you move to cover yourself, but Gale takes your hands in his.

“You do not need to hide from me, my love. My desire for you is stronger than it has ever been. I don’t know who or what made you feel self-conscious about the way you look, but whoever could balk at the beauty in front of me is a fool indeed,”

You wrap your arms around him, pulling his wet body into yours, skin slick against each other, his hardness pressed against your leg.

“Shall we take this to the bedchamber?” He murmurs in your ear, voice rich with lust.

“Yes please,”

Gale slips an arm around your back and hooks the other behind your knees, picking you up. He carries you to the edge of the bath and steps out carefully, kissing your forehead as he brings you up the steps and to the bed in the next room. He places you down gently on one side of the bed and kneels in front of you, your thighs encasing him. His lips crash into yours, his kiss hungry, his tongue exploring your mouth. You slide a hand up to his jaw, a thumb stroking along his beard, while your other hand rakes through his wet hair. He moans softly into your mouth, the sound sending hotness to your lower regions, slick pooling between your folds.

He sucks your lower lip before pulling away, his own lips pink and glistening. His eyes are dark, brown irises almost completely eclipsed by his dilated pupils. He places a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back firmly but carefully, until your body’s reclined, weight resting on your elbows. He cups one of your breasts between his thumb and index finger, taking your nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the hardened bud as he gently squeezes. He does the same to the other side, a string of spit stretching from his mouth as he pulls away. He trails kisses down your belly until he reaches the crevice where your torso and legs meet. His lips brush against the sensitive skin, causing your legs to twitch. The corners of his lips upturn in a satisfied smile as he progresses down, closer and closer to your folds, until you feel his hot breath against where you want him most. His head dips, tongue finding its mark, flicking across your clit. You let out a small whimper, and he grasps your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the mattress. He strokes his fingers across your inner thighs while his tongue laps at your clit. He trails a finger up your thigh until it hovers around your entrance. He edges closer, his finger dancing around the edge of your entrance, before he plunges inside easily, your slick easing passage. He gets a feel for you with the single digit, his tongue still working you, before adding a second finger. You moan as your back arches and you lift your head to look at Gale, his wet hair hanging in front of his face in dark tendrils. As if he can feel your gaze, he looks up, his dark eyes boring into yours. Your core throbs, yearning for him, more of him, all of him.

“I want you,” You say breathily.

He pulls his mouth away, beard flecked with slick and spit. “Then you shall have me,”

He stands, his hard cock coming into view for a moment before he leans down to give you a wet kiss. He climbs on the bed, as if to be on top of you but you place your hands on his arms and guide him into a laying position. You pose yourself next to him in a semi-reclined position, your head level with his hips, and extend an arm, massaging his upper thigh before curling your fingers around his cock and moving your hand up the length, his skin hot and smooth in your fingers, Gale letting out a quiet sigh as your hand glides up and down. Your core throbs, begging for him, but you resist, wanting Gale to be completely prepared for you.

Dipping your head down, you lick along the sensitive spot on the underside of his cock. You move your tongue around his tip, before taking his cock in your mouth, his hot, slick skin sliding along your lips. You do this a few more times, letting the spit spill from your mouth, completely coating him, before pulling back, inspecting his now glistening length.

Pulling yourself up, you swing a leg over him, his body between your thighs, and reach for his cock underneath you, gently angling it up and lowering yourself onto him until his cock is nestled between your folds. You thrust your hips forward, his length sliding along your swollen clit, shuddering at the sensation. You pull back and thrust forward again, your breath hitching in your throat. Gale grasps your thighs, holding them tight. You tilt your head back and sigh as you bring your hands up to your breasts and play with your nipples between your thumb and index finger. Your hips move faster as you grind against his cock, your arousal flaring. Moving your hands down, you lean forward, cupping Gale’s face, your noses touching.

“Do you want me?” You ask breathily.

“More than anything,” He pants.

You reach down between your legs again and grasp his cock, slick with your saliva and juices, and line it up with your entrance. You allow just the tip inside at first, Gale looking between your legs then up to your face, his eyes wild, and you hold his gaze as you lower yourself onto him, until he’s fully sheathed inside of you, filling you, exactly where you want him, and now he’s there you want to unravel him completely. You rock your hips back until only the very tip of his cock remains inside you, before coming forward again and repeating the movement, hearing a wet popping sound each time the rim of his tip exits and plunges back inside you. His hands snake up to your breasts, massaging them with his thumbs. You lean forward until your breasts almost touch his face, and he takes one in his mouth, sucking and licking.

He pulls back, putting his hands down on the bed beside him to push himself up and scooting back against the bed’s headboard, his length pulling out of you with the movement.

“Are you alright?” You ask.

“Oh, yes,” He says. “I just want to be as close to you as possible,”

He extends a hand to you, inviting you back to him. You take his hand in yours and climb on top of him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and lining up his cock with your entrance again. It slips in easily, your core slick with arousal, and you begin to thrust slowly, your face right next to his, his breath tickling against your ear. He holds you close, his arms wrapped around your back.

“Gale,” You breathe.

“Hmm,’ He responds, moving his hips in rhythm with you.

“I love you,” You whisper. “I love you more than anyone or anything I’ve ever loved before, more than words can describe,”

His entire body shudders, but he says nothing. You pull your face back to inspect his. His eyes glisten with tears.

“Gale?” You become still, panicked.

His shining eyes meet yours and he smiles, the purest smile you’ve seen from him yet.

“You truly mean that, don’t you?” He asks.

“Gale,” You stroke his cheek. “You know I don’t say things I don’t mean,” You smile.

He strokes your cheek with his thumb, eyes wide and full of adoration. “Who would think to be glad of being kidnapped by mindflayers, to be infected with their parasite… but without all that, I never would have met you. I never would have felt a love so pure, I can’t… for once words fail me. I think it would be easier to show you, if I may?”

You nod and he presses his forehead to yours, the parasite in his mind nudging against your own. You open yourself to him, your mind suddenly flooded with emotion as images flash before you. You see through Gale’s eyes, moments you shared together, of you speaking to one another, travelling together, him seeing you taking the lead, making decisions, important decisions, hard decisions. You see yourself sitting at camp, eating by the fire, talking to your companions, laughing, and in your heart, Gale’s heart, you feel such warmth, such admiration. Your mind reels with Gale’s questions and doubts and hopes and finally… acceptance. Acceptance that you love him, that you don’t want anything from him in return but his love. There’s no ulterior motive, no manipulation, just… you.

Your minds disconnect and you’re met with Gale’s eyes, searching yours, yours which are brimming with tears, but not with sadness, but –

“Joy,” Gale whispers. “Is what I feel when you tell me you love me,”

He presses his lips to yours, his hands resting on your thighs as he moves in you again and a gasp escapes you, pleasure flooding through you, the feelings more heightened than before since your heart and mind are full of Gale’s love for you and yours for him. You rake your fingers through his wet hair, your lips still connected, your hips rocking with him. He moves a hand down and finds your clit with his thumb, rubbing small circles on your swollen bud. Your lips break apart for a moment as you shudder at his touch, before crashing together again, his tongue finding yours. Your hips buck as arousal builds, his thumb working you, your breaths becoming short and sharp. You can feel it climbing higher, your crescendo nearing, closer and closer. Your mouth breaks away from his with a moan.

“Gale,” Is all you manage to say, your voice weak.

He wraps his other arm around your back, pulling your body as close as possible, his length reaching further inside you, your breaths becoming faster. He guides your hips with one arm while the other still works you, your thrusts desperate, harder, faster, the promise of your crescendo nearing, flooding through your body until –

A ragged moan escapes as pure ecstasy floods through you, your core quaking and pulsing around Gale’s cock, still inside you. He removes his thumb from your clit and wraps that arm around you as well, holding you tight as your body quivers, your face nestled into his neck. You stay like that until the pulses slow to a near stop and Gale flips you around, your positions now reversed, and kneels in front of you, positioning your thighs on top of his and against his waist. You reach your arms back behind your head and grab the headboard tight as he enters you again, his hands bracing your waist, your breasts bouncing with each of his thrusts. Waterdrops from his wet hair run down his bare chest, leaving shining streaks over the Orb’s mark. His breathing is ragged, his moans audible between the slapping of his hips against your thighs. His moans become louder as he moves inside you faster and faster, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, until he draws back, his cock sliding out of you just in time before he comes, shooting onto your chest, his warm seed coating your breasts and stomach.

He reaches over to the bedside table, grabs a cloth and begins to gently wipe his mess from you.

“Sorry, I should have asked first,” He says.

You let go of the headboard and sit up, taking the cloth from him.

“That’s quite alright,” You smirk, finishing the job.

He lies back on the bed with a contented sigh. You put the cloth aside and lie next to him, resting your head on his shoulder, a hand on his chest.

“I suppose we should bathe again after that,” He chuckles.

“Not yet,” You reply. “Let’s stay here for a while,”

[deadgirlwalking91]

new update - 'thank you for the venom', chapter 5: 'this may never start, i’ll tear us apart, can i be your enemy?'

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter 5 Summary

Peace talks between Adam and Lute don't go quite as planned.

Author's note:

Thanks so much everyone for reading and engaging! I've had some really sweet inboxes this week and so appreciate that you're enjoying TYftV. I've started writing some scenes that happen much later in this fic and I am having so much fun exploring how this relationship evolves!

As always, thanks to my lovely beta @branded-rose for your unwavering support and for indulging all my silly ideas <3

***

Adam and Lute’s Office, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven

9:05am.

He’s late.

Lute scowled and crossed her arms. How very Adam of him. Break into her apartment the night before, walk in on her while she was in the bath, pin her to the ground while she was virtually naked, only to tell her he needed to schedule a meeting for first thing in the morning.

The whole exchange could have been conveyed in a simple text message, and all of this…mess could have been avoided. No water spread through her entire apartment that she spent far too much time cleaning up to prevent the dreaded ‘wet carpet’ smell. No humiliation at being physically overpowered by her boss while she was this close to giving him his own private peep show. No sculling the remainder of her wine straight from the bottle to distract herself from thinking about what had just happened. Not that it worked, anyway.

She’d woken up tired, pissed and with a thumping headache that painkillers didn’t seem to quite remedy. Thankfully, she’d had the smarts to take strap a small knife to her ankle should Adam push his luck during this meeting. Just in case. Sighing, she reached for her stack of paperwork and started sorting through the pile, organising her daily tasks from urgent to optional.

“Gooooooood morning, Dangertits!” Adam boomed obnoxiously as the office door burst open with a resounding ��thud’. Lute bristled innately at the sound of his voice. Not only was he late, but it seemed the crude nickname he’d made up for her the night before had unfortunately stuck. Wonderful.

“You’re late. Call me that again and I’ll chop your dick off, slice it up and hand-feed it back to you from a charcuterie board.” She growled without looking up from her paperwork. Adam let out an irritating tsk before setting something down on her desk loudly.

“Ouch, babe. Is that any way to talk to the guy who just bought you a coffee?” He sank into his own chair, sipping his own drink loudly from a straw before setting it down on a pile of overdue paperwork.

Keeping her head down, Lute’s eyes darted to the paper cup he’d plonked in front of her. She wasn’t buying it. Adam had never bought her a coffee before, and she refused to believe he’d start doing so now out of his own goodwill. “It’s poisoned.”

“It’s not. It’s a peace offering.”

“A pea- a peace offering?” she exclaimed incredulously, sitting up as she looked up at him. The fucker had the smuggest grin on his face as he sat opposite her, hands laced behind the back of his neck, tipping backwards on his chair. Her hand twitched towards the ankle with the knife strapped to it. She could already feel the urge to stab him repeatedly with it. “You broke into my apartment-”

“Objection, you left the front door open for all of Heaven to come on in and enjoy the show.”

“Fuck off, you broke into my apartment – I didn’t invite you in, therefore, you broke in - didn’t think to try knocking on the bathroom door before you opened it – ”

“You left a trail of clothes, like breadcrumbs around your apartment to what I assumed was your bedroom –”

“Oh yeah,” Lute scoffed rolling her eyes. “Like that’s any better. What if I was otherwise occupied?”

Adam let out a mighty laugh, his shoulders shaking as he slapped his desk in mirth. Blood boiling and eyebrow twitching, Lute started inching her fingers down her calf. “Sweetie. I’d bet on my afterlife that there was zero chance that you had a man in your bed last night.”

“Bold of you to assume it could have been a man,” she challenged him, finding the handle of the knife and closing around it. She could feel the situation escalating, and for once she wanted to have the upper hand against her boss. Sure, the paperwork she’d have to fill out if she did stab him would be a bitch, but it would be so worth it.

Adam choked on the sip he’d been taking from his drink. Oh, goodie. Maybe she wouldn’t need the knife after all, and natural selection would take its course. Even better, she’d likely be spared the arduous administrative work because she had nothing to do with it.

“A-ah shit, wasn’t expecting that. You know, you and Vaggie always did give me scissor sister vibes – no judgement from me, personally I think that’s hot as fuck.”

“You’re fucked in the head, you know that right?” Her grip on the handle grew tighter.

“You mentioned it, I just ran with it! Anyways,” he casually waved his free hand in the air, rocking back in his chair. “Drink the damn coffee, Lieutenant.”

“I told you, I’m not. It’s poisoned.”

“Nah, look.” He stood and walked over to her desk, grabbing the cup and taking a quick sip. “See? I’m fine.”

Lute quickly let go of her knife upon his approach and sat up straight. Not taking her eyes off Adam, she pointedly removed the lid of the coffee cup and dropped it in the rubbish bin under her desk. She had no interest in sharing saliva with him. Ever. Even if it was just because they drank from the same cup. Besides, knowing his reputation, who knew what she might catch if she did? He perched himself on the edge of her desk, watching expectantly.

“Can-can you get out of my space, please?” she glared up at him. He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Please? Didn’t think that word was in your vocab, babe.”

“Fine, let me rephrase what I just said a bit more simply so your tiny brain can understand what I’m about to say. Move before you wear this – what even is this?” she sniffed the frothy drink and her stomach churned at the sweetness. “It smells gross.”

“It’s a pumpkin spice latte.”

Lute winced. “Sounds even worse.” She hesitantly took a sip from the cup and an intense hit of sugary cinnamon, cloves and ginger filled her mouth, making her gag with repulsion. She roughly pushed Adam’s leg out of the way so she could split the mouthful into her bin. “Oh my God, that is disgusting.” She shoved the drink in Adam’s direction, wiping her mouth with her free hand. “You have it.”

“Geez, you’re handsy.” Adam took the cup from her and slurped loudly. “I’ll get you something different tomorrow.”

Lute frowned. “I don’t want anything from you tomorrow. Or ever.”

“I told you, babe. It’s a peace offering.”

“I don’t want a peace offering from you. I want to do my job, which you happen to make extremely difficult.” She crossed her arms and glared up at Adam, who was still perched on her desk, a drink in each hand. “For example, right now you’re sitting on the paperwork I need to complete so Sera doesn’t lose it at me. Yesterday you tackled me to the ground for no good reason during training, and don’t even get me started on the rest of the bullshit that happened last night.”

Adam huffed, setting the drinks down on Lute’s desk. “Look, all I wanted to do last night was what I’m doing now – call a truce.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Are you telling me that you would have been willing to hold peace talks while I had you pinned to the floor in nothing but a towel?”

Lute considered this. On one hand – the answer was obviously a resounding no. He’d held the advantage over her, and that shifted the balance of power between them significantly more towards Adam in that moment. On the other hand, however, there could have been the opportunity for her to get dressed, sit down on the couch and talk through their issues like adults. She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

“I could have gotten dressed,” she muttered. “We could have talked things out.”

“Be honest, would you have taken the opportunity to stab me?”

“No.” She lied. Adam raised an eyebrow at her.

“I call bullshit. I can see the knife strapped to your ankle right now.”

Lute bristled. “Yeah, well, can you blame me? After last night I had no idea what I was walking into this morning!”

“You’ve walked into your boss trying to be nice and bringing you a hot beverage.” Adam took another sip from the pumpkin spice latte and frowned at the cup. “Actually, you’re not wrong, this tastes like shit.” He set it down on top of Lute’s paperwork, and she promptly moved it off to the side. He may submit his work to Sera covered in coffee rings, stains and who knows what else, but it didn’t mean that she was going to.

“Is this your idea of an apology, then? You buying me a drink?”

Adam snorted. “Fuck no. I’m not apologising for a thing. Seeing you last night reduced to an incoherent, mostly nude mess was one of the best things I’ve ever witnessed – and in my lifetime, I’ve seen a lot. The drink was just an attempt to make peace talks less hostile, but an apology? No way, babe.” He slid off Lute’s desk and made his way back to his own. “Are you willing to talk, or not?”

Lute exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to reach for her knife again. The way she saw it, she had two options: refuse to talk things through, and her working relationship with Adam would likely remain unchanged - or worse, deteriorate further.

Or, she could hear him out and potentially set some boundaries of her own, which would make her job considerably easier. A better working relationship with Adam could also mean a greater chance of her proposal succeeding, too.

“Alright,” Lute folded her arms and stared at Adam, who was now scrolling through his phone, tongue between his teeth in apparent concentration. Not that she’d ever know what was really hiding beneath that mask of his. “Name your terms.”

“’Kay,” Adam set his phone on the table and laced his fingers behind his head. “Number one – we split training responsibilities equally. Ah – ” he held up a finger as Lute opened her mouth to protest, “Don’t forget, I’ve been running this shit for centuries. Believe it or not, I know what I’m doing.”

“The program has been approved by Sera.” Lute argued, frowning at him. “We can’t go and change it now.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stick to your little plan. I just want to be the one to run the show half the time – after all, this was initially my gig before you got yourself involved.”

“Fine but we run through the plan for fifteen minutes before each session, so we know we’re on the same page.” Lute countered. “Otherwise, there’s every chance you’ll go rogue. Plus, we need to make sure we maintain consistency in the training material so we don’t confuse the rest of the Exorcists.”

“Ten minutes, and you’ve got a deal, babe.”

“Done. Here’s something I’d like changed: no more nicknames. My name is Lute, and that’s how I’d like to be referred to moving forward.”

Adam shook his head solemnly. “No can do. Bad news for you, but I give everybody a nickname, whether they like it or not. Even Sera has one, and she hates it, but doesn’t stop me from using it. You’re not gonna be the exemption, so this one’s a hard no from me.”

Lute puffed her cheeks in frustration. “Are you going to shoot down every request I make?”

“Just the shit ones.”

“Whatever. What about this then – if you need to speak with me after hours, do not let yourself into my apartment. Call me first.”

“Only if you agree to pick up your phone. Next one from me: loosen up a bit, babe. You’re so fucking tense all the time.” Adam leaned forward; elbows folded onto his desk. “You need to chillax.”

“I am relaxed,” Lute retorted, matching his stance. “It’s just a little difficult when I’m dealing with somebody as unpredictable and infuriating as you.”

“You wouldn’t know how to relax if it hit you in the fucking face.”

Lute gritted her teeth. “I was in the middle of relaxing last night before you interrupted me.” She pressed her palms against her forehead in an attempt to ease the pounding against her skull. “Are we done? I have paperwork I need to finish. Preferably in silence.”

“Let’s shake on it.” Adam rose from his desk and walked to the middle point between their two desks. “Truce?”

Lute met him in the middle of the room and glared up into the eyes on the screen of his mask. She hated that he hid behind it, that he used it like some kind of shield between him and the rest of Heaven.

What was he so afraid of that he had to keep himself always masked?

“One more thing. Take the mask off so I know who I’m making a deal with. I’m not shaking hands with somebody who’s face I can’t see.”

For once, Adam was rendered silent. The facial expression on his mask had gone slack, empty. His outstretched hand fell limply to his side, as if he’d suddenly lost all control of it.

“No.” He said flatly.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I’m not taking it off.”

“Why not?” Lute challenged, stepping closer to him. A pleasant warmth started to bloom in her chest. She could feel that finally, the power balance seemed to be shifting back into her favour, and this time she wasn’t going to let it go. Especially if it meant that, even if for a moment it made her the pettier person, he would understand how it felt to be on the receiving end of being taunted.  She pressed on. “Surely the First Man isn’t scared of revealing himself to his lowly second-in-command?”

Again, Adam remained silent and still, neither his expression nor body language giving anything away. She stepped closer again. Though their bodies weren’t touching, Lute felt his body stiffen at her closeness. The warmth that had started in her chest now radiated throughout her entire body, relishing at his obvious discomfort.

“Are you scared, Sir?” she whispered, her mouth twisting into a cruel grin, eyes sparkling with delight at this new discovery. “Scared of what I might think of the real you?”

“I-”

Knock-knock.

“Adam? Lute?” Sera’s voice rang from behind the door. Lute heard Adam exhale sharply, his body visibly relaxing in front of her at the sound of Sera’s voice. She inwardly cursed the High Seraphim’s poor timing. “Can I come in?”

“Don’t think you’re safe. I haven’t finished with you, Sir.” Lute said in a low voice, before walking to the door and opening it for Sera, bowing her head respectfully. “Your Highness. Please come in.”

Sera made her way into the room, brows furrowing slightly at Adam, who was frozen in the middle of the room and was uncharacteristically silent. “Adam. Are you alright?”

“Oh, he’s fine, Your Highness.” Lute beamed at her superior. “We were just having a little heart-to-heart, weren’t we, Sir?”

He nodded, shuffling slowly back to his desk. “Yeah. We were just… chatting.”

“Very well,” Sera nodded and turned to Lute. “How are you feeling, Lieutenant? Are you well enough to lead training today?”

“I’m fine, thank you. Although it’s funny that you ask, I was just discussing with Commander Adam that maybe it’s best if he takes training today.” She raised her eyebrows expectantly at Adam. “Remember, Sir?”

“Uh – yeah. Lute felt given my experience, I should run our boxing session.” He lied, pretending to be immersed in his paperwork. “Which, you know, I should go and set up for.” He rose from his desk, avoiding eye contact with Lute as he made his way to the door.

Lute smirked and crossed her legs in her chair. “Why, yes. Yes, you should, Sir.”

It may not have been breaking and entering, or near-nude wrestling, but Lute believed the ball was firmly back in her court.

She’d discovered that the First Man had a weakness after all. And she wouldn’t rest until she got to the bottom of it.

***

Next time: As tensions run high, Adam remember he's Lute's boss and orders her to do something unexpected.

[saintmurd0ck]

Oh, Rhi. When I saw this, I knew I had to send in a request 😆❤️

And because I'm in such a fluffy mood, could I pretty please have some major fluff with Frank Castle? Maybe a love confession? 🙈

Feel free to ignore, I'm just a fluffball today and Frank needs some love 😍

death and taxes

frank masterlist | sleepover masterlist

awwww lily i am in a mortifyingly fluffy mood and simultaneously yearning for the man that is frank castle... so please rejoice in these thoughts with me. please note the photo is a little misleading cause this thing be angsty (a little) BUT ANYWAY i hope you like it!

frank doesn't know why it's taken him this long to say it. 

he thinks it's partially denial, but like many aspects of his life, there's a thin layer of silt that's settled over this feeling, that causes it to numb, despite the heart loudly pounding in his ribcage in earnest. for you.

he glances at the alarm clock on the bedside table, wincing at the time. it's 4.24 in the morning. he looses a heavy sigh before turning back onto his side, staring intently at the steady rise and fall of your chest, at the blissful expression painted on your face.

the sun is far from rising, moonlight barely drifting past the curtains, but there's an ethereal glow about you. there's a dull ache that spreads in frank's chest, symbiote-like as it snakes outwards, reaching into every shadow-filled nook and cranny within.

it pains him--loving you pains him. it's a sweet kind of agony, one that pairs fitful sleep and tormenting nightmares with the goodness of your soul, the understanding and kindness that seep from your actions into the centre of frank's transgressions. after all, you're the only person left in his life that sees him for who he truly is. 

there are days when he is weary, when his self-loathing echoes above your adoration, when he questions all of what he deserves. he doesn't know if today will be one of those days, where the roaring in his head dulls every other sense about him.

but he knows it's time. it's long overdue. 

and he knows he's got a shot with you. it's a chance of redemption, even if the odds are slim.

frank grits his jaw as the phantom pain spreads, catching stiffly in his joints, in his breathing. this is real, he reminds himself. it's not a nightmare. he moves closer to you, pressing a gentle kiss to your spine, inhaling the scent that's become home to him.

as it does every once in a while, the voice of mario castiglione blossoms in his memory. frank's father. his lilting sicilian accent rings clear. 'when you meet the one, you'll know. you'll know, because the love will be as real as the two things in life that are certain.' frank can still see the two fingers his dad would hold up. 'death, and taxes.'

death and taxes, indeed.

frank chuckles softly, supplementing his father's memory with a new one of his own. "wanted to wait until you were awake to say this, but if i don't do it now, i'll lose my nerve."

he pauses as you stir, mumbling his name, resuming only when he's certain you're fast asleep. "shoulda said it the first time i laid eyes on you, sweetheart. but here we are." 

he nudges himself once more. as real as death and taxes.

"i love you. i sure as hell don't deserve you, but you're here, huh? hell, i'll spend every goddamn day makin' it up to you... to, i dunno, prove myself."

the confession is freeing, easing the weight on his shoulders, one word at a time. frank can't remember the last time he's spoken to anyone with this sort of grace, or vulnerability. it's liberating, and he feels it--mind, body and soul. 

"i love you," he whispers, scooping you into his arms, holding your bodies as close as he can muster. as if the dam has broken, it comes tumbling out; a mantra, a tangible prayer. "i love you, sweetheart."

'i love you i love you i love you,' his spirit sings.

tags {x} @marvelswh0re @murdock-and-the-sea @itwasthereaminuteago @devils-dares @mattmurdocksscars @castlesnchurches @mindidjarin @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @honeyedheartss

tagging some of my frank besties cause i'm so fucking proud of this one

[hongchenzhu]

Saved and too long

Side tracked on my main fic, and the idea of my OC saving Celebrían and her interaction with some of the people of House Elrond. Wrote this for some people to get an understanding of my OC and who she is in my main fic.

side note: there's gonna be some plot holes, cause I haven't finished writing my main fic yet, I'll be rewriting this scenario in the mainfic once I get to it. (OC intro is here)

Hope yalls enjoy it

word count: 1926

(๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✎⋆ ˚｡

Hong Chen has been in this world for a very long time, it wasn’t until recently she settled in a town not far from the borders of Rivendell. The town is near the lake which provides great agriculture for its main source of trade and income, with this being said the people of the town are well acquainted with the Elves and Rivendell as they are the main trading routes.

It was during its early settlement when this town was made, from then until now it has been over 2000 years. That’s right I have been the doctor of this town for 2000 years, I have watched the first group of settlers and now I see their descendants grow up and old.

Today is like most other days, I spent time in the yard of my house that leads into right after the front door. My rooms are built around the yard, and this is where I conduct most of my medical examinations the room to the left is my private bedroom, the room to my right is the kitchen/ medical herb storage room the room directly after the yard is my study/further examination room. My yard is also littered with groups of medical herbs ready to be dehydrated, it is either by placing it upside down and leaving it in a drying and dark place or placed in the furnace. Alongside it is a huge osmanthus tree that has been planted since I settled down.  

As I walked around the yard looking at my herbs, I noticed my athelas stash was significantly lower than my others, I signed, this meant I must leave my home and go into the mountains to find more. Shaking my head I grabbed my hat with my veil over it, putting it on I opened my double very solid wooden door (they also weigh a ton) placing a sign out in front telling those who come that I am out collecting more herbs and set out on my little adventure of finding athelas.

After trotting away on my majestic mare from the borders of Rivendell and my town I found a good stash of athelas. Then I felt it, the painful cries of souls, screaming and howling begging to be released accompanying those cries is the sense of foul begins, begins that should be killed to free the tortuous soul from their bodies.

Allowing my horse to roam freely around the area I followed the sense, it did not take long before I came across a clearing near a cave. Outside that cave is littered with a stench, a disgusting orc stench most people by now would’ve gaged but I’m too high on anger to care. Summon my polearm with the star of Fëanor still shining brightly like the day it was made, I marched into the disgusting cave.

The howling and begging got worse, I could hear it echo from the deepest part of the cave. As orcs entered my sight, I saw red. Lifting my polearm high in the air I brought it down with the strength to split the cave apart, right after that orc charged at me left, right and centre. Whipping my polearm left to right I threw them against the wall and stabbed through them, twisting my arm I killed the orcs behind me, bringing my arm forward I killed the ones in front of me. The orcs didn’t stand a chance as my acts were too fast, faster than the day when I was fighting the heavenly officials, faster than the day I fought Melkor head-on saving Fingolfin.

It didn’t take long before all the orcs in the cave were wiped out. I took off my hat, exposing my face, my chest heaved as I started looking around the cave for any other signs of life that weren’t an orc.

Finally, at the corner of the cave, I found it, the only sign of life, an elf, elf maiden who has golden hair that reminded me of Findaráto, throwing my polearm aside I crouched down. Taking the outer layer of my hanfu off I put it around her shoulders, pushing her hair out of her face I looked down at her.

“You’ll be alright dear, I’ll take you to Rivendell,” I said so gently and carefully lifted her up in my arms, one arm under her knees and one behind her back. She fell onto my chest her breathing finally calmed down and I walked out of the cave, seeing my destruction, mutilated orc bodies indiscriminately scattered the cave, like seeds that had been spilt out of a bag.

Once I’m out of the cave my horse came galloping out of the trees.

“Hey girl, look after me for a bit ok” I said to my horse voice still light not wanting to startle the poor Elleth. Very gently I put her onto my horse, who very kindly didn’t move that much as I walked back to the cave picking up my polearm it disapparated in my hand. I kept walking through the cave carefully carrying out every single elf body I could find, bringing them to the main cave. Lining them up, side by side neatly, I pulled out a yellow piece of paper and made a cut on my finger as I wrote with my blood once done, I put it in the middle of the pile and left the cave.

By the time I walked out, the cave shone with a gold shine. What Celebrían could see is a figure with hair darker than night, and a dress? A very long outfit with sleeves just as long walking out of the cave that seems to be glowing, are they a Maiar? They must be in order to have that speed and accuracy. Then she fainted.

I managed to catch the Elleth just as she nearly slipped off my horse, jumping onto it we began riding in the direction of Rivendell. With the Elleth against my chest, I whispered for my mare to go faster, although the Elleth didn’t sustain any severe injuries I don’t know if her mind could take it if I arrived any later. Not happy that the fastest time we could reach Rivendell was around midnight, I caved in, pulled out another black hat with a veil over it put it on and teleported us to right outside of Rivendell.

“I AM IN NEED OF A HEALER” I yelled as I entered the valley, coming off my horse I gently carried the Elleth off as a hoard of elves surrounded me. “I am in need of a healer,” I said again not happy that I was surrounded.

“My lady” shouted a voice above the staircase, a young Ellon called me out. I walked up to him, “Please my lady follow me, and I will take you to the healing wings” I nodded as I followed him.

Once I was there with the Ellon I placed the Elleth on the bed. “Do you hav-” and the door swung open in strutted… Elrond?

The two of us looked at each other, and he spoke “Lindir please leave the room” The young Ellon left the room, and I took my hat off.

“What an unexpected place to meet you, Elrond” I looked down at the Elleth “Check her first, I found her trapped in an orc-infested cave, she didn’t sustain any severe injuries, but I haven’t checked her full body yet.”

Elrond looked down at the Elleth in such heartbreaking eyes, as he began his checkup.

.

.

.

“I have to thank you, ammë, for saving her” Elrond has finished checking up on the Elleth, or should I call her Celebrían.

“No need for thank you, she is lucky I happened to stumble upon that cave or else the worst might happen to her.” Both of us are seated next to Celebrían, watching her pale face finally having some colour returned to it. Pulling a box out of my sleeve I gave it to Elrond, “Here is a box of incense, one that can keep away bed memories and dreams and help people to sleep”

Elrond hasn’t changed much, other than a few streaks of white hair due to stress.

“How long have I been away?” I asked curiously

“For about the entire second age.”

I blinked, shocked but also not so shocked “So, what happened during this age I missed?” Elrond went through most things, Saroun rising again, many wars happened, Celebrimbor’s death and Saroun’s betrayal of Celebrimbor and other matters.

But I stayed on the death of Celebrimbor, oh the sweet child Tyelpë. “He died?” I confirmed with Elrond.

“Oh, poor sweet Tyelpë, I remember meeting him the first time, I could scoop him up in my arms and he would always look so fascinated at the jewels I wore because there were ones he had not seen.” My voice so solemn, “I remember during the first age after I resurrected Fëanor, the three (Fëanor, Curufin and Tyelpë) would spend hours going through my jewellery box asking me all the questions about the jewellery that was in there.”

I closed my eyes and leaned back into my chair. “My poor boy, he didn’t deserve that.” I sniffled and got up, turning away from him “Sorry Elrond, I’m gonna need some time to accept that” Putting my hat back on I walked out of the room slipping right past a set of twins and a golden hair elf.

It was the afternoon by the time I got out of the main house in Rivendell, Lindir was nice enough to lead me to the private gardens of Elrond. I was almost a complete replica of my back garden in my mansion during the first age in the sunken land of Beleriand. The pond filled with waterlilies and pavilions surrounded that garden giving it ultimate serenity. Seating on the railing at one of the pavilions near the pond I took my hat off, the sunset gave the garden a feeling of warmth, but I am still hanging upon the death of Tyelpë. Pulling out a gold hairpin with a spider lily on the end made with gold and reddest of rubies I caressed it, the first gift Tyelpë gave to me as a thank you for allowing him to study my other jewels.

The rubies glimmered under the sun, as I grabbed a section of my hair and pinned it up with the hairpin.  

“Come out” I called to the 3 not so good sneaking elves.

Three black hair elves stepped forward, very neatly next to me in the pavilion. “Has your father not taught you that it is unacceptable to spy on a woman?” I scolded the three.

“We were just curious about who you are and how you rescued ammë” said the one in the middle, all are looking down embarrassed that they were caught.

“Your Elrond’s children”

“Yes”

“Not only is he married but he had kids as well!”

“Yeah” one of them meek. I stood up and studied the three, very intensely like I was going to burn a hole through their face.

“Oh, my you are.” I said I touched the twin's face “You two look just like Elrond and Elros when they were younger.” And turned to the only daughter to the right “and you look just like her.” Dark hair almost as if it's sparkling and grey eyes, oh god she looks so similar to Lúthien.

“Wait would that make me your haruni?”

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and a cliffhanger ( ‘• ω • `) done on purpose.

Hope yall enjoyed this cause I definitely had a whale of a time writing it, here are some reference photos for Hong Chen's house, hanfu, hairpin, garden and the pavilion. (there are image descriptions, do read them, pls)

The first three are Hong Chen hanfu's all have a sorta outer jacket for her to take off and wrapped around Celebrían

The final 4 are what Elrond's personal garden looks like

[harker-jonathan]

3 May. Bistritz. —Left Munich at 8:35 P. M, on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but train was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could walk through the streets. I feared to go very far from the station, as we had arrived late and would start as near the correct time as possible.

The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering the East; the most western of splendid bridges over the Danube, which is here of noble width and depth, took us among the traditions of Turkish rule.

We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klausenburgh. Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale. I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up some way with red pepper, which was very good but thirsty. (Mem. get recipe for Mina.) I asked the waiter, and he said it was called “paprika hendl,” and that, as it was a national dish, I should be able to get it anywhere along the Carpathians.

I found my smattering of German very useful here, indeed, I don’t know how I should be able to get on without it.

Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I had visited the British Museum, and made search among the books and maps in the library regarding Transylvania; it had struck me that some foreknowledge of the country could hardly fail to have some importance in dealing with a nobleman of that country.

I find that the district he named is in the extreme east of the country, just on the borders of three states, Transylvania, Moldavia, and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathian mountains; one of the wildest and least known portions of Europe.

I was not able to light on any map or work giving the exact locality of the Castle Dracula, as there are no maps of this country as yet to compare with our own Ordance Survey Maps; but I found that Bistritz, the post town named by Count Dracula, is a fairly well-known place. I shall enter here some of my notes, as they may refresh my memory when I talk over my travels with Mina.

In the population of Transylvania there are four distinct nationalities: Saxons in the South, and mixed with them the Wallachs, who are the descendants of the Dacians; Magyars in the West, and Szekelys in the East and North. I am going among the latter, who claim to be descended from Attila and the Huns. This may be so, for when the Magyars conquered the country in the eleventh century they found the Huns settled in it.

I read that every known superstition in the world is gathered into the horseshoe of the Carpathians, as if it were the centre of some sort of imaginative whirlpool; if so my stay may be very interesting. (Mem., I must ask the Count all about them.)

I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I had all sorts of queer dreams. There was a dog howling all night under my window, which may have had something to do with it; or it may have been the paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in my carafe, and was still thirsty. Towards morning I slept and was wakened by the continuous knocking at my door, so I guess I must have been sleeping soundly then.

I had for breakfast more paprika, and a sort of porridge of maize flour which they said was “mamaliga”, and egg-plant stuffed with forcemeat, a very excellent dish, which they call “impletata”. (Mem.,get recipe for this also.)

I had to hurry breakfast, for the train started a little before eight, or rather it ought to have done so, for after rushing to the station at 7:30 I had to sit in the carriage for more than an hour before we began to move.

It seems to me that the further east you go the more unpunctual are the trains. What ought they to be in China?

All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was full of beauty of every kind. Sometimes we saw little towns or castles on the top of steep hills such as we see in old missals; sometimes we ran by rivers and streams which seemed from the wide stony margin on each side of them to be subject ot great floods. It takes a lot of water, and running strong, to sweep the outside edge of a river clear.

At every station there were groups of people, sometimes crowds, and in all sorts of attire. Some of them were just like the peasants at home or those I saw coming through France and Germany, with short jackets, and round hats, and home-made trousers; but others were very picturesque.

The women looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they were very clumsy about the waist. They had all full white sleeves of some kind or other, and most of them had big belts with a lot of strips of something fluttering from them like the dresses in a ballet, but of course there were petticoats under them.

The strangest figures we saw were the Slovaks, who were more barbarian than the rest, with their big cow-boy hats, great baggy dirty-white trousers, white linen shirts, and enormous heavy leather belts, nearly a foot wide, all studded over with brass nails. They wore high boots, with their trousers tucked into them, and had long black hair and heavy black moustaches. They are very picturesque, but do not look prepossessing. On the stage they would be set down at once as some old Oriental band of brigands. They are, however, I am told, very harmless and rather wanting in natural self-assertion.

It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz, which is a very interesting old place. Being practically on the frontier–for the Borgo Pass leads from it into Bukovina–it has had a very stormy existence, and it certainly shows marks of it. Fifty years ago a series of great fires took place, which made terrible havoc on five separate occasions. At the very beginning of the seventeenth century it underwent a siege of three weeks and lost 13,000 people, the casualties of war proper being assisted by famine and disease.

Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel, which I found, to my great delight, to be thoroughly old-fashioned, for of course I wanted to see all I could of the ways of the country.

I was evidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced a cheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress—white undergarment with a long double apron, front, and back, of coloured stuff fitting almost too tight for modesty. When I came close she bowed and said, “The Herr Englishman?”

“Yes,” I said, “Jonathan Harker.”

She smiled, and gave some message to an elderly man in white shirt-sleeves, who had followed her to the door.

He went, but immediately returned with a letter:

“My friend.–Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting you. Sleep well tonight. At three tomorrow the diligence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land.–Your friend, Dracula.”

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Runaway - Chapter Six.

I am so thankful to you all for your interactions, guys. Big, big love. All of the hugs! As usual, 40 notes to unlock the next part. I look forward to your commentary. I’m feeling a little blue this afternoon, so having something to cheer me up when you all manage to get to it keeps me going :) 

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,538

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Oh, this better be good, honey child, for you to be dragging my fabulous ass out of bed at 8am on a Sunday, over here to god-knows-where-vile, on the morning after I get a call from your mama telling me you ran from your wedding!”

Hannah leaned over, kissing her cheek. “I thought you’d be pleased, about the wedding running?”

Shonda snorted. “Well, I am, but that still don’t explain why the hell I’m giving you a ride from the ghetto, or what you’ve been doing here all night, and who with, more pertinently!”  

She pointed over to the small driveway. “See that big, black Harley over there?”

“Yeah, kinda hard to miss. And what of it?”  

“Well, what I was doing all night was bouncing on the dick of the guy it belongs to.”  

A barrage of almost words and splutters left her bestie’s mouth, Shonda in absolute shock, even though it did sound like something fitting of Hannah. “Y’all better be buying me coffee and a big ole’ stack of pancakes to explain every single last detail of this over!”

“Done,” she confirmed, helping herself to a piece of red rope liquorice from the ever-present bag in the centre console. “There’s a diner not far from here. Head back to the highway and it’s about a half mile away.”  

Shonda shook her head, pulling out from the curb. “It’s never a dull moment with you, pumpkin.” While she drove, Hannah took her phone from her bag, knowing she had to deal with the abundance of messages at some point, so the car journey was as good a time as any.  

‘Hey Han. Tried calling but your phone is off, can’t say I blame you. I called Uncle Rob and Aunt Jackie, and they let me know you’d messaged them to say you’re okay and just needed some time. When you feel up to it, give me a call. Love you.’ Ben, her cousin. She messaged him back to say thanks for reaching out, and she’d be in touch when things had settled a little.  

‘Just messaging to say I’m here for you if you need me. God, it was insane after you left! Wendy went ballistic, you should have seen Jackie clap back at her, fuck, it was legendary! Steve’s kinda sad he missed it now! Come by for coffee when you’re able xxx.’ Ange, her sister-in-law, who regardless of the fact her husband had steadfastly refused to attend, had wanted to show support to Hannah, although she too was no fan of Michael.  

‘I cannot believe what you did to my son, you spiteful, selfish little bitch. How dare you embarrass him like that. If you were having second thoughts, was the altar really the place to act upon them, stringing him along like that only to turn and literally run? We welcomed you into our family with open arms, and this is the thanks we receive? You are a disgrace, and I suppose I should be thankful that I didn’t end up with you as a daughter in law. If I never see you again, it’ll be too soon.’ Wendy herself. She expected as much.

If she was honest, she couldn’t blame her for taking such a stance, Hannah putting herself in her shoes and thinking how she’d feel, should it have been her hypothetical son who’d been jilted. Her feelings would have been similar. No matter how controlling Michael had been, she acknowledged that she’d been very wrong to let it get as far as them standing next to one another at the altar, his treatment of her not excusing her actions at all.  

As soon as they arrived at the diner, those actions were immediately called into question by a very expectant Shonda.

“So, give me the details. Who is Harley guy and how, on your wedding day of all days, did you manage to end up in bed with him? Oh my god, where you having an affair with him or something, and he came and kidnaped you away from it? If this was anyone else, I’d be here with my jaw swaying in the breeze, but you? Well, my jaw is still swaying, but not as much as it perhaps would be. I know you and your impulsive nature of old, so yes. Tell me.”

“I will,” she began, smirking. “When you actually shut up for long enough for me to speak.”

“Don’t you be sassy with me now, Hannah Elizabeth Gray!”

“Okay, so I’ll begin.” She sipped her fresh coffee, feeling good for the smooth hit of caffeine. “No affair, to begin with. You know I would have told you. Anyway, I was at the altar, and it just dawned on me, the lack of family presence, you not there either, and why you weren’t there. It hit me, the size of the mistake I was about to make, and so I ran. That’s when I met Manny, who was on his motorcycle moving through the traffic, and called out to me, asked if I needed a ride. So, I jumped on the back, and he got me out of there, then took me to a bar. We had a great afternoon and evening together, and then I went back to his place and had the best sex of my damned life with him on and off for about seven hours. There, the end.”

Shonda’s eyes widened. “Not the end. I have questions, but seriously, I have no idea where to begin, I’m so stunned by this!”

“Then I will sit here quietly while the counsel prepares her notes.” She sipped her coffee, smiling over the rising steam, Shonda chewing back a smirk she couldn’t quite manage to hide.

“You’re bad.”

“Yeah, he said the same.” She received a gentle slap to her forearm for that revelation.

“I mean... I just...” She ran her hands through her long, wild hair, fanning her face before settling herself neatly once more. “So, you just went drinking with this Manny guy, then ended up in bed with him?”

“Yeah, that’s about the short of it,” she replied, looking down at the menu before her. Hmmm, bacon and eggs, or an omelette? She’d definitely worked up an appetite.

“And what about Michael?”  

Hannah shrugged. “Well, I think it’s fair to say I burned that bridge down to nothing but ashes. His mother sent me scathing message, but unless he’s left me a voicemail I haven’t listened to yet, then I haven’t heard anything from him. I only switched my phone back on this morning. I didn’t want to deal with it yesterday. I just wanted to forget the whole mess. I know I have to deal with it now, though. Now I’m out from under perhaps the most handsome, charismatic man I’ve ever met. Damn.” She grinned then. “No, dayum.”

Shonda leaned in close across the table. “Come on, then. Tell me about him.”

“Oh god, you’d have been cheering from the side lines. Tall, nice body, tattoos, Latino, real mix of gentleman and bad boy. He’s thirty-nine, originally from Arizona, but moved here about a year ago. He’s a member of the Mayans MC, he’s really smart and funny...”

“Woah, hold up!” Shonda grabbed her wrist. “You got your first Latino dude, and he’s a Mayan? Girl, what a score! I swear, every time I see those guys rolling through town, my snatch does a little quiver!”

Hannah almost blew out a mouthful of coffee at her quivering snatch comment, immediately referencing her go-to response from one of their favourite movies. “You’re terrible, Muriel.”  

“No, you are!” she laughed, rolling her eyes. “Are you gonna see him again?”

“Oh, god. I really don’t know,” Hannah confessed, widening her eyes a little. “I have so much wreckage to deal with before I even think of that. I don’t think he’s in the market for anything other than a casual hook up type deal, but to be completely honest, coming out of a six-year relationship in the way that I did, neither am I.”

“Could be fun, though, when you need another ride.” Hannah giggled at her statement, shaking her head softly as they were joined by the waitress, ready to take their order with a cheery smile. “Oh, if you need an alibi last night, just say you were with me. It’s where everyone would have expected you to have gone, and it means you don’t have to reveal anything you don’t want to. It’s no one's business but yours.”

Shonda’s offer had Hannah reaching for her hands, so very glad to have a friend like her. “Love you bunches.”

“Love you, too, pumpkin. Now, I require further regaling with your sexual escapades!” She chuckled softly before as any good girlfriend would, going into the details of her wild night with the handsome outlaw. Much too soon, it seemed, and she was back in Shonda’s car, being driven over to her apartment, promising her bestie she’d call and relay how the looming showdown between her and Michael went, kissing her goodbye before jumping out.  

She felt trepidation with every step she took, deciding to kill a little more time walking up the three flights of stairs to her third-floor abode, immediately noticing the pile of boxes outside of her front door when the hallway came into view.  

Hannah owned the apartment, it wasn’t in Michael’s name, so therefore he’d be the one leaving it. She was glad he’d begun that, as she was expecting some kind of protest there, an unwillingness to vacate the dwelling, borne of him wanting to make her flighty escape from their nuptials as difficult as possible for her. Michael very much enjoyed the entertaining of revenge.  

Pushing the door open, it hit something on the other side, Hannah looking to see suitcases packed. Her suitcases, Michael deciding to liberate them, it would seem. For the sake of not wanting to add further kerosene to the fire she’d lit right under his life, she made a point not to address it, scanning her surroundings to see if anything else that was hers by rights had been pilfered. All her furnishings remained, her books and her vinyl collection luckily were untouched, too.  

Placing her keys down on the breakfast bar, she walked up the small steps that lead to the kitchen area of the open plan apartment, the only rooms walled off being the bedrooms and bathroom, Michael emerging from the latter with a holdall bag over his shoulder just as she was spooning coffee grinds into the French press.  

“Where have you been? I tried calling.” Sharp, accusatory. She expected nothing less.

“With Shonda.”

“Hmph,” he sounded, raising his eyebrows. “Should’ve known it.” He rested the holdall down, moving to the other side of the breakfast bar, Hannah filling the kettle up before placing it onto the hob and igniting the gas. “Do you want to enlighten me over what the hell yesterday was all about, then, why you left me standing at the altar? If you’ve had second thoughts over jilting me, then I’m afraid you’re too late to act upon them, as you might deduce. You humiliate me like that, and I’m gone.”

Talk about stating the obvious.

Reaching into her little bits and pieces bowl, she took out a small hair scrunchie, tying up her slightly messy waves before beginning the explanation he was owed.  

“I know I should have come to my realisation much sooner, and I take that on board, I do. As for why, I realised I just couldn’t go through with it, living a life that is essentially on your terms. You decided everything for us, Michael, and a relationship shouldn’t be like that. It was as I stood in that church that I knew, with so few people around me whom I love, that if I married you, I’d be making the mistake they’d been warning me against.”

His brow furrowed, folding his arms. “Who would you have been marrying, Hannah? Them or me? Their opinion isn’t important.”  

Typical, for him to believe only what he thought bared any credence. “But it is. Because they were right, you’re not the man for me. Some women might like every last second of their existence micromanaged by their partner, but I’m not one of them. The expectations you put on me, the constant need to have your way in everything. I realised I was compromising myself for you, and I shouldn’t do that. I deserve better than that, but equally, I know you deserve better than being run out on,” she explained.  

“It was never an issue for you before.”  

Again, such a stance was one hundred percent typical of Michael. He had absolutely no capacity to be retrospective about how any of his own actions could have resulted in this, but for Hannah, it simply wasn’t her problem any longer. If he didn’t want to see it, then she couldn’t force him to. Best of luck to his next girlfriend, she thought. “Well, it should have been, and I think it always was, but it was easier for me to pretend like it wasn’t an issue. I’ve admitted to my wrong in this, if you can’t own your share then there’s nothing more I can say or do.”

“That’s because I don’t have a share. This was all you and your compulsive nature, one I tried to rein in a little by being the decision maker, to take the pressure off of you, to be steady for you. But apparently, you still fail to see that.” Turning it back on her, she might have guessed. He had a habit of doing that.  

She knew they’d reach zero in way of resolve, so shifted instead to practicality. “Do you want me to help you keep packing?”

He snorted. “Oh, you want me out of your life as quickly as possible, then?”

“Says he who’s already moved half of his stuff out,” she couldn’t help but mutter a little pettily, not prepared to be blamed beyond her fair share. “I just wanted to offer some help, that’s all. If it isn’t needed then that’s fine, I’ll leave you be.”

They didn’t speak another word to her as he ferried his stuff out, his sister turning up part way through, telling him she’d been able to hire a U-Haul, slightly bigger than he needed, Michael complaining about the extra expense. Catherine didn’t even look at her for the entire time she helped with boxes, removing all of Hannah’s things from the only pieces of furniture he’d brought with him upon moving in, the end tables and coffee table, Hannah browsing the IKEA website for replacements as she stood out of their way in the kitchen.  

With his set of keys thumped down upon the breakfast bar three hours later, shaking her from her furniture ordering daze, her former fiancé left her apartment without a second look, Hannah breathing a huge sigh of relief. It was over. Realising that lunchtime had come and gone without her even thinking of feeding herself, she scrolled through her phone, ordering from her local takeout.

She chose a pizza with everything on it.  

[rotthepoet]

hiii

me again very soon, off anon because i can't sent images via anon. but first draco fic.

essentially i got stuck on the thought of how similar draco and regulus (the older one, marauder times) are in terms of what is expected of them. both of them becoming death eaters at a very young age being the most prevelant here, and also the point that made this so dark, because i got it in my brain of voldemort replacing what regulus used to be for him with draco. draco who learns with that what it meant for regulus to have joined the death eaters as a teenager and end up as a favourite of the dark lord.

on a lighter note: my map! it is not finished yet and slightly slow workings, but i am very happy about it

home/non-commercial shops/commercial/service food/drinks overnight/motel/hotel (orange since there is no yellow) misc.

shops, sorted by what alley their entrance is on. the circle spaces from left to right are called: star centre, moon plaza, sun plaza and are all purely non-commerical areas

Diagon Alley

1 - Potage’s Cauldron Shop 5 - Flourish & Blotts Bookshop 6 - Madam Malkin’s Robes 7 - Quality Quidditch Supplies 8 - Eeylops Owl Emporium 12 - Magical Menagerie  18 - Ollivander’s Wand Shop

2 - Gringotts Bank 3 - Glowfink Library

Sturloget Alley (nothing so far)

Mimdad Alley 1 - Forterscue’s Ice Cream Parlour 2 - Wandering Tea (Teacafé)

Nidmile Alley  1 - Ryefields Bakery | Entry to Werewolf Chambers

Knockturn Alley 24 - Borgin and Burkes

Sonsut Alley (nothing so far)

Sunsot Alley 3 - Glowfink Library 7 - The Juicecafe

as i said it is not done. it also has some references and will gain many more, because i am a big fan of references

- 🦆 anon (quack quack)

AUGHAHAHAHA THE REGULUS DRACO PARALLELS I LOVE IT!!!!!!!! Literally draco is my roman empire i think about him daily

heres the map from previous post for anyone interested 😜😜

[theproductivepessimist]

Journaling

I use #journaling as a personal practice, and have developed my own "prompts", which I'm sharing here for other folk who don't get on with the "What went well today?" (nothing), "What 3 things am I grateful for today?" (again, nothing) typical journal prompts. My journaling looks like this, with each section given 3-5mins of 'thinking time' before I start writing an answer. 1. What am I feeling? If you can't name your feelings, talk about physical signs you've observed. (Alexithymia is real, and valid.) 2. Why am I feeling this? No answer is "wrong" - not even "I don't know." Ideally, try to centre your respons/es on YOU, not other people - ie, "Because I find X to be inconsiderate", rather than "Because X is inconsiderate." 3. Are these feelings valid? Go with your gut on this one - if you look back at your answer, and think "I'm overreacting, actually", write "No - I may be overreacting to what's actually happening."

4. Are any of these feelings the result of triggers not connected to the immediate situation? Be honest - for example, one of my triggers is "women shouting", because that was a central part of serious physical violence in my past; therefore, I often have overreactive feelings to any situation where women are raising their voices, or reacting loudly to their own triggers. Again, it's fine if, after 5mins, you feel certain that they're NOT connected to other triggers, or if you're not sure - put those answers down. 5. What can I do to work on these triggers? This one may be difficult to answer right now, and that's okay. 6. What PRACTICAL steps can I take to improve this situation? Again, it's okay if, after 5mins, you don't know. Any sections that you have left blank, make a note to set aside an hour, within 3-7 days' time, to come back, and genuinely reconsider; note anything you might want to research, anyone you might need to speak with, etc. Sometimes, we don't actually have things we feel grateful for. "Being alive" isn't always the "blessing" it's presented as. Not everyone, even in a developed country, has "enough to meet their needs." Even in developed countries, people don't always have "clean drinking water" - and there's also a consideration that things like "access to fresh, affordable food", "clean drinking water", etc are NOT things ANYONE should be 'grateful' for - because that implies it's NORMAL for some people NOT to have those things, that they're "enhancements to life", rather than "the bare minimum expectation." Acknowledging challenges and difficulties moves us forward far more than "finding something to be grateful for" - the fact that you're alive doesn't help with the fact that you can't actually afford to be. The fact that YOU have your health doesn't help when you're watching a loved one die, or are struggling with the demands of kinship care. And it's okay to feel however you feel about those situations, or any others. You don't need an expensive "proper journal" for this - I use basic, £1, A5 ringbound notepads, and just write the prompt headings in myself.

[aelinschild]

FOUR

Holding Me Like Water In Your Hands

Main Masterlist | HMLWIYH Masterlist

teheheh

SYNOPSIS:A cross continental move forces Aelin Galathynius to open her eyes wider than before, and at the doors of Terrasen's most exclusive and expensive private high school, she realizes her life is flowing through her. And if she wants to make the most of her life, she needs to grab onto something. Or maybe someone. WORDCOUNT: 2k GENERAL WARNINGS: Language, Drug use, Alcohol, Allusion to sex/intimacy, Brief descriptions of sexual assault, Domestic violence, Very severe angst, Messy Divorces (More to be added)

The rest of the weekend had come and gone. Mostly filled with Mom and I smoothing over the cracks in our new lifestyle. Additional furniture and appliances were acquired. A brilliant, albeit expensive, coffee machine was the best feature of our home now. It made incredible espresso, which had been fueling my moping. 

Tonight, Evalin decided we would come together and cook a meal. We decided on grilled salmon with patotoes and asparagus. Simple enough, while also fitting whatever diet my mother had recently taken up. 

I was currently plating our meal as she grabbed the salmon off the pan. 

Soft footsteps made their way into the dining room, and my mother followed, setting the plate in the centre of the table. 

We both pulled out chairs out and sat. Her posture was straight and rigid. Always the perfectionist. 

I sat with one leg dangling, the other curled up into me. A posture my father absolutely loathed. 

"Well, I'd say we are quite the chefs." My mother remarked, piling delicate amounts of food onto her plate. 

"Not bad," I laugh. "For us. Better than yesterday for sure," I say, following her and scooping a helping of each into my own plate. 

Yesterday we had burnt the chicken thighs we had bought, then promptly ordered a gluten free, veggie filled pizza. 

"I'm not used to a gas stovetop. But, that simply means a new skill, hm?" She says, between bites of food. Never speaking with her mouth open. 

"Sure, Mom." 

She regards me, and then her gaze flits back to her plate. I continue eating. The only noise in the room is that of our breathing and the scrapes of our cutlery on the new plates. 

Dinners together in my family were rare. With Mom and Dad both spending evenings working overtime, I ate alone almost every night. It made me into quite the skilled chef, but left me feeling empty. Dinners alone, in our big kitchen, only accompanied by the noises of the outside world. I would often sit at the island in our luxurious marble kitchen, perched as I am now, and pretend my parents were there, engaging with me. 

Some evenings Phillipa was there, and would keep me company, but as the sole gaurdians to Dorian, and his younger brother Hollin, those evenings were few and far between. She worked as an in house maid, and mostly cleaned during the day when the boys would be at school. Sometimes cooking and leaving me meals with cute sticky notes attached. 

Those days were far behind. 

My mother's fork scraped her plate. "So," she started. "You start highschool tomorrow, how do you feel?" 

Awful. I have no friends. "Fine" I say. 

"You have a cousin here," and her face is a little pale as she says it. Her eyes scan my own. Searching for whatever feeling she assumes will follow. 

I just scoff. 

The nonchalant way she tosses that out chafes against me. My image of my family has always been just my parents and I. The idea of a cousin on top of the move, on top of Mom and Dad’s issues. Its as if the tide is rising, and I have no sense of direction, no way to swim up because I no longer know where that is. 

Tossing down my cutlery, I shift to move my other knee up so I can wrap my arms around my body, creating a safe little shell.

"And how old is this cousin?" My eyes stare directly into her, not backing down. 

"Your age. Maybe a few months older."

"Why am I just now learning about their existence?" 

She looks pained. I feel like that's an expression I've seen so often on her face recently. So different from the Evalin Galathynius that imposed through the courts of Rifthold. 

She moves closer to the table so she can drop her head into her hands. She just shakes her head, and I sit across from her wondering how the fuck we ended up in this situation. 

As an only child, I've never wished for any other siblings. Seeing how Hollin and Dorian interacted made me glad of that. But a cousin? A possibility of an aunt or uncle? There being more to my family than just Rhoe, Evalin and Aelin? That's what seems nonsensical. 

"Your father and I left Orynth not long after your birth for our own reasons, and yes, that separated you and Aedion," she takes a deep breath. "But it was not without extreme thought, and we realized it would be better… this way." 

"Better for me? Or better for Dads job?" I bite out. 

"For everyone Aelin," 

"Mmkay " 

"What do you think about this? About Aedion?" She probes. 

"Never met him. How would I know."

"He's attending Orynth Rise. You'll probably see him there." 

"And what do I do? Walk up to some mysterious stranger and say, "Oh hi there! I'm your cousin you've probably never heard of or even know!"" 

"He knows about you." She smiles sheepily. 

I just stare at her. 

A cousin. That apparently knows about meet, whom I've never met, or heard about. 

"Is this why we moved to Orynth?" I ask quietly. 

"A part of it," she nods then continues to eat. 

I want to pull my hair out. 

"For fucks sake mom! Give me a straight answer!" I bark out, no longer composed. 

Her face snaps up, and her mouth is open in a shocked expression. "Aelin Galathynius! Do not curse at me! Good Gods!" 

I roll my eyes, and drop my legs back down to the floor. Pushing out of my chair, my meal only halfway eaten, I grab my plate and storm off to the kitchen. 

Maybe I'm overreacting, but after moving across the continent, and not really adjusting to the fact that my entire life is now somehow different, plus the fact I have extended family, is really overdoing it for me currently. 

I scrape the food left on my plate into the little compost bin, and move to put my plate in the sink. I can hear my mother stomping over to the kitchen. 

"Aelin!" She yells. 

I ignore her. 

She moves towards me and grabs the plate from my hands. And I stare up at her, forcing calm. 

"Why are you acting this way!" She yells, looking far angrier than she was moments ago. "Look, love, I understand this is a big change, but you've been moping and overreacting to everything!" She's put the plate down and her arms come to rest on my shoulders, I shake her off. 

Her face falls. 

"Aelin," her voice is soft, like trying to tame a wild animal. And I guess I'm the wild animal right now, dramatically scurrying away from anything that scares me. 

I'm trapped here, between Mom and the door from the kitchen, and paralyzed by the change in my life, far too swift for anyone to keep afloat in. 

I clench my jaw and shove my fear and anger and confusion down, down as far as it can go. 

Through clenched teeth, I bite out, "I don't know how you want me to react." Surprising myself with how calmly in responding, I continue. "I don't understand why we're in Orynth. I don't understand why we had to leave Rifthold. I don't understand why Dad's not here with us. I don't understand this place. And I don't understand why you think I'm okay with all of this." I finish. Taking a deep breath, I school the emotion off my face. 

Mom blinks. 

I stand still, breathing slightly uneven. 

"Aelin…" she trails off, eyes moving to the ceiling. 

"We're going in circles Mom, around and around over the same thing." I clench my fists at my side and take a deep breath. "Just be fucking honest for once." 

Her eyes snap right back to me the moment I say 'fucking' and I can see her about to snap at me again, but stops when she sees the expression on my face. 

"Your Dad and I have been having issues. I felt as thought it was not fair for you to be in a house where your parents were always fighting." She responds. Her eyes move quickly over my face, and she stands straighter. 

I suppose I should take this as some sort of win. Getting Evalin to admit to any of her faults, especially in the realm of her shitty husband, is a hard won feat. But the admittance is something hard to swallow as well. 

Having loving parents is nothing I grew up around, and the only friend I truly grew close to in my childhood was Dorian, and his parents both died early in his life, not long after his brother was born. But Phillipa was the most adoring parent one could truly ask for. Though she was never around long enough to be a mother figure. 

But to actually hear your parent admit a struggle - that makes me feel a way I can't describe. 

"Okay." I say. 

Evalin just nods. Her arms come up around herself, and her eyes get misty. 

"Aelin, I want the best for you. And being in that house wasn't the best for any of us," She whispers. 

"Okay " I say again, processing. 

"Can… can I hug you?"

I feel funny, and I don't really want to hug Mom right now, but she looks seconds away from crumbling into jagged pieces that will never fit back together. So I nod and pull her into a light hug. 

She holds onto me for dear life, and I hear a sniffle, before she's pulling away and wiping her eyes. 

"I'm sorry," 

"It's okay," I repeat, like a broken record. 

"I'm gonna clear up dinner, and you can, uh, go get r-ready for school tomorrow." She squeezes her eyes shut as a few more tears fall. 

And I don't know how to handle this situation, so I just walk away. 

-

In my room later that night, I'm sitting at the bay window going over the catastrophe that was dinner this evening. I've washed my face, and I'm in a silk nightgown. My fingers skim the hemline, and my thoughts race. 

Mom admitted she and Dad were having problems, so the lipstick on Dad's collar probably wasn't hers. Still unconfirmed, but I'm certainly closer to that truth. 

But a move across the continent because they were having issues? Completely uprooting me and my future education, in favour of Orynths shiny promises? 

They must have really been fighting this time. 

I've recieved no messages from my Dad in the few days we've been here, and I wonder if he's forgotten his wife and offspring. 

The street outside my window is quiet. The boys down the street aren't out. And the wind flows gently, winding through avenues, luring the inhabitants to sleep. 

Tomorrow marks my first day in highschool. Freshman year. In a completely different country. Oh, and with a cousin! I can't help but smile a little at that. How shocking that Rhoe and Evalin keep my cousin from me. 

I can't help but wonder what he's like. I never knew that my parents had siblings, so what he might look like is a mystery. My fathers light complexion and dark hair, or my mothers darker complexion and gold-spun hair. I imagine a boy similar to me. It seems more reasonable that Evalin would have siblings rather than Rhoe. He was never much of the family type. 

I wonder what he’s interested in. I wonder about his life here. I wonder about this new extension of my family and what I've missed not knowing they existed. I wonder about my aunt and uncle. Maybe theres more? 

I guess Ill find out tomorrow. 

My backpack is packed, filled with a few notebooks and journals. Pencils and pens. My laptop and other school necessities. 

I'm not overly excited to start school again, nonetheless in Orynth, where most of these kids probably have known each other since early childhood. 

A light rain starts, it's soothing noise lulls me to sleep at the window. And I dream of unconditional love.

[yeahimwiththeband]

—> with the band chapter 22

i want it back

warning: fighting! nostalgia! trying to keep plants alive in winter!

A/N: closer and closer?

word count: 2.8k (why are all my chapters 2.8k now??)

Izzy slipped into her bedroom, leaving Olivia try to salvage her track from their disastrous afternoon at Ryan’s studio.

Izzy opened her laptop, and knowing it was a bad idea, typed Harry’s name into her search bar. Videos of that thing with the ambulance came up: the night he left Izzy in the arena, Harry had evidently gotten into some sort of fight and was hauled away, one eye swollen shut, his phone flying into the air.

Izzy scrolled and scrolled, feeling her anxiety rising. Related videos showed Lydia and George fighting on a sidewalk outside a restaurant at night, lit up by flashbulbs, Dave Nolsevic behind them, barely able to stand, fan videos of Harry from the beginning of the tour, footage of Jess digging her nails into Harry’s arms on red carpets. Izzy slowed to a stop at a new channel, titled simply HS, with only a few thousand followers. It was brand new, created two weeks ago, and had just one video: a single shot of Harry singing from what looked like an apartment, brick wall background, Untitled.

It seemed to Izzy as if it were uploaded without his permission (and definitely without Ryan’s)—or maybe it was just really old. But it looked sharp. She hit play, and it couldn’t have been more than a few days old. Outside a window in the corner of the shot, Izzy spotted a palm tree and what looked like LA. The frame jiggled a bit, and then Harry shuffled into it and sat down on a stool in its centre, like he had set up the video himself. He wore only a t-shirt an jeans, same old leather jacket.

“Taking myself back to music school,” he said, eyes flicking briefly to the camera. The audio had a bit of static; it was genuinely shot on his phone, not the “shot on a phone look” Ryan had tried to conjure up a few times unsuccessfully. Who was this humble person on camera, without his stage makeup? Izzy had met him only once or twice on tour.

Izzy leaned in and turned the music up.

“Learning some classics. So maybe I can start writing again.”

He strummed, hitting an off note.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. His cheeks flushed a bit.

Harry started again, and Izzy recognized the chords right away. F, A minor, G, D minor. Harry started singing softly, voice cracking a bit. That voice.

Kiss me hard before you go, summertime sadness.

Izzy inhaled sharply.

I thought you weren’t a cover band, Harry.

...

Lydia felt like she could breathe.

It was a SUnday morning in January, a Sunday morning without a Saturday night hangover. George was not crumpled in a corner of their place mourning bad lyrics or marooned in bed groaning about a headache, or still out. He was in the kitchen with her, making a cup of coffee. At 11 AM. AM!

He, Jess, Tara, and Lisa had stayed late at Jess’s apartment the night before, smoking until late - but he hadn’t gone out afterwards, he came home with her. Lydia feel asleep quickly, instead of waiting up while pretending she was too cool to wait up, listening for footsteps. The band had written two new songs they didn’t despise, and George seemed relaxed, far from a breakdown about how he felt like a fraud, or chafing at the domesticity of the scene and reaching out to Dave wondering if he wanted to meet up and was he holding.

Her veil still hung by the door, and when the light shone through it through their balcony, it looked almost untragic. A breeze flew in from the ocean and lifted its edges off the floor, floating above their shoes like a cloud. 

Dave was gone, and everything was better. Ryan was absorbed in Harry’s “comeback” plan—flying him to ever ghastly  morning talk show and available stage for concerts of his juvenile hits. 

Lydia didn’t feel bad about Harry’s plan: Eddie could withstand Dave in ways George just couldn’t—Harry knew that. He had pitched Lydia the idea to have them work on an album together the week before, and it initially panicked Lydia: what if George just went after Dave? But he had stayed behind. Lydia wondered if George knew that sending Dave away to Eddie was Harry’s plan. No one in the band suspected anything, even though Harry’s next step would affect them all.

Lydia and George walked out to the balcony. George put Lydia’s coffee down in front of her and took a giant gulp from his own, looking only a little restless.

“I thought we could just hang out today,” George offered. Lydia nodded, smiling. That was as close to an apology as she was going to get for the first week of their marriage. 

Olivia rebuffed Ryan’s pleading requests to return to the studio and ignored his calls, feeling a pit in her stomach every time she did it: she was turning down a record deal. She was turning down the opportunity for someone else to pay for studio time, so she could have clean, beautiful, headphones-worthy tracks. But she felt resolved, drawing from a deep reserve that Izzy often envied. She felt like she did when she left California, and the Jess Harper band, with Izzy: that she was doing the right thing, not the easy thing. 

Olivia spent her evenings after the session trying to do something with her clean vocal tracks, but to Izzy, she looked worried. She listened back to the (slightly stolen) track that he had helped put down, but it left a metallic taste in her mouth every time. She couldn’t release something that sounded so fake, tinny and dishonest, like it was recorded from the inside of a Stanley cup. 

When Izzy got home after a long shift at the nursery, she found Olivia hunched in front of her laptop, the only light on in the apartment, headphones screwed tight, brow creased. Izzy kicked her shoes off and dropped her backpack on the floor, but Olivia still didn’t look up. She flicked on the lights and Olivia startled.

“What time is it?” Olivia seemed surprised by the darkness outside their windows.

“10:30!” Olivia’s face fell.

“I don’t know if I can fix this myself,” she sighed. She had made so little progress over the course of the week, spending time burrowing into YouTube tutorials, trying to make her free software ingest the guitar melody she had recorded on her phone. The free software wasn’t having it. 

“Why don’t you take a break? You’ve been living in your laptop every night for the last week.” 

“Take a break, with what?”

“Gardening?” Izzy said, trying for a joke. She checked the soil in the potted plants by the kitchen windows for dryness, pulling their leaves back from the cold glass.

“You’ve got the plants under control.” 

“Maybe you could get some gigs?” Izzy paused, correcting herself, stepping away from fix it mode. “What do you feel like doing?”

“I’m pretty sure the label I just jilted has told every venue on the eastern seaboard not to hire me.” 

“Busking?” Izzy tried. She clipped off a few brown leaves with her nails, and discarded them in the kitchen compost.

Olivia pondered the suggestion seriously. She had done that before, with Jess—they had played cafe’s, brunch places. Jess had always hated that the venues offered so little opportunity for belting and screaming. 

“What else?”

“An open mic?” Olivia answered. She hadn’t done one of those before. 

…

Eddie didn’t want to—and couldn’t—just rely on Dave. He needed to build a slate of projects, a roster, to keep the lights on (and maybe hire someone to clean all the grime they showed) when Dave’s new album was out.

Plus, Eddie knew musicians and Dave was the most motivated by jealousy—the spectre of other musicians kept him on time for their sessions, and almost sober. 

Eddie had been to the punk dive bar nearby, the pub that Dave frequented (that really scared him), and a nearby German bierhouse that featured a lot of Romanian groups—accordions, electronica. But the place he was going that night—Monday night in a small town—was new to him. It was a pub on the lower level of a little brick building on Main Street, with barely three patrons and a stage made of a solitary wooden pallet with a carpet thrown over top. The sign on the sidewalk promised an open mic, but the place didn’t even have a mic. 

Still, Eddie went ahead with his routine. He ordered half a pint and sat at the back where he could hear, but not see the stage.

Izzy had found the open mic online—there wasn’t anything else on for that Monday—at a bar so unpopular it had 0 Instagram mentions and no account. She and Olivia lugged two acoustic guitars down the steps to a back entrance so dimly lit they nearly missed it. They were greeted by a bartender bubbling over with excitement to see them: the first musicians who ahd come in months. He grabbed the cases out of their hands and carried them to the stage for them. Olivia, feeling less confident since the label debacle, had come to the open mic with the requirement that Izzy played backup. Izzy was sure this would only damage her friend’s confidence more, but Olivia insisted. 

So, Izzy arranged a second chair behind Olivia’s, teetering off the edge of the pallet. She was disappointed for Olivia that there were so few people—maybe four and a half if you included the bartender, and a man sitting around a corner, as far away from them as he could get, so Izzy could only see one shoe. She gave Olivia an encouraging smile and they tuned their guitars.

…

The first chord was not promising.

The guitarist had actually flubbed it, and had to restart not once, but three times. Eddie drained his pint, but didn’t move. He started to question his life choices; picking the cheapest studio space he could find had stranded him in an area with this kind of talent to choose from. As his life flashed before his eyes, Eddie heard a promising ascent on the third try from B to F minor—the progression felt fresh. The guitar was joined by a second far more competent, and the two sort of undulated, playing together and then against each other in echoing melodies that changed slightly each time. Eddie closed his eyes and listened. It felt little new. 

And that’s what he needed: new. 

Goosebumps sprang up on his fingers, then the backs of his hands, then climbed his forearms and rippled across his chest. A little new was the best he had hoped for. 

Then, he heard her voice. His eyes snapped open: he knew that voice. Verse verse hook chorus, then a bridge that took her up an octave, where the rest of the song would stay. It was fresh folk. Eddie rolled the phrase around in his mind: fresh folk, fresh folk. Was he a folk producer? A fingerpicking folk producer? He imagined himself in his dark jeans and usual dark sweater in a cottagecore field of flowers.

The second song wasn’t as good as the first, but it had a great hook he could reuse. The second guitarist continued to struggle at points, but generally kept up. Eddie hoped the voice belonged to the other one. 

At the end of their third song, greeted by enthusiastic applause from the bartender only (he desperately called for an encore), Eddie creaked off his stool and walked around the corner to see Olivia, who ahd been the best part of the Jess Harper band, and Izzy, who had driven his former headliner to madness. 

“Eddie?” Izzy gasped. Olivia’s mouth dropped open, and they both broke into huge smiles. Ryan had not, in fact, had Eddie killed—and he had survived quitting the label in defiance, though they had heard he was sort of pushed out.

“Nice set,” Eddie said, giving Olivia a hug hello. They had spent six months on tour together when Jess had opened for Harry.

“This is where you’ve been hiding?” Olivia said, incredulous.

“I could say the same for you.”

“Our apartment is, like, 20 minutes from here.”

“My studio is just in the next town over.” Eddie knew then that he badly wanted Olivia to join his label: he was lying to her. The studio wasn’t in a town so much as it was near a bar and a post-office with a couple of houses clumped around it.

“Your own studio,” Izzy said, thrilled. She started to put her guitar away, wanting to avoid any additional requests from the bartender for more of her shaky playing. 

“And you two are a little and now?” Eddie held his breath. Everything was fine on the tour until Izzy got there. Her sudden departure blew up Harry’s life and then his own, when Ryan used Harry’s fight/breakdown as leverage to sign him to a new contract that didn’t include Eddie. 

Izzy quickly corrected him: she was just playing back up. Olivia was the musician. She tried not to feel disappointed when Eddie seemed noticeably relieved.

Olivia and Eddie chatted about her new songs, and Izzy watched her friend straighten her shoulders back. Eddie’s interest reinflated her. Izzy played roadie and packed up Olivia’s guitar too, then ordered the three of them drinks.

…

Lydia heard through Jess that her plan was falling apart, but she tried hard not to notice or care. Jess said Olivia had walked from her deal with Ryan, Harry’s next tour was in doubt, and Izzy would have no opportunity to follow Olivia onto said tour with Harry and fall back in love. Maybe, Lydia thought to herself, the best way forward couldn’t be planned. It was something she knew before, but had forgotten somehow when her life went off the rails—then, she had just wanted to fix everything. She understood her cousin more and more, and she felt herself relaxing more and more back into her old self, before she had even met George, before the accident.

She sat beside George in the band’s studio sessions all that week, just like she used to, eyes closed, listening to him tune his guitar and telling him when he was flat or sharp. They had been in the studio off and on, and now they had a week of solid recording time the last week of January. 

On the last day of their recording time, her calm was broken by the total chaos—yelling, stomping, possible furniture breaking—thundering down from the floor above.

Harry was in the building.

…

Ryan wanted two simple things:

1. To make music

2. To make money

To do the first, he had to do the second. But, no matter how he explained it to the talent, they didn’t understand that they couldn’t have the first one without the second. Harry Styles the least of all. 

“Over my dead body,” Harry said, waving his phone at Ryan. They stood around a shellacked conference table, Harry madly pacing along one side of it. “Kiss Me By the Lockers?”

“One of your greats! The fans love it!”

“That’s What Makes You Beautiful.” “A classic. And as a duet with Jess? They’ll go crazy—“

“And just two new songs.” 

An assistant sat between them at the table, typing furiously.

“A drip roll out of singles will help your customers acclimatize—“

“Two? In the entire set?”

Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose. He might shatter his phone in his other hand, he was gripping it so tightly. Why didn’t Harry recognize the two for the generous gift that they were?

“Harry. Gently. Without a tour, and without a label, you’re going to be Britney Spears, dancing with knives on Instagram in your underwear. I know you.” Harry scowled. “You need to play big arenas and you need to make music.”

“I don’t need you to make music.”

“Oh, really?”

“Musicians make you, Ryan, not the other way around.” 

“You signed a contract, Harry.” Harry winced. He had signed a contract. And now the label owned his masters of all his old tracks—not his last record, but everything before it. Ryan had him for a new album full of garbage, another long tour with Jess as his opener, and Insta girlfriend for the publicity, plus six weeks of awful appearance slots. The path of least resistance was giving in. Harry was nearly at a point of just dating Jess to avoid all the staging and setups, just laying flat and letting Ryan roll out the life he had planned for Harry at that same conference table the morning after he abandoned Izzy. 

The assistant’s typing slowed to a stop. 

Harry shook his head and paused. He tilted his chin upward, and looked Ryan in the eye.

“Maybe I’ll walk,” he said.