#ii. ask .<< fire breathing bitch queen.

[brideofcdragons]

☆ put this star into the inbox of your favourite blogs. it’s time to spread positivity !

Thank you so much for the lovely ask! I feel honored to be one of your favorite blogs. <33 You are now part of my inner circle :D I love this positivity post--we need more of these!

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ooc.

ii. asks. » no savior to rally behind but a cataclysm to be weathered. « ii. ooc. » fire breathing bitch queen. « ii. memes. » you could rattle the stars ; you could do anything. « ii. self promo. » let them tremble in fear at what they had awoken. « ii. promotions. » raise an army of assassins and thieves and exiles. «

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oo2.

[urmomsmainbitch]

american idiot - chapter one

link to wattpad story // link to series masterlist // link to writing

word count: 2.7k

warnings: the bowers gang, weapons, violence, basically the whole thing (if you're not comfortable with violence or abuse -- which henry faces during the movies and during the book -- then i recommend you don't read, but i'll try to tag appropriately!)

a/n: i hope you don't think it's ass but this is probably going to come out every other friday or so but this is more of a trailer than the start of the actual series

HENRY DIDN'T REMEMBER a better time in his life than when he heard the news that Tommy 'Gun' Lee was coming back to Derry for the summer. To him, nothing topped the moment where is dad was slurring over his dinner (leftover hot dogs -- again), and let it slip that the "ungrateful little bitch" was coming back for a few months over the summer, and that "your whore of a mother" didn't mention if she was staying for the year or not.

He remembered huffing and puffing, grumbling something under his breath before excusing himself, and running to call Patrick like it was fucking Christmas morning.

Something about his darling little sister coming back made his heart race and a smile light up his face, and it was evident from the way he stepped into Derry Middle on the last day of school.

Oh, this summer would be perfect! His deal with Denbrough was over, the gang was all together, and his perfect sister was coming back from San Diego for the summer. Tommy Lee Bowers, he knew, would make this the best summer he;d ever had -- and by fucking God, he wasn't going to let anything stand in his way. Not that stuttering freak or the stupid Tozier kid who's mouth ran a mile a minute or his father's thriving alcohol addiction -- absolutely nothing.

His Tommy Gun would rule that fucking school the second she stepped in to pick him up, and every one knew it.

Word travels fast at Derry Middle, and when it got around that Bowers had a little sister coming, the first thing Bill Denbrough did was panic.

She couldn't be too different, could she?

The same blood ran through their veins, the same color skin on their bones, and most likely, the permanently upturned smirk tattooed to their lips. His hopes didn't improve when he saw the girl himself, waiting outside on the hood of Butch's car, throwing rocks at little kids passing by as she sat patiently for Henry to come outside.

He'd promised her a tour of the school -- it's only fair, he put it, that a queen knows her kingdom before taking it over. Henry had no doubt that Tommy would run the school when it was her time in September. A grade below Tits and the rest of his ugly friends, it would be more embarrassing than anything else to watch them suffer socially at the hands of a twelve year old girl.

(Henry very much looked forward to that moment. So much so, in fact, that he near goddamn skipped his way to the front of the school to open the door so they could start the tour. It helped that he was getting out of math class.)

It was only in the few moments before she walked in the door (immediately claiming the whole goddamn building with a footstep) that Bowers caught him by the bag and dragged him into the bathroom, away from the rest of the kids, and most likely, where he'd lay dying for the rest of the school day and foreseeable future (Stanley refused to shit in the school bathrooms, and seeing as he was the only one on this side of the building, he was screwed.).

Bill had never liked being alone with Henry Bowers. Nothing good ever came out of it, and he didn't want to stick around this time to find out why he'd been pulled into a bathroom and away from the rest of the student population. Henry let go of Bill's bag, letting him stumble around for a second or two before straightening up and backing him up against the wall.

"W-what d-d-do you w-want, B-Bowers?" Bill nearly spat, looking the older boy in the eyes. Henry's permanent smirk seemed to grow a few inches on either side, because he just chuckled softly -- albeit cruelly -- and looked down at the Denbrough boy. Bill could smell his breath, even though the two weren't standing particularly close to one another.

"Well, B-b-billy," he mocked, nearly laughing as he relaxed his posture a little bit and backed away from him. (Any one is passing who didn't know them might have said, "Hey, I bet those two boys are damn good friends.") "I have some news for you and your group of stupid fucking friends, and let me tell you" -- Henry stopped to laugh for a second, like he was cracking himself up -- "it's going to make your life a living hell."

Bill gulped. He didn't think, realistically, it could get much worse.

"You got a free ride this year because of your little brother," Henry reminded, smiling a little bit, seeming genuine. "But the ride's over Denbrough. This summer is going to be the worst summer of your entire life."

(Bill didn't expect him to say anything else -- but honestly, every summer was the worst summer of his entire life. He didn't catch a break from the older boy and his group of goons, but there was a feeling down in the pits of his stomach that told him that this time, this time, for real, was going to be the worst summer vacation he's ever going to have as long as he lives.)

"But I do have a little piece of extra advice I'm gonna give you."

Bill huffed. "You're so generous," he started, rolling his eyes, as he tried to walk out of the bathroom. Henry grabbed onto his backpack, "but I think I'll have to pass with this one."

He was cut off as Bowers kicked him on shin and onto the cold bathroom tiles. So much for being brave.

"I think you might want to hear this." Henry squatted down to look Bill in the eyes. There was still a hint of a smile on his face. Boy, this is gonna be good. "If you think I'm a pain in your ass--"

"I d-do think you're a p-pain in m-my a-ass."

Henry paused for a second, sending a menacing smile, and pushed him back on the ground as he got up and stepped over the boy on the floor, before beginning to make his way out of the bathroom before looking back, before lending Bill a hand to get up. He hesitantly took it and brushed off his pants, lips pressed tightly together as he looked at Henry. "Then you're gonna hate the girl sitting on Belch's car."

"Why's that?" Bill asked, feigning confidence, already knowing the answer. Henry could tell, just exhaling and giving him a big mischievous smile, hands behind his back.

"Not important, but she's not gonna be as nice as I am," he said with a grin, "but I'm just looking out for you, Billy Boy. Wouldn't want Tommy Gun to whip your ass without some working, right?"

With that, Henry left the bathroom, a smile plastered on his face as he went to greet his sister, and Bill raced out of there like his ass was on fire -- warning Richie not to talk to or about the pretty girl sitting on Belch's car.

-- -- --

"Best feeling ever!" Stan groaned, grinning ear to ear as he dumped out everything from his backpack. School had finally let out for the summer — no more stupid math classes or dumb reading assignments and annoying history tests, just Stanley and his bird book for three whole months.

A piece of his own personal heaven. Points if the pretty girl on Belch's hood was with him but hey, he wasn't picky.

"Really?" Richie asked with a grin on his face, "Try tickling your pickle for the first time." Eddie rolled his eyes, but Bill smiled. Stan let out another groan -- not a good one, this time -- even though, if he had to be honest, this seemed like it would be the best summer of his whole entire life.

Richie felt it too, if he were going to tell the truth (as he so rarely did -- or at times, so bluntly did), that this felt like it was going to the be the absolutely best summer he would have for the rest of his life. He had a whole checklist and everything for things he wanted to do (kiss some girls), things he wanted to see (some girls' boobs), and things he wanted to experience (there were a number of interesting things on this list).

And quite frankly, he felt as though every single thing on every one of his lists could be accomplished with the girl sitting on Belch Huggins' car hood, smiling mischievously as she watched the kids coming out of school.

God, did she really and truly look like an angel. Deep brown hair, straight in some parts and wavy in others, came down a little bit past her collarbone (not super cared for, but neither was his), cherry red lips, and a cute line of freckles going across the bridge of her nose. She was the most impressive tan he'd ever seen in his whole life, a very deep beige from the summer sun — even though it was only June.

The top part was being held up by some clip, and Richie could see his own Hawaiian shirt going over her tank top instead of the open button down she was wearing on top. It was lazy looking and careless and little bit disheveled, but that day, Richard Wentworth Tozier II was convinced he saw the hottest girl to ever be created.

Eddie interrupted his dream, snapping him back for only a second. "So what do you guys want to do tomorrow?"

"I start my training," Richie responded immediately.

"Training for what?"

"Street Fighter."

"You're going to spend your whole summer inside of an arcade?" Eddie couldn't imagine that prospect, but with Richie, anything was possibly -- no matter how disgusting it might seem.

"Beats spending it inside of your mother, oh!" Richie's goofy grin came back in an instant and leaned over for a high five from Bill when his hand was brought down by Stan. "And, 'course, my summer bucket list."

Eddie sent him a pity glance, "No girl's gonna let you fuck her this summer, Richie. If they have any brains at all, no girl is going to let you go within a ten foot radius of her without realizing what she's doing." Richie pressed his lips together. Of course Eddie would be cynical, it's just because — "and don't tell me that I think it because I just haven't hit puberty yet!"

Richie gave him a toothy grin, "Aw, shucks, Eddie Spaghetti, you know me so well. When you see a pretty girl, like say, that one over there—" he pointed discreetly towards the girl on the hood —"you'll get that feeling of butterflies in your stomach and just think, 'Wow, I've just seen an angel.' I don't mean Bowers, I just-"

"Yeah, you mean his little sister." Eddie looked up to Richie for a response, only to see him at a loss for words, jaw dropping and face paling.

For once, Richie Tozier was speechless as Eddie laughed and slapped his back as Bill mentioned something about the Barrens and Georgie and finding him — even though everybody had long accepted the fact that Georgie wasn't just missing.

It was like a switch. Everything changed in that instant. It was like she grew fangs and claws, and he watched Patrick look at her like she hung the fucking moon. It was incredibly painful, but he assumed, in a sense, they deserved each other. It took a second before he realized what this would actually mean for him: having to worry about a double in the hallways — a hot double that could potentially fool him into forgetting her Bowers-ness — and someone else to make fun of him in ways that he'd never tjough imaginable.

Sure, Bowers wasn't awfully bright, but he sure as hell was creative when it came down to it.

"Gunner!" Richie heard Bowers (the boy one) laugh as she shoved him in the side, cackling along herself, cigarette never leaving her mouth — opting just to talk out of the side of it.

Oh, so her name must have been Gunner. That's unfortunate, he thought to himself. But then again, she seems awful, so maybe she just deserves it. He smiled to himself. "Tommy Lee, we've gotta start heading out soon."

Wait, so was it Tommy Lee? Or was it Gunner? Was that just the gang's nickname for her? More importantly, if it was, why the fuck would they choose a name like Gunner for her? Nothing was settling about that fact, and although Richie wasn't typically one to spiral, it was hard to control himself.

"You didn't tell me you had friends, Henny!" Tommy exclaimed girlishly, making Patrick spit out his sofa and slam his hand on the car hood, flicking out her cigarette and letting Patrick snuff it out. She put a hand on her heart. "Oh, you've grown up so fast! I remember it was just yesterday you took a massive shit in that kids backpack and had to do forty hours of community service!"

Richie could tolerate a lot of things. One thing he couldn't tolerate though, was not being able to chime in when his story was being used and told all wrong — or mentioned without his name. Luckily, he was spared his intervention by a howling Belch Huggins.

"It was four eyes!" Huggins nearly screamed, warning a howling laugh from Tommy and shove from Victor, followed by a point led by Patrick. "Yeah, him!"

Richie could feel his face heating up, but before he could say anything, the bright blue TransAM was firing up the engine, and was getting ready to peel out of the school parking lot like a man man was driving.

Bill was the first to say anything. "Sorry about that, Rich. Bowers is a real asshole."

"So is his sister," he made out through his teeth.

Richie saw himself as a 'go with the flow' kind of guy, but goddamn it, he wasn't going to let Tommy Lee shit all over him and get away with it.

He was too stubborn, too arrogant, and too proud to let that happen, but with only a second or two of knowing she existed, he knew she was the exact same way. He could get tell it with the way she walked and talker and immediately took control of some of the scariest kids in Derry Middle.

But she wouldn't come out on top of this one.

There's no way. He refused to let it happen. Letting her win would show everyone else that he was just a loser who couldn't stand up to a girl who's was going to beat the living daylights out of him if he looked at her the wrong way.

She already had Henry and Patrick and Belch on her side — an even, if not better, match to four decently sized seventh graders. There was no excuse for them to get beat.

Grinding his teeth and tearing his eyes away from her, laughing mischievous and almost secretly as she put her cigarette out on Belch's hood as not to be noticed by he coo around the corner (Rich didn't know that the cop around the corner was her father who would beat her till she couldn't stand if he caught her smoking) he said, "So, Barrens tomorrow, right Bill?"

And right as Tommy Lee Bowers and her newfound gang pulled out of the parking lot, she and Richie Tozier locked eyes and made a silent pact — an agreement — something they both agreed on — something he'd be thinking about all night and the whole next morning:

Derry is two small for the two of us.

[une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir]

Jon Snow = Rhaegal

This is a sibling post to this. It works precisely in the same way.

When she opened it, she found piles of the finest velvets and damasks   the Free Cities could produce … and resting on top, nestled in the soft cloth, three huge eggs.  (...) One egg was a deep green, with burnished bronze flecks that came and went depending on how Dany turned it.

Hypothesis: Jon Snow = Rhaegal

If Aegon = Viserys, then Jon = Rhaegal.

Other thing to note is the bronze is a metal important in the north, for example the crown of the kings of winter was made of bronze. The egg has a duplicitious nature, things appear and disappear depending on how Danerys looks at it.

The green one shall be Rhaegal, for my valiant brother who died on the green banks of the Trident.

Like Aegon = Viserion post, what Rhaegar die for exactly? Robert’s Rebellion was fuelled by Aerys being a crazy loon, but in specific Rhaegar’s death came at Robert’s hands, who killed him for “kidnapping” Lyanna Stark.

"The Others take your honor!" Robert swore. "What did any Targaryen ever know of honor? Go down into your crypt and ask Lyanna about the dragon's honor!"

"You avenged Lyanna at the Trident," Ned said, halting beside the king. Promise me, Ned, she had whispered.

"That did not bring her back." Robert looked away, off into the grey distance. "The gods be damned. It was a hollow victory they gave me. A crown … it was the girl I prayed them for. Your sister, safe … and mine again, as she was meant to be. I ask you, Ned, what good is it to wear a crown? The gods mock the prayers of kings and cowherds alike."

(his face... HIS FACE...)

Like Aegon = Viserion post, all these aspects are also present in House of Undying visions.

three fires must you light . . . one for life and one for death and one to love (...) Viserys screamed as the molten gold ran down his cheeks and filled his mouth. A tall lord with copper skin and silver-gold hair stood beneath the banner of a fiery stallion, a burning city behind him. Rubies flew like drops of blood from the chest of a dying prince, and he sank to his knees in the water and with his last breath murmured a woman's name. . . three treasons will you know . . . once for blood and once for gold and once for love . . .(...) Her silver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars. A corpse stood at the prow of a ship,  eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly. A blue flower  grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. .  . . mother of dragons, bride of fire . . .

There’s the love of a woman, since Rhaegar dies whispering a woman’s name, then there’s the result of that love, Jon represented as a blue flower (Lyanna’s favourite) on the Wall (where he spends most of the narrative. Fits.

Considering the trichotomy Rhaegar / Rhaegal / Jon applies to the third stanza of the first and the third groups, it’s natural to apply it to the second stanza, so somehow must fit, so in the end we have. “three fires must you light . . . (...) one to love (...) Rubies flew like drops of blood from the chest of a dying prince, and he sank to his knees in the water and with his last breath murmured a woman's name. . . “ and “three mounts must you ride (...) one to love (...) From a smoking tower, a great stone beast took wing, breathing shadow fire. . . (...) and “three treasons will you know . . . once for gold (...) A blue flower  grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . ."

Applying the same logic to the trichotomy Viserys / Viserion / Aegon, we then have. “three fires must you light . . . (...) one for death (...) A tall lord with copper skin and silver-gold hair stood beneath the banner of a fiery stallion, a burning city behind him.“ and “three mounts must you ride (...) one to dread (...) A cloth dragon swayed on poles amidst a cheering crowd. (...) and “three treasons will you know . . . once for gold (...) A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly."

Like Aegon = Viserion post, I said the conclusion of all that Viserys being crowned with a “golden crown” by Drogo, Viserion named after him, and Aegon echoing in that specific’s dragon subtext was Danerys feels betrayed by Aegon crowning himself king of the Iron Throne, then she burns King’s Landing as a response.

Similarly, the conclusion for all this Rhaegar dying for the woman he loved, Rhaegal being named after him, and Jon echoing in that specific’s dragon subtext is Danerys is betrayed by Jon loving another. In the show, Jon Snow loved his sisters, that’s why he betrayed her and killed her. So... it fits, though the types of love aren’t the same. *shifts eyes*

It’s worth noting that applying this logic to the first stanza of the three groups, we get Danerys / Drogon. Three heads has the dragon.

----

What else? All of Rhaegal’s mentions are listed below... and some of them fit what we saw in the show.

A CLASH OF KINGS

The green one shall be Rhaegal, for my valiant brother who died on the green banks of the Trident. 

We all know Rhaegar’s story. In broad strokes, he was “born in grief” while others died around him, something happened as a young child which made him decide to become a warrior despite not being fit for it, he’s melancholy by nature and goes to Harrenhal to brood, is fond of wearing black to battle, he’s in love with a Stark (in Jon’s case, only platonically, *suuure... rolls eyes*) and let hundreds die for her sake, etc etc. Like Viserys isn’t Aegon, Rhaegar isn’t Jon... but you know..

"Your hair is coming back, Khaleesi," Jhiqui said as she scraped sand off her back.(...) Dothraki men wore their hair in long oiled braids, and cut them only when defeated. Perhaps I should do the same, she thought, to remind them that Drogo's strength lives within me now. Khal Drogo had died with his hair uncut, a boast few men could make.

Across the tent, Rhaegal unfolded green wings to flap and flutter a half foot before thumping to the carpet. When he landed, his tail lashed back and forth in fury, and he raised his head and screamed. If I had wings, I would want to fly too, Dany thought. The Targaryens of old had ridden upon dragonback when they went to war. (ACOK ~ Danerys I)

Danerys thinking of her defeated hair and of Drogo’s undefeated hair, followed by Rhaegal screaming and Targaryens fighting in wars, suggests Danerys will be defeated by Jon but not in battle. This is what happened in the show, Jon defeated Danerys but not in battle. Some thing between Rhaegal and a braid had already been alluded to in AGOT (see at the very end of this post).

"Then I grieve for you, Dragonmother, and for bleeding Westeros, bereft of its rightful king."

Beneath Dany's gentle fingers, green Rhaegal stared at the stranger with eyes of molten gold. When his mouth opened, his teeth gleamed like black needles. (ACOK ~ Danerys II)

The (ship!) captain laments Viserys’ death, who was the rightful king of Westeros, then Rhaegal basically bares his teeth like a dog or... a wolf.. ready to attack. I once thought this was just a pun on Jon being the rightful king of Westeros, but it might be the case that Danerys kills Aegon, who’s the rightful king of Westeros, with Jon taking offence on his behalf.

It’s also worth noting Danerys is being “nice” to Rhaegal as she’s touching him with “gentle fingers”, while he’s the one being aggressive and baring his teeth. We’ll see this pattern of her being nice and soft with him (except for ONE notable occasion), but he’s always a bitch to her, many times.

"A dream delayed, no more." Dany's tight silver collar was chafing against her throat. She unfastened it and flung it aside. The collar was set with an enchanted amethyst that Xaro swore would ward her against all poisons. The Pureborn were notorious for offering poisoned wine to those they thought dangerous, but they had not given Dany so much as a cup of water. They never saw me for a queen, she thought bitterly. I was only an afternoon's amusement, a horse girl with a curious pet.

Rhaegal hissed and dug sharp black claws into her bare shoulder as Dany stretched out a hand for the wine. Wincing, she shifted him to her other shoulder, where he could claw her gown instead of her skin. She was garbed after the Qartheen fashion. Xaro had warned her that the Enthroned would never listen to a Dothraki, so she had taken care to go before them in flowing green samite with one breast bared, silvered sandals on her feet, with a belt of black-and-white pearls about her waist. For all the help they offered, I could have gone naked. Perhaps I should have. She drank deep. (ACOK ~ Danerys III)

Like in Aegon = Viserys, where the talk of poison was mentioned, here it shows up once more (it will appear one more time). I do think this is plenty of suggestion that someone from #TeamAegon is most likely going to attempt to poison Danerys, just like Varys tried in the show.

Danerys realises they never saw her as queen, just an amusement with a curious pet, which is followed by Rhaegal hurting her by sinking his claws into her skin. The subtext is interesting, because the former is what political!Jon was based on (Jon never seeing Danerys as worthy of being queen, but using her for the dragons), while the latter is basically what happened in the show (Jon killed Danerys with a knife). Some malicious stabbing is definetly occuring, whether she dies or not... maybe. I’m still holding on to my girl Arya to come through.

Also worth noting, there’s a whole description of Qartheen fashion of one bared breast, but she thinks she might have gone naked instead. In the show, Danerys is delusional enough to try to rekindle her relationship with Jon after blowing up KL and he entertained it to distract her, before stabbing her. Then I remember Littlefinger’s quote "When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, the best thing to do is close your eyes and get on with it. (...) Waiting won't make the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it. (...) A steel kiss." I didn’t think that Danita begging for her nephew’s cock while he kills her couldn’t be topped, but doing it while thinking they’ll do the nasty...

I have become the most splendid beggar in the world, but a beggar all the same. She hated it, as her brother must have. (....) I have something Viserys never had. I have the dragons. The dragons are all the difference.

She stroked Rhaegal. The green dragon closed his teeth around the meat of her hand and nipped hard. (...) Aggo guarded on her other side, while Rakharo rode behind the procession, watching the faces in the crowd for any sign of danger. Ser Jorah she had left behind today, to guard her other dragons; the exile knight had been opposed to this folly from the start. He distrusts everyone, she reflected, and perhaps for good reason.

As Dany lifted her goblet to drink, Rhaegal sniffed at the wine and drew his head back, hissing. "Your dragon has a good nose." Xaro wiped his lips. "The wine is ordinary. It is said that across the Jade Sea they make a golden vintage so fine that one sip makes all other wines taste like vinegar. Let us take my pleasure barge and go in search of it, you and I.”

"The Arbor makes the best wine in the world," Dany declared. Lord Redwyne had fought for her father against the Usurper, she remembered, one of the few to remain true to the last. Will he fight for me as well?  (...) I mean to sail to Westeros, and drink the wine of vengeance from the skull of the Usurper." She scratched Rhaegal under one eye, and his jade-green wings unfolded for a moment, stirring the still air in the palanquin.

A single perfect tear ran down the cheek of Xaro Xhoan Daxos. "Will nothing turn you from this madness?"

Danerys thinks of how she’s superior to Viserys, she has dragons while he has not, followed by Rhaegal attacking her. It happens once more a few paragraphs down. Danerys says she will kill the usurper and Rhaegal is basically raising his hackles. Again, the subtext of Danerys killing Aegon because she doesn’t think he’s a real dragon like she is, but then Jon taking offence on his behalf and attacking her shows up.

Interestingly, in the same segment Danerys thinks how Viserys was known as the beggar king, but as we also know from the Aegon = Viserion post, Viserion does what Viserys could not, Viserys begged (even though he said the dragon doesn’t beg) while Aegon refuses to beg for Danerys’ help (” Why should I go running to my aunt as if I were a beggar?”) and goes on his own.

Also interestingly, after Rhaegal attacks Danerys, she looks outside to watch her bloodriders protecting her and thinking Jorah distrusts everyone with good reason. But Rhaegal is inside of her palanquin with her, the bloodriders won’t protect her against the dragon. In the show, Jon was allowed inside the Red Keep past her Unsullied / Dothraki guards, then attacked her.

There’s also yet another mentioned of foul wine. Danerys’ was almost killed in AGOT with poisoned wine. In the show, Varys tried to kill her with poisoned wine (which was one of his suggestions when Robert was brainstorming how to get rid of her). She mentions the Redwynes and what loyalty they have. At this point, Redwynes are Tyrell loyal.

In the show, Varys backs Danerys (instead of Aegon) and Oleanna (who is a Redwyne!) allies with Danerys to get revenge on Cersei (in theory, she has Aegon’s role). Whatever conodrum D&D made to compensate for Aegon being slashed off, we have elements in common here. Varys (#TeamAegon) and poison as well as wine and the Redwynes (in specific, Oleanna).

Drogon was curled up beneath her arm, as hot as a stone that has soaked all day in the blazing sun. Rhaegal and Viserion were fighting over a scrap of meat,  buffeting each other with their wings as smoke hissed from their  nostrils. (ACOK ~ Danerys III)  

Like said in Aegon = Viserion post, Aegon and Jon, fighting over something (most likely north versus south). This happens while Drogon (Danerys) soaks beneath the sun (Slaver’s  Bay, Volantis, you know beyond the narrow sea). Speculation for book only, most likely Jon and Aegon will naturally clash in TWOW / ADOS, while Danerys is terrorising elsewhere.

A STORM OF SWORDS

Viserion's scales were the color of fresh cream, his horns, wing bones, and spinal crest a dark gold that flashed bright as metal in the sun. Rhaegal was made of the green of summer and the bronze of fall. They soared above the ships in wide circles, higher and higher, each trying to climb above the other.

Dragons always preferred to attack from above, Dany had learned. Should either get between the other and the sun, he would fold his wings and dive screaming, and they would tumble from the sky locked together in a tangled scaly ball, jaws snapping and tails lashing. The first time they had done it, she feared that they meant to kill each other, but it was only sport. No sooner would they splash into the sea than they would break apart and rise again, shrieking and hissing, the salt water steaming off them as their wings clawed at the air. Drogon was aloft as well, though not in sight; he would be miles ahead, or miles behind, hunting. (ASOS ~ Danerys I)

Same sentiment as above. Aegon and Jon fight each other, with the added bonus that it isn’t very serious (or not “permanent” enemies), while Danerys is doing something else elsewhere.

Rhaegal and Viserion were the size of small dogs, Drogon only a  little larger, and any dog would have out-weighed them; they were all  wings and neck and tail, lighter than they looked. And so Daenerys  Targaryen must rely on wood and wind and canvas to bear her home. (ASOS ~ Danerys I)

Like said in Aegon = Viserion post, most likely, just flavour test. Could indicate Danerys’ forces will outmatch Jon and Aegon separately though. In the show, this fit for #TeamJon. And now that I think of it, also fit #TeamCersei (who’s filling for Aegon’s role).

She took a chunk of salt pork out of the bowl in her lap and held it up for her dragons to see. All three of them eyed it hungrily. Rhaegal spread green wings and stirred the air, and Viserion's neck swayed back and forth like a long pale snake's as he followed the movement of her hand. "Drogon," Dany said softly, "dracarys." And she tossed the pork in the air.

Drogon moved quicker than a striking cobra. Flame roared from his mouth, orange and scarlet and black, searing the meat before it began to fall. As his sharp black teeth snapped shut around it, Rhaegal's head darted close, as if to steal the prize from his brother's jaws, but Drogon swallowed and screamed, and the smaller green dragon could only hiss in frustration.

"Stop that, Rhaegal," Dany said in annoyance, giving his head a swat. "You had the last one. I'll have no greedy dragons." She smiled at Ser Jorah. "I won't need to char their meat over a brazier any longer."    

"So I see. Dracarys?"

All three dragons turned their heads at the sound of that word, and Viserion  let loose with a blast of pale gold flame that made Ser Jorah take a  hasty step backward. Dany giggled. "Be careful with that word, ser, or  they're like to singe your beard off. It means 'dragonfire' in High  Valyrian. I wanted to choose a command that no one was like to utter by  chance." (ASOS ~ Danerys I)  

All three dragons are eager to fight. “three heads has the dragon”. The Dance of Dragons II. Other things to note. Danerys hits Rhaegal for being greedy. I cannot believe she hit him. Like... he’s just a baby. :(

"The warlocks in Qarth told you that you would be betrayed three times,"  the exile knight reminded her, as Viserion and Rhaegal began to snap  and claw at each other.   (ASOS ~ Danerys I)    

Like said in the Aegon = Viserion post, Aegon and Jon, fighting over something. It’s likely they’ll fight as a north  faction versus south faction. Either against each other for the land, or against Danerys to defend each of their factions. Either way, these must be the root of their betrayals. This is speculation for book only, for TWOW / ADOS.

Dany had commanded that the top be removed, so her three dragons might be chained to the platform. Irri and Jhiqui rode with them, to try and keep them calm. Yet Viserion's tail lashed back and forth, and smoke rose angry from his nostrils. Rhaegal could sense something wrong as well. Thrice he tried to take wing, only to be pulled down by the heavy chain in Jhiqui's hand. Drogon coiled into a ball, wings and tail tucked tight. Only his eyes remained to tell that he was not asleep. (ASOS ~ Danerys III)    

Viserion and Rhaegal (Aegon and Jon) know something is wrong. Drogon (Danerys) doesn’t give a shit. This is the same chapter Danerys burns Astapor sooo... not a good look for Daniella.

Drogon flew almost lazily at Kraznys, black wings beating. As he gave  the slaver another taste of fire, Irri and Jhiqui unchained Viserion  and Rhaegal, and suddenly there were three dragons in the air. (ASOS ~ Danerys III)    

Like said in the Aegon = Viserion post, a three way battle  “the dragon has three heads”. The Dance of Dragons II.

(there’s a bunch of Rhaegal references already covered in Aegon = Viserion post, fast-forward to the next not covered one).

Daario is right, I shouldn't have banished him. I should have kept him, or I should have killed him. She played at being a queen, yet sometimes she still felt like a scared little girl. Viserys always said what a dolt I was. Was he truly mad? She closed the book. She could still recall Ser Jorah, if she wished. Or send Daario to kill him.

Dany fled from the choice, out onto the terrace. She found Rhaegal asleep beside the pool, a green and bronze coil basking in the sun. Drogon was perched up atop the pyramid, in the place where the huge bronze harpy had stood before she had commanded it to be pulled down. He spread his wings and roared when he spied her. There was no sign of Viserion, but when she went to the parapet and scanned the horizon she saw pale wings in the far distance, sweeping above the river. He is hunting. They grow bolder every day. Yet it still made her anxious when they flew too far away. One day one of them may not return, she thought.

This one was actually covered before, one of many Viserion turns away from Danerys, paralleling Aegon’s choice of not going to Danerys and invading Westeros on his own. However, what I didn’t notice the first time because this isn’t a proper meta, just dumping thoughts, This is the narrative block of Danerys finding out of Jorah’s betrayal (what she thinks is one anyway). Twice poignant!

Rhaegal is asleep beside a pool, Drogon is atop a pyramid where a harpy once stood, and Viserion is hunting in the distance. Obviously, distance doesn’t matter. These are stand-ins for Jon and Winterfell (the godswood pool... that’s an interesting place for the betrayal for platonic love to be in :)...) and Aegon attacking Westerons, while Danerys is still beyond the narrow sea. If this lecture is correct, she’s reaaally coming very late to Westeros.

A DANCE OF DRAGONS

Almost the whole shtick was already covered in the Aegon = Viserion post. Things to note: Rhaegal is aggressive towards Danerys and towards those that hurt his brother.

Once, not long ago, he had ridden on her shoulder, his tail coiled round her arm. Once she had fed him morsels of charred meat from her own hand. He had been the first chained up. Daenerys had led him to the pit herself and shut him up inside with several oxen. Once he had gorged himself he grew drowsy. They had chained him whilst he slept.

Rhaegal had been harder. Perhaps he could hear his brother raging in the pit, despite the walls of brick and stone between them. In the end, they had to cover him with a net of heavy iron chain as he basked on her terrace, and he fought so fiercely that it had taken three days to carry him down the servants' steps, twisting and snapping. Six men had been burned in the struggle. (ADWD ~ Danerys II)

Jonnathan Snowflake died went to the gym and flexes hard. I’m kidding.

The subtext suggests it’s more difficult to subdue Jon than Aegon. Or better, it suggests Danerys actually tricked Aegon into submission with some kind of tempting offer, while Jon had to submitted by force. For example, it would make sense if Danerys offered an alliance to Aegon and he accepted but then never followed through (like Astapor or Yunkai). While Jon wouldn’t be swayed, so he was forced to do it. Not quite it went in the show, when Cersei (Aegon) was the one that refused to yeld, while Jon... well that trainwreck. It could be that Jon was also playing some of Aegon’s (maculine) role.

The rain had drowned the worst of the fires, but wisps of smoke still rose from the smoldering ruin that had been the pyramid of Hazkar, and the great black pyramid of Yherizan where Rhaegal had made his lair hulked in the gloom like a fat woman bedecked with glowing orange jewels. (...) The only Meereenese the dragons had slain since Harghaz the Hero had been the slavers foolish enough to object when Rhaegal attempted to make his lair atop the pyramid of Hazkar. (...)  He wondered where Rhaegal was. Thus far the green dragon had shown himself to be more dangerous than the white.     (ADWD ~ The Queen’s Hand)

A dragon on top of a pyramid = king. It could be Winterfell / North sure, but this came AFTER Rhaegal killed Quentyn on Viserion’s behalf. Such it could be King’s Landing. I’d always though Jon would very briefly be king at the end, until he abdicated in favour of Bran to avoid another war, as nobody wanted those Targs on the throne. Doesn’t fit with the punish part though.

It’s also worth noting that once again, the subtext plants the idea that Jon is more dangerous than Aegon. As a final note, Rhaegal making his lair hulked in the gloom like “a fat woman bedecked in flowing orange jewels” is very Smaug of him. <3

----

Now, for bonus, the eggs proper. Not Rhaegal, but his green egg features in an important scene, just after Danerys hits Viserys for the first time.

"I am the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, not some grass-stained savage with bells in his hair," Viserys spat back at her. (...) His fingers dug into her arm painfully and for an instant Dany felt like a child again, quailing in the face of his rage. She reached out with her other hand and grabbed the first thing she touched, the belt she'd hoped to give him, a heavy chain of ornate bronze medallions. She swung it with all her strength.

It caught him full in the face. Viserys let go of her. Blood ran down his cheek where the edge of one of the medallions had sliced it open. "You are the one who forgets himself," Dany said to him. "Didn't you learn anything that day in the grass? Leave me now, before I summon my khas to drag you out. And pray that Khal Drogo does not hear of this, or he will cut open your belly and feed you your own entrails." (...) Drops of his blood had spattered the beautiful sandsilk cloak.  (...) "Please, bring me one of the dragon's eggs."

Irri fetched the egg with the deep green shell, bronze flecks shining amid its scales as she turned it in her small hands. Dany curled up on her side, pulling the sandsilk cloak across her and cradling the egg in the hollow between her swollen belly and small, tender breasts. (...) She was lying there, holding the egg, when she felt the child move within her … as if he were reaching out, brother to brother, blood to blood. "You are the dragon," Dany whispered to him, "the true dragon. I know it. I know it." And she smiled, and went to sleep dreaming of home. (AGOT ~ Danerys IV)

Like in Aegon = Viserys post, I said that there is evidence for Jon taking offence over Danerys trying to usurp his brother Aegon. We can see that reflected in this scene. I once thought the whole thing was about Danerys’ trying to usurp Jon (I thought the visions were more complex than what they were), but right now I’m thinking that is about Danerys’ usurping Aegon (and / or his cousins) and Jon taking offence over it.

In this case, Danerys gets Viserys some clothing offers. Viserys doesn’t take her offer well and rages against it, saying he’s the king. The two fight and Danerys reaches for the belt and uses it like a whip, drawing blood from his cheek and staining the cloak. Danerys then covers herself and the green egg with the bloodstained cloak and saying that Viserys isn’t the dragon, Rhaego (Drogon) is, and dreams of home.

Let’s recap how Viserion is taken prisoner, which is basically the same steps as the Danerys and Viserys fight above. Danerys tricks Viserion by baiting him with a meaty offer, then he rages on the pit when he realises the truth. Much later, Quentyn tries to subdue Viserion with a whip and someone draws blood from his neck. Moving forward, Danerys says unborn Rhaego is the true dragon, which implies she believes that Viserys isn’t. You know, the reason why Danerys says once Viserys is murdered by Drogo. So, this all fits with the subtext of Danerys killing Aegon because he was crowned king.

Then Danerys covers herself and the green egg with the sandsilk cloak, but note that this cloak is stained with Viserys’ blood. Then she dreams of home, which in Danerys’ chapters ALWAYS means Danerys burning King’s Landing (I made a post about this before, it’s somewhere). All it was missing from the Danerys and Viserys fight versus Viserion taken prisoner is Rhaegal killing Quentyn for the affront against his brother. However, Rhaegal is in this scene too, inside his egg beneath the bloodied cloak. It’s “missing” Viserion though... or is it?

Dany gave the silver over to the slaves for grooming and entered her tent. It was cool and dim beneath the silk. As she let the door flap close behind her, Dany saw a finger of dusty red light reach out to touch her dragon's eggs across the tent. For an instant a thousand droplets of scarlet flame swam before her eyes. (AGOT ~ Danerys III)

The Usurper has woken the dragon now, she told herself … and her eyes went to the dragon's eggs resting in their nest of dark velvet. The shifting lamplight limned their stony scales, and shimmering motes of jade and scarlet and gold swam in the air around them, like courtiers around a king. (...) Cradling the egg with both hands, she carried it to the fire and pushed it down amongst the burning coals. The black scales seemed to glow as they drank the heat. Flames licked against the stone with small red tongues. Dany placed the other two eggs beside the black one in the fire. As she stepped back from the brazier, the breath trembled in her throat. She watched until the coals had turned to ashes. (AGOT ~ Danerys VI)   

The Dance of Dragons between the three Targaryens might feature in the three egg mentions described above. It’s worth noting the first features Danerys returning home (”entered her tent”) and a red door (”the door flap close behind her, a finger of dusty red light”). In Danerys’ chapters, either always means burning King’s Landing (”a thousand droplets of scarlet flame swam before her eyes”).

"Yes?" the maegi asked. "What is it you wish, Khaleesi?"

"Bring me … egg … dragon's egg … please …" Her lashes turned to lead, and she was too weary to hold them up.

When she woke the third time, a shaft of golden sunlight was pouring through the smoke hole of the tent, and her arms were wrapped around a dragon's egg. It was the pale one, its scales the color of butter cream, veined with whorls of gold and bronze, and Dany could feel the heat of it. Beneath her bedsilks, a fine sheen of perspiration covered her bare skin. Dragondew, she thought. Her fingers trailed lightly across the surface of the shell, tracing the wisps of gold, and deep in the stone she felt something twist and stretch in response. (AGOT ~ Danerys IX)

Danerys doesn’t want her child or Drogo, her first thoughts are the eggs. This is quite telling where her priorities lie. Regardless, Danerys just miscarried Rhaego and the egg chosen ot be there is... Viserion’s. There’s Rhaego in the sandsilk sequence after all and this link between Rhaego and Viserion is suggest a third time in...

She climbed the pyre herself to place the eggs around her sun-and-stars. The black beside his heart, under his arm. The green beside his head, his braid coiled around it. The cream-and-gold down between his legs.(AGOT ~ Danerys X)

Danerys’ places Egg!Drogon besides Drogo’s heart and the dragon was named after the man, so Drogo’s blood sacrifice awakened Drogon. Danerys’ places Egg!Viserion at Drogo’s loins, who produced... that’s right, Rhaego, so Rhaego’s blood sacrifice awakened Viserion. Danerys’ thought Rhaego was “the true dragon”, not Viserys... and that’s how she justified killing him. But Rhaego’s blood sacrifice awakened Viserion, the dragon that is symbolic of Aegon, whom she’ll kill for not believing he’s a true dragon.

Also, Danerys’ places Egg!Rhaegal next to Drogo’s head with his braid around it, the symbol of his undefeated status (congruent with ACOK mentioned somewhere above), so Mirri Maz Duur’s sacrifice awakened Rhaegal. Danerys’ thought she was using Mirri Maz Duur, teaching her a lesson... but the dragon the maegi’s blood awakened, is also the dragon that is symbolic of the man that kills Danerys.

Narrative vengence served (very) cold.

[seattlesea]

Songs I Listen to While Writing Sorted by Genre/Type of Scene

(Some songs will be in more than one category)

Romance Scenes- we fell in love in october by girl in red Strawberries and Cigarettes by Troye Sivan Fool by Cavetown Call Me by 90sFlav Girls by girl in red 3AM by Finding Hope Dream Girl by Anna of the North Stay by Zedd & Alessia Cara Somebody To Tell Me by Tyler Glenn Secrets by One Republic Paris by The Chainsmokers Safe and Sound by Capital Cities Wild Heart by Bleachers A Thousand Years by Christina Perri Fire on Fire by Sam Smith Angel With a Shotgun by The Cab She Looks So Perfect by 5 Seconds of Summer Jet Pack Blues by Fall Out Boy Trade Mistakes by Panic! At The Disco When the Day Met the Night by Panic! At The Disco Moral of the Story by Ashe We Can’t Be Friends by Dream Koala Public Making Out Is Like Ugh by DNE Moon River by Audrey Hepburn Mystery of Love by Sufjan Stevens Alewife by Clairo Girls Like Girls by Hayley Kiyoko Futile Devices (Doveman Remix) by Sufjan Stevens  Midnight Love by girl in red

Calm Scenes- Call Me by 90sFlav 5:32 by The Deli Crush by Esthie Coffee Breath by Sofia Mills Santa Monica Dream by Angus & Julia Stone Fool by Cavetown Golden Hour by Jonathon Morali Crosses by José González Death Bed by Powfu (Beat Only) 3AM by Finding Hope Waterloo Sunset by The Kinks Shy Girl by Kedam Counting Stars by One Republic Kaleidoscope Eyes by Panic! At The Disco She Had The World by Panic! At The Disco This Is Home by Cavetown Lua by Bright Eyes Sweater Weather by The Neighborhood Bedroom by Litany FLAMIN HOT CHEETOS by Clairo Will She Come Back by girl in red To All Of You by Syd Matters

Sad/Emotional Scenes- Obstacles by Syd Matters Runaway by Aurora Cancer by My Chemical Romance Unsteady by X Ambassadors State of Dreaming by MARINA Raquel y Sergio Juntos by Ivan M. Lacamera Coming Home by Falling in Reverse Spanish Sahara by Foals I’m Bad at Life by Falling in Reverse 7 Years by Lukas Graham Lost It All by Black Veil Brides Teen Idle by MARINA Hall of Fame by The Script Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish 21 Guns by Green Day Pirate Love Song by Black Heart Shatter Me by Lindsey Stirling Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap Dollhouse by Melanie Martinez The Light Behind Your Eyes by My Chemical Romance Helena (So Long and Goodnight) by My Chemical Romance Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance I Don’t Love You by My Chemical Romance The Ghost of You by My Chemical Romance Bishop Knife Trick by Fall Out Boy Indomitable by Casey Lee Williams The End of All Things by Panic! At The Disco Always by Panic! At The Disco Impossible Year by Panic! At The Disco Dying in LA by Panic! At The Disco Northern Downpour by Panic! At The Disco Far Too Young To Die by Panic! At The Disco This Is Gospel by Panic! At The Disco House of Memories by Panic! At The Disco Moral of the Story by Ashe Reason to Stay by Sody Anchor by Novo Amor Sober II (Melodrama) by Lorde Mt. Washington by Local Natives Mountains by Message To Bears

Action/Fight Scenes- Finish Line by Skillet I Ran (Epic Trailer Version) by Hidden Citizens Another One Bites The Dust (Epic Trailer Version) by Hidden Citizens Back From the Dead by Skillet Never Give In by Black Veil Brides The Phoenix by Fall Out Boy DESTROYA by My Chemical Romance Warriors by Imagine Dragons Bella Ciao by Manu Pilas What’s Up Danger by Blackway & Black Caviar The Resistance by Skillet Feel Invincible by Skillet In The End by Black Veil Brides Days Are Numbered by Black Veil Brides Fallen Angels by Black Veil Brides Caffeine by Casey Lee Williams This Will Be The Day by Casey Lee Williams 300 Violin Orchestra by Jorge Quintero Radioactive by Imagine Dragons Ready Aim Fire by Imagine Dragons Silent Running (Epic Trailer Version) by Hidden Citizens I’d Love to Change the World (Matstubs Remix) by Jetta  Tommy’s Theme by NOISIA The Sharpest Lives by My Chemical Romance Mama by My Chemical Romance My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light ‘Em Up) by Fall Out Boy The Carpal Tunnel of Love by Fall Out Boy Young and Menace by Fall Out Boy

Happy/Fun Scenes- Tongue Tied by Grouplove Bang! by AJR 100 Bad Days by AJR Wasted by Tiësto 3 Nights by Dominic Fike City in a Garden by Fall Out Boy I Took a Pill in Ibiza (SeeB Remix) by Mike Posner  Safe and Sound by Capital Cities Collar Full by Panic! At The Disco Ahead By a Century by The Tragically Hip American Idiot by Green Day Superhero by The Script Wild Things by Alessia Cara Here’s To Never Growing Up by Avril Lavigne Do It All The Time by I Don’t Know How But They Found Me Burn by Ellie Goulding Move To Miami by Enrique Iglesias & Pitbull Mad Hatter by Melanie Martinez King of the World by Young Rising Sons Bulletproof Heart by My Chemical Romance Na Na Na by My Chemical Romance Miss Missing You by Fall Out Boy Where Did The Party Go by Fall Out Boy Sunshine Riptide by Fall Out Boy Last of the Real Ones by Fall Out Boy Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) by Fall Out Boy Time To Dance by Panic! At The Disco Crazy=Genius by Panic! At The Disco The Overpass by Panic! At The Disco Roaring 20s by Panic! At The Disco Victorious by Panic! At The Disco LA Devotee by Panic! At The Disco Don’t Threaten Me With a Good Time by Panic! At The Disco Something Good by alt-j Hollywood by MARINA

Badass/Dark Scenes- Pretty Waste by Bones UK Bubblegum Bitch by MARINA Born For This by The Score Kings & Queens by Ava Max Castle by Halsey Caffeine by Casey Lee Williams Heaven Knows by The Pretty Reckless Joan of Arc by In This Moment Believer by Imagine Dragons Sand Storm by Apashe you should see me in a crown by Billie Eilish Power & Control by MARINA Fancy by Iggy Azalea Look What You Made Me Do by Taylor Swift Empire of Our Own by RAIGN Revolution by Unsecret & Ruelle Unstoppable by The Score Control by Halsey Gasoline by Halsey Tag, You’re It by Melanie Martinez  Up In The Air by Thirty Seconds To Mars So What by P!NK Do It Like A Dude by Jessie J Ready For It? by Taylor Swift Teenagers by My Chemical Romance Centuries by Fall Out Boy I Don’t Care by Fall Out Boy Rat a Tat by Fall Out Boy Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea by Fall Out Boy Champion by Fall Out Boy Thnks fr the Mmrs by Fall Out Boy One Thing by Casey Lee Williams I May Fall by Casey Lee Williams This Life Is Mine by Casey Lee Williams Let’s Kill Tonight by Panic! At The Disco Girls/Girls/Boys by Panic! At The Disco The Good, The Bad, and The Dirty by Panic! At The Disco Mount Everest by Labrinth Legendary by Skillet Homewrecker by MARINA Modern Day Cain by I Don’t Know How But They Found Me

That One Vibin’ Scene- When I RIP by Labrinth Sweatin’ Somethin’ Awful by Okey Dokey Wasted by Tiësto Leave Me Alone by I Don’t Know How But They Found Me Piano Fire by Sparklehorse Blinding Lights by The Weeknd Good News by Ocean Park Standoff Hey There Delilah by Plain White T’s East of Eden by Zella Day Hazy Shade of Winter by The Bangles (or the Gerard Way cover) 5:15 by Bridgit Mendler Here by Alessia Cara Joan of Arc by In This Moment Mr. Doctor Man by Palaye Royale Cool For a Second by Yumi Zouma Counting Stars by One Republic Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood Ho Hey by The Lumineers We Can’t Be Friends by Dream Koala Public Making Out Is Like Ugh by DNE Sober II (Melodrama) by Lorde North by Sleeping at Last 400 Lux by Lorde No. 1 Party Anthem by Arctic Monkeys Still Don’t Know My Name by Labrinth Primadonna by MARINA dontmakemefallinlove by Cuco

That ‘Holy Shit I Can’t Believe That Just Happened’ Scene- All For Us by Labrinth (or the Zendaya version) Raquel y Sergio Juntos by Ivan M. Lacamera Forever by Labrinth Coming Home by Falling in Reverse Superheroes by Falling in Reverse (also works really well for cliffhanger-ending scenes) Carry On by Falling in Reverse The Thunder Rolls by Garth Brooks (if you don’t like country music, listen to the All That Remains cover) Zombie by The Cranberries Obstacles by Syd Matters Glory and Gore by Lorde Empire of Our Own by RAIGN When It’s All Over by RAIGN Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap

The Cinematic Teen Experience Scene- Amsterdam by Imagine Dragons Midnight City by M83 Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush (Meg Myers’ cover does better with the category though) Good News by Ocean Park Standoff Circles by Post Malone Rollercoaster by Bleachers Bad Idea! by girl in red Mr. Brightside by The Killers Fireflies by Owl City Undercover Martyn by Two Door Cinema Club Check Yes Juliet by We The Kings The Kids From Yesterday by My Chemical Romance I’m Not Okay by My Chemical Romance Fourth of July by Fall Out Boy Tip Toe by Imagine Dragons Someone To You by Banners Gone Gone Gone by Phillip Phillips Make You Mine by PUBLIC Out of my League by Fitz and The Tantrums Perks of Being a Sunflower by Soft Glas A World Alone by Lorde Wetsuit by The Vaccines Bored to Death by blink-182 There’s a Place by The All-American Rejects 18 by Anabor Mother by Smallpools Tompkins Square Park by Mumford and Sons 400 Lux by Lorde The Horse by Beach Fossils Ribs by Lorde Can I Call You Tonight? by Dayglow Hot Rod by Dayglow Marlboro Nights by Lonely God Under Stars by Aurora Sweet Disposition by The Temper Trap Do Not Wat by Wallows Cold Cold Man by Saint Motel Forget Her by girl in red Buzzcut Season by Lorde A World Alone by Lorde Time to Pretend by MGMT Kids by MGMT Bags by Clairo My Tears Are Becoming a Sea by M83 Talia by King Princess (or the girl in red cover) Maybe by girl in red

And yeah that’s all I have for now. If you want any other categories just ask cause I’ll probably make a part two anyways. 

[heyifinallyhaveablog]

In response to @carminavulcana‘s prompt: 

5 times Bhalla almost let Devasena go. And the one time he wanted to leave along with her.

I’m sorry love, this took so long. I know I should have got to this earlier. But then 

a) This is Bhalla, we’re talking about, and,

b) My life is a messy, little, boring bitch right now.

So here goes nothing!

I.

It wasn’t just as simple as he would have liked it to be.

Yet, it involved no physical exertion at all. He simply had to pull the latch, untie the chains and then-

Devasena would be free-

-And he would finally heave a sigh of relief.

Moreover, it wasn’t as if she had a place to ensconce herself in. Gone was her motherland, and gone were the people in it. Her marital home had faded into oblivion as well, as this new land that he ruled, remained nothing of the Maahishmati he knew.

Amarendra Baahubali was long dead, and his wife, The Valiant Devasena of Kuntala, was only a breathing mollusc.

And he, Bhallaladeva, had no use for a relic. Particularly one that reminded him of his momentary defeat.

His fingers, calloused and hardened, almost reach out to the bars of her cage, where she lay, finally asleep, motionless, her breath a whisper, almost ominous.

But freeing her?

Was that necessary?

Couldn’t she just stay to witness the disappearance of his Brother’s memory?

Couldn’t she just bear testimony to the ruins He would bring about?

Couldn’t she just be a helpless spectator, while He finally took charge of what was owed to him?

No.

His soliloquy comes in a tone of finality.

Not until she saw the last of it.

II.

The Palace of Maahishmati was still aglow with the fire that had testified his wedding.

Torn from Saurashtra and supplanted in His Land was his Vallabhi, the only one whose affections had been undivided when it came to him.

Or so you thought!, His mind mocked.

He hadn’t been spared this time either. Baahubali’s ghost haunted him even as he forcibly took her from her Father. She, for her part, knew of the cage that held Devasena, and-

-She hadn’t been forgiving.

“Matricide and fratricide!” she said, her voice caustic, “Your hands reek of the blood of the one who begat you, and your breath bears the stench of the carrion you reduced a Father to! Your eyes still bear the spite you hold for his wife, who you cage only as a token of your savagery!”

He hadn’t stopped her as she had levelled her blade to his throat, millimetres away from their marital bed. He didn’t jerk the weapon away with an effortless swoop of his fingers, that longed to caress her cheek. He didn’t turn the knife in her direction either, to quieten her for an eternity.

Instead, Bhallaladeva had only left.

What if I set her free?, he wondered in solitude.

Would that win him his Vallabhi back? Would that grant him her love back?

The contemplations came and went in an endless stream, with conclusions better than the last, with prospects of love, hope, and warmth, all that he yearned for-

He only had to unlock the bolt.

But then, his vengeance was necessary. If Baahu’s spirit had lingered on, even as it tormented him thus, he just couldn’t let it have the satisfaction of knowing that he had finally won.

Devasena had to stay.

III.

Try as hard as he might, Baahu's memory just wouldn't take its leave. His subjects, his people simply wouldn't let him go.

I have tried!, Bhallaladeva furiously clutched the goblet in his hands.

He had. He really had, with all the sincerity he could muster in every way. But, somehow he had failed.

Correction-

He had been a miserable failure.

At times, he felt as if Devasena got a significant triumph watching him fail thus. It was infuriating to give her the satisfaction of knowing that the people weren't accepting his rule.

But then-

You should have known, someone sneers.

At times, freeing Devasena felt like one way to gain their confidence. It would suffice even if they let him start, in a small way.

It wouldn't take him long.

Somehow, it just didn't feel right. Devasena didn't deserve that ultimate triumph that lay in her freedom.

IV.

"Let her go!" His beloved pleads, her eyes bloodshot, her voice quaking, her fingers trembling.

"Vallabhi!" He really doesn't bother concealing the quiver in his own voice as she helplessly fell to her knees.

"Please!" she cried. "I won't ask for anything, ever!"

He fumbled as he held her in his arms. He fumed at his misfortune.

She had been unencumbered all along. Time had brought them closer. She had seemingly forgiven, and perchance ignored a lot more than she had remembered, as she began letting her walls fall.

He had let his guard down as well. Only Vallabhi knew him to have a side where he loved with all his heart and that he held no acrimony. None at all.

But it only had to last till she saw the cage, tangible and proud, right in the middle of the square. And till she saw Devasena, doomed and wretched to a fate none would ever find desirable. It had been hard to believe that the man who loved her so dearly could perpetrate such wrongs on another woman.

"She had a baby!" she begged, "Let her go! For me! For our child!"

His lips went dry as he saw her tremble in grief.

He just didn't feel the anger he should have felt. Instead, he felt the same pain as the woman in his arms. He had been elated when he'd heard the news of her pregnancy.

Happiness was months away as he eagerly awaited the birth of his child.

Hadn't Baahu been escatic as well?

Hadn't he killed a newborn?

Had he not slain his own Mother?

Was he not doomed?

For all Vallabhi's happiness, his vengeance bubbled, yet again. Baahubali hadn't spared him now either.

And he, Bhallaladeva, for his part, wouldn't spare Devasena.

V.

'Bhalla!'

The deep baritone called out to him, yet again in the middle of the night.

At times, the voice felt like a tangible form, as humane as Amarendra had once been, in the times when he used to smile, the warmth extending up to his illumined eyes…

Was it him?

Was it a ghost?

Or a spirit?

He always woke up, startled out of his wits, sweating profusely.

He never had to ask who it was, for he knew that voice too well. It was the voice that killed him a thousand deaths every moment he breathed, reminding him of his-

Sins?

Had he really sinned?, wondered he.

Would releasing Devasena be atonement enough to stop those thousand deaths?

But he hadn't really sinned, had he?

The Maahishmati Throne was his. Sivagami Devi's love belonged to him. None had been Baahubali's to call his own. The mighty Amarendra Baahubali had been in his debt, and had left his dues unpaid.

Unpaid debts accrued sin.

And in captivity, it was his wife who was atoning for his sins.

At least, that reasoning helped him garner some paltry slumber in such nights.

---

+1

'We couldn't save The Queen, My Lord.' the Royal Nurse almost trembled with the wailing infant in her arms.

Bhalla didn't look at his son. He could most definitely not look at his deceased wife.

There goes your chance of atonement, Dear Brother, He heard clearly.

Vallabhi's lifeless body seemed to mock at him in her resignation from life. She had purposely let it go, deliberately held back in a fight against death, only to relieve herself of the burden of loving an irredeemable soul.

If she had been unable to deny her love, she had denied herself the life that had been her destiny, and with it, she had taken the final bits of life he could cling to.

"Release her, please!" she had requested, time and again, only to be met by indifference and useless consolations.

Would she return if he set Devasena free now?

The dead cannot be resurrected, he told himself. He had no use for anything now. If he freed Devasena, maybe he could accompany her, and let this accursed land rule itself.

At least, he could make an attempt to revive his soul, just as she had wanted.

But then-

Vallabhi wasn't there to witness his redemption, was she?

And wasn't it Devasena's plight that had caused her such psychological malady? Wasn't that woman responsible for destroying his final chance at humanity?

She couldn't find her satisfaction in his defeat. He had to re-assemble his pieces and forge them into a stronger structure, not just for himself, but for his blood, now motherless.

And as for Devasena-

'Arrange for a nurse for the child.' he said impassively.

'And I shall provide food to the prisoner myself, later in the day.'

He would make sure that Devasena would understand that the pyre she was making was for herself.

---

[thewarriorandtheking]

The Pass of Udun

The Warrior Queen: The Warrior and The King Book II

4. The Pass of Udun

****************************************

Thorin and Kaylea spent many days along the slopes of the Ash Mountains. Summer was starting to come on, the days getting warmer, the sun hot on their backs. Thorin had never been much of a tracker, but he was learning the craft from Kaylea. There were many trails leading into the mountains, she showed him how to tell the numbers that had come and gone on the paths, if they were burdened on their way out or in, how to tell the age of the tracks. She was always particularly interested in campsites, carefully going over everything when they found one. Many of the trails they found were being used, but not very regularly. Several times at night they saw bands of orcs on the paths, but were able to stay well clear of them. Kaylea was careful to choose campsites that were well hidden and they would move every few days, working their way west to the pass of Udun. The more time they spent together, the more they talked Thorin felt like he was beginning to understand how her mind worked, in fact he found he was starting to think in the same manner. When she had last been in Erebor he had been astonished by the way she always seemed several steps ahead of everyone else, her mind making connections he had not even considered. Now he was starting to do it himself, to understand what you learned about one thing could lead you to think about something else very differently.

The day they approached the pass it had been raining lightly, which Kaylea said was lucky as it was more likely they would be unobserved. She had told Thorin they would not be taking the horses, it was too exposed and they would be easily spotted. They stopped in a little box canyon a few miles east where the horses would be safe. Hadrian was a trained warhorse and seemed very fond of Thorin’s little mare, Hector would stay with them to stand guard. As they were readying to leave Kaylea looked up a couple times to watch flocks of birds flying overhead. Thorin followed her gaze.

“Are those spies of the enemy?” He asked her. Kaylea shook her head.

“I am not sure,” she replied. “We need to be very cautious this close to the mountains.”

They spent the day separating what they would take with them. Kaylea said they would need food and water for at least four days. She took both her swords, wearing one over either shoulder across her back. As she and Thorin got ready to leave in the afternoon light Hector came and stood before her, looking at her intently with his yellow eyes. Kaylea took his head in her hands and stood there for a long time, Thorin could only guess at what was passing between them. While he had always been a bit wary of the big wolf he regretted they had to leave him behind, the animal was very useful in a fight. But without the horses the road home would be much longer and more dangerous. Finally Kaylea dropped her hands and, after giving Hector a quick scratch on the chin, turned towards the pass. Thorin followed her, he looked back once to see the wolf sitting in the trail watching them walk away.

It was almost full dark and Kaylea and Thorin had just reached to trail to the pass when they heard harsh voices coming down. They quickly moved to the shadow of a grove of trees just off to the side. As they watched a dozen big orcs came down the trail and turned away from them to the west. These were not common servants of the Enemy, they were tall and well armed. Thorin was thinking they were out of danger but just then the wind shifted and the two at the back of the group caught their scent.  

“Ay, what is that?” One of them said. “Smells like manflesh!” The rest of the orcs turned at the words of their companion, sniffing the air. “You are getting old, if you cannot smell a Dwarf!” Another of the orcs said, they were all turning and peering into the trees. Thorin and Kaylea looked at each other, there was nothing else to do now. They stepped forward, drawing their swords. Just as the last time they had fought together Thorin and Kaylea moved almost as one, seeming to feel instinctually where the other was going to strike and which direction to move. The last two orcs they took down seemed to be protecting a third, who was carrying a wrapped burden. When Kaylea cut his hamstrings and knocked him to the ground his package rolled away and out of it’s coverings. A large glass ball. Kaylea put a foot on the orc to keep him from rising and held her sword to his throat.

Thorin went to inspect the ball. He moved it with his boot.  

“Is this what it looks like? A palantir?” Thorin had never seen one, but had heard them described. Powerful weapons from an earlier age.

“Throw those cloths over it, make sure you do not touch it. Someone may be watching!” Kaylea warned. Thorin bent to pick up the cloth it had been wrapped in. He looked over just as Kaylea pulled the orc’s dagger out of his belt and stabbed him through the chest with it.

“The dagger is in your heart,” she said, in the Black Speech. “I take it out you die. Where were you taking this?”

The orc chuckled, deep in his throat. “I am not telling you, bitch. Go ask the Master yourself!”

Kaylea smiled, not the soft smile Thorin was used to, this one was a threat. She ground her heel into a wound in the creatures leg, the bone cracked. “How about now?”

The orc shrieked. “We are supposed to leave it to be found. That is all you will get out of me, you evil cunt! May you get what you deserve!”

Kaylea shook her head, but before she could respond Thorin stepped over and pulled the knife out of the orc’s chest. He put his foot on the creature’s chest and watched it bleed out.

“No one talks to you like that in my presence,” he said, his face dark. Kaylea could see he was angry.

Kaylea looked at him. “I have been called worse. And I was not done with him.”

“Yes, you were,” Thorin said curtly. He held up one of the cloths the orb had been wrapped in, there was a sketch on it, a crude map. “And I was done listening to him.”

Kaylea looked at it, then smiled at Thorin. “That does change things,” she said. They looked at the map, but it was hard to make out detail in the moonlight. Kaylea stashed it in her coat to look at later then turned to survey the scene, deciding the best way to clean it up. After searching around Kaylea found a ditch down the hill where they could throw the bodies. If they covered them with some brush they should keep for a few days, hopefully by the time they were discovered Thorin and Kaylea would be on their way back to Erebor. Moving the bodies and cleaning the traces of the fight from the trail took better than an hour, but it was still early enough Kaylea felt they could make it more than halfway to the watchtower during the night. Thorin hid the palantir where they could retrieve it on the way back, then they headed up the pass. They moved as quickly as they could, taking care to move quietly.

In the grey hour before dawn they spied a shallow cave up the side of the mountain and decided to take shelter there to wait out the day. It was a steep climb up shifting rocks, but seemed to be a natural formation and had not been used recently. Thorin carefully inspected the cave and pronounced it safe before throwing his things down and taking a seat. Kaylea deferred to his judgement, he was the expert. They ate some of the Dorsai cram, which Thorin found rather tasty. Small square bars, soft and quite filling. Now that it was light Kaylea took out the map they had taken from the orc. She and Thorin looked at it together, the drawing was very crude but it looked like the route was north to Gundabad. There also appeared to be a second destination, a route marked over a different pass toward Gondor.

“It appears they are delivering two of those things,” Thorin mused. Kaylea nodded her agreement.

“Two different parties, but one map.” Kaylea inspected the map closely. “Angmar does not surprise me, but Gondor?” She shook her head, folding the map and putting it back in her coat. They both pondered the mystery as they settled in to wait for dark. Once it was dusk they started moving again, picking their way between boulders and fallen rock. They came to the suggestion of a narrow trail an hour before dawn and started up. They did not see a living thing the whole time they were on the exposed trail and Kaylea breathed a long sigh of relief when they finally reached the shelter of the old watchtower. The sun was up now, casting a pale light over the expanse of Mordor laid out before them. Kaylea and Thorin stood together between the old columns of the tower looking to the south. Mount Doom rose up from the plain, smoke drifting from its cone. Just to the east was Sauron’s fortress of Barad-dur. From this distance it looked quite abandoned. Thorin looked at Kaylea and saw she had what appeared to be twin spyglasses she was holding to her eyes. She studied the tower for some time.

“It does look like there have been recent repairs,” Kaylea said at length. “We will have to wait for dark, the servants of the Dark Lord do not work in sunlight.” She handed the glasses to Thorin, who looked at them curiously before holding them to his eyes. They were amazingly clear, much better than his glass he kept on his desk. He could see the walls of the tower clearly, it did look as though it had been repaired.

They waited out the day, Kaylea was restless and paced back and forth. At one point a flock of crows passed by quite close and she flattened herself against the stone, watching them. After they had gone she started poking around in the remains of the tower.

“We may have company tonight,” she said. “We need to find some charcoal or something we can make a fire with that will not smoke, and get some torches made. Fire will be one of our best weapons.” Thorin helped her look about and between the two of them they found some charred wood, and some less burned pieces that would do for torches. While Thorin got a little fire going Kaylea wrapped the newer pieces of wood with strips of cloth, adding a few drops of oil to each. She stashed them next to the fire which Thorin kept going carefully, keeping the coals hot enough so it did not smoke and give them away. As dusk turned to dark the fortress to the south of them seemed to come alive. A red glow could be seen from underneath it and a great many orcs swarmed around it. Kaylea watched the scene thoughtfully, Thorin wondered now if the preparations he had set in motion would be enough. He felt a great sense of dread, weighing heavily on him, it was a moment before he realized it was not from the scene before him, it was something else. He looked at Kaylea but she was already turning around, drawing her black sword. Something stepped through one of the ruined arches, a tall figure, hooded and robed in black, a long sword shining in its hands. Kaylea stepped forward, holding her sword before her, Thorin could see it shone with a peculiar blue light.

“Get behind me,” she told him. Thorin looked at her skeptically.  

“I think not,” he said, drawing his sword. A second hooded figure followed the first, Kaylea’s sword seemed to give them pause and they moved to the side. Kaylea moved to keep them in front of her.

“Your sword is no use now,” Kaylea said, her voice low. “Get those torches lit, they do fear fire.” She had moved so the fire was behind her, Thorin hesitated, not wanting to leave her side. “Go!” She insisted. Thorin moved back and shoved the torches into the fire, they quickly sprung to life. The first figure came at Kaylea then, she parried its stroke and deftly knocked its sword from its grasp, then stabbed it in what should have been its throat. It gave a piercing wail and fell backwards. The second one came at Thorin, he knocked its sword aside and then drove his torch into its garments. The creature shrieked, a blood-curdling sound that almost froze Thorin in his tracks. It swung its sword at him again, Thorin was just able to parry the stroke then it turned and fled, its garments engulfed in flame. Thorin turned to see the other one up and coming at him, a long knife in its hand. He got his sword up, but the thing knocked it aside with its hand and lunged forward, knife at the ready. Suddenly Kaylea was between them, driving her sword through the thing’s midsection. Thorin jumped to retrieve his second torch and threw it at the creature, it lodged in the black robes and they burst into flame. The thing staggered back, Kaylea withdrew her sword and brought it down on its arm, a metal gauntlet fell to the floor, the knife still in its hand. The creature gave a dreadful shriek, a sound Thorin would remember as long as he lived. Then it fell backwards through one of the arches, its robes consumed by fire. Kaylea and Thorin looked at each other, then a number of huge orcs poured into the tower. Kaylea sheathed her black sword and drew the other one, she and Thorin stood back to back and fought them off. Thorin was again grateful for the sword Kaylea had given him, it sliced cleanly through the armor of the orcs, no metal could stop it. Thorin was pulling his sword out of the last orc’s chest when he looked over and saw Kaylea kneeling, her hand on her shoulder. He rushed to her side and knelt beside her.

“You are hurt?” He put his hand on hers. She looked at him, pain evident in her face, then lifted her hand to reveal an ugly stab wound below her collarbone just at the edge of her tunic. Thorin knew her well enough to know this was not an ordinary wound, she would not normally show any pain from something so small. He looked at the metal glove on the floor and the long blade, then back to her. “That was meant for me,” he said.

“It is a soldier’s duty to protect his king,” Kaylea replied. She took a deep breath and lurched to her feet. “That smarts. Fucking Ringwraiths.” She stooped to pick up the blade, Thorin watched astonished as it disappeared in her hand, leaving the hilt. Kaylea put the hilt in her pocket and turned to Thorin. “We must make haste back to the horses. Feel like a run?”

Thorin stepped next to her, laying a hand on her arm. “You have medicines to heal that wound?”

Kaylea shook her head. “No. That was a Morgul blade.”

Thorin’s eyes went wide. “What are we to do, then?”

“There are only a few in Middle Earth that can heal this. Elrond is one, the Lady Galadriel is another.”

“We are more than two weeks ride from Lorien!” Thorin exclaimed, becoming more alarmed by the minute.

“Yes,” Kaylea nodded. “We should get moving.”

Thorin later remembered little of the rest of that night. Running, fighting bands of orcs, more running, more fighting. All he could see in his mind was that wound on Kaylea’s shoulder and think about how far they had to go if she had any chance to be healed. It was mid-morning the next day when they reached the horses. Hector came trotting out to greet them and went straight to Kaylea, Thorin thought he could see the concern on the wolf’s face. Kaylea smiled at him and ruffled his ears, he stayed by her side, sniffing at her shoulder. She went to her saddlebags and pulled out a vial of some salve. She sat down and drew one of her throwing knives, before Thorin could ask what she was doing she drove it into the stab wound, wiggling it back and forth.

“What are you doing?!” Thorin asked, aghast, moving quickly to stand beside her.

Kaylea grimaced. “This wound has to stay open. Morgul blades break into pieces that stay in the wound, if it closes up the fragment will move further into my body and be much harder to remove.” She looked at him with a faint smile. “I heal much faster than you do, I will have to keep opening it up, though this will help.” She indicated the salve as she applied it to the cut.

“Now, let me take care of that wound in your side, my king.”

“I find it hard to believe you have nothing to treat that wound,” Thorin said as Kaylea was binding his side. “Those that saw my injuries said I should have died at the Battle of the Five Armies, yet I live.”

“It is not the wound, but the weapon,” Kaylea replied. “Only a deep magic can remove the blade fragment.”

After Kaylea had dressed his wound, which was not deep, they saddled their horses and turned them homeward, Kaylea tied the palantir to the back of her saddle. She estimated they could make it to Lorien in less than fourteen days by alternately riding and resting the horses around the clock. For the first days Kaylea seemed almost normal, she was a bit pale and seemed tired but otherwise acted as she always did. The horses took to the fast pace very well and Thorin was of a mind to push them harder, but Kaylea demurred. Push them too hard and they would risk a breakdown, she said. Without them there was no chance of getting to Lorien in time. Thorin chafed at the winding route they had to follow through the grasslands but knew it was necessary. He felt so helpless, watching Kaylea getting sicker, wishing there was something more he could do.

By the tenth day on the road Kaylea was growing visibly weaker, several times Thorin saw her sway in her saddle and almost fall. He persuaded her to stop for a rest in the shade of a rock face next to a stream and sent her to sit down while he unbridled the horses so they could graze. When he sat down next to her, she leaned against him. Thorin moved his arm and guided her head into his lap, Kaylea sighed, closing her eyes. Thorin looked down at her, stroking her hair away from her face. They sat there for some time and Thorin thought she was asleep, but she suddenly spoke.

“Very soon I will go into a kind of deep sleep,” she told him. “Do not worry, I will live for many days yet but I cannot stay awake much longer. You will have to keep this wound open, you have seen me do it.” Thorin nodded. “Tie me on my horse and ride until you reach the Anduin, then follow that to Lorien. Hector can help you, he knows the way, though he will not pass the borders of that land. The Elves of Lorien believe all wolves are servants of the enemy. When you reach that border your hardest task will begin.”

“What do you mean, my love?”

“The Lorien border guards will intercept you. You will have to convince them to take me to their Lady.”

“But you are known there, are you not?”

Kaylea smiled weakly. “I am known to some, not to all. It has been many years since I was in that fair land, and I do not have to tell you how the Elves feel about your folk.”

Thorin looked as grim as he felt. “I will convince them to help you,” he said. “They must do it.”  

Kaylea closed her eyes again, Thorin sat looking at her, she looked so pale. “I cannot lose you,” he said softly, stroking the side of her face. “I cannot do it. I cannot face a life without you in it.”

Kaylea opened her eyes, she reached up to brush his tears from his cheek. “I have no plans to leave you yet, my king.”   

Read the complete adventures of The Warrior and The King on AO3 & FanFiction, author is akdogdriver. All three books now also on Wattpad.

@thequeenoferebor​ 

[tiava143]

Baby Boy

Chapter II (Highkey long)

Chapter 1

“So what you tryna do while mommy’s at work pop?” Erik said looking over at his son.

“Can we go to the park and hoop with CJ and cousin Cameron please?” Sage said. He enjoyed being around his cousin CJ since he was close to his age. CJ was Cameron’s oldest son, they had their kids around the same time so they are always around each other.

“Lemme see where they at.” Erik said dialing Cam’s number.

Erik shook his head chuckling, thinking about his crazy ass cousin Cameron.They were known as the Demon Twins when were together.(Let Solana and Terry tell it) Cameron is the loud outgoing smooth talker, while Erik was seen but not heard as much. But don’t think for one second they would let something happen to one another. People know not to test Erik but anyone that tries Cameron better move out of the country. They went to juvie together, hit their licks together. Shit they even had their kids together. They were thick as thieves, since they were youngins if you seen one you seen the other. Even though they were cousins ,they were brothers to outsiders.

“If you aint talkin’ money, ion wanna talk its Big Cam the p, what it be?” Cameron yelled in the phone.

“Get yo’ dusty ass up nigga. Ima come scoop you and jr we finna’ hit the park.” Erik laughed as he turned onto his block.

“Fuck you nigga that aint what ya’ baby mama said when i was in ha’ chest last night.” Cameron laughed. “Nigga dont shot, playin’ with my best friend name.” Erik heard his girlfriend Terry say over the phone. “Im just playin’ ma. But ight fool, gimme 10.”

“Hurry yo lanky ass up, we burnin’ daylight.”  Erik said hanging up and pulling in front of his cousin’s house. Sage got out the car and ran to the door and CJ answered the door to let them in.

“What’s the deal lil cuzzo?” Erik said walking into the house dapping him then sat on the couch. Sage and CJ ran into his room  to play video games. Terry came out the room and hugged Erik.

“Hey E. Why you up so early ?” She said walking into the kitchen to start cooking breakfast.

“Wassup squirt, I had to drop yo’ crazy ass best friend off at work. You know she stay on my ass about everything.” He said chuckling.

“Well if you just did what the fuck we ask then we wouldn’t be sweatin’ you all the time. Y'all just don’t fuckin’ listen. Just like ya hard headed cousin.” Terry said rolling her eyes and mixing the pancake batter.

“TJ I do listen to her, everytime some shit happens at her job I’m the listening to her rant all fuckin’ night about it.” He said shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m not talking about just that one time E. I mean listen like understand the shit we say and take it into consideration, not just listen as the words go through one ear and out the fucking other. We wanna feel like were valued. Not just a damn object yall fuck on. You wanna degrade and manipulate bitches you better go get Becky with the good hair, because us black queens aint finna deal with it.Periodt.” She ranted while pouring the batter on the skillet.

“Aw shit you done got her ass started.Every time you come over here she starts” Cameron said walking into the living room holding his 9 month on daughter Chanel. He daps Erik and hands Chanel to him then walks in the kitchen. Erik rocks her to sleep then lays her in her crib.

“Don’t even try and front with E. You know damn well i’ll fuck you up myself. Try that shit if you want to.” Terry Said mean-mugging him. Cameron wrapped his arms around her waist and placed soft kisses on her cheek.

“And you know Big Daddy don’t play that shit so I dare you to try me.” He said lowly into her ear then sucks on her earlobe. Erik groans watching then stands up.

“Man c'mon you bullshittin’ she gon’ be here when you come back. Gremlins let’s go or you gon’ get left.” He said walking out the door. The boys ran out the door and hopped in the car.

“I’ll save y'all some food for when y'all get back I know you gon be all grumpy when E whoops ya ass at the court.” Terry said walking Cam out the door laughing. Erik started laughing then hugged Terry.

“That’s a damn shame even yo’ girl know ima whoop yo ass Cam.” He said walking to the car and gets in. Cameron mugged her as he walked towards the car shaking his head.“You disloyal heffa. You suppose to be my number one supporter.” Cam said getting in the car and rolling the window up. Terry laughed as she went back in the house. Erik proceeded to drive off.

“Nigga how you let ya girl punk you like that?” Erik said looking at the songs on his phone to play.

“Fuck you, she only do it around you and Lana. Yall be gettin’ her started on them fuckin’ "I’m independent, fuck all these niggas,i don’t need a nigga for shit” rants. Like fuck…she’ll never be quiet.“ Cam said scrolling on insta. Erik chuckled looking over at him."Remind you of somebody? You like a tape recorder. You just keep going on and on and on. It’s a reason why you still with her. Am i wrong ?” He said pulling into the parking lot of the park.

“Im telling mommy you’re talking about her again. Daddy remember what she said the last time.” CJ said from the backseat looking at his dad.

Erik looked back  at him and started laughing. “What she say CJ?”

“She said ‘Keep that saamee energy.’ ” He said rolling his neck how Terry does it. Erik was rolling when he got out the car and ran. Cameron stayed quiet the whole time as the whole conversation went on. He knew if he said something else his son would snitch on him. He glared at Erik as he walked towards the courts with the boys.

“You done nigga?” Cam said annoyed.

Erik whipped a tear from his eye and took a breath. “Yeah I’m done. I aint know she was doin’ my boy like thaaat.” Cameron shook his head and started bouncing the basketball.

“Look CJ if i can teach you one good thing in this world it’s when you’re around the fellas you keep what’s said to yourself. Don’t go reporting shit to ya mama and what not. That’s guy code man. Trust me.” Cameron said shooting the ball into the hoop.

“Yeah….no matter how scared ya daddy is of a girl that’s 5'2.” Erik said laughing and grabbing the ball and bouncing it to Sage. Cameron shook his head.

Solana’s Pov

I’m so sick of this job. Well not necessarily, it is my dream job to be a fashion designer. Some of my female co-workers here are so jealous, like don’t get mad at me for doing what Jordan wants. He asks and I deliver.Here we are in another meeting so he can tell us what’s to come with the next client.

“Alright everyone great job pulling through with last week’s client Jynesse. A special thanks to Solana, she delivered the most outstanding design for Jyneese and as a plus the outfit was on the cover of Essence magazine. Keep up the great work.” Jordan said clapping as well as everyone else except Amber. This bitch is a fucking hater i swear. Amber’s been working for Jordan for about 5 years and she was his top designer. Well until i showed up, not to toot my own horn but beep beep. I’ve been here for the past 2 years now and clients have grabbed my designs back to back and now she’s mad. Amber has tried so hard to sabotage my designs but it turns around and bites her in the ass every time. One time i had to convince Jordan not to fire her stank ass but she doesn’t know it. She tries so hard to be in my position it’s exhausting. Like bitch get a life. And she better not think for one second that i didn’t catch her dusty ass making googly eyes with Erik’s dumb ass. If she keeps disrespecting me i might have to show her why i got this AK-47 tatted on my leg.

“Now for this week’s project our client Mrs. Keyshia Ka’oir wants a piece for her birthday party coming up in a few weeks. It seems that her and her Husband want to be matching somehow. She wants a dress that’s extra as possible in her words.Oh, and she wants it to be red all over.Rough sketches are due tomorrow and all projects are due next Friday so get to it everyone, she will be here to hand pick which style she wants so it better be extravagant.Good luck.” Jordan said

“Greaaatt, more stress.” I said mumbling as i stand up and started walking towards my office. As i was walking through the door i see her looking at me up and down from her door. Yes our offices are across from each other. A great fucking coincidence right? I turned around and faced her leaning against my door frame.

“Do you have problem? You’ve been looking at me all day with a stank face so what is your issue?” I said glaring back at her as i looked at her up and down.

Amber starts to smirk shake her head at me. “Nope. All i know is you better be prepared to lose your spot on top because once Keyshia looks at my design its game over for you baby girl. So, have fun while you can.”

“Girl bye, nobody is worried about your tired ass, old ass, styles. Amber you’ve put out the same style the past five assignments we’ve had its old sis. You want to impress somebody, impress yourself by trying new fabric or you know better yet try a career because this apparently isn’t it for you.” I said rolling my eyes and closing my door. I can’t believe that bitch really tired me. Just wait till I get my sketch ready, I born to do this.

~At the park~

Erik and Cameron were playing one on one while Sage and CJ were playing on the other side of the court. The kids got tired of just playing basketball so they wanted to do their own thing. Erik was whooping Cameron’s ass just like Terry said too.

“Where the fuck was you at last night? I called your ass to hit the strip club bruh. All the birds was there.” Cam said wiping the sweat off his forehead with his shirt.

“Man I was handlin’ business last night.” Erik said shooting the ball from the free throw line.

“What bitch was it this time?” Cameron said shaking his head and leaning on his knees. Erik chuckled bouncing the ball in between his legs.

“How you know I was with a bitch?”

“One you chuckling like you holding something, Two you never handle business without me being there or drop your location. So which one was it? Britney? La’toya? or Malina?” He said stealing the ball from Erik and going for a layup.

“I been stopped fucking with La’toya crazy ass. Remember i told you i caught that bitch puttin’ my sperm in a syringe?”

Cameron started laughing. “Hell yeah I remember that shit, that bitch was in love witchu! ’Erik gon’ be my baby’s father!’ It took me and the homies to pry that bitch off your ass.”

“Man, after that shit I was like nah i’m good shorty. But Malina.” Erik said biting his lip thinking about this morning.

“I had to put that bitch out on the curb though. She wouldn’t get out my bed and I had to take Lana to work.I wasn’t about to let this bitch sleep in my room while i was gone. Then fuck around and come back all my drawers cleaned out.” He said getting in his guard stance in front of Cameron.

“Wait, wait,wait y'all fucked this morning? Like right before you took Lana to work.You had to let the bitch spend the night too? Cuz that’s fucked up.You a dog bruh.” Cameron said laughing and pulling up to make a shot. Erik blocked the shot and switches spots.

“Man I was too drunk to take her back to her crib, I had the Henny in my system when i hit her. I told her to meet me at the spot right? She hop out the uber with this short ass dress on Cam like if the bitch bent over you could see the pussy lips wink at you bruh. I was like damn so we kickin’ it ,choppin’ it up then next thing I know she riding me on the hood of the car in the parking lot of McDonald’s. This was at like 3 in the morning too, we was up the street from my crib so i said fuck it slide through. Woke up and got in the guts again then Lana called.Kicked that bitch to the curb literally.” He said laughing as he shot a three. Erik looked back on the other side of the court to make sure Sage was okay.

Cam stood there with his mouth wide open. “Damn that bitch a freak. In the parking lot?!? Of McDonald’s?!?! Shitttt you should’ve called a nigga. We could’ve tag teamed that hoe.”

“Nigga please, Terry crazy ass aint finna’ air the clip out on me because you wanted to fuck another bitch. TJ got eyes everywhere on you. Every bitch in Inglewood know you her nigga.They aint finna’ try her or Lana.” Erik said shaking his head and taking his shirt off.

“I swear her crazy ass got a tracking device on my dick. I go into the bathroom she all like ‘Where you takin’ my dick?’ I say I’m going’ to the store she say ‘That bitch bet not be at the store.’ Next thing i know i get to the store she there waitin’ for a nigga. ‘I was just makin sure you came to the same store you always do.’” Like damn I can’t go nowhere without her being there.” Cameron said shaking his head. Erik looked behind Cameron and seen Terry’s car parked in the lot with her looking out the window at them.

“Speak of the devil, she shall appear.” He said nodding his head in the direction. Cameron raised his eyebrow with  confused look on his face.

“Cuz what you talkin’ bout?” He said turning around. “Gotdamn it ! See the shit I mean she crazy.I been gave yo crazy ass my location Terry!”Cameron said walking towards her car. Erik laughed shaking his head at them.

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[nebris]

Anat (/ˈɑːnɑːt/, /ˈænæt/), classically Anath (/ˈeɪnəθ, ˈeɪˌnæθ/; Hebrew: עֲנָת‎ ʿĂnāth; Phoenician: 𐤏𐤍𐤕 ʿAnōt; Ugaritic: 𐎓𐎐𐎚 ʿnt; Greek: Αναθ Anath; Egyptian Antit, Anit, Anti, or Anant) is a major northwest Semitic goddess. 

In Ugarit

In the Ugaritic Baal Cycle, ‘Anat is a violent war-goddess, a maiden (btlt ‘nt) who is the sister and, according to a much disputed theory, the lover of the great god Ba‘al Hadad. Ba‘al is usually called the son of Dagan and sometimes the son of El, who addresses ‘Anat as "daughter".

‘Anat's titles used again and again are "virgin ‘Anat" and "sister-in-law of the peoples" (or "progenitress of the peoples" or "sister-in-law, widow of the Li’mites").

In a fragmentary passage from Ugarit (modern Ras Shamra), Syria[1] ‘Anat appears as a fierce, wild and furious warrior in a battle, wading knee-deep in blood, striking off heads, cutting off hands, binding the heads to her torso and the hands in her sash, driving out the old men and townsfolk with her arrows, her heart filled with joy. "Her character in this passage anticipates her subsequent warlike role against the enemies of Baal".

’Anat boasts that she has put an end to Yam the darling of El, to the seven-headed serpent, to Arsh the darling of the gods, to Atik 'Quarrelsome' the calf of El, to Ishat 'Fire' the bitch of the gods, and to Zabib 'flame?' the daughter of El. Later, when Ba‘al is believed to be dead, she seeks after Ba‘al "like a cow[3] for its calf" and finds his body (or supposed body) and buries it with great sacrifices and weeping. ‘Anat then finds Mot, Ba‘al Hadad's supposed slayer and she seizes Mot, splits him with a sword, winnows him with a sieve, burns him with fire, grinds him with millstones and scatters the remnants to the birds.

Text CTA 10 tells how ‘Anat seeks after Ba‘al who is out hunting, finds him, and is told she will bear a steer to him. Following the birth she brings the new calf to Ba‘al on Mount Zephon. Nowhere in these texts is ‘Anat explicitly Ba‘al Hadad's consort. To judge from later traditions ‘Athtart (who also appears in these texts) is more likely to be Ba‘al Hadad's consort. Complicating matters is that northwest Semitic culture permitted more than one wife and nonmonogamy is normal for deities in many pantheons.

In the North Canaanite story of Aqhat,[4] the protagonist Aqhat son of the judge Danel (Dn'il) is given a wonderful bow and arrows which was created for ‘Anat by the craftsman god Kothar-wa-Khasis but which was given to Danel for his infant son as a gift. When Aqhat grew to be a young man, the goddess ‘Anat tried to buy the bow from Aqhat, offering even immortality, but Aqhat refused all offers, calling her a liar because old age and death are the lot of all men. He then added to this insult by asking 'what would a woman do with a bow?'

Like Inanna in the Epic of Gilgamesh, ‘Anat complained to El and threatened El himself if he did not allow her to take vengeance on Aqhat. El conceded. ‘Anat launched her attendant Yatpan in hawk form against Aqhat to knock the breath out of him and to steal the bow back. Her plan succeeds, but Aqhat is killed instead of merely beaten and robbed. In her rage against Yatpan, (text is missing here) Yatpan runs away and the bow and arrows fall into the sea. All is lost. ‘Anat mourned for Aqhat and for the curse that this act would bring upon the land and for the loss of the bow. The focus of the story then turns to Paghat, the wise younger sister of Aqhat. She sets off to avenge her brother's death and to restore the land which has been devastated by drought as a direct result of the murder. The story is incomplete. It breaks at an extremely dramatic moment when Paghat discovers that the mercenary whom she has hired to help her avenge the death is, in fact, Yatpan, her brother's murderer. The parallels between the story of ‘Anat and her revenge on Mot for the killing of her brother are obvious. In the end, the seasonal myth is played out on the human level.

Gibson (1978) thinks Rahmay ('The Merciful'), co-wife of El with Athirat, is also the goddess ‘Anat, but he fails to take into account the primary source documents. Use of dual names of deities in Ugaritic poetry are an essential part of the verse form, and that two names for the same deity are traditionally mentioned in parallel lines. In the same way, Athirat is called Elath (meaning "The Goddess") in paired couplets. The poetic structure can also be seen in early Hebrew verse forms.

In Egypt

Anat first appears in Egypt in the 16th dynasty (the Hyksos period) along with other northwest Semitic deities. She was especially worshiped in her aspect of a war goddess, often paired with the goddess `Ashtart. In the Contest Between Horus and Set, these two goddesses appear as daughters of Re and are given as allies to the god Set, who had been identified with the Semitic god Hadad.

During the Hyksos period Anat had temples in the Hyksos capital of Avaris and in Beth-Shan (Israel) as well as being worshipped in Memphis. On inscriptions from Memphis of 15th to 12th centuries BCE, Anat is called "Bin-Ptah", Daughter of Ptah. She is associated with Reshpu (Canaanite: Resheph) in some texts and sometimes identified with the native Egyptian goddess Neith. She is sometimes called "Queen of Heaven". Her iconography varies. She is usually shown carrying one or more weapons.

The name of Anat-her, a shadowy Egyptian ruler of this time, is derived from "Anat".

In the New Kingdom Ramesses II made ‘Anat his personal guardian in battle and enlarged Anat's temple in Pi-Ramesses. Ramesses named his daughter (whom he later married) Bint-Anat 'Daughter of Anat'. His dog appears in a carving in Beit el Wali temple with the name "Anat-in-vigor" and one of his horses was named ‘Ana-herte 'Anat-is-satisfied'.

In Mesopotamia

In Akkadian, the form one would expect Anat to take would be Antu, earlier Antum. This would also be the normal feminine form that would be taken by Anu, the Akkadian form of An 'Sky', the Sumerian god of heaven. Antu appears in Akkadian texts mostly as a rather colorless consort of Anu, the mother of Ishtar in the Gilgamesh story, but is also identified with the northwest Semitic goddess ‘Anat of essentially the same name. It is unknown whether this is an equation of two originally separate goddesses whose names happened to fall together or whether Anat's cult spread to Mesopotamia, where she came to be worshipped as Anu's spouse because the Mesopotamian form of her name suggested she was a counterpart to Anu.

It has also been suggested that the parallelism between the names of the Sumerian goddess, Inanna, and her West Semitic counterpart, Ishtar, continued in Canaanite tradition as Anath and Astarte, particularly in the poetry of Ugarit. The two goddesses were invariably linked in Ugaritic scripture and are also known to have formed a triad (known from sculpture) with a third goddess who was given the name/title of Qadesh (meaning "the holy one").

In Israel

The goddess name, ‘Anat is preserved in the city names Beth-Anath and Anathoth. Anathoth seems to be a plural form of the name, perhaps a shortening of bêt ‘anātôt 'House of the ‘Anats', either a reference to many shrines of the goddess or a plural of intensification.

The ancient hero Shamgar, son of ‘Anat, is mentioned in Judges 3.31 and 5:6, which raises the idea that this judge or hero may have been understood as a demi-god, a mortal son of the goddess. But John Day (2000) notes that a number of Canaanites known from non-Biblical sources bore that title and theorizes that it was a military designation indicating a warrior under ‘Anat's protection. Asenath, "holy to Anath", was the wife of the Hebrew patriarch Joseph.

In Elephantine (modern Aswan) in Egypt, the 5th century BCE Elephantine papyri make mention of a goddess called Anat-Yahu (Anat-Yahweh) worshiped in the temple to Yahweh originally built by Jewish refugees from the Babylonian conquest of Judah. These suggest that "even in exile and beyond the worship of a female deity endured."[5] The texts were written by a group of Jews living at Elephantine near the Nubian border, whose religion has been described as "nearly identical to Iron Age II Judahite religion".[6] The papyri describe the Jews as worshiping Anat-Yahu (or AnatYahu). Anat-Yahu is described as either the wife[7] or paredra (sacred consort)[8] of Yahweh or as a hypostatized aspect[9] of Yahweh.[10][11]

In contemporary Israel, "Anat" is a common female first name - see Anat (disambiguation). Philologist Anat Bechar, who herself bears the name, wrote: "The Biblical Shamgar was a rather minor and obscure character, and of his mother Anat we know nothing but her name. We do know that it was the name of a goddess in a Semitic pantheon to which the author(s) of the Bible were strongly and vehemently opposed, though it seems some of our ancestors did at some times worship her. None of which explains the popularity of the name in present-day Israel. To my mind, the reason is likely to be found in the completely accidental similarity of "Anat" with the European name "Annette", which appealed to Zionist pioneers coming from Europe and steeped in European culture. However, this hypothesis needs a thorough research in the Hebrew records from the early 20th Century, to verify or disprove". [12]

Athene

In a Cyprian inscription (KAI. 42) the Greek goddess Athêna Sôteira Nikê is equated with ‘Anat (who is described in the inscription as the strength of life : l‘uzza hayim).[citation needed]

Anat is also presumably the goddess whom Sanchuniathon calls Athene, a daughter of El, mother unnamed, who with Hermes (that is Thoth) counselled El on the making of a sickle and a spear of iron, presumably to use against his father Uranus. However, in the Baal cycle, that rôle is assigned to Asherah / ‘Elat and ‘Anat is there called the "Virgin."[13][better source needed]

Possible late transfigurations

The goddess ‘Atah worshipped at Palmyra may possibly be in origin identical with ‘Anat. ‘Atah was combined with ‘Ashtart under the name Atar into the goddess ‘Atar‘atah known to the Hellenes as Atargatis. If this origin for ‘Atah is correct, then Atargatis is effectively a combining of ‘Ashtart and ‘Anat.

It has also been proposed that (Indo-)Iranian Anahita meaning 'immaculate' in Avestan (a 'not' + ahit 'unclean') is a variant of ‘Anat. It is however unlikely given that the Indo-Iranian roots of the term are related to the Semitic ones and although—through conflation—Aredvi Sura Anahita (so the full name) inherited much from Ishtar-Inanna, the two are considered historically distinct.

In the Book of Zohar, ‘Anat is numbered among the holiest of angelic powers under the name of Anathiel.

In Sefer Yetzirah by Rabbi Kaplan, he mentions that this angel is the ruling malach over Venus.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anat

[magicallygrimmwiccan]

The Opposite of Love (Indifference) Chapter II: It’s Better To Feel Pain (Than Nothing At All)

“If this is to be my wardrobe for the near future,” Logan growled, “then I demand all photographic evidence be burned upon completion of this period.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Virgil drawled, rolling his eyes. “Besides, Dee thought you’d need a break. And what better way to make you take a break-”

“Than to make sure there were no traces of my royal wardrobe, yes I know,” Logan sighed, holding up a pink turtleneck sweater. “I still do not appreciate this.”

“Aw, I think you’ll look downright adorable,” Virgil teased. “Besides, it’s more comfortable than your regular clothing, you have to admit.” Logan grumbled in complaint but ultimately agreed. The sweaters all looked much softer and more pleasing than his usual silken attire, and the purple cargo shorts looked to be much less restrictive than his typical trousers. He had always had a weakness for knee-high socks, and Converse made him extremely happy as well.

(He sincerely hoped that Virgil would not remember that this was the outfit they had first met in. Logan would possibly die of embarrassment if Virgil recalled that little detail. Dee had surely given him this wardrobe on accident, and Logan was determined to never let Virgil know the true implications of what this outfit symbolized.)

“Well… I suppose it could be worse,” Logan sighed. “And seeing as my current outfit is ruined-” He was fairly certain Virgil had done that out of spite. “- I must change. Please exit the room.”

“Sure thing. When you’re done, I managed to find some books you might like.” With that, Virgil left, leaving Logan alone in a strange room in a weird house in the middle of nowhere. He let out a shaky sigh and began to undress, choosing to leave his binder on. Yes, it had been on for four days, but he wasn’t feeling any pain or difficulty breathing. He would be fine.

Logan exited his room after a minute or two, only to be faced by a glaring Virgil again. “Yeah, go take off that binder, mister.”

“What? It-”

“It has been on for four days, Logan, so go take it off right this second.”

“How-”

“Dee told me. Take it off and leave it off for a week or I make you.” Logan was going to give Dee a stern talking-to about privacy once he got back to the palace, but for now, he was unwilling to see what Virgil meant by “making him”. With a sigh, he walked back into his room, wriggled out of his binder, and took a moment to breathe before heading back out to Virgil. Virgil nodded in approval before carefully taking his elbow and leading him to the living room, supporting his still-shaky legs.

Logan gasped as he saw the pile of books awaiting him on the coffee table. “Are those all for me?”

“Yeah, I’ve been collecting old books for a few decades now. Figured I should try and preserve as much of the past as I could, ya know?”

“Virgil, this… this is lovely, thank you,” Logan said, turning to face the vampire with a small smile on his face. “This was quite kind of you.”

Virgil shrugged. “Not really, but okay.”

Logan let out a sigh but ultimately put the issue to rest, moving forward to inspect the books further. Dante’s Inferno, Frankenstein, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, all literary classics, all ridiculously hard to find now in their original book forms. How Virgil had managed to find these was a mystery Logan didn’t care to solve, as he was far too happy just getting lost in the books in front of him.

“Oh I guess I’ll just… leave you,” Virgil mumbled, stepping back and vanishing into the kitchen, pulling out the ingredients to make a kickass lasagna while Logan buried himself in books behind him.

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

Virgil woke up only a day after the Book Incident (that plan had worked too well) to the smell of smoke wafting through the house. He bolted upright and dashed out into the living room, clad only in the tank top and skinny jeans he’d fallen asleep in.

“Logan?!” he yelped, nose burning from the scent of smoke. Coughing answered him and Logan emerged from the kitchen, fanning his face and looking at Virgil with red-rimmed pink eyes.

“My apologies, I accidentally set fire to the ravioli I was attempting to boil,” Logan coughed, smiling shakily at Virgil. “Um… I turned off the stove before anything too bad happened?”

Virgil groaned and pushed past Logan into the kitchen. “Stay out, sugar, you’re liable to melt. I’ll handle it.” His eyes widened as he took in the disaster before him. How had Logan managed to also burn the water?! The sauce he could understand, as making brown butter took skill and sage burned quickly if the heat was too high, and the ravioli he could also kind of comprehend, but the water? How was this man such a disaster?

“Logan… I think you’re officially banned from the kitchen,” Virgil announced.

“That is quite fair,” Logan called back. “Would you like help cleaning up?”

Virgil was about to answer when the sauce finally exploded, covering him from head to toe in sage butter. He stood, frozen, for a solid minute, before he forced himself to reply.

“No. No I would not.”

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

Virgil would like to go back and ask his past self exactly how oblivious he had been for thinking that Logan would actually sleep once removed from the situation with the Ice Queen. Because Logan, Virgil was slowly realizing, was not only stubborn and stupid and lacked an understanding of the definition of self-care, but he was oblivious to his own body’s needs.

It had been a week since Virgil and Logan had moved into this little tree house in the middle of nowhere, and Logan had only slept twice in that entire time there. Once when Virgil had dragged him in, and once the afternoon of the Cooking Incident. It was frankly getting ridiculous, and Virgil was about two seconds away from tearing his hair out in frustration over the stupid prince he was currently babysitting. Logan needed to go to sleep right this goddamn second or Virgil knew he was going to fucking scream.

“Are you quite alright, Virgil? You look tense,” Logan observed, looking up from the copy of The Great Gatsby Virgil had managed to find for him. Virgil grit his teeth together before leveling Logan with a harsh glare, allowing all the anger and frustration and possible-worry over the prince’s health bubble up and heat his gaze.

“No I am not alright,” Virgil hissed. “You are being an idiot who isn’t sleeping and it is getting on my last. Nerve.”

Logan blinked, thoroughly confused. “Oh… well, that is, quite frankly, none of your business, Virgil.”

Virgil gay-up hissed like an irate cat and shot to his feet, marching over to tower over Logan. “Go the fuck to sleep, bitch.”

“No.” Logan met his glare with a steady gaze, not even flinching. Virgil let out a sound that totally wasn’t a scream as he began to pace around the living room, muttering to himself. What would make Logan go to sleep? What was a fool-proof plan for success? Virgil needed one now, and short of continuously knocking Logan out, something both Patton and Roman would take issue with, Virgil had no answers.

“Well, have fun with… whatever it is you are doing. I will be making more coffee in the meantime,” Logan called, beginning to stand. Virgil froze, an evil smirk crossing his face. Oh. This was perfect. The perfect solution to his dilemma. How had he not thought of this before?

“You’re not getting more coffee,” Virgil laughed, strolling into the kitchen and ignoring Logan’s indignant noises. “You’re not getting more coffee until you sleep.”

“That- you can’t just do that!” Logan squeaked. “You are not in control of my actions!”

“Ah, but I can hide the coffee machine.” Logan’s face paled and he stared at Virgil with wide, pleading eyes. Virgil ignored him, however, and simply unplugged the machine from its spot, picked it up, and carried it into his room, ignoring the pleas to stop.

He kicked his door shut, shoving his bass in front of the door to keep Logan out, and floated upwards to hide the machine in the top of his closet where Logan would never find it. There. Boom. Problem solved. He was a genius.

Virgil left his room, only to run straight into a frantic Logan, who grabbed his hoodie and pulled him down to stare directly into his eyes, all the hatred of a thousand suns burning into Virgil’s soul from those eyes.

“Give me back. My coffee machine,” Logan absolutely growled, jaw clenched so tightly Virgil was surprised his teeth weren’t cracking under the strain.

“Nope,” Virgil replied, popping his p and watching with great pleasure as the fight drained from Logan’s form. “Not until you go to sleep, hulwaty.”

Logan sighed, biting his bottom lip. “... are you sure I cannot convince you?”

“Yeah. Now, to bed. Chop chop.” Logan sighed and trudged to his room, practically slamming the door behind him. Virgil smiled sadly at the door before going back out to the kitchen, making sure to close his own door behind him. It was for Logan’s own health, he told himself, regardless of how those sad eyes on that sad face had stabbed into his soul. He was going soft. The thought, he realized, did not horrify him as it once might have. Virgil promptly decided to not analyze this thought further and began to prepare another vegetable stock for another soup. He might as well take advantage of this free time while Logan slept, right?

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

Yeah, Virgil really was going soft. Too soft, in fact, as he was more concerned about Logan sleeping than he was about his own health. It was a problem. Virgil had always either not given a single fuck about someone or cared far too much to be healthy, and it looked like he had switched modes for Logan in less than a week. Damn it.

He hadn’t slept in three days and he swore he could feel it in his toe bones (metatarsals and phalanges, Logan had told him at one point). Virgil was stumbling around the house, utterly exhausted yet also refusing to sleep. Logan still hadn’t gotten his coffee maker back, as he only slept after Virgil reminded him he held the precious machine hostage and Virgil was terrified to think about the lack of sleep Logan would get if he gave it back now.

Of course, this left Virgil monitoring Logan so much that his own sleep was left behind, a fact that he was realizing made him a flaming hypocrite. This, however, did not escape Logan’s notice; he was just far too nice to comment on it, Virgil realized.

“Hey, darling,” Logan murmured after 3 sleepless nights for Virgil, carefully draping a soft fleece blanket over his shoulders. “You’ve done enough. Time for you to rest.”

“No,” Virgil slurred, weakly shaking his head despite his body insisting on listening to Logan. “No, you… you won’t sleep if I do. Gotta take care of you.”

“Oh, love,” Logan murmured, gently pulling Virgil to his feet. “If that is what concerns you… I can sleep with you, just to make sure we both get some rest. Is that alright?”

“I… I guess. Promise you’ll actually sleep?” Had Virgil been more aware, he would have flinched at how vulnerable he sounded, but as it stood, he didn’t have the brain capacity to care.

“Of course,” Logan soothed, guiding Virgil to his room. “Now, let’s have a nap, shall we? We’ll both feel better after, I imagine.”

Virgil didn’t even complain, simply stripping down to a T-shirt and boxers before collapsing onto his bed, pulling a Logan who was clad in a too-large sweater and tall socks to his chest. He drifted off in the space between one blink and the next, the last thing he remembered being the sweet scent of Logan drifting into his nose as pink hairs tickled it.

Afterwards, both of them agreed to get sleep each night, and the coffee maker was restored to its usual spot on the kitchen counter.

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

Logan sneezed for what had to be the fifth time in the space of twenty minutes, groaning as his stuffed-up nose decided to torture his brain again. He had only gotten sick once before in his life, and he never wanted to ever again as long as he lived. This was torture.

“Logan, I made you chicken noodle soup, and I expect you to eat it all,” Virgil called, strolling into the living room. He held a tray in his hands, laden with a large steaming bowl and a small glass of apple juice, a severe look painted on his face. Logan groaned but forced himself to sit upright to receive Virgil’s lovely efforts.

“My thanks, Virgil,” Logan groaned, wincing at his stuffy-sounding voice. “I still apologize for falling ill.”

“Hey, none of that. You haven’t spent extended time out of the palace for ages. It makes sense.”

“Still, you should not have to deal with me.”

“My bedside manner is shit, but I’ll still take care of you. Now eat your damn soup,” Virgil huffed, sitting down on the couch at Logan’s feet and giving a look that could almost be construed as tender. Logan took the tray and began to slowly sip at the soup, glancing up at Virgil every so often. The vampire king simply watched him with a steady expression. Not a cold form of steady by any means, Logan realized. No, this was a steady that spoke of care, of tenderness, of passion and love and promises of safety. Logan had never felt safer in his entire life than he did there, on that couch, Virgil watching him as he drank his chicken noodle soup.

(Something stirred in Logan’s stomach, at that thought, and he brutally shoved it down. Now was not the time for feelings.)

“Good. Now drink your juice, and I put some pills to help on the tray as well.” Logan found them quickly and downed them with the apple juice in two gulps. Virgil smiled at him and leaned over, gently ruffling his hair. “Now go to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

Logan settled back down and Virgil grabbed the tray, retreating to the kitchen. The candy prince yawned, fighting to stay awake until Virgil returned, but he quickly lost the battle at the soft sound of Virgil’s soothing humming as he fell into a deep, dark, comforting realm of dreams.

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

When Virgil inevitably fell ill merely two days later, Logan tried to reciprocate the care. He burned the soup and spilled the juice twice, causing Virgil to laugh and Logan to blush furiously. They eventually get things to work, and Virgil began to feel better in no time, and the two of them agreed to never bring up The Great Chicken Soup Catastrophe ever again.

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

“So, I just… do this?” Logan asked for the tenth time, gently poking the pasta dough in front of him. Virgil nodded, too focused on his own pasta dough to correct the fact that Logan shouldn’t be poking it but should, in fact, be shaping it.

“I mean, you should be shaping it, not poking it, but yeah.” Virgil finished shaping all of his dough and turned to help Logan, snorting at the comical sight of Prince Gumball, covered in flour, staring in horror at the dough in front of him as if it were about to attack him.

“What do you mean shaping it? Shaping it into what? How do I do that when it sticks to me whenever I touch it?” Logan looked utterly lost and baffled. It was adorable. Virgil couldn’t help the small snort he let out before he shuffled over, gently picking up Logan’s dough before beginning to shape it for him.

“I think that might just be the fact that you’re made of gum, nizarat,” Virgil answered, hands expertly pinching and tucking and folding and rolling until all of Logan’s dough was in the perfect shape to make their dish. “Either way, there you go.”

“Thank you, Virgil,” Logan sighed, looking quite relieved to have this over with. “Now, what is the next step?”

“Now, we get to drop these into the boiling water,” Virgil replied, pausing when he saw Logan pale and step back a bit. “What is it?”

“Uh… is it liable to splash?” Logan inquired, staring at the pot in fear. Virgil mentally slapped himself for not considering that someone made out of sugar would not handle being hit with water well and sighed.

“It… it might. I can do all of this if you want?”

“That would be wonderful, Virgil, my thanks,” Logan replied, retreating to deal with finding the perfect dishes to plate their pasta on. Virgil sighed and went back to making sure the pasta didn’t overcook, listening to Logan’s quiet curses as he tried to find matching dishware in the cupboards.

“It doesn’t have to match, Logan,” Virgil called, voice tinged in amusement.

“Yes it does,” Logan insisted, and Virgil could just picture his puffed-out cheeks and slight glare. “If they do not match, then the presentation is wrong. And if the presentation is wrong, the meal is ruined.”

“You have to lighten up some times,” Virgil laughed, dumping the pasta into the sauce to finish cooking it. “You can’t always make everything perfect. Sometimes, you work with what you have.”

“That seems like a very… strange way to live,” Logan mumbled back. “Should you not strive for perfection in all that you do?”

“Sometimes, your best is good enough.” Virgil shrugged, bringing the pasta over to the table, before dishing it out into the bowls Logan had found with a carving fork. “And honestly, I’d be exhausted trying to be perfect every hour of the day. I’d much rather be the mess that I really am.”

Logan hummed, looking thoughtful, but didn’t say anything, simply nomming on his pasta with wide eyes. “This is delicious, Virgil. Thank you.”

“You helped make it, dude.”

“Thank you anyway.” For teaching me, for the advice, for accepting me for who I am even though you have every reason not to… Logan didn’t need to say all of that. Virgil knew.

“Of course, Logan.”

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

Logan secretly liked Saturdays in the house with Virgil, although he would never admit it on pain of death. Virgil would do some baking early in the morning and leave the basket of treats on the table throughout the day for the two of them to snack on. Logan would spend the morning sewing, knitting, and doing puzzles while Virgil cleaned (the vampire was, surprisingly, a neat freak, something Logan had only just now remembered). They would then have a light lunch of sandwiches before retreating back to their own quiet activities, Logan typically reading in the afternoon while Virgil sketched. The soft quiet soothed them both, and it became something they both looked forward to at the end of the loud week.

On one such afternoon, Logan finally decided to move closer to Virgil during their afternoon time. They’d been in the same house for a little over a month now, and Logan hoped that this meant he was allowed to sit on the same couch as Virgil without it seeming weird.

“Logan? What the fuck are you doing?” Virgil asked, looking up as Logan sat on the other couch cushion. Logan froze, turning to look at Virgil. Should he just go back to the loveseat?

“Um… I figured I could… sit here today?”

Virgil let out a soft sigh and stood, Logan’s heart climbing into his throat. Oh, he had messed this up, hadn’t he?

However, instead of leaving, Virgil simply turned around and lounged against Logan, his feet propped up on the other armrest. “Well, then, I guess we’re doing this today.” Logan let out a quiet sigh of relief and turned back to his book, allowing Virgil to continue his drawing in their usual silence.

Eventually, however, Virgil’s weight began to press more and more into Logan’s shoulder, and he glanced over to see what was going on. He had to stifle a giggle, however, as he saw the vampire’s closed eyes and slack face, his theory confirmed as he heard a light snore as well.

“Well, this simply can’t be comfortable,” Logan murmured, carefully shifting Virgil off of his shoulder and into his lap. “That should be better.” By some miracle, the sleeping vampire did not wake, simply shifting position once in Logan’s lap. Satisfied with his work, Logan turned back to his book, not intent on moving until Virgil woke up. He clearly needed this nap, and it would take a crueler man than Logan to take said nap away from him.

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

When Virgil woke up four hours later to find Logan passed out, he simply chuckled, placed a blanket around Logan’s shoulders, and went back to sleep.

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

“Logan! Come on!” Virgil called, already halfway down the ladder to the ground. Logan carefully followed, bundled up in a thick turtleneck sweater, a scarf, and a woolen peacoat. Virgil was only in his usual hoodie and flannel, apparently unbothered by the crisp chill in the air.

“Not all of us wish to risk our necks climbing down recklessly,” Logan shot back, clinging tightly to the rickety ladder as he descended. “Plus, I do not see the appeal in jumping in piles of dead foliage.”

“It’s a fun thing to do,” Virgil answered, “and you need to stop being so overcautious. Let loose every once in a while!”

“I do ‘let loose’, just not when I could be harmed doing so.” Logan finally reached the ground and carefully stepped down, the leaves crunching around him.

“You’re boring,” Virgil declared, already kicking leaves into a pile. “Come on, I wanna get this pile to be a decent size.”

Logan reluctantly began to help Virgil curate the pile of dried leaves, wincing as he accidentally touched a few wet ones. He quickly dried his hands before it could affect his skin too much, ignoring Virgil’s snickering.

Soon enough, they had amassed a pile of red, brown, orange, and yellow, about three quarters of Virgil’s height and with a radius of similar size. Virgil was grinning wickedly, causing Logan’s stomach to clench in anxiety. That facial expression spelled trouble, and Logan did not need more trouble in his life today.

“So, you want to go first or should I?” Virgil asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Logan shook his head quickly and stepped back, hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Oh, no, no, I do not think it wise to-”

“You then!” With that, Virgil picked Logan up, ignoring the screeches from the candy prince, and chucked him onto the pile. Logan screamed and curled into a ball just before colliding with the leaves, eyes flying open in surprise as he did not feel cold, hard ground colliding with his side.

“Yeah, the leaves cushion your fall if you get them high enough,” Virgil answered his unasked question. “You didn’t think I’d let ya get hurt, did you?”

“I… I am not sure what to believe at this moment,” Logan muttered. Virgil sighed and helped him out of the pile, brushing leaves off of him.

“Yeah, well… can you at least believe that I won’t let you get hurt? I might not be a good person, but I’m not a dick.”

“Of- of course, I never meant to make you think-”

“No, Logan, relax!” Virgil exclaimed. “I didn’t- oh gosh, people just tend to think I’m evil, but even I have standards!”

“Of course you do! How can people think you’re evil? Yes, you can be overbearing and infuriating and far too unprofessional, but you are kind, and sweet, and you try your best to help people, and that is not something to be demonized or forgotten simply because of your vampiric nature!” Logan’s cheeks were puffed out in fury by the end of his rant, fists clenched at his sides. “And I will personally fight anyone who says otherwise!”

“Whoa, slow down, shorty,” Virgil chuckled, ruffling Logan’s hair. “No need for fighting. I can defend myself, thank you very much.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“I don’t find it worth my time,” Virgil answered, shrugging. “Not everything in life needs to be met with energy.” Logan’s muscles relaxed and he stared at Virgil, eyes wide.

“Anyway, help me get these back in a pile? I still wanna jump in them.” Logan nodded, and the two remade the pile in record time, this time with Logan standing back and watching Virgil bellyflop into the pile with a large grin on his face. Something warm stirred in Logan’s stomach at the sight and he let out a small giggle, just happy to see Virgil happy. Oh, he would regret this later, if the numb sensation in his fingers and nose and toes was any indication, but for now, Virgil was happy, and that was all that mattered to Logan.

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

A couple days after the leaf pile, Virgil was wandering around at 2, unable to sleep, on his way to get cocoa, when he was stopped by the heavy sound of whimpering coming from Logan’s room. His eyes narrowed, he stalked forward, gently pushing the door open to peek inside and make sure that everything was alright. His eyes shot wide, however, when he saw Logan’s state.

The candy prince was tangled up in his blankets, clawed fingers grasping at the air as if reaching for someone or something. Sweat beaded on his face and tears stained his cheeks, breaking Virgil’s already broken heart even further. His whimpers stabbed Virgil even further, locking his muscles in place as he bore witness to this horrifying, heartbreaking sight. The strong, untouchable, perfect prince, falling to pieces in his dreams in the middle of the night away from all his loved ones.

“No, Virgil… no, please, no, I’ll be good, please stop,” Logan begged, curling in on himself.

Virgil’s muscles finally unlocked and he lunged forward, falling to his knees beside Logan as he began to frantically try and wake him. “Logan? Logan can you hear me?” Logan’s only reply was to twist away from Virgil’s voice, curling up even tighter, possibly defying the limits of his spine. “Logan I need you to focus. You’re having a nightmare. Nothing is wrong. You’re okay. I just need you to wake. Up.”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’ll be good please don’t hurt them, please don’t hurt him, I’ll do whatever you want-” Logan whimpered. Virgil let out a growl and grabbed Logan’s shoulders, pinning them to the bed. Logan let out a cry and began to thrash around. Virgil let out a frustrated groan and swung himself onto the bed, sitting on Logan’s hips to keep him restrained.

“Logan! Wake up!” Virgil yelled, shaking Logan’s shoulders in punctuation. Logan whimpered and thrashed some more, leaving Virgil at a loss. He needed to wake Logan up, but the prince wasn’t listening, what should he do-

“I’m sorry don’t hurt them… Virgil-!” Virgil let out a short sob and shook Logan harder, on the verge of tears himself. He wanted to help, he needed to help, but how could he?

“Logan! Wake up!” Virgil screamed, releasing a hand and patting Logan’s cheek. Logan’s eyelids flickered at that, giving Virgil hope, and an idea. Muttering apologies, he drew back his hand, and, with only half the strength possible, he slapped Logan across the face. The candy man shot upright at that, gasping and coughing, and Virgil instantly shifted to caretaker mode, taking Logan’s face in his hands and making sure he was calming down from the panic attack.

“V-Virgil?” Logan asked after a minute. “Did you… slap me?”

“Sorry, habibi, it was the only thing I could think of,” Virgil whispered, thumbs stroking Logan’s cheekbones. “Are you okay?”

“N-not particularly,” Logan mumbled. “But I cannot remember what the nightmare was about.”

“That’s more than okay, Logan. Let’s just work on making sure you’re okay,” Virgil soothed, wiping away the tears littering Logan’s cheeks. “What do you want from me to help you feel better?”

“Hot chocolate or tea… and could you tell me a story? I know, it sounds childish, but-”

“But nothing, Logan. If that’s what you need to feel better, than I’ll go do that right now. Will you be okay if I leave you?”

“Could I come with?” Virgil had never heard Logan sound so… broken. He could confidently say that he Did Not Like It.

“Of course. Let me just get off of you and help you get untangled.”

They did not sleep for the rest of the night. Virgil made mug after mug of tea and hot cocoa, and although Logan calmed down by 3:15, he was terrified to enter the land of dreams once again, and Virgil had too much of a heart to leave him. Both of them would definitely suffer the next day, but neither of them could bring themselves to care in that moment. They told stories of far-away kingdoms, of lonely faeries, of a young boy with too many expectations on his shoulders, and came to an understanding.

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

When Logan knocked on Virgil’s door the next night, blanket clutched tightly around him, and muttered that he was scared, Virgil allowed him in to sleep with him. Logan fell asleep with no issues this time, surrounded by security, and slept with no nightmares through the night. Virgil counted this as a win and started sleeping with Logan more often, just in case. It worked.

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

“Hey, Virgil?” Virgil looked up from his sketchbook to find Logan looking at him over the top of his book, eyes shining with a curiosity not seen since they were about 20 years old.

“Yes Logan?”

“Roman says you play the bass.”

“I do indeed play the bass. Roman thinks I sound wonderful.”

“Why have I never heard you?” Virgil paused, frowning, turning the question over and over in his mind. Had he really not played for Logan before? With a start, he realized that yeah, he hadn’t. Oh, sure, the reason was that they’d hated each other for so long, it would have been weird to play for him. But they’d been here for about 5 weeks now, and he still hadn’t played for Logan. That was a crime and must be rectified.

“Guess I’ve just never played while you were around. Lemme fix that. Hold on.” Virgil set aside his sketchbook and floated out of his seat and down the hall to grab his bass. He floated back, taking in Logan’s softly curled position in the soft lighting of the candles, and began to set up, taking a moment to tune each string before strumming a perfectly tuned A chord.

“So. Any requests, pretty boy?” Virgil asked, smirking. Logan simply rolled his eyes at the flirting (was that a slight blush? Virgil dismissed the thought as a trick of the light) and thought.

“Play me whatever you would like to play,” Logan decided, setting his book down and folding his hands on his lap. “I assure you, I would love to hear it.” Virgil nibbled on his bottom lip for a second, thinking, before an idea came to mind.

“Okay, this is… this is from a band that a lot of people don’t realize that I like because it’s not emo, but… I think you’ll like it.”

He began to strum, humming along with the opening, hoping that he wasn’t about to make a mistake, and began to sing.

“She'll lie and steal and cheat And beg you from her knees Make you thinks she means it this time He'll tear a hole in you, the one you can't repair But I still love him, I don't really care”

Logan simply stared, eyes wide and sparkling with wonder. Virgil smiled shakily back at him and continued on, a little embarrassed since no one usually was around to hear him sing. Well, except for Roman.

“When we were young Oh oh, we did enough When it got cold Ooh ooh, we bundled up I can't be told Ah ah it can't be done”

Logan’s soft smile had vanished, but Virgil was just getting into the swing of things and couldn’t find it in himself to stop.

“It's better to feel pain, than nothing at all The opposite of love's indifference So pay attention now I'm standing on your porch screaming out And I won't leave until you come downstairs”

A single tear slipped down Logan’s cheek while Virgil furiously blinked back his own. He was not crying today, no sir.

“So keep your head up, keep your love Keep your head up, my love Keep your head up, my love Keep your head up, keep your love”

Logan sniffed, and Virgil raised his head to look right into the other’s eyes, his own eyes dry only through self-restraint. His voice turned soft, tender, full of nothing but understanding. He didn’t want Logan to misinterpret the next lines.

“And I don't blame ya dear For running like you did, all these years I would do the same, you best believe And the highway signs say we're close But I don't read those things anymore I never trusted my own eyes”

Logan was freely crying now, and Virgil wasn’t faring much better, his voice finally getting a little choked up as he started the chorus.

“When we were young Oh oh, we did enough When it got cold, Ooh ooh we bundled up I can't be told, Ah ah, can't be done”

Logan sniffed again, wiping at his cheeks, and Virgil broke eye contact to stare down at his bass as he finished the song.

“Keep your head up, keep your love Keep your head up, my love Keep your head up, my love Keep your head up, keep your love”

He quickly finished out the song, softly strumming the final chord and waiting for the sound to clear from the air, before he raised his head to meet Logan’s eyes.

“Virgil… that was gorgeous,” Logan whispered. “Whoever that was for… they’re very lucky to have you love them.”

Virgil let out a little laugh. “Yeah. Yeah they’re great.” He wasn’t going to deny it anymore. That song was for Logan, and only Logan. “But, let’s go with something a bit more upbeat.”

“Of course,” Logan answered, grinning back through the drying tears. “Whatever you’d like.”

Virgil strummed at his instrument, a smile lighting his face as his fingers slipped into a familiar pattern without thinking. “How about…”

“We've waited so damn long, we're sick and tired I won't leave any doubt or stone unturned…”

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

“Why are we out here, Virgil?” Logan asked softly, shivering in the light night wind cutting through his sweater. “It is freezing.”

“We’re stargazing,” Virgil answered. “I figured, might be nice. It’s a clear night and you like stargazing.”

“That is true,” Logan acknowledged. “But we could also stargaze indoors.”

“But outdoor is better,” Virgil insisted, turning to look at Logan with an intensity he’d never seen before. “Just… trust me?”

“There is something special tonight, isn’t there?”

“... yeah.”

“Then we’ll watch.” Logan settled down on the blanket Virgil had laid out, watching the sky for something special. Virgil sat next to him, placing his hand atop Logan’s. Logan did not move his hand away, simply turning to smile at Virgil briefly before turning his eyes back towards the sky.

The two did not have to wait for long, as a shooting star streaked across the sky mere minutes after they had arrived.

“Quick, Logan, make a wish.”

“Okay.”

“What did you wish for?”

“I can’t tell you, or it’ll never come true,” Logan murmured, staring at the grass. Virgil chuckled and stood, stretching out his arms.

“I guess. Hey. I have an idea.”

“Oh?” Logan’s eyebrow raised slightly. Virgil’s ideas so far had ranged from spectacular to disastrous, and Logan did not wish to partake in another disastrous one.

“Dance with me?” Logan’s brain sputtered to a stop.

“Virgil… Virgil, I do not dance.”

“I’ll teach ya! Come on.” The vampire held out a hand, grin somehow both soft and confident. “Do you trust me?”

“I suppose,” Logan answered, taking the proffered hand and standing. “Although, I must warn you that I am certain your poor feet are about to be trampled.”

“I can live with that,” Virgil laughed, placing his right hand on Logan’s waist and taking Logan’s right hand in his left. “Now… just follow my lead.”

And there they danced, under the bright silver moonlight, for hours. Not a soul dared disturb them up on that hilltop, the stars the only witnesses to this baring out emotion. Toes were stepped on, frustrated tears were shed, and laughter was sounded, but above all, two became one that night. Wrongs were forgiven. Slights, given apology. These two disparate souls, whom no one thought could ever be anything resembling friends, proved everyone wrong. They were not just getting along. They were not just friends. Here, in this moment, they knew: they were in love.

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

Virgil was just finishing up watering the little tree he’d dragged inside a couple weeks ago when a knock sounded at the door. He paused, a small frown crossing his face. The alarms hadn’t gone off, so it wasn’t the Ice Queen. It was too loud to be Dee. Therefore, it had to be Roman or Patton, which meant… the Ice Queen had been dealt with! Virgil jumped up and practically sprinted over to the door, throwing it open with a large smile on his face.

“Patton! Roman!” he cried before his brain could register who exactly was at the door. He was rewarded for his slow brain with a harsh blow to the head, one that would have killed him had he not been practically immortal. As it was, Virgil crumpled to the ground, instantly unconscious from the blunt force trauma delivered to his skull. Logan jumped, staring in horror at the limp body of the vampire king, not thinking to run away. Slowly, the intruder stepped inside, Logan’s breath catching in his throat as he saw who exactly it was.

“You really should put more work into your alarm system, Logie,” the Ice Queen giggled, fangs bared in a wide, manic grin. “Is that any way to greet your ruler?”

“You are not my ruler,” Logan managed to stammer out, slowly setting his book aside. He stood from the couch, forcing himself to meet the Ice Queen’s eyes despite his discomfort doing so. It would not do for him to show weakness now.

“Oh, really? Last I checked, you are a Prince, and I am a Queen.”

“I am my own monarch, thank you very much,” Logan shot back, starting to slowly inch backward. The Ice Queen noticed and chuckled, her laugh inexplicably sending a sharp paralyzing chill down Logan’s spine.

“You’re cute.” Her smirk turned into a leer and she stalked closer while Logan remained rooted in place. “It’s almost like you think you have any power here.”

“I… well, last I checked, I do.”

“Cute.” With that, she held up a spray bottle and released a stream of blue-white gas into Logan’s face. Logan coughed and stumbled back, his legs finally working, but it was too late for him. His head began to swim as his vision filled with blue-white mist. His ears rang with a high-pitched drone and his legs buckled, sending him sprawling on the floor.

“What did you do?” he tried to mumble, but his tongue would not cooperate. The Ice Queen seemed to understand him anyway and she laughed, stepping closer before squatting down.

“Oh, Logie,” she crooned, running a cold bony hand through his hair. “Does it matter?” He tried to form an answer but found he couldn’t, thoughts swimming away as his mental fingers brushed them. “Because when we get home, you’re not going to be leaving my castle for as long as you live, which is a very long time indeed.” With that, she slung him over her shoulder and walked out the front door, Logan not able to put up any semblance of a struggle. His thoughts felt like wading through taffy and his limbs felt like they were composed of cotton candy. He doesn’t quite remember anything, not registering anything but the jostling of his body as the Ice Queen walked a bit before teleporting to her castle, the portal’s lights officially ripping Logan’s consciousness from him as he ceased to process anything.

[la-vita-in-arancione]

Killer Queen: Chapter 5 - I’ve Got A Feeling

Summary: Arabella Ruth White is the fifth member of the Marauders. And life at Hogwarts certainly isn’t easy. Especially when you have alcohol, relationships, unhealthy music obsessions, a fake stage persona, weird ass friends with weird ass problems and actual school all thrown into the equation. (This story is also on Wattpad and AO3 of the same name. I will always update on Wattpad first.) 

A/N: Hello darlings! I have another chapter of Killer Queen for you all! I will try to update every Tuesday from now on!

Warning(s): swearing

Word Count: 1.3k+

Taglist: @missqueeniewrites

Ask to be on my taglist!

The sight before me was one I never thought I would ever see in my entire fucking life.

My boys in the library.

Reading.

Quietly.

I would have thought I was in an parallel universe if it hadn't taken Remus and I almost an hour to convince the boys to come. This was only to double check the information my mum had given me about the Animagus process as I wouldn't put it past her to either forget or give us the wrong instructions. They had argued we could easily do it in the common room but I didn't want anyone to eavesdrop on us. I am not going to Azkaban any time soon because that place looks crusty as fuck. James had faked a note from a teacher so we could get some books from the Restricted Section on the subject. He is dangerously good at fraud. 

So, while Peter, James, Sirius and I researched in near silence, Remus appeared to be reading a muggle book of some sort. I frequently looked up from my book to Remus, growing more and more confused. On top of reading an irrelevant book, he also kept doing strange hand and arm movements every 10 seconds. In the end, my curiosity got the better of me and I just put down my book and stared intensively at my strange friend until he looked up at me.

"What are you looking at?" he snapped at me, clearly not appreciating the interruption.

"You, darling. You're reading a book that has nothing to do with our research and you keep flapping your arms around like a drunk seagull. Sorry for being a tad confused," I said simply. I earned a glare from Madame Pince at the volume of my voice but I just ignored, more interested in Remus's explanation.

"Umm, I don't know, it's kind of weird. You might judge me," he muttered, staring down at the table to avoid my gaze, quite uncomfortable with my sudden confrontation. I instantly felt sorry for him and how insecure he could be sometimes, and I was kind of guilty for inducing this but I was still determined to find out was he was doing.

"Darling, you could pull out a pair of maracas, put on a pink feather boa, jump on the table and start screaming at the top of your voice and I still wouldn't judge you. What are you doing?"

He hesitated before answering, "Well, you know how I've been communicating with Idania by writing things down?" I nodded, indicating he should continue. It had been 3 days since that fateful lesson when they started having a conversation and they had repeated this today as we had had History Of Magic again, "Well, I had an idea while we were talking, so to speak. I decided that I would try and learn sign language to surprise her," he mumbled the last part so I could only just hear him. He looked up at me, waiting for whatever rude comment he was expecting me to make.

Much to his surprise, I broke out into a huge grin and clasped my hands tightly, "No way! Really?"

His eyes widened in shock and a small smile began to form on his solemn face, "Yeah, I wanted to try and be a bit more inclusive with her so what better way to do that than to speak, or rather sign her language?"

I squealed with delight, clapping my hands excitedly and practically jumping up and down in my seat. Cue another glare from Pince. I knew this was a big deal as Remus could be a stone cold bitch if he wanted, especially with strangers. It was only when he cared - deeply cared - about someone would he actually make an effort with them and therefore do things like this. Being the introvert that he is, caring about someone he had only known for mere days was pretty much unheard of. Idania was one special girl and she didn't even know it. That, however, lead me to other conclusions. Did Remus like her? Did she like him? Had I accidentally started a romance that would bloom for years to come? OK, I'm getting ahead of myself but it was certainly a possibility. I turned around to face the others, who were somehow oblivious to our entire conversation.

"Guys, guys, guys!" I exclaimed, causing them all to look at me with a mixture of annoyance and interest, "Remus has something to tell you!" Was it cruel of me to force Remus to explain this himself when I could? Probably. But I'm evil like that and he could be worse if he wanted.

Remus gave me a look of frustration, as expected, and awkwardly explained the situation to the boys. A lot of screaming, mainly from James, ensued which resulted in us getting chucked out of the library. Mysteriously, a message appeared on a wall in one of the corridors reading "Pince is a stuck up slag" the next day which may or may not had something to do with me.

We returned to the common room and went straight up to the boys' dormitory to chat and to put our books away for when we needed them later. We had only just sat down when I gasped, having remembered something very important. The boys looked at me questioningly so I announced, "I need cake."

I was met with blank stares and a sigh I assumed was from Sirius, "When do you not?"

I gave him a pointed look and explained why I needed cake so badly, "It's Freddie Mercury's birthday today!"

Still, the boys were unresponsive until James piped up, "Who's Freddie Mercury?" 

That question alone made me want to jump off of the Ravenclaw tower. Instead, I decided it was my responsibility to educate these idiotic crumbs I call friends and enlighten them with the glory that is Queen.

I took a deep breath and began an unnecessarily long yet fast explanation, "Freddie Mercury is the lead singer of my favourite band in the entire world, Queen. Queen also consists of Brian May, Roger Taylor and John Deacon and they all are immensely talented but kind of underrated. Freddie is as camp as it gets and has an amazing sense of fashion. He is a fucking savage when it comes to interviews but he is actually so sweet it makes me cry. His singing his otherworldly and if anyone wants to talk shit about his teeth then I legally have to murder you on the spot. His 29th birthday is today so I have to eat cake in his honour."

Everyone's jaw dropped simultaneously at how much I knew about him but James still looked rather confused.

"He's the one that looks a bit like Sirius," I added, gesturing to a poster I had stuck up on the wall last year. Since I slept here half the time, I therefore had the right to put up any posters I wished. The one I was pointing to in particular was the white picture from inside the Queen II vinyl. James seemed to recognise Freddie now, as did the others, but Sirius looked a bit smug.

"So you're saying that I look like the lead singer of your favourite band?" he asked.

"Quite clearly, yes," I nodded slowly, not sure where he was going with this.

"Do you think that this guy is handsome then?" Oh for fuck's sake Sirius. I couldn't say no, obviously, but I didn't want to add fuel to the fire that is Sirius Black's ego. I simply stared at him rather aggressively to which he returned with a look of triumph.

"Back to my original point, I still need cake," I repeated, looking around to see if anyone was willing to go to the kitchens with me.

"I could probably do with some chocolate, in whatever form that may be," Remus suggested. I smiled at him gratefully.

"Can I come?" the small voice that belonged to Peter squeaked, going red with embarrassment for whatever reason.

"Of course, darling, the more the merrier," I reassured him. When the other two had made it clear they were staying put so they could talk about Quidditch, I all but skipped down to the kitchens with Remus and Peter not far behind.

[readcommendations]

Hi readers, bookworms, and robots!

This actually happened a few days back, but I’ve been so busy with space things I rudely forgot to update my page. Shame, shame, shame on me!

As you might recall, back in 2017 I was a part of the amazing PEW PEW anthology series. A set of amazing, hilarious space adventures that I couldn’t believe my little stories had the honor of being presented with. Out of the three novellas I submitted, two of them followed the adventures of Miss Planet Earth: awakened thousands of years in the future with her visa long since expired, our poor Katra has to find her way back to a home that no longer exists – with Space Pirates in tow.

When the rights reverted back to me this spring, I secretly started putting together pocket paperbacks of Katra’s adventures. And now, after weeks of waiting for the approval… they’re online! Well, Miss Planet Earth I is in paperback, Miss Planet Earth II (The Amulet of Beb-Sha-Na) is still just an ebook. But in any case, they’re now available for your viewing pleasure!

Miss Planet Earth is avilable here in ebook and pocket paperback, Miss Planet Earth and the Amulet of Beb-Sha-Na is available here in just ebook format (for now!)

Check out the very first chapter to see if it’s your cup of tea!

A pageant queen out of time. A secretive assassin in the wrong body. Space pirates and demented droids. It’s been a long day.

Katra Zorento won the title of Miss Universe only days before first contact was made. Armed with only her charm and her golden bikini, she was sent to compete on the real stage, against the rest of the Milky Way – only to overshoot the arrival by 13,000 years.

Now, with her visa expired and no one on her side, she must make the arduous trip back to the planet that once was Earth… That is, of course, if dashing space pirates don’t get in the way. And to make matters worse, her fiancé’s brain might be trapped inside her head. Katra’s only allies are a mysterious assassin trapped in a 9 year old’s body and a ‘service’ droid with memory issues. But if she survives this, she could win the most valuable crown in the universe…

Chapter 1: In which mistakes were made, and visas revoked

Katra Zorento woke up to find she had overslept the pageant by 13,000 years. Her fingers were still frosty as she sat at the desk, trying to warm them in the soft fabric of her leggings. To her left was the open casket she had been pried from: her cryogenic sleeping pod, packed with her makeup bag, her red ball gown and a bikini. There was also the large golden disk she had brought from Earth, a replica of the one from the Voyager probe, a gift for the Council of Twelve. Every member of which was now dead. The council itself abolished 4,812 years ago, after an incident with a gas cloud which proved once and for all that diplomatic missions and fire breathing dragons do not mix. At least not on a spaceship. All this Katra gleaned from the overstuffed office she found herself in. Posters covered the walls, telling the history of this weird planet through snippets of Public Service Announcements. The Council’s abolition was a stark reminder not to travel through nebulas in the first place. They tried the gas – and ended civilization. Don’t gas and drive. The entire floor space was taken up by her pod, two chairs, and a desk, so Katra had to tuck her legs under her seat since there was no room to put them down. Across from her sat what appeared to be a formless blob of gelatin, which wobbled back and forth on its hovering chair, as if waiting for her to speak. Every once and a while, a paper on its desk would ruffle, though how it was moving Katra had no idea. “You understand your visa has long since expired, yes?” the blob said. The voice was loud, and somehow directly in Katra’s mind, which made her spine tingle. She had never met a telepathic alien before, nor any kind of alien, so the entire experience was a little unnerving, to say the least. “Yes, but, what happened?” she asked, trying to keep her still thawing limbs from trembling. “I was supposed to meet Chancellor Forbin and…” “As I explained earlier,” said the blob’s voice, somehow conveying a sigh through its haughty mightier-than-thou airy voice. “Chancellor Forbin has been dead for over thirteen millennia.” “But the trip was only supposed to take fifty years,” Katra protested, “and where is Marcus?” “Marcus?” “Yes, my bodyguard, Marcus. We were put in cryo-sleep together.” “Ah, the male.” The blob mentally ruffled the pages on the desk. “I thought they explained after they woke you? And your visit to a dislocation officer didn’t make it clear to you?” “I’m not quite sure what a dislocation officer is, exactly.” Katra looked down at her lap and tried to avoid eye contact. Not that there were any eyes to latch onto, but gazing in the blob’s general direction made her mind swim uncomfortably. “You’ve been sent to see a dislocation officer – me – because your traveling companion’s mind was too damaged by the time spent in the cryo-sleep.” “Marcus is dead?” Katra couldn’t help but glare at the blob in complete shock. Marcus. Dead. He was – no, had been – more than just her bodyguard and constant companion. The two of them had been engaged to be married upon their triumphant return to Earth. And now he was dead. And was there even an Earth to return to? She wanted desperately to ask all those questions, and more. But she was face to face with a sentient slice of Jell-O and not quite sure how to proceed. Her heart shook with silent, terrified grief. “His body passed away not long after your departure from the planet formerly known as Earth,” said the blob, “though… how much do you know about dislocation?” “Absolutely nothing.” “Ah.” The blob seemed to hesitate. “Did the officer who put you in the chamber explain the process employed to preserve your body during the cryogenic session?” “Vaguely,” Katra replied. It might have been thousands of years ago in history, but for her it was less than an hour ago that the strange man with gray skin had hastily sputtered some space jargon before sealing her and Marcus into the pods. That in turn was only minutes before she woke up in a strange orange room, surrounded by giant lizard-men trying to spray her down with a hose. “So you know the consciousness is downloaded to a quantum cell, in case the physical mind is damaged in transit.” Katra’s heart leapt. “So Marcus’s mind is still alive?” “Yes, and no,” the blob almost seemed embarrassed at this. It was hard to tell, what with the lack of facial expressions. Or any face to speak of, for that matter. “Due to a malfunction that must have occurred during the incident that destroyed the male’s physical mind, his upload was compiled with yours. So when you awoke…” “Shut. Up!” Katra could almost shout with glee. “He’s alive? In my head?” “Yes,” the cloud said, perplexed, “you do not find this perturbing?” “We were to get married!” she sputtered, “this is even better! Two minds, one body. For as long as we both shall live, in sickness and in health. This is better than marriage!” The blob swiftly tossed a stack of papers into the trash. Katra’s excitement faded. She had probably just lost a massive bargaining chip with her outburst. Marcus? Are you in there? I need you. I’m making a mess. Nothing. “You sure he’s in here?” she asked. The news alone was enough to bring heat back to her chest, drawing out the ice forever. “Safe and sound?” “Yes, the download was definitely complete,” the blob said proudly, “your mate’s consciousness is safely in your head. But he may not present himself at first: he must carve a space in your gray matter. Humans have gray matter, correct?” Katra nodded, though not entirely sure. It was the future, after all; maybe modern humans had done away with the stuff entirely at this point. “Once the consciousness emerges, he may try to take control of his new host body. We apologize for any inconvenience this brings you.” “What is inconvenient is me being here in the first place,” said Katra, her spark finally returning. Maybe it was the news that Marcus was safe and hers alone; maybe it was the heat creeping back into her extremities. Either way, she was majorly pissed. She crossed her arms over her chest and propped her extremely long legs on the blob’s desk. The blob said nothing. Katra wondered how it even saw what she was doing. “How come I wasn’t woken up in time for the pageant?” she spat, “the engineers calculated everything perfectly. A fifty-year trip, not a minute longer. What happened?” “Well, this is closer to ancient history for us, now,” said the blob, “you understand, a year after your departure for Earth, faster than light travel was invented.” “So?” “The council decided they didn’t want to wait another forty-nine years for you to arrive at the pageant when they could have everyone show up the next day. So Earth sent someone else.” “Who?” Katra slammed her hands on the table, making the Jell-O wobble. Which was an odd sight to see. It wobbled to one side and then back, like someone had poked it with a stick. “Don’t tell me it was that bitch, Riley. Miss Australia? She had no place as my runner up.” “Then you’ll be happy to know that Miss Earth – formerly Miss Australia, according to my notes – was eaten and digested by Miss Ma’jarkeen. Which is why the pageant was canceled and hasn’t been held since.” “So our ship got there and you… what? Put us in a warehouse and forgot to revive us for thousands of years?” “I’m sorry, not my department,” said the mound of gelatin, “I’ve already outstepped by pulling up so much information from this case. To make things short: we’re sorry for the inconvenience, and we’re sending you home right away.” “To Earth?” “It used to be called Earth, yes.” “What is it now?” “Super-freaky funland dark-side death-zone powered by MnM.” “You call that my home?” Katra sputtered. She would have stood up, indignant, but there was no space for her to do so in the tiny office. “What the fudge is super-strange dark world death thingy?” “Super-freaky funland dark-side death-zone powered by MnM.” “That can’t be Earth!” “Well, I’m sorry, but things change, child,” said the blob. “Your home planet had to make ends meet somehow. Becoming an escape room theme park was the logical choice.” “An escape room… theme park?” Katra felt as if the ice around her heart had gone right back to being frozen, as cold as the popsicle she had been inside the pod. She wished her eyes could shoot literal daggers across the room, but even if they did, she doubted they would hit the gelatin or harm it in any way. “Yes, and quite a nice one,” said the blob. “I brought my hovel-mates there a few cycles ago. Such fun! Much better now than it ever was before.” The pageant queen was fuming now, but she forced herself through the breathing techniques her coach had instilled in her and stayed focused. There was no point lingering on the fact that her home was gone, or the fact that everyone she ever knew or loved was now dead. Except maybe Marcus, her one love, her rock, who was living quite silently in her head. “I want to go home,” she murmured, under her breath. “Do not worry, we’re sending you back, all expenses paid.” “It’s not my home anymore.” “Well, I’m sorry, but according to your passport, it is.” The cloud made the little green booklet drift up before Katra’s eyes. “And your visa expired quite some time ago. So we have to send you back. You understand, of course.” “Of course,” said Katra, keeping that pageant calmness. “Do I get some kind of compensation, at least?”

    Miss Planet Earth hits Amazon shelves! Hi readers, bookworms, and robots! This actually happened a few days back, but I've been so busy with space things I rudely forgot to update my page.

[thehuggamugcafe]

Alouette II: Your Jealousy

The head of a certain barista glanced up as she stared from behind the service counter, blinking her eyes as they shot toward the café’s front door. How odd. For a moment, she could have almost sworn that there was a bell, its merry jingle reaching her ears... In fact, she was sure it was the bell above the entrance of her small establishment too, come to think of it... Shrugging it off as barely scraping by for the amount of time her small business had been open, she chalked it up to the jitters of a novice, smiling as she approached the table where her first customer sat.

“How was it? It wasn’t too bitter, I hope? What sort of drink would you like to help wash any unpleasant aftertaste away?” Mod Barista asked, removing the notepad and pen from the front pocket of the barista apron she wore. A hum left the barista as she nodded, jotting down the customer’s requested drink as it was uttered. “So... A flute of rosé: bubbly and a little sharp on the tongue, but with a round taste. Is that right?” No sooner had the last word been scratched down on the blank paper in blue ink, Mod Barista smiled as her eyes bore a quiet twinkle of mischief.

“I’ll begin the preparations immediately. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do my best. Excuse me.” The barista nodded before turning on her heels, walking back to the service counter. The smile was still on her face, just barely there, but noticeable. Her first drink! She couldn’t mess this up! Then again, she always did like a bit of a challenge, anyway...

OOC: Guys. You guys. All of you. You’re so damn precious. No, seriously, you are all so awesome and amazing. How are you liking my posts so far, both new and old? I may not look it, or appear to be, but I am an utter novice when it comes to stuff like this. Not so much as writing, but... What I’m writing so far, you know? ...Um... I think I confused myself there, but fear not. I will work my ass off to make this part just as good as the first part, or even better than the first part. Hopefully.

This barista would like to take the opportunity to apologize for making the s/o/reader being such a trashy bitch towards Akira in the first bit. Poor baby, all alone out in the cold. Or sleeping on the couch, to be precise. Ahaha. No worries, my thirsty dears. I’ll be more gentle to him from here on out. One remorseful, apologetic s/o/reader coming up!

Also, kouryuudielysion, I will begin prepping your request/order the moment I’m finished with this one. I can’t guarantee when I’ll have your request up, but I will have it posted as soon as I can, I promise. Thank you for giving this barista some seriously good food for thought!

The heels of your shoes clicked over the sidewalk, wading your way past couples ranging from teenagers, young adults, middle-aged, and to the elderly. The giggles of children rose up in the chilly early spring air, their little hands clasping around their mothers’ slim knuckles as soft, but lightly stern words of maternal scolding were heard. The complaints, whispers of pointless gossip, crow-like smiles, and hisses of rumours were heard from the occasional group or cluster of women, teenagers, single and married women alike.

You stopped in the midst of a small ocean of people, your lips pursed as you looked up from the glowing screen of your phone, flicking a glance around. The part of the city you found yourself in was positively bustling with activity, it gave you the impression of the inner workings of a bee hive. A bee hive with scores of drones who were either buzzing about, putting forth the minimal effort required, or were lazing about and doing nothing at all, and with no queen bee in sight.

Shopping bags hung from the clothed arms of women as they walked out of clothing stores, the heels of their boots clicking over the sidewalk as they walked. Businessmen gripped briefcases, holding a tall or medium-sized Styrofoam cup in their hands, sipping on their doubtlessly hot drinks as they walked. Elderly couples sat on benches, grumbling on about how the younger generation were so “damn disrespectful.” Others shambled on by, their wrinkled lips pulled back to form smiles as their grandchildren or great-grandchildren giggled, shrieked, and hopped over cracks on the sidewalk, holding the children’s hands in their large, wrinkled, and calloused fingers, hinting of decades’ worth of hard work.

“Hey, move it, you placid bitch!”

You were jolted from your thoughts by the impact of a hand shoving into your back, hard, almost sending you toppling to the streets. Thankfully, you staggered forth a few steps, clutching your phone to your chest. You paused only to catch your breath, not having expected the sudden force of movement at all. However, that didn’t stop you from whirling on your feet, your brows furrowed, a frown clipping your lips as your face was set into a scowl, glaring at the women who were walking past you.

“Hey yourself! Say ‘excuse me’! Or apologize at least!”

The heated words had been spoken before you could even think to stop yourself from speaking. The words rolled off your tongue, flowed past your lips as natural as water, too quickly for you to even pause to think.  You expected the women to do a lot of things. You expected them to sneer. You expected them to spit at the ground near your feet. Hell, you expected one of them to go so far as to slap you at the very least—but they didn’t do anything, much to your surprise and quiet relief. Despite your small outburst, you’d rather avoid confrontation, especially out in the two-faced, judgemental eyes of the public. You were generally quite a “shy mouse for such a naughty kitten,” as a certain someone often phrased it...

Instead, the women smirked and sneered, their crow-like smiles honed in on you for a few more moments before continuing on their way, their heels clicking as they walked before disappearing around the corner. Sighing, you held your cellphone out, pointing your eyes down at the illuminated screen. Using the internet on your phone had always been something of a pet peeve for you at times, but you were determined to persevere. No, you had to push through the butterflies that fluttered about in the pit of your stomach, the jitters that caused your hand to shake lightly.

Calm down. Calm down, you quietly assured yourself, taking in a breath to harden your wavering resolve. You’ve been here before, but unlike all the other times, you’re not going to chicken out and go back home. It was true. Unbeknownst to Akira, you’d been on the street you stood in the midst of at the moment, you’d been swarmed by clusters of the same people going about their business, several times in the past month.

Every evening after your part-time shift ended, you’d take out your phone and input the name and address of a certain host club/café on the GPS of your phone the moment a miniature map of the city popped up on the small, illuminated screen of your cellphone.

Every evening you’d follow the tiny blue blip on your phone, your nerves of steel suddenly turning to a pile of gooey mush upon seeing the velvet blue skylark that made up the logo of the host club/café. The very same hue of velvet blue letters that made up the establishment’s namesake, Alouette, that was above the host club’s/café’s entrance.

Every evening the scorching determination you’d feel would turn to ice-cold hesitation, the sure-fire gait slowing to a wimpy stride. Your fingers gripped your cellphone in a tight grip as icy beads of sweat trailed down from your forehead, hitching in a breath as you stood across the street from the host club/café, rooted in place.

Every evening you’d pause in mid-stride upon seeing a familiar head of frizzy black hair. Every evening you’d swallow down a lump in your throat, a lump that was the size of a bowling ball seeing a certain bespectacled young man loitering outside the velvet blue entrance of Alouette. Every evening you’d watch as a warm, welcoming smile that practically oozed charm curled his lips, passing out flyers during his break.

Every evening you’d watch from the other side of the street, or shyly peeking out from the side of a building, ignoring any odd stares you received from the people who passed by, your eyes fixed on a certain onyx-eyed young man as you watched from a distance you deemed to be safe. Every evening you watched as Akira was surrounded by a cluster of giggling, doe-eyed women ranging from high school students to college students, first-time mothers to thirty-odd-year-old housewives, all desperate for some real attention from a man for a change.

Every evening your blood would turn to ice, freezing solid in your veins as a pair of warm onyx eyes would flick in your direction, but you’d seek shelter behind the corner of the closest building, or disappear into a crowded cluster of people. Every evening you’d sigh in defeat, chalking it up as another failed attempt to strut into the host club/café, Alouette, like you owned it in order to apologize to Akira at long last.

Every evening you’d trek back home in low spirits, returning to the dimly lit interior of the apartment you shared with Akira. You’d return to being your usual lukewarm, distant self, condemning Akira to yet another night on the couch. It was a seemingly endless circle of pockets of awkward silence during dinner, washing and drying the dishes. An endless loop of hugs that weren’t returned, of kisses on the cheek, and of course, sleeping alone in your bed for another night.

If you were being completely honest, you were getting sick of it all. As far as you were concerned, Akira deserved to hear words of sincere remorse from your lips. He deserved to see you bawling your eyes out, to see them well up with tears. He deserved to see you groveling on the ground, begging for his forgiveness. He deserved to hear you pleading him to give you another chance, that you’d do better, try harder in the strained rut of a relationship you both endured for the past month, and see to it that you fixed your past mistakes.

More importantly, above everything else...

Akira deserved to have the kisses and hugs he’d given you returned to him, two-fold. He deserved to see your smile, to hear your laugh again, to see your eyes sparkling with joy and life. He deserved to feel your arms looped around his shoulders, to hold you as humanly close as possible, and take as many lip-locks from you as he desired to take.

Akira deserved to hear words of praise from you as you sampled the meals you had taught him to make, and while you were never that big of a fan of coffee originally, a cup of coffee from Akira may as well have been a blissful sip of heaven on your tongue. He deserved to see your gaze honed on him, your irises lit with glowing praise of his culinary handiwork. He deserved to be enveloped with a hug, to receive a quick peck on the lips, whispering a promise of him receiving a “special reward” later on in the evening.

Akira deserved to recall how it felt to lie in bed with you, curled up against your form, clothed, partially dressed, or as bare as the day you were born. He deserved to wrap his arms and legs around yours, keeping you close as your head laid on his chest, listening to the calm, steady beats of his heart. He deserved to familiarize himself with your body, tracing every bump, every curve with his hands, cooing sweet nothings in your ear. He deserved to hold you in his lap, to look down at you while you lathered your tongue over his twitching cock, to scour your lovely visage as you moaned his name beneath him. He deserved to take you from behind and rock you into paradise with his hips as he reached around to play with your dripping folds, toying with your wet pussy with his fingers.

That is, if he isn’t already seeking out the company of other women to satiate his sexual desires...

No sooner had that particular thought crossed your mind, the green-eyed monster chose to run its bitter poison through your blood. Jealousy heated your blood, and you swore you saw a flare of dark green at the edge of your vision. You took a few moments to inhale and exhale, the sharp click-clicks of your heels in sync with your breathing as you neared the host club/café, Alouette. You forced yourself not to show any noticeably unpleasant emotions, refusing to allow even a hint of your true feelings to show on your face.

No. No. No. No, no, no, no. You would not... You could not think such things now.

Unless you saw it happening right in front of you, you refused to believe that Akira was cheating on you. Still... In the back of your mind, you felt a twinge of hesitation, of doubt, and worry—but more than that, the emotion that hit you harder than any other sensation was the icy knife of fear twisting itself into your chest, dead center.

Inhale. Exhale.

The host club/café’s logo, Alouette, cast a glow of velvet blue amidst the hustle and bustle of the city’s night life, typical of a Saturday evening. It was terribly cliché, but to you, it was reminiscent of heavenly gates looming before you, beckoning you inside a world filled of angelic men who were lorded over by a goddess with icy eyes, a goddess who possessed a demeanour that was as brisk as a winter evening.

Inhale. Exhale.

The familiar velvet blue skylark was in your sights, a sight which caused you to swallow a gulp.

Inhale. Exhale.

The click-clicks of your low heels sounded unnecessarily loud to your ringing ears, even though the mindless chatter, the shouts and complaints, the laughter of countless people, the sizzling of cooked food, and honking horns hung in the nocturnal atmosphere the closer you drew to a certain establishment.

Inhale. Exhale.

Finally, you stood before the host club/café, sparing a quick glance up at the café’s entrance, your gaze landing on the all too familiar velvet blue skylark that was situated above the host club’s entrance, as though you checked to make sure you were at the right place. A quick glance down at the glowing screen of the cellphone you held confirmed that, yes, were indeed in the right place, judging by the blinking blue dot on the illuminated screen of your phone.

Inhale. Exhale.

Your phone vibrated in your hand as a notification message popped up on your phone’s glowing screen, blinking owlishly as your irises stared at it in quiet contemplation.

“...Hm?” you murmured, swiping your index finger across the screen, bringing up your inbox.

Soon, a message stared back at you, and your heart began to beat faster as you stared at the message box on the cellphone’s screen.

You have 6 new messages from Akira Kurusu.

Swallowing a glob of saliva that was the size of a tennis ball, your finger—your shaking index finger—went through all the messages your live-in boyfriend, and lover, had left you throughout the day. The messages that you hadn’t bothered to look at until that exact moment, just as you’d done every other time Akira left you text messages for the past month.

“Good morning, my love. Did you enjoy breakfast? Was I being too forward with you again before I left for work? I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable. If you’re feeling pressured to respond, please don’t be. Really... You’re quite a stubborn one aren’t you, dear? I just miss the feeling of your lips against mine.”

“It’s lunchtime. Did you remember to take out the leftovers from the fridge, the leftovers of last night’s supper before you left for work? Please make sure to heat it up before eating it. I wouldn’t want you to get sick.”

“I’m surrounded by women all day, you think I’d compare it to heaven. It isn’t. The only heaven I’d want to reside in is wherever you are, my kitten.”

“I’m finally on break. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m jealous of the other hosts. I’m the only one here who isn’t receiving any messages from their cute lover, after all.”

“Please respond, my darling. You know that I have eyes for you and only you, right?”

“I love you, my Treasure.”

With a nod of determination, you steeled your resolve, slipping your cellphone back into the pocket of your spring coat. You raised a hand, bringing the collar of your coat closer to your neck, a shiver possessing you as there was a sudden gust of chilly air that whispered by you. You paused to intake another breath, swallowing another gulp as you took a step forward—only to be bumped into by a woman with three other females, causing you to stumble at the sudden jolt of momentum that hit your stationary form.

In your irked state, the giggles that poured from their crow-like smiles were reminiscent of nails on a chalkboard, and before you knew it, a sharp “hey!” had left your lips, causing them to halt momentarily. They spared you a quick, once-over look before they smirked, exchanging sneers as they snickered amongst each other, walking straight into Alouette as though they owned it.

“...Jeez,” you muttered to yourself, straightening your spring coat as you breathed a sigh through your mouth. “She bumped into me, and yet she didn’t even try to apologize.”

What a bitch! you hissed mentally, whereas you chose to dismiss the incident. You didn’t want to cause a scene out in public, and right on the host club’s/café’s steps no less.

You’d heard the tales about Ai Nitta from the rumour-loving, gossiping housewives who lived in the apartment building, and you knew she wouldn’t stand for any negativity occurring inside or outside her establishment. Other than Akira, the last person you wanted to rub the wrong way was the owner and manager of Alouette, Ai Nitta.

You straightened your posture, you tapped the heel of your shoes on the sidewalk, you held your chin up and swallowed one last gulp before, at last, you entered the host club/café. The click-clicks of your shoes caught the attention of a few nearby hosts the moment you walked inside, who exchanged smirks and nudges to the ribs, their eyes honed in on you as you took a few baby steps into the host club/café.

Your gaze slowly took in the interior of the host club, quietly taking in what your surroundings had to offer you. The host club that doubled as a café was busy and bustling, something that didn’t surprise you. Based on your past visits, you could affirm that morning, noon, or night, but especially during the evening hours, Alouette was never short on business when it came to the hosts catering to their female customers and, on occasion, their lovers.

Some doe-eyed women hung off of the arms of handsome hosts, others sat in the hosts’ laps, and some rested their heads on the hosts’ shoulders. Charming smirks curled the men’s lips as another host poured sparkling champagne or dark wine into a glass that was held aloft by dainty fingers, fingers with manicured nails covered in glistening nail polish. Some ring fingers bore a wedding band here and there, diamond-encrusted rings that glittered underneath the café’s florescent lighting—and yet despite their wedding bands, some women still pressed their glossed lips to the men’s smirking lips.

A grimace pulled at your face as you looked away, preferring to further take in the sights the host club and café. It was reminiscent of a high-class restaurant. Fancy white tablecloths, elegant chairs and tables, expensive-looking cutlery, wine glasses, and a food trolley was pushed to a table to your right, where a group of laughing hosts sat with giggling women. The lighting set the mood of a warm, welcoming atmosphere, the mahogany wood floor and the briefest glimpse of a staircase that led to the second floor caught your attention. The staircase was just as polished as the floor was, giving off the sense of being impeccably clean, gleaming with a shimmer that was almost painful to look at.

Seeing the expensive food and drinks, standing within such a high-class atmosphere, and watching the well-dressed men sitting with the women who reminded you of pricey dolls you’d see in store windows, you suddenly felt... unnecessary, unwelcome, reminding you of your low, middle-class social status. A jolt of self-awareness hit you as you raised your arms, bringing your coat-covered limbs up to wrap your hands around the fabric that shielded you from the chilly spring air. You suddenly felt self-conscious as a few gazes—and from the men and women alike—landed on you, giving your still, slightly shaking form a quick once-over glance.

You breathed a sigh, rubbing your hands over the fabric of your spring coat that covered your arms, dropping them to your side, glancing up at the sound of a few sets of heels clicking as three smiling men approached you.

“Good evening and welcome home, mistress,” the men chorused, completely in sync with each other, their voices reminding you of warm, melted candy. Smooth, seductive, and oozing flattery as they smirked or smiled down at you.

“M-Mistress?” you whispered, feeling heat rise from your neck to warm your cheeks.

“Come sit down, mistress. You must be tired after working hard all day, no?”

“Um... Uh... I-It’s nice to meet you, but... T-That’s... I’m... I’m here... I’m here to see...”

Your stuttered protests fell on deaf ears as, smiling, one of the hosts wrapped his glove-covered hand in yours, leading you away from the entrance of Alouette and over to an empty seat.

“Thank you very much for tonight, Akira.”

There was a noticeable croon to the female’s voice, as warm as honeyed candy, but it was who she was talking to that mattered, and upon hearing the name “Akira” reach your ears, your attention snapped to where a dark-haired woman stood with a certain frizzy-haired man. The duo walked down the staircase that wound in the middle, the woman’s hands draped around Akira’s arm as he raised a free hand, raising it to the back of his neck as it was rubbed sheepishly before pulling his hand away.

“You’re quite welcome, Miss Danielle. It was my pleasure to service you.”

A giggle that sounded obnoxious and high-pitched left the woman, simpering flirtatiously as she batted her eyelashes, staring up at the onyx-eyed young man with warm honey-brown irises, breathing a pleased hum as she rested her head on Akira’s shoulder.

Can this well-dressed slut be any more obvious in what she’s trying to do? You seethed mentally, feeling—no, sensing—a hot rush of anger wash over you. The emotion was fueled by a new wave of jealousy that quickly followed the initial hit of green-eyed envy, the jealousy that pumped its bitter poison through your veins.

Your jaw became set as your free hand curled to form a shaking, white-knuckled fist. Instinctively, your gaze fell on a half-full glass of sparkling champagne on the table you and the three hosts were passing. For a moment, and only a moment, you considered wrenching yourself free of the male host’s grip, snatching up the glass of champagne, walk briskly over to where Akira stood with that “Danielle” lady, and see how she’d appreciate having to wash the champagne stains out of her clothes later on.

However, mere seconds before you seriously considered acting upon your instincts that were telling you to do something, anything about the situation, a host took possession of the half-full glass of wine and raised it to the glossed lips of a woman sitting in his lap.  

You inhaled, slowly and deeply, releasing it in the form of a whoosh.

Calm down. Calm down, you mentally chided yourself. Remember where you are.

“Mistress? This way, please.”

The voice of the male host fell on deaf ears, your deaf ears to be precise. You swallowed a thick gulp, one that stuck to your esophagus as it slid down your throat. Your gaze remained on Akira and the dark-haired woman, watching as she chuckled before she raised a hand, wrapping her dainty fingertips on the back of Akira’s neck, dipping him down closer, closer, and closer still... Their lips were almost touching...

“No!”

The abrupt yell had left your lips before you could even think to stop yourself from speaking, earning several aghast, confused, and annoyed murmurs and looks to go along with the affronted whispers.

“What’s her deal? Honestly, young women these days.”

“What’s with the yelling?”

“So much for a relaxing evening tonight.”

“Oh wow, look at her. She looks very angry.”

Indeed, the brunette woman with honey eyes did look annoyed; her brows pinched the slant of her eyes as she shot you an irritated glare, clicking her tongue to further show her vexed state. However, you noticed too late that Akira had raised a hand, gently pressing his fingers to the woman’s lips, stopping her from knowing the soft warmth of his mouth against hers. The demon’s onyx eyes were honed on you, observing you and your current state in silence, before lowering the hand away from the well-dressed woman’s lips.

Finally, after a few moments of silence, someone spoke. Akira.

“Well, this is an unexpected surprise, Treasure.”

[sammyjo16]

I am so far aboard this train…So, here it is, my first foray into Hooked Queen fic. Took some liberties at the end, as I gather Zelena will be in the loop soon, but alas… 

i. (pre-curse) (Regina) 

“You’re staring again, your Majesty.” She shakes her head, snapping herself out of it. 

“Sorry. You’d think after literally splitting my own-self in two this whole…situation wouldn’t feel so bizarre to me.”

“You…what?” 

Regina offers him a slight smirk. “Let’s just say I’m no stranger to staring my past mistakes in the face. It was…rather illuminating.” 

He throws another piece of wood on the fire, averting her eyes. “However, in my instance…It appears I am the past mistake.”

”Killian…Hook - you’ve been given the same chance The Evil Queen was given. I was given. To start over…To be the man you truly want to be.” 

Familiar words of advice she’d given to the…other him. And while their two lives had diverged paths in nature, she still saw what Emma and Killian did when they looked at him. The piece of him that just…wanted to be whole again.

 Another feeling she knew all too well. 

She watches as the anger flares behind his eyes. “You don’t understand, do you?! She was my second chance!” 

(Along with the anger and bitterness.)

“Take a look over there,” she orders gently, before he finally follows her gaze to where Henry and Cinderella are sparring with their swords. “I understand more than you know. If I ever lost him…”

“But you haven’t.”

She nods curtly and shifts just a bit closer to him. “We’re going to find  your daughter.”

Now he’s the one staring. “Well…what is it?”“

"Nothing,” he laughs. “Forgive me, it’s just the last we spoke…Well, the Evil Queen and I, she couldn’t fathom what would be worth giving up my revenge for…and yet, here we both are -“ 

“It seems we both finally have our answer,” she replies, laughing as she sees Cinderella best her son in their fight. 

“He’s a good, lad.” 

“Yes, he is.” She pauses. “And if Alice is anything like her father, she’s a survivor…Who knows - she may even find us.”

 He gives her a grateful smile before taking a gulp from his flask before extending it out to her. 

“No, thank you. Rum isn’t really my taste.”

The laugh she receives elicits a sharp raise of her eyebrow.  “It’s good to see that some things have remained the same.”

She rolls her eyes but her lips curve into a smile nonetheless. 

ii. (cursed) (Hook)

“So, what it’ll it be, Rogers?”

“Rum couldn’t hurt,” he answers though he notes she was already reaching for the bottle and glass before he answered. 

“What? It’s not like I don’t see you enough.” 

He laughs. “Too true.” 

“Dare I ask how it’s going with Weaver?” 

He simply takes a swig from the glass. 

“That good, huh?” 

He huffs. He’s not sure why he feels compelled to talk to her above anyone else. It may be her status behind the bar, as cliche as that might be, or to be frank, his lack of other option…But opening up to Roni’s always been particularly easy to do.

“Aye. That good.”

 “You know,” she starts, “I’d hate to offer an ‘I told you so’…”

“Somehow, I highly doubt that.” 

She smirks. “But listen, whatever he has you doing…” She cuts him off before he can protest - “And I don’t need or care to know the details…I know you’ll make the right decision.”

 He looks up from the glass. “Oh? And how would you possibly know that.” 

She shrugs and walks along the bar to retrieve the cloth to wipe it down. “Did I mention you come here enough?” 

Smiling he lifts the glass to her in cheers. “Aye, that you did.” 

(He just hopes she’s right about him too.)

iii. (awake) (Regina)

He’s sitting alone by the hideous troll…thing…when she sees him. She knows this is probably a bad idea, given everything she knows now…

But for whatever reason, she can’t help it.

 (Or, maybe she knows the reason…Has known for awhile now, but hasn’t allowed herself to go there.)

When he finally looks up she makes out his tired eyes “Roni. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

She doesn’t answer at first. Simply takes the seat next to him. “Oh, you know me,” she breathes. “Always out for a stroll.” 

He shoots her a look before turning his eyes back to the road.

“Okay, I was a bit concerned about you. Sue me.” 

She’s met with silence and from years of being on the other end of these conversations…she knows she’ll have to do the pushing. “And I take it you’re concerned about her? Tilly.” 

That gets his attention. 

“I thought she was making progress.  We had a good talk and I’d truly hoped -“ 

“That you’d gotten through to her.” She sighs. “I know the feeling.” 

Now she’s only met with confusion. 

“Aye?”

She stutters. “I just  - I mean that I get it. I know that you feel some sort of…” She stops and considers her words carefully. “Kinship? To her…That you want to look out for her…Even if you’re not even sure why.” 

“I do know why.”

Surely he can’t mean - 

“We’re both alone. Drifting,” he clears his throat. “I believe that’s how she put it.” 

Oh. “I wouldn’t say that’s exactly true.”  On instinct she rests his hand over his and he finally meets her eyes. “…You have me. And Henry…We’ve been a hell of a team lately - no?” 

He smiles at that and it puts her at ease. She may not be able to tell them the truth, or risk the curse being broken…But she hasn’t lost them. 

“Aye.”

“Well, good,” she says.

They settle into silence before he looks back to her. “You know, you still owe me a cake.”

She burst out into a laugh and shakes her head. “Yeah, you’re going to have to get over that.” 

But she’s making a note to find out when his birthday is all the same.

iv. (awake pt. 2) (Hook)

“Wait!” He hears her footsteps rushing behind him as he hastens his own pace down the darkened street. 

“Will you - “

 “No!” He turns around to her, finally snapping “I don’t want to hear it. Or anything you have to say. Just leave me be.” 

Though her eyes are watery and she looks so…defeated and it’s taking all his resolve not to break. 

“Please,” she implores. “Will you just listen, Hook!”

“Oh, now you want to talk. Bloody hell. Months. Months of secrecy from me - from your son,” he spits, bitterly, “and now you want it all out there? Well then - let’s have it.”  

“You know why I couldn’t tell you. Why the curse can’t be broken! I had to - I had to watch my own son’s heart break. But I had to make sure to protect everyone. I -”  

“You could have come to me!” he roars back. She flinches. 

“Like hell I could have!” She pauses, composes herself. Ever the Queen. “Do you honestly believe for a second that you would have believed anything I could have told you about all…this.” 

“Regina -” 

“Hell, Lucy…God, that poor girl has been trying to get us to believe for the better half of this whole year! If that bitch hadn’t woken me up -”

He sighs. “And why did she? And now to do the same to me? What does she stand to gain?” 

She laughs bitterly. “Nothing but the pleasure of reveling in our suffering. The knowledge of our real lives and the fact that we can’t do a damn thing…at least, for now, to stop her.”

“What about the Crocodile?” he offers. “Surely he must be awake-”

“-Sufficed to say, we’re on our own. I’m sorry.” 

Hook rubs his hands over his eyes, tiredly. “You’re sure? That if the curse were to be broken -”

“Yes, you and Alice - This is why…I thought that at least this way…” The words hang in the air between them as his anger slowly dissolves at her crestfallen face. He can’t blame her for this. 

“I figured ignorance was bliss.” She takes deliberate step into his space. “Every time I look at my son my heart shatters. He may know me…and want to talk to me, but it’s not the same. Not like this. Not as Roni - some bartender he’s become friends with. I thought…if I could save you from some of that pain with your daughter, then it was the right thing to do.” 

He sighs. Bloody hell…This woman. (He’s still not entirely sure he’s truly used to this version of her even after all the time they’ve spent together…In any incarnation.)

“You don’t have to carry this alone anymore,” he whispers. “We will find a way.” 

She gives him a watery smile. “So, what, you’re the one giving the hope speeches now?” 

He grins. “Aye. And…you once reminded me - we both found our answer to what’s most important in our lives. To what’s worth fighting for.” 

"Yeah,” she meets his eyes as he wipes a tear from her cheek. “Indeed we have.”

(Somehow, he senses…and hopes…they’re not just talking about their children.)

[ships-and-saints]

Pale Skin and Onyx Eyes [10]

[Throne of Glass] [Elide x Lorcan] [W.I.P.] Chapter Word Count: 2849 words

Summary: Set after Empire of Storms, Elide Lochan and Lorcan Salvaterre are traveling with Rowan and Gavriel in search of Queen Aelin. Will Elide ever be able to forgive Lorcan for betraying her and her Queen? Where will they go next?

Part I: The Search - Chs. 1-8 Part II: The Journey - Chs. 9-??? Part III: The Mission

Chapters: [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ 9 ] [ 10 ] [ 11 ] [ 12 ] [13 ] ... Read it on: [ fanfiction.net ] [ archive of our own ]

While she had been asleep, Lorcan had quickly chopped down some firewood and hunted down four rabbits. After they reached the cave, he began skinning and skewering the rabbits to roast over the fire pit. Elide untied her packs and rolled out her sleeping mat. Night had fallen, and innumerable stars flecked the sky. She immediately found the Lord of the North, the stag of Terrasen, shining bright so that she could always find her way home… The smell of the roasting rabbits wafted to her nose, reminding her that she was ravenous.

Lorcan almost laughed when he handed Elide the stone plate with a perfectly roasted rabbit. Her eyes were like dinner plates as she stared fixedly at the meat, waiting impatiently for it to cool enough to eat.

Elide devoured both of her rabbits unashamedly. She licked the juice from her fingers and sighed, sated and content. Lorcan was watching her from across the fire. As night fell a cool breeze picked up, a direct contrast to the beating sun earlier, and Elide was sitting right by the cave's entrance. She shivered.

"Come to this side," Lorcan suggested, his expression unreadable. He was sitting towards the back of the cave. Elide cocked her head at him, but complied wordlessly.

Oh, it was warmer on this side! She let the delicious warmth of the fire lick her toes for a moment, and then she hugged her knees to her chest. They sat there silently for a few moments as the firewood crackled and creatures of the night rustled and chirped.

She was thinking about earlier, about when she had been meditating... She still wondered what compelled him to go on this near-suicidal mission with her. It feels like… that time Lorcan stole the barge and we set forth for Eyllwe together…

Elide pursed her lips and blew air from her nostrils. So much had happened since then.

Lorcan was thinking about her damned lips again, about that time they were painted blood-red when she was dressed up as a fortune-teller. Gods, everything about this nearly-human woman was so distracting, he would make sure to take his time learning and appreciating every, fucking –

"Did you ever have a mate?" Elide asked unexpectedly, refusing to look at his face. Her cheeks flushed as she inspected her toes closely instead.

Lorcan snapped to attention, replaying her question in his mind.

"Where did that come from?" His growl was defensive. Once again, she had caught him off-guard. He couldn't forget that those soft lips hid a razor-sharp tongue. Lorcan tried not to let his mind wander back into the gutter as he trained his gaze on her.

"I- I was just wondering," she replied softly, her voice barely a whisper. Lorcan wasn't sure, but he thought he heard a faint longing in her voice.

No one had asked him about a mate in a long, long while… And if she had asked him that question a couple of months ago, he would have snorted and simply answered, "No." It wouldn't have been a topic up for discussion.

But now… He had thought it was possible, once, lifetimes ago… Gods, when was the last time her name had even floated into his head?

Lorcan tilted his head at Elide thoughtfully, and she finally dared to peek at him through her eyelashes. She hadn't allowed herself to think about it, but seeing him now, with his face expression smoothed out... Lorcan really was handsome. She struggled to keep from blushing anymore.

"I thought it was possible, once. Her name was Arielle," he told her. Elide was startled by his straight answer.

Lorcan continued steadily, "It was hundreds of years ago, so you don't have to feel bad. We met in the Fae village where she grew up. She was a demi-Fae, like me, half-human and half-Fae. I was in the area for business, and afterwards I stopped by the local tavern for a few drinks. She was tending the bar. I was so intrigued by her that I visited her for several months after my business in the area had concluded."

Lorcan rubbed his jaw and gauged Elide's expression, who was struggling to hide how interested she was. She was also surprised by how her heart wrenched… Ah, jealousy.

"Are you sure you want to hear about this?" Lorcan asked doubtfully. He could sense her conflicting emotions.

Elide emphatically nodded yes. Even though she felt that twinge of jealousy, she knew it had all happened long before she was even born, which... didn't really make her feel any better, she supposed. But she was still curious.

"Yes, I do want to hear. I don't care how long it happened, it's still... part of your life."

Lorcan supposed he couldn't disagree, so he shrugged. "Well… The story doesn't have a happy ending, if that wasn't obvious from the start. We had been getting to know each other for... maybe seven or eight months. Honestly, we didn't do much talking most of the time. Whenever she asked me about what I did, what armies I commanded, whose House I belonged to, well... I did my best to answer evasively. I was as vague as possible, but I stupidly told her that I had been taken in by the Whitethorn House, that I had proved myself capable and climbed to rank commander." Lorcan's gestures indicated that it was, of course, all bullshit. He inhaled and then exhaled sharply.

"But then she got excited, she demanded to know who I was. And I knew I had dug my own grave by refusing to tell the truth, by letting her form her own conclusions. I could see it in her eyes, she was wondering if I was actually hiding my prince or nobleman's status from her. I knew one day I would have to come clean. She eventually demanded I be honest with her, or it wasn't going to work out. And because I trusted her, because I naively thought it might not change anything, I told her the truth. That I was sworn to Queen Maeve, that I was not a Whitethorn, and that I had no lands and no riches. And she wanted nothing to do with me after that."

Lorcan tossed another piece of wood into the fire, his stone face carefully composed into a neutral mask.

Elide wasn't really sure what to say. She had never been in love before, never loved before, but she still sympathized with that pang of rejection. "Is... is she still alive?"

Lorcan snorted. "I don't give a damn about that bitch anymore. The last I ever heard was that she was engaged to some general or other a year later, after things had ended between us."

Elide didn't know why, but she edged closer to him and reached a hand out towards his face. Instinctively, he recoiled a fraction of an inch before he stopped himself, but Elide paused and dropped her arm.

Oh, no, no. He was not going to let her look at him with those pitying, doe eyes.

He bared his teeth in warning, but Elide said in a rush, "It sounds like she really hurt you."

"I told you, it happened hundreds of years ago," Lorcan snapped. He didn't understand, didn't understand why the sympathy he saw in her eyes pulled on his heart. Elide studied him for a moment and then rested her chin on her knees again.

"Well, it just sounds like there hasn't been anyone else since then," she said quietly. Lorcan knew better than to mention Maeve.

"I've fucked plenty of women," he replied coolly. And immediately regretted his choice of words, especially when he saw Elide's body just seem to deflate, as if a heavy weight had pulled her down.

"Well, you've been alive hundreds of years," she said in a small voice.

Lorcan hastily tried to rectify the situation. "But you're right. I haven't... I haven't felt the same way about anyone else since then." Elide just nodded mutely, and Lorcan felt the protective need to comfort her, somehow. He could smell the sadness on her, threatening to overwhelm her fragile heart.

Gods, he could crumble cities to ash in an instant, but he fumbled with trying to comfort a woman. He didn't know why, but his dark, broken soul couldn't bear to see this tiny slip of a woman hurt. In fact, seeing Elide safe was reassuring and soothing, at times. Lorcan growled softly under his breath and reached his arm out to tuck her against his side.

She looked up at him in surprise, one hand braced against his left leg to keep from toppling into his lap. Her cheeks flushed a lovely reddish pink as she looked up at him through her thick eyelashes.

He caught himself staring at her perfect, rosebud lips again. Elide's heart lurched when she saw him drag his eyes down to her lips, catching the flashing desire in his onyx eyes.

"Elide," Lorcan said roughly, still staring at her lips. Her mouth was suddenly dry; she swallowed and licked her lips to wet them, unable to look away from his beautiful face.

"Yes," she whispered back, barely audible.

"I'm going to kiss you, so stop me if you don't want me to." Lorcan's dark eyes were burning and Elide didn't know what to say or where to look but...

But she wanted to know what would happen if she didn't stop him.

Before she could register what was really happening, Lorcan had leaned down to press his lips to hers. Her lips parted and her eyes fluttered shut as the sudden pressure on her lips made her heart skip a beat and then continue beating twice as hard. She remembered then how soft his lips were, even though his words were usually so harsh, she remembered how it had felt to kiss him.

Her hands automatically went to his face, feeling his rough skin, his cheeks, and the hard planes of his jaw.

"Lorcan," she whispered it like a question against his lips, brushing them softly with her own. She pressed a hand to his chest for balance.

"Elide," he answered, almost in a reverent tone. His other arm had snaked around her waist, pulling her into him. He didn't want to stop, and she didn't stop him.

"Is… this… okay?" Lorcan murmured, in between dropping kisses on her lips. He could smell her female arousal, which really affected him; he was resisting the urge to push her down and cage her with his body.

Elide had no idea if she was melting or aflame. She was hot and cold, everything and nothing at once. But there was this sneaking, nagging voice in the back of her mind, reminding her that this male had betrayed her and her Queen. Elide tried to ignore it.

"Yes," she breathed, and Lorcan's gaze was smoldering. She flung her arms around his neck and crushed her lips to his, ignoring that voice in her head that told her to slow down and think. She didn't want to think, she wanted to feel. A soft moan escaped her lips, sending Lorcan slightly wild.

Lorcan growled with desire and he pulled her onto his lap. Elide could feel the rumbling in his chest as he braced the small of her back and kissed her deeply. His tongue lazily licked at her bottom lip and she shuddered, parting her lips. His tongue carefully grazed over her teeth and then he carefully nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth. He moved his lips to her ear.

"I never punished you for that little stunt with the nightgown," he whispered in her ear, nipping softly on her earlobe. Punish!? Elide gasped and instinctively arched her neck back.

Her breathing was ragged, but Lorcan didn't give her any time to recover her breath as he moved to trail soft kisses along her jaw. He brushed the hair off her neck and gently grazed his teeth over the vulnerable skin of her throat, pressing a soft kiss in the hollow of her throat as she arched her neck back.

Elide was pretty sure she had forgotten how to breathe, and she was starting to see spots in front of her eyes. Of course, Lorcan had pulled away slightly and then smirked knowingly. Of course, he could hear her racing heart and every single one of her shuddering breaths. Flushing, she tucked her head down into his chest.

Gods, Lorcan liked this. He liked that he could have this effect on her. But he didn't want her passing out on him, even if it would be flattering.

He chuckled and pressed his lips to her forehead. "Breathe, Elide."

She nodded. Stopping was a good idea; it gave her time to catch her breath, gave her time to think. "I just… need a moment."

She tried to steady her breathing as Lorcan rested his head atop hers and played with a strand of her long, brown hair. Gods, he swore this woman might be the death of him, one day. He desperately wanted to know what other sounds he could elicit from those soft lips, but if he kept going... He wasn't sure he could stop himself, and he knew she needed time, knew he wanted her to let him know when she was ready. Human lives were so short; hadn't he learned some patience in all his long years?

Elide could tell her face was still heated and she hoped she didn't look too ridiculous. She was utterly bewildered by the conflicting flood of feelings, by the yearning, but she was so exhausted from the day. She closed her eyes and swayed slightly.

"Tired? Sore?" Lorcan tilted her chin up so that he could read the exhaustion in her eyes. He needed to remember why they were here, training. Not pant after her like a dog in heat.

Elide nodded. Suddenly, she felt an icy chill wrap around her legs and sore muscles. She gasped in shock at the cold, but strangely, it felt... relieving.

"The best thing for sore muscles is an ice bath but... we don't have time for that so this is the best I can do." Lorcan shrugged, and Elide just raised her eyebrows in disbelief as her body felt icy cold on the inside, but warmth from the flames on the outside. She shivered; it felt like the ice was in her very bones.

"I'm cold," Elide snapped at Lorcan, after a few seconds. He snorted, but his brow furrowed. He had underestimated the amount of concentration it took to control the temperature of the water and blood within Elide's body. If he dropped the temperature even a little too much, she could immediately become hypothermic and nearly freeze to death.

He concentrated on tethering his magic to Elide, on honing his senses so that he could detect even a minute temperature change in her body. When he was satisfied with his control, he stood up abruptly.

"Bear it for a little while. I'll heat some water for you to wash with while the ice relaxes your muscles."

And he did, heating water in pails over the fire, and Elide felt a sense of déjà vu as she remembered that time he had done the same when they were traveling with the carnival troupe. She tried to sort out her feelings again, tried to separate the lust she felt from the anger and the bitterness. He had summoned Queen Maeve out of desperation to save her, he had done it for her, but then Aelin sacrificed herself and was whipped and captured as a result.

And after meeting Maeve in person, Elide wondered if Lorcan had lost his rutting mind by summoning her, because there was no chance in Hellas's realm that she would ever have gone with Maeve willingly. She would rather have died than assist or serve the Fae Queen in any way.

But perhaps… Perhaps it wasn't all Lorcan's fault. He had been orphaned and alone, had discovered a dark and fearful power that he was forced to master on his own. And then Maeve had plucked him and simply added him to her collection of powerful Fae males.

How could Elide be surprised? Queen Maeve got drunk off of power, and she relished taking advantage of ignorance and weaknesses. And Elide wouldn't ever forgive her for what she had done to Lorcan, for what she had forced him to do, all these years…

Elide pressed a hand to her face and silently groaned. Where did that even come from? I can't even face Maeve myself, how would I keep her from Lorcan?

Gradually, the ice left her bones as Lorcan reeled his magic back. While Elide bathed, he quickly checked the perimeter of their resting site and brought back some more firewood. She mumbled goodnight to him and collapsed on her bedroll, entirely drained.

She idly wondered what tomorrow would bring, but drifted off to sleep before she could give it much thought.