#it's been a decade since i started writing! i do not have the muscles for graphic design anymore sdlfjklj

[flockrest]

#FLOCKREST. independent, selective, & heavily headcanon-based rito multimuse featuring tulin of the legend of zelda: breath of the wild & tears of the kingdom. established june 2023. doted on by ray!

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

The Prince - Chapter One

A/N: Hello! I have been working on this since the season started, so it seemed only fitting that I got the first chapter out before the finale. This fic is fully written, and will be posted every other day. (If you know me, this is unheard of, I usually post as I write.) Anyways, I hope you enjoy! This chapter is a little heavy on the world building, but I promise we get into the good stuff quickly. Let me know what you think and if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters!

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 4.6k Synopsis: Jacaerys fell in love with the reader years ago when they first met in the Vale. Five years later, the reader comes to King's Landing and tries to deny her growing feelings.

Next Chapter

Arnold Arryn was imprisoned in a sky cell after trying to contest the inheritance of his cousin, Jeyne Arryn. You were young at the time, and watching your father get arrested made very little sense to you. Jeyne was fifteen, and your closest friend in the world. You didn’t understand fully what had happened to your father. One day he was there, and the next gone.

Jeyne tried to explain it to you the best she could. She was a woman, and women very rarely got the chance to rule. She needed to make an example of your father.

What you came to learn, in the years that passed, is that banishing him to a sky cell was not the only example Jeyne was setting. As part of Arnold’s punishment, he – and all his descendants – would be disinherited from the Arryn line.

A testament to your friendship, Jeyne kept you in the Eyrie, kept you by her side. She let you wear the type of gowns she wore, you ate the same decadent meals, and she made sure everyone treated you as a lady, although the title no longer belonged to you. It was the only change that you really noticed in the coming years. Your father was gone, yes, but otherwise, life went on as normal in the Vale.

Jeyne had been three when she inherited the Vale. Of course, she would not be able to rule for years. So, Lord Yorbert Royce was elected to rule in her stead, until Jeyne became of age. As Lord Protector, it was Royce’s duty to see that the Vale remained prosperous.

In the final years before he died, when Jeyne was just coming into her role as Maiden of the Vale, Royce arranged a marriage proposal for you. House Blacktyde had visited the Vale when you were thirteen, and their second eldest son, Barun, had taken a liking to you immediately. Royce informed the family that you were without title, without dowry, but Barun was not to be dissuaded. Royce crafted an arrangement that would allow you to gain a title, becoming a lady of Blacktyde, that would also result in allegiance for the Vale.

It had been a win-win.

But after Royce had passed, and Jeyne had taken on the mantle of the Vale, it crept in how wrong the arrangement was. Barun Blacktyde was your same age, but he looked ten years your senior. He had strong arms, corded with muscles, and a sheet of blonde hair that covered his wicked face. In the few times you met, his hands wandered, prodded, and bruised. He was sinister.

Now, at twenty-one years old, there was no more stalling to do. Jeyne had told the Blacktydes that she needed you at her side, that you were still too young, anything she could think of to put off the wedding. She was stalling until she could find a way out of the arrangement, but your hopes were fading as time was.

On the morning when you were to meet with your future husband and sail away to the Iron Islands, a different guest arrived in the Vale.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon was sixteen the day he saved your life.

War was brewing in Westeros, all the houses knew. After the death of King Viserys, the fight between Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Aegon had ignited anger across the realm. In the Vale, Jeyne assured anyone who asked that she was devoted to the rightful ruler, Rhaenyra. Yorbert Royce had gone in Jeyne’s stead years ago, swearing fealty to the future queen.

When Jacaerys arrived in the Vale, he had arrived on a mission for his mother, coming to strengthen and call upon the alliances that Rhaenyra had gained years back.

Jeyne needed absolutely no persuading, but she took a liking to the young prince immediately. Nearly ten years younger than her, she delighted in the pride he already carried, the future heir to the throne. If he had been anyone else, she would have laughed him out of the Eyrie. But Jeyne believed that women needed to stick together, and this was Rhaenyra’s son.

She also believed in always keeping her mirth. And few things delighted Jeyne the way the prince’s affections for you delighted her. You had been at her side when the prince came to call. The way Jeyne tells it, she could have said anything to the prince, and he would have nodded his head in agreement, so enchanted by you was he.

You remember it differently.

When Jacaerys had arrived in the Vale, you were at your breaking point. Bleak was your outlook on life. But when you saw his green dragon in the sky, it felt like hope for one shining second.

You were at Jeyne’s side and listened to her discussions with the prince. You would disagree that his attention only lingered on you. He was a proper gentleman and gave Jeyne the respect due to her title, but every so often, his attention would flit back to you.

Jeyne invited him to stay in the Vale for a few days, enough time for them to discuss what aid the Vale could provide, and time for he and his dragon to rest. The prince agreed, smiling – perhaps your way, but you couldn’t be sure. You had been smiling, too, because you knew that the prince’s stay here would put off your move to the Iron Islands.

Back in her chambers, Jeyne nearly squealed when she shut the door behind the two of you. Immediately, she poured two goblets of wine, thrusting one into your hand. This was not uncommon behavior for your cousin, who enjoyed any and all delights, but what you couldn’t understand was why.

“Oh, Y/N,” she said, breaking off with a laugh, “His eyes never left you!”

“Whose eyes?”

“The prince’s, who else!”

“That is not true.”

“It is! I think I just witnessed love at first sight,” she says with a snort.

“I think I’m just the first woman he’s seen who has not been related to him,” you say, making Jeyne burst with laughter. You can’t find it in you to belly laugh the way she was now. Jacaerys had been kind to the both of you, mocking him seemed wrong.

“Are you going to send aid?” you ask, hoping to change the subject.

“I’m sure,” she says, taking a swig of her drink. “I just need to figure out what he’ll have to offer to get me to agree.”

“What more could we need here?” you ask with a shake of your head.

“What indeed,” Jeyne muses.

In his short stay, Jacaerys imbedded himself in your life. Jeyne always overslept breakfast, typically still in her cups from the night before. That first morning after his arrival, you came to the dining hall to find Jacaerys sitting with a few lesser lords of the Vale, a wide, handsome smile on his face. When he saw you, you can’t deny that a light flared in his eyes. He stood up and pulled out a chair for you, inviting you into the conversation.

Over the next few mornings, his attention strayed from the lords and focused almost solely on you. He told you stories about his dragon, Vermax, and adventures they had gotten into with his younger brother, Lucerys. He explained the training he had been going through since he was a young boy. He even confirmed the legend of how Prince Aemond lost an eye, although that one was told at a hush.

Because of his dedication to speaking with you, you knew Jeyne’s initial assumptions were correct. Although never venturing into anything uncouth, Jacaerys always found a way to compliment you, to make you laugh, to make you feel seen.

His presence was a beautiful distraction from the future that was awaiting you.

The prince didn’t know of your betrothal to Lord Barun, and both you and Jeyne were happy to keep it from him. The lord had already voiced his complaints about returning to the Islands once more without his bride, but with the prince and his dragon here, it felt like nothing could touch you.

The morning that Jacaerys was meant to leave the Vale, you come down to the dining hall to find that he wasn’t there. You pretend that you are not disappointed. Spending your mornings with him had been a welcome change of pace, but you had known they would be coming to an end.

When you stand to leave, the doors opened at the opposite end of the hall. Prince Jacaerys walks into the room, a smile on his face the moment he spots you.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” you say, curtsying to him. He studies the dining table, the maids scurrying to clean up the mess, and his smile falters a little.

“I’m sorry to have missed our last breakfast,” he says. “I am leaving shortly. I only came to say goodbye.”

“Of course,” you say. He is to fly north to Winterfell next, fulfilling his promise to his mother. “It was an honor to have you here, My Prince.” He smiles and takes your hand gently in his, pressing a soft kiss.

“I hope to see you again soon, Y/N.”

“Good luck, Your Highness.”

Once Jacaerys and Vermax had disappeared over the horizon, you made your way to Jeyne’s receiving room. You are welcomed in immediately, and find your cousin slouched over on a couch, groaning quietly to herself. She is not a morning person by any means. You are not sure you had ever even seen her up this early.

“Good morning, cousin,” you say, drawing her attention up to you. She grimaces at the light shining through her windows.

“What has you so chipper so early?” she asks.

“I’m always like this in the morning,” you say. She makes a noncommittal sound as she sits upright.

“The prince just left,” she says.

“I know. He came to say goodbye.”

“Of course he did,” Jeyne says with a smirk.

“Did the two of you come to an agreement?” you ask, pouring her a glass of water. She doesn’t answer until after she’s taken a sip and looks up at you with grateful eyes.

“Yes. He’s agreed to send a dragon to protect the Vale.” She takes another hearty drink of the water, before deciding she doesn't like the taste. She motions for the wine, and you bring it over. “He also agreed to take you on as ward once the war is over.”

“What?” you ask, your head snapping to her face.

“Well, not his ward,” she says with a laugh, “Although, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Rhaenyra will allow you into King’s Landing under her watch.”

“Why?”

“I made up some lie about learning more about the realm, so that you could become a greater aid to me. But what matters is that it will get you away from Blacktyde. With the war coming, I can keep him at bay for the length of it, assuring him that I need you here. But once it comes to an end, I want you in King’s Landing. He’ll have a harder time getting to you there.”

“Jeyne,” you begin, but she wavs a hand to silence you.

“When you get to King’s Landing, you will need to make it your chief task to marry as quickly as possible. I don’t know that he’ll ever stop,” she says quietly. You nod your head, the reality sinking over you. The single spark of hope you felt at seeing Vermax in the sky seems to light again within you.

“Thank you,” you say, crushing her into a hug she wants no business in returning.

In the coming weeks, Westeros changes, and The Vale with it. Within a year, two, the home you had grown up knowing and loving, transformed before your eyes.

No longer could you recognize the faces around you. Servants and guards you had grown up with your whole life were disappearing, either as a direct result of the war, or because of the conflict growing between families as different Houses pledged their allegiances to Rhaenyra or Aegon.

In the last year before the war ended, Jeyne ordered that you go to Gulltown. Jeyne had asked years prior in her deal with Prince Jacaerys that a dragon be sent to protect the Vale. Weeks after that agreement had been finalized, Queen Rhaenyra sent word asking that the Vale also foster her younger children, until they could be safe with her again.

Jeyne had accepted, and with their cousin, Princess Rhaena, the three youngest princes, came to live at Gulltown. She asked that you go there, as the war efforts struck closer and closer to the Eyrie. You begrudgingly agreed, because she was your Lady, but also because she didn’t often wear that look of panic in her eyes. After everything she had done for you, it was the least you could do in return.

And that was when you met Rhaena. She was just a few years younger than you and had just had a dragon of her own hatch. She had named the little pink creature Morning, and she was as beautiful as the sunrise.

Rhaena quickly became your close friend. With few friends around anymore, the two of you bonded quickly. You fantasized about the end of the war: what kind of dresses you would get to wear again, the foods you would eat, and mainly for Rhaena, seeing her family again.

The boys were her family, of course, and she doted on them as if they were her own, but she longed for her sister, for adult company. She had confided in you about her struggles to get a dragon of her own, and you knew she wanted to proudly show off her beautiful Morning.

You also dreamed of the end of the war, but for different reasons. If Queen Rhaenyra remained true to her word, you would be going to King’s Landing with Rhaena.

It seemed like the war would never end, until one day, it did.

Jeyne came to Gulltown. She was unexpected, but that wasn’t uncommon behavior for her. She often showed up and left without a warning. When she arrived, you and Rhaena were in the nursery with the younger boys, Aegon and Viserys, now seven and three. You were seated on the floor with Viserys, a dragon figurine in his hand and a horse in yours. You raced away from the dragon, but still Viserys swooped upon your figurine. You cried out playfully, making the younger boy laugh, just as Jeyne walked into the room.

“Jeyne!” you say in surprise, quickly standing. “I didn’t know you were coming to Gulltown."

“The young prince takes a liking to you,” she says with a smile. “Must run in the family.”

“Oh, aren’t you over that by now?” you ask.

“What do you mean?” Rhaena asks, turning both of your attentions.

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head, “She’s just making a bad joke.”

“I am not,” Jeyne says proudly, knocking your shoulder with a hand, “You should have seen the crown prince when he saw her.” Rhaena looks at you curiously, and for some reason it makes you feel guilty.

“Her opinion alone,” you say, tidying up around the room. Rhaena gives you a small smile, seeming to accept this explanation, and then turns back to Jeyne.

“What brings you here?” she asks.

“Good news.”

She informs you both that the war has ended, and before the two of you can run off to bag your bags, she holds you back and tells you the best news of all. Barun Blacktyde grew tired of waiting and had married another.

Jacaerys awakes with a smile on his face. He is in a strange bedroom, one he hadn’t been in since he was a little boy. The room had been his mother’s, when they had lived in the Red Keep. It had passed through owners, many of whom Jace didn’t want to think about now.

Today, all of his thoughts were to be consumed by one thought: his family returning home.

It has been years since he has been able to communicate with his brothers through any other means than letter. And since the younger boys are still little, most of his letters go to his brother, Joffrey. He will be thirteen now, and Jace can’t even imagine what the boy will look like. What the younger two, or even Rhaena will look like now.

He imagines he has changed much, too, in the last five years.

When he sees them again, time stands still. He recognizes Joffrey first, but only because he looks so much like Luke. Jace races to him first, wrapping him in a bone crushing hug. His brother hugs him back just as fierce, and when they break away, there are tears in his eyes to match his own.

“You’ve gotten big,” Joffrey jokes.

“So have you,” Jace says with a smile.

He embraces Aegon and Viserys in turn. The boys had been so young when they left, he’s not sure they recognize him. They hugged him back, but it seems more so because Joffrey did first, than anything else.

Lastly, he sees Rhaena. She has grown in the last five years and is more beautiful than he remembers. He convinces Baela to let her go for a moment and embraces her, too.

“Welcome home,” he says. She doesn’t respond other than with a sob-like sound but rubs a hand over his back. She is smiling when they break apart.

They start their day at the dragon pit, those who had gone to the Vale wanting to show off their dragons, Rhaena especially. It has been years since Jace has flown with any of his brothers, and flying with Joffrey now, he feels a weight lift off his chest.

His mother wants them close all day, and doesn’t let them stray too far. When Joffrey asks for specifics about the war, Jace has to tell him in hushed tones from the corner of Rhaenyra’s chambers.

At the end of the day, a feast has been arranged for the family, as well as a few of his mother’s trusted advisors. Jace sits next to Rhaena, across from Joffrey. Rhaena speaks animatedly with Baela about Morning, and the pride in her voice brings out his own. He remembers what it was like when Vermax first hatched, when he realized the honor he had been given, to become a dragon rider.

So lost in these thoughts, he only catches the last few words of Rhaena’s story.

“What did you say?” he asks.

“Oh, just a story that Lady Jeyne told Y/N and I,” she says, as if it’s a passing thought, something completely inconsequential, and turns back to Baela. Jace stares off into nothingness, until Joffrey chuckles into his food. Jace glares at him, kicking him discreetly under the table.

“What?” Baela asks, looking between the two.

“Nothing,” Jace says firmly.

“Have you been to see her yet?” Rhaena asks, looking at Jace.

“Seen who?”

“Y/N,” she says with a shake of her head.

“No, of course not.” He knows he says it too harshly, but he is actively trying to fight off an embarrassed flush, and to figure out a way to choke Joffrey from across the table without his mother knowing.

“Oh,” Rhaena says, “Seemed like she took a liking to you.”

“Did she?” Jace asks, his heart rate accelerating.

“Well, I wasn’t there,” she says with a laugh, “But Lady Jeyne certainly thought so.”

“Ah.”

“It would be good for one of us to greet her,” Rhaenyra says, across the table. “In welcoming the children home, I fear she got lost in the commotion.”

“I’d be happy to,” Jace says. Joffrey is barely breathing across from him, holding back laughter.

“Thank you, Jace.”

When supper finally ends, Jace makes sure to grab Joffrey and hold him back while the others exit.

“What did you say?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“What did you say to Y/N?”

“About what?” Joff asks, brushing him off. “Your eternal crush on her? Nothing.”

“Why did Rhaena make it appear otherwise?”

“Because Lady Jeyne liked to joke about it,” Joff says. “I swear, I never talked about it except with you in our letters.” Jace nods, centering himself. He ruffles Joff’s hair, frustrated with himself for badgering him when he only just got him back.

“Sorry,” he says gently.

“Don’t worry about it. Are you going to go see her?”

“I told Mother I would,” he says, straightening. Joffrey smiles at him, a little bit in jest, but also with enough encouragement that assures Jace that he can walk up the steps to your chambers.

“Good luck,” Joff says with a pat on his back.

When a knock comes from your door, one of the maids assigned to your quarters opens it. You hear her gasp in surprise but then she says, “Your Highness.” It’s the only reason you are able to connect that the man standing in your doorway is Prince Jacaerys.

You adjust your dress as you walk towards him, trying to see the boy you met so many years ago. He is taller now, maybe even broader. His hair, somehow, has gotten even curlier.

“Y/N,” he says with a smile. For some reason, the sight of it sends your stomach into a summersault.

“My Prince,” you say, curtsying to him. “What a lovely surprise.”

“It’s wonderful to see you in King’s Landing,” he says, the smile still on his face.

“It’s wonderful to be here,” you say. “I wasn’t sure I would ever get to see it.”

“Would you like to see more of it?” he asks quickly.

“What?”

“I could give you a tour, if you’d like,” he says. “The Keep is vast; it took me months to figure out all its hiding places.”

“I’m sure you have much better things to do than give me a tour,” you say abashedly. He steps forward, looking at you with kind eyes.

“You and your house safeguarded Rhaena and my brother for years. It would be my honor to show you my home,” he says. Something about the look in his eyes, the passion behind them, makes you think that this is a bad idea. But you also know, there is no way to decline your prince.

“The honor is all mine, My Prince,” you say. He smiles at you, a dimple forming in his cheek you hadn’t noticed before. You take his outstretched arm.

He guides you out of your chambers and into the hall. Outside, the sun has begun to set, casting shadows all along the airy halls.

“I apologize for not coming to welcome you sooner,” he says.

“You were reuniting with your family, there is no need to apologize, Your Highness.”

“Just Jace is fine,” he says, drawing your gaze to him. “You’ve known me long enough.”

“Have I?” you ask with a laugh. “I knew you for only a matter of days, five years ago.”

“It seems like longer, but I suppose that’s true,” he says, “And you did not know me when you saw me at your door.”

“What?” you ask in surprise.

“You didn’t recognize me.”

“Well, the prince I met five years ago was a boy,” you say, heat rushing to your cheeks for some unknown reason. “You do seem like a completely different person.”

“Maybe I am,” he says with a coy smile.

“What about me?” you ask, lifting your chin to him. He says his next words softly.

“What about you?”

“Did you recognize me?”

“Of course. The years have made you more beautiful, but you still look like Y/N,” he says. A chill passes over you at the casual way he says your name. You briefly try to make sense of what you are feeling, but more than that, you want to stay in this moment.

He turns you down a hallway, guiding you towards the great hall.

“So, what truly brings you to King’s Landing?” he asks. “Your cousin was adamant about it years ago.” Something in his expression makes you think you could tell him; makes you believe you could tell him anything.

“Jeyne is more than my cousin, she’s my best friend. She has done me a great honor by keeping me in the Eyrie. But she also knows that we are somewhat . . . sheltered there.”

“Sheltered?” he repeats.

“There’s not much more I can learn there.”

“They’ve seemed to have taught you well enough. Joffrey says you were a great sparring partner,” he says, making you laugh.

“He’s too kind. Or he’s a liar,” you say, a fluttering in your stomach when Jace smiles at you. “I was more of a dummy for him, I think.”

“He was always quick with his sword. I have a scar on my forearm from sparring with him.” He turns over his wrist, his arm still linked with yours, and rolls up his sleeve to reveal the miniscule scar. You laugh at him. Jace’s eyes are on you the whole time, alighting at the sound from your lips.

“A warrior’s scar,” you tease.

“Indeed,” he says, his smile falling.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, “I didn’t mean to discount all you did in the war, Your Highness.”

“I know,” he says, a soft expression on his face.

You fall into a surprisingly comfortable silence as he leads you through the gardens.

“Is continuing your studies the only reason you have in coming to King’s Landing?” he asks.

“There are not many prospects for marriage in the Vale either,” you say, dropping your head.

“Ah,” he says stiffly, “You know, I find that hard to believe.”

“What?”

“That no one in the Vale would want to marry you,” he says, making you blush.

“Well, having absolutely nothing to offer in the way of a title, or even a dowry, I’m not the best candidate.”

“Even so,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief.

“How about here?” you ask, “And hope for me here?”

“I think so,” he says, looking at you intently.

“We shall see,” you say, casting your eyes away from him to look upon a rose, nearly as red as you feel.

When you get back to your chambers, all you want to do is write to Jeyne. You promised yourself you’d wait at least a week before writing to her, but after the evening you had, you aren’t certain you can wait that long.

The prince had taken you out for nearly two hours, showing you all around the Keep, asking you questions about yourself, and completely confusing the memory you had of him.

Even five years ago, he always had a way with words. His affections were clear and sweet. They were apparent still, visible in the way he looked down at you, the tender way he held your arm to his.

But what had changed was the way his actions made you feel. Before you had blushed at his brazenness and laughed along when Jeyne made fun of it. It wasn’t funny anymore. Prince Jacaerys was a man now, and whatever feelings he had would be as grown up as he was. Even with the news of Barun’s marriage, you were still here to find a husband, quickly. That man was never going to be the prince. You vowed to yourself then that you wouldn’t see him again, unless absolutely necessary.

[yukidragon]

Sunny Day Jack - Growing Old Together

I've been trying to encourage myself to write more on impulse rather than get stuck in my head so much. Soooo, when this particular thread on twitter popped up about an older Joseph aging like fine wine and snuggling up to his sunshine in the morning, I got inspired.

This is an off the cuff first-draft drabble that might be a bit rough. There's some hints of spice to it, but mostly it's just marshmallow fluff about Joseph and Mary in an AU where they were able to grow old together and have their happy ending. (Unlike the main timeline.) I hope you enjoy this peek into what might have been.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

...

The house felt so big and empty after the kids moved out, all grown up now and living their own lives. It took Mary time to get used to the quiet after so many years filled with the sound of children shouting and laughing.

The past decades passed by so quickly with days that were long, but years that ultimately were so painfully short.

The passage of time made Mary all the more thankful that Joseph had been with her throughout it all. He was still here with her, just like he promised so many years ago.

Sometimes in the quiet, Mary remembered the incident from 40 years ago, the gunman that almost took the stars from her sky. It was a miracle that the bullet merely grazed its target. What remained was a scar on weathered skin that left a notch in a hairline that now had more gray hair than brown. She traced and kissed that scar countless times while thanking God that it, and a scary memory, were all that were left behind that day. She did it again now, just the lightest touch of her lips against his marred skin so as not to rouse her beloved husband from his slumber.

The thoughts weren’t exactly sad, but they held enough of a somber edge that Mary couldn’t get back to sleep despite the early hour. Usually she and Joseph slept in late ever since they retired and the kids left for college, but not this morning. These were the sort of thoughts that she knew by now could fester if she remained idle.

It was a shame to leave the warmth of their bed and the big, strong arms that held her so close, but Mary couldn’t bring herself to wake Joseph. He looked so tranquil, the wrinkles on his face just a little smoother. His breaths came slow and steady, a gentle background noise to the otherwise quiet morning.

With some regret, Mary slipped free of her husband’s arms with practiced ease. The hardest part was stretching out the stiffness in her muscles without making a noise. It seemed like every year she found a new ache that slowed her down and made it even harder to get started in the morning.

Yet, there was an undercurrent of triumph in observing evidence of the passage of time. Every wrinkle and silver hair and ache that showed her age was a reminder that she was still living far beyond that damned expiration date she had been given so many years ago.

Take that, Dr. Wheiz! Mary thought with a vindictive smile. She would outlive that stupid pediatrician yet!

Still, Mary tried to redirect her thoughts away from the shadow of death that had so nearly taken her or her beloved husband. They were alive, and she wanted to focus on living.

What better way to do that than by making a nice, tasty breakfast?

The kitchen was far enough away from their bedroom that Mary could risk playing some music at a low volume, a nice jaunty tune to help her wake up. It was a shame that the radio stations’ definition of “oldies” was pop songs from the start of the millennium, but the tablet her eldest gifted her for her birthday had plenty of her favorite music loaded up and ready to let her relive a little nostalgia.

Mary let herself get lost in her work, idly humming along to the chorus as she swayed her hips a little from side to side. Measuring, mixing, and watching the little disks turn a beautiful golden brown in the sizzling pan recentered her thoughts to focus on the delicious meal she would soon be enjoying with the best company she could ever ask for.

A pair of large hands stilled her swaying hips, and Mary jumped, just a little, before a wry chuckle escaped her. She allowed herself to be pulled back into the broad chest she knew so well. Joseph was softer than he was in his prime, especially around the middle, but that just made him the perfect pillow to snuggle into.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Joseph said around a yawn as he nuzzled into his wife’s shoulder. His voice was thick with sleep and deeper than usual, sending a shiver down her spine when he spoke so close to her ear.

“Good morning, Starlight,” Mary said as she turned her head to plant a kiss on her husband’s cheek. His stubble lightly scratched her skin where he brushed against her, a bit ticklish and a bit sharp, but not an unpleasant sensation.

“What’s for breakfast?” Joseph asked before he gave a kiss in return on her neck. He smiled against her skin as he felt her shiver a little, and he kissed her again to enjoy another.

“Pancakes,” Mary said. “And maybe some eggs and bacon while I’ve got the skillet out.”

Joseph nuzzled into his wife’s mostly silver hair, planting kisses among the soft strands. He wasn’t quite awake yet, still clinging to the sweet dreamy haze he woke up in. “Mmm… sounds good. Blueberry?”

“Maybe,” Mary said with a teasing note to her voice. “Or maybe we can change things up a little. How do chocolate chip pancakes sound?”

A quiet grunt escaped Joseph, and Mary could easily imagine his pouty look from the way he grumbled into her hair. “Not as good as blueberry.”

Mary giggled as she slid the pancake she had just finished onto a plate. “Now, now, you don’t need to sound so disappointed. Sometimes it’s good to switch things up a little.”

Joseph made a wordless sound of disapproval at the back of his throat as he slid his arms around her middle and rested his chin atop her head. It was a toothless protest, and Mary knew it.

“No one makes better blueberry pancakes than you do,” Joseph said, his voice a low rumble that Mary could feel run through her entire body due to their closeness. “Remember what I told you? I could eat your blueberry pancakes every day for the rest of my life.”

Mary shivered at the sound of his voice and the way his large hands idly rubbed circles along her stomach. The motion wasn’t intended to be seductive, just an idle appreciation for the softness of her body, but even after all these years Joseph had a way of sparking that special heat inside of her like no one else could.

“You’re in luck then,” Mary said with a slightly shaky breath, dropping the tease from her tone. “Because that’s what I’m making.” With that she made a show of drawing a ladle full of batter, scooping in as many big ripe blueberries as she could, and drizzling it into the pan with a satisfying sizzle.

Joseph blinked before a chuckle escaped him as his sleepy mind caught up with his wife’s little game. He tilted his head to rub his cheek along the top of her head, drawing her just that little bit closer into him. “You really know how to spoil me, Sunshine.” He sighed deeply, his warm breath stirring shiny errant strands of her hair. “Mary… I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Joseph,” Mary said as she reached up to stroke his cheek. She savored the contours of his jawline that had softened with age, the pleasant prickle of stubble that trailed all the way down his neck. Most of all, she enjoyed the pleased hum he made at her touch and the way he tried to nuzzle into both her hand and hair all at the same time. “More than anyone else in the world.”

Joseph sighed, content, as he savored the warmth that radiated from his sunshine nestled so cozy and close in his arms. The music changed from some upbeat tune to something slower, a bit jazzy. He swayed to the easy rhythm, turning their embrace into almost a slow dance.

Mary enjoyed the feeling for a moment, but let out a chuckle when she found it a challenge to flip the pancake neatly. “Starlight, love of my life, apple of my eye, my dearest wish come true… you know I love you, but it’s a bit difficult to cook like this.”

Joseph closed his eyes as he rested his cheek atop his wife’s head, his body still rocking with hers in time to the music. “Mm hmm?”

A small chuckle escaped Mary. “So as much as I love you holding me so close, maybe you should step back for a bit, hmm?”

Joseph let out a thoughtful hum as he took a moment to consider the proposition, before finally burying his face into her hair. “Nah. Let’s stay like this a bit longer.”

Mary couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh come on.”

“I’m staying where it’s nice and cozy,” Joseph said teasingly before burying his face into her neck. “So warm…”

Mary shivered at the feeling of his breath, his lips, and the scruff along his skin brushing along her neck. Though the smell of sweet pancakes filled the air, she couldn’t help but focus on her husband’s scent, a heady musk that still had a bit of smokiness to it even long after he quit smoking before the kids were born. She couldn’t help but turn a little bit more towards him to breathe him in, the scent of home. “Joseph…”

“Five more minutes,” Joseph said, his voice a low, throaty murmur that vibrated through her skin. “Just five more minutes…”

Mary shook her head a little as she let out a wry chuckle, both at her husband’s familiar clinginess and how quickly she always caved to his needy pleas. “Okay, five-”

“No, wait,” Joseph said quickly. “Ten more minutes. I want ten more minutes like this.”

“Oh come on,” Mary mock groaned as she rolled her eyes towards her husband. “You really are spoiled, aren’t you?”

“I can’t help it,” Joseph chuckled before he stole a kiss from his sunshine’s lips. “You’ve thoroughly spoiled me rotten, Sunshine, and this dog is too old to learn any new tricks now.”

“What have I done?” Mary asked with theatrical dismay as she turned her eyes towards the ceiling and made dramatic sweeping gestures in the air with her spatula. “I’ve turned my sweet puppy husband into a koala bear! Now we’re stuck like this forever.”

Joseph couldn’t help but laugh at his wife’s antics and smirked smugly as he rested his chin atop her head again. “That’s right, Sunspot. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me forever and ever and ever. Nothing’s ever going to pull us apart.”

“Not even… pancakes with chocolate chips?” Mary asked, adding an overly dramatic emphasis to her words.

Joseph let out a sufficiently horrified gasp. When Mary tried to squirm away, reaching for the refrigerator, he snatched her by the wrist and pulled her back towards him. “Oh no you don’t, Sunspot!”

The hold on her was firm, but Mary knew it was still breakable. She could wriggle free if she really wanted. No matter how tightly Joseph held her, he always allowed her to slip away whenever she needed to. No matter how many times he restrained her with his large hands, his bulky body, or even some silk ties, she never felt scared or trapped. He always had a way of making her feel safe, secure, and loved. She knew that if she really wanted him to let her go or step back to give her space, he would, even if he might pout a little doing so.

But she didn’t. In the end, Mary could never resist Joseph when he was clingy and needy like this. She could put up a token resistance, try to escape, but she could never resist the excitement of having him chase after her. The way he pawed at her body as she squirmed against him made her feel like they were in their twenties again, young, in love, and horny as hell for one another.

Mary continued to squirm against her husband, twisting her body around in his grasp as she made for the fridge, before gasping as Joseph kissed the sensitive inside of her wrist. He gazed deeply into her eyes as he took the time to mark a trail down her arm, his tongue occasionally flicking across her soft skin. He took advantage of the way his burning gaze pinned her in place to grind his hips into hers, and she could feel the hardness starting to grow against her.

“Fuck, Mary…,” Joseph groaned against her skin, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine that settled between her legs where he rubbed himself against her, turning into a delicious heat that had her arching into him. “Keep that up, and I’ll be having you for breakfast instead of blueberry pancakes.”

Mary felt a thrill run through her as she saw the hunger in her husband’s eyes. Even after all these years together and all the unflattering ways time had changed her body, the fact that Joseph could still look at her like that always left her breathless.

Time changed Joseph as well, but she enjoyed snuggling into the softness of his once hard edges. The lines at the corners of his eyes were markers of how many times she made him laugh, the ones around his mouth a testament to his countless bright and beautiful smiles.

They made a life together. It wasn’t perfect, and sometimes there were stormy days that cast a shadow over them, but they always managed to find a way to keep each other warm. The fire of love and passion still burned between them, as brilliant and beautiful as it always had been.

Unfortunately, the smell of smoke wound up interrupting the steamy moment. Mary yelped and quickly scrambled to get the burnt pancake onto a plate before it could char further.

“Oops,” Joseph yelped as he straightened up to allow Mary greater ease of movement. “I guess I should’ve stuck with five minutes after all.” He rubbed the back of his neck, giving her a sheepish look. “Sorry.”

Mary shot Joseph with a reproachful gaze. “How about we save dessert until after breakfast, okay?”

“Right,” Joseph chuckled awkwardly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take that one. Even burnt pancakes still taste good when they’re made with love.” He threw in a wink and a cheeky smile. “That’s why you taste so good after all.”

“Joseph!” Mary squealed as though scandalized. “You’re incorrigible!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Joseph laughed as he held up his hands in mock surrender. His expression softened as he gave her a tender smile and reached out to cup her cheek. “I just can’t help it when I’m with you, Mary.”

Mary leaned into his palm and whatever annoyance she felt melted away like butter on a hot skillet. It was impossible for her to hold onto any negative thoughts or feelings for long when she was with Joseph. With him around, the bad times weren’t as hard to handle, and the good times were even more wonderful. She hardly felt the years that seeped into her bones and made them ache. With him, time didn’t matter. They weren’t lonely children or struggling twenty-somethings lost in a vast world anymore, but she didn’t feel old and withered either. All these years allowed them to grow together like two trees twining together, growing strong enough to weather any storm.

“I feel the same way,” Mary murmured. “I love you, Joseph.”

“I love you too, Mary,” Joseph said before he pulled her back into his arms and pressed his lips to hers. When he drew back, he gave her a bright smile. “How about I help you finish cooking breakfast? Two sets of hands are better than one, you know.”

“Okay,” Mary said before flashing her husband a teasing grin. “But let’s try to keep those hands cooking instead of fondling, okay?”

Joseph reached over to take the spatula from Mary. His touch lingered on her fingers, sliding along them and her palm longer than necessary before he relieved her of the utensil. He flashed her a cheeky grin that she knew all too well and loved more and more as the years went on.

“No promises~”

[rom-e-o]

A Moment of Weakness (Emmrich/OC)💚F!Rook

The game isn't even out. We don't know Emmrich's personality, VA, ... really, anything beyond the bare bones as I write this ... but I couldn't help myself! I hope this little story is enjoyable, despite inaccuracies, haha!

TW: alcohol mention/mild tipsy behavior.

It had started with a simple sentence, but one that Emmrich immediately realized was shrouded in complex sentiment.

Hours before, Belisma (“Rook”, as she was affectionately called) had knocked on the door to his study and invited him to share a drink with him. More specifically, she had wanted to toast a successfully long day of battles and negotiations by imbibing together at the Lighthouse, a base that was unnerving as it was beautiful. She had even surprised him with a dusty bottle of red imported right from Nevarra. It carried the region’s distinct fruity notes; a stark contrast to the stench of death and semi-permanent haze of stale incense the region was known for.

Perhaps that was why such bottles were so coveted. Even he, with all his knowledge and history of the reason, carried not the knowledge of a versed sommelier. He did know, however, that the drink was strong.

The drink had boosted their spirits quickly, and loosened lips even more so.

Moments before, he'd been laughing amicably at an amusing anecdote she'd told him about an awkward encounter with a former suitor. Quite the crude young man, from what the woman had described. Hardly someone suitable for a woman like her, he'd thought.

Then, she’d let the sentence slip.

"I’m glad I can be useful here … I’m more suited for the battlefield than a quiet life anyway.” Then, she added, "Could you imagine … me, with a husband waiting for me back home? What poor soul could I do that to?”

Emmrich, dressed casually in a starched shirt and trousers (but still adorned in his rings and jangling bangles), paused to flick his gaze at present company.

"What?"

With a little hiccup, she allowed herself to sink against the weight of the table. "It's amusing, isn't it?"

"What is?" Emmrich prodded, a silver brow lifted. Her self-deprecating words had sobered him. "The thought of you with … a husband?”

"Right," she said. "Or a lover or ... someone of similar station. Even if someone was interested, I have nothing to offer. Mages aren’t exactly known for their large dowries and influence – even the wealthiest ones – compared to normal nobles.”

She paused, her eyes drifting askance as she tapped her nails on the oak table. “That was what he said, anyway.”

"Who?"

"Cyril," she reminded him. "I just told you about him. He was my last ... suitor, I suppose. I was 25. We met in a Circle. It feels like yesterday, but... his words stuck. Evidently."

The man gently lowered his chalice onto the table, the sweet wine forgotten. His eyes, rimmed with intrigue but touched with sadness, examined her. While a devoted scholar, Emmrich was also a man with decades of experience working with peers of many ages and backgrounds. Many called him a gentleman for the ways he seemed to invite conversation and put others at ease, but he preferred to his he simply put proper effort into listening. He leaned in, encouraging her to say more.

The silent prodding bore fruit. "I mean, it's inarguable. Look at me."

He did. He had been since they'd started working alongside each other.

He saw a lovely woman, just a small handful of years younger than him. She was a head shorter than him, with a feminine but muscled build from years of training as a mage and honing her skills. Her jaw, cut perfectly square enough to put the gems on any viscount's ring to shame, was adorned with bright eyes and lips that were ... very pleasant.

Her eyes reflected the color of freezing cold sap, tapped from the tree of Emprise du Lion. Her lips, painted with a swatch of coral, looked full and soft as far as he could tell. He hadn't been blessed enough to feel them pillow against his skin, but he could imagine. Her skin bore a light tan, and her hair swung gaily over her shoulders with each spin and flip on the battlefield. Starlight-gray waves sprouted from her scalp, and he thought they framed her face beautifully. Elegantly.

"I ... see you," he said carefully. He stammered a moment, eyes still searching for what she could mean. “I see you quite well, as a matter of fact.”

To him, she looked like a partner anyone would be lucky to have.

"Well, there you go," she added with a light, almost flippant laugh.

"I fail to see what's funny."

"...Emmrich, you don't have to be polite," she said, her voice becoming softer as a result of his stern but inquisitive tone. “I’m not a child.”

"I am being honest, with the politeness always secondary," he reminded her. “Lucanis can testify to that.”

A tense beat of silence passed. Before he could speak up, she sighed and pushed her chalice away. It flared bottom skipped lightly across the uneven wood grain. "I-I'm sorry. That's my cue. I’ve had enough to drink, I believe."

Another shaky laugh left her. Emmrich heard a telltale tremble in her voice, and rose to pursue her.

"Belisma, wait—”

"I’m sorry," she said, cutting him off. Palm flattening against the wall to better support her weight, she made her way toward the great hall's door to exit.

It only took one hobble for him to round the table after her. "You’re unsteady. I'll walk you."

"Please. Stay."

A man of many years, he could easily transcribe her true request from the dismal look on her face: “Keep back and let me go.”

So, he did.

Not one to disobey their leader, especially when she requested something so simple, he respected her desire for space. Falling back, he watched her go. She did not falter again, from what he could see.

Her shadow eventually slinked out of the room and to the left, which was the path he knew led to her quarters. As he watched her vanish into the night-darkened halls of the base, regret filled his lungs like sea water.

He should have said something sooner.

Night.

Night in the Fade was … very similar to the day, he had to admit. It wasn’t even really night, he supposed. Just an agreed upon hour where they all stole moments of slumber between onslaughts of enemies.

Back home, night was the most comfortable hour for the necromancer, as it shrouded the work in a silver-tinted darkness. Temperatures cooled, and his mind could home in better on his duties as an esteemed member of the Mourn Watch. Night was a time for study; a time for work. A time for solving problems he refused to let fester.

Here, the air still shimmered like mica, but the sky did not grow inky like it did in the mortal realms. Its comforts felt somewhat hollow, but it was all he had, so he took them.

When the Lighthouse was quiet save for his footsteps, he left his chamber and began to walk.

Emmrich knew his destination, in theory. There was a sparse list of places their Rook would, or could, travel to for relaxation. One of those areas was a small room located a few floors up, overlooking the Fade’s ever-twitching horizon. A small, stone room where mages could practice magic without risk of rogue spells hurting others.

Upon arriving at the room, he heard her voice from within. Grunts and yells of exertion peppered the otherwise quiet air. The older man took a deep breath, which served the dual purpose of bolstering his confidence as well as calming his racing heart.

He knocked. A beat of silence passed.

Then, a voice called from beyond the iron-enforced frame. "Come in."

A pleasant voice. A kind, womanly, familiar voice that could lure enamored men to burn their tomes for her.

Ignoring that he fit into that category all too neatly himself, he swallowed and entered the chamber. As he laid his palm against the frame, the metal was warm to the touch, even through his adorned glove.

The room was built from stone, top to bottom, with only a few slots to serve as windows. They also provided the handy attribute of ventilation, as this chamber was one mages utilized to train their abilities.

It was quite common to enter the training room to find the air crackling with electricity, or to nearly slip on ice-covered stones from the last mage practicing a bout of freezing spells.

In this case, Belisma appeared to be practicing fire magic. Her staff drawn and the smell of cinder permeating the air, she turned and gave the visitor a smile. The iron-clad tip of her staff still burned red-hot in the semi-darkness as she turned to him.

"Oh! Emmrich."

She looked pleased to see him on the surface, but he knew her better by now. There was a slight, nervous way her lower eyelids would upturn when she peered at him, like she was squinting through him, as if to see better intentions.

Nodding, he risked a step forward. "I thought I heard you in here. I ... wanted to check on you."

Although he spoke carefully, her face still fell at his admission. "Ah. Because of earlier."

"Yes, earlier."

A measured sigh snaked in and out of her lungs.

"It … was a moment of weakness," she confessed, hands dropping to her sides. He noticed with a heavy heart that she cast her gaze to the opposite corner of the room. An obvious sign of shame. "I shouldn't have burdened you with that. I'd had too much to drink and ... I suppose the ghosts of the past got a hold of me. I apologize."

"You needn’t apologize for that," he said kindly. "You're hardly the first one to divulge personal secrets over a chalice of wine, and I'm sure you'll be far from the last."

Her brown eyes sought his. "W-Well, when you put it like that ... perhaps you're right."

"I often am," he teased.

She smiled at that, and his heart leapt again. Gods above, how had any man made the woman before him feel unworthy of affection. Had time-altering spells been more his forte, he might have chanced traveling back a few decades just to clobber the fool with a skull. Or two. Perhaps a dragon skill, if he could lift it. Taash could help, he reasoned.

As the silence spurred his thoughts, it quieted hers in tandem. She sighed, tapping the leather-wrapped end of her staff’s hilt against the floor.

In a split second, bright sparks flitted between the crevices in the stone, snaking their way upwards through the narrow channels until the fire leads to the wicks of the candles adorning the room's small chandelier. With the formerly cavernous room now aglow with firelight, he could more keenly observe a notable flush to her cheeks.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I'm glad I didn't scare you away from wanting to talk to me."

He snorted in amusement. "It'll take more than banter to scare me, dear."

The realization of the term slipping out hit too late, and he cleared his thought awkwardly. "I-I've seen more death than some armies, you know. So n-no. Not scared at all. No."

He heard her chuckle warmly at his stammering. Perhaps she found it endearing, he hoped.

Nonetheless, fighting his own blush now, a hand lofted to scratch his temple. It was also his turn to look away, lest he become lost in those syrupy eyes again.

“I promise to hold my drink better when we hold our next private celebration,” she noted gaily. “You won’t have to listen to an old maid ramble, haha. Nobody here needs that in our only place of respite.”

Just as Emmrich had turned to scuttle away, he was lured back. “Stop that.”

She paused, glancing up at him. “Hm?”

“Stop with the self-depreciating comments, Belisma.”

Unlike his voice before, which had wavered from boyish shyness, his tone in the moment was pure bravado. He allowed himself to take pleasure in watching her cheeks turn cherry-red. Despite the color that bloomed on her face, her eyes remained glued to him.

“E-Emm—”

“You are a woman of immense talent and beauty, and while I enjoy your company here more than the company of any other, I cannot abide by you taking every opportunity to be so disparaging of yourself.”

He took a step toward her, and Maker, she stayed in place. He didn’t so much as take a breath as he dared to advance another. Before he knew it, it had crossed the threshold between them enough for their chests to barely touch. He couldn’t help but note that she was even more captivating from this angle.

“You are our leader, a talented mage, and your dedication to leading us through this rather unprecedented situation is nothing short of remarkable,” he reminded her.

“You think—”

“You call yourself an ‘old maid’? Please. You are an incredible woman, and any soul across Tevinter, Nevarra, or bloody Thedas would be lucky to share a room, or a drink, with you. I certainly am.”

He saw her eyes widen, but he couldn’t stop himself. The floodgates had opened, and it was impossible to bring them crashing down again.

“They’d be even luckier to have you as a partner…a lover, as you said before.”

A stern finger lofted to prod her collarbone lightly, a gesture that would have potentially felt patronizing if they weren’t too adults that seemed to be drifting closer by the second.

The next words caught in his throat.

“A-As I…should …”

The molten intrigue in her eyes vanished in that moment. With the poise he often saw her display on the battlefield, her eyes fell shut as she flowed forward.

He braced for a slap, but felt her lips press against his instead.

Maker, he thought in a blitz of passion, how long had it been since anyone had kissed him? Decades, probably. The thought was met with fleeting entertainment, but quickly passed as he realized he wasn’t going to overthink himself out of appreciating the moment.

He leaned in, hands finding purchase on her hips for balance.

Her lips, as he’d thought, were so soft. They became even more pliable when he reciprocated, angling his head in a way so that slotted his nose beside hers and pressed hard into her cheek. The better angle allowed him to nudge all the closer. Her bottom lip was nestled between his at first, but with another sway of their bodies, she tilted away, and he took the opportunity to take that lip between his teeth just slightly.

He worried for a moment it was too forward, but concerns melted when she moaned (gods, a glorious sound!) and inched her arms upward. First, she gripped his shoulders. Then, her arms wrapped around his neck, nudging their pounding hearts into further alignment.

Just the scrape of his teeth made her gasp again, and her strong arms hauled him closer. With her bosom pressed to his chest and their thighs flush, it was euphoria. The man was too enamored to realized that he’d walked her backward across the room, pressing her to the stone wall gently. Unable to help himself, he smiled against the kiss, and she chased that smile with her own.

When they parted for air, panting and breathless, he stared into her eyes. They looked even darker than they had before. All the more tempting to become lost in them, he noted.

“I…I have not been kissed in a very, very long time …” he admitted breathlessly.

Belisma’s lips, now a slightly more muted shade after he’d kissed her lipstick off, curved into a smile.

“I’ve never been kissed like that,” she confessed with a whisper. “Ever.”

Shared mirth leapt between them, and he dared to rest his forehead against hers.

“P-Perhaps I should get tipsy more often if it leads to pleasant moments like this.”

A laughter, warm like summer thunder, rumbled in his chest. He eyes crinkled as he cupped her cheek, noting how she leaned int his touch.

“Well,” he husked, his voice shifting to a pleasant burr as he urged her close, “All the more reason from you to not drink alone again, dear.”

This time, he leaned in to capture her lips against his.

And she, their fearless Rook, leaned into him with abandon.

I'm now going to go back to begging BioWare for crumbs, haha.

[themorningsunshine]

Be My Muse

Pairing - Aritst!Bucky Barnes x Reader (Childhood best friends to lovers)

Summary - Muse - A person or spirit that gives an artist the desire to create things

Bucky has been in love with you for years, but just can't get himself to say it. So, instead, he decides to show you.

Warnings - None, just fluffy fluff 

Word Count - 2.4k 

a/n - This is for @buckybarnesevents ‘s Connect 4: June-iverse event. Card Number - C4037 for the prompt C1 - Aritst. Thank you to the lovely @bluehourbucky​ for motivating me to actually finish writing this. 

"Come on, Buck. Just tell me."

You watched as the man you called your best friend shook his head, once again refusing to let out anything about his upcoming art exhibition.

"Oh, come on. Don't be this way." You didn't want to pressurize him, but he was acting weird about this exhibition for the past 2 months.

Every single time when he had an art exhibition coming up, he would ramble about it for weeks to you and you loved it. The way he was excited about what he had made and also the way his nervous ticks showed up always a week before the actual event, you loved every bit of it.  But this time, he hadn't spoken a word remotely related to it.

To top it all off, he had said that this was the most important exhibition of his life.

You were bound to be scared.

"Okay, what about this, you give me a hint, about anything, it doesn't even have to be the centerpiece, literally anything, and I will stop bugging you." You were practically begging now.

"Come on, doll. You are going to come to the main event. You can look at it then." He said putting your cup of coffee in front of you, is pretty much one of the only ways to distract your mind.

"See it then? With everybody else? Is that what I am to you, now, Buck? Just a person in the audience? I knew this day would come." You picked up your cup and with a dramatic turn walked out of the room.

Had you stood there for a moment longer, you would have seen the way Bucky scratched his thumb and bit his lips, two of his most prominent nervous ticks.

Only if he could tell you that you weren't just a person in the crowd. No, you were much more than that. You were everything .

He just had to wait.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

The day of the exhibition came sooner than he would have liked, but to you, it couldn't have been further away.

Bucky had been a little distant with you for the past week and you hated it. You hated it more than anything else in the world.

Usually, he would take you with him to carry out the errands related to the exhibition, 'cause he always got super nervous and you would be there to ground him. Like anchoring him back to the shore.

But this time, you had absolutely no idea what even was the theme of this exhibition. Every single time you offered to go with him for anything, he would always make excuses, and you were confident that they were lies 'cause when did Bucky start to go grocery shopping in the middle of the week?

In the almost 2 decades you had known him, ever since you were a kid, he had never hidden something this important from you.

To say that you were scared would be an understatement.

When you finally entered the exhibition, you were proud to see how many people had shown up. You had always known that Bucky would do exceptionally well as an artist and you had taken every chance you got to tell him exactly that.

As you were about to turn the corner and look at the first painting, you almost collided with a wall of muscle.

You looked up only to be met by the gaze of one of your closest friends.

"Steve, hey!!"

You saw as Steve tried extremely hard to hide the huge grin that threatened to spread across his face and you could swear you saw happy tears brimming in the corner of his eyes.

You squinted as you took a step to the side to let a man walk in, realizing you were blocking the way.

"Y/n, you need to come with me."

"Not now, Steve. It's Bucky's exhibition. I need to stay here."

"He has asked you to come with me."

You narrowed your eyes as you asked, "Are you sure?"

Steve nodded as he took your hand to try and take you away from the paintings.

Dread filled your chest. Did Bucky really not want you in here so much?

You follow Steve as he leads you toward an isolated door of the arena.

You turn to look at him and he signals you to get inside.

"Okay, if you are kidnapping me, I might as well let you know that no one is going to pay a single penny as ransom to you." You joke. You have been friends with Steve almost for as long as you have been with Bucky and you trusted them with everything.

Steve chuckles before replying, "Just go in, y/n."

You open the door and take a step in, only to realize that it's pitch dark. Before you can turn back to look at Steve, the door closes behind you.

You take a deep breath and call out, "Bucky? I swear to god if it's one of your stupid pranks, I'll kill you."

Suddenly, a small light gets switched on beside you and you turn to realize that it beautifully illuminates a painting.

You take a step forward towards it, only to realize that it is a sketch of an eye and it's beautiful .

You can see the way it shines with a glint even though it's just a sketch and you bring your hand forward to run it across it.

It is then that you notice the little note sitting at the bottom right corner of the sketch.

All the city lights combined couldn't shine brighter than your eyes.

Your lips turned upwards into a smile as you read the words. Even though you had absolutely no idea what was happening, it was a huge comfort to know that it was all Bucky's doing. You could recognize that handwriting anywhere.

You looked around hoping to figure out at least something, but all that the little illumination below the sketch showed you was that it was more probable than not a huge hall.

Not even a moment later, another small light was switched on just beside the first one.

It was a painting this time. A very old painting.

It was a small girl sitting on a swing hanging from the tree. A blissful smile on her face, carefree and oblivious to the troubles of the world.

When you noticed the bracelet that she was wearing, you took a step forward, squinting to focus on the painting.

It was you.

And then the memory of that day placed itself at the forefront of your brain.

"Come on, Buck." The little 11-year-old girl called out to the brown-haired boy.

He just shakes his head and refuses to move away from under the tree he is sitting, a sketchbook in hand.

"Why do you even like painting so much?" She had asked, crossing her arms across her chest, puffing in annoyance at his lack of response before walking away towards the swing herself.

A smile finds its way to your lips at the memory. It was about a couple of years after the both of you had met, and yet, it was as clear as day in your mind. Even after all the memories you and Bucky created together over the years, small - innocent ones like these from all those years ago never left your heart.

You look at it intensely for a long time. A couple of tears brimming at the corner of your eyes.

It's been so long. You couldn't help but think. The both of you had grown up but never grew apart. There was always a connection, an instant pull that always brought the both of you back to each other, almost like how no matter how far any of you went, you never forgot your way back home.

After some time, you finally noticed the little note written in the bottom left corner of the painting, just like in the first one. But this one was different. This sentence was the one that would change your whole life for you. In the best way possible. It read :

The day that 12-year-old fell in love, without even knowing what love meant. All he knew was that he was going to love that girl with everything he had, till his last days and beyond.

Your breath hitched in your throat. He loved you.

Bucky Barnes was in love with you.

That's when it hit you.

Everything you have ever wanted. The only thing your heart has ever yearned for, was right in front of you all along.

The love that you had read about in books, the kind of love that swallowed you whole until there was no part left untouched, the love that you have looked for your entire life, has been right there. Right beside you. In the form of the oceanic blue eyes that had enamored you for the last 20 years.

You were in love with your best friend.

The realization doesn't hit you like a truck, or leave you gasping in surprise, it brings with it a sense of peace, a sense of everything falling into place.

You look around frantically searching for the man that you had loved all along without ever knowing it.

You loved him when he fought those bullies to protect Steve and got hurt in the process.

You had loved him when he had brought you cookies when you had gotten sick during Christmas, not being able to move.

You had loved him when you had supported him in his decision to do what his heart desired, in his journey of becoming an artist.

You had loved him when the both of you had said your goodbyes while leaving for college in distant cities when the tears had fallen from your eyes and on the ground and he had comforted you that your friendship won't fall apart.

You had loved him in the nights that were spent staring at the stars together, in the afternoons that had been spent watching movies, curled up beside each other, just the two of you.

You had loved him then, and you love him now and you were pretty sure you were going to love him till the world was nothing but dust.

A light suddenly gets switched on just beside the old painting, and this time too, it's you.

Painted years after the last one, it's you staring at the night sky, a soft, content look on your face.

This time, your eyes frantically search for the note, and sure enough, it's right there, at the bottom.

'Cause, darling without you,

All the shine of a thousand spotlights

All the stars we steal from the night sky

Will never be enough

Never be enough

You can now feel tears rolling down your cheeks, as your lips turn into the widest grin possible.

You turn around and as you do so, all the lights in the room begin to turn on, each revealing a painting of you. Taken in the simplest moments.

There is one with you in the kitchen, covered in flour, a pout evident on your face as you had tried to bake a cake for the first time.

There was one where you were sitting at the beach, staring into the ocean.

The one that you liked the most was the one in which you were sleeping contently, a blanket loosely draped over you, that you could swear hadn't been there before.

Before you can look at the rest of them, a voice comes from the corner of the hall and you turn just in time to look at Bucky Barnes himself.

Your smile grew wider if it was even possible and you almost ran off to embrace him when he started speaking.

"One day, you asked me why I drew. Why I felt the need to express whatever it was I felt through a canvas. I didn't tell you, then, but now I want to, doll.

It's you. It's always been you. You have been my muse, my pillar of support, my motivation to get up every morning, my need to paint because there was no other way I could express to the girl I was in love with that she was all I ever dreamt about. That she was everything I could ever want.

I love you, doll. I love you with everything I am and everything I'll ever be. There are a hundred ways this could fall apart, and trust me, I have thought about each one of them more than I should have. But if there is one chance that this could work, that I could be yours, not just in movie nights or weekly trips to the grocery market, but in every way possible, I want to take that chance. In slow mornings and in intimate nights, in tough days and in the celebratory evenings, I want you, I need you to be a part of all of them, doll because life just doesn't feel like life without you."

As if your feet had gained a mind of their own you ran towards him, circling your arms around his neck and pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss was gentle, soft, full of need and unspoken feelings, of time lost, it was everything .

He pulled you impossibly closer to him, not wanting to ever let go.

Finally, when the both of you pulled away, still staying close with the widest possible grins on your faces, you whispered, "I love you too, Buck. So damn much." You say it so slowly, it feels like a dream to him.

You would one day shout out to the world how much you loved him, but for now, it was going to be your little moment. When the city of Brooklyn went about its day just like it did every day, two people who were irresistibly, irrevocably in love with each other stood there, holding each other, in the gentlest of embraces, embers of their love while keeping them warm, strong enough to burn the whole world down.

You stay there for what feels like forever before Bucky whispers. "Doll, be my muse?"

You look up at him, drowning in his oceanic blue eyes, only to reach home, before you whisper, "Forever."  

[lanitalay]

One Day : Chapter 5

Azriel x reader, based on the Netflix series by the same name

a/n: I haven't forgotten about AFAS but this one is so comforting to write. Also a master post for this series sis on my todo list I just haven;t gotten around to it.

warnings: canon typical mentions of violence, a lil fluff

Word count: 1.6k

Masterlist

You were sitting beside Elain as you had done every morning since the Archeron sisters had arrived at the Night Court. She was no better than yesterday or the day before that. She ate very little and she was almost fighting against breathing. You had never seen anything like it, her body perfectly healthy but her mind… you imagined she was filled with rage and sorrow and grief for her past life. Not that she gave you much of an indication.

Being with Elain was calming in a way, she didn’t move much. You encouraged her to change positions every so often so her muscles wouldn’t atrophy but that was it. Sometimes you thought that your friends assigned you to her because of how Azriel arrived from Hybern. How he was seconds away from death. How you could only say “but I just got you back” over and over as you and Madja worked on his wounds. How you didn’t sleep for days until his eyes opened. How flashes of his too pale skin would cause you to crumble because he looked like a corpse and if Azriel was gone… 

So you painted Elain’s nails,  braided her hair and told her stories of Feyre when she first arrived at the Night Court. You reassured her that she would be back soon and that the three sisters would be safe in Velaris. 

Your favorite story to tell her was of how her sister freed the fae from Amarantha’s reign. How, because of her blood and kin, peace was within grasp. You told her how it felt when Amarantha died and magic returned and the sky at the Dawn Court glittered with the colors of the rainbow. How Thesan arrived at his palace and told everyone in his court of the brave girl who saved them. You told her that you had basically given up hope because if salvation lay in someone falling in love with Tamlin... 

“I only saw him once or twice during the reign but he was the most un-charismatic male I have ever met, we’re lucky Feyre has such a beautiful heart.” 

You didn’t tell her that when you returned to your cottage after the announcement and the initial euphoria there was a tall male with giant wings standing at your door. His head turning the instant a shadow told him you had arrived. 

“I thought maybe you moved.” 

You couldn’t tell her that you ran and wrapped your arms around him. The last fifty years had been an ocean and, just then, you finally found your lifeline. He hugged your shoulders, bringing his head to the crook of your neck and breathed in your unchanging scent. 

After minutes of the embrace that put your heart back together you pulled away and inspected his face. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect. “Az… you’re here.” 

He nodded and grabbed your hands, noticing the way his thumb brushed over your ring finger. 

“Rhys is back home… and I had to make sure you were…” 

“I’m fine, the last five decades have been hell, but I’m fine. What about you?”

“I’ve wanted to say I’m sorry for so long, what I said that day-” 

“I know. You don’t have to apologize.” 

“I do. I was jealous and foolish and it has haunted me ever since.” 

“It’s alright Az, I just… I’m so happy you’re here.” 

The version of events Elain got was “once Thesan returned I knew someone would come for me.” 

You told her how Feyre also had a difficult time with being turned fae, that it was fine for her to take her time to heal. 

After lunch there would be a knock on the door. Sometimes it would be Nesta, sometimes Madja, sometimes Rhys but today it was Azriel. He had made a complete recovery and would often keep you company while you were with Elain. 

He handed you a bouquet of flowers. “Happy anniversary.” 

You felt your cheeks redden at the gesture. “You know it’s not until tomorrow.” 

“I felt like starting the celebrations early, you know, to make up for lost time.” Rolled your eyes as he grabbed your free hand, “come on.” 

Just then Nesta walked into the room, a novel tucked under her arm. “I can stay, y/n, go on.”

“Where are we going?” You asked as Azriel picked you up and launched into the sky. 

“You’ll see in a few minutes.” 

You landed on a little cove by the Sidra. “I figured you needed a break from the house.” You nodded and sat on the shore, your feet just touching the water. Gentle waves lapping at your legs. He sat down next to you. 

“You never told me what actually happened with Lenus.” 

“We just stopped loving each other… and he cheated.”

Azriel looked like you had just said something ridiculous “Lenus cheated on you?”

A nod “yep.”

“Lenus, glasses Lenus? Lenus the scribe?” 

“She was also a scribe. Get this, I caught them in the library.” 

“No you did not.”

“I most certainly did. Anyways, after that I put everything of his in a box and threw it away. Haven’t heard from him since.” 

“If I ever see him again, I’ll kill him.” 

“You don’t have to kill him, just remind me to never date a scribe ever again, please.” 

“Noted.”  

“Have you ever dated someone in the last fifty years?”

“No.” 

“Really?” You raise a brow at him. 

“We had to keep the court running, I was busy.”

“Yeah, yeah… Az?” 

“Do you think you have a mate?” He looked up and thought about it. 

“I hope I do, but who knows.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.” 

“Why?”

“Well I’ve been alive for so long and I haven’t felt it yet. But the Archerons were turned and immediately found theirs.” 

“But Rhys was over 500 when he met Feyre, so… there’s still hope. You’re what? 499? Still have one year to find them.” 

You splashed water on him “you’re so dumb sometimes.” 

You spent the rest of the day in the cove. But even the longest day of the year had to end so when the sun was setting, Azriel flew to your apartment. “Home sweet home.” He said as he put you down. 

“I haven’t been here in weeks, there’s nothing to eat.”

“Let's go to a restaurant then.” Azriel grabbed your hand and led you to a small place at the end of your street. You always came here when you wanted something with noodles. You were led by an employee to your usual table, a small booth near the back. Just big enough for Azriel to fit comfortably but hidden away from curious fae. 

You ordered what you always get and so did Azriel. While you waited for the food you took Azriel’s hand in yours, feeling his pulse, confirming it. “I still can’t believe you’re alive.”

That arrow was straight through his chest. 

“It’s going to take a lot more to kill me.” 

You lifted your gaze to meet his. His breath caught in his throat at the intensity, like a switch had flipped. “Promise me I’ll die first.” 

The air got thicker and Azriel’s wings tensed. “What?”

“I can’t watch you die Az, I- I won’t survive it. So just promise me I’ll die first.” He grabbed your hand with both of his. 

“It's ok. See? You patched me up good as new.” He wasn’t getting it. Tears began to pool in your eyes as you pleaded. 

“Azriel-” you said so low he could barely hear it “please…” He saw your chest heaving and  knew what was happening. So he pulled you next to him with both arms and made a shield with his wings and shadows. “Breathe, y/n. I’m right here. I’m right here.” 

You were sobbing now, clutching his leathers as if he would float away. He held you firm against his chest. His heart a little faster than normal, but steady. It was the greatest symphony and the most beautiful prose. You kept your ear pressed against his chest. He was mumbling “I’m here, I’m ok, It’s alright.” Over and over. 

You were back in your apartment now. Azriel had asked for the food to go and brought you back home. So now you sit on your couch, the food getting cold on the coffee table. Hugging your knees to your chest as Azriel draws circles on your back.  The crying stopped a while ago. The mortification on the other hand… You hid your face in your knees. “I’m embarrassed.” 

“Why? At least you didn’t have a panic attack in the middle of a one night stand.” He attempted to joke. 

“I always keep it together.”

“You don’t have to.” 

“It just- it keeps me awake at night, the arrow right through your chest. Your heart-” a gulp “I could feel your heart desperate for relief, the ash and the blood loss put so much of a strain on it- you didn’t see how close you were to being gone and- I close my eyes and I see you on that table limp and-” You hadn't spoken with him about any of this. He woke up and you were your usual self, if a bit sleep deprived. 

“I never thanked you” , his hands still drawing circles on your back,“thank you for healing me.”

“Anytime Az,” you lift your face from your knees and give him something that resembles a smile. With his thumb he brushes away a few tears and some strands of hair stuck on your face. “Are you hungry?”

You nod. 

“Then let's eat.”

[choochooboss]

Introducing your station master & Magma event host!

Since there's already a lot of passengers visiting this station and I haven't spared much time to get to know my fellow submas fans over Tumbrl yet, an introduction would be in place!

I'm Jun, nice to meet you! *offers a hand for for a shake* I am a devoted submas artist & a monthly Magma event host! I go by ChooChooBoss everywhere (Twitter/Bsky/Twitch/Ko-Fi)!

This will be a long post! I will write a short intro as well which you can just skim through but here is a more in depth view how I got into submas, my other interests and life in general, in case you'd wish to know more about your conductor on this silly train!

How did I get into submas in the first place?

PLA. I met this certain mysterious & cool fellow time traveler and got curious! After the cave scene I went to read his Wiki, found out about Emmet, and... yeah. The emotional impact blasted me right out of a miserable cycle I was going through back then and set my soul on fire!! A month later I set up my first art account on Twitter, and the rest is history. They've become my greatest source of strength and inspiration and I enjoy drawing them every single day!

I love both twins very much! I tend to vibe with Ingo a little more than Emmet, but I draw Emmet more. People say I remind of butler Ingo the most, hehe. I certainly don't mind because I'm a big fan of butlermas!! In fact I got into submas & started playing Pokémon Masters EX in April 2022, a week before butler Ingo banner rolled in, so they truly got a special place in my heart ahah! (pssst draw more butlermas for me pls pls pls-)

However I don't draw warden Ingo as much as I would like to. I still get pretty emotional over his fate ahah, I can't draw him without a single tear! This sweet & kind man leading a good life and being an inspiration to others has been torn from literally everything he had for seemingly no reason apart from his name, clothes and the muscle memory and even those are barely intact. It seems like a miracle he's still standing and breathing after put through everything judging by the wear and tear on his uniform and body. Despite all that he carries a positive attitude, assists everyone in need, and does his best to help people and pokémon understand each other, unconditionally... Oh, my face is wet again...

My other interests besides submas?

Monster Hunter! Zelda! Genshin Impact! Super Mario! Trine! Crash Team Racing! And many many more! My favourite genres are platformers, kart racers, and action games, with a side of rhythm games. I'm a big fan of co-op games! I also watch my sis play JRPGs!

Monster Hunter is the dearest to me out of all. I've been hunting for well over a decade starting from MHFU. The games have charmed me with their incredibly satisfying combat system, world building, creature design, great attention to detail, character customisation and the games being nearly fully co-op!!

Other things I do:

Pokémon is practically the only turn-based game I enjoy, mainly because of the characters and collection aspect. However!! I adore Pokémon Colosseum (the first pkmn game I ever played!) and it's double battle focus, so The Indigo Disc has been a delight after the long starvation for double battles, coming up with different combinations makes the battles much more fun to me!!... I sound like Emmet here do I ahahah! We also share the fact we are both left-handed!

Shuffle dancing, daily pull-ups, and expanding my ever growing VGM collection! I also enjoy traveling and taking photos to keep as a diary! I've played piano in a music school for 9 years, and I can also play kalimba. I've done casual boxing, gymnastics, horse riding and medieval swordfighting. I used to read comics/manga and watch movies and anime but nowadays I barely do that, I just rather use that time for drawing instead of just sitting and watching, unless I have company!

I share the apartment with my anxious brother and our two sweet female cats, Laku (11, stubborn and cuddly) and Kalevi (21, demanding and full of love) in a city center. My parents are both entrepreneurs and run a farm in the countryside & I have 4 siblings with me as the middle kid!

Where can you meet me?

I am a game artist by profession, with 4 yrs of studies and roughly 7 years of EXP in the field doing game art, UI design, character/prop design, in mobile games as well as PC titles, 2D and 3D. At the moment I am looking for work; I keep up the motivation and learn new skills by running my art accounts while looking for new opportunities.

I hail from the land of darkness, snow, salmiakki, metalheads and renownly reserved people, Finland! (UTC+2)

Despite having my roots here I am pretty much the opposite of a typical Finn in almost every sense ahah! I'm a small guy who's not afraid talking to strangers and laughs a lot. And I dislike coffee for the contrary, it's very popular amongst finns.

With the inspiration from submas I've finally stepped into the world of cosplay so you can usually meet this small and excitable Ingo in the biggest local conventions, Desucon and Tracon! Come say hi!

About my social battery:

I'm both social and socially anxious ahah! I love making new friends and talking to all sorts of people and writing comments, and gathering together with my mutuals to do cool stuff together! However my social battery is very small... I often struggle with my AD(H)D and anxiety issues, so my replies can be extremely slow. I'm easily overwhelmed when life gets busy and I deal with it by withdrawing to minimise the the stimuli and then sorting my stuff out one by one. This is a frustrating shortcoming, but I'm working hard to find a balance I can maintain without getting exhausted. Please be patient with me! If you don't hear from me in a while, please don't take it personally! In fact, it makes me really happy if you contact me, for any purpose!

Which pronouns do I go with?

I go by they/them! I am also aroace, so if I appear to show any sort of romantic interest, it's definitely not that. I love meeting new people and am quite interested in people in general so I'm excited to get to know you better, but the thing is... I have been confusing people on several occassions for saying things that could be taken as flirting. I am terribly sorry for that, that's just the way I show how I care!

I don't really identify myself by any specific gender either, but rather by my roles or interests (Magma host, submas fan, game artist etc.). Submas encouraged me to enjoy dressing formally even if I'm just sitting at home, because I love formal clothing in general and wearing them makes me feel confident and stand taller! I usually wear collar shirts and black or white slacks.

More about my AD(H)D:

I don't have an official diagnosis but deal with the same problems as AD(H)D people do; poor work memory, dissociation, hyperfocus (drawing and people), sleep deprivation, impulsiveness (juggling too many things and going with the wind), getting sensory/information overloads, and feeling like I don't fit in. I figured it out after I finished school & lost my job for that I am unable to handle big tasks without anyone giving me directions. It has taken a while but I've figured out things that help me manage my daily life as well as have a medication that mainly boosts my capability to get things started which is another great struggle ahah.

How do I manage to keep myself on track?

I use a Pomodoro timer to keep up a good flow and remember to take breaks! This is what I use the most:

I should set it up on my tablet as well. I think it's really cool to see how many hours I have actually put into drawing! Last year I clocked in well over 3k hours, ahaha!

How to catch me?

Right now I have great difficulty managing replies, but usually you can reach me by DMs! I check Discord and Twitter the most often! However I must ask you to respect my current DNI status. It means I am really overwhelmed so I wish nobody comes asking for my attention until it has been lifted, unless it's really necessary. I really love talking to you all but I also have to accept and deal with my own limits strictly like this or it won't work out.

What am I working on at the moment?

Besides the holiday set I have several short comics under works as well as one big comic (100+ pages!). That one is my personal greatest goal! I started working on it in June 2022 and I have currently 40+ pages sketched and 60+ thumbnailed.

I was afraid of starting any comic projects before submas, but the sheer excitement over them carried me over that personal wall ahah!

The story's beginning and end are looking good and somewhat functional but there's still a lot to work to do and holes to fill in the middle before I dare to start fleshing out the pages. I have little experience in writing or comic making so I hope you forgive if some things don't make sense or the dialogue is a little on the nose so to say ahah!

The story will be packed with action with the overall tone being on the darker side, but it sure won't be lacking in humor! The project's main goal is to make it a celebration of all things submas & to prove to myself I can handle a big scale project despite my shortcomings!

This train has reached the terminal!

Thank you for riding my silly submas train!! I adore reading all your tags and comments! They brighten up my day & fuel my passion even more!! I hope to bring many more fun things for you to look forward to!! See you again soon!

ALL ABOARD!!

[sflow-er]

Sunday snippet

I haven't done these in a while, so to kick myself back into gear, I'm sharing with you the start of an aged-up Henry oneshot that grew out of my QP Walty writing practice...

It's a long one, so I'm putting it under a cut.

[Title TBR]

If there was one thing about today that Henry did not expect to struggle with, it was his necktie.

After all, he’s got enough experience to tie it on muscle memory alone. Three whole decades’ worth. From the tedious lessons with his father since before he started primary school, to the uniformed school celebrations and secret Society meetings at Hillerska, to the summer balls of Riddarskapet och Adelns Ungdomsklubb and an assortment of high society events that have dappled his life since early adulthood. A tie was not necessarily required on all those occasions, but he always found it harder to meet the standards without one.

That’s not even to mention the last few years and the campaign he started after his father’s untimely death. Sometimes, it feels as if he’s been armoured in a silk tie and a Windsor knot every other day since the funeral, to meet with some old baron or former Society brother. Rationally, he knows that’s not true; there was plenty of tieless time in between, and the last six months have been almost entirely tie-free. It’s just hard to see that when the tie days get on top of his mind.

Which makes today’s fumbling all the more frustrating.

Even with Henry drawing on his vast experience – and standing in front of the massive bathroom mirror that should remove all margin for error – the knot keeps coming out untidy. Whether it’s one or both shoulders peeking out, or the blade being too short and the tail too long, or the end result being too tight or loose by look or feel.

It doesn’t take much effort to imagine what the late Carl Emil Silfverfeldt would make of this travesty his sole heir has just inched up to his collar. Henry can see it when he holds his own gaze in the mirror; the blue of their eyes is exactly the same, as is the critical look. The longer he stays like that, the easier it is to feel a hand on his shoulder and the words ‘we agreed that you would give it your best, and we are men of our word, aren’t we?’ in his gut.

This, he thinks grimly, is most definitely not his best. He would not settle for it even on an average day, let alone an occasion. Regardless of everything else, today is an occasion, and he cannot – will not – turn up in this mess when he’s perfectly capable of making it look right –

He breaks eye contact with a sigh and catches his head with his fingertips. Careful not to mess up his hair, he kneads his forehead from brow to temples, trying to disperse the thought that’s been popping up all morning.

Maybe a break is in order. He isn’t sure if he can still afford one when he’s already wasted so much time, but it’s not like the party can start without him.

He slinks back to the bedroom, removing the tie along the way. He should probably hang it with his jacket and waistcoat, but he can’t be bothered to circle around the king-size bed to get to them. On top of the dresser will do.

Both his phone and his smartwatch keep blinking at him as he adds the tie to the items already laid out next to the charging station – signet ring, cufflinks, antique pocket watch, little square box. No doubt he’s missed a ton of messages. Figuring he might as well catch up now, he grabs the phone and takes a seat at the foot end of the bed.

He could have guessed that the first batch would be from his mother, Mikaela. She’s been freaking out about Säpo at the manor house all morning, as if there was any risk of the agents suddenly ruling the venue unsafe and calling the whole thing off.

Then again, that would be a pretty smooth way out of this tie slump. Is it too late to call August or Wilhelm and ask them to fix a last-minute security threat? Surely at least one of them must have done it before.

The thought coaxes a laugh out of him, but alas. Mikaela’s texts about the Security Police hassle end with someone having reassured her that the event can proceed with both former crown princes in attendance.

She has moved on to requesting his input on something else, apparently explained in a long voice message. There’s also a random picture of stylised yellow roses.

‘Darling, I know you’re busy getting ready, but if it’s not too much trouble,’ Mikaela starts in a tone that strongly implies it will be. ‘I’m getting a lot of questions about what is and isn’t appropriate. Five separate people – for example, Cecilia showed me her card this morning, and there were roses on it. I said you said no flowers, but she insisted, so I promised to send you a picture. Let me know what you think, okay?’

Henry sighs and enlarges the photo. He doesn’t know much about flowers or what they’re supposed to represent, but his aunt probably does. He doesn’t hate the card – but that’s about as far as he gets in forming an opinion before his mother overwhelms him with the rest of her query.

.-.-.

Cutting it off here for now (and also reserving the right to edit further). I'm fairly excited for this one so hopefully I can continue working on it to finish it soon-ish!

[starfall-spirit]

@officialfeysandweek Day 6: First of Their Kind

🎨: the_megabee33

Feysand Week Masterlist // Read on Ao3 // SFW Commission

Summary: Rhys and Feyre spend Solstice Eve bringing a fantasy to life at the Court of Nightmares.

AN: Art is awesome, but I think I speak for many of us when I say it's twice as fun to have art and a story. It was an absolute honor to write this for my fellow commissioners, @popjunkie42, @moonpatroclus, @foundress0fnothing, @tunaababee, and @cauldronblssd

CW: Public sex, egregious use of "good girl", naturally.

"I feel slighted, you know."

Rhys looked up from where he was fastening his cufflink, slowly crossing the room to join his mate at her vanity, reaching for a comb to start running it through her damp hair. "How's that, darling? Have I neglected you somehow?"

She huffed, meeting his eyes in the mirror. They'd be attending the revel held in the Court of Nightmares this evening, just as they were obligated to every Solstice Eve. "Not recently."

"Holding a grudge, are we?" He twisted the upper half of her hair into a smooth knot, gathering a few pins to keep it in place. "What's this about, Feyre?"

"Do you remember the first time you took me to the Court of Nightmares?" Even now he held a careful mask, but Feyre could sense the subtle shift in her mate all the same. "Before we were mated, all pent up, waiting for something to happen. I wanted you to take me right there, Rhys."

He cursed behind her, taking a large step back to finish dressing himself for the evening. "You can't—" He let out a long breath. "You can't say something like that when we're expected somewhere, Feyre. Fuck."

There was no way he was unaware of what her desires had been, now several years into their mating. There were no true secrets between them. But she'd never discussed that particular moment so brazenly. Put it in bold lettering for him to read. "Can't I, though? It's a revel after all. I'm sure that after living this long our dear subjects know how we came to have two children. If they can fuck out in the open why shouldn't we do the same from your throne?"

"My little exhibitionist," he teased, shrugging into his evening jacket. The slight amusement she caught in his voice faded when he rejoined her at the vanity, gripping her chin. "You're sure?" She nodded and his smile returned. "They won't know what to do with you, wearing a crown and warming my cock." She shivered, eyes fluttering shut when he pressed a kiss to the corner of her painted mouth. "I hardly know half the time. Come, my love. Let's go give the sycophants a show."

~~~~~

They started with a dance. “I suppose we should be someone respectable this evening,” she’d told him upon arrival. He’dd taken her in his arms, pressed another kiss beneath her ear, kept his head bent low to whisper every filthy thing he planned for her tonight, before their court and behind closed doors. She made it through two songs before letting him lead her up the dais. She passed her own throne without hesitation and let him turn her around to more easily pull her down by her hips. She only paused a moment before a soft tap against her leg had her reclining into his chest, slightly off center so her legs were parted over one muscled thigh. Not that she had any intention of resisting if he wanted to keep her spread open to play with.

Feyre had no fear when it came to what the court would think tonight. She wore a crown from their High Lord’s family trove, was happily mated to a male with unwavering loyalty. There was a tender stroke of affection at the very edge of her mental shields that reinforced the thought all the more.

But most importantly when it came to the views of the people not-so-discreetly watching the two of them, in the near decade since she’d been Made her power had only grown, a force to rival their High Lord’s when his had gone unmatched for so long. Even if she spread her legs and bowed to his whim tonight they new better than to make a comment to degrade her when the walls of the Hewn City had ears of their own.

The proclaimed Cursebreaker could be just as ruthless as the male holding her.

“I love you more for it, you know.”

She let herself grant him a slow smile, tilting her head back to expose the length of her throat, almost hoping to feel his teeth there. “Show me how much.”

His thumb was already slipping under the dark panel covering her breast, absently teasing her nipple, the other four fingers dropping down to cup her breast from beneath. She barely started to roll her hips before his other arm banded around her waist. “Rhys,” she whined, curling into that little space he left open for her in his mind, content to stay there for the remainder of the evening.

“Keep still for me, darling. You want to be a good pet for me, don’t you?”

“Yes, High Lord.”

He groaned softly, the tip of his tongue flicking the sensitive skin beneath her ear. “Good girl. Close your eyes. You’re going to sit here and take what I give you.”

Feyre took a breath, deep and slow. Let her legs go limp against him and bit back her whimper when he spread them wide, her ankles caught between the cold throne and his knees. Cool air brushed over her center when he slipped his hand beneath the fabric, the chill made worse by the wetness already building there.

Rhys let out a low hum and she honestly couldn’t tell if it was a chastisement of praise for what he found waiting for him. Thoughts muddled, all she knew was that she was left open and waiting for him to torment or please. “I’ll always please you, little mate,” he said just loud enough for the nearest court members to hear. “The only question is how long I want to play with you first.”

She couldn’t suppress her whine at that. The promise in her ear, his fingers dragging up her center, thumb circling her clit. The shadows rising from the throne should have been warning enough that Rhys was up to something, but it hardly took a moment for the dark wisps to secure her wrists on either side of Rhys’ thighs. She still couldn’t contain her sharp cry when Rhys pushed two fingers into her core, the sharp curl of his fingers hitting a tender spot he was well aquainted with by now. She’d put herself in the lap of a male who could play her like a fiddle. And he had every intention of doing just that.

“Rhys.”

“Do we need to stop?” His movements slowed, the drag of his fingers gentling.

“No. Just wasn’t expecting that.”

He kissed her temple, keeping the slow pace, but pushing a little deeper. “Alright, darling. I need you to breath through it. If you want my cock tonight you’ve got to come on my fingers first. That’s it. Breathe. Good girl.” She thought to open her eyes. See how much attention she’d drawn, yelling like that. “No, pet. That’s not for you to worry about. I don’t want you thinking anymore tonight. The only thing you need to do is feel.” He gave her a third finger and she whined, teeth scraping his neck. “Good girl. Good.”

“Close. Need—”

“I know. I know, pet. I need you to come like this first. Then you can have my cock, sweet girl.”

She let out another whine, jaw clenched tight to keep from crying out even as she trembled in his arms. She was halfway down his length before she came back to herself, panting between her teeth.

“Such a good little pet,” he crooned. “Now that you’ve been satisfied, darling, I believe we have a few matters of the court to tend to this evening. A shame to mix business and pleasure, but such is life.”

“Rhys.”

It was hardly a whisper. It couldn’t be considered a true protest, but she needed something else in that moment. Not necessarily soft comfort. An anchor of another kind. He snapped to summon a nearby courtier and then his hand was around her throat. Not applying pressure, just a steady weight, guiding her to lean back into his chest, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

She felt like she was there for ages, still as a statue even as she soaked through the fabric of his pants. A good pet, there to warm his cock while he conferred with the members of their court. He let her get away with biting and sucking at his neck, but nothing more than that. By the end of the night she was trembling in his arms, overstimulated from the constant edging through the evening. In the years they’d been mated they never stayed in attendance for so long.

An hour or two at most, making an appearance for their people before winnowing home to celebrate Solstice Eve in their own way. But Rhys had always enjoyed testing her limits. Confessing she wanted to be his plaything, she should have known he’d drag it out until she was a desperate mess. She could have told him to stop. He would have respected it. Took her home and finished what they started in the privacy of their room. But part of her liked it too. Letting go of that control, endless thoughts and worries evaporating simply because she was told not to resist. To channel her focus to feeling alone.

Maybe she was her mate’s plaything tonight, but she was also cherished. “Always, darling. Never forget that.”

“Can we go home?” she whispered. He kissed her brow, lifting her off of him. A moment later her feet were planted on the familiar wood of their bedroom at the Riverhouse. “How long was that?”

“Three hours,” Rhys murmured, setting her crown aside and easing the dress from her shoulders before carrying her to the bed.

“It felt like years.”

“I’m sure,” he responded, not showing any sign of amusement, though Feyre was sure she sounded ridiculous. Vanishing his clothes with his magic, he settled in too, bracing himself over her, hips resting between her legs. “You’ve been so patient for me tonight, sweet girl. Gonna take you nice and slow. You can come when you need to.”

He did his best to ease into her, but it did little to help the sensitivity that had built through the past few hours. Whimpering, she started to push up the bed. Her plan was foiled when Rhys used one hand to catch her leg, rubbing soothing circles to the inside of her knee. “Deep breath.” She obeyed. “Again. Good girl. Again.” He peppered tiny kisses along her cheeks and brow, thumbs sweeping just under her eyes when a tear fell. “Alright?”

“Yes."

“Good.” He was careful, his movements slow and even until she wrapped her legs around his waist, raising her hips with his next thrust. The pressure inside of her was climbing, just starting to overtake that teetering edge she’d been standing on all night. “Don’t try to stop it, darling.”

Squeezing a hand down between them, he flicked her clit, sending her flying over the edge, nails biting into his shoulders in a weak attempt to ground herself. He swore when she clenched around him, shuddering through his own release before reversing their positions so he wouldn’t crush her with his weight.

For a good long while they stayed just like that, time meaningless when the only thing either of them cared to think about was the bond glowing between them. Shields down, connected in every way, they could rest for a while. Rhys was the first to speak, drawing back enough to meet her eyes. “That was… something.”

“A lot,” she murmured in response. “But I liked it.”

He bent to kiss her, stroking her hair back from where it clung to her sweaty face. “I’m going to draw you a bath.”

“Alone?” she pouted.

He chuckled, pecking her lips again. “I’m going to look in on the kids, then I’ll join you. How does that sound?”

Feyre sighed, pure contentment overtaking any other feeling she’d faced that evening. “That sounds perfect.”

~~~~~

Taglist: @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @reverie-tales

[saltwaterandstars]

I mentioned in a little comments conversation with @bookhobbit that over the last year I've worked really hard on changing my relationship with my body (which had become totally medicalised after I developed long-term health problems). I said I'd write something about how I've gone about this, so here it is - a long post with brief medical details under the cut. This is not a post about what I think anyone else could or should do - I don't know what would be possible or helpful for anyone else. It's just a description of what I've been doing in response to a challenging aspect of my life.

Some background. I have several long-term health conditions, the most problematic being an autoimmune condition that causes muscle damage. If you can't get it into remission then it becomes a progressive disease, causing damage to the muscles that are needed to walk and lift things, and to control swallowing and breathing. So yeah, you want to get it into remission. I'm lucky in that I've responded to the immunosuppressants and the condition stays in remission or near enough as long as I take the meds, so my muscles are not getting massively damaged at the moment. But the meds have wrecked my stomach lining and intermittently do bad things to my liver, and the multiple muscle biopsies I needed to get a diagnosis have done other damage, and because of the meds, even in phases when the autoimmune condition is in remission, I still regularly have unpleasant symptoms. And when I take a break from the meds, the muscle damage starts again.

Relationship to my body. Since all this started a few years ago my life has felt like an endless stream of MRI scans, medications, biopsies, blood tests, injections, and rehab. And my body has come to feel like a collection of broken parts, just a heap of systems that don't work and feel bad and are frightening and exhausting. About a year ago I recognised that my relationship to my body had been completely changed by all this. I had come to see my body, to experience my body, as just a collection of medical problems and nothing more. And of course, that was being reinforced by the regular conversations I have to have with doctors about it all—dispassionate, diagnostic conversations about whatever bits of my body are currently failing to perform normally. I had come to experience my body as a bag of broken medical objects—and that is absolutely not the relationship I want to have with it. So, I decided to do what I could to change that relationship.

How I went about changing my relationship with my body. What I can’t change is the fact that I have long-term health conditions and that means symptoms and treatments to varying degrees for the rest of my life. I can’t change the fact that there are parts of my body, whole systems, that just don’t work well. But what I had to recognise is that my body is not merely that; I am not merely that. And knowing intellectually that I am more than a collection of symptoms was not enough. I needed to retrain my attentional habits to notice more than just medical stuff. And I needed to start treating my body as more than just medical stuff.

I’m lucky that I have some personal resources that I could lean on to do this:

I’m a (non-theist) pagan and I’m used to using ritual to turn towards painful experiences and explore them and set specific intentions about them

I have a decades-long history of mindfulness practice

I am a determined, obstinate creature!

This is what I did.

1. I made a ritual about the issue. I cast a circle and lined the circle with objects and pictures that represented my imaginary gang (Patti Smith, Kate Bush, Natasha Khan, Mary Oliver, and Hilary Mantel, in case you’re wondering!) I sat in the middle of the circle and told the ladies the story of what had happened—of how ill I was and how medicalised my body had become and how sad and lost and frightened I felt about it all. I stated my intention to the gang: to reclaim my physical, animal self—to relearn how to experience my physical self as more than a selection of medical problems; to treat my physical self as more than a medical problem. I listed some of the ways I could view and experience my body that were not about it being a broken medical object. I made a commitment to myself and to the gang to weave this practice into my daily life, and then to show that I was serious about the commitment, I acted on it in the ritual by putting on lots of temporary tattoos and jewellery—treating my body as something to be adorned and celebrated rather than just medicalised. I finished by having a little feast, thanking the gang, and closing the circle.

For me, a ritual like this acts as a clarifying lens and also as a crucible in which to form new behavioural habits. And I use the memory of the ritual as a support when I’m trying to act on my commitment day in, day out, and maybe struggling.

2. I put myself on an attention training programme. By that I mean that following the ritual, every time I noticed that I was focussed/fixated/ruminating on a symptom or some other aspect of my body-as-a-medical-object I would ask myself two questions:

Is there any reason why continuing to focus narrowly on this medical issue/body part right now is going to be helpful? (It was rarely helpful). I would then wish the body part well and would shift to the second question:

In addition to this medical issue/struggling body part, what else is my body right now? I’d make myself broaden out my attention to include the whole of my body (including but not limited to the body part or symptom I’d been fixating on), to be able to respond to this question based on direct, sensory experience: This is a body that’s wearing yellow socks with puffins on them. This is a body that’s feeling the breeze coming in through that open window and enjoying the sensation. This is a body that smells of pears from my favourite shower gel. This is a body that’s tired. This is a body that’s feeling hungry. This is a body that feels restless. This is a body that's listening to Chaka Khan and has an urge to dance.

Over the last year I have intentionally, thousands of times, acknowledged my body’s struggles and symptoms and then I've widened the field of my attention to notice what else my body is, what else it can experience, what else it means to me, what it is as a whole. I have trained myself, one tiny practice at a time, to reconnect with a wider, fatter, richer sense of what my body is, of who I am as an embodied creature. Of course, my attention is still pulled to pain and nausea and symptom-focussed worry etc. but I don’t get caught up in those things for as long as I used to, and I notice the non-medical stuff quicker and more frequently than I did.

3. As per the commitment I made in the ritual, I have begun (again) to treat my body as more than just a collection of medical problems that need treatment. Specifically, I have worked on changing my role/behaviour towards my body from that of merely nurse/physio. For me this has included (at different times) adorning it with temporary tattoos that make me smile, feeding it foods it really likes, wearing perfume, wearing clothes in colours I love, singing round the house, massaging my hands and feet, seeking more cuddles etc. from my husband, dancing when I feel able to, and really importantly to me, starting to have massages every six weeks or so that are utterly non-medical in nature. I still have to give myself injections and book blood tests and make myself have naps etc. but that’s not all I do in relation to my body now.

Given that my health conditions are going to be around for the rest of my life, I think these practices will also need to be around for the rest of my life, or at least for as long as I find them helpful.

This is already very long so I’m going to stop here, but I’m very happy to answer any questions about any of it - if anyone gets to the end and it's of interest :-)

[millylotus]

Written Together In The Stars, Before We Were Even Born

Betrothal AU

A long long time ago Time and Light met on the third hour of existence as they know it, and made a deal. They each wanted something from the other, the few sparks greed that Reality had. They could have traded these wants but they both know that the other would try and take the traded things back. So they decided to meet in the middle, Time for saw a few decades when two beings of their own would be the same age and most compatible and they both decided the two would be wed. That way neither would do anything to each other without the risk of endangering their kin. So Time now has infinite knowledge of the past and Light now has infinite knowledge of all future possibilities. Supereons into the future the time had come.

Duke and Danny wake up one morning, just turned 17, to find out they apparently have a fiance who they've never met or heard of before.

Gnomon shows up at Wayne manor during breakfast with the written contract to tell Duke about the betrothal. Duke, who hasn’t seen his bio-dad for almost a year now, is understandably suspicious. But after Gnomon thoroughly explains what’s going on and shows the very old contract, Duke can’t really deny it anymore.

Danny on the other hand was woken up by the contract falling on his head via Clockwork bullshit. His first reaction was to burst into Jazz’s room and scream about it, then Jazz called Sam and Tucker. They all went over the contract multiple times before they decided that Danny at least needed to find his betrothed.

The contract came with only a first name, with a home city written as well, just to make it a little easier for everyone

Danny’s the one who goes out to find Duke

The Batfam end up searching for Danny like the stalkers they are

It gets kinda ridiculous with all the things they find, [does anyone else know about the purple back gorillas Danny saved from extinction?] what with him being Vlad Masters’ godson and apparently almost died when he was fourteen

None of Danny’s pictures look right because of the whole ghostly thing, the ones with him younger are kinda visible if a bit blurry [Jazz & Danny being mildly liminal since birth is a little headcanon of mine]

BUt because they were before puberty and before he started taking testosterone [all i can hear is past pronunciation], those old pics look wildly different from what Danny looks like now

Duke decides to take a break and just go to his favorite bookstore/cafe, he mainly goes there for peace and quiet and to write his stories and poems

The Eclipse is a bookstore/library/lounge combo, with a warm tone dark academia jazz/painter aesthetic

The Eclipse is probs gonna become recurring now that I think about it [Add On: Just finished building it in the Sims this place is staying]

The three floors above ground are the library got little reading nooks, and study areas

The basement is the lounge area with a corner where the owners keep their own things/activities and drink bar on a wall

The owners are twins, Sarah and Edward Sulaiman, Sarah plays string instruments, jazz mainly, Edward paints people, still, and landscapes

It was midday but you wouldn’t be able to tell from the water heavy clouds and smog covering the Gotham sky like a blanket on top of a pillow fort.

A teenage boy walks the streets of Gotham, there’s nothing awfully unusual about that. He’s Filipino, average height a bit on the taller side, muscle hidden under his clothes loose with a visible silhouette. His fluffy black hair bounces with each step and his eyes, they’re a… wrong shade of blue, let's say that. His eyes scan the streets looking for someone he’d never seen before, never even heard of before this morning. He’d been doing so for hours now.

A heavy drop of rain hit the boy square on the top of his head, the boy recoiled into himself like a cat, clutching his wooden staff in surprise. He looks up to the sky, eyes wide as the sky seems to dump an ocean onto the earth.

The boy runs, looking up and down the street for cover, until he sees a store front with a covered porch. Ducking underneath the roof he stares out into the street where the pouring rain curtains everything.

Sighing, the boy turned to the door of the store, looking at the sign all it said was The Eclipse. The water drops from his body like he was never drenched.

Pushing the double door open a soft jingle sounded through the building, he looked around a checkout desk was to his right another kid behind the counter. The two stared at each other before the kid behind the counter set down their book.

“Welcome to The Eclipse bookstore and lounge, the lounge is in the basement, this floor is the bookstore, the two upper floors are a library. Need anything else?”

The boy shook his head, “Nah, I’m good.”

The kid nodded and went back to their book.

The boy decided to just go to the third floor, see what they had. The soft murmurs he could hear coming from the basement gave him enough reason to avoid all the people.

There weren’t many people on the upper floors, just more books and a couple lounge chairs. On the top floor he saw a curtain over an open entrance in the back.

Danny sighed in relief, a small cubby to relax in would be nice. Gliding over feet barely touching the ground as he mimed walking.

He moved aside the yellow curtain with his staff, and came face to face with another boy who had taken over the desk on the opposite wall.

The boy looked up from his papers and turned to Danny. The ghost was taken aback by how pretty the other boy was.

“Oh hey, you can sit here if you want,” The boy said, motioning to the small couch on the far wall.

Danny nodded, and went over to the couch, plopping down, his eyes glanced over to the other boy.

“So um, my names Danny by the way,”

Duke looked over to the cute boy on the couch. He’d come to The Eclipse to escape all the talk about his betrothed, it didn't hurt to talk to someone new, who might share a name with his fiance.

“I’m Duke, are you new to The Eclipse? I’ve never seen you around before.”

Danny nodded, “Just recently got to the city, I’m looking for a- a friend.”

Duke raised an eyebrow, “You don’t sound so sure about that.”

“Well I haven’t met them yet – Danny rubbed the back of his neck – All I got is a name.”

Danny blinked then looked at Duke with eyes wide, “You two actually have the same name.”

The two starred, and Duke got a sinking feeling that they were looking for each other.

Duke groaned, leaning back in his chair, “Daniel right?”

Danny nodded, still staring wide eyed, “Daniel Fenton-Phantom.”

He stood up walking over to Danny and sitting down next to him, the other pulled in his legs staring at Duke.

“Duke Thomas-Wayne,” He offered up his hand, Danny shook it.

“So we’re betrothed,” Danny said kinda breathless.

“Yeah, it seems so,” Duke said, looking to the ceiling.

They sat there, almost shoulder to shoulder.

“Twenty questions?” Danny asked.

Duke looked at him again, “Yeah sure why not.”

They chat for a bit, just talking getting to know each other

They get along swimmingly, and Duke says Danny could come with him to Wayne Manor latter to meet his family

Danny invites Duke to come over to Amity and met his sister and friends

The small room on top of The Eclipse, Bookstore and Lounge, has a few tall bookshelves, a couch on the far wall and a desk opposite to the entrance.

Today its giant bay window, by the couch, is being hit by heavy drops or rain, the room lit by a soft yellow light from a simple chandelier on the ceiling. A couple paintings made by one of the owners.

Blankets kept under the couch that had been pulled out and draped over the sleeping boy. Books pulled off the shelves and opened on the desk presented to the boy writing in his many notebooks and papers.

It was quiet with only white noise, it was nice, familiar even.

Two being too big to be perceived by the mortal mind, watched with fond emotions as their plans fell into perfect place.

Gnomon and Bruce end up going out to look for Duke at The Eclipse

I don’t know these two relationship but I’m getting reluctant co-parents with benefits, so ya know

Anyway they end up finding Duke, who’s fallen asleep

Danny had woken up at some point and moved Duke to the couch and gave him a blanket, Danny himself is on the floor asleep leaning on the couch

The dads coo over their boy a bit cause this is adorable

When Gnomon gets closer Danny’s ghost sense goes off and is immediately on his feet and guarding Duke, who’s starting to wake up

Bruce and Gnomon blinked at the teenage boy brandishing his staff at them, standing protectively in front of their son.

Bruce takes a tentative step forward, the boy immediately turns his staff to the man.

“Stay back,” He growled.

Gnomon raised an eyebrow, and Bruce frowned at the kid. But neither moved

Duke groaned, waking up slowly taking in the scene around him, before quickly sitting up, “B, Uba? What are you doing here?”

The boy looked between the fathers and their son.

“You know them?” He asked.

Duke stood up, “Yeah they’re my dads.”

Both men would deny that they preened from the title their child had given them.

“Oh – The boy’s face fell and he immediately pulled into himself, awkwardly shuffled to Duke’s side – Sorry about that Sirs.”

“No need to worry, your worry for Duke is understandable,” Bruce said, smiling softly.

Gnomon nodded, “But we must ask, who are you child?”

Duke and the boy shared a glance.

The boy stepped forward, reaching out a hand, “Daniel Fenton-Phantom, Duke’s betrothed.”

DEADLIGHTS MASTERPOST, GENERAL NOTES, MEMES, AO3

[sgt-scottymoreau]

Lesson of life

Summary: Everyone has their way to learn what Death is. What are the implication of this stage in life that can come at any moment without a warning. But not everyone learn it at the same stage og their life, some ealier than others. More importantly, not everyone handle it the same..

Warning: Mention/Talk of death, description of panic attack

Words: 2.1k // AO3 // Masterlist

A/N: Ok back to the regular schedule, if there's even one lol Anyway I have a few fics to post either from the main serie or the AU, it just recently I didn't had much the heart to post them. Or even write anything... I have a few ideas why and I really hope it will get better. Anyway, enjoy some angsty fic <3 (Likes are appreciated but reblogs are loved!)

"How do you do it?" Gaz asked.

"Do what?" Scotty raised an eyebrow. They were all relaxing in the common room waiting for Price to finish his debriefing before going out for a drink. 

"Be so." He gestured his hand in all directions. "So you. So calm around death? I know with our work we need nerves of steel, but never heard you complain about anything."

"Yeah." Soap chimed in. "We all have our nightmares, you don't have any?"

She weakly smiled. "I do have mine. I just learn to cope with them. Truth is, I learned at a young age what death really meant." 

Scotty saw Soap and Gaz on the edge of their seats, ready for a little story. Ghost didn't show much interest, but his head had turned in her direction as well. She knew his scars by now, he did not know hers. Scotty let out a sigh. "Ok, so the day I learned about the army and death, the day I hit a reality check I was around 7-8…"

*****

Like every time before, Suzanne would bring her girls to the base when their father would be back from his deployment. As usual, he would always be happy to see them, despite the tiredness, the arching muscles, the hard work, it always paid off to see his two girls with a smile. He would have his arms wide open ready to receive the blowing hugs from them. But also be ready to answer Camille's billion questions about what happened and what did he do. Henri loved her innocence about all he had to go through and hoped to never break her ideas. Even if deep down he knew he should be doing so since she started to show a lot of interest in military life. To Suzanne's despair. 

Of course, Henri was never alone on his way back. More than a decade ago he enlisted with his best friend, Didier. 

The two men had gone through almost all their life together. As far as they could remember they have been there for each other since forever. Didier was a good friend of the family and someone Henri considered like a brother. Both men had no siblings and so found family in each other. Even in the army, they were placed together in the same unit, same mission and everything. It was to say they were a good team. To the girls he was known as Uncle Didier. Although he had a wife, he didn't have kids, yet. In the meantime he considered Camille and Gabrielle like his own. Just like Henri he would often get the warm welcome of Camille running toward him and jumping in his arms. This was the routine.

Till it wasn't. Until one day, it all changed. The four girls were waiting for their husband/father to show up in the flood of officers coming back. Camille was more restless than usual. It has been a while since her father and uncle left for so long and she was impatient to hear their story. Gabrielle was also excited, but kept a calmer state than her sister on the outside. Suzanne and Didier's wife were chatting, eyes looking through the crowd for them. The crowd eventually thinned and throughout the happy face, Suzanne saw it. A mile away, she could tell something was wrong with her husband. Normally, he did have his head up and was impatiently searching for his little girls. But today, his head remained down, his gaze avoided her when he caught Suzanne's eyes. Yet the worse was to come. Because Didier wasn't by his side. At first, the women thought it's because he was held behind by some superior or forgot something, and was late. But the look on Henri's face… 

"Gabrielle, Camille, stay here please." Suzanne told her kids with a tone they never heard before. The two girls looked at each other with confusion. Suzanne and Didier's wife ran to him. In the distance, Camille watched silently as the three adults spoke. She wanted to step in, but Gabrielle stopped her, reminding what their mother said. Camille frowned, not pleased that she couldn't see her father. Then she heard it. A scream, a wail filled with so much pain, it scared her. In the distance she saw Didier's wife holding onto her father, crying, shaking, begging. Her mother grabbed her by the shoulder as if she tried to calm her down, but the woman only fell on her knees. Camille pushed her sister's arm away and ran to her dad, who had seen her. Henri had a little idea of what she would ask and this wasn't the question the mourning woman needed to hear. He quickly crossed the distance between them to make sure his daughter wouldn’t be too close. 

"Dad! Where's Uncle Didier?" Camille asked once he had scooped her in his arm. Henri didn't have his usual smile, he looked different which made her worry. 

Henri didn't know how to bring this to her. She knew what death was, but not like this. She had been too young when her great-grandmother died to remember anything. Since then the family didn't had much loss. This would be the first she would be aware of it. He had to be careful of his words, but he also didn't want to shield her to the reality of things. "Uncle Didier…." His throat tightened. 

"Why Auntie Thérèse is crying?" Henri bit his lips feeling the tears coming up again. He grabbed her and hugged her tightly. He stroked her hair, his shoulders shaking under the silent cry. "Dad?" 

"I'm sorry, Tulip. Uncle Didier is not coming home."

"When he is coming back?" The innocence of children. Oh, he wished to have this again. 

*****

"When we got home, we had a long discussion about why he would never come back home." Scotty said, fidgeting with her fingers. "He explained what happened, not in detail, but vaguely what caused his death."

"Must have been hard." Gaz sympathized. "Losing anyone on the field is always a blow." They all agreed to this. 

"How did this affect you?" Ghost asked. He had been very silent but attentive the whole time. 

"I realized that war wasn't the fantasy idea I made up in my mind from my dad's story and the movies. We all knew this had been rough for my dad, but no one, not even myself realized how much it changed me." 

*****

She was on the playground, sitting on the bench, mindlessly dandling her legs. It had been a week since her dad came back and he had changed. Camille had listened to the grown up conversation in secret, when she was incapable of sleep. She heard all of her dad's sorrow. How her mother tried to support him. Everything resonated in her mind like a strange unharmonized symphony. As the days went by without seeing her dear uncle, reality just kept hitting her in the face all the time. Two kids came up to her, taking her out of her mind. "Cam, wanna play war with us?" 

"Yeah, okay." She didn't sound too sure, but it was usually her favorite game. Having someone in the military other kids looked at her for some stories and game ideas. Even if sometimes, Camille would tell them that it didn't work that way normally and it should be like this. In the end, they always had fun. 

And she did at first. The girl had to warm up a little to the game, but eventually got more into it. Till one of the kids pretended to die. In a way that resonated close to how her uncle did. All of a sudden, Cam froze. The stick she held as her 'gun' dropped in the ground. The dead kid was still laughing while on the ground, talking with the others. Her mind couldn't handle this. The kid got up, using his time as a dead soldier, to go grab a snack, when she grabbed him by the wrist. "No it doesn't work like that!" Her voice cracked under the pressure. 

"What are you talking about?" The boy frowned. 

"When you are dead you don't get up! It's not like that!" Her breathing grew faster, her eyes watered, her grip was almost painful on his wrist. "You don't come back home!" The last sentence came out in an almost cry. Every kid around stopped what they were doing and a nearby teacher was alerted by the noise. Camille let go of the boy and crouched on the ground as the tears flowed down, her breath was erratic. Her head felt so light, she couldn't feel her body. All she could do was cry and scream about not coming back home because that's death. Death means you don't exist, you are gone. The teacher called for help while he tried to focus on Camille who seemed to ignore him completely. Another teacher brought the other kids away. 

Camille eventually calmed down after ten minutes of intense emotions. She was resting in the infirmary, feeling so drained. The nurse was watching over her when her parents finally arrived. Suzanne was slightly panicked, she grabbed her daughter in her arms. "Are you okay, Tulip?" 

The little girl felt too exhausted to talk, so she nodded. Henri looked at his kid, guilt took him by the guts. Gabrielle was older and had been able to process some of the situation better because she had some memories of death in the family. But Camille was still young. This was a huge reality check. He took a seat on the small couch she was resting on. She looked at her father with glassy eyes. Suzanne understood that for now it was best to leave them two alone. The nurse followed the mother outside. Camille buried her face in her dad's chest. "I don't want you to die dad." She weakly let out. 

"Don't worry, I'll always come back." He hushed her with a kiss on the head. "Camille, listen. I want you to talk to me when you feel sad or afraid ok? Never be ashamed to come ask for help. Your mom and I will always be there and if we can't, we will find someone who can." 

"How do you do it? How can you be so calm when people die?"

Henri smiled weakly. "I'm maybe calm, but I'm still hurt. This is my job, we all know the risk. Didier knew them as well, but we love our job. We want to protect our country and save people. But when we lose a friend, it's always hard. That's the reality of things."

Camille hugged her father thigher. "I still don't want to lose you." Tears flowed back again, but this time she was just sad. No panic. 

He smiled. Henri could either keep going in circles with the reality of life or he could try to throw some humor to get her to think of something else right now. "I'll be with you till I'm so old and crazy, you will want to kick my ass because I ate all your favorite cookies!"

She stopped crying with a gasp. "No! You can't do that!"

"Oh I can and I will! No more cookies for you!" He tickled her. She laughed and told him to stop. 

*****

"After that I went to therapy a couple of times till they were able to work out with me all that happened. Eventually, I accepted this just like my dad and…. Here I am." She finished her story. 

"That's hell of a tale." Soap said. He gave her a pat on the shoulder. They all sympathized with her. Even Price who joined mid story gave her a calm smile. But life was still going and for now it was time to get some relaxing time at the pub. Gaz, Soap and Price left first. Scotty was about to get up and follow when Ghost stopped her. He grabbed her wrist and forced her to turn around to face him. 

"Do you still think about this often?" He asked calmly. His hand reached for her face and he brushed her cheek. She melted under his touch. 

"Not too much. I sometimes think about him and how he would be proud of who I became. He was a nice uncle. He would have liked you."

Ghost pulled her into his arms and she gladly accepted the hug. Even after all these years and the therapy, talking about this still leaves her with a lot of emotions. "Thanks for sharing your scars." He whispered. 

"About time I shared them with you. Maybe I should tell you about others." 

"You don't have to, love."

[renlyslittlerose]

Since the clock struck Kinktober I've been thinking about how to say this without being weird but I'm going to just say it: Thank you for gifting us with your Kinktober fics. I was so excited to hear you were planning on doing them again after last year, which, also, I can't wait to go back and read after all of these new ones! I really mean that, though, I do think you're giving a gift to our community by doing these. The whole obikin community: a treat for the kinky, a safe place for the interested, maybe an introduction to new things, and amazing character exploration, as always. But the most important thing I think you're doing here is presenting these without shaming your prompters or readers or the kink. No "Ok this is super gross but I'm trying it out for Kinktober" no "I don't even go here". Just, here's how obikin would do this kink. Don't like don't read.

I was so impressed by this last year - but even if I told you then I want you to hear it again now: I think you are doing something brave by challenging yourself to really commit to writing the kinks you're given, including hard kinks and some that out of your comfort zone, and portray them as wonderfully and as true to character as you do everything else.

My hat is off to anyone who tackles the challenge. As I writer I don't have the dedication and motivation, let alone the willingness to be open and vulnerable to so many new things.

You’re doing kinktober right and we love you for it 💕Your Pal

I've been sitting on this for the past few hours, trying to think of something better than just a 'thank you', but truly - thank you 🥺

Yesterday was a bit of a rough day (I even turned off comments on the fic which I've never done), and I was starting to idk, not doubt what I was doing, but I definitely felt demoralized. As you said, I take these challenges on in order to contribute to the community, maybe write some stuff for people who might otherwise not find something that satisfies their particular kink often (or at all), while also trying to flex my writing muscles and challenge myself in new ways.

It's always scary to put your work out there to the world, doubly so when you're trying something new, and it never really gets any easier. I've been writing fanfic for almost two decades now, and I still get my tummy in knots about my writing. You'll never please everyone, and sometimes you'll please very few, but it's always worth trying.

And yeah, I really do try and make this space a kink-shame free zone, where everyone can feel like they're gonna be treated with respect even if the kink they love is something I'm not really into. Kinktober is supposed to be fun and kinky and weird and sexy! And sometimes funny and sometimes sad (because I can't help myself)!

So thank you for that boost of encouragement. You get it, and I know the majority of people get it, too! I just really, really needed to hear this today. So thanks again, Pal. You're the best 💖💖💖💖

[ignoremeimnothere]

Meet Cute

Disclaimer I HATE the ending but I worked through a good few rewrites of this and I'm quite proud with how much it improved from the initial write. It's definitely still shit though. Have I sold it? Usually I can only dedicate one writing session to my stuff, wanting it gone as soon as possible but ya gal is on a mission and dedicated some days. Also sorry y'all but this is on the dark side TW: Death, Suicide and Attempted Suicide

3016 Word Count

You were finally done. It had been a decade of fighting to survive an apocalypse. You wouldn’t have made it two minutes if it hadn’t been for your older brother Arthur who had protected you through it all. It was him who had gotten you both out of the initial chaos, who gave you tough love when you wanted to succumb, had taught you the basics of how to win a fight and to keep yourself fed.

Surviving an apocalypse took unimaginable acts. Arthur taught you this lesson. He was more familiar with violence, having done a stint in the Gulf War. You were the opposite, more on the sensitive side and originally a little hippie-ish. You knew he would always protect you but he also forced you to get your hands bloody early on, you didn't have a choice. Very quickly though you learned that survival requires violence. It was almost comical how simple an apocalypse made life seem sometimes. Hunt the animal or starve. Keep running or get caught. Kill or be killed. 

After hiding in Arthur’s shadows for your entire childhood, your adolescence ragged you out. Now in womanhood you stood beside him. Armed, angry and ready. 

Modern requirements of survival meant going on raids. Rations had now completely run out and what followed would be a scavenge in the next town you found. Your stomach ached, it had been days of running on empty. The daze from going for weeks without a good night's sleep helped to ease the pain. 

The relief of entering a new town relaxed the muscles in your limbs. Rows of houses that looked frozen in time. The only thing out of place were the smashed windows and rotting wood. You’d be lucky if there was anything left but you felt good about the place. The further you got into the neighbourhood the more you noticed how much it mimicked the quiet neighbourhood you had both grown up in.

The first few homes were bare. After a decade of raids you could do this dance in your sleep. Silent, guns aimed, thinking ahead and watching your backs. It was lawl to clear each room of any danger before allowing someone to start rummaging. By the sixth home the brick walls began to look like safety. You hadn’t seen a soul for miles and nothing seemed out of place since you had arrived. 

‘I need a slash’ Arthur’s announcement broke down the last of your act. 

You rolled your eyes moving into the new house alone. Your new found nonchalance took you through the kitchen noisily. The desperation to find something in the cupboards required your full agility, convincing you to shed your pack onto the kitchen table. Nothing in the overhead cupboards, not so much as a crumb in the bottom ones. Slamming the cupboards was meant to make you feel better but did it fuck. 

Patience was a virtue you didn't have a lot of. With Arthur still missing the temptation to stomp up each stair was too strong to resist. Though black and blue, you still had some feeling in your feet. A pair of socks that weren’t missing huge holes of fabric was something you could kill for. Wiggling your feet it became apparent how badly you wanted a thick pair. Hopefully you’d be in luck, socks were not the highest demand of raiders. You had to leave this place with something at least. 

The first bedroom had been a bust, despite it clearly having belonged to a young child you hadn’t the heart to not at least check. You were only onto the third drawer when you thought you heard something. It couldn’t be. A knot began to tighten in your gut nonetheless. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and you began to feel your heart beating. Silence returned.

History taught you to always trust your instinct. A silent prayer crossed your mind, the carpeted room allowing you to return to the threshold silently. A scan of the hallway detected nothing new. If you could punch yourself you would, Arthur was still outside. Your pack was discarded on the dining table and- FUCK. Your hand ghosted your belt missing the cool metal of your gun. Your breath hitched at the realisation causing a stir from one of the adjacent rooms. You watched with bated breath unsure whether to bolt down stairs or stay as still as you could. Try as you might, the tremble in your arms prevailed. Another commotion came from the room, you made to run but the sound of clicking stopped you in your tracks. 

Fuck. 

It had been a while since you had seen one. Staying in the country for a few months meant that humans were the only monsters you had to worry about. You had thought. You heard it make its way to the door. It's screeching growing more urgent. You didn't dare step back, not even when it jerked from behind the door and into view. Confronted with the monster you could see that it was relatively fresh, the human form still noticeable. The face of a middle aged woman peeked out amongst the fungus. Racking your brain you rationalised that it wouldn’t be as strong as one that had fully turned, and you had killed those before, alone even. You just needed your gun. The painful reminder that you had left it downstairs made your face flush. 

The clickers body contorted, another step and you would have been able to get a clean shot. Your head began to spin with rage. You felt like a fucking idiot, no clue how to manage the situation you had put yourself into. Holding still seemed to buy you time, now would be the best moment to conjure a plan. This thing had been a middle aged woman once, you were a strong fighter, you could take it down if needs be. Bash its skull in. Yeah you had a chance. 

The sound of the front door creaking open downstairs turned your blood cold. You’d hoped the thick tension would have seeped out of the house as a warning to him. Erupting into chaos the clicker moved frantically bolting for the staircase. 

‘RUN’ You scream as a warning.

You lunged after it. Your brother's panicked eyes met yours for a split second before the clicker threw itself down the staircase, screaming as it fell directly onto him. 

‘GUN. GUN.’ Arthur roared as he struggled to wrestle with death.

You lunged down after it, leaping past to find your weapon discarded on the table like a fucking pair of house keys. Adrenaline shook your whole body and a scream clawed out your throat in frustration as you struggled to cock the gun. You knew you had to get close to make sure you didn’t shoot Arthur, he had to stay alive. You returned in a matter of seconds, but that's all it took. Trusting he taught you well Arthur growled as he struggled to shove the fucker off him, battling for distance in order to give you a clear shot. You began to shoot, firing repeatedly until it released its grip. Once you saw Arthur was free you hauled it away from him instantly before smashing its head in with the handle of the gun. Again and again and again until the head became mush. 

The sound of your blood pumping was deafening. It took you some time before you could hear Arthur’s voice but it was only when he shouted your name did you realise he had been calling you. Your sight remained on the lifeless creature sprawled across the floorboards. How fucking stupid could you be, how dead could you be if it hadn’t been for him, was another one close by? You jumped off of it, looking for your pack that was left in the kitchen. 

‘We’ve got to go," you spoke. 

You heard your name called in a tone that stopped your frenzy but it had to be repeated before you had the courage to look his way. Arthur was sat up, hand holding his neck.

‘Move your hand’ You commanded to see what he was poorly holding. 

 He moved slowly revealing a bite mark. The earth stood still in the time it took to hit you. You doubled over as if you had been kicked in the gut. A retch burst out of your mouth

‘Listen to me.’ Arthur spoke to you in the same tone he had the night the world erupted into chaos. 

‘No, no no no no’. You went dizzy, the horrors of the past decade flashing through your mind. 

He called your name again. ‘It’s ok, you're ok. I need you to listen to me.’

A sob broke out of your chest as you met his eye. This side of Arthur was not one you saw often. He had his tough side where your feelings were irrelevant to him, practicality was the priority. His compassionate side, where he let you cry, and entertained your sorrows. He only allowed them to overlap in moments like this. Moments where your life was about to change and you needed to be guided. 

‘You know how to hunt,’

‘Arthur I can’t’ You sounded like a child.

‘You know how to hunt. You know how to fight. You know how to camp.’ He spoke matter of factly. You shook your head squinting your eyes shut. ‘I’m sorry’ His voice quivered, the first time you’d ever heard him do it. He swallowed quickly in an attempt to regain composure. ‘You need to stay alive. You need to head north. That town, Jackson, it must be real. You’ve got to find it. You can survive without me. 

‘Arthur I can’t -’ Your voice breaks again ‘- not without you’.

Arthur pulls you into him, squeezing you as tight as he possibly can without breaking your bones, your grip on him just as tight. 

‘You can, I need you to. I Love you stink.’ He hesitates for a moment. ‘You need to keep moving.’

You pull back, feeling him reach for something. He moves his attention to the gun, your gun, now in his hands. He takes a deep breath before checking the barrel. You sit and watch him unable to detach yourself from the moment. One bullet left, you could almost laugh. 

‘You know I have to’ He speaks to you again, as though you were the same twenty year old who had to grow up fast when the world changed. You knew it too. You wanted to talk to him, trap him in a conversation forever, a constant evasion of what was staring you in the face.

‘I love you," Was all you could choke out, you grabbed him, yanking him in as close as you could. 

He repeated the phrase, returning your embrace. He began to rock you as you shook. There was no way of telling how much time had passed but forever wouldn't have lasted as long as you needed it to. He took your face in his and kissed the crown of your head. You could feel the heat burning through his hands as sweat started glistening on his forehead. A weight swallowed your shoulders as his leather jacket was wrapped around you. Taking your trembling hands in his he put his gloves over yours, giving what he could to ensure your safety.

Your body began to rack with sobs as denial and grief engulfed you. Swallowing another lump Arthur promptly got up off the floor and grabbed the ankles of the monster that had destroyed your life twice. You heard him dragging it out of the house, heard him hesitate before the snow crunched underneath his boots, until they were out of earshot. You went quiet, holding your breath waiting for your brother to reappear in front of you. Hope ruined when you heard the distant gunshot. 

~~~~~~~

That had been three days ago. You hadn’t found the strength to move from that house, all you had really done was cry and sleep. The hunger pains in your stomach had abandoned you, and in a weird way they made you feel more alone. You had debated your next step since your brother told you to continue. Grief had sucked you into its black hole instead and it took until now to have a revelation. 

You simply didn’t want to go on. Your only real purpose in life had become keeping your brother safe, whether or not you ever really had to was another question. That purpose had vanished in the space of a second, and it was your fault. The world was still black and white though. If you let your guard down, you’ll suffer. If you don’t protect your brother, he’ll die. If you don’t want to carry on, dont.

The obvious solution had taken this long to reach you. Logistically it was tricky, you had run out of ammunition, and there was no way you were going to collect your weapon anyway. It would take a bit more effort and courage. The house had a garage which you had searched, not expecting to find much but to your surprise there was a lot of random shit in there. It didn’t take you long to search for something you could use, rope. 

You set straight to work. You thought of your next steps instantly, seeing clearly for the first time in months. There were wooden beams across the ceiling in the kitchen, you laughed. Some middle class house wifes dream home had given you the perfect escape route. You sat down to focus on tying the rope, you forgot the name of it but the memory of your brother showing you a range of knots flashed through your mind. A stabbing pain in your heart returned, it had been tormenting you since becoming alone. The tears begin again as you throw the rope over the beam, securing it. A few tugs left the trap intact. You were not wanting to waste any time, dragging the kitchen chair in place. It had rotted like most of the furniture, you just prayed it wouldn’t give way before you had gotten in position.

You felt a harsh chill rush through the room. Hopefully this would be quick, painless, and would take you away from here. Your adrenaline had returned and with it the deafening ruckus in your ears. You could almost taste the relief. You reached up to grab the rope, the tremble in your arms now completely gone. 

‘HEY’ A shrill voice calls from behind. 

The voice of unexpected company causes your head to whip around. It took a moment for your swollen eyes to focus, A small girl with rosy cheeks and eyes brimming with tears returns your gaze. She struggles to spit out what she’s trying to say. The complication of how to word her question etched on her crinkled expression. Her body jolted with distress.

‘What?’ It came out softly. A step above lifeless. 

She took your curiosity as an offering of help, prompting her to take a breath.

‘Help. Help to get him in here.’ With that she disappeared from view. 

You followed her tentatively. Her desperation pulls you back into reality, with the same urgency of  a child dragging their parents to a park. In the hallway, lying in the same spot you had lost your brother was an older looking man. He wore a flannel under his cargo jacket and jeans Sweat glistened across his forehead despite the icy conditions. When his eyes met yours frustration washed over his face. 

‘Ellie’ Calling her name winds him and his whole body tenses. 

The girl he named busies herself with ripping up a rag she had grabbed from the kitchen. She lifts his shirt haphazardly and shoves it into his wound. He instinctively grabs her arm with force before peeling himself off her. Eyes returning to yours. 

‘Joel I dont know what the fuck to do’ She shouts pushing deeper into his stomach. 

You don't know what to do either, but watching the girl freak out shocks you into taking over. Your grief threatens to suffocate you, as you wish you could trade places with these strangers. Wish it could be you begging for help with Arthur who had a wound that didn’t mean certain death. Instead you took another gulp of air and wordlessly bent down to Joel. You put your hands over Ellie’s, causing the man to tense again. You avoid his glaring eyes as you inspect the wound. He’d been stabbed by the looks of it. Too big and shallow to be a knife. You return the compression that is helping to stop the bleeding. 

‘My Pack, there’s a thread and needle in the zipper’ Ellie returns to the room you gestured to. 

Joel grabs your arm, demanding you to meet his eye. You do and he studies your face for a moment. You were still struggling to focus with how puffed and sore they were. A blank expression remained painted on you. His lips purse as he tries to speak. He doesn't manage to form a word, and you watch as exhaustion washes over him. The lines in his forehead ease as he watches between you and Ellie through the doorway behind. As you feel Ellie return to your side, Joel is out like a light. 

She holds the requested items right in front of your face silently begging you to save the man she was trying to save. You'd have thought it was her dad if she hadn’t addressed him by name. Her expression relaxed slightly, relieved to share the burden of responsibility. She shoves the items at you again, silently asking for you to do something now. You take them from her, the bulletproof plan you were conducting mere minutes ago now the furthest thing in your mind. Your way out could wait. Right now, you were here and you were gonna try your damned hardest to help this girl keep her partner.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

No following; Planet of the apes fanfic Chap. 14

*Author's note*

Well folks this is it, the beginning of the end. Now the war has officially begun and this is also the end of the movie plot for DAWN of the planet of the apes. You'll have to wait until I get the next chapter ready and those several chapters will take place b/t DAWN & WAR.

Now I will say in advance I am NOT a violinist not have I ever been in orchestra (just choir and drama) but I still remember some of my knowledge from choir on how to read music. So if there's any musicians out there who played the violin and I made a mistake in writing this one scene with the video attached to it, PLEASE reach out and tell me so that I can fix it. I want to be as accurate as possible in my writing.

Other than that enjoy my lovelies and until next time :)

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@waddles03

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

@queen-paladin

_____________________________________________________

It was decided.  Blue Eyes would return back to the colony and keep up the rouse of siding with Koba, but he would also secretly inform the remaining followers of Caesar that there was hope.  Eventually a breakout would happen and after bringing them here, we’d move onto the next part of our plan.  I would then sneak the apes into the colony and guide them towards the satellite tower where Caesar would confront Koba and put an end to this madness.   

I came back into my room and fir the first time decided to open up my old violin case.  Even through the case I noticed how the instrument was dusty and the strings were so frail from lack of use, some of them had snapped off from lack of usage. 

Very delicately I picked up the old instrument that I had once played religiously and held it between my hands.  The staining and dust imprints clouded over the once polished wood.  I carefully set it back into the case and headed off to the shed and found some old cleaning supplies that the rioters must’ve missed when they started ransacking the neighborhood for supplies.

I gathered up what I needed and headed back to my room and proceeded to clean my violin.  Almost as if playing the instrument once more, I cleaned my old friend in gentle circles with the rag I managed to find in the bathroom.  I took out the strings and pulled out the old bags of extra strings I had at the bottom of my case.

After removing all the old strings I replaced them with the new ones.  It was just like muscle memory coming back to me every time I broke a string or needed to replace it with new ones before a performance.  Once the violin was cleaned, I then took a look at my bow.

I held it horizontally out in front of my and brought it to eye level to see just how much damage had been done to it.  I unfastened the bowstring till it hung loosely off the actual bow, I then grabbed my old microfiber cleaning rag and began to stroke along the string cleaning it as best I could.

After giving it a few eyeball checks to make sure there was no more sign of dust, I fastened the bow once again before grabbing setting it back along with my violin in the case.  It was then I heard the soft creaking of footsteps coming closer to my room, that’s when I saw Caesar appear at my doorway.

“What are you doing up? It’s only been a day since your surgery, I don’t think it’s wise for you to be up and walking just yet.”

‘Smelled the old cleaning products and heard the small creaks of your violin.’ He signed to me.  I smiled solemnly before turning to it.

“I could be fooling myself. This old thing hadn’t been touched in over a decade. It’s probably shut down a long, long time ago. And I mean before the Simian flu outbreak.” Caesar entered my room and I let out a deep sigh.  “You know how passionate he was about music. Hell that’s probably the first thing I can remember of him from when I was just a baby. The way he played piano, it was like….he soared with each key he played. And in that sense, he inspired me to play my own instrument. After he died, it—it was like that passion was sucked right out of me. Like I had lost a part of myself.”

Caesar looked at me with empathetic eyes then he reached behind my head and pressed our foreheads together.  My lip trembled slightly and my stomach churned as it grew heavy with sorrow.  After he released my head he then signed to me.

‘You still have some care for it to clean it. The music is still within you, I can see it in your eyes.’

“I don’t know if I can Caesar.” I told him as I turned back to my violin.

“Try.” He verbally spoke.  “For…..me?” I turned back to him and said.

“You know I could never say no to you whenever you asked for me to play for you.”

“Why…I asked.” He gave me a soft yet teasing smile.  I once again reached out for my violin and bow and held it over my left shoulder.  I got my fingers into position and felt a wave of pure nostalgia flow over me as I got into playing position.

God I had almost forgotten just how much I had loved to be in this position.  But whether or not I still had the music within me as Caesar claimed, or whether this old thing still has any music left in it, only the Orchestral Gods would know.

PLAY VIDEO

I took a deep breath before exhaling out slowly, placed the bow over the strings and slowly began to play.  I played an E not in G major before playing a few D majors then A.  As I played, the music from my violin slowly began to stir to life, almost as if it had been longing for this moment to be played by me once again.

Now I will admit the first few notes weren’t the best due to lack of use but the most I began to play, the more beautiful each note became.  I held my old friend as close as I remembered playing him so long ago as the music fully began to encompass the room and within my soul.

Tears softly dripped down my face as I allowed my pain, sorrow, guilt and yearning out into this single stringed instrument.  And when I came to playing in E major, I felt my soul soaring with each note I was playing.

That soaring sensation that music takes you whenever you truly feel it within your soul.  Guess I still had the music within me all along, it just needed the chance to come out and now it has.

When I finally ended the song at E major, I felt such a weight off my shoulders and felt tearstains on my cheeks.  A rough hand soon touched my cheek and I turned to see Caesar standing close to me with a proud look on his face.

‘Just as I remembered.’ He signed.

“My wife and I once went to an orchestra performance in Los Angeles.” I softly gasped as Caesar and I turned around and there stood Malcolm.  “The performance they were doing was Famous movie scores. She was such a fan of John Williams that she had to see an orchestra performance live. Now I wasn’t much into orchestra performances but I went there for her. And I remember seeing this young woman play with such passion and heart, that it even stirred something in me. That young woman was you, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. Yeah that was me. First soprano violin since I was 12 years old. Played majority of all solos given to me and was renowned as one of the best players in the entire orchestra by our maestro.” I told him.

Caesar took it as his time to leave allowing Malcolm and I to finally talk.  I packed my violin back into the case before locking it up and he said to me.

“You were wrong Lin.”

“About what?” I asked.

“About humanity wanting to seek out vengeance.”

“And how am I exactly wrong about that? I’ve seen things that made what happened solely in San Fransisco look like a walk in the Redwoods.” I snapped at him.

“I’m not going to ask what all you have seen before coming into the colony. But after having some time to think about your story and who you really are, we understand now. If I had been in his place, I know I’d be willing to do anything to save my dad. I know I’ve been willing to do anything to keep my son safe, because he saw things that no kid should see. And I never wanted him to go through that again.”

“He really is a good kid, giving the world he was forced to grow up in.”

“Yeah, yeah he is. And also know this Lin. You might have seen the ugliness of humanity, but never forget there is still some good in this world. And it’s worth fighting for. If Ellie had thought that, she would’ve just left you to die on the side of the road. Or I would’ve listened to Dreyfus and not bothered to allow you into the colony to recover after Ellie had helped you in case you had been infected.”

I turned to Malcolm and casually walked over to him.  I stood before him and looked up at him before quickly embracing him tightly.  He tensed up for a moment before hugging me back, his hand going through my hair softly petting it.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I wept into his chest.

“I forgive you.” He told me assuringly with a comforting squeeze. 

He is now the second person to forgive me for my family name.

Afterward I filled Malcolm and the others about Caesar’s and Blue Eyes plan.  Malcolm volunteered to help us out and with Caesar’s approval, he would help me sneak the apes into the colony.  But we still had to wait fro Blue Eyes to return before we made our next move.

Day two and there was still no sign of Blue Eyes returning.  God I hope he’s alright.  Now knowing that Koba is willing to kill Apes just so he can see his plan move forward, I’ve been fearing for his safety.  Caesar had to make a point that I never lost that fierce ‘mama bear’ protection but he assured me that his son knew what to do and that he’d be fine.

While Malcolm and the others were sleeping, I helped Caesar up into the attic so that he could see his old room once again.  Once we got past the last set of stairs, I saw as Caesar’s face go solemn as he slowly walked through the entire attic.  Gently touching each item he passed by.

“After you were taken I tried to preserve everything the way they were. I’m thankful that when the looters and rioters started happening they didn’t think twice about searching up here.” Caesar turned to me and gave me a soft nod when we heard the video camera beep.

I walked over and unplugged it before turning it on.  The blue screen flashed on and I pressed play just as Caesar came up and sat beside me on his old bed and the video began playing.  It was one of the many videos Uncle Will took when he was first teaching Caesar sign language.

“Okay. Caesar, look.” Uncle Will’s voice soon came from the video.  God it had been too long since I had heard his voice, I had almost nearly forgotten what it sounded like.  And seeing his face again on the camera, it reminded me just how young he was when he died.  “Apple. Apple.” Uncle Will signed to baby Caesar.  “Good. Home. Home. Home.” He then taught Caesar his next word.

Repeating the sign to him, even as Caesar would look away from him briefly before turning back to him.  Finally baby Caesar correctly signed the word ‘Home’. 

“Yes. This is your home. Your home. Good, good. That’s good.” Tears spilled down my face in both happiness but also with regret.  As baby Caesar then went to hug Uncle Will and Will embraced him back, the camera’s battery then gave out and all that was shown was a blue screen.  It beeped before whirring down and shutting down for the last time.

I set the camera down and wiped my tears away.  Caesar placed a hand onto my shoulder and I said.

“We had a huge fight while you were away. We barely had time to rekindle or even talk about it. Then when the end of the world came that just further pushed us into not discussing our fight and trying to forgive each other. Now he’s…..he—” I trailed off as I sobbed into my hands.

Caesar let out some soft grunts as he wrapped his arm around me, bringing my head onto his chest allowing me to cry into his fur.

“I never told him….He died…..thinking that I believed I was the one to blame for what happened with Hunsiker. I never—to-told him that I was sorry. Or that I didn’t mean any of those things I said to him, and that I…..I forgive him.” I felt Caesar’s finger gently wipe the tears as he lifted my chin up for me to look at him.

‘He knows.’ He signed to me with a strong, determined look in his eyes.  ‘He always knows.’ My lips wobbled as I sadly smiled and Caesar pressed his forehead to mine.  I took in a few deep but sharp breaths as I closed my eyes and mentally tried to let go of the guilt and regret that was now festering within me.

“I’m sorry.” We both heard as we also heard the stairs creaking softly.  We separated from each other and saw Malcolm. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“No need Malcolm. Come on up.” I assured him as I gestured for him to come further into the attic.  “It’s been two days. Your son is not back yet?” he asked as he now came up and stood on the other side of Caesar’s bed.  Caesar let out a sigh as he looked away from Malcolm.  “Who was that?” he soon asked, “On the video?” he said making a slight gesture to the now dead video camera.

“That was my uncle, Will Rodman.” I told him.

“A good man.” Caesar soon spoke up.  “Like you.” He then said as he turned to Malcolm.  I gave Malcolm a firm nod showing him that I agreed with Caesar and he looked at the two of us with humbled praise.  Soon we heard the sounds of apes screeching.

We went over to the window and when we looked outside, there came Blue Eyes with all of the apes that still supported Caesar.

“Phase one is now complete.” I said to them.

“Now we move to Phase 2. I’ll wake up Ellie and Alexander.” Malcolm said as he soon left us.  I turned to Caesar and he looked at me and we both knew that there was no going back now.

War has now officially begun.

We all walked out into the backyard and once the apes saw that Caesar was alive, they all gibbered and cried out with praise and relief.  Caesar and Blue Eyes first greeted each other before Caesar then moved onto great his faithful lieutenants and right hand apes.

“They need to get to the tower without being seen.” Malcolm told Ellie and Alexander.  “Lin and I are gonna take them through the subway.” Malcolm soon kissed Ellie before embracing her tightly.

“I love you.” She whispered to him breathlessly.

“I’ll watch out for him Ellie. And I’ll bring him back alive, you have my word. Both of you.” I said as I looked at her and Alexander.  The young teen soon walked up to me and embraced me.  I tensed up slightly but hugged the kid back gently ruffling his hair.  “Watch out for Ellie. In case things go south, head straight for the attic and lock it tight.”

“I will Lin.” He told me I cupped the back of his head and gave him a firm nod before walking down the stairs just as Caesar said urgently.

“Must go, now!”

‘Koba sent for the females and the young. They’re on their way. Mother too.’ Blue Eyes signed to me with as much urgency.

“Then there isn’t a moment to lose, follow us.” Malcolm and I soon took the lead as we lead the apes down the road and towards the nearest subway entrance.

We lead them through the subway entrance and walked through the labyrinth of tunnels.  To most they would end up getting lost or turned around but thankfully for Malcolm and myself, we knew these tunnels in and out like the back of our hands.

I took notice of how Caesar was starting to slow down due to his injury so I kept close by his side and asked him.

“You okay?” he let out a firm pant assuring me he was fine.  But as we came across a corner, the sound of gunfire echoed through the tunnels as the bullets began to bounce off the walls.  None of us dared to make a sound but we quickly got up against the walls of the tunnel on the right side.

“Who’s there? If your human, you better say so!” Finney’s voice echoed through the tunnels.

“It’s us! Malcolm and Lin don’t shoot!” Malcolm called out.  Malcolm then turned to Caesar and whispered to him, “The stairs, take the stairs. They’ll bring you around and up under the street, okay? Go.” the apes looked at one another before Caesar said to Malcolm as the two of them locked eyes.

“Thank you.”

“Trust.” Malcolm said to him.  I took Caesar’s hand and said to him.

“Be careful brother ape.”

“You too, sister.” He said squeezing my hand before he told the apes to move out.  As they silently took the stairs right next to us, Malcolm and I both called out together.

“Alright we’re coming out! Don’t shoot!” we continued down the tracks until we came beneath the very tower where Koba and the ape army was at.  Finney soon showed himself as he called out to us.

“Jesus Christ I had taken you both for dead.” He and Malcolm soon hugged each other while he turned to me and gave me a nod.  I lifted my chin up in acknowledgement.

“Fin, where’s Dreyfus?” asked Malcolm.

“Just underneath the tower, come on I’ll take you both there.” He lead us directly under the tower. “Hey! Look who I found!”

“I didn’t know if you made it out.” Dreyfus said as he came jogging up towards Malcolm and the two men embraced each other.

“Cut us some slack Dreyfus, takes more than a hundred apes to kill us.” I playfully mocked.

“Glad to see that twisted sense of humor hadn’t changed Lin.” He came up to me and embraced me too, but I didn’t return it and only tensed up.  He separated from me as he guided Malcolm and I towards the bottom of the tower and showed us.  “Don’t worry, we’re gonna turn all of this around.”

“What do you mean? What’s going on?” asked Malcolm as both he and I were helped onto the platform that stood underneath the tower.

“The apes, they’re all over the tower.” Finney explained to us.

“I lost the signal, it dropped out.” Werner told Dreyfus as he was fiddling around with their radio.

“Keep trying.” Dreyfus told him.  “Malcolm, Lin, look at this.” He pointed his torch just a few feet up and I saw a C-4 bomb set and ready for detonation.  He had the light follow the wires of several more bombs connected all around the bottom of the tower, “C-4, five pound blocks. Thanks to your findings Lin, we just started setting them. They’re gonna take down the whole tower. Blast them all at once.”

My eyes slowly drifted upwards as my heart completely sunk way past my stomach.  He’s right, with this many C-4 bombs I had seen them take down skyscrapers in New York and Boston.  This withering tower will be like cutting paper with a machete.

“We could use your help.” I felt my body froze.  I turned to Malcolm and looked at him with urgent eyes but he looked at me with a stoic look and gave me a nod.  I took a deep breath and said in a nonchalant manner.

“What do you have us do?” Dreyfus then said that Malcolm should help him set up the detonator while I stood by Werner and helped him in trying to get a signal out.

“Hey Lin. Just before the apes got to the main base of the colony, we managed to get a response but the signal’s just dropped. Help me find the perfect frequency in order to get them back.” I reached over to some of the old ham radios I helped find for them to use and started flipping the dials as best I could.  I knew some of the combinations in order to get the perfect signal to some of these radios but I couldn’t afford Werner to get the signal back, so I stalled for as long as I could.

That’s when I took notice of Werner’s pistol at his right hip.  I turned over to Malcolm and he looked at me and I softly scratched my nose and cleared my throat softly before gesturing to Finney’s rifle just sitting next to him.

I hummed a random tune under my breath as I turned back to the radios and continued to turn the dials as randomly as I could which caused nothing but static to come up as Werner continued his autotuned SOS through the radio.  As Malcolm stood up and walked nonchalantly towards Finney, the two of them greeted each other and while Finney’s attention was on Malcolm, I reached down and grabbed Werner’s pistol from his gun holster.

All thanks to a very special person, I’m able to pickpocket someone without them even noticing.  All it takes is misdirection and timing.  I watched as Malcolm, rifle now in hand, stood up and slowly turned the gun onto Finney who now realized what was happening.

“Dreyfus.” Malcolm said now pointing the gun at him.  Dreyfus stopped his working and looked up with both shock and confusion written on his face.  “Werner.” I pulled back the safety and pointed the pistol right at Werner’s temple.

“Hands off the radio and keep them where I can see them.” I threatened.  Werner removed his hands from the radio and slowly leaned back from it, keeping his hands up in the air.

“I’m sorry but we can’t let you do this. We need to give him a chance. We need to give him some time. He’s up there right now.”

“Who’s up there?” asked Dreyfus.

“The true leader of the Muir Woods Apes. Caesar. My little brother.” I told them.  Dreyfus turned to me, his eyes wide with disbelief as well as disgust.

“So you…..you were on their side all along.”

“The day I found out they were alive, you’re damn right I was. And I will gladly shoot anyone who dares hurt him again.” I stated proudly.

“You know I knew from the start we shouldn’t have trusted you. There was always something off about you right from the start. And now….now I realized I should’ve put a bullet in you myself.”

“Then it’s a good thing I first came across Ellie and Malcolm first, they still hold onto human decency. Something that you, an officer of the law had lost a long time ago.”

“Malcolm. Surely you don’t believe all this do you. You know what they did to us, to the people we loved. Are you going to choose this outsider over your own friend?” Dreyfus tried to sway Malcolm’s mind but Malcolm remained neutral, still aiming the gun at Dreyfus as he said.

“She has been through worse than what we have, but she still has common sense to know what the Apes asked of us.” Dreyfus couldn’t believe what he was hearing from Malcolm.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he softly asked in disbelief.

“No. I’ve seen things. I’ve seen the way they are. They want what we want, to survive. They don’t want a war. It may have taken me some time to realize that but Lin never had any doubt.”

“They’re animals!” screamed Dreyfus.  “They attacked us!”

“Because they thought we had attacked them first!” I exclaimed.  “When Carver first shot the young ape when we went to search for the damn, that already planted a seed of doubt into their minds. Taking advantage of that, an Ape took one of our guns and shot Caesar. Fear and anger makes others follow. And I know that.” From the corner of my eye I saw Finney start to move so I pointed my pistol at him and fired a warning shot right near his foot.

“WHAT THE HELL!?!” he exclaimed.

“That was a warning shot!” I snapped as I turned to him.  “But the next time you even think about moving, the next one goes right between your eyes Finney so SIT DOWN!!” I flared my nostrils as I glared daggers at him.  Not wanting to go against me, Finney sat down and I turned to Malcolm and gestured for him to explain since I was no longer in the mood for talking.

“Lin’s not lying. And I won’t have any regrets if she does have to shoot one of you. I’ll even join her if I have to. Now you three are going to listen and listen good. Now I know how this must sound.”

“I don’t think you have any—” as Dreyfus went another step closer to Malcolm, he cocked his rifle and aimed it right at Dreyfus’ chest.  Dreyfus stopped before his body went stoic as he proclaimed, “Do you think stopping me will matter? They’re coming. Now, we made contact with a military base up North. They’re already on their way!”

My body froze with fear.  Oh no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! You didn’t! I turned to Werner and turned the pistol onto him as I snapped.

“Tell me he’s lying. Tell me!”

“It’s true.” I tensed up as I turned towards the radio in fear.  My hand trembling as my finger was just a hair length’s away from pulling the trigger.

In the midst of the shock and fear, none of us had time to react as Dreyfus pulled the detonator and activated it as he held it up in the air.  We all backed away from Dreyfus.  Malcolm and I aimed our guns at him as Werner exclaimed.

“Dreyfus! What are you doing, man?” Dreyfus remained still with his hand still raised, his finger right over the button to activate the charges.  One false move and this whole place goes BOOM.

“I’m saving the human race.” He whispered as he pressed the trigger.

“NOOO!!!!” I exclaimed as Malcolm quickly grabbed me and the bombs went off instantly, killing Dreyfus, Werner and Finney while Malcolm and I took cover under the platform of the subway trying to avoid the explosion of fire that now shot out at us.

Malcolm shielded me with his body as mine was pressed against the walls of platform we were just on.  The sound of crashing metal and iron colliding together before crashing down in front of us.  We also heard the sound of rapid gunfire raining from above. 

Oh God, if you somehow still are taking miracles, please let Caesar and his followers have somehow survived the explosion as well as whatever gunfire is happening up there.

When the gunfire ceased, Malcolm peeked out past the rubble when the sounds of another railing was starting to come down.  I pulled Malcolm back under the platform and soon another loud crash happened just yards from us.

“I think it’s over.” He said. “You okay?”

“Shaken but alive.” I told him, “You?”

“Same. Can’t believe Dreyfus actually blew himself up along with Werner and Finney. They didn’t deserve to go down with him.”

“I hate to tell you this Malcolm but they chose their path siding with a desperate man. And they went down with his cause.” Even though it was a tough pill for him to swallow, I could tell by his expression that my statement rang true to him.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” He helped me crawl out from under the platform and we carefully went over and under any fallen debris that was in our path until we saw the light from the sunrise up ahead.  However that wasn’t the only thing that was awaiting us.

The gibbering sound of apes soon echoed through the exit of the tower and we soon found ourselves being forced out of the tower by apes still wielding the machine guns.  Two apes had me by either arm as they were practically dragging me outside and one of them pointed their gun right in my face.

“LEAVE THEM!!” Caesar’s voice soon roared out.  The apes ceased their gibbering before finally stepping away from both Malcolm and I.  The three of us met each other half way as I spoke to him with urgency.

“You’re not safe here. They made contact, Other people are coming, soldiers. Dangerous ones. You have to get all your apes out of the city, get out of the state if you must.” But the look on Caesar’s face didn’t give me comfort.

It was like he had already accepted what happened and that he must now finish what Koba had started.

“Caesar if you don’t, it’ll be all-out war.” Urged Malcolm in the same frantic manner I had spoken earlier.  But Caesar told us.

“War….has already… begun. Ape started war. And Human….human will not forgive. You must go….before fighting begins.” I shook my head frantically.

If he goes to war then I—I can’t get involved.  The ‘Military’ that’s coming, I know exactly who they are and if I so much as show myself to them, I’m as good as dead.

“No.” I said.  “No, you—you can still run. It’s not too late to run, please you don’t have to do this! No following please!” I pleaded.  Tears glimmering in my eyes as I desperately tried to convince Caesar to not engage in the war with Alpha Omega.

“I am sorry….dear sister. And my friend.” He said to both Malcolm and I.

“I thought we had a chance. Now having seen it through you and Lin.” Said Malcolm.

“I did too.” Said Caesar with the same manner of hope.  He and Malcolm looked at each other for a moment before he reached behind Malcolm’s head and brought him close to him.  Cupping the other side of his head, Caesar and Malcolm soon pressed their foreheads to one another and I smiled solemnly at the gesture.

He had now considered Malcolm as part of the troop.  And there couldn’t be another human more worthy of that honor than Malcolm.  After they separated Caesar then turned to me and did the same thing.  The second goodbye we had to do and this time, it could very much be the last time I ever see him again.

I sniffled and allowed a couple of tears to fall from my face as I cupped the back of Caesar’s head with my hands.

“I love you.” I whispered.

“I….love you too, sister.” He said.  We then separated from each and Caesar left us to rejoin his troop and family.  He stood at his son’s side as the rest of the troop who didn’t know Caesar had survived now looked at him in shock and awe.  I saw Cornelia step forward and reunite with the love of her life and felt my heart grow heavy with both sorrow and happiness.

I turned my back without saying another word and grabbed a hold of Malcolm’s wrist and gestured for him to come with me.  We then disappeared into the shadows and left the city to head back to the house.

When we got back to the house, Ellie and Alexander came out and ran down the steps before meeting with Malcolm and embraced him tightly.  My heart clenched tightly at seeing their family reunion and Ellie said.

“Thank god you’re safe.”

“Not for long.” I told her.  Both her and Alex looked at me confused so Malcolm told them.

“They made contact with a military base up North. They’re on their way to finish the apes off for good.”

“Not just them.” I added.

“You know who they are. The military that’s coming here.” Malcolm told me. 

“I wouldn’t even call themselves military. They may wear Army uniforms but they are nothing but terrorists. They call themselves Alpha Omega. And I was one of the soldiers amongst their ranks.” They all gasped softly.  “Bear in mind it wasn’t by choice. After being declared ‘genetically immune’ and being forced out in the streets. I was lost….and angry…..confused. For six months I was out in the streets barely scavenging for survival. That’s when I was found by The Colonel. I was given food, water, a warm place to sleep. But I didn’t know that by accepting that, I had signed my soul to the Devil by joining their ranks.”

“They…..bargained your service for food and shelter?” asked Ellie.

“Most joined willingly, others like me were scouted. In desperation we’d willingly take it. And at first I didn’t care, like I said I was—a much different person at the start of the pandemic. So long as I was given food and a bed to sleep in, I was willing to do whatever they asked me to do. But as years went by, I realized just how awful they were. Bombing whole cities, intercepting aid supplies to other colonies, taking children from their parents and using them as child soldiers.”

Malcolm’s eyes widened in horror as he hid Alexander behind him.

“So I left, but by leaving them I became a deserter. And deserters of Alpha Omega aren’t meant to be left alive. So for three years I’ve been on the run from them. And now…..now they’ll burn San Fransisco to the ground.”

“What if we try to talk to them?” asked Ellie.  I scoffed.

“There’s no talking to Alpha Omega. Especially when the Colonel is on the field. Men who kill without reason, cannot be reasoned with. Your best chance—hide and pray they don’t find you. That’s why you three need to get out of here.”

“What about you?” asked Alexander.  I took a deep breath and said.

“I’ll act as a scapegoat give you guys time to get out of the city. There’s no need for you guys to get on their radar, and trust me that’s something you don’t want to be on.”

“No. You get out of the city.” Malcolm said.  I looked at Malcolm in shock.

“Malcolm….”

“You’ve been on the run from them this long. You deserve to have another chance to get ahead of them. We’ll stay and give you the head start.” I went to argue but the look on Malcolm’s face told me that he secretly knew what would happen and he was willing to pay the price.

I came up to him and embraced him tightly.  He hugged me back and whispered in my ear.

“If you ever do find Caesar again, keep him safe.” I nodded before separating from him.  I then turned to Ellie and she and I also embraced each other.

“Take my med-back. You’ll need it more than we will.” Tears slid down my face as I buried my face into her shoulder.

“Thank you.” I released her then turned to Alexander.  God this kid was only 15 years old, he shouldn’t have to die so young.  I cupped the back of his head and saw both the sadness but also bravery in his eyes.  I pulled him close and hugged him and he hugged me back.  “You’re a brave kid Alex, your mom would be proud.”

“Your family would be proud of you too Lin.” I softly scoffed and ruffled his head before separating from him.  I looked at all three of them and said.

“You three have been the closest thing I’ve had to having a family. I—I’ll never be able to repay you guys for doing this.”

“There’s no need. Just don’t let them catch you.” Ellie told me.  I quirked up a smile then I proceeded to load up the truck with various supplies before getting into the truck and starting it up.

I looked at them one last time before giving them a proud salute and they saluted me back.  I turned on the engine and I drove off down the road, the last thing I saw in the rearview mirror was the three of them standing side by side.

[octuscle]

Tim and Tim swap lives

When he started his traineeship at the local newspaper, Tim had rather hoped to report on exhibition openings or opera premieres for the feature section. That was more his world. But his first job was an interview with a heavy-metal singer who had become a bit of a has-been. The singer had made headlines recently for his marital violence and his drug and alcohol excesses. Tim had had a fetish for heavy metal in the past. Sweaty singers in tight leather pants. To the Twisted Sisters video of "We're not gonna take it" he had jerked off more than once. Good suburban boys who become rock stars. That had already been to his liking. But everything he'd researched about his interviewee beforehand indicated that he'd been hot a long time ago. Now his best days were long gone. Oh well, it was a job. And he was just the volunteer. He had probably also been chosen only because the singer's name was also Tim.

For the interview, Tim had picked out some hopefully suitable clothes from his brother. And so he waited in the backstage area to finally be able to conduct the interview. The manager had led him to the dressing room, put a Coke in front of him, and walked out angrily ranting. "Where is that drunken piece of shit again?" heard Tim yelling him. After more than an hour, the door opened and the band's lead singer staggered through the door. He grunted something like a hello and disappeared directly into the restroom. Tim heard his interview partner vomit first. And then snore. Tim carefully opened the door. And the singer was lying in a puddle of vomit and urine, blissfully asleep. Shit, what was he supposed to do now? Wake him up? Seemed inappropriate to him. So Tim did something he should have done an hour ago: He answered his own written questions himself.

Question: They say your career is over. What do you plan to do to get back to your old successes?

Answer: Over? Now it's just getting started. I've been sober for a year, eat healthy and spend every free minute in the gym. I'm far from being at the end.

Energy coursed through Tim's young body. His muscles grew visibly.

Question: But financially you are at the end. Is it true that the private bankruptcy had to file?

Answer: Fuck, I've spent a lot of money on shit in the last few years. The tattoos alone have cost me a fortune. And I've had bad advisors. But with my new manager, things will pick up again. I also have a responsibility for the band, which is my family.

Tim's flawless skin began to discolor in various places. Tattoos formed and began to cover his entire upper body.

Question: Why this late change of heart? You've been in the business for decades, right?

Answer: Decades? Kid, you're exaggerating. I've been living heavy metal body and soul since I was 16. That's not even 20 years.

Tim aged in seconds. He was no longer 22 but 34. His hair had grown into a long mat. His skin definitely showed traces of many excessive parties. But he still radiated a lot of energy and masculinity.

Question: A final private question: What do you say to the accusations of violence against your wife.

Answer: (Loud laughter) Are you kidding me? I married that bitch for the press. Never touched her. For years I've only fucked the asses of hot reporters like you.

Of course Tim couldn't write it like that. No one would believe it. But only snoring continued to come out of the toilet. Tim didn't think he would be able to do the interview. He pressed save and closed his laptop. At that moment, he heard the toilet flush. His young and crisp interview partner came out. "Any more questions, boy?" he asked. "No, thank you very much for this very frank interview. I wish you all the best as you restart your career." replied the lad from the local paper. Tim had needed to get that off his chest. That felt good. Now the tour could go on. But before he went on stage, he desperately needed to relieve some pressure. "All the best to you, too, boy. Now come and get your reward, groupie." Tim unbuttoned his leather jeans. And the other Tim got down on his knees.

The concert was a huge success. A legend was back. But the sensation was the article by a young local editor about the singer's coming out.