#its been almost a month and ive kept my bitterness about this in my heart and im letting go

[youareunbearable]

god this is whiney but a while ago i got a comment on the SVSSS fic i wrote for christmas, that literally was just “The chinese dont celebrate christmas :/” and its STILL boggling my mind at the audacity 

 Like, I’ve tagged it as a christmas fic, I put in the authors notes at the beginning that this is a vent fic about how christmas for me wasnt the same this year cause of covid/how i missed spending time with my extended family, and I also mentioned IN FIC about why SQQ even cares about Christmas in the first place??? Like the whole plot is that christmas doesn’t exist in PIDW because it’s not a chinese holiday???? but Shen Yuan celebrated it with his family before he died cause his family always held a big business/family function christmas party for their american partners?????? and that now he’s in a xianxia harem novel, its his first christmas alone/where it doesn’t feel like a holiday cause its not one?????? but manages to have a nice day off with Binghe anyways?????? Like its literally the plot of the story that China Doesn’t Celebrate Christmas 

So WHY would someone FIRST click the christmas fic for a chinese media if they didn’t want to read about Chinese ppl kinda celebrating christmas, THEN like, bypass the disclaimer and all my personal comments about why I wrote this, AS WELL AS just missing the whole fucking plot of the fic and then having the AUDACITY to put me down for writing what I wrote

Then when I replied and basically told them that SQQ explains why hes missing christmas in fic, and that its a vent fic, and then basically re did my disclaimer where I wasn’t trying to be culturally insensitive and how i did research blah blah blah they replied back with “Oh I Must Have Missed That” LIKE DID U LOOK AT ANY OF THE WORDS I PUT DOWN ON THAT PAGE????????????? LIKE AT ALL???????? DID YOU EVEN READ THE FIC OR DID U SEE THE TAG “christmas” AND DECIDE TO GATEKEEP/”actually this is kinda racist” ME????????? IF I WANTED SQQ TO GO TO A FUCKING SWEAT LODGE OR PARTICIPATE IN A FULL MOON CEREMONY OR GO TO A POWWOW I WOULD BECAUSE GUESS WHAT!!!!!! I WROTE IT!!!!!!!!! ITS A   F A N F I C T I O N   OF A NOVEL THAT BASED ON THE CONCEPT OF SHITTY HAREM PORN!!!!!! FOR ALL WE KNOW CHRISTMAS COULD BE CANNON AND ITS A PLOT POINT BECAUSE LBH D!CKED MS CLAUSE TO SAVE CHRISTMAS!!!!!!! LBH COULD HAVE CUCKED SANTA IN CANON AND WELL NEVER KNOW BECASUE IT WAS NEVER MENTIONED BC SHEN YUAN OR SQH DIDNT CARE TO MENTION IT!!!!!

[hangovercurse]

Falling

Part 6 of the Without You series. Y/N tries to leave Colson’s life for good, but he is hell bent on keeping her.

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, cheesy dialogue

A/N: It’s done! Read my post about the series if you want to know where I’m going from here. Thank you for reading thus far, I hope its lived up to its expectations! (Also kudos to you if you can name the artists each of the titles have come from)

Word Count: 1179

| i | ii | iii | iv | v |

masterlist

You were trying to push your way through the house with little luck. So much for an “outdoor” party. You were almost to the door when you heard your name being called.

“Y/N, where are you going?” Slim caught you in the crowd. You reluctantly turned to face him, putting a fake smile on your face.

“I’m not really feelin it right now, Slim. I’m gonna head out.” You shrugged, holding your arms as close to yourself as possible.

Slim gave you a concerned look, “Everything okay? I saw you and Colson out back. You guys are good now?”

You chuckled bitterly, “Yeah not really. We were and now we’re not. It’s confusing, don’t worry about it.” You shook your head, “I’ll talk to you later, Slim.”

You turned towards the door, only to hear “Man, what did this fool do this time?” You laughed, walking down the stairs of Trippie’s mansion-house and pulling out your phone, ordering an Uber.

You were 2 seconds from hitting the order button when you heard your ex-bestfriend scrambling down the stairs, calling your name. “Y/N. Fuck. Thank god you’re still here.”

“Just leave her alone, Kells.” Slim called out behind him.

You rolled your eyes, turning so your body was facing away from him. “Y/N I’m sorry.” He tried to stand in front of you, but you kept turning away from him. “Fuck it.” He said before grabbing your arm, spinning you to face him and pressing his lips to yours.

Your lips melded into his, all the frustration you’d been feeling towards him melting into his lips. You were too tired to resist him, giving in to your internal desires. Your hands reached up to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

When you finally broke apart, you let out a small sigh. “See, Colson, this is why we will never work.” You stepped away from him as your Uber driver pulled up, “We’re too fucked up.”

You spun away from him, confirming your Uber driver’s name, your address, and then slipping into the backseat. You reached to close the door when a tattooed hand pulled it open. “Colson you can’t just-“

He slipped into the seat next to you, closing the door behind him. “I’m gonna talk, and you’re gonna listen. Please.” You thought about protesting, but you knew he wouldn’t give in. “I was an asshole, okay? I am an asshole. I know that and you know that. I just get so fucking insecure around you.”

You raised your eyebrow at his choice of word but let him continue. “I’ve never felt like this before. Like I’m constantly looking for signs that you want me. And then when I don’t find them, I get mad and I put up these walls and I say things to push you away. The truth is that I am terrified of rejection when you’re involved.

“Everything I’ve done I’ve been doing to try and get you back and I just seem to be fucking it up. And I know it’s way too late but I’m not giving up.”

You finally spoke, your words bitter. “You can’t get something back that you never actually had, Colson.”

You watched his face fall in your peripheral vision. Your heart sank and your head spun with thoughts of you and Colson. What would be the harm in being together? All of this would go away if you just let your walls down and let him in. But then, those walls were put up for a good reason. You couldn’t let yourself get attached to him again only for him to break you like he did. But then again, the years of your life spent with Colson had been the best of your life, much better than the last two months. But could you go through that same heartbreak? Was he worth it?

You turned to study him, his head leaning against the window as his eyes traced the passing neighborhoods. “Colson.” You said softly, causing his head to snap towards you, his blue crystals gazing into your own. You took a deep breath, searching for the words. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember knowing you, and I don’t think I’m ever gonna stop loving you.” His hand reached for yours, and you let him intertwine your fingers. “But I don’t want to- I can’t get hurt like that again. I was broken, I don’t know if I’ve even fully recovered. And I’m scared that if I let myself be in love with you that I’ll get hurt again.” Your eyes were watering as you searched for his, only to find them facing the floor, his thumb rubbing circles on your hand. “So, I guess I’m trying to figure out if it’s worth the risk. If you’re worth the risk.”

His eyes slowly raised to meet yours and you could see the fear he held. “Are you worth it?” You whispered.

His eyes widened, his mouth quivering as he searched for the right words to say. “I am. I swear. I’ll never fucking hurt you again. I’ll do whatever I need to do to prove it to you, just give me one more chance. Give me one chance and I’ll never let you go.”

You stayed silent, weighing his words even though your heart had already made the decision for you. “Okay.” You said softly, your hand squeezing his.

His eyebrow raised, “Okay?”

A smile spread across your face, “Okay.” Colson let out a small laugh, smiling like a toddler given candy. “Now kiss me you idiot.”

And he did. And it was pretty magical. Even though you were in the back of a pretty cramped uber, and even though there was a lot still left unresolved, nothing else mattered. All that mattered was Colson.

“So, I hate to break up what is, truthfully, a really sentimental moment, but we’re here.” Your uber driver, Marcus, said, looking at you two through the rearview mirror.

You giggled, face going red as you realized he had definitely heard all of your deeply personal conversation. Colson opened the door, still holding your hand, and helped you out of the car. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a $20 bill and handing it to the driver with an embarrassed smile.

You tugged on his hand, pulling him towards the apartment. His grip was unfortunately stronger than yours, and he ended up pulling you into him, his arms wrapping around you. His figure towered over you, and you pressed your cheek to his chest, breathing in his scent and listening to his gentle heartbeat.

“Fuck I’m so happy right now.” You looked up at his words, leaning up on your tiptoes and pressing your lips to his.

“Wait till we tell Casie about this.” You giggled.

He pressed a quick peck to your lips. “I think she’s already planning the wedding.”

Your eyes gleamed at the thought of a future with Colson, happiness settling in at the fact that he saw it too.

[randomsevans]

Pain of being in love part 3

Original apart of @jtargaryen18 #30daysofchris2020

Two weeks had dragged by as you felt like an empty shell going day by day . You hadn't spoken to anyone apart form Scott ,you haven't left the house unless it was for a good reason. You would constantly forget to eat so Scott became like your own personal chief.

And all this because the time had finally arrived where your love for chris was outshone by his own love for someone else .

Scott had told you that Lisa and Minka have been planning a engagement party much to chris dislike as he sees the announcement as an engagement party .

Chris had tried to call you but you always let it go to voice mail as it was probably an invitation to the party next Saturday. You really didnt want to go . The pain in your heart was begaing you not to as it cant take anymore hurt . But you knew as being the brothers best friend and a family friend you need to go . Because as much as it hurt you . You know that this will make Chris happy and you need to be happy for him even tho you are dying inside .

++++++++++++

It was the day before the party so the Friday and some how Scott had managed to get you out of your bed and house only to be in his house on his couch . Currently eating too much mint chocolate chip ice cream along with this stuiped movie Scott forced you to watch

Love Rosie .

"How fuckin ironic "

You knew that Scott put picked this movie on purpose . Whether it was for the both of you to make fun or the movie like you usual do or let you watch it because it was so fuckin relatable. Either way you too had ended up watching the movie in silence with a few mumbles about food or if one was getting up or not and even a giggle or two when Rosie was struggling with a new born .

It had got to the part of the wedding and oh by god how you related to it . Rosie speech on how she loves him no matter where he is or who hes with .. your heart was yelling someone gets it . You were stuck in your own your head focusing on Rosie words until Scott spoke up.

"How ?" He ask

"What ? " you were confused and faced him as he faced you turning his body as the movie played in the back ground .

"How , when, why ?" He stared directly into your eyes with the soft blue shade he shares with his brother

"What ? " you asked again

"When did you begin to have feeling for my brother and why ... and how much because not to be mean but iv never seen you like this not ever so his engagement clear has affected you " he said softly

You hadn't yet actually spoken the words I love your brother to Scott or I'm in love with him to be more exact but Scott had guest it never asked about it until now .

You were silent for a moment thinking ... well more like your head was empty of thoughts you just liked the silence.

"Who said I have feeling.... "

"Y/n " Scott cut you off

You shift in your seat turning to face Scott legs cross over each other and hands in your lap looking down .

"I .. I had always had a crush on him you know ... who didnt " scott hummed in agreement

"But do you remember that day when I...was ment to have my first date but he never showed up "

Once again Scott hummed

"Well Chris picked me up... and he tried cheering me up .. and it worked "

You glanced up a Scott who looked softly at you as your eyes hot glassy . You looked back down to your hands as there stared nervously fiddling with the ends of the blanket that was wrapped around you.

"Well we were at a dinner ... and do you know in movies it like you have loved someone and you always new . Well it wasnt like that ... "

You took a deep breath.

"I hit me .. like a truck ... he was sitting at the other side of the table... and it hit me everything flooded I... love him but not just that . Because I love you ."

That caused Scott to scoffed as if ' I know you do who doesnt '

"It was more ... well more like a different type of love ... or more like . I was in love in love with him ."

You glance up at the ceiling letting the tears sink back into your eyes as you shake your head .

"I AM in love with him "

You looked at Scott who now had tears in his eyes ..and red showing he was trying to hold them back .

"And I think I always will . "

You were both silent for a seconde

"No matter where he is ... or who hes with a will always love him "

That caused you both to giggle as you made your way into Scotts open arms

"Quoting are we " he chuckled as your head landed on his chest as his arms wrapped around you .

"Well you know me "

You heard him sniff as you felt a tear drop into your hair .

"Oh .. god ... how have you kept it in for so long... that was like ... .... we were 14 or 15 fuck how ? Why ?" He said softly as tears clouded his voice .

"I didnt say anything or do anything because he will never and has never felt the same I'm... im like a sister to him ...in a weird way... and I'd never deserve him ....."

You left your head and looked at Scott .

"And at the same time I realised iam in love with him I also knew nothing would become of it because... " tears bow fell down your eyes .

"Because it was better to have both of you in my life then not to have neither of you ... and I wasnt willing to risk it ..... and I knew ... I knew this time would come .... but it dosnt stop .... it doesn't stop it hurting " you couldn't help but let it all out as you tucked your self back into Scott

He placed a kiss in your hair

"Your a silly one ain't ya ..... I will always be here you know that " he said softly

"You do know that right ?"

You just nodded as your tears drained his shirt .

++++++++++

You stood at Lisa front door with Scott by your side much like that dreaded day three weeks ago . You were in a blue floral dress in small pumps waiting patiently as you heard the party already up and ready with in .

"Its not late to turn back " Scott whisper in your ear just before the door swang open. To reveal Minka at the door with a giant smile and an even bigger diamond on her left hand . That had somehow made your heat beat pain through out your veins.

"It is now " you whisper back before putting a wide fake smile on

"Minka .... contagralations " you tired your best not to sound bitter you really did .

"Y/n right ? " she asked looking you up and down . You just nodded your head

She was about to speak again when Chris practically ripped the door hinges off as he opened the door wider . As his eyes landed on you there grew and his month hung open as he let out a deep sigh . Making your heat beat fast instead of the numb feeling it has had over the last three weeks .

"Y/n " was all he said a small whisper .

You and Chris eyes were locked missing the fallen smile of Minka as she looked between the two of you here eyebrows knitting . While Scott had a small smirked placed on his lips due to Minka reaction

"Chris I thought we agreed I'd do the door " Minka snapped at chris . Breaking his eye contact with you . To glance at Minka for a split seconde

"Um yeah sorry " he said quickly and looked back deep into your eyes , with the softest blue shade "I... I just heard her name ..." he sighed and he said it slowly and softly . He tilted his head almost like a child went there feelings are hurt . "I haven't..... I havnt see you ... heard form you ... I tried calling but ..I always ... "

"I was busy " you cut him off

Before chris could answer or even process what you said , Lisa pops her head at the other side of the door

"What are you all doing out here ! ... come on come in "she took at step back with a wide smile , as you stepped in .

She pulled you in to a tight high as she always does "isn't this amazing.... finally get to celebrate my boy with hes wife to be "

You closed your eyes as your rested your chin on her shoulder and sighed "it sure is "

You took a step back and put on the widest smile .

What you didnt know was as you were facing momma Evan's. Two blue eyed boys looked at you with soften eyes but both for different reasons .

"Come on let's join the others " lisa said to all of us.

"I couldn't agree more Mrs Evan's " minka replied

"How many times Lisa or even better mom " lisa laught her and Minka walked side by side to the garden

"Ma! " chris said .

"What she will be my daughter in law soon so she better get use it " both lisa and Minka laught and diserperared into the garden . Leaving you , Scott and Chris still in the hall way of the front door .

"How soon exactly ?" Scott asked the fill the uneasy silence .

"Um its gonna be a fall wedding " chris replied

"Oh " was all you said as you felt the pit in your stomach grow and your heart beating fast

"Like .... next year or two ?" Scott said slowly shrugging with his hands in his pockets .

"Uh no " Chris paused and took at quick glance at you and looked at the floor . "This year .... in 3 months " he sighed.

And as if it wasnt possible you felt your heart crack more .

Scott only let out a deep sigh and grab your arm " come on y/n let's get a drink " you nod you head and began to walk to the garden . But you turned your head over your should and with a deep sigh , you dry throat and stinging eyes .

"Contraglation Chris " you sighted, eys watery " I'm... happy for yo... you ... sh ...Minka is a lucky girl " you choked out as Scott pulled you futher away as he tried to save you from futher heart break or for you to continue lying .

"I'm...not " Chris mumbled silently as you were out of earshot .. and took a deep sigh and then finally followed your direction and headed for the back yard.

The never ending growing pit in your soul and tears in your heart was growing more painful as you chuged down your first of many drinks of the night. But what do you expect it's the pain of being in love

Ps I didnt realise that the actress (lily colin)that play Rosie in the movie love Rosie actual dated chris

[weavingthetapestry]

9th September 1543- Coronation of Mary I of Scotland

On 9th September 1543, the coronation of Mary I of Scotland took place in the Chapel Royal of Stirling Castle. An infant of barely nine months, she had been recognised as the kingdom’s next monarch at just six days old, after the premature death of her father King James V, leaving no other legitimate heirs of his body. She had been described as queen of Scotland in most official government documents since, but her official coronation was preceded by nine months of political intrigue and tension, culminating in a double-edged triumph for the faction led by her mother, Mary of Guise, and Cardinal Beaton.

The little queen had been resident in Stirling for just over a month. At the end of July 1543, her mother, the dowager queen Mary of Guise, supported by Cardinal Beaton along with the Earls of Huntly, Argyll, Lennox, Bothwell, Sutherland, Menteith, lords Erskine, Ruthven, Fleming, Crichton, Drummond, Lisle, Hume, the bishops of Moray, Orkney, Galloway, Dunblane, and several thousand others, had finally succeeded in removing her from her birthplace in the palace of Linlithgow. This was achieved in the face of opposition from the Governor of Scotland, James Hamilton, Earl of Arran. Arran was the infant queen’s 27 year old cousin and the official head of the Scottish government as regent and the next in line to the throne. As he was then pursuing a pro-English policy, and also had reason to view both the dowager queen and Cardinal Beaton as rivals, in early 1543 he had had the Cardinal arrested and forbade Mary of Guise to leave Linlithgow for the greater protection of Stirling. However, following the Cardinal’s escape and the return of the Earl of Lennox from France in 1543, the opponents of the Governor (or at least the opponents of his policy in favour of an alliance with England) gathered an army and marched on Linlithgow. After several days of stalemate and negotiation, with the army sitting outside the palace walls, Arran had been forced to climb down and allow the little queen and her mother to leave.

The sudden flitting of the queen was an even greater source of displeasure to Henry VIII of England when he heard of it, as the English king had not only wished to marry her to his son the Prince of Wales, but had also wanted the queen to be kept in England until the marriage could take place. This would have served as a useful means of keeping the Scots in check, and anyway, despite their promises, he certainly did not trust her French mother to follow through with the English marriage, much less the wily pro-French and militantly Catholic Cardinal Beaton. Linlithgow would have suited Henry better as then there was at least a chance that one of the Scottish nobles he had attempted to suborn, or even an English invasion, would have been able to abduct the young queen from the beautiful, yet low-lying and relatively unprotected lochside palace. Stirling Castle was another matter entirely: perched on its high rock with a commanding view of the surrounding country, its Renaissance embellishments had not diminished its status as a formidable fortress, the veteran of many bitter Anglo-Scottish conflicts. Nevertheless, Henry VIII could live in hope. The Treaty of Greenwich might yet be ratified to his satisfaction, and the Scottish nobles who favoured alliance with the English king, whether for political or religious reasons, had managed to bring the Governor Arran round to his point of view, which lent their policy official authority.

(An engraving of the Earl of Arran in his later years,  and probably his most famous picture, which tends to obscure the age he was when he became Regent. Not my picture)

But any plan which rested on the consistent cooperation of the chronically indecisive Governor Arran could hardly be called secure. The Governor was already under pressure from his half-brother John Hamilton, Abbot of Paisley, an ardent Catholic who had recently returned from abroad and set about putting the fear of god into his pliable younger sibling over Arran’s recent support of Protestantism. Meanwhile the mood of the country was also shifting, and the English alliance was becoming increasingly unpopular, not least due to the disturbing effects of religious unrest in Scotland and Henry VIII’s not so thinly veiled intimidation tactics. Arran’s allies soon had reason to become wary of his behaviour and watched his movements closely. On 1st September 1543, the English Ambassador Sir Ralph Sadler wrote to his king and said of the Governor that, “he abides not long in one mind, and Sir George Douglas tells me that he much fears the Governor’s revolt, now that things grow to extremity, and that there is a great likelihood that this division will not be ended nor exterminated but by the sword. The Governor is so afraid, of so weak spirit, and faint hearted, that (...) he fears he will never abide the extremity of it, but will rather slip from them and beastly put himself into the hands of his enemies, to his own utter confusion.”

The Earl of Arran’s anxiety was perhaps understandable. He might have feared for his position as governor if the Stirling lords decided to choose a different governor at the coronation, as the event could serve as a major political coup for Cardinal Beaton and the dowager queen. Or perhaps it was the presence of the Earl of Lennox at Stirling which disturbed Arran as Lennox had a rival claim to be next in line to the throne. Perhaps, indeed, as Marcus Merriman argues, Arran was acting with uncharacteristic farsightedness, seeing that the collapse of the English marriage was inevitable almost immediately after the queen’s removal to Stirling, and yet delaying his defection long enough to put off English invasion until the harvest had been brought in and the best time for campaigning had passed. Although Arran ratified the Treaty of Greenwich which promised Queen Mary’s hand to Henry VIII’s son on 25th August 1543, this was to be the high watermark of his active support for the English alliance. Despite the English king’s last-ditch offer of a marriage between his daughter, Princess Elizabeth, and Arran’s son, and despite the careful watch set by his former allies and the blandishments of his own wife Margaret Douglas, Arran changed sides in the first week of September. On Monday 3rd September, he slipped away to Blackness Castle on the Forth, claiming that his wife was in labour there. But the next morning Arran departed from the castle again, leaving Margaret weeping tears of rage at his inconstancy, and he soon covered the ten miles or so to Lord Livingston’s residence at Callendar House, on the edge of Falkirk. There he met with the wily Cardinal Beaton and the Earl of Moray (the infant queen’s uncle), and after long discussion accompanied them back to Stirling that night. 

(An eighteenth century copy of a portrait of David Beaton, Archbishop of St Andrews and Cardinal. Not my picture)

With the Governor’s ‘revolt’ accomplished, there was much to be discussed between Arran and his new, if not exactly beloved, allies. Arrangements had to be made for the secure keeping of the queen’s person during her time at Stirling, and also for the bairn’s coronation which was set for the coming Sunday, the 9th of September. Letters were sent to those recalcitrant Scottish nobles who- whether for reasons of religion, sound policy, or personal gain- had favoured the English marriage, asking them to attend the coronation. And there was spiritual work to be done as well: the lords at Stirling having agreed that Arran was “accurst” , it was determined that he should do penance for his previous flirtation with Protestantism. This was performed on Saturday the 8th of September in Stirling Greyfriars, when the earls of Bothwell and Argyll held the ‘towel’ over the humbled Governor’s head as the Cardinal and other bishops solemnly absolved him of his sin.

The coronation was due to take place early the next day, and the inner close of Stirling Castle must have been a hub of activity that September morning. The Chapel Royal, in which the event was to be held, stood on the north side of the close, forming a quadrangle with the King’s Old Buildings to the west, the magnificent Great Hall constructed by James IV to the east, and the mint-new royal palace (begun by Queen Mary’s father James V and to be completed by her mother over the next few years) standing to the south. The Chapel itself stood a little to the south of the current chapel (built by Mary’s son James VI in 1594) which now occupies the spot. It had been founded by James IV in 1501 and would witness several royal christenings and other notable events over the course of its short history. Perhaps most poignantly, it had also been the site of the coronation of Mary’s father James V, almost thirty years earlier in September 1513. This was the so-called ‘Mourning Coronation’ and the king on that occasion had also been little more than an infant. Had anyone called to mind this other coronation thirty years later, they might also have realised that the 9th of September 1543 was itself a significant date, being the thirtieth anniversary of the disastrous Battle of Flodden. This battle had caused the death of the new queen’s grandfather King James IV (also the Earl of Moray’s father and Huntly’s grandfather), her uncle Alexander Stewart who was one of Cardinal Beaton’s predecessors as Archbishop of St Andrews, the grandfathers of the earls of Lennox and Argyll, the father of the Earl of Bothwell, and countless other Scots of all classes. If anyone noticed this singularly inauspicious date however, it does not seem that it was allowed to throw a sombre shadow over proceedings.

(The only view I could find of most of the Inner Close of Stirling Castle- James V’s palace is to the right, James IV’s Great Hall in the centre, and on the left can be seen parts of the current Chapel Royal, built in 1594 by Mary’s son James VI almost on the same site as the Chapel Royal where she was crowned. Not my picture.)

Not much is known about the details of the coronation itself, which took place around ten o’clock in the morning, once the assembled lords and ladies had filed into the Chapel Royal. The Treasurer’s Accounts are unusually silent about the occasion, though it was probably carried out with as much propriety and careful observance of etiquette as was possible given the circumstances. We do know that Cardinal Beaton presided over the ceremony, and that the Earl of Arran bore the Crown, the Earl of Lennox the sceptre, and the Earl of Argyll the sword. These precious royal items- now known as the Honours of Scotland and still to be seen in Edinburgh Castle- each had their own story. The sceptre and sword had been gifted to King James IV by two separate popes, while the crown was of dubious but likely ancient origin (give or take a few meltings) possibly stretching back to the days of Robert Bruce, and it had been refashioned as recently as 1540 on the orders of Mary’s father. A heavy crown for a bairn, it was probably held above her head. There is a tradition that the infant queen cried all through the ceremony but otherwise the coronation went off without a hitch. 

In terms of coronation festivities, it must be said that even when taking into account the natural bias of the English ambassador, and the fact that he was not at the coronation himself (being unable to stray far from his house in Edinburgh without fear of the mob), it is hard to disagree with his assertion that Queen Mary was crowned, “with such solemnity as they do use in this country, which is not very costly”. There were to be no ceremonial entries, no elaborate pageantry such as had been planned for the coronations of James V’s consorts in the 1530s. As with most other recent Scottish coronations, which had a funny little knack of coming at the worst possible moment to kings who had hardly reached knee height, simple dignity was probably the order of the day. The late-sixteenth century writer Robert Lindsay of Pitscottie does state that the guests retired after the coronation and occupied themselves in dancing and merry-making however, so possibly there was more cheer than the records indicate. 

There was also no escaping from the harsh reality of the political situation. This coronation had been a political triumph for Cardinal Beaton and Mary of Guise and their supporters, but there were notable absences, not least the Earls of Glencairn, Cassilis and Angus, Lord Maxwell and the other lords still considered to be of the ‘English’ party. And there would have to be a reckoning with the king of England as well, especially after the Treaty of Greenwich was finally overturned by the Scottish parliament in December 1543. The events of 1543 would lead to the devastating period of Anglo-Scottish warfare which is nicknamed ‘the Rough Wooing’, and as a result of this, within five years of her coronation, the Queen of Scots was sent away from her kingdom to the safety of France. She would not return for thirteen years.

(Mary I in childhood, as painted by Clouet. Not my picture)

Selected references:

Acts of the Parliaments of Scotland

“Acts of the lords of council in public affairs, 1501-1554: Selections from the Acta dominorum concilii”, ed. R.K. Hannay

“Scottish Correspondence of Mary of Lorraine”, ed. Annie Dunlop

“Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic of the Reign of Henry VIII”, Volumes 17 and 18, ed. James Gairdner and R. H Brodie.

“The Hamilton Papers”, Vol. II, ed. Joseph Bain

The various histories of John Leslie, George Buchanan, Robert Lindsay of Pitscottie and John Knox- all of which can be found online but as only Lindsay was really useful, forgive me for not citing them properly here

“Mary of Guise”, by Rosalind Marshall

“Mary Queen of Scots”, by Antonia Fraser

“The Rough Wooing”, by Marcus Merriman

“Glory and Honour”, by Andrea Thomas

“Life of Mary Queen of Scots”, by Agnes Strickland (I hate admitting it but I do have to credit her)

And others

[the-writing-dump-bin]

Whirlpool (pt3)

Hello! Here is part 3, I left it a little short because what I have to write next, I would get carried away and it would have been too long. This chapter is SFW but I am warning now, part 4 will be N*SF*W. Thanks for reading! (Chapter inspired by the song Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood)

"Welcome, Professor Kujo. My name is Aaron, I am excited to work with you." The blonde haired man greeted. "This is Jessica and Ethan, they are my student assistants."

The two students looked to be about the same age as you and Jotaro.

Jotaro shook Aaron's hand and introduced you. "This is Y/N. She's my assistant." You blushed and gave a small wave. "Hello."

Aaron smiled and greeted you as well. "Right this way, we'll get started." He took you on a small tour of the marine department and showed you where you all would be working the next two weeks.

The place was massive. Tanks and pools with ocean creatures surrounded you; you had to be careful not to fall in.

Aaron stopped at one of the tanks which housed a large sea turtle. "We found this guy with plastic wrapped around his neck on the beach a few months ago. We saved him and brought him here for rehabilitation. We plan on releasing him back into the ocean before you two leave."

Your heart ached for the turtle, but you were relieved it was going to be okay and live its long life. "We really need to find a way to clean the ocean." You muttered to yourself, thinking no one heard you.

Jotaro heard you.

Ridding the entire ocean of waste was an almost impossible task. He felt a warmth in his chest when he saw your genuine concern for the mammal.

---

One week came and went. You were having a lot of fun and learning quite a bit with the hands on work. This was definitely helping with your interest in working with animals.

Jotaro was extremely helpful. He showed you the different types of coral and how to even identify the genders of fish; which you still had a hard time doing. He was patient with you when it came to things you didn't understand.

Walking into the room, Aaron announced that today you all were heading to the beach. "We're going to study the creatures in the tide pools just off of the main beaches, away from the general public. Its also where we'll release Terrence next week before you two leave." He gave you a smile.

You had gotten really close with the turtle and worked with it almost every day, giving him the name 'Terrence'.

No clouds could be seen in the sky; a beautiful, clear day. Perfect for outdoor work.

With nothing covering the sun, the heat was immense. Good thing you had your bathing suit.

You pulled your shirt over your head and disguarded your pants, revealing the purchase you made. The suit you bought covered your chest, almost like a sports bra. The bottom half was cut like boy shorts. It wasn't anything to flaunt, you bought it to do work, not attract attention. Which seemed to be a lost cause with the other female assistant, Jessica. She was barely wearing anything in just her skimpy bikini.

The last few days, she had basically been hanging off of Jotaro; flirting whenever she had the chance.

Why would you care? He's a grown man, he could do want he wanted. But every time you seen her touch him, you felt a tinge of jealousy. And now here she was, showing damn near all her skin on the beach.

"A little under dressed for work, wouldn't you say?" Your tone came out a little snappy.

Jessica pulled her hair into a ponytail. "I dont know how they do it where you're from, but here it's acceptable." Her gaze drifted to the large man, posing as she tied her hair up.

You rolled your eyes and walked to one of the tide pools you came to observe.

Jotaro took one pool a few yards away from yours, examining a starfish he found. Or at least that's what he wanted everyone to think.

Really, his eyes were on you. The way you were looking in that black swimsuit made his heart race. He watched you pick up a seashell and look it over; your eyes so intent.

"Jotaro!" Jessica's sing-song voice chimed. "I'm finished on my pool, would it be okay if we shared this one?"

Jotaro never even looked at her. "I dont care." What he did notice, was a small crab scurrying across the sand towards you.

You were still examining your shell, unaware of the aggravated crustation.

Jotaro jumped up and rushed to your side as fast as he could, but he was too late.

"Owwww!" You shrieked. Jumping up, you noticed the crab, still pinched onto your bottom. "Get off, you son of a bitch!"

"Hold still."

You stopped flailing when Jotaro came up to you. He knelt down and pried tye crabs pinchers off your rear.

It felt like your heart had stopped when you felt your boss's fingers touch you on such a personal area, but you were thankful for his help. "Th-Thank you."

"You sat on its home." Jotaro informed, pointing to a patch of sand that was built up. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, unable to say anything.

A few hours passed and Aaron called it a day; sending everyone home early.

Jessica bounced up to Jotaro and asked if he wanted to join her for dinner, in which he declined with a hard 'no' and you and him went back to the hotel.

Jotaro walked you to your door. "Are you okay? That crab had a good grip on you."

Subconsciously, you rubbed where it had pinched you. "Still a little sore, but I'm fine, thanks."

"Would you like to get dinner?"

You blinked, taken with his question. When he rejected Jessica's offer, you figured he wasn't hungry. But back when it was just you and him, he was the one to offer dinner.

He asked you almost every night actually, if you wanted to eat with him. There were a couple times when you wanted to stay in, so he went by himself.

When you had taken too long to answer, Jotaro took it as you didn't want to and started towards his room.

"Wait! We...we can go eat."

---

"This seems bitter sweet." Ethan, the other student assistant said.

Carefully, you all transported the large tank the turtle was in to the beach; today he would be going back home.

"He improved so much. He belongs back in the wild." Aaron parked the truck and him and Jotaro carried the tank towards the water.

Setting it down, Jotaro shoved his arms in the water and picked him up. You were sad, but also happy the turtle recovered and was going back where he belonged. "Goodbye, Terrence." You gave him a small peck on his head.

Jotaro smiled at your kindness for the animal. He was impressed with your work the last two weeks and was proud of the dedication you shown. When your eyes met his, he nodded and made his way to the water.

Aaron stood between his students, each arm wrapped around their shoulders and watched Terrence make his way home.

You stood next to your boss, a tear falling down your cheek.

Jotaro's thumb wiped it away. "He'll be fine, thanks to you."

A chuckle escaped from your mouth. "Thanks to all of us, Jotaro. I merely just helped."

The sun almost touched the water; night taking the place of day.

"Professor Kujo, Y/N, thank you for your help. The work you two did was outstanding; you guys make a great team."

A team? You blushed. "Thank you, Aaron. This was a great trip and I learned a lot."

Aaron smiled, looking back at Ethan, who was returning from the truck with a bundle of logs. "I know your flight back home is tomorrow, but I hope you two would join us in a celebratory bon fire?"

You and Jotaro looked at each other, almost waiting to see who's answer would come first. It was Jotaro who spoke.

"That sounds fun. We'll stay for a few hours."

Jessica looked ecstatic that Jotaro was going to join them, having complained all day that he was leaving the next day.

---

Aaron and Ethan had provided beers and coolers for the event.

After a few drinks, everyone started to get a little loose and talk about their interests and some life stories.

You were having a great time, but you couldn't stop eyeing at how Jessica was putting herself out there next to your crush. Jotaro's face was nuetral, as always, but didn't move away from her.

You wish you didn't feel this way.

Getting up, you excused yourself and walked to the shoreline and out of sight behind large rocks. Stopping, you stared out at the water, the moon shining off of it.

You were in complete silence for fifteen minutes before you heard a familiar deep voice.

"What are you doing?"

You didn't want to tell him why you left, so you to just said "I just went for a walk."

He stopped at your side, looking out with you. "You did amazing on this trip. I'm really glad you came."

You smiled, bashfully shifting the sand with your bare foot. "I'm glad I did too. It was a great learning experience. Oh, that reminds me. You kept all the receipts from the places we ate at, right? Mr. Westin wants them for records on the corporate card use."

Jotaro inhaled sharply. He did keep the receipts, but they weren't from the corporate card. He hadn't used it the entire trip. Only using his own when the two of you went to dinner or when you guys went shopping. "Y-Yeah. Ive got them."

A chilly breeze from the ocean hit you and you shivered. You would have been better prepared for the night if you've known you'd be staying past sundown. Your shorts and cropped sweater wasn't keeping you warm.

Jotaro noticed your shiver. He gently grabbed your wrists, turning you to face him and pulled you closer, wrapping you in his jacket.

It felt like time stood still. Like the air was taken from your lungs. You could feel how hard his torso was, he smelt incredible. Wait, what was happening? "Sir?"

Both of you felt like your heads were in the clouds but feet planted to the ground. Your heart pounded so hard, you were sure Jotaro could feel it. Deep in the dark part of your mind, you wanted this mountain of a man, but always brushed it aside, knowing it was wrong to be in a relationship with your boss. But with him making the first move, you seen that it looked like he was having the same feelings.

Your hand rose slowly, tracing his neck. He did the same to you, except his other hand hooked a finger in the waistband of your shorts.

Goosebumps raised on your skin when his left hand rested on your waist.

You tried to catch your breath. Those beautiful eyes staring at you in new light.

It looked like Jotaro was coming closer to your face; gaze focused on your lips.

Finally, you came back to your senses. This was the work of the alcohol. It had to be. You didn't know what to do or how to feel, so you stepped back a little. Jotaro did the same.

"I, um... Maybe... Maybe we should just call it a night..." You couldn't look at him, feeling a little embarrassed.

Jotaro couldn't find words, he was feeling the same as you; his face turning a little red. He nodded with agreement.

The two of you returned to the others and said your goodbyes, thanking them for their generosity and help the last two weeks. Jotaro called a cab and him and you went back to the hotel.

[vampire-hubby]

hi, would you mind doing a murdoc x reader? 💘💗💝💖💓💞💕

!Oh my a request!!!! (I’ve never gotten one thank you so much I feel needed ;w;)(Phase one)

I couldn’t help but stare at my email. My mother had just emailed me for the first time in 3 months, and this is what she tells me: “Get married, you’re fucking 29.”

Really, woman. I don’t see you getting romantic with dad anymore.

My new apartment in the Upper East Side, in Manhattan, wasn’t the biggest, the brightest, or the nicest, but they had internet and good rent. I had only moved in a few weeks prior, and I finally set up my big, clunky desktop, which had become most of my life. I emailed people I didn’t even know from around the world, talking about almost anything with them, from the crappy content on MTV to when we could afford cell phones. I had been chatting for hours on end, hardly getting up except to eat and pee.

I closed out of my mother’s rude email with a rough click of my mouse, and entered my favorite chat room with four different people and me. I had never seen their faces.

Sara: Yoooo, wut’s taking u so long?

Dylan: Yea, where ru?

Imani: *sonic voice* Im waaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiting

(y/n): I was emailing mom. srry.

Bobbi: Its chill. hey, i got a friend from england who just got email. want me 2 let him in the chat?

Ooh, a new friend, I thought sarcastically. Bobbi had this thing where he’d bring in new people and then kick them out a bit later because they’d swear too much. I hoped this wasn’t the case.

Sara: I think thats ok, just dont let them swear.

Sara: seriously

Dylan: I didnt like the last chick u let in

Bobbi: Yea, srry bout that. He wont swear. He only does when hes tired.

Imani: pls let that be tru :(

(y/n): yea let him in.

I leaned back and waited for a solid 30 seconds, before I heard a trademark blip from the speakers.

Murdoc has joined the chat!

Nice name, bucko. Nice name

Murdoc: Hey, people.

(y/n): Greetings, Lord of Hell

Murdoc: nice, I get some respect.

Imani: OOooooooOOOOOh.

Bobbi: Hey man, wasup?

Sara: Dude, is that ur real name

Murdoc: Well, my older brother was named Hannibal

Bobbi: thats scary

Sara: what does ur name mean?

Murdoc: I heard it was irish or celtic or something. Seafarer, Seaman? idk

Imani: cool. do u like the ocean?

Bobbi: OCEAN MAN TAKE ME BY THE HAND

Murdoc: It’s nice i guess. I am overseas right now in NY. I’m in a concert

Sara: cool! isn’t (y/n) from Manhattan?

(y/n): I just moved up there, but ive been here so much i know everything.

Bobbi: guys get like a codeword and find eachother

Murdoc: What kind?

(y/n): seriously NY is so big I doubt murdoc can find me

Murdoc: are you going to any concerts soon?

Sara: dude Manhattan is 1/5 of NY itself

(y/n): Yeah the Gorillaz one

Murdoc: I’m going there too! That band is my heart and soul!

(y/n): u’d better not be the bass player, as your name suggests.

Murdoc: I’ll surprise you. Go to the entrance and when its 5 say ‘seaman’ you’ll find me:)

Imani: Oooooooooooh Murdoc and (y/n) have a date!!!!!

(y/n): my mom says i need to get married, so i’ll take it as a date. anything to make mother happy ;(

Bobbi: aww, sorry. hope u guys have fun

Sara: I gtg, dinner ready. hubbies special

Imani: same, I gotta work on my finals

Bobbi: Ive spen enough time on here. u 2 can talk if u want! bye bye!

Sara has left the chat.

Bobbi has left the chat.

Imani has left the chat.

(y/n): if this date goes well, im moving to england with u.

Murdoc: Great! you can see my car. You might not like my house though, its so fuckin run down,

(y/n): man u swore

Murdoc: the others aren’t on here i can do what i want

(y/n): true.

And I kept chatting for another hour. ‘Murdoc’ was somewhat nice, although he talked shit about his dad and brother. In a way, he was charming. He told smooth jokes that made me laugh until my side hurt. He also seemed to be a little bitter about romance, as he had an unfortunate experience with his friend’s girlfriend a few years back. I left the chat room because my eyes hurt too hard and my bad felt like it would snap. I signed off and headed to bed, staring and the Gorillaz concert ticket on my bulletin board. The concert was next week, and a shiver ran up my spine. I couldn’t wait to see them onstage. They really were a band to behold.

I rolled over and plopped a pillow on my head as the heater kicked in, a loud, angsty cluncki-click noise and thrummed wildly like an out-of-tune instrument.

The day soon came, and I knew I couldn’t be late. I had awoken early, and eaten my fair (and disgusting) share of all-bran cereal.

I opened my window, to the smell of exhaust, perfume, and cigarettes, and the sound of cars honking and driving.

The smell of cigarettes seemed different today. Perhaps the drugstore ran out of Camels. I went back to my room and pulled on my clothes, hoping to get a fresh start to the day, despite the fact I had awoken at 6:30. Ugh.

I went back to my computer and booted up Half-Life and began to play.

*****let me timeskip I’m lazy*****

4:55. and I had spent the last hour in traffic.

Man, people surely like Gorillaz or something. I had barely gotten there in time. I left at four, totally certain I’d beat traffic. Oh how wrong I was.

I went near the gate, holding my ticket and trying not to look suspicious to security. I had to wait a painstaking five minutes just to see the guy I was having my mystery first date with. The Gorillaz murals, however, were nothing short of wonderful, so at least I could spend time looking at them.

I felt a chill up my spine as I gripped my jacket closer, and my ticket tighter.

At last, it was 5. I stared at my watch, unable to believe it. It only dawned on me later on that I was supposed to do something, but what? Say something? What did Murdoc tell me in the chat, Dammit?

“Uh...” I looked around, and hesitantly called out,  “S-seaman?”

The security guard looked over at me, and raised a choppy eyebrow. “Say again?”

“Seaman. I’m supposed to say that and meet some-”

“Come with me,” He said shortly. “And I’ll take your ticket.”

“W-where am I going?” I asked.

“I was told about a special somebody here, and that she deserved a backstage pass with her new boyfriend,” He said simply. “Don’t worry, I’ll scan your ticket.” I fearfully handed the man the ticket, and he proceeded to lead me to a door that said ‘Backstage- security and band only.’

He opened the door. “Your friend is inside, but be careful. He may or may not be drunk.”

“He’s what-” but he slammed the door and and I was left in a dimly lit hallway.

I decided that there was nothing else to do besides walk down to the dressing rooms. And, like every idiot in every horror movie, I did.

My feet echoed louder than I wanted them to, and I shivered. I caught a whiff of that same cigarette smell from this morning, but I shook it away as I forced my feet to march to my inevitable fate. That hallway seemed to grow longer and longer, and I soon heard voices from a door I was approaching.

“-and I tell ya, the kiddo had blue hair like me! ‘e did!” a stuttery voice cheered

“D, he probably dyed it.” came a deeper one, probably from a black man.

“I know, but I fought it wazza’bit cool, eh?”

“Dents, get your sodding mind out of the gutter! I have a guest coming.” Ordered a gruff, angry voice.

“Watashi wa kireina josei ni aitaidesu!!” a Littler girl spoke, but I didn’t understand. Was she Asian or something?

“I know you do, babygirl, just wait.”

I knocked on the door, and the voices went silent.

It opened, and a little Japanese girl stood in the doorway, wearing a radio helmet and a jacket covered in patches that was too big for her.

“Anata wa kireina joseidesu ka?“ She asked

“Umm..” I stared at her.

“She jus; asked yew if yew were the pretty lady Mu’doc’s been talkin’ bout.” said a voice from inside.

“I don’t know if I’m pretty, but can I see Murdoc?” I hunched my shoulders.

“Ē! Kare wa koko ni iru -“

“Let her in, Noodle.” came the gruff voice, and I head a metal chair creak.

“Ā, daijōbu, Murdoc!” the little girl stepped aside and grinned at me. ‘Noodle’ looked too young to be with these men.

And then it hit me once I walked in.

I stood face to face with a man in his thirties. His nose was a lumpy mess, and his eyes lay just under his greasy black bangs, one red and one brown. He scratched a tanned cheek and grinned a crocodile, crooked-toothed grin. He wore a sweat-stained grey shirt, displaying his tattoo-covered arms. He had oddly trimmed white fingernails, which fiddled with a guitar pick. His ripped jeans seemed too small, and he had a pair of Cuban heels on his feet.

“You must be (y/n),” Murdoc seemed to play with my name on his snakey tongue. “It’s me, from the chat room.”

(sorry to end off on a cliffhanger)

[roses-and-oceans]

Once Upon a Dream ~ (Chpt. 2)

A/N: Hi hello, i’m so glad to hear positive things about this fic!! this has been my baby for months and  love the way yall are taking in my words. Srry i havent been active, ive beeen depressed and sick and even more sick now.

If yall like my stuff and you wanna support me in a vry nice way, pls go over to my kofi and I can do very nice things 4 u 2!!! Any amount would help tremendously w bills, meds and gas!! srry fro the plug but ill make a seperate post.

Thanks very much, hope you enjoy!!!

~~

Feathers tickled your nose as your eyes opened to a room of mirrors filled with golden moths flitting about. Vines and big blooms that look like trumpets hung about and drooped around a chandelier. As you stood up, the feathers became a trailing, long skirt. The puffiness  and shape reminded you of  the beautiful waterfowl you'd seen some mornings at a pond nearby your home. A dark, blood red sash was tied at your waist, around your neck and down your back.

As you moved to examine yourself on the mirrored walls between the heavy vines of gilded ivy and, the moths started to fly off the surface of the walls and surround you. You flinched at their movement but as they started to settle back down again, you began to make your way to the door. The insects followed you and began to feast on the golden trumpet flowers.

Some of the moths settled on your shoulders delicately and as their wings fluttered, they dusted you with light gold scales. The door swung open and the creatures erupted into flight, allowing you to leave the room with their gold blessings. You made your way down the halls, following the golden cracks in the marble floors. The tower was as cold as ever and it took all you could to not jump anytime the feathers on your dress fluttered.

The door at the top of the tower was already open. There were a few panes of colored glass broken on the floor. You ran inside.

The petals from the flowers all over the room were plucked from blooms and stems were broken. The pillows on the sheets were ripped and for the first time, you were scared.

This room was no longer safe, this room was tainted.

Where was the Prince? Was he safe?

Thundering steps echoed in the tower and you were rooted to the spot, too afraid to move.

Your prince came past the doorway, his hair flying everywhere. Despite being breathless, he still smiled when he saw you. The glass crunched underneath his scuffed shoes.

“You're alright,” he rasped. His eyes were shining, like magic. He took your face in his hands and kissed your forehead.

“You're safe.” He rested his forehead against yours. You took him by the wrists. You tried to speak, but your voice became bubbled in your throat. You've never spoken in your dreams.

He noticed your struggle and said, “It's okay, I'm okay. I thought something happened to you...”

There was a loud crash below and your eyes went to the door. He gripped you a bit tighter to catch your attention and he murmured, “I have to send you back early tonight. It's not safe here. Not anymore.”

You shook your head, taking in deep gulps of air. You wanted to plead with him to let you stay, to help him overcome whatever was destroying his home your safe place.

“No, I can't let you stay! Its too dangerous! Only I can fight this. I brought this upon myself..”

There was another crash. He looked back to the door and back at you. He kissed your forehead again.

“I'm so sorry.”

You were so confused. He took a deep breath, “I was fooling myself. I was only delaying the inevitable and my selfish actions dragged you into this fight.”

Fight?

“I wanted to live happily. I have lived through the darkest days and now that I found you-.”

The glass door exploded and he shielded you from the rainbow burst.

“I'm sorry.”

He shoved you to the bed.

You fell back and though you thought you were going to hit the bed, you kept falling. The air was whooshing around you and you felt yourself getting sick. You screamed. Everything was so dark.

You woke up in your own bed, the feeling of dropping still fresh. You gulped down air, pushed a hand against the fluttering of your heart.

What in the hell was that?

You looked outside your window; there was a blue haze in the morning air as it drizzled with rain.

And thus began your four days without sleep.

~

The rain didn't stop by the time you had set out to the bakery. There was a small pounding at the back of your head, your shoulders sagged and your eyes could not get used to the dim morning glow despite your best to.

As you came into the shop, Prompto smiled at you. His usual 1000 bolt smile was unusually dim.

“Hey, Y/N. How are you this morning?”

After greeting him as best as you could, you went tot he back to greet Gladiolus and Ignis. You stood at the doorway, taking a moment to watch Ignis work while Gladiolus was finishing up brushing glaze on finished pastries. Ignis was so hyper focused on setting everything up for the day; he was mixing a bowl of batter and had set one aside, “Gladio. Could you please set out three muffin pans? Also, set out three pie tins. Please grease and flour the tins and have Y/N and Prompto set the paper cups and get the third oven to heat up.”

“You got it, Iggy,” Gladiolus put down the glaze and began preparing the trays.

“Thank you.”

You stepped further into the kitchen and the floor creaking underneath you announced your presence to the men. Gladiolus looked you over, “Good morning. Rough night?”

You nodded, “Couldn't really sleep.”

Ignis suddenly appeared at your side with a mug, “Nor could I. Thunderstorms are quite a nuisance at times. Lucky for you, I'm quite well stocked on coffee.”

He motioned for you to take the mug. The earthy taste of the coffee warmed your bones and sent a buzz through you. Ignis even added a bit of milk and sugar to your liking.

“Hope it wasn't too bitter.”

“No, its perfect.”

Prompto was quiet the rest of the work day. He was usually so talkative, so full of jokes and quips. When he was sent out for a delivery task, you turned to the to the others, “Do you know what's wrong with Prompto?”

Ignis took a deep breath and said, “As you know, we come from the old Kingdom. The anniversary of its fall and the death of our many loved ones is approaching fast. Though it has been ten years, it has not gotten easier.

You nodded somberly, “I'm so very sorry about your home...”

Gladiolus shook his head, “No apologies needed.”

You all had gotten back to work. Something still felt off. You decided to talk to Prompto when he came back from his delivery.

There was still no sight of him at lunchtime. You were beginning to worry about him as the time went on and the rain fell harder. You weren't able to go down to the meadow as per usual so after you had eaten your fill, you stood at the back doorway and watched the rain fall. You shivered as the rain air went right through you. Though you loved the rain, you couldn't really enjoy it. You heard heavy footsteps behind you.

“Gil for your thoughts?” Gladiolus' rough voice came from behind you.

You sighed deeply, “Not really thinking, more tired than anything.”

You really were. The ache in your head had not gone away and you felt everything in your body. You were aware of all the aches and the pull of skin and muscles. You hated it.

Gladiolus leaned against the doorjamb, “I noticed that. Usually, your head is up in the clouds, but you're actually present today.”

You smiled, “Don't get used to it.”

That made Gladiolus laugh. You heard the rumble in his chest. It was almost comforting.

“Don't you worry about Prompto. It's always hard for him this time of the year.”

Thunder rumbled above you as you glanced at Gladiolus. He took a deep breath and went back to the warm bakery, to help Ignis. You stayed there for a few moments longer, trying to collect the pieces of peaces around you to glue into your head to help the ache.

Prompto came back soaked like a dog. You helped him dry off his hair and warmed him up with tea as the lunch hour was beginning to  end. He ended up staying in the kitchen the entire time, enjoying the warmth of the ovens. Ignis served him his bowl of stew and Prompto looked at you with puppy dog eyes that made you chuckle to yourself. Even Gladiolus laughed when Prompto sneezed loudly enough to scare Ignis. It startled you, too, and Ignis was smiling, shaking his head from the flour that had puffed up from the jump.

Right as you finished your tasks for the day, a loud thunderclap roared over the bakery. It scared you out of your wits; you screamed and you knocked over the muffin pans you washed. The boys looked at you, Gladiolus coming over, “You alright?

You took a deep breath and leaned back against the counter. The lack of sleep and the unavoidable crash from the coffee had your body feeling wiry and shaky. It would not be wise to be outside.

“I'm alright,” You said as you yawned, “Tired 'is all.”

“That storm outside looks pretty nasty,” Gladiolus warned. You could feel it emanating off him; he didn't want you to go outside.

“I'll be-”

There was a sound ringing in your head. Everything went dark.

But you could hear someone singing. They had a rich voice. Their velvet-smooth crooning drew you in.

Whatever it was, whatever they were, it engulfed you in warmth. Comforting, warm like a body to lay with, nuzzling you closer. You could smell roses. Roses, but amplified. Roses, sea-salt, blood, skin, hair. All the smells came together and the body wrapped its arms around you. You looked up and you met golden eyes, maroon hair. The sharpest smile you've seen. He was beautiful. He sang a song, promising you a sunrise, promising if he failed, he'd die to make the sun come up.

“Y/N!”

You woke up and you were on the floor. Prompto was lifting your legs and Ignis held your head.

Oh, Gods above, your head. It was pounding, thundering like the sky outside. Next thing you knew, you were being carried by Gladiolus, up the stairs, to the boys' living space. He set you down on a red couch and Ignis wrapped a blanket around you. Already, your eye lids were heavy.

The boys began to prepare to go to bed in the low light. Ignis and Gladio stayed up a little later, talking in low voices. And then it was quiet.

You burrowed yourself in the blanket deeper. Suddenly, it was as if everyone had gone and you were alone, waiting. It felt silly to feel like that but it didn't change how you felt. You missed the warmth of your friend, the Prince. You hoped he was okay... And then the echoes of someone singing startled you.

That night was full of tossing and turning. Over and over again you heard the echoes of the honey voiced, wine-haired man singing to you. You couldn't understand the words but it still lulled you into a relaxed state. 

Tagging: 

@fortheloveofeos @gladiolus-mamacitia @angelic-guardienne@leeyahlee-nai @inconsistencys @furubatsu @hextme@zimmer2d@ladychocoberry @mandakatt @casxia

[hellospunkiebrewster]

Credence - Part IX of Duty

Author’s note: We’re almost there, I’d originally planned for this to be ten parts. Each part representing a stage in Riley and Ellie’s, and to a lesser extent Drake’s, grieving process. If you’re new here, thanks for finding me, and catch up here:

Part I: Déjà Vu - Part II: Hopelessly Cold - Part III: Bitterness - Part IV: Rage - Part V: Promises - Part VI: Oath - Part VII: Dysphoria - Part VIII: Toska

Characters and places belong to Pixelberry, I’m just playing with them.

Summary: Riley and Drake discuss the previous night and figure out what’s going on between them. A couple weeks later, Riley attends a state dinner and has to deal with some difficult questions from Ellie.

Word count: 3325

Tags: @queencatherynerhys, @boneandfur, @theroyalweisme, @crayziimaginations, @mfackenthal, @lizeboredom, @gardeningourmet, @madaraism, @pbchoicesobsessed, @hopefulmoonobject

Riley works her way through the hallways towards the library unsure what awaits her there. She wonders if Drake felt like they’d made a mistake, if he was being eaten alive by this same ravenous guilt. As she makes the final turns to the library, her mouth runs dry and it takes every bit of her strength to continue on. Retreating seems like a much simpler option to her. She forces herself on, knowing it wasn’t right to do the easy thing now.

Her hand rests on the doorknob and she steels herself for what’s inside. “You have gotten yourself through everything up to this point,” Riley reassures herself, aloud. She takes a deep breath before turning the knob and stepping inside.

Drake stands far into the long room, looking out the large window at the end of the room. His back is to her and for a moment she watches him as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, rubbing his palms together anxiously.

Once she’s far enough into the library that she knows she can’t turn heel and run, she clears her throat to announce herself. He is shaken from his thoughts by the noise and turns to face her. Tension melts from his face almost instantaneously when he meets her eyes.

“...Collins.” His voice seems choked, almost as if he’s shocked she even came here this morning.

He takes a few steps back suddenly as she nears him and turns away, motioning for her to follow him. Feeling along a shelf, he hits the switch that swings a bookcase away from the wall and steps inside the passage. She’d been here once before with him, on a drunken tour of the palace when they returned after clearing her name, after her engagement to Liam. That night he all but confessed to her how he felt.

“I know how I feel about last night. What I don’t know is how you feel.” He sits on a stone step, facing away from her, looking at the floor. She steps down and sits beside him, her hand rests between them, just touching his, featherlight.

“So I have to go first?”

He looks at her, pained expression on his face. “Please.” He isn’t ready to have his heart broken all over again.

“It felt like so many things Drake. It felt like guilt and pain.” She pauses, gathering herself to continue and he’s looking down at the floor again. She picks a spot on the wall over his head and stares into it, unable to look at him. “But it also felt comforting and warm. I don’t know if there’s anything there for you, but it was very much real for me. You?”

“Are you kidding me?”

She looks at him. He’s sitting much straighter now, searching her face.

“For me, it’s always been about you Riley. From the moment we stepped into that bar, it’s been about you. I’ve always stepped aside because I knew you didn’t feel the same. Because I didn’t want to hurt anyone involved. I pushed it down. And really, who was I, next to an actual king?”

Her first name always feels foreign to her in his voice.

“You were my friend, you kept me safe. You helped clear my name.”

“I did do all of those things, but not because Liam asked me to. I did them because I wanted to, because I cared for you. I loved you.”

She doesn’t know what to say. This isn’t new to her, but it is strange to hear it directly from him, out loud. It was all real. She shakes her head and looks down at her hands. Even in the dim, windowless passage her ring finds the only photons of light and magnifies them.

“But Liam-”

He stops her. “Liam wouldn’t have wanted you to put everyone before yourself.”

--

Drake entered Liam’s study the evening before his wedding. He stood in the center of the room as Liam poured them both a drink, motioning at two large chairs as he handed Drake a glass. He picked up the crystal decanter and placed it on the table nearest Drake’s seat, before he takes a seat himself.

“My wedding is tomorrow.”

“Is it now? I hadn’t noticed,” he scoffed.

Liam’s eyes sparkled with the smallest peal of laughter. His mouth fell to a small frown quickly afterwards.

“I know how you feel about Riley.”

Drake brought the glass to his lips and looks away. He thought he had been better at hiding it, at keeping it to himself. He was kicking himself for allowing it to happen when he knew his best friend was in love with her. The guilt of that alone was destroying him. Nothing had even happened, Drake would never allow it to. As he swallowed he felt his jaw tense. A small cough escaped his throat and he answered his friend seriously.

“I’d never do anything to hurt either of you. This is something I’ll have to learn to live with because I’m genuinely happy for both of you. You and her deserve this happiness, Liam.”

“You wouldn’t, I know.”

Liam took a sip and looked at him, mulling over his next request.

“Since the attack, I’ve found it hard to shake the thought that I might not always be there for her. I could be gone in an instant, I could be gone tomorrow. And while the public loves her, there’s members of the nobility who would eat her alive.”

“Liam, what are you saying?”

“With such a huge target on my back, I don’t know if I’ll always be here for her. As much as I hate to say it, it’s a very real possibility.”

“We’ve already spoken about this and I said, ‘yes.’ You want me to protect her.”

Liam emptied his glass in one gulp, rising from his seat before turning to the window. “No, I want you to take care of her.”

--

“We made so many promises to each other Drake, and now he’s gone. I owe it to him to bring Cordonia through this, to help set Ellie up for success, to build his legacy since he had so little time to do it himself.” She fights back tears. Her betrayal pulls at her heart, pulling her away from him.

“But at what cost, Collins? You barely see Ellie, you’re a stressed out mess, you’re hardly sleeping.”

His hand slides against her cheek and she can’t help by lean into it. His hand is rough against her face, calloused from all the odd jobs he does around the palace, but still so gentle. It stills her mind and she feels her panicked breathing return to normal.

“I know it hasn’t been that long and I know you have never felt anything more than friendship with me, but last night, that had to mean something.”

“It did and I think that’s why I feel so guilty.” Her eyes begin to well up. “I miss him so much it hurts, Drake.” She dabs at her eyes with her fingertips, looking to the ceiling as she tries to blink her tears away. His other hand grips her thigh and her stomach jumps and flutters.

“I don’t know if I can ever feel the same way as you.” Her voice cracks.

“And I’m not asking you to, I’m asking you to let go and allow yourself something that makes you feel happy and loved for the first time in months, to forget Cordonia and court for just a little while every so often.” His hand slips from her cheek to sweep some loose hairs from her face and behind her ear. It follows along the lock of hair down to her neck, his fingertips brushing the side of her neck and making her shiver. They travel to her collarbone and her breath comes short. His touch is so light it’s barely there, ghosting along her body. Goosebumps pucker her skin in its wake.

She finally looks at him again, and he’s boring into her gaze with the same intensity she’d seen from Liam so many times. Her lips are dry and they pull at each other as her mouth falls slightly open. His other hand moves up the outside of her thigh and comes to rest at the small of her back, pulling her into him.

“How is it that you always make me feel like I’m enough? Like I don’t need to try harder, like i’m not failing?”

“Because you are enough, Collins. You’re more than enough, you’re compassionate, gentle, brilliant, strong-”

She cuts him short, her lips on his, stronger than the night before. Drake stiffens in shock, not moving. He fears any movement from him will scare her away. Only when her hands float to both sides of his face, slipping back to his neck, her fingers intertwined behind it, does he relax into her touch and return the kiss with the same intensity. His hand grips at the fabric of her shirt on the small of her back, afraid to let her go. A gnawing thought pulls him from the moment and he breaks the kiss.

She looks up at him and she chews lightly on her bottom lip. Her eyes are confused and he opens his mouth to speak but she prempts him.

“So what exactly is this?”

“Heh. Taking the words right out of my mouth.” She waits for his response, unwavering.

“I suppose it’s only fair since I made you go first. And I can’t say I have an answer, I know what I’ve wanted for so long.” Riley can see him fight himself from pulling back further and looking away before he continues, “But asking that of you, now, isn’t fair. Honestly, I’m not sure I’m ready for it. So much has happened in the last few months and I don’t know if either of us are. I guess we’ll play it by ear. No expectations.”

She drops her hands from behind his neck and they slip to his waist and behind his back. She is pulling herself into him, burying her ear in his chest, listening to his heartbeat. His warmth blankets her and she allows herself to welcome in the feeling of someone else’s arms around her.

“There’s one thing I do know. I need you. To just be here. You might feel like you’ve barely been holding it all together, but you’ve kept me together. You and Ellie. I was drowning and you pulled me from it.”

She closes her eyes, her breathing slows to match his as she listens to the thump of his heart. They’re both quiet for some time before Drake speaks again.

“Thank you.” He kisses the top of her forehead and continues to hold her.

--

“Is this really necessary Collins?” Drake protests as she adjusts his pocket square and turns her attention to his bowtie.

A shriek of laughter bubbles through the royal suite.

“You look funny.” Ellie’s eyes shine with mirth as she stands in the door to her mother’s bedroom. He shoots her a mean look and she shrieks and runs down the hall to her room, feet thudding along the way.

Drake stands in front of a full length mirror with Riley in front of him, a couple weeks after their discussion in the library. She busies herself with the knot in his bowtie, untying and retying it a few times before she gets it right.

“Ugh, I don’t think I’ve tied one of these since I was helping my friend Daniel get ready for a wedding. How do you not know how to do this? You literally spend most of your days in a palace.” She adjusts the now done tie, trying to get it to sit straight.

“I don’t generally dress up for things, no one notices you if stand by some plants near the bar.”

“That’s going to have to change.” A scoff escapes his throat in a deep rumble when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror as Riley steps back and turns to survey him in it. Drake is wearing a deep navy tuxedo with black lapels. “You’re looking pretty good tonight Mr. Walker.” She winks exaggeratedly at him, laughter shining in her eyes at his discomfort.

“I don’t look like myself.” Drake shifts from side to side in his He messes with his collar, trying to loosen it. When it doesn’t budge he sighs, dejectedly.

She touches his arm and he brings his eyes to hers in the mirror. “I know it’s not your thing, but thank you so much for agreeing to come to this state dinner with me.”

Drake nods.

Riley turns to her closet, grabbing her gown and slipping into the bathroom to change. She’s wearing a simple textured crepe gown in cream with a painted peach and muted blue flower pattern to match. The skirt is simple and falls down straight, with a single long slit up the back. She slips on a pair of gold shoes and exits the bathroom.

“I just need to check on Ellie.” She crosses the room to head to Ellie’s room and Drake catches her wrist, pulling her to him in one quick motion.

“You look stunning, I almost regret giving you a hard time about asking me to come to this thing.” He presses a kiss to her lips and she relaxes into it for a moment.

“Ew, what are you doing?”

Riley jumps back as if she had been burned and brings her hand to her lips. Turning towards the door, she sees Ellie in her pajamas, her head tilted to one side and her nose crinkled.

“Uncle Drake and I have to go to a very important event tonight and it’s just about bedtime. Do you think we can talk about it tomorrow?” Ellie shrugs.

“How about a bedtime story?”

“Okay.” Ellie turns and stomps her way down the hallway to her room with Riley in tow.

--

Riley and Drake are seated at a large round table with the guests of honor an ambassador from France and one from Portugal along with others from the regent committee. She nods along as the ambassador from Portugal is speaking about a proposed trade agreement between their two countries. She’s not particularly interested in the conversation but is putting up a good face for the sake of Bertrand who is seated directly across from her in the circle of diners.

As the plates are being cleared from the last course by the staff, Riley is approached by her assistant who kneels next to her to whisper in her ear.

“Ma’am, it’s Eleanor, she’s not feeling well and the night nanny says she won’t-”

Riley cuts her short by rising from the table and interrupting the conversation around it.

“I’m so sorry to disappoint, but it seems my daughter is not feeling well at the moment and needs me. I’m going to have to call it an early night, but please, dance and enjoy the night. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Oh what a pity,” the ambassador from France looks at her disappointed. “But family comes first.”

“Surely Her Majesty could open the evening’s dancing before leaving? Or a toast?” Bertrand pipes up from his seat. Riley knows a dance is only a few minutes, but knowing nobility, she could get held up for a half hour or longer just waiting for people to be ready, waiting for the champagne to be poured, for them to ask her for a dance, and she didn’t really want to have to explain the situation to the entire room. She sees her window as now, before anyone notices she’s slipped out.

“I’m very sorry Duke Ramsford, but I really should go.”

Bertrand sighs heavily, disappointed by her response. She turns to leave but doesn’t hear another committee member mutter to him, “I guess being a mother is more important than being Queen mother.”

She does however hear Drake over the conversation at the table. “You’re damn right it is,” Drake pushes himself back from the table, knocking a couple of wine glasses over in the violent motion. “You’re all the same, not wanting to take any actual responsibility for this country and resting it all on her because it’s easier and more interesting to watch her juggle it all.”

The ambassadors are clearly uncomfortable and reach for their drinks, shooting each other sideways glances. Riley looks at Drake, frozen and embarrassed. She knows she needs to do something to diffuse the tension. Her gaze wanders the table and her eyes meet Savannah’s, sympathetic, an apology in them.

“Since we’re on the topic of mothers, what would you all think of Duke Ramsford and his beautiful wife here opening the night’s festivities? It won’t be long until they have another sweet little one of their own, surely it would be a memorable way to start the evening.”

Savannah nods, smiling, and Bertrand nods approvingly at Riley as she excuses herself once again. She turns to leave through a side entrance, feeling Drake’s presence on her heels.

“I asked you to come for moral support, not to serve as back up in a fist fight,” she smirks and shakes her head at him. Her steps quicken and she travels the hallways of the palace back the residence.

When they arrive, the night nanny tells them Eleanor is in her room. Drake makes his way to the couch, already removing his tie and undoing the top few studs on his shirt. Riley hurries down the hallway and enters Ellie’s room where she lays in bed, looking upset and conflicted.

“Oh sweetie, what’s wrong?” Riley asks as she crosses the room and sits on the edge of her daughter’s bed.

“You’re forgetting daddy. I don’t want to forget him, too.”

Riley takes in a deep breath before saying anything to her daughter. She knew she was in for an interesting discussion soon when Ellie saw Drake and her in the bedroom earlier while getting ready.

“I could never forget daddy Ellie,” she pauses unsure how to continue.

“But why were you with Uncle Drake tonight?” Ellie’s face is turned up to hers and Riley lays on her side next to her daughter in bed, propping her head on her hand and bringing her other hand to stroke her daughter’s hair.

“Mommy loved daddy so much, and still does. Daddy was my best friend Ellie,” she watches Ellie’s face as the worry begins to melt away but the concern remains.

She continues, “Uncle Drake and daddy were also best friends, It’s very hard to be happy without a best friend.” She knew she was talking in circles, unsure where she was going with this.

“Just because you find a new best friend doesn’t mean you forget about the old one.”

“So you won’t forget about daddy?”

“Never sweetie, I could never forget him because he gave me you.” Ellie’s conflict melts away from her face but she can see the gears still turning in her mind. Riley kisses her daughter’s cheek and continues to stroke her hair until she falls asleep. She takes a couple minutes to watch her sweet sleeping face, rising slowly to not stir her. She tiptoes from the room and shuts the door behind her. When she’s in the hallway, she realizes what Ellie was thinking about and dreads the conversation tomorrow about what she meant when she said that Liam gave her Ellie. She rubs the space between her eyebrows with her fingertips as she goes to her room to change.

Riley returns to the living room after some time to find Drake on the couch, his shirt undone and untucked and jacket thrown over the back of a chair. She joins him and he throws his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him.

“Everything alright?”

“It will be. I think.”

--

Part X: Unconditional is here.

[evieshook]

run with me

pairing: harry/evie rating: pg-13 words: ~2300 a/n: aka the five times they ran away together, and the one time they couldn’t. it’s supposed to be a songfic, but there’s only one real mention of the lyrics. it’s still very inspired by the song anyway. on a side note, it’s been almost a month since i last posted a fic. i’m so sorry! prompt: Can you do a hevie fic based on the song Paris by the chainsmokers? Maybe something about them running away? Thank you! read on: [ao3] [ffn.net]

v.

He had found her sitting alone on the steps in front of the Tremaine’s Curl and Dye shop, lost in thought as she fiddled with the hem of her dress. He was curious; she had never exited the shop looking so gloomy and down in the dumps, nevertheless sitting alone in front of it like she had nowhere else to go. It irked him, more than he liked.

Without hesitation, he trudged up to her, hand outstretched for her to take it. She looked up at him curiously; it would be wrong to say that they were friends, yet it would be even more wrong to say they were strangers. While they had spoken only a few times before, those few moments had built a strange connection neither had thought possible. However they had never openly sought each other out, both too busy with their own messes of lives to think of doing anything else.

So she just stared at him, never saying anything else as he looked down at her expectantly. “Run away with me,” he had told her so seriously, she didn’t think he was joking. She went silent for a few moments before lifting her hand up, placing it gently in his.

“Okay,” she muttered in reply, letting the pirate lead her off to wherever he wished. He pulled her through the dark alleys of the Isle, swiftly turning to avoid the crowds as he ventured further and further out, until he reached the edges of the forest near the sea. She followed him obediently, allowing herself to relish in the feel of his touch as he gently tugged her along to a creek hidden behind the trees.

Evie raised a brow when the view finally came in sight, never having visited the place before. He led her near the rocks where there was a small canoe tucked away inside a small crevice. Evie followed him inside the boat, holding onto him for balance before taking a seat on the wooden plank. He took an oar, handing her one before showing her the correct way to paddle, the girl following along quickly.

When the preparations were finally done, Harry untied the string anchoring the boat to the edge of the creek before beginning to paddle away, Evie following his lead. They paddled in complete silence for a good ten minutes, before the pirate finally looked at her, ready to speak.

“Yer mum?” he had asked her, the girl nodding in reply.

“She got angry at me again for using up her makeup, lecturing me for not having the ‘decency’ to refill it. Then she called me ugly and that she didn’t want to see my face again, so I went to find Dizzy but she’s out,” she explained softly, twirling a strand of blue hair with her fingers.

Harry watched her as she let out a small sigh, biting her lip hard. He reached out a gloved hand, gently caressing her face as she paused, staring at him curiously. His hand moved to the strand of hair she was twirling, twirling it with his own before letting go.

“Yer not ugly Princess,” he said to her, “far from it.”

Evie bit her lip, trying to hide the small smile as he pulled away, paddling once more. It was one thing to be called pretty from her friends, but it was another to be called pretty from someone like Harry. It had meant more to her than he would ever know.

iv.

His fingers travelled along the length of his hook, lightly gliding across the cool surface before it reached the sharp point at its edge. If he added a little pressure, he would prick himself and draw blood, and the temptation was growing a little stronger.

However he was stopped by a hand that had gripped the edges of his hook, Harry looking up to see a bemused blue haired princess who flashed him a knowing look as he removed his finger from the edge. He grinned a sheepish grin but she shook her head, tugging the hook harder in retaliation.

“Run away with me,” she said to him, a single nod of the head giving her his answer. She pulled him by the hook, knowing he wouldn’t ever let it go as she led him through the familiar passages and along the sides of the forest until they reached the creek. Instead of heading inside the boat, she tugged him across the rocks at the edge, lightly jumping across to avoid the water.

He followed her obediently, until she stopped and bent down to grab two stones at the bottom of the shallow waters. When she got up, she handed him a stone, waving it to him before swiftly skipping it across the water, his eyes watching as it skipped five times before sinking into the bottom of the water. Evie turned to him expectantly as he copied her movement, shifting himself to the side before throwing it across the water. They both watched as it sunk to the bottom of the water without a single jump, Evie unable to stop the small giggle escaping her lips as Harry eyed her in irritation.

“It was me first time Princess,” he protested as Evie tried halting her giggles.

“I got it the first time,” she told him smugly, the pirate rolling his eyes.

“Beginner’s luck.”

She poked her tongue out at him before bending down to grab two more rocks, handing him one and getting ready to throw. “Your dad?”

They watched as her rock skipped seven times before sinking, Harry letting out a small whistle in appreciation before humming. “CJ and Harriet too.”

Evie turned to him with a raised brow. “What happened?”

Harry didn’t turn to look at her, instead focusing all his energy on the rock as he threw it as hard as he could, watching it sink just like before. “Same old, same old. Disappointed I hadn’t topped me classes like those two did, and even more so when they found out I was Uma’s first mate.”

She nodded in understanding, before bending down to reach for another rock. This time she grabbed one that was larger than the others, turning to give it to him without a word. He took it without question, knowing what she meant before he threw it with all his might.

iii.

He took her hand without asking, leading her down the familiar route to the creek before finding a good place on the rocks for them to sit. No paddling or skipping rocks this time, just plain sitting and enjoying each other’s company as they let the troubles around them fade away.

“Run away with me,” he had told her once they were settled on the dry rocks, Evie rolling her eyes at the lateness of it.

“I already have,” she retorted, the pirate grinning in reply. He let out a sigh as he shifted himself to look at her more comfortably, the girl turning to stare at him with curious eyes.

“It’s been a while,” she remarked, Harry nodding. “It has.”

Evie bit her lip as she locked gazes with him, the blue in his eyes only now becoming more present. “I’ve missed you,” she said softly, the pirate raising a brow in surprise. He sat up more straight this time as he kept his eyes locked on hers, not daring to make a single move.

“And why would the princess be missin’ a pirate like lil’ auld me?”

Her eyes narrowed at his teasing, reaching out to lightly punch him in the shoulder. “You know why.”

His eyes twinkled. “Aye, but I wanted to hear ye say it first.”

Her nose crinkled, Harry finding it the most adorable thing he’d ever seen before she let out a small harrumph. “They won’t like it you know.”

The male shrugged, not bothered by the opinions of the others. He loved his friends, he really did, and he had unquestionable loyalty to them but they didn’t control his life then and they wouldn’t control his life now. No matter the problem Uma had with the rest of her group, her bitterness lied with Mal and not Evie, so he didn’t see why she would need to be unnecessarily affected.

“I don’t care,” he told her, reaching out to rest a hand against her cheek. “They can hate it all they want, but they can’t tell me what to do.”

Evie placed a hand over his, leaning into his touch with a small smile. She didn’t doubt that he didn’t care, but she couldn’t deny that she did. Her friendship with Mal was still a little rocky and fragile, but she didn’t want to sacrifice one relationship for another. Harry was right in his thinking, but it didn’t mean that it wouldn’t cause problems for everyone involved.

But they had run away together, so that shouldn’t matter now.

ii.

“Harry, run away with me,” she pleaded, taking his hand and trying to pull him away. But he didn’t budge, looking at her for a long moment before pulling her away himself. He moved so fast that she was stumbling right after him, but she did her best to catch up, refusing to slow him down.

He only let her hand go when they had finally arrived, standing on the rocks instead of merely sitting on them. Evie stared at his back worriedly, hesitant to approach him in case he would brush her off.

“Ye trashed me ship,” he said coldly, withdrawn of emotion that it had Evie’s heart pounding in her ears in guilt.

“I did,” she admitted, staying rooted to her spot as she forced herself to keep her head high.

“And ye did it with the others,” he continued, the girl lowering her head in shame. “I know,” she all but whispered, flinching when she heard him turn.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

The male sighed before walking toward her, the sound of grass crunching becoming deafening in her ears. She heard him pause in front of her, her eyes trained on his rugged black boots before she felt his hand reach beneath her chin, gently tilting her head up to face him. His eyes were unreadable but that made her feel all the more guilty as she bit her lip, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered sincerely, hoping he would listen to her.

“It’s not my place to forgive ye Princess. Ye weren’t the one who wanted te do it,” he replied softly.

“Let’s not fight here,” she instead said to him, eyes pleading. He knew what she meant, nodding in agreement.

“We won’t.”

i.

She gazed up at him with cheeky eyes, hand gripping the small object tightly as he eyed it skeptically. “Why?”

Evie shrugged. “Can’t I at least take one picture of us?”

“Why take a picture when ye can have the real thing,” he retorted, flashing her a cocky grin. The girl rolled her eyes before pulling him by the jacket toward her. “Pictures last longer.”

He tipped his hat in agreement before she handed the camera to him, Harry raising a brow. “I’m takin’ it?”

“Of course. You’re taller than me,” she reasoned before she grabbed his face in her hands, smiling at him. “Run away with me?”

The pirate smiled back at her, lifting the camera with one arm as he turned it to face the both of them. With the right angle, he kept his finger on the button as she leaned up to seal the kiss, Harry clicking at the right moment. When they pulled away, Evie’s lips spread out into the widest grin. “Always.”

He brought the camera down, turning it to see the screen for the preview of their photo. Evie hummed in approval at his photography skills, liking the way he had captured their kiss in their own little paradise.

If we go down then we go down together.

+i

His hands gripped the edges of the scroll tightly, applying so much pressure that it was bound to rip. He sucked in a breath as he read the words over and over again, until he was sure that it had been engrained in his mind for good and that he wasn’t just reading it wrong.

Evie watched him worriedly, noting the whiteness in his knuckles as he gripped the scroll tightly. She already knew that by coming here, it would be bad news for the both of them. No one would walk away from here with an unbroken heart, that much was certain.

“Harry,” she began softly, reaching out toward him but he flinched away, still holding the scroll tightly before turning to look up at her. He was frowning, face looking angry but she knew him well enough to note that he wasn’t just angry, he was also in disbelief and shock, but if anything in pain. She had caused him pain, the last thing she had ever wanted to do, especially in their paradise.

“Yer going,” he said bluntly, the girl slowly nodding. He sucked in another breath before throwing the scroll at her, Evie not bothering to catch it as she watched him.

“Harry,” she tried again but he shook his head vehemently.

“Yer gonna leave me,” it wasn’t a question but she nodded anyway.

“I’m s—“

“Don’t say it,” he snapped, “Don’t apologise.”

“Harry—“

Harry shook his head, running a hand through his messy hair before turning to her. She was looking at him guiltily and sadly, but what could he do? She was the one who had hurt him more, yet even now he couldn’t find the heart to hate her. He could never hate her, never.

“Run away with me,” he pleaded to her, hands gripping her shoulders tightly. He didn’t want to lose her, not now, not ever. But the reality was coming more and more real. She was leaving him, and he couldn’t follow.

Evie gazed up at him, trying to reign back the tears but it was no use. Her eyes were watery as he gripped her shoulders, but all she could do was place her hands on his chest, lightly pushing him away. “I can’t.”

Not this time. Not anymore.

[exilevilifyrp]

                                             file: introduction

full name: robyn kane age: 27 identifies with: state of dreaming by marina and the diamonds genesis: organic gender: intersex + female identifying (she/her) portrayal: chloe bennet

                                                                   file: biography

TW: Guns, hospitals. blood, death

Robyn Kane dreamed of mangoes.

Sweet, sap-fleshed fruits she could describe in such vivid detail you could feel their gold-yellow dripping down your throat. They had, Atticus rationalized, been her mother’s last meal request; three mangoes, halved, (pits still in, please!) cubed at about one inch in diameter. Such a tremendous yearning this must’ve been that it found its way to her daughter, who in turn ate up washers and packing peanuts, swallowed down marbles and screws in her futile pursuit of sweetness. “Normal toddler behavior,” articles on his armlet read. “Just whack ‘em hard on the back if you see ‘em gulping away anything important.” Of course, Atticus never whacked Robyn, but the idea of normality washed relief over the father. “Still,” a voice nagged, often late, often red-eyed on the pull-out couch of their rusted apartment. “What could be said of the planets?”

Well, for one, they were huge! Vast, sweeping expanses Robyn dreamed up with forests high as the SungX building and deserts red as the setting sun. Sands that stung in sporadic blizzards. Skybirds who soared over archipelagos in triangular formations, fighting fish over seafoam, their hunger a constant, bitter pang. Such were the untrekked settings that congregated heroes to Robyn’s stories, that in turn congregated ruddy-faced factory cleaning kids, their stinking mops forgotten, around her during their glorious hour of lunch break. “Pew pew pew!” Robyn would say, her small voice teeming with life, “and then the heroes and the villains became best friends, and no one’s mom had to die, and the planets weren’t lonely for anyone, anymore. I accept tips via my dad’s credit account or in mangoes. The end.” And then, in the same tidy fashion as always, everyone would pack up and get back to scrubbing floors.

The crowds dwindled after parents caught word. Scrap metal never fell far from the ship, people said, and everyone and their android knew that Kane kid was going to turn out bad. That monster - Clemence Kane’s - child had those same foxlike eyes, lips the same raw swath of ochre…a gaze that flickered time to time with the same strange, insatiable hunger. “Stay away from that Kane kid,” workers warned, their fingers shaking, their grey uniforms all the same. Fathers cursed and flicked cigarette butts. Mothers pulled their children to the other side of the litter-caked road. And so the crowd on the back steps of nutripowder factory, which had once overflowed like steel wool from a storm cloud, shrunk to the size of one lonely droplet.

Robyn kept herself steady by looking upwards. She’d work hard, she’d be so helpful they’d all have to come around. Tears found it harder to squeeze by when her face was lifted towards the ceiling, and muscle memory kept her mouth pulled into the same sweet, little grin. At lunch, alone with her flavorless mix of powder, though, her lips would tremble - until her eyes caught sight of the strange heroes who, day in and day out, would flip and fly above her city.

Wash Captains. That’s what her dad said when she asked him. And they weren’t villain fighters - they were actually cleaners like both of them were. Still, hearing their hoots and howls as they tumbled from building to building, their washbots flocking behind them like rafts of ducklings, sent a rush up her little spine. The Captains grew into her new idols, another reason for her to dream. And every day during break, she’d make it further up the walls of her own building, brave a further jump from height to height. All until one day, she plucked up the courage to follow her heroes, trying to keep up, but finding herself slipping behind.

“Talia, you’ve got a tail!” A Captain signaled for the group to slow down. The lot of them, adults between their early twenties and late forties, decelerated to a pace that wouldn’t endanger the kid, though they did this surreptitiously enough that the twelve-year-old thought she was catching up.

“What’s your name, speedster?” The youngest one, Talia, asked.

“I’m Robyn Kane!”

“Well, you’ve got guts coming up here. I like that.” The rest of the group didn’t shiver or scowl, instead, they just shared a kind, collective laugh. “What’s good?” “Nice to meet you, Robyn,” voices chorused. And when they darted off to work on their respective building groups, Talia gestured for Robyn to follow her. She stopped at the edge of a metallic skyscraper, her washbots swarming to wipe the windows of the behemoth adjacent. From dawn until dusk, she let Robyn shadow her, explaining what a Wash Captain’s duties were, the test it to become one, and difficulties the job brought with it. Long hours, limited work lifespan, days without rest…the ability to problem solve and stay cool under pressure was paramount. But if you were the right kind of person, you’d find family here like no other. And Robyn hoped, hoped, hoped that with enough effort, when the year’s test came around, she’d be ready to join them.

Setbacks were inevitable. Sprained wrists, lack of formal training, exhaustion after back-to-back days at the factory…nothing, though, that could quite prepare her for the sickness. A flu, its origin the lungs of a machine operator, spread through the adults, then the children, then to her. Everyone and their uncle hacked up phlegm for two weeks, their faces pale green from the night sweats, though none fell quite so ill as Robyn Kane. A hospital rush led to injections, led to IV drips, led to peals of hushed conversation, led to the sound of a final lamp smashing outside her door.

“The warden promised they’d treated her!"

"The CD4 count-”

“Fuck the CD4 count!”

“Sir, can you just…”

Robyn shivered. What was her dad talking about with that doctor? Was she going to die? And what had made him so angry? Her eyes had already begun drooping shut when Atticus came back in, though, his face shaking with anger.

“What’s going on, dad?” Robyn tried to roll to face him, but he shushed her.

“You’re going to be okay, kid.” He kissed her head, sitting gently at the side of her hospital bed. Only when he thought she was asleep did a sob leave him, the sound of heartbreak, of betrayal, of an uncertain man.

In truth, the doctors weren’t sure how she’d survived so long. ARHIV - or advanced resistant human immunodeficiency virus - was livable with treatment, but going nearly thirteen years without, especially after being born with it…well, complications usually reared their heads sooner. Still, the NRTIs seemed to be lowering the viral load in her blood, and with the aid of intensive anti flu meds, her immune system managed to struggle through.

“Take your meds,” Dr. Ota said, as Robyn and her dad breathed fresh air for the first time in three weeks. “And remember, any fluids that come out of you are not to be touched by others.”

Atticus wanted Robyn to rest. She was still weak from her bout of illness, but almost a month had gone by without any exam preparation, and she wouldn’t let anything get in the way of her dream. She pushed herself to jump farther, to climb higher, to memorize every protocol in the Washbook. And when test day came, she gave it everything she got. “We’ll call,” her examiner promised, though the stern look on his face was airtight. “We’ve only got room for about three people this year, so don’t get your hopes up too high, okay, kid?” But when the buzz rang out on her armlet that evening, her hopes had already soared through the roof.

“Hello?"

"Hey, is this Robyn?” Talia’s voice drifted in through the speaker.

“Yeah, yeah, this is me, Robyn- Robyn Kane - Kane, Robyn - I-”

“Marks Building, speedster. Tomorrow. 5AM.”

And then the call clicked out, and a teenage squeal woke nearly half of the building.

The job wasn’t all games and glory. Most days, she went home with limbs that threatened to tear off, but how many people could say they ended a shift by skydiving off a building? Magnetic gloves carried her to the very top of the city, reminding her of her smallness, though a hoot from one Wash Captain to another reminded her she was never alone. Skyscrapers rushed together as air gave way to metal under her feet, running upwards and downwards, leaping from one to another with an expert’s grace. This was, save for her, the kind of movement reserved for heroes, and shadowing other Captains to get the hang of more advanced techniques ensured she continued to grow. From this vantage point too came new insight on the city - inequity others more often chose to ignore. Apartment Piles - swaying stacks of low-income housing - were collapsing. At first, it seemed accidental, but then the breadth of the falls seemed more sinister. Factories bought out the land. Overwatchers failed to check the sites. And since a lot of first responders wouldn’t set foot in the rougher neighborhoods, the Captains took it upon themselves to search and rescue.

Such was her transformation from girl to hero. Pulling injured folks from buildings, keeping kids safe…it was this grit and responsibility that matured her. Time with her dad became precious. Happy hours with friends began to mean more. But youth was still youth, after all, and when time brought on an admirer, Robyn’s heart began to palpitate.

There’s was a typical teen meeting - boy watched girl soar from building to building, boy plucked up the courage to wave, girl told him she’d come say hi during her lunch break. And so said boy appeared day after day, wonderstruck in crooked glasses, his hand outstretched to offer a cool bottle of water. A Harbor boy, Deek Jenkins. When they talked, her lies grew from goosebumps to mountains - yes, her mom was nice, yes, she’d eaten a mango, yes, her dad was a world-saving space pilot and, if she disappeared for a few days, it was because she helping him fight off evil. Truth be told, she wanted to keep Deek around. But how could a Harbor boy remain interested if he knew about her dark origins, her sickness, how a job washing windows was the most exciting thing that’d ever happened to her? Instead, she told him about the skybirds, the archipelagos, the burning sands. All while the virus inside her was shifting, overcoming her medications, and threatening to overcome her as well.

Time passed. Deek began bringing two water bottles. Robyn always finished the one he brought with a still-thirsty gulp, then gobbled down two, then three, and he was about to bring four when she stopped showing up.

“Check the clinic on Fourth, kid,” the Wash Captain, Talia, who visited in Robyn’s stead offered. So check Deek did.

“Hey,” he greeted, pulling a whole cooler of water bottles to her hospital bed. She uncapped one.

“You’ve found me out, Jenkins.” The twenty-year-old’s lips quirked upward, falling as a hack expelled from her lungs. “I’ve caught an ‘opportunistic infection.’ Tuberculosis. Not fun stuff. And while we’re at it, I’ve got another disease called ARHIV, which my doc just said’ll probably kill me by 35. And my mom-”

“Was a rebel terrorist,” Deek finished for her. “Who killed upwards of a hundred Overwatchers and their associates. She was sentenced to death six months after being turned in by a man named Thomas Martineaux, and would’ve been sentenced immediately had she not been pregnant with you.”

Robyn nodded. “Happy?”

“No.” He paused. “I mean, yes, that you were honest with me.”

“Why’d you hang around then, if you knew?”

Deek shrugged. “I guess I just liked you.”

“I guess I just liked you too.”

Robyn got over her infection. Time went on, work continued, and she was back on the rescue grind. The number of collapses grew, and the public’s anxiety grew with it. Her dad, who’d been promoted to a managing janitor inside the factory, spent time cleaning the inside of apartments despite danger, and three times, buildings collapsed with him in them. Each time, Robyn would hold her breath, her body trembling, her boots pounding miles to find he was okay, but there was never a second to spare for a hug or a word of relief when she got there. Every moment was instead spent pulling people from the wreckage, searching for help, until one day, a shard of glass changed everything.

“Don’t-” Robyn tried, but Talia had already reached in with a cut hand to pull it out. She jerked her leg away at the last minute, preventing contact, but it was in this moment that she realized her own body was a danger, herself a hazard that could be spread on. How could she have been so reckless, so stupid, to endanger everybody? Any time, she could’ve gotten cut. Any day, she could’ve spread her disease. Rescue efforts were abandoned, and happy hours avoided for fear of being seen as a coward. Until Deek Jenkins, again, came to her aid.

A birthday present - the big twenty-five. Robyn was huddled up on the couch, watching a livestream of an apartment collapse from her armlet, when Deek came in.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” She asked, but he just grinned at her, extending a parcel from his hands to hers.

“I, uh, made this.” His eyes sparkled as she unwrapped it, a costume of fine, black material, cape included. “I know the design is kind of corny, but you’ve always been into the hero thing and you’ve seemed so down ever since Talia, um…the fabric’s cut proof. In the case that something gets through, though, there’s a compound on the inside that’ll immediately clot your blood, so people are safe, no spread. And I also wanted to tell you that I-”

“I love it, Deek.” Robyn’s lips rose, then fell as her eyes honed in on her screen. A pair of Overwatchers, their bodies too small to be seen clearly without zooming in, moved in the corner.

A familiar face, familiar gait, familiar everything. Suddenly, it all made sense. She checked her armlet.

“8:30. Pile A7X.” The apartment her dad was suppose to be cleaning. Time to put Deek’s outfit to the test.

The rescue mission was a rush of pure adrenaline. A building scaled, a fire alarm pulled, and hundreds evacuated in the nick of time. She gave no name - a vigilante, in and out before anybody could ask. And now it was time to get to the bottom of the collapses.  

She made her way to the factory. Dark, no people or stars to be seen. If she could get into her dad’s office, maybe there’d be a list, some way to predict the next Pile falls. She’d save hundreds of lives, expose a massive conspiracy -and then a dot of red light materialized on her chest.

“Robyn.” Her father’s voice broke the silence. “I can explain-” “Explain what? How you’ve been killing innocent people for years?” All those apartments cleaned, how she thought he’d actually been in danger.

“Rebel suspects, Robyn. They’re killing thousands. Hear me out, I-”

Her eyes hardened. “You’re going to pay for this.”

Atticus’ lip twitched, another Overwatcher making his way beside him.

“We’ll kill her off, Martineaux. Don’t worry about it.” The man raised his mass accelerator, his finger draped on the trigger and then… five shots. A dropped body. But her dad’s weapon had made the blast.

“I’m sorry, Robyn.”

Another rustle. Deek- Deek had followed her. Maybe they could overpower him, find a way out, but Atticus whipped around, firing a shot before the boy could even blink. His body fell, an innocent who’d given his world for her. And then another shot. There was no time to think, no time to process, only dark.

When her eyes opened, they saw earth.

                                                                  file: known associates

KIT BEISEL - although many of the crew seem eager to hear more of your great adventures, kit always seems to sit in the corner with a glint of skepticism in his eye. it is the kind of look that must come from years of dealing with frauds like you, and your greatest fear is it one day leading to question on the validity of the intricate tales you’ve constructed. you try to avoid him all you can and hope that he keeps his tongue, should he have any real suspicions.

                                                               THIS CHARACTER IS UNAVAILABLE.

[unholyhelbiglinked]

Deadly Devotion | IV

The alcohol was hot as it slipped past Grace's lips, her eyes widening as the bitter citrus laced delicately with the sharp bite of the spices. She couldn't help but cough a bit, moisture building up behind her eyes as she let out a cleansing breath, the cold air not doing much for the burn.

"I told you it had a bite," Mamrie chuckled, sinking her teeth into the lime that sat on the white plate in front of the two of them. She didn't seem the least bit bothered as the green juices dribbled past her chin, creating a small puddle on the counter.

"Gross," Grace shoved the shot glass away, grimacing slightly as Mamrie gave her a toothy grin. God, she loved that grin, even if she only saw it during drunken nights and long rehearsals.

"That's what chasers are for, Gracie." Mamrie shook her head.

There it was again. The simple way she would mumble her makeshift nickname. Grace hadn't noticed it at first- or even if she had, she brushed it off. It was just a friend being a friend. Making up stupid ways to shorten her name- a way to make it roll of the tongue easier.

"I'm not that bad, am I?" Mamrie pouted as Grace raised a brow. The older girl had her hands crossed over her chest, a defensive stance, ready to pounce if provoked.

"No, of course not!" Grace said with a smile "Spicy just isn't my thing."

Mamrie shook her head, a smirk on those beautiful lips that Grace had studied on more than one occasion. Without Mamrie's knowledge of course. If the redhead had noticed the way Grace stared, she didn't mention it. Not in the two months they had known each other.

"Right," She scoffed "you're right. They wouldn't let me own this place if I didn't at least have a bit of skills in bartending." her emerald eyes swept Grace over.

It gave Grace chills. Those eyes were like pools of the freshest foliage. She could get lost in them, even when she wasn't trying.

"Technically you don't own the place, Hart." Grace put in her two sense as Mamrie started to clean up the small mess she made while making that toxic shot the two had downed. "You run it."

"Touche," Mamrie was completely focused on the task of cleaning up the shot glasses, a bit of Graces drink still resting at the bottom of the crystal in a frothy mess. Grace let the conversation lie. She knew Mamrie had other things to do around here before opening up- and in all honesty, the blonde was feeling a bit of a buzz from all the new mixes Mamrie had forced her way.

Over the past two months, the girls had gotten closer. It started out as a relationship based on business. Grace would come to work early and coach Mamrie through a few scenes. She found out that the small town girl was a natural. She didn't need much help, but Grace promised to be there through the process of Mamrie's first show. The production had gone amazingly. Mamrie didn't break a sweat.

She had dragged Grace to some broken down bar after the show, not really interested with socializing with the other actors. Instead, she just wanted to be with her coach. The two ordered drinks, and after that, spent almost every day together.

"You're staring."

"Hm?"

Grace's heart stopped for a second, the pressure building in her chest. She looked up at the bartender, the girls strawberry hair falling into her gaze as she leaned her chin on her hand. She was so close. Everything about her was close.

"I said you were staring." Mamrie repeated, although a part of her knew that Grace heard every word. She didn't break eye contact with the blonde.

"Oh," Grace cleared her throat "over thinking again, I suppose."

Mamrie let out a sigh, changing her stance to a more productive one as she reached for a small rag underneath the granite countertop. "I suppose."

Grace didn't sleep much that night. She pinned it on the bad mattress again, but part of her knew better. The reason for her restless night wasn't a what. It was a who.

A certain 'who' that had taken over almost every aspect of Grace's social life. Hell, Mamrie was her social life. Before the girl came into her life Grace had a tedious routine that consisted of an endless loop of school and work.

Her phone lit up on the nightstand to her right. It coated the walls of the tiny bedroom with a dull neon glow. A low buzz hummed against the wood of the table as Grace let out a small groan. It usually took her awhile to peel her eyes away from the phone and sleep on any given night. She knew if she reached for it now, there was no going back.

Yet, that didn't stop her. Not tonight. There was a feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her to answer- whether it be a classmate looking for notes, or her boss calling her in late at night.

She growled, grasping the cell phone with her closest hand. It felt warm and heavy, but not unfamiliar. She squinted at the bright screen, her eyes burning as she read the contact name.

From: Mamrie

Hey Gracie, you seemed a little off today. Are you doing okay?

From: Grace

Yeah, Mames. I'm doing fine. Just a little stressed with school. I have that big test coming up in literature.

From: Mamrie

Oh...

Grace let out a small sigh, knowing she had said something in her tired state that threw the other girl off. She couldn't imagine what, but didn't have the energy to over analyze the three lonely dots after the two letter word.

From: Mamrie

I could help you study after practice tomorrow. I'm great with words. After all, it's the least I can do.  

Grace yawned, her head pounding as the exhaustion from the day spread through her body. She saw no reason to reject. She knew that Mamrie was a hard worker, and she was having a lot of trouble with that class.

From: Grace

Yeah, Mames. I would actually love that. I could use the help.

From: Mamrie

Thought so... Night Gracie.

From: Grace

Night, Mames.

Grace fell into an almost dreamless sleep, a smile on her lips as she finally drifted into slumber.

The next day was dragging by. Grace's head was pounding for most of it- due to the excessive amounts of wine she had the night before, and the late night struggles of sleep.

She was like a zombie through most of her classes, her eyes drooping as she tapped her pen mindlessly on the edge of her notebook. By the time all five of her lectures had finished, Grace was exhausted.

Thankfully she got a chance to sleep before heading into work. But it still wasn't enough. Mamrie was the quick to take notice of how exhausted Grace truly looked, and being Mamrie, she rushed to see if her friend was okay.

She was sitting on the desk in the light booth, her eyes watching Grace carefully as she bit into an apple with a loud crunch. The color of the fruit almost matched the emerald eyes that Grace was so captivated by.

Grace let out a small sigh "Mames."

"Gracie." Mamrie mocked with a smirk on her face, her ankles crossed in front of her. Grace looked up from her spot on the floor, her hands busy with a bundle of wires that got tangled in her absence.

"You're staring."

"Seems that way, doesn't it?"

Grace cocked a brow at the flirty comment, but eventually just shrugged her shoulders and looked back down at her task, her eyes drooping carefully as she let out a loud yawn.

"You don't sleep much, do you?"

She looked up again, seeing Mamrie fumble with the apple in her grasp.

"Not lately." Grace answered bluntly, clenching her jaw as she lifted herself from the ground and sat down in the large leather desk chair. It let out a puff of air, making Mamrie smile.

"Any particular reason?"

Yes. you. "No, not that I can think of."

"Hm," Mamrie wasn't convinced, and Grace could tell, but Mamrie didn't take the conversation any further. Instead, they sat and watched the improv show in front of them in silence. A comfortable silence.

The office was hot, smoldering even. Grace had always let her jacket draped on the chair behind her- leaving her in a crew shirt and jeans. It was still warm, even with her lack of clothing. Yet, Mamrie was in a jacket, and a scarf. Something that most people would shed off at this point.

Grace's eyes wandered over to Mamrie to see her already staring at her. The older girl glanced away, cheeks red from sudden eye contact as she continued to focus on the show, clearing her throat.

"Show's almost over." she said, almost in a whisper

"Yeah."

"How far is your apartment?"

"Not too far." Grace answered, "a few blocks."

"Oh," Mamrie said, not taking her eyes off the stage "good, we can get a lot of studying in."

Grace simply nodded, mentally telling herself that studying was all that was going to happen. There would be no movie moment where she'd get the girl. Because Mamrie already had someone. Someone of the opposite gender, making it perfectly clear to Grace, that Mamrie was nothing but fantasy.

"Yeah," Grace glanced back over at her counterpart, once again meeting those shamrock eyes "we can."

The rest of the show seemed to drag by. Grace's gaze always moved to Mamrie every time the older girl let out a chuckled. The sound was light and airy, making Mamrie's features stand out in the dimly lit booth.

The show ended sooner than later, prompting Grace to begin shutting off the lights. She slid her jacket on easily. She offered Mamrie a smile, gesturing for her to follow. The night was far along, a sharp chill biting at Grace's fingertips as she trudged the long way to her crappy apartment. The walk seemed a little more bearable with Mamrie by her side.

She climbed the stairs, her numb fingers fumbling with the keys as she found the right one. She was shaking from the cold- but didn't quite mind it as much as usual. The apartment was considerably warmer than the rest of the world at this point.

Her signature scent of mint poured into the walkway, it burned her lungs with its intoxicating effect calming her nerves immediately. She let out a small sigh, glad to have some feeling in her cheeks after the medium sized trek. She flicked on a lightswitch. Revealing the one bedroom apartment in all it's glory.

The place was kept clean, it always had been. There was a small living room, connected to the less than big kitchen. Two recliners were adjacent from the television, a coffee table resting in front of them. There was a little dining area with a small table and a few more chairs. There was a door next to the television that lead to the bathroom, the other door was slightly open, revealing the made makeshift bed that Grace slept on. A small desk took up the other space in the room.

"It's cute," Mamrie smiled, impressed at what the blonde did with the small place. She had somehow mastered the art of design, even in an overpriced Manhattan space.

"It's tiny," Grace scoffed, stripping the leather jacket from her shoulders as she eyed Mamrie. Maybe she just had a problem with circulation to her hands. That would be enough for anyone to love long sleeves in such a warm apartment. "But it's home."

Mamrie nodded, biting her lip "So, what exactly do you have to study again?"

"English."

"Ah," she lifted her chin as Grace walked a few paces to the small breakfast nook, grasping a large worn textbook "It's my first language so I'd figure I could help."

Grace laughed at that, a sound that made Mamrie smile even more. This girl seemed more comfortable once she was at home, which was a given. Everyone was. It made Mamrie relax a bit, her eyebrow raising as Grace glanced over to her.

"Do you want anything to drink?" She asked."I have wine. It's not the best stuff, but it makes studying easier I guess."

Mamrie nodded, with all this extra tension, she would love a big sip of wine, no matter what brand it was. Grace came back moments later with two glasses of the blood red drink. It was icy against Mamrie's fingers, but Grace's warm touch countered it.

The two ended up sitting on the floor in front of the recliners, using the coffee table as a desk. Grace was struggling to flip to the chapter of the textbook that this particular exam was on. Mamrie smirked as she felt the closeness of the other girl. Grace could feel it too, her hair standing up on end as Mamrie's hot breath pushed against her collarbone.

"Your forehead creases when you're trying to focus."

"You're making it kind of hard to," Grace let out a small breath, catching the girls attention with her words. "Not in a bad way, or course, I just-" Grace rambled, her sentences started blurring together "I'm being tactless."

"Tactless?" Mamrie cocked her head to the side "Now, english is my first language, but I have no idea what that means."

Grace shrugged innocently, she didn't really know what else to say to the emerald eyed girl. Those eyes still made her shiver. She loved the forest-like pigment they presented in any situation.

"If it means that you're easily swayed by some wine and a very beautiful girl to your side, then call me tactless too." She said, making Grace glance up from the words that weren't registering in her mind anyway. She had been stuck on the same paragraph for the last few minutes, running her eyes of the words, but never truly comprehending them.

"What?" Grace, asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn't look at Mamrie, afraid she might do something she would regret. She had only known this girl for a month. They were nothing more than friends. Friends that were unbelievably close on her living room floor. Friends that had consumed enough alcohol to do something stupid, or something long awaited.

"You heard me, Grace." Mamrie said sternly, setting her wine glass on the table. She really hoped Grace didn't care about coasters.

Did she? She was tired, more so than usual. She had a long day, and the wine was making her a bit fuzzy when it mixed with the heat of her apartment. Grace glanced up then, Mamrie's lavender scent mixing with hers as all of the breath exited her lungs in one fluid moment.

This gave the redhead enough pause to move forward, not giving Grace much time to react as hot lips pressed against hers. The gesture lingered, Grace keeping her eyes wide as she finally slumped her shoulders, letting herself fold into Mamrie's grasp. Mamrie's fingers were lingering on the blondes jaw, her thumb resting on Grace's cheek.

Grace began to react, her own breath tickling the older girls cheek. She moved forward a bit, Mamrie's back now pressing against the front of the old recliner. They were in an uncomfortable position on the floor, and Grace's foot was falling asleep, but neither seemed to mind as Mamrie nipped lightly at Grace's bottom lip before both girls pulled away from each other, panting from the sudden contact.

"Grace,"

"Yeah?"

"You're really good at that."

[ninetiescat]

the story of the start of an eating disorder

Trigger warning. Story below the read more.

I have so many messages to reply to I’m so sorry everyone; writing this has been good, finally getting words out

I didn’t realize they changed the DSM. I fell under EDNOS in IV, but in 5 the definition changed—anorexia nervosa now. I’ve earned my wings, dark black wings. Here we go.

Now that I’m home I don’t have anyone making sure that I eat, I don’t have access to much and when we go shopping I don’t ask for anything because I don’t know what I want, I have no lunch plans I can rely on, no one watches over me. This is the only time in my life I’ve been upset about it, genuinely upset. I don’t like this. You never know what you’ve got until it’s gone I guess.

I remember it all too well. I remember it. Water. I didn’t want to leave in the first place. I can still feel the vibe in the room. I remember parking and how it looked from the outside. That’s where it began. Just water. It was crowded and loud and yellow. My anxiety was high and I was sick as hell. I was against the wall. I was nauseous. There were too many people; it was too loud. My head was too loud. I wanted to go home. Sure it was part conscious defiance. It was about ten percent “I’ll show you.” The rest was “I feel like dying, so why aren’t you listening?” I remember the inside joke, just not its origin. I didn’t want it. I could be quiet and dissociate and not a bother. You didn’t need to yell at me. My anxiety was high and I was sick as hell. It felt like my skin was peeling off. I needed air. No one cared. I remember it all too well. That’s how it began. Five months later it was official. But that was when it began. But that was when it began. That was it. If only I had protested harder. If only I channeled my anxiety into throwing up. If only my words had meaning. If only you had protected me. You could’ve protected me. You should’ve protected me. Bullshit, it was all a cop out. It felt like I was drowning in air. I couldn’t do it. That ten percent dropped to zero. I was one hundred percent sick. I was one hundred percent terrified. I didn’t need a voice raised at me. I didn’t need your silence. I was fragile. I was learning how to not hate myself; I didn’t need more ammunition. I was fragile and susceptible to anything and everything. I didn’t want anything. Pass. Water. I was trapped. I was drowning. I can’t remember the root of the inside joke, just the friend it started with, an irrelevant detail, maybe never mentioned. After a long series of events I learned that zero in tennis is love, the only real love. I lost the notebook with my old lyrics in it—I remember taking it to practice and editing them on the fly, but I must’ve thrown it away with my hopes and dreams and all the cliché shit—but I wrote so much of love I could never have, all splattered in tears of the frustration buried in every line; “I wish I knew that you would save me, / but believing that’d be wrong.” “I’m at the end of the line. / You’ve run out of time.” “You should have made a choice / just before you were given a voice.” “You aren’t here to sing me lullabies / when I am filled with fright.” “All these things I have to say turn into these songs. / I’ve never seen love and I don’t believe in it because—” Oh heaven help me. That was the first and that was the last. Water. There’s no turning back. I guess I ran out of time. You could’ve stopped it. You could’ve stopped it all. You could’ve been there. You should’ve said something. My palate couldn’t handle it. My gag reflex was triggered. I was nauseous. Water was too much. Someone could’ve stopped it. A simple “don’t treat her that way” could’ve spared it all. Sure, maybe by the time April came I would’ve fallen victim anyway; maybe it was in my blood, burned into the back of my head, a section of my DNA; maybe it was lying beneath the surface waiting to be set off. I remember it all, stumbling out the door bleary-eyed 4am “Call 911” and “Please Don’t Go” memorizing the highways, the twists and turns, sights and songs; I remember it all. I stood on stage for two years with my stomach sucked in and sang the woes I could never speak; I couldn’t force the words out after I tried and instead of being respected was forced to eat. I’ve been choking on my emotions ever since, drowning. I feel limitless on stage; there’s nothing to hold back and no one to hold me—to hold me back or to hold me. I feel powerful, cue Ellie Goulding’s song. I wanted to say it all. I had so much to say. I was thoughtful. Hell, after years of unsaid thoughts, I had blood to spill all over stage, overflowing from my mouth, drowning, zero. I had so much to say; I lost my chance; I was sick; when will I have that chance again? You weren’t there when I sang the woes; I don’t even know if you know. I was trying to practice one night and slipped out of my chair; I’m glad I caught it on film. You should’ve been there. I was almost willing, you know? I was really close to being willing, wanting, making amends or something. Now it’s just bitterness burning a whole right through me. It’s acidic.

Yellow walls. Clear water. Zero in tennis, zero in all black, zero with my black wings tucked in. In therapy, way back at the start, I represented myself as a black caged bird in a blocked off room; it seemed right, it fit, it didn’t have an origin, or so I thought. It doesn’t matter now. I guess you never noticed how the light escaped my eyes every time you walked away. I sang those words at the top of my lungs, the top and all the way down, with the deepest breaths, all the way down. I remember it all. I kind of hate “The Light,” but it started as mine and then got a whole life of its own, a totally surreal blessing. I sang it on the happiest day of my life. I let the blood run free, spilled all over the stage, and I left my heart there. I was delirious. I’ve never felt more alone; being on stage is the loneliest, most powerful place to be. Damn, I wish you could’ve seen it. The air was so pure. Everything was so pure. Dreams came true, purity, I found heaven alone, with no one to celebrate with. People screamed, cheered, hugged, elated, and I stood by and watched on the outside. Encore, they said. Dreams came so true. I sang of love I never knew, watched on the outside. I wonder if you would’ve been proud. Do you even know? Spotlights are warm. I wore jeans the first time. It was a mistake. I was boiling alive under the lights singing my lungs out, spilling the bloody feelings everywhere. It’s funny—flash back to my first round, eight hundred, one light, black backdrop of heavy curtains, black shirt black skirt black shoes, I couldn’t make out any of the faces in the crowd but the song was sent out to you; I stared into the spotlight across the room, eyes burning, imagining that light was there with you beside it. I was so furious, enflamed, burned vexed, but I let it all out. I was sucking in my stomach. I only wanted water. I remember. The happiest day of my life, I wasn’t alone on stage, but microphone in hand, no one else exists, nothing else exists. I was, for all intents and purposes, alone. I wore jeans the first time, boiled, and didn’t do it again on my happiest day. It was powerful. I want to go back to that day so badly; I want that power again; I want to live that day again at this age and feel powerful over my eating disorder. I don’t feel like it controls my life, I’ve moved past that part of it, but it originated from exactly what I sing about, scream about, bleed about. I wrote “The Light” either right before or right after it all began; it hurts. Powerful. My second day in the psychiatric ward, Staff said I didn’t eat the day before, but I never noticed, I never experienced hunger. All of my rights were taken away from me, they would’ve forced me to eat if I didn’t nibble on my own, but they wouldn’t have made me feel like shit over that. No one there would’ve protected me, but that’ll always be different. I felt attacked, you know? The world against me. Food against me. Under attack. Zero. You’re supposed to understand. You were supposed to understand.

I relapsed into cutting and my eating disorder during this academic year; despite everything I did so well until I got pushed ever so slightly too much. December 4th I found peace walking the streets of Salem in the dark, walkways lit by stores’ Christmas lights before sunrise. I was cold and alone. The streets were my lonely stage. It was a gentle peace. My last cut was the 8th, but I kept torturing myself with my eating disorder, ripping it all apart, my silent disease. People with brown eyes and black hair must be destined to rip me apart by—well—everyone already knows. It’s all the same. Stumbling out the door bleary-eyed 4am memorizing the streets.

So I remember it all.

I remember it all.