#lord i pray that my posts just flop the first time

[gojology]

Clubs Aren’t My Thing. (1/2)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | i’m REPOSTING this because my already bruised ego absolutely rejects the fact that my writing got 33 notes, that, and i just don’t want to continue this if it doesn’t get any traction. i’m not good at nsfw, so i feel like if not a lotta people wanna read my work, why try hard on something i’m bad at? anyways, this whole club concept is totally from @/mystic-sky or skyfelt on ao3. pls check her out. if anything is inaccurate its prob bcuz the only reference i have is the club penguin dance club teehee. 

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | mentions of sex, drinking, you’re literally at a club.

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo x Female Reader

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 2847

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | You’re alone, at a bar, waiting for the end of the night to come. Then again this was bound to happen, as clubs weren’t really your thing, but promises of snacks and money from your friends were really what you came for. A mysterious, yet intriguing white haired man approaches you, and eventually he piques your interest. Little do you know, you had piqued his as well, and he’s having a hard time trying to hide it.

Bright, flickering vivid lights was all the human eye could see from where you were sitting.  You’re sitting at a bar, legs restless and rhythmically bumping against the table. You had come here for a “fun night”, even though they promptly ditched you for the lively dance floor afterwards, you assumed to pick up guys and have some encounters in the bedroom.  It wasn’t quite your thing though, well, you didn’t know yourself, you were far too shy to find out, though.  That’s how you found yourself alone, at a bar, completely sober.   Your friends pushed you, (which was a bit weird since they were no where near you now- so really now, what was the point?) luring you with yummy snacks and treats to come out of your house for once. Hesitantly agreeing, you didn’t expect to have them dress you up as well.   Fighting them off and running for the bedroom door, you hated the very idea of even interacting with anyone. Moaning and groaning like a child that you weren’t getting enough for going to a social event, and not wearing your beloved baggy hoodies and sweatpants.   “Okay, okay!” your friend stood up, hands above her. Shaking her head and letting out an exasperated sigh.   “We’ll add on a free dinner- on us.”   Raising an eyebrow, you scrolled through your phone. This wasn’t a bad deal, not at all. You decided to not reply, though.   “Ugh, (Y/N), Okay. A 50 DOLLAR GIFTCARD TO YOUR FAVORITE STORE. Do we have a deal?” Your friend blurted out, sitting down on her chair with a huff.   The girl clearly wanted you to go to the club.  You grinned evilly, realizing just how much you can get.   Of course, you wouldn’t spend the money without spoiling some of your girlies, but you had gotten even more then you asked for, and well- sure it was a bit mean, but you figured afterwards you could go out with them without the bargaining.   And so, facepalm after facepalm ensued, offering you more and more unnecessary amounts of money and food, you finally broke under the pressure of being a tad too mean. You weren’t planning on torturing your friends for life.   At that point, who could really resist?   Now, enthusiastic with your eyes only on the prize, you allowed yourself to be dressed up just this once. Your friends had whipped up the nicest outfit they could without it showing very much skin (per your request!).   Your friends had let you borrow a rather short white plaid skirt they had paired with a casual simple t-shirt. Slightly sheer, and a warm, yet soft cardigan that was kind of scratchy. Donning a pair of tights that you had picked yourself and your favorite pair of beaten up Doc Martens. You realize that it didn’t look half-bad on you.  For once, you thought you looked nice.   However, it seemed to pale in comparison with the scandalous outfits your friends seemed to prefer. Dresses hugging their curves, showing as much of their skin as possible without being full-blown naked, you wonder how one can hold so much self-confidence. But you ignore the feeling, repeating to yourself that you looked good in your own ways.  You wave for the bar tender, feeling a rush of self confidence as you glance down at your outfit. The rather disgruntled man eyes perked up at the request, rushing over.  “May I offer you something, ma’am?”  You gulp, the self confidence rapidly crashing back down, almost as soon as it had come up. You weren’t quite the drinker, and you weren’t looking to find if you were. Running a hand through your already tousled hair, you stutter out a short sentence.  “Can I have some.. Water? With, uh, ice.”  He nods, seemingly shocked that you weren’t ordering any alcoholic beverages before turning his back on you and quickly whipping up the rather simplistic drink. Well, then again, judging by the outfit, one glance would be enough to tell him that you were forced to come, or shy.    Shocked by how comprehensible you had been when speaking to him, your lips curve slightly into a warm smile. Working around your fear of talking to people in unusual places was good.   Handing the glass of water to you with cold fingertips, you nod back. Skimming his hand as you did so. You grimace, contact felt weird.   Taking a sip, you looked away and hoped not to make conversation.  You heard a rather loud laugh, which was an understatement, because you could hear it even through the mass of chatter and movement of the club.  Curious by who could possibly be louder than the sheer deafening cheers of a drunken crowd, you look towards the other direction, before setting your eyes on a ridiculously white haired man.  He was laughing again now, and your eyes immediately drift over to his very defined jawline. No wonder so many girls were around him, by the looks of it, he looked like a famous model.  His head high above all the females crowding around him, you notice the man next to him. A disgruntled, yet polite looking individual you assumed to be his friend sat next to him.   He was also towering over the women, nodding and smiling at the many girls tempting him with their bodies, but he seemed so clueless that you doubted he even had a clue of what was going on.   Fidgeting and playing with his hair, he was clad in an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt. The crowd of women around him wasn’t as large as the white haired man, you noted, but still large nonetheless.  “Oh, him?” the bartender blurted, you turn to face him again, cursing yourself for being so obvious in your endeavors.  Wiping a cocktail shaker down with a towel, he ducks his head, studying the remaining water droplets. You stare daggers at the bartender for interrupting your train of thought, before cursing yourself for being so mean.  “He’s a regular, gets drunk quite frequently, and he’s Prince Charming to the ladies.”  Rubbing the back of your head, you stare back at the bartender. Unsure what to make of his approach on conversation.  Reconsidering like the good person you are, you thought about how annoyed the guy got talking to a bunch of drunk college kids. He seemed like he had good intentions, and talking to someone that was sober was sure to be refreshing.  “Yeah, I can tell, the guy has a lot of girls around him. He looks really... Lively. To put it simply.”  The bartender laughed, relaxing himself as soon as he heard the friendly words leave your lips. He finished wiping down the cocktail shaker and proceeded to the neatly stacked cups which had just been washed.  “No, the guy’s just friendly. Real hit with the ladies, especially his.. Uh, physical attributes. See his friend over there? Lil bit more modest, he started coming here recently. Don’t let that good natured face fool you though, they’re both the same..”  You rolled your eyes, Typical. Taking the last few gulps of your water before you slammed it back down. The bartender took the cup, refilling it hastily and giving it back to you.  You heard several girls giggling, and you glanced back in the direction of the men. The long, raven haired man had his arms wrapped around dozen or more girls, swarming him as if he was a celebrity.  The bartender was right, he looked so bored when you had studied the two, but here he was now with the same army of girls heeding his every call.  That left the white haired man alone.  Shaking his head with a small chortle, he took another swig out of his drink before looking down at the empty glass, he stood up, and by God were those legs long, before walking to the empty stool next to you.  “Yo. Bartender. Refill?”  The bartender set down the cup he was scrubbing down, rummaging his hands through various shelfs, filled with various drinks and add-ons, before taking the mysterious man’s glass.  Curious, you take a small peek at the man, almost jumping back when he was staring unflinching at you, too. Taking this as an invitation to gape at such an incredibly well-fit body. Your eyes stare up at what you could; starting with his collarbones.  Paired deliciously with a simple gold chain, you had to admit, it was a good touch. The simplicity of the chain was enough for you to gape dumbly at anything else that was interesting, and was left dumbfounded by the sheer hotness of... Well, him, and those incredibly prominent collarbones.  You look downwards, and he’s wearing a black, simple t-shirt. Not a wrinkle, nor specks of lint in sight.  Well toned arms, and incredibly strong looking ones at that rested idly against his sides. An expensive watch glinted in the light.  He hadn’t quite said anything yet, so you look down even more without hesitation. Almost like you couldn’t control yourself.   Tucking his shirt in neatly was his belt, you could easily tell it was a high-end brand. Casual, wide flared black jeans, the guy really loved black you noted. The accessories made up for it though, various chains were lazily thrown in, and it made the outfit so much more hotter, especially on him.  “My eyes are up here, girly.”  Feeling your cheeks become full to the brim with warmth, your hands fumble about, words formulating at the tip of your tongue to apologize profusely, you look up.  Circular black shades concealed the white haired man’s eyes, and your heart pounds more. Something about him was so intriguing.  About to blurt out nonsense about actually being very interested at a wall, he held his palm up, a large toothy grin gracing his features.  “It’s okay, I’m into hot chicks ogling me. Especially hot chicks with cute outfits.”  Everything on your mind was suddenly wiped clean, you open your mouth before closing, unsure about what to say.  He thought you were hot?   He thought your outfit was cute?  He laughs, and you snap out of your daze. Muttering a quick thanks when the bartender handed his rather sugary exotic drink to him.  “Saw you looking at me earlier, sweetcheeks.” he hums before tipping the glassware near his glossy lips, sipping the drink, looking down at you as he did.  “No, I think you saw wrong... Are you blind?” you asked, still recovering from the compliments you hadn’t ever received in your life prior to this strange encounter. Desperate to get out of the advancingly awkward conversation, you had never been placed in such a weird setting.  He snorts, taking another deep sip of his drink.  “Nah. People think that, though. People think I’m... Old, for some reason?”  “Hm, I wonder why.” replying sarcastically, you felt yourself jolt up, a mix of uneasiness and excitement bubbling up inside of you. By your experience and tips from your friends, these type of guys seemed to like sassy, teasing girls.  Whipping out your phone from your bag, you try to appear casual, even though your excitement was starting to die down by his silence, turning into dread.  Whistling, trying to look like you didn’t have a care in the world, you physically wince as you realize how stupid you potentially look. Wondering what your friends would say about such an attractive guy seemingly hitting on you, then again, they didn’t seem to really care.  No new notifications, and no familiar faces running up to you with open, friendly arms.  He chuckles again. “I like your style, missy. You come here alone? That’s a shame, pretty girls like you deserve to have someone to come with.”  You look down, struggling to contain the growing smile. Doing a small little victory dance in your head as you realize that he had literally stated that he liked your style.   “I did come with someone, my friends.”  “Where’s your friends?” he inquired.  “Partying at the dance floor, flirting with guys probably.” you nonchalantly reply, struggling to hold your tone, but even then it wavered. You didn’t get hit on often, and when you did they were there to help you.  “That makes two of us, my friend Geto pulled all my chicks, and my pussy for tonight.”  He said it so nonchalantly, you almost spat out your water.  “What are you here for? Some good dick?” he shifted his arm to rest against the table, his hand against his head, lazily looking at you.  You study his figure once more, ignoring his previous question. He looked like he came straight out of a magazine, or a movie. Broad, yet strong looking shoulders.  He looked straight up fake.  He towered over you, and you estimated that he was over 6 foot. His hair seemed soft, and manageable, and so, so fun to play with. A Deep, yet playful voice that would probably make everyone within a 6 mile radius instantly melt.  “Hm, cute. I like straight-forward girls.” he poked fun at you, grinning carelessly.  “I’m not being straightforward in any shape or form, what do you mean?” you flutter your eyelashes innocently at him, knowing damn well what he meant.  “You’re fucking studying me like a textbook before finals.”  “You still haven’t told me your name!” you shot back without thinking, you didn’t want to be caught doing something so scandalous. He winked, you took this as a sign of him following suit.  “That’s what makes it fun, baby.”  “Here, lets trade.”   You had decided that you really liked his style, after letting you off the hook so easily like that. He was shrouded in a cloak of mystery, and you found it hot. That, or maybe he wanted to just fuck around and have one night-stands, which wasn’t your style at all, but you still wanted to see where this would go.  “Tell me your name, and I’ll tell you mine. Fair right?”  He stroked his chin with his unoccupied arm, contorting his face and making you giggle a little, even though it wasn’t very funny. With him, you felt like you could strangely be yourself.  “Hmmmmm....” stroking his chin more, he began to pick up and sip his beverage as if it was a tea cup, holding opposite ends of each other and deeply drinking. He set the cup down.  “Nope.”  Exasperated, you slam your cup down.  “That aside, let’s get back to the point!,” he leaned closer into you, smiling a little as you jumped back. Your confidence when you talked with him had dissolved into thin air.  “You’re really cute.”  Frozen in place, you gawk back at him.    He was straightforward, no doubt it, but you didn’t think he was this straightforward. Most men you knew played a game of cat and mouse, only if you caught them you were rewarded.  Opening and closing your mouth, no sound came out. He snorts, taking another sip and waving the bartender to come back, who was now washing cups awkwardly on the other side of the bar.   You almost pitied the bartender, the guy had ordered so many refills at this point, you wouldn’t be dumb to assume he was either a raging alcoholic or another dumb college kid.  “Refill, again.”   The bartender nodded solemnly in reply, swiftly taking the cup. You realize how overworked the poor guy was, wondering how many refills the mysterious white haired man had gotten before you had even step foot in the vicinity.  “I’d love to take you to the bedroom, baby.” he nods as the bartender returns, sipping and looking back down at you.   You bolted upwards, cursing as you realize you’re slouching, not very attractive. The straightforwardness from him was, though. No doubt it, but you were really not looking to break your heart over a fuckboy.  “Uh, um.”  He tips your chin upward, and your heart leaps out of your throat. There was something so undeniably attractive about this act, maybe it was the way he knew how to make you into pudding, or maybe it was the aura of dominance.   Haughtiness literally radiated off of him, as if he knew he could pull a girl in under 1 minute. Well, then again, he probably did know.  Fuck, what were you thinking, this was a complete stranger that could probably pull chicks more attractive then you, times 100.  “Aw, shy? Cute. Don’t worry, you’re intriguing, and if you’re bad at sex, not to worry. I’ll do it all, and I’m good. Maybe give you a few lessons here and there.” he chirped, tilting his head, curiosity evident.   “But, it’s all up to you, sugar. I’m not trying to force you into this.” the man added.   He did seem hot, and this was really a one-in-a-million chance. No one had really looked at you that way at the level of attractiveness that he had. You didn’t want to regret anything, and getting out of your shell was good right?   What could go wrong?   “...I wouldn’t mind.”   A crooked smirk spread across his face.   “I’ll call an Uber.”

[sungbeam]

𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

▷ njm x reader

▷ 0.6k words; inspired by taylor swift's soon you'll get better, angst +fluff

a/n: h-hello again,,, ik that i've posted three times today,,, but oh well 😃😎 did writing this make me sad? yes. (na jaemin needs to stop living rent free, at this point, i am approaching the point of no return *eye twitches*)

Na Jaemin cried every time he forced himself to leave your side, every time he left the confines of your white-walled, fluorescent-lit hospital room. He stumbled into the emptiness of your shared apartment and flopped onto the couch, the warm tears already streaming down his face. His head pounded from the pressure building in his nose and from holding in all of that emotion while he had stayed in your hospital room with you. 

He couldn't stomach it some days. He couldn't stand the sight of you, laying in that blue gown, swimming in sanitized sheets with an IV hooked to your vein. 

But you always smiled when you saw him, giving him some semblance of peace. He could do nothing about your condition, but he could try to stay positive for your sake. 

(Jaemin knew delusion when he saw it staring at him in the mirror, but he would keep it up for your sake.)

"She's my favorite," you told Jaemin the next day when he entered your room, bright and early, with a fresh bouquet of sunflowers. He replaced the day-old ones in the hospital-issued vase on your bedside table, barely wilted and still vibrant, but always replaced because he wanted you to have the best. 

You were referring to the woman who had just walked out, the nurse caring for you this week. 

Jaemin's eyes flickered to the door, then back to you. He smiled, collapsing into the chair by your bedside. "And why's that, sweets?"

"She's just… I don't know." Your eyes turned up in smiles of their own. "She's just really nice," your voice drifted off bashfully at the end of the sentence as you toyed with the white and neon green bracelet on your wrist. It was your hospital bracelet, the thing they had clipped onto you when you had first checked in three months ago. 

(Jaemin had been praying to a pair of your prescribed orange pill bottles since then, hoping that some presence above would hear his pleas and bring you home to him. To make the medicine work faster and better. It hadn't happened yet.)

He nodded, already grateful for the nurse. "That's good; I'm glad."

He sat up and leaned down to dig through the backpack between his legs. There was a little surprise he had brought for you, something he had just thought of a couple nights ago while lying in your cold, empty bed. He pulled out a fluffy, floppy-eared blue bunny plushie, grinning at the sight of your wide and excited eyes. 

"It's so cute!" You gushed, already accepting the precious thing into your arms. 

Jaemin's chuckle was warm, his gaze fond. "Yeah, I actually had one like this when I was a kid. Found the same brand online, actually and knew I had to get one for you."

Your eyes shone. How could you possibly expect him not to break down on the spot, seeing you so happy like that? Happy because of him? "Thank you, Nana."

(Lord, he knew this wasn't about him, but who else did he have but you? How was he supposed to survive without that sweet, bright disposition of yours constantly keeping him grounded?)

"You're welcome, sweets." He stood and leaned over you to gently graze his lips over your forehead. He hoped you hadn't felt his hand tremble as he brushed the hair out of your eyes. "I love you."

You tilted your head up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "I love you, too." 

You reached over, grabbing his hand as he sat down again. You said, earnestly, "I'm getting better, Jaem."

Emotion bubbled up in his chest as a tear cascaded down his cheek. "I know."

a/n: hey psst jaemin, i want a bunny plush too 😞🥺

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[slippinmickeys]

The Earl (9/13)

If you’d like to read this on AO3, you may do so here. 

CHAPTER NINE

Mulder rode Hercule into the village alone, as stipulated by the menacing note. Byers, Frohike and Langly had taken Byers' carriage to the edge of town just after they all broke their fast that morning and were set up at strategic locations around the village church. They were watching and waiting. For whom, no one was quite sure.

At the appointed hour, Mulder stabled his horse at the village blacksmith and walked to the church, opening the gate, according to his pocket watch, at precisely 3:00. He walked through the small graveyard and on to the door. Quiet seemed to expand all around him; no horses or carriages passed by in the street, no villagers seemed to walk by, nor call out greetings to each other. All he could hear was the sound of his breathing and the sound of his own heart. He stepped through the door under the tower.

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting to find. Some swarthy-looking brigand or even Spender himself. Instead, the church was empty.  

“Hello?” he called out. His voice seemed to echo coldly against the stone walls. His call was met with silence. He made his way slowly through the nave, the box pews on either side of him empty. He approached the chancel, passing the steps to the empty pulpit, and stopped when he got to the rail before the altar. He turned slowly until he was facing the pews and again called out, “Hello?”

It was then that he noticed a sheet of parchment sitting on the bench of the first pew. He hurried toward it and picked it up, flipped it over. It was blank. When he looked up, there was a gentlewoman standing just inside the south aisle. When he took a step toward her, she turned before he could see her face and rushed out the door of the south porch. He gave chase.

She was wearing a light green frock with a matching bonnet, the sides of which flopped low over her face. She hurried through the gravestones and around the back of the building. When he rounded the corner, he nearly ran into her. She was standing, holding out a piece of parchment like the one still clutched in his hand.

When he took it, she raised her head and he finally saw her face.

“Miss Spender?” he asked, his voice croaking in surprise. “Are you-”

She raised her hand higher, holding the paper almost up to his face.

“Take it,” she said, insistently, “you’ll need to give it to the proprietor of the coaching inn just south of town.” Mulder slowly took the paper from her, his face still frozen in surprise. “He will give you a trunk in which you will place the 20,000 pounds. Once the trunk is secured, he will give you further instructions. You have… you have one week exactly to comply, my lord.”

She turned to go. Shaking himself, he grabbed her arm. She startled but turned.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked.

She smiled sadly. “You have made your choice in this life, Lord Wexford,” she said, “and I have made mine.”

Anger flared in him and he gripped her arm a little tighter.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “You could have just as easily given these instructions via the post. Why have you implicated yourself in an act so heinous as this?”

“I suppose I wanted to see you, one last time,” she said. “I wanted to say to you… I could have made you happy. We could have been happy together.”

“I am happy,” Mulder said simply.

“But I am not,” she replied in a voice devoid of feeling.

His anger coiled into a snake of rage, fangs bared and ready to strike. He squeezed her arm harder -- hard enough to leave a mark -- and she winced.

“We are going to the constable, you and I. Right now,” he said, his voice low and angry. He turned to leave and pull her along but she resisted.

“If I am not back to my father by an appointed hour, he will hurt Lady Wexford. I swear it.”

Mulder released her and took a step back, gasping. The hand that gripped the paper she had given him was curled around it like a vice, the paper crumpled and crushed. “Tell me where she is,” he whispered.

Diana nodded toward his hand. “Take care with that token, Lord Wexford,” she said, “your wife’s life depends on what you do next.” With that she turned and walked through the back gate, disappearing under the branches of a tree in the village center.

When Mulder emerged onto the street, walking in a daze, Byers, Frohike and Langly all came trotting up from different directions.

“What happened?” Frohike said. “I saw no one. Langly?”

Langly shook his head. They turned to Byers.

“I saw no one but a gentlewoman praying over a grave,” Byers said, a little out of breath.

Mulder couldn’t bring himself to meet their eyes.

“A gentlewoman in a light green frock?” he asked. Byers nodded, his brow creasing in concern. “It was Miss Diana Spender,” Mulder said without inflection, “I have one week to put together 20,000 pounds.”

He turned toward the blacksmith’s and walked away from his friends.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The next morning after bringing her breakfast and a fresh chamber pot, Duane Barry came to clear her plate and stood in the doorway of her room, hovering.

“Mr. Barry?” she asked, looking at him in question.

“If you care to follow me?” he said, “you’ll want to grab your washing.” He then turned on his heel and marched out the door. She grabbed her clothes and rushed to follow him before he could change his mind.

He hastened through the house, and she looked around her, trying to memorize the layout. The house was well appointed, but not necessarily well kept. There seemed to be a layer of dust that lay over all the furnishings, reinforcing Barry’s stance that he was indeed the only other person (or at least the only staff) in the house. She listened for any other movement but heard none.

He led her down a hallway and a staircase, turning left, then right, and down a small set of stairs to the kitchen, through a scullery door and out into the blazing sunshine. He turned to her expectantly and she gathered her wits, looking about her.

Several feet away sat a large copper boiler atop a small fire, which steamed in the sunlight. Next to it sat a tub, a two foot long wooden paddle and a short table upon which sat lye soap, chalk, a lemon, and a small bottle of clear liquid. She approached the table and gave the bottle a dubious sniff. Kerosene.

“The kerosene is for bloodstains, ma’am. My lady,” Barry amended, looking away. She nodded. “Has a lady as fine as yerself ever done the washing, ma’am?” he asked.

She took a deep breath and decided honesty was the best policy. She knew the basics, but...

“I have not,” she said, “But I am a woman of my time, Mr. Barry, eager to learn anything and everything.”

“You’ll boil the clothes first in the copper kettle,” he said, then pointed to the paddle, “you’ll want to agitate them for a quarter hour. Then into the tub with the lye soap. Once washed, you can treat for, uh, stains… Again, the kerosene is for blood,” his cheeks colored, “the chalk for grease, the lemon for any bleaching as it may need. Should you, uh, ever need to do laundry again, nearly every kitchen is outfitted similarly.” She nodded. “Then you wring out excess water, and hang to dry. There is no clothesline here, but some fine bushes and hedgerows. If’n you’re lucky, they’ll be dry by evening.”

Scully looked about her, taking the opportunity to scan the area around the small kitchen garden. Beyond the garden gate, there was a decently sized but unkept lawn and beyond that, the iron fence. There was a back gate in the fence, likely used by household staff.

She looked back toward Barry, who lowered himself onto a three-legged stool by the kitchen door and watched her warily. She turned toward the few pieces of clothing she needed to wash and dumped the lot of them into the boiling kettle. Picking up the paddle, she swirled it through the water, tentatively at first, and then with more force, careful to keep the hem of her skirts away from the small fire beneath it.

Once she got into the rhythm of it, she turned to Barry, stirring all the while. “Is this your first kidnapping?” she asked, peering closely to gauge his reaction. “Or is it your main profession?”

He had the decency to look abashed.

“It is my first time being abducted,” she went on, and with that word, he got a queer look in his eye. “I suppose we shall get through it together,” she finished. She turned back to her washing. Her arms were beginning to ache and her brow to sweat, but she was too proud to do anything but carry on.

“I am sorry for it, ma’am,” he said, “my lady,” he corrected.  

“Are you?” she challenged him.

He took a deep, bracing breath, and then he looked away.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“I care not about the money. I will pay it,” Mulder said, as they sat around the dining room table later that same evening. The Wexford fortune was large enough to weather a 20,000 pound blow. “But I’ll not let the Countess be imprisoned by that man for another minute. We must find him. We must find her .”

The other men around the table grumbled their agreement. Suzanne was so distraught by what had happened that she’d taken to eating all of her meals in her chambers.

Mulder pushed the food around his plate for one more minute and then rose quickly, startling the footmen who stood about the room, ready to serve. Food tasted like ash in his mouth. The world had no flavor and less color without his wife beside him to enjoy it with. “I cannot countenance this,” he spat and turned to leave the room. “Alex!” he said -- his own footman had been helping serve the meal.

“My lord?” Alex said, stepping forward.

“With me,” Mulder said and strode from the room. Alex followed obediently. The footman had been extremely helpful; going out of his way to assist Mulder with nearly all of the searches for the Countess. Mulder thought that perhaps he felt guilt for not being able to identify the rider who had returned to the estate with Easterly the day Scully had gone missing. When pressed, Alex did admit that it could very well have been Duane Barry. Alas, there was nothing for it, Mulder concluded, but to carry on.  

“Get a coat,” Mulder said, making his way to the door of the manse, “and meet me in the stables. We’re riding into the village.”

[elesianne]

A Lord of the Rings fanfic, chapter two of two

Story summary: Lothíriel felt prepared for everything that happened at her and Éomer’s wedding in the mead hall but at the end of the feast, in the privacy of their bedchamber, she knows less of what to expect and do. Fortunately her new husband is patient in this, if not in many other matters.

Chapter length: ~2,600 words; Rating: Mature audiences

Some keywords: arranged marriage, wedding night, virginity, mild sexual content, post-war of the rings

AO3 link

*

Midyear’s night: Chapter II – Morning

When Lothíriel wakes up in the morning, she is overheated.

It is strange. Usually she is more or less cold in the morning because the fire in the grate burns out during the night and though her maid builds it up again before waking her, the room hasn't warmed yet by then.

Now, though, she is so hot that it feels like she can hardly breathe. As she comes to true wakefulness, she realises that she is hot and finding it difficult to breathe because she is half-buried under a sleeping man. The man is naked and very heavy.

For a moment she freezes, until she remembers that she is now married and this is her husband and while he perhaps doesn't have the right to suffocate her in his sleep, he does have the right to be in bed with her. That is all right.

She tries to move a little to get him to move off of her, preferably without waking him because this is rather embarrassing and confusing – all the more so because she thinks she feels against her thigh something that she felt inside her last night. How can it be that hard when Éomer is asleep?

But even her small movement is enough to wake him. He wakes up faster than she did, without a moment of confusion.

He mumbles, 'Lothíriel', and kisses her shoulder and moves away from on top of her. He flops on his back next to her, apparently completely unashamed of his nakedness and hardness, and says, 'Good morning.'

'Good morning.' She curls up a little on herself, shy of being naked in his presence although before they fell asleep Éomer saw and explored every inch of her.

'Did you sleep well?' Éomer enquires, perfectly politely. It feels strange in the circumstances.

'I did. Very soundly', she replies.

'So did I. You tired me out.'

Half of her wants to protest at that, but she is also – flattered. Is that what a woman should be when a man says that?

She is left pondering that when Éomer gets up, says 'I'll light the fire', and goes to do so. As he kneels in front of the fireplace, still naked, Lothíriel peeks a glance at his muscled back and bottom, and then lays her head back on the pillow, startled.

There are scratches on his back, not deep but clear enough, and she is fairly certain that she is to blame for them. She remembers clutching at him with desperate hands and scrabbling fingers towards the end of him thrusting inside her, when it had become… pleasant and he also touched her with his fingers and made her –

But now he is saying something, and she missed it, and has to ask him to repeat it. He has put on some clothes meanwhile, too.

'I'll get some fresh water for us', he repeats. There is a soft smile on his lips. Alone with her, he is gentler than she has seen him otherwise

That is a very good thing, Lothíriel supposes.

While he is gone she tugs a blanket to her and wraps herself in it, and stares at the crumpled bedsheets around her.

What else could she think of but last night? There is a strange tiredness and a not very terrible soreness inside her reminding her of the night. It had been – rather confusing in many ways, but better than she expected. From Éomer's gentler manner with her, from his patience with her nervousness and inexperience, from his making sure that she too was pleasured instead of just taking his own pleasure in her body, she can surely  conclude that he will likely to be a good husband for her.

Her mother told her, after Lothíriel became betrothed to Éomer, that what arranged marriages and love matches ultimately had in common is that one cannot know whether the marriage will be happy from beginning to end, or for a little while and then grow sour and cold.

'An arranged marriage that begins as a good partnership with shared ambitions often turns to good, enduring love sooner or later', Idhrenes told her daughter, and Lothíriel believed it because that was how her parents' marriage had begun and become.

She can only pray that her own will turn out the same way, and resolves to do her own part in making it so.

Perhaps, now that the wedding night is over and her virginity given to him, she will be regaining her equilibrium soon and stop being so nervous and silly. Now that she knows what to expect in private, too, things should be easier… although there are still some things that her aunt Ivriniel talked about that haven't happened yet.

Éomer comes back with a jug of water and a basket of bread.

'A truly poor breakfast for the king and queen', he says as he puts them down on the wash table in a corner of the room. 'I told them to bring a proper breakfast to the next room a little later. Before that there are some things to take care of.'

Wrapped in her blanket, Lothíriel shuffles over to have a drink of water. She almost trips on her shift and his undertunic that lie in a pile on the floor, shed and forgotten there last night.

She does not feel like much of a queen in this moment. She does feel like Éomer's wife, though. They are both messy-haired as they stand there at the wash table side by side, and she has an ache inside her and he has the marks of her fingernails on his back.

'What things are there for us to take care of?' she asks him.

Éomer empties his mug and gives her one from a hook on the wall. 'I will tell you once we are back in bed.'

That makes her raise her brows, as does Éomer taking half a loaf of bread with him as he returns to bed. Lothíriel drinks her water and follows him.

She doesn't take bread with her. Éomer munches on his piece as they settle to sit side by side against the headboard.

After a moment he breaks into laughter and says, 'You are looking at me like you think that I am a northern barbarian, like I once heard a countryman of yours call one of my men when they were both drunk and quarrelling in a tavern in Minas Tirith. Do you regret our union already, lady?'

Lothíriel laughs too, won over by his easy manner. 'I do not, my lord.' Since he used her title teasingly, she uses his. 'In truth, everything that has happened since we left the feast last night has been so new and strange to me that I should not wonder at a king eating the breakfast of a peasant in his bed.'

'A peasant would more likely break his fast on gruel', Éomer argues with a grin. 'And this bread is very good, fresh-baked and warm.' He breaks off a corner for her. 'Try it.'

He holds it in front of her mouth so she has little option but to bite into it. She chews and swallows and says, 'Yes, very good. Éomer, what are the things we need to take care of, and what is the time?'

'Many hours to midday yet', he tells her, and makes her wait for the rest of his answer while he finishes the bread. 'No one expects to see the newlyweds before then, I am sure', he continues. 'I want to spend the morning here with you. I only need to meet with my council for a moment before your coronation in the afternoon.'

Something warm spreads in her chest at his mention of wanting to spend the morning with her, though she doesn't know what he wants to do.

'Now, your morning gift', Éomer says. He moves to sit opposite her, and looks at her.

'I had forgotten about that', Lothíriel says. 'But now I remember. You insisted on it during your negotiations with my father.'

Smiling that crooked half-smile that she has come to know is not malicious at all, Éomer says, 'He said that his daughter needs no payment for her virginity. But it is a custom of my people, a security for your possible widowhood. Not that you would be left destitute anyway, but the gift is traditional.'

He takes her hand in his. Speaking more formally, he says, 'Lothíriel, I give to you a house a little way outside the town of Aldburg, and the fields that belong to it. They are good fields, bearing a decent crop every year whether it is rainy or dry. There is a very competent family farming the land, and they lease the house too. It is now yours to do with as you wish, and to leave to whoever you want. It was my father's mother's house. Her morning gift, in fact.'

Before she can react to that, he adds, 'And I give you a horse.'

Lothíriel says the first thing that comes to her mind at that, inane though it is. 'I have a horse.'

And she smiles. Of course the king of the Rohirrim, the horse-folk, would give her a horse on their first day as husband and wife.

Éomer grins, and it is a grin of true joy and pride. 'Not a horse like this. She is one the Mearas, the race of the greatest horses in Middle-Earth, a nobler creature than any horse of Gondor. She is tall and strong, not tame like an ordinary horse but willing to carry the royalty of the Mark like all her kin. She will be yours if she accepts you.'

Lothíriel frowns in worry. 'Do you think she might not?'

She is elated at the thought of getting to ride one of the Mearas. She has admired them from afar, Éomer's grey stallion and other equally wondrous horses on a pasture near Edoras. She remembers Shadowfax, the greatest of all the Mearas, whom Mithrandir the wizard rode and took with him to the West.

'I think she will.' Éomer stretches as he continues, 'You are my queen and easy to recognise as queen by your posture alone, and you are a decent horsewoman. Hrímfax – that is her name – is not as wild as some of the Mearas, not like Shadowfax, though she is his kin. She will be a faithful companion to you for decades  – for they are more like companions than servants, the Mearas.

'You will have to give her up every now and then, though', he hurries to add, 'because we need her to foal if she will. There are not so many Mearas: we need all of them to breed to make sure that their race doesn't fade from Middle-earth.'

'Of course', Lothíriel says. She tries the name. 'Hrímfax. What does it mean?'

'Hrímfax', Éomer corrects her pronunciation. 'It means Frost-mane. She is a dapple grey, though she will most likely lighten to white in time. She is young still.'

'I look forward to meeting her.' Lothíriel smiles at him. 'Thank you, Éomer, for the gifts.'

Gathering her courage, she scoots closer to him on the bed and sets her hand on his arm and kisses him. She likes his kisses.

Éomer seems surprised at her advance but kisses her back at once, his hands going around her and into her hair that is truly a frightful mess, unbraided as it is.

He doesn't seem to mind it. As she licks into his mouth and holds onto his upper arms where they bulge delightfully with muscle, Lothíriel thinks that Guthild was certainly right about men liking to touch women's hair.

After a while Éomer takes his lips from hers to say, 'Kissing is better laying down', and pushes her gently to her back. He settles above her on all fours, looming over her and staring at her, and oh, isn't that a thing that makes warmth bloom between her legs.

He asks, 'How sore are you?' There is that certain glint in his eyes. 'We have hours still until we have any duties.'

Hours? That is a little intimidating, if he is implying what she thinks he is. 'A little sore', she admits. 'Not unbearably.'

Éomer's brows rise. 'If you were, I would have been a brute. But we must not make you any more sore. You have to manage the coronation ceremony and feast. It will be a long evening and night of celebration again.'

Somewhat to her surprise, Lothíriel feels a twinge of disappointment. It is silly, because Éomer is right. She will have to be in the centre of attention, the whole city of Edoras and all their wedding guests looking at her when Éomer crowns her his queen. It would not do to be wincing from pain when she kneels before him.

'But', Éomer says with a grin and a caress of her blanket-covered breast, 'there are still things we can do that will not make you markedly more sore which will be a very pleasant way to spend the morning.'

She suspects that these things may be some of the ones that aunt Ivriniel spoke to her about. They had sounded rather strange and intimidating and even shameful then, but here in the warm, crumpled bed and the heat of her husband's gaze, she wants to find out how exactly they work.

'Will you allow me to unwrap you?' Éomer's fingers are creeping beneath the blanket that covers her body, making her breath hitch.

She allows it.

She lets him bare her body to him again, and to kiss her breasts, and to spread her legs and touch her softly and then firmly between them until she makes desperate noises and closes her eyes under the weight of his gaze on her.

She lets him teach her how to touch the hardness between his legs so that it becomes ever harder and after a while of her touching it he, too, loses control of his voice and his pleasure. There is something… wonderful in managing to make him come undone with just strokes of her fingers around him. She kisses him on his shoulder and arms and chest while his breathing evens after he spills on her stomach, deciding not care about the unpleasantly cooling mess.

And then he wants to touch her again. He settles between her legs, kissing his way up her thighs, ticking her with his beard.

'One thing I must remember to say', Éomer says from between her thighs, as casually as if they were conversing at a dinner table. Lothíriel can barely bear to look at him there. 'Don't often make your hair as complicated as it was yesterday. I don't want your maid to undress you every night – it should be my pleasure – and I don't want to spend half the night untangling all those things from your hair either.'

Wondering if it is possible to die from blushing, or to ever stop blushing, Lothíriel nods. She wouldn't wear anything that complicated on ordinary days anyway.

Grinning and looking very satisfied with himself, Éomer puts his face between her legs and proceeds to make her gasp with embarrassment and whimper with desire and sob with pleasure.

He urges her to get a little more rest afterwards, reminding her – as if she didn't know – that this is the only day they can tarry in bed.

He lies down and pulls her to his side. She lays her head on his shoulder and he puts his arm around her, his finger splayed on her waist, and before she falls to sleep Lothíriel thinks that she could be very happy in this marriage.

Even her mother told her that mutual respect paired with mutual desire makes for a good partnership of spouses.

*

A/N: Tolkien wrote that the Mearas will carry only the king of the Mark and his sons, but I changed that to include queens and princesses as well. I try to be as canon-compliant as possible for the most part, but this is one detail I wanted to change.

The morning gift is an Anglo-Saxon custom: morgen-gifu. It is/was a custom of many other cultures, too.

There will be sequels but I'm not sure when as I am still working on the next one. You can subscribe to the series on AO3 to get an email notification when I post a new fic/chapter :)

[theantisocialcritic]

Archive Project - January 6, 2014 - Best Films of 2013

Welcome to Day 2 of the Hummy Awards! Today we will be reviewing the best movies per genre of 2013. The Genres we will awarding today will be: Comedy, Fantasy, Science-Fiction, Romance, Action, Thriller, Super-hero, Animated, Book-Adapted, Drama, Christian, Family and Art. We will also be awarding movies with the titles of: Least Subtle Movie of 2013, Most Divisive Movie of 2013 and Most Underrated Movie of 2013.   Lets get started! ————————————————————————————————————————— Best Comedy of 2013 ————————————————————————————————————————— Nominees: This is the End, The World's End, Anchorman 2, Saving Mr. Banks. Winner: The World's End!! Runner-up: Anchorman 2 This year we were treated to the final part of the "Cornetto Trilogy", the end to a long term mashup of the creative team behind such works as Shawn of the Dead and Hot Fuzz. The World's End is a wonderful sendoff from that creative team. I hope we see more from Simon Pegg and Nick Frost in the future! ————————————————————————————————————————— Best Fantasy Film of 2013 ————————————————————————————————————————— Nominees: The Great and Powerful Oz, Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters, The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug, 47 Ronin. Winner: The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug!! Runner-up: The Great and Powerful Oz Its a Lord of the Rings movie, even the worst Lord of the Rings movie is still dwarfs everything around it… ————————————————————————————————————————— Best Science-Fiction Film of 2013 ————————————————————————————————————————— Nominees: Star Trek into Darkness, Pacific Rim, Oblivion, Elysium, Gravity, Ender's Game. Winner: Elysium!! Runner-up: Star Trek into Darkness Props to Elysium for being the freshest new Science Fiction movie out in a while! Same for Star Trek for being an awesome sequel to the famed 2009 reboot. ————————————————————————————————————————— Best Romance/Relationship Movie of 2013 ————————————————————————————————————————— Nominees: Warm Bodies, The Spectacular Now, Don Jon, About Time. Winner: Don Jon!! Runner-up: Warm Bodies Trashy as it may be (and believe me, its is really trashy!!), Don Jon stands as a fascinating exploration of relationships and an impressive directorial debut for Joseph Gordon-Levitt! ————————————————————————————————————————— Best Action Movie of 2013 ————————————————————————————————————————— Nominees: Olympus Has Fallen, Iron Man 3, Star Trek into Darkness, Man of Steel, White House Down, Pacifc Rim, Elysium, Kick A** 2, The Wolverine, Lone Survivor. Winner: Elysium!! Runner-up: Olympus Has Fallen Props again to Elysium for giving us some of the coolest, most awesome and bloodiest action this year! ————————————————————————————————————————— Best Thriller of 2013 ————————————————————————————————————————— Nominees: Gravity, Captain Phillips Winner: Gravity!! Runner-up: Captain Phillips What can I say? I liked Gravity more than I liked Captain Phillips... ————————————————————————————————————————— Best Superhero Film of 2013 ————————————————————————————————————————— Nominees: Iron Man 3, Man of Steel, Kick A** 2, The Wolverine, Thor: The Dark World. Winner: Iron Man 3!! Runner-up: Man of Steel Nearly a year after The Avengers, nobody knew where the Marvel movies were going to go. How could they possible be as good as before? Where would they go? How can they make the stories without having the entire team show up? With Iron Man 3 we got our answer! Standing alone as the best movie in the Iron Man series and serving as an awesome followup documenting life in the post-Avengers world. No other Superhero movie had bigger shoes to fill and filled them so effectively. ————————————————————————————————————————— Best Animated Film of 2013 ————————————————————————————————————————— Nominees: Monsters University, Despicable Me 2, Frozen, Epic Winner: Frozen!! Runner-up: Despicable Me 2 Heres where I begin getting hate letters for not making Monsters University the best movie…. Frozen stands as a movie so good is competes with major film releases. So it wins!! The End! ————————————————————————————————————————— Best Book Adaptation of 2013 ————————————————————————————————————————— Nominees: Warm Bodies, World War Z, Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters, Kick A** 2, Twelve Years a Slave, Catching Fire, The Book Thief, Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom, Great Gatsby. Winner: The Great Gatsby!! Runner-up: Catching Fire All the flare of Hollywood Blockbusters put into one of the best novels of all time and you get one of the most interesting adaptions this year. ————————————————————————————————————————— Best Drama of 2013 ————————————————————————————————————————— Nominees: Prisoners, Rush, Twelve Years a Slave, American Hustle, Lovelace, 42 Winner: Prisoners!! Runner-up: Rush For being the tensest and best made drama of the year, Prisoners takes away best drama. ————————————————————————————————————————— Best Christian Film of 2013 ————————————————————————————————————————— Nominees: Grace Unplugged, I'm in Love with a Church Girl, Black Nativity Winner: Grace Unplugged!! Runner-up: I'm in Love with a Church Girl For having the best message for young Christians, Grace Unplugged wins Best Christian film of 2013! ————————————————————————————————————————— Best Family Film of 2013 ————————————————————————————————————————— Nominees: The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, Saving Mr. Banks, Oz the Great and Powerful, Monsters University, Despicible Me 2, Frozen. Winner: Saving Mr. Banks!! Runner-up: Oz the Great and Powerful If you don't mind a few swear words, Saving Mr. Banks is one of the sweetest films of the year! ————————————————————————————————————————— Best Art Film of 2013 ————————————————————————————————————————— Nominees: Inside Llewyn Davis, Twelve Years a Slave, Dallas Buyers Club, Spring Breakers. Winner: Inside Llewyn Davis!! Runner-up: Twelve Years a Slave For being an deep, fascinating look into the life of a down on his luck Folk singer with lots of symbolism and lull, Llewyn Davis wins best Art film! Thank you to the Coen Brothers! ————————————————————————————————————————— ————————————————————————————————————————— Least Subtle Film of 2013 ————————————————————————————————————————— Least Subtle Film is an award specifically designed to call out films that either intentionally or accidentally favor blunt or unsubtle stories ands themes in their films in favor of subtle storytelling. While being blunt isn't inherently a bad thing, it stands to reason that lacking subtlety in a lot of cases is detrimental to the films. Nominees: White House Down, Elysium, World War Z, Grace Unplugged Winner: White House Down!! Runner-up: Elysium   I wanted to give this award to Elysium for how severely blunt that film's message on social inequality is but I liked that movie, so the award goes to White House Down. This movie works under such a black and white understanding of American politics and calls out Republicans as evil, dumb, corrupt, puppets to the corporations that want nothing but money, while stating the Democrats (notably Obama) are thoughtful peacekeepers that want to help the poor. If your liberal, chances are you'll think this film is cheesy and fun but to a conservative like myself it's a giant middle finger. The action is fun but I have nothing else positive to say about it. I think Olympus Has Fallen was much better. ————————————————————————————————————————— Most Underrated Film of 2013 ————————————————————���———————————————————— Every year dozens of great films pass under the radar while major action films and romantic comedies hog the spotlight. Here we pay tribute to a few of them that the majority of film buffs missed out on. Nominees: Oblivion, Pacific Rim, Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters, Kick A** 2, The Spectacular Now, About Time, Dallas Buyers Club. Winner: Kick A** 2!! Runner-up: Pacific Rim While Pacific Rim flopped in the US it did rather well overseas (surprising from the US being obsessed with the Transformers films for some reason). Kick Butt 2 on the other hand received very little attention and was heavily criticized by a number of critics. You know what? The critics that gave this movie negative reviews are wrong. It might not be as great as the original film but Kick-Higny 2 feels like a natural continuation of the story from the first movie and makes me extremely excited at the possibility of a third movie, as teased in the final scene. Hopefully the lowered budget on this film allowed it enough of a profit margin to earn the rights to a Kick-Glutius Maximus 3. To quote a movie nobody but me has seen, "Pray everybody!". ————————————————————————————————————————— Most Divisive Movie of 2013 ————————————————————————————————————————— I don't even need a nominees selection to determine which film this year had audiences more split over it. Winner: Man of Steel!! No film this year has divided audiences more to hate or love a movie this much since Les Miserables last year! I'm in the camp that enjoys the film as an awesome action movie with a fresh take on Superman. This movie however has a lot of detractors who point out major flaws in the film and the directing the Warner Brothers is taking to force out a Justice League movie as soon as possible. Honestly though we can't accurately judge where Warner Brothers is taking this until after Batman vs. Superman and Justice League have both be released so for now I'm just enjoying an awesome movie with my favorite Superhero. If you disagree that Man of Steel is good than I completely understand your thoughts but these are mine. Man of Steel is a good movie IN MY OPINION. ————————————————————————————————————————— ————————————————————————————————————————— For more on Man of Steel, check out the Nostalgia Critic and Angry Joe's review here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1AJyKJ4BCo

[luckycloud808]

weird asks that say a lot from @julietgiulia​

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans? Coffee mugs

2. chocolate bars or lollipops? Chocolate 

3. bubblegum or cotton candy? Neither

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you? Shy, conscientious, perfectionist

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups? Glasses

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear? All contributors

7. earbuds or headphones? Earbuddies :)

8. movies or tv shows? Movies

9. favourite smell in the summer? Hot soil, flowering plants, fruit and needle trees, post rain, towel after ocean swim, wind through car window driving through forest(ed highway)

10. game you were best at in p.e.? Hockey, soccer, california kickball, high jump and arm hang? 

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day? Usually oatmeal or millet with omegas, fruit and oat milk or avocado bagel with black pepper and nutritional yeast

12. name of your favourite playlist? A nice mix for ness

13. lanyard or key ring? Key ring

14. favourite non-chocolate candy? Licorice, candied fennel or anise seeds

15. favourite book you read as a school assignment? Les miserables, The thief lord, The cellist of Sarajevo - off the top

16. most comfortable position to sit in? Slumpy posture, one leg over or under the other, knee tuck or apple sauce

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes? Hiking boots or black sambas

18. ideal weather? Sunny after rain a little windy

19. sleeping position? No pillow usually on my left or on my back or front with one leg bent 

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)? Notebook or notes app

21. obsession from childhood? Fairies and making homes

22. role model? Opa

23. strange habits? Not sure what qualifies as strange

24. favourite crystal? Not really into them but maybe jade or quartz 

25. first song you remember hearing? I turned out a punk or something by Joe Strummer

26. favourite activity to do in warm weather? Backpacking

27. favourite activity to do in cold weather? Cuddling, snowy adventuring, dancing

28. five songs to describe you? Hazel (bob dylan), Planted a thought (arthur russell), Junie (solange), Corridor of dreams (the cleaners from venus), Even cowgirls get the blues (emmylou harris)

29. best way to bond with you? Quality time, presence, care, spontaneity / silly curiousity

30. places that you find sacred? Oma and Opa’s yard and greenhouse, forest, Veluwe, ocean

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? Floral dress, nice earrings with sambas and sweatshirt or hiking boots, wool socks and over shirt, with shorts and tank top

32. top five favourite vines? Fresh avocado is the only one that comes to mind

33. most used phrase in your phone? Yay sweet and or That’s funny

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? Can’t think of any

35. average time you fall asleep? 2am

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing? Probably one of those justgirlythings ones here or Fb I have no idea

37. suitcase or duffel bag? Suitcase

38. lemonade or tea? Tea

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie? Lemon tart

40. weirdest thing to ever happen to you at your school? High school - Maybe bear spray yoe evac? authority figure telling me what I was wearing was inappropriate? psych teacher crying in class? Post sec - Tiktok famous boy makes a tiktok of me knitting in psych class? boy crushing steals my textbook just to get me to go to his car so he can return it to me? 

41. last person you texted? Daisy 🌼

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets? BOTH

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket? Hoodie

44. favourite scent for soap? Rose, patchouli, rosemary, lavendar, mint, etc.

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero? Fantasy

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in? Naked 

47. favourite type of cheese? Cashew cheese or if I could brie

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be? White nectarine but there are so many to try!

49. what saying or quote do you live by? “She walked with her entire body as if to gain momentum for an event in which her entire body would participate.” - Anaïs Nin (A spy in the house of love)

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? Probably my kid best friend

51. current stresses? Health issues, unstable income

52. favorite font? Freight rn

53. what is the current state of your hands? Coffee shakes

54. what did you learn from your first job? Hundreds of PLU’s, how to pack groceries, how messy and wasteful people are, that everyone should have to do a customer service job in their lifetime, how really great and awful people are, that I shouldn’t let other people’s stresses make me feel like I should be stressed, that quitting is good sometimes

55. favourite fairy tale? The six swans, Vasalisa the wise, Baba yaga, Bluebeard, Rumpelstiltskin, The red shoes, The velvet ribbon, Goldilocks and the three bears, and many many more

56. favourite tradition? Writing letters and cards, dressing up for halloween, celebrating birthdays

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome? Eating disorder, depression and heartbreak (although these are things I still need to keep being overcome)

58. four talents you’re proud of having? Writing, taking notes, learning about my body, feeling for what resonates

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be? Heyo, how bout that!

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be? Nausicaä of the valley of the wind (hayao miyazaki)

61. favourite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.? Recently found on my Tumblr feed from a book waiting on my shelf: “I want to believe, walking those aimless nights, that I was praying. For what I’m still not sure. But I always felt it was just ahead of me. That if I walked far enough, long enough, I would find it–perhaps even hold it up, like a tongue at the end of its word.” - Ocean Vuong (On earth we’re briefly gorgeous)

62. seven characters you relate to? In no particular order, not long thought out: 1) Sabina (A spy in the house of love), 2) Elio (Call me by your name), 3) Patti (Just kids), 4) Sally (The ruby in the smoke), 5) Camille (Un amour de jeunesse), 6) Dani (Midsommar), 7) Orla (Derry Girls)

63. five songs that would play in your club? I follow rivers - the magician remix (lykke li), JA! (bizzey), Gasolina (daddy yankee), Nice for what (drake), This must be the place - naive melody (talking heads) / love my way (psychedelic furs)

64. favourite website from your childhood? Myscene, Club penguin - those free gaming websites 

65. any permanent scars? A few on my face from tables and my dog, one on my knee from flip flops on a boat launch, a few burns here and there that probably aren’t permanent

66. favourite flower(s)? Always changing, echinacea and yellow roses rn

67. good luck charms? Change on the ground, nice earrings, well worn shoes, spotting flowers or animals

68. worst flavour of any food or drink you’ve ever tried? Cream of mushroom

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned? Popped in my head, maybe not the most fun - the flower bud in the centres of apple tree fruiting spurs make the king fruit (the biggest and best apple from each spur) and if you pick the king blossom then all the surrounding blossoms will be bigger and better 

70. left or right handed? Right

71. least favourite pattern? Galaxy?

72. worst subject? Economics

73. favourite weird flavour combo? Miso and apple, blueberries and coconut curry, orange juice and beer (I don't know if its really possible to find a “weird” combo maybe it’s more like “not found in my culture”)

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen? 5 if 0 is no pain (I don't think I’ve been above 8.5)

75. when did you lose your first tooth? No idea

76. what’s your favourite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)? Gnocchi or boerenkool

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill? Flowering plants

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store? Station coffee

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo? School id

80. earth tones or jewel tones? Earth

81. fireflies or lightning bugs? I don't think I have much experience with either

82. pc or console? I cannot either way

83. writing or drawing? This is my kryptonite question

84. podcasts or talk radio? Podcasts if I had to choose

84. barbie or polly pocket? Polly pocket

85. fairy tales or mythology? Mythology (stories are linked more)

86. cookies or cupcakes? Cookies

87. your greatest fear? My health issues keep accumulating and getting worse forever

88. your greatest wish? My health issues resolve

89. who would you put before everyone else? Myself, Suzmom or Marleymoon

90. luckiest mistake? Choosing mini school, don't regret it but maybe not the best decision

91. boxes or bags? Bags

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights? Sunlight and rocksalt lamps

93. nicknames? Ness, nessie, nessa, bean, bear, benjamin, kindje, sweet pea

94. favourite season? Late spring or late summer

95. favourite app on your phone? Flo, Spotify, Google maps, notes, weather, find my

96. desktop background? Santa Catalina Island off the coast of Southern California

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized? 7+

98. favourite historical era? I love revolutions and renaissances but all of em have hard times and good times

[anoutlandishfanfic]

Season Four Finale Pt. 2.

This rewrite has been in the works for quite some time (*cough* four and a half months), so THANK YOU for your patience and tenacity in not letting it sit in google docs forever unfinished.

Like many of you, I was less than enthused with Jemmy’s birth at the end of season four and decided to rewrite it, mixing in what I loved from the books and the elements I actually did like from the episode. You can find Part One/ Claire’s POV here. If you haven’t read it, you should, otherwise all you need to know is that Claire and Jamie have arrived back to River Run just in the nick of time. Claire is already upstairs with Bree and Jamie is trying to sort things out downstairs.

I had hoped to post it actually *on* Father’s Day, but life and theater productions happened and I didn’t quite wrap it up in time... but HAPPY FATHER’S DAY JAMIE.

“You’ve arrived in good time,” Lord John assured as we walked briskly towards the open front doors of River Run.

A measure of relief washed over me, but it was still out of heightened concern that I asked, “How is she, then? Is she—“

The inquiry over my daughter’s health and disposition was answered by Bree herself: a heart rending scream spilling out the open front door. I broke into a full run, sprinting towards her and I’d nearly crossed the threshold before he stopped me.

“Jamie, wait,” he insisted, his hand taking a firm hold of my elbow and pulling me up short. “Claire will be at her side in a moment. She can do far more for her than we can.”

Raking a hand wildly through my hair, I nodded and he let go.

“We?” I rose a brow in wry amusement.

“Yes, some help we’d be, you and I,” John chuckled as we walked through the door. “You’ve some knowledge of foaling and the like, I expect, but I’m afraid I’d just be in the way.”

My hands gripped the banister as I hovered near the bottom step of the grand staircase, thankful for its sturdy construction as I pushed mightily against it. The solid oak didn’t make any sound in complaint under my abuse, nor did it budge an inch as I gave it a good shake. I could hear snippets of the conversation going on above and was torn between rushing to my daughter’s side and heeding my friend’s truthful advice.

I knew if I mounted the stairs and waited in the hall, I would be unable to keep myself from bursting through the door and directly into the middle of things. I would only be in Claire’s way and much like a fish out of water, gaping slack jawed at my daughter’s turmoil and flopping this way and that in my attempt at being helpful.

No, I mentally sighed, I would let Claire handle things and trust that she knew what was best for our daughter.

I turned back to him, finally, agreeing, “She’ll have things well in hand shortly.”

“And your grandchild delivered soon after that, no doubt.”

John’s smile was forced, but his assurance genuine. I noticed the worry, the light of concern in his eyes and it made me consider the time he’d spent at River Run with Brianna. I knew he would have dutifully looked in on her, but there were many ways of going about such a task… had he introduced himself as a friend or made a point of doing business with my aunt more frequently than he might have otherwise?

These questions and more were on the tip of my tongue, but squelched as my godfather burst through the door, completely out of breath.

“Claire’s with her, then?” He blustered, his gaze upturned to the second level and brow deeply furrowed.

I swallowed the urge to smile — even as my gut churned mightily within me — when my wife’s voice broke out loud and clear.

“I am her mother and if you think for one sec—“

The door to Brianna’s room was shut hastily and any further noise stemmed.

“Oh, aye,” Murtagh chuckled wryly.

I watched in annoyance as he and John cautiously eyed each other, both obviously wanting to be within earshot when something happened, but not thrilled with the idea of being in the other’s presence.

They didn’t speak, but sighed and shifted uncomfortably, setting me even more on edge than I’d been before. I lifted my hand and raked through my hair, pulling at the back of my neck in frustration. I set my jaw, turning my gaze away from them and fixated on the door of Brianna’s chamber, instead.

I desperately wanted to know what was going on within.

Would it be soon or a good while longer?

Were things going as they should or were there complications?

There were so many things that could go wrong, only so much that Claire could do. I had complete trust in my wife and knew she would do everything she could and then some… but what if it wasn’t enough?

My thoughts quickly spiraled into a hurricane of worst case scenarios involving losing both Brianna and her bairn and I could stand it no longer.

I quickly climbed the first set of stairs and began to pace the length of the landing, back and forth, back and forth. I was closer… but still very much in the dark when the door above suddenly opened and Lizzie burst through, clattering down the hall and closing the distance between us at top speed.

“Easy, lass,” I caught her as she missed a step and nearly fell head first into me.

“What do they need?”

Relief washed over her face as she eagerly reported her task, “Mistress Claire is askin’ for her medicine box. She said you’d ken the one.”

“Aye!” Murtagh nearly shouted from below. “‘Tis right here!”

Taking two long strides to where he’d deposited the store of more necessary items from our saddlebags on a nearby table, he was back post haste, up the stairs and handing it to the trembling lass a moment later. With the goods now in hand, she spun on her heel and disappeared back up the stairs. The dust had barely settled in her wake when the door opened again and out tumbled my aunt and a woman I could only assume was the midwife.

“Well, I never!” spewed the woman. “Jocasta, I don’t understand how you can stand for such behavior in your own home! Sending a respectable midwife away from the childbed of a young woman who is in obvious need of—“

“My niece is a verra fine healer, Mrs. Gordon,” my aunt interrupted, forcefully supporting my wife’s expulsion of her friend from the birthing chamber, even while her carefully schooled features bellied her concern over this unexpected turn of events.

“She’s no’ one to stand on ceremony, an’ for that I do apologize, but Brianna is in good hands, I assure you.”

The crotchety old woman paid little heed and continued on her rant as the pair descended the grand staircase, “You are placing them both in grave danger and I will not stand for this!”

“Aye, I understand,” I caught the impatient gleam in Jocasta’s eyes as she moved closer, “but I will be followin’ Claire’s instructions on the matter, Mrs Gordon. You’re welcome to stay in case she needs a helping ha—“

“I thank you for your hospitality, but I will not remain while you let that madwoman do as she pleases!”

With that pronouncement made, Ulysses appeared out of nowhere and quickly, yet politely ushered the wretched woman to the door.

“Thank you, Auntie,” I murmured, for her ears only, informing her of my presence with her on the landing as well as recognizing her part in the proceedings.

She sighed, “Your wife has the habit of showing up at the most unexpected times, nephew.”

“Aye,” I grinned, having to admit that she did. “But I’m glad we made it in time.”

“Brianna is too,” she patted my arm with a smile. “She wishes to see you.”

I found myself quite suddenly unable to move, my feet firmly nailed to the floor as I fought between the overwhelming relief at being wanted and the sting of an even greater feeling of regret. Brianna and I hadn’t parted under ideal circumstances and, though I’d given a letter to John for him to deliver, the words of apology remained unspoken between us.

Could I face her while she was in such pain?

How could I bear to see her so, when I knew I could have prevented all of it… if I’d let Bonnet hang as he should have that fateful day… if I’d been able to defend my wife and men that bloody night on the river?

“Jamie?” Murtagh’s voice broke through the haze of immobility, “Bree needs you.”

It was those three words that set me off at a dead run up the stairs, freeing me from my mental prison and enabling me to run to my daughter’s side. I took the stairs two at a time and leapt over the remaining landing entirely in my haste. All was quiet for a moment, now that the commotion had departed, but I could hear the low hum of voices as I paused before the door of Brianna’s bedroom.

I pressed my palm against the carved oak door, hesitating for only a moment as I tipped my head forward to rest my brow against the smooth, polished wood in silent prayer.

Let them be safe, both she and the child.

The petition was well worn, my spirit having uttered it countless times in the last twenty four years. I’d prayed it for my wife and unborn child, alone in that cave. I’d repeated it over and over while imprisoned, going about my work, and in the still of the night…

Now, I prayed it for my daughter and her child.

I lowered my hand to the knob, gripping it tightly as I eased open the door. Bree let out a cry of relief as she saw me and stretched her arms out wide, reaching for me as she staggered across the floor.

Closing the gap between us in one stride, I held her close as she nearly strangled me, the loop of her arms around my neck tightening with an alarming veracity.

“I’ve got you, a nighean,” I choked out, both from her grip and the tears that threatened to fall.

Bree’s response was incoherent, her words tumbling together into a mighty sob as she clung to me.

“Musch, a leannan, musch,” I crooned, my hand cupping the back of her head as I looked wildly around for my wife. “I’ve got you, dinna fash.”

Claire suddenly materialized beside me and I opened my embrace to her, encircling the both of them and holding them close. My arm around Claire’s waist tightened in correlation to the constricting band of emotion around my chest. I dipped my head, placing a kiss amid Bree’s curls as her sobs dissolved into hiccuping sighs in time, no longer trembling against my chest.

“Da?”

Bree’s voice, husky and low from crying, brought our attention immediately back to her.

“Aye,” I cooed, rubbing her back,  “I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have… I was awful to you.”

“Ach, nighean,” my heart broke, “as was I… forgive me?”

She nodded as she set us into a swaying motion, one I willingly took up as I supported her, her body leaning heavily against me. Claire stepped away and into motion as well, coming to stand behind Bree as her hands began to massage her lower back.

“That’s it, luv,” she coaxed, her brows furrowing slightly as she tried to gauge what was going on within our daughter.

I tensed, realizing that things were really going in earnest, my gaze flicking towards the door.

“I, ah… I think I’d best get out of yer way, then.”

“No!” Bree screeched, her head snapping up and colliding solidly with my chin.

“Don’t leave me, Da!”

I patted her arm reassuringly, trying to ease out of her vice grip, “You dinna need me here, a leannan… you’ve your mother and Phaedre and—”

“Don’t leave me!” she repeated, shaking her head wildly, her eyes wide as she took great fistfuls of my shirt.

I quickly took a better hold of her, keeping her from collapsing into a heap at my feet as she sobbed, “You can’t! You promised! You said I wouldn’t die. Remember? You said I wouldn’t die.”

Die?

I looked to Claire in panic and found her shaking her head.

“Bree, lovey—“ she started to console her, but our daughter interrupted.

“You said I wouldn’t die, Da!” Bree hiccuped. “If you stay, it’ll be alright… If you stay, I won’t die!”

“Ach, mo chridhe,” I crooned, wrapping my arms around her again, cradling her against my chest

“You are not goin’ to die.”

But Bree shook her head, not hearing my words as she looked up at me suddenly, tears streaming down her face as she hiccuped, “If I… Da, if I… will you… please, Da.”

“Brianna, a leannan,” I lifted my hand to her cheek, my thumb wiping away her tears as I pressed a kiss to her brow.

“You are healthy... you are so verra strong… and you have the best of help,” I reassured her.

“You can do this.”

Bree looked to Claire, still unsure.

“Your father’s right, luv,” she crooned, rubbing her back. “Baby’s in good position, you’re doing wonderful.”

“Really?” Bree hiccuped.

Claire’s smile was lopsided but the truth of her sentiment was genuine in her eyes as she echoed, “You can do this, Bree.”

Bree slipped one arm around Claire and I did the same, welcoming her into our embrace. Claire’s head naturally rested on my shoulder and Bree’s tucked neatly beneath my chin as I held them close, their curls mingling together and brushing against my skin. We stayed that way, wrapped in each other’s arms and swaying slightly until Bree spoke again.

“But you’re not going to leave me, right?” she made sure.

I shook my head and shifted her in my arms, pulling her away from me just far enough that I was sure she could see my face, even going so far as ducking my head until we were eye to eye.

“No, I willna leave ye,” I promised.

Bree nodded and let out a deep sigh as she took me at my word.

I will never leave you, my heart vowed.

“What can I do?”

I’d asked this of Bree, but it was Claire who answered, urging, “Walk her.”

Turning and blinking at my wife in complete confusion, I watched as she bit at her lower lip, trying her best not to laugh at me.

“Like a horse with colic, Jamie,” she clarified.

“Aye, well,” I stammered as I gingerly slid my arm about Bree’s waist. “Off we go… ‘round the paddock.”

Bree laughed at this and I found myself smiling as well. I would endure a great many jokes at my expense tonight if it distracted my daughter from her inner turmoil.

Claire smiled at us as we started out across the room before moving off to one corner to change out of her dirty clothing. I rather thought she’d get soiled again before the night was through, but saw the merit in not bringing the dust of the road into Brianna’s childbed.

My gut clenched as we slowly walked passed it, my mind skipping ahead to what would happen in the hours to come. John had been right, I knew foaling and calving and lambing well enough, but I was entirely out of my depth here in the murky waters of childbirth.

I’d told Claire once that I could bear my own pain, but I didn’t think I could hers and now our daughter would be in excruciating pain for hours on end. I would keep my promise, I would stay by Bree’s side until her bairn was safely in her arms… but would I have the strength to be all she needed?

We turned a corner and Claire was once again in view, standing in profile to me as Phaedre helped her out of one skirt and into another, but I saw her instead as she’d looked in Paris, carrying Faith.

She’d born two daughters into the world without my presence at her side... Could I have prevented the tragic end of the first and aided her in the second, if I’d been there with her?

A low groan from beside me rapidly brought me back to this birth. I may not have been at my wife’s side when she needed me, but I could be at Brianna’s side.

I would be at Brianna’s side, every step of the way.

“Are ye alright?” I murmured, slowing my pace and coming to stop, but she urged me forward with a decided snort.

“I’ll tell you when I’m not.”

I heard Claire chuckle at this and found her looking over at us, her gaze softening as she watched us draw near.

“Oh, aye,” I grinned at her, even while I was speaking to Bree. “Tell me anything you like… even call me names, if you wish. Always makes your mam feel better.”

Claire shook her head at me in mock reproach, knowing I was teasing her indirectly about her particular skill for it.

“Are you too warm, love? We can open the window if you like... maybe catch a breeze?” she changed the subject.

Bree nodded and Claire moved to do so, giving me a firm whack on the arse as she passed by. I felt Bree turn in my arms as she tried to redirect our course to follow her mother. Certainly not objecting to this change in direction, I steered us towards the now open window.

There was, indeed, a breeze and the three of us paused to take it in. I breathed deep, filling my lungs with the deep green smell of the willows by the river. The room had taken on a stuffy atmosphere without my noticing and I now found it disappearing around me, the distant sounds of dusk creeping in.

Bree reached out for the windowsill, anchoring herself to it as she bent forward. Another low moan bubbled up from deep within her and Claire slipped between us. I stepped aside, giving them room to work together, and watched as Claire began to dig her thumbs into Bree’s back, massaging the taut muscles just above her hips.

She noticed my absence and turned her head round, panic obvious in her eyes as she asked, “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere, nighean,” I assured her. “Just givin’ ye a bit of room to breathe.”

“Stay here... I can’t breathe anyway,” she grumbled, turning her gaze back to the open window.

The light breeze stirred the curls around her face as a whimper left her and I reached out for her hand, covering it with my own and squeezing it tight. She squeezed back and I held my breath until her grip loosened, her breathing evening out again.

“Feel better?” I asked, rubbing the back of her hand with my thumb.

Bree glared up at me, her eyes boring a hole through my skull as she shook her head. Her displeasure only grew as I found myself grinning down at her.  

A dhia, she looked just like her mother when she was like this.

I nodded, trying to swallow my amusement as I offered, “Can I help you lie down?”

“No,” she spat emphatically and I decided to give her some space, stepping away ever so slightly, but she pulled me back to her side, her fingernails digging into my palm.

“If I get on that bed, I’m not getting back off.”

Her voice was thin and reedy, her pupils dilating as she saw the daunting task ahead of her instead of the support of those beside her.

Claire’s gaze was kind as she squeezed our daughter’s shoulder reassuringly, seeing the stark fear in her eyes, “You’re doing fine, lovey… Just fi—“

“No, Mama,” our daughter interrupted, insisting, “I am not getting on that bed.”

Claire and I shared a look over Bree’s head, my wife’s lips twitching at this vehement outburst. Obviously, she didn’t feel Bree needed to lie down so just now and would not be pressing the point, my suggestion falling completely flat.

“Aye, well,” I cleared my throat. “What would ye like then, nighean?”

“I want to walk… I need to walk,” she muttered.

This pronouncement sent Bree and I about our familiar motions again, her weary legs setting the slow, but steady pace. I could hear Claire speaking with Phaedra behind us, asking for more candles to have on hand once the sun set and shooing Lizzie away from the work table with a dismissive wait.

Everyone was on edge, tip-toeing about our tasks as we put Bree’s needs and emotions above our own, but Lizzie was handling things the worst out of all of us. Her usual helpful nature was replaced with a dogged determination to provide for her mistress’ every need and this manifested itself in hovering around both Bree and Claire, asking numerous, unimportant questions. The lass meant well, to be sure, but I knew she was beginning to get on my wife’s nerves, which were already wearing thin.

We were back at the window and I nodded towards it, “What if we stood here a moment and let Lizzie plait your hair over again? Get it off your neck an’ let the breeze cool you a bit, aye?”

Bree cast a glance towards her lady’s maid and the hint of a smile tugged at her lips as Claire all but physically moved the lass out of her way. She agreed, making a beckoning motion with her hand before turning to gaze out the window, leaning against the sill.

Lizzie bounded over to us with a wide smile on her face, eager to do anything to aid her beloved mistress. Her nimble fingers undid what was left of the long plait that had been in place, retrieving the escaped curls and neatly tucking them into place as she set about her work. Tying off the end, Lizzie took up the damp cloth Claire had already prepared on the table nearby and gently applied it to the back of Bree’s neck.

A shuddering sigh left her in relief and she turned to her companion in thanks, “You’re too good to me, Lizzie.”

“Och, no, Mistress!” Lizzie burst. “Tis nothin’ at all! I only wish I could do more for ye. Can I be fetchin’ ye anythin’? A cool glass of buttermilk, perhaps?”

Bree pulled a face in answer, making the lass laugh, and we returned to our walk. Claire and Phaedre were puttering about with something and I noticed that the general hubbub of the room was beginning to agitate my daughter. I looked over my shoulder to find Lizzie practically on my heels, anxious to be of use.

“Lizzie, would ye, ah… would ye fetch us some more water?” I punted, figuring we had use of it, but then had an idea.

“But fresh from the well, aye? Or the coldest ye can find, anyway... Tha’ might be nice to keep Bree cool.”

Claire peeked over her shoulder at me, one brow rising, her eyes twinkling in silent laughter as Lizzie sought approval from Bree and then nearly sprinted out the door.

“Thank you,” Bree sighed as it shut and things began to settle down around us.

I chuckled and patted her hand, “Dinna fash, a nighean.”

We continued our circuitous route for a good while more before Bree suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth dropping open as she gasped for air. I looked wildly over her head and Claire was at our side the next instant, her hands flying to Bree’s hips as she took up a slow but urgent massage. Bree turned into me, burying her face in my chest.

“Easy, luv,” Claire crooned. “Keep breathing.”

My hand rubbed smooth circles between Bree’s shoulder blades. I felt the low intonations of her words, but couldn’t make out what she said.

“Say it again, a leannan?”

Bree didn’t budge, only moving her mouth ever so slightly away from my body as she repeated herself with as much force as she could muster.

“I — want — to — lie — down.”

My head snapped up and Claire sprang into action, Phaedra abandoning whatever it was she was doing to make final preparations for the bed.

Claire and I slowly brought Bree to the edge of the bed, where Phaedre perched with arms outstretched to help her move. The three of us painstakingly coaxed, supported, and guided Bree into place against a mountain of pillows.

She shifted about, agitated and flushed, trying to find a position that suited her.

“Da?” Her hand reached out as tried to think of a way to help, her voice urgent.

“Da, I need you.”

I climbed onto the bed beside her, taking up her hand and brushing a kiss across her knuckles.

“Right here, mo chridhe.”

She reclined against the pillows, finding solace for a brief moment, but turned her cheek into the pillows, determined to keep me in her sights as she grabbed for my other hand.

“I’ve got you,” I assured her. “I’m right here, I won’t leave you.”

She nodded as her gaze unfocused and she stared right through me as her pain intensified. Her grip tightened and I shifted beside her, turning so that she could hold onto me without compromising any position she wanted to be in, my long arms reaching and giving her the freedom to move. She did so, dropping my left hand to place her own on the great swell of her belly.

“How… how much longer? How long til he’s here?” Bree rambled, her eyes wide.

“I’m not sure,” Claire answered, gently but honestly. “Not an awfully long time, I don’t think.”

Bree nodded and turned back to me, breathing heavily as she demanded, “Talk to me, Da!”

“Oh?” I looked to Claire who was already settling about her work, arranging things within easy reach, “What shall I say, then?”

“It doesn’t really matter… tell her stories, just keep talking to get her mind off things,” she assured me.

Stories.

“Aye… well,” I scrambled. “Have ye heard the one about Finegal’s Cave, then? An’ it’s giants?”

A low groan was my answer and I plunged headlong into the tales of my youth. I held her hand as her gaze became more and more distant, turning inwards instead of latching on to the stories of silkies and seal catchers, of pipers and elves, of the wee folk and their tricks. All of these tumbled from my lips out of pure habit, for I’d been telling them my whole life long… to Jenny’s children, and then her grandchildren, to the men at Ardsmuir in the still of the night, to a skittish mare in need of coaxing, to the empty wind upon the moor.

I was somewhere between Columba’s fountain and Thomas the Rhymer when Bree let go of me all together and strained forward, her damp shift clinging to her as she began to bear down with all of her might. I reached out an arm to support her in this new position as Phaedre quickly built up the pillows behind her.

“There, now,” Claire crooned, her hands readjusting the hem of Bree’s shift. “There we go, Bree.”

Bree gasped for air and then pushed again, an inhuman noise escaping her as she fought to bring forth her child. The contraction eased after was seemed like an interminable amount of time and her head tipped back against the pillows.

“I just want to be done, Da,” Bree wheezed, desperation in her eyes as she struggled to catch her breath. “I just… want… him here.”

I leaned forward, cooling her brow and neck with a cloth before kissing her gently, just behind her ear.

“Soon, a leannan. He’ll be in your arms in just a moment more.”

We went through many such bouts, with Bree giving it her all, Claire coaching from between her knees, and me at her side, helpless to do anything but pray. One pain came on top of the last and Bree reached out blindly for me, her face turning red with effort, then white, then back to red again… beads of sweat mingling with the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

“Almost, lovey,” Claire assured. “You’re almost there.”

The next contraction began with staggering strength and I watched as something snapped within her, Bree’s demeanor changing entirely as she got down to business in earnest.

“There we go! That’s it, luv,” Claire cheered as she lifted Bree’s hem higher.

I could see nothing — were there anything to be seen at present — and was rather glad of it. From what I knew about the messy process of being born, I wasn’t entirely sure I really wanted to watch my grandchild enter the world. I would be here, in the room and at Bree’s side, and that was plenty enough for me.

Claire’s brow furrowed in concentration as she shifted to get a better view of things, urging Phaedre to bring the light closer as mother and daughter worked together as one.

“Good, lovey,” Claire crooned, her shoulders hunching as she ducked her head, disappearing from my sight.

With a frustrated whimper, Bree’s head tipped back against the pillows and her eyes slid shut in defeat.

Claire’s face reappeared, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright as she cheered, “You’re doing fine, lovey… just fine.”

She tore her eyes from Bree’s face only for a moment to look at me, her heart adding and so are you.

I sighed, shaking my head with a weary smile. I was doing nothing, really… she and Brianna were the ones doing all the work, with the latter doing the lion’s share. Claire’s gaze returned to her patient and her head ducked down again, hidden from view behind the screen of Bree’s shift.

Another pain gained momentum and Bree let go of my hand, her face darkening with effort as she began to push once more.

“Good!” Claire praised, cheering, “Good, Bree!”

“Guid, a leannan!” I picked up my wife’s pattern of urging, encouraging my daughter in the language of my heart.

I knew she wouldn’t hear my words, so deeply consumed with the task at hand, but that my tone, the intent of the words that tumbled out of my mouth would make it through to her… bolstering and sustaining her in ways that I physically could not.

“You are so strong, my brave girl,” I encouraged in Gaelic. “You can do this, he’s almost here.”

“Again, Bree,” Claire urged and I changed my course, slipping in and out of English.

“Once more, a leannan. Once more!”

I moved closer to my daughter’s side, keeping my head near hers as I coaxed, “You are doing so well, Brianna.”

Bree’s head tipped back as her hips dug into the mattress and she quickly let the air out of her lungs through clenched teeth, hissing as Claire assured her, “Easy, luv. That’s the way.”

“Guid,” I crooned, not knowing entirely what I was congratulating her for, but knowing without a doubt that she deserved it. “Verra well done!”

A sharp cry left her lips and her hand reached out wildly, searching between her legs.

“Can you see him?” Bree turned her gaze, trying to find her mother in her hazy delirium. “What… what does he look like?”

Claire chuckled at this, her voice muffled as she continued about her business, “He’s rather unhappy at present, lovey. Quite the scowl for one so young.”

“He’s a boy, then?” I asked, hesitantly, wondering just what exactly was going on.

“God help him if he isn’t,” she teased and Bree chuckled for a half a moment before the sound changed into a sort of strangled moan as she began to push.

“Once more,” I encouraged. “Once more and he’ll be here!”

Claire cheered and Bree let out a mighty shout as her battle ended and her child entered the world. The bairn suddenly appeared on the quilts, wriggling like a landed trout within Claire’s guiding hands. My heart leapt into my throat, cutting off all words of congratulations before they could even begin to form, and I watched in awe as Claire lifted the squalling infant into Bree’s waiting arms.

“Oh, baby,” she crooned, her thumb caressing his damp cheek. The bairn turned his head towards her, his cries waning into annoyed puffs at the inconvenience of being born.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you!”

She looked up a half moment later in surprise, catching Claire’s eye as she proclaimed, “He is a boy!”

“He is,” Claire beamed, her voice thick and cheeks as wet as my own. “I’m so proud of you, lovie.”

Bree’s chin wobbled for a moment before her gaze dropped back down to her son.

Her son.

My daughter has a son.

Tears blurred my vision as I turned to find Claire, still about her work, but a grin splitting her face into two. I sniffed and blinked once — twice and the world settled back into focus. I could see the tears of joy trailing down her cheeks as she felt my gaze upon her and looked up for a brief moment.

I had no words to speak — my heart so very full —but I found it didn’t matter. Claire’s eyes sparkled as her spirit reached out to mine, whispering well done.

Chuckling softly, I shook my head.

No, I hadn’t done anything. Not much, anyway. It was them that had done all the work, I’d merely been along for the ride.

And what a ride it had been.

My hand reached out as I returned my attention to Bree, gently cupping the back of her head as I placed a kiss just above her temple.

“Verra well done, a leannan,” I murmured, my lips brushing against her curls.

“Verra well done, indeed. 

[duckapus]

Paper Nicktoons- Prologue

Today…

I’m going to tell you the story of “Star Spirits and Good Wishes.”

Far, far away, beyond the sky, way above the clouds, it’s been said that there’s a haven where Stars live. In this sanctuary of Star Haven there rests a fabled treasure called the Star Rod, one of the Great Wands which have the power to grant all wishes. Using this wondrous Star Rod, the seven revered Star Spirits worked in tandem with other mystical councils across the realms to watch over our peaceful worlds carefully… very carefully.

And then one day…

The elderly Koopa in a purple hat and matching robes, looking ever so out of place in Star Haven, peered out nervously from her hiding place.

Satisfied, she put her magic rod up to her beak, “The coast is clear, your Nastiness. Prepare for transport.”

“Perfect. Everything’s ready on my end, Kammy. Fire away!”

At her master’s bidding, Kammy shot a geometric bolt of Koopa magic at the ground nearby. The bolt exploded into a small mass of multicolored smoke, dissipating to reveal the King of the Koopas, Lord Bowser himself.

The mighty Dragon-koopa inhaled deeply, before declaring, “Ah, I love the smell of stardust in the morning! All right Kammy, let’s go get ourselves a superweapon!”

“Mwehehe! As you command, my Lord!” the old witch cackled, and the duo of dastardly turtles strode towards the Star Temple (people in the Mushroom Kingdom’s world are really uncreative with names).

As they entered the great hall, Bowser grew suspicious, “Weird. A building this important holding such a powerful artifact, but no guards in sight.”

“That’s because we only need one,” called a familiar voice, prompting the villains to turn around.

What they saw was a small yellow star with reddish-brown eyes and a distinctive brown lock of hair drooping to the right. Kammy had no idea who this smug little sprite was, but Bowser would recognize that grim expression on any face.

“Er… hey, Geno! Long time no see, pal! Congrats on the promotion… this is a promotion right?”

“It is, thanks. So, how’s this going to play out, old friend?”

“...Can we skip the Mariachi Guy stand-off and go straight to the shootout?”

Geno responded by forming a replica of his old loaned doll body, gun arms at the ready.

“Thank you. BOOK IT, GRANNY!” the duo leaped to either side of the Star Guardian, narrowly avoiding being riddled with bullets.

The possessed puppet focused on Kammy, figuring she would be the healer of the pair, “Kamek didn’t teach Bowser much in the way of respecting his elders, did he?”

“Do you want to try telling a two ton near-immortal fire-breathing dragon fueled by teenage hormones to be polite?”

“Fair enough.”

It was a testament to Geno’s skill and Kammy’s experience that they could hold such a casual conversation in the middle of a firefight. As it was, Bowser was struggling to find an opening between the shower of bullets and geometric shapes-either through his old party member’s defenses or to his coveted prize. Just as he was about to go into his usual fiery rage, he remembered something.

With little hesitation, the large Koopa retired to his shell, spinning rapidly and obviously towards his enemy. On reflex, Geno easily caught the Koopa King and tossed him over his shoulder down the hall-in the wrong direction, he realized too late.

Now ignoring the elderly Magikoopa (who had been growing increasingly winded as the duel went on), Geno raced to the end of the hall, hoping beyond hope he wasn’t too late.

His wish had failed by a matter of milliseconds.

“GWAHAHAHA!! I’ve done it! Finally, I can take what’s rightfully mine!”

“Not if I have something to say about it!” With that, the Star-turned-toy leaped up to grasp the Star Rod, hoping his desire to save it would outweigh Bowser’s ambition.

Not even close, he realized with a start. Barely enough of his own influence shown through to make a single request for indirect aid. Still, he supposed as he was tossed across the chamber, it’s better than nothing.

Bowser, who had felt the Rod act without him, leered maliciously at his adversary, “what did you do?”

The Star, suddenly feeling much more wooden then celestial, glared defiantly, “wouldn’t you like to know?”

Bowser sneered, smoke puffing from his flared nostrils, before his face morphed into a wicked grin, “You know, I can never remember; are you a Dummy or a Puppet?”

Confused, Geno was about to reply that he was, in fact, a Doll, before noticing that he could no longer move his body. Bowser’s grin widened. “Stand at attention, soldier.”

Unbidden, the Star Guardian complied. It was then that Geno realized; Bowser had just made his first wish.

“Your Cruelness!” Kammy called as she entered the Star Rod’s chamber, “I take it from your evil laughter earlier that we’ve been successful?”

“You bet your best hat we have! Check it- the Mushroom World’s Great Wand and a new minion as a sweet bonus! He doesn’t do much right now other than follow direct orders, but I can work on that later.”

In high spirits, the Koopa King summoned his signature white and green Clown Car, “Get in Geno, we’re blowing this joint in style!”

As his weapon-turned-prison obeyed it’s new master (who was currently ravaging Star Haven and imprisoning the seven Star Spirits), Geno could only pray that Mario and whoever would be called to his aid could find some way to fix his newest mistake.

Now Star Kids may rise to Star Haven to deliver people’s wishes… 

But those wishes will not come true.

Meanwhile, in other worlds…

A man walked out to his mailbox as he did every morning, pausing only a moment to glare at his hated next-door neighbor (who cheerfully waved back).

As he looked over the mail (mostly bills, again) one envelope confused him.

“That’s odd, Timmy never gets written invitations!”

…

After a long day of school and Ghost fights, all Danny Fenton wanted to do was flop down in his bed and sleep till… probably midnight, if Skulker was in a good mood. Still, something compelled him to check his Email. The newest message was an invitation to a party in… the what kingdom? Calls to his two best friends confirmed that they’d received invites too.

Still, that begged the question why it was explicitly addressed to Danny Phantom.

…

“Good morning, Gary!” Spongebob called as he prepared for his day. Mr. Krabs had closed up shop while he went on a vacation with his daughter Pearl (as much as he hated to admit that he needed the rest) so the Aquatic fry cook’s schedule was free for the next two weeks. The poor guy must have been really out of it, because he’d agreed to pay Spongebob and Squidward while he was gone.

As the animate sea sponge prepared to head outside, he saw that the mail had arrived early today.

“Let’s see… Postcard from Sandy over in Texas, Power bill, Coupons… Oh, what’s this?”

Reading the now-familiar-to-us invitation, the sponge’s square face clearly held back a squee of delight, “I’d better call the guys and see if they can help me get to this ‘Mushroom Kingdom’ place.”

…

“Jimbo! A letter came for you! It looks kinda fancy, too.”

“Coming dad!” Jimmy called down from his room before setting down the ray gun he’d been tinkering with.

“Here ya go, son.” Hugh said as he passed the young prodigy his invitation. Soon after reading it (and checking it over to make sure he’d read it correctly) Jimmy received a call from someone he didn’t quite expect.

“Hi, Spongebob, What’s up?... Wait, You got one too?”

------

Hello everyone, and welcome to a project I’ve been trying to get off the ground for a while. This is a rewrite of Paper Mario, modified to work in written format, make some minor tweaks to keep things fresh(like including Geno), and of course having the cast of Nicktoons Unite join Mario on his journey. I’ll be trying to post a chapter at least once a week, and I’d be happy to answer any questions about it!

[charliesshitposts]

Supernatural Omens (part three)

The nice and inaccurate prophecies of someone.somewhere about something that never happened. A fan fiction.

Warnings: None (: Feel free to read this in front of your parents and pets.

Word count: it’s short (I think). This might be the shortest chapter I’ve written. And the thought of that is honestly bothering me.

Authors note:I’ll be adding and editing to make it longer when I get the chance to do so. This week is honestly hectic which is why it’s not my best chapter. I’m real sorry about that.

——————————————————————————

  Castiel stood confused next to Aziraphale. The angel paged rapidly through the book Jack had given him. He didn’t speak. He just stared  at each page with wide eyes and an equally wide smile. This crept the Seraph out.

  “All our answers are in here. This book,The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnus Nutter, this was written by a witch who could see way into the future. Maybe..just maybe..she saw...oh dear lord here it is!” 

  The angel got closer to show the seraph what he was looking at. Castiel read quietly. Aziraphale handed him the book without a word and went back to where the boys were asleep. He came back with a notepad and a pen.

“Let me see something.” He said whilst taking the book back from Castiel.

“What’s happening?” Asked Cas.

“Hang on my friend.” He said. Aziraphale grabbed his phone off the receiver and dialed. Cas watched as the angel talked for a split second over the phone before rapidly hanging up.

“We’ve got him.” Aziraphale muttered.

“What?”

“We’ve got him! We’ve got the boy! I mean,obviously we don’t have him. I know where he is though. Number 4 Hogback Lane,Tadfield.”

“Well alright then,let’s go.”

Aziraphale put his hand against Castiels chest to stop him.”It’s not that easy. We can’t go personally. Well have to send someone to keep an eye on him.”

Cas breathed out through his nose.”But..” he saw the look in Aziraphales eyes and sighed.”Alright fine.”

“I’ll have to report to Crowley in a few hours.” It seemed as though Aziraphale was going to add something to his sentence. He was,but he quickly stopped himself. Instead he said “Would to come with me?”

“Well..” Castiel thought.”If you go then the boys have to go.”

Again Aziraphale took a moments pause to think it through. Finally he nodded.”Okay..How’s your cocoa?”

Cas looked down at his still full cup. It warmed his his palms.”I haven’t had a sip yet. How did you get so used to eating and drinking?”

The angel smiled.”One gets used to human traits after a while of being around them. Let’s sit down by the window and wait for sun rise. I’d love to hear about your life back in your universe.”

The Seraph was led to a small round table. A cinnamon scented candle burned on top of it. Next to the candle was a plate of oatmeal cookies. They sat across from one another. Unlike Aziraphale,who looked more awake and livelier than ever,Castiel looked exhausted and run down. Cas had never known what rest was because his body and mind were constantly on alert,fearing for the next threat. He low key envied the angel,who’s life up until that point seemed better than his.

“So tell me about yourself.” Aziraphale said.

Cas brought the mug away from his lips. He liked the cocoa.”About myself or about my life with the boys?”

“Let’s start off with your life.”

“Alright. Life up in heaven was strictly based on following orders with no questions asked. I have to give credit to the Winchester’s. If it hadn’t been for them I’d still be a tight ass. I was given the order to pull Dean out of Hell,which I did. But first I needed a vessel to inhabit during my time on earth. A devoted man named a Jimmy Novak prayed for this,and well.you’re looking at him. His body,that is. He died a long ago and I kept living in here.Dean was skeptical about angels and other celestial beings at first but that gradually changed over time. Sam thought I’d be different because I was kind of a dick to him when we first met. But he changed his mind once he got to know me.Over time I grew fond of humans,and the angels running heaven didn’t like that.Then when the time came to choose between the order or my human friends I didn’t hesitate for a second in choosing them. I’ve ‘died’ and came back many times.”

Aziraphale had the rim of his cup pressed to his lips but he had yet taken a sip. His hand and the rest of his body had frozen with hearing Castiels story. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. And yet he wanted to hear more of the Seraphs life.

“Fascinating.” Aziraphale breathed out. He took his sip and set the cup down.”Tell me about your life with the boys. What’s your daily routine with them?”

“My daily routine is hectic. Sam,Dean,Jack and I are always on the go. Sometimes the Archangel Gabriel tags along.Solving cases take up to two weeks to do. If the case is important or life threatening it takes more time. We had just finished our biggest one,killing the devil,weeks ago. But then the Archangel Micheal,who had killed the devil whilst wearing Dean as a vessel,took off with Dean. He had broken the deal they had made prior.So then we had to search for them. Thankfully he found us first. It was just Dean. Micheal had been there briefly but he was killed.We then felt it was time for a much needed break. But then you and Crowley popped up in our library and here we are.”

The angel frowned.”I didn’t know that.Im so sorry we ruined it for you guys.”

Castiel smiled.”It’s alright. There’s no need to apologize. I’ll admit i was upset at first but I’m not anymore. Your a pretty nice angel, Aziraphale. Much more nicer than the ones back in our world.”

Aziraphales eyes widened.”That can’t be possible. All angels are nice.”

“No.” Castiel shook his head.”Not where I’m from. Everyone is uptight,righteous and always wanting to follow their given orders word for word. Nobody questions their orders.Nobody thinks about the consequences those orders could have on others. I was like that before I met Dean. He’s the reason why I am the way I am now,and I’m eternally greatful. The only angels that are easy to get along with are the ones that have been living with humans for a long time. The only other one besides myself is Gabriel. But he wasn’t easy going at first.”

“What do you mean?”

“Gabriel didn’t tell us at first that he was an archangel. He said he was a trickster and,before joining us,messed with Sam and Dean numerous times. It took a time of talking and making him see what he was doing was wrong before he stopped. It also took a long time for Sam and Dean to trust him.In fact he’s back in our world house sitting for us.”

Aziraphale smiled.”Would you like to call him to see how everything is going?”

Cas nodded.”That be nice. Could I get more cocoa please?”

“Yes you most certainly can.” Aziraphale set the phone in front of Cas. He retrieved both his and the seraphs cup and left to refill them.

Cas dialed the long distance number,followed by the international number,followed by the area code then finally the 7 numbers to the housephone in the bunker. It rang,and rang,and rang until finally Gabe picked up.

“Who are you and how did you get this number?”

“It’s me you flip flop.” Cas said.

“Cas!” Gabriel exclaimed.”How’ve you been buddy? It feels like it’s been years since we’ve spoken. Where are you guys at? How’s Sammy?”

“I’ve been good,thank you for asking. We are in London. It’s very pretty over here. The people are really nice. Sams doing fine. He’s sleeping. How are you doing? How’s the bunker?”

“That’s good to hear. I’m doing great. I’ve spent this whole time doing a massive clean up around here,your rooms included. I’ve dusted,wiped down,moped,swept and washed everything around the house. I’m currently doing a load of laundry and I’ve got popcorn popping in the kettle.”

Castiel smiled big.”Thats great Gabe. Thank you so much for taking care of the place. I’m sure the boys will appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem at all. Oh! Now that I have you on the line. Are those cats yours? The ones that have been hanging around the bunkers garden and like to eat all the plants?”

“No.They aren’t. Jacks been feeding them but we’ve been telling him not to. If you feed them they won’t leave.”

“........Well it looks like you’re going to have to buy a scratch post.”

“Why?!”

“...........I let them in.”

“Gabriel!! Why would you do that??”

“I thought they were yours!”

“Why on earth would you think they’d be ours!? Dean could barley take care of that goldfish he won at the fair. Poor thing died after 3 days.Sam’s allergic to cats,which you should know! And Jack,although he says he can take care of them and go to school ,can’t take care of them!”

“What about you?!”

“I’ve got my hands full with other things!”

Gabriel chuckled.”Well..you should of thought of that before you decided to get six cats.”

“SIX?!”

“Hey my popcorns done. Gotta go. Buy me a souvenir.Like a hat or a postcard or a fridge magnet! Oh! Oh! Buy me a fridge magnet!! Say hi to Sam for me. Bye Cas!”

“GABRIEL DONT YOU DARE HANG UP ON ME!” Cas shouted. But the line was already dead.

Aziraphale set three cups down at the table. A sleepy eyed Dean approached Cas,who was staring at the phone receiver with a blank face. He had gotten up when he overheard that Cas was talking to Gabriel.

“What’s the matter Cas?” He asked in his groggily morning voice.

“Apparently we have six cats.”

Dean closed his eyes tightly. His head fell back.”Dammit! Gabe let them in?!”

Cas nodded.”Yes. He thought they were ours.”

“Darn it Gabe. He’s going to have to get rid of them before we get home. Jack can’t know. It’ll be harder to get rid of them if he does.” Aziraphale came into Dean’s peripheral vision. He looked over at the angel and smiled.”Good morning.”

“Good morning Dean. Congratulations on your cats.”

Dean chuckled.”Thank you. Do you have any cookies to go along with this cocoa?”

“I do. They’re on the table.” While Dean ate Cas and Aziraphale brought him up to date with what had happened while he was asleep. The finding of the antichrists address and the book with prophecies that Aziraphale was more than likely not to give back.

Dean immediately stood up.”Well let’s quit wasting time and get going.I’ll wake up Sam and I’ll leave a note for Jack.”

“Hang on.” Cas said,standing up too.”It’s not that easy.”

“Why not? We know where the kid is,let’s go and talk him out doing what he’s doing to do before he does it.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Seems pretty easy to me.”

Aziraphale checked his watch.”Actually fellas,it’s time to report to Crowley. You and Cas are more than welcome to come with me.”

“Jack and Sam have to come too.” Dean said.

“Fine.” Aziraphale said. “But please hurry.”

————————————————————————-

In the taxi on the way to the spot where they were supposed to meet Sam was anxious. He had a sixth sense his brother didn’t have. The sense of impending problems. He didn’t say anything. It was a Winchester trait not to say when something was bothering them. But Dean knew his brother. He take it out of Sam wether or not he wanted too.

While Castiel and Jack talked about nonrelated things,Dean leaned in to whisper to his brother.”What’s wrong?”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows.”Nothing. Why do you ask?”

Dean rolled his eyes.”Come on man. Clearly somethings wrong. Just look at how tense you are.”

Sams eyes trailed down to his hands which were clasped tightly together. He sighed.”Alright,your right. I can’t help but get a feeling that something is going to happen very soon.”

“You mean like the apocalypse?”

“No,something between all of us. Aziraphale and Crowley included.”

Dean looked over at where Aziraphale sat,in front with the driver.”What kind of something?”

“I don’t know. But be prepared for whatever might happen. I could be wrong though. It could just be my head playing games with me.”

The oldest Winchester leaned back in his seat. “Let’s hope so.”

—————————————————————————-

Just like when they arrived at the ex convent, they were the first ones to arrive at the bandstand where the demon and the angel had agreed to meet.. Jack went to explore the surrounding areas but he promised he’d be back soon. Aziraphale looked at Sam quizzically.

“You have a tense nerve in your neck.”

Sam chuckled.” I do not.”

With a small hand motion Sams neck twisted involuntary. He let out a gasp followed by an exhale.”I guess i did.” He laughed,his hand rubbing his neck.”Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Dean came trotting over towards them excitedly.” Hey Aziraphale,can you crack my back for me?!”

Cas looked at him sternly.”Dean-“But before he could continue,Crowley arrived.

He talked to the three as he approached them.”Good morning to you all! Great to see the band back together. How did everyone sleep?”

“Great!” Jack greeted. He had appeared out of nowhere right beside Dean. “How did you sleep?”

Crowley laughed.”Great. I slept great kid. Thanks for asking. So- any word on the antichrists location?”

Sam spoke up.”Castiel and Aziraphale we’re working on that all night and-“

Aziraphale cut in quickly.” We found nothing.” The four outsiders stared at the angel in shock. The angel didn’t notice. Or rather he did but he didn’t acknowledge it.”Sadly we’ve found nothing.”

“Oh great.” Crowley said.”That’s just bloody dandy isn’t it!!”

“Crowley..it’s all part of the Great Plan.”

“Screw all of this! Screw the damn plan.”

“You’re forgiven for that remark.”

“I can’t be forgiven you lopsided boob!” Crowley took three long strides to stand directly in front of Aziraphales. Their faces touching at the nose.”Forgiveness isn’t part of a demons job description. I’m eternally unforgivable.”

Aziraphale looked up to meet Crowley’s stare.”You mustn’t forget you were once an angel.”

“I know but that was a long time ago.”

“Aziraphale-“ Castiel said. With a snap of the angels fingers the seraph went mute. As if Aziraphale had pulled out his voice box.

“Cas!” Dean rushed over to help his friend who desperately tried to find his voice. Sam grabbed Jack by the shoulder and pulled him a few inches back. It’s what he had feared.

Aziraphale went back to talking to Crowley.”The angels can find the boy.”

“Alright so they find them. And then what?!” Crowley growled.”We kill him??”

“No..not them.”

Crowley looked incredulous at the angel. He took a few steps back.”You’re seriously not suggesting that I do it.”

“Angels don’t kill kids. Angels don’t kill anyone. If you do it then it will look as though heaven didn’t have anything to do with this.”

“So your wanting to dump it all on hell?” Crowley mock Aziraphale .”’Oh I’m a dumb bum angel! I don’t do wrong! I just sit up here on my cloud making good choices.Not like those dirty demons who lurk around creating havoc everywhere they go!!’””

“That’s not what I said Crowley and you know it!” Aziraphale exclaimed.

“Whatever. Alright whatever! But you bet your fluffy ass I’m not going to kill him. If there’s anybody here who should be chosen to kill him it should be you.”

“I’m doing no such thing.”

“Fine then you know what? I’m leaving. I quit,im leaving. Good day to you sir...sirs.”

Aziraphale followed him to the entrance of the bandstand.”Where?? There’s no where else to go.”

“It’s a big ass word i can go wherever I please. We can go wherever we please.” Crowley ran back to Aziraphale. Both of the demons hands pressed the angels shoulder. “You and me. Let’s run away. We can leave the apocalypse behind. We can go wherever we want. You and me. We’ve been friends since since the beginning of the universe. Let’s pull a Bonnie and Clyde and ditch everything and everyone. What do you say?”

If Aziraphale wasn’t who he was,he would have said yes in a heartbeat. He would have apologized to the four outsiders for bringing them here and wasting their time.He’d suggest that if they wanted to stay and stop the apocalypse themselves then he and Crowley would give them all the information gathered up until that point. But unfortunately or fortunately Aziraphale was who he was,an angel. A rival of the demon.

“You can’t be serious.” Said the angel.”We are a demon and an angel. You and me were never friends. We can never be friends. Not in this life time,not in the next life time. I never even liked you.”

“Oh come on. You love me.”

“We’re on opposing sides.”

“We are on the same side.”

“No Crowley.”

“Aziraphale..angel,please!”

“No.” Aziraphale said sternly.”For the last time no.”

“FINE!” Crowley choked (screamed) out,clearly hurt.”Fine! Have it your way..but If you think you’re going to stay with all four outsiders then you’ve got another thing coming. We both get an even custody.”

“Even custody? We aren’t married. They aren’t our children.”

“I get the humans! Dibs on the humans. The humans are mine.” Crowley marched over towards Dean and Sam. He grabbed them both by the collar and pulled them away. It looked as easy as pulling a shoe string.He talked over his shoulder as he dragged them away.”You can stay with the angels. Your all the same. A bunch of soul crushing leavers who don’t care about anyone else but yourselves..”Dean and Sam watched in silence as Aziraphale,Cas and Jack grew tiny with the distance. Sam could clearly see that Aziraphale was hurt. He was crying. Dean heard sniffles coming from Crowley. He was crying too.

“Crowley bring them back!” Shouted Aziraphale “You’re being ridiculous!”

But Crowley didn’t hear him. He pulled the Winchester’s towards his Bentley,quietly crying the whole way there.

[ts-2020-olympics]

Episode 6 - “The Level of Disgust I Have” - Karen

so i flopped in the arena.. but i do be staying sitting pretty considering the fact that i’ve survived every tribal with no votes even when my name is brought up! so cheers to that 

So I've just blown up the entire Miraitowa chat exposing Nicole and Jacob C as fantastic liars, yet Sammy doesnt have enough sense in his head to make his own decisions and go with the more trustworthy people. Honestly pray for a swap because this tribe is a fucking mess and the returnees are just picking off all the newbies, making this season boring as shit.

So, that boring ass alliance of 4 with Eve on the bottom probably wont break up for anything. That sucks, but I still have my extra vote. If Landen can win immunity, they'll all want to vote Eve, so then I can reveal to Eve and Landen I have an extra vote. Then we all vote together and make those bitches go to rocks and make this shit actually entertaining.

I honestly feel two things 1) I’m a fool and 2) I’m leaving this round. I just feel like it’s my time and it just sucks because I got played into doing all the dirty work for a bunch of stinky little men. So here’s the lowdown of what happened: I explained in my last confessional that we voted out Pete and that I felt like I was going to get fucked over because I was doing all the talking! Well. Essentially that. Basically when Pete came back there was a lot of information spilled and I was left to try to tell the truth without telling the whole truth (which was that we built this tribe to kill the newbies off which NOW IM NOT EVEN SURE IS TRUE.) So Landen tells us that Juls told Sammy and Jacob about her power, not just TOLD SAMMY AND JACOB. Offered to use her power on Jacob and Sammy. And they said NO and let it be used on Landen, essentially putting Kevin in the hot seat. So I’m kind of mad. I think I’m leaving this round like I just feel it in my gut but, maybe not. Who knows, who cares, I’m tired. 

Counting helped at my grandma's place to unwind. Not hearing boring, inane tripe from Darcy also helps. He's boring. I hate boring people. Also he voted for me, so why trust him? 

So I found out Eve left me for dead as well and she flips to them for no reason instead of talking to the person she’s been with since day 1. At the start i told her i’m watching her back for her and I’ve done that, now that I try talking to her out of fear for her safety, she doesn’t care to talk. It’s okay though that’s the game, it’s good that I know that now though so i don’t waste my extra vote lol

First off, I once again had no luck in the Olympic Village, nothing in the pool, so if something was there, someone else must have found the things already.  Secondly, a trio was formed between Tommy, Beck and I, where I already told both of them that I wanted to go to merge with them both, and that is 100% the truth, I trust those two the most on my tribe at the moment, and been having the best talks with them both in this game so far on my tribe.   So I would love making merge with the two of them.   Thirdly, I won individual immunity, which I actually think this is my first time winning individual immunity in an org, so am grateful to achieve that goal, although I didn't have to go all out to the 10k mark lmao.   Also, from what I got told from Tommy, Ben wanted to get me out if I had lost this immunity, so being safe feels that much greater, and I want Ben out now moment he isn't immune.  Plus had Ben call me a no lifer in the main chat after results got posted, so of course, I had to try to defend myself somewhat, as I'm not going to stand around and get claimed a no lifer, even though it is partially the truth due to being unemployed, but I do hang out with friends and stuff.  Anyways, Ben did apologize shortly afterwards for his words, which I appreciate the apology, but that doesn't change the fact that I want him out asap, since well he wants me out.   In terms of this vote though, if everything goes good, I think it will be Juls getting the boot, but we shall see what happens.  I am safe for this round, and made final 17, so no matter what I am safe, just hopefully my allies in Tommy and Beck can both survive this vote as well.

I think we've come to the end of the road for me, which sucks. I really don't want to lose this game, especially so early. I hate big casts, truly. Anyway, either way this night is gonna fuck me over. Two things could be happening tonight: 1) I get rid of Jacob and then Kevin is mad at me, Sammy is mad I got rid of Jacob, I sever my ties with Beck and Juls, I have to rely on my returnee ties and new newbie ties but, the new newbies don't like me either. So I'd essentially be screwed, but I've already promised it. 2) We get rid of Eve, and I lie to Eve, AGAIN. Which I really don't want to do. Although she's a little bit of a wishy washy woman, I don't want to betray Eve's trust because she's actually so sweet, and I'd value a friendship with her going forward in this game. I think I normally succeed in games where I can cultivate genuine friendships and feel like I truly have someone to rely on. I think I'm seeing that more and more with Kevin and Karen, but I don't know if that's 100% genuine either. Either way I'm not winning this game, so if I lose tonight I'll just reduce it down to I played too big too fast and I'll know better for next time around. Being the first winner out would really suck. But, I don't know. I'm just kind of nervous I ruined my game for people who don't care if I go and that's probably the worst feeling (and I'd know, seeing as I have gotten 0 votes at FTC, two times!) Anyway, I'll check back in later if we do come up with a plan that doesn't make me feel like utter shit, which is not likely at this point in time.

Y’all lemme tell you, Miraitowa is a fuckin mess fuck this tribe i can’t wait for the swap lmao. Okay so basically the voting block that took me out exploded and is eating itself. Jacob C and Nicole are telling the exact same story except they’re accusing the other person of creating the alliance and voting me. Honestly idc it was probably a team effort between the both of them, i’m trying to have the vote end up as the worst case possible for that alliance so it officially never reconnects. Here’s how it breaks down: Jacob C, Sammy, and Eve are all trying to get Nicole out. Nicole is trying to get Jacob C out. Kevin is a fuckin wild card, I thought he’d be with Nicole but who the fuck knows man. If Landen and I let Nicole go, we’d still be on the bottom of the same alliance minus Nicole so right now we need to confirm that Kevin is voting with Nicole and we can break apart some of Jacob’s connections. 

Oh my god a triple tribal council. Y'all can't give us a break?!?!?! This season is going to have the most tribal council I swear. This is at least an opportunity to get out Juls, who I think will be my biggest threat if I let her slip past this vote because she's dangerous and able to get along with so many people. This twist I think will prove to be a good way to get Juls out because she has to face two people and unless the other tribe puts total duds in terms of challenge competition she will go home if sent to the arena. As part of strategy when Ben told me he was coming for Darcy, I told Darcy right before he won immunity that Ben was after him but I said I heard it from Karen. This way it shows that Karen is willing to keep Darcy but it gives me more trust with Darcy than Karen because I was the one who told Darcy. We had a call Darcy, Beck, and Myself and finally made a trio alliance which I think will benefit me at certain points in the game because they may have really good potential to draw in people to work with. I think I convinced them I can draw in Karen as a makeshift fourth for our group to have a majority. However, I trust Karen for now in the long scheme I think I will just maintain a good standing with her but not tell them as much. As for now I'm just down with this plan Myself, Beck, Darcy, and Karen are going for to blindside Juls and hopefully my plan to get rid of Juls pans out and we are able to officially eliminate her. If we go to tribal again Ben makes an easy next boot, this keeps the 4 people I'm closest to on the tribe on the tribe as long as possible (Karen, Beck, Darcy, and Caeleb.) The only problems I see if Juls goes is that either she wins a Gold medal and/or Caeleb loses trust which both have a chance of happening but I think this risk will be worth the reward. It's a high risk high reward situation.    

People are quiet, and I hope it's because of inactivity Jordan and Emma seem fine with voting Sarah, and that should be all needed. Chris isn't responding but I don't think he's around. Sarah hasn't even read my message today lol

honestly at this point my tribe is a disaster and i feel like the prince, just sitting on my throne with immunity and looking down with a horrified gaze like... what the FUCK is happening... y'all-. Ever since when I was first blindsided by seeing Pete leave everything went insane. Sammy called for damage control, it was all obvious bullshit. i won the medal at the arena, thank the lord, i did intentionally volunteer knowing i NEEDED that bonus, but thank god i got it for individual immunity instead! i was able to *ahem* secure the bag, and i did that while also going as hard as i can with my social manipulation skills. everyone thought i was just some newbie or some quiet anxious guy that doesn't know how to crack the premade and will never be able to put up a fight but they were wrong. They should not have underestimated me because I was able to expose the lies they told themselves and each-other. In all their efforts to outplay one another, they ended up soiling their own defeat. i told nicole about how sammy/jacob omitted the information about juls' power, and i continuously threatened everyone through jokes to remind them 'I'm still counting, and I've been counting for 24 hours. I'm going to win immunity, and you'll have to turn on eachother.' this madness led to nicole throwing sammy/jacob under the bus right before challenge ended, and of course, they returned the favor. This has led to a paranoia induced voting period where honestly, i still don't even know what's happening. it's very likely the tribal is LIVE tonight. the fear and stress comes in in that i really don't want to lie to sammy after the conversations we had, i really want to be truthful with him. but thinking about my individual game, keeping Jacob C and Eve in just makes no sense. They both have no interest in working with me long term and they both are connected with a ton of people that I want to have loyalty to. Getting rid of them frees up Caeleb and Juls a little bit for me, so I would really like to take them down. But working with Nicole, Kevin, and Pete is going to put me in a tight spot where Sammy is furious, potentially with an idol, and feels like I was a hypocrite with him. That's going to be really hard. But Eve and Jacob are just. VERY bad for my game. They both limit my working relationships with other people a ton. They both make this game.. quite difficult to navigate for me. And they both have zero interest in working with me. It's hard to play Sammy like this, I am gonna feel awful for this. But, you gotta do what you gotta do, and with a swap possibly coming soon... This is what I gotta do. It's shark week (thanks Kevin) and blood is about to get shed. 

Hello I hate these hosts......all tribes going to tribal??????? The level of disgust I have .... so Ben returned after being voted kmssss I know mans will be gunning for me ugh I wish I won immunity but like Darcy fuckn snapped fhdgggg. So with this tribal coming up Darcy wants to take out juls, with me tommy and becks voting together. The only person I’m if-y on is becks atm bc becks is close to juls allegedly. Also caeleb and Juls haven’t been spoken to all day which is like yikes bc that could mean they’d vote for me, i think may I could throw becks under the bus just in case. Slim picking that’s for sure ugh why is the game like this. Also I’ve been talking to nicole and kev and they seem to be struggling on their tribe & hope neither go bc then I’d have to keep working with tommy lol /:. Also I’ve been told juls is the one who exiled Landon so 👀👀👀👀👀thats so suspect!!!!! Juls & becks seem kinda shady to me so I’m gonna have to monitor them. Ugh I hope I’m not getting played tonight or else it might just be bye bye Karen 

I’m in a peculiar position. I don’t want Eve to go, Jacob C is way bigger a threat to me but we have to keep nicole and that group is set on Eve....... god i’m hoping we’re right. 

hello confessional! i'm an awful person and this is the third time in an org that i've fucked over juls somehow and i feel terrible about it. unfortunately with the new alliance that tommy made for us voting out anyone else besides caeleb or juls was not an option and caeleb is rly good at challenges so.... but yeah! tonight fucking sucked. kinda hope juls comes back but i also don't bc she will be out for my blood and you know what? i deserve it

Nicole’s gone, I’m happy about it, it’s what she deserves truely. Over this stupid fucking tribe, CHOKE all of you

I feel really bad about this vote. I new Jacob was going home, but I had to vote with him to make sure that he’ll still be on my side if he comes back from arena. 

The game is getting spicy. This is my confession 👀

WELLLLLLLL babes basically this round started out with landen and pete coming back and trying to yell at the four from the previous majority, after we lied to their faces and then they did not take it well. After all the fighting was said and done we all got to counting and by all i mean me and landen, whom beat me thanks to his silver medal. Even though i counted higher, but alas the past is in the past. After that the game really got going cause we had to go to TRIBAL !!! which fucking sucked because we basically only had 1 option for our "alliance" which was eve, i started talking to the 2 safe bois to see where they were at and the didnt like eve or had some issues with eve, so i thought we could capitalize on that and just unan it on eve, but when i woke up that was simply NOT AN OPTION because the night before nicole had said jacobs name to nicole, without informing the alliance nor jacob personally what she said. This was followed by eve telling jacob immediately after what was said which lead jacob to distrust nicole which in turn made sammy distrust nicole, waking up in the middle of this was not ideal because i had no way to prevent it so i had to work with the situation as best as possible. After talking to everyone on the tribe it literally seemed to be a vote between jacob and nicole with no wiggle room. However as the day moved on i wanted to try and sneak eves name into the mix, after talking to pete and landen some who both confessed they wanted to work with me i pitched to them that potentially voting Eve and then keeping Nicole and Jacob mad at each other for future rounds to cover us, to which they seemed to take well to but werent very eager to do right away. After that i had to reel nicole in and get her to send her vote to Eve which worked until we found out that Sammy has an idol !!! Which he could use on himself orrrrrr EVE, so basically we had to tread carefully after this point and we had to lie to Sammy, pete/landen said they were doing nicole and nicole said she was doing sammy himself, i didnt lie i said i felt like eve was my only option and i worked with that, but still people did lie to him, and I tried to plant seeds in his head to play the idol on himself cause potentially he could save eve, but i wanted him to worry about himself first. After all the drama there was the calm before the storm.. and then the storm hit hard as fuck. We had a plan and a majority until minutes before tribal when nicole told jacob we were voting eve to keep him in the loop and probably turn him off of her, which he was fine with! But landen and pete felt betrayed that nicole would disclose our information to someone else, so when they heard that they scrambled and Pete wanted us to flip onto Jacob, while Landen coincidentallyyy voted for Nicole, which ultimately resulted in a 3-3-1, i tried to flip sammy or pete to keep nicole but to avail ... rip nicole. After tribal eve was obviously mad about getting votes, Sammy was mad about getting lied to and Landen and Pete were proven flakes, i did my best to save face and keep my ducks in a row with sammy, pete, and landen but only time will tell if i did a good enough job. As for the rest of the game i really hope that nicole comes back because she was, surprisingly, my closest ally in this game and i need her as a shield. But im sad that juls got out and while I want her to come back too i would prefer nicole, for game purposes but i would be just as happy to see juls return if she can pull it off. Welp, good luck charlie.

So I got voted out. I think I’m good with it though. I’m very much “whatever happens happens” at this point, because in my opinion I think I’m done with this game. There’s a lot of factors that I just don’t like about it, and that’s not saying anything about the hosts because I love Monty and Gage, I think I’ve spoken about this before in other games I’ve been in but I really can’t play games where you spend 24 hours sitting around. It hinders me so bad to just be sitting, not doing a challenge or anything, especially with 25 people around, it’s hell. There are a lot of things that annoy me in this game. One being that the newbies are like...mean as fuck lol. Like they just come in guns blazing and really don’t care what they say to other people, or they’re just dead and no help at all. Eve was honestly a nasty brat, and I’m just calling it how I saw it. She demanded trust, and that’s not a good way to get people to actually trust you. She came up with a majority of five people, she assumed I’d vote out Kevin, and yes I lied a little (bc it’s survivor) but you’d think I literally had been working with her since Day One and stabbed her in the back. We had maybe 24 hours of conversation. If I lied to Kevin, I’d feel terrible. You think I feel bad lying to someone I only talked to once who planted a five person majority without my main ally in it? Like, for real? It makes no sense. Landen doesn’t like lying either like....alright go do you homework and stop playing survivor then. DO YOU KNOW WHERE WE ARE? And the funny thing is, all of these people lied to me. Eve went behind my back. Jacob sent screenshots (which is cheating but somehow I’m here and he’s not) to Sammy. Sammy literally didn’t tell me he had an advantage and told me he didn’t know about Juls advantage. Landen Said he voted Jacob. Pete said he didn’t know the plan. Kevin, I’m hoping he was honest because he’s the only reason I’m happy I played this game. Kevin is SO nice and so genuine, I hope it’s not an act for the game but I know I put him THROUGH IT this round so I’m contemplating just giving up, for his sake, because if I come back it’s likely gonna be..a bit of a mess for him. I know I might need to come back to save Kevin and Jacob, moreso Kevin bc Jacob can go kick rocks. Anyway back to Sammy for a second. I’ve always seen Sammy as this nice little man who is so kind, but I REALLY saw an ugly side of him this round. Like, I don’t think I’ll ever see him the same again. I hope he loses to literally anyone. I don’t think he deserves to win and out of everyone I’m most mad at him. He’s a hypocrite who can make you feel bad you lied to protect yourself from him because he lied to you first, and sure that helps in Survivor but that’s downright ugly and I don’t respect that at all. He lied to me CONTINUOUSLY throughout the day, leaking every word I said to Eve. Only to be mad at me because I lied to him...to misdirect his idol? TO MISDIRECT HIS IDOL HE DIDNT EVEN TELL ME ABOUT BECAUSE HE DIDNT TRUST ME. And for him to try to pull an apology out from me and make me feel bad...sit down. Nobody makes me feel bad or can twist my emotions like that so, nice try. And in such an obvious and public manner like...who taught you to be the way you are lmao. That’s so rude. I hope he loses is the point. Honestly I’m kind of like over playing and I know juls really has a fire in her heart to continue playing with these god awful people who have snaked us. She’s a little queen and I hope she wins it if I can’t, because she deserves to! My plan is to just hold on until Jacob drops (assuming it’s pressure cooker) and then decide there if I want to go in or not. I also want to put out a disclaimer that I’m ranting about everyone else bc I’m mad but I know I fucked up, too. I lied way too much for unecessary reasons that seemed necessary at the time with advantages in play. I trusted people based on personal knowledge of their heart and how kind they are, which was wrong. Jacob and Sammy both showed me their ugly sides, and I showed mine as well so I mean I’m not going to sit here and act innocent. I can see EACH mistake I made and how I could have played better. I hope Sammy and Jacob both get premerge, hope Landen gets yeeted into the sun, or a lesson in manners bc lord knows he doesn’t have any and just wants to be that That Iconic Newbie that newsflash nobody wants to cast again, and I hope juls prospers if I fail at the arena challenge. Manifest manifest manifest. I literally feel like in my brain there is no possible way I’m going to be back in this game and if I do come back, I’m just going to get voted out again. So it’s a hard choice deciding if I want to or not. I promised Juls I’d outlast Jacob B but after that, I’m not sure. I feel like I don’t even have it in me, because if I really saw a chance at winning. I just feel like I’ve made a fool of myself and let men make a fool out of me, and it’s time to go home, rest, recuperate and come back to kick ass another day. 

So we had a live tribal last night and everything is a MESS now! It's my birthday and so I'm trying to stay in a good mood and not think about the game, but honestly, stuff is pretty stressful. My plan WAS to take out Eve the whole time, I was fully on board with it and I do believe it was the right move for me at the time. Unfortunately Nicole decided to go insane and blow up the entire plan by telling Jacob and having everything blow up at tribal council which is just... ugh. It made it clear she was trying to rebuild the majority and force the power structure back in place, so that's why I had to make sure she went home. She showed unreliability and a willingness to turn that I couldn't have in the game, that's the whole reason I wanted to take out Eve. Because I need allies in this game who will work with me and who have interest in working with ME. Nicole seemed like she could be a useful person in the game, but as soon as her fight with Jacob ended and they started to try and take control again, it was too late. I had to get rid of her. Sadly she'll probably come back from the arena and that's going to make things... Messy. It's going to become a game of who can use Sammy the best, and I just hope I can win that game. But I've told him too many lies and that comes off hypocritical. It sucks because I feel guilty about it, AND hopeless in the game. But I dunno. We'll just have to see. Not to mention I lost Juls somehow, and EVERYONE seems to be shocked that she was voted out. That is not good for my game at all as she was somebody I was really relying on and also I just love her. So losing her absolutely sucks. I'm really hoping she can come back from the Arena. The game is turning into a downward spiral for me and fast. People are predicting a swap, and at that point, it's the best I can hope for. I got Eve with me now on the brightside, and I know I could reel in Caeleb, Jordan, probably even Ben.... Things are getting very bloody very quickly in a game as competitive as this one, and I just pray I can wind up on the right side of things with a swap. Being on the bottom this time was deadly and detrimental to my game - I have played extremely hard, cutthroat, fierce, and overall just like.. WELL. Not to toot my own horn but I have played VERY good on both Sonkei and Miraitowa, and there's a lot on my resume for if I do manage to make it to the end. But if I keep just giving everything 120% and making these power moves and making enemies and such as I go, I'll have no chance. I really need a stage in the game where I can sit back and kind of just relax and be this UTR force, that people aren't taking so much notice of. Form more social bonds. Also, fuck the olympic idol hunt or whatever. I suck at it but other people have gotten so many advantages. EEP!

I was about to be super proud of the fact that this was the earliest I made a confessional in a round all game, just to realize its still only 5 hours before the deadline so like is that even good? long story short I had to fuck over jacob this round which sucked cause i loved jacob but we went to too many tribals and like... im running out of options. I made a new alliance of me emma stoner and sarah which like lowkey is a good call because we have one person from 4/5 starting tribes we are as well connected to each other as we can be right now. I need us to swap not cause I would go home, I genuinly think if we kept losing I could get down on this tribe to just me and one more person if needed but like... can we not I'm so tired. Bring on the swap, i need new people to manipulate!

[grumpyhedgehogs]

These Kids These Days with Their Ink Machines

Summary: In which Henry is much too old for this and decides to go home. Surprisingly, this course of action works out well for pretty much everybody.

Notes: I just realized I never cross-posted this on tumblr so here you go. That being said, my Henry is definitely Grandpa!Henry rather than Dad!Henry. He's old and tired, and he wears a bushy beard and ugly sweaters when he shows up to fight demons. As you do. As I said in the tags, only some past violence and very (very) light gore that is depicted in the game. Still, if you are uncomfortable with talking about past murders, steer clear. Otherwise, enjoy! P.S.: The working title of this was: Henry Saves Everybody By Being Old And Grumpy

~

Henry is standing knee deep in ink and God knows what else when he makes up his mind. It’s a decision he should have made before turning on the Ink Machine, before coming to the studio, hell, before opening Joey Drew’s blasted letter.

It’s a decision he makes, simply, over the ominous creaking in his knees.

“All right, that’s enough for me,” Henry says, and turns right back around to get in the elevator again. In the corner, Boris tilts his head and twitches his nose questioningly. Henry pats him reassuringly on the shoulder.

“No need to worry, Boris.” He sighs and scrubs a gnarled hand through his hair. “I’ve just come to the realization that I’m much too old for these shenanigans.”  

Boris perks his ears and wisely does not agree to Henry being old. Smart wolf.

“Come on then, let’s go talk to Ms. Angel about these ridiculous requests of hers.”

Boris decidedly does not like that plan.

~

“Come now, little errand boy, you can’t have collected my hearts so easily, could you? Maybe I’ll just have to take yours inst-”

“That’s enough of that nonsense, miss. Please come out here now, I’d like a word.”

Alice doesn’t reply for a moment but Henry can hear a faint indignant squawk before the intercom cuts off. After some time, the doors beneath the “She’s Quite a Gal” sign slide open just a crack. He can see her unearthly eye peering out at him. Her halo glows above her, casting Alice’s face into severe shadows.

Henry is far too tired to come off as half as terrified as he suspects Alice wants him to be.

“Excuse me?” Alice’s tone is dangerous and soft. “You think you can wander into my web and tell me what to do? The more you fight, little fly, the more pain-“

Henry levels an expression he used to use to get Joey to do what he wanted at her. She shuts her mouth with an audible click; after a moment Alice seems to be at a loss as to how to proceed, so Henry feels it safe to step in.

“Now, I need you to listen to what I’m saying, young lady.” She twitches, but his fatherly expression stops her from retreating. “I am much too old for all the hullabaloo that’s going on around this place. I figure if I keep going like this my heart’s just going to plum give out. My doctor told me I have to take it easy these days, you know?”

“Uh,” Alice replies, dumbfound. What is going on? This is not according to plan.

Henry stuffs his hands in his pockets and blows out an exaggerated breath. “Now, I’m thinking we’ve only got a few options here.”

This is the first time he’s heard Alice sound hesitant. “Options?”

“Well yes, as to how we’re all getting out of here,” Henry replies blithely. “Now, I do have a van, on account of never getting rid of it when my kids grew up and went off to college-remind me to show you some photographs, I’ve got them around here somewhere- so I can take maybe five? That’ll fit me, you, Boris of course, and three others. Maybe I could take the Butcher Gang? Hm, but I’d rather like to collect Bendy and Norman myself, I mean someone has to keep an eye on them. Sammy too, for that matter. I know there’s at least one company van left in the parking lot, and it looked like maybe it could still run if we jump started it- do you know how to drive?”

“What,” says Alice. The doors creak open more, revealing her in all her stained glory. Behind Henry, Boris cowers back, pulling his ears down over his eyes. She feels sick vindication at his fear slip through her veins like poison; but Henry doesn’t move.

“Do you know how to drive?” He repeats. “It’ll be much easier to get out if two of us could drive.”

“You-I- you want to leave…”

“Yep.”

“…With us?”

“Yessiree Bob.”

“That-That’s so stupid!”

Henry tilts his head at her. “Why?”

“We-I- everyone’s trying to kill you! We’re monsters.”

He looks distinctly unimpressed. “That’s a terrible argument, because I don’t agree with your self-assessment. Besides, I’m sure we can work things out with a nice, rational conversation later. Maybe over hot chocolate, that makes everything better. Now, are you ready to go?”

“But,” Alice glances around uncertainly, a little desperate. She feels like she’s grasping at straws here, like she’s trying to hold onto thoughts that slip through her fingers like water. Boris isn’t cowering anymore. “But why?”

“Oh honey,” Henry says, reaching out arthritic fingers to push her hair out of her face. Alice feels the cold husk in her chest thump once, twice, hard. “Did you think I’d leave without you all?”

~

Alice only looks a little out of place, standing between himself and Boris. After all the stuttering and wavering she did when he explained their escape plans, the wolf has lost a good bit of that unhealthy fear of the angel.

Not that Henry can blame her. Poor thing has been cooped up all alone in her tower for too long. And who knew how Joey had treated her before that. Young woman just needs some rest and a good talking to, to get her head on straight.

Henry figures he’s retired; he has enough free time on his hands to help with that.

“So, I think I heard Sammy rambling about a few floors up,” He says conversationally as the cage slides into position. “Shall we?”

A few Searchers flop and scramble forward before he even steps out. “None of that now, please,” Henry makes his tone sharp and authoritative. The Searchers stop, motionless. It looks like they turn their heads towards each other for a moment, before looking back at the animator, sightless and bewildered.

Henry looks at Alice. “You know these little guys more than me. Do you think there’s any way to help them out?”

The Searchers perk up at that. One face plants into Henry’s right knee and wraps its arms around his pant leg.

“I-“ Alice falters for a moment, wringing her hands. The sight softens Henry’s expression and Alice seems to find her voice. “I don’t think they can leave the Ink Machine. And they-they’re in pain. The voices in the ink…”

“Oh.” Henry tries to ignore the lump in his throat. All the pain Joey had caused-how much of it could have been avoided if he had been here to talk Drew down? “They’re hurting, aren’t they? And there’s only one way to stop it.”

Alice nods and shuts her eyes for a moment. Boris trembles, but pats her quickly on the shoulder. Memories of being in the ink were never good. “We’ll have to shut down the Machine.”

Henry nods, and gently passes his palm over the Searcher’s formless back. “I’m sorry, little buddy. It’ll be okay soon.” The Searcher nods and turns back to his friends, seeming to communicate soundlessly to them.

Two more Searchers wrap themselves around Henry’s knees before allowing them to move forward. Boris watches quietly as they faded back into the ink puddles.

~

“Sammy Lawrence, you stop that right now.”

Sammy jumps, fumbling with the paint brush and bucket of ink in his hands. Henry stands a few feet behind him, flanked by Alice and Boris. Sammy tries not to flinch at the sight of the angel. It has been a long time since he last saw her.

“Sheep!” He exclaims, preparing himself to leap forward.

“No.” Henry snaps, and Sammy deflates. “Now, that is no way to treat your workspace, and I‘d have thought a man as meticulous as you would be ashamed of such behavior.”

“I-I-”Sammy splutters for a moment, “I am doing this for my Demon Lord, so he knows that I serve him-“

“Hogwash,” Henry snorts. “You’re still just as overdramatic as usual, Sammy, although the man I knew at least knew how to retain his pride.”

“How dare-“

“Now listen here, and listen good,” Henry interrupts again and good God of the Ink, the old animator never knew when to leave well enough alone did he, “I’m taking all of us out of this hellhole and I don’t want to hear any complaining. There are going to be a few rules, in fact.”

“What,” Sammy says, as Alice giggles unexpectedly. Boris bumps his shoulder into hers and grins. She’s not half as intimidating when she’s smiling, Sammy realizes vaguely.

Henry takes no notice of their childish behavior, and wags his finger at Sammy instead. “There will be no praying to demons, singing of hymns or giving sermons on this trip. You are not to antagonize or make the others uncomfortable with your worship and you are to tell me when you are upset instead of using idolizing Bendy as a terrible coping mechanism. And no calling anyone sheep. That’s just weird, Sammy.”

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, sheep-“

He cuts himself off with one glance at Henry’s expression. Alice leans forward conspiratorially. “The Dad Look only gets worse, Lawrence. It’s best just to give in, trust me.”

“Huh,” Sammy says, feeling his ink receding from where it dripped down his mask. Henry smiles at him from over his spectacles. “Well then. Alright, Henry.”

~

Norman Polk was never a very loud man, which made his screeching as a projector monster just plain uncharacteristic, in Henry’s humble opinion.

“Oh, will you stop that racket,” Henry says, and the Projectionist obediently pulls up short before barreling into him. Ink still splashes onto his chest, though, and Henry mourns the loss of his favorite orange sweater. “Really Norman, what has gotten into you?”

“IIIInnnnkkk…” Howls the speaker in Norman’s chest.

“Alright,” Henry concedes, “That’s a fair point. Would you like some help with that?”

The speaker hums confusedly, increasing in pitch until Henry claps his hands over his ears. “Just a nod or a shake, please!”

The hum stops before- “Hennn-Hennn-rrr-eee?”

“Yes, old pal,” Henry says, “what say you we get outta here? You look like you could use a vacation. Or retirement, as it were.”

The Projectionist rears back, its light blinding Henry and for a moment he thinks maybe he misjudged this, that he’s going to get a face full of claws on behalf of someone who used to be a good friend-

The light dims, the Projectionist hunches back down, and his mechanical head dips twice. Before pulling back, Henry reaches out and lays his hand alongside the projector. The metal is warm. “Good. Let’s go home, then.”

~

The Butcher Gang huddles around a flaming barrel at the back of the toy warehouse, where the elevator doesn’t reach. By the time Henry has cleared all the stairs to get down there, he’s breathing a bit too heavily. He leans back on the banister and feels Boris place a worried hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine, son,” Henry tells him, wincing a little and rubbing his chest. “Just not as spry as I used to be. Give me a minute.”

Alice is back to wringing her hands. “Did I- I made this happen, didn’t I?”

Henry levels a look at her over his glasses. “Don’t take responsibility for things out of your control. Father Time did this to me, Ms. Angel. And the war. Although I suppose the ink fumes I inhaled all my career didn’t help my asthma. Don’t get old, kids.”

“We can’t,” Sammy says helpfully. Henry would reply, but the Butcher Gang is approaching cautiously.

“Well now, who do we have here,” Henry says, opening his hands welcomingly. “Let an old man have a look at you three.”

The Butcher Gang veritably break his heat. Every one of them look in pain or misshapen, even worse than Alice or Sammy. Alice and Sammy don’t have fishing poles in their necks or wooden limbs. Alice and Sammy can speak.

Still, Henry didn’t hold title of Head Animator at the studio for nothing. “Well, this’ll take a good bit of work, I can tell you that. But all in all, I think it’s quite salvageable, don’t you? We’ll have to collect some ink to take home with us, but I think we can fix you up in no time.”

Edgar’s stitched together lips mouth the word ‘home,’ and Henry feels a twist in his chest. He smooths his fingers of Barley’s head and smiles kindly. “Yes, kiddos, home. You wanna get out of this place with us? I’ve got my own fireplace.”

Soon, Henry is swarmed by tiny toons all trying to climb into his arms. Henry laughs, kneeling and wrapping them all in a hug. They remind him not in small part of his own children when they were young. So eager to please, and so excited for a new playmate.

Boris catches Charley under the armpits and heaves him up onto his own hip. After a moment, Norman follows the wolf’s lead and swings both Edgar and Barley onto his broad shoulders. The toons shuffle a bit, glancing worriedly between the stairs back to the elevator and Henry. Alice holds out her hand to help Henry up from his position on the floor, and Sammy takes his other side with ease.

“Now, now,” Henry says, trying to keep a stern face, “you’re going to make a man feel old with all your fussing.”

~

The crowd that spills out of the elevator as it reaches his floor is not at all what Bendy expects to see when he rounds the corner. It’s a mess, a tangle of limbs and stumbling and loud screeching. Bendy stands stock-still and watches it all unfold out of the doors like a clown car. It’s almost awe-inspiring.

“What are you doing, you’re going to hurt him, hanging onto him like that,” says a voice Bendy is startled to realize is Alice, “you know his back is bad-“

“I’m not holding onto him, Barley is, he won’t let go of his sweater- come on, sheep-uh, kid, we’re trying to get out of here it’s super cramped-“

“M-mmyyyyy fff-ff-fooooottt-“

“Alright, alright everybody, settle down.” Henry’s voice booms. Bendy has never heard –doesn’t remember hearing from his time of being ink on a page, staring up into those warm eyes, wondering what he’ll do next, which adventure will his creator send him on- the animator speak so loudly. “Single file, and no stepping on anyone’s toes. That’s it now. Watch the inkwells, we don’t want to make another trip for those.”

When Boris sees him, he yelps and points wildly in Bendy’s direction. Strangely enough, he seems excited, rather than scared.

Henry finally pops into view, dusting himself off and running a hand ruefully through his ink-stained beard.   “What’s that now, Boris?”

Bendy steps forward; he feels that old anger, that hatred for the traitor who left him here, left him to be tormented by the likes of Joey Drew, who didn’t even care to look back, rise to the surface.

Henry levels a look at him over his glasses, mouth pulled into a tight, thin line and sighs at him disappointedly. Bendy stops. Bendy stares. Bendy tells himself he is not intimidated.

“Uh-oh,” Sammy mutters from behind Norman somewhere, “I remember that look.” Norman nods.

“Hush, you interfering miscreant,” Henry says, and although his expression doesn’t change, his voice is warm. It’s surprisingly warm still when he addresses Bendy. “Now, what in heavens are we going to do with you, hm?”

Bendy feels the ink on his spine bristle into spikes. Alice shuffles like she wants to step back, but glances at Henry, and stays. On his other side, Boris plants his feet and pulls a lead pipe from out of nowhere. Norman looms, protective and hulking, behind Henry.

“Oh would you all be terribly disappointed if we left the posturing for the teenage boys?” Henry sounds exasperated. He steps forward, towards Bendy and Bendy- doesn’t know quite what to do. No one has ever come toward him, after all. They mostly run away screaming. His spikes recede.

Ink drips down over his (confused, anxious, hateful, hopeful) grin as Henry says, grandfatherly, “Would you let me have a look at you, son?”

Bendy almost backs away as Henry steps up to him, but he is a fearsome ink demon who has taken the lives of any who stepped foot in this hell. He does not run away from old men in ridiculous sweaters.

Henry reaches up, up, up and gently, oh so gently, lays a wrinkled palm just at the edge of his grin. Bendy can’t -won’t- read the warm look in his eyes. “Well, it has been a long time, hasn��t it old friend? I missed you.”

His palm is warm, and rough, and reassuringly heavy. Almost against his will, Bendy lowers his head to Henry’s level, looks at him from inches away, and sees Henry for the first time.

He is old- older than Joey Drew was when Bendy ripped his heart out, older than Sammy was when he became what he is, older than Alice ever was. And he is tired- Bendy can see it in the corners of his eyes, the way his back won’t straighten like he has an awful weight on it, the way his knees are forever bent just a little. And he is terribly, horribly sad.

“Joey really did a number on you, huh, buddy.” Henry says, and he is so quietly miserable, like he’s seen into Bendy’s (non-existent?) heart and shares his sorrow, “I never should have left you alone. I’m sorry, pal.”

Henry’s trembling fingers slip through the ink on Bendy’s face, slicking it away, and Bendy’s eyes see the light of day for the first time in thirty years. His first real sight, not plagued with ink, is his Creator’s solemn, hopeful smile.

Bendy feels like crying.

So he does, loud and quaking and right there in front of so many in the middle of the place he has been tortured in for years, where he’s killed so many for what they have done to him. Where he cannot- will not- kill his last Creator.

Henry pulls him forward, tucks his chin between Bendy’s horns, and rubs his back.

“It’s okay Bendy,” he hears Henry murmur, “You’re okay now. We’re gettin’ outta here, all of us. We’re going home. It’s going to be okay, you’ll see.”

Bendy curls around his Creator, clutches him close, and doesn’t let go for a long time.

~

Bendy shows them to the Ink Machine. It is, predictably, based near Joey’s old office. The last few yards, the hallway is lined with Searchers, all watching, sightless, as Henry follows the Ink Demon to where all of this began.

Henry and Bendy step into the Machine’s room, but Alice and Boris stop at the threshold. None of the others seem intent on coming with, so Henry smiles and nods understandingly.

This ends how it was started: with him and Bendy.

At the side of the room, connected to the Ink Machine with thick wires and tubes, is a simple switch labeled “POWER.” Joey was never one for subtlety, Henry ponders, faintly amused.

Before he has taken even a step towards the switch, Bendy lays a light hand on Henry’s arm. He holds up a terrifyingly large syringe filled with ink, and gestures toward Henry, then toward Joey’s office, then to the syringe and back to Henry.

Henry gets it. “Oh no, my boy, I’m much too old for that attempting to obtain immortality nonsense. Having bad knees for eternity? Count me out, thanks. Let’s just get this done, shall we?”

Bendy nods and lets out a low growling hum. Together they cross to the switch. Together they grasp it. Together they end the Ink Machine once and for all.

~

As it turns out, Sammy can drive still. Allegedly.

“I was the best driver here, Henry.” Sammy says, incredulous.

“You were the flashiest driver here,” Henry corrects as Norman nods vigorously, “and that car of yours was a deathtrap.”

“Beulah,” Sammy supplies wistfully, “I wish she were still around. But that doesn’t mean I can’t get us out of here and back to your house. I’ll even be following you! Easy-peasy.”

“Do you even have eyes? I don’t believe you can see the road, no matter what you say.”

“I can walk without bumping into things can’t I? It’ll be fine. Besides, it’s not like we have that many options here.”

Henry glances around; Alice is missing an eye (he can totally fix that, he’s already mentally set aside an inkwell for her), Boris is a wolf and it is questionable if he even knows what a car is, Bendy has six inch claws, the Butcher Gang is much too short and have between them only three or four defined eyes, and Norman- Norman is a projector.

He sighs. He sucks it up. He sends a quick prayer to anyone out there.

“Fine. But I’m gonna be having Alice check on you in the mirrors the entire time, got it?”

Sammy bounces on his heels and his mask moves as if he may be smiling.

Henry tugs on his beard once more and says, “Alright, here’s how we do it; Bendy, Alice and Boris are with me. Norman and the Butcher Gang will fit more comfortably together in the van with Sammy. Any questions?”

“Yes,” Alice says, raising her hand like they're in school. “How are we going to get the van running? It looks dead.”

Henry hadn’t thought of that passed the usual “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it” reasoning.

“That,” he says, deadpan, “is a good question Ms. Angel.”

There’s a crash behind them. Henry spins, heart in his mouth, to see Norman pulling haphazardly at the wires connected to the back of his head.

“Norman!” Henry leaps forward, almost tripping over the curb before Bendy catches him around the waist. “What in the blazes are you-“

Paying no heed, Norman shoves his wiring into the van’s battery and flips an unseen switch on the back of his own head. His projector light dims a moment and then-

The engine sparks, trembles, and turns over.

“Huh,” Alice says faintly behind Henry. Boris whines happily.

“That’s convenient,” Sammy sounds cheerful, “all aboard then, right Henry?”

~

The drive out to Henry's home is a long one. He chats idly with Alice on the way, ignoring Boris's cold nose poking into his neck. The wolf's ears flap in the wind from the open window, but Boris is loving the smells of the outside world, so Henry doesn't have the heart to roll it up just yet.

"Who is this?" Alice asks, fingers brushing over a worn photo of his late wife in his wallet.

"Linda," Henry sighs with a bittersweet smile shot at her before turning back to the road. "My wife. She was a gem."

"She's very pretty," Alice murmurs softly.

Henry reaches out blindly, and smiles when her fingers wrap tightly around his. Her hand is cold, but that's alright; he's warm enough for them both.

"She was a spectacular woman. She would have wanted to save you just as much as I do. You would have loved her."

"She's-" Alice falters and Boris whines sadly, pressing his nose more firmly into the crook of Henry's neck from behind. "She's gone?"

"Human nature, honey," Henry says gently. "I'm alone now, but that's alright. I've made my peace with it."

Boris whines again. Sammy's lights flash in the rear-view mirror.

"You're not alone anymore, Creator," Alice says quietly. Henry squeezes her hand, catches Bendy's eye in the mirror, and grins.

"I guess not, huh?"

Bendy smiles back, softer now, content. From out of thin air, in the darkness and out of sight, his hands pull out that strange syringe. He turns it over in his fingers, watching his Creator lead them to safety, and contemplates immortality.

[captainbaneberry]

Some Sunder/Froid, inspired by the recent post I reblogged. Might seem wonky, though it is proofread. Rated M for mind control, lots of fluids, some squicky stuff, biting, etc. I just love the idea of Sunder mind-controlling and manipulating Froid’s mind, making him an aroused mess of multiple overloads without Sunder ever touching him. Mmm. His precious little shareware.

The tick-click-tick-click of Sunder's needle on his folded hands sounded like pounding thunder in Froid's audiols, blocking and muffling his whimpers and moans.

Sunder sat only a few feet away, right in front of him; haunched over, a menacing silhouette in the dimly lit room. Elbows on his knees, toothy grin hidden behind his hands, watching Froid, never once blinking. Despite the fact Froid was staring Sunder directly in his optics, he couldn't see him. A thousand other images flooded his mind; a thousand different scenarios, a thousand ways Froid saw himself ravaged, ravished, taken, and brought to his knees.

But all Froid could hear was that needle. Slender, sharp, protracted from index finger and tap-tap-tapping on a knuckle. Amused, playful. It was hypnotic, consuming, and in the many visions Froid was subjected to, the faint ticking of the needle thrummed in the background. Every one of them. Over screams and groans and pleas and cries of ecstasy.

Froid writhed on the slab, having worn grooves into the sleek metal with his fingers, denting the sides where he held and squeezed. Still raking his long digits until the edges were raw of their blue paint and a base silver. Every inch of his sinewy, gangly frame shivering, plating and armor rattling against his chassis. Though Froid shook his head every now and then, it was never enough to break eye contact with Sunder, quietly lording over him from his chair at his feet.

Froid's legs were locked open, the actuators strained and numb. His channel exposed, the folds engorged, inner walls fluttering with arousal. Unit twitched and fully erect. He'd overloaded countless times already, forming a small puddle of lubricant and transfluid beneath him. Fresh and drying fluids caking his groin, thighs, mid-section, even his chin during one *very* powerful unit overload. Froid's optics were wide, bulging from their sockets, his white apertures switching erratically from dilated to tiny pin-pricks; a total, complete wreck, crying and choking and lost inside his head and numerous assaulting fantasies.

The corners of Sunder's grin appear from behind his woven hands. "Perhaps I ought to give you a break," he mused, still tapping the needle, still holding Froid's petrified gaze. "You're going to overload yourself dry, until there's nothing left to keep you from overheating and catching fire." Sunder laughed low and deep.

Froid just stared--no--looked through Sunder. Captured in his hypnotic trap. "Who would have thought you'd have such a filthy, filthy mind, doctor," Sunder purred. "Watching you take and be taken in all these delicious, *vicious* ways..." He cocked a browplate, his right optic flashing. The needle double-clicked--

Froid shrieked and arched off the slab, overloading and splashing transfluid down his legs. Some of it splattered on the ground; Sunder smirked at the single drop that hit the edge of his foot. "I've only scratched the surface of your dark desires, Froid. I wonder if I were to truly dig deeper... What sort of arousing monstrosities would I find?"

Froid flopped back onto the slab, venting heavily, optics hooded and thighs twitching. Exhausted. He needed rest, he needed to refuel, but then Sunder resumed clicking the needle, caught Froid's gaze again, and plunged inside. A force invisible but so powerful, impaling the core of Froid's mind, puncturing neurons with thousands of tiny little needles.

Froid whimpered painfully, jerking to the side, thrown back into a pit of hands and mouths and tongues and wet, elongated, nightmarish things that fondled, groped, and penetrated him.

"It's tempting," Sunder hummed, "to rewrite everything. Break you apart, rebuild you. I could make you whatever I wanted. Make you just as hideous on the outside as you are inside." His finials flickered, maniacal grin splitting his face. "Then you'd be *my* pet monster." He chuckled as Froid dug and scraped the heels of his boots into the slab. "No, no. It's a partnership. Symbiotic. Isn't that right?"

Froid gasped, loud and ragged, as he overloaded, this time from his unit. Not nearly as powerful--he was excruciatingly low on stamina. Soon he'd be running on nothing but fumes. Sunder liked the idea, however; liked the image of milking Froid until his tired, overworked gears started burning, and smoke billowed from his seams. How pretty that would look.

"I could make everything so sensitive, the slightest touch would break you apart," Sunder leered. "The line between pleasure and pain completely erased. You'd overload as I gut and bled you dry. But I wouldn't kill you; you wouldn't bore me enough to do that. I could just remake you into something different."

Froid mewled, optics squinting and burning. Not enough coolant to produce sufficient amount of tears. His hips undulated into the air, wanton and desperate and disgustingly pathetic. Sunder tried not to guffaw, licking his lips sluggishly. "I like you as you are. For now. You provide, you entertain. You know your place. So I think I'll keep you a bit longer. Your taste has not yet gone sour."

"Rhh--!" Froid croaked, voice strained and static-laced.

"Nothing ever lasts forever. One day I will break you," Sunder stated, rising from his chair. "For your sake, pray that means death."

The needle retracted back into Sunder's fingers. Froid suddenly blinked, going almost entirely still. He looked around the room, dazed and confused. "H-How l--..." His voice cut out, and he grabbed at his throat, wincing at the heat coming off his cables and plating. Froid looked down quickly, grimacing at the mess.

Sunder moved between Froid's legs, hands on his knees. He didn't answer, just bowed his head and started licking up all the transfluid and lubricant. First from the slab, and Froid was too tired to move. He... didn't really want to.

Though Froid had finished "feeding" Sunder, he stayed where he was. Partially curious, partially afraid, but so very, very aroused. Surprising, considering Froid probably couldn't get a single drop out of another overload. Dry ones were too painful--burned, stung. But Froid stayed, and he watched, until Sunder starting licking and lapping his wet tongue up his thighs, coating them lavishly in globs and strings of coolant.

Froid gasped when Sunder wormed his tongue inside his stretched channel. He grabbed at the radar dish on top of Sunder's head, holding on and yet pushing lightly. Sunder took him by the hips, held him firmly in place, wiggling and thrusting his tongue deeper inside the Autobot. He swirled his tongue, rolled and pressed it up, until he was massaging Froid's anterior node.

"S-Sun--!" Froid yelped, hooking his legs around the giant bot. Sunder's chuckle reverberated inside his channel, tickling. He started moving and pumping his tongue, much like a unit. His teeth grazed dangerously along Froid's folds, venting hot, oily air against his plating.

Just as Froid was about to reach his final overload, Sunder bit down on his ceiling node, piercing and drawing energon. Froid screamed as he climaxed, squirting both a little transfluid and energon in Sunder's mouth. The large bot cackled, continued swallowing up the mess he made. Froid wanted to throw him out, but knew better.

"Was th-- necc--?" Froid grunted, massaging between his optics.

Sunder suckled on the bleeding node, and Froid shifted a little. "Everything 'til now was sweet," he said, referring to the transfluid and lubricant, "but this? Much richer, heavier. A good way to end the meal."

Froid looked annoyed, but was using what little strength he had left to keep himself from shaking.

[oraclesoftime]

Futures Known But Unspoken

CHAPTER 19 Silky Smooth After finding the dwarves and mildly scaring Belle, the two women had returned to the inner halls of Rivendell, Lane never stopping her merciless teasing to her still cherry-faced friend. “You wanted to look, admit it~!” the taller sang, the cat like grin still stretched across her lips. “Though if we’re having honesty hour here I wanted more than to just look…” “Lane!!” Belle barked, silently pleading her friend to just shut up. “My Lady Isabella?” The two women turned to see one of the elves walking towards them, hands folded behind his back. “Forgive me, but I was asked to bring you down to the sparring grounds on the south side of the city,” the elf explained, giving the two a courteous smile. “The southern… sparring grounds?” Lane questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Have you been up to something while I’ve been sleeping?” Belle turned towards her friend and gave her a cheesy grin along with a shrug before turning and following the elf, Lane right behind the two. After being lead the way to the sparring grounds, the two women almost instantly caught sight of the white blond elf standing by a nearby stone slab, a plethora of weapons spread out on top of it. “Lord Glorfindel,” their escort hummed. The elf turned and smiled when he noticed the two women standing by the side of his kinsman. “Thank you, you may leave,” the elf hummed. Their escort gave a small bow to both the elf before him as well as to Lane and Belle before turning and walking out of the sparring grounds. “Forgive me if my summon startled you, my name is Glorfindel,” the elf introduced, placing a hand over his heart before giving Lane a small bow. “I’ve never heard of him, have you?” Lane whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “Hush,” Belle hissed, giving Lane a smirk. Whether he heard their words or not, Glorfindel straightened and the kind smile remained on his features. “The reason I asked you to be brought here, Lady Isabella, was because I heard from Mithrandir that your journey will be a dangerous one upon your leave.” Belle nodded slowly, Lane snickering slightly when she figured out where this conversation was going. “As I’m sure you will continue to travel along with the others, I was hoping you would honour me with the task of creating your own bow for you to take with you and practise with while you are away,” Glorfindel hummed. “Y-you want to make me my own bow??” Belle gawked, pointing to herself as her eyes widened in shock. “If you would allow me to that is,” the elf nodded with a smile. “U-um of course! I-I mean, yes please! I mean-” “What she’s trying to sputter out is, that the honour would entirely be her own if you should choose to accept it,” Lane chuckled, patting her stuttering friend on the shoulder while giving the elf a grin. Belle stopped for a moment at the eloquence of her friend’s words but quickly nodded in agreement causing Glorfindel to chuckle before turning back to the stone slab he had been looking over. “If that is the case, we must first decipher what your current draw weight before I fashion you a bow that you may use. As you continue to practise, you will be able to tighten the string thus increasing the draw weight, this will help you to train more as time goes by,” Glorfindel explained. Belle nodded and stepped forward to stand by the elf’s side as Lane walked away to look around the sparring grounds. Contrary to what she was expecting from the name, the area was well kept and several targets were nailed to posts near the back, one of them having a few arrows embedded into it while the others seemed to have either been replaced or never used. Lane turned to look over her shoulder to see that Belle was holding a smaller elvish bow in her hands and pulling the string back with her index and middle finger while Glorfindel fiddled with the dowel on the top, no doubt tightening it until Belle was forced to let go. The two seemed to exchange a few words until the elf gave Belle another courteous bow before walking away with the bow in his hands. “Was he cute?” Lane asked when she made her way back to her friend. “He’s attractive in his own way… but he has a strange nose…” Belle hummed, her mouth scrunching up in the corner causing Lane to laugh. When Belle brought up that Lane should probably rest, the two women returned to the healing wing, Belle dropping Lane off at her room while promising to bring the taller some food when Lane’s stomach gave a particularly loud growl. Lane heaved a sigh as she sat back down on her bed, her hand reaching up to try and scratch under her bandages. “It would suggest against it, sweetheart.” Lane nearly leapt out of her skin and spun to look towards the door, her eyes instantly landing on a beautiful woman around her age, maybe a little older standing by the open door. “But-” “No buts, you are only now on the mend; do not aggravate your stitches by picking at them,” the woman scolded good naturedly. Lane sighed in resignation; she knew as much about medicine as she did about chastity… then again this whole “trip” had left Lane all but celibate… The woman walked further into the room with a small silver tray in her hands, new gauze as well as some salve and a pair of small scissors resting on the flat surface. “I must admit I’m a little nervous to be tending to an Oracle, but I promise to do my best for the both of us,” she hummed. “What, late to lessons?” Lane teased, attempting to lighten the mood a little. “I have dabbled in medicines for a while, but I admit that I haven't been asked to tend to a wound such as yours before,” the other woman claimed. Lane was about to question the other’s wording when the blond hair braided down her back shifted slightly, revealing a cute rounded ear. “Oh… you’re not an elf?” The woman broke into a small bout of laughter. “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” “No, it’s just that I wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for your ears; I mean you’re pretty enough to be an elf…” Lane countered honestly. The woman’s cheeks coloured slightly and she bobs her head in a silent thank you. “I’m Lane by the way. You?” “I am Gilraen, daughter of Dírhael,” the woman answered, giving Lane a smile. Lane felt a small tug in the back of her mind telling her she’d heard that name before, but for the life of her couldn’t put her finger on it, choosing to instead shrug the thought away and return the woman’s smile. Gilraen walked around to Lane’s side and made to undo the bindings around the woman’s head, only for her hand to pause above her ear. “Would you care to bathe first?” the blond asked. “Are you saying I smell?” Lane huffed, giving Gilraen a pout. The blond released a tinkling laughter that made Lane’s heart flip-flop in her chest before gently shaking her head. “I do not doubt that there may be some remnants of blood in your hair due to your wound, even if the healers did do their best to wash it beforehand. I would also think that after traveling for so long, you would like one.” Lane pondered for a few seconds before nodding, allowing Gilraen to help her to stand before following the woman out of the healing room. Before they got too far however Lane stopped and quickly tucked her head into her top, Gilraen turning to watch with a curious expression. “I don’t know if this would be a… weird question or not but… do elves… shave? Does anyone in Rivendell shave?” Lane asked, once her head was out of her top. Gilraen didn’t reply but Lane caught a tiny understanding smile on the woman’s lips and inwardly prayed the answer was a yes. Soon enough they came to one of the bathing rooms, Gilraen opening the door and entering, closing the door behind Lane once she’d entered. “What do I do with my clothes?” Lane asked as she began to unthread the laces of the long elvish tunic she’d been changed into. “Hand them to me, I shall send them to be washed and bring you a clean garment afterwards,” Gilraen claimed. Lane nodded and pulled the tunic over her head before handing it to the blond, Gilraen folding it carefully before placing it on the nearby bench. The woman exited the bathing room as Lane carefully stepped into the steaming water, giving a euphoric moan, the warmth doing wonders on her legs and back, muscles she didn’t even know were sore. A few minutes later, Gilraen returned with a small box in her hands and placed it on the floor. Gilraen’s hand then reached up and gently pulled the bandages from Lane’s head. “Forgive me sweetheart, but this may hurt,” she warned before slowly peeling off the last layer. Lane clenched her jaw so tight that she could have sworn she heard her teeth crack inside her mouth. The blood around her head wound had dried and attached itself to the bandages, Gilraen peeling it off causing the scabs to peel and begin to slowly bleed again, though not as bad as it once had. “The wound looks better, though it would be wise to refrain from any strenuous activities until the pain stops,” Gilraen hummed, gently combing her fingers through the green locks on the younger’s head. “My head’ll stop hurting when I’m not in the company of thirteen rowdy dwarves and a babbling best friend,” Lane snickered, flinching slightly when the woman’s fingers caught a painful knot in her hair. “Bilbo’s my only saving grace~” “I shall go and fetch some oils to loosen the hardened blood in your hair as well as some salve to help the wound to continue to heal,” Gilraen hummed, standing and exiting the large room. “In the meantime, I have borrowed this for you.” Lane turned around slightly as Gilraen offered her the small box before swiftly leaving. Lane cautiously opened the box and all but squealed in happiness; a tiny pair of scissors, two small blades that resembled a barber’s razor and a small bottle of what she hoped would be essential oils. “Say your prayers ladies!” Lane cackled, looking straight down into the water at her lap. Grabbing a small bar of soap from nearby, Lane also snatched up a nearby rag and lathered it until she was satisfied and stood. Soaping up her armpits first, Lane carefully dragged the sharp end of the razor up tiny inch by inch; just because she was desperate didn’t mean she was going to rush, especially not with Sweeney Todd’s weapons of mass destruction. After her underarms were to her liking; smooth like a babies bottom, she turned her eyes down to… well. She followed through with the same procedures she had with her underarms, though chose to take extra care and time. “Ahhhhhh~ So much better~” Lane hummed. “Next~” The door opened and Lane turned slightly to look over her shoulder to greet Gilraen’s return, only to meet a different set of blue eyes. “Umm…” Fíli swung around so that his back was facing her, though she caught a glimpse of his beet red face before he could fully hide it. “I didn’t see anything I swear!” he yelped. “I was j-j-just looking for you b-b-because Lady Isabella had b-b-brought you food and s-s-some of the others were w-w-worried about you disappearing and-” “Fíli it’s fine,” Lane laughed, gently dragging her fingers through her hair. A plotting grin spread across her lips. “It’s not like you’re the first one to make an honest mistake...” The room was silent for a moment until Fíli slowly turned back around to look at her, the deep pink colour still staining his cheeks. “You pervert,” she accused, a cat-like grin stretched across her lips when they met eyes. “W-w-w-what!? No, that’s not-” The clearing of someone’s throat caused the older prince to spin back around, Gilraen standing in front of him with an accusing look. Fíli’s mouth opened and closed several times before lowering his head and quickly walking away, Gilraen watching him as Lane burst into a fit of laughter. “It’s nice to see you gain amusement from the dwarf’s discomfort,” Gilraen chided, a small smile gracing her own features as she set down a basket by the side of the large bath. “I suffer discomfort every time they open their mouths, I figure it’s about time for some payback,” Lane hummed. Sitting properly in the bath and crossing her leg over her knee, this brought her calf above the waterline so she could shave her legs while allowing Gilraen to reach her head without difficulty. Gilraen simply hummed, though the smile never left her face as she began to gently massage some oils onto Lane’s scalp. After Lane’s legs were shaved to her liking, Gilraen washed out the younger woman’s hair and reapplied the salve to her stitched wound, before gently rewrapping Lane’s head. “There, I shall bring you a towel.” Lane nodded and stood from the bath before carefully climbing out, taking the towel from Gilraen when the woman offered it to her. After drying herself off Gilraen traded her the towel for a crimson garment. “Gilraen…” The blond turned to give the woman her attention. “...this dress is red…” “It is,” Gilraen agreed. “My hair is green, I can’t wear a red dress…” “That is a shame, however I’m sure you’ll look lovely regardless,” Gilraen responded. “Gilraen… I’m not wearing this dress..” “If you prefer to walk bare then I shall take it back,” Gilraen hummed, extending her hand. Lane gave the woman a glare. “Jeez, you sound like my mother with threats like that...” Gilraen froze for a moment before releasing a small tinkle of laughter, Lane not noticing as she sighed and began to attempt to figure out how the confounded layered and silky thing in her hands worked. “Here, allow me,” Gilraen tittered, taking the garment from Lane’s hands and helping her into it. “Now you look like you belong to the house of Elrond.” “Sorry, but I don’t think Elrond would consent, or his sons, though I’d love to meet Arwen…” Lane sighed as Gilraen tied the small silk sash around her waist. The blond simply hummed with a gentle smile stretched across her lips as she stood straight once again. The two exited the bathing room and Gilraen led Lane to the area where all of the dwarves and Belle were gathered around a small fire on a balcony. Gilraen silently bid Lane farewell as Lane nodded and watched from the archway. “Bombur!” Bofur called out tossing a cooked sausage at his brother. Bomur caught the meat in his hand, only for the table he’d been sitting on to give a groan in protest before breaking and sending the larger dwarf crashing onto the ground, the group instantly erupting into loud rounds of laughter. “Poor Bombur, you’re so mean,” Lane laughed, finally walking up to the group.“Oh c’mon lassie, it’s all in the name o’ fun,” Bofur snickered, turning to grin up at her. “Woah!!” Belle gawked before releasing a snort of laughter. “You look like a Christmas Tree...” Lane groaned and allowed her shoulders to sag causing the rest of the dwarves to turn to look at her. “Please don’t remind me; my pride’s already at an all time low as it is…” A few of the dwarves let out a round of laughs before turning back to the fire or their conversations as Lane managed to tiptoe her way through them to sit between Belle and Bilbo against the wall. “I managed to save you some,” the hobbit laughed, turning to pick up a plate resting by his hip. “You can always warm it over the fire if it’s too cold.” Lane nodded and took the plate from her friend and shimmied a little closer to the fire. “Mind if I squeeze in with your lovely self Bifur?” she asked with a laugh. The dwarf turned to her before sliding over slightly before returning to roasting his lettuce. “So Champion, this be yer first time wearing a dress? I admit, you’re lookin’ fair,” Bofur grinned, resting his elbow on his knee and chin in his palm. “It’s not my first time wearing a dress Bofur, red just doesn’t go with my hair when there’s no snow on the fucking ground,” she huffed, snatching the roasting fork from him in order to cook her own food. “And if that was your sad excuse at a compliment, coming from you Bofur I don’t want anything to do with it.” “Now lass, there’s no need ta be like that, let the past be the past,” Bofur continued, the grin stretched across his face not lessening. Lane turned slightly and gave him an accusing look. There was a tug on the back of her dress and Lane instantly noticed that Bofur’s other hand was unaccounted for. With fury in her eyes, Lane passed Bifur her fork, the dwarf taking it without looking away from his burning lettuce, and stood. She ripped Bofur’s hat off of his head and marched over to the balcony’s ledge while the dwarves started laughing, Bofur watching her with widened eyes. She turned back around to glare at him and held it over the edge. “No! No no no no no-” “Fetch Bofur,” Lane growled as Bofur shot out of his spot on the ground. Just as he reached her, she dropped his hat down into the large pond below, Bofur’s hand reaching after it. “Oh… me hat…” he whimpered. “Here, how ‘bout I help you get it!” Lane barked, walking so that she was behind him and pushing his rear with her foot, the force causing his body to teeter over the rails and follow his hat down into the pond below, the others all having fallen to the ground they were laughing so hard. “Remind me to never get on your bad side,” Gloin howled, slapping his knee as tears bordered his eyes. Lane huffed and walked back over to the fire, taking her fork back from Bifur when he offered it to her. Lane looked at it for a moment before sighing. “Here Ori, you have it… I’m not hungry…” The scribe took the fork from her with a grin and instantly bit into the meat as Lane walked away from the rowdy group. Once she rounded the corner, Lane raised her hand to rest against her wound, the noise levels of the company’s laughter causing her head to throb. “Maybe you should retire for the night…” Lane turned to see Fíli standing at the corner between her and the others, eyes still trained on the dagger in his hands as he continued to clean it. “Are you threatening me Little Prince?” Lane chuckled. “After what happened not even an hour ago in the baths?” Fíli raised his eyes to look at her before chuckling and sheathing his dagger and walking over to her. “Come, I’ll take you back to your room,” he said, offering her his right elbow with slightly pink cheeks. Lane couldn’t contain the roll of her eyes but looped her hand into the crook of his elbow and allowed the blond prince to lead the way. “So where did little prince come from? Is that a jab at my height?” Fíli asked with a chuckle. “Maaaaaaaybeeeee~” Lane sang, giving him a teasing grin. Fíli gave her a playful glare before his eyes traveled up to the bandages around her head. “Does it pain you much?” It took Lane a few moments to catch on to what he was talking about before she shrugged. “I think it’ll be tender for a while yet; I did basically have my skull split open, so I wasn’t expecting to be in full health over the course of a few days. But I should be able to at least leave by tonight,” Lane said, allowing her eyes to return to the front. “Tonight? What’s happening tonight?” Lane’s step staggered slightly before she caught herself and chuckled. “And here I was starting to believe that dwarves didn’t catch onto hints,” she laughed. Fíli gave her a confused look only for Lane to remain silent, the blond prince giving a small hum before turning his head to see that they’d arrives in the healing wing. “And here you are,” Fíli announced, opening the door to her room and walking her in. “Thanks for walking me Fíli, even though you didn’t have to,” Lane smiled while unlatching herself from his arm. “I wanted to,” Fíli claimed, returning her smile. “Well, I’ll let you get your rest. Until the morrow, Champion.” “Good night Fíli,” Lane bid, turning to walk towards her bed where a fresh tunic lay. “...Lane…” The woman turned and gave the blond prince her attention. “You do look lovely in that dress… but I think I’d prefer you in your trousers and your tunic any day,” Fíli grinned, giving her a playful wink before closing the door behind him. Fíli’s words took a few seconds to sink into Lane’s head, her entire body heating up when they finally did. “F-f-fucking dwarf… gonna be the fucking death of my self-restraint…”

I have NO idea what terms of endearment they use in Middle Earth so I’m sorry if Gilraen calling Lane “Sweetheart” seems out of place...

[teasoundsgood]

(Artichoke) Hearts Chapter 3

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Read here or on 1DFF (soon?)

Toss My Salad

***

From: Harry So Niall and I are placing bets on how long until Pia gives Liam the boot. Any insider information for me?

To: Harry Why Mr. Styles are you asking me to help you cheat?

From: Harry Not cheating… just phoning a friend

It had been almost a week since I’d given Harry my number and he definitely wasn’t abiding by the three day rule—which I was one hundred percent okay with. After his first text, we’d been texting pretty consistently. I found out that Harry was a Classics major and Econ minor. I was a Business Econ major, but I wasn’t surprised we hadn’t met before because it was a pretty large department. We’d also talked about our friends, which mainly meant Pia and Liam. Apparently Liam had been moping a bit because Pia hadn’t been nearly as interested in spending her entire week with him as Liam had been. Yeah, Pia was definitely going to end it soon.

To: Harry Well in that case it’s totally fine I’m betting three weeks tops. Possibly two I better be getting half of whatever you win in this bet

From: Harry We’re betting who cleans the dishes for a week so not sure how you’d get in on that but I’ll think of something to repay you for your help…

To: Harry Looking forward to it

From: Harry You still coming out tonight?

But, no matter how much we’d been texting, I hadn’t seen Harry since last Sunday when I gave him my number. He suggested meeting up at a party Thursday night, but my dad was away for a conference in San Diego from Thursday to Saturday afternoon so I had to stay at home to take care of the dogs. While it would’ve been nice to see Harry and all of my friends, it was nice to spend a night home alone with the dogs and practice a few salad dressing recipes for my next blog post. But now my dad was back in town and I was ready to go out with my friends and possibly end my night with Harry. I didn’t want to jinx it, but, based on the number of times he asked if I was coming out, I was pretty confident.

To: Harry Planning on it. Are you still coming out tonight?

From: Harry I was planning on it too

To: Harry Wow what a coincidence maybe I’ll see you there

From: Harry You’ll definitely see me there

“That’s an ‘I’m getting laid tonight’ face if I’ve ever seen one,” Pia said from the doorway of her room.

Our group of friends were going out together tonight and decided to pregame at Astrid and Pia’s apartment. I went over early to get ready because, no matter how much I love living at home with my dad, it was much more fun to get ready with my friends. Even if Astrid and Pia had spent the entire time making comments about Harry and me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I shrugged innocently, even though we both knew that was a total lie.

“Astrid, Teddy’s telling lies again!” Pia yelled over her shoulder like a child telling on her sister.

“Now, Teddy,” Astrid scolded as she appeared in the doorway next to Pia and rested her arm on Pia’s shoulder. “What did we say about you lying to your sister?”

“You can’t tell me what to do, Mom,” I played along. “I’m thirteen now, I’m an adult!”

“Not while you still live under my roof young lady,” Astrid threw back, immediately taking on the role of the strict parent. For someone who insists on never having children as much as she does, Astrid was surprisingly good at pretending to be a mom.

“God we’re actually so dumb,” I laughed and fell back on Pia’s bed.

“Yeah, but I’d rather be dumb than boring,” Pia said as she flopped down next to me. “I’m almost done in the bathroom if you want to use my curler.”

“I don’t think so. It takes so much effort for my hair to hold a curl. Not worth it for some apartment party.”

“Especially considering your hair is going to be very messy by the end of the night,” Pia said.

“So does that mean Teddy and Harry are a go for tonight?” Astrid asked, but didn’t join us on the bed. “Oh and Pia, can I still borrow your black lace up booties tonight?”

“Go for it,” Pia replied. “And yes, Teddy and Harry are most definitely happening tonight.”

“P, don’t jinx it,” I whined.

“T, I’m not jinxing it,” she rolled her eyes. “You’ve been texting this whole week, he’s asked if you’re coming out like a hundred times, and Liam told me Harry told him that he’s excited to see you tonight. It’s definitely happening.”

“So you’re talking to Liam then, hm?” I asked, trying to take the attention off of me.

“Don’t change the subject, missy,” Pia scolded. “And it’s not like I can avoid talking to Liam, he’s everywhere.”

“Is that over then?” Astrid asked as she pulled out Pia’s shoes from the pile in front of her closet.

“Ugh, I don’t know,” Pia groaned. “Like he’s so boring when we text or see each other in passing, but then he’s coming up to me in the library and suddenly we’re fucking in the stacks and it’s so good.”

“There’s more people at this school than just Liam who know how to have sex, Pia,” Astrid told her.

“Yeah, but can they lift me up with one arm?” Pia threw back and sat up to look at Astrid.

“I mean, I’m stronger than I look,” Astrid wiggled her eyebrows.

“If you think you can seduce me into letting you borrow my things then you are absolutely right,” Pia jokingly flirted back when my phone buzzed with a new message.

“Who’s it from?” Pia asked, but, instead of waiting for me to check and tell her, she grabbed it instead. “Ooh, it’s Harry.”

“Give it back,” I told her and reached out for my phone.

“No way,” Pia refused. “Then you’ll never tell us what it says.”

“Well, I changed my passcode so you can’t even get in anymore,” I taunted.

“Yeah, but I bet you didn’t take my fingerprint off your Touch ID,” Pia taunted back then used her fingerprint to unlock my phone. “Dear Teddy, I count the minutes until I see you next. My heart aches for you and the moment I get to put my big, fat, co—”

“Okay that’s definitely not what it says,” I lunged and grabbed my phone out of her hand, dodging Pia’s attempts to get it back as I laughed.

“I was paraphrasing,” Pia said and got off the bed. “I’ve got to finish my make up.”

“I pray to the Lord above that it’s uneven,” I called after her before turning to look at my phone.

From: Harry We’re going to a pregame with some of our soccer friends, but text me where you end up and we’ll meet you there

“So how accurate was Pia’s paraphrase?” Astrid asked and I showed her the message. “Very accurate—wow Teddy, I never knew you had this much game.”

“I don’t think I do,” I replied. “I think he’s just a very direct person.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” Astrid asked.

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “I’m not interested in playing games. I just want a nice guy to hook up with.”

“Well it seems like you’ve found it,” Astrid said as she stood up. “The others should be getting here soon so I’ve got to hide my weed so Reese doesn’t try to steal it again.”

Just like Astrid said, the rest of our friends got there ten minutes later while Pia was making margaritas and I was deciding between red or peach lipstick. Pia was voting for peach while Astrid was voting for red and I needed the others to settle it, but they weren’t being much help at all. Cole said he didn’t know, then changed his vote to peach because that’s what Pia said. Reese said purple and then sulked over his margarita when I said that wasn’t an option. Dom argued that just because he’s gay doesn’t mean he knows anything about lipstick and decided to abstain from the vote. Rose voted red after making me try both, so I went with red because I trust Rose the most.

An hour later we were all drunk off margaritas and tequila shots (none of us wanted to wait for Pia to make more margaritas) and ready to go. Harry hadn’t texted me since I texted him saying I’d let him know where we end up, but we’d snapchatted a couple times and I watched his story so I knew he’d moved on from the pregame to a party in an apartment two streets over from us.

“We have to go there,” Rose said as she looked over my shoulder at Harry’s snap story. He’d geotagged his location so I knew what apartment building he was in. “Text him and ask what apartment number it is.”

“No need,” Pia said as she sipped a margarita (none of us had wanted to wait, but that didn’t stop Pia from making her own because she was the worst at taking shots). “Liam texted me the number. He’s asked if we’re coming soon like 10 times.”

“Well we wouldn’t want to disappoint Liam,” Cole said sarcastically as he stood up and put his phone in his pocket. He was such a pouty drunk and, if one thing was for certain, I would not be the one dealing with him tonight. “Is everyone ready to go?”

“Teddy just has to fix her make up and then we’ll all be ready,” Reese replied.

“I don’t have to fix my make up,” I frowned.

“I’d rethink that,” Reese suggested as he looked me over. “Purple really would’ve been a better choice.”

“Reese,” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not wearing purple to an apartment party.”

“You’re weak, Teddy Roosevelt. Weak,” he replied before taking another shot of tequila. Which earned him a glare from Cole who told Reese to stop because he didn’t want to be taking care of a vomiting Reese, like he had to yesterday. “Last one, I promise.”

“We should go then because you definitely won’t keep that promise if we’re here much longer,” Cole said before turning to Pia to ask what the address was.

“My makeup is still good, right?” I asked Rose who was still standing next to me.

She looked me over before reaching out a hand to swipe her thumb under my eye.

“It was a little smudged but you’re good now,” she confirmed. “Maybe reapply your lipstick? It’s fading.”

“Thanks,” I replied before running to the bathroom to fix it and pee. “Hey!” I called from the toilet with the door open (we’d all seen each other pee at this point). “Everyone should pee before we go.”

I had no intention of waiting in line for the bathroom once we got there, but if I didn’t make them all pee now then one of them would grab me and make me go with them the second we got there.

“You’re the best, mom,” Astrid grinned at me with red eyes as she came into the bathroom a minute later while I was reapplying my lipstick.

“So you and Dom did sneak off to smoke while we were taking shots,” I commented.

“Dom smoked more than me,” she replied. “He wanted to be high, but I just wanted to be a little crossed.”

“Can you hurry up?” Dom asked when he appeared in the doorway. “You know I get pee shy when I’m high.”

“Dominic, you can’t rush a pee,” Astrid rolled her eyes, but stood up and pulled up her shorts anyway. “You’re lucky I was already done.”

Dominic shooed us out of the bathroom (not before I made Astrid wash her hands) and shut the door behind him. We joined the rest of our friends who were taking pictures in the kitchen with Shah Rukh Khan the fifth, her most recent fish that she named after her mom’s favorite Bollywood actor. Well, Cole was the one taking the picture. Pia, Reese, and Rose were vogue-ing with the fish.

“How dare you take pictures with Shah without me!” Astrid protested and ran over to get in the pictures. “Teddy come join us!”

“You have to smize,” Reese instructed. “If you don’t, you’re out of the running to become America’s Next Top Model.”

“Leave the fish alone and let’s go,” Dom said as he came out from the bathroom approximately 50 photos later (we were in the middle of trying to candidly laugh because that’s what you do when you’re drunk).

“Fine,” Pia sighed and carried Shah Rukh Khan the fifth back to her room. “Liam’s texted about a hundred times and Harry’s probably getting pretty impatient too.”

“Rule for the night,” I announced. “No innuendos about Harry and me when he’s around, okay? I don’t want him to think we’ve been talking about him.”

“Just don’t play too hard to get, Teddy,” Astrid warned. “You <I>are</I> trying to hook up with him.”

***

To: Harry You’re at the party with Liam right?

From: Harry Yeah you on your way??

To: Harry In the elevator

From: Harry I’m in the kitchen. Find me when you get here

“Teddy!” Niall exclaimed as I pushed through a group of people standing in front of us. “You’re here!”

“Yeah, Teddy’s the only one who just got here,” Dom responded and rolled his eyes.

“Harry’s been looking for ya,” Niall continued, ignoring Dom’s comment. “Not sure where he is now though.”

“He texted me,” I replied and held up my phone. “He’s in the kitchen.”

“We’ll go with you,” Pia told me and grabbed Cole’s hand so he knew he was the ‘we’ in this situation. He wasn’t complaining about it.

The others stayed behind with Niall while the three of us weaved through the crowd of people to the kitchen. The kitchen wasn’t nearly as crowded as the rest of the apartment and I found Harry easily.

I liked apartment parties more than frats because they were much less crowded and didn’t feel like a sketchy sauna, but no party was immune to that mugginess that only a bunch of drunk college students in a small space could create. Everyone was sweaty and gross, but it was okay because we all were. Harry, it seemed, was the exception.

I don’t know if it was the tequila or the fact that I hadn’t had sex in months or Harry just being that attractive, but he seemed to be immune to the college party grossness.

“Teddy!” He announced when he noticed us at the entrance to the kitchen. He’d been leaning against the countertop with a red cup in his hand, but he put it down and walked the few steps over to us.

“Harry!” I copied as he appeared in front of me, easily wrapping his arms around me in greeting.

“I was starting to worry you’d stood me up,” he confessed as we hugged.

“Sorry about that,” I said and pulled back.

“Wanted to text you, but I didn’t want to seem too desperate,” he said with a lazy smirk that said he was confident enough to show he was interested in me. It was not something I was used to and I liked it.

“I don’t mind a little desperate,” I shrugged.

“Here,” Pia interrupted and held a cup out to me. “Hey Harry.”

“Hi Pia, hi Cole,” he greeted them both and stretched his arm out to grab his own cup before leaning against the counter with his side pressed against mine. “I think Liam’s on the balcony if you’re looking for him.”

“I’ll see him at some point,” she shrugged and took a sip before turning to Cole. “We should go back to the living room. I want to dance.”

“Fine with me,” Cole nodded, acting like he didn’t just come in his pants right then.

“Text me,” Pia told me and even though she didn’t add the ‘when you leave with Harry’, I knew Harry heard it by the way he shifted closer and his hand slid along the counter, behind my back.

Cole and Pia left, leaving Harry and me alone for the first time since I’d seen him last Sunday. We’d been texting, but seeing him at a party with a possible hook up at the end of night was very different.

“I have a feeling I’m going to win that bet,” Harry turned to face me, his hip against the counter.

“You mean I am going to win that bet,” I corrected and poked his chest. “Don’t forget you owe me.”

“Trust me,” he smirked and I felt it zip through my body. “I haven’t forgotten.”

Harry and I spent the next half hour in the kitchen pressed against the counter as people walked by us, sometimes stopping to say hi to one of us. He told me about his week, but we avoided talking about how my father is one of his professors because talking about your dad when you’re going to have sex is a little weird. I told him about my week, which was mainly him pouting about me not going out Thursday night and me showing him pictures of Fairbanks and Cactus Jack.

“They’re cute dogs,” Harry hummed as I swiped through photos of them. “Why’re they called Fairbanks and Cactus Jack?”

“They’re our Vice Presidents!” I exclaimed and turned my head to face him. “Charles Warren Fairbanks and John Nance ‘Cactus Jack’ Garner!”

“You’re really running with this dead presidents thing,” he commented with a smile.

“We’d be wasting a good joke if we didn’t,” I said. “We’ve all learned to embrace the absurdity.”

“I'm—”

“Harry! Teddy!” Niall yelled as he walked into the kitchen and pulled us into a group hug. “What are ya still doing here? Shouldn’t you be headed back to Harry’s room by now?”

“Wow that’s not invasive at all, Niall,” Harry deadpanned. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere else, not bothering us?”

“Someone’s in a mood,” Niall rolled his eyes at me then pointedly looked at Harry.

“No clue why,” I laughed. “You’re being a perfect gentleman.”

“Well, not perfect,” Niall corrected. “But, from what I hear, Harry’s quite close in the bed—”

“Shouldn’t you be smoking on the balcony or something?” Harry interrupted. “Instead of bothering me.”

“I’m leaving. I’m leaving,” Niall repeated and walked over to the sink. “Just getting some water.”

“How responsible of you,” I commented and Niall sent me a cheesy grin as he filled his red cup. “Bye Niall,” I said as he walked past us.

“Hopefully I won’t see you here later,” he replied with a suggestive tone. It seemed that I hadn’t been the only one talking to my friends about tonight.

“Sorry about that,” Harry apologized once Niall was gone and we had resumed our old positions. “Niall’s an idiot when he’s drunk—and when he’s sober.”

“Yeah, but he’s not wrong,” I said and took a sip of my drink.

“That’s not a sentence I hear a lot,” Harry replied. “What isn’t he wrong about?”

“Us still being here,” I replied, trying to keep my voice calm so I don’t come off as a total idiot. “We’ve just been talking the entire time. I feel like there’s more quiet places where we could talk.”

“Why, Teddy Roosevelt, are you propositioning me?” Harry gasped and pressed a hand to his chest in mock shock.

“Good diplomatic relations are very important to a successful presidency,” I joked.

“Not sure this is the method most presidents used,” he replied.

“To each their own,” I shrugged. “So what do you say?”

“I say my place is only a few blocks away.”

Harry slid his hand into mine and led me through the apartment to the front door. A few people said hi to both of us, but we didn’t stop to chat. We were out of the apartment and in the empty hallway waiting for the elevator when Harry turned to face me.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked and, while I knew that was the path we were headed down, I still felt a jump in my stomach.

“Yeah,” I nodded and looked at his lips as he leaned forward.

Harry’s hand left mine and both of his hands went to cup my face as he leaned in. Harry was tall enough that it was difficult for me reach up to his hair without being too awkward so I bunched my hands in his shirt at his hips. Our lips had barely touched, but my body was buzzing and I felt myself tugging him closer. I felt his tongue at my lips as my back pressed against the wall and the elevator dinged.

“We’ll take the next one,” Harry said against my lips and I didn’t object. I wanted to end up in his bed by the end of the night, but for now I was having fun kissing him in the hallway with my back against the wall and one of his hands pulling my thigh up against his side.

“Teddy!” A very familiar (and currently unwelcome) voice called from down the hall. “And Harry! What a coincidence seeing you two here.”

Harry let go of my thigh and pressed his forehead against mine before letting out a sigh. “Your friends have really great timing.”

“The best,” I agreed sarcastically then turned to face Pia, Cole, and Rose. They all looked far too pleased with themselves. “Hey friends, how are you?”

“Doing well,” Pia nodded because she was obviously the leader of this. “And how are you?”

“Better now that you’re here,” I smiled sweetly and leaned back into Harry who had settled in behind me.

“You know, we’re going to go get pizza,” Rose said and shared a glance with Cole and Pia because my friends are lame and I hate them. “You two should join since you aren’t busy or anything.”

“I’m down for pizza if you want,” Harry whispered in my ear. “I’ve got to make sure I have a lot of energy for later.”

“Did you just turn getting pizza with my friends into a sex joke?” I turned and asked him.

“You tell me,” he replied with a dumb smirk and I felt even dumber for being turned on.

“So what do you say?” Rose asked as the walked down the hall and Cole pressed the button. The elevator immediately opening from when we’d called it a little earlier.

“Sure, why not?” I replied and we all got into the elevator.

“Where are the others?” Harry asked.

“Still inside,” Pia replied. “We asked if they wanted to come, but they’re lame so they didn’t.”

“What are they doing that’s more important than pizza?”

I’d delayed having sex for getting pizza. I was committed.

“Well Reese and Astrid are trying to figure out if a guy is gay or not—he definitely isn’t. And Dom is smoking with Niall and Liam and some other guys.”

“And you decided not to stay there?” I asked and looked at Cole, who hadn’t said anything yet. It was probably because he was too busy trying to keep a ginormous grin off his face.

“Didn’t feel like it,” she said. “Cole and I were there for a bit, but it was boring so we left and found Rose.”

“And then we saw Joey,” Rose added and I felt my phone buzz in my pocket, but decided to leave it until Rose has finished. Joey was her ex who she dated for exactly 3 weeks before dumping him because he was always constipated and screamed when he vomited (which was a lot). “So we decided getting pizza would be fun and now we’re here with you.”

Everyone started talking about pizza so I took the moment to get my phone from my pocket. I checked the screen to see a message from Harry. When I looked up at him he was staring intently at Pia who was telling a story about the time she tried to make pizza and burned it when she was 14 (I was away on vacation so I wasn’t there to make it for her—a tragedy in Pia’s life), but he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye so I knew he’d been waiting for me to check my phone.

From: Harry I’m definitely going to win the bet. Early reward for your help tonight?

***

“Cole, that’s gross,” Rose wrinkled her nose as Cole sat down at our table with a slice of pineapple and ham pizza.

“Oh don’t pick on him,” Pia said and rubbed Cole’s shoulder as she sat down in the last free chair next to Cole. “We give him shit for everything else. Let him eat his pizza in peace.”

“Thanks Pia,” Cole said. “At least one of my friends is nice to me.”

“Hey, I’m definitely the nicest person in our friend group,” Rose argued. “But pineapple on pizza is where I draw the line.”

“I’m going to pee,” Harry announced and stood up. “Be back in a minute.”

“Oh my god, finally,” Pia groaned. “I thought he’d never leave.”

“What?” I frowned. “I thought you all liked Harry.”

“Yeah, but how are we supposed to gossip about him if he’s here,” Pia rolled her eyes like it should’ve been obvious. “So how was the kiss? It looked hot as fuck.”

“Yeah it was great until you interrupted,” I said. “Why did you do that by the way?”

“Pia thought it would be funny and we agreed,” Cole explained. “But in all fairness we didn’t think you’d actually come get pizza with us, so that’s on you.”

“A small detour,” I shrugged, but decided not to tell them what Harry said to me because I knew they’d start laughing and say something the minute Harry got back because they’re all terrible friends.

“Well it’s time for you to get back on track and for me to go to sleep,” Pia announced. “Cole, Rose can I sleep at yours? I don’t feel like getting an Uber and we can just make Reese stay at my place so I can sleep in his bed.”

“Sure,” Cole replied. “I’ll text him.”

Rose made the whip sound this time.

“I’m glad to see you didn’t steal my pizza,” Harry commented as he sat back down in his chair, his arm finding its way onto the back of mine.

“My pizza is better,” I told him.

“We got the same type,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but mine is still better.”

“Wow, I’m so tired,” Pia announced and yawned then looked pointedly at Rose.

“Oh! Me too,” Rose seconded and yawned as well. “So, so tired. I’m ready to go back to the apartment.”

“Cole looks tired too,” Pia said. “We should go.”

“Oh, I—” Harry started.

“Bye Harry and Teddy,” Pia said. “It’s been so nice getting pizza with you both, but we’re going to go now. You two should go too—but somewhere else. Not with us.”

“Your friends aren’t the only ones who aren’t good at being subtle,” I told Harry as Pia, Cole, and Rose threw away their trash and left us.

“Nice to know I’m not alone,” he grinned then wiped his hands off on his jeans. “You want to go then?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

[gwynne-fics]

jeonjuns replied to your post “jeonjuns replied to your post “wei50-blog replied to your post…”

Ohh Queen jae kyung and chang yi’s love story very unique and interesting. I want to know more. Can you make special chapter just for them please? <3 <3

one. Jae-Kyung wasn’t supposed to be out of the estate but she ignored her father’s direction, put on her brother’s clothes, climbed the wall, and landed neatly on her feet and skipped towards the marketplace. It was a warm and lovely day so she refused to be cooped up working on her embroidery. No one would miss her.

She enjoyed herself as she looked through the merchant’s wares. Her father’s purview included the largest port in the country and so there was always something new. Unfortunately, it always included rough sailors with poor manners, and she caught a small group of them circling around a young gisaeng girl with a basket that was clearly too large and heavy for her.

Jae-Kyung narrowed her eyes, squared her shoulders, and took advantage of the fact she hadn’t grown into her mother’s pretty looks yet. She stalked up to them and shoved the largest man away from the girl.

“Leave.” She expected him to hit her but the girl suddenly made a big deal out of her title before he could.

“You will lose your hand if you strike the son of the lord. You don’t live here so you don’t know how seriously Lord Ma takes his sons’ safety.”

“So you want this little girl for yourself, boy?” There was some laughter but Jae-Kyung just tilted her head and played along.

“You will lose more than your hand for touching a gisaeng outside the pavilion. My father is also very protective of the pavilion. You don’t have the status to go inside,” she nodded at his clothes. “If you leave now, I won’t mention it to my father and he won’t mention it your ship captain.”

She tried not to show her surprise when it worked but she stayed next to the gisaeng girl until they were alone. Jae-Kyung looked down at her and held out her hands for the basket. “What’s your name?”

“Chang-Yi,” she smiled prettily and let Jae-Kyung take the basket for her. “Thank you, my lady.” Her laugh was like a tinkling wind chime as Jae-Kyung blushed and ducked her head. “You are much too lovely to pass as a boy. Do you do this often?”

“How did you know?”

“I’ve seen your older brother in those clothes. When he’s drunk, he brags about you. It’s very cute, Lady Jae-Kyung.” Chang-Yi took her arm and walked with her easily as they headed towards the pavilion. 

“That’s embarrassing.”

“Is it true you can out ride him?”

“Yes.” She was going to have to tell her brother that talking about his sister to gisaeng was weird and he should hold his alcohol better. “I don’t want to be a boy,” she said quietly. “I like being a girl. It’s just...”

Chang-Yi took her hand and stopped her. “We have too many rules.” To Jae-Kyung’s shock, Chang-Yi rose up on her toes and kissed her. She stood there, dumbfounded and in shock. Chang-Yi took her basket back and smiled up at her. “Thank you for saving me from those men. You make a very handsome lord. It is too bad you cannot be my debut. There are just too many rules, Lady Jae-Kyung.”

two. The first rule of the pavilion was never fall in love with any man. It only ended in heartbreak and tears. 

Chang-Yi was often found blushing and giggling over the sweet letters and small trinkets as she wrote her own missives to Lady Jae-Kyung. The Madam held off on her debut an entire year after she came of age because Chang-Yi still looked much too young and made the older, married men uncomfortable because she looked too much like their daughters.

And for the ones it didn’t make uncomfortable, the Madam refused to play that game with them. 

She didn’t mind. No gisaeng actually wanted to become a gisaeng and her teachers didn’t actually think she would be good at it. But, as she wasn’t hiding her friendship with Jae-Kyung, she wasn’t too surprised when she was called into the Madam’s rooms because it felt like a delightful joke to her. Of course they weren’t suspecting affection between two women.

“Who is he? Lord Ma, his sons, they don’t look for you or ask about you. No one is waiting for you to blossom, Chang-Yi, yet, you receive gifts and letters your sisters would kill for. Is it the steward or his son? Tell me now.”

“You misunderstand,” she tried not to laugh. “It is Lord Ma’s daughter, Lady Jae-Kyung. We’re friends, that’s all.”

And the Madam blinked. “Oh no. My daughter, you cannot fall in love with a woman like Lady Jae-Kyung. She came of age this year and the crown prince is looking for his first concubine. He is unhappy his princess is not pregnant even though the rumors coming out of the palace say he spills inside her every night. There are already negotiations. Gisaeng are not meant for women. We are meant for men. You will stop returning her kindness. It will sting but be better for both of you.”

“No! We are not in love, Madam! I promise. We are just friends!” This was not funny now. Jae-Kyung was such a source of happiness and light in her life.

“I pray that is true for you but it is clear from these letters, it is not true for her. The world is not kind to women who love other women.”

“But--”

“My decision is final, Chang-Yi. I’ve given orders that any mail for you is to be returned unopened. You will thank me when you are older.” Her eyes filled with tears and stung as she tried to blink them away. “You have lessons. Go.”

She stood and did not bow before leaving the Madam’s rooms. She went back to her rooms and skipped her lessons. She flopped onto her bed and cried. Why couldn’t women love each other? Why was her friendship with the beautiful and amazing Lady Jae-Kyung ended over a few intimate letters? Why did she have to belong to men even in her heart? 

Didn’t her heart belong to her?

three. Jae-Kyung pounced on her brother when he returned from the pavilion. It had been nearly a month since she’d had any word from Chang-Yi. All of her letters and gifts were returned unopened. Had she upset Chang-Yi?

Her brother agreed to look into it and she didn’t care how he looked at her. Chang-Yi was too important to her. “It is not easy to get details on a gisaeng who hasn’t debuted. She danced tonight so I suspect that is happening soon.”

Her heart felt like a rock in her chest. “I...”

He sighed and gave her a hug. “She isn’t angry with you. She said she will explain tomorrow morning at the tea shop near the pavilion. Jae-Kyung, she’s growing up and doesn’t have time for anything other than the pavilion. You can’t let this break your heart. The crown prince--”

“I don’t want him.”

“There is nowhere in the world where you can have what you want. At least, he is a prince, and if you give him a son, you will be a queen. There is power in being a queen. You could open up that school you talked to our father about. It’s time for you to grow up, too. You’re almost seventeen.” His words were harsh but her brother hugged her tightly and tried to soothe her when she started crying.

Men, not even the crown prince, made her heart race the way Chang-Yi and their very few stolen moments did. She knew there was something...different about her. She found women more comely than men ever since she was a little girl. She dreamed about riding in on her horse and taking Chang-Yi away from the pavilion.

It was a foolish dream and she knew it. She didn’t even know if Chang-Yi saw her as anything other than a friend. Her brother rubbed her back as she sobbed into his pillow. He put her back in her own bed when she calmed down and told the servants not to mention her breakdown to their father.

Father really wanted her to be taken into the palace. Their family was the wealthiest in the country but other nobles looked down on them for their close ties to the foreign merchants. If his daughter was a royal concubine and eventually a queen? No one would look down on them anymore.

She wanted to be useful to her father and her family. Her brothers were good men and would make great provincial lords when their time came. She loved her family and she knew this was the path her life would take but...

It would be a dream come true if Chang-Yi loved her back, just for a little while.

four. Her stomach twisted in knots while she waited for Jae-Kyung. She’d been surprised when Jae-Kyung’s older brother approached her after her dance. He was clearly uncomfortable asking about why she had to refuse his sister’s letters but Chang-Yi just felt so happy for Jae-Kyung that she had a brother that would do this for her.

She’d played her part well for the Madam and gave no indication she was pining after her lady. Two days ago, she was allowed to run her regular errands for the pavilion and so she took a risk. She hoped Jae-Kyung wasn’t too hurt and wouldn’t stay away. Pure relief shot through her when she caught sight of the young lord walking with his sister.

Jae-Kyung looked so miserable and Chang-Yi knew it was her fault. She stood when they approached and bowed politely. The young lord said something she couldn’t hear and then kissed Jae-Kyung’s forehead before leaving them alone. Chang-Yi waited for Jae-Kyung to sit before pouring her tea and serving her one of the sweet snacks she ordered.

“I’m sorry.” She knew she had to be the one to broach the distance between them. She tentatively put her hand on Jae-Kyung’s “The Madam read our letters and was unhappy we were having a romance. She said it isn’t allowed.”

“I understand,” Jae-Kyung said softly and her lower lip trembled. “I won’t send you any more letters. I won’t--”

“Please,” Chang-Yi whispered desperately. “Don’t pull away from me. I don’t care it isn’t allowed. I love you. I love you the way a woman is supposed to love a man but...more, so much more than that. I hope...I hope I didn’t misunderstand your feelings.”

Jae-Kyung slowly looked at her and her jaw dropped a little. She reached out to hold onto her hands across the table. She almost spilled her tea. “Chang-Yi...I love you. I love you.”

“I don’t have much time today.” Chang-Yi pulled out the letter she’d written in case Jae-Kyung refused to come to the tea shop. “Inside is a map of the pavilion and a way to sneak inside. Early morning is the best, my lady, because the Madam and popular gisaeng always sleep in. I have a few months before I debut and you are taken away by the crown prince. I want to spend time with you until we are parted.”

Forever. 

Chang-Yi was not pretty enough to be placed in the capital’s pavilion and a new concubine would have even less freedom but...but her heart was hers and she could spend it anywhere she wanted. She would spend her young love on her lady and not regret it.

five. Later in her life, Jae-Kyung would recall this time with Chang-Yi as pure innocence. Early morning, she would sneak into the pavilion and into Chang-Yi’s room, bringing with her poetry and books to read her while she dozed after her long night. Sometimes, if she wasn’t too tired, Chang-Yi would do her hair, wash her face, and apply makeup befitting a woman of Jae-Kyung’s status.

They ended their mornings with sweet kisses that became more passionate with each parting. Sometimes, Jae-Kyung would cuddle up to Chang-Yi and hold her while she fell asleep. It felt beautiful and right in ways she hadn’t expected.

Time with Dong-Wook always left her uncomfortable. Jae-Kyung didn’t know how she was supposed to perform her duties as concubine when she was wet with Chang-Yi and completely dry with the crown prince. He was nice enough at times and brought her thoughtful gifts but...he wasn’t Chang-Yi.

Jae-Kyung tentatively broached the subject with Chang-Yi one morning, shortly after her debut. They didn’t talk about the lessons she received or what she did with men once the sun set. 

“We have oils,” Chang-Yi said frankly. “I will give some to you before you are taken into the palace. I’m sure the court ladies could make you more. If the crown prince has ever been with gisaeng, then he knows to cover himself with it so he can slide easily inside of you. All men need it, my beautiful lady, it will not hurt his pride. Are you afraid?”

Jae-Kyung looked away and Chang-Yi gently turned her back to face her. She kissed her softly and it always uncurled desire within her. “You can use it on yourself, too. I have to, every night. Would you like me to show you?”

Jae-Kyung’s mouth went dry and it was difficult to swallow. “Yes.”

six. Chang-Yi knew, when it was announced that the crown prince was once more in the city, that her time with Jae-Kyung would be limited from now on. She wished Jae-Kyung could see how beautiful she was because her lover (they were lovers!) was so confused by the crown prince’s interest in her.

And Chang-Yi also knew, when she heard some of the gisaeng quietly gossiping, that the country had a huge problem, because, when they described their experiences with the crown prince...

He was impotent. It was always quick and he barely spilled into them. He was smaller than most men.

She tried to verify it in the books the Madam had her read and by the end of the week, she was convinced that Jae-Kyung had a very different problem. Chang-Yi broke the rules keeping her in the pavilion. She changed into simpler clothes, climbed two walls, and did her best to figure out where Jae-Kyung’s rooms were at.

She surprised her lover and the joy on Jae-Kyung’s face almost made her forget why she was here. Chang-Yi brought her over to her bed and sat her down. The truths she discovered tumbled out of her in a hushed whisper and Jae-Kyung’s eyes went very wide with understanding.

A concubine’s work was very similar to a gisaeng’s work except there was supposed to be a child growing inside the concubine.

“You’ve been with him?” She didn’t know why it stung so much that Jae-Kyung looked away. Chang-Yi knew it was coming. She had been with plenty of men but...Jae-Kyung was...Jae-Kyung was hers. Why hadn’t she told her?

“I leave for the palace in a week. I was going to tell you tomorrow. Chang-Yi, you’re wrong. The princess is four months pregnant. You said yourself, sometimes it just takes time.”

She was irrationally angry for a few seconds. If the princess was pregnant, there was no need for Jae-Kyung to become a concubine. “You are so cute when you pout,” Jae-Kyung teased her. “I like having you here in my room.”

“You have to become friends with the princess,” Chang-Yi said softly. “Make her trust you enough to tell you who she let father the child she carries, especially if she has a little prince.”

“Chang-Yi--”

“If I am right, then your little prince has to look like hers, so there is no question the same man is the father. The crown prince can never suspect you.” Chang-Yi took her Jae-Kyung’s hands and tried to plead with her to take her seriously. “Was he gentle with you?”

Jae-Kyung looked away and Chang-Yi instantly knew her next words were a lie. “Of course. He is a prince,” she said. “It was just very quick but it didn’t hurt even though it was.... I’m sure next time will...It was my fault it wasn’t very good. Men...”

And then she was crying and Chang-Yi’s heart was breaking and she had to hold her beautiful lady and dry her tears lest she spill her own.

seven. Chang-Yi defied her Madam and stayed the night with Jae-Kyung and she would always love her for that. Waking up, holding the woman she loved, would be her most cherished memory. It scared her to think that Chang-Yi was right. What point was it to suffer sex with a man if he couldn’t get her pregnant?

But the night before she was to leave for the palace, Chang-Yi once more snuck into her rooms and they made love for the last time. Jae-Kyung tried not to cry into Chang-Yi’s hair at what she was losing.

“I have a gift for you.” Chang-Yi sat up and looked down at her with a smile. “I never want you to forget me, especially if you fall in love with another woman.”

Jae-Kyung sat up and blushed. “That feels so impossible now. It could never compare to what we have.”

Chang-Yi kissed her and then took her hand. She slipped on a lovely ring on her middle finger. It was made of gold and delicately twisted into the shape of a flower with a lovely red stone in the center. 

“It is so beautiful!” She immediately felt regret. “I don’t have a gift for you.”

“You’ve given me so much,” Chang-Yi said. “Let my first trinket to you be special. Also, look.” She held out her on hand and there was a very similar ring. “Because I refuse to forget you, my lady.”

And whenever Jae-Kyung looked at her ring in the coming weeks, she felt close to Chang-Yi. Princess Kyung-Ran wasn’t what she expected. She was kind and inviting from the first moment she met with her. Jae-Kyung thought she would be jealous but Kyung-Ran was nothing but kind.

Within the first week of her time inside the palace, Kyung-Ran took her hand and placed it against her belly. Jae-Kyung blinked when she felt the baby kick against her side. “He’s going to be strong. When was your last issue?”

The question surprised her. Jae-Kyung looked away. “Two weeks ago. I’m supposed to be fertile right now. I’m eating everything I should. I...”

Princess Kyung-Ran was quiet for a few seconds before her voice dropped to a whisper. “It took me almost a year. My mother, my aunts, my grandmother and her sisters, all got pregnant within two months of marriage. There is something wrong with the prince’s seed. He is not forgiving about this fact. Would you like me to send you the man I used? He is a good man and he won’t make any waves. I promise, no one will believe that he is the father. Dong-Wook believes he is as good as an eunuch and will never suspect him.”

Chang-Yi was right. It shocked her. “Princess...”

“He has not lashed out at you yet. Your father is keeping too close of an eye on you. I would like to protect you from that as much as I can. It is a risk to do this, but being pregnant affords me much greater relief now.”

Jae-Kyung had seen him strike one of the servants. It startled her more than she was willing to admit. “Why won’t he suspect this man?”

“Go Nam-Il has only taken male lovers. He has a man he wants to make his home with. Dong-Wook finds that detestable but the Go family has always been in charge of the palace guard, specifically the crown prince. He...he offered to help me when I was at the end of my rope and desperate. He is a gentle lover and we did not need to meet often before I became pregnant.”

Jae-Kyung swallowed and considered her options. “Yes,” she said finally. “I would like to meet with him.”

eight. It took her two days to decide she could not live without Jae-Kyung in her life but it took two years to make herself lovely enough, desirable enough, and popular enough that the pavilion in the capitol wanted her. 

Her Madam was so proud of the gisaeng she grew into that she didn’t mind how Chang-Yi spent her extra money on books or mined the other girls for pillow talk and gossip. By the end of the first year, she knew everything going on in the capital. 

There were already two princes, both healthy and strong. Chang-Yi wished she could’ve been with Jae-Kyung when she had her little prince but she didn’t dare to send even a letter. No one could know of the network she was building for the express purpose of bringing her back to Jae-Kyung.

Chang-Yi made herself indispensable to her new madam as she tried to attract royal attention. She couldn’t just show up in the palace or write a letter to new princess. Twice she danced for the crown prince and his bodyguard before she was invited to the palace.

A very stoic man whose stare did not linger on her, led her through the back ways into palace. Chang-Yi kept a careful layout in her head and tried to take in every detail. Later, she would feign ignorance if she got lost looking for Jae-Kyung.

The man paused in front of an ornate door. “I will escort you back to the pavilion when she dismisses you. Do not wander the palace grounds.”

He announced Chang-Yi before she could ask him to clarify. The court ladies opened the door and Chang-Yi walked into a beautiful and spacious room to find Jae-Kyung pacing. Her eyes were wet and she looked mildly panicked as she rushed up to Chang-Yi.

She kissed her and hugged her tightly. “Dong-Wook is not a man worthy of you. Please stop dancing for him. It is too dangerous.”

“How did you know I was here?” She was supposed to be the one to surprise Jae-Kyung! Her beautiful princess stroked her hair and kissed her cheeks. Chang-Yi clung to her and tried not to cry when Jae-Kyung took her hand and touched her ring.

“Nam-Il recognized it. I told him about you and how much I loved you. When you danced for Dong-Wook he told me that the prince was lusting after you and I knew I had to rescue you from him. There is an ambassador from Song coming to our court. We suspect that he is one of the princes. Please, make him fall in love with you instead. His reputation is better than my husband.”

“I am too late,” Chang-Yi said sadly. She had to kiss Jae-Kyung several more times. She never got enough of kissing her. “I wanted to rescue you and here you are, trying to protect me.”

“I never thought I would see you again. I’ve spent these two years making friends among the women of the court. I managed to make a courier system so we can keep in touch. It is small but loyal and the men are trained on what gossip to listen to and support. It is a fun diversion when my son gets a little too difficult.” Jae-Kyung hugged her so tightly and Chang-Yi never wanted to let her go. She felt a little bereft when Jae-Kyung pulled back. “Come, I want you to meet my son.”

Jae-Kyung pulled her into an adjoining room where two small boys were snuggled together in the bed. “They are inseparable. The larger boy will be the next crown prince. He is Kyung-Ran’s Young-Do. The smaller boy is mine. My Myung-Soo. You were right,” she whispered. “My husband has come to me many times since I’ve healed from the labor and I cannot get pregnant. Kyung-Ran has miscarried once, although we think she is pregnant again. He is taking another concubine soon as if that will fix the problem. He...he is not a good man.”

Yes, Chang-Yi could see the healing bruise just under her jaw. It made her livid. Already her mind was bursting with ideas to unsettle the crown prince when he became king but still protect her Jae-Kyung.

“Who did you choose to take his place?”

Jae-Kyung just sadly shook her head. “The only man I will ever trust.”

The bodyguard then. The man who brought her here. She could see why this man was trusted with the safety of the princesses now that they had little princes. Chang-Yi took Jae-Kyung’s hand. “We will combine our efforts,” she promised. “Clearly, both of us have been working on gathering intelligence.”

“We can make a better world for...he can be a good man. I will make him a good man, Chang-Yi. Kyung-Ran is an amazing mother. Our husband...he doesn’t understand how much hope they bring. Chang-Yi...it’s been so hard these last few years. I wanted to run away so many times. If the king had not given me leave to work on so many projects, I don’t know what I would’ve done here without you.”

“I’m here now. We can do so much together.” Chang-Yi kissed her and Jae-Kyung’s smile lifted her heart. “The king is in good health. We have many more years with him. It will be okay.”

“Dong-Wook is an evil man,” Jae-Kyung whispered. “No one prepared me for an evil husband. He is cruel and hateful. I worry about our children. The king spoiled him too much. My life...I just missed you.”

Chang-Yi took her face in her hands. “We will figure it out. I promise, I will never leave you again.”

Chang-Yi kept her promise.

[newstfionline]

Jesus Take the Reins

By Lyndsie Bourgon, Hazlitt, March 10, 2017

The first thing you should know about Bryn Thiessen is that he’s the type of person your hip barber is trying to be.

Thiessen wears a wool vest and black felt hat whose brim is wide but still narrower than the waxed, twirled moustache that protrudes at least 12 inches past his cheeks. He has a leather satchel and brown leather boots and a collection of brightly coloured silk scarves, and is usually wearing suspenders. He goes into Calgary once a week, for a chiropractor appointment, but the rest of the time he lives and works on his property, the Helmer Creek Ranch, which is about an hour and a half outside the city amongst the province’s rolling foothills at the base of the Rocky Mountains.

Years ago, Thiessen took me on a ride in the cab of his work truck to check on the pens that he installs to capture wild horses on his pasture. It was a longer ride than I expected and it soon became apparent that Bryn is a talker. Thiessen speaks in a drawl with a slight twang even though Texan inflection is not a native tongue of Alberta--it is both affectation and aspiration. He writes poetry and has a weekly service where he preaches to locals.

His is the Cowboy Trail Church. He is full of catchy phrases and during a sermon in May he recites a poem about a horse named Termite that likes to eat wood and spins it into a parable about stubbornness and the banishing of evil. You know stubbornness, he says, if you’ve owned a Dodge. After addressing part of the story of Sodom and Gomorrah he takes a deep breath and looks at the crowd: “Now, how’s that for wordin’?” he asks.

Thiessen’s cowboy church is one of dozens across the country, according to the Evangelical Fellowship for Canada, where a mixture of Christian faith and rural lifestyle meet. “The church is either a barn or a round corral,” he says. “A barn is where you’re fed and sheltered and someone cleans up after you. A round corral is where you’re exercising and growing. In either case, it’s a long building.” A cowboy church is a “seeker-sensitive” gathering, where the trappings of traditional worship are eschewed in order to entice people through the door. Often, cowboy churches meet on a weekday evening, because weekends are busy for farm families. There is no dress code: “When you go to a church with deep pile carpet, you’re not welcome if you’ve got dung on your boots,” is a common refrain. Services are held in settings from a barn to the side of a lake to a community centre. A handbook to starting your own cowboy church says “church words” are to be avoided, even in praying: “You need to launch your first service stirring up all the dust you can.” There has been an explosion of growth in the cowboy church movement over the past fifteen years. In a Texas Monthly article, one cowboy church pastor said cowboy churches were spreading like a grassfire.

Glenn Smith figured he had been bucked off a horse one too many times for there to be no God.

A former cowboy and rodeo clown, Smith is considered the father of the modern cowboy church movement--he called himself a “cowboy apostle,” which leads nicely into the name of his memoir: Apostle Cowboy Style. On Sunday mornings during rodeo competitions in Texas in the 1970s, Smith would preach from a corral to spectators and competitors. He was known to baptize people in tin troughs.

But cowboy churches were more of a nostalgic callback than new religion: the style of sermon is meant to replicate the oral storytelling that took place at campgrounds during the expansion of the West. The cowboys we had then (freelance prospectors and ranch hands) are not the competitive sport cowboys we have now, but if there’s a group that needs some saving it would probably be both--cowboy life is transient, which makes sinning an easy option. By profession, cowboys are disenfranchised from a regular community because their career takes them from rodeo to rodeo on a weekly basis. Most cowboys are single men with little personal responsibility and so there is little accountability involved in heavy drinking and promiscuous sex.

The largest cowboy church in North America, in Ellis County, Texas, is a “megachurch” that draws close to 1700 people to three weekly sermons to sit on folding chairs in a barn (the state’s Baptist General Convention says that 40,000 people attend cowboy churches weekly). The American Fellowship of Christian Cowboys counts more than 200 member churches in North America and Australia. In Canada, there are churches in Manitoba and Saskatchewan, as well as Alberta. For a while, there was a church operating through Shady Lane Hereford Farms in North Gower, Ontario. “We farm here, but you guys call it ranching,” says Karl Allen, who ran the province’s chapter of the Fellowship of Christian Cowboys through his business, Rugged Cross Stables. At one point, his congregation of one hundred people would put on pancake breakfasts and hay rides. “But in fairness, it’s been a bit of a flop,” he says. “Rodeo in Ontario is really slim.”

In Alberta, one of the first cowboy churches took place during the Calgary Stampede: “It was a real Western atmosphere, guys wore their hats,” says Phil Doan, who started the service in an empty room at Ranchman’s bar (later, he would conduct baptisms in the hotel pool across the street). “We started telling people that Jesus loves everyone, even cowboys… it worked real well in the bar. Anyway, when the frontier opened up, those were the only places they had. That’s one of the ways the west was won.”

What draws a community to these churches is not the talk of cattle branding or the prayers for rain or the request for a healthy calving season. It’s that, as Thiessen says, “People want to find a place where they can live the life they think they remember.” There is very little progressive change acknowledged within the walls of a cowboy church sermon--it may not be overtly religious, but it’s definitely conservative. It’s a place where you can wear the bedazzled western garb you might normally save for weddings. The Cowboy Trail Church’s congregation is smattered with young families (“I call them the ‘younger-than-my-moustache crowd,’” says Thiessen) and new immigrants.

The first time I attended Cowboy Trail, I was an hour early and already late--trucks and horse trailers filled the parking lot of the Cochrane RancheHouse and, inside, just over a hundred people had gathered to worship. All of Alberta’s denim was in this room, with the big bay windows that overlook the coulee the building was nestled in. I was greeted at the door by two cowboy-hatted men in perfect jeans and brown boots, who informed me that “We don’t say hello, we say howdy,” and pointed me in the direction of two men, dressed the same, who could tell me what was going on. “Would you really call it a church? It’s more of a meeting,” said Allan Wiley, a member of the congregation and a former police officer. “I have worn cowboy boots and jeans for decades. I take my hat off for prayer, but only because it gives me a headache.” There were tables set up with photo albums and a boot at the door for donations, though none were solicited. On the stage, an upturned barrel and wooden cross wrapped in burlap surrounded the band (known as Some Assembly Required), a remarkably full ensemble with a lead singer who dresses in blue fringe.

So, here’s the good news: a cowboy church service is really short. It usually starts with a story rooted in agricultural wisdom and leads into your predictable preaching about trusting in the plan of the Lord. There is more singing than talking--at Cowboy Trail they were six songs in before anyone said a word. “Do you like to sing? Man, I love to sing,” whispers the man sitting next to me.

The music is a key player in a cowboy church service--there is a separate red duotang folder at Cowboy Trail that’s full of songs that tie together the land and the lord, as well as a heavy hymnal for traditional songs. There is no modern hymnal here, no effort to attract youth through “rock.” But while the music is old and repentant (“God watches o’er all righteous men/But all the wicked will not stand/Their way will perish from the land/Like chaff in wind,” goes one song called “Put Your Hand in the Hand”), everything else can seem lackadaisical.

There’s a section where part of the Bible is recited, certain words emphasized repeatedly and members of the crowd will nod and mumble in agreement and the importance of fellowship will be agreed upon while squares are laid on a plastic tablecloth. If you don’t want to stay behind, no one will bug you as you leave.

A week after I attend the service, Thiessen receives a prayer request via text message from a local rancher: “Please pray for my strength,” it says. “Otherwise I’ll need strength and bail money.”

Thiessen’s father helped establish a series of Christian summer camps, where Bryn spent most of his time riding horses. “In the evening, you sat and told stories and sang songs. It was just the natural flow.” He conducted his first funeral sermon for a salamander, at the age of five or six at his grandmother’s house. Years later, he met a group called the Christian Cowboys at a rodeo and heard the rhythm of their words--it was a kind of patter of worship, where every story sounded like it might end in a dirty joke, and the descriptions were all examples from everyday life.

It’s one thing to hear about the grace of God and another to experience it after being trampled on by a horse and surviving. The latter happens in competitions, but also during a regular day’s work: a post at the back of Cowboy Trail’s hall has an update on a congregation member who, after a horse riding accident, had found a way to ride with her wheelchair. “We find the culture and meet them where they’re at,” he says.

Of course, each church is different. For instance, the crowd at James River Cowboy Church congregation, that I visit on a Thursday night when they’ve got a bonfire going, is a bit older and a bit smaller. Tom King, their pastor, is a real estate agent and, as he explains to me, the only guy in a wheelchair in the lot. King has MS and came to religion through Thiessen after his wife died years ago. Now he’s remarried and has a weekly gig that has him being introduced as a voice that “puts true-life experiences to the word in the book, in this church under the great blue skies and the slopes of the eastern Rockies.”

King’s sermon style is subdued compared to that of Thiessen’s, who can take on an earthy, fire-and-brimstone force when the mood strikes and who, the week before, took it upon himself to read the Book of Revelations while a wildfire raged in Fort McMurray There is little religion in King’s talk--we are compared, in our darkest and most confusing times, to a gopher panicking while trying to cross the road. King, whose friends and family have prayed for him to walk again, says he is not unfamiliar with the “heaviness of church.” He follows the cowboy church guidelines, so that’s not what he peddles.

“People just miss the hymns, the music is a big part of it,” he says. “We tell them the truth and give them good coffee.”