#opposites attract (sun+wis)

[darlingpwease]

Hello, I am back with another question! :) Since it’s a common troupe in the transmigrator/isekai genre to try to ‘fix’ the plot so nothing bad happens to the novel world, what do you think might happen if the opposite happens? Like a transmigrator!reader doesn’t try to force anything to happen because these characters in the novel world aren’t just fictional creations - they are real people, with emotions and can think for themselves. They just go with flow while being content in their new life as a background character, focusing on bettering themselves and learning new skills, but don’t realize that just being themselves and treat everyone with respect and kindness in Sisheng Peak, they’ve attracted the attention of Chu Wanning, Mo Ran, Shi Mei, and Xue Meng?

lifeboat

but today this boat is going down

CW transmigration, unhealthy behaviour (obsessiveness, possessiveness), mention of suicide (xue meng), mention of forced kiss (mo ran), mention of mind control (shi mei), mention of amnesia

... It's hard with them all, but the System tells — promises — you that this is an easy and not dusty job, in which your only task is to be a minor character who has to die to add cheap drama and dog blood.

The fourth disciple of Sisheng Peak, who was accepted reluctantly after several attempts and refusals to be with anyone else, which touched Chu Wanning's heart. A cute little ball of the sun, "too pure too innocent for this world", whose role is to wag their fluffy tail like a tiny puppy and look with devoted eyes. In the dog trio 'Mo Ran / You / Shi Mei', you were supposed to be that fragile white lotus, whose death symbolizes a radical change in everything and that death is always there.

You should be moderately playful, moderately optimistic, moderately friendly, absolutely innocent and pure — a foil for both Mo Ran, wild and unfiltered, and Shi Mei, who hiding his face behind a mask. Xue Meng was the closest to you, despite the different personalities — he also suffered from deaths and losses, but survived, while you are destined to die.

... The problem is that before your role becomes one of stable and permanent, you need to play it qualitatively so that the world accepts you. But the System assures you that it will be easy for you — it's much easier than it even sounds! — and you don't have the opportunity to refuse or say "maybe we'll change it?".

You start far enough away from the main plot, after Chu Wanning became the elder of Sisheng Peak, but before Shi Mei became a disciple, although by that time you were already considered a disciple of Chu Wanning. Even if he was unyielding and tough, you didn't mind — a little kindness here, a little tenderness there, here to disturb the cold Shizun with tenderness, there to stun with an unexpected offer to take care of cleaning the house. You didn't understand much about this "white lotus type who raises death flags from the very beginning", so you acted on a hunch, trying to get along with the spoiled and arrogant Xue Meng and make the "snow queen" stop looking at you with... suspicion?... You were not sure yourself — all these games began to tire you out and even annoy you, especially when Xue Meng, with whom you should be on good terms, was not so willing to contact.

"EVERYONE HAS DIFFICULTIES, BUT THE MAIN THING IS EXPERIENCE,"

the System lovingly tells you when you are lying on the bed, completely unaware of what you are doing wrong. But you just have to try harder, right? Right?... Not a damn thing like that — you don't understand how to get close to Chu Wanning or Xue Meng, but, fortunately, you manage to find Shi Mei even before he became your 'shidi'. And, to your almost shame, even knowing that he is probably fooling around and using a fake identity, you feel good with him — Shi Mei is charming, sweet, polite and introverted, and although he needs time to recharge, he willingly spends it with you when you take the initiative, even if clearly not understanding why you mess with him.

Even if everyone else avoids him, you feel so good with him that you can't help but get carried away by following him and almost naturally immersing yourself in the role of an innocent and kind student, trustingly purring that he is amazing and everything alive should be treated with equality, patience and respect, and when you take by inertia his hand, then it seems so small and cold to the touch.

Perhaps you are too desperate even for an imaginary sense of success, but you can't help but seek his company, even if Xue Meng almost jealously capriciously says that you are no longer running after him and 'this is strange', and you want to agree, but you are too inspired by Shi Me. He's just so kind, and smart, and empathetic, and gentle, and looks like a porcelain doll, but even when he shows stubbornness, you can't help but nod, agreeing with almost everything if only the plot would move on with your participation.

... When Shi Mei becomes a disciple of Chu Wanning, you practically run to him with delight, purring with pleasure — and only in the evening you realize that this was the first time he smiled at you so... strangely, but you prefer to think that it was 'affectionate'.

Chu Wanning looks askance, but is silent, even when you have not come to him for more than a few weeks; next to Shi Mei, your nervousness becomes weaker and lighter, as if you are resting in your small garden, caressing your cute delicate flower, finally seeing the fruits of your care and attention with cooing over. Shi Mei is weak and has no talents, but for you he is the only thing that continues to keep you sane, convincing you that you will cope while you hide under the trees in the rain, huddling together under an umbrella, whispering about all sorts of nonsense and unimportant things that make you happy and giggling, and on for the first time, a happy smile appears on his scarlet lips, which is so tender and bright that your heart stops for a moment.

Obviously, he can only be a fairy — no less.

He's so cute.

And the fact that you get along with Mo Ran almost from the fly, as if blessed, cannot but please you, finally letting you exhale. Chu Wanning finally thaws and allows you to hover around him calmly, caring; Xue Meng clearly begins to consider you 'his person' after long emotional caresses, giving him time to thaw, although his personality itself does not get better; Mo Ran turns out to be a very kind and gentle boy with comets shining in his black eyes, and your gentle Shi Mei, although he has ceased to be the center of your attention, still remains a safe haven.

Perhaps this role is really good!

“I'm sorry I'm so late... you're not busy, right?... I know we've been talking less lately, but...

I have something for you.”

"THE CHARACTER SHI MEI USED A KEY PLOT ITEM ON YOU IN THE LAST TIME SESSION, WHICH WOULD LEAD TO THE COMPLETE ERASURE OF YOUR PERSONALITY AND THE CULTIVATION OF DEVOTION TO SHI MEI. TO PREVENT THIS, AN ALTERNATIVE LINE WAS CREATED. BE MORE CAREFUL IN THE FUTURE AND DON'T LET THIS HAPPEN AGAIN."

"DON'T EVER DO THAT AGAIN," still the same loving, but a little more formidable and domineering.

You wake up in your bed, although you were sure that a few minutes ago you saw your Shi Mei, in whose gentle eyes devils glittered.

"IT WAS A DOOMED LINE. JUST KEEP MOVING FORWARD. CURRENT TIME POINT: THE DAY AFTER MO RAN AND SHI MEI AGREED."

... You tend to learn from your mistakes. Shi Mei seems a little lost, but clearly does not remember anything, and you tend to believe that this is much deeper than the "disappearance of one event" — the system does not respond, but you have the assumption that since your world is the "original", their memories were only implanted. Unfortunately, you haven't made any notes on trees or other places to check whether this theory is real, but in any case you remember.

Mo Ran has a clear look of black eyes, more like an incipient thunderstorm, a pale face and aquiline features. He becomes more distrustful and quieter, like a tense spring, and for a moment you think it would be better to let Shi Mei do what he had to do — in the end, it would also be dramatic, right? — but the System interrupts your question, explaining that the item inhabits the heart and leaves an imprint on the mind — and you are not so experienced yet, while its main and most important goal is, first of all, to preserve your mind, and only then to perform a specialized function. And although you have a question about both the term and the vague wording, you agree, realizing that it is difficult to formulate this question differently if it puts an end almost immediately.

"I UNDERSTAND THAT THIS SOUNDS AMBIGUOUS. JUST MOVE AND WORK, I'LL STEP IN WHEN IT'S NECESSARY."

And you're working.

Mo Ran does not pull away from you, but you are still more persistent and gentle, hoping to maintain the relationship to a warm enough degree that his "departure" will be a blow to you. After all, "death at the hands of a distraught best friend" is a good enough plot for dog blood and death for a hero of your type, isn't it?

... Shi Mei behaves calmly, almost gently, and although he is more like the same Shi Mei in your "first timeline", timidly touching your hand with his fingertips, gently smiling, coquettishly brushing hair forward with a shy gesture, you try to keep yourself in control, although you feel an almost obsessive desire to take his hands and cry from how beautiful he is — but the System reminds you that in your case it is still irrational to get involved with a future villain, "don't forget your role and the future, especially considering your past experience with him," and you can only continue to cling to Mo Ran.

It's funny and cheerful with Mo Ran — he's funny, loud and open, and although you see him getting darker and more depressed, as if consumed by paranoid and unhealthy thoughts, while something flashes in his pupils that you can't identify, you only encourage and play along. His skin is not as hot as it used to be, but you still press it to you in an attempt to warm it, and even when he, hiding face in your shoulder, hoarsely asks "why", you continue. Chu Wanning hesitantly pulls his hand towards you, but almost immediately takes it away, — and you pretend not to notice, cooing and purring with Mo Ran, who is distracted from obsessive thoughts only when you are near.

In this life, you have become less affectionate and active, but it seems to have given more results, from which you cannot help but suspect whether you should just... to abandon activity and allow yourself to get involved only in the most important moments and engage in initiating relationships, while leaving other moments to others. In the end, Xue Meng is more than willing to pull you along, Shi Mei lays his head on your shoulder and Mo Ran squeezes your shoulders almost to the point of bleeding, but you, as gentle and caring, only comfort him.

Chu Wanning? You... you yourself do not understand what he is doing, even if you feel that it is somehow wrong, does not fit the role of a cold and indifferent shizun, — but you still regularly come and help with small things, bringing sweets and small gifts, and with almost amazement for a moment catch yourself thinking that in this life he has become more gentle around you. Maybe because you live longer — you need to wait for the moment when the flower blooms to the fullest, and when Mo Ran, who has become even more contradictory and aggressive, will kill you.

In your free time, you try yourself in the role of your character, being kind and calm, as befits a "real white lotus", devoted to close people and betrayed by one of them. It's strange almost to the point of being unaccustomed or disgusted, but over time you learn how best to be "pure and spotless", as if a little more and you can immediately ascend to heaven.

... You know what you are doing when Mo Ran "goes crazy" — after all, the role of a young, just blossoming person, full of youthful hopes and who did not know the sorrows and difficulties of the world to the extent that gives others despair, makes you a wonderful lamb.

"BEAUTY MUST BE TARNISHED," the System says approvingly, and you agree, going to a confrontation with your former best friend, knowing that it will only bring death. Straightening your shoulders, you are not at all afraid of what awaits you, — your body is only trembling a little, — you have been preparing for this scene since your childhood in this world, looking into the brilliant purple black eyes of the person you once hugged as the most precious thing you have, and he desperately clung to you.

“... Do you think you can do something?”

You give your best, even when you start hurting your body, knowing that this scene must be intense and intense so that you shine like a shooting star.

... Even if they were doomed from the very beginning, like a tiny puppy in a battle with a huge dog...

“... You've always been too good.”

... But instead of emptiness in your chest, there is blood in your mouth,

and you don't know which one of you it belongs to

"INVASION OF UNIDENTIFIED AGGRESSIVE ENERGY, VIOLATION OF THE INTEGRITY OF THE BARRIER OF THIS TIME LINE. AN ALTERNATIVE TIME LINE IS BEING CREATED. BE MORE CAREFUL IN THE FUTURE AND DON'T LET THIS HAPPEN AGAIN."

"IT'S OKAY."

you hear the soft, soothing voice of the System when you wake up in bed in your adult body, not much younger than the one you were in your... past life? time line? — you yourself are not sure what to call it.

"THIS IS A WORLD OF SPECIAL COMPLEXITY, IT IS NORMAL TO EXPERIENCE DIFFICULTIES. ALTHOUGH THE SECOND STAGE IS USUALLY THE MOST PROBLEMATIC, DIFFICULTIES WITH COMPLETING THE FIRST ONE ARE ALSO COMMON."

This is your second restart, the first time you've been so close to the end, and you... you need some time alone.

"... UNDERSTAND. GET SOME REST."

You are sure that everything is right now. Mo Ran has a flower, Shi Mei "died", Chu Wanning... Chu Wanning sometimes grabs you by the clothes and tries not to let you out of sight for a long time, although he does not understand why, you can read these vague and unidentified feelings in his eyes — fortunately, you continue to bring sweets and help him, even if it no longer makes sense now. A familiar routine helps you to distract yourself and think about many things, but not about those that bring you anxiety or anger. He behaves a little strange, but you believe that this is normal, because, frankly, you no longer have the strength to feel sorry even for yourself. To live a life where you were forced to see the death of people you were close to, and twice face problems over which you had no control, and have a strange "interference" from the outside, which even the System cannot recognize, — "IT IS CAUSED NOT BY SYSTEMIC REASONS, BUT BY INTRA-WORLD ONES, AND WE CANNOT KNOW ISN'T THIS A SIGN THAT THE HEAVEN OF THAT WORLD REJECTED YOU OR NOT", — and you're not sure if you can even try to "preserve" the correct appearance of the world. Why can't you be like Xue Meng? Because you are kind? What are you missing? Why does the world have to be permanently reset to factory settings?

... You communicate especially closely with Xue Meng, although in this life it is enough for you to have a warm superficial relationship with everyone — System does not require you to actively inject yourself emotionally, unlike early attempts, and you just relax, although it is a little hard for you to sleep at night. Now it is much easier and simpler to help people — passing through almost the third circle, you already know in advance all such moments, from which you are only required to remember and behave affectionately. Although it's a little... strange to see all the dead people alive again, but you're okay with it, thinking that all you have to do is survive this life and it's almost over. The second stage will be much easier — and simpler; System promises that it will make it easier for you in the second stage, and you are ready to cry and kiss its hands, because you definitely won't stand it twenty more times if this attempt is successful.

It is much easier to communicate with Xue Meng in this life — maybe because in the past, after you lost almost everyone, you stuck together to fight Taxian-jun's bloody regime and kill him, and you, having lived through many situations of a suspension bridge, in a sense became soft for him, ignoring even his obvious overbearing and aggressive nature, with easy withdrawal to emotions, narcissism and pampering. Rather, it even became something cute — especially with how hard he endures loneliness, difficult to cope with negative emotions and needs a light, soft relaxation that only others can give to cope with his ebullient energy. And even if at first Xue Meng is too inclined to give what he considers delicious or beautiful only himself, not paying attention to your preferences, over time he becomes more attentive, even more spreading the peacock tail in front of you, which sometimes becomes even more unbearable, but for some reason you like, even moments of his constant subconscious rivalry only to then relent and go on about it — and then immediately get back into the pose of pride, refusing on principle.

But you... you really like it for some reason. It's much easier, better with him — and when you let him lead you, letting go of control, lazily watching his skirmishes with Mo Ran, who in this life is much more inclined to circle around you, which further irritates the almost overprotective Xue Meng, or Shi Mei, with whom you sometimes sit together and aimlessly you talk, usually about some books or other little things, you feel so calm. Perhaps it was worth choosing Xue Meng from the very beginning — although he also annoys you like no other, it is quite cozy and calm with him, even despite his need for emotional support, which, however, Shi Mei can also provide, almost completely removing the need for you to strain beyond measure, only convincing Xue Meng that you are here with him and taking care of him.

He's almost like a child, but in the nicest way.

Yes, even when his pride becomes clinginess, and overprotection becomes possessiveness, and his fingers almost dig into your hand, telling you not to go anywhere, in an even more aggressive way, you still wave and nod.

You don't worry at all anymore, it's still kept within the storyline, and if he's a little weird about you, it will add drama to the theme of "a minor beta couple where one member dies." System says nothing, agreeing rather than refuting, maybe because it sees that you have absolutely no energy, but you no longer worry, giving yourself the desired rest.

After all, you deserve it, right? After all this work, it's only fair that you rest knowing what's ahead.

After all, you have no faith now that death will be "heroic" anyway.

You are no longer trying to be stronger to "defeat" Mo Ran, or to fight back against anyone else. You just allow yourself to be lazy, aimless and careless, hoping that it will help you, even if Chu Wanning clearly disapproves of such laziness (or something else?) and Xue Meng tries to convince you to train with him by clinging to your clothes — you train no more than the necessary minimum, preferring to watch Xue Meng and praise him.

“Just be with me! I can take care and protect you! I'll be strong enough for you — just stop looking around and doubting!”

... When Sisheng Peak was destroyed, becoming the first target on Taxian-jun's path, you did not even try to continue the fight or stand at the head of the opposition with Xue Meng, as it was before.

Although, you are sure that your actions made no sense or reason for anyone.

"THE FIRST HALF WAS OVER. THE LEVEL IS SATISFACTORY. THE TIME LINE WAS FIXED AS THE MAIN ONE. PLEASE GET READY TO CONTINUE YOUR STORY."

"THE TIME LINE WAS BROKEN."

"THE TIME LINE WAS BROKEN."

"THE TIME LINE WAS BROKEN."

"THE TIME LINE WAS BROKEN."

"THE TIME LINE WAS BROKEN."

"THE TIME LINE WAS..."

"HELLO, HOST. CALL ME THE SYSTEM. AS YOU ALREADY KNOW, YOUR TASK IS TO QUALITATIVELY PLAY YOUR PERSONALITY, WHO IS A MINOR CHARACTER AND THE FOURTH DISCIPLE OF SISHENG PEAK. CURRENT TIME POINT: MO RAN WOKE UP AGAIN IN HIS SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD BODY AFTER HE DIED."

For some reason it seems vaguely familiar, but perhaps you have heard this somewhere before. You don't remember much about waking up on the bed, looking around sleepily. The body is both familiar and unfamiliar, as is the environment around it.

Obviously, these are memories of your body, considering that you are here for the first time, although even these thoughts seem familiar.

"YOU JUST HAVE TO BE AN INNOCENT AND KIND DISCIPLE. GIVEN YOUR PERSONALITY AND EXPERIENCE, IT WILL BE EASY. DON'T BE AFRAID OF ANYTHING AND BE SURE THAT I WILL BE WITH YOU UNTIL THE END."

Sounds simple enough. Just be nice until the end of the plot? You might as well be a salty fish and enjoy life as a minor character without interfering in their lives in any way. In the end, it's not that your intervention makes sense or matters — as long as the plot is moving, they're all doing what they should and think is right. Are you ready to take responsibility for the characters, if now they are real people, and not their life or future depends on your actions, but the future of the whole world? Of course not. This is your first task — you should work responsibly and efficiently!

... You really don't know what's wrong when CHU WANNING gently lifts your face, looking into your eyes, before saying that he is ready to be your teacher and promises to teach you everything he knows and take care of you — which is definitely not in his personality! And although the fact that XUE MENG takes you by the sleeve and says that you are his friend, without accepting objections, you are still ready to accept, but the way SHI MEI himself approaches you when you are sitting under a tree, smiling so affectionately in a familiar way, starting a dialogue is so familiar to you, as if you've been talking to him all your life — you're already starting to think 'a little weird'.

And you treat Mo Ran's friendliness and affectionateness normally, until the System informs you that he has been reborn — only to dig his fingers into your clothes as soon as he wakes up after the punishment, while you are at his bedside to take care of him together with Shi Mei (which, however, causes dissatisfaction with Xue Meng, who is sure that you are wasting your time on someone like this useless dog and should train with him instead). Mo Ran's face hides in your shoulder, but you do not dare to ask what is wrong, except to comfort and purr that the teacher was forced to do this, such rules — but Mo Ran's grip only becomes stronger when his hands squeeze you by the waist, as if he wants to say something, express, but not can't find a word.

And you feel that something is wrong, unable to ignore it anymore — you could have pretended earlier that Chu Wanning's friendliness was a 'weakness for the cute', or that Xue Meng 'wanted to have a cute friend', or that Shi Mei 'was fascinated by your aura', while Mo Ran is 'just very kind, despite all the horrors of life that he has experienced' — but Mo Ran's too strong reaction, especially considering the story about your 'past' life that the System gave, is inadequate.

"NO. THERE IS NO MISTAKE. CHARACTERS CANNOT BEHAVE "INADEQUATELY". THE DATA AND BEHAVIORS OF THE CHARACTERS ARE NOT DIGITAL DATA, BUT A FLEXIBLE SPECTRUM EMANATING FROM EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED TO THEM, THE ORIGINAL CHARACTERISTICS AND DISTINCTIVE FEATURES. THEIR ATTITUDE TOWARDS YOU DEPENDS ONLY ON YOUR ACTIONS AND CHARACTERISTICS."

When Chu Wanning hugs you tightly to him, without explaining anything, during your cleaning of his room, you also say nothing, only allowing him to do it, although you can almost feel the flame of something burning inside him that you are not able to recognize.

And even when Shi Mei puts his head on your shoulder, lovingly intertwining his fingers with yours, almost cooing while it's raining, and in his eyes you can read something that defies explanation, like looking into a deep lake and seeing there the outlines of what you don't want to see even in nightmares.

You just try to be kind and responsive, helping and being helpful, even if their problems are intuitive and easy for you, as if you have not even once or twice, but three or five times encountered them — or maybe even more.

And although it seems boring or useless, at some point you even begin to have fun — and the four of you walk around the sect to find something to do, although Mo Ran and Xue Meng prefer to continue verbally fighting and fiddling like in the good old days.

good old days?

“... Do you... remember anything strange sometimes? For example, something that didn't happen, but you are sure it was?”

You stop from cleaning, looking over your shoulder at Chu Wanning, who is creating a new mechanism — but now the gaze of the black eyes is directed at you.

And you want to say that 'no', but something inside you is slipping viciously, as if it's a lie — so you just shake your head in denial.

He doesn't say anything, but for some reason you feel ashamed.

“... I'm your teacher. If something bothers you, you should contact me. I'll take care of you.”

You don't say anything, but nod, although you don't look at him, — but feel his gaze burning so intensely for the first time.

Something's wrong.

“... IN SOME WORLDS, CHARACTERS CAN SENSE THE EXISTENCE OF THE SYSTEM IF THEIR CONNECTION TO HEAVEN IS TOO STRONG. IT'S NOTHING SCARY. WE CAN ALWAYS CREATE AN ALTERNATIVE BRANCH AND ERASE UNNECESSARY MEMORIES AND MOMENTS.”

“I'll protect you. It doesn't matter at what cost. Just stay with me.”

Maybe you can fix it then?!

[daydream-cement]

The Road Trip Ch. 7

Bri and Mir continue to be the cutest beings in the entire world and Lucifer has one more trick up their sleeve.

this was written in collaboration with @bri-sonat. only one more chapter to go…

The constable awoke the next morning with her face buried into Brienne’s arm, drawn to the knight’s warmth during the night. She only smiled to herself, breathing in the scent of her companion and reaching a hand up to grasp at her elbow to keep Brienne in place when she woke up. Miranda wondered if she was still asleep and if this was all a part of a wonderful dream. 

The second the hand grasped Brienne’s arm, she woke up with a jolt. She tried sitting up but failed to do so because of the hold on her elbow. She had forgotten where she was, and her brain ran through dozens of circumstances. Had Podrick fallen asleep during his watch and she was now being attacked? Had she fallen asleep during her watch, causing her to be assaulted with no one to rescue her this time? Opening her eyes within milliseconds, she realized she was in her own room, the hand holding her in place was Miranda’s, but her heart was still beating faster than it ever had, this time caused by panic and fear.

Feeling the knight jerk, Miranda groaned at the sudden movement, “Hmm…” The constable knew what she was doing when she moved closer, hiding behind her perceived innocence. After everything last night, Miranda knew the feelings she had toward Brienne were more than friendly, but she was unsure of how the knight felt. Testing the waters, Miranda released Brienne’s elbow and allowed her hand to drift up the woman’s forearm, resting it atop the knights. At the same time, she moved her head to rest on Brienne’s bicep, so she could look at the knight when she opened her eyes. The constable was more than satisfied with herself, knowing she had done all of this under the guise of being half asleep.

Brienne was unsure what sort of feelings she felt for the constable, all she knew was that she found the sleeping woman in the bed next to her incredibly captivating and endearing. She was the complete opposite of the knight, yet they were the same in many ways. Their sense of duty being one of many things they shared. She didn’t know much about attraction or romantic emotions, all that she knew was the intense urge she had right now. Believing Miranda to still be unconscious in a way, she allowed herself to give in to them.

The knight gazed down at the woman that was resting on her bicep, her light-blonde locks falling softly over her slightly tanned skin. She looked so uninhibited like this, so soft, so angelic. The sun peeked through the blinds, casting her face in the beautiful morning glow, making Miranda look ethereal to Brienne.

She really couldn’t help herself once her free arm moved to the constable’s face to lightly remove the stray hairs from her companion’s face. The Lord Commander wanted to study every single inch of the sleeping woman’s face whilst she was still slumbering, not having any opportunity to fully do so without Miranda being aware of it. She had to take advantage of the rare situation she had found herself in.

She could spend hours watching Miranda’s untroubled face, it allowed her to take in her entirety. The way her mouth was moderately agape, her eyelashes full and lush against her velvety skin, and her cheek pressed against her upper arm caused Brienne to feel every single exhale of hot breath from the seemingly asleep woman.

The knight’s eyes lingered on the constable’s plump lips and the sudden yearning to lean down, and kiss them invaded the Lord Commander’s thoughts, which broke her intentional observation, leaving her extremely bewildered. She had no clue about what it all meant, never had she felt this way before and she swiftly looked away, retracting her hand as well to its original place so her mind wouldn’t confuse her even more. 

Miranda had felt the Lord Commander’s hand, assuming her eyes had been on her as well. With a long sigh and stretch of her limbs, Miranda pushed her arm even further across Brienne’s body, wrapping her arm fully around the knight so her hand rested on the other woman’s side. Nuzzling her face into Brienne’s arm, Miranda then looked up sleepily, gazing at the knight through heavy eyes. The constable hummed happily when she saw the woman’s face, there were so many ways to describe her, but Miranda knew they all were synonymous with the word ‘beautiful.’

Eyes now fully open, Miranda studied the knight’s face, unable to stop the spread of a smile. She had a sneaking suspicion Brienne returned her feelings, but she had no proof of the assumption. Miranda attempted to hide her smile by pushing her face against Brienne’s bicep, but she simply couldn’t stop the reaction. She was lovestruck.

Brienne could only hope that Miranda hadn’t been awake long enough to feel her touch on her face when she opened her eyes, blue eyes shining as brightly as her gorgeous smile. The knight could only be allayed when the constable moved closer when she realized she was tangled up with the ‘Beast of Tarth.’ The Lord Commander’s voice was riddled with sleep, it was groggy and deep, almost a low vibration, “Good morning, Miranda.”

The constable was speechless, unable to form any words as she stared up at the knight. The smile persisted, her cheeks growing red, but Miranda made no attempt to hide this from her companion. Instead, she just kept studying the other woman’s face. Her fingers began dancing along Brienne’s side, making slow circles, knowing full well that she was probably making the other woman the tiniest bit nervous.

When the constable didn’t answer and her face grew red, Brienne’s face shifted into one of concern, her brows drawn together in worry, “Do you feel quite alright? Are you ill?” 

Sighing, Miranda shook her head, mouth agape and still smiling as she searched for the right words, “No- no... I’m alright.” The constable paused for a moment, dipping her face down to press her forehead against the knight's shoulder before looking back up once more, “You are... just so- so...” With her final words, Miranda shook her head, her smile dying down into something gentler and more genuine. Her eyes found Brienne’s, hoping the other woman understood the feelings she had. 

Drawing all the wrong conclusions way too fast, Brienne couldn’t help but feel a deep disappointment and sadness, hiding it extremely well despite how excruciating the pain was. She was sure Miranda’s next words were something to mock her, something to express just how nausea-inducing she was. That did not make any sense for the knight considering all the compliments and touches, all the glances, and all the grazes. Made no sense considering the constable had promised that she was genuine in her words. But it was the only path the Lord Commander’s brain knew how to take, unable to understand that anyone could be anything but repulsed by her in the end.

She put on a detached tone to hide how hurt she actually was before attempting to wiggle her way out of Miranda’s body lock, “It’s alright, no need to say anything. I understand, Constable Hilmarson. I am going to go see if the door is unlocked… I’m quite hungry…”

Miranda couldn’t help but be slightly offended by the knight’s words as she thought so confidently that Brienne returned her feelings. Rather than allow Brienne to slip from her grasp, the constable moved quickly, bringing her body half atop Brienne to look directly down at her, “I don’t. I don’t understand, Brienne.” 

Not often did Miranda utilize her more confrontational side, but she was angry at Brienne’s behavior, truly not understanding how the other woman could reject her so easily, “I thought- Ha, I actually thought you...” With a sigh, Miranda separated herself from the knight, allowing the other woman to go where she pleased, “I apologize.” She knew that her words meandered, probably becoming just as confusing as the constable’s own thoughts. 

Brienne didn’t even know where to begin with the constable’s heartfelt words. She had really fucked it up this time, hadn’t she? Her insecurities and the constant nagging voice in her head had gotten the best of her, and this time she had assumed wrong. Dead wrong.

Needing some distance to get her mind and thoughts in check, the knight sprung up from the bed, checking the door only for it to still be locked. So, she settled with moving to pace about the room, knowing that she couldn’t remove herself from the unpleasant situation like she ordinarily did to avoid causing a scene, but it seemed like Lucifer had other plans.

She didn’t even have any plans on what she would say, she just needed to get every single thought out of her head, before it ate her up from the inside and her head exploded from the incessant stream of self-hating comments. 

“You don’t understand? Well, that makes two of us, because neither do I. I can not comprehend a single emotion inside of me, all of them have been foreign since the day before yesterday. Nothing makes sense anymore, nothing fits together. Everything I have learned to assume about the world, about people and their inevitable view of me has been completely shattered since I met you, and it’s making me rethink everything I’ve ever known.” The knight’s hands were frantically combing through her messy hair, practically pulling at it as she breathed heavily, pacing nervously around her chambers. This wasn’t usually how she would deal with intense emotional distress, but it wasn’t usual for her to have intense non-professional emotions or a vigorous longing to kiss someone of the same sex, so there was a first thing for everything.

“Mannish, unfeminine, ‘unconventional’, too tall, TOO MUCH... I’ve heard it all. I know what it’s like... to not- to not fit, Bri. I’m not- I’m not interested in hurting you. You want to know what I was going to say? You are so...” Miranda sat up in bed, gesturing passionately from the anger and disappointment she felt, somewhat ignoring the positive attributes Brienne has prescribed to her. The constable was so overwhelmed by her thoughts and emotions she needed to pause at times, wincing as she did, “...wonderful... and brave... and thoughtful and intelligent... and so, so beautiful.” With sad eyes, Miranda gazed up at the knight, knowing the woman probably hadn’t believed a word she said, “I had assumed that you... Most people don’t find me to be anything... special, so I must have just read too much into things. I’m sorry if I have made you uncomfortable.”

The knight’s ears were peaked now. She stopped her pacing, moving up to the bedside, kneeling on the floor in front of Miranda, timid, gentle, and tentative hands reached out to grab hold of the constable’s, “You are special, Mirandy. You have made me feel many things, uncomfortable, yes, but also safe, and happy, and worried, and concerned, and endeared, and sad, and impressed, and proud, and many, many more things.” She was as genuine as she could be, needing her companion to trust every single word. She was shyer in her next ones, never had she heard anyone refer to her in such a way, “Do you really think so?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Miranda wiped at the tears Brienne had caused with her kind words, letting out a small laugh to ease the tension she felt, “You make me dizzy ‘cause you are so attractive.”

Brienne’s hands flew up to hold Miranda’s face, wiping away the rest of the tears with her thumbs. She let them remain on the constable’s soft cheeks and the knight smiled up at her companion with tear-filled eyes. “Good. Because I feel the same about you. I think that you are so gorgeous and stunning. So brave, knowledgeable, clever as well. Angelic, and ethereal. You never fail to amaze me. And you are so incredibly pretty…” The Lord Commander never thought she would speak these thoughts out loud, but it seemed like she was, many atypical events had gone down; why not add to the growing pile?

The constable turned her face into Brienne’s right hand, pressing a kiss into the woman’s palm as the tears subsided, “Bri... For being so serious sometimes, you really are a poet, huh?” Miranda couldn’t help but tease, the seriousness of the moment becoming slightly overwhelming for her. She quickly returned the sentiment, not wanting the knight to feel like she wasn’t being vulnerable, “I love your hands and shoulders and- and that face. I love that face.” Raising her hand to grasp Brienne’s face in her hand, squeezing lightly and maintaining intense eye contact so the Lord Commander felt the full extent of her words. Miranda moved her hand from its place holding Brienne’s cheeks for her fingers to brush across various parts of the knight’s face. “Those eyes, that nose, this jaw, that sweet little scar...” The constable’s fingers danced over Brienne’s cheekbones, down her nose, trailing down her jaw, and swiping across her lips, “You are so gorgeous.” 

Brienne chuckled gently at Miranda’s teasing words, knowing she wasn’t usually so lyrical, “Guess I’ve picked up a few things from all the bards in different taverns and inns I’ve visited…” The knight couldn’t help the giant smile that emerged on her lips, or the blush, or the way her eyes flicked down to the constable’s lips before moving back up to her intense blue eyes, “I return every single one of those observations, just so you know.”

“I really think you shou-” Miranda wanted to urge Brienne to kiss her, but the turning of the bedroom door’s lock and the creaking of the door made the constable stop her sentence short. 

With wide eyes, the constable stared down at the knight, hands falling to the woman’s shoulders. Her heart was pounding from Lucifer’s voice reverberating through the house, “Come down. It is time for you to finish your final task.” Miranda could have sworn she felt an eeriness to the Lightbringer’s voice. Nothing good was to come from the next few hours. 

Brienne’s hands landed to rest on Miranda’s knees, “We should continue this later… Time to face the music.” The knight stood up and offered a hand for the constable to grab onto, “Come on. Don’t be intimidated by them, I will keep you safe. And whatever is to come, we will do it together, I will not leave your side, I swear.”

Miranda took Brienne’s hand, helping herself to her feet before releasing it, following in the knight’s footsteps towards the exit to the room, “You probably won’t need it, but… ditto.”

Larissa groaned in her bed, tossing the duvet over her head and pretending for a fraction of a second that she hadn’t heard any of that. Perhaps if she ignored it, Lucifer would just go away. Rather than test her theory, Larissa gave herself a few more seconds of peace before throwing the covers back. 

Within seconds, Phasma was up from her spot against the wall. The slamming of Larissa’s door echoed through the quiet house, her boisterous voice sounding as she screamed, angry steps thudding on the floor as she passed Brienne’s room, “I’m coming for you, bitch! I will not allow you to run away this time, Cockifer!” After that, there was silence, the captain probably having reached her destination and was in the process of confronting Lucifer for the second time within twelve hours.

The headmistress only rolled her eyes at the captain’s behavior, beginning to leisurely walk around her room, readying herself for the day. 

Brienne and Miranda stopped in front of the door when they heard Phasma pass the door, the knight’s hand frozen in the middle of reaching out for the door handle. With all that had gone down, both of them had completely forgotten to wonder how everything had gone for their co-players, but it seemed that they were both alive and well considering the captain’s… lively morning mood.

When the constable and knight finally made their way to the kitchen, the scene that they were met with was tense, to say the least. Phasma was standing closer to Lucifer than the two women deemed pleasant, the captain’s face mere centimeters from the Lightbringer’s. Her anger was evident, she was fuming, and Miranda could swear she could see the steam radiating from the trooper’s person. Her blood was boiling, and anyone that was face to face with the captain would have folded, died, perished, fainted, ran away with their tail tucked between their legs immediately, yet the Morningstar seemed unbothered, completely unaffected by the warrior’s death stare.

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving. I am to help you with your final challenge.” Lucifer seemed to be pleased with Phasma’s anger, always amused by how much rage could fit into one human body. They clasped their hands, looming over the captain with the faintest of smiles gracing their lips, “Where is your pretty little companion?”

Phasma huffed an amused laugh, “I don’t know about pretty, but Principal Weems is up in her room doing- How the hell am I supposed to know? I’m not her fucking babysitter.” The captain started her answer as serious before transitioning to an angry tone; why was she expected to know what her teammate was doing? It wasn’t any of her business, and frankly, she didn’t find it important for her to keep in mind.

“I’m coming…” Larissa huffed as she descended the stairs. She certainly wasn’t going to meet today’s challenge without a certain degree of togetherness. The headmistress ignored the words of the captain, knowing damn well that woman wouldn’t admit Larissa was attractive even if her life depended on it. 

Brienne and Miranda had yet to move from their place in the archway, and the knight had subconsciously moved to place a protective hand on the constable’s shoulder as the Lightbringer’s and captain’s staring competition had evolved in front of them. 

Larissa’s voice sounding behind them made both women return to reality, and Brienne’s hand removed itself from the constable’s shoulder to cross across her chest together with her other arm. Miranda turned her head to look at the shapeshifter, ready to wish her a good morning. She wanted to check in on her, and see what riddles she and Phasma had to solve.

Making eye contact with Miranda, the headmistress redirected her path, needing to check on her previous companion’s state, “Miranda! Are you okay?” The shapeshifter brought a hand to the constable’s shoulder, the other holding the woman’s face in her hand as to tilt Miranda’s head about to check her over. “Where did you disappear to?”

Miranda chuckled at the protective grip of the headmistress, allowing the woman to survey her current state as she spoke, “I was put in a room by myself, but I escaped and found Brienne! We had to solve a whole puzzle and then we crawled through a hatch into Brienne’s room. Bri was incredible. You should have seen her. Apparently, Bri has this sword-”

The knight couldn’t help the cheeky smile on her face as the constable raved on, a tiny bit embarrassed at how much Miranda bragged about her and how the day before had gone.

Larissa’s inquisitive gaze made Miranda stop her sentence short, realizing just how many times she had said the other woman’s name in such a short time. Redirecting her thoughts, the constable spoke quieter this time, “I’m okay, Riss. Thank you for asking.”

“Of course.” The headmistress smirked at the constable, her eyes glancing over to Brienne to lock eyes with the knight for a moment. She had heard and seen everything she needed to in order to know that some type of spark existed between the two women. Larissa dropped her hand away from Miranda’s face and squeezed the woman’s shoulder before stepping away, coming to stand at Phasma’s side, seriously displeased with the Lightbringer, but not for the same reason as the captain, “You couldn’t have given us a time to be ready by? I look a mess.”

This comment made Phasma snort a scoff, but decided to keep her comment to herself, opting against creating another scene so early in the morning, she needed her coffee before any type of bickering with the headmistress. The captain moved to brew her coffee, not bothering to ask if anyone else wanted any, “So, what’s next in your house of torment, shitbringer? Will you tell us to go sit around a campfire and sing kumbaya next? ‘Cause that might actually make me lose all of my kriffing sanity…”

“Oh, no. I just need you all to pick two individuals to represent your group.” Lucifer glanced around at each of the women, keeping their cards close to their chest. It was hard to even tell what they were thinking, let alone what they had planned for them all.

Brienne, who had sworn to not leave Miranda’s side, watched Lucifer nervously, deciding to voice the question that was burning on her tongue, “Like, one from each duo, or two from the entirety of our group?”

“Mmm… From each duo, perhaps? Yes, I quite like that.” The Morningstar seemed to be making things up as they went along, but they were quite aware of all the goings-on from the past morning. Their eyes lingered on Brienne, knowing the knight would be adverse to this idea of separating the groups.

For the first time in her life, Brienne refused to listen to instructions. She would not leave Miranda’s side, she had made a promise, and she would not break it. Not for anything. The knight shook her head, her tone filled with defiance as she expressed her disapproval, “No. I won’t leave the constable’s side. I don’t care. Come up with something else. I won’t do this if it means I’ll have to be separated from her.”

Phasma had now poured herself a cup of coffee, sipping it every now and then as she watched Brienne, and was rolling her eyes at how disgustingly knightly she was being, “Ugh, how nauseating… I’ll go from my duo. I will do anything to get away from Miss Drama Queen over there…”

“I can go,” Miranda spoke up, breaking Brienne’s promise for her. She sent an apologetic look the knight’s way and stepped forward, ready for whatever plans Lucifer had for her.

“What?” Brienne snapped her gaze from Lucifer to Miranda, her previous countenance and tone being replaced with shock, panic, worry, and desperation. She walked up to place a hand on the constable’s shoulder and leaned in to talk in her ear so her voice only reached the meant recipient's ears, “I won’t be able to keep you safe. Are you sure about this? You could end up in danger. Please, rethink this…” The knight was pleading with her companion, they had no idea what the Lightbringer had planned. They didn’t know if it was safer to stay or to volunteer, they knew absolutely nothing, and the Lord Commander was terrified.

“Someone has to go. It can be me. I- I’m not scared.” Miranda somewhat lied through her teeth, but she put on a brave face in front of the others in the room. Glancing at Larissa over Brienne’s shoulder, Miranda saw the shapeshifter’s heavy gaze on the two women and assumed Lucifer and Phasma may have been staring as well. Stepping away from Brienne’s touch and into Lucifer’s line of sight, Miranda spoke firmly, “What will the challenge be?”

“Let’s get started and you will see, hm?” Lucifer was clearly pleased with themselves as they slowly blinked, the surroundings changing completely. Miranda and Phasma now sat strapped to chairs at the bottom of the swimming pool which had now been emptied. With a swift flick of their hand, water started flowing from the pool’s jets. The Morningstar bowed their head, speaking before vanishing once more, “Hopefully, the knight and shapeshifter are diligent enough to save you.”

Appearing back in the kitchen to the confused faces of Larissa and Brienne, the knight way more panicked than the headmistress after seeing Miranda disappear for a second time, the Lightbringer gave the women a verbal clue, “It will take all your combined knowledge and strength to save your companions. What is down is now up and what was up is now down. Four enter and four must exit. The key to escaping lies close to your heart.”

Lucifer then vanished, the game was now afoot. 

The headmistress glanced about the kitchen, eyes searching for anything out of the ordinary, “It’s too early for this. What is down is now up? What does that even mean?” Larissa moved into the attached living room, hoping she would see some obvious sign of what the ominous riddle could mean, “Key to escaping lies close to your heart? I mean, honestly…”

Brienne was trying her best to not let herself get overtaken by overwhelming worry, but it was creeping up faster than she would’ve liked it to, and it would taint all of her devices, so she had to work fast, and get all of her ideas out. The knight started thinking back to the room with the paintings, how brave Miranda had been, and how she had to do this for her. She just had to keep putting herself in the constable’s mindset, and she would surely solve it, and save her companion, wherever she was. 

“Down is now up, and up is now down, probably means that everything is turned around, would be my guess. If we find something that uses ‘up,’ ‘down,’ ‘below,’ ‘above,’ etc. I would say that we think the opposite of what it says. The fourth part is most definitely referring to us, and the key to escaping that lies close to our hearts has to do with morals, or ethics, or emotions, or feelings, or something. I actually have no clue.” Even if Brienne and the headmistress had gotten off on the wrong foot, the knight knew she needed to cooperate with the shapeshifter if they wanted to find their teammates. The Lord Commander had worked with worse people than Principal Weems, if she had collaborated with Jaime Lannister, Larissa was sure to be a walk in the park.

“Up and down, down and up.” Larissa kept repeating, sweeping through the living room and pacing up and down the hallways of the home. Before there was more direction with the clues, or at least Larissa thought so considering the newest clues they had been given. Walking down the hall, Larissa held up her hands to the glass door that led out to the pool area, spotting Lucifer as they smiled down at the pool, “Brienne! Lucifer is outside!”

The knight practically sprinted to Larissa where she stood, seeing Lucifer’s stupid smile herself. Brienne was a patient woman, but taking Miranda away from her not once, but twice? She was on her last straw, and the lightbringer was walking on it very thinly. She could feel it breaking, and she didn’t know what she would do if it did, “What the- I hate to say this, but I am seeing where Captain Phasma is coming from right now… I really want to wipe that cocky smile off of their face…”

The headmistress hummed in agreement, quickly grasping at the handle before retracting her hand immediately, hissing in pain, “...Shit.” The handle was red hot, leaving Larissa biting her bottom lip to keep herself from crying. Cradling her hand in the other, the shapeshifter took a step back, glancing about the hallway for any clue as to how to escape the home, “There has to be another way out.” 

Mumbling to herself, Brienne went through the verbal clue over and over, “‘What is down is now up and what was up is now down. Four enter and four must exit. The key to escaping lies close to your heart…’” She looked around whilst she murmured, looking for something that would fit any of the words she was uttering. She could feel the despair sneaking up on her, and she didn’t know what she would do if she didn’t find Miranda safe. She hoped she wouldn’t find out.

Passing by a large mirror, Larissa glanced into it for a moment, eyes widening at the sight before her; the mirror didn’t exactly reflect her settings as they were, “What’s up is down, what down is up.” Everything in the mirror was flipped upside down. The headmistress reached out a hand, the glass of the mirror trembling and rippling like she had touched water, “Oh, dear... Look at this, Brienne.” 

“Hmm?” Ripping herself out of her mantra, Brienne moved over to stand next to Larissa, seeing the mirror behave like a liquid, leaving her extremely perplexed, “Pardon my language, but what in the absolute hell is this.” The knight’s words weren’t a question, more like a befuddled statement to the universe. 

The shapeshifter couldn’t help herself but pressed her hand into the mirror even harder, a gasp escaping her when her hand passed through the glass completely. Quickly, Larissa retracted her hand with a gasp, checking her hand all over to make sure she hadn’t been injured. When she saw she was perfectly fine, the headmistress shook her head, assuming she knew what had to be done, “I think we need to go through it...” She was tense, a concerned look plastered on her face as she glanced back at the knight. 

The knight met the headmistress’ eyes, glancing at the mirror now turned gateway before sighing, “Oh, Gods.” Moving closer to the mirror, Brienne stepped in front of Larissa, turning her head over her shoulder to look back at the shapeshifter, “I’ll go first, stay close behind me.”

“Mhmm..” Larissa hummed and nodded, gulping as she watched the knight disappear. With closed eyes and a deep breath, Larissa followed in Brienne’s footsteps, disappearing behind the mirror as well. 

“Lucifer! What is going on?” Miranda shouted, twisting against her restraints as the water began rising past her ankles. There was truly no way of escaping. With every jerk and attempt to struggle, the restraints only grew tighter around her, “Please, what do we do to escape?”

Phasma, who was sitting across from Miranda, had already started to attempt different escape tactics. She was now in the process of wiggling her wrists out of the ropes tied securely around her wrists, torso, and ankles, “We probably have to wait for our companions to come and save us if I had to guess,” the captain monotoned. She was an extremely forward person, and didn’t do anything to ease the intensity of her words, or beat around the bush.

“Where are they? Where is Brienne?” Miranda called up to the Lightbringer once more, but the fallen angel only looked down at her with a shake of their head. They turned around and strode away from the pool, out of the line of sight of the two restrained women. 

“Probably, ahh,” Phasma gasped in relief as she pulled her wrists free from the tight ropes, hands gently massaging them before she moved to the binds around her midsection. “Probably still solving one of Jerkingstar’s signature obscurely stupid riddles.”

The constable’s eyes turned up to the edge of the pool, the wings of the Lightbringer visible before their face. Miranda lowered her gaze, knowing Lucifer would be displeased at Phasma attempting to escape before they were ready for the challenge to be over. The fallen angel’s voice echoed throughout the open space of the barely filled pool, “Leaving so soon? I thought we were having fun... You are only going to make it more challenging for you to be saved.” Lucifer raised a hand, displaying a twisting motion with their pointer and ring fingers, causing chains to rise from the pool floor, wrapping and winding themselves around the captain, “Patience is a virtue, Captain.”

The captain roared in aggravation and bitterness. Not once did Lucifer express that trying to free oneself was forbidden. The lightbringer shackled up Phasma once again after she had successfully untied her wrists vexed her immensely, “You never said we weren’t allowed to try to escape ourselves. If those were the rules, maybe you’d do best to clarify them the next time, asshole.”

“Next time? I knew you liked these games. It’s good to know you would like to stick around for a while. I’ll keep that in mind.” Lucifer gave a benevolent nod, leaving the field of vision of the two women once more. 

Grumbling to herself, Phasma knew that chains would be harder to get out of, but she had done it once before, and she could do it again, “I will kill you, you son of a kriffing bitch…” She looked down at her body, assessing how grave the situation was. The ropes around her waist and ankles had been replaced by metal links, and her wrists were once again restrained, the cold steel hard, and uncomfortable on her skin.

“You are going to kill an immortal being? Oh, shut it.” Miranda snapped, glaring over at the captain. The constable rolled her eyes before fixing them back on the rising water, thoughts returning back to Brienne and where she could be or what she was going through right now. Desperately, she wanted this entire ordeal over so she could be back in the knight’s arms once more. 

Phasma glared back at Miranda, “Yes. And after I have killed an ‘immortal being,’ I will kill a cop, who just happens to be a knight’s little pet…” The captain hoped that would intimidate the constable enough that it would shut her up so she could focus on freeing her wrists for the second time. She bit down on her lip, preparing to dislocate her thumb to get out of the chains.

“What in the absolute hell is this?” Larissa’s eyes searched their new reality after stepping out into the mirrored universe. Truly everything had been flipped. They were standing on what had been the ceiling with furniture and decor all fastened overhead. What was up was certainly down and what was down was certainly up.

The knight didn’t pay much attention to the headmistress’ words, or the place they had ended up in. She had heard distant voices, one that sounded an awful lot like Phasma’s growl. She didn’t know if that was where Miranda was, but it was the only thing she had to go on. She began walking away from Larissa, following the voice like she was hypnotized.

The minute she stepped outside, she saw Phasma first, tied up in chains, and eventually, her eyes landed on a familiar form, Miranda. “Andy!” She didn’t even think, the fight and protect response taking over, as she dove head first into the pool, swimming over to the constable, her eyes scanning the cop’s body, gauging the situation and her manacles, “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“No, no, I’m okay.” Miranda couldn’t stop smiling. From the point in which Brienne’s face appeared from over the pool’s edge to when she dove into the water to the sight of her soaked form resurfacing in front of her, the gravity of the constable’s situation seemed to evaporate. All Miranda wanted was her hands to be free so she could toss them around the knight’s neck so she could hug her and never let go, “What happened? Are you okay?”

The knight’s hand started to erratically and adroitly remove Miranda’s restraints, wanting to get her out of that pool as soon as possible, “I’ll tell you everything later, but I am fine. For now, let’s get you out of these.”

At hearing Brienne’s voice, seeing her dive into the water, and helping Miranda, Phasma rolled her eyes and sighed, her voice flatter than a plane landing strip, “Oh goody… It’s the knight in shining armor.” Suddenly, Larissa’s face showed up by the pool’s edge, “And the pin-up doll. Oh, rejoice, we’re all saved. Yippee.”

“Couldn’t escape? I thought you were the mighty Phasma?” Larissa challenged, her arms folding in front of her chest as she smiled down at the captain. Phasma’s face was just keeping above the water level and the headmistress knew she would enjoy making the captain suffer for a few moments longer. 

“I did.” Phasma looked awfully calm for the predicament she was stuck in, having acquainted herself with death a long time ago, “But Pussifer thought it would be funny to re-tie me up. I don’t need you to save me. I would rather die.”

“Okay.” The headmistress then sat at the pool's edge, staring down at the captain indifferently, ready to let her die out of spite. Larissa felt as if she was doing the galaxy a favor anyway, so she had no qualms with her controversial decision. Looking away from the captain, Larissa began to observe Miranda being saved by Brienne, bringing a soft smile to the headmistress’ lips. 

“Larissa! What are you doing? Help Phasma!” Miranda croaked, her chin extending upwards to keep water from entering her mouth. Despite the consistent verbal abuse she had endured from the captain, the constable didn’t think it fair to let the woman die like this. 

“She said she would rather die. I’m just doing as she asks.”

The knight undid the last of Miranda’s binds, picked her up, and escorted her over to the edge of the pool where Larissa was sitting. She lifted the constable up so she could sit on the edge, making sure she was safe before swimming over to Phasma, “If you won’t save her, I will. I will not allow you to let her die out of pure pettiness, you are not a child, you are an adult, behave as such.”

Larissa only shrugged, not making any effort to move or help the knight in any manner. The constable grumbled in frustration, only waiting seconds before diving back into the pool, knowing full well the chains wrapped extensively around the captain's form. There was no way the knight could save her without help. 

Seeing and feeling the constable swim up beside her as she judged the captain’s chain condition, “Mir, what- You should really not exert yourself after such an emotionally, psychologically, and physically distressing situation. Your body might go into shock.”

“If we break her chair, it will be easier for her to break free from the chains.” The constable fully ignored the knight’s overprotective statements, giving the knight direction before diving under the surface of the water. Time was of the essence and there was no room for the women to debate Miranda’s fitness to help in saving the captain. 

“Yeah. You should probably listen to your girlfriend, Brienny…” Even when in the process of being saved, Phasma did not care what she said, and to whom she said it, even if it meant that she would die a slow, painful death by drowning. However, she knew that neither Brienne nor Miranda would let her die, despite the words she spoke.

Brienne caught a glimpse of a lock on Phasma’s mid-section, seeing that all chains were locked in place and connected by it. Which meant there had to be a key somewhere, “She’s not my girlfriend,” she mumbled. The knight reached a hand down to Miranda’s submerged back, tapping it as a signal for her to surface so she could tell her about the padlock.

The constable released her grip on the captain’s chair, swimming her way to the surface as Brienne wished, “What? What’s happening?”

The knight pointed to the industrial steel padlock that held all of Phasma’s chains in place, “Padlock. We need to find the key if there is to be any chance of getting her out of these chains.” Brienne went through her memories, trying to remember if she had seen any key that could be important, that’s when she recalled the last part of the earlier riddle, “The key to escaping lies close to your heart! That must be it!”

“Awh, they are dating,” Larissa cooed from the pool’s edge, realizing the last part of the riddle must have been referring to the budding romance between the two women. She was more so teasing Brienne, adding to Phasma’s earlier comments. 

“What? What are you talking about?” Miranda’s gaze turned from Brienne to Larissa and back again, unsure of what was going on. The constable’s eyes flickered down to her own chest, wondering how the key to anything could be close to her heart, ”Bri, I’m so confused.”

“I will explain later, darling.” The knight smiled softly at Miranda before turning her head to glare and scowl at Larissa, “And will you please swallow your pride and immaturity, and help! Go look for the damned key!” Brienne was using all of her upper body strength to keep Phasma’s head above the water, the steel chains weighing the captain down, making her much heavier than she would’ve been during normal circumstances in water. 

“I don’t need to look for it. Miranda has it.” Larissa laughed, leaning back as she shook her head, unable to believe the knight hadn’t put it all together, “The last part of the riddle was for you, silly.”

Brienne narrowed her eyes at the shapeshifter, not entirely okay or comfortable with Larissa’s reaction or the name the headmistress had called her. She opted to not say anything, to only focus on freeing Phasma. She moved her gaze to Miranda, her expression and eyes softening instantly after seeing the constable’s soothing face, “Is what Weems said true? Did you find anything, Mir?”

Miranda’s hands searched her shirt, not finding anything until she dipped a hand in the collar of her shirt, fingertips making contact with the metal of a key attached to her bra strap. Her eyes opened wide as she yanked the key out from inside her shirt, handing it over to Brienne, “Is this supposed to be this easy? What’s the catch?”

The knight’s gentle fingers took hold of the key, quickly inserting it into the padlock, pleased when it fit perfectly, “It seems too easy, I agree. I suggest that we all stay on guard until we leave this wretched place and are safely back in our rooms.” With a quick twist of her wrist, the lock opened. Brienne’s hand removed it from one of the chain’s links, throwing it up onto land before untwisting the metal binds around Phasma’s wrists, and mid-section, allowing Miranda to take care of the ones around her ankles.

The captain had not said a word since her comment on Miranda being Brienne’s ‘girlfriend,’ and the expression on her face was unreadable. At the same time that she was unhappy about having to be saved, she was also relieved in some odd way. In no way, shape, or form would she express this, but a tiny, singular cell in her body was grateful for the knight and constable’s rescue mission, even if it was unwanted.

As the chains sunk to the bottom of the pool, Brienne ushered Phasma to the edge of the pool, assisting the captain up onto land, before turning around and collecting Miranda, hoisting her up onto the edge of the pool once again, before finally heaving herself up.

“Good work,” Lucifer cooed, giving the women a final glance before vanishing once more. 

“You’re still alive?” Larissa looked directly into the captain’s eyes with an incredible amount of disdain. With a sigh and roll of her eyes, the headmistress strode away towards the home, not necessarily interested in anything the captain had to say. Her statement was more directed at letting Phasma know how much she was hated by the headmistress.

Phasma stood up from the place the knight had placed her on, she gave Brienne a quick nod, which was the closest to a ‘thank you’ one would ever get from the captain, before moving away from Miranda and the Lord Commander to take off her shirt, being left in her sports bra only, squeezing the water out of the cloth. 

Brienne elevated to her full height, standing up and reaching out a hand for Miranda to grab, helping her up to a standing position as well. The knight was dripping. She was drenched from head to toe, and she was sure she looked like a wet rat with her slicked-back hair and soaked clothes.

“Are you okay?” The constable’s hand drifted up to the knight’s face, pushing its way along her cheek and up to her hair to push the wet locks away from her forehead. Her eyes lingered on Brienne’s for only a moment before drifting downwards, recognizing how tightly Brienne’s clothes clung to her body. Miranda licked her lips, knowing she should have attempted to hide the way she was staring at the knight, but she simply couldn’t help herself.

The knight didn’t seem to notice Miranda’s hungry eyes, the only thing she could think was that the constable was finally safe. She took the cop’s face in her hands, holding her cheeks gently as she gazed sweetly into her eyes. She then placed them on her shoulders, pulling the woman towards her to envelop her in a hug, “Oh Gods, yes. Now that you are back in my arms, I am. Gods, I was so worried.” Brienne pulled back to look the Aussie woman sternly in the eyes, “Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?” Even if her words were fierce, the relief on her face never wavered.

Hands shifting to Brienne’s cheeks, Miranda pushed her forehead against Brienne’s, locking eyes with the other women, “I always want you to be my knight in shining armor, but we make a good team, remember?” Her thumbs stroked gently across the knight’s tanned skin, the constable’s eyes not leaving the knight’s for a moment. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be so forgiving. And I do remember. Could not stop thinking about it as we tried to find you and Phasma. Kept putting myself in your mindset, and kept thinking about what you would do if you were in my situation. I’m so glad you’re safe…” Brienne’s clothes that were sticking to her body were starting to get chilly, and she could only imagine that Miranda’s were as well, they had to get inside and get warmed up fast unless they wanted to catch a cold. “We should get inside, back to our reality, get you warmed up. A hot shower and some dry clothes. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“That- that sounds perfect, but-” Miranda’s eyes dropped down momentarily, mind considering the thought of Brienne naked or the pleasure of showering with her. Shaking the thought from her mind, the constable brought her eyes back up to Brienne’s, her breathing became heavy as her nerves began to build. She needed to kiss her. She needed to kiss the knight. 

Brienne furrowed her brows, a puzzled look on her face, “But?”

With a final deep breath to build herself up, Miranda pushed her lips towards Brienne’s, pulling the knight down at the same time. Her mind was racing, the feeling of anticipation nearly making her heart beat out of her chest. The Aussie woman felt the knight’s breath ghost over her lips when the harsh voice of Captain Phasma caused her to pull back.

[atotc-weekly]

Book the Second—The Golden Thread

[X] Chapter XIV. The Honest Tradesman

To the eyes of Mr. Jeremiah Cruncher, sitting on his stool in Fleet-street with his grisly urchin beside him, a vast number and variety of objects in movement were every day presented. Who could sit upon anything in Fleet-street during the busy hours of the day, and not be dazed and deafened by two immense processions, one ever tending westward with the sun, the other ever tending eastward from the sun, both ever tending to the plains beyond the range of red and purple where the sun goes down!

With his straw in his mouth, Mr. Cruncher sat watching the two streams, like the heathen rustic who has for several centuries been on duty watching one stream—saving that Jerry had no expectation of their ever running dry. Nor would it have been an expectation of a hopeful kind, since a small part of his income was derived from the pilotage of timid women (mostly of a full habit and past the middle term of life) from Tellson’s side of the tides to the opposite shore. Brief as such companionship was in every separate instance, Mr. Cruncher never failed to become so interested in the lady as to express a strong desire to have the honour of drinking her very good health. And it was from the gifts bestowed upon him towards the execution of this benevolent purpose, that he recruited his finances, as just now observed.

Time was, when a poet sat upon a stool in a public place, and mused in the sight of men. Mr. Cruncher, sitting on a stool in a public place, but not being a poet, mused as little as possible, and looked about him.

It fell out that he was thus engaged in a season when crowds were few, and belated women few, and when his affairs in general were so unprosperous as to awaken a strong suspicion in his breast that Mrs. Cruncher must have been “flopping” in some pointed manner, when an unusual concourse pouring down Fleet-street westward, attracted his attention. Looking that way, Mr. Cruncher made out that some kind of funeral was coming along, and that there was popular objection to this funeral, which engendered uproar.

“Young Jerry,” said Mr. Cruncher, turning to his offspring, “it’s a buryin’.”

“Hooroar, father!” cried Young Jerry.

The young gentleman uttered this exultant sound with mysterious significance. The elder gentleman took the cry so ill, that he watched his opportunity, and smote the young gentleman on the ear.

“What d’ye mean? What are you hooroaring at? What do you want to conwey to your own father, you young Rip? This boy is a getting too many for me!” said Mr. Cruncher, surveying him. “Him and his hooroars! Don’t let me hear no more of you, or you shall feel some more of me. D’ye hear?”

“I warn’t doing no harm,” Young Jerry protested, rubbing his cheek.

“Drop it then,” said Mr. Cruncher; “I won’t have none of your no harms. Get a top of that there seat, and look at the crowd.”

His son obeyed, and the crowd approached; they were bawling and hissing round a dingy hearse and dingy mourning coach, in which mourning coach there was only one mourner, dressed in the dingy trappings that were considered essential to the dignity of the position. The position appeared by no means to please him, however, with an increasing rabble surrounding the coach, deriding him, making grimaces at him, and incessantly groaning and calling out: “Yah! Spies! Tst! Yaha! Spies!” with many compliments too numerous and forcible to repeat.

Funerals had at all times a remarkable attraction for Mr. Cruncher; he always pricked up his senses, and became excited, when a funeral passed Tellson’s. Naturally, therefore, a funeral with this uncommon attendance excited him greatly, and he asked of the first man who ran against him:

“What is it, brother? What’s it about?”

“I don’t know,” said the man. “Spies! Yaha! Tst! Spies!”

He asked another man. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know,” returned the man, clapping his hands to his mouth nevertheless, and vociferating in a surprising heat and with the greatest ardour, “Spies! Yaha! Tst, tst! Spi—ies!”

At length, a person better informed on the merits of the case, tumbled against him, and from this person he learned that the funeral was the funeral of one Roger Cly.

“Was he a spy?” asked Mr. Cruncher.

“Old Bailey spy,” returned his informant. “Yaha! Tst! Yah! Old Bailey Spi—i—ies!”

“Why, to be sure!” exclaimed Jerry, recalling the Trial at which he had assisted. “I’ve seen him. Dead, is he?”

“Dead as mutton,” returned the other, “and can’t be too dead. Have ’em out, there! Spies! Pull ’em out, there! Spies!”

The idea was so acceptable in the prevalent absence of any idea, that the crowd caught it up with eagerness, and loudly repeating the suggestion to have ’em out, and to pull ’em out, mobbed the two vehicles so closely that they came to a stop. On the crowd’s opening the coach doors, the one mourner scuffled out by himself and was in their hands for a moment; but he was so alert, and made such good use of his time, that in another moment he was scouring away up a bye-street, after shedding his cloak, hat, long hatband, white pocket-handkerchief, and other symbolical tears.

These, the people tore to pieces and scattered far and wide with great enjoyment, while the tradesmen hurriedly shut up their shops; for a crowd in those times stopped at nothing, and was a monster much dreaded. They had already got the length of opening the hearse to take the coffin out, when some brighter genius proposed instead, its being escorted to its destination amidst general rejoicing. Practical suggestions being much needed, this suggestion, too, was received with acclamation, and the coach was immediately filled with eight inside and a dozen out, while as many people got on the roof of the hearse as could by any exercise of ingenuity stick upon it. Among the first of these volunteers was Jerry Cruncher himself, who modestly concealed his spiky head from the observation of Tellson’s, in the further corner of the mourning coach.

The officiating undertakers made some protest against these changes in the ceremonies; but, the river being alarmingly near, and several voices remarking on the efficacy of cold immersion in bringing refractory members of the profession to reason, the protest was faint and brief. The remodelled procession started, with a chimney-sweep driving the hearse—advised by the regular driver, who was perched beside him, under close inspection, for the purpose—and with a pieman, also attended by his cabinet minister, driving the mourning coach. A bear-leader, a popular street character of the time, was impressed as an additional ornament, before the cavalcade had gone far down the Strand; and his bear, who was black and very mangy, gave quite an Undertaking air to that part of the procession in which he walked.

Thus, with beer-drinking, pipe-smoking, song-roaring, and infinite caricaturing of woe, the disorderly procession went its way, recruiting at every step, and all the shops shutting up before it. Its destination was the old church of Saint Pancras, far off in the fields. It got there in course of time; insisted on pouring into the burial-ground; finally, accomplished the interment of the deceased Roger Cly in its own way, and highly to its own satisfaction.

The dead man disposed of, and the crowd being under the necessity of providing some other entertainment for itself, another brighter genius (or perhaps the same) conceived the humour of impeaching casual passers-by, as Old Bailey spies, and wreaking vengeance on them. Chase was given to some scores of inoffensive persons who had never been near the Old Bailey in their lives, in the realisation of this fancy, and they were roughly hustled and maltreated. The transition to the sport of window-breaking, and thence to the plundering of public-houses, was easy and natural. At last, after several hours, when sundry summer-houses had been pulled down, and some area-railings had been torn up, to arm the more belligerent spirits, a rumour got about that the Guards were coming. Before this rumour, the crowd gradually melted away, and perhaps the Guards came, and perhaps they never came, and this was the usual progress of a mob.

Mr. Cruncher did not assist at the closing sports, but had remained behind in the churchyard, to confer and condole with the undertakers. The place had a soothing influence on him. He procured a pipe from a neighbouring public-house, and smoked it, looking in at the railings and maturely considering the spot.

“Jerry,” said Mr. Cruncher, apostrophising himself in his usual way, “you see that there Cly that day, and you see with your own eyes that he was a young ’un and a straight made ’un.”

Having smoked his pipe out, and ruminated a little longer, he turned himself about, that he might appear, before the hour of closing, on his station at Tellson’s. Whether his meditations on mortality had touched his liver, or whether his general health had been previously at all amiss, or whether he desired to show a little attention to an eminent man, is not so much to the purpose, as that he made a short call upon his medical adviser—a distinguished surgeon—on his way back.

Young Jerry relieved his father with dutiful interest, and reported No job in his absence. The bank closed, the ancient clerks came out, the usual watch was set, and Mr. Cruncher and his son went home to tea.

“Now, I tell you where it is!” said Mr. Cruncher to his wife, on entering. “If, as a honest tradesman, my wenturs goes wrong to-night, I shall make sure that you’ve been praying again me, and I shall work you for it just the same as if I seen you do it.”

The dejected Mrs. Cruncher shook her head.

“Why, you’re at it afore my face!” said Mr. Cruncher, with signs of angry apprehension.

“I am saying nothing.”

“Well, then; don’t meditate nothing. You might as well flop as meditate. You may as well go again me one way as another. Drop it altogether.”

“Yes, Jerry.”

“Yes, Jerry,” repeated Mr. Cruncher sitting down to tea. “Ah! It is yes, Jerry. That’s about it. You may say yes, Jerry.”

Mr. Cruncher had no particular meaning in these sulky corroborations, but made use of them, as people not unfrequently do, to express general ironical dissatisfaction.

“You and your yes, Jerry,” said Mr. Cruncher, taking a bite out of his bread-and-butter, and seeming to help it down with a large invisible oyster out of his saucer. “Ah! I think so. I believe you.”

“You are going out to-night?” asked his decent wife, when he took another bite.

“Yes, I am.”

“May I go with you, father?” asked his son, briskly.

“No, you mayn’t. I’m a going—as your mother knows—a fishing. That’s where I’m going to. Going a fishing.”

“Your fishing-rod gets rayther rusty; don’t it, father?”

“Never you mind.”

“Shall you bring any fish home, father?”

“If I don’t, you’ll have short commons, to-morrow,” returned that gentleman, shaking his head; “that’s questions enough for you; I ain’t a going out, till you’ve been long abed.”

He devoted himself during the remainder of the evening to keeping a most vigilant watch on Mrs. Cruncher, and sullenly holding her in conversation that she might be prevented from meditating any petitions to his disadvantage. With this view, he urged his son to hold her in conversation also, and led the unfortunate woman a hard life by dwelling on any causes of complaint he could bring against her, rather than he would leave her for a moment to her own reflections. The devoutest person could have rendered no greater homage to the efficacy of an honest prayer than he did in this distrust of his wife. It was as if a professed unbeliever in ghosts should be frightened by a ghost story.

“And mind you!” said Mr. Cruncher. “No games to-morrow! If I, as a honest tradesman, succeed in providing a jinte of meat or two, none of your not touching of it, and sticking to bread. If I, as a honest tradesman, am able to provide a little beer, none of your declaring on water. When you go to Rome, do as Rome does. Rome will be a ugly customer to you, if you don’t. I’m your Rome, you know.”

Then he began grumbling again:

“With your flying into the face of your own wittles and drink! I don’t know how scarce you mayn’t make the wittles and drink here, by your flopping tricks and your unfeeling conduct. Look at your boy: he is your’n, ain’t he? He’s as thin as a lath. Do you call yourself a mother, and not know that a mother’s first duty is to blow her boy out?”

This touched Young Jerry on a tender place; who adjured his mother to perform her first duty, and, whatever else she did or neglected, above all things to lay especial stress on the discharge of that maternal function so affectingly and delicately indicated by his other parent.

Thus the evening wore away with the Cruncher family, until Young Jerry was ordered to bed, and his mother, laid under similar injunctions, obeyed them. Mr. Cruncher beguiled the earlier watches of the night with solitary pipes, and did not start upon his excursion until nearly one o’clock. Towards that small and ghostly hour, he rose up from his chair, took a key out of his pocket, opened a locked cupboard, and brought forth a sack, a crowbar of convenient size, a rope and chain, and other fishing tackle of that nature. Disposing these articles about him in skilful manner, he bestowed a parting defiance on Mrs. Cruncher, extinguished the light, and went out.

Young Jerry, who had only made a feint of undressing when he went to bed, was not long after his father. Under cover of the darkness he followed out of the room, followed down the stairs, followed down the court, followed out into the streets. He was in no uneasiness concerning his getting into the house again, for it was full of lodgers, and the door stood ajar all night.

Impelled by a laudable ambition to study the art and mystery of his father’s honest calling, Young Jerry, keeping as close to house fronts, walls, and doorways, as his eyes were close to one another, held his honoured parent in view. The honoured parent steering Northward, had not gone far, when he was joined by another disciple of Izaak Walton, and the two trudged on together.

Within half an hour from the first starting, they were beyond the winking lamps, and the more than winking watchmen, and were out upon a lonely road. Another fisherman was picked up here—and that so silently, that if Young Jerry had been superstitious, he might have supposed the second follower of the gentle craft to have, all of a sudden, split himself into two.

The three went on, and Young Jerry went on, until the three stopped under a bank overhanging the road. Upon the top of the bank was a low brick wall, surmounted by an iron railing. In the shadow of bank and wall the three turned out of the road, and up a blind lane, of which the wall—there, risen to some eight or ten feet high—formed one side. Crouching down in a corner, peeping up the lane, the next object that Young Jerry saw, was the form of his honoured parent, pretty well defined against a watery and clouded moon, nimbly scaling an iron gate. He was soon over, and then the second fisherman got over, and then the third. They all dropped softly on the ground within the gate, and lay there a little—listening perhaps. Then, they moved away on their hands and knees.

It was now Young Jerry’s turn to approach the gate: which he did, holding his breath. Crouching down again in a corner there, and looking in, he made out the three fishermen creeping through some rank grass! and all the gravestones in the churchyard—it was a large churchyard that they were in—looking on like ghosts in white, while the church tower itself looked on like the ghost of a monstrous giant. They did not creep far, before they stopped and stood upright. And then they began to fish.

They fished with a spade, at first. Presently the honoured parent appeared to be adjusting some instrument like a great corkscrew. Whatever tools they worked with, they worked hard, until the awful striking of the church clock so terrified Young Jerry, that he made off, with his hair as stiff as his father’s.

But, his long-cherished desire to know more about these matters, not only stopped him in his running away, but lured him back again. They were still fishing perseveringly, when he peeped in at the gate for the second time; but, now they seemed to have got a bite. There was a screwing and complaining sound down below, and their bent figures were strained, as if by a weight. By slow degrees the weight broke away the earth upon it, and came to the surface. Young Jerry very well knew what it would be; but, when he saw it, and saw his honoured parent about to wrench it open, he was so frightened, being new to the sight, that he made off again, and never stopped until he had run a mile or more.

He would not have stopped then, for anything less necessary than breath, it being a spectral sort of race that he ran, and one highly desirable to get to the end of. He had a strong idea that the coffin he had seen was running after him; and, pictured as hopping on behind him, bolt upright, upon its narrow end, always on the point of overtaking him and hopping on at his side—perhaps taking his arm—it was a pursuer to shun. It was an inconsistent and ubiquitous fiend too, for, while it was making the whole night behind him dreadful, he darted out into the roadway to avoid dark alleys, fearful of its coming hopping out of them like a dropsical boy’s kite without tail and wings. It hid in doorways too, rubbing its horrible shoulders against doors, and drawing them up to its ears, as if it were laughing. It got into shadows on the road, and lay cunningly on its back to trip him up. All this time it was incessantly hopping on behind and gaining on him, so that when the boy got to his own door he had reason for being half dead. And even then it would not leave him, but followed him upstairs with a bump on every stair, scrambled into bed with him, and bumped down, dead and heavy, on his breast when he fell asleep.

From his oppressed slumber, Young Jerry in his closet was awakened after daybreak and before sunrise, by the presence of his father in the family room. Something had gone wrong with him; at least, so Young Jerry inferred, from the circumstance of his holding Mrs. Cruncher by the ears, and knocking the back of her head against the head-board of the bed.

“I told you I would,” said Mr. Cruncher, “and I did.”

“Jerry, Jerry, Jerry!” his wife implored.

“You oppose yourself to the profit of the business,” said Jerry, “and me and my partners suffer. You was to honour and obey; why the devil don’t you?”

“I try to be a good wife, Jerry,” the poor woman protested, with tears.

“Is it being a good wife to oppose your husband’s business? Is it honouring your husband to dishonour his business? Is it obeying your husband to disobey him on the wital subject of his business?”

“You hadn’t taken to the dreadful business then, Jerry.”

“It’s enough for you,” retorted Mr. Cruncher, “to be the wife of a honest tradesman, and not to occupy your female mind with calculations when he took to his trade or when he didn’t. A honouring and obeying wife would let his trade alone altogether. Call yourself a religious woman? If you’re a religious woman, give me a irreligious one! You have no more nat’ral sense of duty than the bed of this here Thames river has of a pile, and similarly it must be knocked into you.”

The altercation was conducted in a low tone of voice, and terminated in the honest tradesman’s kicking off his clay-soiled boots, and lying down at his length on the floor. After taking a timid peep at him lying on his back, with his rusty hands under his head for a pillow, his son lay down too, and fell asleep again.

There was no fish for breakfast, and not much of anything else. Mr. Cruncher was out of spirits, and out of temper, and kept an iron pot-lid by him as a projectile for the correction of Mrs. Cruncher, in case he should observe any symptoms of her saying Grace. He was brushed and washed at the usual hour, and set off with his son to pursue his ostensible calling.

Young Jerry, walking with the stool under his arm at his father’s side along sunny and crowded Fleet-street, was a very different Young Jerry from him of the previous night, running home through darkness and solitude from his grim pursuer. His cunning was fresh with the day, and his qualms were gone with the night—in which particulars it is not improbable that he had compeers in Fleet-street and the City of London, that fine morning.

“Father,” said Young Jerry, as they walked along: taking care to keep at arm’s length and to have the stool well between them: “what’s a Resurrection-Man?”

Mr. Cruncher came to a stop on the pavement before he answered, “How should I know?”

“I thought you knowed everything, father,” said the artless boy.

“Hem! Well,” returned Mr. Cruncher, going on again, and lifting off his hat to give his spikes free play, “he’s a tradesman.”

“What’s his goods, father?” asked the brisk Young Jerry.

“His goods,” said Mr. Cruncher, after turning it over in his mind, “is a branch of Scientific goods.”

“Persons’ bodies, ain’t it, father?” asked the lively boy.

“I believe it is something of that sort,” said Mr. Cruncher.

“Oh, father, I should so like to be a Resurrection-Man when I’m quite growed up!”

Mr. Cruncher was soothed, but shook his head in a dubious and moral way. “It depends upon how you dewelop your talents. Be careful to dewelop your talents, and never to say no more than you can help to nobody, and there’s no telling at the present time what you may not come to be fit for.” As Young Jerry, thus encouraged, went on a few yards in advance, to plant the stool in the shadow of the Bar, Mr. Cruncher added to himself: “Jerry, you honest tradesman, there’s hopes wot that boy will yet be a blessing to you, and a recompense to you for his mother!”

[domusarcanis-blog]

@sun-and-wis forgot to post this one

[1111jenx]

📡the 6th house, the 3rd house & Fame — lets talk

ft Addison Rae's chart 🎙

Hey loves,

So I heard @thedivinevenus talks about how the 6th house can explain fame a lot of the time since it has a lot to do with everyday life aka the mundane life.

its interesting to me because i always thought the same about the 3rd house too! Mercury-ruled houses aka 3rd house and 6th house are never meant to be looked over when it comes to checking for fame. Mercury-ruled houses usually take their sweet time to mature and grow into their confidence, it will take some time for them to realize it themselves, but to others it might have always been very visible!

From a perspective of someone who's been studying astrology for some time, you can most definitely see how this play out. For example, Leo 6th house (Pisces Rising if not intercepted) can gain an enormous amount of attention for just, well, being themselves. Even the most simplistic action they do can be seen as worldly or different because once again, Leo shines everything it touches. But the same can be said for Leo 3rd house (Gemini Rising if not intercepted), since the 3rd house also contributes greatly to the everyday environment, so they just naturally exude that star-like energy.

Having Gemini Rising may help you thrive on social media too! Because on multiple platforms, we can sometimes associate them with the 3rd house! A great example for this can be seen with Addison Rae! Down below you can find her chart!

Addison Rae's chart — source

So a quick analysis would require us to look at her 3rd house where the Sun is the ruler, so we look to the position of the Sun, where she has it in Libra in the 5fth:) She was meant to become for her everyday aesthetics (Libra) and her artistic talents (5fth house) aka her dancing videos on Tiktok (3rd house of communication). The way she speaks will attract a lot of attention and since her 3rd house ruler is Sun in 5th house, she naturally have people obsessing over her everyday life and affairs.

Why do I say that people become obsessive with her? Take a look at her Pluto in the 6th house opposite her Jupiter. Her fame comes with a price (I won't get into this since it is her personal life but you guys can find a lot of the minor details online) And with that 6th house being her everyday life, she probably has to deal with way more stuff below the surface than we will ever know of. Pluto in the 6th house can also be very secretive with their struggles and work. It is honestly fair to say that these individuals are extremely hard working once they committed to the process. Yet since the mysterious Pluto energy conceals it, the public may struggle to see this. And let's be honest, while a lot of Addison's life are made public, it is only fair to say that she have grown to become more private with her affairs than others. Whats also interesting to me is the degree of her Pluto, its in a Capricorn degree (10°) making her secretive nature MORE appealing to the public. And I believe that the more she tries to keep her life on the DL, the crazier the public gets trying to see things behind the scene. (Jupiter's expansion energy) Her 6th house ruler being Jupiter in Gemini 12th house can amplifies this. Its also in the 11° of Aquarius ruling community. So she's naturally blessed with a lot of attention, but there's clear turmoil and burdens that comes along with it.

In addition, people with major 3rd house or 6th house energy can sometimes feel very powerless with the attention they get. Since this doesn't stem from them, but rather the environment around them. They are mastery of skills but they also can't control it as well as a 10th house stellium (Saturn ruled) would. 10th house feels like they're pushed to the public eyes and just naturally open up to it after a while but the fame I'm talking about here with 3rd house and 6th house is vastly different. We should never overlook these houses, especially when it comes to fame. And for all of you with major 3rd house or 6th house energy, you must learn to control the attention on you and grow to accept it rather than running from it.

Do you guys have any 3rd house or 6th house energy? Be sure to check the rulers and its aspects too! Lemme know your thoughts on this.

eg: My third house is in Libra, Venus in Leo 12th house 17° of Leo -> spirituality, attention in general makes me feel at home but also burdened (12th house). Learning to work with my fears will help me improve my aesthetics and approach to everyday environment or fame.

My sixth house is in Capricorn, Saturn in Gemini in the 10th house 21° of Sagittarius -> My everyday life is shared to people at my own will. My morals and ideas are open to the public and people usually have good ideas of what my day to day life is like.

love,

saint jenx🪐

[infinitegalahad]

DON'T LET THE SUN GO DOWN ON ME

Summary: The one time Joe Toye saved you and the one time you saved Joe Toye.

Word-Count: 3.1k

WARNINGS: PLEASE READ! attempted suicide, descriptions of assault, blood/bruising, angst with a happy ending

A/N: Inspired by this post! When I was reading this and listening to Elton John, it hit me like a bus. It's not one of my best works, but I hope you enjoy! :)

Tag-list: @tvserie-s-world @easy-company-tradition @liebgotttme @50svibes @ricksmorty @pennyllanne @capsparkyspeirs

Masterlist | Send In A Prompt!

Toye was one of the toughest sunva’ bitches (Guarnere’s words) that you had ever met. Tall, dark, and brooding, easy company respected and feared him. He had a gloomy expression and zero-tolerance from bullshit from anyone and anything. The number of fights you had seen him get into, the way he’d hold the collar of a soldier’s shirt, or simply the look of disappointment would make anyone shit their pants. You were a visual learner and always associated the men of easy company with the weather. Joe Toye to you was like a gloomy storm cloud, thunder booming behind it.

Unlike Joe Toye, a gloomy storm cloud, you were a ray of sunshine. The war was a tough time for all the man and your mere presence would shine brighter than a thousand stars. A natural smile always donned your face, and the men simply loved it. Your sweet voice was like a lullaby to them. Whenever they needed someone to be vulnerable with, you always had their backs as a close friend. You had always been someone who had tried to find the positive in life, despite it being hard. Your smiles and bright attitude had earned you the nickname of “sunshine” or for short, “sunny”. You wore the name with pride and whenever one of the men of easy company would call you it, a smile would grow as you’d shake your head. The men of easy company adored the ray of light you brought to the company.

Despite the differences, even if you were scared shitless of Joe Toye, he made one thing clear around the company; that nobody would hurt you.

Joe wasn’t one for nicknames or social interaction. You had talked to him a few times, but it was brief. His brooding appearance was intimidating and yet strangely so prepossessing to you. You knew that opposites attracted. Whether it be his dark features or the way he’d growl in his low voice, it would always make your cheeks warm.

He wouldn’t have to speak. If someone had been bothering you or making lewd remarks, he simply hovered over you. You’d see the man who’d be bothering you, looking like he had just pooped his pants, scram away. You turned to thank Toye, but he’d be gone in a flash. It made you feel guilty. You wanted to thank him-but he always slipped out of your fingers.

You confronted about the Toye's attribute. Guarnere would look at you and give you a little goose laugh, stating the same phrase.

“Means he’s gotta a lil’ crush on yah, sunny. Ain’t want nobody to hurt this girl.”

“But that’s what I’m confused about!” You would exclaim in frustration, “Why doesn’t he let me say thank you? Why does he only nod his head when I say hi? Why does he look at me and smile, but then he looks away? Why does he-“

“Jeez laweez girl!” Guarnere would interpret your little rant and pat your shoulder, “I got sisters, I know what I’m doin”. Just let it play out.”

Letting out a groan of frustration, you’d bury your hands in your face and let out a loud groan. It was simply hopeless. You were in the middle of a war, and Toye and you knew that love had no place in war. You were probably an annoying babbling idiot in Toye’s view.

But little did you know-Toye thought differently of you. There was something about you that would turn his face and show his dimples whenever you’d cheer up a soldier or help out a friend. Toye didn’t understand how you could be so damn cheery all the time, but something about you made him do something he had trouble doing-smiling.

———

The first time Joe Toye saved you was in Aldbourne.

You had been having trouble sleeping most nights. One night, you couldn’t stand twisting and turning in bed, so you opted for a late night walk. Aldbourne was a quaint town, and you knew that there were no threats surrounding you. If one of the men of Easy had found out, they’d be horrified, but you knew that you were capable of taking care of yourself.

There was not a single noise in the small town. It was an odd hour in the early morning with the fog covering Aldbourne with the sky still being pitch black. Wrapping your large jacket around your body, you looked down as you wandered down the road.

Joe had been acting strange lately. He was more distant from the crowds, simply avoiding all conversations, all but you. It wasn’t that he followed you around, but he looked after you. He spent his time around you. It was the first time you didn’t seem him as irritated or annoyed, at least when he was around you. Whenever Luz would look at or simply tease him, his face would scrunch your and he’d stand up to go give the company’s comedian a piece of his mind. You’d sigh and gently grab his arm, holding him back.

Normally, Joe would ignore you and move on. Nobody’s opinion mattered to him.

But with you-he felt like his whole world shifted. Your soft face and gentle touch would enchant him.

A grumble would escape Joe’s lips as he turned around to sit down. He’d mumbled something in your ear, in which didn’t mean much at the moment to you,

“What would the company do without you, y/n?”

Nobody ever called you by your real name except for two people; Eugene Roe and Joe Toye.

In the corner of your eye, you’d see a faint smile. It wouldn’t be caught by anyone by you.

You were prideful in yourself. You, making Joe Toye smile. Nobody would believe you. Maybe you had been the only one who caught onto it-but you were the sunshine of easy company. Joe Toye was a cloud who was almost dark and gloomy, and you were the sun that would outshine him.

Sure, it was childish, but it still made your cheeks warm up and a smile grow on your face. You were in the middle of a war, and making someone smile or happy was your job.

As you walked through the night, the muffled voices of sobs and curses could be heard. Buried in the collar of your jacket, you raised your head. The pained noises were coming from further down the road. You picked up your pace and hurried down the road to see one of the men in another company. He wasn’t someone you knew well, but you were familiar with it. His voice and mannerisms identified him as Lowery.

Lowery sat slunched under a lamppost, sobbing with a few broken bottles surrounding him. His cries of pain and curses only made your head break.

“Lowery…?” You whispered, loud enough for him to hear you.

Lowery still had his face in his hands but stopped his loud sobs. “Y/n...that’s you?” He said in a slurred tone, completely intoxicated.

“Yes, it’s me.” You said as you walked over and bent down to put a hand on his shoulder, “Do you know where you are?”

Lowery didn’t respond and simply looked down into his hands. You knew he would need some assistance getting back to his barracks and some water to ease him.

“Come on,” You gently stated as you grabbed his shoulders, “Let’s get you back”.

Out of nowhere, Lowery sprinted up and grabbed you, spinning you and pinning you to the lamppost. His hands attempted to grab your neck and you fought them off, screaming for help. One of his hands held your hands together as he dug through his holster to pull out his jump knife.

“You fucking tramp, shut your damn mouth.” He hissed, spit forming through your mouth. With a firm grasp on the knife, his feet stomped onto the soles on your boots as he began to slowly drag the knife towards your stomach. “Always smiling and acting all prissy and shit. If you this doesn’t shut you up, then I don’t know what wi-“

Suddenly, Lowery’s cheek was met with a pair of brass knuckles. He groaned in pain, holding his bloody cheek. Seeing your opportunity to escape, you wobbled away and fell down in shock. Covered by the darkness, you managed to make out two figures. Lowery, on the ground, and another tall figure making his way towards Lowery.

The rough voice made it clear that it was none other than Joe Toye.

Toye grabbed Lowery and dragged him to the lamppost, pinning him with a single hand choking this throat. Lowery’s skin has gone pale, covered in blood as he struggled to breathe.

“Damn you, Lowery. You ever threaten y/n again and I’ll kill you. Got it? I’ll kill you,” Joe had spat out at Lowery. Lowkey didn’t respond and he punched him again, except on the next cheek, making sure to leave him brushed and bloodied.

“I’ll kill you!” He hissed, and Lowery began to nod. The second time Joe spoke made you jump out of your little shock. Pushing yourself up from the mud, you began to run down the road away from Toye and Lowery. Toye had seemingly appeared out of thin air.

As you ran, it took you a second to stick it together. In the barracks, there was another empty bed and it had to have been Toye’s. You had told him about your late night walks and he wasn’t over the moon about them, scolding you as a father does to a child. Toye was worried about you, being a woman, getting attacked or lost or anything bad happening to you. You would smile and sway your shoulder, saying that you were fine.

Next time, you were going to listen to Joe Toye’s advice since he had saved your life.

———

The second time, you had saved Joe Toye’s life also in Aldbourne.

You had all been sitting in a pub. It was a typical Friday night; the men were drinking, laughing, and chatting about whatever was new. You sat at the edge of the bar, swirling your beer in your hand. The incident that had happened a few nights ago was still fresh in your mind. There were visible bruise marks on the side of your neck and hands. They burned and hurt, but there was nothing you could do. The memories were still fresh in your mind, and it made you go quiet. You had told the members of Easy about the occurrence, but left out the part of Toye.

He must have followed you to witness the attack. It creeped out you, but then again, you shouldn't had told him of your midnight walks. In a way, it was a brave and kind action of Toye. If hadn’t been there, Lowery could have hurt you or even worse-killed you. But you felt guilty for running off like a coward, not thanking him for saving your life.

You saw Toye around, but he always avoided you and the men. He was usually standoffish, but it had become more noticeable. He would prefer to be on his own, not bothered by anyone, even you or Luz. Luz attempted to converse with Toye, but Toye looked at him, grumbled, and walked away. Luz looked defeated and you would sit by his side to comfort him.

“It’s just Toye,” You would say, even though you were uncertain, “Sure he’s in a funk.”

You had seen Toye head out to take a leak, but he hadn’t returned in an hour. Slugging by the end of the bar, you looked at the ticking clock as the hands would slowly move by. He had been gone for a strange amount of time, and it was beginning to worry you. Aldbourne was a safe town, but what if? It had happened to you, it could happen to anyone, even someone was frighting as Joe Toye.

Since the men were either too distracted or drunk, you put your foot down and chose to go after Toye. Going up the stairs, you went to each floor and looked for him, but found nothing. Your worry began to increase as you began to pick up your pace and check every room for a sing-yet you found none. On the highest floor, you noticed that a door had been opened. It had to have been Toye-nobody else would go up this bar. Walking up the small staircase, you were greeted upon the night sky and the roof of an atrium. The roof was made of glass, held up chicken wire. Joe stood in at the edge, looking down. He hadn’t even noticed your presence as he took slow steps towards the edge.

Realizing, your heart dropped as you took slow steps, “Joe!” You called, panic in your voice. There was no response from him.

You chose to become louder, “Toye, it’s y/n. Look at me.”

Still, nothing but silence. You could see his head tilt down to look at the three stories below him. Tears began to form in your eyes. No, he couldn’t.

“Toye!” You yelled as the wind threw a big gust. “I know you can hear. Look at me. Please.”

Just as his foot was about to hang off of the edge, he froze in place. The voice was familiar. Hearing a voice he associated with happiness become distorted made his brain freeze. He became paralyzed. Letting out a shuttered sigh, he redacted his foot and turned to look at you.

Like you, Toye looked different. He didn’t look like he wanted to hurt anybody or intimating; but like a scared child. His dark eyes were red and puffy. Everything that you needed to know was right in front of you. Holding your hand out, your fingers bent, signaling Toye to come forward.

You murmured under your lips, “Let’s go.”

Toye turned around and walked over the atrium. Joe looked like hell as he  grabbed your hand, grasping onto as his life depended on it. You carefully lead him down the stairs. Reaching the end of the stairs, he did something you would have never imagined him ever doing. It was  human emotion that most men felt, but you never thought Joe Toye would do it.

Joe fell onto his knees, crying. Big tears falling down his face. His burly, worked hands glided up against the side of your legs. It took you back. You couldn't believe he was in tears. Just a minute ago he was standing on the edge of an atrium to a three-story drop and there he was, crying as he held onto your legs for comfort.

So you did what you did best for the men of easy company. Bending down, you wrapped your arms around his back as you gently ran them down his back.

“Yeah, you’re okay,” You whispered into his shoulder, “Let it all out. I was worried about you.” When you got Joe to look at you, you cupped a hand on his cheek. “Why did you go up there?”

Joe shook his head, unable to use words. You patted his cheeks in reassurance, “Well, we were all worried. I was worried about you. What would I have done without you?”

Inhaling, he tilted his head down as he pulled you close. His head rested in your stomach as he began to speak. “I don’t know what I would’ve done with you. I don’t know what got into me...It just seemed like an escape. But you came and put me back in the right place. Saved me from myself.”

“Consider it a favor returned,” You mentioned. Toye looked up at you, he knew about the night just like you did.

“By the way, thank you.” You thanked him as your hands rested on his shoulders, “I ran away only because I was scared…”

Joe’s face softened at your worry. You shook your head and clarified, “Not of you, I just...yeah. I was a little shaken up.”

Seeing your hesitance, Joe’s fingers touched your chin to lift it. His fingers ran over the developing bruise marks. His hand rested on your waist as he pulled you closer.

“They’re not as bad as you think.”

“Bullshit.” Toye hissed. You took his hands as he held them, “If I see that fucker again, he’ll be a dead man. Someone’s gonna fuckin’ die.”

Seeing the tension rise, you patted his shoulders as he looked up at you with a disappointed face. “Joe, I understand. But, I don’t want you to get hurt as well. Don’t it for me...Please?”

Looking up and down, Joe buried his head once again in your stomach and grumbled grumpily, “You’re too good for me, you know that?”

As his head rested, you brought your hands to stroke his dark hair. You hummed in response, “How so?”

“You’re so damn smiley all the time. Thought it was because you were a woman, but that ain’t it. You’re just a good person-and that’s hard to find now,” Joe hinted at. It was a confession of love, in his own way. You knew what he was trying to say. You smiled down at him and stroked his cheek, in which he laid into. “I don’t know, I just like being’ ‘round you. You make me a better person.”

“That’s the point of my nickname, Toye.” You stated, “You know I’m here for you. You know that I love you, right?”

Toye nodded his head as he stood up and held your hands, “Yeah, I do. From the first day I saw you.”

The two of you began to talk down the staircase, hand in hand. You tilted your head, a smile on your face.

“You're joking! I thought you hated me. Always thought you did.”

Toye shrugged his shoulders, “It’s hard to hate somebody as kind as you, doll. Just promise me one thing.”

You looked over at him and nodded. The two of you stopped at the door before entering back into the busy bar.

“Yes, Joe.”

“Don’t let the sun go down on me.”

Little did you know, those words would stick with you and Toye for the rest of the war. From Toccoa to Aldbounre to Brecourt to Bastogne-that was your phrase. You were the sun to Toye’s cloud. You brought the light instead of him, and he became a better person from your sheer positivity. Through hell and back, no matter what, you had kept your promise to Toye-Till death do you part.

[strawbebehmod]

Some potentially controversial headcanons about sexuality and gender in atla

Ok so I have some headcanons about gender and sexuality in the atlaverse that may controdict some aspects of canon as well as many other's headcanons but I feel go pretty inline with the nations, either based on their inspo country's history or the feel I get from the nations in canon culture. If you disagree that's totally chill I just wanna get my thoughts out there to see who else agrees.

So with that let's begin:

Air nomads

This I think everyone agrees on that the air nomads didn't give a shit about gender or sexuality. Love is love and gender is an illusion.

They also were very pro poly relationships

However, cause of the whole communally raising children thing that's a part of canon I don't think all the temples really had a concept of marriage and some groups may have actually given you odd looks if you wanted to be exclusive with someone

But the general 'let it be' culture meant you really wouldn't get any widespread social grief on the issue just maybe have a few arguments with friends or maybe a partner that wasn't used to being exclusive or was used to being exclusive and you weren't, and you veritably weren't going to be ostracized for your sexuality or preferences in a relationship. It's a domestic issue rather than a social justice one.

Air nomads were by far the most accepting of asexuality and aromaticism.

Water tribe

I actually think things very between the north and the south a lot due to their seperation, but a commonality between them is their strong sense of gender roles and other ridged segregations in gender like the whole waterbending thing.

That being said, transness is very much accepted but there are specific ceremonies for transitioning and coming out to the tribe, and it can mean losing some privileges you had from the gender you were assigned at birth.

There's also a third non-binary gender that has its own specific ceremony. This circumvented a lot of rules about who could learn what type of waterbending, particularly up north but also carried a few unique social responsibilities like officiating weddings but could also strip you of some priviledges from your initially assigned gender, such as paticipation in specific gendered rituals such as women's cerimonies or men's cerimonies.

Those members had their own unique cerimonies and celibrations however.

In the northern watertribe specifically homosexuality is very much accepted but under the current cheiftan unions of politics like Yue's will almost always come before unions of love, so gay individuals can sadly be forced into hetero relationships via arranged mairrage, with the only concessions being that they can take on a single same sex lover outside of the union.

The absoluteness of the arranged mairrage rules can change based on who is in charge however.

Biphobia has had a history of being a problem in the water tribes as they have a huge emphasis on separation and opposites in their culture as their two biggest spirits represent yin and yang. Lesbians were long considered favored by tui and gay men favored by la, as if they were living symbols of the spirits.

There was discourse as to how bi and pan people fit into this model, some even horribly suggesting they were abandoned by the spirits, but the current concesus among spiritual experts and elders is they are actually a symbol of tui and la's love for eachother and thus favored by both.

The southern water tribe has always been laxer about the gender specific stuff and never had the arranged mairrage rules.

It was always much smaller however so LGBT individuals were less common. This often made it harder for homosexual individuals to find romantic love as there were just fewer fellow LGBT people that were avalible.

So if you came out as gay/bi/pan/lesbian to the tribe it was often the tradition to complete your ice dodging cerimony soon after and then become a sailor for at least three years to try and find romance while trading goods with the other nations if you didn't have a partner already.

A majority of southern tribe fishermen/women as a result were LGBT. Being a full-time fisherman is now a euphamism for being a lonely gay person.

Southern watertribe mermaid tales were almost always very gay as a result.

Unfortunately due to the southern watertribe's culture and traditions being decimated by the firenation's raids, a lot of LGBT culture in the southern tribe was also lost.

They're still pretty accepting but because of the dwindled population of the southern tribe and the fact that LGBT people tend to only make up 1-10% of an average population in the real world, it's rare for a gay individual to be born into the southern tribe, usually only once every generation now, if they realize they are gay to begin with.

As a result of that and the fact that bringing it up generally brings up the fact that the firenation destroyed what nice things they had, it's often not talked about outside of between elders mourning better times, which has made it even harder for some individuals to even realize they are LGBT to begin with.

The swamp benders are mostly men who wear leaf loin cloths they gay af and we're probs established by southern watertribe gays and bis that got lost in their travels and decided to settle down in the swamp, eventually attracting the attention of other lgbt earth kingdom people who decided to live with them.

Earth Kingdom

There's a huge divide among how it's treated among peasents and aristocracy

Peasents grew up on stories of past earth kings with many lovers, including several gay ones

So depending on where you live homosexuality is either considered something romantic of fairy-tales or celibrated as something unique and uncommon

In some places where people have more spirituality, some joke that gay people were royals in their past lives.

The earth kingdom is big tho, so some small towns can be homophobic but it's much rarer and usually because they were established by homophobes who were chased from areas that were very anti homophobia.

Fetishization of homosexuality can happen but it's again depending on where you are.

The earth kingdom is also very accepting of asexuality but there are stereotypes such as asexuals usually becoming gurus.

In aristocracy things are a bit different

Homosexuality is still pretty accepted but due to how prevalent arrange mairrages are it's heavily assosiated with affairs and running away from family obligations and thus it's a bit taboo to speak publicly about it in high society.

Lesbianism specifically cause China, what the earth kingdom is based on, has a long history of writing off women's feelings.

The upper crust of Ba Sing Se, despite lots of historically gay earth kings, has a big homophobia issue thanks to the Dai Lee slowly becoming corrupted after Kyoshi died.

Long Feng particularly had a hand in making talking about gay stuff practically off the table or seen as only something for filthy commoners.

Transgenderism, again cause of China historically treating women like shit, is a subject of a lot of discourse in the Earth kingdom, although there are no legal issues with being transgender and one can have their passports changed in certian cities and towns to reflect their gender identity if they move there, but only in those specific towns.

Omashu is one of them and is extremely pro trans and in general pro LGBT even among the aristocracy, infact king Bumi in his first year of rule established specific holidays for celibrating trans people, gay men, lesbians, asexuals, bisexuals, agender people, and any other gender or sexual identity Bumi knew about.

He has added to the list since. Whenever he finds out about a new gender identity or sexuality he sets the day he found out as a day for a feats next year celibrating it.

This is why there are so many feasts in omashu.

He also often officiates gay weddings himself because according to him "gay weddings are the most interesting and creative. They all have mad geniuses for their wedding planners I tell ya"

Tbh he will randomly show up to any wedding in his city cause he loves parties but he will specifically officiate gay ones.

The Fire Nation

Ok this is where some people may get pissed cause I disagree that the firenation is horribly homophobic

I know it was stated by one of the creators that the firenation has anti gay laws thanks to Sozin but Japan had a loooooong history of celibrating gay stuff prior to westernization and the firenation is based off of Japan. Also kinda headcanon Sozin as having a thing for Roku that fell apart with the whole war bs.

So Sozin never imo put into place any homophobic laws aside from banning gay writings and plays within the palace out of bitterness of having Roku betray him and just didn't want to have anything around him that would remind him of him. Dude got so mopey over it he neglected his wife and children a lot, despite the whole thing being 100% his fault.

Azulon on the other hand was a homophobic son of a bitch and put a lot of anti gay and trans laws into effect. While none outlawed same sex relations, they included ones that allowed people to get away with firing people or harming people for being LGBT.

Ozai was also extremely homophobic.

But before all this the fire nation was practically a gay paradise. Fire is the element of passion, and so gay sex and relationships were considered for a long time just as normal as heterosexual relationships.

There were festivals and holidays celibrating gay lovers, lots of LGBT writing and art, and many many plays on the subject

There were several folk stories of Agni the sun spirit coming down to earth to meet his male human lovers, including one that explained why we have night and day. (Tui introduced Agni to one of the volcano spirit's sons so that she may rule the night in peace without his constant incercession and annoying boastfulness)

Soldiers were pretty much expected to have a gay relationship with one of their brothers in arms if they were single to increase the loyalty among troops.

The firenation was the only nation where arranged mairrages could be nullified instantly on the grounds that one of the individuals involved was gay, unless you were the firelord and that was only because it was the firelord's duty to produce at least one heir to continue the linage, so it was seen as the firelord's sacrifice to his or her people to take up at least one opposite sexed partner. Romantic affairs were expected and understood in such situations however so long as there was already an heir to the throne born.

Families could even be punished with jail time for knowingly forcing their gay children into heterosexual relationships.

Gay couples could adopt children too and denying one on the grounds of being gay would be grounds for removal of your position in child care and being blacklisted.

There were still homophobes but homophobia was squashed a lot

Azulon managed to "justify" the cultural shift and changes to laws by having newspapers publishing fake news about pedophilia cases being linked to homosexuality as well as other stories linking homosexuality to degenerate acts.

He also used the culture of honor and family loyalty to shame gay children for ending their parent's bloodlines and claiming gay individuals were less likely to take care of their parents in their old age. And that trans children dishonored their parents by rejecting their "birth gender"

He even had certian folk stories changed to be heterosexual

This allowed homophobia and transphobia to spred in the firenation

However many individual towns held onto their pro LGBT roots and still published and performed gay literary works and plays.

And azulon and ozai were unable to remove many nonheteronormative traditions, such as guy friends being extremely physically affectionate, more so than with their girl counterparts.

In some areas it's still customary to greet close male friends with platonic kisses on the cheek

Zuko repealed many of the old laws established by his father and grandfather almost immediately, and reestablished many old holidays and protections for LGBT individuals.

Fixing the damage is still taking time, but with a corrected history of the firenation being now taught in classes thanks to zuko and aang, things are getting back to the way they once were slowly.

[ofcloudsandstars]

October Magical Dates and Astrological Transits

Welcome to the most fantastic month of the year! My birthday month Halloween month!! We are sandwiched between two powerful full moons that will take us on a journey deep within ourselves to find where our energies could be suppressed, where we feel oppressed and how we can empower and transform ourselves. Each major celestial event feels like part of a chapter of self discovery and empowerment that leaves us shedding away what we no longer need and having to transform ourselves to evolve into an elevated new level.

As usual I will make additional posts on some important days as they come but below is the full month of October!

----

Week 28 - 4

1st - ☾♈ Full moon in Aries Happy Lunar Festival to those who celebrate it!

We kick off October with a full moon!! The fact that this month is framed by full moons and full of transits that force us to confront our buried emotions sets the tone for October and for us to make peace with our shadow sides.

This moon is very special for a number of reasons as it's the Harvest Moon (the full moon near the Autumnal Equinox) and it's the Aries full moon which packs a lot of power. The Aries full moon often asks us to step aside and focus on our needs and goals especially in relation to our partnerships or what we may contribute to a relationship. This full moon may be an aggressive presence in rocky relationships where people's needs may erupt to the surface if they are not being met or honored by their partner.

This fiery moon will be conjunct Mars rx and Chiron in Aries merging our unresolved childhood traumas with our repressed energy and motivations that the mars retrograde brings. Full moons can be cathartic and this can demand us to bring release to what we may have buried away. Challenges can trigger our deep emotions that may get expressed through explosive anger, yet it's a time to take note of what those feelings are and try to heal by making healthy decisions that honor our feelings. This moon will also trine Venus in Leo which will help to smooth it out and bring a pleasant vibe to it's energy. Venus does want to have harmony and trines love unions so in the realm of relationships this can bring a moment of peace or compromise and a window to discuss anything that needs to be addressed in relationships. Finally this full moon may feel intense with the squares coming from Jupiter rx, Saturn and Pluto rx in Capricorn. We may feel burdened by our responsibilities, restrictions (especially with Covid regulations), the powers that be that are constantly avoiding reform. This can also add to the tension of the mars conjunction and feelings of repressed anger or suppressed energy. We will be craving release. It's a good time to focus on how we can redirect our energies to honor our needs especially in relation to our inner child and what needs we were neglecting before. Full moons are great for release and attraction magic so you can use the energy to draw your new reality towards you, however if you are feeling the frustrations of the squares, take a moment to do some visualization meditation to really ground the energy and emotions of the reality you want. Try to avoid going into manifestation carrying that frustration or else it can seep into the reality you are trying to attract your way. With the moon in Aries, it's a great evening for fire-based magic. Candle magic goes well with attraction and manifestation spells.

2nd - ☾♈ Venus enters Virgo

A new sensuous cycle begins as Venus enters Virgo. When Venus is in the sign of healing yet practical virgo, we tend to express our love and care for others through acts of service and being supportive towards each other. We tend to find enjoyment and pleasures in things that are sensual yet practical. We may feel more inclined to treat ourselves through self care that honors our health and physical well-being. We could easily feel guilty if we are too self-indulgent or frivolous in this time. It's a wonderful transit to practice self-love in the everyday tasks such as taking care of our bodies and appreciating wholesome foods and activities. The shadow side of this energy can be us being overly critical of ourselves, picky with our partners or worrisome. However instead of worrying about what we cannot fix, we should try to turn the energy inwards to help nurture ourselves and whichever insecurities arise, find ways to be patient with ourselves and focus on inner healing.  

3rd - ☾♉ Pluto direct in Capricorn Moon enters Taurus

The energy of this outer planet is moving direct finally. Though it is still in it's shadow, the period of introspection, inner soul-connecting and facing our deep shadows has come to the end of this phase. It's now time to address the grip of power coming from powerful authorities which dominate our lives and undermine our power. A lot of these themes were already brought to light this year and these themes will grow only more climatic as we approach the year 2024 when Pluto will complete it's return for the USA's government chart. (Even if you don't live in the USA, the impact of these political events can ripple across most of the world). The structures revolving around massive businesses run by oligarchies and police states are slowly decaying and transforming and the period of reflection has come to it's end for now.  

4th - ☾♉ Moon in Taurus When the moon is in Taurus, it's a good time for taking things slow and to relax. It's a great time for kitchen magic, earth and plant-based magic and self-care magic.

----------------------- Week 5 - 11

5th - ☾♉ Same as above yet this moon will be void of course so it's a good rest day and best to not start anything new.

6th - ☾♊ Disseminating Moon | Moon Trine Sun Moon enters Gemini

The waning gibbous moon is a great time for taking stock of your progress during this lunar cycle and celebrating any little successes you’ve managed to accomplish so far no matter how small. It’s a lovely vibe for socializing, spreading generosity or just taking the moment to enjoy life. When the moon trines the sun it’s a harmonious time that brings a lot of luck. When you take stock and realize that you may not be where you’d like, then it’s a good time to catch up on work to help you out or do magic to bring opportunities for doors to open for you. It’s a good time to wrap things up or spend time socializing or alone enjoying life!  

7th - ☾♊ Mercury in Scorpio opposite Uranus rx in Taurus Draconids Meteor Shower

The combination of Mercury opposite Uranus rx along with a meteor shower can bring unexpected happenings, sudden epiphanies and new insights. This energy can also lead to other unexpected happenings which can bring discord and slight chaoticness. Though today is not a great time to make plans, it is a great time to go with the flow and be open to exciting encounters or changes in our paths that life may bring us. The energies today may bring many surprises and sudden changes that may electrify us as it brings something new to our routine yet it can also impact areas such as transportation or technology and cause it to have issues. Give yourself a bit more time with commuting or patience with electronics today. Magically this is a great time for trance meditation with binural beats to help bring in new insights or activities such as freewriting to get your stream of consciousness out.

8th - ☾♋ Moon Enters Cancer

When the moon is in Cancer it’s a good time for magic around the home such as cleaning and cleansing, kitchen magic and bath magic. It's a great time for self-care rituals and water-based magic.

9th - ☾♋ Last Quarter Moon Mars rx in Aries squares Pluto in Capricorn

Though last quarter moons are generally reflective, this last quarter may feel very intense with Mars rx squaring Pluto in Capricorn. We may feel the same themes of being repressed by authorities or powers that be that surfaced to our consciousness during the Aries full moon being revisited today. We may reflect on how these powers have suppressed our energies in the past and contemplate how to overcome them today. It's a great day for road-opening and barrier breaking magic to get rid of obstacles in our way.

10th - ☾♋ Venus in Virgo trines Uranus rx in Taurus

This transit bring a lot of benefits for us to try new things or meet new people that can help us push our boundaries and broaden our perspectives. It's a great time to honor our values and individuality (especially in the themes of our health and work ethics) by exploring new hobbies or anything outside our usual routine. This is a great time for creativity and experimentation especially in the areas of you connecting with your individuality.

11th - ☾♌ Sun in Libra squares Jupiter in Capricorn Moon enters Leo

Today is gonna feel dramatic and optimistic yet with a shadowy side to dive into excess and pump things up. Jupiter squares tend to add gas to the flame which is great for our enthusiasm and energy levels yet it can lead to over abundance, over confidence, over spending and over indulgence. Paired with the moon entering dramatic Leo and our confidence levels and disregard for our usual restraints may fly out the window. (HAha it's my birthday today...) It's a great day for partying and enjoying life yet also knowing when to pull the plug. Make sure to budget yourself wisely today, put on lucky or protective charms and not over indulge. It's a great time to show gratitude and make offerings towards the spirits that look over you.

----------------------- Week 12 - 18

12th - ☾♌ Balsamic Moon | Moon Sextile Sun Jupiter in Capricorn sextiles Neptune rx in Pisces Mercury in Scorpio sextiles Venus in Virgo

The Balsamic Moon is the waning crescent moon after the last quarter moon. It's the perfect time until the new moon to shed what you no longer need. It's a time of taking action for banishing, cleansing and shedding. The next few days will have aspects that will push us to face our shadow selves along with hidden traumas and ask for us to shed what is no longer needed. With the Jupiter and Neptune rx sextile, it will make it a dreamy and magical day. It would be an excellent day for magic, celebration and exploring our creativity and path. Jupiter will want us to expand on our creativity and connection to our spiritual side today with it's sextile with Neptune rx. Anything ranging from divination, trance meditation, astral projection, dream magic and journeying would be a great idea today as the energies will encourage us to experiment. Mercury will also sextile Venus which will push us to want to deeply explore our connection to sensual pleasures in a healthy and practical way and maybe create that connection between what is healthy, wholesome and practical which can enrich our minds and connect us with our souls. Today is a great day to plan a ritual, do meditation and any type of magic that encourages you to explore yourself and your boundaries.

13th - ☾♍ Sun in Libra opposite Mars rx in Aries Moon enters Virgo

Mars will be incredibly bright in the sky this evening as the sun moves opposite it. We may notice a red star shining brighter than usual in the evening sky as the sun fully illuminates the retrograding planet. However energetically this aspect can bring up external events that can force us to reckon with our sources of motivation, our source of drive and repressed energy or anger. Where we may feel that our energy is stifled or repressed can come out unexpectedly through events that may trigger us to face this aspect of ourselves. With the moon now in virgo we may be able to look at these passionate emotions through an analytical yet healing perspective. We can easily find solutions to express our emotions and understand them in a clearer light. Today would be a great day for shadow work in understanding our repressed energy and how we can find a solution to express and release it.

14th - ☾♍ Mercury retrogrades in Scorpio

Every other planet this year has had some time off so it's no surprise Mercury is ready to join the club. Mercury is about to go retrograde for the next few weeks, diving us into our deep underworld to face the shadows hidden in our psyche. Eventually it will retrograde back into Libra forcing us to re-evaluate our personal values and relationships. Whatever shadows that are unaddressed lurking in the corners of our mind will come out now to be reckoned with. Just in time for the spooky season!

15th - ☾♎ Sun in Libra squares Pluto in Capricorn Moon enters Libra

To add to the flavor of yesterday, today we get to experience the INTENSE square of the Sun and Pluto locking horns. This energy can trigger fears of being controlled against our will or more aware of our shadows that may bring up our need for control. There could potentially be ego conflicts with other powerful people or authority figures that will tighten their grip on everything. We could either feel pigeon-holed today which can create challenges that force us to either defend ourselves or make a major change or cause us to crave power in order to control the situation around us. If desires for power emerge today, pay attention to what your shadow self is telling you and reflect on the source of these deep rooted fears. Is it coming from past negative events? Traumas? Even past lives? Is it from current events? Working out what negative emotions may arise today can give us insight on the general theme of this month of where we feel that our energy is repressed and how we can make changes to break free from our current shackles. (There is also this theme coming from Uranus still being in retrograde as well). Additionally the moon will have entered Libra and begun it's new moon phase and will be opposite Mars rx today so there will be emotions emerging from repressed energy that we will be more aware of and be able to observe. With mercury retrograding in Scorpio it will be a great time for shadow work today as well.

16th - ☾♎ New Moon in Libra Sun in Libra opposite Chiron rx in Aries

The moon will be opposite the sun today as it begins it's new cycle in Libra. The new moon in Libra asks us to review our values, what makes us balanced and our relationships for this cycle. This libra season our values have been questioned, along with perhaps, our stance in situations or previous compromises which could have undermined our freedoms and repressed our emotions. We will be asked during this new cycle to re-align with our values, evaluate the relationships that still align with our best selves and make changes in areas that do not reflect our values or that may suppress us. This moon will also square Jupiter, Saturn and then Pluto in Capricorn tying together the themes of where we may feel burdened and oppressed. Especially with the global political climate it's a good time to see where our complacency has lost us our freedoms and where we need to take action to ensure us a better future.

This new cycle may feel more confrontational than the usually harmonious libran energies we are used to. The Sun will be opposite Chiron rx in Aries bringing us potential sudden external events which could trigger our inner trauma, show us where we need to heal physically and mentally and make us more aware of adversity that we need to overcome. We may be brought to more awareness of what trauma could have fed the shadow sides or toxic traits that have been holding us back. As we are in Shadow Work/Shedding season it’s a good time to look into these traits during the beginning of this cycle and shed away what no longer holds value for us. 

17th - ☾♏ Eros enters Virgo Moon enters Scorpio

The lil' asteroid of passions and inner fire moves into Virgo today shifting our inner fuel to find more spark in the areas of life revolving around service our health and practicality. We may be more reasonable and solution-oriented while pursuing our passions. We may find more interest in sex that is acts of service towards our partner or healthy exercise embedded in our routine. With the moon entering Scorpio it's a good time for sex magic and shadow work.  

18th - ☾♏ Venus in Virgo opposite Neptune rx in Pisces Sun in Libra squares Saturn in Capricorn

Today may feel like it will drag on forever with the hard Sun and Saturn square bringing a dull desaturated filter to the world. We may feel restricted and burdened by our responsibilities or by authority. This may feel extra unpleasant with the new wave of Covid that may look to restrict our freedoms and make us worried about our stability. Additionally Venus will be opposite Neptune's Retrograde which is a recipe for some messiness. This could be a helpful time of reflection where we could have been seeing another person (or even more abstractly- a business, an idea or alignment of whatever) through rose-colored lenses that could be ripped away by this transit. We can finally see them for who they are and how they might have hoodwinked us in the past. On a negative side if we haven't yet learned the lesson this opposition can be the recipe for scammers or more people to come and take advantage through glamours and tricks. Be wary of your spending today, your boundaries, your CREDIT CARD INFORMATION ONLINE lol (negative Neptune transits ALWAYS brings out the scammers), and make sure to put up your wards today. It can be a day that drags on forever and may feel a bit gloomy especially with the moon still in Scorpio but you can help it go by quickly by working with the Venus and Neptune rx opposition to seeking out art that aligns with your values or spiritual beliefs. Watch films that make you feel magical or paint, draw, write, create what you love when you get a moment. If the Saturn square makes creating anything too difficult then watching a movie or favorite show can help with the escapism.

----------------------- Week 19 - 25

19th - ☾♐ Venus in Virgo trine Jupiter in Capricorn Mars rx in Aries squares Jupiter in Capricorn Ceres direct in Aquarius Moon enters Sagittarius

Though yesterday could have felt heavy, today the energy will feel Spectacular!! The mood will shift to being more lighthearted and optimistic with the moon now in shimmering Sagittarius. The jupiter energy may feel a bit more fiery and sparkling than usual with Jupiter squaring Mars rx which will only swell our inner desires and passionate emotions and drives that will need to explode outward!! If we are feeling repressed, there is no hiding that energy any longer with this volcanic transit! However to help bring some joy to this energy we have Venus in Virgo trining Jupiter bringing harmony to our values and creating luck in areas of generosity, spending time with loved ones and honoring our values and what we love. This is a day asking you to align yourself with what makes you feel most authentic. Lastly the little dwarf planet Ceres goes direct finally so we will feel that boost in areas of being nurturing and caring towards others especially in regards to our roles in our community. Now that we have took some time to nurture ourselves during it's retrograde, it's time to consider how we can contribute our support to our communities.

20th - ☾♐ Waxing Crescent Moon | Sun Sextile Moon

With the moon in Sagittarius during this waxing crescent period, it's an excellent time to experiment! Review on what you've reflected on or what intentions you've set during the new moon in Libra (aligning with our values and relationships that serve our greatest good / seeking harmony and justice and not compromise for the sake of "peace") and try out new things that align with your goals. Especially after yesterday's transits we may have a better idea of what those things are and with the moon in Sagittarius we may feel more aligned with our personal philosophies and faith. Optimistic Sagittarius will want you to expand on these ideas and experiment in any way you can!  

21st - ☾♑ Venus in Virgo trines Pluto in Capricorn Moon enters Capricorn

With the moon still in it's waxing crescent experimental phase, we may get a boost of intense and incredible energy asking us to reconnect to ourselves on a soul level. With Venus trining Pluto we get that added intensity and passion connecting us with our values on a visceral, powerful soul level. Anything that can bring us joy and satisfaction or loved ones or beliefs can be connected with on a deeply intimate level. A new relationship during this time would be very intense (great time for a soul mate), yet on a negative side this transit can give power to obsessions which we must be aware of how to curb if it goes too far. However today is an excellent day for love-attraction magic if you want something deep and intense, decorating our space to have meaning or reflect our values or express ourselves in any genuine way. This is a good time for soul-searching, attraction magic, sex magic and anything art-based.

22nd - ☾♑ Orionids Meteor Shower

With the moon in Capricorn, it's a good time for organization, addressing our tasks and responsibilities, ancestor magic, earth and mineral based magic and during the void of course, reviewing our work this cycle so far. The Orionids Meteor Shower can bring in energy from beyond to help us broaden our insight. If you catch a glimpse of a 'shooting star' make a wish!

23rd - ☾♒ Sun enters Scorpio First Quarter Moon Moon enters Aquarius

We enter the Spooky Season officially as the sun enters the dark and mysterious Scorpio. This season marks the middle of autumn where everything is starting to wither and decay, the nights are growing longer and we are feeling the chilly winds that kick up the skeletons of dead leaves. With Mercury retrograde in Scorpio still the deep underworld themes of Scorpio will feel strong as we are asked to face our inner shadows as we descend into the darkness. Today also marks the first quarter moon in Aquarius. Looking back at the New Moon in Libra we can think on the themes of us aligning with our values and people that support and reflect that as well and with the first quarter moon that theme will ask us to strategize on how we can express these unique part of ourselves as part of our roles in our community. The themes of the community may be brought to the surface with this first quarter moon and many people may want to take action, however this moon phase is best for reflection and taking that pent-up energy to strategize. There is always a time for action during the waxing gibbous phase when energies are more harmonious. If you are feeling blocked and restricted during this square it's a good time for barrier-breaking magic to dissolve any obstacles in your way. Focus on what opportunities you'd like to attract or what you need to move forward and do magic to bring that your way or break through whatever is holding you back.

24th - ☾♒ Venus in Virgo trines Saturn in Capricorn

This is an excellent day to work on your self love, self confidence and commitment to your values with Venus trining Saturn. If you have been having a rocky relationship with others it's a good time to work out the rough patches. This is also a good day for artists that may be procrastinating on work or that put a project to the side to continue building on it. Additionally it's a great day for love attraction magic (or any attraction magic with this theme: ) with a type of relationship that is long lasting, committed and reliable.

25th - ☾♓ Sun conjuncts Mercury rx in Scorpio Moon enters Pisces

The theme of our inner descent will be front and center today with the sun conjunct Mercury rx in Scorpio. It's a good time to take the day slowly, not make any serious plans and do some self reflection and shadow work. Whatever emotions that may arise we need to bring awareness to and release what no longer serves us. Especially during this time of year it's a great time to be aware of our shadows, make peace with repressed energies and release toxic beliefs that are holding us back. The day may also feel a bit melancholy with the moon's added energy entering Pisces. We may feel like we could be drowning in our darkness and the shadows of others around us. We may be more aware of others shadow selves and be influenced a little easier by their presence due to pisces's nature of dissolving boundaries. If others that are not aware of these qualities of themselves suddenly lash out today, it's best to carry some obsidian, put protective wards around yourself and keep to your safe corner.

----------------------- Week 26 - 1st

26th - ☾♓ Waxing Gibbous Moon | Sun Trine Moon

Whatever you have been reflecting on, strategizing and working on, now it's time to put those plans into action with the sun trining the moon! This aspect brings a lot of luck, harmony and magic in the mundane to spring out today. If you put plans into action, make the first move, release something new, then there is a lot of potential for great things to fall into place. If you may have been feeling blocked or frustrated on the first quarter moon, this phase may help you with new insight on how you can progress forward. If you did barrier-breaking magic to dissolve obstacles on the first quarter moon, you may see wonderful results or sudden 'open-doors' appear today. Keep on look out today for opportunities sent by the universe! Use lucky charms and glamours and send out good energy to attract it back to you.

27th - ☾♓

Today is an excellent day for rest with the moon in Pisces. There are no demanding transits and with this being the last day of the moon in this sign, there will be a void of course that will ask us to slow down and chill out. Pisces energy loves to day dream, nap and escape so it's a good day to indulge in some bath magic, take restful naps, smoke or watch something light hearted.

28th - ☾♈ Mercury retrograde enters Libra Venus enters Libra Moon enters Aries

Venus reunites with it's home sign Libra bringing the themes of harmony, partnerships, justice and values to a crescendo in this part of the cycle. Mercury rx will re-enter Libra bringing these themes to the surface of our mind as we reflect on these aspects of our lives. It's a good time for introspection in these areas, shadow work, understanding any current challenges regarding these themes for ourselves, especially as we move closer to the full moon that tends to bring out external challenges and themes with it's opposition. This day will tie back AGAIN with the initial full moon starting this month off and all of the other points and themes about our repressed energies and how we align with our values as the Moon enters Aries and creates an opposition with mercury rx in Libra. We will be able to connect dots on how our previous compromises or alignments could have repressed our true passions and energies and we may have to face sudden bursts of anger or hidden fire that we weren't aware of before, yet it could shed light on our current journey.

29th - ☾♈

When the Moon is in Aries it's a great time for channeling courage, hexing, fire-based magic and creating new things. However as this is the end of the moon's transit in Aries as it faces it's void of course which wants us to rest and reflect, it's a good time to reflect on our inner drive and our repressed emotions and how we can healthily release them. This void of course is a good time to reflect on the themes of the last full moon in Aries and how you have integrated what you've manifested into your life.

30th - ☾♉ Moon enters Taurus

With the moon in Taurus it's a great time to take things slowly and relax. It's a great time for kitchen magic, earth and plant-based magic and self-care magic.

31st - ☾♉ 🎃 HALLOWEEN  🎃 Full Moon in Taurus Sun in Scorpio opposite Uranus rx in Taurus

It's HALLOWEEN!!!!!!!! And to top it off it's a powerful Blue Moon! (A Blue Moon is a Full Moon that occurs twice in a month!) A Blue Moon is powerful showing second chances, boosted luck and new windows of opportunity so this is a fantastic time for release, casting spells, banishing or any type of magic! In this post here where I compare the sabbats to the lunar cycle, Halloween reflects that balsamic moon period where it's time to shed, banish and release, so tonight we can banish what no longer serves us and bind what seeks to strip us of our power. We may feel very inspired after this whole month of self transformation and looking at our repressed energies and what is binding us in it's brutal authority. It's time to break those barriers apart! With the Taurus full moon we are asked to look at our resources and what we value physically and if that aligns with our soul. What materialistic things or paths were we clinging on to? Do they reflect our most authentic selves? This will be brought into question and be brought to change with the Sun opposite Uranus rx (also this full moon conjunct Uranus rx) forcing us to undergo transformation which can help break old habits, old mindsets, expand our perspectives and evolve. A bit like a death and rebirth which is in theme for Halloween. With this opposition, this can bring unexpected and exciting encounters or events that will shake up our worlds. We may have to suddenly adapt to change as a new chapter and reality get brought into our lives. It could either bring havoc or freedom, however if it's something that could trigger a negative response in you, you may have to consult that shadow side and see if there is a trait you may need to let go or that is holding you back from evolving. However just to protect yourself it's always good to carry some protective charms and wards especially on a day like Halloween.

____________________

[scotianostra]

February 25th 1765 saw the birth of Jean Armour, "Belle of Mauchline" and wife to our National Bard Robert Burns.

For all his philandering ways when he was a young lad there can be no doubt that Robert Burns loved his wife, Jean was second oldest of the eleven children of stonemason James Armour and Mary Smith. She met Robert Burns on a "drying green" in Mauchline around 1784 when she chased his dog away from her laundry. According to Armour's testimony in 1827, she met Burns again at a local dance and she "fell acquainted" with him.

Jean became pregnant with twins early in 1786. Her announcement, in March 1786, that she was expecting Robert Burns' twins caused her father to be "in the greatest distress, and [he] fainted away". Burns signed a paper attesting his intent to marry Jean, but her father disapproved of the union.

James Armour destroyed the "certificate of informal marriage agreement" between Robert and Jean and he removed his daughter to Paisley to prevent a local scandal. However, word had spread and the Mauchline Kirk recalled her on 10th June 1786 to admit that she was unmarried and pregnant and to confirm the father's name. Burns was called by the Mauchline Kirk on 25th June 1786 and admitted his part in the affair.

His letters from this period indicate that he intended to marry Jean Armour as soon as they realized she was pregnant, but had been discouraged by her reluctance to disobey her father. By this time Burns was romantically involved with 'Highland' Mary Campbell and she was also pregnant. They were considering a move to Jamaica. The emigration fell through and Mary died in October 1786 before she could give birth.

  Believing he had been abandoned by Jean Armour, he set about having himself declared single. Jean's father, James Armour issued a warrant against him and Burns went into hiding.

Jean remained with her parents in the village of Mauchline, Robert was hiding out at the farm at Mossgiel. The couple continued to live apart even after the birth of their twins Robert and Jean, born 3rd September 1786. Following the success of The Kilmarnock Edition, Burns temporarily moved to Edinburgh. He returned intermittently to Mauchline, during which time Jean became pregnant again.

  When Burns returned permanently on 23rd February 1788 he found Jean was destitute and had been expelled from the family home. They reconciled their relationship, and Burns found her a place to stay. On 3rd March 1788 she went into labour and delivered a second set of twins, two girls, one of whom died on 10 March 1788, the other on 22nd March 1788.

In the light of Burns's new-found celebrity as a poet, James Armour relented and allowed his daughter to be married to him. Although their marriage was registered on 5th August 1788 in Mauchline, the parish records describe them as having been "irregularly married some years ago". She and Burns moved to Ellisland Farm where they stayed until 1791 when they moved to Dumfries, where both would live for the rest of their lives. Jean Armour and Robert Burns had nine children together (he had at least another four by other women), the last of whom was born on the day of his funeral in July 1796.

Her widowhood and the straitened circumstances she found herself in after Burns's death attracted national attention and a charitable fund was collected for her and the children. She survived her husband by 38 years, and lived to see his name become celebrated throughout the world. Twenty years after his death, his fame had reached such a point that his remains were removed from their modest grave in St Michael's Kirkyard, Dumfries, and placed in a specially commissioned mausoleum. Here, Jean Armour was buried when she died in 1834. Statues of Jean were erected in Mauchline in 2002, and in Dumfries, opposite St Michael's Kirk, in 2004.

The first pic is an imagination of Jean as there are no paintings of her when young, second painted by John Alexander Gilfillan, in 1822 aged 57 and finally the statue of Jean Armour in Dumfries

There are many references to Jean in Burns' poems, but the most famous is Bonie Jean.

There was a lass, and she was fair, At kirk or market to be seen; When a' our fairest maids were met, The fairest maid was bonie Jean. And aye she wrought her mammie's wark, And aye she sang sae merrilie; The blythest bird upon the bush Had ne'er a lighter heart than she. But hawks will rob the tender joys That bless the little lintwhite's nest; And frost will blight the fairest flowers, And love will break the soundest rest. Young Robie was the brawest lad, The flower and pride of a' the glen; And he had owsen, sheep, and kye, And wanton naigies nine or ten. He gaed wi' Jeanie to the tryste, He danc'd wi' Jeanie on the down; And, lang ere witless Jeanie wist, Her heart was tint, her peace was stown! As in the bosom of the stream, The moon-beam dwells at dewy e'en; So trembling, pure, was tender love Within the breast of bonie Jean. And now she works her mammie's wark, And aye she sighs wi' care and pain; Yet wist na what her ail might be, Or what wad make her weel again. But did na Jeanie's heart loup light, And didna joy blink in her e'e, As Robie tauld a tale o' love Ae e'ening on the lily lea? The sun was sinking in the west, The birds sang sweet in ilka grove; His cheek to hers he fondly laid, And whisper'd thus his tale o' love: "O Jeanie fair, I lo'e thee dear; O canst thou think to fancy me, Or wilt thou leave thy mammie's cot, And learn to tent the farms wi' me? "At barn or byre thou shalt na drudge, Or naething else to trouble thee; But stray amang the heather-bells, And tent the waving corn wi' me." Now what could artless Jeanie do? She had nae will to say him na: At length she blush'd a sweet consent, And love was aye between them twa.

[makingspiritualityreal]

Can you tell me about rahu sun and moon conjunct in 12th house of d9 or navamsa chart?

The conjunction will be more amplified, if these planets are all in the same Nakshatra. The further they are from each other, the weaker the impact. 12th house is actually good to have in D9 imo, and this opinion is regularly shared by Indian astrologers from my experience. Watch the KRS video on Rahu in 12th in D9, his theories have matched my own observations both in my life, and through working with others. 

I can actually easily share my experience here, because I have Rahu in 12th in Navamsa myself. The involvement of Sun and Moon will make the energies I’m about to describe even more prominent for you. I would also look at your Rasi chart, if you have any planets on the 6th - 12th house axis, or if the Nodes are involved in those houses in some way, because it can create an interesting experience. Now for the explanation why, I will tell you about the dynamic in my previous relationship, where these themes were very prominent due to both parties having 12th house involvement in D9.

My ex has their Rahu in 12th in Rasi, but Rahu in 6h in D9, which gives them Ketu in 12th in D9. I have Rahu in the 12th in D9, so Ketu goes into 6th, and Jupiter in 12th in Rasi, but no 6th house involvement. Because of a complete lack of 6th house planets in my D1, before this relationship I went through my life without giving any deeper thoughts to 6th house matters, simply because they are just not a focus for me in this incarnation. But entering this relationship has made me realise, that I am in fact pretty naturally capable and organized when it comes to dealing with the 6th house, yet at the same time due to my Ketu being placed there in D9, it put me in a role of having to teach my partner how to deal with those 6th house matters. It felt draining, having to deal with opposition all the time, because I was drawn to 12th house matters instead. So it created this dynamic, where with Rahu in 12th in D9 I wanted to expand our experience in a relationship, because I always believed that the point of a union with a spouse is that the world you create together should be more expanded, because a partnership gives you advantages and allows you to accomplish more than you would on your own. As a result, we travelled quite a lot during the course of our relationship, but also both expanded and ascended spiritually. 

This is something you are also going to attract yourself in a long term relationship. 12th house being the house of bed pleasures, you will also definitely understand the importance of the physical part of the relationship, and your interest in it will be consistent throughout the union. With the Sun and the Moon adding to it, you might have an easier time accomplishing it.

My advice to you with this D9 configuration would be to look at your partner’s D9 and rasi as well, to see how their own energy is going to play out in the relationship. With my ex having the exact opposite Rahu-Ketu axis in their own D9, I felt frustrated, finding them disinterested in expanding our world the way I wanted it, due to their own D9 Ketu in 12th detaching them from these matters. On the other hand, their energy provided an easy manifestation of what I wanted, and the foreign travel we have experienced was definitely because of the energetic support they brought. At the same time, being in this relationship made them constantly focus on daily chores, battling with their own obstacles, both physical and emotional (all 6th house matters). 

This is the funny detail with 12th house in D9, especially with Rahu there. Even if you were forced to perform practical chores in your single life before the union, somehow the relationship will detach you from it. In my case it was because my partner was doing all the chores for the sake of their own character growth with Rahu in the 6th, but I bet in my next relationship for some reason it will happen as well, even if means we will just be rich enough to have maid service lol. You just end up being more “abstract oriented” for one reason or another, always reaching higher energetically, and mundane obstacles lose priority as a result.

12th house in D9 really is the window to the world. Your relationships end up expanding your life big time, and you can learn a lot from them, even if they’re difficult. I think it’s one of the best configurations to have in Navamsa, because it makes you really commit to creating a newer, better experience with your partner, which is very mutually beneficial. Also, it lowers the risk of infidelity, because you are motivated to have a sexual routine with your spouse, and they don’t have to go look for it elsewhere. However, you need to look at the other person’s chart as well, because as my example shows, all my interest in having a healthy intimate life was for naught with my exes Ketu in the 12th making them have almost no interest in the physicality of love.

[starcrossedau]

CAREER IN NATAL CHARTS

Hey! I’ve got many asks on this so I decided to do a short tutorial. As I always say around here, there’s no way I could possibly define one’s career / skills without seeing the whole chart so I’ll try to teach you how to get there on your own. If at the end of this post you’re still not sure then I strongly advise you to look for a professional astrologer (preferably a Traditional one but it’s up to you) that will assist you further.

Please remember this is all Traditional Astrology based therefore Neptune, Uranus and Pluto mean nothing.

So here’s a quick list of steps on how to get to the answer, and please remember that understanding rulers is a must. I’ll also use Taehyung’s chart as an example.

_

| Understand your Ascendant ‘cause it’s who you are and wherever you body is (the ruler of the Ascendant is always one’s body) is gonna influence your approach to life and how people will perceive you - therefore influencing your skills and how they’re useful for others. If the ruler of it is in the 10th, for example, could easily mean you’ll live for work or that many things in your life will be about your career.

| The nature of the planet that is representing your body will also talk about your profession, or how you’ll get to be good at it or not. Understanding mythology is very important regarding this: Jupiter can talk about law and society because it comes from the legend of Zeus, much like Mercury can stand for messages (communication in all its ways) since it’s from the Hermes’ tale and Venus is often talking about arts by having originated from Aphrodite.

| The 2nd talks about one’s money, so although it doesn’t define one’s career it can help you get how said money is gonna be present or not in one’s life. Again, it doesn’t define it - but it’s good to investigate it as so to get how exactly that career is gonna financially act for the person in the long run.

| Jupiter is the traditional significator of wealth, richness. Getting it is as important as getting the 2nd.

| The 6th traditionally (as in centuries ago) talked about slavery and nowadays can be understood as the place where we’ll see how that person will provide for the public, and how hard work is gonna play a role in that person’s life or not. This house will also talk about whether one will work for the government or not.

| The sign the 9th is in represents the subjects one’s mind feels at its best studying. However, whatever you study can be different from what your career implies. For example, if the signs from the 9th and the 10th’s are being ruled by complete opposite meanings defined by the planets than it’s safe to say one will study something but could end up working with something else. Or even that they might study it, but end up using it differently (like studying Biology to work as a scientist but ending up being a college teacher).

| The 10th is one’s career, the nature of the sign there and its ruler will define a whole lot of what the person will work with. It also explains one’s approach to it, the ruler of the 10th can easily explain if the person will pressure themselves to work hard or if they’ll just enjoy it. Please remember that every sign talks about many different things, so getting each one of them is important so you can compare to the planets involved. A 10th in Pisces, for example, can sometimes talk about having a career that involves creativity and arts - but often can also talk about working with creativity and religions of any kind. It also talks about sensitivity and addictions and how one copes with it or not. If Jupiter in this example is in Capricorn and therefore being in the 8th by Whole Signs: Jupiter talks about law and it’s at the house that talks about money coming from others, while the 10th is talking about creativity and people’s addictions. Could easily mean it’s a lawyer that works for companies that sue workers that have consumed alcohol or used drugs during work hours. lol Random, I know, but it’s for you to get how you have to read every single thing.

| Pars Fortunae’s sign will explain exactly how all those things combined will work out and how exactly that money is gonna be achieved by the person. And the ruler is just as important as the sign, of course. It’s literally talking about how one will work to get their money (even if it’s just given to them like by inheritance or prizes of any kind).

| Medium Coeli stands for one’s goals in life, what do they want to achieve by having lived in this world. Also, it’s not always placed in the 10th. If it’s talking about your goals in life then it’s obviously involving what you’ll do as a professional as well.

| Understanding all the meanings of the houses is an absolute must. If you already feel like you know what you wanna work with but isn’t sure how good it’ll be for you or not it’s good to check the houses that talk about whatever services you’d provide by choosing said path. For example, doctors commonly have to check the 12th (mental disorders, psychologists, etc) and the 6th (diseases, public providers). Entertainers have to check the 5th (entertainment, fun) much like the 11th (does society love them), interior designers have to check the 4th (since it defines homes), communicators have to check the 3rd (easy, right? since it stands for communication). Huge etc here.

| Last but not least the 2nd house stands for money, right? So after deciding you’ve found the house that is defining your career, you have to count to the 2nd after it. Why? Because the 2nd house after the one that defines your work skills will define the money that will come from it. Someone that is a nurse, for example, will often be defined by the 6th (diseases, public services) - so the 7th will represent the money they’ll get for it. So say the 6th is in Sagittarius, meaning the 7th is in Capricorn. That means 7th is ruled by Saturn and depending on how Saturn is going in that chart (what house it is or the sign, the aspects) can easily mean that the person will have to work for many years (Saturn stands for time, endurance) until they can call themselves financially stable.

| Another way of getting one’s money that comes from their job is that the 2nd from the 10th, the house of career, is the 11th. So yet another thing to read to get how profitable one’s career will be.

| One house alone won’t define anything, you have to take all of these that were mentioned and the houses their rulers are at into consideration to get to the answer. It really is like math, if you ignore one part of the equation you’ll just get the wrong results.

_

Here follows Kim Taehyung’s chart as an example:

| Taehyung has Jupiter, the ruler of Sagittarius, in the 1st: his body is constantly exposed and by being a benefic in a great sign for it it’s clear that he’ll attract attention easily. Jupiter also talks about society and in his case is explaining how effortless it is for him to attract people his way by having his body and face in the spotlight like this. Since Jupiter also talks about law and is working so nicely in his life it’s literally meaning he’s blessed regarding being protected with any law issues (as in if he ever sues anyone he’ll likely win, or that he’ll have luck when signing certain types of contracts involving his career). Since he has a great business mind (read the topic about his 2nd), he knows how to use this Jupiter to his advantage.

| Jupiter ruling his entire life by being in the 1st, and it’s the traditional significator of wealth: alone it wouldn’t do it, but combined with other placements is indeed explaining how rich he’ll get in this life (or has been getting, that is).

| Taehyung’s 6th is in Taurus, ruled by Venus. His Venus is in the 3rd, and also influecing his 11th by rulership - where his Medium Coeli is. Venus talks about arts much like the 6th talks about providing services: Taehyung offers art for the public, and since Venus is in a sign that belongs to Saturn and his Saturn is working in a sign bad for it and in an angular house (influencing the whole chart)… Taehyung has to work his ass off to have his work recognized. Although he has great luck with the public loving him (Venus ruling the 11th, Jupiter in the 1st), the work itself brings many hardships. It’s showing some workaholic tendencies as well, but not ones that he chooses to have: he’s forced to work long hours and it messes with his emotional health.

| Onto his 10th house, where his Pars Fortunae is. Virgo is ruled by Mercury, which is placed in the 2nd and conjunct Mars. Simply put, Taehyung’s mind and determination much like his business skills (2nd talking about money and Capricorn being a cardinal sign working with it) are what are gonna bring him money in this life. So the choices he makes regarding his career, the decisions he takes about investing in different kinds of businesses are what are gonna make him have money. There’s a lot of resilience here too, his patience combined with that determination is gonna bring him money. Virgo is talking about being methodic by being ruled by this Mercury, meaning that the way he approaches art is a lot more calculated than it’s shown to the public. Talks a lot about his fanservice skills for sure, since that Mercury and Mars conjunction is being influenced by a Moon in Aries in the 5th: he shines within entertainment, and most of it is calculated and created by skills he chose to perfect. He’s a natural with his charms that were given to him by Jupiter, but that determined (defined by the Mars in the 2nd) Moon in the 5th is to show how talented he is at entertaining.

| I’ve already talked about his MC, just to add that the 11th is also talking about society and fame brought by friendships and in his case is explaining how he wants to leave a mark in this world with his artistics skills (Libra ruled by Venus) and networking (wants to be known for being inclusive, unprejudiced).

| His Sun is in the 2nd and ruling the 9th. His mind loves to shine within creativity skills related subjects and boy wants to be known for making a name of his own. He wants to be known as someone that has achieved success by making the right calls at the right times. He’ll be financially successful and will be proud of knowing it was all because of his own choices. With Mercury and Mars in the same house that Sun is being taken to, I cannot stress this enough: his mind is very quick to judge what is going to bring him the best results.

| The Sun in the 2nd coming from the 9th, the house of long distance travels, is literally meaning his money is gonna come from people of different cultures.

| The 2nd house from his 5th (the house that is talking about entertainment, which is the one defining his career) is the 6th, so his money is gonna come from a lot of hard work, long hours, art related skills because Venus rules it, the way he chooses to communicate and by many travels as well (Venus ruling it and being in the 3rd, constant movement).

| That all being said, basically his career is related to arts and what he stubbornly wants to show others (you can tell the kind of arts he has skills for as well but I won’t go much into it) - but above all his money is gonna come from his wise decisions and determination regarding his profession (Pars Fortunae in Virgo).

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

(& to think this boy was known for years by many as the stupidest of the group lol)

28.11.17

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67 NOTES

REBLOG

#traditional astrology  

#kim taehyung  

#pars fortunae  

#10th house  

#9th house  

#6th house  

#ascendant in sagittarius  

#i made this to help you guys  

#but you absolutely do not  

#have the permission to hold me accountable  

#for whatever it is that you decide to do with your life lol  

#i mean  

#i am trying to teach you how to get to the answer  

#but it could definitely be the case of you not being good with astrology  

#am i sounding harsh here?  

#i just mean to say that  

#hiring a professional astrologer to give you answers regarding this  

#is what i'd recommend  

#not everyone will be good at astrology and that's ok  

#so please consider talking to a professional instead of basing important life choices  

#in things you might not completely understand  

#and taehyung is a genius don't fight me on this  

[questionsonislam]

How should our style (method) be in (conveying the message of Islam, propagation of Islam)? How should I convey the message of Islam to people who despise Islam?

Apparent Properties in the tabligh of Hazrat Prophet (pbuh)

Since the Messenger of Allah is ‘a beautiful pattern (of conduct)’ for believers, with the expression of God Almighty, his methods and forms of tabligh is the only reference for us, the believers. The Messenger of Allah acted in accordance with the general principles that happened in the general course of the universe, called the laws of creation and he set an example for his umma (community) for all kinds of situations. If he had wanted, he would have begged his Lord and could have obtained all kinds of worldly belongings; if he had wanted and if it had been appropriate for the divine wisdom, all of the polytheists would have been destroyed or they would have adopted Islam. However, since they would have happened as miracles, he would not have been a model to be followed.

Since the Messenger of Allah was an example in every issue, soldiers of heart who were determined to exceed seas of blood for the cause that they believed in and who were so mature and respectful towards the Exalted Creator as to attribute everything to Him when they attained their destination emerged.

When we examine the mission of calling people to Islam of the Messenger of Allah (pbuh), we see that the following principles, among many other characteristics, are essential:

1. Patience,

2. Treating people softly and Tolerance,

3. Gradualism,

4. Attributing the results to Allah,

5. Inner depth,

6. Modesty,

7. Reckoning.

1. Patience

The prophets were always subject to the greatest troubles and misfortunes. However, they showed the greatest patience against troubles and misfortunes. Almost all believers know what Hazrat Nooh (Noah), Hazrat Lut (Lot), Hazrat Musa (Moses) and Hazrat Eesa (Jesus) were subject to. However, all those troubles and misfortunes did not prevent them from propagating their causes; on the contrary, they continued to convey the message of Allah and His orders to people with patience and perseverance.

That general aim and duty of the prophets are expressed as follows in the Quran: "(It is the practice of those) who preach the Messages of Allah, and fear Him, and fear none but Allah: and enough is Allah to call (men) to account." (al-Ahzab, 33/39)

God Almighty says the following to our Prophet regarding tabligh:

"O Messenger! proclaim the (Message) which hath been sent to thee from thy Lord. If thou didst not thou wouldst not have fulfilled and proclaimed His Mission: and Allah will defend thee from men (who mean mischief). For Allah guideth not those who reject Faith." (al-Maeda, 5/67)"

The Messenger of Allah spent all his life proclaiming Islam after undertaking that lofty duty. He visited one house after another and looked for people whom he could convey the message of Islam to.

The reaction of the opposite front was in the form of indifference and boycotting at first. Then, it continued with mockery and ridiculing. In the last phase, it continued with all kinds of torture. They placed thorns on the ways he was going to pass; they placed tripe over his head while he was praying and they insulted him. However, the Messenger of Allah did not give up his struggle despite all of those difficulties. It was the reason why he came to this world. He visited everybody including his most severe enemies repeatedly and conveyed them the divine message. He went to the enemies of Islam like Abu Jahl and Abu Lahab so many times; he told them about the religion and the truth..! He went to the fairs. He went from one tent to another in order to be able to guide even one person; they closed the doors on his face; however, he went to the same door again and told them the same things.

When the people of Makkah gave him no more hope, he went to Taif. Taif is a place suitable for an outing. Taif people, whom slackness spoiled, outdid Makkans. All of the flotsam and jetsam of Taif people came together and threw stones at the Messenger of Allah, who was the sun of the suns that even the angels could not look at so as not harm him, and chased him away. Zayd bin Haritha, whom the Messenger of Allah accepted as his son and loved, was together with him. Zayd used his body as a shield to protect our Prophet but some stones hit the body of the Prophet and caused a lot of bleeding on his body.

When they managed to run away from that intolerant atmosphere and took refuge under a tree, Jibril (Gabriel) appeared suddenly. He said that he could pull down the mountain over those people if the Prophet wanted. The Messenger of Allah said no to that offer even at a time when he was suffering. He said no to that offer because he hoped that even in the future some people from their descendants would believe in Allah…

Then, he opened his hands and begged his Lord:

O Allah! I complain to you about my weakness and being despised by people. Oh the most Merciful of the Merciful ones! You are the Lord of the despised and the helpless. You are my Lord. To whom are you leaving me? To the people of bad words and bad faces or to the enemy that interferes in my duty? If you have no wrath against me, I will not care the difficulties and troubles I suffer. However, your welfare is vaster and better. O my God! I take refuge in your luminous face that brightens the darkness and that is the means of salvation from being caught by wrath or from your displeasure. O my Lord! I expect your forgiveness until you are pleased with me. Oh my Lord! All power and strength is in your hand.

While he was praying like that, somebody approached him silently; he gave a bunch of grapes in a plate to the Messenger of Allah and said, “Please help yourself.” When the Messenger of Allah reached out his hand to the plate, he said “Bismillah” (in the name of Allah). It was an unexpected happening for the slave named Addas, who treated him the grapes. He asked astonishingly: “Who are you?” The Messenger of Allah answered: "I am the last prophet and messenger!" Then, Addas leaned over him and started to kiss him. He found what he had been looking for for years suddenly and he believed in Islam. (Ibn Hisham, Sirah, 2:60-63; Ibn Kathir, al-Bidaya, 3:166; repr: S. Nur 1997, 1: 70-73).

Our first shelter to take against the difficulties that we will face while conveying the message of Islam today must be patience.

Patience is mentioned in more than eighty places in the Quran and believers are ordered to follow patience. The verse: "O ye who believe! Seek help with patient perseverance and prayer: for Allah is with those who patiently persevere." (al-Baqara, 2/153) is only one of them. As believers, we can apply patience in three categories in our life: Patience against troubles and misfortunes. It puts man among those who show patience and tawakkul (trust in Allah. b) Patience for avoiding sins. It makes man attain taqwa (fearing Allah) and become a muttaqi. c) Patience in worshipping and obeying Allah. That patience makes man enter among the people that Allah loves. (Badiuzzaman, (Words), 353)

a) To show patience against troubles and misfortunes means to abandon fury and not to complain when one faces unwanted and painful situations.

b) Patience for avoiding sins can be achieved by abandoning bad things, avoiding disobedience and persevering. It necessitates a permanent belief and a strong determination because sins weaken and blur belief and eliminate its light and brightness.

c) Patience in worshipping and obeying Allah means to continue worshipping, to be sincere and to act in accordance with Islamic criteria.

The scholar, Abdullah Qadir, adds this to the kinds of patience: Patience for keeping to the Quranic line without changing ways and directions when faced by the attractive beauties of the world.

Patience against the frenzy of the time in the tasks that need time.

Patience for the desire to meet Allah until the command of “return” comes from Allah by realizing the fineness in obedience to orders.

A Muslim shows patience in order to attain the pleasure of Allah by obeying Him. That kind of patience is a means for the love and pleasure of Allah. Sincerity is essential in such patience. Sincerity means to do everything only for the sake or pleasure of Allah. (Badiuzzaman, (Flashes), 21.Lem'a).

Man should show the same patience against haram too. When man is exposed to haram first, the resistance shown against it will eliminate the bad sparks coming from it and thus will overcome it. Therefore, our Prophet said the Hazrat Ali "The first glance is for you but the rest are against you." That is, harams can catch a man’s eyes. However, if he closes his eyes and turns his face away, it will not be recorded as a sin for him. Even a reward can be recorded for him because he has not looked at haram. Similarly, man is always face to face with committing sins. As he shows resistance against committing sins, he will reach taqwa (fearing of Allah) and higher ranks in taqwa.

Testing is the sunnah of Allah for his slaves in their lives. Allah tests His slaves in order to disclose their talents and abilities. With such a testing, it becomes clear how a person uses the ability of will and choice that has been granted to him. Allah tests any one of His slaves that he wishes at any time and however He wills. A person can be tested through his closest relatives. Therefore, man should think that he can be tested both through his enemies and friends; he should do favors to his friends, whom can be used as a means of testing against him by God Almighty.

2. Treating People Nicely and Tolerance

Tolerance and gentleness are the most important cornerstones in the tabligh of Islam by our Prophet. God Almighty says the following to the Prophet, who approaches people with gentleness, by congratulating him on the honesty and perfection of his acts: "It is part of the Mercy of Allah that thou dost deal gently with them. Wert thou severe or harsh-hearted they would have broken away from about thee; so pass over (their faults), and ask for (Allah's) forgiveness for them; and consult them in affairs (of moment). Then when thou hast taken a decision, put thy trust in Allah. For Allah loves those who put their trust (in Him). " (Aal-e-Imran, 3/159)

Gentleness is like a different golden key given to the Messenger of Allah. He opened many hearts with that key and affected their hearts. But for his gentleness, many intolerant hearts would have faced some harsh acts and some would have opposed to Islam unlike now, and some would have moved away from him. Only thanks to the gentleness of the Messenger of Allah were they prevented and many people embraced Islam in groups.

As it is understood from the verse, gentleness originates from mercy. If the Messenger of Allah had become rude and harsh, everybody around him would have abandoned him. The vast mercy of God Almighty made him gentle. That is, God made his nature so perfect and gentle that the hands that touched him were never injured, and they found a rose when they expected thorns. (Abdullah 1997, 1:398).

I find it useful to mention some hadiths related to mercy here. The Messenger of Allah says:

Allah will not show mercy to someone who does not show mercy to people. (Bukhari, "Tawhid", 2; Muslim, "Fadail," 66)

Show mercy to those on the earth, those in the sky will show mercy to you. (Hakim, al-Mustadrak, 4:277)

He who does not show mercy to people will not be shown mercy. (Bukhari, "Adab," 18; Muslim, "Fadail, 65)

Hazrat Prophet (pbuh) acted tolerantly towards even those who broke his teeth and injured his head. After the conquest of Makkah, he said to the Makkans, who were wondering what would happen to them, “You may go; all of you are free” although they had expelled him from his hometown when he was sorry and in tears. He forgave Abu Sufyan and softened his heart so that he would embrace Islam. He also forgave Wahshi, who had killed his beloved uncle, and Ikrima, the son of Abu Jahl. He forgave many others like them and did not call them to account for what they had done.

He did not reproach people; he did not blame them in front of others due to their mistakes; instead of despising them, he acted nicely and honestly by setting an example to them.

Sometimes, there were some people who came to him, acted rudely and even insulted him. If he had raised a finger, a hundred swords would have cut off his head. However, he reacted gently towards those rude and harsh behaviors. (Abdullah, 1997, 1:403).

Bukhari and Muslim narrate from Abu Said al-Khudri: A man called Dhu'l-Huwaysira came to the Messenger of Allah (pbuh). Meanwhile, the Messenger of Allah were dividing the war booty. He addressed our Prophet insolently: "O Muhammad, be just!" (If that word were said to one of us, we would have a shock. As a matter of fact, we can be unfair. However, the person to whom that sentence was said was a prophet who was appointed to bring justice to the world.)

Hazrat Umar, who was there at that time, roared when he heard that disrespectful remark and said, “Let me cut off that munafiq’s head, O Messenger of Allah!”

After soothing Hazrat Umar and those who thought like him, the Messenger of Allah turned to that man said to him only the following: "Woe on you! If I am not just, who else can be just? (Bukhari, "Adab", 95; Muslim, "Zakat", 142) In other narrations, the reply of our Prophet is in a different form that can mean as follows: "Woe on me if I am not just; it means I am destroyed. Woe on you because of my injustice because you follow me as a prophet!" (Abdullah, 1997, 1:405-406)

The following are guiding principles related to tolerance:

Open your heart to everybody, let it be like oceans! Be filled with belief and feel love for people; let there be no dejected heart that you have not been interested in and you have not helped..! Appraise the good people due to their good deeds; be generous towards believing hearts; approach the faithless people softly so that their animosity and hatred will melt away; be like Messiah with your breaths...! Drive away the bad deeds with good deeds; do not heed rude attitudes! Everybody reflects his own character through their behavior. Prefer the way of tolerance and be noble-hearted towards those who do not have good manners..! It is the most distinguished quality of a heart that is full of love to love the love and to turn against hostility. To hate everybody is either an indication of having been directed by the devil or a sign of insanity. Love human beings; admire humanity..!

3. Gradualism

When we look at the events happening in the universe, we see a gradualism. That gradualism is one of the most important points in conveying the message of Islam.

We know that our Prophet (pbuh) conveyed the message of Islam gradually and step by step, and the Quran was sent down in 23 years. The 23-year period was divided into two; the first period is called the Period of Makkah, and the second period as the Period of Madinah.

Although it is possible to mention several periods in the Period of Makkah, it is possible to deal with it as two periods: one when the message of Islam was conveyed secretly, the other when it was conveyed openly. The following verse is quite meaningful about the call in Makkah: " Invite (all) to the way of thy Lord with wisdom and beautiful preaching; and argue with them in ways that are best and most gracious: for thy Lord knoweth, best who have strayed from His Path, and who receive guidance." (Nahl, 16/125)

The verses that were sent down during the Period of Makkah generally contained the fundamentals of belief, ethical principles, behavioral criteria and advice.

The Period of Madinah was a period when, on the on hand, Islamic legal system was enacted and settled and on the other hand, the barriers between the slave and Allah were tried to be eliminated. (Buti, S. Ramazan, Fiqhu's-Sira p. 95).

The Master of the universe (pbuh) conveyed the message of Islam in accordance with the conditions of each period; he did not burden a load of 40 kg on someone who had the capacity of 10 kg, thus, he did not cause that person to be injured. He treated people in accordance with their states and paved the way for people to warm to Islam and have belief in their hearts.

That principle of the Messenger of Allah is a main principle that will serve as an example till Doomsday. Abdurrashid Ibrahim, the famous traveler who visited Japan in the 1900’s, narrates the following: "I told a Japanese person, who became a Muslim as a result of my tabligh, only about the fard prayers. He started to pray as I taught him. Once, he saw me performing sunnah prayer and asked me what it was. I said it was the sunnah of the Prophet. He asked me, “Why did you not tell me about it before?” I said, “If I had told you about it when you first became a Muslim, it could have been difficult for your soul.” He said, “You are right”, and started to perform sunnah prayers from then on.

4. Attributing the Results to Allah

Our Prophet (pbuh) did whatever necessary for something and left the rest to Allah. He never boasted about the success and achievement that Allah granted, on the contrary, he often said that all good results came from Allah and that nothing would have happened but for His help.

The faithful people loving the Prophet (pbuh) and following his path always attributed the achievements to Him, and they did not have euphoria of victory. A believer should fulfill his duty and should not interfere with the duty of Allah. A very outstanding example regarding the issue is as follows:

It is very well known that Jalaluddin Harzamshah, a hero of Islam who defeated the army of Jenghiz Khan several times, was addressed by his viziers and commanders as follows while he was setting out for a battle:

"You shall be victorious, God Almighty will make you the winner."

He answered them as follows:

"My duty is to fight in the way of Allah. I cannot interfere in his duty. To make someone victorious or a loser is his duty. (Nursî, Lem’alar (Flashes), 17. Lema)

Naturally, when one has such mentality, he will not be conceited and will not boast about anything; he will not show egocentrism, either.

5. Inner depth

Hazrat Prophet (pbuh) has been on the summit in terms of inner depth. He was the best devotee among the devotees and the best worshipper among the worshippers. He feared Allah so much that his heart almost stopped. He was so sensitive that there were very few times when he did not have tears or he did not shiver; when he was active, he was like a sea; when he was not active, he was like an ocean.

Inner depth takes place through devotion and worshipping. The one who practiced them best was our Prophet (pbuh). The state of devotion means not to be delighted even if the whole world is given to you and not to feel sorry even if you lose the whole world. That state was at the highest point with the Messenger of Allah. He would not be delighted even as much as someone who found a grain of barley if he were given the whole world. He would not feel sorry even as much as someone who lost a grain of barley if he lost the whole world. He abandoned the world and the worldly things in his heart. However, that abandoning does not mean to abandon the world really because he showed us the most logical and best ways of making a profit.

Our Prophet did not give any importance to the world. Once Hazrat Umar (may Allah be pleased with him) came to the presence of the Messenger of Allah. Our Prophet was on the mat that he had slept, and there was the impression of the math on his face. There was a piece of processed leather in one part of the room and a small bag with a few handfuls of barley in another part. They were all the things that were available in his room. Hazrat Umar was moved by what he saw and started to weep. When the Messenger of Allah asked him why he was crying, Umar (may Allah be pleased with him) said: "O Messenger of Allah! While the rulers and kings lie in their beds of feather, you (for whom the universe was created) are lying on a dry mat and the mat makes an impression on your face. What I have seen has made me cry.” Thereupon, the Messenger of Allah said to Umar: "O Umar! Do you not want it that the world will belong to them but the hereafter will belong to us?" (Bukhari, "Tafsir", 21) In another narration, our Prophet says: "What relation have I got with the world? I am like a traveler, a traveler who sits in the shade of a tree for a while and then goes on his journey." (Tirmidhi, "Zuhd", 44; İbn Majah, "Zuhd", 3)

He came to this world with a duty. He brought breaths of revival to people in terms of feelings and thoughts. When his duty ended, he left the world. It is impossible to think that a person who was so disinterested in the world would tend to have some things in the world. He never showed a tendency towards the world and he never deviated from his path.... (Abdullah 1997, 2:473-474)

First, he practiced the things himself that he was going to tell his umma to do and served as an example to his umma in all of his attitudes. As a matter of fact, nobody could lead a life like he did. He was so disciplined and serious in his individual worship. His whole life seemed to be programmed based on worshipping. We should not think of worshipping as only prayers, fasting, etc. He fulfilled everything that he did with a consciousness of worshipping. (ibid, 2:478)

The world wanted to push itself through his heart many times but he always rejected the world. (Ibn Hanbal, Musnad, 2:231) The servants of our century should take the Prophet as an example and reach inner depth, without forgetting the outer conquest along with the inner conquest.

If the soul and the desires of man are left uncontrolled, his tendency to and interest in the world will increase. The world even becomes his ultimate aim and the purpose of his life. However, the following is stated in the Quran: "Short is the enjoyment of this world: the Hereafter is the best for those who do right: never will ye be dealt with unjustly in the very least!" (Nisa, 4/77) Then, a believer should try to reach inner depth and he should not ignore preparing for the hereafter. The happy people who are at spirit’s service will always head towards the pleasure of the Creator, humanity and virtue.

6. Modesty

The modesty and humility of the Messenger of Allah shine like a star as a different dimension of his fatanah (wisdom) on the one hand and tabligh on the other hand. His modesty increased as he was known and accepted by everybody. It seemed as if modesty and humility were born again together with him. They continued by developing till he died. Once, the angel came and asked him: "Would you like to be a slave prophet or a king prophet?" Jibril (Gabriel) whispered to him: "Be humble towards your Lord!" The Messenger of Allah answered: "I would like to be a slave prophet who goes to bed hungry one day and begs his Lords and who goes to bed full another day and thanks his Lord..." (Haythami, Majmau'z-Zawaid, 9:19-20.) He always regarded himself as person like other people; he never made a distinction between himself and others. Once, he looked at the man who was shivering before him and said to him: "Brother! Do not shiver! I am the son of a woman who ate onions like you..." (Ibn Majah, "At'ima", 30)

As Muslims, we should take our Prophet as an example. Worldly ranks and positions, goods and properties should not spoil man and should not make him forget himself. The quality of a responsibility given to a person does not transform him into another being. Therefore, man should always regard himself as a person like the other people.

The modesty and humility of the Master of the Universe continued both when he entered Makkah as a victorious commander and when he was forced to leave Makkah. He bowed his head so much that the head that touched the sky was bowed as low as to touch the saddle...

A hadith reported by our mother, Hazrat Aisha, tells us the following: "The Messenger of Allah acted like an ordinary person at home. He mended his own clothes, repaired his own shoes and helped her wives in their housework." (Tirmidhi, "Shamail", 78) When he did those things, his name was mentioned in many places in the world; everybody talked about him and the religion he brought. He used time so efficiently that he could find time for chores despite his important responsibilities. He had the best form of all of the nice characters.

Humility is not humiliation, and conceit is not dignity. The Master of the Universe (pbuh) states the following about humility and conceit: "Allah elevates the person who acts modestly for him one degree. Allah takes that person to the highest place of Firdaws Paradise. Allah lowers a person who shows conceit one degree. Allah lowers that person to the lowest degree of Hell." (Mundhiri, at-Targhib, 4:339)

7. Reckoning

The highest person among those who always lead their lives in a constant feeling of reckoning and responsibility is the Master of the Universe. He knew what a heavy burden was slavery and with that consciousness, he always tried to make himself ready for the day of reckoning. He called his umma’s attention to the issue as follows:

"Bring yourself to account before you are taken to account." The great reckoning will definitely be very tough. We must prepare for that day. I want to present you a talk between our Prophet and Hazrat Aisha regarding the issue.

Once, the Master of the Universe (pbuh) went to Hazrat Aisha and saw her weeping; he asked her, “What makes you weep, O Aisha?” Hazrat Aisha says: "O Messenger of Allah! I thought about the Day of Judgment and the fear of that day made me weep. Will you remember your family on that day? The Messenger of Allah answered: "Oh Aisha! There are three places where nobody can remember others. They are when the Books of Deeds are delivered, when the deeds are weighed and when passing the Sirat Bridge." Then, everybody will wonder whether their books of deeds will be given from their right, left or back. When the deeds are weighed, they will wonder if their rewards or sins will outweigh and whether they will be able to pass the Sirat and attain Paradise and Jamalullah (the face of Allah); they will wonder if their feet will slip and they will fall down to the depths of Hell.

Our Prophet (pbuh) calls the attention of his umma by addressing his own relatives about preparing for that fearful day as follows:

O sons of Abdimanaf! Try to save your souls that are in the hand of Allah because I cannot do anything for you.

The Messenger of Allah narrows the circle and continues to address his own tribe as follows:

O sons of Hashim! Try to save your souls that are in the hand of Allah because I cannot do anything for you, either.

The Messenger of Allah narrows the circle some more and says the same things for his uncle Abbas, aunt Safiyya and daughter Fatima.

We understand from those remarks that it is necessary to prepare for the hereafter before going there. Paradise and Jamalullah are gained in the world not in the hereafter. The following is a hadith of our Prophet "The world is the field of the hereafter." (Aliyyulkari, al-Masnu' 1:135; al-Ajluni, Kashful-khafa 1:1320) We will reap in the harvest of the hereafter whatever we sow in this world.

The Master of the two worlds, who had great difficulty under the burden of slavery said: "The Chapters Hud, al-Waqia and al-Mursalat made me old. He was ordered: " Therefore, stand firm (in the straight path) as thou art commanded." (Hud, 11/112). That firmness in the straight path was what God Almighty had prescribed for His messenger. He was asked to maintain that straight path...

In the chapter al-Mursalat, it is stated that people are divided into groups for Paradise and Hell and that they bent double due to fear. ln chapter al-Waqia, those groups were displayed. What was narrated in those chapters terrified the Messenger of Allah and made him old... (Abdullah 1997, 2:475)

The companions of the prophet, who had so much difficulty due to the feelings of responsibility and reckoning, led a very meticulous life and serve as examples to us. Hazrat Abu Bakr continued to milk the sheep of his neighbor to earn his living even after he was elected as caliph. However, as a result of the insistence of Hazrat Umar and other companions, he decided to give up milking the sheep in order not to delay the work of the state and agreed to get a small salary. He left a small earthenware jar and a letter to be given to the caliph after his death. When they opened the jar, they found small coins and a note. The note read as follows: "The money you allocated for me remained on some days. I felt ashamed of Allah to spend it because it was the money of the people.” Hazrat Umar started to weep when he saw it and said, "You left us a life which is impossible to lead.

Hazrat Umar led a life to be taken as an example too. His life was accepted as a model even by non-Muslims. Mahatma Gandhi, the founder of India who lived centuries after him, addressed his nations as follows: "O my people. I promise you a just administration like the administration of Umar of Muslims."

They led their lives with that consciousness and comprehension, enlightening our way. What we need to do is to follow that enlightened path as Muslims and to take over their inheritance.

[killingkueen]

Much More Than This

Hello, hello, hello @mrs-stiltskin! Can you believe it’s me again???

Prompt: cats, dogs, books, opposites attract

Summary: Mr. Gold tries not to pay much attention to the new librarian and her husband. He tries very, very hard. He almost succeeds.

Rated very E

A/N The First: There is some very mellow m/m as well as some m/f/m, so keep an open mind. It’s also the first slash I’ve ever written—today is the day I became a fanfic author.

2A2N: I have never met a Scottish person in my life 

Edited to add AO3 link

OOO

The sky was moody and grey. It hadn’t yet determined if that was because the sun hadn’t fully risen, or if it was a sign of rain. It didn’t matter to Mr. Gold, who parked his Cadillac behind his shop. He parked there everyday, after all. And every day he took his cane and his keys in hand, and opened his shop. Mr. Gold had a strict schedule, a strict routine. That was how he liked it.

At the back door, key out and ready to be slotted into the lock, Gold paused. There were boots sticking out of the bottom of his shop. Boots attached to two squirming legs, the toes digging into the ground for leverage. If he strained his ears, he could make out faint muttering, followed by a psspsspss.

Gold stared, baffled. The boots were old, but not shabby, and along the lines of what he’d seen the dock-workers wear. He didn’t think any of the men who worked there would have the nerve to—what, exactly? Was this a robbery? If it were, he’d give points for creativity.

Whatever he was doing, he was an unwelcome change to Gold’s routine. He had a shop to open. Gold lifted his cane, knocking the handle against the wood paneling of his shop, firm and loud. As he hoped, the man startled, a muffled thud accompanied with what was now cursing as his head hit the floor above him.

The man scrambled out, his limbs kicking up dirt as he backtracked.

Mr. Gold almost smiled. This was the most excitement he had seen in months.

“And just what do you think you’re doing underneath my shop, dearie?”

The man now stood on his knees. His eyes, widened in surprise, snapped to Gold’s face.

“Glasgo’!” he exclaimed. “Isnae this a shock! ”

Gold raised an eyebrow. Not many people in town much cared where he’d come from, and a good amount of them swore it was somewhere much warmer than Scotland. Glasgow was a dreary place full of nothing of value to him, and he couldn’t say he missed his homeland.

“From Scotland yourself?” Gold found himself asking.

“Aye, I grew up in the highlands in a wee toon near Inverness.” He brushed off the front of his jacket, dusty from crawling around in the dirt. “I thooght I was stuck wi' these Americans, ye ken.” His smile widened, thrilled at the chance meeting.

That still didn't give him the answer he wanted. “What are you doing under my shop?" he asked again. What was he doing in Storybrooke, for that matter? It was still too early in the season for tourists.

The man’s eyes were too wide for his face, and very expressive. They darted away, to the library across the street, and for just a moment he looked like a kid who’d been sent home with a note from the teacher. The library. Of course.

Gold had heard the new librarian arrived last week, having come all the way from—London, was it? The UK, at least. He remembered the name he’d read when he filed the contracts with the city council: Isabelle French. He had seen a second visa for the husband, though Gold couldn't recall reading the name. He would bet his current inventory he was looking at him.

“Mr. French,” Gold said, deciding he didn’t much care what the man’s name was. He relished the look of surprise that appeared on his face for the second time that morning. It made Gold feel more on balance, knowing things people didn’t expect him to. Much more regular, keeping the townsfolk on their toes.

“Och aye, that’s reit.” A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. He half shrugged. “That’s me, innit.” His shoulders straightened with—pride, was it?

The man was thin, and the baggy clothes he wore only made him look smaller. Even on his knees, Gold could tell he wouldn’t stand any taller than himself, and tall was certainly not a word he could claim. His hair was shaggy but not quite to the point of being unkempt, and he needed a shave.

He also needed to know how things worked around here.

“Mr. French,” he said again, digging his cane into the ground. It was quite easy to look down his nose at him, when the man was already so far below him. “Just what were you doing under my shop?”

“Ah,” French blinked. “I havenae adjusted tae bein' haur yit. Jet lag, I’spose.” At Gold’s unamused expression, he hastened to add, “Sae, I was oot walkin' thes morn when I saw a moggie athwart th' causey. Puir hin' was injured. When I tried tae approach it, it ran under yer shop an' noo won’t come it.”

Gold was viscerally aware he hadn’t set foot in Scotland in nearly thirty years.

“There is a cat under my shop,” he surmised.

“Aye.” He stared up at him, brown eyes wide and waiting.

“What?“ Gold asked impatiently.

“You sound almost American,” French said around a half-smile.

That’s where they were, isn’t it? He pursed his lips. “How are you going to get the cat out, then?”

“If I had something tae wrap her in, I could pull her out safely, I think.” His eyes trailed to Gold’s throat and he knew what he was going to ask the moment before he did. “Do you mind if I knick your scarf?”

Yes, I absolutely do, Gold thought. He pulled the scarf from his throat, the cold air biting at his neck and collar bone, now bare. It was soft and wide, perfect for the early spring, and long enough to wrap around his neck twice and still dangle nicely. It annoyed him, probably more than it should, that it technically was perfect to wrap a cat in.

He held it out to French wordlessly.

“Cheers,” French said, disappearing under the wooden base, leaving Gold to stare at the heel of his boots once again.

Cane in hand, Gold waited.

French spoke in a low, even voice. Gold couldn’t make out what he was saying but it sounded comforting. Hopefully the cat agreed. After a few silent moments, Gold heard a terrible yowling, like a broken siren.

Making much slower progress than before, French inched his way from under the shop, the yowling becoming louder and louder.

“I suppose the noise is a good sign,” Gold said, voice raised over the beastie.

“She’s got a pair of lungs on her,” French agreed. He was smothered in dirt again, the knees of his jeans particularly dark.

He eased himself to his knees, rearranging the bundle in his arms so he had a much firmer grip before he carefully moved to his feet. The cat was wrapped quite securely in the scarf, enough so that Gold could only see a small tuft of dark fur peak through. He took it as further good news that he couldn’t see any obvious wet spots seeping into the fabric. Mr. Gold didn’t like blood.

After a long moment, French coughed. “Where tae now then?” He was cradling the cat like it was a child, holding it firmly to his chest. His hand rubbed circles against it’s back, which did nothing to silence the shrieking.

“You’re not bringing that mongrel inside,” Gold said.

“You dinnae look like much of a veterinarian,” French fired back.

Gold narrowed his eyes. Yes, it would be a vet he’d want. “Marian Hood owns a clinic that’s across the street from the elementary school.” She was known to be quite an early riser herself; chances were she was already inside her building, getting ready for the day.

French looked at him expectantly.

Sighing, he said, “Go north a few blocks and then take a left at the movie theatre. Once you reach Marco’s Woodworking, take another left. You’ll find it eventually.”

“Right. Thanks for the help, Mr. Gold.”

With that, the man turned to leave. Gold looked to the sky. It seemed to be settling on rain, after all. Hm. Gold wasn’t going to offer him a ride; the man had just been rolling around in the dirt. Besides, he had a shop to open.

“Mr. French,” he called, just as the man reached the sidewalk. “It’s too long to walk.”

“Oh,” he said, frowning. “But I don’t have a—”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Gold started to limp to his caddy. “Get in before I change my mind, Mr. French,” he said, opening the passenger side door with no small amount of sarcastic grandeur.

The ride was broken only by the pathetic wailing of the poor creature, and the quieting shushing of the man who held her.

Gold would open his shop as soon as he dropped them off. Then his routine would be back to normal, and he’d again be ignorant to the existence of Mr. and Mrs. French.

OOO

The sunshine was bright through the windows of the pawn shop. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky when Mr. Gold opened for the day. Only blue skies could be seen through his shop windows when he heard the bell signal someone had opened his door.

Gold didn’t look up from his ledger. An air of aloof casualness always worked best as a starting point. They were the ones encroaching on his day, after all.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he said, making a mark that he would erase later as the sound of heels clicked across his floor. He didn’t look up when the clicking stopped in front of him at the counter. After a pause, a plastic bag was set down on the glass.

Something to pawn, then. Shame. He was almost in the mood to argue about rent. Gold’s eyes flickered up. Standing before him was a woman he’d never seen before. She was quite pretty. At least her profile was; she was currently scanning the shelves of their various glassware and bits and bobs.

“Do you have many books here?” She turned in a slow circle to take it all in.

“No.”

The woman looked at him. “There’s antiques here, too, right? It’s not just a pawn shop?”

“Books aren’t really what most people think of when they think of antiques.”

“No, because then they’re usually called first editions.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, and nodded his head slightly, conceding her point. “All the same. My apologies.” His regular buyers weren’t interested in books, and certainly no one in town was either.

“I suppose I’m surrounded by enough books, as it is,” she said, sighing.

Gold had a feeling he knew who this newcomer was. He should leave it alone. He had enough work to keep him busy.

“If you’re interested, I can ask my contacts. I know a person or two in the rare books trade.” He knew exactly no one but they’d be easy enough to track down.

She smiled, delighted surprise brightening her eyes. He had been mistaken before, calling her pretty.

“That’s so kind of you to offer. I’ll let you know.”

Mrs. Isabelle French, new head librarian of the Storybrooke Library, was beautiful.

He nodded, not trusting anything he could say to her. She smiled again. It felt like a bullet straight to his chest.

“Yes, well.” Her hand went to the bag, almost forgotten on the counter. “I’m afraid I’m actually here about a different matter. You no doubt know who I am already, but all the same: hello. My name is Belle French, and it’s nice to meet you.” She opened the bag, taking out a familiar scarf.

“I know it’s rude to return something without having it cleaned, especially over a week later and especially with how my husband absconded with it in the first place, but it’s a very fine material? And hand dyed, which of course you would already know.” She bit her lip. The previous surprise on her face had long since evaporated, leaving nothing but worry.

The scarf had been a gift from his son from when the lad had taken a school trip to Europe. Neal had bought it from a boutique he probably shouldn't have been in, proud to present his papa with something that met his high standards. The silk was lovely and soft. It was his favorite; the final thing he reached for when he left the house on chilly days. His son had given it to him, after all, which made it irreplaceable.

“It’s just a scarf, Mrs. French.”

He shook the fabric, wanting to see the full extent of the damage. Near the center were two dark patches, clotting the silk. And there, at the end of one side, was two more.

“The thing is, the lady at the dry cleaners wasn’t sure if it could be saved. We’re on a strict budget until I get paid, and with the surprise expense of emergency vet bills,” she risked a slightly ironic smile, “I can’t justify paying for a service that might not even work.”

“I was the one who gave it to your husband,” he reminded her. “He didn’t snatch it from me. I was under the impression the cat wasn’t yours.”

“She wasn’t.” Shrugging, she said, “She at least hasn’t been chipped nor reported missing. Rum can’t bear the thought of leaving her at the pound, and so it would seem we have a new roommate. And honestly, if we were going to pay for the cost of fixing her up, we might as well take her in. Rum always said he was a dog person through and through, but he’s thrilled we have her now. Honestly it’s worth the bill to see him this happy.”

Mrs. French shook her head, blushing at her rambling. “My point was, if you took the scarf to the dry cleaners yourself, or just bought a replacement, we’ll pay you back for it as soon as my first paycheck comes in.”

“That won’t be for two months, at least.” Government jobs were notoriously finicky when it came to billing cycles, and the town having what could be considered a minuscule government didn’t make the paperwork any less annoying.

“I’m happy to sign something.”

“It’s just a scarf,” Gold heard himself say again. “Don’t worry yourself.”

The woman opened and closed her hands, confused about the lifeline placed in front of her. No doubt she’d been regaled with stories of the cruel, evil landlord from the townsfolk. On a different day he’d be more than happy to meet her expectations. Perhaps he merely wanted to make a good first impression.

She finally seemed to settle on a smile, small and relieved. “As soon as I get the library open, be sure to come visit, alright? I’ll get you signed up for a card, free of charge.”

Was that a wink? Gold had always thought library cards were already free, but then again, the town had been without a library for as long as he’d lived in it.

“Perhaps.” With careful hands, he folded Neal’s scarf into an orderly rectangle. He knew a few tricks for cleaning silk. “Good day, Mrs. French.”

After only a moment of hesitation, the sound of her heels clicked out his door.

OOO

Gold decided the best thing to do was put the Frenchs out of his mind. Better yet, avoid them entirely, as it was clear he couldn’t be trusted around either of them.

That didn’t stop him from hearing things. For instance, Belle had moved to the UK from Australia with her father when she was in primary school. She’d met her husband when she was finishing up her master’s degree and coming off a particularly nasty breakup. As Gold heard it, things were fine until her husband was laid off and they had to move in with her father in London. Unhappy, she went looking for any job that would get them out. A head librarian position in middle of nowhere, Maine? Fine. Perfect. And wasn’t that something else, that they only officially married so he could come with her to her new job in America.

Most interestingly, Gold heard they would sometimes go to the diner for breakfast. The morning Gold walked into Granny’s, it wasn’t like he was expecting to see them, or anything. He just thought it was high time he became a patron of the most popular Storybrooke establishment. Support small business, that kind of thing.

“Glasgow,” he heard before the door had even closed behind him.

Mr. French was waving him over to the booth he shared with his wife, a wide grin on his face.

Gold was going to ignore him, of course. He was going to stare straight ahead and pretend he hadn’t heard.

“Mr. French,” he said, walking slowly over to them. “Good morning.”

“Mr. French?” his wife repeated slowly, raising an eyebrow.

A bashful smile Gold couldn’t explain appeared on French’s face. He shrugged at his wife helplessly.

“Join us for a wee bite, Glasgow? We huvnae ordered yet.” He gestured to the menus spread before them, as if Gold needed proof.

He frowned. He already let them off the hook for the scarf. It was mostly his own fault, after all, and he was nothing if not fair. They didn’t pay rent to him, either, since they were residing in the caretaker’s apartment. Moving across continents was expensive; perhaps they hadn’t budgeted enough for it, especially considering the paycheck problem. If that were the case, they could come to his shop and ask like everyone else.

“I only came in for a cup of coffee,” he demurred.

“Oh.” His face fell, like he was actually disappointed. “You can sit here with it, if you want.”

“If he doesn’t want to join us, we can’t make him, Mr. French.” The look on Belle’s face was unreadable as she stared at him over her mug.

“I liked the sound of it, alright?” His mouth pulled up at the corner. “If that’s what he wants to call me, I’m nae gonna stop him.”

She snorted, her own grin breaking free as she laughed.

Gold looked towards the counter forlornly. He was finding he did not have enough caffeine in his system yet. He supposed he could walk away and wait by the counter like everyone else did, but something kept him by the French’s table. Belle had a pretty laugh. Maybe that was it.

“Mr. French is my father,” she finally explained with an eye roll and shake of her head. “This ridiculous man is Robert McWeaver.”

“Nice tae meet you.”

“Apologies for assuming.” He should have paid more attention to the paperwork. It wasn’t like him, not to pay attention.

“You couldnae have known.” Robert McWeaver took a sip from his own mug. “What would you recommend, then?”

“What?”

“To eat. What’s good?”

Gold wouldn’t know. This was his first time stepping inside for anything other than rent.

“I’m getting the pancakes,” Belle said, eyes on the menu. “Rum’s leaning towards the full breakfast.”

“As close tae an English breakfast as I can get. They got one thing right, eh, the English?” He laughed at his own joke, mouth wide, the crows feet at his eyes giving him a distinguished, friendly look. Gold’s own just made him look old. With his loose clothes and easy smile, McWeaver was the definition of laid back, almost—cool. Someone people gravitated towards. Not that Gold knew anything about it.

But that was the most constant thing he’d heard, wasn’t it? With their wide smiles and kind eyes, it was no wonder how the townsfolk had adopted them so readily. Anyone would be lucky to be their friend, to share in their warmth.

“Take a seat,” Belle said, smiling. “We’ll put an order in, get you your coffee.”

God help him, he almost did just that.

What was with these two?

“Some other day,” he said, turning on his heel. “Ms. French, Mr. McWeaver.”

“We'll hold you to—“ the door latched shut cut off what they were about to say.

Brooding, Gold walked to his shop. Whatever those two were after, they weren’t getting it from him. Besides, there was no room in their happy lives for the heartless, asshole landlord.  It was better for everyone if he left them alone. He had held himself apart from the rest of the town for years. That was how he liked it.

Not bothering to flip the sign, Gold went straight to the back, deciding to bury himself in polishing every piece of jewelry in the shop until the lot of it could power a solar panel.

He was working through his collection of wedding rings when the front door opened, bell jangling. A quick look at the clock told him he was supposed to have opened twenty minutes ago. Whatever happened to his routine?

Not bothering with his cane, he stood up and pushed the curtain aside. He promptly froze.

“Alright, Glasgow?”

“Mr. McWeaver,” Gold said, frowning at the nickname. He needed to say something before it became permanent. “Ms. French.”

“Call me Rum.” His smile was back, broad and open as ever.

Gold said nothing, just stood in between the doorway. He had expected to have more time before they came to deal. After his retreat that morning, perhaps they thought it best to get it over with.

“You, uh, left before ordering anything.” Belle placed a to-go cup and a bag down in front of him. “We got you a muffin, too, in case you get peckish.”

They stared at him expectantly. Only when their smiles started to dim did Gold manage to clear his throat.

“Thank you,” he offered.

“We weren’t sure how you liked your coffee, so we just got it black,” Belle said helpfully. “I hope that’s all right.”

Gold liked it with enough sugar to make his auntie's teeth pop out.

“Black is fine.”

He was rewarded with a smile.

“Well,” she said, rocking back on her heels. “We have a shipment of new books coming that I need to sign for, so we’ll get out of your hair. Have a great day, Mr. Gold.”

Before he could do more than nod a goodbye, they were out the door, the bell ringing after them. He watched as Rum reached out to take Belle’s hand. Gold watched as they reached the library doors and she dug through her purse one handed for the keys. Rum kissed her neck, and he couldn’t hear the squeal as she batted him away, but he could imagine it. They were like teenagers; blissfully happy and seemingly untouched by the real world.

Gold looked at his coffee, and saw the heat guard had fallen down. He opened the bag. The muffin was blueberry, his favorite.

Staying away from them would be best.

OOO

Gold soon developed a new routine. Every morning he’d stand by the front counter of his shop and wait for Belle and Rum to make their way to the diner. He never wanted to go himself, but something always convinced him; maybe if Belle’s dress was blue, or if Rum had his arm around her waist rather than looped through her own. Gold would watch until they were out of sight, then finish up whatever busy work he was doing. After locking the door to his shop he’d make his own way down the street.

When he got to Granny’s, he waited at the front so he could order coffee to go. At least he would, if he ever got that far. As soon as Gold was through the door, Rum would call out to him and insist he join their table. Belle and Rum were never ready to order anyway, which was just as well, as he liked to rest his leg before making the short walk back to his shop. And Gold was finding he quite liked the breakfast spread.

So it went in the mornings. Gold knew sometimes they ate dinner there as well, but there was no pattern to when they went and Gold hadn’t run into them on the night’s he popped in, for rent or otherwise.

Currently, Gold had already walked through the door. He was waiting at the front, by the register. Rum usually noticed him by now. He tapped the handle of his cane. The front bar was white and shiny, as it always was. The glasses behind, stacked and waiting for the waitresses to fill them up, all glistened.

Gold shot a glance at their table. Rum was facing him, his elbows on the table, head in his hands, his face rapt as he listened to whatever Belle was saying. He nodded once or twice.

Gold frowned. He wondered what she was saying. Last week, after stumbling on a story about World War I soldiers and how they bonded over their trauma, she had gone on a tangent of medics and the first studies of shell shock. The time before, how cigars were made. It was no wonder Rum hadn't noticed his entrance if Belle was talking about her current passion. She could have anyone riveted with as little as a sigh.

He stepped aside as one of the tables finished up and left, passing him on their way out. This wasn’t part of the routine. Gold was never supposed to actually order coffee to go.

He had overstepped, that was it. They had likely seen him walk in, but hadn’t said anything in the hopes he left without intruding. He could leave them alone for a single morning to enjoy breakfast as a married couple, for once. Did that mean they didn’t want him there anymore? Maybe they were both too nice to say it to his face, and were waiting for him to take the hint instead.

Gold glared at the cups, standing pristine along the wall, as if he could intimidate them into giving him answers.

That was how Ruby found him when she came out of the kitchen, finally.

“Mr. Gold,” she greeted. “Are you going to sit down?”

He ignored her.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her look at Rum and Belle’s table, then back at him. She rolled her eyes.

“Granny,” she bellowed behind her, causing Gold to jump. “Has the special been updated? Like, on the board?”

“I wrote it last night,” Granny yelled back, muffled by the distance.

“Alright.” Ruby’s eyes were on him, something smug and knowing in their depths.

“Glasgow!”

Attention grabbed by Ruby, Rum finally looked up toward the counter to where Gold was brooding.

“You’re late today,” he called with a frown. “Everything all right?”

Ruby snorted. Gold shot her a glare which she promptly ignored.

“Take a seat, Mr. Gold,” she said with a bright smile. “I’ll get started on drinks.”

Rum was still staring at him, eyes overwide and welcoming. He had such an expressive face, so open, so telling, so. Gold wondered what he’d look like below him, panting and wanton.

When Gold continued to stand there, Belle turned as well, looking over her shoulder. Her hair was down today, the sheek brown curls cascading down her back. His fingers itched with his want to bury them in her hair, cradle her head while he kissed her.

These were not new thoughts; they had always been there, just below the surface. He swallowed, trying to bury his feelings deep in his stomach, keeping them from sight.

With numb feet, he limped to the table. Belle scooted to the side, making room for him to slide next to her. He liked the mornings he sat next to Belle; he could smell her perfume, light and floral like roses. And Gold liked when he was facing Rum; half the fun of listening to Belle was watching her husband.

“We havenae ordered yet,” he was saying now, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward. “Just waitin’ for you.”

They were too sweet for him. All this time, Gold was pretending it was just good timing on his part. Oh, but it hurt his heart, to be expected.

“Sorry for the delay,” he said quietly.

“It’s no problem at all.” Belle bumped him with her shoulder. The heat of her burned. “I was just regaling Rum about a new book Ariel recommended, about Octopuses, of all things.”

“Calling them ‘octopi’ is wrong, apparently,” Rum said. “And they have three hearts. And,” he sat up straighter, taking his arms off the table when he spotted Ruby approaching from the kitchen. “And, they remember their handlers, and especially the grudges they hold against each of them.”

“How about we order, and then we’ll catch you up to speed,” she teased.

“I would love nothing more,” he said. He meant every word, from the bottom of his decrepit heart.

OOO

When Gold told himself he had to stay away from them, he meant it. It was Belle and Rum who didn’t seem to get the memo. And okay, maybe he had developed a taste for Granny’s coffee.

At least he could admit to himself now that he didn’t want to stay away. The chance that they felt as deeply for him as he did for them was impossible, the thought of them willingly taking him into their bed was unthinkable. But he could have their friendship. If their mornings together in the diner was all he had of them, he’d cherish that time fiercely.

Seeing one of them alone wasn’t something that happened often, though. Yet here Rum was, no sign of his wife in sight, fidgeting in his shop as if he were a stranger.

“What are you doing here?” Gold asked.

“What, am I not allowed?”

His accent had mellowed in the couple months he’d been in town, through necessity if nothing else. It was a continued source of amusement for Belle that their accents thickened whenever they talked to each other.

Gold put down his pen. He was going through a list of items from an estate sale down south, but that could wait. Spreading his arms across his counter, he gave Rum his full attention, patiently waiting for him to get to the point, or leave. He was used to these sorts of games. Usually he could guess what the other player wanted, though.

Gold would have thought if they wanted something from him they would have asked a long time ago, but situations changed. He hadn’t heard of Rum rescuing any more wayward animals.

Rum’s full attention was currently on the paintings that hung on the wall behind him. Perhaps it was about his pride.

“Do you need a job?” Gold asked.

That surprised Rum enough to make him look over. “A job?” he asked, frowning.

“You don’t work,” Gold pointed out. He knew what Belle’s salary was. It was enough to sustain a two person household, but barely. He couldn’t imagine there was any left at the end of the month to for savings.

“Legally, I can’t. Couldnae get a work visa. Figured it was lucky enough Belle wanted me to come with her at all.” He shrugged. “If it comes to it, I’ll wash dishes at Granny’s. Said she’d pay me under the table.”

“I see.”

“I like not working, to be honest. I’m good at being a house husband.” He flashed a crooked smile, but there something hesitant in it, like he expected derision.

“That so?”

Rum wandered closer, leaning his hip against the counter. “Yeah. I like being able to make a home for Belle. It’s a great feeling, when she comes back to a tidy apartment and a warm meal.”

An image of Rum in a retro house dress, makeup neat and apron pressed, flashed in his mind. Better to focus on that then the stab between his ribs, knowing he was going to a cold, empty house devoid of Rum and Belle’s warmth.

“Now that’s an idea, innit?” Rum perked up, eyes expectant.

For a second, Gold was worried he had spoken aloud. “What is?”

“Dinner. I’m a good cook. Come and try it.”

Gold barked a laugh. Of all the things for him to suggest.

Rum looked down, his smile fading quickly. “It was just an idea,” he mumbled.

Afraid he’d leave, Gold reached out, grabbing his hand where he lay on the counter.

“I thought you were going to ask me for money,” he tried to explain. “Or some other sort of deal.”

Rum looked at their hands. He flexed his, but didn’t pull away. “Uh, right. Makes sense.” He straightened. “So, dinner? You’ll come?”

“Of course. When were you thinking?”

He shrugged. “Tonight, tomorrow. When—Friday!” Rum shouted, tugging his hand like an electrical current had gone through them. “Come Friday.”

“Okay,” he agreed, bemused.

“Just, uh, you open later on Saturdays? And Belle does too, at the library. Friday is best.”

“Expecting a late night?”

His eyes widened, brows drawing together. “Maybe? You know, just in case.”

“I’ll bring the wine,” Gold said after a pause.

“That would be perfect.” This time when Rum smiled, it looked genuine. “It’s a date.”

OOO

He had chosen a rosé. He hadn’t asked much about what Rum was planning on serving, wanting to be surprised. And rosés paired nicely with all most things..

With one final brush down the front of his suit, he knocked on the apartment door. Seconds later it opened, revealing Belle wearing a bright dress and a brighter smile.

For a moment he was struck mute, words lost as he stared at her. She was so lovely.

“Come in, come in,” she said, not seeming to notice his state. She reached out for him, sliding her hand along his back as she guided him inside. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

The apartment was small, but cozy. The living room was big enough to accommodate a TV and a sofa, and to the left a dining table with four chairs, but not much else. Not that it kept Belle from piling books on every conceivable surface, including the floor along the walls. Gold couldn’t help but smile at that. Everything was neat and tidy, excepting the books. A perfect home, all things considered.

Rum poked his head out of the kitchen. “Hey, Glasgow,” he called. “Make yourself comfortable.”

He hadn’t been too far off when he imagined the apron. “Smells good,” he said, not having anything better to say. And it did, the heady aroma or sizzling meat and spices heavy in the air. It would seem Rum hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he was good at this.

“I hope you like it. Should be ready soon.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

Gold felt Belle’s arm tighten around him. When he looked, there was a small smile playing on her lips.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She gave him a final squeeze before letting go. She took the bottle of wine from him before walking to the table. “He wants to impress you. We both do.”

That warmed him up from the inside in a way he chose not to examine too closely right then. “That right? You cook, too?”

“God, no. But I am the master of doing dishes.”

They were interrupted by a meow, coming from the ground.

“Hello again,” he said to their roommate. “You’re looking well.” He had never gotten a good look at the cat when Rum rescued her from beneath his shop. She was a handsome creature, a long-haired tuxedo. She looked completely healed, and would have looked completely normal too, had it not been for a missing eye. The socket was closed, and almost unnoticeable if it weren’t for the brilliant blue of her other eye.

That one eye blinked up at him. She mewled again before turning around, and he expected her to stalk off. Instead, she sat on his shoes. She weighed as much as a sack of feathers.

“You can’t have him, too,” Belle said.

The cat started to purr. Apparently, she thought otherwise.

Belle shook her head. “She’s intent on stealing all the men in my life, I swear.”

Gold wasn’t sure what to say to that. “What’s her name?” He asked. That was safe.

“Oh you’ll like this,” Belle said with a conspiratorial smile. “We named her Forte, on account of her looking like a music sheet, and being quite loud when she wants to be.”

“Aye, I remember. Fortan means luck in Gaelic,” Gold offered.

“Yes! Rum was quite proud of that. He can’t usually think of puns.”

Gold shifted, lifting up a foot experimentally. Forte ignored the hint.

Fine, then.

When he looked at Belle, she was staring at him, biting her lip.

“What?”

She shook her head. “I’m happy you’re here.”

Gold managed a nod. “I’m happy I’m here, too.” He tried to flash a smile. He hoped she didn’t mistake it for a grimace.

“Good.” Her gaze was intense, scorching.

Unable to bear it, he looked down at the cat, still on his feet. Her tail brushed his legs. He heard a timer go off.

“Belle,” Rum called. “Can I have a hand?”

“Take a seat, if she’ll let you go, the little monster,” Belle said cheerfully.

“I’ll pour the wine,” he said.

She shot a smile over her shoulder, disappearing into the kitchen.

He lifted his foot again, and Forte accepted he was serious this time. She slunk over to the couch, jumping up to the cushion gracefully before plopping down.

Gold had just filled the final wine glass when Belle came back. She set a basket of dinner rolls on the table, along with a bowl of salad. “He wanted to make buttered cabbage,” Belle said. “Apparently it’s a good side dish for this in Scotland, but I put my foot down.”

“Thank God for you, Belle French.” He pulled her chair out for her, making sure she was quite settled before taking his own seat.

Rum chose that moment to appear, dish in hand. He set it proudly in the center of the table, removing the foil with a flourish. All Gold could see was a white top,even except where a fork had been run through to create a swirling effect. The peaks were a crispy, golden brown.

“Shepherd's pie,” Rum announced. “Though I couldn’t get lamb on such short notice, so it’s actually cottage pie.” He shrugged. “Still good, I hope.”

“Still good,” Gold agreed, feeling his mouth water. Sizzling ground beef, cooked with onions, peas and carrots, drenched in a rich brown gravy. Then topped with a thick layer of creamy, buttery mashed potatoes. He hadn’t had it in years.

Rum was indeed a good cook. He scraped his plate clean, full from having second helpings.

“Was there something specific you had in mind for after dinner?” Gold asked, taking a sip of wine. The bottle was empty; an easy thing to do when split between three people.

Belle and Rum shared a look. “What do you mean?” Belle asked.

“Rum mentioned a late night. I assumed that meant board games. You seem the type,” he said warmly. Gold had been looking forward to it, honestly. He hadn’t played anything of the sort since before Neal moved out. “Something tells me you’d make a worthy opponent at Scrabble,” he said to Belle.

Belle shot her husband a look, who was looking intently at his wine glass. “He told me he had lost his nerve.”

“Sorry?” His heart stopped in his chest. This wasn’t supposed to be about a deal. That’s what Rum had said.

She seemed to read the disappointment in his face. “My husband and I owe you nothing of monetary value, Gold. We have no intention of changing this.”

“All I can offer are things of monetary value.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Rum muttered, staring at the legs of wine as they cascaded down his glass.

Belle cleared her throat. “I do actually have Scrabble, somewhere. And we have a deck of cards. If you’d like, we can certainly find a game to play. But we were thinking of a group activity of a different nature,” she said, licking her lips. His eyes followed the path of her tongue, and she smiled, wide and sultry.

“Ah?” His brain short-circuited. She couldn’t be implying what he thought she was. He looked to Rum for help, but he was staring at his wine as if trying to boil it with his mind.

Belle took pity on him. “Join us for a night.”

“A night.”

She nodded.

“Of sex.”

Another nod.

“Only one?” He asked before he could stop himself.

That got Rum’s attention. His head shot up, and he put his glass down with more force than necessary, almost knocking it over. The beginnings of a crooked smile played on his lips.

“Doesnae have to be.”

“Let’s see how we like it, first,” Belle said reasonably.

Gold didn’t ask why, out of every other sorry bastard in this town, they chose him. He didn’t question their taste or their eyesight. Instead, Gold nodded. Yes, a night with them was everything he had ever wanted.

Belle swallowed the last of her wine, head thrown back as she drained her glass. Gold followed the line of her throat as she swallowed, finally feeling like he was allowed to look.

“Leave the dishes,” she said to Rum. She scooted her chair back, holding out her hands to them. “And let’s go to bed.”

OOO

From there, it was easy.

Gold followed them into their bedroom, Rum being careful to shut the door behind them so Forte couldn’t get in to interrupt. The room was just as tidy as the rest of the apartment, with stacks of books on every conceivable surface. The bed was queen size, and he liked the thought of them three of them sharing the space. He hoped they’d let him stay for a while, after.

Rum cleared his throat, drawing Gold’s attention.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, quiet, almost shy.

Gold licked his lips.

“Yes.”

Before he could blink, Rum’s hands were on either side of his face, his thumbs brushing his cheek bones before his mouth collided with his. He started sucking on his bottom lip, causing Gold to whimper. Rum’s hand slid up, brushing through his short hair while the other ran along the back of his neck before settling in the space just above his collar bone.

Gold’s own hands were clutching the sides of Rum’s baggy shirt, pulling him closer and closer. As his tongue pushed past his lips, one hand cradled his jaw, turning his head slightly so he could push inside for a deeper kiss. Rum moaned happily, trying to suck on his tongue.

When they finally broke apart for air, Belle grabbed his head, turning it so she could kiss him deeply next. He leaned into her, almost stumbling before catching himself on her shoulder. Expecting the fabric of her dress,  he was met with her bare skin. Gold broke the kiss so he could see.

While Gold and Rum had been busy necking, Belle had taken the time to undress. All she wore now was her lingerie, the dark blue silk making her skin almost glow.

If Gold hadn’t been hard already, seeing her chest, her belly, her legs, would have undone him completely.

“Oh,” he breathed. He kissed her again, feeling her smile. She undid his tie, then started to unbutton his shirt, slowly leading him to the bed. Gold didn’t have his cane, he couldn’t remember where he had left it, but it didn’t matter with Belle and Rum there to guide him forward.

When he was laying down on the bed, Belle kissed him again, pushing his back into the comforter as her mouth ravaged him.

He lifted his hips so Rum could pull off his trousers, then socks, and Belle finally got him to shrug out of his shirt. She eyed his chest hungrily, like he was dessert.

Belle went for his throat then, sucking and licking the skin there. He moaned as she worked lower, nibbling across his collar bone. Gold’s hands reached for her, wanting to fill his hands with her creamy skin.

“No touching,” Belle decided, giggling as she grabbed his arms, pinning them to his sides. She lightly bit his nipple, the breath of her laugh skimming over his wet chest as he gave a jolt.

Rum kissed his hip bone, before taking off his boxers. Then he was bare and achingly hard. Now free of all his clothes, splayed on his back, there was no friction, no barrier, to keep him sane. Just consistent, blazing want.

“Rum,” he groaned as Belle continued to kiss, lick and bite his chest. “Please.”

Rum shrugged out of his own shirt, was undoing the zipper on his jeans. Gold watched them fall to the floor before he stepped out of them. His eyes came up to settle on Rum’s bulge.

“Please,” he said again, voice hoarse.

Rum made eye contact. His eyes jumped to Gold’s cock, bobbing and thick. Then his hands were on the inside of Gold’s thighs, pushing his legs apart so he could settle between them. Gold saw a flash of his pink tongue before his mouth had swallowed his cock whole.

Gold yelped, his hips jerking upwards sharply. Instead of gagging (Gold had an apology already at the ready), Rum groaned. He pulled back so he could suck the head, then swallowed him down again.

Rum moaned blissfully around him, hallowing his cheeks as he sucked. Gold whimpered, desperately trying to keep his hips still. But fuck, he was good at this. After a few minutes of bobbing on his cock, Rum swallowed, taking him deeper until he hit the back of his throat and his nose was pressed to his pubic bone.

Gold grit his teeth, not wanting to come yet. But it was hard, impossibly hard, when Rum’s mouth was so hot, so good. When Belle’s hands were skimming up and down his sides, tortiously slow.

She looked down at her husband, hungrily sucking Gold off. Her eyes were blown out completely, and she wet her lips. Almost absently, she pinched Gold’s nipple. He whined high in his throat.

“He’s so good with his mouth, isn’t he?” she said, voice low. “God, that tongue.”

Gold could only whine, and keep whining as Rum sucked harder.

“I’m there,” he tried to warn him. “Fuck, Rum, I’m—“

Rum pulled back, but he kept the head in his mouth and used his hand to wank him off. Gold came across his tongue, panting. Closing his eyes, he sunk further into the soft bed, trying to catch his breath.

“Save any for me?” He heard Belle ask.

“Sorry, love,” he said, and Gold heard a smacking of lips.

“No, you’re not.” They kissed. Belle moaned; she could taste Gold on his tongue. Fuck.

“You can have him for round two.” Rum rubbed his thighs, using them for balance as he leaned forward and gave another kiss to Gold’s hip bone.

“I’m holding you to that.”

There was the soft sound of fabric gliding against skin. Gold felt the bed shift as Belle straddled his hips, legs on either side of his thighs. He opened his eyes when Belle kissed him; she was gloriously bare. His arms wound around her shoulders, a hand burying in her hair, keeping her in place.

He expected Rum to come close, but instead he backed off. Instead, he moved behind Belle. Gold felt a wave of molten heat go through him at the thought of Belle being fucked by her husband while she lay over him, panting in his ear as she took it deep and hard.

Wanting to entice Rum, Gold ran his hands down her soft sides, over her rump. He gripped her where her arse cheeks met her leg, his pinky and ring finger over her cunt lips, and he held her open, on display. She was already so wet, he had to let go so he could get a better grip.

Belle hummed, pushing her breasts into his chest and sticking her arse up, giving her husband a better view.

“Like this, Gold?” she asked, sucking on his neck. He hoped she left a mark.

“Fuck,” Rum breathed, his eyes drawn to her open cunt. “Oh, Gold, if only you had this view.”

“Describe it to me,” Gold said.

“She’s so wet and pink. Fuck, Belle.”

Her breath caught, and she pushed her arse back. Gold guessed Rum was using his fingers on her.

“You’re so wet. Did you like that, watching us?”

“Of course.” She wiggled, spreading her legs wider, bringing her knees up as best she could. Gold spread his legs again, too, helping to keep her open. “You two look amazing together. So beautiful.”

“What else?” Gold asked. He felt fingers skim from Belle’s thighs to his. Rum cupped his balls. He gasped, feeling a thumb press into his perineum, then down to circle around his anus, before coming back up.

“And here’s you, all spent. I did that. You taste so good, Gold. I want to suck you again.”

Gold moaned as Rum pressed his soft cock against Belle’s heat. She was ready and wet and perfect.

“Fuck, I can’t wait for you to get hard.”

Belle whined, trying to get the angle right to move her clit against Gold’s pelvis. “You said I got him next.”

Rum laughed. He let go of Gold so he could run his hands over the back of Belle’s thighs. “I did. Do you want to fuck her, Gold?”

He hissed an affirmative, hands leaving imprints where they still held Belle open.

“Should we wait, Belle? Let him have you first?”

“No, God! Rum! I need it now,” she begged, wiggling. “Fuck me now.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, I’ll fuck you.” He let go, eyes turning a bit more critical so he could figure out the position. “Close your legs, Gold, so I can fit,” he ordered, softly. Gold happily acquiesced, and he watched as Rum settled behind Belle, his knees pressing into the bed in between theirs.

Slowly, he guided his cock into his wife.

Gold let go of her arse, hand moving to tip her head up, searching for her eyes. “Look at me,” he murmured, wanting to see the moment she was filled up.

Belle bit her lip in bliss. Her eyes widened slightly when Rum bottomed out. He leaned forward so he could kiss her shoulder, giving them both time to adjust to the position.

“Good?” Rum asked.

She shuddered when she pushed her hips back into his, her clit sliding along Gold’s pelvis beautifully. “Oh, that’s perfect,” she breathed, eyes locked onto his.

“I’m not going to last,” her husband warned, pulling back before fucking into her.

Belle moaned, grinding onto Gold as she leaned into her husband’s thrusting hips. “Neither will I.”

One hand in her hair, the other gripping her upper arm, Gold held his breath as he watched her. She was stunning, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes clouded over with lust.

“Are you going to come, Belle?” Gold asked her. “Does he feel good inside you? Fuck, I bet he feels so good.”

Belle could barely nod. “Deep. Hard,” she panted. “Almost there.”

Her breath caught, and she clenched hard on Rum’s cock, slamming back against him, then stilling. Her orgasm triggered his, and with a grunt, he emptied inside her, hips stuttering.

Gold pulled her down for a kiss, and she went happily, boneless and sated. Once Rum caught his breath, he pulled out, flopping down beside Gold with a sigh.

Belle tucked herself against Gold’s chest, watching her husband cool down beside them.

The silence that fell on them was easy and soft, broken only by the occasional pawing of Forte at the door.

When she mewled, Rum looked up, and it seemed like he might let her in.

“Not yet,” Belle said. “I was promised round two.”

She pushed herself up, looking down so she could see where she had been rubbing herself against Gold’s pelvis. Rum’s spend seeped out of her, slicking her way.

“Fuck,” Gold breathed, unable to tear his eyes away.

It didn’t take much longer for Gold to harden again, helped by Belle’s skillful hand. She wasted no time in mounting him. She slid all the way down his shaft. She pumped her hips, delighted at feeling him so deep.

She was so wet; so hot and wet and already filled with cum and it was a good thing Gold had climaxed once already because he wasn’t sure how he would have lasted otherwise.

As it was, he was happy to watch as Belle took him for a ride. Gold’s attention was quickly drawn to her breasts, and he watched them bounce up and down. He wanted to suckle them, feel their weight in his hands. He hadn’t paid nearly enough attention to that part of her yet.

Rum moved so his head was laying on his chest, fingers circling one of Gold’s nipples as his eyes were glued to the area Belle and him were connected. As Belle moved up and down, Rum began to kiss and nip at Gold’s pecks, then his rib cage, his abdomen. He circled his tongue inside Gold’s belly button, making his stomach clench and his hips jolt. Belle’s moving hips kept him from being able to go down any further, and he sweetly got her attention.

“Lean back a little,” he requested.

That meant she stopped moving against him, and Gold moaned in protest.

“Like this?” She was spread open again, thighs wide, hands supporting her weight where they rested on either side of Gold’s legs.

“Exactly like that.” Rum latched onto her clit and sucked. She gasped, hips bucking hard against Gold’s cock.

“Fuck, Rum,” she said, clenching.

They set up a new rhythm. Belle worked herself up and down Gold’s cock while Rum sucked at the base of him, and Gold did his best not to utterly combust. Belle ground down when she got to the bottom, and Rum’s tongue flicked up to meet her.

The closer she got to finishing, the closer she stayed, and soon all she was doing was grinding back and forth on his cock, Rum latched to her clit.

Gold’s legs spread in answer to Rum’s searching hand; he felt it close around his balls and his hips jolted in response. Fuck, but that was heaven; Belle riding his cock while Rum played with him like he was a pair of ben wa balls. He moaned, low and deep and long, when Rum tugged them down, then up against the base of him, squeezing.

His hands gripped Belle’s hips tightly as he held her against him and emptied himself into her. He couldn't even moan; she’d taken the breath straight from his lungs.

With a final but heartfelt, “fuck,” Belle clenched, thighs shaking in aftershock. Gold would forever remember the blissful smile on her face as she came on his cock.

Before she could fall over, and it looked like she might, the poor lamb—Rum was there to wrap her in his arms, and help her down. Rum pulled down the comforter with no help from them, but soon enough, they settled into bed, curled into the sheets on either side of Gold. Rum kissed his neck below his ear, entwining their legs as Belle happily murmured into his chest.

“Do you need another one?” Gold asked into Rum’s hair.

He felt the smile against his neck. “I already have everything I need.”

Gold was still boneless when he finally looked at the clock; it was late but not terribly so.

“When do you want me to leave?” He didn’t want to ask, but felt he should. Besides, he didn’t think he could manage a round three. He could barely keep his eyes open, and he felt satisfied and content in a way he hadn’t in years.

Rum mumbled something unintelligible, legs tightening around Gold’s, face pressed harder against his shoulder.

“Don’t leave,” Belle murmured, moving closer herself. She blindly tried to kiss his cheek and missed. “In the morning, Rum will make tomato on toast.”

“Oh. Okay,” he said, not needing to be convinced.

In the morning, he’d wake to Forte’s tail flicking in his face and Belle wearing his shirt, Rum still curled into his side, but for now he was content to sink into sleep.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Rockstar (Indruck)

A friend on discord, @morganeashton, requested #28 of the meet ugly list for Indruck: I’m a famous singer and you’re the new techie who just tripped and pulled the plug out of my microphone mid-concert [extra awkward if they lip sync, extra badass if they keep singing and their voice is still on point]. This is NSFW.

A peril of high quality sound equipment is that when it goes out, it’s very obvious.

The mic goes, his guitar and Dani’s bass cut out, and the effects are gone. For a moment it’s total silence as the audience watches him. 

Then he picks up exactly where he left off, notes coming as easy as breath. After a moment Jake starts up quieter than usual on the drums, giving him rhythm. By the time he finishes, the mic and instruments are back on and the applause is deafening. He smiles to himself.

He’s still got it. 

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

Duck knocks on the dressing room door. 

He’s so fucking fired.

“Come in.”

Mr. Cold is sitting at a mirror, takes note of Duck’s reflection.

“Ah, Duck, I thought it might be you. Mama said you were the one who disconnected our sound tonight.”

“Yessir. I, uh, it was an accident, I was movin somethin in a tight space and caught my foot on the cord without noticin’. I’m, uh, I’m real sorry, and, uh, I’ll, uh-”

Mr. Cold holds up his hand and Duck shuts his mouth. The singer turns, in his chair, face now free of make-up. His features still have that alien edge to them, the strange mix of young and old that’s made his attractiveness the subject of much debate. Duck knows where he falls on it; anyone who thinks Indrid Cold is anything other than sex on legs should get their eyes checked. 

That won’t help him, he knows that.

Indrid leans back in his chair, “you don’t need to plead your case to me Duck, for two reasons. One is that I’m not the one in charge of hiring or firing the road crew. That falls to Mama and Joseph completely, and if I ever tried to toss someone out for an accident they’d put me in my place very quickly. But more importantly, I’m not angry with you for what happened. Quite the opposite.”

“You...wait, really?”

Mr. Cold counts off on his fingers, “The space was small, so everyone could still hear me. There’s been rumors I’ve been using a dub, so this ought to quell them nicely, and” he looks at Duck over his trademark red glasses, smile widening, “it was unexpected, something that’s rare for me these days. When you get to this level of fame, everyone is terrified of not having a flawlessly executed plan. But that is not how the world is; it’s not how art is. So it was nice to have the chance to show everyone that the unexpected can be invigorating. Thank you for that.”

“You’re, uh, you’re welcome?”

Mr. Cold  smiles as he stands up, “you should sit down, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“It’s fine, uh-”

The singer simply rests a hand on his shoulder and gently pushes. Duck sits. 

“Would you, ah, like a drink? The hosts here left a very nice bottle of tequila.”

“Sure.” Duck tries not to stare as he bends over to retrieve a glass and a bottle, pouring Duck a shots worth of tequila that costs more than his rent. Duck mumbles a thank you when he hands it to him, then gawps when Mr. Cold sets the bottle aside and retrieves a Capri Sun from the mini-fridge.

“I can’t stand alcohol. Used to try for the sake of fitting in but” he makes a face like a disgusted cat, “eech. One moment, I need to change.” He disappears around a corner, leaving Duck to wonder what the fuck the polite thing to do is. Mr. Cold is always polite to his crew, but he keeps to himself much of the time. Not to mention Duck’s only been with them since the tour started a month ago. 

A photo on the table catches his eye, and he scoots his chair closer to get a look.

“Was, uh, was this an alternate cover or somethin?”

“Hmm? Oh” a light laugh, “no, though you’ve got a good eye; we shot it the same day we shot the cover image for The Cryptids. That was a shot that was nixed because we looked too silly, I think Vincent had said something funny and cracked Barclay up, who set me off. I bring it with me to every show, a sort of good luck charm mixed with a reminder of where I came from.” 

From the faded photo, nineteen year old Indrid Cold smiles at him. 

“I take it you’re a long time fan, then.” Mr. Cold reappears in a pink and yellow bathrobe, the last color scheme Duck would have assumed he owned. 

“Yeah, over a decade. I, uh, I was sixteen when The Cryptids released their first album. Scraped together fifteen bucks to buy the C.D and wore the damn thing out I listened to it so much. Never heard anything like it. That’s, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “that’s not why I took the job, though. Mama didn’t tell me who I’d be crewin’ for until after I accepted.”

“If you’re afraid of looking like a ‘fanboy,’ don’t be. Do you know how Joseph came to be our manager?”

“Uh, story I always heard was he came backstage during a show on your first tour and offered.”

Mr. Cold chuckles, “he did. But what very few people know is that he came back in his lovingly homemade  ‘Bigfoot’s Boy’ t-shirt and a a lot of glitter--remember, that was the E.T tour so everyone was space themed--clearly having left the house with the intent of trying to get into our bassist’s pants, and instead proceeded to tell us he’d seen how our manager operated through the night and we could so better and here’s how.”

“Jesus.”

“He was remarkably intimidating in spite of the glitter and his argument was airtight. So we fired Hayes and hired him. He did eventually bang our bassist, but that was perhaps obvious.”

“Given that they’ve been married for like five years, yeah. Still can’t believe Barclay went from beiin a rockstar to bein’ a chef.”

“He was always an ingenious cook. He once made breakfast using nothing but the still-hot engine of a mini-van.”

“AGH, god, why?”

“We were broke and hungry and there was nowhere to buy food.”

“That’s hardcore.”

“Mostly just oily.” Mr. Cold grabs another Capri Sun, sitting down across from him, “hmm, if you were sixteen when we started, did you ever get to see us?”

Duck shakes his head, “only kinda. Y’all mainly played twenty-one plus places even after you started gettin big, then you weren’t tourin nearby. When you announced the farewell tour, my friend Juno and I drove to Richmond to hear y’all play from outside the stadium. She’s still got a picture of us from that night somewhere, all geared out, tryin to look cool enough to be there.”

“You’ll have to let me see it, so I can determine if you pass muster.” Mr. Cold teases. 

“I ask if she can send me it. Christ, I remember bein’ so fuckin bummed when y’all announced The Cryptids were disbanding, then so fuckin relieved when you said you were gonna keep makin new stuff and performin just as Indrid Cold. Your voice is fuckin amazin.”

“That’s not always the word used.”

“So you don’t sound like Bruno Mars or some pop diva, big fuckin’ deal. You sing and people listen because they ain’t ever heard anyone like you. No one in the world sounds like Indrid Cold.”

The singer gives him an odd smile, “that’s very kind of you to say.”

“Sorry, guess there’s still some fanboy hidin’ out under the roadie.” His cheeks heat up as he finishes his drink.

“I think we should both get some rest.” Mr. Cold stands, ushering him to the door, “and that we should talk again sometime. And thank you again, Duck, for your happy accident.”

‘You’re welcome, Mr. Cold.”

A famous smile that’s never stopped being weirdly captivating, “please, call me Indrid.”

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

“You sure Indrid wants me on the bus and not just to, I dunno, load it?”

“Yes indeed.” Ned, Indrid’s publicity man, gestures grandly to the open door of the tour bus, “now kindly get yourself and your bag on it so we can get a move on.”

Duck climbs aboard, awkwardly sets his bag on the carrier shelf as he nods hello to Boyd, Indrid’s driver and part time bodyguard. 

Indrid is lounging on a black couch, but sits up when he sees Duck, “ah good, you decided to join me.”

“Yep. Uh, did you ask me for a reason or?”

“I like talking with you.” Indrid cocks his head, as if puzzled by the question. Duck wants to point out that the a god of the alt scene, a musical genius, who could have anyone he wanted for company, seeming to be excited by hanging out with a roadie is a bit confusing.

Indrid, meanwhile, is shoving drawings and notes aside so Duck can sit down, “mind you, I don’t expect you entertain me or something; I’m working on some poster art right now, for that fundraiser, so if you have things you like to do on the road, you’re welcome to do them. My room is that way if you want to nap, and it has a t.v as well if you want to watch something. Oh, and we have wi-fi, of course.”

He sounds like a college kid showing off his first apartment and it wrong-foots Duck enough that he just grabs his book from the pocket of his bag.

“Thanks, uh, think I’ll read for a bit.”

Indrid grins, goes back to his drawing, pen scratching hurriedly as the bus jolts to a start and pulls onto the road. 

After awhile, Indrid glances at him and asks mildly, “what was your favorite album? Of The Cryptids, I mean, not my solo stuff.”

Duck taps the spine of the book against the table as he thinks, “I mean The Cryptids  has that whole edge by bein’ the first, because there was nothin like hearin’ your sound for the first time. But I gotta say...Unsolved. Whole thing is fuckin amazin, but your vocals on “To a Flame” still give me fuckin chills.”

“I haven’t played that song in a long time.” Indrid says softly, smiling, “it was always a favorite. I wrote it about someone I could never have.”

“You can feel it. In, uh, in the way it’s arranged, the way you sing, gives this whole feelin of someone who’s decided to love someone completely even though they’ll never be loved back.”

Indrid looks at him a moment, that same odd, small smile quirking his lips, then returns to his drawing. When the road gets bumpier, they move to a couch in the middle of the bus with a low table nearby. Duck pulls out his laptop and plugs in his headphones, pulls up Planet Earth as Indrid’s head starts drooping. Two episodes in, the singer falls asleep, flopping sideways so his head is in Duck’s lap. 

He should move him, Indrid will probably think this is weird when he wakes up. Then again, he looks so cute like this. And it’d be rude to wake him up. 

Duck’s to the episode on jungles when a slender, tan hand reaches up and plucks his left earbud out. Startled, he looks down to find Indrid putting it on and adjusting his head in Duck’s lap, clearly engrossed in the carnivorous plants onscreen.

“Do you want me to just turn the normal sound on?”

“No” Indrid murmurs sleepily, “this is perfect.”

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

Duck assumes the bus will be a one-time event, but he’s ridden with Indrid each time since. Which is why, when his phone dings, Indrid is sitting right beside him. 

“Looks like Juno found the, uh, the photo.”

“Let me see” Indrid grabs the phone from him, cackling with delight when he sees the image, “you two were really the pair of cryptozoologists, weren’t you?”

“Told you we were tryin too hard.”

“On the contrary, I love it, it’s exactly the kind of weirdness we wanted to inspire in people. And if seems you did like to collect our merch, that shirt you’re wearing was a limited run.”

“I know. I, uh, I saved up for it, way I always did if something had art of yours on it.” He slaps his hand over his mouth, embarrassed by the admission.

“That’s very sweet.” Indrid smiles at him, then lifts his glasses for a better look, “what does the collar you’re wearing say?”

“I, uh, fuck, I don’t remember, got, uh, got amnesia, collar specific amnesia, fuck, uh-”

“C, O, L...you were wearing a collar with my name on it.” Indrid’s grin takes on a hungry edge, “someone was downplaying whose fanboy he was.”

“I, I didn’t want you thinkin I was creepy, or that I was just bein nice to you because of the crush I had on you in college.”

“I don’t, I promise, though I appreciate the consideration. Here” he hands the phone back, but as Duck takes it he leans in and whispers, “but you really should wear a collar more often.”

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

“Sooooo how’s it going with Indrid?” Aubrey, Indrid’s magician opening act, sits down next to Duck at dinner.

“Good. Wait, shit, are people talkin about us?”

“Kinda? I mean, Indrid hangs out with the band, and with me, plenty, but none of us get to be on that bus. Not like I’m complaining, Dani and I have our own sweet ride.”

“There ain’t anythin goin on between us. It just...Indrid seem like he likes bein’ friends with me.”

“That’s awesome!”

“Yeah” Duck sighs, wistfully, “y’know, it’s funny. Even after I started workin here, he was still Indrid Cold in my head, the guy who sang like he was diggin down in my head, who did wild shit like kiss his male bandmates on stage, who was always so fuckin cool. And now he’s Indrid, this guy who’s kinda awkward and wears way more pink than I assumed and flaps his hands when gets excited and somehow that’s even better.”

“Awww, someone has a cruuUUshh.”

“Had, Aubrey. Had.”

“Whatever you say, Duck” she winks at him, “whatever you say.”

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

“Are these yours?”

Duck shakes himself awake. They’ve been driving all evening and well into the night, and he must have nodded off and knocked his notebook over. Which is why Indrid is now holding several sheets of loose paper.

“Shit! I mean, uh, yeah, but they ain’t anythin special.”

“I didn’t know you wrote songs.” Indrid scans the pages with a critical eye.

“Sometimes. Like I said, they ain’t anythin to make a fuss over.” 

Indrid makes a noncommittal noise and picks up a nearby guitar, tuning it, “you can go back to sleep, I’m just going to fiddle about for a bit.”

Duck lays down on the couch, and falls asleep to the sound of Indrid’s hums.

He’s shaken awake two hours later, and is thoroughly confused to find Indrid in tight black pants and silvery shirt, black boots on his feet and a deep green on his lips; that’s his stagewear, not his pajamas.

“Put on your most punk-rock outfit, and make it fast.”

He manages to get an old Cryptids t-shirt on along with black jeans that, if he does say so himself, make his ass look good, and is tugging on his boots when the bus pulls into a dusty parking lot.

“It’s the only goth/gay bar in the county.” Indrid says by way of explanation as he pulls Duck out the door, Boyd following them as Ned stays behind to watch the van (“in case we need to make a hasty retreat”).

“Wait, holy fuck, I always thought that was a myth, that you would stop at random clubs and play.”

“Not in the least, though it’s been awhile. Ooh, whoever is already playing sounds very good.” He pushes open the door, the smell of smoke and stale beer and sweat pouring over them in waves as they enter. Indrid keeps to the side of the room, holding Duck’s hand all the while, and spots the tiny merch table with “The Hornets” painted on a yellow sign on the front. 

“Wait for me here.” He kisses Duck’s cheek and disappears into the crowd. When the band finishes the song, a youngish woman waves them over to the side of the stage, strangers in the crowd turning to each other to ask what the fuck is going on.

The guitarist and lead singer reappears, giant H on their shirt,  and grabs the mic, “y’all aren’t gonna believe this, but the Hornets have just acquired a new singer and it’s gonna blow your fucking minds. Give it up for one of the gods of horror-surf, the grinning man, the mothman himself, Indrid fucking Cold!” 

The crowd screams loud enough to shake an entire coat of dust from the walls as Indrid steps on stage, beaming and waving.

“Thank you very much, Hollis. I’ve got four songs for you tonight, including something very, very new. So, without further ado” he grabs the mic, flicks his hair, “let’s prowl.”

The Hornets launch into the opening notes of “on the prowl,” the crowd cheering and hooting and singing along with so much energy that Duck can’t hear Indrid’s voice until the last verse. He claps along with everyone else as Indrid takes the mic of the stand, “and here’s one I haven’t sung in far too long.”

The bass and guitar start in a minor key, half country swing and half horror sting.

“Always on the outs, always in the dark.” Indrid shuts his eyes as he croons, “always so hungry for one little spark. Always so willing to play your game. What can I say? I’m like a moth to flame.”

Duck knows the song by heart but he’s never heard Indrid sing it live, like there was someone in the room he was hoping would hear it and know it was for them. He doesn’t breathe until the song ends; he doesn’t want to miss a single note, miss the way Indrid’s voice curls around the room as if searching for him. 

As the crowd applauds at the end, Indrid crosses to Hollis, who hands him their guitar. He loops it over his shoulder, returns the mic to the stand. 

“Now, this next song is very special, it doesn’t have an arrangement yet, so you’ll have to live with just my melodious voice.” He picks the guitar, brow furrowed in concentration, and Duck gasps. 

He knows this song, he’s just never heard it played anywhere but inside his head. Indrid sings it flawlessly, the crowd swaying in time with him, and Duck realizes he must have practiced nonstop while he was asleep. 

The short song comes to a close and he tilts his head, “what did you think?”

The audience bursts out cheering and Indrid grins, “yes, that’s about how I feel too. I can’t take credit though, it was written by a friend.”

He returns the guitar, nods to the band, and purrs into the mic, “the sun goes down and the moon comes up.”

Shit how did he know? Does he know? He can’t know.

He can’t know this is the song Duck used to jack off to. A cover of a cover, a video where Indrid growls and purrs and nearly fucks the mic as he sings. 

“You better duck, when I show up, the goo goo muck” he writhes in time with the music, “I’m a nightmare, honey, looking for some head.”

God, fuck, how could he have forgotten just how Indrid sounds when he sings this, like the monster under the bed came to life, turned out to be hot, and really wants to fuck you. Indrid is on his knees now, working the front row, dragging his free hand across his body with moans between the words.

“He must really like you, mate.”

“Gahfuck, Boyd.” Duck jumps, but doesn’t take his eyes off the stage.

“I’m just sayin’, he’s never let anyone come to one of these before. I only do because Stern’ll kill us if we let him go without some kind of backup.” Boyd pats his shoulder, heading back towards the door. 

Indrid finishes the song panting, the Hornets looking harried from keeping up with his energy. As the crowd screams and claps he bows, and hurries off the stage. In cries for an encore and the darkened house, Indrid finds him again, grabbing his hand and sprinting outside.

“God I missed doing that!” He laughs as they run, “did you have fun?”

“Fuck yeah, Indrid, fuck, you really liked my song?”

“Of course. And it seems they did too.” The bus doors close behind them, but Indrid doesn;t stop moving, “we’re both very tired, going to bed now, goodnight!” 

Duck’s about to point out he sleeps on the pullout couch, not the bed, when the bedroom door slams shut and Indrid yanks him into a kiss, tongue in his mouth and hands in his back pockets, groping him with a growl. 

When Indrid breaks the kiss, Duck’s certain he has stars in his eyes. 

“Is this alright?”

“Hell fuckin yeah it is.”

“Good” Indrid shoves him backwards onto the bed, “shirt off.”

Duck obeys, Indrid stripping his own away and tossing it on the ground. As Duck fights with his jeans, Indrid retrieves a condom and something black from a box, setting them on the bed. He notices his struggle and shakes his head as he prowls on top of him, “ah ah, we don’t have time for that.”

“Butmmmmfff” Duck gasps and moans as Indrid kisses him again, demanding and messy.

“Get them low enough for me to fuck you.” He bites Duck’s lip and sits up, wiggling his own black pants down enough to free his cock. By the time he gets them free one leg and down to his knee on the other, Indrid has the condom on.

Indrid tosses away his glasses, gives him a long once over, licking his lips, “good boy.”

Then he’s on top of him again, cock inside him and fingers tangled in his hair.

“Oh fuck, you’re soaking, god, what got you so wound up, hm?”

“You, just you, watching you, Indrid, god please fuck me.”

“Gladly, goodness, fuck, that’s it sweetheart, you take me so well.” Indrid hammers into him again and again, kissing him each time he whimpers or moans. 

Duck wraps his legs around him, manages to get his head up enough to tease his tongue along Indrid’s nipple. 

“AH! Good boy, mmmm, I knew you’d be perfect to fuck.” He adjusts so he can run his hand up Duck’s throat. There’s no pressure in the gesture, but plenty of possession.

“What do you think, shall we get you a new collar?”

“Yes, yesyesyes, Indrid, god, fuck please.”

“Oh you like that, mmm” he switches to slow, deliberate thrusts, a counterpoint to Duck’s frantically jerking hips that makes them moan in tandem, “we could get you several, would you like that? I could put them on you according to my mood and what I wanted you to be that day.”

Duck means to say yes, whines instead, grinning breathlessly when Indrid strokes his cheek.

“Good. I’d like it, too. Nnnh, god I’m close.” He stops entirely, awkwardly shifts and pulls them until he’s on his knees with Ducks ass in his lap, “but I want you to cum first.”

“I, I can try.”

“It was an order.” He reaches down, revealing the black object from earlier; a vibrating wand.

“Oh fuck yeah, fuckFUCK” his legs thrash when the vibe presses against his dick, “Indrid, sugar, ohmyfuckinggod.”

Indrid grins, wide and wanton, and turns the toy up, eyes flicking between Ducks face and cock as he cries out and bucks his hips. 

“What a good boy, getting my cock so wet” he wiggles his hips with a moan, “you feel delightful when I use this on you, perhaps tomorrow I’ll have you sit on my cock and do the same thing over and over again, edge myself with the feeling of you needy and tightening around me.”

“Indrid, fuckplease, yes, yes, fuck, I’m so fuckin close darlin, ple-fuck, ‘Drid!” He cums with groan, whole body shaking as pleasure overloads his nerves. 

The vibrator thunks to the floor as Indrid lunges forward, pinning him to the bed and fucking him hard and fast, cock thudding into him in time with his purring groans. 

“So, so good, my Duck, so very good, god, yes, yesyes” he’s moving so violently Duck is now grunting from the force of the impact, “that’s it, good boy, take what I give youAHHnnn, Duck, Duck.” His hips slow as he groans, Duck drinking in the sight of him, orgasmic and loving above him.

Indrid pulls out, condom hitting what is hopefully the trash and not his guitar case, and immediately curls around Duck, kissing his neck and face.

“Thank you, thankyouthankyou.”

Duck giggles, kisses him back, “why are you thankin me? I’m the one who just got to fuck a rockstar. You got to fuck some regular dipshit.” He bumps their foreheads together to show he’s teasing. 

“Incorrect. I got to fuck you. You, who are funny and charming and to the point, and who has taught me a remarkable amount about plants.”

“S’important to have hobbies.” Duck mumbles into his shoulder. 

“Indeed. My point is, you make me happier than I’ve been in a long, long time. And while fucking you has been on my mind has been on my mind lately, it was not actually what I planned to do first. I, ah, I” he rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, hides his face in his neck, “I wanted to ask if you wanted to be my boyfriend.”

“Hell fuckin yeah.” Duck hugs him tight as he laughs with relief, “Indrid, I wanna be with you, the real you, not the one I had the crush on all those years ago. I wanna make you happy.”

“You do that just by existing, but I have some other ideas as well.”

“Oh yeah?” Duck kisses his nose.

“Well, for starters” Indrid’s eyes gleam as he looks up at him, “how would you like to write some music with me, boyfriend?”

“I think that sounds fuckin amazin. Boyfriend.”

[brooklynislandgirl]

@mynameisanakin

{{Before}}

Unfortunately, Beth is a little late to the party.

As has become a common ritual during the weekends they haunt the lanai each starting on opposite sides of the wicker not-quite-sofa until by some cosmic ideal they become entangled in a mass of stray limbs, soft skin, and a kind of warmth that rivals the sun. It is a companionable silence while he reads and she knits. Where they can disengage from the world and still feel connected to it through the existence of the other. It’s one of those things too difficult to describe if the person being told has never experienced it for themselves.

So when Anakin’s voice raises the small hairs along the nape of her neck, the crashing book startling her enough to jerk her head up from this particular perl, there is a moment of confusion written across her face in worry lines in her brow, the formation of frown-lines at the corners of her mouth. And for one glorious instant had there been a clear and present danger, it almost looks like she would have stabbed it with said knitting needle.

“Wha-” the whole word doesn’t make it out of her mouth. Beth is used to Anakin’s creative use of impolite expletives, how the shape of them along with tone have come to convey so many different things, but when she catches the rest of it she can’t help but look away. Partially in an effort to conceal the sudden flicker of honest-to-goodness brimstone and fire guilt. Partially to not have him bear witness to the discomfort that might otherwise have made itself apparent because she isn’t very good at hiding things. And the honest truth is the few times that Beth has ever felt any latent attraction to anyone or anything, they have been of that particular persuasion. Though she knows for a fact that what some writers get up to in their fiction and the reality of these beings are vastly different.

Beth could tell Anakin all about the Changing Breeds. Well, at least the ones she knows about, which account for at least four different kinds. She could tell Anakin what has been theorised about the Kindred and the oddity that is having relations with what amounts to their food source. She is pretty sure she’s never seen a green bean that she wanted to kiss breathless. She was a little less sure about ghosts and the like but she could, if it were ever to become important, ask one or more. And she does believe that love is one of the few things that transcends death. She doesn’t trust the fae to give an answer in any form of truthfulness. And those like them?

Well, as much as it’s painful to admit, the Awakened are still very much human. It doesn’t really matter what side of Ascension you fall on, you’re prone to the same wants and desires as the rest of the world. It’s just that you have slightly more options on how to go about getting what it is you crave. And that also makes Beth suddenly painfully aware that there is more Anakin under her than their perch, and very slowly she begins the process of unravelling their tangled bits of limb and clothes. Until now it wasn’t a concern, this sort of cuddle-puddle as her brother would call it was not uncommon between them, was no more scandalous as being curled up on an inside couch and watching a movie that they usually ended up talking through and at, as if the people on the screen could hear them and react differently in light of new information. Or any of a hundred other intimacies and liberties taken with each other.

What she doesn’t like is the way he intones the word ‘stupid’. She’s heard it one too many times as a slight not only on her intelligence but as slur for whatever foreign quality she threatened the speaker with at the time. She doesn’t bother to correct him on it, or even point it out. She knows he doesn’t mean it that way, that it’s merely a word to express his frustration and it’s one she understands all too well. Just as she knows if she did bring it up he would eat himself alive with guilt. Would spend upwards of weeks trying to apologise for something that wasn’t even really that much of a big deal. Somehow, she is glad he was never a samurai during the Edo period. Even as she worried about his self-castigation, he’s already starting to wilt, to recoil in on himself emotionally and as an instinct his arm curls around her leg before she can really sit up, drop her knitting in the basket, and focus her attentions on what he’s saying. And she lets him. Mostly. The closer he gets to the scar, the less comfortable she is, and she slides that leg away, placing her foot squarely on the floor.

As always, her gaze flutters in lackadaisical circuits between his eyes and his mouth. Sometimes Anakin gets this almost lazy way of talking that makes it hard for her to pick out every individual word so she pays more attention to his lips than maybe is good for either of them.

There’s a soft exhale of a laugh when he pauses, she can almost hear the unspoken thoughts and she is quite familiar with the sentiment. There’s some books she can’t get through, which gives her something to offer him once he’s gotten out all the things she can see lurking in his expression.

She does sneak a glance at the title, and doesn’t know the author. The cover itself is questionable. The sort of thing that gets hastily put together, often by a design artist who hasn’t even read the text. Or who only cribbed the dust jacket snippets. “Who told you dat you’d like it? Because I don’ t’ink ya really ought ta call dem ya friend no more.” She listens to the synopsis with an open mind. At least at first. But the more he talks about the character, the worse and worse she starts to feel. Because in some ways, he could be describing her. Well, with the whole exception of strength. She has emotional and intellectual fortitude, that’s for certain. But she isn’t exactly playing first string for the Saints, is she? In times she has to she can borrow a bit of physical prowess from the earth but that’s not what he really means, and not something she brags about. Though it does remind her that she should probably teach him that rote along with a few others.

He loses her there for a little bit. Not in the explanation but in the context and she’s almost horrifically curious to pick it up and see exactly what he’s talking about. If the inner sense of shame doesn’t do her in as he continues to explain. Her mouth opens slowly and then closes right up. Especially biting back the need to defend the character but also distance herself from the perceived comparison that could be drawn.

She is only so very thankful when he groans again, this time allowing the sound to pool down at the bottom of her spine, and that he shuts his eyes so he doesn’t see the garish clash of red on her cheeks and that faint green-around-the-gills she knows are both there. Although Anakin has here right then and there. Right at ‘morality wank’ and she can’t help the outburst of very real laughter followed by an apologetic squeeze of his knee. She hadn’t meant to but faces from her life before Anakin came into it serve to flesh out the imagery he’s painting.

She manages to hold it all together until he says the last two words, and again, anxious laughter comes bubbling up from inside her until she has to fan herself with her own hand for fear of lacking oxygen. She turns her head to the side and coughs softly before taking a more sobering breath. And when she talks, she tries her very hardest to keep the whole wine-auntie tone out of everything.

“No, I feel dis gotta come wi’ one caveat and dat’s uhm...I may not be da right person f’ say any of dis. But I...I t’ink dis writer would probably end up so much kibble if she evah try f’ do proper research. I know it’s fiction an’ all, but...dere is jus’ so much wrong wi’ da way ya explain it an’ I am so sorry for laughing. I promise, I no was laughing at you.”

No, it’s jumbled and not very clear at all, and she should have started out with the apology.

“Yeah, naw. See... I was t’inkin’ dat I could salvage some kine about dis, but no can. Mebbe a mo’ beddah way about it den is...t’ aks ya if mebbe...was dere any part ya like? Or dat you were okay pretendin’ t’ believe? Like... was it da actual sex part boddah you, or da pseudo-psychology of makin’ excuses, puttin’ on aires? Or was it all jus’ so bad, ya no can wi’ any of it?”

[alitheamateur]

The Grind-Chapter 21

Warnings: Angst. Language. Mentions of actions related to a sexual nature. 

A/N: Since I punished you all with that painfully short chapter yesterday, I felt it only right not to make you wait for this load of story. Buckle down kids, this is a lengthy bit!

The tense way our bodies snuggled to each other as we traveled now down a quieter four lane highway, was an immensely warm consummation I had grown addictively accustom to. Occasionally, he’d drop one hand from steering the bike to pet over my arms clutched to his waist, stroking a thumb to the skin he found there. I smiled in secret at the chills that arose at his feverish, yet boyish touch, knowing he was smiling himself at the reaction his contact triggered.  The greenery and much clearer air, free of the industrial, city smog, painted a storybook picturesque view of rural Pittsburgh. Where in the blazes could he be dragging me? Not saying the lushness of the apparent countryside didn’t lull me into a satisfactory coma of contentment at the slight similarities I found of Westfield.

I saw his wrist twitch letting off the accelerator, and our speed decreased turning near a lot with a simple painted sign reading “Duquesne Inlcine.” The location seemed maybe vaguely familiar, like I’d heard it mentioned in a passing conversation sometime or another, but I couldn’t say I was properly acquainted. The vast variety of parking was well, strangely a ghost town. The weather was sheer sunshine perfection, it was the weekend, so where were all the people? He pulled off his helmet, revealing the heat of the sun that had been trapped around his head causing his locks to appear spritzed with sweat, and a whimper of surprise at his exterior escaped me. Was I ever going to grow suitably acclimated with just how gloriously handsome he was in entirety? Judging by the current timeline of events, he would only grow more attractive with age, and I would become even more vulnerable to his refined features. Time was on his side, and only a mere year or so had passed since I’d seen him up close. Only now, that particular day, his eyes weren’t nearly as bright with blue, and their usual glint absent when I looked deeper. Was he... nervous? 

“Bet no one has drug you up here since you moved?” He shook my ears to attention.

“You’ve got me there. Where, where are we exacty?” I returned his question with one of my own, pulling off the helmet. Silently praying my hair wasn’t as out of place as the ones his head. Messy, tangled bedhead wasn’t a look that suited me as it did him. Why are you staring, Liv. You’ve seen the man naked and you’re shook up by some disheveled hair? Get laid, you pathetic hag.

“Ya’ gonna love it, Livvy,” his accent making me smile serenely. It appeared to thicken under three particular emotions: excitement, anger, and.. arousal. Three emotions that the brash drawl worked with ever so dangerously perfect.

“Colt, hey, uhm, where is everyone though? Like where is anybody actually?” He only let go of my hand to graciously hold a door open before returning the smile to a young man behind a counter in the lobby. He was younger than Colton and myself, only by a few years, and had a build similar, however much less intimidating to my date for the day.

“Allen, how are ya, you little shit?” Colton’s hand was settled around my waist squeezing lightly over my hip as he addressed the kind leer of this Allan character standing at a register. They shook hands briefly, and I felt oddly like an intruding bystander gawking about while the two men exchanged hellos.

“I’m not doing too bad, Ritter. Not as good as you clearly, beating all those asses in the cage these days.” He complimented in a congratulatory, yet envious voice.

“Don’t even start, bro. You been doin’ damn good for yourself, I ain’t blind.” Colt argued. “Hey, this is Liv, by the way, Al,” he winked at me with is introduction.

“Very nice to meet you, Allen. Clearly you guys know each other?” I giggled gesturing a handshake over the counter to his accepting palm, still utterly clueless to what we were indeed doing here.

“Yeah, babe. Allen’s a fighter too, I busted him a couple times when we were first starting out.” I saw him side eye towards his friend gauging a reaction to his snide comments. “His his family runs the place here, so I called in a favor with an old friend to bring ya’ here.”

“Smug bigshot here rented the place out for you, Liv. What the hell do ya’ have on ‘em?” Allen burst out quickly, then lost his smile once realizing that little detail may have been intended to remain a secret.

I lifted a hand to tug at Colton, my eyes yielding a flood of gratitude, confusion, flattery, reserve at how much this ordeal had to have cost him, and scolding him for going to such unnecessary, yet deeply appreciated lengths.

“Let’s go, babe. C’mon I wanna show you what were doin.” His own hand outreached to touch my reddening cheek with his battered knuckles.  

I followed to a windowpane, gazing out to discover a machine resembling some sort of cable car, tucked carefully into the tree sprinkled hillside. Then, farther left, trailing down the funicular built to carry the car, the wide spans of what seemed to be the entire south side of Pittsburgh was nestled comfortably inside the bosom of the Ohio River. My cheerful face began to hurt from the extended upturning of my expression. Hot rays of the sun were gleaming reflections off the rippling water, whose color closely resembled the one in the eyes I felt staring at me from the back.

“OK, it’s ridiculously beautiful up here, Colton. God!”

“You like it, do ya’? Just wait till you see it all from the trolley. Dad used to bring me here every year for the 4th of July so we could see all the fireworks around the city.” He nodded to his right, indicating we take our places so he could show me the view he so apparently loves of his city.

The motor operated car doors slid open in unison reveling a wicker basket placed alone in the center of the empty box lined with seats. The lid of the picnic basket closed, displaying a ribbon tied bundle of pink peonies, of course. This batch however more conservative than the hefty dozens from my birthday. He thankfully read my mind, carefully stepping up behind to take me into his warm embrace, resting his prominent chin on the shoulder next to my ear.

“Whaddya think, Livvy?” His hot question shivered down my neck. Literally hot, his own breaths nearly incinerated my eardrum like some sort of well-trained dragon. The pattering of his pumping heart in the middle of my back was like the unsung lullaby I never knew I needed. I almost internally feel the cadence of my own heart catch up to sync with Colton’s.

Kiss him. Now. RIGHT NOW. Who needs pride anyway?

I loved and feared all the same the effect he had on me always. A new emotion enraptured me every time he was near, each more overwhelming than the last, and I felt him willing me to lose control. But, the pangs of heartbreak seized a friendly reminder when I felt I’d give in to those wet, desirable lips, and I held off. For now.

“You did.. ok, I guess,” I shrugged fighting to remain stern, stifling a smile behind cherry flavored lips.

“Damn, tough crowd. Ya’ little critic.” The man huffed out with an exaggerated roll of his smiling eyes. “Well, it worked for all those other girls I brought up here….”

Counter, Colton Ritter. Two could play those games, seemingly.

I threw a rear jab with my elbow to his still closely pressed abdomen, choking a goofy giggle of pain, and pleasure. He loves any fiery reaction he suck out of me.  

“Easy there, slugger. I’m kiddin’. You know that!” He defended lowly. “Besides, you know there’s only one particular green-eyed girl I have eyes for.”

My God. Usually, that sickeningly, derivative come on would’ve sent me gagging a mile in the opposite direction, running for the hills around me. But, things I normally viewed as stupid, and cheesy, and even.. unintelligent coming from most, made me feel so utterly warm with affection coming from him. I think it’s because I know when they come from his particular mouth, they’re genuine. He doesn’t have a plethora of douchebag pick-up lines tucked away in the rolodex of his mind. He’s never needed it. Girls crumbled at his very feet, which was much, MUCH to my dismay. I can’t recall how many times precisely that I worked myself into a jealous frenzy over some harlot trouncing her perky bust brazenly under his nose, grasping for one lingering look from him.

“So, what’s for lunch then? My breakfast is wearing off.” I inquired as I slowly walked around the empty car, mentally tucking away snapshots of this utterly astounding view resembling something from a post card.

 We ate quietly seated next to each other towards the front of the car, the Pittsburgh skyline painting a backdrop of pure beauty. Colton had kept it simple with his picnic basket, stuffing it with fresh fruits, some light sandwiches, and much to my satisfaction, a stockpile of my favorite truffles from the bakery neighboring The Grind. He had the memory of an elephant.

When he had pulled out the stashed box of dark chocolates from the bottom of the basket, he giggled with a shaken head at the child-like gasps and eager hand claps from me, instantly recognizing the golden, polka dot box. I still wanted to kiss him. Deeply, kiss him. The desire to do so hadn’t subsided a single inkling since his arrival to retrieve me. Matter of fact, it probably tripled. And the unintentional, habitual way he always licked that perfect pink lower lip of his after pulling it between his top row of teeth was only persecuting me all the more. I want to bite that lip. Let me! let me do it!

“Thank you, Livvy babe.” He chimed randomly, shocking me from the salacious thoughts of him that were currently running on an endless loop in my head. 

“For what, exactly?” Tucking the third truffe shamelessly in my mouth. “I should be the one thanking you. For all this..”

“Thank you for agreeing to come with me today. Ya’ didn’t have to, and honestly I didn’t fuckin’ deserve it.” His head dropped and his hand went to the back of his head, a worrisome practice of his own, I’d noticed.

I couldn’t bare the weighted sadness shown over his tightly drawn in mouth. A year ago, maybe. Maybe it would’ve felt like a sweet reward of revenge, after the hasty, crushing things he said to me. But now, it was like a bullet wound festering through my belly. Why couldn’t he see what I see in him? Yes, he is violent. Yes, he’s very much possessive and crude, and sometimes demented with anger, but he’s much more. I see his kindness, the genuinely raw way that he’s so ferociously protective over those he cares for. Colton is intelligent, he’s fearless, he’s the most brutally dedicated man to his career. Maybe all too much. He was extremely gentle sometimes, too. So innocently, childishly so. Physically, and verbally as well, if the particular moment called for him to be so.

The other hand, he was darkly passionate, almost fearfully passionate at times, actually.  And I do love those passionate moments. Damn it. But surely. Surely if he didn’t see all those interior, loveable characteristics I recognized, he had to know he was beautiful. He was a human being with color changing, blue/gray/green eyes, for goodness sake. He was picturesque sex, truly. The way he carried his shifty, built shoulders, and the way he always slid his hands in his pockets when he walked. Agonizingly accentuating his ink plastered biceps, the biceps that could probably crush steel beams in the company of Superman himself.

I took his hand, succumbing to my screaming desire to do so. “Colt, don’t. How long are you going to beat yourself up over it? I’ve forgiven you, okay? I have.”

“I’ll quit beatin’ myself up when everything is back to the way it fuckin’ should be!” He was growing frustrated internally the more we dwelt on the topic. “It shoulda never ended to begin with.” I felt his grip on my hand becoming tighter along with the tension of his jaws now. He wasn’t trying to hurt me, but it seemed his was molding his own hand to mine, afraid I would somehow vanish if he let go.

“Then.. why did it? Why’d you do it, Colton. YOU made that choice. Why?....”

He took a large, hesitated deep breath, like he was trying to inhale some imaginary courage floating through the air.

“For starters, I’m a brainless, ignorant twat, with shit for brains. And, it was the loss, Liv. I’m ashamed to say that I was blaming you for it. Or, I tried to blame you at least. I couldn’t man up and admit that Danny was just… better than me. I had to find some concrete excuse to caudle my pathetic fuckin’ ego.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it. I never pulled you away from your training, Colt. I would’ve liked to, yeah. But I wasn’t about to get in your way. I knew what the fight meant to you,” my voice was accidentally defensive.

“And I know that now. Hell, I knew it then, baby. I was just.. I don’t know.. God, Liv. I was just so in love with you. You made me mental, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I felt like I was losin’ control of myself.” His eyes said he wanted to touch my cheek, or kiss my forehead. I didn’t know what exactly, but it was clear the hand holding wasn’t dispersing his hunger for something.

“It was scary, babe. I understand that more than anyone else, Colton. The things you made me feel took the wind right out of me. Our love was a continual high, ya’ know? I’d be lying through my teeth if I tried to deny I don’t still feel that with you.” scooting closer to his tense body,  I felt that sensation of heat radiate onto my clammy skin making me shudder.

“I wanted to come to you so many times. I wanted to crawl to your damn doorstep and grovel, babe. I would’ve, too. Pride aside, if I thought it woulda made a difference. But, the shit I said to you, Livvy? I knew you hated my guts, and I couldn’t take the idea of havin’ the door slammed in my fuckin’ face.”

“And what about now, hm? Is that groveling bit still on the table or?” I winked, taking a note from his book, using one of his favorite forms of defense.

“Say the word and I’ll drop to my knees, gorgeous.”

Could he hear my panting? Was I panting aloud right now? I didn’t let my hungry stare falter, never unlocking the heated eye contact. Please kiss me, God. I can’t take it anymore! Take my mouth right now.

I could sense my brows knitting as my mind shouted soundless pleas. I wouldn’t have the nerve to make the first move and seek out his kiss, would I? Plus, I needed him to cave first since it seemed he always had me at a seeming disadvantage. He needed to break first. Even the score, if you will.

“Tempting offer, Mr. Ritter. I think I might very much enjoy the site of you on your knees.”

WHAT THE HELL, LIV ELLIOTT? Who are you? Did that just come out of your modest mouth. You deviant.

He loosened the twining of our fingers, only to drop it to the inside of my bare thigh. His touch. There. Oh, we like that spot, yes. The next bold move left his mouth meeting mine in an unhurried, calculated fashion. The breezy grazes of his lips felt like the soft flutters of a butterfly’s wings. At first, he was frozen there, a warm, handsome statue molding his lips to me. Once he collected I wasn’t going to protest, he began to lick hungrily over the seal of my mouth, letting out a throaty, male growl when I accepted his entrance. One hand remained placed still on my thigh, the other now snaked to rest on my neck, willing me closer to his kiss. Our tongues danced together quite chaotically, the insatiable desire within the exchange was an emotion neither of us could control properly. Oh, and I bit him. Yep, just like the hot swell between the apex of my thighs told me to.

I had the middle of his shirt wrapped around my fist, clenching even tighter when I opened my eyes for a brief second to find his shining back at me. There was something so, erotic about it. He seemed to be committing the exchange to his memory. I’d never been kissed while glaring open-eyed in my partners watchful pupils, and for a moment I felt I should think it strange. But it was feverishly opposite. It’s incredibly sexy, and debilitating, and I want him to do it more often. Still, I was curious.

“What’s wrong? What is it?” I pulled away, noticing the wrinkled, stretched cotton on his shirt where I was heedfully tugging at him.

“I just can’t believe I have you. I can’t fuckin’ believe this is happenin’. I missed you, Liv. I really, really did.”

Sensory overload. In every manner of the phrase. He smelled of a pungent musk, like trees and sweat. Sweaty trees? The inside of his mouth was coated in the juices from the fresh pineapple he’d eaten with lunch, and it tingled when I swallowed it down. Oh, and strawberries too, maybe? Yes, definitely some strawberry. His lips were sleek like the most elaborate silks, and wet too, making them stick to mine ever so slightly when we parted. My heart, and the sensitive place between my legs fought to steal the stimulation from the other, and I still can’t tell you where the victory laid. How was that possible though? How did a man stimulate the emotions of the heart, and the sexual tension of my sex at the very same instant? Just from a kiss, mind you. I wanted to shed tears of unadulterated bliss, and mount the length between his legs in at same time, in unison.

“Colt, you know I missed you. It goes without saying. How do you just, sweep me back in like that?” I laughed, but it was a rippling clandestine of wonderment I genuinely wanted solved. I needed a concrete, logical, palatable explanation.

“Because you never left me, baby. Not really, y’ know?”

I did know, and apparently he had known it too, contrary to hiding away from him in my little corner of the city.

“You were gone, but I know you felt what I’ve felt over the last year. I know you had to wake up fuckin’ hysterical in the middle of the night because you dreamt about me, Liv.”

I had done exactly that. At least 10 times, I’m not sure though. I lost count. The heartbreak was ineffable and haunting. Why had we tortured ourselves living life without the other? Pride? Fear? Did he feel like he deserved some sort of punishment for hurting me? Hurting us? I wanted to talk now. It was my turn to chime in, to toss my hat in the ring. But, he just kept going. I opened my mouth to interject, and he’d cut me off.

“I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you, sweetheart. I’ve never needed anything but myself, and to hell with everythin’ else. But with you… fuck. I hate my life when you ain’t in it. And it’s all just fast, and it happened so soon too, y’ know. But, I’m so sick in love with you, Elliott.”

How can he make the work ‘fuck’ fit into any sentence like it was just a casual, common word in the English language like ‘hello’ or ‘blanket’? We should have a chat with him about his etiquette soon. Or should we? We might like that word.. Especially in the bedroom.

“Can I talk now, handsome? Care if I get a few words in?” I smiled and buttoned the tip of his nose. His perfect, straight nose. How did it seem to still be in tact? He literally got punched in the face for a living? Thank you, God for keeping that incredible face unscathed.

He heaved a sigh, like the words he’d spat out had drained him in some way. And they may very well have! This is the most he’s spoken since.. well… ever.

“Sorry, baby. Yeah, you go now.”

“I love you.”

He was obviously confused when only 3, one-syllable words came out of my mouth. His head tilted wearily to the left like a curious dog, and a haze passed through his eyes, but no words.

The sun had fallen lower now, some lights began to flicker down below us in the city as we rode the car continuously down, ad back up the track. Even though we had drawn close to the water likely a hundred times now, I still felt giddy each time we reached near the edge of shore.

“That’s all I know, and that’s all the matters, Colt. I love you, and I don’t want to be without you.”

I wasn’t this person. I had always been the type to be entirely exasperated at people who said things as such, I found it unrealistic and dramatic, yet there I was. Confessing I was lost without him next to me, and I wasn’t sure how I lived before he came into the picture. Maybe I hadn’t. Not really lived. “What you did to me was cruel, and I didn’t deserve it. But I know you see that now. You made a mistake and like I said before, I forgive you.”

I was half expecting more talking since he seemed to be on such a wordy roll today. Instead, he used his lips this time. His hands. His eyes. But no confrontations. He’d used up his word limit for the day. I felt my head rush backwards at the attack he made on my lips. It was carnal. He breaths hitched from his nostrils. Breaths he seemed to be sucking from the pair of lungs inside my body. I was blindsided completely, and relishing in the upper hand he always had on me. The inside of his mouth was warm like the rest of his thick body. His hand was cupping between my legs now. In one faultlessly executed motion I was straddling his lap, clawing at the back of his neck, and I felt bare hands slide underneath my shorts now gripping on the curve of my behind lewdly. Am I about to orgasm just from the friction of his jeans?

“My God, Livvy. You smell so good, baby. I fuckin’ love that smell.” He mouthed with his lips still partially connected with mine.

The smell was his favorite perfume. He would lift the bottle off my vanity when I was doing my hair at the mirror, smell the top after popping off the lid, then generously spray it in the crook of both sides of my neck.

I felt almost sea sick with lust for him. Between the constant motion of the tram, the rolling of my hips in his lap, his hot exhales into my ears as he muttered into them. I was entirely rapt. The thin lace of a cupless bra I wore beneath my outfit had painted a high definition display of the pert buds of my breast, making it irresistible for the man not to gently tug between a hard-skinned index finger and thumb, imbibing a breathy squeak of his name from my throat. Let myself crumble hastily to the desirous high, and let him take me on the floor of this glassy box for all the world below us to see?  I’d have a very long, very disagreeable chat with myself about it later, but I couldn’t fall into that, sex, with him just yet. Although the raunchy idea of my bare flesh being trapped between his hearty torso and the cool glass windows here was mind-blowingly riveting. A little self-control was healthy, whether I internally agreed or not. However, that very scenario would be added to the growing list of X-rated fantasies involving Colton Ritter.

“O-okay, okay, Colton. Wow, hold-hold on.” I pulled away from his burning kiss, placing hand over my now seemingly chapped lips from the friction of his beard, and noticed a faint rash down my neck, leading down to my cleavage where he had suckled and scraped, and bit my tanned skin during the exchange. “As much as I don’t want to, trust me. We should pump the breaks here for a sec.”

He was stroking both opened fists across the small of my back, like you would do to soothe an upset newborn. A much lighter contrast to the way he was just pawing me like a ravenous predator.

“Shit,” he said in a barely there, seemingly embarrassed whisper. “I’m sorry, baby. I got outta control…” He wouldn’t let me see his eyes then.

“Woah!” I eagerly replied. “I wasn’t looking for an apology, Colt! I wanted that every bit as much as you.”

The electric, waterproof acquaintance that lived in my night-stand had almost run it’s race, and I needed this living, breathing, very stimulating man in front of me. Soon. ASAP. “But, I just think we should hold out, ya’ know. We need to work up to that a little.”

He was nodding in agreement now. What I believed to be honest agreeance, and not him trying to pacify me with what I wanted to hear.

“I get it, 2-1. As painfully fuckin’ irresistible as you are right now, I do get it. Him? I think he may have a little harder time acceptin’ though.” He shifted slightly upward reintroducing me to his still solid length underneath where I bestrode him, and smiled the most hellacious, satisfied grin I’d ever seen. The one he knew lit my every internal flame and sent me reeling with desire. “But the longer we wait, baby….” The sentence was left unfinished of actual words, but the drawn out moaning hum he gave, punctuated the thought exactly how he intended it to.

The lack of a touch from each there over the four hundred something days had been unrelenting, but once the ache settled a bit, it became manageable. However, now, with the blistering¸ very fresh reminder of just how pleasing and breathtaking the feel of our bodies felt when joined together, I was certain I would come undone. Sooner than later.

I squeezed over the muscle of his arms and gave him a look of warning at his crude comments. I had come to terms with the fact he was simply a sexual person. Sex was something he wasn’t ashamed to discuss, and it was something he verbally admitted his enjoyment for. I’d worry about developing the thick skin to deal with that tidbit at another time.

“You’re like a horny 15 year-old boy, Ritter.” I chortled with a blush.”

“That’s all your fault though. I can’t help it my girl is a so damn sexy.” Colton retorted with his thumb grazing the corner of my wrinkled eyes.

I wanted to ask him to paint a picture of me then. What did he see when he looked? Really looked. Physically, I mean. Sure, the new muscles from my training were settling in nicely, but otherwise, I was so… just so typical. Green eyes, small in stature, and an average dirty blonde head of mostly unruly hair. I couldn’t even stand next to the beauty of a woman that society would deem suitable for him. I blended in like camouflage amongst a crowd of women, but evidently looking from the point of view of one Colton Michael Thomas Ritter, things were much different.

I wanted more. Needed it, actually. Whatever detail he hadn’t shared with me yet, I’d find a way to pull it from him. I was all in, indeed.

 After lingering for an hour or so more, tucked away above the hustle of summertime in the city, and dropping for a quick to-go cup at The Grind, we journeyed back to my place. Andrew had given silent eyes of gleaming approval when he saw the two of us enter the shop, fingers interlocked securely, and I exhaled in relief briefly. But, a tightness quickly drew back into my shoulders once Tia’s very disapproving, fuming blue pools fluttered through my thoughts. I’d have to settle things before somehow our reuniting made it back to her. Soon. But for now, for the night, I just wanted to selfishly bask in him. In us. Our long, cold nights apart now only a painful recollection that I never wanted to think of again, nor experience.

Now, in the mostly silent concrete parking lot of my home, standing settled between his opened legs still seated sideways on his bike, I never wanted to move. Crickets sang harmoniously as we lingered in a warm hug, and the flickering street light playing as spotlight. Several moments passed without words. Awkward silence to most, but a fulfilling moment of sensual security to us. The feel of his hand caressing the small of my back right below the twin dotted indentions about my firm backside, gently rubbing left to right, and sporadic kisses touching where my neck curved into my shoulder. I closed my eyes to think of those indulgent, teasing kisses along the ticklish hump of my ribcage, then across my pelvis to meet each protruding hipbone punctuated with a wicked nip of his teeth, and I felt a sweat arise in the crease of my breasts at the idea.

“Come upstairs,” a throaty demand wafted over my lips before I could practice any tact.

He instantly halted all movements seeking the truth behind my eyes. And I noticed a flash of seemingly confusion, mixed with hopefulness.

“What?”

“Come inside with me. Spend the night…” I proposed, fully aware of what I was offering to the very hungry man draped around my waist.

I kissed him fervently, and journeyed a wandering hand to his member standing half staffed, eliciting a groan of liking from his gaping mouth. His legs tightened around me, and his fingers crawled up to wrap his grip around my tousled braid.

“Liv, baby… baby, c’mon. Hold on…hold..” A tangled string of efforted protests met my eardrums, but his hands continued to nearly squeeze right through my flesh.  Then finally, he sought out below to halt the erotic massage I was giving through the confines of his now growing jeans. “Stop, baby. Okay? Talk to me for a second.”

I felt my eyes expand when he had actually stopped my bold foreplay. Was he turning me down? “You don’t actually want to leave? Do you?” I probed.

“Hold up right there, Livvy. Don’t give me those puppy eyes,” he scolded shakily. “I know what you’re thinkin’, and you are so, so damn far off.”

I wasn’t thinking he didn’t want me. Not really, anyway. But I kept silent, wondering sincerely his reasons for declining my bed for the night.

“As bad as I want to throw you over my shoulder right this minute, and take you upstairs to see whatever sexy little lace number you’ve got on under these clothes, then fuckin’ tear it off your ass, I just think we should cool it. For tonight.” He confessed earnestly.

I was truly even furthermore enamored with him after that. He read my actions didn’t really wield my exact feelings, no matter how persistent my advances on his crotch may have been, and he resisted nobly. But, his desires shined through the ocean blue of his eyes.

“We’ve got plenty of sleepless nights ahead of us, gorgeous. I promise you that.” Colton said with a dark intonation behind his words. I believed that promise too, no hesitancy, and I looked forward to all the lost time he planned to make up for, knowing he’d execute every encounter flawlessly.

“I’ll be sure to get my rest tonight then.” I purred into his mouth before I snaked a tongue inside.

“Oh, I’d highly advise that. I prefer you well rested. And besides, I can’t have any girlfriend of mine walkin’ around with bags unda’ her eyes.” He smacked me on the tail end.

“Girlfriend?”

“Hell yes, girlfriend. You ain’t gettin’ rid of me now.” 

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