#she still comes across as distant but that’s mostly just because she believes it’s important to not influence those around her too much

[arolesbianism]

Some more concept designs for my newest iterator ocs! In order we have Endless Grains of Sand (she/her), Deep Coated Mist (she/her), Purity Preserved (he/they), and Twisted Orbit (he/they/she). This is also in order from oldest to youngest, Sand and Mist are both Very old

(Synchronized Light is also a part of the group, they’re the very youngest)

[blossom-hwa]

Stardust - CHANGMIN

So like. This was the first full scenario I wrote for TBZ and I can’t believe I wrote this before actually even STARTING No Air, but whatever! It was cute! I couldn’t help myself but I didn’t want to post this before No Air so that’s why it’s late

Thank you to @deathbykpopboys for helping me put this scenario together! Honestly I don’t think I’d ever write anything without sunny hhhh she’s always so great with ideas <3

Pairing: Changmin x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, a little angst if you squint, teacher!au

Triggers: alcohol, cursing

Word Count: 2.7k

Changmin sometimes thinks you’re a little too perfect to exist.

TBZ Masterlist | No Air | Touching Stars | Breathe, and Live

Friday nights are always fun, for Changmin. Friday’s the last day of the work week and kind of blends into the weekend, and because he’s a schoolteacher, he (sort of) gets the weekend off. Sure, he might be making lesson plans or writing reports or doing other important, not fun things, but he also has his stolen moments for dance or shopping or things that he doesn’t have time to do during the week. He’s free, more or less.

The last Friday night of each month, though, Changmin enjoys the most, when he, Jacob, and Kevin meet up for cheap food and drinks. And as much as Changmin likes to wreak havoc on the lives of his fellow teachers (mostly by scaring the wits out of them with dolphin screams and horror movie masks), he really does enjoy their presence in his life and appreciates them for it.

They haven’t a missed a night so far, not since that time Jacob was out with the flu and Kevin had a family emergency. And even though Changmin’s definitely done and said some stupid (read: really embarrassing) things while under the influence, the pros of each night always end up outweighing the cons. So if Changmin wakes up the next morning with a hangover, well, that’s just a side effect of having some fun.

But sometimes he has thoughts. Thoughts that he’s repressed so well he might not even register them, but that exist nonetheless. And Changmin, sadly, is a truthful drunk. His thoughts come spilling out of his mouth, mostly unfiltered, whenever he’s had enough to drink.

And this week, Changmin has been having thoughts. Thoughts that he isn’t sure he wants to spill.

If he drinks, they’ll flood out. It’s the way Changmin works – he’s had enough experiences with alcohol and his brain that he knows what will happen. As he stares at the soju bottle on the table, he knows that if he drinks, he’ll probably regret it in the morning. Not necessarily because he’ll remember what he says – his memory tends to get a bit spotty even after a round of light drinking – but because Kevin definitely will.

Normally, Changmin would praise God for Kevin's ability to remember drunk things. Coupled with his inability to lie, it makes for so much potent blackmail. Sure, Kevin makes Changmin and Jacob swear not to talk about anything he said under the influence, but Changmin isn't an angel the way Jacob is. If it came down to it, he'd sell Kevin's secrets for a single corn chip and some entertainment.

(Okay, not really. But the point still stands.)

If he complained about this to people, they’d probably just laugh and say something about how Kevin is a precious pure meme, that he’d never sell out Changmin’s deepest thoughts for anything. After several years of working with him, though, Changmin knows better.

(He’ll just say that sometimes, Mr. Kev Kev isn't the happy-go-lucky meme-y little boy that everyone likes to make him out to be.)

So maybe Changmin shouldn't be drinking tonight. There isn’t necessarily a lot on his mind, but he’s been thinking of things that he doesn't want spilled just yet, and drinking will only make that possibility a reality.

Isn’t that what alcohol is for, though? To make those worries disappear, if only for a short while? The soju beckons at Changmin, even more so when Kevin actually opens the bottle. Eventually, he throws caution to the wind and fills his own glass.

It’s a clear night, mostly. A bit cloudy, but no sign of rain, and there’s a pleasant little breeze that feels cool against his cheeks. Sitting at one of the small tables outside of the restaurant, Changmin loses himself in the food and the conversation.

After an hour, Jacob decides he needs to leave because he’s supposed to meet with his family the next day and can’t get too plastered. Kevin calls him a noob while making a face, but Jacob, being the angel he is, just pats him on the head on his way out. Privately, Changmin thinks Kevin is much more of a noob than Jacob, but the alcohol hasn’t addled his mind enough to say that out loud just yet.

At some point, though, the world becomes pleasantly muddy. Changmin can register what’s going on at a distant level and he probably shouldn’t drink too much more, but he takes a last shot anyway, just as Kevin asks a slightly slurred “How’s life with Y/N?”

A stupid smile stretches across Changmin’s lips. “Kevin, oh my God, she’s perfect.” He grins, the breeze cool against his flushed cheeks. "She’s so beautiful, it doesn't make sense that we exist in the same world."

Kevin mutters something that sounds like "whipped" and "so soft."

Changmin is sure that if he were sober, he would've attacked his fellow teacher by now, but his tipsy haze is too pleasant to interrupt. He just wants to keep talking. "Kevin," he whines. "Pay attention."

"Okay." Face flushed, Kevin puts his chin on his fist. "'M listening."

"Y/N’s so beautiful." Dimly, Changmin is aware that he's just repeating himself, but he can't help it. The point needs emphasis. "Kevin, she’s so amazing. So much more amazing than me. So smart. Did you know Y/N knows like ten programming languages?"

Tipsily, Kevin shakes his head. "What... what's a program."

"Computer shit." Changmin plays idly with his shot glass. "Doesn't matter. So smart, so nice, so... lovely, Kevin. Y/N’s good at everything. She cuts fruit for me when I work late and make me go to sleep. She doesn’t know anything about dance and tries to help anyway. She works so hard and never takes anyone’s shit and she always knows when I need time alone or when I need comfort.” His mouth draws down into a slight frown. “She’s like... she’s like..."

Why is it so hard to come up with something to explain you? Your entire existence defies definition. How can he even find something comparable to the way you sparkle in his eyes?

Ignoring Kevin’s gaze trained on him, Changmin slumps over the table, eyes gazing out at the dark night. A few stars manage to glitter past the clouds and the piercing lights of the Seoul skyline.

Stars. Something tugs at the back of Changmin’s brain. Stars. Sparkly.

An image of your smile pops, unbidden, in his mind. Your bright eyes glimmer. Like stars.

Oh.

Stardust.

Yes, stardust.

You're like stardust, warm and gentle and... magical. Magical to the touch.

"She’s like." Changmin hiccups. "She’s like stardust, Kevin. Stardust. Perfect. Warm.”

A tear trickles down Kevin's cheek. Changmin has exactly two seconds to ready himself in his drunken haze before Kevin launches himself at his purple hoodie, loosely grasping at the soft cloth as he fully encases Changmin within his arms. "Ji Changmin," he sobs, muffled, "that is the most adorable thing I've ever heard you say."

Even sober, Changmin doesn't think he'd know what to say in response to that, so he just stays silent. It's not like Kevin would even hear him over the sound of his overemotional crying.

Anyway, Kevin's hug feels nice. Warm. Changmin doesn't think he needs to speak words at the moment, he's too comfortable. It's not the same as being in your arms, but he'll settle for it now. He burrows a little deeper into his friend's hold.

“You little child, you,” Kevin sobs into his shoulder. “You’re so sweet and small and warm, I can’t believe you exist.”

Changmin doesn’t feel like replying. There’s a bubble of something growing in his chest that he can’t entirely decipher right now, and his brain has focused on that. It’s some sort of emotion, he thinks. It doesn’t feel very pleasant.

His head gets pulled out of Kevin’s arms. He whines a little, annoyed by the lack of warmth, but he doesn’t really have the presence of mind to do anything but sit there limply as Kevin starts shaking him back and forth, still wailing about how “adorable his little Ji Changminnie is.”

The bubble keeps growing as Kevin keeps shaking him. It doesn’t feel like vomit – Changmin knows that sensation a bit too well – but it makes him feel a little sick. A little upset. The bubble feels suffocating, cold, but it also burns.

Not vomit. He doesn’t feel nauseous. But still unpleasant.

Kevin goes back to hugging Changmin into his chest, which soothes the bubble a little bit. The soft warmth of Kevin’s sweater smooths the burning and takes away the edge of the cold. But the bubble still stays as Changmin rocks back and forth in his friend’s hold, blankly trying to decipher the stupid emotion growing in his heart.

“There’s a bubble.” The words slip out of his mouth just past Kevin’s ear. “There’s a bubble in my chest.”

“Bubble?” Kevin pulls back slightly, flushed face confused. “What bubble?”

Changmin vaguely gestures at his chest as best he can with Kevin’s arms partially trapping his hands. “Here. Doesn’t feel good.”

Kevin’s eyes squint. “Need to vomit?”

“Nooooo,” Changmin whines. “Kevin, it’s a bubble.” He pauses. “Think it’s an emotion.”

He hears Kevin suck in a breath. “I can’t believe my precious little Scorpio child is finally feeling emotions,” the older boy says in a stage whisper, loud enough for at least the next two tables to hear. Changmin has enough presence of mind to slap him. “Hey!”

“It hurts.” Changmin’s lips pout deeper. “I don’t like it.”

“Aww, no, baby.” Kevin pats his head – a little too hard, but Changmin can deal with that. “Why does it hurt? What emotion is it?”

Changmin racks his brains for the word. It’s not a good feeling, so he tries to eliminate the good words as they pass through his mind. Not pleasant. Definitely not happy. Not calm, either.

Sadness? Maybe that’s part of it, but it’s not specific enough. Anger? Not really.

Fear?

Changmin isn’t scared of many things. He loves horror movies and thinks possessed dolls are cute, and it’s hard for anyone to really startle him. Fear is not an emotion that regularly appears in his repertoire.

But this time…

“I’m scared.” The two words slip out of his mouth, quiet, lonely. “’M scared, Kevin.”

Kevin pulls back again. “Changmin, you’re never scared.”

“I am now.” He purses his lips petulantly.

“Why?”

Unconsciously, the corners of his lips turn down even further into a blank pout. "Sometimes I think Y/N’s gonna leave. Slip through my fingers."

Even tipsy, Changmin can tell there are more tears welling up in Kevin's eyes. "But… you love each other?"

"Y/N’s stardust." Changmin's pout deepens. "Too perfect. She’s gonna realize that, that I'm not... I'm not good enough but she’s too nice to say that so she’ll just slip away." He hiccups again, feeling his cheeks burn with drink, fluttering his fingers loosely to make sure Kevin gets the point. "Like stardust."

Kevin remains silent for one, two, three seconds. Changmin takes that time to drain the last little bit of soju left in his cup.

Then Kevin nearly knocks the cup out of his hand when he literally grabs Changmin and forces him to curl up into his sweater, nose buried in the soft folds of cloth. “You beautiful, pure little child, you,” he coos, patting Changmin’s head (still a little too hard, but Changmin really doesn’t feel the need to deal with it right now). “You small little child. You poor, small child. Y/N is so in love with you, there’s no way she’ll ever leave.”

“Stardust,” Changmin reminds Kevin, words muffled into his sweater.

“Stardust,” Kevin agrees. “But good stardust. Gonna stay with you. Never going to leave.”

Changmin doesn’t remember much of what happens after that. He knows that they eventually pay for everything and Kevin’s partner picks them up (well, they were the one who was supposed to pick the two of them up. He doesn’t actually register the driver’s face, but Changmin hears Kevin calling them “love muffin, better than Beyonce,” so it’s probably them. He refuses to acknowledge any alternatives), but he’s too drunk and too tired to process anything else.

Somehow, he wakes up the next day curled up in his bed, forehead threatening to split from the dull pain. Mentally, he thanks himself for closing the shades before he passed out last night (or was it morning? He isn’t completely sure when he got home) so that the sunlight isn’t adding to his headache.

Get up, Changmin, he tells himself, summoning the strength to swing his legs out of bed. Step by step, he exits his room and slowly brushes his teeth before heading toward the kitchen for a bottle of water or something to get rid of the pounding in his head.

Changmin’s so out of it that he doesn’t register the smell of something cooking wafting out of the kitchen before he’s almost in it. He finally stops, confused, just in time to see your head poke out from the kitchen entrance.

For a second, Changmin just stares at you, brain buffering as he tries to come up with a suitable greeting in his hungover state. There’s this look on your face that Changmin’s muddled mind can’t seem to decipher.

Oh, God.

You look like you’re about to cry. 

He panics. What did he do wrong? Did he say something bad last night? He can’t remember anything – how badly did he screw up, what the hell did he do –

Then you leap at him, much the same way Kevin did last night, and bury your face into his shoulder.

“Ji Changmin,” you say, words muffled into his rumpled shirt, “I love you so much.”

Changmin’s mouth can only come up with a confused “huh?”

You pull back, eyes shining with tears, but mouth stretched into a beautiful, beautiful smile. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember what you told Kevin last night,” you say teasingly, though there’s a hint of uncertainty in your gaze.

Slowly, slowly, the events of last night begin to piece themselves together in Changmin’s brain. Every single stupid word he said to Kevin in his drunken stupor comes flooding back in one massive, jumbled mess.

He blushes.

“Ji Changmin.” You cup his puffy, red cheeks between your hands, voice trembling. “Listen to me. I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to slip through your fingers and, fucking, I don’t know, fly away. Because I am not perfect, I am not stardust, but god, I – you’re perfect for me. You are good enough for me, more than good enough for me. You are perfect, and I’m staying here forever. You’re not going to be able to get rid of me. Understood?”

“But –”

“Understood?”

Changmin stares into your shining eyes. Even with you standing right here, hands cradling his face with the gentlest touch, he can’t quite believe you’re real and not just some beautiful figment of his imagination. Slowly, slowly, one of his hands rises to touch the fingers resting against his cheek. Just to make sure this isn’t a dream.

Solid. Warm.

Not a dream. 

This is real.

He nods dumbly, a stupid smile spreading across his face. “Okay.”

You crush him close again and this time, Changmin’s arms automatically move to wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. He can feel a few tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt as you hold him tight, so tight, and he smiles, one hand coming up to pat your back.

You’re here. You’re here, alive, solid, real. He can feel your warmth against his body, feel your hair tickling his skin.

You may be ethereal. You may be something completely out of this world, beautiful, divine. You may be sparkling, glimmering, brilliant in the morning sunlight. You may be made of stardust, something too perfect (he’ll fight you on that) to exist on earth.

But now, with you wrapped warmly in his arms, Changmin realizes that even though you may be stardust, that doesn’t mean you’re going anywhere.

A tear slips out of his eye as he smiles.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 cheek pinch for changmin idk why I just think that’d be fun <3)

[angelssdecay]

Why Zhongli isn’t just a blockhead (though sometimes he is) – another essay by yours truly

Disclaimer beforehand: I am partly Asian, but I am not Chinese and as such don’t have a complete grasp on the richness of Chinese lore and history although I do try to keep on educating myself about it. If you see I made any mistakes, missed out on something very important or accidentally said something I shouldn’t have please don’t hesitate to point it out for me, I’d really appreciate it. This analysis was mostly for myself and because I wanted to set a few things right about some things I’ve seen and encountered about his character in the fandom, that is all. 

This analysis ended up to be quite long (over 1.3k words oops) despite me keeping some points out of it on purpose to make it more compact, but I hope you’ll enjoy my thoughts nonetheless!

-          Zhongli is not, and has never been, simply a brute without a brain despite his undeniable trail of destruction left in the wake of the Archon war – everything he’s done, as immoral as it may seem to humans, has been done with the image of a more peaceful future in mind and the wish to create a better world for those inhabiting it. 

-          And let’s not forget that he is extremely cunning and always waging decisions carefully considering he has planned out such a grand scheme from faking his death to implementing Childe in this game of his, and using everyone in Liyue for his grand, final test 

- though he did not do so without a thinking about the weight such a final decision would hold, but instead hought long and hard about it through observations of Liyue’s people and how they would fare without his divine intervention from now on.

-          Zhongli is without a doubt not a 110% good character, he is indeed manipulative, irrational and inconsiderate of individual human lives to a certain degree and I won’t say that his objectives erase the way of his methods, after all everyone knows that the path to hell is paved by good intentions-

-          but it’s simply impossible to define any character in Genshin in such black and white/ good and bad ways because each and every of his decisions is very nuanced - he is not only selfish, Zhongli is also incredibly selfless at the same time because all that he did was for the people of Liyue, he gains literally nothing from all this apart from his rest from his immortal duties, and he is not heartless either because despite making just yet seemingly cold decisions it also has to be said that such hard decisions cannot be made and set in stone when one let’s themselves swayed by emotions

-          To come to another point: After living so far off from the mortal world for so long – because watching over humans isn’t the same as wandering amongst and living with them – it is no surprise he is quite detached from them, his heart despite his love for Liyue having petrified little by little and he knows it.

-          Yes, Zhongli definitely knows he can’t escape eventual erosion, petrifying little by little, that he will wear away as a river wears away a mountain - but still he lives on to uphold the memory of those that have faded to dust, had sacrificed their very lives to help pave the way for a peaceful and prosperous Liyue and also to carry the weight of sins he has committed in the war – he thinks and he cares so, so much and to conclude this:

-          I literally cannot stress enough how he carries so much responsibility, so much history on his shoulders – he is living history – even more now that he’s the only one left to carry on the hopes and dreams who have long passed and that this is an incredibly lonely task. It’s just heart-breaking to think about what he’s carrying with him day by day.

-          And to come to one of the most important people from his long life and who helped to shape him into who he is now: Guizhong.

-          She was one of the people who taught him that his heart is capable of more than just living for his duty, that he doesn’t only have to live as the God of Martial Arts – they were not just ‘brawns and brain’ – they were a team that complemented and completed each other

-          and Guizhong (and consequently her death as well) pushed him to embracer the other sides of his personality as well. It doesn’t matter whether people see their relationship as platonic or romantic, because the impact she has left on him is the same – as someone who believed in his gentler, more caring side

-          Zhongli is also incredibly thoughtful and perceptive, seen in the way he talks - a very refined and elegant way with every word laced by the wisdom he has accumulated without it being overbearing or coming across as absolute with no room for doubts - about various important characters in Liyue right now – accurately pinpointing their strengths and weakness and how valuable they are to making the land he has protected for so long continue to prosper

-          for example when he talks about the Yuheng and that despite, no, because of her abrasive attitude towards his deeds as a good she is a gem amongst humans and one of the many people he places their trust in to take care of Liyue’s future in his stead. Or Yanfei, the young half-Adepti who despite never having entered a contract with him, or rather doesn’t even know of his true identity upholds order and contracts within Liyue which he praises and values

-          It shows how deeply he cares about this land and its people, believing in their strength to overcome everything even without him – which is one of his most defining traits – seen in the way he has guided humanity all these years and in the way the people of Liyue have faith in him, a faith that isn’t blind or caused by fear like with Decarabian, but true respect for all he has done for the people of this land.

-          to say he’s a blockhead who doesn’t think nor care about humans is completely wrong because his entire rule for the past millennia was centered around protecting mankind – yes, it has to be said that his methods and morals are outside normal human values but it has to be kept in mind that he is an immortal god and gods neither feel nor live like humans, they understand and perceive the world differently than humans

-          gods stand outside out world and that makes it harder for them to truly connect with the way humans live - and it is only after stepping down from his throne that he actually has the chance now to try and experience the life of mortals for himself, to see and live it for himself and not as the distant overseer that Rex Lapis was.

-          and while he may feel sadness over not being needed anymore, giving up his godhood is the freedom he chose for himself, it’s something he deserves after watching over mankind for so long and trying to keep balance between the world or mortals and supernatural being

-          being free, being allowed to be selfish and think of himself outside of being a god is something he’d never done before being so incredibly bound to duty, contracts and traditions as he is; but by now he truly believes that this is the age of men as the end of the age of gods is coming to its end and it’s a beautiful thing to see him grow beyond the boundaries he had set for himself the past thousands of years

-          though in all fairness, sometimes our beloved Ex-Archon can indeed be a little of a blockhead considering he dumped the entire world of Teyvat into a financial crisis by stopping the production of one of the most important catalysts for everyday life – something that may not unfold its consequences immediately of course

-          – and even forgot to lay aside a private fund of mora but that’s because he isn’t accustomed to normal human life at all, he is still learning and more than willing to expand his horizon despite the vast knowledge he’s already accumulated over years of his life – and in the end that’s what makes him such a brilliantly lovable man, am I right?

[onewithnomightypowers]

clandestine (chapter 1)

PAIRING: Tom Holland x fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Y/N is an up and coming actress, married to a once hotshot actor, Harrison (Haz). What happens when her co-star, Tom, makes her realise that she is stuck in a loveless marriage. A marriage starts crumbling and a new romance stars brewing.

Chapter 1: too wise to trust

A/N: y/n is bisexual but not paired with a women. the characters have been aged up. the characters in no way portray how these ppl are in real life. i do not encourage cheating. i hope you guys like it as much is i do. if you want to be tagged them pls tell me. also comments are appreciated as they motivate me to write more and i love to know how you guys feel about the story.  

warning: cursing, mention of miscarriage, mention of sex, mention of cat calling, angst. fluff? 

word count: 1.4k

important: character thoughts are bold and italic, flashback is in italic

masterlist   series masterlist   chapter 2

She picked up her makeup bag from her vanity and started walking towards her empty suitcase which was wide open on her bed. “What time is your flight?” Haz asked while walking into their bedroom. “I think it’s at 6:30 in the evening but the car will be here to pick me up at 4”, she replied whilst folding her clothes.

“So we have at least an hour to us”; he pulled her by the waist and started kissing her neck. She tried pushing his chest away but failed miserably. “Haz, I’m not in the mood, please stop”

“Fine. But you have been saying that for months now”, he was frustrated.

She ignored his words like always. 

He was right. They hadn’t had sex for at least five months now and it was starting to gain on Harrison. Their marriage, which had been ‘couple goals’ according to the internet, was now slowly falling apart. It was clear that Y/N was falling out of love but she couldn’t find grounds for it. She couldn’t reason it by making him the villain because he was a good man who, in theory, had done nothing wrong. Though, to her, it felt like he had. Maybe he didn’t love her enough or maybe all had gone astray when they had lost their baby last year.

“Will Tom be there?” his words felt like venom, entering her bloodstream.

She placed her hand on her forehead, trying to indicate that she did not want to have this conversation or the inevitable fight, again.

“Of course he will be there, he is my co-star. You should get off the internet, it’s feeding you poison”, she said in an almost nonchalant way. Trying her best not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction to his name. His name, which did not mean anything to her. Tom was her colleague whom the internet liked to ship her with, but he was just a friend. Haz found it hard to believe this because the internet told him so. Their relationship was so far gone that he had no other way of knowing what was going on in her life. 

His wife was so far gone. She was as distant as the sun is from the moon. The distance left coldness between them. The kind of cold that you feel when you pass a stranger. She was a stranger to him and the only reason he could think of was that she and Tom were having an affair. This was not true, but the ache in his soul found comfort in painting Tom as the villain. 

“I don’t believe you”, Haz spat out.

She threw her heels inside the suitcase in anger. “What do you not believe? That Tom is my co-star? Is that what you don’t believe?” her voice was louder than before.

“I don’t trust him.” Haz matched her voice.

“Do you trust me?”

Trust? Her? How can I trust a stranger?

It was his turn to ignore her.

She zipped her bag, put on her shoes, and left the room. “Fuck you”, she cried before slamming their apartment door and leaving for London.

--

Y/N had first met Tom at a cast and crew dinner in New York, six months ago. Greta, the director, had invited both her and Haz but he had decided to opt-out of the ‘fancy’ dinner. Y/N was excited to meet her new co-stars and mark the starting of a new project, a new phase in her life.

It was cold in New York, she figured she shouldn’t wear a dress. She put on black stockings underneath blue bell-bottoms to keep her warm. She wore a dark grey American Eagles t-shirt and over that, a tan leather trench coat. She liked commuting via subway because she believed ‘nobody gives two shits about who is sitting next to them on the train’; and a town car was much slower, especially when it had been snowing. She stuffed her heels in her purse and wore her commuting shoes.

Tribeca to West Village was a good ten minutes train. Her travel was mostly uninterrupted except for the catcalls which felt like the usual to a native. Just before ringing Greta’s doorbell, she got out of her Converse and wore her heels.

Y/N entered a packed house. Almost everyone was there and she was late. But someone was to arrive even later than her. She examined the room, everyone was mingling with each other. She didn’t know anybody there except Noah Baumbach from the time she auditioned for ‘marriage story’. She didn’t get the part but still loved the movie. She realized Tom was missing.  

Greta pulled her into a conversation about when the production of the movie would start or something like that. She wasn’t really paying attention. She was so eager to meet Tom that her eyes couldn’t stop roaming around the room, trying to find him, and just when she thought he wouldn’t show up, he did. 

Everybody’s head turned towards him when he entered the living room. It was as if every person in the room wanted him, including her. His dark brown hair, falling into place like a domino, had snowflakes in them.

“Excuse me”, Greta gave a small smile to Y/N and walked over to Tom. She greeted him and politely touched his back. “Now that everyone is here we should take the party to the dining hall”, she said in a loud and cheerful tone.

Following Greta, everyone started moving towards the dining hall. Tom sat right across Y/N on the grand dining table. “Hi, I’m Tom”, he introduced himself in his thick British accent. “And he’s English”, Y/N said, adding to her list of things she found captivating about Tom.  

“And?” Tom gave her a confused look.

Shit. I said it out loud.

“I-I mean hi, I’m Y/N”, she tried to cover up her mistake.

His dark brown eyes on her, made her thoughts run wild. It was wrong enough to feel right. The dinner was served and small groups of conversations were taking place. Somehow the whole table took on the topic of bisexuality. Y/N felt obligated to take part in the conversation, being part of the community herself. 

“I think bisexuality is a gateway to being gay”, Tom said to the whole table.

“You’re being bi-phobic, Tom”, Y/N called him out. All eyes were on her now.

“And how do you know that?” Tom asked Y/N.

“Because I am bisexual, and any decent human being would know that”

“Are you calling me indecent?”

“No, I’m calling you bi-phobic”

“But aren’t you married to a guy?”

“That doesn’t change my sexual orientation, and you’re being bi-phobic. Again.” There was silence, everyone was listening carefully. 

“Okay, so please explain to me how I’m being bi-phobic?”

“Just the fact that you believe bisexuality is a gateway to being gay and me being married to a guy, means my bisexual card has been revoked, portray your biphobia”

“I am a little confused”, Tom said while reaching for his wine glass. 

“Someone who is bisexual is attracted to both men as well as women. It isn’t a gateway to being gay, it is a legit sexuality of its own”, 

“Hmm, I suppose I stand corrected. I’m sorry if I offended you or anyone. I will go home, do the research and try to be more open-minded”, said Tom, smiling.

“Good”, Y/N said, feeling accomplished and impressed by Tom’s ability to accept his mistake.

Haz would have never accepted that he was wrong.

Y/N felt wonderstruck. Blushing all the way home. She hoped Tom knew how enchanting it was for her to meet him. She wondered if someone was waiting for him at home, like someone was waiting for her. She wasn’t quite sure whether Haz was waiting for her to reach home or not.

She reached home to an empty bed. Not knowing what to make of it, she got ready to sleep. 2 AM and Haz was still not home. She didn’t try to reach him because she knew all phone calls would go straight to voice message and all messages would go unreplied. She closed her eyes, feeling indifferent towards Haz. Even in her sleep, her mind echoed Tom’s name. She was unaware of the treacherous road ahead of her. And that gave her comfort. His thought gave her comfort.

[mssleepy876b]

Family Ties- Chapter 3

Summary: Family can be a positive and negative force in one's life. Detective Jay Halstead knows that personally and he helps a new Intelligence family member through it.

Requested? No. But promised @resanoona that I would post mine once she posted hers.

Word count: 2469

Warnings: domestic violence

A/n: Unedited Sorry for any mistakes

Family Ties Chapter 3

Jay and Hailey took Brielle to her former home first when they left Chicago Med. Hailey and Jay cleared the house using her keys to be sure it was empty before she entered. “Can I have a few minutes in my room to change?” she asked once the officers from the hospital brought her inside.

“Sure, go ahead.” Hailey said following her to the top of the stairs.

While he waited, Jay searched Michael’s study and stationed the officers who had been at the hospital to help guard the house while they were there. Hailey heard Brielle open the bedroom door a little over five minutes later. She walked down the hall and saw Brielle already with a pile of clothes on the bed. Brielle had changed into a pair of blue jeans and a cream short sleeve sweater with tennis shoes on. She had pulled her hair back into a high ponytail moving as she entered a large walk-in closet. She already had a smaller jewelry box on the bed leaving a larger one next to the dresser. Hailey saw her going through her shoes and other accessories next to be sure she had what she needed. Brielle had pulled mostly work style outfits and comfortable clothing that she felt secure in and that she liked. Hailey was surprised at the racks of clothes in the closet still full.

“It isn’t the glamourous life everyone thinks. These were loaned to me by force I would believe. I don’t know how or by whom and I don’t want that burden moving forward. My life has to change if I am to survive. I can’t take that negativity with me into my future.” Brielle said to her quietly her voice tinged with sadness. “Can we pack what is on the bed and these and I will get my bathroom things?”

“Sure, let me get a box from Jay.” Hailey said.

“Here, we can use my luggage set too. It was mine before Michael. It was a splurge when we first started dating. He would jet-set me all over wowing me. I realize how fake that is now. It was all for his work.” Brielle said her voice sounding pained, rolling a suitcase out of the closet at her side.

Jay brought up a box and found Brielle and Hailey gathering up her things from the bedroom. After they secured what Brie wanted from that room, Brielle went into her sitting room as Michael called it leading Jay and Hailey behind her. She pulled photo albums and specific books from the shelves. She also pulled pictures off the wall. “This was the only place I could have my family pictures. Michael demanded his family be center focus in the rest of the house.” Brielle said as Hailey watched recognizing Brie in the pictures.

Once finished there, They followed her to the kitchen where she grabbed a binder of her family recipes and then into Michael’s main office. She opened his wall safe using the combination in his desk and pulled out her wallet and identification papers as well as a trust her parents had for her to access since she was now an adult. Michael had taken the papers years ago and told her he would keep them safe for her. He denied her access to them later as the relationship changed as his control tightened on her life. Brie allowed Jay to search the safe and take whatever documents he chose. While he did that, she moved to a library and pulled several books that had meaning to her as well as pulling files from a desk to take with her. She then moved to a 2nd office to pull more things that she had from her parents’ home that she wanted to be sure she had. Jay had caught up with them and she let him have access to the safes in the library and the 2nd office.

She looked around as they finally prepared to leave. The two officers helped Hailey and Jay remove her belongings from the house that they had staged near the front door. She paused at the door and set down her keys and her engagement ring at a table by the back of the couch in the living room. Jay looked at her concerned. “I don’t want it anymore. It represents lies and a life that was never meant for me. I never plan to return here so I don’t need the keys either. I don’t have a car that is mine anymore. He sold off anything that was just mine so he could isolate me.” She said. She grabbed several jackets from the front closet threw them in to a box, locked the bottom lock of the front door, and closed it behind herself and Jay.

He placed his arm around her waist as they walked to the car, he had driven them in as a shiver rolled across her body. His presence helped her keep her fear down as the reality set in as his arm supported her as she walked. “He’s going to be furious. That or his Uncle Angelo will. They demanded such control and loyalty. I don’t know that I will ever be rid of them.” She whispered to Jay squeezing a coat to her chest as the officer took the box of her coats.

Jay quietly helped her into backseat the car. He then drove to the 21st District office. The officers moved her personal belongings to a storage area in the office as Jay and Hailey went to escort her to the upper stairs’ offices for Intelligence. Her fears rose as she climbed the stairs clutching her jacket to her chest. Jay felt a shiver go down her back as she came to the top of the stairs. Hailey introduced everyone and they moved slowly so that she was not afraid. Voight came up last. Hailey caught a look of recognition flash across Voight’s face as well as anger as he looked over Brielle’s face and bruises that were visible.

“This is Sergeant Voight, Brielle. He runs our Unit.” Hailey said.

Brielle looked him in his eyes and spoke. “You are brave to take on Michael and his family. I know they know of you as I have heard your name before, but they terrify me. Your name sticks in my memory for some other reason, but I can’t think of it right now.”

Hank spoke calmly after nodding his head. “Angelo and I have had dealings before. Michael is not as important to his uncle as Michael thinks. Angelo told us where he was once he saw your pictures. It will be made clear to Michael that you are to be left alone.”

“Michael is chafing under Angelo. Thinks he is old and foolish. Wants control on his own.” Brielle told him.

She shivered again. Jay caught it and spoke to Brielle. “Are you cold?”

“A little but also nervous and sore. A lot of change in less than 24 hours.” Brielle said quietly her voice displaying her exhaustion leaning slightly on Jay’s shoulder.

“We will watch out for you, Brielle. You asked for help and we are here to do that for you.” Jay said as Hank watched them.

Hank immediately led them into the break room where he questioned Brielle about everything she knew about Michael, his work, his colleagues, where he worked, who he met with, how he helped his uncle and then finally about that last argument.

“Brielle, what started the fight last night?” Hank asked.

Tears fell down Brie’s cheeks as the memories flashed back. “It was stupid, petty really. He felt I disrespected him in front his cousin. He felt I was not completing my role as his future wife. Didn’t show enough respect to him as it was his oldest cousin Carlo who was visiting that night. I had a busy day at the Charity Center that day and didn’t know Carlo was coming to visit. I was tired. The charities we work with are mid-funding cycle. They need all the activities they can to get donations. We were coordinating them all day. I came home and was exhausted. I had working non-stop. I hadn’t even stopped for lunch that day. Dinner wasn’t ready when he arrived with Carlo and I hadn’t even changed from my work clothes. He dragged me upstairs, bruising my arm here around my right elbow, and forced me to change into an outfit of his choice. He then threw keys at me to go get carry-out from his distant cousin Alonzo’s restaurant. I returned, my nerves on edge and acted as what I thought was a perfect hostess. Carlo always was one I liked of Michael’s family. He was charming, sweet almost if you didn’t know who his family was or what they do.”

She took a shaky breath and felt Jay’s hand take hers. She sighed trying to calm her fears and continued. “Once Carlo left, I immediately cleaned the kitchen and the dishes and went to prepare for today. Michael called me down from our room and ordered me into the car outside the house. It was unusual for him to do that. He would often head out without me most nights. I could tell he was mad, and I didn’t understand why. I was worried when it was the town car that he had ready. It is heavily tinted, and you can never tell who or what was inside. I jumped in and slid as far from Michael as I could as the fear filled me. I also tried to be sure that I could exit on my own if I chose. Once Freddy closed the door and the car was moving, Michael struck out at me.” She began to shake as the fear set in and felt Jay’s hand on her shoulder.

She looked at him, took a breath and continued. “He grabbed me by my hair. I had it in a ponytail by that point because I had been cleaning and didn’t want to get it dirty. He slapped me as he held me by my hair. I can’t remember what he said, I know he was saying something, but I didn’t hear it. I was in shock as the pain stung my face. He had never come to that point before where he had ever hit me before. I was stunned and confused. He had such a strong grip on my right arm again so I couldn’t stop him. He then took off his belt with one hand and proceeded to use it to hit me all over with it. It felt like he was using the buckle mostly. He focused on my mid-section, I guess from where it hurt. I felt weaker and weaker as he hit me. I begged him to stop. I tried to ask why but he just swung the belt again. He then set the belt aside and backhanded my face at least 4 times before we came to a stop. I was left in the car as he gathered himself and stepped out to enter some building just down the block from here. I heard him order his driver to stand outside the car but not to get back in until he returned. Jesse was driving that night; he was a guard who was kind of protective over me and hated how scared Michael would make me at times. I waited until I had the energy and I heard Jesse get called inside. I used that chance to get out and run. I knew if I stayed Michael would continue to hurt me. His anger could flip like a switch so quickly from one extreme to the next. He would be calm for those he met with but fly off the handle at any moment with me. I remember the fear that I had to get away. I was disoriented and confused about where I was. I just knew I needed help and needed to get to safety. I ran down the dark alley and when I didn’t hear anyone following, I turned up towards the station, I guess. I just saw the lights. Thought I could be safe here. I saw Detective Halstead and just had an instinct that he would help me. It then gets hazy for me other than I remember his green eyes and the sensation of safety once he met me mid-way.” She said as her body shivered again.

She looked up and saw the anger in Jay’s face, the deep set look in Hank’s and the tears in Hailey’s eyes. Hank reached his hand out for her. “I promise you, Brielle. He will never get the chance to do that again. Hailey will put the transcript into the computer and get it typed for you to sign. I am reaching out to some of my contacts to get you a safe place to stay tonight and then we will go from there. Plus, I known you and your parents a long time, Brielle. It has been since before Camille died that we have been together. You look exactly like your mom, but your eyes are your dad’s. You grew up as much with us as Justin did at your house with your parents. Michael will never get close enough to hurt you again, you are my family, Brielle.” He said calmly to her.

Hailey nodded and left, Hank stood and looked to Jay. “Keep an eye on her, Halstead. She is a part of this family. He made a mistake. He just doesn’t know how large yet.”

“Yes, Sarge.” Jay answered. Hank left them sitting quietly as Brie tried to calm her nerves and her body as she was still feeling the fear from the memories causing her to rub at her face. He pulled her close to him under his arm feeling her shiver still. “Hey, I’m right here, Brielle. He can’t hurt you anymore.” Jay whispered to her. She put her head against his shoulder breathing deep before she turned to face him.

She yawned as her body began to relax from the fear. “I’m so sorry. I just feel so exhausted. I feel so drained, weak. Might be the medicine too. Dr. Choi said I might get sleepy from it.” She whispered leaning against him.

“Not surprised. Go ahead and lay down in here while you wait. I will be just outside the door at my desk if you need me, okay.” He said to her. She nodded and he helped her lay down on the couch in the room and left his jacket with her as she allowed her body to slip into calming sleep feeling safe.

[5bi5]

We have known about the vampires in this town for a long time now.

Our whole way of living is sort of built around it, actually. The whole water supply is holy water – the water in our taps, in our pools, in our fire hydrants. I've always thought if I had to kill a vampire I'd want to do it with a fire hydrant. You have to think about these things, you know. They teach you in school: wear a cross, carry a stake, hang garlic over your door. Never invite someone into your home unless you are certain you can trust them. And for God's sake, don't go walking alone after dark without some kind of weapon handy.

Things happen, of course. Things are always happening. People will just quietly disappear – most of the time the bodies are never recovered – and although it can't technically be said for certain just what happened, everyone knows. And then they talk. In hushed voices, in places where the family of the deceased – sorry, the "missing, presumed dead" – can't hear them, they talk. She must have done something wrong, they whisper. If she had just worn a cross like she was supposed to, if she had just stayed inside after dark, this would never have happened. Stupid girl – this was always bound to happen to her.

We all grew up watching those same vampire movies as everyone else. Dracula, Nosferatu, even Twilight. Let me tell you something: vampires don't sparkle. There is no sure way to identify a vampire until it's too late. Until there's no time to reach for that stake that you always keep in your purse, that if you could just get to it, maybe you could save yourself, fuck, where is it, where is your purse – there's no time for that. You're already dead.

Although I grew up knowing about the vampires, constantly hearing warnings and rules and stories, I didn't see one (not knowingly, at least) until I was twenty. At this point, although I knew theoretically that I could be attacked on any given day and it was important to be prepared, subconsciously I had begun to believe that it was never going to happen to me. I'd never so much as glimpsed a vampire in two decades, and everyone just droned about them constantly. Surely, if it were going to happen, it would have happened by now.

So, as I cooked a romantic dinner for myself and my boyfriend of three months, the threat of vampires seemed as distant as the possibility of an anvil falling out of the sky and crushing me to death. I was gearing myself up to tell him I loved him for the first time; I was not a romantic person by nature, but things had been going really well so far, so I wanted to make an effort. That effort also included making coq au vin and, in the interest of staying as kissable as possible, omitting the two cloves of garlic which the recipe called for.

That particular evening was one of the darkest and rainiest I had seen in some time, so when my boyfriend showed up twenty minutes late and apologizing profusely, I just told him not to worry, and ushered him in out of the rain.

"Why don't you take a shower while I get dinner on the table?" I suggested. "I can give you a pair of sweatpants and a t shirt." I wasn't really sure my clothes would fit him, but he was soaking and shivering, and he took me up on my offer right away. At worst, I got to see him in a too-tight shirt, right?

I gave him the biggest t shirt and sweatpants I owned, and I set about pouring wine and dishing up soup. In the interest of both warmth and atmosphere, I dug out just about every candle I owned – which, to be fair, was only a handful – and set them on the coffee table, where we could admire them without the smell mingling with the scent of the food. By the time everything was ready, he was back, wearing my sweats and shirt. They fit him better than I would have guessed, but he was still clearly uncomfortable, frowning and tugging at the shirt hem to stop it from riding up. It wasn't exactly the start I had pictured to our perfect romantic night, but hey, if something had to go wrong, this didn't seem so bad, right?

"You look cute." I said, grabbing his hand away from his hem and squeezing it in both of mine. "Come on, Griff, let's just have some dinner."

Griff gave me what might have been a forced smile, and sat down. "Thanks for making this."

"Happy to." I smiled back and took my seat across from him. I decided to wait until his mood improved a little before I sprang the whole "I love you" thing on him. I didn't want to freak him out.

We ate mostly in silence, and I regretted not thinking of a romantic soundtrack to put on. By the time we finished, I was desperate for some kind of noise – or just something to take the sullen expression off of Griff's face – so I suggested we watch a movie. We settled on The Hangover; again, not exactly how I had hoped the evening would go, but whatever made Griff happy.

It didn't take long for his attention to wander away from watching the movie and towards kissing me, which was all fine as far as I was concerned. Good thing I'd left out that garlic, right? I closed my eyes and leaned into the kiss, trying to parse whether this was the right moment to tell him. Before I could decide, however, he suddenly sprang away from me with a gasp.

When I opened my eyes, it was obvious what had happened, but my brain refused to register it. That burn mark in the shape of a cross had been there before I leaned towards him, hadn't it? It wasn't from my cross, the one I always wore around my neck, was it? It wasn't from any cross, of course not, my eyes were playing tricks on me.

I wish I hadn't wasted precious seconds processing all of this. Maybe I could have done something, said something, at least moved, before he was tearing the cross off of my neck with another pained yelp and leaning back over me. The jig was up now, and it was clear that unlike me, he wasn't wasting any time.

I wish also that I could say I survived through some great, heroic moment, but that's not what happened. I just sat there, shellshocked, until his mouth reached my neck and he began to bite – and then my body seemed to act of its own volition, thrusting him away from me with both hands. This caught him off guard, and he fell backwards, landing directly on top of every candle I owned. His shirt – my shirt – caught fire, and he dashed out the door into the rain.

At the very least, I can say that I made the conscious decision to lock the door, and then barricade it with a table. That's about all I managed to do before collapsing on the couch, back into the same spot I had been just minutes beforehand, and burst into tears. I didn't even bother trying to stop the blood leeching from my neck; I just cried until at some point I eventually fell asleep.

They taught us so much about preventing vampire attacks that it never even occurred to me before that moment that I had never been taught what to do if one did take place. Maybe it was assumed that if you got attacked by a vampire, you weren't surviving. Still, that seemed to nullify the point of carrying stakes and wearing crosses and blessing the water and whatnot. Maybe it was because everyone in this town seemed to believe that if you got attacked by a vampire, it was your fault – if you were smart, you wouldn't be out after dark in the first place, now would you?

Except I wasn't out after dark. I was wearing a cross. I survived. And now I had to continue surviving with no idea how to proceed. I couldn't ask anyone, either – even if they didn't lecture me to my face, surely they would whisper about me behind my back. Stupid girl, didn't even realize her own boyfriend was a vampire. What was she doing, inviting him into the house, when he clearly wasn't trustworthy? She should have known better.

For days, I stayed in my apartment, afraid to go out. I showered, with holy water, of course – except, weeks later, it dawned on me that Griff should have been hurt by the holy water. So, what was the truth? Was holy water not really an effective weapon against vampires, as we had always been taught, or was the water we had always been told was holy not really holy at all?

I did the best to cover the wound on my neck with makeup and collared shirts. There was no one there to see it, but I couldn't bear to look at it, and when it wasn't covered, I couldn't stop. I'd just stand in front of the mirror and stare at my neck, thinking of everything I should have done differently. Still, I was alive, wasn't I?

Wasn't I?

The first time I went out, it was to gather supplies: more stakes, more crosses, more garlic. Matches, bottles, spirits, and rags. Knives, too, although I didn't know if they would help or not. I wasn't really sure what I knew anymore.

The second time I went out, it was to hunt. No more being shocked, no more being attacked in my own home. I was taking the fight to them. After all, what was the point in trying to stay somewhere safe if nowhere was safe? What was the point in following the rules if they weren't going to protect me?

The vampires in this town have known about us for a long time now. What started as a solo effort has now grown into a small movement, which I'm proud to say consists of several people whom I saved from vampires. People who, like me, had no instructions on how to proceed – except for the ones that I gave them.

Of course, they've had time to prepare now. They protect their hearts more carefully, they don't reveal that they're vampires until they're alone with a victim, they even carry what I assume is non-holy water to put out any fires we might start. Often, our efforts feel futile; sometimes I'll go hunting several times and not come across anyone I can say for certain is a vampire. It's hard to know for sure if I'm making the right call. Sometimes it feels as if I am making no difference at all, as if I am still sitting on the couch doing nothing.

Still, things happen.

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 85

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"What can you give me about Hill and her huntresses?" Ironwood asked me as we walked briskly up to his office.

"Fiona has some sort of matter absorption semblance. Evidently she can put a plane in her pocket and walk away. It's Striker ranged and probably limited to non-living things, I'm speculating on that bit. Still, it's supposed to be fairly wicked. May has the invisibility field. It's got a decent radius and it's mobile. It fucked with one of my own operations once. Sabotaged me. Then there's Joanna. She's got super strength, classic Brute," I informed him. "You want me here for this? I've had a run one with them before."

"You'll be with me," he affirmed. He swung the doors open to his office and he sat down at his desk.

I took to a corner by the window. I folded my arms. My sword hilt extended over my head.

"Their weapons?" Ironwood asked me.

"These crossbow staves. Probably modifiable with dust rounds. Except Hill. She's got a crossbow with blades on either side. My man described it as like a fan or an accordian."

"Your man?"

"A union leader down in Mantle. That's how he worked with Hill. You want the details?"

He shook his head. He steepled his hands before him and we waited. Penny came skipping into the room. She saw me, smiled, and waved at me. I grinned back at her and nodded.

"Oh are we acting brooding? I'll do my best." She imitated me by the far side of the long window.

"I don't need to act. I am brooding," I laughed back. "But yeah. A little."

"Hill should be up any minute."

"Good. I was getting tired of looking relaxed."

"I'm glad you two get along," Ironwood mumbled. "It bodes well. For you in particular, Strife."

"Eh, it's mostly Ruby." I kicked my foot around, rolling out my left ankle.

"Don't say that. I thought we were friends."

"We are, Penny. I'm trying to brood, though."

"I see…"

Hill pushed her way into the room with a small smile. She took me and Penny in. She had Fiona with her and another woman I recognized as Joanna Greenleaf from a photo.

Fiona nudged Hill. "That's him. Cloud Strife. The killer mercenary."

Hill glanced at me. "I've heard a bit about you, done some nasty business in my town. What? You working for Ironwood now?"

"For the foreseeable future. Judge ordered. You could probably find out about it. Given your seat," Ironwood returned from behind his steepled fingers.

"You give up the merc life?" She asked. Her question directed at me.

"For now," I answered.

"You're a dangerous man, Strife, I'd be glad to hear you're playing for the good guys. If that's what's going on here."

"It sort of is. You fucked with my operation. Don't think I don't know."

"I did nothing illegal. Nothing anybody could prove at any rate." She showed her teeth. I liked her. "Not like you and Taurus."

"You heard anything about him?" I wondered. "I have a blood score to settle with the bastard."

"Not a peep. He's been laying low. Like I thought you and your illusionist were. Color me surprised to find you standing beside the General. Right beside the protector of Mantle after the shit you pulled."

Maybe this was why Ironwood wanted me here. To divert her focus. I doubted he wanted me for moral support. He wanted me on as a distraction. So I'd be as distracting as possible.

"Those charges were dropped," Penny said.

"You hear that?" I asked. "It's like I never did it."

"But you did do it," Fiona spat. "You killed people."

"Interesting way you phrased that," Hill said with a hand raised at Fiona beside her.

"I only killed other criminals." I shrugged. "And I got time served with a hefty fine."

"Meaningless to someone like you," Hill countered.

"Not meaningless. Just the best I could have hoped for."

"But are you reformed? Do you serve Atlas and Mantle well?" Robyn wondered.

"To the very best of my ability, I protect the people now."

"Will you swear by it?" Hill held out her hand.

"Sure. I'll promise." I took her hand. Purple flowed over my hand as I took hers and it wreathed both of us.  "What do you want me to say?" I asked. Words could be very particular.

"That you serve as a guardian to the people, now."

"I serve as a guardian to the people now." I echoed. I technically did before too. Her aura flashed green. It must have registered as true because she reclined looking satisfied.

"Now that that's settled we can get down to business. When will the new tower be ready for launch?"

"Classified. You shouldn't even know about the tower," Ironwood returned.

"But I do. And this will go smoother if we work together, General. I can vote in your favor or I can vote against you at every turn. I can even raise a vote of no confidence."

The General grimaced. I think that he hoped I'd buy him more time before the nitty-gritty.

Robyn leaned over his desk and spread her palms on it. Hunching over on him.

"What's it gonna be, General? I can do worse besides. I can petition to have your council seat taken away. How long will your precious tower take to get completed then. Work with me. I just want to talk."

"You want to talk for now."

"That's right," Hill returned. "I might change my mind based on what I hear, too." At least she was open and clear about it. The value of her prizing honesty.

"The launch is two months out." Ironwood stated.

He stood up and towered over Hill with her slumping over the desk. She recoiled back and stretched to her full height. It was still nowhere near the General and closer to me though she was tall for a woman.

"All of our attention has been on raising the tower and restoring communications between the kingdoms."

"Even though Mantle suffers," she murmured.

I thought about saying something like 'Mantle always suffers' but I kept my mouth shut. It wasn't the time. Never let be said I couldn't be diplomatic.

"Some sacrifices have had to be made to get things done but we're in the final stretch now. No going back."

"I want things to get better for Mantle, General. And fast."

"I'm working as fast as I can," Ironwood vowed.

"I want you to slow down the launch of it means things can get better for Mantle. Diverting both supplies and huntsmen."

"That isn't practical."

"Practical be damned. Mantle always bears the lion's share of the suffering for Atlas. All for it's floating neighbor. You want me to not vote against you at every turn so this project gets completed? You're going to have to make concessions. That means voting my way on minimum wage increases and miner safety standards. Even if those safety standards set back your little project."

Ironwood sighed. It sounded like she had him in a corner.

"We are so close." He grunted. He sounded frustrated and exasperated. "So close to getting this project done. For everybody's benefit."

"Well it just got further away. One way or another. Not one more miner will die for this or anything else. They matter to me. What's it gonna be, James?"

"Friends call me James. You can call me Ironwood or General."

"Petty," she clicked her tongue. She had him in a vice though. She'd be petty and slow down the project too. She was a woman of her word. No one with a semblance like that wouldn't be.

"It sounds like I've got little choice. Just know that once my project is complete I won't back down so easily anymore."

"I'm counting on it, General," she turned on a clicking heel and left. Her tour de force departed with her.

"Sorry. I tried but she wasn't going to be distracted. Not by me and not by Penny."

Ironwood groaned. "The launch just got set back a month. Minimum. And if I start capitulating now who knows when it will end."

"She's a woman of her word. So you've got that going for you."

"At least it wasn't Jacque Schnee," Penny chipped in brightly. "This election could have gone much worse. She's willing to work with you if you work with her."

My scroll chirped. I pulled it out of my pocket.

"Strife. Who’s this?"

"Aurum. I've got a hit on your lady friend. She's here. She's threatening me. She demanded my information. She was asking the same sort of questions you were. I need to know what that's about now."

"You don't. I'll be there."

"My life is on the line! She immolated my men!"

"Try and hold her there. I'm coming. Let's get lucky and kill her."

"Sorry Cloud but I have got to do what I got to do to protect my business."

"Just hold her. I'm on my way."

I cut the connection.

"Something important?" Ironwood asked.

"I got a hit on Cinder. She's about to burn one of my contacts to death. I need to get there."

Ironwood nodded. "Do you need reinforcements? I'll call Ace Ops."

"Better call Team RWBY too and put them on standby with Qrow. She's at The Den."

"I'm sending Penny with you."

"Let's go Penny." I said with a nod by the door. "You and I will fly there."

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Penny and I swooped down on The Den. "You take her accomplices. Let me worry about Cinder."

"Do you believe that you can defeat her?"

"We're about to find out." Let’s hope that sounded confident.

I bust in the door to find the club empty and quiet. The lack of music and the distant smell of inhalants gave the place a void like feeling. It was strangely empty and lacking.

"Sorry Cloud. It's nothing personal. Just business, you understand." It was Aurum's voice coming from the top floor above me. "She forced me. You get it."

There was the clink of glass heels on the floor above us and Cinder Fall came into view.

"You," she purred. "Jaune Arc was it? I owe you for when last we met." Her one eye glowed like embers.

"It was. Not anymore. It's Cloud now."

"A change in name will mean little to my mistress. You're her son."

"Hardly. She didn't raise me," I shot back. I drew the broadsword from over my shoulder. I gripped the enormous handle beneath the titanic cross guard the shield helped form.

"She has bade me not kill you and your sisters have a certain fury I would dread but whatever happens happens," she sung. She spread her fingers and a flame grew across them. "You would have had me last time if not for my maiden powers. Powers which have doubled. I'm sure you are aware. And you've been spying for me. Through this rabble but you've been on the look out nonetheless."

She made Aurum call me, then. Aurum dashed out the exit, trying to keep his life intact and escaping while we were both distracted. Cinder set a trap for me. Sustrai stepped out from behind Cinder with Black in tow. I watched and my vision faded as Sustrai narrowed her eyes at me. She was trying to use her semblance on me.

I shouted at Penny and I watched a blurring kaleidoscope fly up to them and slash out at Emerald with ten floating blades appendages. My vision snapped back into focus and in perfect time for me to see Cinder descending on me with flames pouring from her feet to aid her assault. As she flew she left fire behind on the glass dance floor. I met a strike from her similarly glass weapons and stuttered back a step on the dance floor.

I activated my semblance and brought my weapon around to match her. I drew an electric crystal from my pocket. I crushed it in my palm and sent a thunderbolt at her. She blocked it by crossing her weapons and her one eye flared at me with the power of the maidens. She gestured and a half dozen fireballs floated into place before her. She blew gently. Like she was blowing a kiss at me, I didn’t catch it, and I was forced to dance out of the way of the fireballs.

I went through them. I rolled and floated towards her through the conflagration. I stabbed my sword downward and tore up glass as I pushed it screeching across the dance floor towards her. She met my strike with both her weapons crossed.

Then she struck out at me in high, low, high fashion, alternating each blade. She twirled with the motion and I was forced on the defensive, blocking each one of her attacks. I never let her truly get close to me with the enormous blade between us.

She waved her palm and a flare shot up inside the tight room towards me. I couldn't be sure how Penny was doing against her two opponents because I was too focused on Cinder.

I blocked her and seesawed my weapon down on her. Sparks flew from her glass weapons from where my Titania edge but down into them.

"I'm going to kill you this time. We'll see how my Mother takes that," I whispered. I spoke softly as I threatened her. As I made my vow.

Lightning ran up her weapons and into my arms. It made me tremble in pain for a moment before she pushed me off of her and kicked me in my exposed chest. Then she flew at me.

"Aren't you quite the little rebel. Doing what makes mommy mad?" She laughed at that.

"Oh I'll piss her right the fuck off. Can't imagine she was happy I didn't bring the relic to her."

She pointed her sword at me and there was a kazzap of lightning. I blocked it on the edge of my weapon but she just swung her weapon around her body again. A trail of fire emanating from it and growing larger until she whipped a lash of red hot blaze right at my head.

I rolled again and came up thrusting at her, forcing her to block. She swung at me with one of her glass weapons but at the far range of my weapon I was too distant and she miscalculated.

She dropped into a crouch and pointed both her weapons at me and there was another mighty kazizzle of electricity.  I jumped over it and brought my weapon down on her head in a move that forced her to block with both of her own. It shattered the dance floor around us for yards and yards. All the way to the edge near the bar.

"You're right of course. She was most displeased. She will punish you for it given the opportunity. I think not, however. You will die here."

She waved her hand and a gale picked up. All the glass from the once smooth and now shattered dance floor flew up from it. She gestured at me and I hunkered behind the wide edge of my weapon and weathered the storm of glass pellets. Some struck into my aura and chipped it away. I held firm against the wind.

Blue light still licked at my body but it seemed like my semblance would not be enough. I couldn't imagine spending it and then being forced to fight her without it. If I spent it, when I spent it, it would have to be for the kill. I could use it for no other purpose. And it would probably have to be the Octa slash. No other attack would do enough damage in a single go to take her down except maybe a Finishing Touch.

I'd hardly touched her. Hadn't touched her, I realized.

When the gale broke down she hit me hard with both flaming feet. Not as hard as Penny had with a similar move but hard enough to send me stumbling back. Next she delivered three lighting fast diagonal slashes to my torso. She ripped away massive chunks of my aura.

Then she thrust forward and I blocked to the side. Her weapon buried in my personal soul based force field to the hilt right next to my head. She still managed to rip away a chunk of blue light from my body.

Things were seriously not good. Her magic was too much for me and her competence with a blade in each hand was nothing to scoff at.

I kicked her back. A move that caught her in the gut. Then I swung my blade towards her head in a massive strike that she caught with both her weapons. Making yet another 'x' shape. It seemed to be her go to in order to block against my titanic sword.

I screamed and flew at her. Closing the little distance between us with a shoulder check that knocked her to the ground.

I danced at her, flowing like water as she caught herself on one hand and tried to cartwheel back but I chased her roll now that she was out of position. Now that she was in serious disadvantage and close to me I made to capitalize on it.

I caught up to her and hit her once vertically diagonally downward and to the right. Then I reversed and came diagonally up and to the left. Then I can back down on her diagonally and from the right once more in a staggering triple hit. The kind I'd seen do twenty-five percent or more of Ruby's aura when I wasn't Limit Broken. When I wasn't Limitless.

I didn't spend the charge on it but I did shout, a scream left my lips as I performed the move with exertion. It flung her back and into one of the bars and into the wall in a shattering of glass and bottles.

She flew out of the hole in the wall and through the crevice her body had left in the bar. A trail of flame coming behind her and at her feet. I flew to meet her and where we struck the ground rippled like it was made of liquid for a moment before elasticity caught up with it and it shattered.

I was taller than her. I was conventionally stronger, too. Especially while Limit Break was active and I slowly lowered my weapon down onto her while her back twisted from trying to match me in the crater on the floor.

She kicked my leg at the hip but I only grunted and took it. I took one hand off my blade and backhanded her hard with my knuckles. Then I slid forward a step and reversed my hand and grabbed her by the throat and picked her up into the air. I pulled her in and kneed her in the stomach hard enough to make spittle fly from her lips.

Then Mercury came flying and kicked me in the back. Then he shot me in the back with both of his boot guns.

I twisted to my feet again on a pocket of air. He was breathing hard. So was Cinder where I'd knocked the wind out of her.

I wasn't much better and now that they were alone Emerald let out a scream where Penny slammed her hard into a wall.

"Ma'am…" Mercury trailed.

"Save Emerald," Cinder hissed.

Then I gambled. I dashed forward like I was going to hit Cinder. Then I spent Limit on a thrust but not at her. I thrust up and into Mercury's aura and then into his chest in a crackle of violet energy.

Blood flew from his lips as I speared him. Penny had done enough work for this to pay off and from the sounds of things she'd defeat Emerald too.

"No," Cinder whispered. The battle was out of her favor.

"Yes!" I roared. The edge was ours now.

I watched as Emerald plucked herself from the wall and fell to her knees. A tear on her face as we all saw Mercury slide onto my six foot blade.

"Emerald! Get us out of here!" Cinder called.

I swung my sword and Mercury flopped off the blade. He was already dead. I flexed and started charging my next semblance. With slow promise I stood and began the charge. Soon.

"Emerald!" Cinder barked. I was assaulted with a massive illusion. Penny was too from the way she stepped back in shock on the second floor. A gigantic image of my Mother rose from the twisted glass and roared.

Cinder burned a hole in the wall and grabbed Emerald's sobbing form and fled. I was too shocked by the cyclopean vision of my Mother to move.

"Cloud!" Penny called to me distantly. I fell to my knees before the image of my Mother and held my hands up like I was expecting an attack, I fumbled my sword with dumb hands. My brain burned and my mind was ajar.

Mother…

I thought. And despite that I knew it was an illusion. Despite the distance between us I heard her answer.

“My son…”

"No…" I whimpered.

“Yes…”  

The voice seethed.

“Yes… you belong to me… I am your mistress…”

I could feel her shadow on the corner of my mind. She twisted into me and trapped me between agonies I knew weren't true.

"Cloud are you alright?"

The massive image of my Mother faded. But she lingered on my brain. A growing pressure. I howled in pain. She raked at my body and I convulsed.

"Cloud, it wasn't real."

"She's in my… my… my…" I stuttered like a broken record player. Then I started to froth at the mouth. I seized on the broken dance floor.

“My son… my precious son…”

"Oh my gods!" I heard Penny cry. "Don't worry, Cloud, help is on the way!"

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-WG

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Saint.”

This is a bit short today, but we were also short-staffed at work so I didn’t have a lot of time. I hope you like it anyway

Sunny sat beside the pool of water, her spear resting across her knees watching the strange Drev as he knelt by the pool staring at the water below him. She still couldn’t tell how old he was. He could have been as young as she or older than her father had been when he passed, but either way she couldn’t tell.

The dark black of his carapace undulated so black it reflected blue.

They didn’t speak for a very long time, and she closed her eyes thinking quietly to herself as the sun rose overhead.

With the way the mountain encroached in around them, they didn’t see the sun for more than an hour or so before it sunk below the high cliff face once again. Moss was soft below her, and when the sun hit it it burned white hot, but she closed her eyes and relaxed taking long, slow deep breaths through the breathing holes at her neck. In for several seconds and out for several seconds until the world around her seemed to fade away.

In her mind it felt as if she could hear the thrumming of an engine, the Omen whirring above her in the darkness, comforting and warm like the arms of a parent. She missed its warm darkness��. Or did she just miss Adam who she associated to heavily with that place, with the ship.

It occurred to her just then that…. Well she didn’t really associate him with anything else.

The thought gave her a wave of displeasure as she realized.

His identity had been so tied up in his job and ho he was that she…. Well she wasn’t entirely sure if she had ever known him otherwise. Had she just been in love with an idea, had she just loved him simply because no one else had ever seemed willing to try. He was.... The captain of a spaceship, and that was simply everything.

It made her sad sadder than she would have liked to admit.

He had seemed so much more to her then that, so much more than just his job, but th more she thought about him the more she realised she couldn’t rationalize why she had thought that, and what sort of logic had brought her to that original conclusion. He was hollow, a representation of something amazing on the outside but filled with sawdust in the middle.

It wasn’t commentary on him of course. These thoughts weren’t here to make her regret or even to convince herself that he hadn’t been worth it because he had.

He was just…. So lost.

The past few days had convinced her not to feel sorry for herself. That wasn’t the way of the Drev.

But thinking about him, lost and alone, a gossamer through of a person with an identity not his own. She wanted to weep for him, feeling more sorry for the man than she ever had for herself. She thought she understood him now.

Sunny knew she understood.

He was a man who knew he was broken, a half man constructed from one thought. He didn’t believe himself worthy of someone’s attention and so had let her go to save her the hurt of bein with someone like him. He was wrong, of course, but she understood the logic.

In the same way that she would rather take any physical punishment so he would never have to experience it is the same way he would take any emotional punishment to protect her. Inside her chest her heart slowed and her body grew still under the sun, growing warm and then cool as the shadows passed over her.

Until there was nothing.

“It is good to see that drev of your generation have mastered such mental discipline and patience.”

She opened her eyes looking in consternation at the dark Drev who now sat before her, not feet away, and facing her.

She thought she would have noticed him approach, but evidently had been too caught up in her own musings to notice.

On his lap, the Drev held a decorative silver spear with intricate carvings up the side, and the blade sharpened to deadly cutting points by the most artfully crafted Drev obsidian under which would have been a steel and iron cutting edge for when the obsidian was likely to break. It was the most beautiful weapon Sunny had ever seen and she stared at it in awe.

“In past epochs many foolish and impatient Drev have been weeded out by this one simple test.”

Se frowned, “What test.”

He hummed in amusement, “Patience. They storm in here spears bristling and demand I teach them the way of the saints. They threaten and hey rage, and sometimes they would demand I duel them, those that demanded a duel never left this place. But patience is a thing not many Drev understand, for striking first may be advantageous, but the ability to wait for the perfect moment, is a skill not many acquire. Before that there were others, those who would almost have the patience but then would break the silence too early. Sometimes it took them weaks to pass the test with their incessant questions , you're not the first who has come to me, bu you are the first to pass this simple test.”

Sunny looked down at her feet, “I am afraid it is not patience so much as… preoccupation with other things.”

The other Drev seemed to be pleased with this revelation, “Using silent meditation to sort your thoughts is a worthy endeavor, and shows someone with an active mind. Tell me…. Did you find any peace in your thoughts.”

Sunny looked up at the distant blue sky and the clouds that rolled down from above, “I think I did.”

He seemed pleased.

“That’s good, you are further along than most of the Saints were when they came to my mountain.”

Sunny stared at him, “You talk as if you were there, but you can’t be that old.”

He chuckled, “Perhaps I was, perhaps I wasn’t. It's hard to remember with a life like mine. Maybe I was an extension of someone else, maybe I was told the stories as a child as if they were my own. Who can say. Regardless, you have already mastered the skills of patience and careful thought, which is not something that is often common in those who come to my mountain.” 

“What IS common.”

He sighed, “Impatience mostly, a lust for power, greed. They don’t usually last long.” 

There was silence between them for a long moment, “What’s your name/”

“Naktan Chal but Naktan will do, and yours?”

“Chalan.”

“The name seems like a stranger on your lips.”

She shrugged sheepishly, “I am not used to hearing my name spoken in my own tongue.”

He tilted his head in curiosity, “And what tongue do you hear you name in.”

“The tongue of humans.”

“Humans.” he seemed surprised, “I have never seen a human. I have heard their ships, and their war machines, but have never ventured down from my mountain.”

“Sunny is what they call me.”

“What strange sounds, but surprisingly melodic.” he tilted his head, “tell me, Sunny, why are you here and what do you hope to achieve while on my mountain.”

“It is complicated.”

“The whole story then.”

She sighed, “I assume you can see that I am…. I am….”

“I see that you are short, is that what we are getting at?”

She looked down at the turquoise water, “yes.”

“And?’

He didn’t seem to care and she looked up at him in surprise.”

“Everything, everything about you is an opportunity to take an advantage on the battlefield. Some of our traditions are steeped in lies and the misconstrued words of a few confused prophets. Traditions often become twisted and as times go on. The important part of that particular piece of spiritual doctrine is if you can lift a spear. If you cannot lift a spear is when the original wording of the original doctoring takes effect. Though you are small, you can lift a spear, if you only have one hand, you can lift a spear. The tradition of the recycling only comes when the Kit being born has defects so severe they cannot lift a spear.”

“If a kit were born blind?”

“The kit can still lift a spear, can still smell and feel the currents of wind, can still hear the thundering of feet on the ground and the spear whistling through the air.”

Sunny stared at him in awe, “I had…. No idea that's what the…. Original doctrine said..”

“No one remembers. There is a certain air of elitism in the new drev tradition.”

Sunny paused and nodded, “I think that is what I wish to change.” he listened intently, “I fought the humans, during the Drev war…. Do you know of it?”

“I am kept appraised, yes.”

“Well no one expected me to be good at fighting because of my…. Disfigurement. When the Drev war came along I finally found a foe, I thought I could beat, but when we ripped them apart they came back later with synthetic limbs and we lost the war. In an effort to fight against a mother who never approved of me, I went to learn from the humans, thinking that maybe they could help me. I learned in that time that…. The way we have been doing things, may be done better. That we could learn from them, and in my travels across the universe, that assurance has only grown. I wish to bring the Drev into a new age of martial doctrine, one that matches with the universe we have found ourselves a part of. I want to keep the old tradition alive, and by doing that I know that it has to change.”

Naktan stared at her his fance unreadable for a long moment, but then he bowed his head, and when he looked up again his yellow eyes were twinkling with some sort of…. Merriment, or perhaps excitement.

Either way she couldn’t tell, but supposed the expression was a good one.

“The saints smiled down upon you, wanderer.” 

He stood, and with the tip of his spear, he reached out and touched the surface of the water causing a delicate wave of ripples to roll out over the pool, “I will guide you in the right of creation.” he rolled the ip of the spear in the other direction, “I will guide you on a journey to bring the martial doctrine of the Drev into a new age. I cannot tell you how long it will take, and I cannot guarantee you will leave as the same Drev who came here. But I can promise you, that I am glad to see you, and I am pleased to help in your honorable efforts.”

He kicked up a wave of water into the air, and when he did shining sparks of clear seemed to refract rainbows against the sky.

“Sleep, and tomorrow we begin.”

“And may you begin your journey unto sainthood.”

[lavenderek]

Why were you disappointed by the Howl's Moving Castle movie? I think I read the book years ago, but I don't remember much about it

i'm gonna critique the gibbly movie and it's my understanding that it's a special movie for a lot of people so if that's you feel free to skip this one

so i was delighted and enchanted by the book, which has only twice to date not made the movie a devastating letdown, so my dear friend sending me this book was pretty much signing a contract in her own blood accepting that i would be cranky about the movie. i'm not really a ghibli person either, like i can appreciate the artistry and value in them, and i'll watch it if the people i'm with really need to watch princess mononoke or whatever, but i just don't go out of my way to watch them. (i like reading meta about spirited away, though.)

i did go out of my way to watch this one because i loved the book so much.

it's important to remember the culture in which the movie was made as opposed to the culture in which the book was made. howl is welsh, if that says anything to you. (his name is howell, and he adopted the name howl to run from himself and seem more magical. i love him and movie howl had none of those elements except for when he told us he was a coward and i was like. ok lol, i'll jot that down because i didn't see it in the text)

so i'm not necessarily surprised by the creative changes they made, but i am confused, because those changes drastically affect the characterization, the character motivations, and the pacing of the story.

(i also was only able to get my hands on the dub and i loathe and detest christian bale as howl lmfao but that's subjective)

so first of all, does movie sophie, like, want anything? she's flawless as a character. even though she has a completely different personality as an old lady than she does as a young lady, there's nothing wrong with her. everybody is fond of her, she's shy, she's gentle, she's beautiful, and she's kind, and her only motivation in the whole movie is this vague desire to cure the curse, but even then she doesn't work on it much at all. her life before howl is about being buffeted around like a leaf in the wind, and her life after howl is about being buffeted around like a cow in a twister. sophie in the movie is a blank slate. she is insecure about her looks (seriously, they couldn't even give her like a crooked nose or something, only doll-faced, thin, pale women over here), and her confessing this and crying about it for about four seconds was the first truly deep emotional response i had seen of her. i cried when she cried, who doesn't grapple with feelings of inadequacy? then the kid came out and she was like, okay, i'm done being upset now :)

second of all, howl is a little eccentric, but mostly he's just a glorious gentleman who has a messy room and one (1) overly dramatic depressive episode. it was disturbing to me as a viewer because it was violent and came out of nowhere, and it never comes back again lmao. it was so bizarre, he's introduced as this suave, debonair man in a cape, and he stays that way the entire movie, except for a weird moment in the middle where he screams at sophie naked and then lists the character flaws that we the viewers have never witnessed. why does he like sophie? why does sophie like him?

why did they turn michael into a child? i just don't see what that added to the story lmao. i get them taking out the complexity of secrets involving sophie's decidedly interchangeable sisters and their mystery beaus, it's a lot to fit into a little movie; but like, why did they turn him into a child though lmao

there's a lot of fatphobia in the movie too.

the change that upset me the most, though, was that the element of sophie having the ability to influence things without her knowledge was totally abandoned. like i said, things just sort of happen to her. in the book, her hats are the most lovely because she's inadvertently cast spells on them to make whoever wears them seem alluring or mysterious to people. the witch curses her because she recognizes these little spells and believes sophie's trying and failing to trick her (and also because sophie snaps at her lmao, why is movie sophie only an asshole when she's old? leave my daughter alone).

book sophie unknowingly protects howl by worrying over his cape (which she previously shredded because she got mad at him, i love her), she unknowingly enchants the scarecrow by helping it stand and complimenting it. she does that the entire book. she also starts the book already feeling sort of dull and trapped, and spends the story trying desperately to solve mysteries and protect loved ones. movie sophie doesn't like, sit around and knit demurely, don't get me wrong; but all the major plot points are things that howl makes happen to her lol.

i think the scarecrow is an excellent representation of book sophie's inner struggles. it's something she inadvertently enchanted, and she doesn't understand it, so she runs from it. she's terrified of the thing. in that way it kind of stands in for her own agency: only when she was forcibly in disguise did she feel free to find out what she wants her life to look like, and that kind of power is foreign and frightening to her. i loved that for her.

and very late in the book, howl reveals that he knew all along she was under a spell, that he tried to get rid of it out of curiosity (book howl doesn't seem to notice that he's just as imperious and nosy as sophie is), but she resisted it. he couldn't get the spell off. so he assumed she wanted to stay that way and let her be about it. so basically it's very huck finn on the raft, she realizes that in running to get away, she was already away. she had that agency all along.

all of that was missing from movie sophie. the idea of her inadvertently hanging on to the curse is still there, we see that she sort of fades back to her young self while she's asleep (not the case in the book, we know this because howl doesn't know what she looks like until she turns back in the end); but she doesn't seem to gain any knowledge about herself because of this. the only time she seems to have any personal drive, it's to learn about and help howl. her inner struggles are about howl. and i hated movie howl lmao, i hated his design and i hated his voice and i hated how like, patronizing he was to everyone around him. book howl was a condescending dick at times and just weird and distant at others, but he never came across like he was absolutely positive he was seducing sophie at any given moment. it was clear that he was the star of the movie and sophie was just the audience stand in to be like 🤩🥸🧐

the scarecrow who is a prince was the most hilariously egregious moment in the entire movie. in the book, the missing prince is introduced as a plot in the beginning and is referenced repeatedly throughout. and he's a major player in the climax. in the movie, it's the last like five minutes of the film and the scarecrow turns into a dapper boy with bread for hair and is like, "you've cured me! i'm a prince who went missing from a nearby kingdom and i was cursed but now i'm free." and i was like NICE, so we just found out there's a nearby kingdom that has a prince who's been missing. love that for us

the book had a lot of themes that i don't often encounter in fantasy novels - themes of female agency, of disguise, and of chaos. the chaos is my favorite part, every chapter is equally chaotic at various levels. you'll have michael fretting over some spell, sophie fretting over her own spell, howl trying to get someone in disguise to fall in love with him, THAT someone pining over michael, and all the while sophie and howl are bickering because she is cleaning (it seems like she cleans to clean up her mind) and he doesnt want her to (he is afraid of change and of reality), and he needs a huge favor of her, and she needs to wheedle out of it, and she promised calcifer she would free him, and calcifer is repeatedly promising to die of not being appreciated enough, and everybody is having three arguments at once. it's like that in every chapter, culminating in the moment howl and sophie realize they're in love, and they stand clasping hands and sort of smiling at each other in the middle of a room full of panicking and perplexed people just yelling over each other lmfao. surrounded by chaos and no longer thrown by it, rooted there in the middle of it, stabilizing each other in a way. i loved that. i actually flipped back a few pages so i could read that moment again.

and it seemed to me that the movie tried to imply that with visual chaos, but everything else was really quite linear and simple. everything was very airy. and since the conflama and the general atmosphere and character dynamics of the book is what made me fall in love with it, the movie didn't work for me.

tumblr user door pointed out that the book and the movie are extremely different and she appreciates them both as separate entities, and she's wise and correct; i knew this and i tried so hard to engage with the movie on its own terms. but i couldn't divorce them in my mind. i felt the same way about ella enchanted and practical magic. i cant stop thinking like, i wish they hadn't gotten rid of x, i wish they hadn't added this weird element of y.

also it was boring. i checked to see how much more was left three times. sorry. i can't express enough how little i cared about the plot with the witch and somebody's secretly evil boss and time traveling to yell at howl or something, because i didn't connect with the characters. and the feathers growing out of howl triggered my weird phobia about things being embedded in skin. i'm skeeved just remembering it.

anyway, yeah. the movie was beautifully animated and whatever atmosphere they were going for was pretty consistent throughout. oh and i LOVED calcifer. he was my favorite in both the book and the movie. in fact, he was the only character in the movie who they didn't really change, he was petty and bitchy in both versions. i loved him. he's like, "SHE FED ME SOMETHING YUCKY" my perfect, horrible boy.

oh and. book sophie was a redhead. that's all.

after i finished the book i tried to draw how imagined them:

couldn't finish it though, i wasn't super jazzed about how it was coming out.

she's sitting in like, a window well altering a coat of his without permission. and he's like, i guess i'll have to wear this one instead, and she's like, i guess you will

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Useless warning pt. 2|2 [Sirius Black x Reader] - Challenge

Title: Useless warning pt. 2  ➔ Useless warning pt. 1, Here! Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader Word count: 3.5k Published: 2 August, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Challenge: [x] [x] Notes: This is the second part for Amelia's Writing Challenge [ @hufflefluff-writer​ ], where I had to use the prompt - I would like to state once again that I have nothing against Marlene. I just needed her to be in a negative spotlight for the story.

"I told you not to fall in love with me!"

Summary: Sirius is one of your best friends who happens to be dating Marlene. She isn’t particularly a good friend of yours, but you do get along. She agrees to go out with Sirius, all the while she is aware of your feelings. Things get complicated as you are unable to keep your feelings to yourself anymore.

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

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Weeks passed by slower than ever, but Sirius was unable to make a decision. You kept stealing playful glances, occasional touches as your hands not-so accidentally brushed together, whilst walking past each other on the corridor. You met up to talk a couple of times, but nothing happened other than the one kiss on the day of your confession.

You started becoming impatient.

You watched as he kissed Marlene daily, making you feel even more pained than before. You finally knew that he was feeling something for you, but he was still with Marlene to your dismay. You were terrified of the thought that he would choose her. You knew he was debating what to do, but while you where sidelined, Marlene had the upper hand of being by his side.

Remus was very well informed on everything that happened between you and Sirius. He did give you some information on him when you felt lost in your feelings, but mostly kept Sirius' words to himself. He was a loyal friend after all and didn't want to betray his friend's trust. Of course, you accepted it without hesitation.

By this time though, you were at a tipping point, feeling helpless. It's been about five weeks since you have opened up to Sirius and your hope was almost completely destroyed. Your thoughts on being rejected once again have returned and you slowly started to accept that Sirius wouldn't chose you. The way he wrapped his arms around Marlene, the loving glances he has shared with her, confirmed your suspicions.

You sat at one of the windows of the Owlery, one leg on the ledge, the other hanging off from the inside. You were looking at the scene in front of you, watching as the sky changed colour from its original blue shade to a dark orange colour while the sun was slowly disappearing on the horizon.

You didn't even know when your tears started slowly falling, you only realised it when you felt the slightly salty taste in your mouth, whilst running your tongue across your lips.

"What are you doing here?" You heard a voice, but you didn't have to turn to know your visitor. Remus stepped closer to you, joining you in watching the view with an amused look across his face.

"Just thinking." You replied. Remus leaned closer and removed the tear drops from your cheek with his thumb.

"They don't seem like happy thoughts." He stated and you shook your head in confirmation. "What are you thinking about?" He asked curiously.

"Nothing much." You replied nonchalantly.

"Come on, Y/N, you can talk to me." He tried to encourage you. In return you let out a deep sigh, trying to collect your thoughts.

"I'm... I'm giving up Remus. I just can't do this anymore." You spoke weakly, your eyes still watching over the Hogwarts grounds. From your peripheral vision you barely caught a frown appear across his brows.

"Y/N, don't do this. Just give him a bit of time." He tried to convince you.

"How much time, Remus? It's been over a month. I can not to keep watching him embrace her every single day. I can not handle the pain I feel when he kisses her right in front of me. I can't deal with this anymore." You shook your head, defeat falling upon you.

"Look, I am not asking you to wait another month, just maybe a couple of days." He tried again, unsuccessfully.

"I can't, Remus. It's too painful. If I knew he didn't have feelings for me, just like how I thought it was before, I could deal with it. But this feeling of not knowing what he wants and waiting for something to happen is killing me. Believe me, I wish I could give him more time, but I can not. I'm exhausted." Your voice was weak and beat. You never felt worse in your life. Your emotions have taken you on a rollercoaster, which never really took you high, but mostly fell endlessly.

You climbed off the window seal and faced Remus, giving him a painful smile, before you walked around him and left him alone, heading to your dormitory to sleep away your sorrow.

The following day you woke up late, feeling relived that it was a Saturday. You rolled around in your bed lazily, wishing this day to be just over. You already planned out the monologue you were to give Sirius, although you knew you wouldn't say it. It was always like that. You planned what you wanted to say, but when it came to the situation, you could never get yourself to repeat your well thought out words.

There was no hesitation in you when you got out of your bed. You had to end feeling sorry for yourself and waiting for him to make a decision, which he clearly couldn't. It just proved to you that he didn't appreciate you as much as he cared for Marlene. Although it was tearing your heart apart, you somehow expected it. You simply thought of yourself as a stupid naive little teenager, who shouldn't have believed in a fairytale happy ending. They were fairytales for a reason. They had no basis for reality.

You walked down to the Great Hall to grab your breakfast. The first sight you caught was Marlene running her hands through Sirius' lush locks, forming a lump to appear in your throat. That was exactly the feeling you have been trying to avoid for the longest time, unsuccessfully.

You walked over to the table, not even taking a seat, grabbing two pieces of croissants. As soon as you had your breakfast in your hands you were about to leave, but Remus' voice stopped you.

"Where are you going?" He asked suspiciously.

"I have a few things to take care of." You replied and turned on your heels, leaving the others behind.

You walked down to the Lake and sat down at the trunk of a gigantic Willow, its branches covering you from the bright sun shining your way. You bit into the croissant you hid in the pocket of your hoodie and watched the silent waves of the water as they moved along with the chilly wind.

Your thoughts wondered back to the scenario you witnessed in the Great Hall. You could feel as the lump returned in your throat. You fought hard against the little pricks in your eyes, trying to stop your tears from leaving their place. Sirius was not worth your tears anymore. He knew how you felt and he still hurt you. His logic was beyond you, but you didn't even want to understand him anymore.

You could hear silent footsteps getting closer to you and a form sitting down beside you. You didn't have to think about your visitor's identity, his cologne gave him away immediately.

"Hey." Sirius greeted you.

"Hey." You replied, not even taking your eyes off the water. You didn't even want to look at his face anymore.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, curiosity clear in his voice.

"Peachy." You replied firmly.

"Just talk to me please, without all this hard exterior." He tried in a softer tone, hoping to get to a better part of you.

"Why would I want to talk to you?" You asked, face emotionless, eyes still fixed on the waves.

"What do you mean?" He asked, his head tilted sideways.

"I have nothing to talk to you about." You said harshly.

"Why are you being so distant?" He questioned your though behaviour.

"I am not." You shrugged casually.

"Okay, something is wrong with you." He furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Nothing is wrong with me. Finally after a month I am feeling content again." You stated, your voice nonchalant.

"What happened?" He asked, his voice shaky as if he knew already. You turned your head to be able to look into his grey orbs.

"I finally decided, that I am done waiting for you to make a decision, that you clearly already made, but forgot to inform me about." You spoke in a laid-back manner, his surprised expression leaving you unfazed.

"Wait, what? I didn't decide anything." His speech was rushed out of panic.

"Well, I guess than I did. Now you don't have to make a decision." You shrugged.

"Y/N, don't do this. Just give me a bit of time." He was almost begging you, but you stayed composed.

"I am not going to be dragged around. My feelings are not a playground, Sirius. I'm fed up of waiting for you, watching you enjoy yourself with Marlene. Screw this situation, screw my feelings, screw your feelings. I really can not be bothered to care about any of this anymore." You shrugged with a detached expression across your face.

"You can't do this. I know you still love me." He tried to convince you which made you let out an annoyed scoff.

"Noone said I didn't. Feelings don't just disappear, because you want them to. I am simply saying, that I do not care anymore. You had a month to make a decision, but you are still unable to do it. I clearly am not important enough for you to leave Marlene, which I accepted. I just wish you had the courage to say it to my face." You concluded the conversation and stood up from your place.

"Y/N, wait." He called after you, but you just turned around and gave him a sceptical look.

"Do not ever dare to tell me to wait." You replied and turned back towards the castle, leaving Sirius to process your words.

You didn't have energy to care about anything anymore. You just went up to your room and gazed at the wooden ceiling, lost in your self-destructive thoughts. You wanted nothing but Sirius to be yours, but you knew that you couldn't have dealt with his indecisive behaviour any longer. You might have been a bit naive, but you did have your pride, which didn't let you swoon over him anymore. You deserved better and you finally realised it.

A couple of hours later you went down to the common room, where a rather resentful look welcomed you from Marlene. You didn't have time to take the last step off the stairs, she stood in front of you with an irate expression. You raised a brow at her behaviour, crossing your arms in front of your chest, feeling attacked by the look on her face.

"Are you happy now?" She raised her voice louder than you would have liked.

"I'm sorry, what?" You asked, not being able to follow her train of thoughts.

"You must be glad." She stated in a hateful manner.

"I wish I knew what you are talking about, but I haven't the slightest clue." You replied in surprise. You had your fair share of welcomes in your life, but hers had to top it all.

"Don't act innocent. He broke up with me. And I know it's all your fault." She pointed her finger at your chest, pocking into your skin firmly.

"What?" You asked in the shock of realisation. He has left her indeed. He finally left her. But he was nowhere near you. He made a decision which didn't involve you, nor Marlene. If anything, it hurt even more to know that you weren't even an option after all. It was Marlene or noone.

"He left me for you, you dumb woman." She screeched, making your eardrums painfully pulse. You scoffed at her reply, before voicing your opinion.

"If he left you for me, then where is he? Because I am quite certain he is not here. So before you go around and accuse people, check your facts." You stated and pushed past her, knocking your shoulder against hers as you left her in a shocked state.

"I hate you." She screamed after you. You turned around and gave her a sceptical look.

"Anything new?" You asked, your voice beyond annoyed "You hated me from the moment you realised, that I loved him." You shrugged.

"No. I hated you from the moment I realised he loved you." She hissed through gritted teeth.

"You what?" Your eyes grew wide at her statement. "You knew?" You asked in disbelief. "You knew all along?" You repeated yourself in astonishment.

"Of course, I did." She crossed her arms in front of her chest, lifting his head higher proudly. "I overheard a conversation between Sirius and Remus way before we got together. I didn't want to let you have him, so I didn't say a word." She let out a devilish chuckle, forcing goosebumps to appear on your skin.

"You knew that I loved him and you knew that he loved me. Still you decided to meddle." You scoffed at her despicable behaviour. "You know what? You actually deserve each other more than you think." You hissed as you were about to leave, but another voice stopped you.

"Y/N, wait." He called after you. You turned around to meet his grey orbs only for a mere second, before he turned to Marlene. "Why didn't you say anything?" He asked, his tone beyond irritated.

"As I said, I wanted you for myself." She spoke firmly, placing her hand on his biceps. "If you knew the truth, you would have ran into her arms. I couldn't let that happen." She shrugged nonchalantly.

"You are disgusting." Sirius spit his words, making Marlene stunned. Your eyes wondered between the two, before you decided that you have had enough of them. You walked out of the common room, leaving their bickering behind. You didn't need their negative energy, you were a walking bomb ready to explode, on your own.

You barely walked a couple of meters, when a hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you back, swiftly turning you around.

"Where are you going?" Sirius asked, his grip still strong against your skin.

"Away." You shrugged nonchalantly. "I didn't want to listen to you anymore." You stated firmly, trying to get out of his hold.

"You know I broke up with her, right?" He asked, a small glint of hope in his eyes.

"So? You are just as bad as her. She knew we had feelings for each other and she decided to get involved with you anyway. You knew I loved you and you were still unable to make a decision, knowing very well that it was hurting me. You are actually the perfect couple. Go back to her." You heaved a sigh as you finally managed to get out of his hold.

However your attempt to walk away was unsuccessful. He grabbed your wrist stronger than before and pushed you against the corridor wall, caging you in with his arms.

"I am sorry. I really am. I didn't know how I felt and it just seemed comfortable the way things were. That is until you told me that you have had enough. That you didn't want me anymore. That you have given up. It just all downed on me. I didn't want to lose you." He tried to explain his feelings in the softest manner he could manage, but you have made up your mind already.

"Well, it's too late. You should have thought about it before. You had more than a month to do so." You shrugged dismissively.

"I know and believe me, I regret letting it go this far." He sighed deeply, his grey orbs full of guilt.

"At least you learned from it." You replied, your though demeanour unmoved. You tried to get out of his boxing arms as he ran his fingers through his hair but he caught you just in time.

"I will not let you go this time." He stated firmly.

"You can't keep me here forever." You offered him a sceptical look, but instead of a genuine thought, a mischievous smirk appeared on his face.

"You want to bet?" He asked playfully, making you frown as you were having trouble in comprehending what was going on.

"It's not a game, Sirius. I told you my opinion and with that I have concluded whatever it was between us. I do not care about you anymore." You tried to finally get out of this weird situation, however Sirius had different ideas. He took a step closer to you, his breath fanning your face lightly, forcing you to inhale his mixed scent of menthol and woody cologne.

"That's a lie and you know it. You love me and your feelings didn't change a bit. I understand that you are pissed off, hell you can hate on me as long as you want, but it doesn't change the fact that you love me." His tone was confident, borderline cocky.

"You really have the nerves to talk about my feelings, whilst you don't even know what you want? You must be kidding me." You scoffed at his assertive behaviour.

"I know what I want. I want you!" He stated, unfazed.

"Right." You rolled your eyes, annoyed. You didn't have any energy left in you to play his stupid little games anymore. You were emotionally burned out, exhausted. You just wanted out.

"I'm being genuine. I want you, Y/N." He lifted his hand to caress your cheek with his thumb, but you harshly pushed it away.

"That ship has sailed." You replied.

"What do you want me to do to make you believe me?" He raised his voice, throwing his hands in the air in agitation.

"Nothing. Just leave me alone. Please." You were almost begging him.

"No." He shook his head in disagreement. "I will not. I finally realised that I want you and I know that you want me too. I will not give up." He continued, his tone harsh, but still somehow caring. "I have made a mistake, perhaps more than one, but I will not make the same mistake again. I will not let you go." He stated decisively, leaving a couple of seconds for you to process, before he continued. "I love you and I want you to be with me!" He declared his feelings. Your heart skipped a beat at his words, his words seeming ever so genuine to your ears. You wanted to believe him, you wanted to think he was speaking the truth, but you were still hurting. "Please say something." His tone was begging, making you feel guilty all of a sudden. You heaved a deep sigh, before you found your voice.

"How do I know that you won't hurt me again?" You spoke weakly.

"You don't. That's why I am asking you to just give me a chance to prove you how much I love you. Just one chance. I promise, you will not regret it. Just trust me, please." He got hold of your hands, pulling them into his strong grasp, squeezing them gently. You leaned forward, placing your forehead against his chest as you heaved a deep sigh. "Just one chance." He whispered into your ear. You leaned back, looking up into his grey orbs, unable to avoid to see his hope-filled expression.

"Only one." You replied hesitantly, but before you knew it, a huge grin appeared across his face and in no time his hands were on your cheeks and his lips were attached to yours, lovingly capturing your heart once again. You could feel all the feelings he has poured into the kiss. He wasn't just kissing you for the pleasure of it. He tried to convey how much you meant to him and you could have not missed his need for you.

You returned the kiss just as passionately, running your fingers through his rich hair, lightly tugging at the end, making him lightly growl at your actions. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer to his warm body.

"Thank you." He whispered as he pulled away, his smile even bigger than before. You knew you shouldn't have given in so easily, but you just couldn't deny how much you needed him too. You were craving for his presence, even when you didn't know about his feelings. But knowing that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him, made you realise that you would have been stupid not to give in. "I love you so much." He whispered into your ear unexpectedly.

"I love you too, you idiot." You replied with a gigantic grin across you face, before you met his lips once again.

Tags: @inkhearthes​ @bonziandfonzi​ @hufflefluff-writer​ @haphazardhufflepuff​

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[sxveme-2]

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries. 

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter One: The One Where it Starts

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1615

Being an adult in general is a wild roller coaster. Whether it be balancing bills, expenses, keeping a proper career, all together it was a stressful period. Going to the bank or answering phone calls was difficult enough. Seriously, what is with people and constantly calling? It’s so much easier to just text. Not to mention it keeps the incredibly anxiety ridden people at bay, and leaves them in a sane state of mind without worrying about anything. 

     That brings us to the protagonist of our story. Lily Briar Osborne. The 33 year old child of Abel and Alicia Osborne. She was the sister to two younger siblings, Rose and Cedar. Can you sense a theme with the children's names? Even Lily herself seemed to carry on that legacy with her own son. While balancing her busy work and just life in general, Lily mothered a young boy named Hunter. Hunter Osborne-Harvey. The eleven year old boy that was the result of a much too early marriage of two young kids who believed this was it, they had found the one. Well, that was not exactly the ending of their fairy tale. It instead involved a mistress, many trips to Grandma and Grandpa's, and a few too many shots in order to handle one another.

     Lily was more-so a quiet girl. Definitely more of the silent type in comparison to the majority of people in her profession. She was a pediatrician, and the only time you really see her talk or even crack a smile, is when she was with the kids. She was always found making sure they felt comfortable. When the young ones were gone, she seemed to shut down. Giving straight and to the point answers. Not elaborating unless asked, and strictly sticking to just the facts.

     Lily and Hunter had found home in a small colonial home in the suburbs of Manhattan, New York. There, they can be found in the company of a German Shepard named Joey, after the beloved sitcom, Friends. You could always find the small family laying in Lily's bed with the comedy illuminating the room around them. Every other Sunday and Saturday before Hunter's father came to pick him up for the weekend, they'd lay in bed before going out for brunch at Lily's best friends cafe further into the city.

     Which is where the story began. a sunny Saturday morning in September.

-----

     "If he doesn't like you, it's a moo point."

     The two Osborne's laughed softly at the comment made by their favourite sitcom character. Lily's fingers gently ran across the arm of her son, creating a soothing rhythm as they watched the sitcom, his head laid comfortably against the pillows. The large dog laid spread down at the edge of the duvet where his breathing radiated gently through the room.

     "Alright why don't you head in to get dressed and we'll go to Aunt Gen's cafe, hm? Sound like a plan kiddo?'' Lily's feather light voice cooed as her hazel eyes moved to glance over at her son.

     "But I wanna stay home all day and watch friends." Hunter whined as he nuzzled further into his mom's bed.

     "No love, I'm sure your dad has lots of things planned for the weekend. And we can watch more episodes when you're back tomorrow, okay? I promise." Lily sighed while lifting her pointer finger to her son.

     The pointer finger promise was Lily and Hunter’s signature thing. Instead of making a pinky promise, which was the weakest finger, they used one of the strongest. to make the strongest promises. That is exactly what they would do. And they'd know that if they broke it, trust would be something that had to be earned back. And luckily for Lily, she trusted her son with her whole being. He told her everything, as far as she knew. Seeing as she wasn't in his head, who knew? Though he was very vocal about his distaste for visiting his father, and it did hurt Lily to hear the pain he felt. The separation agreement allowed Scott Harvey, Hunter's father, to have the young boy every other weekend.

     Lily was lucky enough to have primary custody. Mostly because Scott was never a fully invested father before the divorce, so the court had no issue granting Lily the majority of the custody. But of course, Scott could come by whenever to see Hunter, as well as if he had something planned, he could pick up his son. But...Hunter wasn't the biggest fan of his father.

     Neither was Lily.

     Lily and Scott got divorced a few years ago when Hunter was a ripe 7 years old, and now he was 11, and still lacked the father figure he longed for. In those 7 years, Scott never really put an effort in. and hunter was a smart kid, and already harbored a distaste for the distant nature of his father. and it annoyed him, and Lily, that all of the sudden, after the divorce, Scott wished to be the great father he never was before. Despite his many attempts, it never worked out well for him.

     "Promise." Hunter smiled gently and wrapped his pointer finger around Lily's, before sliding out from underneath the white duvet that covered the two of them, startling the dog that laid at the end of the bed.

     As Hunter left the room, a small sigh escaped the blonde doctor's lips. She hated these days, when Hunter had to go visit his father. But she knew it was important for a child's psyche to have at least a relationship with their father. Picking herself up as well, Lily heaved herself into her closet. She picked out a white spring dress with blue baby's breath designs splayed across the entire piece of clothing. It was a tank top strap, and it was the end of summer and a small breeze danced through her window. She slid a blue jean jacket over her arms before stepping into her bathroom to complete her basic routine.

     After she pulled her hair into a pony, lily stepped out of her room after calling Joey out and down the wooden stairs to the main floor, where Hunter sat at the front door with his backpack and Converse on. Lily couldn't help but smile gently at her punctual son and felt proud of how she had raised him. And how he had grown to be a self-sufficient boy who was also able to ask for help when need be.

     "You gonna get the pancakes again today kiddo?" Lily wondered while stepping into her ballet flats and ruffling  the fur on Joey's back before opening the white door for her son.

     "Aunt Gen keeps putting secret blueberries in them and acting as though they're chocolate chips. I don't trust her anymore."

-----

     Lily and Hunter stepped out of the silver 2019 Honda passport, the two Osborne's took a deep breath of the muggy New York air. Hunter stood by Lily's side as she paid for the parking spot they were lucky enough to grab in the busy streets. She slid her arm around the boy's shoulders, before leading the two towards the fairly busy cafe her best friend owned.

     Genevive Fairchild. Lily's best friend for close to 20 years now. The two had met during their highschool orientation back in 2005. Gen was the extroverted hippy with conservative parents who disagreed with their child's decisions and mannerisms. She was always wearing what was to become her signature dreadlocks with golden decals littering her hair. Baggy shirts with fishnet cardigans and ripped jeans, the necessities to embody Gen. She entered the school loud and unbothered by others opinions or thoughts on how she acted or what she wore. But somehow, she was taken with the quiet blonde who kept her opinions to herself, hands tucked behind her back.

     Lily hadn't changed much in these twenty years, much to her parents dismay. Her parents were elated when their timid daughter brought home the boisterous and carefree Genevieve. Lily's parents were the same as Gen, unbothered and one with the Earth, no real care about people's opinions. Her father was a botanist and her mother a conversationalist. Plants and crystals littered the eco friendly home of Lily's childhood in the rural area of Long Island, New York. To see their studious, goody-good, daughter who wore knee length dresses everyday and cardigans, to bring home such a carefree spirit, was a breath of long needed fresh air for them.

     Ever since then, the two were inseparable. Lily even made her the godmother of Hunter. They both had keys to each others places, and nothing ever seemed to get in between the two of them. Other than those many years Scott wreaked havoc on their friendship. He kept Lily under some sort of spell, no matter how many times Gen attempted to convince her of the terrible manner of their relationship. Eventually, Gen gave up on the fight. until the young chocolate skin girl caught her best friend's husband getting it on with some girl at a party Gen was invited to.

     And that was the end of that marriage. Gen stayed with lily almost every night while everything was happening. And when her or Scott couldn't get Hunter up to Lily's parents, Gen would take him. Make sure he wasn't too focused on the broken state of his mother.

     As the two pushed open the door to the cafe, they were greeted with the fresh smell of coffee and pastries. That is, before they were practically being tackled by the woman earlier mentioned.

     "You two will NOT believe who is here right now."

[f-117-nighthawk]

Playlist Update? From MY Brain? More Likely Than You Think

can't remember the last time I posted these all together but I just put a few new songs in. I've been playing Arknights bc STARSET songs keep being used in the trailers, and then I was listening to Transmissions while making dinner, and uhhhhh there's two new Transmissions songs on the playlists, plus whatever else the spotify links needed to update to my ever-changing apple versions.

This is just the main playlist, because this one is now 3h 40m, and the other three playlists are about an hour each. I’ll give them their own post tomorrow. Under the cut, because it's also Write Random Snippits and Include Important Lyrics time

Dark Matter

Surprise surprise, this one’s got probably the most work done on it. A lot of that is moving things around, a few deletions, and the additions.

DM now starts with Your World Will Fail, Dark Matter, and Eater of Worlds. Turn the Lights Out still kinda applies, but I stopped vibing with it starting everything, and wasn’t really sure where else it should go so it got dropped. It’s role is sort of picked up by a UtA song later? Anyway, the opening three are still very much about not only the birth of [REDACTED], but the birth of the universe itself. And that’s why it feels better to start out with YWWF. Because it is the start.

(Your world will fail my love/It’s far beyond repair/Your world will fail my love/It is already there)

(Bring me your soul/Bring me your hate/In my name you will create/Bring me your fear/Bring me your pain/You will destroy in my name)

(Can’t imagine the violence/The rage and the love in my madness/I am the eater of worlds and I’m looking for someone to feed me)

Remnants of Stars is a hook to Filaments at this point, but stays way up here because the thing it’s about connects back up to those three ^ and is something slowly realized by the Paladins throughout the series. There’s kinda three different points that they realize something new about this (at the moment, I Am the One, Cosmic Vertigo, and Centigrade).

(Shed all you know and make way for a galaxy of light/Answers found hidden inside the smallest stone/Bringing forth a new way of life/Open your heart to the sky)

Apocalypse 1992 hasn’t changed. Still about The Fall, still the turning point for the entire damn war. Still about poor Krolia. Still the Rogue One of DM. It happens between parts of Awakenings, detailing the rise of [REDACTED] and the final hours before the destruction of everything sentient species knew beforehand.

(Fly high through apocalypse skies/Fight for the world we must save/Like tears of a unicorn lost in the rain/Chaos will triumph this day)

Apex is the final moments of Apocalypse 1992 from the Red Lion’s perspective, and connects nicely (just as in the albums lol) to the next UtA songs. Which we’ll get to in a bit.

(Brother mountain/Now we sleep/For a thousand years/I will see you again/Something is coming/Coming for me)

You Keep What You Kill covers the slow degeneration of the Empire between The Fall and the Battle of Arus. The knowledge harshly taught by the Thuanial War is forgotten under the influence of Zarkon, Haggar, and [REDACTED]. Marzin and Galraasa quickly rise the ranks as the Empire’s left and right hands, like omens of destruction before them. The four are the ‘holy half-dead,’ the ones who shape the devouring of the universe before them.

(Defying dimensions/These ruthless creatures will steal your soul/Breaking away from the chains of mortality/They won’t be taken down/Bow now to the holy half dead/The master to death mongers calls)

The Glory and the Scum is partially here bc I missed having Delain, I’ll freely admit that. (Delain split up! Like six months ago! I’m still sad!) Here, it’s (most) of the reason why Krolia isn’t around until MGHM. Think Winter Soldier-ish. It’s also from Krolia’s perspective as she’s talking to Kolivan in a conversation I implied in Shatterpoint. Perhaps it shall see the light of day.

(Look at what we've done/Take a step back/Shake your head at what we have become/We're the glory and the scum)

The Seven Sisters is about Keith, mostly, and connected to Closure via its influence on Child From the Stars (Lost in the Dark) and also to Memories of a Girl I Haven’t Met. Also the thing about the Pleiades has kinda become A Thing associated with my two favorite halfbloods.

(I cast my hope upon The Pleiades/The Seven Sisters who would come for me/They’d fall to Earth to grant a child’s dream/But I’m still waiting)

Starlight is the Adashi song. Here, it’s the sad part, based around the time that the SFSS Genesis launches for Kerberos. It also is sort of about Shiro’s thoughts throughout the war as he watches ‘from distant skies’ (and influences String Theory kinda)

(At night the earth will rise/And I’ll think of you each time I watch from distant skies/Whenever stars go down and galaxies ignite/I’ll think of you each time they wash me in their light/And I’ll fall in love with you again)

Waking Dream and Abyss are Awakenings. They’re specifically the Red Lion waking up on Sendak’s ship to her new Paladin, but also sort of the rest of the Lions as they find new Paladins for the first time since The Fall (and, also, an accidental hook to the end of Filaments just by virtue of being on the same UtA album…)

(Centuries like flowing streams as years go rushing by/Waiting in the dark for afterlife)

(Open my eyes in a daze/How long has it been? Am I so out of place?/Warmth I can no longer feel/My mountain is gone, I’m surrounded by steel/The strangest of structures arises ahead/Seems to be held up by nothing/Where have I gone, do I dream?/How can the stars be all I can see?)

Who Will Save You Now is about the Paladins in First Contact. It’s the video messages they send to their families, the warning that Something Is Out Here that they need to prepare for. It’s a declaration of protection for Earth, but a recognition that the Paladins may not be able to do what they say.

(I will not take from you and you will not owe/I will protect you from the fire below/It’s not in my mind/It’s here at my side/Go tell the world that I’m still alive)

Then there’s The End of the Beginning. Which is, well, the eponymous fic. And don’t forget the String Theory connection! Fun fact: part of the last chapter leads directly into part of String Theory at the moment.

(Every night I die just a little/All this time, I’m caught in the middle/All your life, you fought with no winning/This is just the end of the beginning)

A Simple Plan is about anything but a simple plan. Lotor is making his secret bid for the construction of the Sinkline ships, but there’s one more thing he needs before it can come to fruition. Haggar has suspicions, and knows one thing that she needs to keep from both him and Voltron. Team Voltron is still struggling to fit into their new roles, especially with a Black Paladin who adamantly does not want to be Black Paladin, and is in desperate need of one thing to fix the last of the damage done during the Battle of the Sarnan Nebula.

(How long can we hold off ending?/How long can we pretend we’re ok?/No one goes on fighting it forever/I know I’m better this way)

Memories of a Girl I Haven’t Met. Such a short song for such an important fic. It skips all the way over Naxzela to the Mission to the Baaria Shipyards, the first major offensive that isn’t somehow connected to canon (even if only a very very small part of it is actually at the shipyards lol). This is also the song that solidified Keith’s very queer identity in Dark Matter. And more Pleiades stuff!

(In this lonely place, bathed in silence and thoughts of you/I can’t see your face but I’m trying to envision you/So are you really out there? Are you awake with memories/Of a boy you haven’t met yet who’s wished upon the Pleiades?)

There’s another fic in here that I’m still waiting for a song to catch my ear, but it’s pretty big so I’m putting it in here. For the moment, it’s called MGHM 2.0: Electric Paladinloo. Featuring the Whispers, Voltron, and a few mullets.

And then. Hoh boy. The beast of beats. TRIALS (reimagine), Dark On Me, String Theory, and I Am the One. We’ve got [REDACTED], we’ve got [spoiler], we’ve got the first major turning point in the entire war, and the first revelation of the true nature of [REDACTED]. Hence the honor of being the separation point of my two main DM folders. TRIALS is the first part, the horrifying realization. Dark On Me and String Theory itself are from Shiro’s perspective. I Am the One is… an image song? I guess? That’s all I’ll say on that. (I would like to note that the STARSET songs bar OWtT tend to be about the Shiroganes…)

(Hear me from the bottom/Forged in regret, I'm the silversmith/Doomsday, you we had it coming/Marching the streets with an iron fist/Obey no more in silence/The steel in our hearts will be monuments/Today, they'll hear the violence/We'll rise from the dark like Lazarus)

(You're the cause/The antidote/The sinking ship that I could not let go/You led my way, then disappeared/How could you just walk away and leave me here?/Light the night up, you're my dark star/And now you're falling away)

(You don’t believe in space/You don’t believe in light/You don’t believe that anything is well beyond your might/We walk across the sky and beneath the ocean floor/We’re never going anywhere we’ve never been before)

(I am the one/I am the architect to rule your fate)

House on Fire is the aftermath of String Theory, and a large vibe of We ARE Struggling Together! It’s about family, never letting go of something you care about, and the slow act of trusting.

(So I’ll just hold you like a hand grenade/You touch me like a razor blade/I wish there was some other way right now/Like a house on fire we’re up in flames/I’d burn here if that’s what it takes/To let you know I won’t let go of you)

Belgrade is The klance song! It is a) a bop b) always stuck in my head because it is That Good. The line in the chorus about ‘sweet songs of seduction’ is eternally funny to me bc a)they’re both ace and b)QPR’s don’t usually involve seduction. Belgrade also leads almost directly into…

(We pretend in the darkness/We pretend the night won’t steal our youth/Singing me the sweet songs of seduction/Let me be the fool, fool, fool/Who will live and die for you)

Here to Save You is about Sam. Mostly. It’s also about Pidge. And Zaivorge cannons.

(A slave for humankind/I made sure I would survive/To stay alive/Now it’s time to move on/When there’s nothing left to prove/I’m coming to get you)

Iron is the third Closure fic (the second is End of the Beginning, forgot to mention that. They’ve slowly moved away from actually being related to it in anything but name and general idea). It’s about Keith coming to terms with parts of himself, and learning how to use them to great effect. Also has a huge info dump about the Blade.

(You can’t live without the fire/It’s the heat that makes you strong/‘Cause you’re born to live/And fight it all the way/You can’t hide what lies inside you/It’s the only thing you know/You’re embracing that, never walk away)

The second major turning point in the war is Monarch, Birthright, and Firewall. I really recommend reading the whole lyrics for Monarch, because the entire thing is very much a Lotor song. I had a bit of trouble picking a lyric to use here. Monarch is here because Lotor is also the ‘singer’ of Birthright, and both songs are to a very specific high-level target of the Coalition. Firewall is a little different as it’s a Team Voltron song not a Lotor song, but happens because of the same thing the other two do. They’re all not exactly a direct result of Iron, but they wouldn’t happen how they do without it, and then [REDACTED] swings back into the fray and things learned in String Theory/the framing story for Through Apocalypse Skies hit in full force.

(I am not the person you remember from before/The one you patronized and stepped on, the one you hurt/And I have pulled the arrows, now my skin has become stone/No longer am I prisoner to your empty fucking words)

(The voices in my head have all begun to sing/(The voices in your head have all begun to sing)/And they sure as hell hope I am listening/(I sure as hell hope you are listening!))

(They come to your dreams with illusion/They come to bring shape to your mind/You know how to stop the intrusion/We all have to fight for our lives)

and then, The Day the Earth Collapsed

(How much time has been elapsed/Since the day the earth collapsed?)

Here Comes the Reign doesn’t come into full effect until several months after Birthright/Firewall, but starts with The Day the Earth Collapsed. It’s largely about Haggar and [REDACTED]

(You made something they can’t take away/Now bring the fire of the burning sun on everyone)

Supersonic is here… kinda as a placeholder? Things have shifted around since its original purpose, and frankly it’s here still as a framework for what I like to call The Meme Battle. It’s generally about the increase in Coalition support and general winning as they go after warlords in the aftermath of Feyiv, culminating in I Need a Hero which is, of course, The Meme Battle.

Yes, it’s the Shrek version. It’s the Meme Battle.

(Supersonic, polyphonic, this is our war/Mustering the armies, marching faster than before)

(I need a hero/I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night/He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast/And he's gotta be fresh from the fight)

But Tonight We Dance isn’t exactly a klance song, but it’s here for them. On a diplomatic mission gone wrong, the Red and Blue Paladins of Voltron uncover a literally-buried government conspiracy, a rebel cell, and nearly die. A normal days work for the two of them. But they’ve really gotta stop having relationship milestones in the middle of a warzone.

Another reason it’s here is Tonight We Dance is a very aro song to me. “A language universal, but I speak not its tongue” hits hard. I felt like I needed a bit in here to remind listeners/readers that romance isn’t a language Keith speaks. And it becomes very explicit in this fic, just like Belgrade.

(Tomorrow we might wake in servitude and silence/I will give you everything if only you would have me/Tomorrow we will sweat and toil/Our hands will quiver, caked with soil/Tomorrow we'll give it one last chance/But tonight we dance/But tonight we dance!)

But Tonight We Dance is the last of the Closure fics, which is why it’s here. Closure in general is a lot of Keith’s character development and some of the struggles he goes through to accept his place in the universe and the fact that yes, he does have people that care about him. The last fic is me shining a brighter light on Closure’s chorus and taking a ‘last goodbye’ as never needing to say it again

(I am the child from the stars/That got lost in the dark/Between heaven and hell/I am forced to live on/I am the cause when you sin/I am the demon you skin/But there is no more tears to beautify/This is my last goodbye)

Then we step back into the universe-level action with Soulbound. Revelations from String Theory and Firewall swing back in with a vengeance on a joint Whispers-Voltron mission, leaving them reeling and Krolia questioning her very identity.

(Soulbound, endlessly forever/Locked between the darkness and the light/Don’t drown in the swarming, blackened rising/Hold on to humanity and fight)

About three months after that is My Darkest Hour and Faster Than Light. Haggar realizes something and goes searching for her fifth [spoiler], sending the Blade and the rest of the Coalition scrambling. These also lead directly, and I mean directly, into…

(When the sun comes crashing down/When the world is spinning round and round/I will face what must be my darkest hour)

(Once more we’re flying fast as light/Dark matter passing in the night/Pursued by a force we can’t outrun/As we hurtle towards a dying sun/We maneuver through the remnants of a moon/On the solar winds of supernovas/There is not a place to hide, the Matriarch is close behind/It’s plain to see she’s coming for us all)

Cosmic Vertigo and Other Worlds Than These. Together they are the second of two revelations in what, exactly, is [REDACTED]

(Banish me like burned down planets/Write my fate with sparkling lies/I am the universe; you're just one sky)

(Pull the wool out from your eyes/It won’t shade your frail belief/In the end we cannot hide/There are other worlds than these)

Godhunter is Team Voltron, well, hunting for gods, even as one of them disappears.

(She’s been watching for a century/With hatred, and with scorn/If you know the hunter’s coming/Then you hide or keep on running/'Cause she’s slain the gods before)

Trophy Hunter, Ember, and Redemption are the culmination of Godhunter. I’ve been thinking of them as akin to the suicide mission in Mass Effect 2, if that gives you an idea of what the hell they run into. Also I switched which specific Redemption is on the playlist, because I was listening to Red Handed Denial again and their Redemption was vibing way more than the Hammerfall one. They link up to Godhunter and Soulbound in subject matter, and lead directly into…

(You, you won’t escape me, I’ll rise from the deep/In this final moment, no words left to say/I can’t let you be when a life fades away/You, you won’t escape me ‘cause I’ll set you free)

(Dark matter falling from the sky/Dancing flames reflecting in your eyes as you watch them burn/Watching all your riches witches burn)

(Remember me not for the mess I’ve made/But who I could have been/Finally I’m going home)

World On Fire, This is a Call, The Reckoning, The Wind That Shapes the Land, and Louder Than Words. Switched the order up a bit so it makes more sense chronologically, because the message ‘sent by forces beyond salvation’ has to get there before the reckoning can begin.

(World on fire with a smoking sun/Stops everything and everyone/Brace yourself for all will pay/Help is on the way)

(This is a call to action/This is a call to arms/All lives for one, together/There are no false alarms)

(I see your face, find peace of mind/Between the madness and the sadness and the fire burning/The end of war, the great divine/We’ll see the day of reckoning)

(Search within/Uncover the will to win/Turn against the tide that washes o'er/Find the strength to fall and rise again/Open up the gates, unleash the force/I am the wind that shapes the land/Old as time and twice as strong/Oceans arise at my command/I alone can carry on)

(We have the force to fight/We have the blinding light/A war is more than heard/Coming in louder than words)

[nelllraiser]

when you wake | cutler, dakota, & nell

LOCATION: the catacombs. PARTIES: @clarkesconvenience, dakota, & @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: the key to waking the dreamers is revealed, but cutler, dakota, and nell are unlikely to succeed without first giving something up of their own.  CONTAINS: sibling death, torture mention, self-harm, gore

Cutler’s hands were aching. It had started in the morning as a dull, persistent twinge between the joints and had only intensified as the day went on, morphing into a sharp pain. It refused to leave with knuckle cracking and finger-splayed stretches, tendons only seeming to tighten and pull the bones of his fingers further into themselves. The half dozen advil hadn't helped, nor had the stiff drink he had downed before taking to the crisp winter air as a last resort. 

He hadn’t intended to go to the catacombs. In fact, he would normally avoid the labyrinthine stone pathway system that ran below the city at all costs. It was for this reason that he was shocked to find himself standing on the stairs at the entrance, fire licking up his hands as he descended. He grimaced as he crossed the threshold of the stone entrance, puffs of dirt and dust settling around his feet. The pain rippled across the back of his hands, as if leading him forward. 

“Bad idea.” He said aloud, even as his feet took him further into the depths. As if in response, the muscles in his hands spasmed painfully. Pulsing deep below the criss crossed lines of his palms was the knowledge that the cause of this sudden affliction was ahead of him, not behind. “Guess we’re doing this.” He spoke into the cool shadows, hoping no one was there to hear it.

Dakota had been having dreams for weeks now – although she didn’t know if they were just part of some bizarre fantasy slipping out in her slumber or if they were truly nightmares. Regardless, each time she laid down or rested in the slightest, she saw fleeting images of a cave-like place, low lighting, darkness… All flashing before her eyes too quickly for her to make too much sense of it all, but each time she woke up she comforted herself with a cigarette and a mug filled with coffee. Probably wasn’t the best idea for someone who, as of late, kept having a racing heart and acid reflux. But none of that really mattered, because at present she was standing at the entrance of a place she’d never been before – a place she was pretty sure she hadn’t ever noticed on a map of White Crest. 

Her memory was… Fuzzy, at best. She remembered grabbing a jacket, but not getting out of bed. She remembered moving through the underbrush in the middle of the night, and she remembered thinking it was strange that she was walking through tree branches in the darkness, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember walking out the front door. What scared her, though – aside from not being able to recall how she got to where she was standing – was that she didn’t even know why she stood at an entrance to what she could only assume were the catacombs of White Crest. You can wake up any time now, you know. But to her horror, she realized that perhaps she wasn’t dreaming, because she’d heard a voice that helped to snap  her back into reality, not too far away, amidst the shadows in the night. What the hell? “…Doing what?” 

The smell of blood was what Nell awoke to, though she couldn’t be all that sure of the difference between the real world and unconsciousness when White Crest had begun it’s steady descent into the collected subconscious of its citizens. Had she even been asleep when the tangy and salty scent of blood had alerted her? Ever since people had been falling into unwilling and unwelcome slumbers, the witch had done her best to sleep as little as possible, not wanting to be the next victim in a string of people that were something deeper than comatose. It wasn’t all that hard considering the fact that sleep hadn’t been easy since May of last year, the month that her sister had been struck down before her very eyes in Nell’s stead. But Nell couldn’t afford to fall into a sleep that she wouldn’t awake from. There were far too many things in her life that needed constant attention, obligations that refused to be silent in the form of a demon cult needing downing, a family whose father had been eaten by a demon shark, and her summoning magic that seemed to have grown a mind of its own at times. 

While she blinked bleary eyes open wider, her heart began to race, Nell’s mind picking up pace to match the beating in her chest as she recalled the last time she’d risen to the smell of blood. It had been the sticky redness of her sister’s beheading that had covered her face, arms, legs— and panic rose in her chest while she wondered if she’d soon find Bea’s headless body on the floor next to her. Thankfully there was no decapitated body in sight, though Nell couldn’t shake the feeling of wrongness the scent of blood was bringing to her head. Where was it coming from? There was something deeper in her gut, a pulling and yearning that seemed to yell until she was forced to listen, and follow the metallic smell of blood. She walked until she came upon a familiar sight, the very entrance she and her sisters had used when they’d hunted Montgomery, Bea’s killer, down into the catacombs, capturing and torturing him so that they might earn their final retribution. She hadn’t dove back into the catacombs shadowy bowels since that day, almost worried that if Montgomery had a ghost, it would be down there in the belly of the town, still being digested, not yet truly gone. Was he the one who had brought her here? 

Nell didn’t know how long she tread the empty halls of the cavernous catacombs before hearing a voice, and in an instant she was drawing a knife from its hiding place, brandishing it before her. Following the sound, it didn’t take long until she found the source of it— a man who looked as lost as a lamb without it’s shepherd, and the woman she’d traded fierce words with outside The Stacked Deck. “Were you both brought here too?” Nell asked, familiar enough with mysticism by now to recognize that no natural force had placed her here. Was it the same for them? The tail end of her words was caught up in the howl of a wolf, a long and mournful sound that turned her head down the most narrow tunnel to the left of the party. “Did you hear that?”

“Oh, fuck. Jesus.” Cutler’s knees bent instinctively and his entire body lowered into a defensive stance at the reply in the darkness. It took him a moment to recover from the shock, leg still bobbing shakily with hopped-up nerves, even as the decidedly not-scary woman became visible in the darkness. Smooth, Cut. “Going into the creepy catacombs alone. Suppose this solves half that problem. I’m Cutler.” He began to lift his hand to shake and immediately dropped it again as his knuckles screamed and scraped against themselves. He tried on a reassuring smile instead, manifesting as more of a pained wince. 

It was then that a second voice breached the dim, settling heavy in the mildewed corners and damp brick. Anxiety and tender pain fluttered in his chest. “Brought here? I wouldn’t say-” A dry cough stuck in his throat, rasping behind his words and cutting off the statement that he didn’t quite believe. “Were you?” His hands clenched and unclenched at his side nervously as he fumbled for a way to lighten the conversation. “This isn’t how I usually meet people, but if this is the new spot maybe I should come down here more often.”

Dakota vaguely remembered him, but everything around her seemed like a distant memory at the moment. Was it that online forum? Did she see him at a grocery store? It was starting to irritate her just how confused she felt. “Cutler,” she heard herself say, though her gaze drifted more so back to the catacombs. “Do you know why –” she trailed off, mostly due to the fact that yet another voice was thrown into the mix. However, this girl was more than just a vague memory – she was more than even just familiar, because she was that girl from The Stacked Deck who burst through her poker game, though she never caught her name. The two exchanged words, something about being “brought” here. That was enough to finally snap her out of her dream-like trance.

“I was, yeah. I don’t remember getting out of bed. I don’t remember walking out the door. But somehow I’m standing here in the middle of the night with you fine people—” she paused to toss Nell a look. She wasn’t still angry about The Stacked Deck… per se. A howl in the distance, though, did in fact shut Dakota up quite quickly. Someone had told her to watch out for wolves. “Does anyone know why the hell we’re here?”

Nell’s dagger had dropped to her side into a more relaxed position, though she made no move to stow the weapon back from whence it had come. Giving the man named Cutler a nod, her lips pursed while she took in her surroundings, trying to remember how long she’d already been walking the craggy walls of the catacombs. Ten minutes? Thirty? A few hours, maybe? She couldn’t remember, and that only added to the stone of dread pooling in her gut, an unsteadiness that always formed these days whenever she could feel control slipping through her fingers. “I’m Nell,” she told the man before narrowing her eyes towards the other woman, barely resisting the urge to offer more sharp words. But she could feel that there were more important things at hand than a petty feud over some flipped tables and spilled cards. “You didn’t say your name.” By the way the dark-haired woman cut her words in the midst of another howl, Nell took it as confirmation that she wasn’t the only one hearing things. “I don’t know- but it’s probably for some bullshit reason.” That’s what had happened at the lake all those months ago, wasn’t it? People had come to Nell for the demon banishing ceremony, pulled by some otherworldly force to the right place at the right time. Another call of the wolf had Nell staring down the tunnel in question, a desperate need to answer it seeming to pull her towards it. “I think...we should follow that howl, though. Do you feel it?” The need that was seated in her mind’s eye, like an itch she couldn’t quite reach.

There was something in the air between the two women. Cutler was scared, not stupid. The tension was thick, billowing around hanging spider web scraps and floating dust specks. He could cut it with a knife. That is, if his quivering hands could even hold one in their current state. As Nell spoke, his fingers were reaching down the hallway even as his mouth protested. “Follow it?” His voice was high in his register, squeakier than it had been in several years. 

Something in him shifted as the young woman’s voice spoke once more. Calmer than she had any right to be. Grounding him. Can you feel it? Whatever “it” was throbbed in his hands and tugged at his gut, pulling him forward. “Yeah.” He found himself saying, “I can.” He turned back, making eye contact with both of his newfound companions. “We don’t have a choice, do we?”

By the second howl, Dakota couldn’t have given a rat’s ass about exchanging names and pleasantries, because she was about ready to turn around and head home. But… The moment she thought about retreating, there was a sickening, sinking feeling in her gut that made her stay. She felt it in her bones, she felt it in her chest – a knot tying itself tighter in her stomach that pleaded only one request: stay. “Dakota,” she muttered a few moments later, eyes looking askance towards the entrance of the catacombs. She wasn’t sure what the hell was about to be down there, but she was sure as shit not about to risk her life for some adventure.

… Except that she was, because a third howl began to make her think that being inside the catacombs was a lot safer than being out here. “We don’t. I feel it, too – whatever ‘it’ is. Let’s just.. Follow the howl and hope we don’t end up fucking mauled.”

Nell knew that a wolf howl was more often dangerous than not in a town like White Crest, a place so steeped in the supernatural that it had almost become...natural. She couldn’t begin to explain it, just as she couldn’t entirely explain why she’d come here in the first place, but the howl of the wolf didn’t seem threatening. It was a long, searching sound, as if calling out to someone for help. The subject of whether or not they had a choice was a touchy one for Nell, always balking at being forced into anything, but she couldn't’ help but feel that Cutler’s words were true. Steeling her shoulders into a determined and hard stance, she took the little height she possessed and made the most of it as she began to lead that way into the tunnel, doing her best to ignore all former thoughts of Montgomery as she began to descend. “Let’s get going, then.” While she walked the path, the scent of blood grew stronger, so much so that she swore she could nearly taste it on her tongue, thick and sharp. All the while the wolf’s howls led the way, showing which path to take when they came to forks or a circle of tunnels. “I think we’re almost there.” She could feel the magic in the air now, a shimmering that she’d known since a young age that was shining brighter in her head the closer they got.

Cutler fell in step behind the girl in front of him instinctively. She operated with a natural leadership and seemed to possess some hidden knowledge as she looked around the tunnels where he only saw shadowy recesses in grimy brick. In the low light, he spread his hands in front of him, looking for some medical explanation for the tingly-sharp pain that only grew stronger the deeper they went. At the back of his tongue, the familiar, coppery taste of blood brought back memories of the surgeries he had performed with these same hands; once valuable enough to be insured, now primarily used for punching prices behind a cash register. “Almost where?” He had almost run into Nell when she stopped, and scuffled backward a few steps. He looked to his left, making sure Dakota was with them. Whatever was around the sharp bend ahead, he didn’t want to face it alone. 

The thick, cloying scent of blood hit him like a wall, meaty and organic. Blinding pain seared through his hands and he expelled a soft sound, halfway between a moan and a cry. His eyes screwed shut instinctively, willing the static from the edges of his vision. “You guys don’t feel that?” He stared at his feet, sharp, jagged breaths hampering his attempts to get the words out. “Tell me you feel that.”

As they submerged themselves deeper into the damp, dank tunnel, Dakota could smell the presence of some sort of blood – fresh, most likely. It reminded her of hunting with her uncle when she was a kid – that smell of blood, human or animal, was almost universal.. And it was present down in the halls of the tomb that they walked. The phrase almost there was something she didn’t want to hear, but Cutler summed it up when he’d asked the question she was already forming in her own mind – almost where? 

The deeper they went, the stronger the scent grew – like a thick curtain or a shroud hanging around the three of them, metallic in its fragrance. Deeper into the tomb they walked, and the stronger it grew. Dakota’s heart hammered in her chest, not knowing exactly what lay ahead for them. Cutler had said something, and though she was fit to answer, she caught a glimpse of an object on the floor, farther ahead than she cared to go, that seemed to resemble something far too close to human remains.

“Hey, guys…? What the fuck is that?” 

Cutler remained bent over, hands on knees. “No.” The word tumbled out of his mouth, quietly and aimed at the floor. He barely heard it himself over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. Dakota was speaking, Nell was ahead, but his gaze remained trained steadfast on the floor below him and the centuries of dirt and whatever else filled the gaps between the ancient brickwork below them. 

When he finally summoned the courage to stand back up, both of the women were looking at something ahead of them. It was dark, and he didn’t have his glasses on him, but he knew what it was, the same way he had known to come to the catacombs in the first place. What little light there was in the tunnels bounced off pale skin in the shadows. “It’s a-” Cadaver was the word at the front of his mind; the only other time he had been privy to the sickly white tones of bloodless flesh. “-a body. I think. Or part of one.” He drew air into his chest, forcing it to expand and contract, reminding himself to breathe. He could handle this. He’d seen dead bodies, operated on them. This was nothing he hadn’t faced before.

And then it moved. It jumped forward, movements quick and erratic. Spidery limbs crawled across the floor as it came into focus in sharp terror under the lamp light. It was a hand, isolated from the rest of its body, moving independently with jerky, inhuman motions. Cutler was already reaching for the Swiss army knife in his pocket; numb, throbbing fingers jammed themselves into his too-small jean pockets. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He barely managed to retrieve the multitool in time to stab the knife squarely into the hand in front of him. As it collapsed to the ground, he looked around frantically. “There’s got to be two, right? Two of them?” 

A soft scraping below him snapped his gaze back to the floor. It was moving. Again. 

Somehow Nell had walked right past the hand that had scuttled towards Cutler, and his string of curses made her head turn backwards over her shoulder, a frown of concern firmly in place. How the hell had she missed a living hand? Either her senses were growing duller, or the thing hadn’t spawned until after she’d passed it. Whatever the answer may be, the appendage certainly shouldn’t have been inching all over the ground like some fleshy crab. At least Cutler had managed to stab the hand, though it soon became apparent that the abandoned body part had made a steady and full recovery, dancing around the man’s feet as if it were auditioning for some grotesque rendition of The Addams family and the role of ‘Thing’. “Two would make sense.” After all, hands came in pairs, didn’t they? “So where the hell is the other one?” she muttered, sharp eyes scanning the shadows that seemed to be looming closer by the second as the walls of catacombs blurred and twisted into shapes she could almost make sense of. Squinting into the darkness, she searched for movement that she could track and caught a glint of silver instead. The moment she took notice of the abnormality, an enormous injection needle shot through the darkness, the three foot long steel tip of it aiming for Nell with deadly accuracy. “Holy shit!” she called out as she rolled and dodged, never having been a fan of any shot, let alone one that looked as if it’d been created for giants. 

Quick movements caught her attention, but Dakota wanted to haul ass in the opposite direction the moment she saw a fucking hand scurrying near their feet, like some sort of spider. Moments ago she was trying to decide if she were in a dream or walking along in the realm of reality, and now she was wishing to open her eyes and see that this was all an illusion. Cutler’s curses and quickness, though, reassured her that this wasn’t something she was going to wake up from anytime soon. “Stab it again!” Dakota exclaimed, hopping on the bandwagon of belief that there must be a second one walking around – another hand that needed to be destroyed. 

Her eyes searched the darkness hurriedly, hoping it would appear out of the blue so that she could stomp on the damned thing and get this hellish night over with. However, that wasn’t the case. Nell’s scream was a distant cry at this point – she’d felt herself wander into a spiderweb of some sort while looking for the other hand. Instantly she began to brush off, muttering little curses to herself, anxious hands running over her limbs. She couldn’t see a thing, but it was like she felt them all over. “Fucking Christ!” she shouted in disgust, obsessively sweeping her hands over herself only to stumble over another object on the floor – the second hand? -- hitting the ground with a thud.

To Dakota’s absolute horror, in the dimness of the catacombs she saw what looked like hundreds of spiders crawling towards her, some small and some large, others akin to tarantula size while some were beastly, at least as large as a dog with legs as long as she was tall. Letting out a string of curses – “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” – along with a cry of disgust as the small arachnids crawled over her legs. Finally, she had managed to scramble herself to her feet, now noticing the giant needle as the swarm of spiders seemed to follow every which way she ventured. She didn’t know how these nightmarish visions were spawning, but she had one idea that might put an end to them.

“Cutler, stab the goddamned hand!”

Cutler didn’t see the needle, or the spiders, or the fear in his companions’ eyes. He didn’t hear the persistent calling of his name over the chaos. He saw the scene as if from outside himself. Disaster arced outward, nightmare spawn barreling toward him and the hand at ground zero. The hand twitched, rising from the floor on clicking joints and he just stared, glassy eyed. This isn’t real. This can’t be real. 

The pain in his own hands brought him back to his body with a sickening jolt. Hot saliva pooled at the back of his tongue and pearls of sweat began to dampen his collar. The pain had changed. What was now a dull throb became a stabbing agony; converging at the centre of his palms where his life and love lines intersected. He knew what he had to do. The round, clean-cut fingernails of his left hand scraped nervously at the faux-mahogany handle of his multi-tool for a moment, seemingly impervious to the events unfolding around him. A series of moments flashed before his eyes. His first surgery in the OR. His last one. The good, the bad, and the ugly: all perpetrated with these hands. 

When the blade of his knife pierced the skin of his palm, there was no hesitation. It was a smooth cut. His professors would have been proud. An excruciating scream filled the tunnel. At first, he thought it was coming from him, but his teeth were clenched together over his locked jaw. Below him, an identical wound had appeared on the pale hand on the floor, viscous liquid seeping from it and into the sandy tile below. 

“I got it.” The words were spoken at regular volume, overwhelmed the shrieking from the hand below. The same inherent knowledge that had led him here told him it wasn’t long for this world. “I got it.” He said again, louder this time. Stronger. One down, one to go. 

The moment Cutler made his incisions was the same instant the enormous needle faltered mid-trajectory, dropping to the ground as if it too had been defeated. It gave a long enough pause for Nell to look past her attempted impaling for a moment to see the scene that lay before Cutler. His blood dripping from one hand onto the one below him, the ruby red droplets staining its ghastly skin red. Of course. Nell had been foolish not to realize it earlier. Between the plethora of magic swirling in the air, and the blood that the hand had demanded, it was becoming clearer by the second exactly what it was that was going on here. “It wants a sacrifice,” she said slowly, knowingly as she continued to glance warily towards the giant needle that lay still on the catacomb floor. “It needs payment in exchange for…” In exchange for what? They still didn’t have the faintest idea of what it was they were trying to accomplish here beyond making sure they didn’t get murdered by their worst nightmares. Suddenly, a voice seemed the echo through the cavern, raw and rough but full of determination and confidence. “We need to get the parts to the pedestal. We need to use the rest of our energy to get these parts to the real world. Like the skeleton said...they need to be made real so that they can be destroyed.”

Make them real so they can be destroyed. Based on the nightmare-ish visions they were experiencing and the voice’s mentions of the ‘real world’, Nell could only guess as to why the parts had to be done away with. This was what needed to be done to bring back those that had fallen prey to whatever sleeping curse had taken White Crest as its prisoner. Those like...Bex? Iron determination was quick to find its way back into Nell’s gaze as she thought of her slumbering pupil, an innocent girl caught between things she didn’t yet understand along with the rest of the town. “Where’s the other fucking hand?” she hissed, intent on stabbing the thing herself if she could find it. She’d do whatever it took to ensure her town was happy, that her little witch was safe. But whatever antidote Cutler had worked seemed to be wearing off, the needle rattling from its resting place to rise once more while the other hand roamed free. “Find the damn hand!” Nell yelled as she dodged another stab of the needle, narrowly escaping impalement. 

Amidst the darkness scattered hundreds of spiders, all that seemed on a manhunt for Dakota. The beastly ones reared up on hind legs, towering over her, latching on to her fear of them as if they fed off of it, the smaller ones closing in while crimson red dripped from Cutler’s palm to the single hand below. Sacrifice. The word rang in her ears as she dodged the spiders, though the moment his blood dripped they held themselves at bay, a few vanishing into thin air. Just that the few drops weren’t enough, apparently, because as the needle trying to impale Nell began to bring itself to life once again, aiming straight for her. 

All she knew was that if they didn’t find the other hand, and quick, she’d run out of energy and succumb to being eaten alive by a bunch of snarling tarantulas and Nell would be given a hefty dose of dead, God only knowing what would happen to Cutler. Dakota, though still panicked by both the spiders she was frantically kicking away from herself, hoping against hope the giant ones, as well as the giant needle chasing Nell, would vanish the moment Cutler destroyed the hands. It was painfully clear, though, that they all only had one option: face their manifested fears. You can do this. They’re just spiders. It’s just a dream. 

The spiders continued to rear up on hind legs, Dakota continually dodging left and right in order to miss the others when she noticed something large and ghastly scurrying through once again. The same object she must have tripped on in the first place. The second hand.  Adrenaline flooded her veins, knowing damn well that if she didn’t make her next move and follow that hand, the risk of all three of them not making it out of the catacombs alive would be much higher than she cared to gamble for. They’re just spiders. It’s just a dream. 

Taking a few steps back, Dakota braced herself before sprinting forward, dropping her right knee just in time to slide across the floor, right between the legs of the beast before her, only to chase down the hand she’d spotted moments before. “There!” she tried desperately to communicate with the others as the swarm of spiders began their chase, the hand speeding between Cutler’s legs and hoping to retreat to safety. “Do something!”

Cutler wasn’t worried about the other hand. The moment that Nell had said the word sacrifice, he had understood that proximity wasn’t the issue. It was the sacrifice in the action. The final relinquishing of his surgical career in a single choice, offered up to the dark mirror of what were once his most valuable assets. He was surprised to find that he felt lighter knowing he would never again hold someone’s life in his hands. Dark life force seeped down the grooves in his skin, tiny rivers running back to the sea. At this rate, he may never hold anything at all.

The tendons in his hand jumped and rippled around the wound. He looked at it clinically, like the cutaway diagrams in his anatomy textbooks, bridging the gap between his limbs and what every person was underneath. Meat. Flesh. As corporeal and precariously mortal as any other animal. Bone, muscle, and tendon scraped together as he switched the knife to his still-bleeding hand. Strangely, he felt no pain. It was what allowed him to repeat the action once more, stabbing the blade into his uninjured palm. Another scream from below him: the second hand meeting its end.

At once, sights and sounds began to seep back into his peripheral. Yelling from his companions, impossible visuals bombarding him. The hands were gone, but this was far from over. “We have to move.” Ahead of them, he felt the pull of a greater force drawing them forward. He had just made the greatest sacrifice of his life, and it was only a taste of what was to come. An appetizer for the great, slavering hunger that was closing its’ jaws around them. “Now. We have to move, now. I’ll cover you. Run.” 

Dakota didn’t know Cutler. His aspirations, his dreams, his pain, his guilt – it was all lost on her, but it didn’t take much to realize that what he’d just done was the sacrifice of his life. She stopped running from the spiders long enough to look upon the scene in both awe and admiration. There wasn’t time to unpack that, though, because while the bloodthirsty needle had dissolved into thin air and the crawlers she’d been dodging had suddenly vanished, she felt the pull – a foreboding sense of ruin lying ahead. We have to move, now.

Only one word made sense to her: run. It was something she’d done her whole life – something she practiced often and knew all too intimately how to do. It was a knee-jerk reaction that came with a side of always having an escape route in her back pocket. Dakota was hesitant about a lot of things in life, but one thing she’d never think twice about was disappearing without a trace… Until now. Breaking into a sprint, she knew there were more things than just two hands to destroy, and the faster they could find them, the faster she could retreat back to safety, burrow herself back into her own little world where shit like this could only ever exist in horror films. 

Her gut was never to be trusted, but something told her to hang a left as she was running through the tunnels, splotches of red catching her eyes, beckoning her to follow. The sense that she was growing closer grew stronger, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, blood rushing in her ears. She could feel it like it was burning a hole straight through her, whatever this force wanted her to find just at her fingertips, so close she could almost taste it – a few more feet and… Dakota slowed to a stop, the splotches of blood she’d been following leading her to this: 

A still beating heart lying balefully at her feet. 

Nell couldn’t begin to guess at what exactly Cutler had given up. After all, she’d only met the man some twenty minutes ago. Nevertheless it was apparent that his sacrifice had been more than enough, the stabbing of his hands paying the debt that had been demanded. Once they were out of here, she’d ask to take a look at his hands. Healing wasn’t her forte, but she could do enough to at least stop the bleeding and make sure he didn’t keel over from blood loss. She would have taken a look at his injuries now if another organ hadn’t spawned in the midst of them, the thumping of the bloody organ louder than any tell-tale heartbeat the witch had heard before. It seemed to bounce off the walls of the catacombs, until it echoed in her ears, drowning out her own thoughts as she watched Dakota approach the heart. 

Nell took a confident step in the direction of the heart, only to be met with iron bars shooting up from the ground mere inches from her nose. The message was clear enough. This was Dakota’s sacrifice to make. “Looks like it’s your turn,” she said none too begrudgingly, knowing her time would most likely be coming sooner rather than later. “It’s your sacrifice to make now.” As soon as she’d said the words, the bars that had kept her from the heart began to move towards her, as if trying to pin her against the rock of the catacombs. Taking a stuttering step back, Nell tried to quell the anxiety that was pooling in her chest as imprisonment looked unavoidable. This was too much like the underground jail of the Ring, and the place she’d been trapped for an entire week, continuously drained of her magic and barely fed until she’d finally managed to break free. The only thing it was missing was… Before she could even finish the thought a familiar voice was worming its way into her ear, silky, smooth, and commanding as Jax’s silver tongue made its demands. “Fuck off,” she growled despite knowing the man was dead, rising dread making it difficult to remind herself of logic.

The wet pumping of the heart matched the rapid thrum of Cutler’s own in his ears. Thud-thud. Steel bars shot up between himself and Nell. Thud-thud. The sharp smell of hospital antiseptic at the back of his throat. Thud-thud. The cracking of whisky over ice. Thud-thud. The cavernous walls of the catacombs swam under half closed lids as his brows furrowed together. Thud-thud. Around his neck, the crinkly plastic collar of a surgery gown began to tighten. 

Drawstring dug into the jumping tendons leading to his collarbone as he scrabbled at his jugular with red-ringed fingernails. With each breath he took, the string tightened further. His lungs burned with the effort of pulling air into them; black constellations spotting across his vision. Desperately, he kicked forward. The rubber sole of his work boots connected hard with the bars in front of him, sending reverberating shockwaves up his knee. 

“It’s not real!” The words hissed through his bared teeth as he lifted a knee once more. “Close your eyes if you have to, Nell! None of it is real!” This time, he felt the bar give under his foot just a little. On the third kick it bent inward with a dull clang and he felt the pressure on his neck release all at once at the string snapped. Coughs ripped painfully through him as he leaned against the bars. He thrust an arm through the newly widened gap, blood-slicked hand reaching for the young woman inside. “See this? Flesh and blood.” His voice was smoky and hoarse. “I’m as real as it gets. Climb through.” 

Something was wrong. It had started small, a little irritation, a headache beginning to form just behind her eyes. But Kevin had not had a headache in over a thousand years. She had felt them before, the dreamers, poking and prodding and sticking their minds where they didn’t belong. At the moment, she had paid it little mind. There was a spell to weave and a town in desperate need of dreams. But those pesky dreamers kept poking and prodding, meddling and touching. They scraped inside her chest and dug about inside her mind and spread a dreadful itch down her arms. They meant to tear her apart. Still, there was only so much there could do. Then she felt it. White hot, burning through her hands. Her scream tore through the air, a thunderclap echoing. Even as her fingers cracked and shriveled, she sought the source. There. The catacombs.

Kevin appeared with a burning flash of light. The air around her sizzled, her eyes blazing as she searched for the meddlers. Ah. There. Her eyes burned as she lifted a broken, burnt hand. The fingers were charred, black like charcoal creeping up her arm. “You. You will stop. Dream now, and forever more.” Her hands may have been ruined, but some of her power remained. It took only a jerk of her head to throw Dakota against the wall, leaving her unconscious, dreaming sweetly on the floor. She turned slowly toward the other two. “And you. Unless you wish to join her, you will leave. You will go and forget all that has transpired. I will not tell you again.”

“I know- I know!” Nell gasped as the bars scraped against her ribs while she grabbed hold of Cutler’s wrist, trying to avoid the self-sustained injury of his hands while he helped pull her out of the metal maw of the jail cell. “Thank you,” she breathed in gratitude. But just because things weren’t real didn’t mean that they didn’t set her heart to pounding. Her brain knew that the voice of Jax tickling her mind couldn’t be possible, but the rest of her body didn’t seem to understand, responding with rampant fight or flight to the sound of a man who’d cause her and Remmy unmeasurable despair. Thankfully— she’d always been the one to choose to fight. And it seemed the world had answered that need with a clear target in the form of the woman who’d appeared before her and Cutler, sending Dakota flying. “Shit,” the witch cursed underneath her breath, hoping Dakota was alright but knowing this wasn’t the time to check on the woman. “You’re the one doing this?” Nell demanded angrily, it being less of a question and more of an enraged accusation. This was the bitch that was keeping Bex asleep- that was keeping all those other innocent citizens in a hopeless slumber. “Fat fucking chance,” was her only reply to the other woman before she began to charge, a knife appearing in her hand from its hiding place as she ran towards the one responsible for the sleeping town. “Cutler- get the heart, and I can keep her busy!”

Sand and grit stuck to his hands as he dropped to the ground, patting his way forward. Cutler had thought he had last seen the heart here, by their feet - by Dakota’s feet, actually - but his frame of reference was now lying unconscious across the cavern. Sweat pearled at the back of his neck as he moved forward, feeling the centuries of dirt rise, puff and cling to his forearms and legs. He had seen the flashing glint of a weapon in Nell’s white knuckle grip just before she had hurtled herself toward their now-revealed foe. She was risking everything. He couldn’t let her down. What he would give to have his glasses now. 

He closed his eyes, lashes light with settled dust. He heard his own heart first; thudding fast and irregular against his breastbone. Then, slowly, he heard the other. Calm and steady. Confidently marking the offbeat. Got you. His knees scraped stone as he moved toward the sound, growing steadily louder. Finally, he was on top of it. His stomach turned over as he felt the heat radiating off of the muscular, pumping organ in front of him. 

The meaty-red smell of blood washed over him as he pulled the sticky blade away from its multi-tooled brethren in his swiss army knife. It wavered in the air above the throbbing mass in his shaking hands. Last time, stabbing the hands hadn’t worked, but he was out of sacrifices. There was nothing else to give but a prayer. His lips moved, silently voicing the words in his own heart. 

“God, please let this work. I’ll do anything. No, I’ll do everything. No more taking things for granted. I want to live.” 

They were close, too close to ruining everything. Kevin could feel her head swimming. Her hands still burned. Even if she were to cut them away, the searing pain would remain. And now they were aiming for her heart. If she could simply bring into focus, drive them away, force them into sleep like all the others, it would be fine. She could start again, rebuild, put herself back together. But their meddling had already taken its toll. The world was slipping in and out around her, her vision blurring, thoughts slipping like water through her fingers. 

She turned toward Nell. The witch had to go. Her power was bright, intense. If she could be eliminated, the other one would be easy. Kevin moved in a blink, appearing inches from Nell’s nose. “What is your aim? Why do you fight? Rest. Don’t you want to? Your dreams are so dark, little witch. I can see them all, I can feel them. You’ve lost so much, haven’t you? Would it not be easier to slip into a dream? I could take it. Your pain. Let me take it all away. It would take only a moment. Your dreams would be peaceful, you could have all that you want. Let me set you free.”

Even without the power to drive her words, Kevin’s questions seemed to pull at a part of Nell that so desperately longed for rest. Her words were soft in the witch’s ear, speaking to a tender place in the brunette that was simply tired. Tired of losing family and friends. Tired of losing literal and figurative pieces of herself. Tired of living on edge, wondering where the next blade or punch or bite would come from at all hours of the day. If she let herself slip into the peaceful slumber that Kevin promised, it would all be over. Kevin was right. Nell was barely twenty-four and she couldn’t help but feel as if she’d lived multiple lifetimes since her return to White Crest a year or so ago. This town was draining her, sapping the energy from her limbs even as she stood here with her knife still poised- frozen somewhere between herself and Kevin. Just let it end. Let it be over. She was more shell than human these days between infiltrating a demon cult, dealing with the aftermath of her accidental demon-shark summoning, and Bex falling into a deep sleep. Bex. The girl’s face rose to meet the eye of Nell’s mind, sweet and peaceful as she lay trapped in Kevin’s dreamscape. Nell seemed to jolt awake as she thought of her student, another sacrifice that would be made if Nell let Kevin take her. It wasn’t a sacrifice that Nell was willing to make. 

The ever-present fire that seemed to live within Nell’s belly was quick to reignite as she reminded herself of all the harm had done- the lives she’d be taking if Nell let herself go. Kevin had moved unnaturally fast in her approach on Nell, but she could be quick too. Uttering a spell meant to grant her speed beneath her breath, Nell’s knife was quick to flash through the air, mindlessly aiming for where Kevin’s heart should beat. It wasn’t until the blade had buried itself deep into Kevin’s chest that Nell realized how futile the action was. She could see the heart underneath Cutler just a few paces away— see his own knife stabbing into it over and over again. There was nothing beneath Nell’s dagger to stab. “I won’t leave them behind.” Nell promised as she savagely dug the knife deeper, anger and bloodlust making the decision for her despite the knowledge that there was no point. She wanted to make it hurt, to make Kevin feel even a flicker of the pain she’d unleashed on the town. “I’ll never leave my friends behind. Or people that don’t deserve to die. So you can fuck right off, you piece of shit.”

The first hit slipped off of the tubular structure of the heart like squeaky wet rubber. It continued to beat, even as the sharp edge of the blade tore through tough ventricles and into the spongy tissue underneath. Cutler could taste the warm, coppery liquid that sprayed from it, only realizing after his third hit that his teeth had bit into the soft skin of his bottom lip. A shaky inhale whistled through his fast closing windpipe, hot tears building in the back of his throat. This had to work. There was nothing else. 

Several feet away, Nell spoke. Her voice was soft and level, but he heard it in his own ears as clear as day. Another scream rang through the cavern; this time from the heart as he drove the blade toward the ground once more. His eyes flicked upward just in time to see Nell’s mirroring action, digging the blade into the soft tissue of their tormentor. He didn’t feel the quick-coagulating drip of blood at the corner of his mouth or the spill of tears washing tracks down his cheek. 

“We’re almost done.” As soon as he said it, he knew it to be true. He coughed into the crook of his elbow, covering a throaty sniffle. The steel toe of his boot connected with the now-shrivelled remains of the heart at his feet. “This is it.” 

Pain. It was still so foreign, so wrong. Kevin had cast it off long ago, the parts of her that were able to hurt. Or so she had thought. They were supposed to be gone. She was beyond this, between petty human aches and blows. But Nell’s knife cut as deep as her words. Her heart wasn’t home, the bloody, pulsating piece trapped in Cutler’s grip. Still, blood flowed from the wound. It drifted up, out, around them as if they were underwater, the blood moving as though to attract circling sharks. Kevin found herself stunned. It had been so long. Large, salty tears rolled down her face as she grabbed Nell’s shoulders with her withered hands. “I could have given you all so much. I wanted to share my dreams with you. I could have brought you peace.”

Kevin staggered back, hands clutching at her empty, heaving chest. This world, this sad, wretched world. It was wrong. It was broken. Perhaps it had always been too much for her to fix. Not even her most wonderful dreams could have set it right. Her entire body began to shake as she sunk to her knees. The air around her swirled, heavy, charged, heated sparks flitting through the air. They burst, flickering, snapping, brighter and brighter as a low cry spilled from her lips. The sound grew, filling the catacombs. It echoed, louder and louder, the force of it pulling the wind, shaping the air itself. With a force strong enough to whip up rocks, to tear deep gouges into the earth beneath her, Kevin let out her final cry. 

The wind rushed and roared, buffeting the walls of the catacombs, flecking them with blood so dark it was nearly black. But it slowly began to fade. Rocks fell back to the floor as the dust settled and Kevin lay motionless amidst the rubble, her eyes shut, as if asleep in one final dream. 

Nell watched Kevin fall with not nearly as much satisfaction as she would have wanted. The mysterious woman was down, and seemingly it was going to be for the count as she didn’t stir. Nell turned at the sound of Cutler’s voice, eyes resting on the shriveled heart that lay at the man’s feet as she wondered what would be the last of the parts they needed to destroy. Hands, Heart, and...what? Rocks began to tumble, and Nell spoke another spell, her hand raising towards the ceiling as a shield began to form above herself and Cutler. Unfortunately, a lack of sleep had made her reaction times slower than usual, and a boulder the size of her head slipped through before the magical shield was fully in place. It struck her shoulder just perfectly, a loud crunch echoing through the cavern as the witch gasped in pain, instantly recognizing the sensation of something being dislocated. “Fuck,” Nell cursed, glancing back to Cutler to make sure he hadn’t been hit as well. The rocks tumbled harmlessly off an invisible dome stationed a few feet above his head, the magic doing its job well-enough. 

It seemed that even though Kevin was incapacitated, her magic had no intention of stopping. Perhaps it had gotten away from her, metastasized until it functioned under a mind of its own- continuing to bring the dream world into the reality of White Crest. Or maybe this was just the design of the spell, a fail-safe self destruct button that would keep going even after Kevin was unconscious on the floor. “Yeah- we gotta keep moving,” Nell grunted through gritted teeth, her arm hanging uselessly by her side. The time for fixing it would come later. She didn’t trust that the momentary rockslide hadn’t jeopardized the structural integrity of the catacombs. Who knew if the rest of the underground tunnels were just waiting to collapse? Glancing back at the body of Dakota, Nell flexed her magic once more until the woman’s form floated alongside the witch, trailing after her like some morbid and hovering duckling. Nell was past the point of wondering what Cutler would make of her abilities, knowing that could be dealt with when White Crest didn’t hang in the balance. She advanced to the next chamber, stopping short as she heard a familiar voice. “Are you sure you want to play this game little girl?” 

The stuttering step of her gait jerked her arm uncomfortably, but she barely noticed as fear-blown pupils began to comb every corner of the new room. “Did you hear that?” she asked Cutler, her voice barely above a whisper while she gripped her knife even tighter.

Cutler watched the rocks tumble around him, landing off of him in a perfect circle and leaving him unharmed. Nell’s movements made two things clear to her immediately. First, that the impossible protective forces around Dakota and himself were a result of her. Second, her shoulder was dislocated. It hung loose and dead by her side, swinging as she continued to move forward.

“I didn’t hear anything.” He turned professional, examining her for signs of delirium or head injury. All he saw in her face was pale, unfiltered fear. It made her look younger. No, it made her look her age. She was young. Too young for whatever this was. “I can fix that shoulder.” He stepped close, hand hovering above her arm, mouth running as a distraction. “If I wasn’t already losing my mind, I think tonight’ll do it. How do I explain this to people?” 

His injured hands settled on her arm. He could feel his own distress; texturally, his skin was torn and bleeding, but there was no pain. For him, that is. Nell was putting on a brave face, but even the small movements from the last chamber to this one must have been excruciating. “Alright. This is gonna hurt, but just for a second. Like ripping off a band-aid. Ready? I’m gonna go on three. One. Two-” His fingers tensed, and he shifted her arm in the socket to hit the right angle in one swift movement. A single push upward returned her arm to the correct orientation with a sickening pop. A mixture of pride and relief washed across his face as he stepped away. “Sorry, that was a dirty trick.” 

Cutler wanted nothing more than to stop. To sleep, or to wake from this nightmare. He could feel heavy fog clouding his brain, telling him to relax and recover. He blinked slowly, the dark seal of his eyelids warm and tempting, willing his breath to a relaxed rhythm. It was Nell who kept him from succumbing, piercing eyes and bright determination tearing through his supernatural lethargy. It was her sharp gaze that tapered the last of his focus into a coherent thought: I’m losing my mind. My mind. 

“It’s the brain.” 

A coiled pink organ was there, right in front of them. It always had been, only now visible by his verbal acknowledgement; like invisible ink under blacklight, revealed by exposure. 

“Let’s finish this.” 

Cutler’s confirmation that he hadn’t heard anything did little to quell Nell’s mind, certain she'd heard the words echoing through the cavern clear as day. “You’re sure?” The owner of the voice couldn’t be present. It was impossible. She’d seen the life bleed out of him with her own eyes as she gave him his penance along with her sisters. A more fearful voice in her own head reminded her that the dead didn’t always stay dead. Be had come back, hadn’t she? Who was to say that some other necromancer hadn’t found the hunter’s bones and raised him back to the living? Maybe he’d been bitten by the undead before his death, and the sisters simply hadn’t known. Her racing thoughts were brought to a halt as she felt Cutler grip her arm, just barely hearing his assurance that he could fix it.

“What? No- no, just leave it,” Nell began, having no reason to trust that the random man she’d met in the catacombs knew anything about popping a dislocated limb back into place. “Don’t count- I’ll just get someone to fix it once we’re out of-” Her words were cut off by a painful grunt as the arm was put back into its rightful socket, a wince flashing over her features as she once again thanked the fact that she was used to pain. Begrudgingly, she offered him a “Thank you,” while also deciding to ask him about his apparent first aid knowledge once they got out of this place.

Having lost his distracting question in her attempts to keep him from fixing her arm, Nell’s brows knit closer together as she found an answer. “Easy- you don’t tell anyone about it. Then there’s no explaining needed. Especially about anything you’ve seen me do,” she added with the smallest hint of a threat. After all, there was still a confirmed witch hunter in town. “Unless you ask me first,” the witch compromised. “And if you need any explanations for yourself...you can talk to me after all this is over.” Her focus shifted to the brain on the ground, kneeling before it as she took a closer look. No doubt it would fight back just as the hands and heart had. “Alright...the sacrifice-” Without further delay, she took a new, clean knife from another hiding place before drawing it carefully down the bottom of her forearm and letting the ruby red of her blood gather neatly. Blood was always the standard for payment in her practices, certainly it would serve her here as well? 

Nell held her arm above the brain as the blood began to fall, and the witch willed it to place itself neatly on top of the last organ they were meant to destroy. Tiny rivers of red began to flow, filling the rivlets of the trenches and dips of the fleshy pink thing until they pooled along the floor. “That should do it.” She raised her knife- poised to finish the job before thrusting it towards the brain. But at the last moment a hand gripped her wrist in a vice-like grip, the blade still dangling above the brain. “Cutler, what the fuck-” She looked up expecting to find the face of the doctor looking back at her, preventing her from finishing the job. Instead she found the grin of the man who tread her nightmares far too often, a ghost that wouldn’t let her be despite her constant attempts to shake him. Again his voice sounded through the catacombs, one that sent shivers up her spine as he echoed the words he’d spoken that day in the forest where her sister’s life had been taken. 

“Are you sure you want to play this game little girl?” Montgomery was here, and looking as real as the day he’d lopped Bea’s head from her shoulders. “Get the fuck out of my head,” Nell growled despite her shaking hand, heart beating a frantic rhythm in her chest as she looked upon the person who’d brought fear into her life. Nell had always been reckless, one who constantly jumped without looking to see where she might land. She still was to an extent. But Montgomery was the reason for her newfound caution, and the feeling that she constantly needed to look over her shoulder in case someone new was lurking around the corner with the desire to kill those she cared about. Growing up, she’d been the fearless little girl- the one who was never shaken no matter what it was she encountered. She’d carried that into her young adult life, the confidence of youth and the sense of indestructibility that came with it giving her the strength to never falter in the face of danger. But then had come a danger she couldn’t stop, couldn’t fight against as it claimed the life of the person who’d died to protect her. The life of her oldest sister.

Nell hated it. Hated that Montgomery had made her this way. Hated that he’d taken one of her strongest attributes and turned it against her, making her heart race whenever someone crossed the property line of her home uninvited. Hated that he’d made her weak. Hated that he made her afraid. But she’d been unwilling to admit it, believing that looking it in the face would give it power— and power was the last thing she would be willing to forfeit. Not when it had been so forcefully stolen from her via the man whose hand was still holding her wrist captive above the pulsing brain. “Just admit it,” his voice came again, though these were words she’d never heard him speak before. 

“I’m not doing anything you want,” Nell spat back, seeming to forget that this was all simply a figment of whatever magic Kevin had conjured. “I’ll kill you ten times over before I do anything for you.” She tried to pull her wrist away from the cold of Montgomery’s hand, nerves still making the tightness of her throat nearly unbearable as panic continued to rise. Not here. Not now. Please- not in front of Montgomery. If he saw her fear, he’d know she was weak, know the power he held over her. He’d know that she'd begun taking the stairs over elevators because it felt like the walls of them would close in on her ever since she’d been kept holed up as a prisoner by the Ring. He’d know she had to sleep in her greenhouse when Bea wasn’t home, unable to rest in a home that reminded her of the time her sister had died. He’d know that she spent far too long looking for the escape route of any room she found herself in— that she wasn’t strong enough to protect all the people she loved. 

Again his coarse voice made demands of her. “Admit it!” Nell’s head shook silently as her bottom lip began to tremble, thinking of all the people that would stay asleep and lose the rest of their lives because she couldn’t utter one little truth. “No,” she protested once again, the singular word weaker as a tear slipped down her cheek. “I don’t want to. I can’t.” Montgomery shrugged, looking down at her as if he already knew her secret, a wide smirk playing across his lips. “Then you know what the price is.” Nell stared at the brain, remembering her promise that she’d made not five minutes ago about leaving no one behind. About always helping those in need. Was she so selfish as to go back on her word this soon? But admitting it felt like giving up, letting Montgomery win a fight that had started months ago and managed to live past his own expiration date. And what else did she have left to cling to if she let this go?

For one last time, the murderer’s voice rang out. “I knew you couldn’t do it.” And he was right. Hadn’t Nell proven that by staying silent? The desire to fight rose in her ever so briefly, the need to prove him wrong finally giving the push she needed to admit the truth. “Fine!” she snarled, still hateful that she’d have to admit it in the first place. “Fine,” came her voice a little softer this time, her arm going limp in his wrist. Her last defense had tumbled, forcing her to lay a truth that she hadn’t even begun to admit to herself bare before the man who was the root of it. “I’m afraid.” The words were quiet as they could come, but as she released them her wrist was freed, the apparition of Montgomery disappearing before her eyes while her blade finally fell onto the brain, piercing it deep as she admitted to the prisoner she’d become when it came to fear and her own mind. 

Cutler watched the kinks of the brain slowly fill with red, tracking the infinite curls and dips. The only brain he had ever seen up close had been off colour and logged with preservatives; undeniably dead. This one was swollen with life, sinapses presumably still firing through it despite it’s disconnection, seemingly uninterrupted by the splashing of Nell’s blood onto the surface.

When Nell raised her arm to strike it, her aim was true and he was just as surprised as she when her hand stopped before delivering the final strike. He heard own name sprung from her lips, venom in her voice. 

“What? I’m sorry, I-” He was cut off by her next words, delivered in his direction but not to him. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused, clearly seeing someone else in his place. “Who’s in your head?” A million expressions flickered across her face. There was a battle going on behind her shaking lip and desperate protests. A battle for control of her mind, and one that she had to fight alone. When she finally voiced her fear, he recognized it for what it was: an offering. A display of strength, masquerading as an act of weakness. The effects were immediately palpable as the manufactured dreamscape around them dissipated. The rumbling of the cavern stopped and the fog in his mind began to clear. Every sensation returned tenfold. Sand, grit, and blood sealed the dry cracking edge of his lips. Sweat and cool humidity stuck his shirt to his back as he turned, looking for confirmation in Nell’s face. 

Then he felt the pain. It manifested itself as simple whiteness that blocked everything out, shielding him from the agony. His vision became a blazing void of nothingness, accompanied by a high whine in his ears. It was all he could do to remain standing in the face of his temporary blindness. When the cavern faded back, the pain was no longer blocked out, the muscles in his arms lit aflame by the wound in his palms. 

“I have to go. I have to get out of here.” He willed himself to take a step toward the doorway. “My hands.” The words sounded distant and strange, as if spoken by someone else with his voice. The early morning light haloed his heavy frame as he stood in the stone archway, looking up. They had walked through what felt like miles of hallways to get to the inner chambers and yet...he could feel fresh air from above ground and a misting of fresh dew on his cheek. It smelled like freedom. Like life. “You coming?” 

It was a long moment before Nell rose from her kneeling spot before the now shriveled brain, the previously pink tissue blacked and cracked. It was over. Finally it was done, and she knew as much when the air returned back to its normal density, the thickness of magic no longer pervading the stillness of the catacombs. Her gaze stayed on the broken brain for too many seconds, and somewhere an insidious thought began to form within her mind. Was this what her brain would look like one day? Rotted and burned out from one too many hits— turned into something she barely recognized? And then there was the revelation of her admission. She was afraid. Afraid because Montgomery, Jax, and countless others had shown her just how much she had to lose ever since the witch had returned to White Crest from a five-year travelling stint. It’d been easier when she was distanced from this place, friends and family out of mind’s eye and arm’s reach, their pain and suffering out of sight as well. Her shoulders remained weak while she stared into space, a few trailing tears still finishing their descent down her cheeks while she sat shell-shocked. Now what? What was she meant to do with this newfound fear? 

Again she thought of Kevin’s words, and the promise the mysterious woman had made to take all the pain away. To set her free. Would Kevin have taken the fear, too? It was too late to find the answer with no way of going back. Still— now that Nell knew the truth...how was she meant to live with it?

Nell’s reverie was broken by Cutler’s question, haunted eyes turning back to the man as she looked to his hands. She’d be able to see to them now- at least make sure that he didn’t lose any more blood than he already had due to the sizable injury. And Bex. Bex should be awake now, shouldn’t see? Nell wanted to be there when she woke up, or at least soon after. To tell Bex that she’d kept her promise. To prove that Nell had come back for her, and found a way to wake the girl from her neverending sleep. So despite the feeling of hollowness in her gut, and the dread forming in her chest she rose slowly from her knees, wiping them with tired and still shaking hands. The world was waiting for them out there, whether they were ready for it or not. It would be changed, the victims of sleep and nightmares unable to go back from what they’d seen and felt. Or perhaps it was simply the victims who would be different, and in turn they would change the world to fit their new selves. Cutler and Nell were different, too. That much was obvious as they made their way towards the rising sun, eyes blinking in the harshness of a new morning and new reality. They’d be left to find their own new way in the world, just as the sleepers would as well. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m coming.” Whether or not they’d be successful at such a feat was unknowable as they left the catacombs behind, but at least they wouldn’t be the only ones opening their eyes anew to the day’s dawn. 

[prorevenge]

Manipulative Power hungry Aunt torments my family for years. Costs her $300000

Dealt with my shitty manipulative abusive Aunt all my life, finally got revenge.

Players: Myself (M late 30s), Sister (3 year younger), Aunt (Older "Sister" to my Mother), Mother (Single Mom, adopted, no blood relation to my Aunt). Cousins (3 total, 1M, 2F. I have good relationships with them now, mostly).

My estranged father who had been living several counties over, is pretty much out of the picture by the time my parents got their divorce when I was 9. Due to financial hardship, we were forced to live with my Aunt and the nightmare of a household we would soon find ourselves in. My Aunt married into Georgia "Wealth" and you can figure out what that means on your own. She had 3 kids and eventually caught her husband having an affair. It's a huge scandal, she gets the house, the kids and a fat payout from the family attorney. This is important because my Aunt didn't do a damn thing in her life to earn her money, her house, her lifestyle or basically anything. She was born poor along with my Mom.

Under her household, she was drunk with power. Years of therapy have allowed me to recognize that certain people when in a position of power, get a perverse pleasure in ordering others to do their bidding. She was the strictest of authoritarians in every possible way you could imagine. Chores had to be completed by an exact specific time. Vacuuming by 3:45pm, Dishes by 3:55pm, Laundry days for my Mother us kids were Tues/Thurs 5:35pm-7:55pm. If it was still running, she would shut the power off for the two units. As we grew older, her own kids opted to stay with their father for full time custody and she had them on Weekends. Even they couldn't stand her when she was in charge and in the house. As time passed, she got them less and less opting for alternating weekends as Highschool activities took precedence over time with Mother.

For my sister and I, the large 6 bedroom house was not ours for the taking. My mom had to pay rent as well as rent for 1 bedroom as that was all she could afford on her salary. We had to share a bedroom until my second year of HS. All the while there was 1 spare unused bedroom available at all times. My Aunt needed this for "Guests" when they stayed over. Not one guest stayed there in the 10 years I was under that roof. Finally the church we attended told my Aunt to give up the spare bedroom so my sister can have her own room as it was "unhealthy" for two teenagers sharing a room together like that. That infuriated my Aunt because someone told her what to do in her own household. My sister and I got the brunt of her wrath. As my Mom's salary was tapped out, my sister and I had do extra chores like mowing the lawn, trimming the shrubs, cleaning the pool which we could no longer use without her being outside watching us.

My Aunt's behavior was becoming more and more outrageous and disconnected from society. For example, she had always snapped her fingers when she wanted to get someones attention, but it was getting far more frequent and she would blow up into a tirade if either my sister and I didn't obey. Her own kids tried repeatedly to tell her that the shit she was doing was wrong but she wouldn't listen.Eventually they wanted nothing to do with her outside of the home. She was a tyrant there and repeated intervention to get her to see the folly of her ways would fall on deaf ears.

I Snapped:

All through HS I had no confidence as a person. I was weak willed and growing ever distant from friends and society. I say this in all truthfulness and fear, that had circumstances continued the way they had been going, I could very well had taken a gun to myself or worse, to others around me. I was that bad off.

I had just graduated HS and started my first semester of community college. I'm 2 weeks into my classes attending from home when my Aunt drops a bomb on me. "You owe me $$$ for this months rent, the same amount for next months rent as well. It is the 27th after all. You're an Adult now. You're out of HS and working now, so you need to pay rent" The fuck? I blew a fucking gasket as I yelled back. "You can't just suddenly decide to charge me rent just because you feel like it. I need 30 days notice, I have rights".

My Aunt yelled at me some bullshit excuse that she had discussed this with my mother and it was decided that I needed to pay my own rent now. In some miraculous backbone move, of which I still have no idea how I stood up to her, I yelled right back at her, "If I'm an Adult, then treat me like and talk to me about rental agreements. I'll start paying you rent in 30 days starting the 1st." I turned my back to her and walked away with my fists balled tight. I was furious with anger but I walked away. My Aunt saw my fists from behind and screamed bloody murder that I was going to attack her. No, I wasn't. She snapped her fingers at me repeatedly on my tail to get my attention but I didn't turn around. I needed to cool off and clear my head. As I turned the corner, she grabbed my wrist hard yelling "I'm not finished talking to you". I threw my still balled up fist forward keeping with my stride to break her grip as I hadn't stopped my momentum. This caused her grabbing arm to slam hard into the corner of the wall that I had just turned into. She screamed in pain but I left the house and took off.

The aftermath of that incident was that my Aunt called the cops on me in an attempt to press charges. She was taken to the hospital and suffered a fractured wrist and she was put in a cast/sling (don't know as I never saw it and never inquired further). Her story changed every time she told the cops what happened while my story was spot on every time. I can still recall that moment down to the smell in the house, where I was facing, the working and non-working lightbulbs etc. Forever ingrained in me. I was kicked out of the house and I couldn't visit my sister or my Mom there at the house again. Fine by me as I didn't want to see my bitch Aunt ever again. I was happy to meet my Mother and sister at the local diner or outlet. We could be ourselves there and not hostages in our own home.

Years Later:

My Mom wised up and got out of that abusive relationship with her sister and moved out on her own. She got a temporary nice place, invested wisely and with the help from the church, got help getting a place of her own. In 2009 after the housing crisis, she bought her own place that she could never have afforded on her own prior the Market crash. But some good came out of it. She wept knowing my Sister (and her family) and myself can come visit any time and stay.

Over the years I've been able to forgive my Aunt. Not forget, Forgive. I've let go a lot of my anger and hatred toward her that she put me through. When she has no leverage or control over us, she's a somewhat decent person for being a total bitch of a person. My Cousin's have calmed down, heard my side of what happened those years ago and know what kind of person I am compared to what kind of person their Mother is. They chose to believe me and know I didn't hit her or strike her or beat her across the face like she continues to claim.

The Revenge:

While I have been able to forgive my Aunt for what she has done to me, I cannot forgive her for what she did to my Mother. Kept her in financial hardship for a decade while she sat on a bank account full of cash and assets. Or what she did to my Sister. Forced her to pay for damages because the water heater burst while my Aunt and Mother was away one weekend leaving my sister at home. She didn't discover the flooded rooms for hours. My Aunt's reasoning, "It was her responsibility to watch the house." Not the responsibility of the home owner to maintain/replace the water heater before it goes. Lets leave that Upfront $5000 financial burden before the Flood insurance kicks in on a 16 year old girl.

I've had little to no contact with my Aunt since I was kicked out of the house nearly 2 decades ago. But I do keep in constant contact with my cousins. While I'm not going to divulge what I do for a living, I can say that I work with and for the Government. I've worked my ass off getting to where I'm at today. I'm known for being truthful, wise and giving good advise when asked. Because of this, I often talk financially with my cousins. All of whom are money-smart and are doing well for themselves. They often then relay this information to their scheming mother who has no mind for business and investments. All that money she got from her house sale, her divorce settlement, her previous investments is pretty much gone. I spent YEARS planning on the perfect trap and it took a long time to prepare everything to make sure everything appeared right.

IANAL and I don't pretend to know the law but I do know the regulations and laws pertaining to insider information. This is not that. 100% certain of it and if I ever go to court, I know my lawyer has a solid case in my defense. But is this a grey area, most definitely. I let slip to my Cousins about some future real estate plans near my Aunt's new area of living. It "may" be worth a lot more because of future development taking place in the area. All of that was true and backed up by what was in the News paper and New Construction signs that newly appeared on Google Maps (at the time). The rest was fabricated by myself backed up by actual information I looked up on real estate websites and on projects I was working on through my work.

The Telephone game takes place and a few weeks later I presume, my Aunt starts making phone calls to real estate agents trying to buy lots of Land in the undeveloped shitty area of her new house. Over the course of a few months to a half a year, she spends $300,000 of her last remaining savings on land hoping it will pay out when the area around it gets developed in the upcoming years.

Only, HUD/Government/City doesn't have any plans to develop in those immediate areas. In fact, analysis showed that building in those areas was poor planning and would cost the tax payers twice to three times as much as the land was not environmentally sound. It was best to build 6 miles away.

This post was long overdue because it's been over 2 years since my Aunt purchased Land that is basically worthless. See, she won't sell the land unless she gets at least the same price she paid for it because she's the OWNER of that land. Can't tell her what to do on her own land. Sweet Karma strikes in a way I couldn't possibly have foreseen. My cousin informed me that the value of the land has decreased significantly because it's not environmentally sound to build anything commercial there. But it's zoned for commercial use. Currently 3 of the 4 blocks of land she purchased are just weed farms next to eye sore abandoned buildings or industrial complexes. Nobody can build on it and nor does anyone want to buy it. Sucks to be her!

Best part is, my cousins have absolutely no idea that I set them up for their Mother to take the fall. These environmental results are relatively new and the perfect cover to say why the Project changed locations 6 miles away.

TL:DR Abusive Aunt torments my family and myself for a decade and more. Decades later, I am in a position to trick her buying worthless land. Icing on the cake, that land can't be used for it's intended purpose and has devalued significantly.

(source) story by (/u/Limecherrry)

[pandoraborn]

THROW ME TO THE GROUND (and watch me fly)

Chapter two (Part one on AO3) word count: 3566 words Characters: Tommyinnit, Wilbur Soot, Niki Nihachu, JSchlatt Content: mention of depression

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It feels like an ordinary, stupid day. Tommy’s phone alarm goes off, and he wants to hit snooze so he can go back to sleep. When he reaches out to hit the button, he sees what time it is.

It’s almost eleven in the morning.

With a loud groan, he flings his phone across the room and places his pillow above his head. If he can shut out the day, it won’t happen and he can go back to sleep. For a second, he even forgets why he’s in a bad mood until he hears a knock at his door, followed by Phil telling him to get up. Tommy lays there until he’s sure Phil’s gone back downstairs before he finally drags himself out of bed. The reality of today settles in, and as he kicks the blanket off his feet, he can feel the foul mood settle over him like a mini storm over him and him alone.

It’s been like this for a few days, since the election results. Tommy knows he can’t keep moping over the loss, but he can’t pull himself out of his funk either. No one’s confronted him about it either; it’s like they know he’s miserable and sad, and they’re letting him be sad about it. He half wishes someone would snap him out of it so he can move on, but he’s also glad for the space. The chance to really process his emotions is therapeutic in its own way.

It’s not like it’s easy to turn depression off anyway.

Stumbling for his dresser, he grabs a change of clothes before walking toward the bathroom. It’s unused right now, which he’s grateful for. He can’t tell if his brothers are home or gone, but it doesn’t matter, the bathroom is all his. He closes and locks the door behind him, turns up the shower radio, and proceeds to spend the next hour cleaning himself up. For this hour, he can forget about the outside world as he belts along to a few depressing songs. When he’s done, he turns the radio off and lets himself shiver in the chill air for a moment before putting his clothes on. It’s harder when his wings are still wet, but he manages, finally.

It isn’t until he gets out of the bathroom that Tommy has the sense that something about today is going to be different. He doesn’t know what that means, but he can’t shake the feeling. Maybe it’s the fact that Wilbur isn’t pounding on the door begging to be let in. Maybe it’s the fact he can’t hear Techno yelling from downstairs about something or other.

Come to think of it, he can’t hear Phil anymore either.

He makes his way downstairs, wings dragging on the ground behind him. The house feels eerily empty, which isn’t helping his mood any. At least there’s leftover snacks in the kitchen that he can eat, but Tommy isn’t all that hungry anymore. The food itself doesn’t even look that appetizing, mostly some sandwiches. By the looks of it, there’s only a couple remaining.

He forces himself to eat what’s left. He checks his comms as well, looking for any messages. Other than random public messages that don’t interest him, he doesn’t have any private messages to read through either. There’s no note in the kitchen to tell him where the rest of his family’s gone. He doesn’t feel like searching anywhere else for some note, either. As far as he’s concerned, everyone’s just left him alone for whatever reason. The silence isn’t helping his mood, and Tommy finds himself wondering if he can get away with going back to bed.

Probably not, as he’s already showered and dressed for the day. He might as well go outside and let the outside world know he’s still alive. There’s also the fact that he still can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. Well, not wrong, but that something is different about today. Everything feels slightly to the left and sideways, if that makes any sense. His brain agrees with his logic, so naturally, it must be true. He nods absently at his brain.

There’s only half a sandwich left, so Tommy pushes the plate away. He’s done eating, and he’s not bothered with dealing with the food. In his mind, Phil’s the one who left it out to begin with, so it can be Phil’s problem later. Tommy turns away from the kitchen, pocketing his communicator and exits the house, locking the door behind him.

L’Manburg is already bustling with life. Neighbors are out and socializing, the streets are busy, and shops are crowded. Already it feels too noisy for Tommy, and he takes a step back, regretting coming outside. He doesn’t want to deal with so many people, he knows that anyone he runs into is going to shoot him looks of pity, or offer their condolences, and the mere thought is enough to give him a headache.

He’s about to turn right back around when a distant voice calls his name.

Blinking, he raises a hand to shield his eyes against the sun to see who’s calling for him. In the distance, he can see Wilbur flying toward him. Next to Wilbur is Niki, who’s running in an attempt to keep up with Wilbur. The sight would be hilarious if Tommy wasn’t already in a bad mood. He doesn’t want to deal with either of them, but he remains in place, making some attempt to pick his wings up.

“Tommy!” Wilbur looks far too excited for Tommy. Scowling, he crosses his arms and waits for Wilbur to land on the ground. “Tommy, I tried to get a hold of you.”

“Liar,” Tommy scoffs. He pulls out his communicator and wiggles it with a raised eyebrow. “I have zero messages, Wil. Are you sure it was me you were reaching out to?”

“Oh, I thought he messaged you,” Niki cuts in. She looks out of breath, doubled over with her hands on her knees. She, too, is wearing a smile on her face and looking far too excited to be legal. “We were wanting to get ahold of you earlier, but Phil mentioned you were sleeping over the comms.”

“Do I look like I’m sleeping now?” Tommy scrunches his face up. No longer does he feel depressed, now he’s simply irritated. “Because I’ve been up and showered for…” He pauses to check the time. “Just over an hour now. You had plenty of time to reach out to me, and it would have saved you both the trouble of running all the way back here just for me.”

“Okay, maybe I forgot to message you in my excitement, but I’ve got news for you.” Wilbur stretches his wings out to shake them out, before folding them back. “You’ll love this.”

“He’s got big news,” Niki adds, not at all helpfully. Tommy wants to cover her mouth with duct tape. He doesn’t even know why she’s here; isn’t she supposed to be working at the white house? He can’t imagine there being much free time; it’d been hard enough with him and Wilbur in charge.

“Are you both going to keep me in suspense, or have you come here just to rub shit in my face? Because I have important things to do today.” He leans back when Wilbur moves closer, still looking obnoxious. Tommy has never wanted to punch his brother more than he does now.

Wilbur rolls his eyes as he grabs at Tommy and spins him around. Tommy sputters, trying to pull away from Wilbur, though without much success. The man has an iron grip when he wants to.  “What the hell, man? What are you doing? Don’t touch me.”

“I’m making sure you look presentable, Tommy.” Wilbur picks at his clothes, humming to himself. “You have a big meeting coming up today. Sooner, rather than later.”

Tommy swats Wilbur’s hand away in another attempt to put distance between them.  “What are you on about, Wilbur? Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on? Stop touching me, my clothes are fine!”

“I can’t just tell you, because you won’t believe me. Here’s what I need you to do though. Are you listening to me?” Wilbur finally pulls back, giving Tommy the desired space. He crosses his own arms and peers down at Tommy.

Tommy makes a big show of rolling his eyes, it includes rolling his head as well. “I have no choice but to listen to you, big man. You’re keeping me pinned down in our front lawn, and I’ve barely started my own day. Where is everyone, anyway? Why have they all left?”

“Oh, I don’t know where Techno went. I think he went somewhere with Skeppy and Bad, and Phil was with- this is all beside the point, Tommy. Okay, listen. This is a big day for us. For you. I need you to pick your wings up, put a smile on your face, and fly on over to the white house. I’ve arranged a meeting between you and Schlatt.”

Tommy scowls. He doesn’t like how any of this sounds, he especially doesn’t want to talk to the president. Tommy can’t keep being happy for the man, no matter how close he is to the family, just because he won an election fair and square. Tommy still hates the idea of the election to begin with. He feels like he’d lost everything because of it.

“I don’t want to talk to Schlatt,” Tommy mutters. “You can stop trying to force me to be happy, because I don’t want to be.” He turns around, deciding to head back inside. He’s blocked by one of Wilbur’s wings, so Tommy just grabs at bone, trying to push the wing out of the way. The gold seems especially brighter this time around, and even though Tommy knows it’s the sun glinting off of the feathers, it’s still irritatingly Wilbur, which means the man is going to go all soft on him.

“Tommy.”

There it is. That gentle, comforting ‘I’m about to cheer you up’ voice that Tommy melts at every time. With a sigh, Tommy slumps forward, letting Wilbur’s wing go as he turns to face his brother.

“Tommy, I know this hit you harder than most people realize.” Wilbur’s wearing a smile that’s just as bright as his wings. Tommy can feel himself tearing up just at the sight. Not because Wilbur is there, but because Wilbur’s digging at wounds he wants closed. “I know this hurts you. I can see it in your eyes, it’s the way you slouch when you walk. It’s the way you don’t sleep much at night. I know you’re depressed. I know better than anyone how much you’re hurting, which is why I’ve talked to Schlatt to begin with.”

“Don’t, Wilbur.” Tommy tries to pull back, but he bumps into Niki. She has to know too. He realizes that’s why she’s here, is to offer comfort of her own. He’s torn between pulling away from both of them, and seeking out comfort he wouldn’t normally get. “Don’t try to cheer me up, okay? We lost, and I’m okay with that.”

“It’s okay Tommy,” Niki says. Her own voice matches Wilbur’s, and now Tommy’s cringing. He wants to plug his ears and not listen to this. “You’re allowed to feel things, you’re allowed to be sad. Your brother just wants to help, you don’t have to feel obligated to listen to him.” She reaches out a hand, as if to offer physical comfort, but after Wilbur’s manhandling, Tommy pulls back.

“Don’t touch me, just...stop. Wilbur, stop. You don’t have to do anything for me, alright? I’m a big man, I can handle myself just fine.”

“You might think you’re okay, but we all can tell you’re not,” Wilbur says. He’s no longer sounding so gentle. It’s still there, but it’s now laced with a firmness that Tommy only hears when Wilbur is annoyed. “You’re going to this meeting, alright? I don’t even know what Schlatt has planned, I just wanted him to help you feel better. Let’s go. Pick your wings up and fly with me.”

“What about me?” Niki asks. She frowns at Wilbur. “You can’t leave me behind.”

“I’ll carry you, of course.” Wilbur snorts. “I told you to stay behind in the first place, it was your choice to chase after me.” He playfully pushes her before reaching out to grab at one of Tommy’s wings. “Let’s go big man.”

Tommy swats at Wilbur’s hand again before taking the initiative to spread his own wings out, letting the sun hit the blues and whites just right. “Fine,” he agrees. “Lead the way, Wilbur.”

Wilbur wraps his arms around Niki and flaps his wings, hoisting himself up off the ground. He hovers in the air, watching as Tommy follows suit. It’d been a few days since Tommy had flown, so he feels rusty, but he’s lifting himself up after Wilbur. It takes another few flaps before he can stay in the air.

“You got it?” Wilbur’s watching him with another expression of concern. Tommy shrugs before lifting himself higher, feeling more confident in the air.

“Yeah, lead the way.” He motions Wilbur ahead. Wilbur turns, adjusting Niki in his arms, and soars off, rising higher into the air. Tommy exhales when the wind hits his face, relishing the feeling of being in the air again. He’d forgotten how nice it feels to just fly, and for a brief moment, he feels all the uneasiness and sadness melt away. He even manages a genuine smile when he sees Wilbur doing flips in the air, just to watch him. Niki’s even waving at him.

He can’t remember why he’d been so down to begin with. Or rather, he wants to forget being in a bad mood. When they finally land in front of the white house, everything settles back in like a heavy blanket, and he feels negativity washing across him again. Wings drooping, he considers planting himself down right here, but Wilbur is grabbing his arm anyway.

“Come on Tommy, don’t be like this. You were fine a second ago. Call that feeling back, yeah?” He’s still smiling, so Tommy leans against him for comfort. He expects Wilbur to push him away, but instead, Wilbur is wrapping an arm around him and guiding him inside. “I’m here, I’ll stick by you the whole time, okay? It’s just Schlatt, so we’ll be okay.”

They make their way up to Schlatt’s office. Tommy keeps his head ducked the whole time, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone else who works here. Office worker, cabinet members and...

“Tommy!” Schlatt’s booming, cheerful voice cuts through his thoughts. Startled, Tommy reels back. Schlatt is walking toward them, already gesturing toward his office. “Tommy, just the man I wanted to see!”

Even Schlatt is wearing a bright smile. It’s hard for Tommy to be depressed when even Schlatt is radiating warmth. Why does everyone have to be so nice to him? He knows he’d been that obvious, but he doesn’t know why today of all days, everyone is treating him so nicely.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Tommy asks. Schlatt places a hand on Tommy’s back, right between his wings and pushes him into the office. “What are all of you up to, what sort of meeting is this?”

“Tommy, Wilbur was telling me you’ve been depressed,” Schlatt continues. He sits in his chair, gesturing for Tommy to sit down on the sofa along the wall. “Please, have a seat.”

Tommy looks around before sitting down. It’s just him and Wilbur in the office; Niki had disappeared somewhere, probably to go back to work. Wilbur’s shutting the office door, so Tommy resigns himself to following orders. He folds his wings carefully and sits carefully on the edge of the couch, resting his hands in his lap.

“Tommy, Wilbur was telling me you’ve been sad,” Schlatt repeats. “So I have an offer for you. I haven’t even told Wilbur this, but I’ve been contemplating something for a few days anyway.”

“What, you’re going to hold a parade in my honor?” Tommy scoffs, briefly making eye contact with the president. He looks back down, not able to hold it for long. Schlatt is still staring at him; Tommy can feel the stare boring a hole through his skull and it’s making him uncomfortable.

“I ran by myself, Tommy. I don’t have a second in command.”

Schlatt really doesn’t beat around the bush. The news is significant somehow, but Tommy’s cold. He’s not sure why he’s cold, but it’s as if the heat had been sucked out of the office all at once, leaving him shivering. He has a brief flashback to when he’d stood shivering after his shower. At the time, he didn’t know why he chose to be cold, but now everything is starting to feel important. Everything is flipping sideways and left all over again, and in confusion, he stares back up at Schlatt.

“What?”

He hates that his voice is small and uncertain. But he can’t raise the volume, he can’t bring himself to move. Hell, he’s struggling to breathe. “What are-”

“Breathe, Tommy.” Wilbur’s rubbing his back, pressing his knuckles right in between his shoulder blades and working his way up. “Tommy, you need to relax.”

“Tommy, listen.” Schlatt lifts himself from the chair and perches on his desk instead. “I know this probably should go to Wilbur, but I was there with you both when you built this country. I know how much work and sacrifice you both went through to make it what it is today. What Tommy sacrificed to Dream.”

“We’re cool with Dream I think,” Tommy whispers. He’s trembling. “Schlatt I don’t… I’m not…”

“Tommy, I’m asking you to be my vice president. My second in command. No one knows this country better than you do, no one else loves this country more than you.”

He blinks back tears. “But… Wilbur…?”

Wilbur shakes his head. “I had my run. I had my run for months, and it was great. But I lost the election, Tommy. It’d be really awful for Schlatt to up and make me vice president. You get a pass because you weren’t running for president, and he’s well within his rights to choose someone who would help him.”

The urge to say ‘no’ is strong. He wants to spread his wings and jump out the nearest window, to get away from this. It’s pity, that’s what it is. Schlatt is only offering this because they all want Tommy to stop moping in his bedroom. Tommy wants to stop moping in his bedroom, and he doesn’t know how else to turn it off.

What would be the harm, anyway? Who is it hurting if he accepted the position? Quackity would support him, Niki would be ecstatic, everyone would support him.

And Tommy?

Tommy would be elated to have some semblance of control over this country. Slowly, he gets to his feet, still feeling numb. Half of his mind is screaming no, the other half is screaming yes. To be vice president would mean everything though, he’d be an idiot to refuse.

“Yes,” Tommy finally says. His voice cracks on the single utterance, but the grin is reappearing on his face. Schlatt’s grin is bigger now as he offers a hand for Tommy to shake.

“Glad to have you aboard Tommy. We’ll make a formal announcement soon to let everyone know.”

“I promise I’ll…” he trails off, trying to find the right words to say. What does a vice president even say? It’s time to sound professional now, and he even straightens his posture, letting his wings spread. He’s too caught up in the moment to notice the way Schlatt is staring at his wings.

“I promise I’ll help maintain this country’s dignity,” he finally says. “I do my best to...um. To… to uphold all the values we established.” He glances sideways at Wilbur, who beams.

“Very fitting words Tomathy. I’ve taught you well.” Wilbur ruffles Tommy’s hair before pulling back. “I’m so proud of you. Both of you; my best friend and my little brother, running the country together. You’ll make me so proud.”

“Yeah?” Tommy giggles. Neither of them notice the frozen smile on Schlatt’s face, or the way his eyes are wide, or the way he’s clenching one hand into a fist.

Or the way he’s still staring at their wings.

When Tommy turns back to him, Schlatt instantly warms again, patting Tommy on the shoulder. “Right, Mr. Vice president. I’ll expect to see you at work soon. Better come prepared and dressed for the job, right?”

“Of course.” Tommy feels so much better than he’s felt in days. “I won’t let you down.”

“Go on, get out of here. You and Wilbur can go celebrate. I have things to tend to here. I’ll see you in a day or two though, ready to work.”

Tommy and Wilbur wave goodbye as they leave the office. The teen feels lighter all over again, and this time when he walks, his wings don’t drag on the ground. He may be sixteen years olds, but he’d been saddled with a very important position, and he’s not about to let his country down.

[a-libra-writes]

Game of Thrones Imagines - Dancing

in which i write waaay too much about this because ive been listening to waltz music and im absolute trash for dancing scenes

In this preference, you’ll enjoy little drabbles with: Ned Stark, Benjen Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Theon Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Jamie Lannister, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn of Blackwater, Stannis Baratheon, Renly Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Brienne, Margeary Tyrell, Loras Tyrell, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Edmure Tully, Brynden Tully, Oberyn Martell, Yara Greyjoy, Petyr Baelish, Beric Dondarrion, Tormund Giantsbane

seven hells what order should I put these guys in

NED STARK

In his youth, Ned never really bothered with the ins and outs of dancing. He didn’t see the point; training or running Winterfell was more important, besides, it was more of a Southern thing. His brothers shared his lack of enthusiasm, so he didn’t really care about it. 

However, this changed at a gala at Winterfell, when he saw you for the first time. You were so lively and kind, and your beauty seemed to increase tenfold when you danced. He didn’t even notice his brother Brandon was your partner at first, and suddenly, he couldn’t keep himself from asking you for the next dance, worried Brandon might keep you all night. As he put his hand to your waist and your hand in his, he internally panicked… But that melted away as you gave him a reassuring smile.

Ned didn’t even notice you were leading him, nor did he dwell on the few stumbles he made. He just couldn’t believe he was so close to you, and enjoying something like dancing.

He tried practicing and brushing up a bit after that, but really, it was a bit of a lost cause. After you married, he still loved to take you in his arms anyway, and he was never short of praise for you when the gala was over. You teased him about watching you all night instead of visiting with his fellow lords, and he wasn’t ashamed to say that he loved watching your graceful movements.

The last dance was Ned’s favorite, as he loved it when you leaned your head on his shoulder and you two could just sway. If you were particularly tired, he’d wait until the guests had mostly cleared out and bridal carry you to your shared bedroom. He used to feel a bit embarrassed in helping you undress, but later he took great pleasure in how you'd sigh. This extended to him eventually sharing a bath with you afterward, soothing your body with the warm water and his hands.

 BENJEN STARK

Benjen had never cared for dancing, especially these silly galas the Southerners liked. He never thought he was missing out, and rather enjoyed teasing Brandon and Ned for having to go to them, and later teased Robb for the same thing.

He was stopping by Winterfell and staying the night when he heard of a gala going on. Benjen wanted to speak with his brother and nephews, so he stopped by inside, surprised by the amount of people and the music. He spotted Jon and went to him, only for someone to catch his eye. He didn’t keep track of the family members of the North, as it wasn’t his place anymore, but he wished he had a name for your lovely face. 

You were dancing with Robb, smiling at him, laughing when he leaned in and said something. He admired the way you moved with such elegance, despite Robb having some trouble keeping up. 

“Uncle?” Jon found him first, and tried to get his attention. 

Benjen quickly shut his mouth and greeted his nephew. As he hugged him, he still glanced at you. Jon had noticed and teased his uncle, mentioning your family was close to the Starks, and you were their only daughter. As Benjen had visited with his family, he couldn’t stop sneaking glances at you. He was ready to leave, wanting to keep you off his mind, and he was surprised when you sought him out first.

“I’m so sorry to intrude, but you’re … Benjen, correct? My cousin is with the Night’s Watch, and he mentioned you - Wait, I haven’t even introduced myself…” 

He thought it was so cute how breathless you were, and you were trying to be polite to a man of the Night's Watch, even if you had no reason to. He asked for your name, and many other questions, both of you drawing into conversation without realizing it. You noticed a few songs had passed already, and you took a chance. You asked if he would be allowed to dance with you. Benjen hesitated, and politely refused you, figuring a lady shouldn’t be dancing with someone like him. He was surprised by how disheartened you look, and he was disappointed as well.

As the evening grew dark, you noticed Benjen had disappeared at some point. You were glad to leave the stuffy hall, your feet and legs were aching. Outside, the frozen air was perfect, and you took a deep breath … and you yelped as a sudden gust of wind hit you. Your dress was thin, and you shivered. 

Suddenly, someone wrapped a warm fur around you. You looked up. “Benjen? I was wondering where you were.”

“You were looking for me?” His pleased smile was cute. You pulled the fur further around your shoulders and spoke honestly. “Yes. I wanted to see you." 

The two of you lingered, and you could feel a sort of tension. There was still music from the hall, albeit muffled and distant. You spoke first, asking him to dance with you.

Benjen couldn’t believe you managed to take him off guard, but he didn’t make the same mistake twice. He accepted, pulling you into his arms. As you shivered again, he pulled you even closer, and you wondered if it was his heart or your’s that you could hear. 

From then on, anytime Benjen passed by Winterfell, you were sure to see him. You two shared several secret meetings, which weren’t limited to dances. He especially liked it when you snuck out of the galas early and curled up with him in your guest room, where he'd soothe your aching legs while whispering how beautiful you looked. 

ROBB STARK

Like most Northern lords, Robb felt the entire idea of galas and dancing was silly. Still, he knew you attended them, so he’d do his best to practice a few steps when no one was looking. During a gala, he didn’t hide that he was looking around for you, and would try his best to have you at the first dance. When he danced with other ladies, he really wasn’t that attentive and sometimes made mistakes out of nervousness, or because he was too busy watching you across the room.

Once Robb finally had you as a partner, it was obvious how pleased he was as he held you. He’d try to play it cool, but you could tell he was concentrating on following the right steps. 

Just for fun, you liked to throw him off by moving a little closer and whispering something sweet. His face would go red and he’d stumble, and you two would laugh to yourselves, stuck in your own little world. 

He’d eventually grow in confidence and you could tell by how firmly he held you and how he began to lead the dance more and more. If you asked him about practicing, he’d have to blush again and admit he was doing it for you, as he loved watching you twirl with more experienced partners, and hoped that someday he could make you smile like that. You’d insist that you love dancing with him the most, no matter what, and he’d likely almost step on your feet again because he was so happy.

At the end of a dance, Robb always gives you an earnest kiss on your hand and lingers a bit, still holding your hand and looking you in the eyes. It’s so obvious he wants to kiss you for real, but then he has to hand you off to a partner, frowning the whole time. He’d definitely want to find you for a last dance, and at the end of that, he’d risk it and give you a kiss on the cheek - still holding your hand. He often lingers after the music ends, still holding onto you, and you have to teasingly remind him to let you go and return to his family. 

Often Robb really can’t take it and finds you after the gala, in the evening, wanting to hold your hand and steal a proper kiss from you. “I’ve been waiting to do that all night.”

“Ha! Get it all out of your system, before someone comes looking for us.”

SANSA STARK

Since she was a girl, Sansa always daydreamed about attending fabulous galas and dances in the South. Once she arrived in King’s Landing, you and her became fast friends after she met you at her first one. She looked up to you, loving your poise and grace. You began to teach her, and although she had some trouble with more complicated steps, she appreciated your patient instruction. Each gala was a whirlwind of emotion for her, and when it became too much, especially with Joffrey, she’d seek you out in the crowd. You’d take her into your arms and dance, quietly alleviating her worries as the music played.

The situation in King’s Landing became worse, but Sansa continued to attend your lessons. You noticed the toll the events was taking on her health and mind, but she insisted she was fine.

One day, she was especially clumsy in the lesson, often making mistakes and spacing out. You knew it was rather pointless you ask, but you did so quietly, whispering to her as you guided her along the steps.

Suddenly Sansa held fast to you, bringing you into a crushing hug. You heard her shudder and try to stifle herself, but several tears came out. You continued to sway, soothing her and petting her hair. As soon as you both heard someone, she pulled away, pressing her sleeves at her eyes to hide any tears. You both quickly returned to the lesson as several servants passed by. 

From that point, Sansa would often exclusively seek you out at galas, pointedly dancing with just you even if propriety demanded you two part. She only would after a scathing comment from Cersei or Joffrey - and she would've danced with others for a time, but then she’d always come back to you. You’d still whisper soothing words when no one would hear as you two twirled. 

Once the dances were over, you both would be exhausted, but Sansa would still linger with you. You’d hold her hand, taking her to her room, sometimes shooing away her handmaidens so you could brush her hair and keep comforting her. She wouldn’t always accept this, however, and would want to help you as well, smiling softly when you’d attempt to joke and make witty comments to lighten the mood.

JON SNOW

Jon was never expected to bother with fancy feasts or galas, and he told himself he was fine with it, especially since Robb was always dressed up and dragged off for them. He still found it a bit lonely, however, and he was curious about the music that was always playing for the galas. Sometimes he’d hang around outside, listening to the laughter and music. He was doing this on the night you saw him. Jon heard someone hurry out, and he was surprised to see a girl all dressed up and out of breath. You sat down on a bench almost fell over as you removed your shoes.

You turned around and yelped, and he startled, too. He apologized for frightening you, and was glad you just laughed it off. 

“You’re … Lord Stark’s boy, right? Jon Snow?”

He was surprised you recognized him, and thankful that you were talking to him so kindly. You introduced yourself, explaining your shoe had broken and you were worn out. As you shivered, he quickly gave you his fur, and you two ended up talking for much longer than you expected.

“The galas aren't so bad, I promise. Yes, they’re tiring, and dressing up takes far too long, and the lords can be overbearing …” You trailed off, and he couldn’t help but laugh. You were so pretty in your outfit, and he wondered if Robb was one of those lords who annoyed you. You stood up and took his hands, further surprising him. “Still, they're fun! Here, I’ll show you!”

Even though Jon tried to protest, he really couldn’t argue once you were placing his hands. He knew something of dancing that he was taught, but not much, and he hoped he didn’t touch you anywhere inappropriate. You ended up swaying and dancing along, and he began to forget himself. 

Once you began to shiver again, he remembered your feet were bare and offered to help you to your guest room. There were several more galas at Winterfell, and you liked skipping out to talk and visit with him. He still had plans to go to the Wall, and he considered his time with you precious, knowing it wouldn’t last long. A few times Robb or Theon teased him for having a crush, and he’d just tell them they were imagining things. 

Whenever he'd hear the music of the galas, whether it be a minstrel that was playing or someone singing, he'd wonder what it'd be like if he were a true Stark and was allowed to dance with you like the other lords.

THEON GREYJOY

Naturally, Theon wasn’t allowed to participate in the few galas at Winterfell, and he didn’t think Ironborns should be doing flowery dancing, anyway. Still, his interest was piqued when he noticed you and Sansa practicing, and how the servants would gossip about how lovely you and Robb looked when you danced. 

So Theon ended up sneaking into a few, especially at Robb and Jon’s urging. They were ready to get a kick out of Theon falling over himself or Catlyn dragging him out by the ear, but he surprised nearly everyone when he strode up to you with confidence, asking for a dance. You knew him, of course, and you were surprised when he kept up with you.

Not just that, he was almost a natural even if he didn’t know all the steps. He had an infectious energy, and you two ended up sharing quite a few laughs. If he messed up or you teased him about his hand being too low, he’d have a joke ready. Once you finished the dance, he made sure to kiss your hand with a wink, sometimes giving you a kiss on the cheek if no one was watching. 

Theon’s absolute favorite thing to do was “steal” you from your partner, especially if it was someone he knew you disliked. He’d just whisk you off with a smirk and a quip, and you two would try to stifle your giggles at how angry the man would look. 

Theon was only able to snatch you for the last dance once, and he got an earful for it later - but it was completely worth it. It felt like it was just the two of you in the room, and he stole a kiss before being dragged off by Robb and Jon, who were positive that Catlyn was going to tear Theon a new one. 

Theon would always try to find you after a gala. His usual flirting would fall a bit short, as he’d be a bit intimidated by how lovely and breathless you looked, but you’d still smile and would give him a real kiss goodnight. 

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

You were a noble from Westeros who had long been travelling Essos, and you soon came into the service of the Queen of Dragons. You two had a surprising friendship, and she found herself quite drawn to you. One day, she heard you humming and dancing along to something as you tidied up, and she asked you with a laugh what you were doing.

As you described the grand balls you’d attend, and all the silly nonsense your parents would make you wear, she’d become thoughtful. She told you to demonstrate some more of the dances, and you were amused by how queenly her demand was. You’d do your best, but explain that it’s better with two people - perhaps one of her handmaidens or Missandei could help.

To your surprise, Daenerys would step forward and hold you with a strong confidence, all but telling you to instruct her. You’d do so, keeping your smile down as you guided her hands and began the basic steps. Daenerys did her best to follow, although she took it quite seriously, and thus would make a few mistakes. As you’d tease her good naturedly, she’d be even more determined, bringing you even closer and telling you to focus on the lesson.

Your lessons continued for some time, each one the two of you going longer and becoming a little more breathless. Daenerys loved how you’d hum the songs and would move with such confidence, it would distract her more than your lips or the feeling of your body against her’s. Finally, she’d push you against the wall and kiss you until you were breathless… And afterwards, you’d giggle and ask her how long she’s been wanting to do such a thing. The queen certainly punished that bit of cheek.

While you don’t have lessons all that much anymore, during celebrations Daenerys will take you to herself and lead you in the dance. She’d obviously be pleased with your compliments, which you found adorable.

Sometimes in her chambers, when the windows are open and you both can hear the sea, she’d pull you into her arms and want to slow dance. You both would end up making up your own dances, and would take turns leaning on each other and sharing kisses and whispers.

JORAH MORMONT

Dancing with Jorah came about purely by accident. You were discussing Westerosi culture with Daenerys, as you were also from there and she was curious. You described attending galas, all the beautiful dresses and lights and music. Jorah had attended a few as well, even though they weren’t as popular in the North, and he shared his stories.

Daenerys looked to the both of you with a bit of mischief in her eyes. She asked if you two could show her how some of the dances are done. You quickly felt shy, as you had quite a crush on Ser Jorah, but the idea of being so close and dancing with him was a wonderful thought. You looked to him, and he also seemed a little flustered, but he gave you a smile. “A dance or two for the Khaleesi shouldn’t be a problem. It’s been some time for me, so you may have to lead, my lady.”

You gladly did so, you loved it when he called you a lady, reminding you of better times back at home. Despite his words, he took you in his arms with little hesitation and after you counted a few times, you both were easily waltzing around the room. You hummed a song you remembered, and he also remembered it, and began recalling when he was a young man and attended his first gala. 

You didn’t notice, but he was discussing the story more with you than Daenerys, and she had long snuck out of the room with Missandei, the two of them grinning. 

You two had ended up dancing along to several more songs, talking all the while. You hummed and sometimes sang a song, and he easily swayed you even if he didn’t know it. Jorah held you just perfectly, not too tight, and you felt so safe in his arms. It wasn’t until you turned to ask Daenerys a question that you realized you both were alone, totally out of breath and not knowing how long you’d been dancing.

 You had a mix of emotions, you were homesick and lovesick. Jorah assumed your quietness was because you were tired, and he brought you water and took you to a place to rest. You were touched, and you two kept talking into the evening. You eventually began leaning on him and fell asleep, and he carefully carried you to your room and kissed your brow before he tucked you in.

You both confessed your feelings to each other shortly afterward. While there wasn’t much time for parties in the Free Cities, sometimes during quiet evenings you’d pull him into a dance and he’d love it, enjoying your closeness and how you’d hum and rest your head on his chest.

JAMIE LANNISTER

Jamie was always expected to be accomplished in most things, and socially-demanded dancing for stuffy galas was no different. Although he didn’t think much of it, he had a natural talent for it. Jamie didn’t have many chances to dance, however, as the Kingsguard was generally discouraged from participating in galas, unless it was for ceremony or some event.

You first danced together at one of these ceremonies, and Jamie was relieved. You two had known each other for a while, and he was glad not to get stuck with some lovestruck maid. He started out with a smirk, making sassy remarks about the silliness of the whole thing, and you teasing him about being rude while dancing with a lady. As it went on, Jamie started to become quiet. He began to realize how much he liked having you this close, how you smiled and reassured him, and lightly scolded him when he made a rude comment about a guest. He couldn’t keep his heart still, and told himself it was just the exercise. 

He was disappointed when the dance ended, and ended up finding you for a few more. When you were taken for the last dance, he couldn’t deny how irritated he felt, and watched you and your damned partner the whole time.

After that, he was sure to attend more galas, but not enough to bring suspicion to your growing relationship. He’d sometimes play it risky, bringing you closer than was proper, whispering in your ear lovely or flirty praises if he knew his sister was away. He really only enjoyed dancing with you, and didn’t have a problem turning down anyone else, although he had to dance with a few others to avoid being seen as too rude.

After he lost his hand and returned to King’s Landing, the bright galas lost their appeal and he stopped attending, even for ceremony. He ended up finding you in a practice room one day, and you guided him to you, although he protested. Once you began humming a song you knew he liked, and guided him into it, he couldn’t help but bring you close against his chest. He leaned into you, swaying as he nuzzled into your hair, holding you so tight it almost hurt. 

You  knew he was overwhelmed with emotion from his captivity, so when you two got a chance alone, you’d hold him close and whisper how much you loved him, sometimes swaying and humming the songs you two used to dance to.

TYRION LANNISTER

Galas were like any other feast or party for Tyrion, he could have plenty of drink and banter, and if he got bored, he’d slip out and go to a brothel. If he knew you were in attendance, you two would sit together, trading drinks and stories.

He knew you loved to dance, and sometimes you’d step away to enjoy the music. He’d have some feelings of envy and sadness, wishing he could dance so easily with you. One day, you noticed him being particularly self-pitying, and you pulled him by the wrist.

“What’s this, my lady? Normally, I wouldn’t refuse you, but with so many people -”

You smiled and shook your head. “Oh, honestly, it’s not that. I want you to dance with me.” 

Tyrion was obviously unsure, he didn’t want that sort of attention drawn to both of you. He knew his reputation, but he didn’t want to sully your’s. You insisted, but instead of dragging him to the middle of the dance floor, you pulled him out in the halls. 

“Now I’m really getting mixed messages about your intentions,” He joked, trying to relieve his anxiety.

You rolled your eyes and took his hands, and gently instructed him. Outside, you could still hear the music, but you were alone, enjoying yourselves You both ended up losing track of time, and had to hurry back separately, so no one would assume anything untoward.

He was touched by your kindness, loving you even more, if that was possible. During galas, you two would hold hands and drink, and after you married you were more than able to sneak out and dance to yourselves under the moon and stars. 

TYWIN LANNISTER

It was the first time you had attended a gala at Casterly Rock, and your parents wanted you on your best behavior. You had to dance the appropriate amount of time with the appropriate amount of partners, at the appropriate distance. Just thirty minutes in and you wanted to leave.

You noticed Tywin Lannister sitting at a table with his family members; he was hard to miss, with his great presence. However, you became wrapped up in your irksome partners, and you didn’t notice he was gone until he was suddenly beside you. Your scared partner wasted no time in handing you over, and before you knew it, you were dancing with the Warden of the West.

He had a confident hold on you, and perhaps he was a little too close, but you hardly thought about that. You were surprised by his poise and practiced steps; he led you effortlessly and you found yourself complimenting him. You blushed and tried not to look away as he returned the compliment with his low voice. You'd never thought he would do such a thing, and to you of all people.

At the end of it, he gave you a proper bow and kiss on your hand, but it felt different than others you received. You were still buzzing. At the end of the night, he picked you for the last dance, and you were determined not to be intimidated again. You danced wonderfully in sync with him, and you could swear he tried to change some steps to trip you up. You didn’t fall for it, and followed his lead easily. The dance was over before you knew it, and he gave you another customary kiss on your hand, but there was a peculiar look in his eyes that made your heart flutter even more. 

The gossip in court exploded after that, with your handmaids telling you that he almost never danced with any lady, and everyone agreed you two looked like royalty.

You still remember that night fondly after you two married. After you wed, he was sure to get the first few dances with you at each gala, and no one was going to take Tywin Lannister’s wife from him until he was quite finished. Once he was, he’d hand you to a partner and sit down, his eyes occasionally following you across the ballroom. No one would think of making an inappropriate move on you, especially at Casterly Rock. 

If he felt someone was overstepping their bounds, Tywin wouldn’t hesitate to calmly stand from his seat, make his way to you, and give them a quiet but vicious reminder of who you were married to. Then, he’d guide you to his seat, where he’d keep his hand over yours until he calmed down. 

For the last dance, no matter how tired he was or who he was speaking to, he’d seek you out. While Tywin always held you close, if he was in a particular mood, he’d make sure your body was nearly touching his, and his hand would have a firm grip on your waist. The two of you would talk quietly or you'd enjoy a peaceful silence with knowing glances. Tywin wouldn’t want to show too much affection in public, but you could tell from his soft gaze and the way he held you that he very much wanted you. Once the dance was finished, he’d keep you by his side until the gala finished and you two retired to your bedchambers.

SANDOR CLEGANE

Of all the stupid things nobles do, Sandor found galas especially fucking stupid, especially with all the fuss in guarding them. Normally he was glad to take the night off and drink, but since being hired by your family, he had to attend to guard you. 

He’d already had growing feelings for you, and the damn galas only made it worse. You were always dressed beautifully, always smiling at this person and laughing with that one. At least you'd give cold looks to lords who didn’t impress you, but he still hated how everyone held your attention. Anytime one of the lords was too close or touchy, he’d be sure to touch his sword and quietly appear next to you two until they’d slink off.

After a well-known incident involving a drunk lord who ended up lifted by his neck and nearly tossed, the guests figured out you were well-protected and didn’t try anything fishy. It really wasn’t enough for Sandor, he didn’t give a shit about dancing, it just drove him up a wall how other men were so close and touching you. You couldn’t stand some of them, but you had to allow it, and whatever you two felt for each other had to be kept under wraps.

In the evening, when the gala ran long and your legs and feet were absolutely killing you, Sandor would wait until you two were alone and pick you up. He’d cradle you bridal style, secretly adoring how you rested your head on his broad shoulders and kept him close, sometimes touching his face as you closed your eyes. He’d be bold enough to take you into your bedroom and set you down on the bed, ignoring the scandalized looks of your handmaidens. Eventually you began sending them away, and when Sandor would set you down, he’d be sure to strip you from your clothes (perhaps a bit too roughly), rubbing your legs and meeting your lips as you held onto his face.

At one point you were practicing in an empty room and you offered to teach him. He snorted, saying he wasn’t doing that shit, and you laughed, figuring you’d give it a try. After a gala, you still have the music in your head, so when you’re both alone you’ll wrap your arms around him and hum, trying to sway him along with you. He’ll grumble and complain but still bring his arms around you, holding you a little too tight, as if trying to erase all the people who were touching you before. Sometimes he was feeling especially jealous, seeing how flushed your cheeks were and how you breathed heavily in your dress, and he’d be too eager to rip it while ‘helping’ you undress. 

BRONN

No surprise, he’d scoff at the ridiculousness of the galas and dancing. He and Tyrion would have plenty of good laughs about it as you got ready, and he’d be sure to give you several compliments on your backside before you left. After he was knighted at Blackwater, Tyrion made several jokes about him attending to find a proper wife, which he always blew off. It wasn’t until Tyrion brought up your marriage in passing, and how you’d likely find a husband at a gala since you attended so many, that he got a little irritated. 

He didn’t want to go, of course, but he recalled how you always dressed up for them. Were you dressing up for someone in particular? He didn’t think you were the husband-hunting type. The whole idea just left a bad taste in his mouth, so he agreed to go to one with Tyrion, fully intending to just drink and joke the whole time.

Naturally none of the lords and ladies looked forward to having Bronn or Tyrion there, but you still sat with them, laughing and drinking along. Bronn kept fighting the urge to pull you into his lap like he did when he visited the taverns, and right when he was about to pull you to him by your waist, you were asked to dance by some Lord Who Knows from Where the Fuck. Bronn definitely was glaring when the man took you away.

As the lord danced with you, and you smiled politely when he kissed your hand at the end, Bronn hoped that was it. Nope, several lords were ready to dance with you. Evidently, you were popular, and that wasn’t surprising. Bronn wasn’t a flowery words type, but the word ‘beautiful’ kept coming to mind as you twirled and glittered under the lights. It just irked him, so he kept drinking and suggested to Tyrion that they ditch and find a brothel. He remained irritated, despite the distractions.

The next time you readied for a gala and stopped by Tyrion’s office to see if he was joining you, Bronn felt that ugly feeling again, and urged you to come to one of his favorite taverns instead.

You thought he was joking. “In my jewels and one of my favorite dresses?”

“Eh, leave the jewels. I can help ya out of that dress, if ya need it.” He grinned.

You realized he actually meant it, and you sighed, thinking about how upset your family would be, especially since you were still unmarried… But Bronn looked almost eager, and it was hard to refuse him to begin with. You rolled your eyes, told him to give you some time and returned in a much simpler outfit. He couldn’t keep his grin and laugh to himself as he pulled you out of the castle, with Tyrion smirking to himself as you two left.

At the tavern, there was plenty of music and drinks already flowing. After you two drank plenty, Bronn pulled you up, telling you he’d show you what real dancing was. You’d never actually been amongst the smallfolk like this, so you were a little overwhelmed, but you loved the way his hands touched and wandered across your body. He was risky, giving you kisses here on there, sometimes on your jaw or your neck, encouraged by your laughter. Once you two were tired and thirsty, he eagerly pulled you into his lap, calling for another round of drinks. The two of you spent quite a bit of time at the inn and the room upstairs. From then on, you began shirking attending galas, having more fun dancing with Bronn in various taverns and dance halls in King’s Landing.

STANNIS BARATHEON

Not too surprising, Stannis saw no enjoyment in galas, even when he was unmarried and expected to find a wife. The regular feasts were pain enough, and Renly and Robert always took the attention of others anyway.

While courting you, he never actually met you at a gala, preferring to see you elsewhere. When you two married, he realized that he eventually had to attend them, as you couldn’t go by yourself … and he knew how much you loved them. So even with his discomfort, he made attempts to practice with you. You guided him patiently, and he paid attention, although he often got distracted by your happy smile, and how you’d reward him with kisses. He’d tell you to let up on all the affection so he could concentrate, but …. Nope, you didn’t. If you kept showering him with praise and affection, he’d become terribly flustered and try to pull you back into the lesson. 

When a gala finally came around, you could tell he was nervous, even if he seemed the same to anyone else. He danced with you through two songs, which surprised you. You forgot yourself more than once, giving him a chaste kiss or a compliment like you’d do in practice, and you both would blush and hope no one noticed. 

He’d sit out after that, feeling too out of place. He’d feel nervous seeing you dance with more loud and outgoing men, evening starting to grind his teeth if they looked too cozy with you. Eventually, Davos would have to point out that you didn’t smile nearly as much for the other lords, nor did you stay close to them or laugh at their silly jokes.

For the last dance, you could tell he was happy to return to you. He held you much closer, even giving you subdued smiles as you beamed up at him and noted his improvement. At the end, he’d give you a kiss on the hand, but wouldn’t be satisfied and would end up giving you a sweet one on your lips. 

RENLY BARATHEON

While Renly was good enough at dancing and he had friends at the gala, he preferred feasts and tourneys, especially since galas were full of starry-eyed girls chasing after him. You two met when you were forced to partner up, you both were trying to escape more undesirable partners and easily danced away from them. Once you’d both realize what you just did, you’d have a good laugh about it and started to get to know each other. 

Since you two often visited at other events after that, there were rumors, but you knew his heart was with a certain Tyrell. He was a fun friend anyway, especially when you both wanted to escape at a gala. You’d dance and make jokes, complain about your families and snigger at certain guests. One time you both were being pursued by especially annoying partners for a last dance, and you literally spent half the song dodging through couples, avoiding them and finally finding each other, only to be totally out of breath and the song nearly over. 

DAVOS SEAWORTH

You attended more than enough galas for one lady; your parents were so eager for you to marry, they dragged you to dozens. At least you enjoyed dancing, however, the instability of Westeros had other ideas. You followed your father on his campaign to support Stannis, putting a solid end to any future galas.

As you were often at Dragonstone, you befriended little Shireen, who naturally wasn’t allowed to attend galas. You began giving her little lessons, teaching her some of the songs and steps to them, which she loved. Eventually you began to befriend Davos as well, ans he thought it was adorable to watch the two of you. He especially liked the grace and ease that you moved with, it reminded him of a ship sailing on an easy breeze.

One evening, Shireen suggested that you teach Davos how to dance. He was taken off-guard and quickly said that he really wasn’t a dancer, besides, you were a proper lady who ought to dance with proper lords.

“You are also a lord, and a knight, Ser Davos.” You reminded him. "Besides, in these times, the realm has little need for fancy parties."

He still seemed uneasy and tried several other excuses, until you walked up to him, put his hand on your waist and took up his right one. Of course, he felt insecure about his missing fingers, but you didn’t even bring it up. And it was hard to focus on them, when he had your lovely eyes and your sweet smile so close.

Shireen sang the songs you taught her, and you sang along, carefully guiding him into a simple two and three step dance. He was stiff and nervous the whole time, worried about touching you inappropriately, wanting to touch you but knowing he shouldn’t. After that, several times when he stopped by to see you and Shireen, he’d be dragged into another dancing lesson. He actually did love being so close to you, and how sweet you were with the princess. It made his mind wander to what sort of family you two would have. 

Davos never really saw you at a proper ball, which he considered a good and a bad thing. He’d never see you in a lovely dress enchanting the room, but he also wouldn’t have to see younger, handsomer men dancing perfectly with you.

Sometimes when you were feeling anxious, you’d wrap your arms around his warm torso and hold him close to you, humming one of the songs and swaying with him. He’d hold your waist, kissing your brow and giving you words of comfort, knowing you liked the movement and closeness.

MARGAERY TYRELL

The two of you began dancing in the practice room. Margaery was quite drawn to you based off the rumors she heard, and she wasn’t disappointed, as you two quickly dazzled the room. From then on, you often practiced together, usually trading gossip and jokes the whole time.

At the next gala, she surprised you with asking you to dance. You two twirled around the floor, enchanting anyone who watched with your combined grace, not knowing you two were cracking jokes or sharing flirtations while the music played.

You danced often together, although you both knew when it was appropriate to stop dancing together and dance with a possible suitor, it never made you happy. A few times Margaery would notice when a man was getting too close, and she’d swiftly whisk you away with a charming smile, leaving him none the wiser that you were being rescued. Often, you two would catch each other’s eyes while dancing with other partners, and she’d give you a knowing smile. 

After one of the parties was winding down, you accompanied Margaery to her private chambers so you two could get out of your dresses and soothe your aching feet. She noticed you were feeling down most of the evening. “Is something the matter, love?”

“Well…” You felt foolish. “I was thinking how you and I will never get the last dance. If we ever did, people would think it was some joke.”

Before you knew it, she whisked you off the bed and onto your feet. “Then, we’ll dance right now! This will be our last one, or the one after this, or the one after that. The last dance will always be just the two of us, when we decide.”

From then on, you two had a little tradition, having your “last dance” in one of your chambers, humming to the ballroom songs in your nightgowns and usually ending it with a fit of giggles on the bed.

LORAS TYRELL

It wasn’t too surprising that Loras was just as graceful in dance as he was on horseback, and all the ladies of the realm were eager to dance with him when he attended a gala. Loras was polite, giving the proper amount of time to each lady, as he truly enjoyed galas, even if his partners could be lacking, and even if he’d never get to dance with the one he really loved.

However, Loras was surprised by you, pleasantly so. He loved that you knew the complicated steps he couldn’t try with other partners, and would give you challenges to keep up. You two would end up getting lost in the music, dancing through several songs. Several guests would stop dancing or talking just to watch, and you both usually got a hearty round of applause by the end of it.

Of course, you both would be exhausted and sweating, but he had a high respect for you and began seeing you as a friend.

BRIENNE OF TARTH

Brienne wasn’t crazy about guarding galas, as it just brought back painful memories of her own rejections and trying desperately to fit in. She’d sigh and bear it, moving all her focus to protecting you. She took the duty seriously, thus, she always watched you.

She began to admire the grace and beauty you had as you danced. She always thought you were pretty, but when you smiled and twirled, and your hair and gown moved with you, it was almost dream-like. More than once, her heart beat quickly as she watched you effortlessly pull off some move she couldn’t attempt or even name. She didn’t even pay attention to your partners, unless they were obviously pushing their boundaries - which she’d be quick to correct if you didn’t stop them first.

One day, you were in your practice room and she was once again taken with you. You noticed her staring, and asked if she’d like to help you practice.

Brienne was taken aback by the suggestion, and quickly became uncomfortable. She insisted there was no way she could be of any help. As you pressed her, she kept insisting, saying she wasn’t graceful and she’d just end up hurting you.

She sat in on several other practice sessions, and you began to get specific with her. You’d ask her to stand still or hold you a certain way so you could practice a dance. She’d get what you were doing right away, but she’d be obedient, trying to calm her beating heart. As you two became closer, and you reassured her, she’d slowly try to hold you and try a few moves, but she’d quickly lose confidence and retreat into herself.

At one gala, during the last dance, a lord was much too forward with you and even tried to follow after you once it ended. Brienne was quick to put him in his place, face-first on the ground. She escorted you back to your room, noticing how upset you were by the whole ordeal.

“Who cares about the last dance, anyway? It’s just stupid ceremony, yet men act like fools over it,” You ranted, taking off your heels and dress. Brienne agreed, trying not to be distracted by you disrobing.

“My last dance will be with whomever I please. Brienne?”

She stood at attention. “My lady?”

You held out your hands, dressed in only your nightgown. “Will you be my last dance, my knight?”

She blushed to her ears and began to refuse, but she thought of all the men who would try to grab you, coerce you into a dance or just act tasteless. Setting her sword aside, she took your hands carefully. You hummed a song and led her into it, and she swore you could hear her heart beneath her armor. In spite of all her worries and insecurities, she loved having you so close, and she couldn’t stop herself from giving you a proper knightly kiss on your hand once your impromptu dance finished. 

RAMSAY BOLTON

You knew of Ramsay’s reputation when you married him. You weren’t a fool, you were aware he certainly had feelings for you, and he was willing to keep his more … unsavory aspects away from you, for the most part. He was especially good at playing the dutiful lord husband where guests were concerned, although Roose still kept an eye on him during galas.

You adored dancing and you weren’t going to stop just because he didn’t partake. But to your surprise, one day he took you in his arms, and impressed you with how he followed the music and steps. He was rather clumsy, and perhaps a little too fast, but it was obvious he had been practicing. 

You complimented Ramsay, and he was clearly pleased, holding you closer and giving you that charming smile he liked to use. You could always see behind it, but this time it seemed genuine. Sometimes he’d slip up and give you a kiss, often whispering something less than appropriate to you, but before you knew it several songs played and you had enjoyed yourself. 

He was still holding onto you when a man came up, asking for your hand. Ramsay looked confused, then clearly irritated, and you had to remind him. “My lord, it’s customary to change partners every other song.”

“Is that so?” His expression changed again, to a darker one you easily recognized. He handed you over to the man, obviously not enjoying it, and you hoped he stayed out of trouble.

As you danced with other partners, you could see he had a few dances with other girls, but then he returned to the table. You could tell there was strong emotion brewing behind his eyes, you just couldn’t be sure what he’d do.

One of the lords dancing with you was quite drunk, and ended up stumbling. You tried to catch him, but he grabbed ahold of you, specifically on your backside. Before you could push him off, Ramsay was already there, taking the man by the collar. The room went totally quiet as he smiled. “I’d recommend you find a different place for those hands, my lord, or they’ll end up separated from your wrists.”

You pulled Ramsay away and Roose urged the musicians to continue. Before you could even speak to Ramsay, he had you in his arms again, but this time with far more possessiveness. He gripped your waist and brought the two of you completely together, and kissing your neck as you two swayed to the song. He began to bite you and leave marks, his tone sweet but his words told you that you belonged to him, and if you or any lords forgot, he’d be more than happy to remind them.

ROOSE BOLTON

It was common knowledge among the Northern lords that Roose didn’t dance at galas. He wasn’t the only Northern lord who did this, of course, but he already had a reputation for being cold. He’d simply sit at the table, observing the guests and occasionally speaking when it was polite. 

It wasn’t until Roose was courting you that he finally stood, asking you for the first dance. You were just as surprised as anyone else, but you accepted, and you couldn’t help but notice the confidence and ease that he held you with. His movements weren’t flourishing or energetic, but held your attention with his steely eyes. Occasionally, he’d murmur in your ear a lovely compliment, and it would almost break your concentration. 

You noticed as the dances would go on, he’d bring you closer, and you didn’t mind at all. Afterward, he may have accepted a dance here or there from someone else, but he really didn’t get asked, and he seemed quite fine with that. He’d sit at the table at his usual spot, his eyes following you, sometimes catching your gaze and giving an expression that you couldn’t place. 

He was able to catch you for the last dance once or twice, and his movements were so slow and steady, it was almost hypnotizing. You found yourself swaying into him, sometimes leaning, and you had to remind yourself to keep an appropriate distance - but then he’d gently pull you back in. As your cheeks flushed, he asked why you suddenly became so shy, and you managed some excuse. At the end of it, he took your hand and gave you a perfectly polite kiss that still gave you goosebumps because of the way he lingered and kept his eyes on you. 

Once you married, he’d only dance with you. During a gala, he’d keep an eye on which men were dancing with you - if he felt one was keeping too close, or one was dancing with you too often, he’d come from seemingly nowhere and more or less threaten them away, always in his calm tone. Then he’d take you in his arms, swaying you in his gentle and slow way. As you melted into it, he’d give you a kiss on your brow or cheek. He’d whisper to you sometimes, complimenting your loveliness or reminding you that you two still had the business of making an heir.

At the last dance, he’d only seem to want you more, especially if he was feeling jealous through the night. His long fingers would softly rub the small of your back, often slipping lower if he could get away with it, and he’d give several kisses to your lips and neck. By the end of it, you’re usually a mess, and you’d want the gala to hurry up and be over so you two could get to your shared bedroom. 

EDMURE TULLY

As much as his father and sisters attempted to instruct him, Edmure was always clumsy with his feet. Lysa and Catlyn often teased him, pulling him into the practice room and insisting he dance with them. He attended several galas through the years, always quite shy and sort of bumbling when he was dragged to dance with someone. 

When your mother not so subtly suggested that you two dance, the panic on his face was obvious. You were probably the most beautiful girl he’d met, and now he’d be making a fool of himself in front of you. You took his hand, giving him a gentle smile, whispering that it would be okay.

You took the lead and he was surprised by how kind you were. You would quietly instruct him and carefully guide him, and he became confident, enjoying several dances with you. He was so disappointed to hand you over to someone else, he almost forgot to kiss your hand.

After you two married, Edmure actually put a lot more work into his practice, since you loved dancing so much and he wanted to spend time with you. He admired your confidence in all things, but especially when all eyes were on you as you went from partner to partner. He’d try to participate as much as he could, but he still was quite clumsy and didn’t want to slow you down, although you insisted he was doing quite well. 

When the last dance came, he almost couldn’t wait to be by your side. Your cheeks would be flushed from the evening, and he’d lovingly brush some of your stray hair behind your ear before taking your hand and waist in the last dance. He probably couldn’t resist giving you a kiss on your cheek or forehead, being a little embarrassed by his own behavior. Once it finished, he’d again lose himself and give you a lovely kiss before remembering propriety and placing a kiss on your hand. 

Once the evening is over, he’s incredibly attentive to you, massaging your legs and getting you water or whatever you needed. When you tease him about it, he blushes quite a bit, but says he can’t help but look after and spoil his lovely wife.

BRYNDEN TULLY

When you first asked him to dance, he laughed out loud, assuming you were joking. When you insisted, he certainly was surprised, but he set his ale down and gladly stood to join you. 

The Blackfish knew he wasn’t graceful in any sense of the word, but he held you firmly, and he led with confidence. If he ever missed any steps, he recovered so smoothly it was hard to tell. He didn't give a damn about any gossip between the two of you, and respected that you felt the same. 

Often you’d push yourself closer to him, and he’d grin, only holding you tighter, making your heart race. He’d have plenty of witty comments, loving to see you laugh as your cheeks were flushed from the exercise, and maybe you two could sneak in a few flirtatious whispers. He loved how small you were in his arms, and sometimes he'd make a snide comment about hoping his brother and the Riverlands court were thoroughly scandalized by the two of you. 

Brynden would really only have a few dances with you before insisting you ought to partner with some younger men, and better suitors. Even if you’d pout, he’d sit down and go back to drinking and joking with his friends. However, he’d unmistakably look up and watch you, loving to see you twirl and move, and sometimes laughing to himself whenever his nephew nearly stepped on your feet. If he was feeling particularly bold and had plenty of drink, he’d swoop you up for the last dance, insisting to your partner that you were in good hands - and really, it was hard to argue with such a man, especially when he was already whisking you away. 

At the end of the evening, he always gave you a “proper” kiss on the hand, which you know he wasn’t taking seriously at all, as he'd often give you a wink or would scoff at anyone staring. You’d kiss him on the cheek in return.

Once the guests were turning to their rooms, Brynden would find you, pulling you into an empty hall to give you a proper kiss, grumbling about damned propriety. You'd laugh softly as you guided him to your room, though he'd insist on carrying you, delighting in how you'd hold onto him. 

OBERYN MARTELL

Oberyn vastly preferred the galas in Dorne, which had both livelier music and dance. As much as he enjoyed causing a little ruckus or scandal here and there at typical galas, for the most part, they uninterested him.

He ended up attending one, and he was quite ready to leave and find himself amongst far more interesting company. Then, he spotted you just in time, and he wondered where such a beautiful and graceful gem had been hiding all along. Surely he had to have heard of you, and when he realized he hadn't, he would make sure you knew of him. 

He more or less whisked you from his partner and pulled you into a dance full of energy, and he was delighted as you met his unpredictable steps. He'd flirt shamelessly, asking all about you, and if you'd be interested in meeting him in a … less formal setting. There would be endless gossip on you and the Dornish prince, but you didn't care, and danced the rest of the night with Oberyn. It was obvious he loved dancing as much as you did, and he made for a wonderful partner.

You attended a gala at Dorne for his brother's birthday, and Oberyn couldn't believe his luck you that were there. He pulled you into his arms at once, bringing you close and instructing you in the more sensual Dornish dances that most of Westeros was too scandalized by. If you would have him, he'd want you to be his paramour by the end of the night.

Oberyn liked to watch you at galas, and how you adapted so well to other partners and enjoyed every song, not taking a moment to rest. It was painfully obvious how taken he was with you by the way he’d smile in your direction, and when you two danced, you seemed lost in your own world. In the evenings, he’d do his utmost to spoil you and soothe your sore legs, praising your grace and movement the entire time.

YARA GREYJOY 

As hard and bitter as the Iron Islands were, they liked loud music and good drink as well as any place in the Seven Kingdoms. Sometimes a tavern would just be full of both, and a great party would carry on into the night. You loved partaking in these, losing yourself in the music and singing along with the old sea shanties, even if you had plenty of hands to slap away. You didn’t let a bunch of foolish, drunk men ruin your fun.

Yara had seen you plenty of times before, and of course you knew her. She’d sit back with a drink and watch you sway your hips to the beat, and you’d give her a smirk or a wink in return. You were patient, she was not - eventually, she’d finish off her drink, stand up, shove off whatever man was hovering around you and bring you close to her. 

You loved teasing the Greyjoy captain, often saying things like “My, haven’t we met before?”. Sometimes she played into it with you, other times she just hovered close to your ear and responded, “You know exactly who I am.”

You could tell Yara wanted to see you at times other than this, by the way she’d talk of you two ‘touring’ her ship’s quarters or where she might find you again, but you liked to keep her on her toes.

PETYR BAELISH

When Petyr asked you to dance with his disarming smile, you didn’t realize what you were in for. He was an absolute natural, holding you and leading you with expertise. He moved quickly, forcing you to keep up, but you loved the challenge. Fast songs that most people would sit out for were no problem for him, and he even had several sweet compliments for you, or playfully traded a few rumors he’d heard about you and some lord, secretly hoping you’d dispel them.

As you complimented him on his dancing, stating he was a natural, he’d brush it off with false modesty and insist he just practiced… but you knew from that prideful smirk that he was glad to impress you. He especially loved seeing you flushed and breathing heavily after several dances with him, imagining you with the same face in a much different setting.

If you were stuck with a particularly boring or sleazy partner, he’d time it perfectly, swooping in to rescue you right when you were at your wit’s end. With his usual charisma, he’d tell them you were needed, perhaps giving a swift insult to them in the same breath. Sometimes he’d hint that you were already involved with someone else, and would be delighted if you wouldn’t correct him.

The other side of Petyr would come out if you were having fun with other men, laughing along with their jokes or enjoying their dancing. It wasn’t that they were men specifically, but they were lords, rich lords with far more money and lands than he had. At that moment, he’d wait again, taking you in his arms once you were free. His usual quick step and cadence would seem slower, more deliberate, as he’d bring you closer to him. He’d be smiling, but he’d whisper all the things he could give you, how much better he was than them, and how they’d all hurt you anyway. 

BERIC DONDARRION 

Sometimes around the campfire with the Brotherhood, they burst into song and drunkenly dance along. You often felt a little out of place with them, even if you believed in them, as you were a highborn lady. They began singing a song you were familiar with, and since you had a few drinks yourself, you pulled Beric up with you, asking for a dance. He surprised you with properly holding your waist and hand, and you remembered he was a lord before this.

The men began to whistle and holler as you two attempted a waltz, but eventually it came back to you and you guided him. He laughed, as he had mostly forgotten, and cooed about how cute and lovely you looked. Eventually you slipped a bit and he caught you, picked you up and sat you back down with him, giving you plenty of kisses and holding him to you. You teased him, saying you wanted to keep dancing, and he promised he’d join you anytime you wanted one.

He knows you left behind a lot to join the Brotherhood, and as much as you say you love him, he still sometimes worries and just wants you to be happy. So he’s sees no problem in indulging in your dancing and singing, and often gets overwhelmed with how precious you are during those times. 

Since he learned how much you enjoyed it, sometimes he’d surprise you, scooping you up and pulling you into a dance. Beric adored hearing you laugh with happiness, and he thought you looked especially pretty when two danced around the fire. Sometimes you’d jokingly teach his  men how to dance ‘proper’, and even though they were playing around, Beric would get a little forlorn and eventually pull you back to him.

TORMUND GIANTSBANE 

When you tried explaining to Tormund what galas and dancing in the South was like, he’d be quite confused, not understanding the point of it, but he just loved to hear you talk and describe it. Eventually he’d ask for a demonstration, and since you two were alone, you’d sigh and give it a try. “Well, it would be a bit easier to show you if I had another person-” 

Instantly he’d stand up, and you’d laugh at his enthusiasm. You’d take his hands and guide him, rolling your eyes at his whistling when he grasps your waist and instantly brings you close to him. You try to attempt a few steps, but he’s having so much fun holding onto you and peppering you with kisses that you just laugh and let him. 

He’d try to show you some wildling dances he’s picked up, although they’re few and far between, and mostly ceremonial. Again, he’d have so much fun watching you that he’d get distracted and just want to hold you. 

At some point, when you’d all be gathered around a fire, someone brought up galas. You jokingly danced with Jon, who could somewhat remember the steps, and Tormund suddenly felt a little jealous. He got between the two of you, again holding to you and bringing you to his lap. He’d want to try it again, although he’d be quite drunk and would just end up holding you to him and swaying. You’d give him several kisses, all while whispering what sort of dresses you’d wear for him and how you two would dance. More than once you two would’ve been told to get a room.