#so I threw this sunset at them and it's all peaceful now ^-^

[theonottsbxtch]

LONG WAY ‘ROUND | MV1

an: oh it’s been a long time since i’ve done a smau, i basically forgot how to do them. enjoy a silly little smau for cowboy!max and rancher!reader. i hope you don't think this was too rushed, this was requested.

faceclaim: pinterest girlies

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maxverstappen1 posted on their story

Present day:

You hadn’t wanted to come back home, but you knew your father would be turning in his grave if he knew you'd sold the land.

That land, sun-scorched, temperamental, and stubborn as the people who worked it, was all he ever cared about. And somehow, despite years away, despite your big girl job in the city and your very expensive flat that barely got any sun, you couldn’t quite stomach the idea of letting strangers tear it up for cattle feed or golf courses or whatever else people did out here now.

So you came back.

The barn was half-falling in, the fences were on their last legs, and the tractor — God bless it — hadn’t run properly since you were nineteen. You posted about it, of course. Ranch life: 1, me: 0. A little self-deprecating humour never hurt. Not that you expected him to see it.

But Max always did have a talent for showing up when you least wanted him to.

He’s always been a cowboy, even back when the rest of the lads in school were chasing trainers and mobile phones. Wore that damn hat like it was welded on, swaggered through the halls like he owned them. Infuriatingly smug. Always had hay in his hair, some smart-arse remark at the ready, and girls orbiting him like he was God’s gift. Not that you cared. Much.

He’d helped your dad out now and again, even when you were off pretending you were too grown-up for all this. Fixed a fence here, delivered feed there. Your dad liked him. Sometimes you think he liked Max more than he liked you.

And that? That pissed you off more than you cared to admit.

So when Max posted "got the baby running like it’s brand new” with a photo of your tractor on your land you nearly threw your phone across the yard.

You didn’t ask for help.

He gave it anyway.

Typical.

And no, you don’t need him. You don’t want him.

text messages between max and yn

yourusername posted

liked by maxverstappen1, userone, usertwo, schoolfriend and 12 more

guess the gate fixed itself then.

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schoolfriend1: oh my god, you're back!

yourusername: unwillingly, but we should meet for coffee!

schoolfriend1: please!

auntie: ranch looks good, pops would be proud

yourusername: he's laughing up at me from hell, he knew this would be my nightmare

auntie: you love it anyway, good things will come from this darling

maxverstappen1: must have been faries. hot ones.

yourusername: unfortunately for me when i was looking out the barn i happened to see an ugly troll

maxverstappen1: wish i'd known you were watching, the shirt would have come off much earlier.

yourusername posted

liked by schoolfriend1, userone, auntie, maxverstappen1 and 7 more

don’t remember inviting anyone in, but okay.

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schoolfriend1: 👀 oh??

yourusername: apparently all the shit here is broken.

auntie: the boots don’t lie

maxverstappen1: next time i’m coming in for pie

yourusername: next time i’m changing the locks

maxverstappen1: then i’ll come in through the window

yourusername: you’re not romantic, you’re a raccoon

yourusername posted to their story

messages between yn and max

yn's porch, sunset

You weren’t expecting him to actually show up.

But twenty minutes later, as promised, Max pulled up in his dust-covered truck, one hand out the window, a six-pack dangling from the other like some twisted cowboy peace offering.

He didn’t bother knocking. Just let himself round the porch, boots thudding slow against the old wood, like he’d done it a thousand times before. You were sat on the steps, pie dish balanced on your lap, sleeves rolled up, sweat still clinging to the back of your neck from the day’s heat.

"Figured you'd be out here," he said, handing you a bottle and sitting beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"You always this cocky?"

He grinned, cracking open his own beer. "Only when I know I'm right."

You didn’t answer, just tipped the bottle to your lips and looked out at the land. Golden light was bleeding into the hills, all syrupy and slow, and for a moment you let the quiet fill the air between you. The kind of quiet that only ever settled in right before the cicadas started their song.

He leaned back on his elbows. “Pie smells good.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you muttered, but passed him a slice anyway.

You didn’t talk much, at first. Just chewed and sipped and watched the sky change colours. But the beers loosened your limbs and somewhere between the fourth and fifth bottle, you found yourselves laughing. Proper laughing. About school, mostly, who got locked up, who married who, the time he nearly blew up the chemistry lab because he thought acetone was flammable (it was).

Then it went quiet again. Not uncomfortable. Just... a shift.

Max looked over at you, eyes soft in the low light. His voice dropped, all low drawl and something you couldn’t quite name.

"What’ve I done wrong, sweetheart?"

You blinked at him. “What d’you mean?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “You always come at me with your fists up. Like I’ve stepped outta line and you’re just waitin’ to swing.”

You tried to laugh it off. “Old habits die hard.”

He didn’t buy it. “Tell me the truth.”

You looked down at your bottle. Picked at the label.

“…I think I was jealous of you.”

Max sat up straighter. “Jealous? Of me?”

You nodded once. Quiet.

“You and Dad got on like a house on fire,” you said, voice softer now. “He trusted you with things he never trusted me with. And you always knew what you wanted. I was out here tryin’ to be good enough for a man who never really said I was. And there you were, breezin’ in like you belonged.”

He didn’t say anything.

“…And I might’ve had a crush on you. In school.”

That earned a pause. And then, of course, you backtracked.

“That was the alcohol talking. That wasn’t true.”

He tilted his head, grinning like he knew better. Like he’d known the whole damn time.

“Pity,” he said, voice like melted butter, “’cause the first time I ever swung by your father’s, it wasn’t for a job.”

You looked up at him, heartbeat suddenly loud.

He leaned in a little, real slow. Like he wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to get. But still close enough for you to smell his cologne, all cedar and smoke.

“I asked him what kinda man a gorgeous daughter like his would go to.”

You stared at him, stunned into silence.

“And he told me,” Max added, voice low and smile soft, “you’d never be interested in someone like me. Said you were smart. Ambitious. Goin’ places.”

You swallowed.

“…You never said anything.”

“I didn’t want to get in your way.”

He reached out, thumb brushing over your knuckles where your hand rested on your knee.

“But if I’d known you were lookin’ back all that time…”

You didn’t let him finish.

You just looked at him, heart all tangled up, and whispered, “Max…”

You said his name like it meant something. Like it was more than just a name. Like maybe it was a memory. Or a promise.

His hand was still on yours, thumb brushing lazy circles across your skin. You should’ve pulled away. You didn’t.

“I meant it,” he said quietly. “Every word.”

You didn’t say anything. Just stared at him. At his sunburnt cheeks, at the faint scar on his jaw you remembered from a bar fight back in Year 11, at the curve of his mouth when it wasn't trying to be cocky.

He laughed under his breath. “You’ve gone quiet, darlin’. That usually means I’ve stepped in it.”

You shook your head, voice small. “No. I just… I don’t know what to do with this.”

“Start with tellin’ me if I can kiss you.”

You looked at him, properly looked at him. The boy who used to drive you mad. The man who knew your land better than you did. The one who kept showing up without ever asking for thanks. The one who saw you, really saw you, long before you were ready to be seen.

And then you nodded.

He didn’t lunge. Didn’t grab. Just leaned in like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like kissing you was something he'd always known how to do, he just hadn’t been allowed to yet.

It was slow. Warm. The kind of kiss that crept under your ribs and made a home there. No fireworks. No dramatic score. Just his lips, his breath, his hands gentle against your cheek.

And when he pulled back, forehead resting against yours, his voice was barely more than a whisper.

“You’re trouble, you know that?”

You smiled, lips still brushing his. “And you’re not?”

maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by yourusername, schoolfriend1, schoolfriend2, bestfriend

got paid with a kiss this time. think i did somethin’ right.

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schoolfriend1: son of a bitch did it six years later

localtownie: knew it. been waitin’ on this since the fair 3 summers ago when she yelled at you over the microphone and you smiled like a damn fool

maxverstappen1: who woulda known

yourusername: don't get used to it

maxverstappen1: too late, already calling it wages

yourusername: pretty sure that's called prostituon bud

maxverstappen1: whatever you wanna call it sweetheart

auntie: can't tell if her pop will be rolling around in his grave or celebrating

bestmate: im horrified she'd choose you

yourusername: yeah so am i

the end.

@lilorose25 @curseofhecate @number-0-iz @dozyisdead @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @n0vazsq @dying-inside-but-its-classy @carlossainzapologist @hzstry8 @oikarma @amyelevenn @iamred-iamyellow @obxstiles @iimplicitt

[storiesoflilies]

warning: slightly spicy, mdni!!!!

gladiator!toji was a fearsome sight to behold.

with marbled skin rippling like a river of bronze, a tattered canvas of tan and pink scars. he was violence and glory, a conqueror born from the very sand and blood of the arenas he fought in. a natural-born killer, toji craved the delicious rush that came with a fight to the death.

and yet, he was that and more.

she thought about that as the heavy iron gates rolled up for his grand entrance into the arena. about how toji fushiguro loved, and loved hard. how every night, with hushed whispers and swallowed moans, he would deeply push into her as if trying to slot his very soul next to hers. where it was safe, and he was safe, because they might not have the next night.

within a sea of people, their bloodlust traveling in waves, she never felt more alone. she bit her lips, digging bloody crescent moons into her palms, and felt her breath hitch as toji’s looming figure emerged from the shadows. the crowd roared and screamed at him, calling upon the gods for their favorite gladiator to give them a worthy show.

to them, that’s all toji was: a killer made only of flesh and bone, ready to die for them.

toji stopped in the dead center of the arena, his sword arm raised high in the air as he swept his green eyes in a full circle around the crowd, who went into a frenzy.

but he wasn’t doing it for them.

he knew she was there, watching him, waiting for him to perhaps catch a glimpse of her, praying beyond all hope that the gods would continue to spare her love from harm. that they would meet again that night in the dim light of his cell, their bare skin pressed tightly together, talking of whimsical daydreams and futures. toji would tell her how he fought for her, and how he would earn his freedom so they could be together.

how they’d live somewhere by the sea, with only the sounds of the waves and their lovemaking to be heard for miles. how they would watch the sunset every day and live off the bounty of the ocean, where they would only chase their pleasure and cultivate their own peace.

but for now, toji bared his teeth, his stance unwavering, as he prepared to face whatever they threw at him and win.

a/n: oh my, i can’t stop thinking about gladiator toji now, and i feel the extremely rare urge to write a smut drabble. i might just do it if you all ask nicely hehe :3

[and-claudia]

Bound by Winter (Spencer Agnew x fem! Reader) Prologue

Warnings: angst, arranged marriage

A/n: check out some of the easter eggs I have left in the story and comment if you find them (even the obvious ones like the characters)

Taglist Sign Up (Read Carefully)

Bound by Winter Masterlist

header made by yours truly

The parchment trembled in my hands, though I’d like to think it was the wind coming off the bay that made it shake. The seal was unmistakable—black wax, pressed with the crescent-winged owl of House Agnew. Cold just to look at. My name was written below it, spelled perfectly. Like they’d known it all along.

My feet carried me without much input from my brain, and I found Father in the observatory. He was staring out at the sea as if it might answer him. It never did. That was my place. 

“You knew,” I said. “Didn’t you?” Although my voice was quiet, it cut through the air like a knife. 

He didn’t turn around. Just nodded, slowly. His hair looked more silver than gold in the firelight.

“There’s war coming, daughter,” he said, voice low. “And it won’t be fought with swords alone.”

The words hung between us like a noose. War. The kind that cracked kingdoms open and left bastards like me to be swept into its bloody tide.

“So, I’m to be married,” I said, letting the taste of it sour on my tongue. “To Spencer Agnew. Of Caerwatch.” 

At that, my Father finally turned. His eyes were red-rimmed, not from crying—I’d never seen Rhett McLaughlin weep—but from sleeplessness, from drinking too much of the smoked plum wine he saved for council nights.

“Virelia is splitting,” he said. “The East is sharpening its axes. The throne is weaker than it admits. We need the North. And the North won’t move without a binding reason.”

“So you’re offering me like a damned mare,” I snapped. “For peace.”

“For your people,” he corrected, harsher than I expected. “For Seastar Hold. For your name.”

My name. The one he gave me. The one I had held so dear to my heart, knowing he gave it to me when he could have easily left me in the brothel to be raised along with the other bastards. But no. He chose to take me in. To give me the honor of bearing his name. And now, I’d have to give that up.

I looked past him, out to the horizon. The clouds were purple—sunset bruised. In a week’s time, the torches would be lit, the courtyard filled with laughter and smoke and shouting. It would be time for our annual Fall Feast. The one he and Uncle Link threw every year with their strange fire-breathers and spiced meads and indecent songs. They called it a tradition—Mythical Evening.

I’d never missed one in all my life.

“Will I be here for the Feast at least?” I asked, already knowing and dreading the answer.

He didn’t answer right away.

“The marriage is set for the fortnight,” he said. “They ride to claim you in three days.”

So no. I would not be here for the Feast. I would not drink the amber firewine. I would not sit beside my Uncle Link while he made rhymes too filthy for a lady’s ears. I would not laugh until my ribs hurt, or dance with barefoot servants in the kitchen after midnight.

I would be on the road. Bound for frost. For a stranger. For a husband.

For a war.

“So, I am to go alone then as well?” I asked. 

Silence once again. 

“I’ve never even been to the north. All I’ve ever known is Seastar Hold and Brightmere Keep. I’ve never left the Mythic Reach… And now I am to go out alone?” I said, panicked at what the future may hold. 

“You won’t be alone, Lord Agnew has assured that he has sent his best men to bring you back with them to Caerwatch Keep. You will be well protected, I made sure of it.” My father said, in an attempt to soothe my worries. 

“His best men? When war is looming over us all? I doubt that. And what, my betrothed didn’t have the decency to accompany them to steal his bride away from her home?” 

“Yn,” My father sighed, clearly exasperated, “They are not stealing you away from your home.” 

“It feels like they are…” I said sadly. 

“I’ll send the handmaidens to your chambers to help you pack… I hope to see you at dinner. Your Uncle is riding here as fast as he can to see you before you leave.” My father said, dismissing me without actually doing so. 

I left the observatory with tears stinging behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall in public. I saved those for my pillow late at night. When I got to my room, I found my most trusted handmaiden, Emily, there. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked upon seeing me. 

I said nothing, just handed her the parchment I had been handed earlier by Maester Chase. 

“Are you fucking serious?” She asked, never one to be afraid to use colorful language in the presence of her lady. 

“Yup. Spencer fucking Agnew… his reputation is horrible. I’ve heard he’s not even the true heir to Caerwatch.” I said, opening my wardrobe and browsing which dresses I should take, not that any of them were remotely close to being able to keep me warm so far north. 

“Yn, do I need to point out the obvious here?” Emily asked. 

I went to speak but realized she was right, I was being a hypocrite, being a bastard myself, “That’s not what I meant… I mean, you’ve heard the rumors. Some say he was raised by crows and ghosts, that’s why he’s so different.” 

“Yn, they’re an old house, they have lore like that in all the old houses. Though his reputation in court is… lacking.” Emily said, preparing my trunk for me. 

“I know. Did you hear about how apparently the Crown once tried to summon Spencer to the capital, and he declined? Who does that? I mean, short of lying on your deathbed, I don't believe you refuse the crown without consequences, and yet he did. He acts as if he’s above politics. And yet he’s knowledgeable in them. I can only assume he is also knowledgeable in a battle, a house doesn’t live this long without passing on past battle wisdom.” I said. 

“I did hear that. I also heard that he has the eyes of a hawk, but the motivation of a house cat. He sees everything but doesn’t care enough to do anything about much. And when he does do something, it's usually a battle of wits that he never seems to lose.” Emily said. 

“That’s honestly what worries me. I don’t expect him to love me, but at very least I would like for us to grow to care for each other… but how could I expect someone who yawns at the thought of being challenged to a duel? He doesn’t care about anything.” 

“Well,” Emily began as she folded the few dresses I had laid out, “it could be worse; he could be known for his temper.” 

“Is that worse? His sarcasm alone is just as dangerous as wrath, honestly. I’ve heard he says just enough to start fires, but then walks away before they catch. In some ways, that’s far more dangerous who brings the fire already raging in his wake.” I said. 

However, before Emily could say anything, there was a knock on the door. 

“Who is it?” I called out. 

“It’s just me, here to see my favorite niece!” I heard my uncle call through the door. 

I smiled as I stood and rushed to the door, thankful for the brief distraction. 

“I’m your only niece, Uncle Link.” I said with a laugh as he wrapped me in a hug. 

“I brought something for you. I’ll have it brought up to your chambers during dinner.” He said, offering me his arm to escort me to dinner. Since it was just my uncle visiting, there was no need to use the grand hall for the dinner, so we’d be dining in the smaller dining room. 

“Emily, go ahead and eat dinner yourself. Meet me back here when you’re done.” I dismissed her before leaving with my uncle. 

“So, what did you get me?” I asked curiously. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He teased, “Well, before I tell you, please don’t be cross with your father or me… I have known about your marriage arrangement for as long as he has.” 

He paused to gauge my reaction, but I kept my face neutral as I nodded for him to continue. 

“I was not sure when it would be, but I knew it would be soon. So I had your favorite dress maker in Brightmere make something for you. It was hard to get her hands on just the right fabric, but she’s made you a beautiful wedding gown. I asked her to keep some semblance of home in it, the bottom is embroidered with your father’s sigil as well as your future husband's.” He explained. 

“It’s an odd mix. Ocean waves and snow owls.” I commented. 

Link nodded, “Yes, but sometimes the oddest pairing makes for the most beautiful in due time.” 

I sighed, “Did my father ask you to say that?” 

My father and I tended to butt heads. I’ve always been told that although I am the spitting image of my late mother, I had inherited my father’s temper, and perhaps even then some. The two of us cared for and loved one another fiercely, but when the two of us disagreed, gods help those caught in the crossfire. My uncle and I, however, were the complete opposite. He was softer than my father, more sensitive. He was the one to articulate what my father was feeling when he was too stubborn and coarse to say. 

He shook his head, though. 

“No, I truly believe it. You know, your aunt and I didn’t know each other until a week before we were wed. Would you believe that by looking at us now, all these years later?” He asked. 

I shook my head, “No, you look at her like she hung the moon and stars just for you… But you two came from the same place. You’re both from the west… Spencer and I couldn’t be more opposites. I'm from the western shores of Virelia, where the sun shines for nine months out of the year and even in the colder months you’d be hard prest to call it cold. Even now, with autumn beginning, the heat still flows through the halls. I was raised in the sun and salt. Spencer is from the northernmost part of Virelia. It snows more than it doesn’t up there. I doubt they go a day without wearing fur-lined cloaks. He was raised in shadows and ice… I don’t see how the two of us will get along…” 

“Just give it time.” He said gently just as we arrived in the small dining hall where my father was already sat waiting for us. 

I took my usual seat beside where he sat at the head of the table, and my uncle sat across from me. 

“I had the kitchens make your favorite.” My father said once we were settled. 

“Thank you.” 

I noticed the air was stiff, and not just from the lingering heat of the day. This wasn’t going to be one of the dinners where I got to smile and laugh at stories my father and uncle told of their times before children. No, this dinner was much more solemn. 

“We need to discuss your marriage a bit more.” My father began, “You understand what a queen's purpose to her king is, right?” 

“Yes… But-” 

“What is it?” He cut me off. 

“To provide him with children. Specifically, male children to be his heirs.” I said. 

He nodded slowly.

“House Agnew is not like us. They’re an old house- a respected house, especially by their people. You remember your history lessons of the major house of Virelia -how House Agnew was once a kingdom itself?” 

“Yes, it was before the Crownfire War, before the Shattering of the Watch. I believe one of the books says, ‘They broke the Owl's Eye, and the North wept.’ Now only Caerwatch remains.” I said, remembering the history books my father would read to me as a child. 

“That’s right. Although they are not on their throne any longer, their people still view the Lord and Lady Angew as a king and his queen. So, when you marry Spencer, once he becomes the Lord of Caerwatch, you will become his queen.” My father explained. 

“Oh, I’m sure the people of Frostspire will love to see a southern bastard as the Lady Queen Agnew,” I said sarcastically as I reached for the flagon of wine between the three of us. 

My father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as I poured my wine, admittedly more than what would be deemed proper for a lady at dinner. 

“They may not love you, but they will respect you.” My father said. 

I sighed, taking a sip of the deep red liquid. 

“Fine. But why do you bring up heirs? I mean, I knew that would be part of getting married, I didn’t think you would have to point that out to me.” I said. 

“Well, because I have no male heirs. I had planned to name you as my heir, allow you to have some say in who you married, but the threat of war has forced me to change those plans… I am too old to be marrying and trying for a male heir, so I am temporarily going to name your cousin, Charles, as my heir… that is, until you have two sons. The first would obviously be named Spencer’s heir, then the second I would name as mine. If something were to happen to me, Charles would be acting Lord of Seastar Hold until your second son came of age.” My father explained. 

“Oh. So, now you really are selling me off like a brood mare.” I snipped. 

“Damn it, Yn! Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. Do you think I want to send you off? Do you think I am reveling in the fact that my baby girl, the last memory I have of the woman I loved and was too afraid to wed, is locked away in the north? Do you really think I am happy about this arrangement?” He finally snapped, and I swear this is the closest I had ever seen my father to crying. 

“You’re father is right, Yn. No one is particularly happy with this arrangement. That’s no secret. However, having an open mind about it may help you see the good it could bring. And… if nothing else comes of it, and you can’t bring yourself to love him and he can’t do the same for you, then do your duty as his queen and pour your love into the children he gives you.” My uncle said gently. 

I nodded, knowing he was right. The rest of dinner continued quietly. Once he was finished, my father excused himself from the table and disappeared. 

“Your father loves you, you know that, right?” 

“Yes, of course I do.” “I wasn’t supposed to share this with you, but another reason he sending you to marry Spencer is for your protection. Our houses are new, our names are not ancient like others in the realm. We have a target on our backs. Especially your father, who aided so much in the last war. There is talk that the first attack will be here, on Seastar Hold. If you stayed here, you’re life would be at risk. Your father also doesn’t have the men. Don’t get me wrong, the fishing villages along the coast are fiercely loyal to him, but they’re not real fighters. Next to the royal guard, House Agnew has the largest army, nearly 15 to one of the next largest. Your father needed this arrangement to protect you and Seastar Hold. I know it’s not ideal, and I know it’s hard to see it this way, but he did it for you.” My uncle explained gently. 

“I guess I never considered something like that… I’ll try to go into it open-minded, but you’ve heard the rumors about Spencer Agnew… he’s a silver-tongued lord to be with, seemingly always better things to do. I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sound like someone particularly marriage material.” I said, slouching back in my chair in such a way that if she’d been present, Septa Stevie surely would’ve scolded me. 

“I know someone else who’s quite silver-tongued themselves.” My uncle said, sipping his own glass of wine. 

I smirked at his comment.

“And as for the rumors,” He said, leaning forward, setting his goblet down, “They’re rumors. Court gossip. You won’t know what he is truly like until you meet him.” 

I nodded, “You’re right.” I conceded. 

“I often am.” He said, leaning back, arms crossed clearly proud of himself for getting through to me. 

I shook my head in amusement before excusing myself and heading back to my chambers. Just as he had said, the wedding dress was hanging in my room. I was utterly speechless when I saw it. It was the perfect shade of deep, storm-silver silk, like the color of thunderclouds gathering at sea. The bodice had the softest dove-gray velvet that I recognized as Brightmere velvet that had been used on previous dresses my uncle had made for me. The velvet was stitched in a subtle wave pattern, making me smile to myself. The neckline was off the shoulder and trimmed in a delicate lace. I could tell there was a train on the dress as well, not anything crazy, but definitely one that would drag slightly behind me. The bottom of the dress was absolutely beautiful. My uncle had already told me about the embroidery, but I was blown away seeing it in person. The two sigils of my father and future husband were woven together in a looping, mirrored design: wave and wing, sun and moon, stitched in an endless knot. Where the wave crests, the owl takes flight. Where the moon wanes, the sun rises. 

“Do you like it?” 

My uncle’s voice caught me off guard as I spun around to see him and my father standing in the corridor outside my door. 

“It’s stunning… I- I don’t know what to say.” I said, truly at a loss for words. 

“Why don’t you try it on so we can have one of the tailors here make any alterations needed?” My father said, standing with his hands behind his back. I nodded, “Give me just a moment.” I stepped forward after Emily, who had been standing off to the side, entered my room and pushed the door closed. 

“Yn, this thing is gorgeous. If Spencer doesn’t fall for you once he sees you in this, Seven Hells, if he doesn’t, I just might.” She said, helping me out of the dress I was currently wearing. 

I laughed at her words. She carefully took the dress off the hanger and helped me into it. It was a lot warmer than I was expecting it to be. It was definitely a style I wasn’t used to. I was more accustomed to sleeveless, light, flowy dresses, which were a stark contrast to the long-sleeved, thicker, more structured dress I was now wearing. Once she finished, I did a once-over of myself in the mirror before nodding for her to let my uncle and father in. 

“So?” I asked. 

“It looks perfect.” My uncle said, and my father nodded. 

I looked at him and waited for him to say something, anything. Nothing. 

“Did you see the bottom? It has our sigil on it.” I said, kicking my foot forward to show the detail better. 

Once again, he nodded. 

Then, after a few beats of silence, he spoke, voice cracking as he clearly fought back tears. 

“You look beautiful, Yn.” 

Link caught Emily’s attention and nodded to the door before turning to leave with her following behind, pulling the door behind her. 

“I um… I have something for you.” He said, finally bringing his hands from behind his back. 

In his hands was a clearly handmade twined circlet of pearl and sea-glass. The pearls and class were all white, save for one pearl, in the front that was the most beautiful seafoam green I had ever seen. Having grown up playing in the tidepools on the shore, I was no stranger to pearls. I knew one of that color and size was rare to find. In fact, it was the second one I had ever seen, the first being set in a ring on my father's finger. 

“It’s a McLaughlin tradition to make their daughters a headpiece for their wedding… I know it’s not fancy, but I did my best-” 

“It’s perfect. I love it. Will help put it on to see it with the dress?” I asked, cutting him off. 

“Of course.” He said, lifting it up and carefully fixing it on my head. 

It sat perfectly, the seafoam colored pearl was on beautiful display in front.

“Thank you.” I said, catching his eye in the mirror, “Where did you get the green one? They’re so rare.” 

“When I found this one,” He held up his hand showing the matching one in his ring, “It actually continued two green ones. One larger one, one smaller.” 

I noticed then that the one on his ring was actually bigger than the one that sat upon my head now. 

“I kept the smaller one for this reason. I wanted you to wear it on your wedding day. Though I had always envisioned you getting married here. It still will keep us connected.” 

At that, I turned away from the mirror and threw my arms around him tightly. He didn’t hesitate to hug me back just as tightly. We stayed in our embrace for a few moments before he lessened his grip and placed a kiss on the top of my head. 

“I’ll go get Emily so she can help you out of this. I’ll have a special crate and jewelry box to transport them in before you leave.” He said, pulling away completely. 

“Thank you, I love you, Father.” 

“I love you, too, dear.” He said before walking out. 

As Emily came back in, I began to think that maybe this arrangement might not be so horrible. Just maybe. 

Taglist: @fan-g0rl

[dixonswingz]

Poolside

Summary: Alexandria era. You and Rick Grimes share a home in Alexandria. You and Rick have been oddly close since the quarry, there has always been tension between you two. The house you two share happens to have a pool in the backyard. One day while Rick is out on a run, you decide to go skinny dipping since you are alone and nobody is watching. Until Rick comes home earlier than expected.

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (don’t do this.), semi-public???, age gap (reader 18+), masturbation, fingering, biting

A/N: this is my first time writing smut.. and first time writing fanfic in general for the first time in years, so my apologies if this is the worst thing you have ever read. id appreciate some requests so i can continue my fanfic journey :)

About a few hours ago, Rick left to go on a run with a small group. It has been a few months since everyone finally started trusting Alexandria. You were glad everyone decided to stay. You were finally able to take showers again and sleep in an actual bed. Although there has been tension between you and Rick, that you both are well aware about, you guys stay in separate rooms. Although you wish you could fall asleep in his arms every night.

Today was your day off from doing work sunrise to sunset. You decided you needed some time to yourself to relax in peace and silence. What’s better than skinny dipping on a nice warm day? You grabbed a towel, sunglasses, a book, and prepared yourself a cold glass of lemonade.

You slid open the back door and stepped outside into the warm air. You sighed in relief, finally having time to yourself to do whatever you wanted. You laid out the towel on the edge of the pool, placing your book and lemonade on the towel. As you slid into the pool, you hissed slightly at the coldness of the water touching every crevice in your body. You weren’t really worried about anybody seeing you, as every house had fences for privacy. Even in such a small compound, everyone still had privacy which was amazing.

As you read your book, a spicy scene came upon the next pages. Recently, or really ever since you laid your eyes on Rick, he has been on your mind every single hour. Whenever you read scenes like these, you imagined it was the both of you rather than the characters in the book. Sometimes you even touched yourself while reading and having these dirty thoughts.

The more you read, the more aroused you got. You held the book with one hand holding open both of the pages. Turning around, your back rested against the wall of the pool, facing the back door. If anybody walked through right now, you wouldn’t be able to see them. You left the door open, so you’d only know if somebody was coming by the sound of footsteps.

You slid your free hand slowly down your abdomen, to your thighs, to in between your legs. Your breathing hitched as your fingers slid over your clit. You slowly started to rub circles, whimpering silently. Every time you touched yourself, all you could think about was Rick. All you needed was Rick. You’ve had your eyes on him for years.

Two fingers slid inside of your throbbing cunt, letting out a quiet moan as you threw your head back. Rick walked in through the front door, seeing the back door open. You were too focused in your arousal to hear anything around you. You started to thrust your fingers in and out faster, Rick walking to the back door as you were touching yourself. He heard your moaning and whining as he saw you with your head thrown back, sunglasses on.

Rick looked at your body, realizing you were completely naked. His bulge grew larger. As you were approaching your climax, making it obvious by your body jerking, Rick cleared his throat to make himself known. You stopped and turned around, covering your breasts when you saw Rick. “I-i thought… Sorry-“ He groaned and had a small grin on his face. “Don’t apologize.. I was enjoying the scene.” Your face felt hot as your cheeks turned a rosy pink.

You looked up, making eye contact as Rick walked closer to the edge of the pool. You wanted him so bad. “Rick..” He tilted his head as if he was asking, ‘what?’. “J-join me…?” You gulped nervously, scared he would think you’re disgusting. He smirked and quickly undressed down to his boxers. “Was hopin you’d ask me that” His voice was gravely as he slid into the cool water right next to you.

Both of you looked into each other’s eyes. He gently grabbed your hips, looking closely at your face looking for approval. He knew he didn’t need to ask when you moved closer to him, leaning into his touch. Your face felt like it was on fire. As you put your hands on the waistband of his boxers, you had a look of desperation in your eyes. It felt unfair that you were completely bare, and he still had these pathetic boxers on. “Take them off…” Rick smirked at your plea. “I ain’t gonna take them off without you askin’ nicely” You whined. You just wanted him to touch you and please you like you’ve been dreaming.

“Rick… please take them off..” You lowered your voice. He couldn’t resist how desperate you sounded. As he pulled down his boxers, your eyes immediately went to his cock once it was free. You bit your lip. You’ve had your fair share of experience, but his size was intimidating you. A knot started to form in your stomach the more you imagined him fucking you.

Rick lifted your face with his hand by your chin, making eye contact. “You want it, don’t ya?” You were too nervous to speak, you felt like you couldn’t form any sentence. You nodded. This was all Rick needed to move forward. He grabbed your hips as his lips pressed against yours. God, his lips were so soft just like you imagined.

Rick hummed against your lips, opening your mouth with his tongue. As your tongues wrestled, he slid a hand down to your clit. You broke the kiss by gasping. It has been years since you’ve been touched by anything but your own hands. Rick started rubbing your clit, teasing your hole at the same time. You whimpered, frustrated at the teasing. “R-rick please…” You pushed yourself into his hand. Rick grunted. “I’ve been waitin for this moment forever… ‘m gonna take my time with ya.” He kissed down your neck, biting lightly, leaving marks here and there. You moaned quietly, throwing your head back and closing your eyes.

He slid two fingers in you, immediately thrusting them in and out at a fast pace. “O-oh my god..” You moaned louder, Rick smacked his lips against yours to muffle your moans. “You gotta be quiet.. people can still hear ya outside” He smirked as he left kisses on your jawline.

Your body started jerking as your pussy clenched tightly around his fingers. Rick curled his fingers, causing you to open your mouth ready to let out a loud moan before Rick slapped his hand over your mouth. He thrusted his fingers in and out faster than you could imagine. You grabbed onto his shoulders, nails digging deep into his skin as you released yourself on his thick fingers.

He slid his fingers out as he turned you around, your breasts pressing against the cool wall of the pool. Rick grabbed your ass, you letting out a whine. “Tell me how bad ya want it..” He breathed into your ear, making you more aroused if that was possible at all. “S-so bad…” You whimpered. “Please… I’ve been wanting this for years… since the quarry..” This turned Rick on more. “I-I touch myself… imagining it’s you..” You confessed.

Rick kissed your neck, biting harshly. You moaned in pain and pleasure, that for sure would leave a mark. You felt Rick line up his hard, throbbing cock up against your entrance. You tensed up at this feeling. You were desperate. Rick slowly slid into you, you gripping onto the edge of the pool letting out a moan. “F-fuck!” Rick shushed you. His hands grabbed your hips, holding them so tightly but you didn’t care anymore.

“Mphm.. so fuckin tight for me..” He whispered in your ear as he picked up the pace. You threw your head back, resting it on his shoulder as he continued kissing your neck. He moved one hand from your hips to your breasts, pinching your hard nipple. You whimpered at all these sensations.

Rick left kisses down your shoulders, pinching your nipple harder. You yelped out, causing Rick to groan. “Would ya shut up darlin… Don’t need everybody knowin all the pleasure im givin ya” You whimpered in protest, you wanted to make so many noises. It just felt too good. “Harder… p-please Rick.. harder and faster..” You begged him, and he answered your begs. Rick started grunting and letting out deep moans.

You started to shake under him, getting so close to your orgasm. Rick knew. He plastered kisses all over your neck and back, as he pushed you into the edge of the pool. Your breasts pushed into the wall. “I’m gonna.. ugh.. cum!” You whined out.

He bit your ear, groaning. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like ya been wantin to for years..” That was all you needed to release all over him, your walls clenching against his cock. This made his hips stutter, as he was also about to release. “Cum in me.. Please rick..” You whimpered as he fucked you through your orgasm.

Rick gripped onto you roughly, groaning loudly as he released his warm seed inside of your cunt. You moaned, breathing heavily. Rick pressed his chest against his back, putting his hands overtop yours as he tried to catch his breath. “Holy fuck…” You whispered, resulting in Rick letting out a quiet chuckle.

He placed gentle kisses on your cheek over and over, as you started blushing. “Let’s get ya cleaned up sweetheart” Rick picked you up and got out the pool, wrapping the towel around both of you. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, nuzzling your face into his neck. Rick carried you upstairs to the bathroom, setting you on the counter. “Bath or shower?” He took the towel off of you, waiting for a response. “Bath please.. and join me too ?” He nodded and smiled. He turned on the bath. Not too hot, not too cold.

Once it was full, he picked you up again and sat down with you in the tub. You cuddled up against his chest as he held you close to him. This was all you’ve ever wanted. You looked up at Rick, making eye contact because he was already looking at you, admiring your beauty. “I love you, Rick” Your face turned red, feeling nervous on what his response would be. Rick smiled slightly, taken aback by your words. He wasn’t mad though. “I love you too darlin” He placed a kiss on your forehead and rubbed your back. Both of you knew this wouldn’t just to be a one time thing. You’ve finally gotten everything you wanted in this fucked up world.

this is my first time writing smut i hope its not the worst thing ever 😭 id appreciate feedback and some ideas for future fics!!! any requests for rick, daryl, and negan whether its smut, fluff, angst, etc. ill appreciate anything

[sukimoves]

Picture 1, summer lake party!

You had just turned 16 when you had finally been granted permission to stay out later and attend one of the infamous lake parties hosted by head councillors and the older campers. Your older siblings in the Ares cabin had prepped you of the activities that took place and what not to do to embarrass the Ares name. For example when one of your brother, Aiden had snuck in weed and accidentally misplaced it before realising, after Chiron had caught them, the wood nymphs had stolen it and … well they were forbidden to tell the rest by Mr D!

After many hours of changing outfits with your Clarisse's opinions, you had decided on a pink floral two piece swim costume before layering a cute tank top and your favourite denim shorts.

You gave yourself some encouragement in the mirror before heading down to the lake after your siblings, not before hugging Clarisse goodbye seeing as she was too young to attend.

Noticing a few crowds already scattered across the area. You paused, realising the only people you knew closely had already begun to mingle and join their friends. Of course this wasn't a good idea, there was no point trying to fit in with your siblings friend groups, they would reject you after noticing you weren't like them. Not brave like Lena, as pretty as Clarisse but you were too emotional and sensitive no matter how many times you had tried to change. You would never have the confidence.

Preparing to leave you had turned on your heels before a warm hand took a hold of your shoulder, forcing you to turn around and an unfamiliar voice spoke.

"I am so sorry i didn't mean to startle you, just wanted to see if you were okay was all"

After realising this person had meant no harm you noticed it was Luke, a son from the Hermes cabin. Smiling softly you admire his soft features, from his onyx curls to his mesmerising jawline.

Luke chuckled breaking you from your stare, of course he had also admired you however he had learnt to be more subtle.

"Sorry your...", you clear you throat and decide not to continue your trail of thoughts, "Oh yea I'm peachy just going to head back to my cabin, get some beauty sleep yanno?"

"You only just got here"

"You stalking me Luke?"

"Nope, just observant but I think I've been more subtle than you, my eyes are up here sweetheart"

You turned your head trying to hide you growing smile however your plan failed when your eyes met his again.

"C'mon you have to actually be by the lake to say you came to one of these things!", Luke exclaimed before giving you his best smile, saved for his favourite people and holding out his hand for you take take.

You threw your head back with a huff giving in and reluctantly placing your hand in his. He had definetly then suprised you when you were suddenly launched forwards trying to catch up with his running further towards the lake.

Luke made his way with his hand in yours towards the furthest end of the lake where only few campers sat, slowing his pace as he got closer. You couldn't help but admire the lake as, forgetting it's beauty in the glowing sunset. Trees scattered the landscape and vines dripped from the high branches creating curtains that sun snuck through and highlighted rows of hyancinths and tulips. This was beautiful you thought.

You were truly magnificent Luke thought, his gaze admiring you and your actions. Your hands were still clasped together as Luke softly pulled you down to sit on the nearest picnic blanket with him. It was an intimate moment, both sitting side by side, thighs touching as you got lost in conversation.

Time slipped by and you both hadn't noticed how campers had began to make their ways back to their cabins, only a few including you two still stayed. The moon had now shone down reflecting light against the lake waters.

"I love the lake like this", you expressed, "the most peaceful it probably is all day" recalling the number of people who swam and splashed in it earlier the evening.

"Are we personifying the lake now?", Luke teased.

"No, doof you know what I mean"

"Like you wanna capture it and keep it in your pocket?"

"Yea, well maybe not my pocket but a pretty box would be nice", you replied with a soft grin, your features were lit up by the night sky.

"Well then why don't we", he suggested.

Before you could question him, he was already calling out to another camper who he had seen previously to have a polaroid camera with her. The girl wondered over with a grin, pleased to capture a cute moment between the two of you. Luke pulled you closer, hand around respectfully around your back and your head dropping onto his shoulder.

"Cheese!", the girl exclaimed and you gave your best smile hoping Luke was doing the same, "Awh that was so cute guys, here you go, keep it safe".

She handed over the polaroid photo to you carefully before skipping back towards her friend group. Waving it around in the air you impatiently waited for the picture to develop.

"Shit, we should probably head back, the last group is leaving now, ready?", Luke jumped to his feet while lending out his hand to you.

"Thank you kind sir", you replied letting him pull you up, holding the polaroid tightly in one hand and keeping his in yours as you wandered back through the woods. The walk wasn't long and seemed to have unfortunatley quickened as you both shared whispers, hoping to not wake the sleeping campers with loud voices.

Standing in front of your cabin with a blush and a honest smile was not how you anticipated the night to end when you first arrived at the lake. But you weren't disappointed.

"I had a nice time", Luke spoke, matching your smile.

"Me too"

Your hands were both still tightly strung together before you reluctantly let go, leaving a final squeeze.

"Night Luke"

"Night sweetheart", he gave you a brief kiss on your forehead before making his way back to his cabin, looking back twice as he watched you open the cabin door.

With one final glance over your shoulder you quietly shut the cabin door and head to your bunk. Thankfully not dropping the polaroid in your fingers you figured it had probably developed by now. Holding it up your smile only grew wider. You had a smile on your face in the picture and where you had expected to see Luke's also towards the camera it was not. His eyes glued to you, leaning on his shoulder, and had a soft smile, admiration only seen.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 19 - Island

@jegulus-microfic July 19, Word count 561

In the middle of the black lake, there was a little island. Trees surrounded the little area, but there was enough space to walk between them. Regulus often flew over to the tiny island on his broomstick when he needed some time alone. It was peaceful there. Sometimes the sounds of the castle wafted over, but mostly the only things Regulus could hear were the sounds of rustling leaves and the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore. That was until one evening when all he wanted was an hour before curfew to be alone in the quiet and watch the sunset.

He landed as usual on the edge of the island and made his way to the far side where he couldn’t be seen by anyone unless they were coming across the water towards the castle. However, there was already someone kneeling beside the water when he broke through the trees. 

James Potter was carefully placing oddly coloured rocks in the water. Regulus growled internally, he spun on the spot and tried to disappear back into the trees, so Potter wouldn’t see him.

“Regulus? Oh, Shit!” James cried out before the sound of a large splash made Regulus continue spinning until he was facing James again, but he wasn’t there. 

“Potter?” He questioned the air. A spluttering came from the water and Regulus spotted James Potter's bobbing head. His eyes widened in shock, and he rushed forward to help him. 

James was covered in different colours; green, red, orange, pink, purple and everything in between. 

“Thanks,” James gasped as he caught his breath. 

“Why are you multicoloured?” Regulus had to ask. James looked down at himself and started laughing. 

“It’s part of a prank, but I guess it’s on me now,” He chuckled. He picked up his bag and plucked out a perfectly round, flat pink stone. “We’re dying the lake. By the morning the entire lake will look like me,” He grinned proudly. 

“But why?” Regulus had never understood his brother’s obsession with pulling pranks around the school. It was just childish. James shrugged his shoulders. 

“Why not? It’s a beautiful piece of magic, and it’s not damaging unless you swim in it,” He pointed to himself. “It’ll fade after a day or two. It’s just a bit of mostly harmless fun.” He held out his hand to Regulus. Regulus hesitantly took the stone. 

It was very light, lighter than it should be. He flipped it over, studying it. “Throw it in,” James said, gesturing to the water. Regulus walked forward and threw the pink stone. It skipped across the surface and then floated where it landed, pink tendrils reaching out into the grey water. He looked out across the water and spotted the other floating stones, their colours leeching into the surrounding water. 

He sat down beside James after he’d helped throw the rest of the stones into the water around the island and watched the lake slowly change colour. It was peaceful. He never thought he’d find himself enjoying a sunset with James Potter, but he was. They flew back to the castle together and parted in the entrance hall, he down to the dungeons and James up the marble staircase. 

The following morning, he took his breakfast out to the lake and huffed a laugh at the sight. James had been right. It was beautiful. 

[art-missy]

Overwhelmed (Gekko x Reader)

Part. 1 Part. 3

Part. 2

Sorry in advance for my terrible English. I'm actually more of an English reader and listener than an actual speaker or writer. I also apologize for the dull writing style that could seem quite childish. I just wanted to test something by posting this.

If a few months ago somebody had told you that you would be spotted by a secret organization whose job is to protect your world against the threat of agents from another dimension, you would have laughed so hard that your guts would have spitted out. If that ‘somebody’ had continued with the fact that this organization would contact you in some way to recruit you just because you maybe took down a K-SEC facility by yourself and also because your skills interested them, you would have told them to sell their idea to a filmmaker. If that ‘somebody’ had then insisted that you would spend one of your days off with a few other agents of that organization by watching Disney movies and hearing them sing their guts out, you would have told them to stop.

Well, look at you now, exchanging astounded glances with Iso as Neon reached a note so terrifying that you were pretty sure she could have won the Oscar of the best scream in a horror movie. You were slightly worried about the state of her vocal cords. 

“And she’s not even drunk.” Muttered Yoru when he saw your dumbfounded expression as he finished his can of soda. Phoenix let out a booming laugh and nudged your and Iso’s arms playfully.

What the hell were you doing here ? You were so at peace in your hideout. How did Valorant find you ? Oh yeah. Cypher. No one can hide from the Moroccan sentinel and you understood it quite quickly when he appeared in each of your hideouts everytime you tried to run away. Hard to hide from someone whose eyes are literally everywhere. It has been quite hard for him too to convince you that the intentions of Valorant were noble when he appeared each time in the middle of the night like a sleep paralysis demon. The process of convincing you had been long and hard but Cypher was patient and quite stubborn. Especially when it came to visiting each of your hideouts (even the one under the Mediterranean Sea) and finishing all your different packs of tea. Well, at least you had now Big Brother as a mentor.

You jolted a little, startled when Raze and Killjoy suddenly stood up to start a duet while waltzing around the room. The level of love and affection in their eyes made you wonder if they weren't from a Disney movie themselves. You could literally see their eyes changing form to turn into hearts as their souls were screaming ‘I love you’ in their respective languages. And you found it adorable despite your exhaustion.

Jett playfully threw some popcorn at the couple, telling them to get a room. You’re pretty sure she didn't notice the few candy and crumbs of snacks in her ponytail. 

Clove were jumping on the different bean bag chairs, singing as if their life depended on it while Wingman cheered at their antics.

And you, you let out a small sigh as you took a sip of your bubbletea. All this chaos because of Frozen.

You swore that if you heard the songs ‘Love is an open door’ or ‘Let it go’ again, you would go apeshit.

You maybe should have join Deadlock for a reading session in her quarters instead of accepting Gekko’s invitation. Or just listening to music in your room. Or maybe drawing. You were certain that it would have been more peaceful and less mentally draining than this Disney night. And when you shared another glance with Iso, you knew he thought the same thing. It was visibly way too much for your introverted asses.

“Hey,” Gekko put a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay ?”

You shot him a tired look. 

You sometimes miss your old life. You missed your different hideouts where you could see the sunset over the mountains, the sea creatures under the Mediterranean Sea, the snow in the Siberian desert or the rain falling on the trees of a random forest. Where you didn't have to interact with people every single day of the week.

You loved the Valorant protocol and you got along with the people you met there. But sometimes it was too much. You took down this K-SEC facility because you knew how shady the experimentations they were running were, not because you wanted to attract the attention of a secret organization. You sometimes resented Cypher for finding you, for stealing you from these calm moments, even though you knew that you accepted to be an agent of Valorant of your own free will and for a good cause. 

“Hey,” Repeated Gekko. “Are you okay ?”

You gently pushed his hand off your shoulder and stood up from your bean bag chair.

“Sorry.” You muttered.

And you rushed out of the room as Gekko called for you, his tone full of worry. You speed-walked towards the garden of the base, putting your headphones on your ears and slightly relaxing when the music reached your brain. You took a deep breath and the wind caressed your skin as you finally walked into the gardens. You took off your shoes and let the grass tickle your bare feet. The night sky watched over you as you finally took a seat on a bench.

Better.

You felt better. You breathed better. You lived better. The music in your ears relaxed your muscles, and the wind murmured on your skin, bringing the fragrance of the different flowers of the garden. You definitely had to compliment Sky and Sage. 

Your phone suddenly vibrated and you noticed that Iso sent you a link to a playlist. 

⟨Here. To relax your nerves.⟩

You internally smiled and sent a text message to the Chinese duelist to thank him. You started the playlist and relaxed even more when the first note of the first song reached your ears. Iso really did have good taste in music.

You were about to close your eyes when you suddenly felt a finger patting your shoulder. You jolted a little and turned your head to the side to see Cypher’s blue lenses staring back at you. You pulled your headphones down and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Big Brother is watching me ?” 

The sentinel let out a small chuckle and sat down beside you, a trap wire traveling on his knuckles.

“Overwhelmed ?”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“I thought I was Big Brother.”

You rolled your eyes but a small smile tugged the corners of your lips. You leaned on the backrest of the bench and let out a deep sigh.

“I’m not in the mood for a game of chess, Cypher.” 

The masked man nodded and hummed softly.

“I suspected it.”

“Then why are you here, Optimus Prime ?” You groaned, stretching your arms over your head.

Cypher’s head tilted slightly and by his body language you suspected a smirk to be present under his mask.

“To check on you, dear.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow and your eyes squinted slightly.

“Right. And may I ask why, dear ?” You scoffed as you rolled your eyes again. “Wait. Let me guess. You saw me walking away from the common room through these cute little cameras of yours, got curious when you couldn't see me then came here.” You interrupted yourself then shook your head. “Nope. There are also cameras in the garden. Then why did you come here ?”

Cypher let out another small chuckle and patted your head with an odd but paternal affection. 

“Look who’s playing Sherlock, now.” 

You let out an annoyed groan as you tried to push his hand away from your head but Cypher’s mood stayed playful.

“What kind of mentor would I be if I didn't worry about my protégé ?”

You snorted but nodded with a sarcastic smile.“More of a stalker than a mentor.” 

“A stalker who is worried about you, then.”

You couldn't see it but you heard the soft smile in his voice. He leaned a bit more towards you, the brim of his long hat hid you from the night sky and the usual faint glow of his blue lenses looked like two little will-o’-the-wisps in the obscurity of the garden. It reminded you of the first time you met each other, a few days after you took down this K-SEC facility. It was in a dark alleyway and the first thing you saw was these blue lenses before you could make out his long and slender figure. But because of his long hat and the darkness of the alleyway, you had almost taken him for a mutated palm tree. Even today you facepalmed yourself when you remembered those thoughts as your eyes stared into his lenses.

“Who eats alone, chokes alone.” He finally whispered with a conspiratorial tone. Something was telling you that he winked under his mask.

“What ?” You facepalmed.

“It’s an Arabic proverb.” He leaned back and his head tilted again. “Loneliness is neither your ally, nor your enemy. It is impartial. In your case, you use it to recharge yourself, but it can also drain you without you noticing, making you depend on it. Use your loneliness but don’t be alone.” His voice dropped a few octaves lower and you felt his eyes sinking deeply into yours. “Use your balance.”

Something was telling you that he was speaking from experience. A slight twitch in his body language maybe. Or a tiny heaviness in his already thick accent, indication of the unusual emotions in his voice. And you realized just now how little you knew about your mentor.

Cypher nodded, as if satisfied by your visible confusion, stood up from the bench and started to walk away.

“Wait a minute, Darth Vader !” You exclaimed, pointing a frustrated finger at him. “I don't speak proverbial shit and neither does google translate. Come back here or I’ll tell Sky you put cameras in the garden !”

Cypher kept walking away, humming a soft tune.

“Speaking of balance…”

“I don’t understand the proverbial shit, you cheap Cyberpunk shit !”

“Have a good night, dear.” He turned towards you briefly. “Oh, and your strawberry teas are delicious.”

This fucker.

He kept walking away until going back inside and you suddenly heard hurried footsteps. You turned your head and saw Gekko and Wingman running in your direction before stopping in front of you. 

How did you know it was Gekko with the lack of light ? First of all, Wingman. Second of all, his hair.

Gekko was catching his breath with his hands on his knees while Wingman jumped on your lap, making a few garbling sounds. You raised an eyebrow and looked at them, confused.

“Are you dying ?” You asked Gekko and your eyes widened slightly when he started to wheeze. “Gekko ?”

“Dios !” He exclaimed as he finally caught his breath. “I looked for you throughout the whole base !”

“Did you have to run a marathon for that ?” 

Despite your dry tone, your eyes only showed concern for him. You patted the space beside you on the bench and he gladly sat down. He then looked at you and despite the obscurity, you were certain his brows furrowed in worry.

“Are you okay ?”

You shot him a deadpanned look.

“You put your legs through a nocturnal torture by running like a possessed fool throughout the whole base, found me here relaxing in the garden while the soft fragrance of flowers and the night sky kept me company, and ended up wheezing like a dying man about to spew his lungs out and you are asking me if I’m okay ?” 

You looked at his figure from head to toe as he chuckled at your small outburst. He was still a bit out of breath from his little run but he seemed quite fine.

“Damn ! Your descriptions are always so…special. Clove would definitely love you to be the Dungeon Master of their next DnD game.” His laugh calmed down and he nervously cleared his throat. “Anyway. I wanted to check on you. You didn't seem fine in the common room. Are you feeling a bit better now ?”

You shot him a bored look and let a deep sigh out of your lungs. Wingman made a few high chirped noises indicating his worry.

“You really love wasting your time, don’t you ?” Your eyes wandered on the night sky. “Aren't you missing the end of the movie ? Shouldn't you be inside with your friends ?”

Gekko frowned and looked at you funny.

“You’re my friend too.”

You let out a small snort that only deepened his frown.

“I’m serious.” He insisted. “We’re maybe not as close as you are with Cypher or Deadlock or… Iso, but I see you as my friend and I will always have your back.”

You looked back at him and even though you couldn't see him clearly because of the obscurity, you felt his eyes looking at you with a fierce determination.

“Plus,” he continued, “you always have my back on the field, fighting like a total badass against the enemies. Remember our last mission in Lotus ? I would have been dead meat if you weren't there.”

Wingman (who had gotten comfy on your lap) nodded with vehemence, agreeing with Gekko’s words.

“I’m not quite sure if you can be ‘dead meat’ when someone like Sage is around.” You said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

Gekko made a noise between an amused chuckle and a sigh of frustration. You couldn't figure out what was on his mind, which is quite surprising since he was usually so expressive. He then suddenly got closer to you on the bench, grabbed your shoulders and leaned a bit more towards you.

“My point is : you got my back and I got yours. You're my friend and I won’t leave you alone.” His fingers gently squeezed your shoulders. “And I’m sorry.”

It was now your turn to frown as you did not understand why he was apologizing for.

“I invited you to this movie night so I could have an occasion to get to know you better, so we could get to know each other and bond on something that is not mission related.” He explained. “But you clearly weren't at ease. I thought you were about to have a panic attack, back there.”

You felt his thumbs caressing your shoulders as his hands squeezed you a bit more tightly.

“I’m sorry.”

You shook your head and let out another sigh. “Don’t apologize. Your intentions were innocent and sweet.”

You couldn't see the blush on his cheeks but you noticed the slight twitch in his body language.

“Everything's fine.” You insisted. “I’m perfectly fine. Plus, with the new playlist Iso sent me, I can just relax and enjoy the quietude of the garden.”

“Oh.” He said simply.

His voice showed disappointment, sadness even. You vaguely felt his grip on your shoulder faltering a little while Wingman made a few sad garbling sounds.

“Gekko ?”

You couldn't see his face, but his body language showed a slight dispiritedness that didn't match his usual playful and confident personality.

“You and Iso are really close, huh.” He said with an uncharacteristically neutral tone.

His shoulders were now slightly slumped.

“Well, we had heard about each other before we joined Valorant. It was funny to finally meet the infamous ‘Dead Lilac’ in this secret organization.” You chuckled a little, finding the circumstances of your first meeting with the Chinese duelist quite embarrassing. You remembered knocking your head so hard against his chest that it spinned a little.

“That’s…uhm…kinda cute, I guess.”

You wondered what was on the mind of the piece of sweet-woman-heartthrob-trope that Gekko was.

“Well I don't know if it’s cute, but we’ve been exchanging playlists and book recommendations since.” You shrugged and Gekko’s hands slided down your arms at your action. “He’s cool. He has a sweet ‘older sibling’ vibe that put me at ease.”

The young initiator seemed to perk at your words and so was his radivore critter.

“‘Older sibling’ vibe ?” He repeated. “What do you mean ?”

“Well, you see how siblings sometimes banter with each other but always have each other's back ?” You started to explain and you saw his figure tilting his head. “Well that's our relationship with Iso. You probably know what I’m talking about. I noticed that you had quite the same thing with Neon.” You shrugged again.

His whole demeanor seemed to relax when he let out a laugh filled with relief. You frowned a little, not understanding this sudden outburst of joy.

“You alright ?” You raised a worried eyebrow and squinted your eyes a little. “Maybe you should get some sleep.”

It was at this moment that the moon finally decided to come out of behind the clouds, illuminating both of your faces. You both looked at each other, admiring your features. Your eyes wandered on his freckles without noticing his lovestruck gaze on you. 

“Maybe I'm a bit tired.” He whispered with a lost tone, as if he didn't understand what he just said.

“Hm.” You looked down on your lap to notice Wingman shrinking and hopping towards Gekko’s shoulder. “Wanna go back inside ?”

“You’re going back inside ?” Gekko asked.

“No.”

“Then I’ll stay with you.” He got more comfortable on the bench and you felt him lean a bit more towards you. “Unless my presence is overwhelming.”

You shook your head and leaned against the backrest of the bench. 

“No. You’re fine.”

“Cool.” He nodded and let out a small sigh of relief.

A comfortable silence settled between you, slightly disturbed by the faint music from your headphones. Your eyes wandered on the night sky, unaware of Gekko’s longing glances in your direction. You were completely oblivious to his poor heart beating so fast and so loud that he feared you could hear it. You did not notice. You never did. Ever since you set your foot into the base for the first time, his eyes were always on you. At first it was curiosity. Curious about the agent recommended by the mysterious man that was Cypher. Then it was admiration for the fierce fighter that you turned into once on the field. And finally, it bloomed to be a small crush that never ceased to grow. Your charisma hypnotized him. His feelings for you were so obvious that his friends never stopped to tease him. Even Reyna said that he looked like a lost puppy everytime you were around and Harbor often asked him to focus when you were in his field of view. And of course, he was jealous of how close Iso was with you. The duelist could talk to you without any problem, he could receive your smiles, your laughs, your friendly fist-bumps while the only times Gekko could have a proper interaction with you was during missions or briefings. Even during training you stayed in your corner, avoiding interactions.

But right now, he felt so happy. This was the longest interaction you’ve ever had with each other and he couldn't help but smile.

He turned his head in your direction and softly called you.

“Yeah ?”

“I heard that you love to draw.” He nervously rubbed his neck but kept his eyes on yours. “We could someday, you know, draw together while chilling in my room. If it’s okay with you of course.”

You shot him an indescribable glance and he suddenly felt so stupid for not using drawing as a way to bond with you sooner instead of the movie night. But he relaxed a little when you ended up shrugging.

“Why not.”

It was a start. He will not confess his feelings for now. It was way too soon. But he will certainly enjoy these moments with you. He will enjoy bonding with you and get to know you better.

Anecdote : the Arabic proverb mentioned by Cypher is something the father of a friend once told me when I was a kid. It's stuck in my mind, ever since.

I'm not proud of the ending ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ But it's fine. It is just a test, after all.

I don't know if I'll post the part. 2. I'll most probably keep it in my drafts.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I wish you a lovely day/night.

[yuriosakawa]

Benrex Oneshot: A Stroll

Ben could get used to this…

As sunset fell over the town of Bellwood, a young hero and his love traversed the town— hand in hand, drinking smoothies and generally enjoying each other’s company, and the rare moments of peace and quiet amidst all the craziness of their individual hero careers. 

Rex was slurping loudly on his smoothie. He had the goofy little grin so characteristic of him that always made Ben’s heart swell, and his mahogany eyes seem to have this golden glow with the aid of the last sunlight of the day. In other words, he looked absolutely gorgeous. Not that he ever wasn’t for Ben. 

The wielder of the Omnitrix smiled softly as his grip on Rex’s hand tightened comfortably; his fingers matching perfectly with Rex’s own. By now, the generator has definitely noticed, and he stopped slurping on his smoothie to pay attention to him— smirking with amusement and quirking an eyebrow. 

"What?" The heroic EVO asked playfully “Any reason why you’re squeezing my hand so hard?”

“I just like holding on to you…" Ben whispered softly with a loving smirk. Rex rolled his eyes and called him a sap, but the Omnitrix’s chosen could see his lover’s sun kissed cheeks gaining a pretty pink blush. And Rex really couldn’t hide the soft smile that followed. 

A comfortable silence hung between them afterwards, as the two heroes continued to enjoy their little stroll while finishing the last remains of their smoothies. Once they threw the now empty cups away, an idea suddenly appeared on Ben’s head; making a playful grin spread out. 

"It started when the nanites when ka-pow upon the scene, transforming all the life on Earth like nobody’s ever seen…” Ben began to sing, his voice a little off pitched but no less playful and enthusiastic. 

Rex blinked slowly when his boy started singing, confused, before he understood what Ben was trying to do as his own soft grin spread across end his face. Well then, two could play that game…

“It started when an alien device did what it did, it stuck itself upon his wrist with secrets that it hid…" Rex’s singing voice was a little smoother than Ben’s, but it was also layered with mischievous playfulness. Ben chuckled at his lover’s words, and after giving his gloved hand another squeeze, continued. 

"But there’s a lucky hombre who can make them build machines; he’s Gen Rex!" 

"Now he’s got superpowers, he’s no ordinary kid; he’s Ben 10!"

When they saw that they finished at the same time, both boys giggled. It was a ridiculous moment, but—neither would replace it for the world. 

“So if you see him, you might be in for a surprise~" They both sonetoed at the same time, before their melodies had to separate themselves again. 

“He’ll change into giant machines before your very eyes~" Ben singsonged, making Rex snort when his voice cracked at the very end, before the EVO went for his turn. 

”He’ll turn into an alien before your very eyes~" Ben pouted when his lover’s singing voice ended up being much smoother than his own, but he really couldn’t stay mad with him for long. So, a gentle grin spread across his face soon enough as he then leaned in to leave a fleeting kiss on Rex’s cheek making the generator chuckle gratefully 

“He’s fast, he’s strong, he’s funny, he’s charming— his machines come in every size, he’s Gen Rex!" Ben listed and Rex immediately had a smug look on his face. 

“Oh really~?" The EVO purred, raising a suggestive eyebrow to which Ben blew an unamused raspberry. 

"Don’t get a big head over this” He huffed. 

“Yeah sure” Rex chuckled, looking like a preening cat, and Ben blew yet another raspberry to which Rex chuckled before continuing with his own song. 

“He’s slimy, creepy, fast and strong. He’s every shape and size, he’s Ben 10!” 

“Hey!" Ben pouted at the specific words his lover used to describe while Rex, the little traitor, laughed. 

"Well, you are! Or at least you were, weren’t you?” The EVO asked with an inquisitive eyebrow, and Ben just huffed. 

“You’re lucky you’re so cute…” Ben murmured in mock annoyance. 

“Don’t forget fast, strong, funny and charming” Rex remembered with that Cheshire Cat grin, and Ben, for the life of him, actually snorted. With a newly uplifted mood, he continued to sing. 

“Armed with nanites he’s on the case, curing off EVOs regardless of the stakes…" Ben hummed, grinning gently, which made Rex share his gentle smile. He then closed his mahogany eyes to continue his own song—

“Armed with powers he’s on the case, fighting of evil from Earth or space…” He hummed as well, his voice rich and velvety which always served to make Ben’s heart skip a beat and his cheeks to start heating. And yet, a lovestruck smile spread across his face as he gazed at his beautiful lover. 

Omni. How did he ever got so lucky…? 

“‘Cause he’s the baddest hombre to ever save the day…" Still, never the one to allow himself to be outshined, Ben’s voice raised as he reached the climax of his song. 

"'Cause he’s the baddest kid to ever save the day…!" Rex repeated, in his own way, of course "He’s—"

"Gen Rex!"

"Ben 10!”

They both finished, glancing at each other at the same time. When their eyes met, they cracked with mirthfulness, and the two then broke out in pleasant laughter. 

"You’re a good singer, y’know?" Ben murmured, looking at his lover with gleaming emerald eyes that twinkled with the aid of the sunlight and his own burning love for the boy in front of him. A pink blushed dusted his cheeks. 

"Well, I was in a band once…” Rex bragged, looking smug. Cute. 

"Yeah, as a bodyguard" Ben remembered, and Rex scoffed dismissively as he waved his hand airily. 

"Ah, details" The heroic EVO said with a confident grin, making Ben giggle appreciatively "You’re not half bad as well, you know?" 

“Well, I do try" Ben shrugged, taking Rex’s hand with him and he planted a gentle kiss on his gloved fingers, making Rex giggle at both the ticklish sensation and the warm act of love that his boy displayed. His bronze cheeks gained a soft pink hue. 

The two then decided to return home. Still hand in hand. Still smiling softly. Still looking at each other like if they were their entire worlds, because in their individual emerald green and golden mahogany eyes, they were. They squeezed their hands a little tighter, as they rested their foreheads against each other’s and gentle, loving smiles spread across their faces, before separating themselves once again. 

And they allowed the few stars that were already making their appearance in the darkening sky to be the only witness to their love. And to their latest song…

“So make way to start the revolution…"

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

Episode 9 "The Harbinger" Review

Ah Jennifer, Jennifer, Jennifer... you love to watch us get all worked up don't you? But in all seriousness, I really enjoyed this episode. It's so beautifully animated and scored. I need the Kiners to drop the OST asap because man was the music stunning. (This episode also further proves that Echo clearly was the braincell of the group and I'm cackling).

As always, spoilers below:

BEHOLD! THE RETURN OF OUR QUEEN VENTRESS! I loved how she was utilized. I was surprised to see her actually be there on Pabu, but it makes sense since Fennec told her to find them. However, I am wondering how she did find Pabu. My guess is that Ventress was given Hunter's photo and meditated with it until she felt his presence... somewhere. Or she knew a guy who knew a guy who knew Phee. Everything from Ventress' design to voice acting was perfection. The animators really popped off with her Dark Disciple look. But, how did she survive? Nightsister magic? There's probably some explanation, but it'll be left ambiguous for reasons.

Her relationship with Omega was very well done. She's changed so much since her first appearance in CW. I liked the balance between her ability to still kick butt while also being a good person at heart as shown with Omega. She doesn't kill the Batch even though they got defensive (and I understand why they did). The scene where she calms the giant kraken-like creature was so so good. It's a nice way of showing how Ventress has found the light with the Force. Her line about being on a side of her own was also good and pretty much sums up her character perfectly. She's neither dark nor light, she's just right.

It's also obvious from the title that she's the harbinger. Harbingers are people that herald the approach of someone or danger. For the Batch, she's a harbinger of doom. That doesn't mean she herself brings the danger, but she tells them that their time is up. Repeatedly, she tells the Batch that they aren't safe even on Pabu. Which means that Pabu is gonna go down next week *cue sad yaying*. Even the lighting this episode signified doom. Pabu is shrouded in fog and the only light we see is from a sunset, indicating the end of the Batch's peace and safety.

Speaking of the Batch, they really do share one braincell and even then, it's usually with Echo. It's so awesome to see them work together again in combat. And we got to hear their theme again!! It was so triumphant and such a great moment! I know we'll hear it again, but this was such a good moment. I love that most of their moments were them just watching out for Omega. I know we all joke about the Jango Fett Mandalorian dad genes, but it's so true. Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair love their sister so much. Every time Cross was like "we're not handing her over," I got excited. Omega aside, the smaller moments like Wrecker teasing Crosshair or Wrecker mimicking his brothers were gold.

My favorite moment with the three was when Crosshair threw Hunter and Wrecker's weapons to them. The music went hard and the camaraderie between them is so heartfelt. These brothers will always have each others' backs. (Also, this is the first time we hear Cross call Tech by his name. Tech is still with them, even if it's in their hearts).

And of course there's our sweet bean, Omega. Next week will definitely be about her conflicted over the possibility of being Force Sensitive. It breaks my heart to see her so lost and confused. The Batch can try and help, but they're so out of their depth. I honestly think Omega will go back to Tantiss simply to see if she is capable of using the Force. There are so many questions about her identity. Why was she created? Why is she so important? I know a lot of people now think that she will off with Ventress in the finale if we do get a confirmation that she is force sensitive. Honestly, I hope she stays with her brothers. If they kill the Batch off, then I can see the Ventress end working, but I really hope that's not the case.

I wonder how the Empire will find Pabu. They could get really lucky, find a bounty hunter to track them, or even have a brainwashed Tech. I know the theory about Cross having a tracker or something was popular, but if that was true, then the Empire would've already descended upon them. Maybe Palpatine finds them through the Force; that I would believe. Either way, it will be very angsty and Pabu is doomed. But what do you guys think?

Anyways, that's all I have for now. Let's all prepare mentally for next week. Our little family is gonna need all the therapy and support they can get.

[p1x1e-sims]

Gwendoline no longer felt as if she were in her own body. She floated just outside of it, watching everything with a tired sort of apathy. Her mind moved slower than her body. Everything was too much effort. Sometimes, in the mornings, after she had readied herself for the day, she laid back down, wondering how nice it would be to stop for a while. Or forever.

But then the children were waking up, starting their noise and ruckus, and Gwen knew she wouldn't have her moment of peace. If this life had been hard enough with Sam around, it was near impossible now. But what choice did she have? There were children to raise. There was too much work to be done.

As much as she loathed life on their little piece of land, Gwen found it to be a small victory when she could stay in the gardens all day instead of going into town to help with the volunteer society. The dirt and sun and aches in her muscles were less than the desirable for the former socialite, but these days she preferred the solitude of the farmhouse. Plants pricked and chickens pecked, but at least they didn't talk to her. Talking was so very tiring these days.

She found that she could not even talk to Theresa. Her dearest friend was always so warm and inviting, insisting that Gwendoline could tell her anything. But Theresa loved her simple life and everything that came with it, even in the face of the war. And never once did she complain about her little Heidi, while Gwendoline had a laundry list of grievances about her sets of twins. Theresa was so perfect. She was doing so well, given everything in their lives. She worked so hard and did it with a smile, never let her cheery resolve falter. Theresa had become a real pillar in the community in recent years, and all Gwendoline had become was a nuisance. It was like they lived in separate worlds. And try as she might, Theresa wouldn't understand. So, Gwen made sure not to say anything too gloomy. She didn't want to be a bother to anyone.

And besides, it was easier not to talk. She was so very tired of it all.

But there was no rest for the wicked, as her grandmother would have said. After the work in the garden or in town was done, it was straight back inside to cook for the children. All four of whom were in the midst of their own petty fights She threw out a few stern warnings, but couldn't make the dinner and herd all four of her children at once. For the most part, they sorted out any arguments on their own.

Ginny and Maggie were just behind her, yelling about something that Gwen didn't try to understand.

"Oh, you came back before sunset today ? It's a miracle! Somebody tell the pastor! Tell him Margaret Townsend is helping out!"

"I'm doing just as much work as you, stupid!" Maggie screeched, shoving her twin. "And what I do when I'm gone is my business!"

Over in the doorway, the younger set of twins were having a squabble of their own. Charles, as shy and squeamish as he was, was more than capable of raising his voice when Peter pushed him too far. Which was quite often.

"Leave me alone!"

"Well, you shouldn't have embarrassed me in front of the class."

"Well, you and your pals shouldn't have thrown things at my head!"

Gwen was starting to get a migraine.

"You need to take it back!" Peter shouted, always quick to anger. "Tell everyone you were fibbing! I didn't wet the bed!"

"It's not a fib if its true—"

Even from the kitchen, Gwen could hear the smack that cut off Charles' words. She whirled around, at her limit.

"Boys!" She yelled. The girls stopped, aware of their mother glaring at them in place of their brothers. The boys she couldn't see from the stove, but heard a hush fall over the argument nonetheless.

"I have had more than enough of all of your petty squabbles, especially today!" She had a white-knuckle grip on the spoon. "Do me a favor and keep your hands to yourself."

Quiet mutters of "Sorry, Mom" could be heard from the hallway. The girls looked down and shuffled their feet on the kitchen tile.

Gwen took a breath in. It was exhausting. Overwhelming. "Now go make yourselves useful. Set the table, fetch the mail, anything other than giving me a headache."

Charles and Peter's quick footsteps padded to the porch as they raced one another to get the mail. Meanwhile, Gwendoline rounded on your daughters.

"And you two," She said, pointing a finger. "I don't know what's gotten into the both of you, and I don't care how you solve it, but you better solve it. Or at least take your fights outside. I've got enough on my plate without having to fix your problems and listen to your bickering."

Virginia grew defensive. "But, Ma, she never helps us arou—"

"I don't care."

Maggie butted in. "I am helping! She just thinks I—"

"I don't care," Gwen repeated, closing her eyes. "I don't care what either of you do with your time as long as you're both breathing. What you get up to outside of the schoolhouse is none of my concern, as long as you're home for dinner."

Gwendoline turned back to the stove, doing her best to ignore the hurt and angry looks on her daughters' faces. It was shockingly easy, she realized. She simply couldn't bring herself to care. If she had the energy, she would've been angry with herself.

"And what would your father say," She muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "It's like we raised you in a barn."

Suddenly, Gwendoline missed and hated her husband more than anything else in the world. He left her in this state, and she needed him. This is all your fault. She thought. Please come back. I hate you for this. Please come fix it. I'm drowning. Sam, I'm drowning.

The boys came back, their footsteps slower and more cautious this time. Charles waited to the side, pained expression on his face and letter in his hand. Peter hung behind him, uncharacteristically silent. Gwen pushed her misery down and braced for the newest problem her had children caused.

"What now?" She sighed, expecting a broken mailbox.

"Um, Mama." Charles shuffled closer, as if he were scared to say anything. "A letter came."

"From who?" Gwen asked impatiently, stirring the pot. "Is it your father? Damn near time."

"Well...I think it's about him."

Gwendoline froze.

"Mama, its a notice from a military hospital."

Previous | Next

[lavenderlemonade47]

'Til Peace I Can Find

Relationship: Fenn Rau x Reader

Summary: You offer solace and a listening ear as Fenn Rau mourns his fallen comrades.

Rating: T

Warnings: Angst, grief, and some survivor's guilt for both characters

Word Count: 2,008

The sunsets on Atollon were truly something to behold. When the last light winked out on the horizon, the entire sky was painted vivid orange and pink, the coral mesas bathed in a dying gold. 

It was a breathtaking form of beauty. Something that brought you respite from the frenetic pace of life in the Rebellion.

Yet there was no peace to be found for you tonight. Surely not for your friend.

By all means, his stony facade betrayed nothing. The stern set to his shoulders was the same as it always was. His stature was as strong as ever, and any concerns voiced by your compatriots were met with his signature sardonic deflection. 

But you familiarized yourself with Fenn well over the year you made his acquaintance. You committed to heart every detail about him from the look in his eyes during the rare times you beat him at a round of cu’bikhad to the proud way he held himself, even when confined to a cell. A soldier in the truest sense of the word.

You also knew when he was open to conversation or preferred a quiet form of company. Like right now.

He recognized you by the sound of your gait, dampened by the sand along the perimeter. He made no motion to greet you, instead remaining fixated on some point you couldn’t make out among the stars in the sky.

You, too, were silent as you took your place beside him on top of a cargo crate.

You set down a hot bowl of soup beside him. “I didn’t see you in the mess hall,” you said quietly. “I thought you might be hungry.”

He glanced your way and accepted the stew with a noncommittal grunt. “You’re not my keeper.”

You shrugged. “No, but you have to eat regardless.”

You crossed your arms and gazed across the dunes. For a while, the only sounds to be heard were the clink of his spoon and the distant activity of the day crew and the graveyard shift trading places along the edge of the base. 

It was rote. Routine.

“What are you doing here again?”

You tilted your head. Fenn wasn’t a man to waste time, yet his candor still threw you off guard. 

How you guarded the answer close to your heart.

You arrived unbidden at his prison cell that fateful day because you wanted to meet the man a dear friend told you about so many times over the years. A friend that gave his life so you could stand beside the rebels.

You held onto that hope and kept coming back in spite of his brusqueness and sarcastic ripostes. To honor your comrade’s memory.

Yet it became more than that.

You noticed details about him that captivated your imagination in every waking hour. Things you didn't learn from the stories that made your head spin and have you feeling as vulnerable as a newborn loth cat.

You wouldn’t tell him this now. But that didn’t mean that your next words weren’t true.

“It’s nice to spend time with someone that doesn’t always expect me to talk.”

“I’m hardly good company,” he said bluntly.

You shook your head. “I can see why. You used rather colorful language to describe my mother when we first met.”

It was your half-hearted attempt at levity—one that earned you only the smallest huff and twitch of his lips. You set down your mug and sighed. “But I like coming back.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What is it you hope to find here?”

You exhaled slowly. “...peace. That’s all I want.” You looked at him again. “You?”

There it was again. That gaze that seemed to look past you at some object you’ll never see. Though he remained at your side, his voice sounded far away when he found it again. “Something I’m not sure I’ll ever find.”

“It’s about your men, isn’t it?”

“I failed them.” He gritted out. “They trusted me as their leader. I should have protected them.” 

You closed your eyes.

You could have said the same for too many friends you failed to protect in the past. For all those you lost in your fight against the Empire.

You almost told him there was nothing he could have done to prevent the Protectors’ deaths. That Saxon would have killed them, and Fenn alongside them, at one point or another.

But that would have been a cruel diversion from the agony you knew tore at him.

There was nothing you could say to dull the pain. But you would do your best to make room for it.

“You don’t want to forget them, do you?” you asked. It wasn’t a real question. It was a statement, one you already knew the answer to. “You’re afraid that you’ll lose a piece of their memory every day you’re without them.”

Stars. What you saw in his eyes reopened your old wounds.

“I can’t forget,” he whispered hoarsely. “I won’t.”

But it was already happening. You could tell by the desperate hitch in his voice, subtle as it was. A plea and a promise unraveling by the minute.

You knew all too well the raw horror of loved ones fading away in the recesses of your mind. The once distinct contours of their faces and the sounds of their laughter scoured by time until only the faintest traces remained.

For some, you lost them entirely.

It took you far too long to realize that grief was never a burden meant to be carried alone. Pride, as tempting as it felt, was only a road to regret.

Maker be damned if you were going to let Fenn make the same mistake.

“Then tell me,” you urged. “Tell me all about them. So I can help you remember.”

The moment seemed to stretch on forever as he regarded you silently. The space between you seemed too small and too far apart all at once, and you weren’t sure how to feel about it. 

Until he finally began.

His voice trembled as he recounted them to you. The ones he trained during the Clone Wars. He was well aware that he shouldn’t have had those attachments. In war, it was practically a death sentence. He was not meant to love the clones like his own brothers.

But he did. He taught them how to hold their own in the air. More than that—how to trust one another, not just as a unit, but as true friends.

It killed him how many he watched perish in battle.

Then there was the Duchess he was sworn to defend. Satine. His Manda’lor in all but name. In whose leadership he trusted to unite their people. She, in turn, trusted him with her life.

A trust that was cruelly misplaced by his failure to protect her.

He went on. About every one of the men who served him until the very end. His Protectors. His white-knuckled fists curled at his sides as he remembered them with equal parts affection and anguish. Their loyalty and their rage, as well as their dedication to their duty. A brief smile flickered across his lips as he recalled one whose marksmanship was so good, he could hit a target from half a kilometer away even when drunk on spotchka.

Fenn had moments when he swore he heard the voice of one of his comrades, or caught a glimpse of one standing beside him in the arid desert of Atollon. Even when he knew such a thing to be impossible.

He found himself longing for their presence in the most mundane ways. A shared cup of caff. One last training session. A Maker forsaken status report.

Just this morning, he reached for an extra plate in the mess hall. It was only instinct to him, to provide for those he held dear. Even when he’d never share a meal with them again.

Time did nothing to mend the pain. It was a truth he was familiar with, yet that did nothing to stop the sobs threatening to overwhelm him or the anger that shook in his voice as he finished.

“They were warriors,” he said quietly. “They accepted the risk of death with their station. But still…” he shuddered. “I long for them. Every day. I’m not sure how to live on without them yet.”

That question kept you up more nights than you could count. You could vaguely recall the time when you were unmarred by such losses. That age was long gone now. Sometimes, the burden of it all felt remarkably light, and you were able function with a semblance of normalcy. Happiness, even. Only to be interrupted by days when the task of living took such a heavy toll that even the smallest reminder of what used to be brought you to tears.

At first, you didn’t understand how some people went on living with so many holes in their chest. No one attempted to guide you through it. You had to make your own way when it happened to you.

“You must,” you whispered. “You live on by remembering them. It’s not something that ever goes away. You get used to it and find ways to live around it. You share it with friends who will help you.”

“How?” it was half-snarled, half-wept in a way that nearly made you start. “There is no one left for me. I’m all alone. It’s who I am.”

“That’s not true,” you countered. “You have me. I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.” 

You surprised yourself with what you did next. Before the rest of you could catch up, your hand enclosed his over the cool ridges of the crate. Your grip, however trepid, remained steady. A silent refusal to surrender to his despair.

You expected him to shrug you off, perhaps with a reproachful glare and a derisive remark. Yet he did none of those things. His reciprocation was slight, so slight you were sure it was just in your head, but undeniable as you saw his fingers give a squeeze back.

The two of you sat like that for a while before you revealed your own past. You confessed to failed missions and sleepless nights in your cot spent wondering how you could have done things differently. No matter how practiced you had become, it never seemed like enough. There was always a scenario in which you could have saved another friend, delivered one more civilian from the Empire’s wrath. They would never come back to you. They survived only as scattered, festering sorrows spread over your mind like the charred remains of a lost battle. 

All you could do was pick yourself up and fight another day in their name.

By the time your throat ran dry and your hands settled in your lap like heavy tomes, an odd feeling settled over you both. Not peace, exactly, but the shadow of it. 

His expression was different when he looked at you again. Softer, as the hard lines of his face relaxed somewhat. He never let go of your hand.

He said your name, quivering on his lips, as if it was the only thing he could muster in the moment. His thumb gingerly traced the outline of your palm. “...thank you.”

You hummed noncommittally.

The corners of his lips turned up in the ghost of a smile. “You’re far too stubborn for your own good.”

“And you’re a mir’sheb. My favorite asshole,” you chuckled. You were continually taken aback this evening by your audacity. “Which is why I won’t let you stay like this for long.”

He barked a laugh. “Now who taught you that word?”

“I learned from the best. You, di’kut.” 

He shook his head, though the gesture was hardly one of genuine irritation. Only tender exasperation. “You are insufferable.”

Like donning a well-worn cloak, the two of you eased into the banter that defined your time together over the past months.

You would take your peace where you could find it.

[thoughtfulangeltidalwave]

You and Me (Part 6)

Dean pulled into his driveway just after sunset, the sky a muted palette of grays and purples. He sat for a moment in the quiet of his truck, hands gripping the steering wheel as he watched the warm light from the living room filter through the curtains. Home. It should have been a place of peace, but lately, it felt like a second battlefield.

With a deep breath, he stepped out, his boots crunching against the gravel. As he entered, the familiar sounds of the household greeted him—his infant daughter crying upstairs, his son asking endless questions about something or other, and his wife’s sharp voice cutting through it all.

“Dean? Is that you?” she called, irritation already thick in her tone.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he answered, shrugging off his coat and hanging it by the door. He walked into the kitchen, where she stood at the counter, her arms elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing furiously at a pan. Her hair was tied back hastily, and her face was tight with exhaustion.

“Dinner’s cold,” she said without looking at him. “I told you to call if you were going to be late.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, guilt pooling in his stomach. “Sorry, got caught up at work.”

Her laugh was short and bitter. “Of course you did. Meanwhile, I’m here all day with these kids, losing my mind. Maybe next time you can ‘get caught up’ with that, too.”

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but the baby’s piercing wail from upstairs interrupted him. His wife groaned and threw the sponge into the sink. “There she goes again. I swear, that kid cries more than she breathes.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Dean said quickly, already heading for the stairs.

“You always do,” she muttered under her breath, loud enough for him to hear.

Dean climbed the stairs, his jaw tight, and entered the nursery. His six-month-old daughter, tiny and red-faced, was writhing in her crib, her cries echoing off the walls. He gently scooped her up, cradling her against his chest. Her wails softened slightly as he rocked her, murmuring soft reassurances.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he whispered, his large hand supporting her small head.

Behind him, he heard a rustle and turned to see his son, a wide-eyed five-year-old with messy hair, standing in the doorway. He clutched a toy car in one hand and looked up at Dean with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“Why’s Lily crying, Daddy?” he asked.

“She’s just fussy,” Dean said, bouncing the baby gently. “Probably hungry or tired.”

“Mommy said Lily’s always fussy,” his son replied innocently. “She said she doesn’t like babies.”

Dean’s stomach clenched at the words. He forced a smile for his son. “Babies can be a lot of work, but we all love her. Even Mommy, okay?”

His son nodded solemnly. “Okay. Can I help?”

Dean smiled, his heart softening. “How about you sing her a song? You’re good at that.”

The boy grinned, proud, and began to hum a simple tune. Lily’s cries quieted as she stared at her brother, her tiny fists clutching at Dean’s shirt. Dean sat down in the rocking chair, letting the rhythm of his son’s voice and the gentle motion of the chair soothe them both.

He thought about Y/N and her children—three little ones, all gone in the blink of an eye. He couldn’t imagine the kind of love it took to bear that kind of loss and still carry on, even in the smallest way. She’d loved them, that much was clear.

“Dean?” His wife’s voice cut through his thoughts as she appeared in the doorway, her expression hard. “You’re just encouraging him. He’ll never go back to bed now.”

Dean sighed. “He’s helping calm Lily down. It’s fine.”

She folded her arms. “Well, she’s quiet now, so put her down and come eat. Or don’t. I’m going to bed.” She turned and walked away without waiting for his response.

Dean clenched his jaw, his gaze lowering to his son, who looked up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. “Mommy’s tired,” Dean said softly, more for himself than anyone else. “Why don’t you head back to bed, buddy? I’ll tuck you in.”

“Okay, Daddy.” His son hesitated, then leaned in to kiss Lily’s forehead before shuffling back to his room.

Dean sat there for a long time, the baby now dozing against his chest, the weight of the day pressing down on him. The house was quiet now, but his mind was anything but.

Y/N’s face flashed before him—the haunted look in her eyes, the way her voice shook when she spoke of her children. He’d seen plenty of inmates who claimed they were innocent, but there was something about her story that didn’t add up.

He thought about her husband, the details of the case he’d skimmed over when she first arrived. A butcher. Well-liked in their small Louisiana town. But if Dean had learned anything in his years on the Mile, it was that appearances could be deceiving.

And for the first time, he allowed himself to wonder: what if Y/N wasn’t lying? What if she hadn’t killed her children? What if she’d been running from something far worse?

[drinkthemlock]

NIGHT AT THE TAVERN

VI - JOHANN

This one goes out to the duel enjoyers !!

Text by Álvares de Azevedo, translation my own.

TW: this chapter contains manslaughter and incest.

[revised August 2024]

-

“Pourquoi? C’est que mon coeur au milieu des délices,

D’un souvenir jaloux constamment oppressé,

Froid au bonheur présent, va chercher ses supplices

Dans l’avenir et le passé?”

A. DUMAS [1]

 “Now it’s my turn! I too want to toss a coin into your urn; the tainted copper of the beggar: a poor alm, for sure!”

It was in Paris, at a billiard room. I’m not sure if the fire of the game had carried me away, or if the kirsch and curaçao had burned my brains too much… a youth played against me: he was called Artur. 

He had a soft and blond figure like a maiden’s. Childish pink rouged his cheeks: but it was a pink of dulled color. Light hair shadowed his lip, and a golden plumage covered the oval bits of his face like the fuzz that lines a peach. 

My adversary needed one more count to win. I needed not sure how many; I know only that they were many, and so, much cool headedness and care was required in playing. 

I shot the ball. On the occasion the table shook… the blond youth had, voluntarily or not, leaned against the table… the ball shifted, changed its course: with its shift, I lost. Anger took over me. I walked towards him. In response to my burning look, the youth shook his blond hair and smiled as if in mocking. 

It was too much! I walked up to him: a punch resounded. The furious youth walked towards me with a dagger, but our friends contained us.

‘That’s lowly brawling. The duel, that’s the combat of men of honor.’

The youth ripped a glove off with his teeth and threw it in my face. It was insult for insult, filth for filth; it had to be blood for blood. 

Half an hour later I coldly grabbed his hand and spoke into his ear: 

‘Your weapons, sir?’

‘You shall come to know them there.’

‘Your witnesses?’

‘The night and my guns.’

‘The time?’

‘Now.’

‘The place?’

‘You will come with me… where we stop shall be the place.”

“Well, very well: I am ready. Let’s go.”

I gave him my arm and we left. In seeing us so calmly in conversation it was thought that there had been satisfaction. One of the men, though, understood us. 

He came to us and said: 

‘Gentlemen, are there no means of reconciliation then?’

We both smiled. 

‘This is childish,’ he retorted..

We did not reply. 

‘If you need a witness, I am ready.”

We both bowed. 

He understood us: he saw our will was firm and walked away. 

We left.

-

A hotel was open. The youth led me inside.

‘I live here; enter,’ he told me.

We entered.

‘Sir,’ he said, ‘there are no means of peace between us: a punch and a glove thrown on the face of a man are stains that only blood can wash off. And so it is a duel to the death.’

‘To the death,’ I repeated, like an echo. 

‘Well then: I only have two people in the world— my mother and… wait a bit.’

The youth asked for paper, quill and ink. He wrote: the lines were few. Having finished the letter, he gave it for me to read. 

‘See, it is not a betrayal,’ he said.

‘Artur, I believe you; I do not want to read this sheet.’

I turned down the paper. Artur closed the letter, and sealed the seal with a ring he had on his finger. Upon seeing the ring, a tear rolled down his face and fell onto the letter.

‘Sir, you are a man of honor. If I die, take this ring; in my pocket you will find a letter, give it all to… later I’ll tell you whom…’

‘Are you ready?’ I asked. 

‘Not yet! Before one of us dies it is only fair that the dead man toasts to the last twilight of life. Let us not be Abyssinians; and more, the sun in the cinnabar hue of the sunset is still just as beautiful.’

The wine from the Rhine flowed in golden gushes within green crystal cups. The youth rose.

‘Sir, allow me to toast with you.’

‘To whom?’

‘It’s a mystery… a woman, for the name of the one whom one once pressed against one’s lips, whom one loves, is a secret. Won’t you do it?’

‘As you wish.’

We clinked our glasses. The youth walked over to the window. He poured a few drops of the wine from the Rhine into the night. We drank.

‘One of us has toasted his last toast…’ said he, ‘Good night to one of us… and a good bed and restful sleep to the son of the earth!’

He went to a desk, took out two pistols. 

‘This is quicker,’ said he, ‘by the sword the agony takes longer. One of them is loaded, the other is not. Let us draw them at random and shoot at point blank.’

‘It’s murder…’

‘Did we not say that it was a duel to the death, that one of us ought to die?’

‘You’re right. But tell me, where shall we go?’

‘Come with me. In the first deserted corner in the suburb. Any street corner is grim enough for two men of which one has to kill the other.’

At midnight we were outside the city. He put the two pistols on the ground. 

‘Pick, but without touching them.’

I picked.

‘Let’s do it now.’

‘Wait, I have a somber feeling and a sighing voice is moaning in my heart. I want to pray… a longing for my mother.’

He kneeled. To the sight of that kneeling youth— perhaps over a grave— I remembered that I also had a mother and sister… and that I was forgetting them. As to lovers, my desires were like the thirst of street dogs: they were satisfied with water or mud… I’d only loved fallen women.

‘It’s time,’ said he. 

We walked facing each other. The pistols touched our chests. The pistols sounded, only one shot, he fell down, dead… 

‘Here,’ mumbled the dying youth, showing me his pocket.

I threw myself at him. He was drowning in blood. He shuddered three times and turned cold… I took the ring off of his hand. Shoved my hand in his pocket as he’d requested. I found two notes.

The night was dark: I was unable to read them. 

I returned to the city. I looked at the notes under the foggy light of the first streetlamp I found. The first one was a letter to his mother. The other was opened, it read:

At one o’ clock in the morning at … Street n. 60, 1st floor; you’ll find the door open. 

—Your G. 

There was no other signature. 

I did not know what to think. I had an idea; it was a depraved one.

I went to the rendezvous. It was dark. I had the ring I’d brought from the dead man on my finger… I felt a little velvety hand take me by the hand, went upstairs. The door closed.

It was a delicious night! The blond’s lover was a virgin! Poor Romeo! Poor Juliet! It seems that these two children spent their nights with childish kisses and pure dreams!”

(Johann filled his glass, drank it, but shuddered)

“When I was about to leave, I ran into a shadow at the door.

‘Good evening, gentleman… I’ve been waiting for you a while.’

That voice seemed familiar to me. However my wits were scrambled… 

I did not respond: it was a most singular occurrence. I continued down the stairs, the shadow followed me. When we reached the door I saw the tinkle of a knife’s blade. I moved and the blade slid by my shoulder. The fight was made terrible in the dark. Two men that did not know each other, that did not think they’d ever seen each other in the light, and that with luck would not have to see each other alive.

The dagger escaped from his hands, was lost in the dark: I subdued him. An infernal scene, a man in the dark muffling another man’s mouth with his hand, suffocating his throat with his knee, the other hand feeling for an iron in the shadows. 

In this moment I felt a terrible pain: pain and cold flowed down my hand. The man had choked to death, and in his agony had sunk his teeth into my flesh. It was with great difficulty that I released my bloody and dilacerated hand from the corpse’s mouth. I rose.

As I left I ran into an object. I bent down to see what it was. It was a dark lantern. I wanted to see who the man was. I lifted the lamp…

Its last flash bathed the dead man’s head in light… and went off…

I could not believe it: that whole night was some fantastic dream. I dragged the corpse on my shoulders… I carried him through the sidewalk slabs up to the streetlamp, brushed the blood soaked hair off his face…” (a fearful spasm horribly contorted the narrator’s face… He took the cup to drink… his teeth chattered as if he was cold… the cup cracked in his lips.)

“That man— do you understand!? Was blood of my blood, the child of my mother’s entrains, as I was… he was my brother! An idea flew before my eyes like an anathema. I anxiously climbed up the building. I entered. The girl had fainted in fear from hearing the fight. Her face was as cold as marble. Her bare virgin breasts were cold and still like a statue’s… I felt her half naked snowy form between her undone skirts, where depravity had assailed a lost flower. 

I opened the window, took her there…

In truth I am a cursed man! Oi, Archibald, give me another glass, fill it with cognac, fill it to the brim! See! I feel cold, so cold… I tremble from shivering and sweat runs down my face! I crave the fire of spirits! The burning in the brain to the dizzying vapor… I want to forget!”

“What’s the matter with you, Johann? You ramble like a hundred-year-old man!”

“What’s the matter with me? What’s the matter with me? Can’t you see it then? It was my sister!”

-

[1] “Why? It’s that my heart, amongst delights,

By a jealous memory constantly oppressed,

Indifferent to the present happiness, goes searching for torments

In the future and in the past.”

A. Dumas

[pearlsoflongago]

Bells for a New Year

Bells in the Rain

Sleep falls, with limpid drops of rain, Upon the steep cliffs of the town. Sleep falls; men are at peace again Awhile the small drops fall softly down.

The bright drops ring like bells of glass Thinned by the wind, and lightly blown; Sleep cannot fall on peaceful grass So softly as it falls on stone.

Peace falls unheeded on the dead Asleep; they have had deep peace to drink; Upon a live man's bloody head It falls most tenderly, I think.

—Elinor Wylie

In Tenebris

All within is warm,    Here without it's very cold,    Now the year is grown so old And the dead leaves swarm. In your heart is light,    Here without it's very dark,    When shall I hear the lark? When see aright? Oh, for a moment's space!    Draw the clinging curtains wide    Whilst I wait and yearn outside Let the light fall on my face.

—Ford Madox Ford

To Time, New Year’s Eve

Well, my dear Time, you are not going to fool me into making myself ridiculous this New Year's Eve with a lot of bonny but impossible resolutions. I know that you are playing with me just as a cat plays with a mouse; yet even the most piteous mousekin sometimes causes his tormentor surprise or disappointment by getting under a bureau or behind the stove, where, for the moment, she cannot paw him. Every now and then, with a little luck, I shall pull off just such a scurry into temporary immortality. It may come by reading Dickens or by seeing a sunset, or by lunching with friends, or by forgetting to wind the alarm clock, or by contemplating the rosy little pate of my daughter, who is still only a nine days' wonder—so young that she doesn't even know what you are doing to her. But you are not going to have the laugh on me by luring me into resolutions. I know my weaknesses. I know that I shall probably continue to annoy newsdealers by reading the magazines on the stalls instead of buying them; that I shall put off having my hair cut; drop tobacco cinders on my waistcoat; feel bored at the idea of having to shave and get dressed; be nervous when the gas burner pops when turned off; buy more Liberty Bonds than I can afford and have to hock them at a grievous loss. I shall continue to be pleasant to insurance agents, from sheer lack of manhood; and to keep library books out over the date and so incur a fine. My only hope, you see, is resolutely to determine to persist in these failings. Then, by sheer perversity, I may grow out of them.

—from A Letter to Father Time by Christopher Morley

The Belfry of Bruges

In the marketplace of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown; Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o’er the town.

As the summer morn was breaking, on that lofty tower I stood, And the world threw off the darkness, like the weeds of widowhood.

Thick with towns and hamlets studded, and with streams and vapors gray, Like a shield embossed with silver, round and vast the landscape lay.

At my feet the city slumbered. From its chimneys, here and there, Wreaths of snow-white smoke, ascending, vanished, ghost-like, into air.

Not a sound rose from the city at that early morning hour, But I heard a heart of iron beating in the ancient tower.

From their nests beneath the rafters sang the swallows wild and high; And the world, beneath me sleeping, seemed more distant than the sky.

Then most musical and solemn, bringing back the olden times, With their strange, unearthly changes rang the melancholy chimes,

Like the psalms from some old cloister, when the nuns sing in the choir; And the great bell tolled among them, like the chanting of a friar.

Visions of the days departed, shadowy phantoms filled my brain; They who live in history only seemed to walk the earth again;

All the Foresters of Flanders – mighty Baldwin Bras de Fer, Lyderick du Bucq and Cressy Philip, Guy de Dampierre.

I beheld the pageants splendid that adorned those days of old; Stately dames, like queens attended, knights who bore the Fleece of Gold;

Lombard and Venetian merchants with deep-laden argosies; Ministers from twenty nations; more than royal pomp and ease.

I beheld proud Maximilian, kneeling humbly on the ground; I beheld the gentle Mary, hunting with her hawk and hound;

And her lighted bridal-chamber, where a duke slept with the queen, And the armed guard around them, and the sword unsheathed between.

I beheld the Flemish weavers, with Namur and Juliers bold, Marching homeward from the bloody battle of the Spurs of Gold;

Saw the light at Minnewater, saw the White Hoods moving west, Saw great Artevelde victorious scale the Golden Dragon’s nest.

And again the whiskered Spaniard all the land with terror smote; And again the wild alarum sounded from the tocsin’s throat;

Till the bell of Ghent responded o’er lagoon and dike of sand, “I am Roland! I am Roland! There is victory in the land!”

Then the sound of drums aroused me. The awakened city’s roar Chased the phantoms I had summoned back into their graves once more.

Hours had passed away like minutes; and, before I was aware, Lo! the shadow of the belfry crossed the sun-illumined square.

—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

[clarissak18]

Jigoku 我的家

The radiation of Sunset shines to Keiko's face. It's 6.45 PM. After school club, seems normal for her right? Yet, she found herself covered in bruises. Her phone buzzing as new notifications of her club teacher searching for her.

In truth, she didn't attend her After School club.

She's busy listening to her classmates rambling about their problem. Her Best friends (Homura and Mihoko) need her for some counseling. And...well...

Let's just say she met her old school "friends." And they began to give her some uh..."greetings".

But even though all of that. Keiko still smiles. The soft dark purple haired still smile despite all of that. Because why?

"It’s much way peaceful than my house..."

Does her parents abuse her? Of course not, they love her. Her siblings? They love her too. Then why?

Is her house really feels like hell to the point that she's standing infront of the river like she does right now?

For some people might said...no.

But for her...it's quiet the opposite.

From her parents divorcing when she just turned 13, her big brother is an alcoholic, her sister is mentally unstable to the point she kills people, her mother relies on her to take care of the family even though, her mother is barely home.

She's given so much responsibilities.

So much that a 14 years old can't handle it much longer.

Her best friends tried to encourage her to stop from her addiction of 自傷. But instead of helping, it became quiet the opposite for her.

She knows. She knows it's wrong. But she just can't stop.

As she walks home, she stares at the bruises she had on her hand.

"What a bad coping mechanism..."

As she opens the door. The first smell of alcohol. Ah, her brother's home.

"Nii-san...have you eat anything?"

She asks. No answer.

Sigh..

She goes upstairs to her room.

Her brother threw a bottle at her. Ah, he's drunk.

Her sister suddenly in a rage and throw a scissors at her door that she luckily closes before she get stabbed.

Ah, she must be in her schizophrenic phase right now.

*tomorrow*

"Hey, Kei? I'm sorry for yesterday...I...threw a bottle...I didn't mean to I swear.." Haruto said as he opens her door.

"Nee-chan...I'm sorry too..."

"Kei, I'm sorry...." Mihoko, her best friend came to visit her.

"Yeah, me too...sorry for troubling you a lot." Homura also came to see her.

Everyone still wait infront of her door. Apologizing as if it would fix everything.

"Get. Out. I don't want to hear your pleas and sorry. I'm tired. I've had enough of you guys throwing your trash at me! Am I only capable as a trash bin for you!? Get. Out. Leave me alone!" With a snap, Keiko shooed them away.

"I'm sorry....I forgive you all...but....I'm really tired right now....please...give me a break..."

They left as they close her bedroom door.

"Why didn't you said so earlier? Why didn't you ask for help?" They might ask.

"I DID, BUT UNFORTUNATELY YOU GUYS JUST DON'T GET IT!" She would say.

My pranks are my way to ask for help..

I hate this house. Why Tou-san take a long time to go home? Why..? Why me? I may be sounds dramatic but who cares!?

「生きていたいよ」 「生きてたくないよ」

[mrs-luigi-vargas]

Adv. — Love

Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Bowser/Luigi/Mario/Peach Tags: Fluff

Summary: Near the end of a group date, Mario and Bowser spotted an empty tennis court nearby. Before Luigi and Peach could stop them they were gearing up to play; Luigi and Peach exchanged an exasperated look, both knowing that they could be here a while. And a while it was. But who won? Word Count: 756 words

[AO3 Link]

~~~

Before Mario threw the ball up for the next serve, he paused.

“Hey!” Bowser shouted from across the tennis court, “You chickening out? Don't think you can beat me?”

Mario ignored him, squinting at the horizon. He pointed his racket towards the setting sun. It wasn't near sunset when they'd started this match, was it?

“What does that have to do with anything?” Bowser waved his racket around in the air. “Serve the ball! I wanna crush you before it gets dark!”

Mario didn't serve the ball. Instead, he looked off to the side at something just off-court.

“What are you doing —?” Bowser looked as well. “...Oh.”

Beside the tennis court was a bench, on which Peach and Luigi had been sitting watching them play. They were still sitting there, but they had both fallen asleep, Peach draped over Luigi. Evidently, Mario and Bowser had gotten so caught up in their competition that they'd lost track of time.

“Huh.” Bowser lowered his tennis racket. “Well, I had advantage, so I would have won anyway!”

Mario rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure he was the one who'd had advantage, but then again they'd been stuck in a deuce-advantage-deuce-advantage loop for a good long while now, so who really knew?

Mario and Bowser wandered over to the sleeping pair. Mario's eyes softened at their peaceful expressions. Scattered around them were squares of scrap paper; some had writing, but only the word “GO”. They must have been making signs for them. Wonder who they were cheering for?

“Me, obviously.”

Mario scoffed. There was no way Luigi wouldn't cheer for his own brother.

“Maybe he wasn't this time!” Bowser crossed his arms and smirked. “Maybe your brother finally realized how much of a loser you really are!” Mario shoved at Bowser for saying that; Bowser didn't budge an inch, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Shhhhh!” Peach waved an arm in their direction, cracking an eye open to squint at them. “Who won?” she whispered.

“I did!” Bowser puffed out his chest.

“So it was a tie then,” Peach said. She and Mario snickered at Bowser's offended tch.

Yawning, Peach got up off the bench. She swayed where she stood, shoulders drooped, still yawning, and by some instinct Bowser couldn’t name even if he wanted to he scooped her off the ground.

Peach froze, there in the crook of Bowser's arm, and Bowser froze with her, realizing what he just did and having too many ideas as to what to do next. As the moment stretched on, Peach blearily stared off into the middle distance, processing her current situation. She then sighed, seemingly coming to a decision, and the tension bled from her frame. By the time Bowser oh-so-carefully brought her to his chest, she'd dozed off again.

Breathing a relieved sigh, Bowser straightened, relaxing in turn. He bent to scoop up Luigi as well; Luigi murmured something unintelligible, but didn't stir. This left Mario to carry all of the shopping bags from their outing earlier in the day, and none of his loved ones. Which was incredibly disappointing, and Mario frowned at Bowser to let him know that.

But of course, at Mario’s displeasure, Bowser preened. “I won!” he mouthed, and laughed soundlessly at Mario's scowl.

Mario huffed as Bowser strutted off. Fine, then. If that’s how it was.

In a burst of spite, Mario hastily gathered all the shopping bags, the load that had been previously distributed across four people sitting unwieldy enough in his arms for him to stumble as their weight settled. But still, Mario put his head down and, with a determined crease to his brows, power walked ahead. In almost no time at all he overtook Bowser, who couldn’t go any faster for fear of jostling his passengers awake. As Bowser’s hissed complaints faded behind him, Mario laughed to himself. Could he keep this up? Maybe, maybe not. But if he makes it to the castle first, then he’s the one who’ll have won, in the end, and honestly that was worth the risk of all his limbs practically falling off, if only for the look on Bowser’s face when he saw Mario already settled in the drawing room by the time he finally got there. Or, Mario amended, shifting his stride into a jog, for the look on Bowser’s face when Mario circled back to offer to carry someone the rest of the way for him instead. That one would be much funner to describe to Peach and Luigi once they awoke, for sure.