#so of course no one's going to want to extend the same courtesy to me

[sinkat]

Publicly posting creative work when you have *severe* rejection sensitive dysphoria is such a bitch. I can't even look at chapter 2 of this new story without being upset, and all I have to do is edit it to post... but my brain won't stop with the "why bother?" and "no one wants this."

Scratch that, I can't even be excited about it or think positively about it at this point. The whole thing is tainted because I'm misdirecting mountains of very real IRL stress and frustration right into convincing myself that my creative work is shit, while using single digit engagement numbers on Twitter and AO3 evidence of that. (I gave up on tumblr a long time ago, and good thing, too, considering how much stuff I chuck here and get... literally zero response.)

And then, of course, there's the guilt associated with this blanket-statement kind of thinking - you know, "no one wants this" - when at least a couple of people like it. I know I'm being ungrateful and that the standard of "success" isn't how many internet strangers decided to click a like button.

But I still can't help thinking, like... at what point do you take a hint and just stop?

[euthymiya]

we’ll have a ball ft. wriothesley

in which you and your boyfriend are due to arrive at fontaine’s most prestigious event, but not before you give him a hand with a slight wardrobe malfunction

contains: female reader ; reader wears a gown ; established relationship ; quite a bit of suggestiveness but overall just fluff ; wriothesley hates fancy events he told me himself, and reader just wants to live her ballgown dreams—he indulges her because he’s a real man ; flirting with wriothelsey using his tie lol ; wriothesley has a brief jealousy induced existential crisis

despite wearing one every day, wriothelsey doesn’t know how to tie a tie.

it’s why it’s so loose around his neck—a stylistic choice, of course, but also a decision based around convenience. he doesn’t need to learn how to tie one if it’s already tied and loose enough to slip over his head. it’s easier that way, letting a complicated set of steps reduce down to just a quick garment to throw on around his neck, allowing him the ability to forgo the trouble of tying it altogether.

you think it’s a rather endearing shortcoming of his, especially when he stands in the mirror confused as he grumbles, fiddling with the material as he tries to properly tie it for once.

“you’re doing that wrong, you know,” you sing, walking up behind him in your gown as he pauses and meets your eyes through the mirror. “you’re hopeless.”

he ignores your quip, gulping slightly as he mumbles, “you look gorgeous.”

“and you look like a fool,” you snort, glancing at the messy knot at his chest.

“maybe they don’t need us,” he licks his lips, spinning around to properly look you up and down without the mirror. a reflection doesn’t do you justice, he thinks, he needs the real thing. “we should just stay here. and do other things.”

“and have lady furina behead us for canceling last minute? i don’t think so,” you wave him off, but your arms slip around his neck as soon his hands grab your hips, letting him pull you flush against his chest as his nose runs along your collarbone, inhaling sharply at the scent of your perfume.

the duke of meropide is, in its own right, a prestigious title. prestigious enough to extend wriothesley an invitation to the annual ball the hydro archon holds for the sake of extravagance. wriothesley manages to weasel his way out of it on most years—but this time, you’ve been newly added to the guest list as well, courtesy of your blossomed relationship with the warden.

you seem far too excited to attend for him to decline in good conscience. love is sacrifice, as they say—and wriothesley can happily suffer through an evening of small talk and formality while sporting an uncomfortably tight fitting suit.

the only problem he can’t manage to overlook so far is this cursed, wretched tie.

“you’re no fun,” he pouts slightly, trailing the tip of his nose to brush along your collarbone until it finds your neck, lips pressing a soft, lingering peck as you hum and play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “i’ll show you a good time. better than a silly ball.”

“that’s a big promise.”

“well, i can think of a way or two to make it worth your while,” he grins against your neck, and you’re certain you’ve memorized that curve of his lips by heart. you can recognize it instantly when it sears against your skin.

“nice try,” you laugh, pulling away as he begrudgingly does the same. he sighs at your dismissal while you reach over to the tie around his neck. “but we’re going. and you need this tie looking…not how it’s looking right now.”

“m’trying my best,” he grumbles, looking away to the side, cheeks dusted a precious shade of crimson that you lean over to kiss gently.

your fingers undo the messy knot at his neck, expertly weaving the tie into a new and neat, flawless knot as you tighten it to fit around his neck perfectly. it’s unlike the loose, rugged knot he usually wears—much more proper, much more professional, much more formal.

wriothesley doesn’t look particularly thrilled at the adjustment, sighing as he watches you inspect his appearance and straighten his collar. your hand smooths over his chest as you give your nod of approval, and he wonders if you can hear his thundering heartbeat under your palm.

if you do, you’re gracious enough to cut him some slack from being teased.

“there,” you hum, “you look quite handsome.”

“does it have to be so tight?” he complains—and then his brows twitch, furrowing deeper as he pauses to look at you briefly with a puzzled look. “hang on. where’d you learn how to tie a tie?”

you raise a playful eyebrow, letting out an amused huffed out breath as you say, “well, you’re not the only man i’ve gotten to know.”

“so you’ve done this before? for another man?” he asks incredulously, miserably looking down at the thin piece of fabric wrapped around his collar as if it’s choked him before he adds, “i think i’ll be taking that dip in the primordial sea like i mentioned.”

“oh, quit being a drama queen,” you swat at his arm, chuckling as he gives you a theatrically pained look before burying his head back into your neck again, hand fitting in the small of your back as he rubs slowly circles into your gown.

“is this punishment for my crimes? because i’ve already served a sentence and according to fontaine laws, you can’t try a man twice for the same crime.”

“if it makes you feel better, i think you of all men pull ties off the best.”

“i suppose it minimally raises my spirits that you think i look good,” he concedes.

he does look good—whether it’s his usual loose, improperly fit tie or the fancy, silk material of tonight, you think wriothesley is most handsome when there’s a thin piece of fabric decorating his neck and chest, perfectly hanging and waiting for you to tug and pull him in.

you decide to demonstrate the wonderful opportunity his attire grants you, too, when you murmur, “in fact, i quite appreciate your habit of wearing ties.”

“oh? is that so?”

“yes,” you say slyly, pushing him back gently as you question, “want to see why?”

“do enlighten me,” he grins, eyes mischievously narrowing, a knowing glint sparkling in them as he waits for you to finish what you started.

so you do—reaching over and grabbing the silk, giving it a firm yank so he leans down, forehead pressing against yours and lips just a few millimeters away as you breathe, “i can do this whenever i want when you wear one. it’s very convenient for when i need a kiss or two.”

“i see,” he nods, his breath fanning over your lips. it’s hot and searing—you shiver at the feeling of him even when his lips haven’t even touched you yet. “well, if it keeps you satisfied, then i’ll have to make sure i’m always dressed appropriately for your needs.”

“well,” you bat your lashes, biting your lip as you give him a cheeky giggle and say, “there’s a good chance i might need something that requires very little attire, too, your grace.”

he closes his eyes, and you stifle a victorious laugh.

“you’ll be the death of me,” he says through a strained groan, leaning in to finally close the gap and kiss you deeply. his lips are hungry, pressing into you for another taste every time you manage to pull away for even a brief moment. you hum against his mouth, cupping his cheeks and holding his face as his fingers grip at your waist and feel the curve of you against him.

you always wonder if you and wriothesley were once the same person in a previous life. perhaps split in two, destined to find each other in the next. it feels like he completes you when you meet like this, pressing against you like one half meeting the other to make a whole.

it’s dizzying, maybe even downright risky the way you kiss so passionately just moments before you need to leave—you’re not sure either of you have the self control to break away if it comes down to it.

luckily, wriothesley travels his mouth to find your jaw after a few more moments, kissing through breathless pants as your eyes flutter open.

“we have to go soon,” you whisper.

“are you certain we can’t just stay here? i promise what i offer will be far more fun than listening to random wealthy folk running their mouths for a night.”

“but we get to dance,” you point out.

he pretends to think about it for a moment before offering, “i’ll dance with you here.”

“no,” you scold, swatting at his shoulder as you roll your eyes, “this dress is expensive. it needs to be appreciated.”

“oh i’ll appreciate it alright,” he drawls, grinning against your jaw as he whispers into your skin, “i’ll appreciate it all night.”

“no. we’re going, and that’s final, you sleaze.”

“hey,” he pouts, pulling away as you reach over one last time to straighten his hair and fix up his appearance, “i’m nothing if not a doting boyfriend.”

“wonderful. then i expect to have a drink in my hands all night,” you wink teasingly, patting his cheek, “you’ll be in charge of grabbing me them.”

he deflates in defeat, grumbling a quiet, “alright, fine.”

“you can appreciate my gown after,” you lean close, whispering against the shell of his ear and making him pause with a hitched breath as you press a kiss to the skin under his earlobe and murmur, “maybe you can appreciate some other clothing i’ve purchased too.”

“well,” he inhales sharply, grabbing your wrist and tugging you along as he nods seriously, “in that case, i look forward to it.”

ok so basically i went to the mall today and i walked past this store with mens suits and one of the posters on the window with the models was a woman pulling a man in by the tie and then i was like oh that’s so me and wrio and that’s how this drabble came to be 👍

[bau-drabbles]

love me not

it's hard loving someone that doesn't return the same affections

after maeve passed, they all thought reid would honestly be the next. he was a shell of a person he used to be, it honestly scared you how frail and weak he looked and your heart truly went out to him. he had found true love and the world had snatched it away from his hands before he could've enjoyed it.

you knew grief was tricky, you knew they said things they didn't mean. you knew how challenging and how painful it could be but seeing the pure rage in spencer's eyes was something you could never forget even if you desperately wished it to go. you could never forget how he looked at you with pure hatred and disgust at your lack of skill. as if the history between you both had simply vanished away, leaving nothing but pain and anguish in its wake

•••

"it was all your fault!" he sneered as he threw the gift basket behind him, the same basket you had spent hours making for him. trying to find his favourite things and even enlisting garcia and jj for help. but it didn't matter now, they were all crumped behind him and you feel yourself deflating as he continues the harsh words.

"you could've surrounded the area, you could've the shot from the back. you could've have done more" he stood, his hair tousled and messy but his eyes were dark with rage. that was new, he never gave you that look before and it rattled you.

"the main priority was you spencer! i-" "no, it was maeve. she was the victim in that situation! thanks to you, her parents lost their only daughter and i lost the only woman i ever loved!" he snapped vehemently, his fists balled up and slamming into the table. the sound shocked you and you look at him with pure confusion and pain

"what?" your voice was so soft, so fragile as you stare at him. your eyes were prickling with tears at how cruel he cold be, making you think if you ever truly knew reid.

so wordlessly, you stood up and walked out of his apartment and towards your car ignoring any and all comments he made. ignoring how he shouted your name, ignoring how he slammed his door when you left.

"you don't know what i mean. you wouldn't know what love is, how could you?" there's so much malice in his voice, it doesn't sound like the spencer you knew. and the very thought makes you want to cry. you tried to defend yourself but in the midst of the moment, seeing him so enraged at you for no reason, its as if those rose coloured glasses had fallen and you saw reid for what he truly was.

that the man you thought he was, the perfected imagine in your head, the romantic and funny and kind hearted doctor reid really only existed to maeve. he never extended that courtesy to you, and now you were an outsider to him. you had killed his one true love and with that, you had killed any love he had for you.

hot angry tears spilled down your cheeks when you reached home, your head swimming at what he had said to you. as much as you tried to force yourself to believe it wasn't him saying these things, you couldn't count how many times he left you feeling like pure shit. you held him in such a high regard but he never did the same to you, you didn't matter the same to him. it was hard because he was grieving and you knew it was a messy process but the pain and the ache in your heart felt so overwhelming.

it was enough, he was mourning someone that was dead. you were mourning a person that was well and truly alive.

•••

after weeks reid had finally come into work, greeting all the team members but you had made sure to stay out of the way. the pure rage that bubbled inside of you wasn't yet securely tightened and you weren't about to cause a scene in the bau.

and he noticed, of course he did.

when everyone hugged and rejoiced that their boy wonder finally came back, you watched from the background. you made no effort to walk towards him, no effort to hug so you just observed with a numbness in your heart that threatened to swallow you whole. he looked at you with a soft smile but you had turned your back, walking back into your office feeling more furious by the second of being anywhere near him.

when everyone sat into the chairs ready to discuss the next case, he noted how you chose the one that was most far away from him. when he tried to make eye contact you kept your gaze to your files or to penelope that explained the gory details.

when it came to sitting on the jet, you made sure someone had sat next to you so he couldn't. even when he was paired with you on a case, you only spoke about the facts and nothing more. he tried to talk but you shut it down, not responding unless it was about the case.

and you were okay with going about it like this. it hurt like a bitch but this way, you couldn't fall into mind numbing fantasies that the thought of you and reid could ever go anywhere. it wasn't the most healthy, sure. but this way, your heart and your head were protected from any links with reid. he was dr reid to you. nothing more, nothing less.

but the last straw was when he turned up to your home, knocking at some ungodly hour while you practically hold back your frustrations by a string. seeing him standing at your door step, tousled hair, dark eyes you have to force your arms back from touching him.

"go home" you utter, avoiding his touch like he was poisoned and trying to side step him to get him away from you

"i can't. i can't go unless this gets this resolved, please" he blocked your path and you tried to reign in the emotions. but with every passing moment, it was becoming incredibly hard to do so.

"and you'd do what?? you thought you'd come here like some prince charming and help me??? this isn't some fairytale reid, wake up" you scoffed and he just stood there completely in shock until it switched to pain and then anger

"why are you being so mean?" his voice was soft but his face had hardened, his eyebrows furrowing at you. that was the straw that broke your back, the fact that he continued to remain ignorant despite everything he had put you through

"you still don't get it, do you??" a humourless chuckle fell from your lips, eyeing him again. the rage felt completely overwhelming but behind that, there was grief. for the person you wish he was, for the man you used to adore. and you so desperately want yourself to be enveloped with the promise of a happy ever after with spencer reid but the truth was, you could never have that. not in this life, he wasn't yours to have nor hold. he wasn't yours to cherish and love.

he shrugs his shoulders, gesturing around eyes wide as he presses you further for the information

"i have supported you throughout this grief despite you being so mean to me reid. i helped you because i didn't want you to suffer alone and yeah, maybe that was my mistake," your eyes were beginning to prick with unshed tears that shone underneath the lights. every anger he had in the past moment has all deflated and he's standing there, looking at you with such a sadness you could almost drown in it.

"i didn't ask for that" his voice was low, his eyes red as the tears welled up.

"you didn't have to! that's what friends do! i loved you reid, more than i ever thought i could" your voice had turned into a soft whisper, tears spilling down your cheeks but you hastily wiped them away

"y/n" he steps forwards but in return you take one back. you wouldn't let him cloud your judgement tonight, he had taken up far too much space in your heart and mind already.

"but that was then. this is now" your voice is firm, looking at him with so many emotions you're not sure which is the most dominant.

"i did everything i could've though to do. i was there outside your damn door, not moving until i heard you eat something. i was there, pretending to walk away so that when you finally showed face, you were still alive. i didn't do that to receive validation, the only thing i wanted to do was to make sure you were okay. but to accuse me of maeve's murder like that..." your voice was pained, as if you still couldn't really believe the extent he had gone to, to make you feel so bad.

"i-i'm sorry y/n" his own voice barely escapes him but you're through with it. all the deceit, the hatred, the lies, the anger, all of it.

"i don't ever want to see you again. i don't want you coming by here anymore. you once asked me what love is? it's this" coming to your full height you walk towards your front door and open it. it's the most hardest thing you've had to do in a while saying goodbye to the man who holds your entire heart. but breaking your heart now meant that he couldn't make it shatter later on.

"y/n please don't do this. i-i love you, i do" if he had said these words to you a mere few weeks ago, how you would've embraced him without a single doubt. he was better than anyone you've ever met and all you truly wanted was his love, to bathe and bask in it.

but you take no notice now, opening the door wider.

"loving you is hard enough, don't make me hate you" your voice trembles and try as you might, it's difficult to stay strong when you feel like you're drowning in your despair.

"please don't do this" his voice shook as the tears he had been holding back finally trailed down his cheeks. he looked absolutely exhausted, so close to breaking but for the first time since you had met reid, you chose yourself. for you knew deep down maeve would always occupy his heart and you could never come close to the fire he burned for her. your love would simply diminish and extinguish, it could never be enough for him.

when he leaves, your back meets your front door. you covered your mouth as short shaky breaths left your lips, the floodgates were well and truly wide open now, the pure devastation and anguish leaving your eyes as you cradle yourself close. but it was better this way. better to face to hard cold reality that reid could never be yours than to envelope yourself with the sweetest lies that he could change.

and spencer was behind your door, his forehead meeting your door as his shoulders shake with all the pain in his heart. a million thoughts in his head and yet not one could pass his lips. his palm flattened over the door, trying but failing to muster up the courage to rap his knuckles again. to make you understand, to make you see that he loved you. that he needed you, that he yearned to be with you. that you were what he needed and he needed your comfort and your help and your presence

but the hand never knocked and all he could do was stand there with choked sobs leaving his lips. his forehead leaning against your front door, never once being so close and yet so incredibly far away from you

[rainbowsky]

Hi- first have to say I love your writing, your organization, you’re just amazing! I’m a middle-age mom of four who has never, ever been in any sort of fandom or “shipped” a couple in 40+ years of consuming tv, movies, music, etc. Got introduced to TU via my teen daughter and very quickly was bjyx before I knew it was a thing, before I even saw any BTS. Googled the actors, saw some BTS, and just thought “of course.” I mean, of course! (TBC)

(Cont) I’ve read just about everything here but if you’ve answered this, pls point me to it. My question is, how do the “antis” or “solos” reconcile the BTS with their POV that DD and GG aren’t gay, hate each other, are using the other, etc? [redacted]

Hi! Thanks so much, I'm glad you're enjoying my blog. 😊

Sorry, I removed some of your ask because I don't like long asks, and you (perhaps unwittingly) included some theories/ideas I don't agree with and don't want on my blog.

As for your question, I have talked about similar topics quite a bit in the past. You can look through my 'solos belong to moling su sect' tag for my posts about solos if you want to dig a little deeper, but I personally don't think there's any point in going down that path. Solos are free to believe (or not believe) whatever they want, and it shouldn't really have anything to do with us.

This question is inviting me to psychoanalyze, theorize, and speculate about what they think and believe, but in my opinion there's nothing good that can can come out of doing so. I have done some of that in the past, and in my opinion it's totally pointless. If anything, it just helps create the perception that we should be digging into topics like this - something I definitely do not believe.

I have talked to solos about these topics in the past, and the thing that stood out to me about those discussions is that they're just different people who have different views. Might as well ask why anyone has a different view about anything.

If you've ever tried talking to someone who is opposite to you on the political spectrum, surely you've experienced how different and unwavering another person's views can be. Trying to unravel all of that can be a huge mess, and is ultimately just a waste of time.

The reality is, different people have different levels of investment in the type of material we focus on, they have different interests and motivations for being involved in fandom, they have different backgrounds and leanings, and they have different views and interpretations of everything they see. Even different turtles have different views and interpretations.

We don't need to spend a moment thinking about any of it. In fact I urge people to just avoid solos, avoid trying to speculate about them or digging into their perspectives or beliefs. It doesn't matter what they think, and most of their thoughts and feelings about this topic are hateful and homophobic. It is harmful to dig into and spread these ideas.

I have a whole post about that here.

I say this all the time, but we need to stay in our own lane. Focus on GG and DD and their projects. Enjoy being a turtle. We shouldn't waste our time or brain cells worrying about what haters and naysayers think, or why.

This isn't just about avoiding negativity or fan wars, is also about respecting other human beings. They have their own views and their own experience of GG and DD, and they have every right to experience it in the way they want to. It's not our role to try to change their perspective or even to evaluate and judge them. Live and let live. Yes, even when they don't extend us the same courtesy. Perhaps especially then. Be the change you wish to see in the world.

"Why don't people believe BJYXSZD?" should never be asked in a way that implies that anyone who doesn't is stupid or blind. And I'm saying that as someone who's guilty of doing that all the time. No one is obligated to dig into the evidence, and no one is obligated to believe.

There are a LOT of turtles who don't believe, either, and they're still turtles and they still love and support GGDD and still bring a lot of great value to this fandom. If we can accept them, surely we can come to terms with the fact that solos don't believe, either.

PS] Just one thing I wanted to reply to that didn't get posted from your ask - there is definitely no world in which solos believe that they were once a couple and broke up. There may be a rare person out there who fits that description, but the vast majority of solos don't believe that their idol is gay or has had any kind of a romantic relationship with the other one. A huge percentage of them are extremely homophobic or at least heteronomative.

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 15A: Dreams

Wilmington, North Carolina

Labor Day Weekend, 1988

I'm hung up on dreams I'll never see Help me baby, or this will surely be the end of me…

 - Dreams, The Allman Brothers Band (1969) [click here to listen]

“I’ll be upstairs in just a few minutes. Did you finish your reading?”

Ten-year-old William MacKenzie shook his head. “I was going to, but that’s when Daddy arrived with Jamie and Claire – I mean, Mr. and Mrs. Fraser. And then it was time for dinner, and then - ”

Gillian Duncan MacKenzie bent to kiss her son’s forehead. “All right then. Why don’t you get yourself all caught up?”

William’s eyes darted over to Claire, seated across from his mother at the kitchen table, sipping sweet tea.

“Jamie and I will be here all weekend,” she smiled. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk with him about music tomorrow.”

His face brightened. “OK! See you in the morning!”

Claire couldn’t help but smile as William darted out of the room, footsteps quickly thudding on the stairs.

Gillian turned to face her guest. “He’s so excited. It’s not every day that a bona fide rock star is here in sleepy Wilmington.”

“Thank you for asking him to not tell his friends at school. I’m used to the attention now – ”

Gillian raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Are you?”

Claire shrugged. “Well – no. I don’t know if I ever will be. But one thing that won’t change is how much we value our privacy. So – thank you.”

“Of course, Claire. Privacy and discretion are what I do professionally – how could I not extend the same courtesy to you, when you’re a guest in my home?”

“Still. Thank you.”

A beat. Claire sipped the sweet tea Gillian had made – the same recipe she’d grown to love, those months at The Ridge. Gillian gently pulled Claire’s left hand across the table, studying her rings.

“You said this was his grandmother’s engagement ring?”

Claire nodded. “He inherited it when she died. His sister Jenny kept it for him, until he asked her for it. Called her the day he got home from The Ridge, and went to see her the next day. He gave it to me a few weeks later.”

“A man who knows what he wants.”

Claire smiled. “And I’m a woman who knows what she wants.”

Gillian returned the smile, then focused on the wide band next to the engagement ring.

“I love how solid and simple your ring is. Silver?”

“Platinum. His is the same. Wide enough for an inscription on the inside.”

“I do,” she had whispered. Smiling through the tears. Thinking he looked just a bit ridiculous in his suit. Sliding the band inscribed “Forever My Love” across his knuckle.

“I do,” he had whispered. Eyes burning, full of awe. Agape at the simple gray dress she had chosen, his mother’s pearls around her throat. Sliding the band inscribed “Forever My Heart” onto her finger.

“I am so pleased to…” Professor Quentin Lambert Beauchamp loudly blew his nose into a polka-dotted handkerchief. “Excuse me. I am so pleased to pronounce you husband and wife. Jamie, you may kiss your bride.”

He did. To the applause of the ten dear friends gathered in Joe and Gail Abernathy’s Boston backyard.

“That’s beautiful.” Gillian lay her own left hand on the table, adorned only by a thin gold ring. “Dougal never gave me an engagement ring, and he insisted I have the gold band for our marriage. His is silver. He had just sunk all of his money into building The Ridge, and we couldn’t even afford flowers at the reception.”

“That’s beautiful, too, Gillian. And I understand why you wouldn’t want to upgrade. Because what you have now, is that much more meaningful.”

“I was sitting here, when Joe and Gail staged the intervention.” Jamie looked over at his wife – his wife!! – gazing up into the arbor behind the house. “The vines were heavy with grapes. I remember thinking, how appropriate that I’m looking at what could be wine.”

He pulled her closer against his side, and kissed the top of her head. Careful of the tortoiseshell combs that Jenny had so lovingly placed in Claire’s hair as she got ready this afternoon.

“Ian confronted me in a hotel room in…Sacramento, I think. I had been so wasted on stage the night before, slurring through half the songs. Jenny had come to see Ian, and she was so scared for me. She had already done the research, made a few phone calls. I puked the whole flight across country to North Carolina.”

“It’s always the ones we love who we hurt the most,” she murmured.

“I’m never going to hurt you, Claire. You know that, right?”

She turned to face her husband – her husband!! – and smiled. Reassuring.

“I do. And you know I’m never going to hurt you, Jamie. Right?”

He nodded. Couldn’t help but kiss her.

“Ah!”

Dougal MacKenzie and Alec MacMahon turned the corner, and cheered. “Here you are! Come on – don’t let us have all the fun without you. Can’t miss your own wedding reception!”

Gillian nodded. “I don’t need it. I have the life we’ve built together, and our son, and a man who somehow thinks the sun rises and sets with me. I’ll never understand it.”

Claire swallowed.

Of course Gillian noticed.

“Don’t ever doubt how much he loves you, Claire. I’ve seen you two together – you’re so natural with each other. That’s never going to change.”

She clenched her hand into a fist. Centering herself.

“It’s…it’s just so…intense, with him,” she whispered.

“We don’t have to tonight, Jamie. We have forever, now.”

His hands shook as his thumb softly, softly traced down her neck, across the pearls, and settled into the cleft between her breasts.

“I want to, Claire. I want you so much I can scarcely breathe. I just…”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Gillian asked gently. “I can be your therapist, or I can be your friend. But I will listen.”

Claire took a deep, calming breath. “Being on tour – I see now how he developed the addictions. Every aspect of it is so stressful. He feels so much pressure to lead his band, to write music, to live up to the fans’ expectations. And he has to deal with the label and the tour manager and the production guys, and do media, and somehow find time to eat and shower and sleep on top of all of that.” Her thumb twisted her wedding ring. “He’d use the drugs to come up, and the alcohol to come down. And the women to just forget about everything for a while.”

“Are those groupies?”

Colum had organized a small gathering for the band and crew to celebrate the first show of the acoustic tour. No alcohol or drugs in the room – though Claire quickly learned that the rules by no means extended to hallways and bathrooms and storage rooms at the venue.

Jamie squeezed her hand, standing side by side in the corner, both of them holding a can of Tab.

“Yeah. I can ask them to leave, if you’re feeling uncomfortable.”

“No need.” She dropped his hand and quietly approached the four women giggling on the other side of the room.

“Ladies. I’m Claire Beauchamp. I’m with him.”

She turned slightly, looked at Jamie over her shoulder, and then turned back to her audience.

“So?” A girl wearing a strategically ripped Def Leppard t-shirt popped her gum. “That’s not what I heard about the last time he was here.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed. “That was then. This is now. I will say this only one time. If you even think about flashing a boob, or smiling at him, or trying to get him alone? I will end you.”

The girls gaped.

“Tell all your friends here in Albuquerque, please. Are we clear?”

“And now, that you’re there with him?”

Claire smiled. “He’s eating and sleeping a lot better. Has a lot more energy. He so desperately wants to do everything right. And I’m not going to lie, Gillian – seeing him perform the songs he wrote for me at The Ridge, and then being there when he comes off stage, all keyed up from singing and playing the guitar…”

“It sounds like in many respects he’s replaced his additions with you.”

Claire looked up, meeting Gillian’ gaze. “Of course he has. The album and lead single will be called She’s My Addiction. Doesn’t get any more obvious than that.”

“And how do you feel about that, Claire?”

She lay her hands flat on the table. “I’ve never felt more…loved, and cherished, than when I’m with Jamie.”

She frowned and opened her eyes when he stopped brushing her hair, one morning in Minneapolis.

“What – ”

The pads of his fingers swept the left side of her neck, still a bit tender from his kisses after last night’s show. “I bruised you. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm. I’m not.”

She swallowed. “But it’s so, so hard sometimes. He loves me for who I am, but I don’t want to do anything to fuck it up. And he stresses over so much that he doesn’t have to. Gillian, he’s been having panic attacks all tour.”

“My God. Is he seeing anyone to help with that?”

Claire sighed. “You’re looking at her. Thank God I did that psych rotation when I was in med school. I’ve helped him recognize the signs, and he knows enough to tell me when it’s happening so that we can get away and I can help him through it. But I’m not a psychiatrist. I can’t be everything he needs. He has to do a lot of work to explore what’s triggering him, so that he can manage that. Because after we take the break at the end of the year, we’ll be on the road for most of ’89. The label has booked more than a hundred shows.”

“And you’ll be with him?”

“Of course. He’s the air I breathe. I know this sounds insane, but we want to try for a baby next year. That way he can be off the road, off touring, to be with me if the timing lines up.” She sighed. “So I’ve talked to him about bringing a therapist with us on tour. He needs to have that kind of support from someone other than me. Especially when we’re in Europe and he’s playing soccer stadiums and dealing with a next level of bullshit.”

“Do you want some recommendations? Between Dougal and I, we can definitely help you find someone.”

Claire smiled thinly. “That would be wonderful. It has to be someone we both trust. Who can deal with all the craziness.”

Gillian nodded. “Consider it our wedding gift to you. I – we – really want to help you. You know this, Claire – getting sober is hard, but staying sober is so, so much harder. It does and doesn’t get easier with time. Dougal would say the same thing.”

“Do you ever miss it?”

She settled her chin into his shoulder, nestled securely in his lap. Together they watched the cornfields of Iowa glide by, thousands of feet below.

“No. Not really. The pills helped me deaden the pain. And my life doesn’t have that kind of pain at all, now.”

The private plane had four clusters of four seats, two seats on each side facing each other with a table in between. Jamie and Claire always had a cluster to themselves. Ian, his bass tech, Jamie’s guitar tech Arch, and Angus’ drum tech always sat together. Colum kept to himself. Leaving Angus in the final cluster – which he shared with the two groupies he’d been surprisingly faithful to since Albuquerque. He hated flying, but the girls certainly made it easier for him – plying him with snacks, rubbing his back, squeezing him between them in the big seat.

Claire turned slightly, and inhaled at his temple. Kissed his earlobe as he shivered. “I know you miss it, Jamie. And it’s OK.”

His grip tightened on her hip. “You taste so much better,” he whispered. Eyes far away.

Claire wiped the corners of her eyes. “I just love him, Gillian. So fucking much.” She took a deep breath. “I’m so proud of him, for everything he’s done, and for the man he’s worked so hard to become. I’m not going to lie – sometimes it’s so damn hard to deal with everything. With all of his past shit, and how he still lets it mess with his head. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve told him that none of it bothers me. Not the drugs, or the alcohol, or the destroyed hotel rooms, or what is probably hundreds of women. I can’t let any of that bother me, because that’s not the Jamie I know. But Gillian…”

Gillian reached across the table and took Claire’s hand.

“He makes everything so fucking hard sometimes. He starts to spiral, and he worries that I’ll have had enough and walk away. But then we just take a deep breath, and we look at each other, and all the bullshit is gone, and it’s just so easy again.”

“You need a day off!”

Jamie rubbed his hands over his face, exasperated. “I do have a day off tomorrow, Claire. You know as well as I do that there isn’t a show.”

She huffed, hands on her hips. “Not the point, Jamie. I saw the call sheet for tomorrow. You’re meeting with the label, and then with Colum to talk to the merch guy, and then the lighting team, and then you’re doing some local radio spots. That’s NOT a day off!”

He shrugged. “At least we can get dinner together and it won’t be shitty venue food.”

She pursed her lips, trying so hard not to scream. “Do you not remember the panic attack last night? You were sobbing in my arms, Jamie. It was really, really bad. And then you were so exhausted, but you wanted to be a hero and do the show anyway, and then you tripped over your fucking amp when you went on stage and could have broken your arm. Where would that leave us, hmm?”

He reached out to her – and she stepped back.

Not done with him yet. 

“You need rest, Jamie. Your body is going to shut down. And that won’t be good for anybody.”

“Is that your medical opinion, Dr. Beauchamp?”

A hint of a smile. Good.

“Yes. I’m your personal physician. I’m prescribing a day in bed, sleeping.”

He smirked. “OK. But only if you’re in it, too.”

She shrugged. “I’m not making any sense.”

“Yes you are,” Gillian smiled. “You said it’s intense between you – there’s no way it couldn’t be. Set aside his being a musician, and being in just about the biggest band in the world right now. Think about how and when you met. What had happened to both of you beforehand. All the changes you’ve made in both of your lives, in a relatively short timeframe. It’s overwhelming. And being on the road with him this summer had to have just upped that intensity.”

“We’re together non-stop. Which has been great, because we have so much time. We have what nobody else has, and I treasure that, I really do. But it’s also exhausting sometimes.” Claire paused, considering. “Nobody else knows what I’m about to tell you, but it’s another factor. We…we didn’t…” She closed her eyes. “We waited until our wedding night.”

Gillian’s silence was a gift.

“We were both so scared. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I think we were worried that…that it wouldn’t be good, for some reason. And it was good, Gillian. So fucking good. We both cried.”

“You’re everything.” He kissed her nose and cheeks and forehead and mouth over and over and over again, his tears mixing with hers. “My heart is going to burst.”

She hugged him tighter, nails digging into the flames tattooed on his shoulders. “Love you,” she whispered, breathless. “Love you love you love you love you…”

“I don’t need to tell you this, Claire, but I will anyway. It’s been a really good decision to spend so much time together, to really get to know each other, before you were married. Both of you deliberately wanted your relationship to be different from anything you’d known or done before. And now that last barrier is gone between you. So everything has changed, am I right?”

Indianapolis. Married one week. He couldn’t stop smiling at her, standing side stage during the show. She couldn’t stop giggling when he found her after the encore, threw her over his shoulder, and ran to his dressing room. His breath hot against her lips, breathlessly pleading for her to stay quiet, as they loved each other on the sofa and the techs and roadies and catering people and production staff bustled by the locked door.

“It has, Gillian. But in many ways it hasn’t. It feels like yesterday, and it feels like forever.”

New Haven. Married two weeks. The morning after a powerhouse show at the Coliseum. A penthouse suite overlooking the water. She had slipped out of bed in the dark, opened the curtains wide. Watched him watch her as she returned to bed. Held his gaze as they loved each other, dawn breaking over their faces.

“I get that. You’ve introduced another layer to your relationship. Probably the most complex layer that there is.”

Providence. Married two weeks and two days. Holding each other in a bath, Jamie’s hand splayed across her belly, Claire’s nose buried in the curtain of his hair.

“So, be patient with yourself, Claire. Cut yourself a break.” Gillian reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “And just enjoy yourself! My God – what an incredible life you have.”

Claire’s smile was the widest Gillian had ever seen.

“Holy shit. I married a rock star.”

“I heard that!”

And then Jamie was there, smiling, and kissing Claire’s smile.

Dougal hung back in the doorway. Exchanging smiles with his own wife.

“Come on, rock star. You said you’d help me hook up the new CD player.”

Jamie pulled back. Rubbed his nose against Claire’s.

“Hey, Dougal?”

Dougal crossed his arms. “What?”

Jamie stood. Squeezed Claire’s hands. Kissed her wedding ring.

“Love is a much better high than any drug.”

Dougal rolled his eyes. “I’ll put that on the new pamphlets we’re printing up for The Ridge. But the stereo won’t install itself. Help out, and I’ll even let you play that new stuff you brought.”

[that-basic-simp]

Christmas at Baldur's Gate

Karlach X Fem! Reader CW: None WC: 1.0k

Grabbing a stool, I stood up on it, trying to place the wreath on the mounted deer head that sits right above the bar in the tavern. The rest of the tavern was decorated and there was even a tree that sat in the back right corner where I walked back and forth from the bar and into the eating area of the tavern.

"Careful, Y/N."

"I'll be fine," I said, extending to my tip-toes.

Gravity wasn't favoring me today and I lost my balance, about to fall onto the hard wooden floor. Rushing underneath me, Karlach caught me and made sure I was alright.

"You should have let me handle it, darling," she said, setting me down.

"You did all the other decorating. I wanted to help," I sighed.

"I know," she said. "But putting a wreath on the deer? We should just put a hat on it."

I sighed and nodded my head, "Alright."

"Besides, I think the wreath would look better on the door outside."

Heading towards the door, I swung it open and placed it on the same nail that held the open and closed sign. Closing the door, Karlach got on the chair and placed a Santa hat on the deer, jumping down once she was finished. I made my way towards her and she wrapped her arm around my waist, pulling me close to her.

"There. Look better?"

"It does," I said.

"I think the place looks nice," she said, taking a look around the tavern. "Good job, darling."

I smiled as she leaned towards me and placed a kiss to my forehead. Getting prepared five days before Christmas was a bit of a rough time, considering some of the decorations we had gotten were either yesterday or today. Some of the things we looked at getting were already sold. Even some of the decorations were made by Karlach and I. And the others. Especially the little wooden reindeer that we had on every table. That was courtesy of Halsin.

"Y/N, do we have everything before everyone comes in tonight?"

"I think so," I said.

I was surprised everyone was going to be able to make it tonight. After we had defeated the Mindflayers and the Elder Brain, it has been peaceful ever since. Well, as peaceful as I can get since I live with Karlach here above the tavern. She was never one to settle down in a quiet place. I think the tavern helps her with that. It's not too quiet where Halsin or even Astarion might have gone. But definitely not as rowdy or noisy where Lae'zel went, considering she flew off on a dragon after our battle. It was a nice in the middle for Karlach and I was finally getting used to it.

"Wait, there's one more thing," I said and went into the back, heading up the stairs to where our little house was.

Stepping into our shared bedroom, I couldn't help but smile at it. I could easily tell whose side of the bed was whose. Of course, Clive gave it away, but without him, her side was always messy while mine wasn't as messy. Heading over to my bedside table, I opened up a drawer and found some mistletoe Shadowheart had given me. I was tempted to place it somewhere in the tavern, but that might initiate some awkward interactions. Even then Karlach would break it up. There was one point she had gotten a bit drunk.

There were two people who were fighting one another and she literally got onto the bar and jumped right on them, joining the fight. She broke up the fight because she was stronger than both of them. How she did it was she had both of them in a headlock and I walked out from the back, finding her like that. She saw me, immediately stopped and let them go. She apologize to me for what she did after she explained the situation, saying I was free to kick her out and never her let back. But once I told her she owned the place, she just smiled, nodding her head.

Instead, I placed it above the door that led to our bedroom. Once that was finished, I headed back into the tavern to find everyone was there. They all greeted me and I walked over to them, hugging one another. The night was pretty tame for the most part, since it was just us. We wanted it to be that way. No fighting, no tending to other patrons, and certainly no bar fights. We just wanted a peaceful night with one another. Just us so that we could catch up on how everyone has been doing. From the sounds of it, everyone was doing just fine and they were accomplishing their own things. As the night went well into the early morning, everyone parted ways for now. I'm sure we'd see them again. Karlach was a bit worried she wouldn't get to see them since her engine was still in need of a tune up. While Dammon provided a short term fix, it wasn't going to last the amount we wanted it to. Not the amount Karlach wanted to, but she didn't let those thoughts overwhelm her.

"You ready to head to bed?" Karlach asked.

"I was almost falling asleep when Halsin was talking about ducks," I yawned.

She chuckled, "Head on up. I'll take care of everything."

"Are you sure, Karlach?"

"Yes, I'm sure, darling. Go get your rest. I'll be right up."

"Alright," I said and kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Karlach."

"Anything for you, darling."

I was about to go walk up the stairs, but I remembered about the mistletoe. I turned back around and walked over to Karlach.

"Something wrong?"

"Just got a second wind."

Together we cleaned out the cups we used along with the plates that held the small food items we made. Once everything was cleaned up and the lights were off, Karlach picked me up and carried me up the stairs. Once we reached the bedroom, her horn brushed against the mistletoe.

"What was that?" she looked up, finding it dangling from the doorway. "Who gave you that?"

"Shadowheart."

She threw her head back and laughed, "Of course Shart would have given you that."

I chuckled.

"But I don't need that to kiss you," she said, planting a small kiss to my lips. "Just say the words and I'll give you one."

"Noted," I smiled, kissing her once more underneath the mistletoe.

[comicarc]

𝐆𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬

A take on what happened to Claire, Leon, and Sherry after the Raccoon City incident where they meet the reader.

wc: 2010

Two strangers sat at the bar scar ridden with guns latched at their sides. After quite the eventful night, they drowned their nightmares in alcohol. Of course, anyone in their situation would most definitely have done the same, yet others in the bar did not extend this courtesy.

“So, Claire , any plans after we get back on our feet?” One stranger spoke as he inhaled another bottle of wine.

“I’m going to follow through on what I started. I just know Chris is alive out there, waiting to be found. How about you, Leon ?” Claire gestured to Leon.

“I don’t know, but I sure as hell won’t be going back to work any time soon. I’ll just spend the rest of my days enjoying the delectable taste of alcohol.” 

After two hours of drinking, I asked the two, “Y’all ready to pay off your tab yet?”.

“Yeah, sweetheart , one sec,” Leon replied before reaching into his pocket. All he managed to pull out was the inside of his empty pockets. He turned his head to Claire to which she shrugged her shoulders.

Both were armed and seemed to be dangerous. It would be a bad idea to provoke them, so I offered, “Oh what the hell. You two look like you’ve been through hell. Your drinks are on the house.” Looking into Leon’s mesmerizing blue eyes I continued, “My courtesy, pretty boy .” 

Despite their intimidating presence, they were kind enough to profusely thank me as they both left the bar and headed into the motel nearby. They seemed to look friendlier than they had before they entered the bar, but the feeling of death still loomed near them. 

Curious about their circumstances, I ended my shift for the night and followed them into the motel. I know it's bad to spy on people, especially strangers, but there was something off about them. Heading to the front desk, I booked a room on their floor.

In my head, I weighed the pros and cons of spying on them. If I was to find out that they were really bad people or they needed help, I couldn’t forgive myself for not acting when I had the chance. On the other hand, they could be trying to enjoy a vacation, but who would want to come out to the middle of nowhere? Seeing as I was already in my hotel room, I decided to continue my spying.

I paced around the room for an hour, trying to form a plan in my head when I heard a door open. Peaking from the peephole in the door, I saw Leon talking to Claire and a young girl about getting some new clothes and money. He was very handsome, so it made sense he was already taken. Despite my disappointment, I continued observing the couple. Eventually, Leon left and headed out of the hotel. 

An hour later I heard his footsteps in the hallway. Looking through the peephole once again, I saw Leon slowly walking down the hall. He was stumbling with every step until he fell and let the bags in his hands disperse. Without thinking I opened my hotel door and rushed to his side, helping him up.

“Are you ok?” I inquired.

Startled by my touch he got up and took a step away from me before answering, “Sorry about that, and thanks for your concern. I’ve had one hell of a night so I’m still a bit on the edge.” 

I bent down to pick up the items that fell from his bag and handed them to him. With a smile, I continued, “I know it isn’t in my place, but you and your wife both looked spent in the bar, so I was wondering…what happened to you both?”

After a few moments of processing my words, Leon laughed heartily as if I told him the best joke he had ever heard. After settling he explained, ”You mean Claire? She isn’t my wife, we just met last night. As for what happened to us…we escaped from Raccoon City, and I’m sure you’ve heard the news of what’s happened there recently.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I thought with the guns and the scars that you lot were dangerous. Darn me and my wild imagination. If you need anything, feel free to let me know, I’m staying in the room right there.” I gestured.  

“Thanks.” He walked down to his room and winked at me before entering.

- Later That Afternoon -

As I entered the motel's common area, I noticed Claire and Sherry sitting at a table, engrossed in a game of cards. The room was filled with a warm ambiance, and I decided it was the perfect opportunity to introduce myself and join their company.

Approaching the table with a friendly smile, I said, "Mind if I join you two? I've been meaning to introduce myself properly. I'm y/n."

Claire looked up, her eyes lighting up with a welcoming expression. "Of course, y/n. It's nice to have some company. I'm Claire, and this is Sherry."

Sherry glanced up from her cards, her gaze filled with curiosity. "Hi, nice to meet you," she said shyly.

Taking a seat at the table, I continued, "So, what game are you two playing?"

Claire shuffled the deck of cards and smiled. "We're playing Go Fish. It's a classic. You're more than welcome to join us."

With a nod of gratitude, I settled into the seat beside them and observed a few rounds. As the game progressed, we engaged in lighthearted conversation, discussing our favorite hobbies, and interests.

Amidst the laughter and friendly banter, I couldn't help but notice the bond between Claire and Sherry. It was evident that they had become a makeshift family, supporting and caring for each other during their challenging journey. 

After a few games of Go Fish, I decided to take a moment to address Sherry directly. Leaning forward, I asked with genuine interest, "Sherry, what do you enjoy doing for fun? Any hobbies or activities you're passionate about?"

Sherry's eyes sparkled with excitement, and a small smile graced her lips. "I love drawing and reading," she replied. "Sometimes, Claire lets me borrow a book or a notebook to draw."

"That's wonderful," I replied, genuinely impressed. "Do you have any favorite books or artists?"

As Sherry began to share her favorite books and artists, her shyness faded away, replaced by a growing enthusiasm. 

Eventually, Sherry grew tired and headed back to their motel room to fall asleep. Now, standing at the entrance of their doorway, Claire leaned against the frame staring off into space. 

"You seem lost in thought," I remarked, curiosity piqued. "Is everything alright, Claire?"

She let out a wistful sigh before responding, "It's just that... Sometimes, I can't help but think about my brother, Chris. He's been missing for so long, and I still hold onto the hope that he's out there somewhere."

I reached out, placing a supportive hand on her arm. "I can't even begin to imagine how difficult that must be for you, Claire.”

A small, grateful smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a worn photograph. She handed it to me, saying, "Working at a bar in the middle of nowhere, you’ve probably seen all sorts of people right?”

I nodded and she continued, “This may be a long shot but this is a picture of Chris. It's the only physical memento I have of him. Have you…seen him by any chance?"

I took the photograph gently, examining it. In the picture, a determined-looking man with a kind smile stared back at me. I could see the family resemblance between Claire and Chris, a shared strength that ran through their features.

“I remember him. He came with someone else a while back, talked about heading east. I hope that helps.”

A flicker of hope danced in Claire's eyes as she leaned in closer, her voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. "Thank you…"

- An Hour Later -

I was relaxing on a bench outside the motel, preparing for another late-night shift at the bar. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow across the street. It was then that I noticed Leon approaching, his charismatic smile lighting up his face.

"Hey there," he greeted me, sliding onto the bench beside me. "Mind if I join you?"

A playful smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I scooted closer to make room. "Of course not. I could use some company."

We sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, simply enjoying each other's presence. The quiet ambiance of the evening allowed our unspoken emotions to intertwine in the air. My curious glance at him quickly turned into a hungry stare.

The amber rays danced upon his features, highlighting the rugged lines of his face and giving him an almost ethereal glow. His expressive blue eyes, softened under the evening sky, reflecting the hues of the setting sun. The fading light played upon his chiseled jawline and the hint of stubble, adding a touch of rugged charm to his already captivating presence. As the sunlight bathed him, it brought out the subtle shades of warmth in his tousled chestnut hair, lending it a radiant sheen. Stray locks gently brushed against his forehead, giving him an effortless and carefree appearance. A soft breeze stirred, causing his attire to flutter gently. The fabric of his shirt clung to his form, hinting at the sculpted muscles beneath.

He caught on to my intrusive gaze and turned to me, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of gratitude and affection. "I never expected to find someone like you in a place like this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

“Just…you entrance me.”

“Oh really,” I let out a light chuckle.

In the heat of the moment, I leaned forward toward him. Leon leaned closer, closing the gap between us. His lips brushed against mine in a tender, lingering kiss. 

Pulling away, Leon began, “Y’know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“I never caught your name.”

“Well, I guess you’ll find out next time,” I taunted, as I got off the bench and walked toward the bar.

- The Next Morning -

Claire had opted to leave early in the morning, leaving Sherry and Leon alone with me. As I ended my shift at the bar in the early hours of the morning, headed to the motel to meet the two. As I stepped into the hotel lobby, excitement brimming in my heart, I froze in disbelief at the sight before me. 

Agents clad in dark suits and stern expressions surrounded Leon and Sherry, gripping their arms firmly, their determination evident in their actions. Leon's eyes widened in shock, while Sherry's face contorted with fear and confusion.

"Wait! What's happening?" I called out, my voice trembling with a mixture of concern and desperation. But my words seemed to fall on deaf ears as the agents continued their forceful extraction of Leon and Sherry from the hotel.

At that moment, a surge of adrenaline coursed through my veins, propelling me forward despite the fear that gripped me. I rushed towards them, my mind racing with a million questions and the need to protect the newfound connections we had forged.

"Stop! Please, let them go!" I pleaded, my voice filled with raw determination. But my protests seemed futile against the unyielding authority of the agents.

Leon's gaze met mine for a fleeting second, a mix of frustration and helplessness mirrored in his eyes. I could sense his silent plea, urging me to stay safe and not put myself in harm's way. But I couldn't bear to watch them being dragged away without putting up a fight.

As they walked Leon out the door, he called out, “When I come back, will you go on a date with me, sweetheart ?”

I replied with tears welling in my eyes, “Only if you trade that gun for some roses pretty boy .”

[yaozongzhupressoffice]

Dear Yao-Zhongzhu, recently a few thing happened and I (43, M) heard some people thought I was in the wrong in my actions despite the fact I personally felt justified in my behavior. Because I know you are an enlightened gentleman such as myself I was interested in your opinion on the matter as it always insightful. See, recently I was celebrating my only son (15, M) birthday, and as I love all of my family dearly, I sparred no effort in making sure that nothing could trouble this celebration. Everything was going well until one of my assistant let me know that there was somebody that was insistently asking to meet me. Despite the fact that it was an impolite request as it was made without taking into account the importance of the celebration that was held today, and since I am nothing but willing to help my people, I decided to go expressly meet this person with the intent of dealing with their request in a swift manner. (It had nothing to do with the fact that my wife (37, F) was in the same room as me when the identity of the person was announced to me and that she looked at me like she wanted to kill me on the spot after hearing that). When I met the person in question (15, M) I was immensely surprised to learn that they were claiming to be my son ! For some mysterious reasons my wife was not as surprised. Because, you know how it is, we all have a few bastards here and here, sometimes it’s one or two, sometimes it’s six or seven, sometimes I’m not sure I can count that high ! But most of the time they don’t show up to your doorstep to your legitimate son birthday party ! My wife was clearly heartbroken by this unpleasant interruption to her dear son birthday party and by this reminder of the various difficulties we had concerning conjugal and private matters in our relationship. Being her husband, I immediately took the matter in my hands and had the unpleasant reminder removed from her sight by having a servant throwing him down the stairs of our humble mansion (barely 200 steps). The critics comes from some representants from another family (I shall not disclose their identity but it start with a L and they like bland food) considered that it was uncalled for and started saying some weird slogans like « do not bully the weak » or « have courtesy and integrity » and complained that he « might have died » (he clearly did not, he walked away after barley one minute of looking dead and he could even bow). I personally feel like it was in the right as my son birthday party and my wife mood were my priority at this moment as a father and husband. But to conclude this matter I wanted your opinion so, dear Yao-Zhongzhu, Am I the Asshole ?

[DRAFT DOCUMENT v.1.2 FOR COMMENT ONLY. NOT FOR RELEASE]

Dear Venerable Anon-zongzhu gongzi [REDACTED BY COUNSEL, contextual information will reveal the identity of the writer]

A thousand thanks and blessings upon you for gracing this humble one's inbox with your question, and please extend my warmest well-wishes to Jin-furen [revise and anonymize--see above]. Of course, of course you wish only to ensure that your wife and heir have the peace of such a special day protected from interlopers, particularly when those interlopers are perpetuating such terrible and UNFOUNDED rumours!!! Furthermore, as we all know by now, the interloper in question was [REDACTED IN WHOLE; see above. zongzhu must endeavour not to include privileged information that will reveal the identity of the writer. please see the attached guidelines regarding how to avoid revealing personally identifiable information in official communications]

Naturally when a man of your elevated station [see above] must balance those oft-opposed ballasts of manhood and respecting your wife, it is inevitable that one must sire a bastard or two. [please see the attached sensitivity training slide deck made available at last year's general discussion conference] Who among us hasn't, after all, haha!! [REDACTED BY COUNSEL, irrelevant to the scope of the inquiry]

No, I will be honest with you, anon-zongzhu gongzi, and will share with you my real and whole opinion on this deeply personal family matter as you have laid it out before us:

[REDACTED IN FULL. zongzhu, call me asap]

[e-dubbc11]

Happy Winter Sleepover! ❄️

“Send me a scene from one of my fics and I’ll write it from the other persons POV”

“The Sweetest Pain Series” Anna Chapter…I love how you write for Frank, so I’d love his POV on anything from that chapter pretty please. 🥰

Thank you for sending this in, my lovely! And thank you for being a part of my sleepover. This one was so fun and I hope you like it!

Scene from Anna: Frank’s POV

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Word Count: 838

Part of The Sweetest Pain Series

Bill told you they would be coming into the studio around 11:30.

It was always 11:30; why was that so hard to remember? As you sat out on the back porch of the studio watching a few boats moving down the river, you remembered that cold snowy day in January when your goddaughter was born. Wrapped in that standard hospital blanket, a little tuft of wild dark hair peeked out from the front of her little beanie cap.

She was just so precious.

It brought you back to the first time you held Lisa in your arms, your baby girl, and then Junior. But it also made you a little sad thinking about how much time you missed with them while you were overseas although you were trying to make up for it now by spending as much time as you possibly could with them when you weren’t working.

Not only did they name her after you but they wanted you to be her godfather. Maria was the one that started calling the two of you Big Raven and Little Raven and being her godfather actually brought your family closer together. It made going to the zoo fun again, watching Lisa and Junior point out the different animals to Anna and seeing the smile stretch across her face.

Her smile was just like Bill’s.

The kids doted over her and treated her like their little sister, sneaking her tastes of cotton candy, holding her hands so she wouldn’t get lost, and giving her little kisses when she asked for them.

A sly smile extended across your lips when you thought about the gifts you had bought for her. Anything that made an annoying noise, you just had to get for her because you knew it would bother the shit out of Bill. He had that look on his face as if to say “I’m gonna kill you.”

You checked your watch. 11:25

They would be here soon so you just sat back in your chair and waited to hear the tiny laugh that you loved so much coming from inside. Little Raven’s smile may be Bill’s but her laugh is just like her mother’s. She laughs with her entire body just like y/n does.

11:37

You thought you heard a little squeal coming from inside; they must be here.

You quickly stepped inside off of the back porch, looked around for Little Raven who was in Bill’s arms and said, “Is my goddaughter here?!! Come here, sweetheart!”

She asked to get down and took off running toward you with a big smile on her face. You snatched her up and started to playfully bite her neck which made her laugh and then she grabbed your nose. “Ow! You got my nose!” You cried out with Anna laughing while she did it.

Bill smiled a little.

“Well to be fair, it is a large target Frankie. Of course she would grab your nose.” He said as everyone laughed.

“You bein’ a good girl for Mommy today, yeah?” You asked her.

Anna nodded. “YEP!!”

She pointed at her t-shirt wanting you to look at it and then she pointed at her mother.

“Are you and Mommy wearin’ the same shirt?” You asked.

Little Raven wrinkled her nose and gave you a big smile.

“I���ll get you a Springsteen shirt to match mine, ok?” You said, tickling her stomach.

“Ok Uncle Frankie…down peeease!!” She said.

You smiled and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Oh it’s snack time, yeah?”

Anna gave him a shy smile and nodded.

Bending down, you set her on the floor and said, “Ok, well make sure Ed gives you all the big rice puffs.”

She waved her chubby little fingers at you. “Ok, bye bye!”

And she walked away to extort her snacks and stickers.

You looked over at Bill and y/n; they were whispering in each other’s ears and laughing. It was nice to finally see Bill so happy because you weren’t sure it would ever happen. But you were there the first time y/n walked through the studio door; you knew she was the one for Bill.

He was your best friend and he had been through so much in his life that you just wanted to see him get the love and life he deserved.

And now he had it; he had everything he had ever wanted.

Bill would never know how much it meant to you to have his child named after you. That little girl had you and Bill wrapped around her finger. He would try his hardest to be the best father to her because he never had one.

But if she ever needed anything, or wanted to talk about something that she didn’t really want to tell her parents about, you would be there for her, just like you would be for your own kids.

She will always be special to you…that precious little girl…your precious Little Raven.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[sweetestpopcorn]

How would you rank Jaehaerys and Alysanne’s children in terms of greatness/potential? For me, Baelon was best out their children with Saera being second. I also think Viserra was a waisted potential. I think she could have done interesting stuff had she lived. Do you think perhaps maybe Baelon should’ve married her after Alyssa’s death? Obviously, no one could replace Alyssa in his heart.

Hi there :)

I have already kind of answered this regarding my thoughts about Saera and Viserra and none of it is good. I will just link them here and here . Legit they are just portrayed as mean girls with no real depth to them, though of the two, Saera is much, much worse. Viserra I can at least sympathise with since her parents seem to not give half a f_ck about her and did not even extend to her the same courtesy they did her siblings of having a say about her marriage (more here), but that's about it. I don't find anything else likeable about her she's just... empty.

I will go from least favourite to favourite.

Saera and Viserra go right to the bottom of my list. Followed very closely by Vaegon by obvious reasons. Like Vaegon, it literally costs you 0 golden dragons to not be so unlikable.

Then I would say Daenerys, she has a lot of sweet moments but dies young so I don't really know how she would have turned out. Besides, I know it's petty of me, but I don't like other characters having Dany's name. I do like Daenerys, Naerys's daughter but... yeah no more. You don't need more Daenerys, we have our Mother of Dragons. Yes, I know I am petty.

Then Gael because... poor baby 🥺 seriously what was George thinking writing a character who is Alysanne's comfort, with some degree of cognitive disability be r...... by some random singer, give birth, lose her baby, and kill herself?! Like enough's enough. It's literally just to add tragedy to her story and honestly Turtle man it's getting f:cking OLD. I swear this man gets his rocks off by adding tragedy and terrible abuse to female characters. This when he can bother to make them more than a walking womb.

Then I would say Aemon. Maybe he would be higher but at times I just feel he's too perfect if that's a thing. There’s just nothing wrong with him like 😂 he literally does nothing wrong.

Daella comes next because I find her funny. She's such a drama queen 24/7 making everyone around her want to protect her XD even Alyssa. I kind of got the vibes at times from her that she kind of knew what she was doing to get attention. Like the fact that she and Alyssa are Rhaenyra's grandmothers just makes so much sense no matter how you look at it. In a way Rhaenyra seems kind of a mixture of both? With tons of stubborn and style added. Another moment that really endeared me to Daella was her very tragic death, and how despite all her suffering she still wanted to be given Aemma and to feed her. Prime mom material right there -> like you can tell both from her and Alyssa that Rhaenyra got some top notch mom genes.

Then Alyssa of course, because she was THE queen. Literally she was just a better behaved version of her son and I'm here for it! I love how despite the fact that she was clearly a tomboy she still wanted to marry Baelon and give him an army of kids X'D because these two things are not mutually exclusive and liking or enjoying traditional boy things does not have to say anything about your sexuality or your desire to be a mother - just like being very feminine and liking traditionally feminine activities does not have to say anything about your sexuality or desire to parent. These are rules a society that does not understand nuance and in a sense is deeply sexist and stereotypical likes to put in place and that I find deeply harmful to people. But Alyssa is the BOMB, so funny, so bold, the way she embarrassed Vaegon who was a little sh:t *chef's kiss*

Then there's the best man ever -> Baelon Targaryen

Had his own cool nickname, The Spring Prince, funny, charming, sexy, single dad who never once forgot about his lady with the mismatched eyes, entered a tourney under the name of the Silver Fool... I don't feel like a need to say more, and in an era where all men were literally so problematic, Baelon was IT.

Baelon is what this fandom thinks Corlys is. Sorry not sorry.

And that's it :D

Also no, and more important that should Baelon remarry, the question is did he want to remarry? And the answer is no, and any Baelon fan would respect the Spring Prince and his undying love for his lady with the mismatched eyes <3

[friendlessghoul]

Hey there!

So not having read many biographies of Buster, how did he feel about being teamed up with Jimmy Durante? I know Buster got along with Roscoe Arbuckle and was good friends with him, but I'm curious to know if he and Durante got along.

Hey! Sorry for the delayed response, but here is what I was able to find. There isn't a whole lot in the books, but we do get an idea of how he felt, with additional context and all that.

James Curtis - A Filmmaker's Life -

(Pg 416) - Keaton heard that Mayer was out to build up Broadway acclaimed Schnozzola at his expense.

(Pg 418) - From the outset, it was clear to Keaton that he and Jimmy Durante lacked chemistry. “He tried hard, and I tried hard, but our styles, our timing, didn’t jibe.” Each extended the utmost courtesy to the other, Durante making no attempts at upstaging and Keaton giving him all the room he needed, even to the point of suggesting retakes on scenes where the Schnoz appeared to be overshadowed. 

(Pg 419) “Durante just can’t keep quiet,” Buster complained. “He’s going to talk no matter what in the thunder happens. You can’t direct him any other way.”

Tom Dardis - Keaton the Man Who Wouldn’t Lie Down -

(Pg 202) - Some people felt that Durante was brought in to fill out Busters pictures, to give them an extra dimension, but this was firmly denied by Weingarten.

No. Keaton was doing a certain amount of business. And we thought that Durante… in this particular role, would be fine, that’s all. We weren’t thinking of bolstering him. There were a number of pictures made, we tried our best. If it wasn’t good enough, that’s another thing. But we didn’t set out to destroy Buster….  

(PG 204 - 205) - Buster was unhappy working with Durante for two reasons. He was aware that Mayer had high hopes for “Schnozzola,” and that he was being given parts in Busters films as a showcase for his talent. Buster was quite sure that he and Durante didn’t belong in the same picture: 

Then of course, when you give me a Jimmy Durante— they brought him in there to play a part in a picture with me. Well, Durante just can't keep quiet. He’s going to talk no matter what happens. You can’t direct him any other way. Louis B. Mayer liked him very much; it could have been that he was brought out to replace me, I don’t know….

(Pg 205) - Buster disliked working with Durante for personal as well as professional reasons. Durante invariably punctuated all of his conversations with Buster by punching him on the upper arm and chest. Since Durante was, in Buster’s words, “strong as a bull,” this constant rain of punches really hurt, but Buster was simply too polite to tell him to stop. The punching continued unabated for the next year.

(Pg 221) - What did bother him was that MGM was no longer under obligation to star him in his films; the new contract made a point of the fact that he could be starred or co-starred as the studio saw fit. This contract made it possible for MGM to have Jimmy Durante as the official co-star of their films together.

MGM considered Durante fully Keaton’s equal and wanted to be able to indicate it on the film credits.

Buster Keaton & Charles Samuels - My Wonderful World of Slapstick -

(Pg 236) - The experiment I know most about was the one made by Louis B. Mayer when he teamed up Jimmy Durante and myself in a series of features. There is no one in the world like Durante, bless him, but in my opinion, we just did not belong in the same movies.

(Pg 237) - At any rate, as I see it, there was no way to mesh, match, or blend Durante's talents with mine. Yet Jimmy would have been great in the pictures that we did together if he would have been merely to do spots of comedy instead of playing a character all of the way through.

However, he was very good in the one picture we made together that had quality. I think this was because the character he played was very much like the real Jimmy Durante. The picture was Speak Easily, which was based on a Clarance Budington Kelland story and had a sound plot.

From the time Jimmy and I were teamed up I heard rumors that Mr. Mayer was planning to build him up at my expense. This didn't worry me much, although I can't say I liked it. With my record of successful pictures, I felt I was a fixture at M-G-M. I couldn't imagine anyone there wanting to get rid of me. If Jimmy Durante could replace me, it would be on his superior ability. Like a lot of men, the world considers modest and humble I had unshakable confidence in my talent and ability to hold the place that I had staked out for myself. Dana Stevens - Camera Man (Pg ) Though the two were friendly offscreen, Keaton admitted years later that Durante’s constant rain of chummy punches in the arm actually hurt. 

It doesn't seem as though there was any animosity towards Durante. Buster appeared to make the best of the situation as MGM was forcing them together and there wasn't much else he could do. He acknowledged that their style just wasn't meant to mix and that was all there was to it. They took plenty of photos together for publicity but not much else? There's probably more information out there but this is the extent in the books that I have. Their personalities didn't mix on or off the screen but it didn't cause any issues between them. I'd imagine partially due to Jimmy's boisterous friendly attitude and Buster being passive and never speaking up. Though I don't think there was much for Buster to have complaints about, other than being hit constantly.

Hope this helps and thank you for the ask! And now photos -

[sushisocks]

bro it makes me so mad how ppl say sean didn’t need a break after getting recused by the bounty hunters becuz he got a party but whats ur opinions on it???

Obviously, I think way too much about Sean, and read very much into a lot of smaller things when it comes to him. I imagine the people who say Sean didn't need a break after his rescue would think I read too much into his character, and I may perhaps even be hit with a 'its not that deep bro', but that has never really stopped me, lol.

And I will wholeheartedly disagree with those who say he did not need a break. I think believing that, taking this aspect at face value, is disregarding one of the game's strongest points; environmental storytelling. A lot of what we learn about the gang members in this game, is through just hanging out at camp. Not only do you get to be privy to scenes and interactions that tell us about the interpersonal dynamics, but the characters also have daily routines and habits that tell you things about them!

And see, in Horseshoe, sometimes Sean walks funny at camp even without having had anything to drink ahead of time. You could read this as a bug but I personally think there's a more obvious reason behind it. He's quick to sit down or lean against things, during his shifts on watch AND otherwise. Other people here on tumblr have pointed out how he barely eats, or clearly struggles to.

Now consider what Sean actually TELLS us, in his rescue mission. He had his teeth pulled, his feet burned. And I don't know about you, but that sure does sound like things that would leave a mark - not necessarily a visible one, but one that would affect behavior, because pain does.

When I had my wisdom teeth pulled, I was on painkillers for days after. I also had one done at a time, so that I could use the opposite side of my mouth to chew my food while one side healed, and I still struggled to eat.

Do you think Sean was shown the same courtesy?

He has a front tooth missing - in what world is eating comfortable? Do you think he has the strength, then, to be up on his feet all the time? Feet which, most likely, are still healing from being burned??? Like, what is the logic in taking Sean being fine at face value, here?? Do we actually believe Dutch is a good and competent leader, now?!?

And like, I'll say it, Sean 100% played down what he'd been through. I could go on at length about my thoughts about the reasons why, as pertaining to the role he performs in the gang, excitement and relief and adrenaline about being free again, not wanting to appear weak, etc etc. But I also do think, then, that it's almost a little bit silly to not extend him the same courtesy as we do many of the other characters of this game, and consider what this experience might actually have been like for him.

Sean, Arthur, and Javier were all kidnapped and tortured. All three of them. And they all had it real fucking bad. Can we, like, let ourselves sit with that for a moment? And acknowledge that Sean had it just as bad as the other two??

He was also stuck in that situation for the longest!!! At least two fucking weeks, minimum, while Javier and Arthur's experiences were for -- two to four days?

The difference is of course that Arthur and Javier both had their experiences shown on screen, and they both got to rest afterwards.

Sorry, that was a bit of a tangent, back to the party thing.

Ultimately, Sean is given a party because the gang needs a party. They are still recovering after Blackwater and Colter; they are in dire need of levity and fun, which is given through something to celebrate. They need a distraction. These are the things which Sean performs and gives the gang; the party isn't even really for him; it's for what he represents, and what his return represents. The party isn't what he needs, and he sure as hell was not well enough to just jump back into action.

What he needs, what he should have had, is a break after the shit he went through. He wasn't given permission for that though, not from their leader and not socially from anyone else, and furthermore he didn't really give himself permission for it. You have to do his rescue mission before pouring forth oil, because the second Sean is back, he's looking for jobs, and he wants in on the train robbery.

He's working, immediately.

(The fact that people actually believe him lazy just because he doesn't do as much as Arthur, the gang's workhorse, after returning from being held and tortured by bounty hunters, is insane to me. Yall are gonna believe Arthur about that?? According to him, all the guys in camp save Charles are lazy!)

Idk, what I find the strangest about takes like these is like... Most of the other characters are worthy of discussion, analysis, and discourse. But - not even the game, but characters in the game, who show themselves to have their own faults and prejudices as well - tell us Sean is lazy and easy-going and fun and that's all he is, and we believe it? Where did the critical thinking go??

[rohanneofcoldmoat]

I love those little moments when GRRM weaves together weather and emotion for his characters.

The boy got to his feet. "His lady. You're looking for her. Brella told me. She's his wife. Not Brella, Lady Sansa. So I thought, if you found her . . ." His face twisted in sudden anguish. "I'm his squire," he repeated, as the rain ran down his face, "but he left me." - AFFC Brienne II

Besides, it was Renly that she wanted. I swore I would protect him, and I failed. Then I swore I would avenge him, and I failed at that as well. I ran off with Lady Catelyn instead, and failed her too. The wind had shifted, and the rain was running down her face. - AFFC Brienne IV

Vyman was hovering by the door, waiting, and Jaime sensed that Peck was watching too. "Does my lord wish to answer?" the maester asked, after a long silence. A snowflake landed on the letter. As it melted, the ink began to blur. Jaime rolled the parchment up again, as tight as one hand would allow, and handed it to Peck. "No," he said. "Put this in the fire." - AFFC Jaime VII

There's ambiguity to them, the rain and snow function like tears would, running down their face or falling onto a paper they're holding at a moment of emotional turmoil. Apart from just being poetic language, this writing choice feels like it could have been made to emphasize the way Jaime and Brienne have internalized the "men don't cry attitude" that pervades Westeros. We know that Jaime got this lesson when he was "no older than Tommen" courtesy of Tywin. And we know that Brienne, who also seeks to take on a more masculine role, doesn't want to admit to things that would be termed a "woman's weakness," for fear of being mocked.

Truly? Then we must pray for the poor girl." And for me, thought Brienne, a prayer for me as well. Ask the Crone to raise her lamp and lead me to the Lady Sansa, and the Warrior to give strength to my arm so that I might defend her. She did not say the words aloud, though; not where Hyle Hunt might hear her and mock her for her woman's weakness. - AFFC Brienne V

Perhaps she is extending the same courtesy to Podrick, as he is a squire, aspiring to the hypermasculine role that is knighthood in their society.

Of course, there are moments where Jaime and Brienne do openly weep. Jaime when he loses his hand, though he's met by the Bloody Mummers' laughter and "he [makes] his eyes go dry and his heart go dead." Brienne's eyes fill with tears when she's talking to the Elder Brother under the confidentiality of her "confession," and she thinks about wanting to weep on Jaime's shoulder, a situation where she is self-admittedly imagining herself in a feminine role.

The thought was a bitter one, yet there was part of her that yearned for Evenfall and her father, and another part that wondered if Jaime would comfort her should she weep upon his shoulder. That was what men wanted, wasn't it? Soft helpless women that they needed to protect? - AFFC Brienne VII

But in those moments where "rain" is running down their face, or a "snowflake" is landing on a letter, the weather can be read as something they are hiding behind, to avoid directly confronting the reality of their tears and admitting to "weakness."

[thatfanficstuff]

Not About You - 33

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x ofc

warnings: not really

As it turned out, Elijah brought guests with him to dinner. Jonas Martin and his son Luka who were his current favored witches. Once they’d settled at the table and dished up their dinner, talk swiftly turned to Elena and Niklaus.

Elijah focused on Caroline. “I trust what we say here will not be repeated, Miss Forbes. My Lucy trusts you and considers you family so I am extending you the same courtesy. Do not make me regret it.”

Caroline’s eyes grew big as she glanced between her friend and the Original. “I won’t. I promise.”

He nodded once in acknowledgment before leaning back in his chair. “As you are all aware, my siblings and I are the Original vampires. Five of us still live, or a semblance of it at any rate. My brother Niklaus seeks to end a curse and needs the human doppelganger to do it.”

“The curse of the sun and the moon,” Caroline said with a little nod.

He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “Not exactly.”

“The curse Klaus seeks to end is one placed solely on him,” Jonas said. “One he has been suffering from for 1,000 years.”

Lucy arched a brow. “No wonder he’s got anger issues.”

Elijah huffed a laugh. “You have no idea. After we were changed, it wasn’t long until Niklaus had his first kill. That triggered his werewolf gene. He became the Original hybrid. My father had never cared for him, but discovering that Niklaus was the product of an affair was his breaking point. My mother bound my brother’s werewolf side, claiming nature demanded balance.”

“You know that was a load of shit, right?” Lucy asked. “If he wasn’t meant to be both, the vampirism would have overrode the werewolf or vice versa. She was trying to placate Daddy Mikaelson. I assume it didn’t work.”

“As my father has been hunting us for the last thousand years I would say no,” Elijah agreed. “This is his chance to release the wolf and be free. He needs Elena for the ritual. Once it’s complete, he will be weak during his transition and it is then that I will kill him.”

“Complete?” Caroline asked. “But that means Elena…”

“The doppelganger will die, yes, however our intention is not for her to remain that way,” the Original explained.

Lucy placed her hand over his where it rested on the table. “Do you really want to kill your brother?”

“Of course not,” Elijah snapped. “But he must pay for what he’s done to our siblings.”

“But you’ll be alone.” Her voice was soft, worried.

He turned his hand to take hers. “Not alone. I’ll have you, little one.

Mid-afternoon of the next day Damon told Lucy they had some errands to run. She’d simply shrugged and followed him to his car. It didn’t take her long to realize one of the things they apparently needed to do was go to Elena’s house so Damon could mock her. The Martin witches had cast a spell confining Elena to her house until she was slightly less suicidal so the rest of them could have a break.

Only Elena and Jeremy were in the house when they arrived. Lucy glanced around. “Where’s everyone else?” She didn’t really care but found it kind of amusing that they’d all just abandoned the teenager.

Elena just glared without answering. Fair enough.

Damon’s phone rang before he could begin his taunting. He paced as he talked, irritation heavy in his tone. Finally he hung up and slipped his phone into his pocket. He grabbed Lucy’s hand and pulled her toward the door. “We have to go. Jeremy, you keep babysitting. Elena, you should get out. Enjoy the fresh air. Oh, wait. You can’t.” He smirked, proud of himself and dodged the pillow Elena threw at his head.

Lucy laughed as she followed him out the door. “Where are we headed?” she asked as he pulled away from the curb.

“Grill. Ric’s there. There’s an issue.”

“What sort of issue?” In Mystic Falls, it could be most anything really.

He glanced at her with a sigh. “Someone’s looking for Mason. She’s stirred up enough shit that Liz has declared him a missing person.”

His knuckles turned white as his fingers tightened their grip on the steering wheel. She laid a hand on his arm. “Hey, we got this. Breathe.”

He took a breath and nodded as they pulled into a parking spot. It was evident her words hadn’t had much of an effect when he was out of the car and in the grill before she even had her door open. That wasn’t like him at all.

Lucy shook her head and took her time following him inside. He’d already taken a seat beside Ric and both of them had their eyes on a blonde sitting at the bar. She was talking to Matt. Lucy shifted her gaze between all of them before heading to the bar to get a drink. She planted her ass on a stool and waited for the bartender to take her order, all the while silently observing the other woman as discretely as possibly.

The bartender sat a scotch in front of Lucy without a word and she looked up in surprise. It was one thing for the bartender to recognize you, another for them to have your drink order memorized. Oh well. She gave a nod of thanks and shoved a five in the tip jar.

She stayed at the bar to sip her drink, debating whether she should just pretend she didn’t know the two men. She glanced over to Damon and he smirked in amusement obviously knowing what she was thinking. He licked his lips and chuckled before gesturing toward Ric with his head.

Her gaze shifted to find the teacher heading toward the blonde. He pretended to be tipsy and bought her a drink to her obvious displeasure. After a moment, Damon valiantly came to her rescue. He stood with his back to Lucy and she rolled her eyes. What were these two numbskulls up to now? Whatever it was, it was almost certain to get someone in trouble.

Ric met her gaze and smiled as he stirred something in the blonde’s drink. Damon told him to get lost and Ric acted offended. Lucy rolled her eyes and stood, elbowing her boyfriend in the process. He scowled at her.

“Sorry. I’m so clumsy.” She walked over and linked her arm with Ric’s to drag him away. She leaned over to speak in his ear as they went. “Please tell me you didn’t just roofie the werewolf?”

His head jerked to look at her in surprise. “Wolfsbane. How do you know she’s a wolf?”

They settled at an empty table where they could keep an eye on the bar. “It’s a logical assumption. She’s looking for Mason. Odds are he left a pack behind.”

“Yeah, well, the wolfsbane is to make certain. We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

“So, you basically poisoned her. I’m going to assume this was Damon’s idea.” Her boyfriend was nothing if not impulsive.

Ric smirked and sipped at his drink. Lucy sent a text. Dumbass.

Damon pulled out his phone and frowned at the screen. He shot a glance at her and she lifted her drink in a toast before finishing it off. She kept a careful eye on him and his companion as they continued to talk. Afterall, she might need to move in at any moment to rescue him.

The blonde slammed her drink down on the bar and Lucy immediately moved in their direction. Ric was right behind her. She stopped a few feet away and watched as Damon practically confessed to killing Mason. Lucy sighed and moved into his side, running a hand under his jacket to rest on his back, hoping to be a calming presence.

“You’re an idiot for doing this on the night of the full moon. Any other night, you might have me, but not tonight,” the wolf threatened. At least Lucy wouldn’t need to repeat the lecture later. “You’ve been marked,” she added then stormed past them and out of the bar.

Damon blinked in shock for a moment before lightly pushing his girl away and following the wolf. The other two shared a look then trailed after him.

“Where is she?” Damon demanded as they reached the parking lot.

“Just let it go,” Ric said.

“Let it go? She said I’ve been marked. What kind of werewolf throw down bullshit is that, anyway?”

There was no sign of the other woman anywhere. “Damon,” Lucy said, her voice quiet. He ignored her and continued to look around for any sign of the wolf. She said his name again, her voice, louder and firmer.

He turned in irritation. “What?”

“It’s a full moon. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“She’s right,” Ric chimed in when the vampire didn’t say anything. “If any of this is true, one bite and you’re dead. Take Lucy home and we’ll deal with this in the morning.”

Damon glanced at the moon shining brightly overhead. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s go home, kitten.”

The drive home was silent, though he held Lucy’s hand the whole way. When they walked inside, he locked the door behind them, something she didn’t think she’d ever seen him do. Too bad werewolves wouldn’t be using the front door should they choose to turn up.

Lucy’s hands trembled and she clenched them in irritation. “I say we barricade ourselves in the bedroom until morning.”

He smirked and started to say something before frowning and pressing a finger to his lips to tell her to stay quiet. He moved silently through the house and she followed far enough behind that he didn’t have to worry about her. They stepped into the other room to find Rose sitting behind the desk. Lucy rolled her eyes and leaned against the doorframe, allowing Damon to deal with it.

He sighed. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

“That should have told you something. What do you want, Rose?”

“I wanted to apologize for running away when Elijah showed up.” She tried to sound sincere but neither of the other two were buying it.

“Bullshit,” Damon said. “You just don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Her gaze darted between Damon and Lucy. “I really am sorry about Elena. I didn’t know what she was going to do. And, you’re right, I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“You’re a vampire. You’ll figure it out,” Lucy told her.

Damon smirked and headed toward the liquor. “There’s nothing here for you, Rose. I suggest you find somewhere else to be.”

The shattering of glass filled the air and they all turned toward where the sound had come from. Lucy’s heart pounded in her chest and she had the insane urge to run upstairs and hide under the covers. Damon darted to the door and the three of them moved into the hall as a group. Curtains fluttered in the breeze from a now broken window. A low growl sounded and they all searched for the source.

Damon jerked a sword off the wall and held it in front of him just as a large gray wolf stepped into view. It stared at Damon and hunched down as if preparing to leap. The women shouted his name in warning.

Something slammed into Lucy’s body from the side and she stumbled forward until she was between the wolf and its target. White hot, searing pain flooded through her as sharp teeth buried in her shoulder. A scream tore from her throat as the wolf tossed its head. It growled and snarled and tore at her body. Her hands dug into its fur as she struggled to push it off her.

Nausea rolled through her as the intensity of the pain worsened with every shake of its head. Its teeth ground together inside of her flesh, tearing through muscle and clamping onto bone. A large crack accompanied a mind-numbing wave of agony as her collarbone snapped.

Damon thrust the blade into the wolf’s side. It released its prey and whimpered in pain before exiting through the window it had broken. He dropped his weapon and fell to his knees beside his girl. His hands hovered as he took in her injuries as if he didn’t know where to start.

Tears poured down Lucy’s face and her head swam. Darkness ate at the edges of her vision as she writhed on the floor in pain. Movement only brought more agony but she couldn’t seem to make herself still. “It hurts,” she whimpered. “It hurts so much.”

He placed one hand on her head and his other hand grasped hers. “I am so sorry, baby. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have provoked her.”

She wanted to agree with him but the reason seemed so unimportant right then. “Please, Damon,” she begged, unsure what she expected him do. She just needed the pain to stop and knew he could do it.

He bit into his wrist and placed it to her mouth, her hands reaching up to grab his arm once she was able. A sound drew her attention and panic spiked through her. What if the wolf came back? She blinked away tears and shifted her gaze to the figure behind Damon. Rose came into focus, arms crossed over her chest and a smirk on her face.

[llaberration]

Coyne's Chronicles: Shadow Over Yfiria- Chapter 29

The journey across the wall was fairly straightforward, much more so than their previous one. Despite their increase in numbers, with two dragons to fly them, and the end of the wall close enough for them to pass by, out of range of the turrets and longbows, the process went fairly smoothly. Fez tucked Coyne and Trevor safely into his crop, and Heric (somewhat hesitantly) extended the same courtesy to Belfus and his assortment of dogs. Then, with the Sea dragon carrying Bubbles, they headed out, the dark skies concealing their passage.

The lands of northern Yfiria spread out below them was picturebook to the dragon's gaze. Sprawling towns, connected only by limited trade routes, the occasional light of a bonfire or torch brightening the few populated areas. Other than that, there seemed to be an eerie quiet over the landscape, more so than the normal dead of night. The greying lands all around the hive were in utter darkness, with no sign of life or light anywhere within. For miles around that as well, Yfiria was abandoned. Shadowy clumps of long abandoned towns visible from the air, crumbling and overgrown as the land slowly reclaimed them. Here, the land felt as though it was silently waiting for something, bracing itself. Perhaps it was. With the threatening shape of the hive looming on the horizon, how could anyone think otherwise.

The dragons circled carefully around, staying well clear of both the wall and the hive, and headed down towards the forest a good, safe distance from either source of trouble. It was almost dawn by the time they arrived, the sky starting to brighten with pale hues of pink on the horizon behind the distant tips of the black mountains far to the north. Well aware that the morning light would reveal them to anyone curious enough to look upwards, the dragons swiftly circled into the treeline to the east of Indimnis and its plagued grounds, separated by the safety of a large river from the sprawling tendrils of plague. After a short examination of the area, the two dragons released their occupants into the cool of the early morning air.

As the sea dragon watched Coyne and Trevor trying to rinse slime from their robes, and the newcomer, Belfus, shake himself like a dog, Heric slid a sideways glance at Fez, “Are these truly the best dragonkin could afford to send to assist you? To do something so dangerous? Could the elders not afford you something more powerful?”

Fez grinned a toothy, glittering grin at Heric, “You should know as well as me that it is not always the grandest or most powerful assistant that is the most useful. Granted they are...” he tilted his head as he watched their newly acquired herd of dogs pile on Trevor, almost knocking him into the river, “... unconventional? But whatever it takes, as long as we get our mimic...” he pointed to Coyne, “into the hive in good time, we have won.” He stretched himself, opening one of his wings and starting to go over it with his claws, ensuring the delicate membranes were unharmed after the flight, “Besides,” he added with a casual glance, “That's not all the dragon council sent is it? They sent you.”

Heric snorted, “In a manner of speaking. Though they technically allowed me to come, rather than sending me.”

Fez gave a soft chuckle, “Of course. Of course. Jintintaska, with all his wisdom, would never have supposed you might want to assist further than he was technically telling you to.”

Heric grunted and gave Fez a thump with his tail, “I am able to determine sarcasm when I hear it whelp.”

“We are not among the council here,” chuckled Fez, “Nothing prevents me from being sarcastic to you.”

Coyne finished rinsing dragon saliva from his face with cold river water, then straightened up to stretch a little, looking around them, trying to get his bearings. He knew this side of the wall much better, but recognising it from just being dropped in a random spot was easier said than done. He could tell they were away from the coast, and not particularly far north, where the regular woodland trees gave way to populations of their tougher, needle-leaved relatives. He reckoned he could get a better idea of location once the sun had properly risen. “So, what's the plan for today?” he asked, turning to look at Fez.

“We do not risk being found as easily on this side of the wall,” said the dragon, “But we should be somewhat cautious nonetheless. Perhaps Belfus could begin sharing what he knows on the plague and the infected prior to us seeking a few out to test techniques for combatting them?”

“Jolly good thought,” nodded Belfus approvingly.

“But first, he and I need to have a chat,” said Fez, “About his part in all of this. Coyne, why don't you see to freeing Alan and Iewan, since they will both need to be present for this lesson.”

“Sure thing Fez,” agreed the mimic, curious about what Fez and Belfus would discuss, but knowing that business was their own.

“Come on then dog boy, walk with me,” said the Cave dragon, standing and starting to walk into the woods.

Belfus frowned a little, but jogged to catch up, his small horde of canine friends in swift pursuit. “That's uh... dog-man if you don't mind there Dragon.”

“Dog-man it is,” chuckled Fez as they headed off.

Coyne did as the dragon asked, releasing the two tiny men with care, and then went to sit beside the river with Trevor, who was settled quietly on the bank with his feet in the water, looking unusually at ease with the world.

Joining him a little uncertainly, Coyne settled, releasing Iewan and Alan onto his knees and smiling as the men moved to sit, taking in their surroundings. It was so quiet. Even for a forest. Both land and sky almost felt like they were bracing for something, waiting, holding their breath to see what was about to happen. Perhaps that was due to the plague, or the fact two enormous predators had recently descended.

“It smells... cleaner here,” commented Alan, still wiping slime from his long hair.

“It will. Less people on this side of the wall,” said Coyne, “It's wilder out here.” He bent forwards and scooped some river water into his hands, offering it to the two men to wash themselves with.

“I like it,” said Trevor, running a hand across the ground, “The land doesn't feel as stressed. I feel like I can connect to it more easily.” He gave a small shiver as he seemed to focus in on this, “I feel the presence of the plague... like an infected wound... but the land around it is lush... healthy.”

“I suppose the wilder it is, the better it is for druids,” asked Coyne.

“In a manner of speaking,” said Trevor, “It's all well and good being able to recharge my powers quicker but if it gets too wild and I get mauled by a bear it's not a particularly beneficial.”

“Well yes, I suppose there is such a thing as too wild. There are plenty of things worse than bears out here in the North. It is untamed, and you'd be wise to remember that before you run into a stalker crow or a tattihog.”

There was quiet between them as they all sat, taking in their surroundings, actually enjoying the peace. Heric was sloshing about in the river a short ways away, hunting for fish, the powerful current not remotely bothering his enormous form. The water almost seemed to know to flow around him gracefully as the huge creature moved about beside one of the banks, sharp eyes on the water, searching for breakfast.

When Fez returned with Belfus, the two seemed pensive, but there was no tension. Coyne could only assume that whatever they had discussed, they were both agreeable to the outcome. Fez fixed Iewan and Alan's sizes, and they all settled to a breakfast of freshly caught fish before class came into session.

Then, Belfus began to share his wealth of knowledge about how soldiers were trained to handle themselves around the infected. How to avoid becoming infected, what to expect them to do in combat, and all the ways he had been trained to counter it to keep himself and his fellow soldiers safe. A lot of the information was similar to that which they had concluded before, and Coyne's protective equipment purchased in the small town he had visited was confirmed to be of significant use. It was swiftly agreed that during their mission, they all had one main goal, which was to avoid having to get involved in combat altogether. If they could sneak their way into the hive without ever striking a blow, they would have been blessed with the best possible fortune. Their main hope was to evade. But Belfus saw mainly to teaching them what to do if the worst happened and they had no choice but to fight. That was what their morning comprised of.

How to fight the plagued was an issue of some complexity. As there was no certain way to predict exactly which species of creature each individual might be. Not only was there the obvious options of beasts and humans that had once populated the land, but monsters, and even the rumoured new, terrifying things nobody had fully identified yet. However, the soldier did his best to enforce techniques for distraction and escape rather than victory. There was no need to vanquish a foe simply for the sake of it when fleeing was by far the preferred option.

He taught them of the three main stages of infection post-turning completely, how to spot them, and how dangerous they all were.

The first, the just-turned, were by far the most dangerous. These were known as the 'mobile infected' or the 'living infected' depending on who you asked. They were lively and quick, their muscles still strong and their main senses still attuned to hunting anything of interest to them.

The second, and largely the most common as this was the stage that lasted the longest, was the 'dessication' phase. This was where they were less fleshy, and looked more like bags of starved muscle and bone. They could still be very dangerous, as they spent a lot of their time completely still, and would put on only very swift bursts of movement when prompted to attack by nearby prey, making them a living trap.

The final stage, known only as the 'wandering' stage, was less known about. Its only goal other than slowly spreading dust from a rapidly disintegrating body, seemed to be to return to the hive. They would drift aimlessly in that direction, all signs of intelligence and awareness gone. They were no longer interested in actively spreading the plague, as that kind of consciousness seemed long past them. Whether they were man, beast or monster, they would turn towards the hive and amble towards it blindly, spreading their infections dust with each step. Nobody knew what happened when they got there. But if they did not, they would eventually collapse into a heap of plague dust and fall still.

In the afternoon, they began to get a bit more practical. Belfus got the mages up and began having them practice their defensive spell trick against his dogs, instructed to bite.

He also put some time into training all of them in simple techniques for dodging and evading someone trying to grab onto them, which was, as he put it 'the fastest way to get infected. If they get a hold of you, you're not getting out of there without inhaling some dust or getting bitten.' The soldier kept on stressing the importance of keeping distance between them and the infected, because that was the only way they were avoiding infection. A few times he got caught up in what he was saying, stumbling on his words and glancing at Fez to say something along the lines of, “And you're sure that the only way to do it is to get IN the hive?” then shaking his head and tutting when it was confirmed before getting back on track.

He devoted most of the teaching to defence and knowledge about the plague, all he could remember anyway. He had never been exactly the best student of the theory side of things, but motivated by not dying, he had done his best. Now trying to pass that along accurately was a visible challenge for the soldier, but the others piped up knowledge wherever they had it which helped patch the gaps. However, it was clear from the look on the soldier's face that he had reservations about their chances. Coyne could almost see his concerns from where he sat at the back of the little group. Then again, soldiers were put through years of intense training just to hide behind their wall, no wonder Belfus was worried that a few days in the woods wasn't enough to have them walk into the centre of the plague. The big difference there though, at least to Coyne, was that the soldiers did not have magic on their side. Maybe if magic was not locked up by the college so jealously, and the soldiers could work freely with the magic users, this entire mess could have been dealt with a hundred years ago when it had all begun!

Having magic certainly didn't guarantee their success but if he hadn't taken a gamble on an injured dragon and risked embracing its magic, he'd still be scraping for coppers in the gutter and counting out his last days. Belfus' caution would serve them well in its own right, and he knew that, but it made him feel a lot better knowing they had magic as their final play.

The day passed quickly, with Belfus putting a lot of focus on the two mages and their new defensive tricks. In addition to the small shield they were working on, Alan seemed to be getting the hang of some kind of smoke burst that would definitely confuse anything looking for them directly. The mages were starting to get a handle on this concept of using their magic freely and naturally, and it was already showing.

That night, as Heric went hunting for fish in the river, Coyne took himself up one of the trees, sitting down on one of the thick branches to peer out across the landscape, frowning slightly at the rough shape looming darkly on the horizon. They had learned a lot from Belfus today but some instinct in him was saying they were going to have to deal with more complicated problems than the standard infected that the wall soldiers were well accustomed to. Something about that shape just gave him a sharp chill in his belly. Perhaps it was the monster in him that smelt another, far more dangerous monster, but he sensed their task would not be simple.

“Seems close, doesn't it?”

The mimic blinked, looking down to see Fez was standing to rest his head on the tree branch next to him.

“Yeah. Really close,”

“And you spent so long not worrying about it.”

“In fairness it wasn't my problem then. I was set to run out of time long before whatever is in there came after me.”

“I recall you saying. I also recall dispelling that little bubble of ignorance.”

“Yes. I recall that too.”

They let out a simultaneous sigh, and Coyne waited a moment before asking. “I am curious what passed between yourself and Belfus this morning. What kind of deal did you make with him?”

“Unsurprisingly, we still retain our differences. He may have gained freedom and a little more understanding, but his distrust of my kind is deeply rooted. He does not wish to be my assistant... and honestly, I do not wish to take him as one.”

“I... did kind of expect that,” said Coyne, “But that cannot be the end of it. What deal did you weave with him?”

Fez gave a sly little smile, glad the assistant was accustomed enough to his ways to know he would have made some kind of bargain. “Oh we did indeed come to an agreement. He wishes only for freedom, and general alliance in the aftermath of what happens here. He knows nothing of himself or this world, but wants to make a safe place for those mankind has wronged. Beasts mostly, and outcasts like he now finds himself. I have agreed to assist him in his goal. In exchange, he will help us... though... to be honest with you I have a feeling he would have helped us anyway,” he shot a sideways glance at the riverbank where the soldier was listening, enraptured, to Alan telling him excitedly about the other assistants at the dragon council. “He is attached to our mages. If anything, the loyalty in him has only been amplified by becoming a weredog, he will be a trustworthy ally for us.”

Coyne smiled a little bit, “I am happy to hear that. His knowledge has already been a big help. Do we know what our next step is?”

“Tomorrow he wants to do a practice run. Not into the plagued land, but to the edge of it. He wants you, the mages and Iewan to run into and successfully evade a few infected. It will give us a good understanding of how good their senses are and how much trouble we can expect from them hunting us.”

“Sounds good,” Coyne glanced down at the mages again, seeing Trevor had taken himself aside and was staring very intently at a tiny plant, which was starting to writhe and shift, growing into a twitchy mass of vines. “And look... our druid is starting to try druid things...” he subtly pointed, and Fez grinned a glittering, toothy grin. “He has a lot to learn about just where a druid's ability comes from and what their powers do... but I think he's starting to get a hand on the concept all by himself.”

The next day, they went ahead with Belfus' plan. They ventured closer to the edge of the plagued land, where the grass was duller, and the air smelt thick and sour. They did not set foot any closer than Belfus deemed it necessary, and spent several hours moving along that dangerous border. Every time they saw an infected beast or person shambling about, or more unsettlingly, standing and blindly staring into the middle distance as still as a statue, Belfus would instruct them, and they would all drop, and follow his instructions to avoid. “Their eyesight and sense of smell are negligible,” he had said, “Those aren't what you need to worry about. They will find you in one of two ways. First and most problematic is their ears, they have acute hearing, if your breathing is ragged or you step on a twig, they will hear you from up to thirty metres even through foliage, so if they're close, even a rapid heart rate can betray you. The second is your body's warmth. They gravitate towards warm things because they believe them to be living, so always look to place a barrier of ambient temperature between you and them. Mud, rocks, trees, anything.”

So, when there was one stalking around, they did exactly as they had been instructed. Stay still, stay calm, breathe slow, light breaths to ensure you did not draw attention.

This was effective overall. The only time one began to investigate them, Alan, unprompted despite the look of utter panic on his face, utilised his new spell to set off a smoke screen, not between them and the creature, but on its other side. The loud hissing sound that it made instantly drew the infected's ear, and it went instead to 'attack' the hissing smoke. They all breathed a silent sigh of relief and continued on their way, leaving the infected to bite aggressively at thin air.

As they were on their last pass, heading back towards their camping spot, and safety for the night, moving quiet and careful, there was a sudden loud rustling at the back of the group, and Iewan let out a surprised shout. As Coyne spun around to look, he saw that an infected human must have stumbled on their little group purely by accident, and had naturally targeted the person at the back. Iewan was dressed in protective equipment like the others, but was by far the least equipped for combat. That said, he wasted no time at all in following the first piece of advice Belfus had given them. “Get its face away from yours.”

The infected made a surprised sound as both of Iewan's tough, otherwordly boots slammed it right in the face and pushed it back hard. It swiftly got a grip on things though, and grappled forwards with unreal strength. Without a sense of self, the infected could use almost the entire potential of their bodies at all times in a fight, giving them far greater strength than a human with consciousness of their own limits. Butting its head between his kicking feet, the infected snapped its sharp, broken teeth furiously towards Iewan's face, fortunately for him, too fixated on his face area to think to just chomp on a leg. With a loud screech that was both angry and frightened, Gut erupted from Iewan's robes, black, translucent tentacles lashing out, bashing the creature's face and head with considerable strength.

It let out a dry sounding, hoarse howl of displeasure at this new, and pretty unconventional assault, and grabbed for one of the tentacles, biting down hard on it. This held its head still just long enough for Coyne to make his move, pulling out the sharp little blade he had been carrying all this time, and slamming it at full strength into the back of the infected's neck. Belfus had told them where to strike. Though the infected were hard to kill without hurling them onto a bonfire, you could stop them moving by severing their backbone. Easiest place to do that was the back of the neck. It was exposed and the spine was close to the surface, making it the logical place to hit.

This worked, with a horrible crunching, snapping sound, the creature went limp, jaws still working on the tentacle, and Coyne quickly moved to yank it off, staring at the battered translucent flesh, and at Iewan, who stared back at him. “Are Kheasceans... susceptible to the plague?” asked Iewan shakily, looking behind them at Belfus who was just now getting there.

“I... have no idea...” replied Belfus. “But we need to get you two to the river immediately. Do not touch your masks or faces, and let's go quickly.”

The group sacrificed some of their stealth for speed now, rushing the remaining distance through the woodland towards the distant rushing of the river. When the reached the banks, neither Coyne nor Iewan stopped to waste time, they both leapt into the water with no hesitation. No amount of unpleasantly cold water could be worse than possible infection. Coyne was at almost no risk, as his contact with the creature had been blade only, but he wasn't taking any chances. Iewan on the other hand had technically taken a bite... and the creature had been all over him. Traditionally a bite was all it took, but as far as any of them knew the infected had never had a chomp of a Kheascean before. The other three stood nervously on the bank, waiting for their friends to surface.

“I feel like we didn't do enough...” said Alan, “It was just... so fast...”

Belfus glanced at the man, seeing a staring fear in his eyes, “That's how it always happens,” he said, “You can prepare for years and years for combat but when it happens... it goes fast. Too fast.”

Alan slid down onto his knees, his blank eyes still wide and staring, “I... had no idea.”

Coyne surfaced from the water with a gasp, and Belfus took a step to help him, then paused, looked back at Alan, and gave Trevor a shove towards him. “Keep an eye on him,” he said, knowing not to leave someone unwatched who was experiencing such a shock.

Then he sloshed into the river, grabbing Coyne and helping him out of the water, knowing he'd been under long enough that the dust would have dissolved. “Where's Iewan?” he asked.

Coyne, still spluttering as he flopped on the bank, gestured at a spot in the water, and Belfus waded over, reaching down and grasping Iewan's soaked robes to heave him from the water, coughing. The man, disorientated and in a half panic, grasped at the soldier's arm, but didn't fight back as Belfus half-carried him to the shore and set him down beside Coyne. “Did it break the skin when it bit?” he asked, trying to check Iewan's arms and legs as he actually had no idea what had actually happened, he was pretty sure he had seen... tentacles? But... honestly it had been chaotic, he didn't know for sure.

Iewan managed to catch his breath, pulling his hands back to himself, “Wait... wait... I can't check... I need space...” he gently pushed at Belfus, who took the hint and backed up.

Coyne, straightening up from re-washing his dagger again, finally stopped to draw a slow breath, he looked at Belfus, “Are... we okay?”

Belfus glanced at Iewan, then over at Alan, who was still just staring at the river. “Uh...”

Trevor was half-kneeling awkwardly beside the mage, patting his shoulder, visibly out of his depth at the mere thought of knowing what to do or say at that moment.

Belfus gave him an expectant look, then mimed a hugging motion with his arms, watching as Trevor awkwardly did as he was told, putting his arms almost mechanically around Alan, who fell against him, unresisting, but still staring.

Iewan finally managed to convince Gut to come out of hiding, and raised the tentacle to examine it. The teeth had definitely pierced the translucent flesh in an ugly, jagged semicircle, and the Kheascean made bubbling squeals of displeasure as Iewan tried to examine it.

Coyne shuffled over to see, his brow furrowed deeply as he saw the deep, obvious bite. They both knew that a bite from the infected was the most certain way to get it yourself. He bit his lip, and the two men just looked quietly at Gut for a moment. They were about to find out whether Kheasceans were prone to the plague.

Belfus leaned closer to them, “I thought I saw tentacles...” he said, frowning.

“Iewan has a Kheascean, long story,” said Coyne, “How long to symptoms take to appear?”

“It's normally fairly fast. The yellow eye stage within the hour... dry throat can be almost immediate but isn't telling of infection, anything can cause that...”

“So when will we know?” asked the mimic.

“It won't be long,” said Belfus, “We will know fast...”

“If it starts...” said Iewan, “I don't want you to let it take me. I want you to...”

Coyne cut him off, “Shhhh, if it tries. If it does. We'll deal with it. But it might not. You might be fine. Gut is from a species designed to be made up of dead, or mostly dead things. That's not a species that's prone to disease if you ask me.”

An awkward silence fell among them, and for a short time, there was only the persistent rushing of the water, until Belfus managed to gather himself to speak. “Okay so... that was actually pretty standard for the infected.”

Four accusing pairs of eyes shot to him, and he held up his hands, “I know. That was a LOT. I get that, but...” he drew a slow breath, “This is what combat is. It's not pretty. It's not heroic. It's ugly and fast and... it's dirty. Books and stories romanticise it but fighting, actual face to face fighting... is horrible. I tried to warn you, but there was no real way for me to do that with words. And as much as I hate to say it, you needed to see this. Better now, while you have time to process it, than later,” he paused to kneel down beside Alan, “when you don't have that luxury.”

Coyne drew slow breaths at this, feeling a surge of anger towards Belfus, because he hadn't prepared them better for this, because it almost seemed like he had allowed it to happen... but... he fought it down, tempering his anger with reason. The soldier had not allowed it to happen. It had happened by itself, and they had learned a lot from it. In the worst way possible. But the soldier was right. Better now than in the shadow of the hive with goodness knew what around them. He took another slow breath and reached out a hand towards Iewan, “Can I see it? The tentacle?”

Iewan, a little hesitantly, teased the injured limb away from where Gut was hiding it in his robes, and let Coyne see it.

The mimic held the thing up to examine it, seeing a faint cloudiness in the transparent flesh around the bite, but it wasn't spreading at all. If anything, it seemed to be solidifying into a more solid shape. “Iewan look...” he said, pointing.

“What the...” the man leaned in and looked for himself.

“Is that normal?”

“I... don't know? He's hurt himself before, but the cuts always seal up swiftly and just disappear,” he gently examined the area, ignoring it as Gut let out an annoyed little squeak and bit at his elbow in retaliation.

Before their eyes, the clouded flesh continued to harden, visibly changing texture from the smooth, healthy matter around it. Then, it began to separate at the edges, splitting away from the rest of the tentacle, and falling free onto the sandy shore. Beneath it remained an open cut but of healthy, clean flesh.

“It's... rejecting the invasive matter...” said Iewan with a gasp, “I've never seen an immune reaction quite like it! It's not fighting it the way a human body does, it's actively holding, containing and rejecting it as though it's foreign matter!”

“I have... no idea what you're saying but... is it good?” asked Coyne.

“It's better than good... it means seahorrors are immune to the plague!” he exclaimed. “One of Heric's biggest concerns was that the plague would infect a seahorror and start spreading among the ocean life... because if it did, there would be nothing in the ocean that could stop it, it would go from one continent to the next, infecting everything. If seahorrors are not prone to it, even if it spreads into the ocean creatures, they can still predate them normally and keep it under control.”

“So... good then?”

“Yes, very good!”

“And you're not going to get infected?”

“No. Though the bite was on Gut, our immune systems are combined. So apparently we're going to be okay!”

Coyne let out a relieved sigh and kicked the rejected matter into the river, “Okay... good, that's one disaster averted.” He said with a soft sigh, standing up and going to check on the mages.

Alan had already pulled himself together a bit, recovering from the initial shock, still a bit wide-eyed and pale, but more himself, and Coyne moved to help him stand, “Come on, let's go and find the campsite.”

Trevor got up too, and gently began to lead Alan along as Iewan gathered up the still bitterly complaining Gut and tucked him into his robe as he began walking.

Coyne held back a little, waiting for Belfus, then glancing at the man as he started to walk, “Did... you know Alan was going to react like that?”

The solider set his jaw, “I... suspected it.”

“Will it happen again?”

“Probably. He's not hardened like Trevor. He's been kept soft and protected by those around him, even at the college, he has faced hardship, but contextually nothing like this.”

“He was so cool under pressure when things went wrong at the council though...”

“Was anyone attacking him?”

“No... no they weren't.”

“There you go then. He's good under pressure, but not designed for a fight. Now you see more than ever that you cannot lead these boys into a battle.”

“I promise, I have no intention of leading them into a battle. We only need to do one thing. Get me into the hive unseen. They do not need to be there for anything more than that. That's why we want to go stealthy, ideally we can avoid combat altogether.”

“It's going to be tough,” said Belfus, “Are you sure, whatever your plan is, that you can pull it off?”

“I have faith in the final result,” said Coyne evasively, not certain how much Belfus knew. “But it all relies on us getting there.”

“Well, be careful not to focus too hard on your final goal, or you might be willing to make too many sacrifices to get there. I don't want to see you get those two killed because you were rushing to the finish line.”

Coyne managed a smile, “Belfus, I think you misunderstand me. I have been minding those two for a relatively short time but I've already grown quite attached to them. I do not intend for anyone to get hurt. I'm relying on Heric and Fez to get them out safely.”

“Are you willing to promise me that you won't take risks with their lives?”

“I can promise you that. However, I cannot promise their safety. This is war Belfus. You and I know that there are risks we can't account for. I will protect them for all I can, but people die in war.”

The soldier spared him a cold stare, as though judging his statement. “You are strange to me. You are both warm and cold. I have never met someone like that.”

Coyne stared back, considering this. “I am both a man and a monster. Perhaps that is where the conflict occurs. I make no apologies for that. You too, are both a man and a monster now. You're going to have to stop thinking in absolutes. We are not afforded that luxury.”

Belfus let out a little sigh, letting his shoulders slump, “You are not wrong. I still have the mindset of a soldier. But... I'm working to change it.”

They returned to their camping spot, where Heric proceeded to fuss over Iewan when he was told about his experience, expressing that even though they now knew he was immune, they had not known before, and greater care should have been taken. He then proceeded to puppy guard the man for the remainder of the night as they campfire roasted some fish, and then settled in for sleep.

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[ivfrankenstein]

CRONE | beric dondarrion x fem!reader;

thoros and lem were with lord beric when the dwarf woman sat down uninvited by the fire, “the ember and the lemon come to honor me again, and his grace the lord of corpses.” she squinted at them with eyes like hot coals.

“an ill-omened name. i have asked you not to use it.” he said in a low voice, clearly with no hope of change.

“aye, you have.” she had but a single tooth remaining, “but you got that title because of her.” she extended her hand into the darkness behind her, thus inviting his lady wife to join them, “are you not her husband? and she happens to be, of course, the lady of corpses whether you like it or not.” lady dondarrion accepted the hand in greeting and bowed her head before the dwarf woman, “even though i can smell the stink of death is fresh on you, my lord.”

“old friend,” lady dondarrion spoke as she knelt down beside their guest, her face was beautifully serene, “long time no see.”

“not so much, from what i can see,” the old woman croaked to herself, “you're still young and i'm still old. my bones are old. my joints ache when the winds do blow, and up here the winds are always blowing. give me wine or i will go.”

“a silver stag for your dreams, my lady,” lord beric said, with solemn courtesy. though it was he who was talking to her and offering her a treat, she paid him no attention. she was eyeing the one who called the lady of corpses and the lady of corpses was eyeing her just the same.

no one uttered a word, and their lips remained motionless, and yet it might have seemed that one could almost hear someone's whispering. here was the domain of the wind, still nothing was out of the question.

when his lady wife had deemed it appropriate to break eye contact, only then did lord beric add, “another if you have news for us.”

“i cannot eat a silver stag, nor ride one. a skin of wine for my dreams, and for my news a kiss from the great oaf in the yellow cloak.” the little woman cackled again, “aye, a sloppy kiss, a bit of tongue. it has been too long, too long. his mouth will taste of lemons, and mine of bones. i am too old.”

“aye,” lem complained, “too old for wine and kisses. all you’ll get from me is the flat of my sword, crone.”

“my hair comes out in handfuls and no one has kissed me for a thousand years. it is hard to be so old.” in the same teasing manner, she turned to lady dondarrion, one still holding the hand of the other, “would you give me the pleasure of your kiss, child, if the blood in my veins were hotter?”

“only if you still have the strength to take it, old friend.” the young woman gently patted the dwarf woman's hand and whether it was some trick of the eye or some kind of magic, a few sparks sprinkled from her fingertips.

the dwarf was pleased with the little trick, “that tickled, i liked it,” she said, and then suddenly turned her gaze to lord beric. he was watching tiredly through the fire his lady wife with his single eye. he was indeed tired, and yet adoration was always in him as he looked at her. “aye, three great fire lovers sitting here. one who prays for it, one who uses it, and one who keeps it. some say your lord of lightning is greedy for kisses. i won't claim one.”

“and your fire is enough to warm us all, i see,” thoros replied, showing her respect, “what are you gonna ask for then?”

“a song from tom o’ sevens, for my news.”

“you will have your song from tom,” lord beric promised. he passed the wineskin with a knowing look on his face to his lady wife to give to the dwarf woman. she was for sure more glad to take it from her hands as another token of her favor and he just allowed her.

before taking the wineskin, she gripped lady dondarrion's wrist tightly, as if she wanted to ensure her words stayed on her skin along with the bruises, “don't forget what i told you once.” she leaned over and hissed, “he won't believe it, and even your red priest won't believe it, though he should have learned by now, but you.. my lady.”

her purpose was not to frighten her and she was not frightened, not to upset her and she was not upset. she accepted it and gave thanks to the old woman, as all decent people do who are already forced to bear the burden of duty. when the dwarf loosened her grip, lady dondarrion brought the wineskin to her lips.

the dwarf woman drank deep, the wine running down her chin. when she lowered the skin, she wiped her mouth with the back of a wrinkled hand and said, “sour wine for sour tidings, what could be more fitting?”

—i'll probably write some more sketches like this.📿 also, english not my first language. so, i beg you pardon.